The Darke (episode two)

Brother, Where Art Thou?


(Imagine if you will a Danger Doll Satellite Television series not unlike the Twilight Clone, Night Galley or Tales of the Nondescript and you have The Darke. The Darke is an undefined evil force as it were which prevades these stories. These scenes are intended as acting opportunities for the Danger Doll team, produced in an old EC style as much as possible.)

 


Molly Whipple goes to the address listed in the obscure ad in the newspaper... the same one she knows her brother Dexter, the Masked Marvel, went to investigate three days ago... only to disappear just like many before him... into the mystery surrounding some sort of underworld martial arts tournament run by a Master Darke... she takes a deep breath and pushes open the door...

The warehouse seemingly normal... various crates stacked up... surely not enough room for an arena... the only sign of life is a Janitor sweeping up... who gives you a nasty look... "Don't you know you're trespassing?"

Molly Whipple nods... unkempt mop of blond falling in her freckled face... a slender girl in a loose-fitting sleeveless sweatshirt... and pink running shorts... "Yes... well... I came about the ad in the paper... looking for fighters..."

The Janitor looking around... scowling... "Not so loud... want to watch the match? It costs money..." Be beckons you closer... walking towards a metal plate on the ground... looking like some sort of service hatch for the wiring...

Molly Whipple nods and steps forward nonchalantly... one foot on and one foot off the metal panel... "I don't have much money... but I can fight!" grinning as she raises her fists to shadow box at the janitor...

The Janitor narrowing his eyes... "Take my advice and go home... this is no game for a little girl..." He attempts to sweep you aside with the broom... pushing you with it... "Go on, get lost!"

Molly Whipple catches the broom under her arm and attempts to jerk it away from the man as she spins... intending to twirl the broom like a staff... around her body and bring the blunt end back around within an inch of his face... an effort to show her abilities... her form very quick and limber indeed...

The Janitor blinking as his broom is taken away from him... and he very nearly finds himself on the receiving end... the handle of the broom prodding his nose gently... he grimaces... "Okay, okay... you can come down... just remember I warned you..." He reaches out to pull a hidden switch... and the metal plate descends... down under the warehouse... into a massive arena... with a cage ready and waiting...

Molly Whipple steps fully onto the plate as it descends... nodding politely with a grin... handing the man back his broom... eyes widening as she sees the set-up... "Wow! This is amazing! Are there fights tonight? I want to meet the fighters!"

The Janitor chuckling... "You'll meet them, all right... in the ring... new fighters have to prove their worth in an exhibition round... against the Mutilator... he's the roughest fighter... usually it's a bloodbath..."

Molly Whipple gulps... "So you're going to let me fight then..." quickly regaining her composure... putting on some bravado... "Well cool... sounds like the sort of brawler I can put down with ease..." biting her lip... "Are weapons involved?"

The Janitor laughs... "Not for you... but he might get thrown some... as I said, it's all about seeing how much of a beating you can take... if you survive, you'll get to call yourself a fighter..."

Molly Whipple blinks... "Er... I'm not... uhm... used to taking a beating..." her mind racing almost as fast as her heart... "I mean I usually dish out the beatings..." stepping off the platform and moving towards the cage... looking all around for signs of her brother Dex... or other fighters...

The cage having two entrances... one facing out towards the audience... and another that leads to a gate in the wall... the crowds cheering as the announcer opens the door for you... yelling for blood as you step in... and the cage clangs shut... and is locked...

Molly Whipple begins to stretch... one eye always on the gated entrance... praying she hasn't made a terrible mistake... thinking if Dex got in trouble then what chance does she have... but knowing he would come for her if she were in trouble... leaning forward and pulling one crosstrainer up behind her until it touches the back of her head... standing there on one leg like that for a moment...

The crowd ooohing and aaahing... impressed by your limberness... as the gate at the other end of the cage rises slowly... clanking up... and a man-monster stalks out... fully seven feet of muscle and hair... wrapped in studded leather straps... with a leather mask hiding all of his face but his red eyes... drool dripping from it... this must be the Mutilator...

Molly Whipple gapes for a moment... instinctively backing away until the cage bars stop her... swallowing hard... she never faced anything like this in her martial arts classes... and despite her bravado... she's never even competed in full-contact... better suited to winning trophies for forms... "Ohmygawd... it's not human... it's a monster!"

The crowd roaring... as the man-monster moves forward a couple of paces... letting out a savage bellow... before charging towards you... hands like hams reaching to grab hold of you...

Molly Whipple is startled out of her gawking amazement by the sudden charge... ducking down... diving forward and somersaulting between the creature's legs... her own legs flailing... before coming back to her feet behind the monster... spinning into a wheel kick...

The kick striking home... the beast flinching as you bruise his ribs... so he does feel pain... the monster wheeling quickly... lashing out... attempting to grab hold of your ankle... and yank you off your feet...

Molly Whipple bounces off her free leg as the kicking leg is grabbed... coming high off the ground... her body horizontal in the air... as she aims the free leg at the leather mask... an arcing roundhouse kick to the head... as she spins around her caught leg... sweatshirt fluttering...

The foot slamming home... dead centre of the leather mask... a cracking sound coming from underneath... the giant bellowing... as blood mixes with the drool dripping from the mask... but his grip doesn't break... as he swings you around... attempting to hurl you against the cage wall...

Molly Whipple screams and flails as she is flung about... sweatshirt working up her torso as a result of the centrifugal force... oophing as her body impacts the cage wall... the air rushing out of her lungs... and a lot of the fight rushing out of her body...

The man-mountain snarling... roaring... and drooling some more... before he stomps towards you... reaching to try and grab you by the sweatshirt... and lift you up over his head...

Molly Whipple rolls to hands and knees... shaking her head... trying to get up... then opting to crawl... a pathetic display... until she is snatched up by the shirt... the loose-fitting garment wrenched to her armpits... pinning her arms upward... exposing a modest chest in a tight runners bra...

The Mutilator growling... and aiming a brutal punch with his other hand... directly at your ribs... pounding into you unmercifully... the sweatshirt ripping with the force of the blow... sending you back to the mat in just a bra...

Molly Whipple hits the mat hard and sprawls... rolling over a couple of times... until the cage bars stop her momentum... pulling up on the bars... turning... her slender skin shiny with sweat... her chest heaving inside the damp runners bra... clutching at her ribs as she circles away...

The Mutilator evidently liking the look of you in just your bra... you hear a frightening chuckle coming from behind the leather mask... as he stalks closer... lashing out with his left hand... and aiming to grab your throat with his right...

Molly Whipple ducks away from the left... making a gurking noise as she is caught by the right... her slender body easily jerked off the ground... twitching awkwardly... her hands flying to the arm that chokes her... clawing at it... legs suddenly kicking out wildly at the monsters torso as well...

The feet slamming into the bruised ribs... the monster wincing... as he grabs at your bottoms... tearing them away... before a second kick forces him to let you go... and he lashes out with a kick of his own... aiming to punt you like a football...

Molly Whipple gasps as her runners shorts are ripped away... grunting as her falling body is punted before she hits the ground... limbs flying out spread eagle as she hits the bars... before tumbling to the cage floor in bra and panties... the crowd in a feeding frenzy... screaming for the Mutilator to do all sorts of things to the fresh meat... curled up in a ball... clutching her tummy...

The Mutilator stalking closer... and seemingly obeying the crowd... massive hands gripping the bra... and snapping it with one tug... tearing it away from you... before attempting to bind your wrists with it...

Molly Whipple gasps and reaches to cover herself... her faintly freckled face reddening at the lewd sounds coming from the leering crowd... snapping the heel of a crosstrainer up between his looming legs... with a force born of anger and desperation... "No way!"

The crosstrainer slamming home... right where it'll do the most damage... the massive Mutilator howling... and dropping to his knees... as he clutches himself... obviously in serious pain... as you scramble away...

Molly Whipple continuing to cover her boobs with her hands as she looks about the cage... spotting the remains of her sweatshirt... tossing it over her head... knotting loose ends under her pert sweat breasts... before turning back to the attack... running at her foe... leaping into a 123 flying dropkick... aiming to strike at chest, chin and cheek in quick succession...

The three kicks striking home... pounding hard into the Mutilator... the blow to the chest seeming to do little damage... but the ones to the face making terrible cracking sounds... and sending the man-monster sprawling to the mat... the big man trying to get back on his feet...

Molly Whipple turns disdainfully on a heel... showing the huge manster her cute ass... by now hanging mostly out of her sweaty panties... back kicking at the face one more time... "Stay down!"

The final kick making a sound like a breezeblock cracking... as the Mutilator slumps forward... the announcer can't believe it... and neither can the crowd... as the gate towards the fighter's area opens to admit you...

Molly Whipple shakes her hair back from the cute freckled face with a proud smirk on it... panting for air as she struts through the gate... a slip of a girl in nothing but pink panties and a makeshift halter top... the stunned crowd beginning to applaud excitedly after a few seconds of silence...

The fighter's area dark... as the gate slams down behind you... a couple of security men nodding to you... "Great fight... you really surprised us... nobody's taken out the Mutilator in months... most people end up in the intensive care... here, this way..." Indicating a doorway in the rock wall...

Molly Whipple nods... trying not to blush... in no way used to parading around in her undies... but not wanting to show any sign of weakness... moving toward the door... wondering if Dex made it this far... and if she will find him... her eyes slowly adjusting to the dark...

A slab of solid stone slamming down behind you... with a small slit in it... as your eyes adjust to the light... and you realize you're entombed in a tiny cell... "Welcome to the arena... once you start fighting, the only way out is either to win the championship... or leave in a box..."

Molly Whipple pounds her fists on the stone wall... staring out the slit... "Hey... you can't do this... to me..." her excited voice trailing off... becoming a low determined one... "Then I'll just have to win this stupid tournament... if it's the only way to defeat the forces of the Darke..."

******

Molly Whipple is a young woman looking for her missing brother... a local superhero know as the Masked Maverick... when she last saw him he was heading out after the Weatherman... an elemental villain thought to be behind the recent string of missing persons cases involving young women... and so she enters the park at dusk... a slender figure in a tight pink tube dress that comes to mid-thigh...

Storm clouds brewing overhead... a possible sign of the Weatherman's presence... as you notice a light on in the old pavilion in the centre of the park... drops of rain beginning to fall as you move closer...

Molly Whipple makes a face and takes the pop-up umbrella out of her purse... putting up quickly to keep from becoming soaked... continuing on in the jelly flats that match her dress... her slender legs glimmering like nylon... continuing on her way despite the danger... desperate to find her brother... passing a newspaper dispenser with the missing Masked Maverick's picture on the front page...

The old pavilion large enough to house a number of people... as you peek in the window... your eyes widening as you spot a pair of thugs tinkering with a machine... possibly what’s creating the strange weather... as you crane your neck to get a closer look...

Molly Whipple jumps and eeps as some rain water running off the pavilion find it's way under her umbrella and soaks her back... scrunching up her shoulders and frowning as she still hasn't seen her brother... her plan being to rescue Masked Maverick and let him take it from there...

A voice behind you growling... "A snooper, huh..." Two ham-like hands reaching out to try and grip your shoulders... and muscle you into the pavilion... a third thug evidently set guarding the place...

Molly Whipple spins away... pointing the umbrella as she pops it down and back up... throwing a spray of water at the thug... then high kicking with the flexibility of a rhythmic gymnast... becoming soaked as she swings the umbrella around like a weapon...

The thug not expecting the assault... the kick sending him skidding backwards in the wet... slamming hard into the wooden wall... which rouses the other two... even as the umbrella smacks against his head and arms... as he tries to block the blows...

Molly Whipple is not powerful... but is quick and flexible... and a martial arts student... she flips the umbrella around in her hand... and conks the thug over the head with the handle end... even as she snaps a kick up between his legs... as the rain begins to soak her down from head to toe...

The one thug kayoed by a combination of umbrella handle to the skull... and the pain of the vicious kick... the other two moving in from the sides... one aiming a brutal punch to your belly... the other attempting to grab you around the neck...

Molly Whipple swings the umbrella around to her right as the first thug crumples... only to lose hold of it as a punch from her left doubles her over... clutching at her stomach as burly arms encircle her neck... jerking her up... kicking legs coming right off the ground... the shape of modest but extremely high-riding breasts plain under the soaked pink fabric of her dress...

The second thug delivering another brutal blow to your belly... then one between your legs... before the thugs carry you inside... grinning as one keeps a choke hold on your throat... the other grabbing the tube top... and attempting to tear it off... "The Boss left us here to mind his equipment... it was getting pretty boring... but now we've got something to have fun with..."

Molly Whipple struggles frantically but is easily overpowered by two strong men... the third following with a limp and rubbing his head... "Damn bitch... let me at her..." grabbing the hem of her dress and ripping it away... seams popping... revealing she wears only sheer pantyhose beneath... the arms around her neck so tight she fears she'll black out...

The first thug keeping the hold tight... even as the second gets some coils of strong rope... grabbing your arms and forcing them behind your back... binding your wrists behind your neck... and circling the rope around above and below your breasts... "I'll leave her legs... we're going to want to keep them open..." The third thug already unzipping... getting his member ready...

Molly Whipple squeals and tries to wriggle free... but the arms tighten... and the world begins to spin... "Don't choke her completely out... I like them still kickin'..." and so she is... kicking at the men with her shimmering legs... the pink flats of her feet looking almost fluorescent... as one nails the unzipping thug right where it counts...

The kick striking home... delivering a second blow to already-bruised balls... even as the first thug relaxes his grip... inadvertently giving you the wiggle room you need to slip free... and bolt for the door...

Molly Whipple is off like a shot the second her head slips free of the vice-like grip... extraordinarily quick... her flexing balls of glute shimmering as they drive her forward... flipping over a chair in her way even while bound... showing off gymnastic skills... her tight little orbs with the chocolate drop on top jiggling tightly as she runs out into the rain...

Your shoes pounding the ground as you run as fast as you can... off in a random direction... looking back to see the thugs looking out of the pavilion... but not pursuing... you wonder why... until you realize you've run out across the mud flats... made especially hazardous by the rain...

Molly Whipple notes this rain still seems unnatural in its intensity as it soaks her to the bone... the wet ropes even harder to work out of... running through the open... only realizing she's ventured out onto the mudflats of the park lake as a leg sinks to a knee... she tries to take another step and her other leg sinks to the knee as she pulls the first right out of the jelly flat...

The pouring rain making the mud ooze to fill the holes left by your feet... as you attempt to dig yourself out... every movement only making you sink a little deeper... the thugs watching from safety... seemingly enjoying the show... as you sink to mid-thigh...

Molly Whipple squeals... hips writhing as she tries to pull her nylon-clad legs out of the sucking mud... losing her other jelly flat to the suction... leaning forward as she tries to wade forward... getting a knee up to her chest... planting the foot... trying to step up... almost pulling free... before the mud gives way... and she is up to her crotch in the sticky stuff...

The mud oozing like treacle... cold and clammy against the hose... as every movement seems to make it give way even more... your wiggling form sinking further... as the thugs move back inside... satisfied that you won't be telling anyone else about their operation...

Molly Whipple twists and turns... rain splattering off pert upturned breasts as she strains against the ropes that bind her arms... working her mud-caked ass and twat free for an instant before sinking back to the waist... her eyes widening in terror as she screams at the retreating thugs... "Help! Help me... it's pulling me down!"

The thugs just turning and waving... before going inside and pulling the door closed... the rain beating down harder... the mud thick... almost liquid... as you sink down... and down... to mid-belly...

Molly Whipple 's head swivels... hair matted to her terrified face... the clammy sensation of mud enveloping sensitive breasts... almost sensual... making it impossible to think... her shoulders squirming as they disappear... throwing her head back... panting for air as the mud rises past her neck... over her mouth... a bubble bursting right before her blinking eyes... before slipping into the cold embrace of the Darke...

******

Chickfighter flits across the grounds of the looming mansion... pink leotard making her easy to spot for the viewer... as she moves from shadow to shadow... at the base of the stairs... then at the door... hesitating... jumping up and grabbing the edge of the porch roof... swinging her nylon-clad legs up and over... moving to a window...

The room inside seemingly empty... white walls... white floor... white ceiling... the door out of the room barely visible... the walls seeming to flow into the floor and ceiling... like an optical illusion...

Chickfighter enters the white room with black curtains... the last color she expected to find here... the shape of the room itself hard to define... almost as if morphing as she struts forward... always keeping the door as far away as it was when she entered... stopping... cocking her head... blinking the eyes behind her mask... "Odd... no sign of the Darke…"

Suddenly a movement catching the corner of your eye... a thin, sleek ninja... dressed entirely in white... albino skin the only thing showing from white eyeholes... aiming a lightning-fast kick to your midriff...

Chickfighter tries to push the kick aside with gloved hands... but still takes a glancing blow... stumbling backwards... the movements of the white ninja hard to follow in this room of the same color... settling into her stance... concentrating on following the pink eyes... waiting for them to blink... before attacking in a flurry of slender legs sheathed in sheer dark nylon...

The white ninja taking the first two kicks... stumbling back against the white walls... still perfectly camouflaged... reeling... then recovering... and attacking with another pair of hard-to-follow kicks...

Chickfighter cannot follow the movements... seeing them only when it is too late... her head snapper backwards in a splash of blond... her body following into a backwards flip... landing on hands and knees... catching a second kick in the pit of the stomach... lifted spinning into the air... making several revolutions in the air before hitting the floor rolling...

The white ninja whispering closer... aiming another kick to your belly... then one to your head... moving quickly... even as he walks between you and the black curtains... silhouetting him...

Chickfighter staggers to her left... keeping the curtains behind her foe... moving quickly to attack... leaping into her favored 123 dropkick... aiming to land a quick series of kicks to the white form... as if running up it to flip away...

The white ninja trying to dodge... but not expecting to be picked out... and taking all three of the kicks... to belly, chest and jaw... sailing backward to crash down onto the floor... out cold...

Chickfighter exhales and giggles softly... "A white ninja with a porcelain jaw..." turning for the door... finding it easy to reach now for some reason... pulling it open and slinking through... all her senses alert... aware of everything from the brush of the air on her face... to the creaking of the floor beneath her footies...

The landing outside leading to some stairs leading up... and down... either direction might lead to the Darke... or neither... both leading off into shadowy darkness... that could conceal any opponent...

Chickfighter bites her lip... muttering to herself... "Surely by coming in on the second floor I skipped the first floor opponent..." after a long moment she heads up... upper body ascending into darkness as the camera follows her legs and ass up the steps...

The darkness above seeming all-encompassing... as you round the corner... to come face to face with a glint of metal on the landing... a samurai kitted out in black armor... but with four arms... each holding a samurai sword... the monster advancing slowly... deliberately... the swords at the ready...

Chickfighter gulps... suddenly wishing she had brought her sword... taking a deep breath... "Well no one said exposing the Darke would be easy..." moving forward... catching the blade of the first slashing sword between gloved hands... pushing it into the arc of the second... and trying to wrench it away from its owner...

The two swords clashing... one falling into your grip... even as the other two slash close... almost too close as you leap back... your costume slashed open by the merciless blades...

Chickfighter gasps as her pink leotard falls open... a couple of pieces left fluttering in the air where she stood a moment before... her bared breasts jiggling tightly... a thin red line appearing on the top of the left orb as she breathes... spinning the hilt of the stolen sword to gloved hand... cocking it high in a two-handed grip...

The samurai slowly moving forward... the face under the metal mask unreadable... as the swords flash... each one aiming towards you... to do more than graze... or slash open your top...

Chickfighter parries two blades with her own... sparks flying from the clash of steel... high kicking the third blade overhead... the blade trimming a lock of hair from her forehead... as her high kicking leg snaps outward... aiming a heel armored face... "How dare you?"

The samurai not responding... perhaps because if the impact of your heel with his face... ringing his mask like a gong and sending him crashing back... to slowly rise back to his feet... two swords at the ready...

Chickfighter wades forward... her pert breasts swaying tightly... her one sword flicking back and forth... dancing between the samurai's blades... blocking one and then the other... unable to find an opening... for her sword... so uses her leg to high kick again... while keeping the swords busy...

The kick slamming into the samurai's belly... sending him staggering back... clanking against the railing of the landing... then toppling over... reaching out with his arms to try to break his fall... but crashing down onto the floor billow in a clatter of armor... then silence...

Chickfighter carves the air with the sword in her hand... throwing over the railing... to impale the samurai below... before trying to fix her shredded leotard... the costume beyond repair... finally just stripping off the dangling pink fabric... so it won't get in the way... taking the stairs to the third floor in sheer dark tights and black accessories... and nothing else...

The surroundings even darker as you head towards the attic... wondering if this will be your last opponent before you face the Darke... or if this macabre mansion will go on forever... bigger on the inside... you barely notice the silky strands brushing your leg...

Chickfighter does eventually notice however and her cringing expression and body language is obvious... she hates spiders... she reaches down and brushes the silk from her ankle... looking all around... eyes behind the black mask wide...

Another warrior coming out of the darkness... this one with six arms... spindly... and eight eyes... half-man, half-spider... mostly spider... scuttling towards you... already reaching out with hands more like claws... hissing...

Chickfighter backs toward the stairs... her goal of exposing the Darke forgotten... this monster more than even she counted on... trying to tell herself he's more mutant human than spider... but unable to catch her breath... or stop the racing of her heart... letting out a blood-curdling scream as she suddenly leaps to the attack... a flying dropkick...

The kick smacking into a pair of mandibles... sending the monster backwards... into his own web... the hideous spider-man scuttling onto the wall... and moving into the attack again... attempting to grab hold of you... even as blood drips from its maw... it can be hurt after all...

Chickfighter blinks... hoping that's not her blood... realizing it is not... kicking again at the reaching arm... attempting to snap the joint... even as the clawed hand grips her throat... "Gurk..."

The touch of the arm hideous... even as you break it... the creature letting go of your throat... rearing back... and hissing... swiping with claws... red eyes glinting in the darkness as it leaps on you... driven mad with pain...

Chickfighter squeals as she goes down under the creature... trying to get her legs around its neck... even as its claws tear at her furiously... ripping skin and tights alike... her legs tightening... trying to choke the creature... or snap its spine... if it has one...

The muscles of your legs closing... quivering... as the monster's neck snaps... and it lolls... dead... drooling on you... and leaving you shaking underneath the weight of the hideous mutated creature...

Chickfighter is herself shaking as she wriggles herself out from under the terrible foe... panting for air... her naked upper body shining with sweat in the darkness... her nylon tights now full of runs...

The webs in your way breaking... as you move on... up the stairs... to the tiny attic... no sign of anyone... just a desk... with a single candle burning on top of it... a bank of screens showing which way you've come... and a note...

Chickfighter 's silhouette moves across the darkened room... she brushes mussed hair back from her face with one gloved hand... while picking up the candle in the other... holding it over the note to read what it says... the camera zooming in on the note... revealed by flickering light...

The note typewritten... "Dear Chickfighter... I saw you coming, but I couldn't stay... however, I've arranged a number of playmates to keep you company..." A terrible hissing coming from below... dozens of the spider-men... scuttling and scampering over each other... moving up the stairs to the attic... to engulf you... as you're left with only the note from The Darke...

(July 2008)