Poor Kajira... she never suspected that I was now back on the 'net full time.
Ah, what the hell. I'll play along. Poor Kajira... she never suspected that I was now back on the 'net full time. This stuff won't be so inspired as the original, but it's all off-the-cuff. P)
PS - If any of you have a particular fate in mind for any number of nubile victims, I've got a YWCA full of 'em to play with... mail them to me, email@example.com, or post them here.
She's caught my eye. Pretty little thing peering up at me from the shadows of a doorway, she sprints away just as my eyes come to rest upon her. Who is she, to decide if she lives or dies? That is my decision alone to make. My fist crashes down, punching through two floors, cracking the pool asunder and sending the water to cascade down into the building. I am smug in my certainty, licking my lips as I imagine her broken little body resting in the rubble beneath my knuckles. I grind them into the wreckage, growling with satisfaction.
But she's not there. I stir my fingers through the debris, heedless of the sparking electrical mains thrashing against my leather. With a scowl if rage, I seize the edge of the building, and rip away three stories of the glass facade, raining glass and concrete and steel onto those trying to flee the exit ten floors below. I drop to one knee, silencing their screams and sealing the exit beneath it as I hunker down, straddling the building, pressing my body to its smooth surface, eyes scanning through the windows.
There she is, darting her way through the weight room, nimbly springing over free-weight benches, dashing around huge exercise machines and splashing through the soggy carpet and torrents of bloodstained pool-water from above. I give chase, thrusting my gargantuan hand in after her, fingers knocking aside the equipment like toys, the shear bulk of my fingers shattering the floor and the ceiling in their passing with contemptuous ease. She's backed against a window, now, with nowhere left to run...