And she wasn't even trying back then as she was now. She was actually playing tag and hide-and-seek with a little boy and his pet stuffed leopard.
Yes, Gazpacho of the Andes was no match for Mallet Girl. He was definitely way in over his head. There was little doubt in Alias Uno's mind.
Mallet Girl had had enough. All her demands that Gazpacho of the Andes stop and let her mallet, kick, stomp, knee, elbow, punch, scratch, and headbutt him to within a millimeter of his sad, sorry life had gone unheeded. There was just no reasoning with the guy! Reaching back, she flipped a tiny switch near the bottom of her mallet holster; a small panel slid open and out rolled a black croquet ball, gently dropping into her waiting hand.
And what a croquet ball it was!
It was slightly bigger than normal and had a white skull-and-cross-bones painted on its study-ridden surface. A six-inch-long, self-igniting rope fuse was sticking out of it.
While still maintaining a firm hold on her mallet, she pinched the tip of the fuse with thumb and index finger of her other hand. Flicking her fingers, she lit the fuse and then dropped the ball and struck it with her trusty wooden mallet upon the first bounce, all in one swift move. And thus the ball was sent arcing towards the fleeing villain.
But Gazpacho of the Andes was no slouch himself. He may be a crook, a criminal, a kidnapper, and a molester extraordinaire but he was clearly no ordinary pervert on the street. He was Gazpacho of the Andes and he was not without any skills. He skidded to a halt and whipped around, arms outstretched in front of him, hands open, one a couple of inches above the other.
“El Ceramico Blanco!” he shouted.
There was a shimmering of white-blue light. And then a giant, white porcelain bow, roughly three feet in diameter, appeared floating in the air around a yard in front of him. It was empty and tipped over, its concave surface facing towards Mallet Girl. It caught the smoking croquet ball with ease and then with a gesture from Gazpacho, it swivelled slight and deflected the ball to the left.
“What the...!?” Mallet Girl cried. “Hey! No fair!”
Gazpacho laughed triumphantly in reply. “Nya-ha-hah! I am Gazpacho of the Andes! Quiver in awe before my magnificent coif! Bwa-ha-ha-ha-ha!” he gloated out loud even as the large, white bowl dropped to shatter into tiny porcelain shards against the hard concrete of the sidewalk.
The black croquet ball landed on the sidewalk at the other side of the avenue. It bounced one more time before rolling into the open basement window of a run-down apartment building. Like many buildings in the area, it was decrepit, crumbling, long ago deserted and condemned; it would have been demolished already and in its place a nine-level mega-parking facility servicing what would have been the biggest mall/amusement park of Axion Plus City had the developer not lost everything gambling in high stake stag beetle death matches.
At least, it should have been abandoned. But unbeknownst to the city government and the few remaining residents of the area, bad kitties had moved in and for months now, the building had been serving as the secret headquarters of Cat's Meow, an evil organization of dark-colored cats united in the common cause of driving everyone out of the city by any means necessary and claiming Axion Plus for their own.
Scores of bad kitties were gathered in the main corridor of the groun floor. Their leader had called for a meeting and many had come.
“Brothers!” the top cat meowed from the small, round table at the end of the corridor. “Sisters! Weeks of planning and preparation have finally come to fruition! All our efforts are about to pay off! Soon we will rid this fair city of the human blight and Catnip City will finally be ours!”
“Dark coat good,” all the cats chanted in unison, “light coat bad!”
“Victory is an hand!” the top cat declared. “Behold! The final thorn in our side!” It pulled down the faded curtains behind it with a flourish to reveal a hapless Siamese cat hanging on the wall by its shackled front paws.
“Naughty kitties!” it meowed. “You expect me to talk? Hah! I will never tell you where I hid the codes. Never!”
“No, Agent 700,” the top cat meowed back smugly, “I expect you to be declawed. We already have the codes.”
“Dark coat good,” all the cats chanted, staring at the Siamese cat with unblinking eyes, “light coat bad!”
“Hey, guys! Look what I found in the basement!” a young black cat with a green lace ribbon tied around its neck called out loud as it entered the corridor, walking awkwardly on its hind legs. In its front paws, it held the black croquet ball.
All the cats in the corridor were completely overcome with curiosity. “Ooooh!” they all purred, turning their heads to look. “What is it? What is it?”
“I don't know,” the young black cat replied. “It's a ball of some sort.”
“Brothers, sisters!” the top cat called out to them. “Now is not the time to be distracted!”
But the gathered cats were not listening. They paid him no heed.
“Ooooh, a ball!” they all meowed, crowding around the young black cat.
“I think there's something inside,” the young black cat said as she shook the ball. “It was hissing a few moments ago.”
“Ooooh!”
The explosion that followed next was a terrific one. It leveled the whole building, sending dust, fur, bad kitties with X's for eyes, and all sorts of debris flying in all directions.
