Although the characters used herein originally appeared in "The Avenger" pulp magazine in the 1940's, knowledge of The Avenger series really isn't necessary to enjoy (hopefully!) this story. As one sentence background material, The Avenger and his organization fought crime in the 1940's. There, that's all you need to know before diving in! The author makes no claim on any of the characters contained herein who originally appeared in "The Avenger" magazine.
This story is copyright 1998 by Pulp Fan; you can contact me at the email address in my profile. Permission is given to repost it, or to put it on free websites, but please don't alter the text (and please don't post it on alt.pulp, where underage folks might read it).
* * * * *
There's an old saying--if you can't take the heat, get out of the kitchen. What it should have advised is if you can't take the heat, get out of Manhattan.
The dog days of summer had arrived with a vengeance, turning that mighty metropolis into a sweltering oven. People unfortunate to have to venture out to work were drenched in their own sweat within minutes of leaving their flats, wilting in the oppressive air. Those fortunate enough to be able to stay inside sat near open windows, whirling fans playing on them, trying to remain still while listening to the soaps on the radio, wondering what the next plot twist in "The Guiding Light" would bring, or reading the paper about the latest developments in the war over in Europe and wondering when the Axis powers would go down to final defeat--in short, doing anything other than moving out of the artificial breeze which at least brought a temporary respite from the worst of the heat.
Those who were really, really fortunate, however, were located in a warehouse in lower Manhattan. An unimpressive building on the outside, located at the end of a seemingly rundown street, a casual observer would have never guessed that inside, the building belied the dilapidated appearance of its outer shell and was, instead, the modern headquarters of one of the most elite crimefighting forces in the world. As the home base of Justice, Inc., the structure was one of the few in the city equipped with a new means of artificial cooling, called air conditioning, and those who ventured into its cavernous interior to escape the heat swiftly became reluctant to leave.
And so it was that the present two occupants of the building, both young women, were congratulating themselves at having avoided being caught up in the current plans of their co-workers--plans which had taken those same co-workers out of the cool interior of the building and into the blast furnace outside.
An hour or so earlier, three of their comrades had also been inside their HQ, together with their leader, Richard Henry Benson, better known to the world at large as The Avenger. One of the wealthiest men in the world, a terrible tragedy in which he had lost both his wife and his daughter had a profound effect on Benson, with the result that he had turned his considerable skills to fighting crime. To that end, he had gathered around him a core group of trusted allies, five of whom were lounging around with him in the building early that afternoon--Fergus MacMurdie, the dour Scot better known as Mac; Smitty, the gentle giant who could become a lethal weapon; Nellie Gray, diminutive blonde bombshell and the subject of Smitty's affections; and the husband and wife team of Josh and Rosabel Newton, the two African-American members of Justice, Inc. The crimefighting business had been slow the last couple of weeks, as no sinister masterminds intent on conquering the world--or even merely the United States--had arisen to test their mettle. With the result that the action-loving group was a little bored as they sat about the cavernous second story of the warehouse, listening to the radio and making small talk.
Mac and Josh had been the first to leave. Tired of doing nothing, the Scot had announced that he was going to pop in at his drugstore and make sure things were running smoothly there. Josh's eyes had lit up at the thought of sitting at Mac's fountain counter, eating maple-nut sundae after maple-nut sundae. Mac had muttered that it was impossible to make any money with Josh eating his entire ice cream supply, but he finally consented to Josh's coming along. Clearing it with Rosabel, Josh had eagerly accompanied the chemist when he left, telling his wife he'd be back in a few hours.
A few moments later, the phone connecting The Avenger directly with the New York police department had rung. As its jangling tones cut the air, the remaining members of Justice, Inc., stared at it intently, willing it to be something exciting to shake them out of their doldrums. Alas, it wasn't to be. Answering the phone, The Avenger exchanged a few words with a police lieutenant before hanging up.
To the disappointment of his crew, he announced, "Nothing exciting I'm afraid. There's a small matter they'd like to get my input on--and your's too, Smitty, if you feel like coming along. There's some angle to this which involves electricity."
In Smitty's case, appearances were deceiving. Though he didn't look it, his massive exterior concealed the brain of one of the country's top electrical experts. "Sure boss," he replied. "It'll be good to stretch my legs, and who knows, this might turn out to be more interesting than you think."
The Avenger had asked Nellie and Rosabel if they wanted to accompany them. The two women looked at each other, then shrugged. Sitting around HQ bored was one thing, but at least they were cool. If The Avenger didn't think this trip was likely to be interesting, they'd probably just be trading in bored but cool for bored but hot. Not an appealing proposition.
Rosabel spoke for both of them. "Thanks, but I think we'll take a flyer on this one, chief. Getting all hot without a payoff doesn't sound too enticing. Just promise to call us if something juicy develops!"
Promising to do just that, The Avenger and Smitty departed, leaving the two young women alone in the building. Sitting on divans across from each other, legs tucked under themselves, the two female members of Justice, Inc., stared at each other, contemplating the long afternoon ahead of them, ennui etched into their faces.
The two friends were a study in contrast. To call Nellie petite would have been an understatement. Barely five feet in height, weighing just over 100 pounds, she resembled nothing so much as an exquisite porcelain doll, with milky white skin and dainty features. Long blonde tresses framed her pretty face, in which her china-blue eyes sparkled. Barefoot, her tiny feet and slim calves showed beneath her skirt, while her silken blouse was stretched taut enough to reveal the shape of her petite breasts, creating a gentle swell in the material.
While Rosabel was not large, she was more solidly built than her crimefighting companion. Just over 5"6", her ebony skin was toned and fairly shone. Not an ounce of fat was on her firm frame. An onlooker could have gotten lost in her liquid, dark eyes, shining as with an inner light, giving mere hints of her mysterious depths, depths which only her husband Josh had explored. Completing the contrast to Nellie, her face was ringed with black curls, while her blouse made it abundantly clear that her firm, young breasts would be an ample pillow on which any man would love to rest his head and lips.
Nellie broke the silence first. "So, what do you want to do?" she asked, half-heartedly, flicking an imaginary speck of dust from the hem of her skirt.
"Oh, I don't know," came the equally dispirited response. Quiet reigned supreme once more for a few moments, until Nellie spoke again.
"We could bake some cookies," she suggested without a great deal of enthusiasm.
Rosabel shook her head. "No, we did that last week," she pointed out. "I don't feel like it--and no need to spoil them, we don't want them expecting us to bake stuff every time they leave us alone!"
The petite blonde nodded her agreement. "I suppose you're right," she said, lapsing into silence again. Idly she resumed toying with the material of her skirt.
Rosabel's face lit up a few moments later. "We could go shopping..."
Nellie interrupted. "Go out in this heat? You're crazy. It's taken me an hour to get cool after passing through that furnace on my way over here...I'm not going out again!"
Rosabel's face dropped. "Yeah, I guess you've got a point," she conceded. She thought for a moment. "What about playing a game?"
Nellie shrugged, less than enthused. "I don't know. What kind of game?"
"Well, you're a lot of help," laughed Rosabel. "How about backgammon?" she suggested with a grin.
Nellie snorted derisively and stuck her tongue out playfully at the other woman. "Play the backgammon queen? I remember the last time you thumped me at that game! Forget it--I'm not masochistic! What about Monopoly?"
"No," responded Rosabel. "In order to get a really good Monopoly game going, you need more than two people."
"True," Nellie admitted.
