The Hench Woman's Handbook

but thanks to her, I know how to make my own clothes and clean blood stains out of anything.

  Gave me something to do with my hands while watching that damn publicity tour Bon Bon went on there. All of those TV specials and talk show interviews and guest appearances that she made on every other reality show, wearing that gaudy medal that the government had the nerve to give her for "protecting all of humanity" after the Professor Zero situation...I really had to stab something with a sharp needle after watching hours of that happy crappy!

  I could have turned off the TV and the internet and avoided the very mention of Bon Bon there ,but why did I have to, huh? She put herself on display there ,so she wanted everyone in the world to gawk at her. When you do that, you can't pick and choose who is going to keep a close watch on you, waiting for the right moment to strike. She turned into a real little diva for awhile, driving her crime fighting buddies like

  Body Slam and Whirlwind away.

  Even Hero Elite got sick of her celebrity crap and kicked her out, even though the press releases were saying it was a "mutual parting of the ways". Yeah, sure ,it was. It had nothing to do with Bonnie not answering that call to lead her firepower during that terrorist attack, oh, no, not at all!"

  "I saw a special on that, once. It never seemed right to me either, that she wasn't able to be there but you can spot her at the Bieber concert in Milan." The girl in black took a long sip of her drink, nodding her head in support. Marge gave her an appraising look. "Glad to hear that you can think for yourself there, honey. Not swallowing the hype will keep you two steps ahead of everyone else in the game.

  When that perfect opportunity opened up for me, I was nervous. Yeah, I'll admit it. Starting off your biggest criminal act in public should make you nervous, especially if it's on live TV. Award shows were never the same after that night when Bon Bon went on that one for music videos and gave her final performance ,so to speak. The security for that event was a joke; a couple of easy bribes and my force field trap was set up right during dress rehearsal ,under all of their noses.

  As she was strutting over to the podium with that hunk of boy toy lead singer she was dating at the time on her arm, my people had already been in place for hours. I was waiting under that stage lift, checking my ray gun again for like the thousand and one time. I personally supervised that tech crew to make sure they loaded it right with that Beige 12 formula that always shut her powers down. Still, I had to make sure that my weapon was fully locked and loaded when the time came.

  While Bonnie and her lover boy were smooching during their intro for whatever stupid category they were announcing-I think it was Best Butt Shaking-that crowd screamed their fool heads off, which was the perfect cover for my entrance on stage. I love watching that footage ,me rising from below, with all of that dry ice fogging up the place right behind Little Miss Diva, who didn't think to check her back.

  So there I stood, with the only comfortable thing I had on being that duster that Master Class gave me after he vaporized Baron Bloodsucker-that was all that was left of that fang faced jerk. Those fangs were dental implants, by the way. I should know, I broke one of them off before Dex zapped him with the atomizer gun. Anyway, I don't think that first outfit I whipped up was as bad as some of those fashionista types were saying later, considering that I pieced it together from a bunch of different military uniforms and black latex.

  What really looked best on me was that helmet. Hats may be more of a church lady things these days but don't underestimate one with a scary looking visor there, hon. That bunch of idiots in the audience loved it, I know. That sucker was the most sought after Halloween costume accessory that year, wish I had thought to market that baby myself back then.

  As Bonnie and her boneheaded beau kept on reading their lines off the teleprompter, I started making my way over to them, setting off the force field devices as I went. You'd think that Bon Bon would have caught a clue that something was up when the teleprompter kept fading out, due to inference from the high energy waves that my trap was sending out there ,right? But no, that girl was never the sharpest tool in the shed.

  The boyfriend, on the other hand, took a look over his shoulder and saw me heading right for them. I had a knock back ball at the ready for just such a thing to happen. One toss and it popped him hard enough in the back of his head that he dropped to the ground like a sack of potatoes. Bonnie fell on top of him and was so busy checking to see if he was all right-"Baby, wake up! Talk to me!"-that she didn't see the heel of my steel toe boot kicking her in the face until it was too late."

  Marge grabbed one of the drinks in front of her and drained the glass. It was the watered down one meant for the girl in black, who could care less about that at the moment, judging from the rapt attention she was giving her unsavory storyteller. Marge took a couple of deep breaths before continuing, beads of sweat forming on her upper lip.

  "Bonnie did get a chance to throw some fireballs at me before I dosed her with the Beige 12. One of those sparklers hit the force field and nearly blew us all up to kingdom come-that was the last time I bought equipment like that off of Craig's List, that's for damn sure. The crowd was eating it up with a spoon and I know all of suckers at home watching this on TV and the internet couldn't get enough. That little death scene of ours was voted the number one most shocking clip of all time at YouTube. Dexter would've been

  so proud of that. Then again, if he was still here ,it wouldn't have happened in the first place.

  The best part of the whole thing was that moment just before I blasted that bimbo straight to hell. She was having really bad reactions to the Beige 12,breaking out in hives that made her face look like road kill pizza. She was crawling as far away from me as she could get, pulling that cheap blonde wig of hers off, showing the whole world that ratty hairdo of hers. With all of those commercial endorsements she was doing right and left there, you would think that one of her items on the to-do list would be to get a decent perm.

  I let her reach the edge of the force field before stepping on that stupid blue cape that was still hanging around her neck and dragging her back to the center of the stage. Everyone was screaming all around us, even the so-called "security force" that managed to show up from back stage. I could hear my guys giving them a good fight, which gave me enough time to click through all of the settings on that damn gun to get to the one that would blast that bitch in two.

  She knew it was me, despite what they reported in the press there. Bonnie looked me dead in the eye as I aimed the gun right at her heart ,or where it was supposed to be. I was still a little tense, so it took me a few seconds to aim properly. The microphones were too screwed up to catch her last words but I'll remember until the day I die.

  Bonnie yelled at me ,"What do you think this will accomplish, Margie? What will this get you in the end? Do you expect him to come from the dead or something!?" I took my aim as she kept on screeching at me. "What do you expect from this?!"

  I gave her the courtesy of looking her square in the eye and telling her, "What I expect, my dear, is for you to die."

  Marge's smile had spread so far that her cheeks seemed to have disappeared. She leaned back into her seat, letting out a sigh as she wiped the sweat that had been dripping from her chin off. A moment later, the dark bliss melted from her face, making her features seem more hollow in the dim light.

  The girl in black's expression was lit up with an eagerly wicked joy. Her smile had a sharp tinge to it, which Marge failed to notice as she sat forward. "Yeah, that moment was perfect. Too bad I didn't plan my escape as well there. Lost several promising guys and some good guns during that showdown we had with the cops in the parking lot. Hey, you live and you learn."

  "When did you get the medal?" That question made Marge narrow her eyes at the girl in black, whose smile was as sunny as poisoned pie. "Why do you ask?"

  "Oh, because you said that Bon Bon always wore that thing but the police reports and the crime scene photos both confirmed that it coul
dn't be found anywhere near her body." She was twirling the pen between her fingers, tapping her note pad slightly. "I just wondered how you got a hold of it to do that, you know...."

  Marge nodded, relaxing her face a little. "I see you've doing your homework already, good girlie! Well, I'll tell you how and it was so simple that I still find it hard to believe that none of those so-called experts figured it out. As a token of her love, Bonnie gave that medal to her little rock star boyfriend to wear that night, only he had to take it off before coming out on stage because it kept getting tangled on the crappy glitter beading that was all over his shirt. So tacky, just like most of his career. I heard that his big memorial album to Bon Bon's memory made a fortune, another guy who owes me money for making his life more interesting.

  So, back to the medal; I saw it sticking out of his pocket as I made my way off stage and just grabbed that sucker fast before my force field censors burned out. The funny thing was that later all of the doctors agreed that if she had wore it over her heart like she always did, that