Trish Stratus vs Carmen Electra (commission)

A recent commission for a hotel fight between Carmen Electra and Trish Stratus. I'm not normally huge on celebrity fights, but I actually knew who these two are and the requester had some good input and requests so it went by quick and fun. 

 

Carmen Electra had signed on with the WWE for a one-night promotional deal. She acted as a guest announcer for the night and refereed for one match, though never getting into anything physical. The job itself was easy while still paying big money for the Baywatch beauty's star power. The real issue was with her coworkers.

Carmen and Trish Stratus had immediate animosity. It was dirty looks at first, and some backhanded remarks about Trish during her match. When the show was wrapping up, Trish made sure to find Carmen out in one of the concrete halls backstage near the catering table.

"You've got a big mouth for a no-talent slut. You know that?" Trish demanded, wasting no time in fanning the fire. She was still in her wrestling outfit, the tight leather pants and elastic top clinging to the blonde's curvy body.

"Excuse me? If you want no talent, try the mirror," Carmen sneered back in her alluringly revealing suit. "I've seen your type before. You're a dime a dozen blonde bimbo who jumped ship to America to get by on another lazy Canadian wrestler gimmick."

Trish's face reddened as it turned into a full on glare. She stepped closer to Carmen, expecting the actress and model to back down. She just scowled right back. "Don't you judge me, you washed up tramp!" Trish demanded. "You're even worse for being nothing but a second-rate pretty face. You can't act, you obviously can barely dress yourself let alone maintain a career, and you sure aren't worth shit in a fight."

Carmen scoffed and stepped closer. At this point, their breasts were tingling as their thin attire brushed against each other. "Don't think your pretend play fights count as real fighting. I've seen some scraps in my days. And being a dancer has made me much more athletic than you, and way, WAY more attractive to every man on Earth than the hottest wrestler. And that definitely isn't you!"

Trish was the first to resort to actual blows. She slapped Carmen right across the face, sending the league's guest star staggering back several paces. "How about you watch that big mouth of yours before it gets you into trouble?" Trish hissed through her teeth. She savored the shocked expression on Carmen's face for a moment before turning to head back to her dressing room and clean up for the night.

Carmen had other ideas. She went charging right after Trish and tackled her around the waist, dropping her onto the hard floor below. Trish grunted as her big boobs were crushed beneath their combined weight. Carmen instantly went for the blonde wrestler's hair and yanking on it painfully, getting some shrill screams as Trish kicked her booted feet on the ground.

"Don't you fucking walk away from me!" Carmen snarled as she continued with the vicious hair pulling. Trish leaned on one arm and used the other to slam an elbow into Carmen's ribs, knocking the air out of the bathing beauty and making her lose her grip. Trish hit another blow into the same spot before she rolled to one side and sent Carmen toppling over. She coughed as her legs flipped up in the air, too distracted by the pain to bother noticing that a few gawking onlookers got a perfect view up her skirt. She scrambled to her feet when Trish let out a furious roar and charged into her. She lifted Carmen off the ground for a moment as she speared her right into the catering table against the far wall, rattling it and its contents as well as the makeup table beside it.

The onlookers started to call for security while Carmen kicked and punched at Trish, the various food and drink already staining her clothes. "You stupid psycho dyke! Let go!" The brawling guest shouted as she grabbed one of the cans of soda and smashed it into the side of Trish's face. It bounced the blonde's head away, but more noticeably sprayed the soda and its foam over the both of them.

Trish staggered back holding her cheek while Carmen dragged herself off the table. Thinking fast, Carmen grabbed a sandwich tray and swung it across Trish's face with an echoing noise of cheap aluminum at work. Trish nearly fell onto her ass from that one as the bread and deli meat went flying all around them. Carmen took full advantage by jumping onto Trish's back, looking from a distance like she was getting a piggyback ride from the bigger blonde. Trish's screams and grunts of pain showed that it was anything but fun to have Carmen clawing at her hair and face.

Trish ended up stumbling over to the makeup stable, grabbing its edge for balance. When she saw Carmen's face over her shoulder in the mirror, she grabbed a can of hairspray and blasted her attacker like it was a can of mace. Carmen screamed and fell off of her, eyes watering from the stinging chemicals. Trish rubbed her scratched up face before she grabbed and threw fistful of cake onto the writhing Carmen's body.

"I'm not done with you bitch!" Trish snarled, but Carmen wasn't completely blinded by the spray. When she stormed over to the Baywatch babe, Carmen rolled onto her back and kicked her right between the legs. Her high heel had been lost in the struggle, so thankfully it was just a stockinged foot that smashed the wrestler's pussy. Trish still grunted and fell to her knees, clutching her crotch with one hand while the other lashed out at Electra. The women were tearing out each other's hair, both sticky with food and smeared makeup by the time security arrived. They still thrashed and kicked at each other while they were pulled apart by several large men.

"This isn't over, you fucking bulldyke!" Carmen shouted furiously.

Trish agreed just as enthusiastically. "Oh you're damn right it isn't! I'll get you for this. You hear me!?"

Carmen went back to her hotel suite that night, annoyed but cooling off quickly. She still grumbled about Trish and her outburst at the set, but at least it was behind her. She was walking around the classy room (complete with its own kitchen and huge, cushy bed) in her bright pink bra and panties. A short robe went just past her waist, not bothering to fully undress as she filled up her bathtub. It was steaming hot, just how she liked it, when she started to remove her panties. Then came the knock on her door.

Carmen sighed and pulled her underwear back up. She looked out the peephole where a blonde woman waited in a skimpy black dress. Her face was buried in a clipboard as she read it over.

"Hi, Miss Electra?" the woman called through the door. "Sorry, but I'm with the WWE. We had some papers to sign in regards to your appearance on the show tonight."

Carmen rolled her eyes. Typical incompetence. "Do you have any idea how late it is for all this?" she grumbled, but she opened the door to just be done with it. The new woman burst into the room as soon as the door was open, blindsiding Carmen and knocking her flat on her back.

Trish tossed away the clipboard and took advantage of the confusion, shutting the door and locking it behind her. "Who's the dumb one know!?" she laughed down at Carmen. "I can't believe you actually fell for that!"

Carmen stared in shock for a moment. She had been fooled by the clipboard blocking her face and never seeing Trish outside of her wrestling gear. She finally started to smirk as she rose to her feet. "You're the only dumb bitch here. This time you came into my home turf and made sure that nobody would come to save you."

"Oh, I'm counting on it," Trish sneered back at her, shaking out her blonde locks before she charge right for Carmen. The nimble dancer ducked under a huge haymaker, tackling Trish in the side to bodily threw her down to the floor. However pissed as she was with Trish, Carmen wasn’t planning to get into a wrestling match with the pro diva if she could help it. Instead, she stomped on Trish’s chest, getting the busty blonde’s tits to bounce around beneath her dress. The wrestler grunted and brought an arm up around her breasts before kicking at Carmen. The slimmer blonde had to stumble in order to avoid it, but she still managed to dance away from the blow.

“You fight just as sloppy as you do in the ring!” Carmen taunted, sneering as she put her hands on her hips. Trish forced herself to her feet, but Carmen was furious and confident enough to underestimate her. She had expected Trish to steady herself before she came at her, but the wrestler hurled herself right into Carmen and delivered a heavy backhand chop to her chest. The Baywatch beauty gasped as the powerful arm created a resounding slapping sound as it hit right between the folds of her robes and against her tits.

The blow knocked Electra back into a wall and Trish quickly grabbed her by the shoulders to trap her there. Carmen was still pawing at her chest when Trish drove a knee into her stomach. The power blow winded the model, leaving Carmen with her mouth hanging open as she reeled from the pain.

“And you still can’t take a hit, you scrawny bitch!” Trish hissed through gritted teeth. She grabbed the winded Carmen by the hair and stormed away from the doorway, dragging her opponent along with her. She wanted to put the mouthy bitch through more, but there wasn’t much for her to work with just inside the massive suite. Trish found a bit more to work with as she reached the living room, tossing Carmen into the back of the couch. Carmen went tumbling over and landed on the cushions, wincing from the landing as she rubbed her stinging scalp. Trish reached over the couch to grab another handful of hair, but Carmen reacted quickly and returned the favor with Trish’s golden locks. The dancer slid onto the to the floor, dragging Trish after her and banging her chin on the hard edge of the sofa. Trish grunted and bounced off, leaving her on the carpet and rubbing her jaw.

Even with the couch between them, Carmen refused to use the opening to rest. She scrambled back over the couch, sizing up the downed wrestler for a half second before she leapt over the back and landed full force with a stomp on her stomach. Trish grunted hard as she clutched her belly, but Carmen held onto the back of the sofa to deliver a few more stomps with her bare feet. “Better stay down, bitch! Know your place!”

Trish curled up defensively, trying to block the attacks with her arms and knees. Carmen was breathing heavily as she sneered down at her opponent, glad to have Trish back on the defensive. The stunned and stunning blonde was still feeling it when Carmen dropped down, her pantied crotch straddling her stomach.

“Get off me, you half-naked skank!” Trish objected, but she could only shove and squirm beneath her hated enemy.

“Really? Because you seem a bit overdressed for the occasion!” Carmen shot back. She grabbed Trish by her breasts, dragging her nails along them and leaving some stinging scratches along the Canadian’s jugs. For all of Trish’s training and experience as a wrestler, the catty attack caught her completely off guard. Trish screamed and grabbed her by the wrists, squeezing hard enough to get Electra to wince in pain. Regardless, Carmen already had the grip she wanted and ripped down the middle of Trish’s dress. The fine fabric was made to look good rather than resist a lot of pressure, so the loud tear went down to her waist in one crooked line.

“You fucking bitch! That was expensive!” Trish shouted, her face red with anger and embarrassment.

“Then you obviously overpaid, you dumb cunt!” She pulled one of her hands free and slapped Trish across the face, the other hand quickly going to pin her head to the ground. Carmen reclaimed her grip on her hair, bouncing Trish’s skull off of the carpet a few times before standing back up. Trish grit her teeth and held her aching head. It was throbbing along with her chest, but her anger kept her going. Carmen tried to send a kick into her side, but Trish reacted quickly enough to catch the bare leg and shove her backward. Carmen staggered and barely caught herself on the wall, snarling before she tried to rush the downed wrestler again.

This time, Trish was ready for her. She speared into Carmen, catching her around her slender waist and lifting her into the air. She squeezed her powerful arms around Electra’s middle, getting a surprised scream as she beat her fists on Trish’s back. It seemed to be her only valid target at the time, but the stocky blonde soaked up the damage to keep crushing Carmen’s ribs in her improvised bearhug.

“Put me down, you gorilla bitch!” Carmen wailed, but the pain her voice made Trish know better than to let up now. She swung herself bodily to one side, painfully tossing Carmen around in her arms and throwing her off balance. She was winded from the beating and couldn’t keep this up all night, but she enjoyed the time she spent close to Carmen’s face while it was a mask of agony.

“You want down, you phony cunt?” Trish hissed through her gritted teeth. With a surge of strength and effort, she lifted Carmen up high and dropped her crotch-first onto the arm of one of the chairs. Carmen gave out a shrill shriek as she was cuntbusted on the solid piece of furniture, her eyes instantly starting to water with nothing to protect her but her lacy underwear. She was paralyzed by the pain before Trish slammed her in the chest with a forearm, knocking her over so that her face was buried into the cushions and her ass up in the air.

“Looks like you’re back in your natural pose, slut!” Trish barked at her, but Carmen was in too much pain to reply. It still didn’t inspire any mercy in the wrestler, who only thought of further cruelty to inflict on her defenseless opponent. She couldn't help herself as she wound up and delivered a smack to Carmen's ass that echoed through the otherwise silent suite. Carmen’s scream broke the silence once again, trying to crawl off the other other of the chair. Trish followed her closely, delivering another four or five spanks before Electra was able to tumble  back onto the floor.

“Where do you think you’re going?!” Trish snapped, stomping off after her opponent. She gave a brief tug at her dress before deciding that it was beyond repair right now. She left her breasts bouncing around in nothing but her bra as she forced Carmen back up to her knees by a handful of hair. Electra winced as she rose, but she threw an elbow back into Trish’s belly. It caught Stratus by surprise and knocked the wind out of the wrestler, making her double up while holding her belly. Carmen was eager for payback from the pain that was still throbbing in between her legs, so she stood up and caught Trish by her neck. She hurled Trish into the flat screen in front of the couch, bouncing her face off of the hard plastic lining and letting her crumble to her knees. Trish groaned dizzily as she rubbed her face, a shallow scratch that would likely bruise by tomorrow left behind on her forehead.

“I thought you liked being on tv, you little camwhore!” Carmen shouted. Trish was still leaning her hands on the tv table, so she stomped her bare heel between the Canadian’s shoulder blades to send her flopping onto the piece of wooden furniture. Trish grunted in pain as her breasts were squashed against the solid table. She was too busy trying to clear her head when Carmen pulled on one of her legs, dragging the dazed blonde across the carpet and towards the kitchen. Trish screamed as her barely-covered tits were left reddened by the awkward dragging and the abrasive rug burn, only to find that the hard tile of the kitchen floor didn’t treat her much better.

The layout was that of a small but well-stocked kitchen. The hotel had given Miss Electra basically everything short of a stove, including a full fridge and a few free samples of fruit and pastries left out for her. “Alright! Get up, you big fake fatass!” Carmen continued to berate Trish as she forced her back upright. She reared the wrestler back to try throwing her skull into the cabinet door, but while the trip there was painful it was enough for Trish to get her bearings.

Trish threw up her hands to catch the edge of the cabinet and diminish the impact to nearly nothing, just like she was stopping a hit with the turnbuckle. The thud of her hands hitting it instead left Carmen convinced that her latest attack had worked, but Trish just grabbed one of the hotel’s cheap plates off of the countertop and spun around, smashing it to pieces over Carmen’s head. The former Baywatcher let out a startled scream, the impact more startling and painful than truly damaging. It still left bits of ceramic stuck in her hair and Electra grabbing at her scalp to check for blood that wasn’t there. As she staggered backward, Trish caught her by her skimpy robe and pulled it over Carmen’s head. The busty wrestler sent a few punishing elbows into Carmen’s back, each attack drawing a loud and pained grunt from her blinded blonde rival.  

“You want it hardcore, bitch? Huh!?” Trish hissed venomously. Carmen was still groaning and trying to pull the robe out from from her head when Trish thrust a hand between her legs. She bodily lifted Carmen off her feet and scoop slammed her onto the kitchen table, laying her out like she was on an operating table at a particularly sadistic hospital. Trish locked her strong hands around Carmen’s neck, throttling the dancer on top of the table as she kicked and gagged.

“It’s about time someone shut you up!” Trish snarled. Carmen indeed couldn’t speak, but it didn’t keep her from responding. She grabbed at the tray of sweets that they had left out for her. Carmen managed to clumsily snatch up a cupcake and ram its thickly frosted top into Trish’s pretty face, grinding it there until the bright green stuff had covered everything from her lips to eyes.

“AUGGH! UHHK!” Trish gagged on the shocking sweetness, stopping to wipe her stinging eyes with both hands. Carmen started to roll to one side, but Trish’s watering eyes could just make out her shape. She shoved Carmen hard in the opposite direction, hearing a dense thump and some clattering as the falling starlet took a few wooden chairs down with her. Trish spat and wiped her face off. She wasn’t able to get all of the cream off of her, but at least she could see clearly. She finally started to circle around the kitchen to go after the fallen Carmen, but the dancer had already slid under the table while she was down and Trish was blind. Her long leg kicked out from under the table, catching Trish in the knee and toppling her over into the fridge. Her head bounced off the thick plastic as the wrestler groaned and started to push herself back off of the refrigerator door. Carmen didn’t want to risk her getting her hands on her again, so she opened the door and shoved Trish’s head inside.

“Why don’t you just stay in there, you fat pig bitch!?” Electra swung the door shut around her neck and shoulders, making the wrestler scream at the surprising jolt of pain that ran through her upper body. Trish raised an arm to try to stop the repeated attack, but it slammed against her forearm instead. Carmen didn’t seem to mind it so long as she was hurting the rival blonde. She got in a few more crushing smacks with the door before Trish spotted the chocolate cream pie left inside the fridge. They must have expected her to have guests, since only a small piece was missing. The wrestler grabbed the whole pie tin and turned around quickly to throw it at Carmen. It failed to hit her face, splatting all over her robe and tits as it collided with her chest. The dancer shrieked as the cold cream splashed all over her face and chest, stumbling back in shock as she tried to wipe it off. She stripped out of her barely fitting robe, just for Trish to drive a mule kick into Carmen’s stomach.

The Baywatch starlet went down to her knees, clutching her naked belly in pain. The wrestler spun around and thrust a hand between Carmen’s legs, lifting her up in a classic bodyslam maneuver. Instead of dropping her back down, Trish snarled and rammed her into the nearby door. Carmen flopped and howled as the pain shot through her back, wincing as she tried to flop her way free from Trish’s grip. It proved to be too little effort too late as Trish gave a furious scream and charged again, smashing the door wide open with Carmen’s back hitting like a battering ram.

The two of them flopped into the bedroom, tumbling apart as Carmen rolled around on her back. Trish could see the steamy bathroom up ahead, but she had to drag herself back to her feet slowly. The breakin hadn’t left her unscathed, even if Electra had taken the brunt of the hit. “No better place for us to have landed,” Trish scoffed as she lifted Carmen up to her hands and knees by her hair. “Because I’m going to leave you out cold for room service to find your skanky ass in the morning!”

Trish caught Carmen around the neck, forcing her up into a headlock. The slimmer blonde was still groaning and holding her back, leaving her easy to manipulate as Trish grabbed the waistband of her panties and dropped the two of them backward onto the bed with a suplex. Carmen gave a sharp cry as her aching back hit the mattress, bouncing a few times before her loose body settled on top of the bedspread. Trish smirked as she rolled over, both women leaving a mess of crumbs and icing in their wake across the bed. She had expected the whining Carmen to be out of commission by her crushing suplex, but she was shocked to find the model to be much sturdier than she looked. She turned at the same time as Carmen rose and swung the densely stuffed pillow right into her head.

Trish gave a quick grunt before she slumped onto the bed, her upper body spilling out of her torn dress. Carmen kept her grip on her thick pillow and shoved it over Trish's face, straddling the wrestler to keep her pinned. Trish seemed to have plenty to say in objection, but any words she may have had were smothered out by the pillow.

Her face grew hot under the pillow, but the closest she could get to escape was rolling her entire body to one side. Trish started gasping for air and coughing to keep herself breathing, but she couldn't escape the pinning position. Carmen kept one hand leaning on the pillow as she decided that she had found a more interesting target. The TV starlet tore at Trish's dress, the already damaged garment stretching and falling away easier than the first part. It quickly revealed Trish's curvy and crowd-pleasing backside, but the only appreciation it got was when Electra started slapping her ass repeatedly.

With her mouth cleared from the pillow, this attack got Trish's high-pitched screams to come out that much louder. She kicked around frantically, but it only serviced to knock around the sheets and blankets so that they tossed and tangled around them.

"Get off me! You no-talent bitch!" Trish shrieked as she flailed around blindly.

"Aww, what's wrong? All that pretend fighting make you too weak to handle a real woman!? No wonder nobody wants your butch dyke ass!" Carmen moved to sit on top of the pillow, securing Trish on the bed while she dug her nails into both of her soft ass cheeks. Trish let out another agonized howl as the hard talons threatened to pierce her flesh. This time she bucked harder than Carmen had expected, tossing the beach babe off the bed. Carmen emitted her own yowl of surprise, and it went on for an unexpectedly long amount of time. When Trish wondered why she hadn't heard a thud from her landing off the bed, she peered over and saw that her legs were so deeply entangled in the thick blankets that she was hanging halfway off of the bed.

"Fuck! What the fuck!?" Carmen cursed, thrashing and pushing at the carpet to try to get herself free. Their flailing and rolling from earlier had left her lower legs tightly wrapped up in the sheets. Trish sneered down at her as she sat on her legs, leaving her stuck in what looked like a botched attempt at doing sit ups.

"Ohh, you really fucked up now," Trish gloated as she pushed aside the last of her dress. A few shreds hung from her hips, but the women were effectively left in nothing but their bra and panteis. Trish let Carmen see her leaning over her before she grabbed and squeezed Carmen's twat with a crotch claw.

"AGHHHH! You fucking BITCH!" she screamed, flailing around to try to roll away. Trish just laughed at her expense and visibly horrible pain in her opponent's crotch. All of Electra's desperate squirming to escape the unintentional trap left her flopping around in Trish's grip, making her easy enough to manipulate. Trish used the vice grip on Carmen's pussy to turn her away and starting to spanking her like a curvy pinata.

Carmen ultimately managed to free one leg and kick Trish in the face. The bigger blonde grunted and released the painful hold, which was enough for Carmen to twist and finally fall to the floor. She hurried to her feet, stumbling as she held her pussy and pulled the last of the bedspread off of her feet. Trish nursed her jaw before spotting her opponent, crawling clumsily over the bedsheets to go after her. Trish caught up to the Baywatch babe in the doorway to the bathroom. Carmen had hoped to slam the door on her while she came in, but they were both sweaty and exhausted. Carmen pelted Trish with a few slaps before she shoved Carmen into the towel rack.

Entering the bathroom didn't make either of them less of a sweaty mess. Carmen had left her bathtub full from when Trish rang her doorbell, and the steam had built up so that the mirrors were fogged over. Trish started to move in on her when Carmen grabbed one of the towels that had landed halfway in the tub. She hastily whipped it at Trish, getting the half-naked wrestler to shout as it cracked against her thigh. She jumped and recoiled, convincing Carmen too twist it up again and give her another lash to the belly.

“What’s wrong? Remind you of getting pushed around at fat camp!?” Carmen snapped bitterly as she drew it tight again. Trish backed off, but only to grab a bar of soap off the sink and chuck it at Carmen. She yelped as the surprisingly hard projectile bounced off her arm, starting to bruise shortly after but mainly distracting her from her more complicated weapon. Trish came slamming into her, the two grappling with each other briefly before they went tumbling backward and landing with a tremendous splash in the bathwater.

Even with the sizeable tub they had provided Miss Electra for her suite, the two women landed right on top of each other and had a hard time separating in the piping hot bath. The assorted icing and food that had stuck to Trish and Carmen's skin and clothes floated to the top of the bathwater as they thrashed and clawed at each other. The steaming water stung, and any scratches left by their grasping nails hurt that much more in the heat. Carmen ended up on top, sitting up with her bra and panties left practically see-through after the hot soak. She glared down at Trish and quickly dug her knee into the crotch of the wrestler's wet panties.

"You stupid bitch! I'll kill you!" Carmen seethed as she grabbed Trish by her own soaking bra. She shoved her back until her back thumped against the wall, splashing more of the hot water around. Trish grunted, still stunned from the low blow as she felt Electra's hands wrap around her neck. The busty diva gagged and sputtered, the steamy air making it harder to breathe already. She groped along the wet wall of the shower for any grip or leverage to escape, but it was almost completely smooth and slippery from the steaming water.

Her hand finally happened to find a low shelf, knocking over a few bottles of lotion and conditioner. She grabbed a complimentary bottle of shampoo and popped the cap off, turning it over to dump it into Carmen's face. The former tv star let out a shrill shriek as she covered her face, the thick substance burning her eyes and leaving an overpowering flavor in her nose and mouth. Her eyes watered as she started to wretch, leaving her open for Trish to push her away hard enough to bounce her head off the dense glass of the shower door. Carmen bounced off with a dense thud, landing back in the water. She sat in the tub and started to grab handfuls of water to try scrubbing her face, trying to clean away the blinding muck. Trish sucked in fresh air and sat on her lap, slamming Carmen's sticky face with her forearm and rattling her further.

"You are a fucking mess, girl," Trish sneered confidently as she grabbed Carmen by a big handful of hair. "Maybe you should take that bath after all." Trish grit her teeth in a twisted grin as she shoved Carmen's head completely under the water, watching her pretty (but battered) face start to panic through the dirty water. She pushed and kicked at Trish, but she couldn't get above the surface for more than a split second. Trish had her dazed and exhausted while using her bigger and stronger build to keep her down. Carmen desperately dragged her nails down Trish's arms and breasts, but the diva saw her chance at victory was close enough to endure the catty punishments. She held Carmen under and didn't pull her back out until the bubbles slowed and Carmen had fallen limp in her arms. Carmen let out a few pathetic choking noises, spitting up some of the dirtied bathwater, but she remained unconscious.

Trish gave a weary laugh as she dumped Carmen out of the tub. She was exhausted but victorious, the dancer having put up a lot better fight than she expected. Of course, that didn't mean she was about to be merciful with the mouthy bitch. Trish left her propped her tits against the sink, holding her up like a ragdoll. She writing profanities in Carmen's lipstick all over her body (putting "cunt" across her forehead and "slut" across her ass were her personal favorites) and the mirror so it would be the first thing she saw.

"I guess you won't be needing this anymore," Trish announced, helping herself to Carmen's robe. It was even smaller on the chesty diva, but knowing the fact that it was stolen off Carmen Electra made her wear it out of the hotel with pride.

The Thrilling Adventures of Sarah Steele

An old story from the Patreon that feels like it deserves a spot here. It feels like it takes heavily from the Zhang-Oh and Ashley's College stories. A pulp novel of a heroine who goes around punching nazis in WW2. I just put up another chapter on the Patreon as well if you like the first, and there's even some art done on there of her.
https://www.patreon.com/sandcastles/posts?tag=sarah%20steele

Sarah Steele was a model American with a model's figure. She was a tall blonde, nearly 6 feet and nearly 30 years old. Her big chest and childbearing hips implied a housewife or a bathing beauty of her era, but anyone who implied that to Sarah got a punch square in the nose. She was a soldier's daughter, which left her with her mother's good looks and her father's right hook. When some Nazi agents had tried to take her hostage at a party in 1943, she taught them just how much keister she could kick with just a cocktail dress and a pretty face. The American army was quick to toss aside their "dames in the military" policy to welcome above the talented and deadly blonde who foiled the Axis' spies and agents over and over.

Sarah was spending the day out among the troops. Not everyone knew of her secretive contributions to the warfront, so today it wasn't by shooting or punching out foreign foes. She was done up in a cocktail dress, entertaining the boys with her beautiful looks and voice like a walking motivational poster for patriotism and blonde knockouts. When she finally left the stage, Colonel Parks was there waiting for her with his thanks... and her next mission's briefing. It was business time.

The general walked her to her trailer, where Steele stepped behind a changing curtain to get out of her show clothes. The colonel's eye kept being drawn to her curvy silhouette as she wrapped a new bra around herself. "So what are the nazis up to this time, colonel?" she asked in her silky voice as she slid on her silky undergarments.

The gruff man scoffed. "And here I thought this was top secret."

"It's always the nazis," she said dismissively. "At least when you come to me it is."

"Well, you're not wrong. The krauts got themselves a new kind of tank. It's codenamed the Juggernaut Panzer, or 'Tiny,' because they want to be cute about it. Biggest thing on treads we've ever seen, and big enough to be nearly unstoppable. It's enough to hold up to a crew of fifty and it’s too heavily armored for any known artillery to take it down. The fuhrer's ready to deploy it on the Ruskies in mere hours."

The colonel tossed a folder with some blueprints and documents onto a nearby table. One naked arm lifted up one of the sheets and held it up while her outline’s other arm drew a cigar from a nearby end table and popped it into her lovely lips. The tank would have been dozens of feet high, practically a small mobile bunker rather than a tank.

"You say 'nearly.' So how do you stop it?" Sarah slid her eyepatch neatly over the glass eye she wore to some formal events such as this. It felt more natural with it on, reminding Steele of her blind spots and keeping her aware of her surroundings and weaknesses.

"Best we've figured? Drop every American bomb we've got on it, or get someone inside to pull the brakes. Assuming they can get through and take out all the guards and engineers along the way."

“Lot of hands on deck,” Steele noted casually. “And a lot of hands means a lot of guns.”

“Does that change anything?”

"Not really. One thing might, though: who's this?" Steele stepped back out from behind her curtain smoking her cigar and wearing stylish thick black pants, and a buttoned-up shirt that subtly challenged the tensile strength of the buttons. She pointed out a slightly chubby woman with a bob cut and thick coat ducking behind the tank in one of the recon photos.

"Martha Owens. American photographer with a tendency to go where she's not welcome. It's gotten us some good intel."

"So a spy?"

"Hardly. She's a reporter. Snoops around to cover the war. Quite a fan of your work, apparently."

Steele chuckled and tucked the photo back into her briefing folder. "She has good taste. Looks like my type. Maybe I'll find out if she tastes has as good herself."

Colonel Parks cleared his throat. Apart from her skill in close quarters combat, there was always the other thing the officers mentioned about Sarah Steele: she was as patriotic as an American flag waving in the breeze, but also about as straight as one, given her record for chasing skirts.

On that note... "There is one more thing you should know. Madam Tigerin is reported to be in command of the Juggernaut."

Steele froze for a moment, but her expression remained the same. "Thank you for saying so, Colonel. I'll keep that in mind." She promptly (even a bit too firmly) shoved some papers back into her briefing report and stood up. "I take it my plane's waiting for me?" Parks nodded. "And Jimmy's the one flying?"

"He was our first volunteer."

"Lovely." Sarah pulled on a pilot's jacket and a pair of boots. "Then let's go break the fuhrer's new toy before some of my fans get impatient and come a'knocking.”

Jimmy Forks was looney by most accounts, but knew his way around a plane, engine and all. As far as Sarah was concerned, it made him the perfect co-pilot for her trip. The Ruskies had cleared the airspace for them, so the German planes had been shot down to give them an easy way to reach the Juggernaut. Their two-man fighter plane launched from the shores and was shortly over the massive tank; a thick and clunky looking thing with multiple cannons and guns mounted around it. Were it not on land, it almost looked like a tiny battleship rather than a tank.

"You think you got this one, Sarah?!" Jimmy called from behind her. He was a scrawny guy for a military man, but every man was needed in the war efforts. In Sarah's case, the women were especially needed.

The buxom blonde freedom fighter laughed loudly, either especially or amused or because she had to if she was to be heard over the propellers. "Jimmy, you've seen me shoot down the ghost of the Red Baron. You picked me up after I sank the battleship of the treacherous Madam Long. You even saw me come out of Project Ragnarok by the skin of my teeth. What's a big ol' tank going to do to me that they can't?"

The sound of machine gun fire rang out from below as Jimmy jumped. Sarah kept her cool all the same. "Shoot at us?" Jimmy offered uncertainly.

"That's a very good point, Jimmy. You get this bird out of here." Sarah stood up and made sure her parachute was in place; it was certainly on, but she never liked how the default setting of the straps squashed her tits. They were neatly tucked underneath her bosom this way, pushing them up and out slightly. "I've got a date with an old enemy."

The one-eyed celebrity ran to the edge of the wing and leapt off, leaving Forks to take over and dodge around the gunfire. She glanced back to see his wild maneuvers shaking the gunners rather easily. Whoever they had working the anti-aircraft guns were practically amateurs. Content he was as safe as he could be over a heavily armed invincible tank, she released the camouflage gray parachute as late as she could to avoid their attention. She drifted down while drawing the heavy, old-fashioned handgun from her hip, but directed her landing so that right before she landed, she kicked one of the nazi guards across the jaw and sent him tumbling off into the snow beside the tank. She touched down on the dense metal, removing her chute and knocking on one of the port holes with the butt of her gun. Another soldier (female, she noted) poked her head out, just for Steele to shove the backpack of her parachute into her hands. "Hold this," Steele chirped before she pulled the cord to deploy the backup chute. At the speed they were going, it was enough to yank the surprised guard from the hole screaming as the wind flung her off behind the tank, crashing down a hundred yards or so back. Sarah granted herself a little giggle before dropping down inside the tank.

Inside the tank was a long metal hallway with pipes, valves, and various moving parts along the walls. Sarah scoured it briefly before determining the front of the vessel being the control room... which meant sweeping around first would be the safest bet, in her experience. Getting to the command center and blasting their leader was a blow to morale, but it also gave the enemy a nice, one-exit room for them to corner you in at full force. Better to keep that element of surprise while she could.

As far as Steele was concerned, things went pretty routinely for a while. Darting through the halls, she caught a pair of wandering guards off... well, offguard. She socked one in the jaw, which bounced his head off a pipe and even with the helmet, he dropped to the ground. The other went for his gun, but Sarah caught his reaching arm and kneed him in the groin. He doubled over with a winded grunt, letting Sarah bash the back of his head with the butt of her gun. "Sorry, boys! No autographs," she quipped.

A third soldier turned a corner, another blonde woman this time. It would have struck her as odd, but Steele knew that Madam Tigerin preferred a regiment of female guards. As the nazi raised her rifle, Steele aimed quicker and shot the weapon from her hands. The woman stared at her emptied hands for a moment before looking back at Steele, who shrugged with a playful smile. The female guard clenched her emptied hands into fists and charged at her, but Steele ran to meet her midway down the hall. Steele let the guard strike first, dodging around her punch and grabbing her by the wrist. Steele then spun the guard around to slam her chest against the wall, and while she was winded from that, the blonde American rammed her own breasts into the guard’s back to knock even more air from her, dropping her unconscious to the ground. The U.S. sure liked it when she brought some in alive; sometimes they’d talk, but mostly it made them look good in the press.

Most the tank made for a quick cleanup. A chokeout here, a skull into the walls there, a trick shot with her pistol way over there. It wasn’t even the full fifty that the briefing had implied, and there were less than a handful of casualties before she had most of the troops variously secured. She didn’t hear the gunfire outside the tank anymore, which she hoped was because they had stopped firing rather than because the damned machine was so loud about everything. She was only particularly surprised when she checked the engine room: a pair of mechanics quickly surrendered at gunpoint, but they weren’t the problem. As she cuffed them away from their controls, there came a snarl from further in the array of pipes and levers. “Don’t go back there,” the female mechanic warned, but Steele shushed her and readied her gun as she stepped further back into the room.

A few paces in and the a gurgling cry came from beside her. She whirled around and readied her gun, but the zombie’s head collided with the bars of its cage to fall short of her by several inches. Sarah frowned and gestured her gun at the gnashing, shriveled up corpse on legs. “Zombies. You nazis really are getting desperate, aren’t you? I’d say I thought better of you, but...”

“We only have the one. The scientists are working on-”

A quick shot rang out as Steele blew its head off. “Correction. You only have none. I’m sure the boys back home will be glad to have a nice long slumber party with you all, but I’ve got  a few more of you sneaky goose steppers left to clean up.” She took a deep breath, knowing well that those last few would be the most difficult of all.

Sarah Steele finally approached the command deck, according to the blueprints and the German signs she could still read. She sighed and braced herself again. The best of the guards and Madam Tigerin herself would be in there. They would know if their guards hadn’t reported in on time or if someone sounded an alarm, but otherwise they might not have noticed her intrusion. It was a longshot, but it should be her last stop on the Juggernaut before she could cripple the thing. Time to drop the stealth mode and go in loud.

Sarah booted the door open and immediately leveled her gun on the first target that caught her eye. Her shot caught one of the elite female guards in the arm and sent her to the floor, but the rest of the Nazis swarmed her. They grabbed the wrist of her gun arm, but Steele gave them every fist, foot and elbow she could. She lost track of just how many were wrestling with her before they brought her down to her knees.

One of the feminazis kicked Steele in the stomach, getting a grunt out of her before a woman's firm voice cut in.

"Well well! Look what the Americans brought to us! Such a pretty little package!" Sarah Steele's good eye glared up hatefully at the figure standing at the head of the room.

The command deck was wide, with a narrow plated window in the front to permit the driver and attendees to see. An elaborate set of dials and levers sat in front of said driver, who appeared to be a simple German soldier. There was a copilot's seat, but rather than the epitomous copilot, Martha Owens, the curvy reporter Steele had seen in the photos was tied up there. The elites around the room were indeed all women; Nazi uniforms and paraphernalia on them, but bright red emblems of tigers marked them as an even dozen of the direct underlings of Madam Tigerin.

The Madam herself was a white woman with hair as red as fresh fire tied into a fireball of a bun. She was in a German commander's coat, bearing broad shoulders and a pair of medals on her big breast. Some of those that survived her claimed that they had made her chest in a nazi mad science lab just so that she could hold many more medals in the future. She wore meticulously clean uniform, dotted with small details to show her as more than a standard officer in the ranks that only other officers and Sarah herself might notice. The uniform was so so precise that the high skirt, tall black boots, and snug top were exactly as long as they needed to cover everything distracting, but nothing more.

"Guten tag, Debra," Steele replied with a low, cold tone.

Madam Tigerin scoffed jovially. "You insist so on calling me by zat name. Zat little girl is no more, and only ze Madam Tigerin remains. Why must you alvays hold such a grudge? I only laid hands on your fiancee once."

"Long enough to brainwash her into trying to take me out."

"Then you still chase her geist, Sarah Steele," the woman grinned with evil glee. "How is Penny anyway?"

"Fine," Steele replied like a teenager trying to avoid talking to her parents. Tigerin had been being a sabotage program that Sarah had cut off, but not before she had kidnapped, tortured, and brainwashed Steele's childhood sweetheart and fiancee, Penny Lincoln, and turned her into a sleeper agent. It took all of Steele's skill and training to subdue Penny without killing her, and the boys at the lab that were containing her weren't reporting much progress in deprogramming her.

"Zat bad, eh? None can escape ze spell of ze Madam, after all. It is my genius that provides zis new era of revolutionary technology that revives the glory of Germany.”

"Funny how you'd use 'revolution' to describe your tyranny," Steele shot back, rolling her eye. "Listen. You know you're found out. Just put this thing in park, put on your blinker, and I'm sure you'll find yourself in a maximum security prison rather than under a few feet of topsoil. Maybe your list of war crimes will take them so long to read that you'll be able to spend the rest of your life there before they can try you."

Madam Tigerin laughed heartily, slapping a hand on her thigh as her ladies laughed along with her (the driver focuses responsibly on the road they were steadily running over). "Such a silly American! Did your woman take your common sense when she took your eye, or are you simply zat blind? I have a dozen of my top girls here; my uberfrau! Easily more than enough to bring you before the fuhrer himself, or dispose of you however I please."

"Well... you better check your math."

With one sharp pull of her arms and twist of her body, Steele sent the two guards holding her arms flying to the floor of the command center. They landed clumsily on their backs, surprised by the sudden outburst as Steele drove a fist into each of their chests. Their breasts wobbled in their tight uniforms as they let out a quick, choking cough, the wind and fight knocked out of them. “Ten,” Steele updated quickly as she threw herself into the rest of the elites.

Steele threw another punch at another guard, the German girl blocking it and slugging Steele in the stomach in return. They weren’t the pushovers she’d mowed through in the halls. Even if they didn't measure up to Steele one-on-one, they were at least somewhere on the ruler. Another guard grabbed Steele's arms from behind, struggling to contain her so her partner could come in for another shot. Sarah swung her head back to bang her skull off her captor's nose, stunning the female guard before shoulder tossing her clumsy body into her attacker.

"Nine," Steele counted off as the two crashed into each other, spinning around to bring a boot bashing across another's face as she tried to get the jump on her. "And eight! Suddenly your numbers aren't quite adding up, Deb."

Madam Tigerin growled angrily shoving one of her nearby elites. "Get her! Shoot her now! Just make sure zat the fuhrer can recognize her corpse!"

The guard looked at her in surprise. "But, Madam, the armor. If the shot ricochets..."

"That was an order! Not a question!"

The guard leveled her rifle, but a clear shot was nearly impossible with another seven guards trying to subdue her and blocking her view.

One of the bigger Nazis present lead a charge on Sarah, barreling towards her with two girls more behind her. Even ganging up on her, Steele was aware of her surroundings and not fighting against the momentum of an ambush. She caught the arm of the big one as she tried to bearhug Steele, throwing a quick fist into her face to knock her off balance. She pulled her arm and tripped her to the ground before lunging at the other two. They both threw punches at her, Steele catching one my the fist in her palm and the other pelting her in the chest. Sarah's chest bounced within her shirt, but she took it like a Barbie doll made of concrete. She twisted the arm of the first girl to bring her to her knees, just to grab the other by the neck and slam her head into the nearest console of dials and knobs. With both properly subdued for the moment, she grabbed each in a headlock and squeezed until both of her powerful arms and big breasts had a head squashed between them.

"There goes seven and six," Steele warned. The guards gagged and struggled, but couldn't escape Steele's iron grip. The big woman got up to her knees and snarled, trying to charge Sarah again but she briefly boosted herself up, suspended for a second on her two struggling captives to land a perfect kick to the big guard's jaw and topple her to the ground. "Make that five. Man, nobody can count today," Steele laughed. "That's strange, huh?"

She suddenly released her captives, the two Nazi guards dropping to the floor limply as Sarah dodged the sudden shot from the waiting guard's rifle. The noise rang through the room, the combatants disoriented but still fighting on as the bullet pinged off the armor wall and blew some sparks out of a piece of machinery. Steele shoulder-checked one of the startled guards, tackling her into the wall behind her and clocking her out with a hook to the jaw. Another of them caught Sarah's shoulder and spun her around, slugging her in the mouth as she turned.

"Bunch of bratwurst bitches are gonna start to make my makeup run if you keep hitting me like that," Steele snapped back before taking her uniform by the collar and headbutting the guard out. "Hope these three are your good ones, Tiger!"

Steele ducked behind another console to avoid another shot for her head. It was a close call, knocking a few strands of blonde loose behind her, but this time the bullet bounced around and hit the riflewoman in the leg. The guard went down with a yelp, wincing and holding her leg as another guard loomed over Steele with a baton swinging over her head. Steele ducked past her, and with one swift motion drew off her own empty gun belt. The guard turned to swing the club again, but Steele caught it with her tightly drawn belt and bounced it back. She whirled the weaponized garment and locked it around the guard's neck before pulling down hard, forcing her to fall back into the seat behind her. Steele gave it a quick tug to tighten it around her neck and the chair, able to dust off her hands and leave the woman to gag and struggle as she was essentially leashed to the seat.

The last guard standing rushed at her, Steele's own heavy pistol raised. The gun clicked as the guard couldn't figure out the complex safety that Steele had specially made for when others inevitably borrowed her gun. "Always the drama queens, you Nazis," Steele sighed, rolling her eye and stepping forward. The remaining guard tried to pistol whip her, but Steele caught her by the wrist and kicked her in the stomach. The guard grunted and doubled up from the shot to the breadbasket, Steele plucking her gun from her hand before driving her elbow down over her head. The guard slumped to the ground Steele pulling the belt from the last guard's neck to let her fall in a similar heap. Steele pulled her belt into a loop around her waist, sloppy but in a roguish kind of way that Sarah Steele owned and ran with. She leveled her gun at the final target in the room: Madam Tigerin.

The Nazi commander glared back at her, unintimidated as click came from near her feet. Steele looked down to see the wounded guard with the rifle aiming unsteadily at Sarah. "Put down your weapon," the guard panted.

"You're still fighting," Steele noted with an impressed raise of her eyebrow. "Not many can take a shot to the leg and stay fighting."

"Drop it or I shoot," the redheaded Nazi girl warned more firmly.

"I'll dodge," Steele excused quite casually, as if being shot was not something she wanted to discuss right now. "But you come a lot closer than most." Steele rubbed a few strands of her hair in her fingers, indicating the near hit from earlier. "You're a good shot. Bet you're a good shot even with the bum leg. You need that fixed?"

The elite blinked at her quizzically. "Wilma!" Tigerin snapped at her. "Shoot her!"

"We're real keen on defectors in The States," Steele offered. "One who worked with their top scientists, can take a few shots, and still shoot like a pro? They'd be fighting over you too much to care what you've done here."

"Wilma!!" But the guard was clearly listening as Steele grinned at her, even with a light bruise here and there on her pretty face.

"You set it down, we patch you up, and we lead the psycho out here and I tell them how cooperative you were back at command.

"Wilma, I swear on the fuhrer's glory that if you do not-!"

The elite complied and tossed her rifle out of reach, holding up her hands. Good. Steele thought she was awfully cute, for a Nazi who tried to shoot at her. Steele reached her free hand off to one side, opening a hatch and sliding Wilma a first aid kit that she gratefully got to using.

"That sure looks like zero to me," Steele said, nodding at Wilma while advancing on Madam Tigerin. "Time to stop the Juggernaut and put an end to you."

Tigerin looked briefly furious, but then her glare turned into a grin. She held up her hands helplessly. "Very well. I surrender. I cannot take the famous Sarah Steele in a head on fight, and you are similarly famous for taking prisoners. I accept your offer to come quietly."

"After you make me work for it and everything," Steele scoffed. "Make your man there stop this monster of yours."

Tigerin gave a curt order and the pilot started to slow down the truck as he messed with the complex controls. "Though I would have thought you would want me to come back alive as it was," the Madam mused, eying Steele coyly. "After all, who better would know how to undo what happened to your fiancee?"

Steele actually hesitated before she stepped down to the control area. She kept the gun leveled on her nemesis while starting to untie Martha. "You alright?" she muttered.

"I'm fine," the reporter replied brightly. "They just grabbed me and tied me up rather than slow their mission. If you hadn't... watch out!"

Steele reacted like lightning, expecting the double cross and catching Madam Tigerin's incoming hand by the wrist. It fell short of hitting the American heroine, but she opened her hand and blew a coppery red dust into her face. Steele screamed sharply as it burned her eyes and nose, staggering back and rubbing at her face. It was enough to bring a normal woman to her knees, while Steele was just temporarily blinded on her feet with the irritating burn keeping her eyes shut.

She heard Madam Tigerin's booming laugh echo off the insides of the tank. "I said I couldn't beat you in a head on fight," she gloated as she strode up to Steele. The blonde put up her fists bravely, getting her back to a wall, but Tigerin simply sidestepped and nailed her in the ribs with a high kick. "So I von't come at you head on."

Steele cried out as her side ate the hit, swinging blindly back at where she'd hoped that Tigerin would be. The German officer easily dodged around the concerningly close swing, punching Steele across the cheek. "And they say zat it is the Nazis who don't know when to stop fighting," she sneered, landing another hit to Steele's chin that made her bite her lip. A bit of blood ran from it, but Steele struck out and caught Madam Tigerin by the uniform. She looked shocked at the woman's speed and fighting instincts, the blonde pulling the top of her uniform over the villainess' head. She ironically found herself blinded by her own garment as Steele send wild and vicious swings pelting into her head and chest.

The screaming scientist finally yanked back hard enough to slip out of her top, just her tight black bra left above her waist. She tried to ignore Wilma and Martha's snickering behind her, the blushing driver keeping the tank going at reduced speed to maintain the ploy from earlier. "How did you...?!" Tigerin hissed before Steele interrupted her.

"Throw all your tricks in my eyes you want. You still stink to high heaven," the blonde bluffed.

Tigerin snarled with fury and went over to the driver, shoving sharply at the controls. Despite his protests, she leaned on it as The Juggernaut made a sharp turn, sending the unexpecting Steele tumbling to the steel floor and sliding in their direction. Tigerin cut her off by stomping on the blonde's big chest, getting a sharp cry of pain from Sarah as she drove her sharp heel down against her breasts.

"Your struggles are the flopping of a fish on the dock," Tigerin growled at her. Steele grabbed at her ankle to try to lift her off, but Tigerin pulled it free and booted her across the face to put her down again. "And your cries of pain are music to my ears. A shame I couldn't record them in my lab... like your fiancee’s."

Steele let out a wordless snarl and shifted to one side, throwing her heavy boot straight up into Madam Tigerin's cunt. The feminazi let out a husky grunt in reply, hands going between her legs with a look of shock and revulsion from the pain that pulsed in her pussy. Steele raised her boot again, this time kicking Tigerin in her chest. It left a dirty bootprint across her pale breasts, but also threw her back into the controls. The tank jerked back in the other direction, the winded Tigerin sent tumbling along the floor with Steele sliding right behind her. She didn't need to see where to go if they were all sliding the same direction. The driver tried to straighten out the vehicle again to save his boss, but Martha leaned over in her bound position and kicked him in the hand whenever he got close to the controls.

The mad scientist hit the far wall with a wince, propped against it when Steele slammed into her bodily. She straddled the Nazi mad scientist and sent one fist after another into her face. The German cowered behind her hands at first, but the power behind the blonde's blows kept knocking their way past them. Seeing that she was trapped and outmatched, even against the blinded agent, Tigerin managed to shove Steele off of her and crawl away on all fours. Steele heard her fumbling and caught her by the ankle, dragging her back over and her big breasts making comical squeaking noises as she was dragged along the floor.

"You're not going anywhere," Steele said with a slightly mad grin that made even the Nazi shudder. Sarah Steele was not only a dangerous woman in her own right, but she was a direct victim of some of Madam Tigerin's experiments. She was her own evils coming back to haunt her.

With a terrified scream, Tigerin slipped out of her boot and dove for the other side of the room. Not bothering with the door, she popped open a secret compartment and slid down the escape hatch. Anything to get away from the furious Steele's wrath.

"She is gone," Wilma reported for the blinded Steele's sake.

Steele nodded with a small frown. "Yea. Sounds like her. The escape hatch, right?"

"How did...?"

"Really good memory. And I saw the blueprints before coming." She touched the nearest wall and felt her way back towards the others. Martha had managed to wriggle out of her ropes by now, and handed a loose canteen of water to Sarah to help wash out her eyes at last. "Could you ladies radio in that I need a pick up for three..." She rubbed the water from her eyes, looking right at the engineer at the wheel. He hit a few switches, stopping the tank in its tracks and holding up his hands. "Make it four. And a whole lot of knocked out and confused Nazis who are gonna be real eager to answer some questions."

"Should we go after her?" Wilma offered, nodding towards the trap door.

"What, Tiger? Nah," Steele smirked as she rubbed some blood from her nose. Looks like it would be some more coverup makeup before her next show. "The woman just drove into the middle of the Russian front and then jumped out with no shirt and one boot. She won't get far, and there's going to be a ton of troops to find her and hear her accent. Assuming she doesn't freeze her tits off first." She reached over to help Martha with the radio before going to finish patching up Wilma's self-inflicted leg wound.

The report came out great in the end. The ultimate result of the Nazi tank was a handful of men crushed or blown up before they dropped a huge stash of scrap metal off to the Russians. They were allies and all, but the colonel made sure that Steele removed a few key parts to cripple The Juggernaut where it was. Martha's report from behind German lines proved valuable and got the army to act fast on the intel. Wilma spilled her guts and after some fact checking and healing, she was welcomed in as a very capable sniper for the Allies. Madam Tigerin was, in fact, found and captured in a nearby Russian village, half frost-bitten and having to swallow her pride and go to them to avoid freezing to death.

Steele got a bit of rest while she was shipped back home. She had a little before her next show to heal and take a breather... and catch up with some people. She visited the little mental hospital in Oregon on the way home, given clearance to visit the underground facility: the experimental one dedicated to finding cures and saving victims of the Nazi super weapons. Steele was allowed into the secured room with the glass in between it, dressed up for the occasion as she sighed and braced herself.

A woman was walked in carefully by an orderly and sat in a chair on the other side of the glass. The copper-headed woman looked around wearily, her body and hospital gown showing a kind of imperfect sterility of someone who was cleaned by someone else.

"Hello, Penny," Steele said evenly into the microphone.

"Hello, Sarah," she replied. It got the blonde to smile softly, progress from 'American' like she'd used just a month ago.

"What do you remember, Penny?"

The redhead shook her head a bit dizzily. "Not much..." She had been brainwashed to attack President Roosevelt, and when Steele had stopped her, Penny had stabbed out her fiance's eye. So there were still some gaps...

"I just remember that I think I owe you an apology."

Steele smiled and slid her hand through the small hole in the bottom of the glass. Penny gave a shaky grin, but slid a weary hand through to hold it. "Close enough."