Barrier City Excerpt

Barrier City
Lady Spitfire dabbed the last of the greenish grease that dotted her cleavage. The tight white tank top would have to be washed. Tossing the rag aside she looked over the now humble hangar that housed her plane. Glancing over her shoulder grateful that the buzz of the Framer had faded into the distance. Pushing aside a pair of toolboxes her chipped fingernails grazing their prize. Muttering she tired again, her fingers closing around quarter full bottle of whiskey. Casting about for a glass she shrugged, uncorking the bottle and took a swig. Looping an arm through a chain hanging overhead the Lady gazed upon a series of pictures tacked to the wall. Blowing a stray strand of hair lingering at the corner of her mouth, depression strengthening its grip on her heart. Arching her back she let body weight swivel her around to look at the timer above the door while still dangling from the chain.
A resigned sigh rose through her as the timer blinked counting down. In ten hours would be the next show. "Hi folks, it's Frisky Friday! Time to get those pistons pumping." Her forced rehearsed cheerful voice losing volume. Thrusting a hip to the side and patting a bottle laden hand on her rear, "Come see how much I have left in the tank!"
"That sounds absolutely dreadful."
Whirling to face the voice, her eyes narrowing upon the figure in side doorway. Styles Taylor stepped into the light, brushing invisible lint from the lapel of the coal black suit that had the privilege of being worn by him. "Great. You here to whelch on another fight?" Lady Spitfire asked, venom dripping through her words.
Styles felt his face flush, recovering by clearing his throat the fashion villain continued. "Yes, about that... Nice place by the way, very...homely."
Spitfire snorted, taking another swig from the bottle. "Shoulda seen it in its heyday. So why you here?"
Nudging a coffee can that housed various bolts to the side with an immaculate loafer to the side Styles winced, the next words feeling so unnatural to him. "I wanted. I wanted to. Thank you. For the fight last week. You might have saved my life."
Slipping her arm from the chain, Lady Spitfire glared upon the villain. "You insulted the way I dress then Judo threw me into a dumpster and ran."
Crossing his arms Styles stared at the lower class heroine. "I didn't want to fight. Our pairing made no sense. Surely you can see that."
Thumping an arm over her chest, she stepped within arm's reach of Taylor. "I needed that fight. You have no idea what I have to do to keep my popularity up. Not that you would know."
Styles straightened out the sleeve of his suit. "Let's cut to the chase. I need your help again. Yes, I will save you the trouble of saying it. The mighty Styles Taylor needs YOUR help."
Holding up the nearly empty bottle of whiskey, Lady Spitfire muttered. "You got till I finish this."
Nodding, the villain waved a hand airily, accepting the crude offer. "Fair enough. I have a friend that ran afoul of some vigilantes. I need to find them and considering your rating I figured you would be a good place to start."
Draining the bottle Lady Spitfire chewed her lower lip in thought. "What's in it for me?"
Smiling now Styles looked over the thread bare, stained cargo pants the heroine wore. "How about some decent clothes? Or some that actually fit, perhaps?"
Gripping the bottle tightly, annoyance surging through her, "Again with the insults. Just get out. Better yet, how about I call Commander Supreme and let him know you are here? I am sure he would love to pay you back for the humiliating him."
Furrowing his brow in surprise the villain cleared his throat again, "You heard about that?"
Lady Spitfire smirked, the left side of her cheek dimpling. "Everyone heard about it. Styles Taylor gave the Commander shrinkage off camera. Now do I call him or do you have a better offer?"
Pulling out his cellphone Styles pawed the screen, "How about I arrange a fight for you. Say uh, Smithereens? Tank Lord? You could do a air versus land rivalry. It might even surprise the writers."
Turning her back on Styles, Lady Spitfire stared at the wall of pictures once again. Striding with purpose the heroine ripped one of the pictures down gazing upon it wistfully. Bitterness filled the back of her throat as she crumpled the picture. "I want a heel turn."
Styles looked up from his phone wide eyed, "You want me to repackage you? I don't think that is possible without certain approvals. I am no writer."
Casting the paper over her shoulder it slowly uncrumpled near the fashion villain. "Seduce me to the dark side. Conjure up some weird mind control makeup. I just want one good battle. I don't care how you do it."
Stooping down Styles picked up the rumpled picture smoothing it out. A slender smile flitted to his perfect lips. The picture was one of Lady Spitfire and the Commodore posing dramatically, waving flags of justice. The caption had been torn off long ago.
Drawing out his voice in a delighted sigh, "Oh honey. I think I have just the thing for you."
"Really?" Lady Spitfire asked, finger combing her hair struggling not to sound too hopeful.
"How would you like a shot at the Commodore?"
Spinning on her heel the it was her turn to be wide eyed. "Are you serious?"
Stalking towards the heroine Styles produced a slender comb. Eyes glittering as he tangled the comb raising a section of her hair to eye level. "First things first. These split ends have to go. Your attire is a disaster and frankly you smell rather ripe."
Arching a brow, "What do you think you are doing?" the heroine asked but did nothing to stop the villain.
"Let me show you what seduction really is..."