she hid herself again in darkness, she briefly stood revealed as Donna Matrix, Mistress of Media.
The Dark Queen of Media was on the trail of stolen computer parts. Two days before, hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of microcircuitry had been lifted from a computer outlet in a northern Inter City suburb. Since then, Donna Matrix had been investigating the theft. She had managed to track the stolen parts to this warehouse, and she hoped that her search would end here, and that the thieves had not moved the parts to another location. Naturally wary, she snuck to the skylight and crouched down to peer through it.
By day a meek but cosmopolitan HTML editor, by night Anna Corinthia wore the leather costume of Donna Matrix, and hunted the streets of the city for evil to avenge and justice to serve. From a very young age she had known this to be her destiny; she had grown up with an incalculable admiration for all things electronic. She believed, then and now, that the only hope for humanity’s survival was to bond together under the aegis of technology. Only through high-tech innovation could mankind put aside their differences and work together toward the common good. After an ill-advised few years spent as a student of the visual arts and then of literature, since that time she had focused on training her body and mind, honing both to perfection in preparation for her war on evil. She had mastered all known forms of martial arts and hand-to-hand combat, had traveled over the globe in search of esoteric technological lore, and had served a three-year internship with the famous but elusive Internet guru Double-X. Then she was ready.
This investigation was her first, but she felt no fear. If anything, she felt a freedom she had never before known. Whatever the obstacle, the Mistress of Media would overcome it with perspicacity, elegance, and her illimitable charm.
The skylight was covered with grime. She wiped an area clean with her glove and looked through. Inside, the warehouse was dimly lit, but she discerned a number of figures moving around. About a dozen, she guessed. Maybe a few more. She planned to climb down from the warehouse roof, sneak into the building and ambush the men inside, one by one. If she did it quickly and sneakily enough they should not have enough time to react.
Suddenly the interior of the warehouse was lit up by multiple flashes of light. This was accompanied by the unmistakable sound of gunfire. Donna barely heard the slight scuffling sound behind her. But her hearing was acute, and her reflexes even more so. She whirled around, keeping low, and launched her body into the legs of the approaching man.
She knocked the man off his feet, and he fell to the roof with a crash. A pistol skittered along the rooftop and fell over the side. From the shadows came two more men, both carrying guns. Donna Matrix smiled. Finally her years of physical training were to be put to the test.
She cartwheeled across the rooftop and kicked out with her stiletto heels. One of the gunmen was caught in the stomach, and the breath went out of him in a loud whoosh. From inside the warehouse the gunfire continued.
The third gunman fired at her, but she moved too quickly for him. Leaping into the air, she performed a backward aerial somersault that put her behind the man. He turned around, but too slowly, and Donna landed two powerful punches to his kidneys. He grunted, then doubled over in pain.
By now the first ambusher was on his feet again. He charged her, head lowered like a bull. She had no time to leap aside, so instead she grappled his arms, halting his momentum. Donna Matrix’s mighty muscles strained to keep the man from barreling into her. For several moments they remained like this, neither moving an inch. Then the man began to bend slowly backward as Donna began to get his advantage. He cried out as he fell over backward. Donna held onto him as he fell, drawing up her knee. She landed on his chest, her knee smacking the man in the jaw. He lay still, unconscious.
A bullet impacted next to her. Without pausing for breath she leapt backward, landing and rolling on the rooftop. Her stiletto heel caught one of the remaining two men in the kneecap. He bent to the left and fell.
But the last man was nearby, and he fired bullet after bullet in her direction. The flashes and explosions boggled her senses, but she managed to get herself to the other side of the fallen man. Two bullets hit the rooftop and three more hit the fallen man, killing him.
As Donna Matrix stood, she heard the hammer of the last man’s gun click onto an empty chamber. He was out of bullets.
Throwing the gun at Donna, he charged. She deflected the gun with her forearm, but could not prevent the man from colliding with her. Off-balance, she stumbled backward, the man bearing down on her.
Her foot touched something that wasn’t the rooftop. It gave way beneath her with a cracking sound. Then she was falling backward, the man grappling her arms. Something shattered under her back, and she saw a look of horror appear on the man’s face. They fell together, the broken glass of the skylight raining down alongside them.
Chapter Three: Painting the Town Red!
As she fell into the warehouse Donna Matrix kicked her opponent off of her. Below them the dozen gunmen looked up in shock. Web Hunter, behind the almost completely-destroyed stack of crates, did not look up, but instead launched himself into a sideways roll out from behind the crates. He pumped his shotgun four times as he did so, and each shot found its mark. Four gunmen fell without ever seeing Web Hunter move.
The remaining eight stopped gawking at the falling pair and turned their attention to Web Hunter. But now Web Hunter had the advantage. He ducked behind a pillar, and shot around the side of it. Two more gunmen fell.
Above, Donna Matrix twisted her body quickly and extended her right arm. With a soft puffing sound, a thin wire shot from a concealed tube in her glove. The end of the wire was attached to a small but sturdy grappling claw no more than three inches in diameter. The claw hit the edge of the shattered skylight and clamped to the metal frame.
The line went taut. Donna’s arm jerked and a pain shot through her shoulder joint. But Donna Matrix had designed her T1 Line to be sturdy, and the wire held. Her body swooped in an arc, and as the man she had been grappling with crashed to the concrete floor, she swung to one of the warehouse’s walls. Simultaneously she retracted her T1 Line and extended small metal climbing claws from her gloves. Clinging to the wall, she caught her breath.
One of the gunmen took careful aim at Donna Matrix. But he never fired. Web Hunter’s bullet caught him on the left side, above the heart. He spun completely around, then tripped over the body of the man who had fallen through the skylight. Both bodies lay unmoving.
As Donna climbed quickly down the wall, Web Hunter’s shotgun sounded over and over. By the time she reached the ground the warehouse was thick with smoke and the smell of cordite. All of the gunmen lay dead on the warehouse floor.
Web Hunter rested his shotgun casually on his shoulder and approached Donna. She gave him a wry half-smile.
“Thanks for saving my life from these guys,” she said.
“I was just returning the favor,” explained Web Hunter. “If you hadn’t dropped in when you did, I would’ve bought it, I bet.” As an afterthought he added, “I’m Web Hunter,” and extended his hand.
She shook it. “Donna Matrix. I’ve heard of you.”
“I’m
