Leaderboard, Chapter Three

Commercial playing somewhere in Angel Falls

Montage of flamboyantly clad people fighting inside a dark warehouse

Fan base dwindling?  Need to sharpen your skills for special grudge match against your archenemy?  Tired of a certain superjerk always in your business for no good reason?  Want to prove that you are most powerful of all?
 
R.W.D. Simulations has answer!  Simple pre-fight assessment and detailed post-fight evaluation.  Tunable cadre of famous heroes up to level 10 for tough guy and level 0 for pipsqueak!  See if you can make the Leaderboard.

Now with Ultrawoman!

Fade out.

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The R.W.D. Foyer was empty except for Anne and Ollie.

Anne had tried to get a slot in the sim, but it was booked for weeks.  Ollie, the lead technician for the simulator, had overheard her conversation with the booking agent.  He heard the desperation in her voice and intervened, allowing her to come after hours as a personal favor.

Ollie was a fussy man, slim with a neatly trimmed goatee.  He had kindly blue eyes and he chuckled as he spoke to Anne.

"So you have trouble deciding?"

There were three robots tuned to level 7 – Soviet Superwoman, Ultrawoman, and the recently repaired American Hero.  Anne knew that her fight would have to go perfectly to have any chance of surpassing the powerful Tyche.  

The real life Soviet Superwoman and Ultrawoman wear near invulnerable, possessing super strength, speed, and the power of flight among other abilities.  Anne did not possess those type of powers, but with the robots tuned for level 7 she may had a chance.

Anne knew much less about the American Hero.  She was a beautiful blonde patriot, with a reputation for excessive force.  While the other two superheroines' powers were formidable, the fact that Anne knew so little about American Hero made her dangerous.  Anne would need to win the fight with brains, not brawn.

"Yes, it is a bit difficult."

"I see deep thinker," he tapped two fingers against his temple, "like me."

Anne smiled, "That is quite a compliment.  This technology...   Is impressive.  The creations are so life-like, and their performance so closely matches their real-life-counterparts."

"That part of process.  We put combatant through pre-fight evaluation.  We do full assessment, to include DNA.  We assess performance during fight, and further improve creations."

He looked at his watch.  "But I talk long, and it is late.  Have you made decision?"

Anne bit her nail, a nervous habit.  "Well..."

Ollie laughed,  "I know, it big decision.  How about I make surprise?"

Anne nodded.  It was getting late, and she just couldn't decide upon an adversary.  "Surprise me."

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The door closed with an audible click. Anne spun, surprised, then admonished herself. Of course they locked the door- some of the combatants in here could do some serious damage if their powers of abilities escaped the room. Slowly, Anne's eyes adjusted to the gloom. She was in a huge room, one of the downtown warehouses that R.W.D. had acquired and specially modified for just this purpose. The walls, floor, and ceiling had all been reinforced with steel rebar and thick concrete. Towards the northern end of the room, several floor-to-ceiling shelves stood, some with pallets of materials still stacked on them, creating broken cover, while conveyor belts and half-broken-down pallets and boxes provided concealment on this end of the field.

Anne ducked behind a crate and peeked around, trying to find her adversary in the clutter. She saw a flash of blond hair and drew her taser from her purse. She didn't have a costume with reinforced ballistic Kevlar, like Tyche did, but she also never went anywhere completely defenseless, either.

"Now, now," came a throaty chuckle, "we can't have you playing mouse to my cat all day, can we?" A blast of green energy converted one of the thick pallets nearby to superheated ash.

Anne felt her blood run cold- American Hero didn't have retinal projection, and that voice- that was pure Ultrawoman. She took a slow, deep breath. "Okay, Anne," she murmured to herself, "so they set you up with Ultrawoman. Improvise, adapt," she snorted softly, "overcome…"

"I am the American Hero," she heard from another corner of the room. Whipping her head around, she saw the tall, blond-haired woman's muscular form approaching at a casual stroll. "I am the sword, shield and spirit of America."

Anne felt her pulse quickening. She dropped her taser back into her bag and fished around for her pills. Her blood was pounding in her ears, now, and she barely heard the thickly accented words from almost directly above her. "Privet capitalist!  Angel Falls is under the protection of the Soviet Superwoman."

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The monitors lining the control room walls gave Ollie an unparalleled view of the action.  He watched with eager anticipation as the slim blonde realized her predicament.  Soft flesh against cold metal of the robots.  Why did any of them think they actually had a chance?  He freeze-framed a shot of Anne with her mouth gaping open as the broad shouldered Soviet Superwoman made her appearance.

Ollie dimmed the lights in the control room and unzipped his trousers.  This was a private event, arranged by Ollie just for Ollie, and he knew it was going to be the most entertaining yet.

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A pair red lasers seared into Anne's shoulder, burning through the strap of her purse and forcing her to drop it. The thickly-muscled, gray-clad form dropped into a low crouch and threw a hard reverse punch. Anne acted on instinct, dodging and slamming her body into the Soviet Superwoman's side while grabbing the woman's wrist. With a jerk of her hips, she tossed the larger woman directly into American Hero's path.

There were the sounds of muscle tearing and of tendons snapping, but Soviet Superwoman righted herself and rose to her feet again with almost negligent ease. Her right arm hung uselessly at her side, but, with barely a glance, she gripped her shoulder with her other hand and shoved it back into place.

Anne sensed Ultrawoman's approach and she moved to counter her attack even before the other two finished untangling each other. She reached to grab the villain's throat, but Ultrawoman swept aside her arm with disdainful ease. Riding with the force of the block, Anne swung in a tight circle and caught Ultrawoman on the back of her head and small of her back, rolling her into line with her other opponents.

Her breath was coming fast and hard. Try as she might, she couldn't control it. She held up a hand, her fingers already tingling, and crouched, desperately looking for her nitro-glycerin as her enemies approached.

"I don't think so, my pretty," Ultrawoman laughed, stepping in and sweeping the purse away with a quick swipe of her foot. Keys, cell phone, taser, …pills! Anne scrambled and clutched the bottle between her numb hands. She clutched at the bottle, weeping with frustration as she failed to defeat the childproof cap.

"The price of freedom," she heard, as if from a distance, "is eternal vigilance." She didn't even see the fist that separated her from consciousness.

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The electronic doors smoothly slid open and he examined the blonde.  The fight had been short and there had been disappointingly little blood.  It was a pity.  Ollie had expected her to last longer.  Now to dispose of the body.

On impulse, Ollie leaned downwards and caressed her cheek with the palm of his hand.

"You fought well, my sexy."

As he did so, he noticed something strange.  Her chest was still moving, her breathing short and shallow.  She had survived the ordeal after all.  With surprising strength he scooped the listless blonde into his arms.  Perhaps she would live long enough for him to have some more fun.

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Back in the control room the computers dutifully tabulated the results of the fight.  To the casual observer, the fight was a complete ass-kicking.  However the score was calculated based on predefined algorithms.  

For the first time the computer applied the multiple foe bonus, and Anne Friedland's name was silently added to the leaderboard.