Large white spotlights circled the night sky, filling it with their artificial brilliance. A long line of black limousines disgorged their riders, filling the Richmond Building with their brilliance as well. Somewhere in the middle of this sea of humanity a woman sat in the back of her limo, fidgeting uncomfortably.

“How much further Efrem?” she asked.

“Its hard to say ma’am. Some of these people have trouble walking in a straight line on their best day. With the addition of high heeled shoes and neck ties, there could be a fatal accident at any moment.”

She laughed gently and then tugged at the gown she wore.

“You don’t like my heels?”

“Madam, you could wear a nun’s habit to a bikini contest judged by a room full of blind men and still win.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere Efrem.”

“Everywhere but the front of the line I’m afraid.”

As the line of luxury vehicles inched closer and closer to the red carpet she began to run down her mental check list. She had everything she would need.

“I believe we have arrived ma’am.”

“Finally,” she said, with a heavy sigh.

She heard the lock on her door release. The door was opened by a young man in a custom made black suit. He held out a hand. She took it and slid from her place in the back of the limo.

Flash bulbs began to pop like automatic weapon fire. A gasp went up from the crowd as she smiled and waved.

“This is going to be too easy,” she thought.

THE MINK’S TALE

By Bruce Cook

Karen Meriwether heard the whispers as she made her way through the ornately decorated lobby of the Richmond Building. She couldn’t remember what charity the gala was being thrown for, nor did she care.

“Karen, darling,” said a blond woman holding a tiny dog as she stepped in front of our heroine.

Karen did some quick mental gymnastics trying to come up with the name of the vapid hotel heiress.

“Milan! How are you?”

“Honestly?” said Milan, whispering conspiratorially, “I need to do a rail. Do you have anything on you?”

“No, but I bet Lindsey does.”

“Is she here?” asked Milan, her eyes darting nervously around the room.

“I think I saw her over by the main bar.”

“Of course,” nodded Milan. “Gotta go.”

Karen Meriwether watched as Milan staggered across the room, bumping mindlessly into others on her way to her next high.

“That could have been me,” thought Karen.

Karen Meriwether had begun her life as a spoiled child of privilege. She flitted from one obsession to the next like all of her friends until the day she discovered her life’s calling.

She had been in Tiffany looking at yet another diamond ring. The sales clerk was sufficiently obsequious, but Karen was bored. On a whim, she asked to see a different ring. While the clerk’s attention was turned, Karen pocketed the ring and made her way to the exit. She was walking out the door when the enraged clerk yelled for security to stop her. The large man at the door stopped her. The clerk demanded the return of the ring. Karen denied having it. The clerk began to yell. Karen remained calm, even offering, more than a little suggestively, to allow the man to search her for the missing ring. After more than an hour declaring her innocence and reminding them who her parents were, Karen was released.

She never wore the ring, but she still had it somewhere.

“You never forget your first,” she thought as she threaded through the crowd toward the elevators.

And so began her life of crime. More than once she used her family name to get her out of a jam. It earned her a reputation that she cherished and her parents abhorred. Eventually, she graduated to larger thefts and bigger scores.

Her network of connections in both high society and the criminal underworld gave her an unfair advantage over her contemporaries. Each brazen heist caused her reputation to grow even more.

Finally, having had enough, her father disowned her and taking her trust fund and the family name.

That’s when she took her own name.

That’s when she became Mink.

A overly muscled man in a suit and a pair of dark sunglasses stood between her and the elevator.

“I’m sorry ma’am. The elevators are closed for the night.”

“Are you sure?” she asked, giving the much taller man a long look at her cleavage.

“I’m afraid so.”

Even though she couldn’t see his eyes, she knew he was watching her.

“Of course,” she said. “Do you mind if I just freshen up before I go back out to that mob.”

“Not one bit ma’am,” he said, a smile playing at the corner of his lips.

She fumbled through the contents of her tiny clutch bag and pulled out a bottle of perfume. She pointed it in the direction of the guard and pressed the activator. A stream of yellowish gas blasted the guard in the face. He coughed, clutched at his throat and then fell to the floor.

Mink quickly reached inside the guards coat. She pulled out his bubble gun and his pass card. She dropped the bubble gun improbably into her purse. Then she swiped the card in front of the elevator’s control panel.

The door opened with a ping that couldn’t be heard over the din of the party nearby.

Mink pressed the button and the elevator door slid open. As she stepped into the elevator, she once again waved the access card in front of the control panel. The buttons lit up. She pressed “P.” She smiled with satisfaction as the “P” turned red, the doors slid silently closed and the elevator began to climb.

No sooner is the elevator in motion than Mink deftly unfastened the clasp on her left shoulder that held her dress in place. The dress slid to the floor in a designer pile on the floor. Beneath it she wore a skin tight black bodysuit. She tugged at the sleeves and they stretched into place along her arms, as if by magic.

“Thanks Remnant,” she thought.

It was Remnant who finally told her exactly how ridiculous her costume was. Somehow, coming from him, she didn’t take offense. The full length fur coat and furry white boots were patently ridiculous. The bodysuit? Now that was classic.

She wasn’t sure how Remnant had done it, but the suit stretched and adjusted to her body. It was perfect for outings like this when she needed to wear it underneath something else for infiltration.

She missed Remnant. He hadn’t been the same since Pinball had died in the confrontation with the Squadron Supreme. It was only then that she realized that her partners in crime had meant far more to each other.

She kicked the high heels into the corner with the discarded dress. She reached into the tiny clutch purse and pulled out a pair of tabi boots. She pulled them onto her feet as the elevator dinged 40.

She reached into the purse again and removed a pair of silver bracelets, strapping then one and then the other around her wrists. She flexed the muscles in her wrists and razor sharp claws shot from the bracelets. She whipped her hands, the blades whistling through the air.

The purse was Remnant’s final gift to her. Its capacity was seemingly endless. She could get whatever she need for or from a heist into the little thing.

As the elevator approached the designated floor, she reached into her bag one final time. She removed the black domino mask and affixed it to her face. Its not really necessary. She’d never done a very good job of keeping her identity a secret. Still, it did complete the outfit.

The elevator door opened. She leapt out of the car, tumbling head over heels to clear the door. She came up in a crouch, warily surveying the penthouse. It was dark, but everything wass just the way he left it.

Kyle Richmond.

Nighthawk.

Her arch nemesis.

Her lover.

They’d spent years fighting and flirting with one another. She would steal something. Nighthawk would catch her and send her to jail. She’d escape and they’d start the dance again.

Then the Squadron Supreme enacted the Utopia Plan.

Then everything changed.

Then Nighthawk came to her. He asked her to become a Redeemer. She accepted.

They stopped fighting their feelings.

She had never been happier.

She eased across the room toward where she knew the secret stud was hidden on the wall of the bookshelf behind his father’s biography.

As she did so, a shadow moved toward her. It was a shadow that shouldn’t have moved. Mink popped her claws.

“Easy Mink,” said the shadow. “There is plenty here for both of us.”

The shadow flowed from the wall and stood in front of the Mink.

“Phantasm?”

“At your service dear,” he replied.

As Mink watched the shadow that was Phantasm dissipated and the man emerged. He bowed deeply.

“It has been a long time. I like the new costume.”

“Courtesy of Remnant.”

“He does good work.”

“Indeed. What are you doing here Phantasm?”

“The Richmonds were world class art collectors. With the former President dead, it seems a waste for those beautiful painting to just hang here and collect dust. I thought I would share them with those who would enjoy them.”

“And pay you a handsome finder’s fee.”

“Of course.”

“I don’t think I can let you do that, Phantasm.”

“Oh Mink, my dear, I don’t think you can stop me.”

Mink saw Phantasm reach for the controller on his belt. Kyle had told her once that the belt was some kind of alien technology. It allowed Phantasm to live among the shadows. Phantasm was right. If he activated the belt, there was not way she would be able to stop him.

With the speed of thought she activated the gas canister on her wrist. Her “mink stink” blasted Phantasm in the face. It was a highly concentrated, non-lethal, variation on mustard gas. Phantasm forgot about the belt as he clutched at his throat, searching desperately for breath.

Mink popped her claws. Without a moment’s hesitation, she sank the three claws on her left wrist deeply into Phantasm’s gut. His eyes widened when she pivoted her wrist upwards, rupturing his internal organs.

Mink watched stoically as the light dimmed in Phantasm’s eyes. She put her right hand to his neck to check for a pulse. Only when she was satisfied that there wasn’t one did she pull the claws out of the villain.

“No honor among thieves, I’m afraid,” she said to the corpse as she wiped the blood on Phantasm’s ebony costume.

She sheathed her claws and made her way across the room. She pulled out the book and touched the hidden stud. The bookcase pivoted silently. She stepped into the room hidden behind.

Everything was right where Kyle had left it.

Tears streamed from beneath her mask as she touched Kyle’s costume.

She remembered the night he had told her the story. She remembered how he’d cried when he told her about the lengths he had gone to to stop the Utopia Plan in its infancy. She remembered his anger at himself for not being able to actually do what he set out to do.

She found his equipment belt hanging on a peg beside his cape. She picked it up and opened a compartment on the right side of the buckle and shook out a tiny key.

After his confession, she’d asked to see it. By then she knew about the secret room in the penthouse. By then they had no secrets. He’d taken her hand and walked her to the room. Then, beneath the light of a full moon, he’d shown her what he intended to do.

She walked across the dark musty room to the tiny box on a shelf beside a framed photo of Kyle’s adopted son, Neal. She used the key to open the padlock on the box. As she lifted the lid, a green glow filled the room. She reached into the box, pulled out the glowing object and dropped it into her bag.

She touched Nighthawk’s cowl one last time and walked out of the hidden room. She pushed the bookcase back into place. It locked with a barely audible hiss. Then she returned the book to its place on the shelf.

The Mink walked across the floor of the penthouse, past the corpse of Phantasm, and opened the sliding glass door to the terrace outside.

She had one foot on terrace when she had an idea.

She walked back into the penthouse and knelt beside Phantasm.

“You won’t be needing this anymore,” she said unbuckling the shadow belt. “I, however, can use it.”

She removed the belt and dropped it into her purse. Then she fastened the bag to her belt and returned to the terrace.

“Are you ready Efrem?” she asked into the communicator built into her bracelet.

“Whenever you are Madam.”

The Mink climbed to the edge of the terrace. She looked down at the flashing spotlights and the limo still arriving at the party. She thought about Milan. She thought about the life she had managed to avoid. She looked back into the penthouse and thought about the life that had been stolen from her by Foxfire.

Then she climbed onto the wall and jumped.

As she plunged toward the ground, the Mink triggered a button on her bracelet. A fletchette fired. It trailed a long line behind it. The missile buried itself in the side the a nearby building. The Mink rode the line to the darkness of the alley behind the building.

She landed softly, her tabi boots crunching on broken glass. She looked to the predetermined spot. Efrem flashed the limo’s headlights once. She sprinted toward the luxury car, sliding into the back seat. Efrem started the car and pulled out of the alley and into traffic.

“Did everything go according to plan?”

“Mostly,” she said removing the domino mask.

“What does mostly mean?”

“Phantasm was there too.”

“The paintings?”

“Yes.”

“Did you convince him otherwise?”

“Something like that,” she said.

“Did you get what you were after?”

“Don’t I always?” she replied.

The Mink reached into her bag and pulled out the glowing green object. She held it up and it illuminated the rear of the limousine. She rolled the cylindrical object between her fingers.

“And what exactly do you plan to do with that?”

“I plan to do what Kyle couldn’t,” she said grimly. “I’m going to kill Hyperion.”