The Omega Touch
Chapter 1: Local Color and Cleavage
Caution: This Fantasy Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including mt/Fa, Fa/Fa, Consensual, Lesbian, Heterosexual, Fiction, Science Fiction, Time Travel, Humor, Superhero, Group Sex, Oriental Female, Hispanic Female, First, Safe Sex, Big Breasts, Slow,
Desc: Fantasy Sex Story: Chapter 1: Local Color and Cleavage - Super powers traditionally come from one of four sources: Science, Magic, Cosmic, or Mutation. But five years after the death of a powerful superhero, a young reporter discovers that there are limitless powers that can come from the simple acts of love, compassion, and generosity. (Illustrated)
Friday, July 10, 2009, 3:00 PM
¡Dios mio! ¡Odio mi trabajo! Tricia Sanchez silently cursed to herself as she slid the door to the news van open. She clutched her clipboard to her chest and jumped out, landing with a painful, breast-jostling thud. OW! God damn this stupid job! And God damn this worthless bra! No fucking support.
She glanced at the clipboard and scowled at it. Hate these damn fluff pieces. If I wanted to be a fluffer, I would have stayed in California. She read the assignment again and growled at it. Two years at this job and I still can't get a decent story. She looked about, surveying the street and buildings around her. Endless construction projects littered the streets. Homeless sat invisible against buildings watching the fortunate pass and ignore them. People walking past stared at the news van and her with interest. The men were mostly staring at her. She was used to that. Grin and bear it, chica. One good thing about these fluff pieces; There's no story, so it's all about me. I can deal with that. She took a deep cleansing breath and blew out the anger, concentrating on the guilty pleasure of being the center of attention. So keep the temper in check, and set a good example for the boys. Just get this gig over with so I can go out to the clubs and get laid.
Tricia turned and whipped her long curly brown hair around and out of her eyes. "Okay boys!", she called out cheerfully to the others. "Anton, you know the drill. Set the uplink, and..." She pointed at the other man, snapping her fingers. "You. New guy! ¿Cuál es su nombre? ... Kevin!"
"Charlie," he corrected.
"Yeah. Whatever. Grab your camera and come with me."
She picked up a cordless microphone and started attaching it to her clothes. Anton started turning on equipment in the back of the van, while Charlie loaded his satchel with spare batteries and video tapes.
Through the corner of her eye, she saw Charlie lean in to Anton and speak softly. "So, Anton ... You work with her much?" he whispered.
Tricia grinned to herself, and gave Anton a sly wink as he glanced at her. Lay it on thick, Anton.
Anton nodded while pulling cables out, acting as casual as possible. "Yeah. 'Bout a year."
"Is it true about her?"
"About what they say about her?"
"Oh yeah. Absolutely! You can assuredly trust anything anyone ever says about anyone ... What the hell are you talking about?"
Tricia giggled to herself and pulled out a compact. She posed as she checked herself in the small mirror. Come one, Anton. You know what he wants to know. Give him what he wants.
Charlie glanced back at Tricia's direction and watched the caramel-colored beauty for a moment as she touched up her makeup. "That she's easy?"
"Oh, that!", replied Anton. He peered at her, admiring her full curves. "Yeah, but you really have to be into hot, meaningless sex with young, buxom, Brazilian nymphomaniacs."
Tricia bit her lip trying hard not to burst out laughing. She continued to touch up her makeup, pretending to not overhear, and she shifted her body slightly, posing and bouncing softly on one hip to a steady internal salsa beat as the cameraman ogled her.
Charlie raised his eyebrows and chuckled. "No shit? Brazilian? Hot damn!" He watched her as she stood and subtly danced to a hidden tune while examining herself in the mirror. His eyes darted up and down her curvy body, taking in her firm rounded ass, wide hips, and then up to her voluminous breasts which shook and jiggled with each hip-bounce. "Is she seeing anyone?"
Anton stopped and gave Charlie a serious look. "Charlie?"
"Don't try it."
"What your dick is telling you to try. Look, Charlie. There's not a man alive who can keep her satisfied. And if she's interested, she'll tell you. If not, forget it."
Charlie shouldered the camera and headed towards Tricia, eying the gorgeous woman as he approached. She was tall, with long, brown and auburn streaked hair curled loosely into a wild mane. Light blue eyes shown brightly against her flawless, coffee-and-cream colored skin. Her cheeks were flushed and strong, and her lips lush, full, and inviting. His eyes darted down to her body. Her peerless and superb ass shifted, rocked, and shook as she bounced on one hip, dancing to her own internal rhythm. She was dressed in a smart dark-blue pants suit with a rich purple zipper-closed blouse that was open slightly at the top, and she turned slightly as he approached, showing off her upper torso. Charles found himself gaping in wonder at the sight of her full, bounteous bosom as it stretched out her blouse.
Or in simpler terms, Tricia Sanchez was gorgeous, stacked, and sexy, and she knew it.
"So ... where are we headed?", Charlie asked, as he managed to pry his eyes off her tits.
Tricia snapped her compact shut and turned, whipping her hair about wildly. "Bank of America first. Mr. Peterson and any employees who are still there. ¿Está listo?"
He squinted in confusion. "Huh?"
"You ready?" she translated.
"Oh, er ... Yeah." He grinned at her. "You got any special good side I should know about?"
She gave him a dazzling smile and a heart-stopping wink. "Honey, every side of me is good. Come along. Let's go make the locals nervous."
She spun and strutted confidently toward the bank, turning the head of every man and woman she passed. Charlie started after her, but Anton called out to him. "Charlie!"
"Don't let her make you pay for anything!"
Charlie shrugged and ran up behind Tricia, carrying his heavy equipment and trying to keep up with the Hispanic beauty. He watched her superb ass bouncing sexily with each stride, and briefly considered turning on the camera just for this performance.
She reached the bank, pulled the door open, and walked in, letting the door close behind her along the way. Charlie had to awkwardly shift and juggle the camera to get a free hand to open the door for himself. Once inside, Tricia surveyed the place. People stood in line for the tellers. Others sat with bank employees in small cubicles. One young couple caught her attention as she overheard a snippet of conversation. They were pleading for an extension on a mortgage.
Oh look. An actual story, she thought to herself. Oh well. Back to the fluff. She struck an attitude pose. "Mr. Peterson!", Tricia called out, fairly loudly. Everyone in the bank jumped and stared at her.
An older and rotund man stepped out of his office, saw the woman, and nervously adjusted his tie. "M ... Miss Sanchez?", he asked nervously.
"Call me Tricia," she said with an inviting smile.
He flustered and blushed, occasionally glancing at her chest. "Ah, yes ... Tricia! I got your call. How do we... ?"
"Shall we retire to your office?" She blinked her eyes at him innocently.
Mr. Peterson nodded eagerly. "Yes! Yes, that will be just fine. Right ... right this way." He then noticed the cameraman coming up behind her, and briefly appeared crestfallen. He led the gorgeous woman and her cameraman into his office.
Tricia summed up the small office immediately. "Okay. Why don't we take these two chairs here, and Chuck can set up behind your desk?"
"Charlie," mumbled the cameraman. He set his satchel down on the desk.
Mr. Peterson eagerly took his chair as Tricia opened the satchel and pulled out a cordless microphone. "Now if we could just get this on you," she said to the man, and she leaned down over him. Her heavy breasts fell forward, strained against her blouse and inadequate bra, and nearly spilled out the open top. A small, silver crucifix hung around her neck, barely blocking the view of her spectacular cleavage. Mr. Peterson's eyes grew wide as he got a clear view down the front of Tricia's blouse. He swallowed nervously as the beauty fumbled with his clothes.
Tricia smirked to herself and casually swung her shoulders as she worked, causing her large breasts to sway hypnotically in front of the man. His mouth dropped open, and he stared openly into her full cleavage.
"Getting an eye-full, Mr. Peterson?" she teased with a grin. He blushed and muttered an apology. Satisfied with her work, she turned on the microphone. "Can you just give us a sound-check?"
"Uhh," was all he managed to say.
"Sound is good", reported Charlie, listening in on his headset.
"Okay! We're ready!" Tricia took her seat and sat down sexily, crossing her legs and bouncing her foot. She casually opened her jacket a bit, exposing a bit more chest, then pulled her compact open, checked herself one last time, and snapped it shut. She waved to Charlie.
"We're rolling", he reported.
"Good. Now Mr. Peterson. We don't really have to go through any formal introductions. I'll fully introduce you with a voice over. You were the bank manager five years ago, and here that day. That sort of thing. ¿Esta bien?"
"Oh, yes ... um ... Fine."
"Good. Now..." She paused, allowing a bit of lead time to record. She put on her concerned face. "Mr. Peterson, can you tell me ... What was the first thing that happened to alert you to what was going on?"
"Well... <ahem> ... I was here in my office, so I did not see them come in, so my first indication that anything was wrong was when I heard the gunfire."
Tricia nodded sagely, and gave a serious and supportive look. Meanwhile, she cringed internally at the thought of the next question she had to ask.
"And tell me ... how did that make you feel?"
Half an hour later they had completed, having bagged interviews with two other employees who were also at the bank five years ago. Tricia flirted some, gave her goodbyes, signed an autograph for a nervous young teller, and turned down his offer for a date. It bothered her to turn him down, as he was young and quite attractive, but Tricia simply didn't want to set up a date this far in advance. Too much work. She preferred to take her time to get ready for a date before picking out a man.
She headed out onto the street. Charlie managed to follow her, carrying the heavy equipment.
She nodded across the street. "Chinese restaurant. The police used it as a base during the hostage negotiations ... OH!" She pointed to another storefront. "Get a shot of that store over there."
"Which one?", he asked, lifting the camera.
"International Bazaar. See the signs? 'Going out of Business'?"
"Yeah. I see it." He started taping. "What about it?"
"They were here five years ago too."
"So?", he asked. "Weren't most of these stores here too?"
"So was the 'Going out of Business' sign." She smiled. "I saw that in the archive footage. I'll put it in the montage. See if anyone notices it. ¡Sígame!"
Tricia ignored the traffic and quickly stepped through the streams of cars on the busy city street, beckoning Charlie to follow her. Washington D.C. streets were always busy, and traffic was always slow in this area due to the eternal construction. Charlie followed, nearly getting hit by a driver who was watching the busty Brazilian bounce in front of him.
She stepped into the restaurant and approached the hostess. The Chinese woman smiled at her. "Taber foll one?" she said in her thick Chinese accent.
Charlie managed to get in the door. "No...", Tricia began.
"Taber foll two?"
"Actually, we would just like to talk to you about..."
"Olldell to go?
"No food," Tricia tried to explain. "I just wanted to talk to you about what happened five years ago. You know? Omega Man?"
The hostess furrowed her brow. "No! No olldell, no intellview!"
Tricia rolled her eyes at Charlie, groaned, and pulled out her cell phone. She pressed a button and listened. "Anton? Yeah, we're picking up some Chinese. ¿Qué quiere?" She listened, and turned to the hostess. "Egg fu yung with fried rice, egg roll, Coke. Gracias Anton." She closed the phone. "What do you want Charlie?"
"Umm ... General Tso, fried rice, spring roll, and Sprite." The hostess nodded, took the order, and turned to Tricia.
Tricia groaned inwardly. I love General Tso's ... Be good, Tricia. Be good! She smiled resignedly and sighed. "Chicken and vegetables, white rice, no egg roll. Diet Coke," she said through gritted teeth, trying to be proud.
The woman took their order to the back of the restaurant, where there was a heated discussion in Chinese. Then she returned to Tricia. "Okay. We do intellview now?"
Tricia set her up with a microphone and they sat together. Charlie turned the camera on. "Okay. Let's get started. Now, you were here five years ago?"
"Yes, but five years ago, the bank across the street was being robbed, and Omega Man..."
"MEGA MAN!", the Chinese woman yelled. "OH! Velly bad! Velly bad business. Poreece! They take whore lestaulant! No customells! No pay birrs!" She waved her hands frantically. "And Mega Man! Big exprosion! Blake all windows. Velly expensive!"
"Were you frightened?"
"Velly anglly! Bad man, Mega Man!"
Tricia nodded and continued the interview, silently deciding that she would not use any of this footage. She then thanked the woman for the interview, got her to sign a release statement, and started packing up.
As they were packing up, Charlie watched Tricia for a moment, and built up his nerve. He cleared his throat. "So, Tricia ... Anton tell me you're Brazilian," he opened.
She nodded. "Uh-huh."
"Is that Spanish you're speaking?"
She gave him a slight smile and coy wink. "¡Si!"
Charlie chewed his lip.
"Don't Brazilians speak Portuguese?"
Tricia's smile vanished, and she gave him a steady glare. "Don't get smart with me."
Her cell phone buzzed. Tricia checked the text message. It was from Anton, and it had one word. "Pilgrims."
"WE GOT PILGRIMS!", Tricia yelled, and she grabbed her clipboard and ran to the door. She stopped and saw Charlie struggling with the camera equipment, and the three bags of food arriving at the counter.
"Charlie, dear? Could you take care of that please? I gotta go!", and she ran off, leaving the cameraman behind with a heavy camera, satchel, and three bags of unpaid food.
She held her clipboard to her chest, supporting her painfully bouncing breasts as she ran back to the van. Anton was standing outside with a second camera, recording the pilgrims. She stopped and watched them. There were about eight of them, all wearing either Omega Man t-shirts or bright yellow home-made Omega Man costumes with the big blue Omega symbol on the chest, masks, and dark blue capes. Tricia's mouth dropped open in utter horror ... for they were singing.
"O-Meg-Ahhh ... the Man ... He is gone!
O-Meg-Ahhh ... the Man ... He is gone!
O-Meg-Ahhh ... the Man ... He is gone!
Ohhh-Mega ... you the man!"
Tricia cringed as she looked at Anton. She mouthed silently to him. "Is that Kumbaya they are singing?" He nodded. She opened her mouth and stuck out her tongue, feigning nausea. Then she turned back to the pilgrims, and gave them a warm, supportive smile.
The news van had obviously started to attract some attention, because there was now a growing group of people standing around watching them. Tricia noted that the pilgrims were not near the bank, where they really should be. Obviously they wanted to be on television, so they had set up next to the van instead.
"Any other visitors come?", she asked Anton.
"You missed Multiplex. He zipped in, saluted the bank, and zipped out before I could get a camera."
"Damn. You sure he's gone?", Tricia asked. "All of him?" Anton nodded.
Tricia turned around looking for signs of the hero and instead saw Charlie coming up, struggling with equipment, camera, and three bags of Chinese food. She ran over to him and graciously took one bag of food. "Gracias, Charlie!" she said, pecked him on the cheek, and then stuck her food in the van. Then she went into the crowd, looking for people to interview.
Anton saw Charlie with the bags of food, and shook his head in disappointment. Charlie rolled his eyes and dropped most of his load into the van. Then he followed Tricia into the crowd.
"Hi there!", Tricia said as she approached a young woman. She was in her late teens, with bright white skin, jet black dyed hair, black clothes, and thick black eyeliner. "Tricia Sanchez, WKMB News."
The goth girl nodded to the van. "What's goin' on?"
"We're doing a retrospective on Omega Man. It's the fifth anniversary of..."
"OH!", she exclaimed, understanding immediately.
"Would you like to say a few words about him?" Tricia pulled out her clipboard and a pen, showing the release statement.
"I'll need you to sign a release."
As the girl signed the paper, Tricia looked around and noticed a young boy standing nearby, watching attentively. He was in his early teens, skinny, with long, stringy, dirty hair, some bad acne, rumpled clothes, and he was carrying a small dog. The dog looked at her and wagged its tail. Tricia noticed the young boy admiring her figure, and she gave him a mischievous wink. He blushed, and averted his eyes for a moment. A secret thrill bubbled up inside her. There was something about teenage boys that always got her going. She loved their nervousness and excitement, and she especially loved teasing them.
She turned her body towards him, displaying her curves. "Would you be interested?" she asked him.
He looked surprised. "Huh?"
"Omega Man. Would you care to say a few words about him?"
"Oh. Ummm..." He shifted nervously, and shook his head. "No."
Charlie handed Tricia a hand-mike, and turned the camera on. Tricia returned her attention to the goth girl. "So. Omega Man. Any thoughts?"
"Yeah", the girl said. "It's a shame he died and all, but you know? The whole superhero thing is pretty stupid. You know? I mean, the guy runs into a building with men with guns and shit, and you'd think he'd know it was dangerous!"
Tricia winced at the S-word.
"Oh fuck! I said 'shit!' Is that all right? Can you like bleep that out or something?"
Tricia nodded. "Don't worry. I'll handle it ... But don't you think superheroes are useful to society?"
The goth girl shrugged. "Yeahhhh ... I guess so, especially when there's a burning building or something. But I think the whole thing is pretty stupid. I mean with the..."
A very large, fat, mustached man in a business suit was standing nearby, and elbowed his way in. "Well I think they...", he interrupted.
"I'll be with you in a moment," she said to the rude man with a smile. She turned back to the girl. "You were saying?"
The goth girl glared at the large man for a moment. He was unmoved. She looked back at Tricia. "Yeah. I mean, the costumes, and the capes? The masks. They look stupid." She ran her black nailed fingers through her jet-black died hair. "I mean, I don't know why they think that look is good."
"Is there anything else you want to add?"
She shook her head. "Nah. That's it. Am I gonna be on television?"
Tricia nodded. "I think so. Thank you." She turned to the rude man. "Yes sir?" Charlie turned the camera on him.
He puffed himself up. "Well ... I say he got what he deserved! I think that all superheroes should be outlawed! They are a danger to society, and they need to be controlled and neutralized so the people can be protected."
Tricia nodded. Oh, this crap again! She countered with the obvious argument. "But if we somehow manage to neutralize all the heroes, which would require their voluntary cooperation, the only ones left with powers would be the villains and the untrained. Wouldn't we then be in MORE danger?"
He shook his head. "No. We would do them all. We need to make all superpowers illegal! It's not fair for someone to just be born with abilities that other people don't have. It means that we don't have a level playing field. Some people just get an unfair advantage, and..."
The man continued blathering, and Tricia nodded and feigned interest. She glanced down at his well-pressed suit and designer shoes. Get rid of all unfair advantages? Like being born rich? Or white? How about male upper-body strength? Should we get rid of those too? She decided to keep quiet, not wanting to get dragged into a fight. Stupid arguments, no brains. Typical. And the worst part is, I should use it. Marty will love this. Fair and balanced my ass! Always balance anything intelligent with something idiotic. Now if I could just find someone to say something intelligent. "Thank you, sir," she said politely as he inhaled for another long-winded speech. "Would you sign this please?" She handed the release form to the man, and he sputtered quiet, and signed it.
Tricia noticed the young boy looking edgy. "Um...", he said.
"Did you want to say something?"
He nodded, holding the dog close to him.
The kid is scared. Nervous as hell. Kind of cute too. She gave him a warm smile and held out the microphone to him. Charlie followed with the camera.
"Do you remember Omega Man?", she asked.
He nodded and looked around very timidly. "Um ... He..."
"What do you think about Omega Man?"
He cast his eyes down, avoiding her gaze. "He was a good man, and he shouldn't have died."
Tricia was speechless. She nearly teared up as he said that. It was so sincere, so simple, and so moving. That is definitely going into the broadcast. "Gracias", she said. She gave him a sweet smile.
He smiled back, and then looked away from her shyly.
"Can you sign this please?"
The boy looked horrified for a moment, then signed his name on the release. "Am I ... am I going to be on television too?"
Tricia nodded. "Yes. You will."
"Oh," he said dejectedly. "I thought so."
Over the next hour, Tricia interviewed several pilgrims who had made the journey to Omega Man's place of death to celebrate his life. She also spoke to a policeman who was at the scene five years ago, and a few other random people. Then she and Charlie retired to the van to upload the video to the station.
She ate her chicken and vegetables while watching the upload, making notes as to which sections of video were appealing and which were crap. Then she emailed the notes to Judy, her production assistant back at the station. Judy would splice in the local color with the prepared montage they had produced earlier in the week. Now it was just a matter of waiting for the broadcast to start, where she would do the introduction and closing live on site, with the video to take up the bulk of the segment.
And of course, an hour after eating Chinese food, she was hungry again.
It was just a couple of minutes before broadcast when she heard her stomach growl loudly. "Damn it!", she cursed, and she dug into her purse for some food. Can't have my stomach doing that during the broadcast! She pulled out a power-bar, unwrapped it, and took a bite as she stepped out of the van to scan the crowd.
A sizable group had formed for the broadcast. The pilgrims were singing and chanting praises, and the crowd was lively. Tricia was watching the pilgrims when she heard an odd sound. It was the faint sound of something like a zither being strummed. She spun around instinctively, scanning wildly.
She knew that sound. It was iconic in the D.C. area. She finally looked up and saw her.
"Look!", she yelled and pointed up. "Quantum Knight!"
The whole crowd looked up and yelled, cheering and screaming praises. For there on the building, squatting on a ledge was an Amazonian woman. She was sexy, curvy, muscular, and wore a tight uniform of red, black, and white with a golden mane of blond hair tied back in a long ponytail. She wore mirrored goggles and a cowl, but her lower face was bare. She stared at the bank, and bowed her head.
Everyone in the crowd pulled out their cameras and immediately started taking pictures. Charlie grabbed his camera and pointed it up at her.
"Forget it, Charlie", Tricia said.
Charlie looked through the viewfinder. "God damn it! What the hell is wrong with this thing?" He switched to manual focus.
A few voices in the crowd sounded disappointed as they saw the pictures they took, so they took more pictures. But the more pictures they took, the more disappointed they became.
Quantum Knight stood up straight, saluted the bank, jumped off the building, and plummeted. As the crowd screamed in horror, she did a back-flip in mid-air and vanished with a loud "VRUMMMM".
Charlie pointed the camera at various people, and looked at it. "Sorry, Tricia. I don't know..."
"Welcome to D.C.", she said.
Tricia shrugged. "Quantum Knight. Cameras don't focus on her. If anyone ever finds out how she does that, let me know, okay?"
He squinted. "Don't focus on her? How does that work?" Tricia shrugged again. "What about the others?"
"Well, everyone else comes in focus. It's just a matter of finding them. Now Bullwhip is fairly easy to spot," Tricia said. "Big, dark wings, slow, and loud. Snow Angel, on the other hand, is silent. Good luck finding her ... OH! And if you ever see Acoustyx, high-priority, get him on camera, okay?"
He nodded. "What does he look like?"
"Brown trench-coat and blue jumpsuit. Mask."
Charlie nodded. "What's so special about him?"
Tricia gave him a worried look. "No one has seen him in months."
Charlie went back to the van and prepared for the live broadcast. Tricia looked back at the crowd and scanned the people. There he was again. That cute young boy with the dog. He was staring at her hungrily, his eyes fixed on her chest.
Tricia caught his gaze and winked at him. "Hey there, big boy. See something you like?"
He looked really embarrassed. Tricia gave him a sexy smile, and then tossed her half-eaten power-bar to him. He caught it awkwardly, then surprised her by quickly devouring it and feeding a small bit to his dog.
Oh. He must have been hungry.
"Trish!", Anton called. "Show-time!"
Tricia returned to the news van and took her place in front of the lights, primping her face and hair and setting her ear piece. "Marty is on," said Anton.
"Hey Marty!", Tricia called.
Marty, her producer was on the line. He could see her on the video feed. "Hey, sweet thing. Looking good!", came his voice over the ear piece.
"Always do! ... Marty, after this, would you can it with these stupid assignments?"
"What's wrong with this story, Tricia?"
She stamped her foot. "Come on, Marty! Omega Man dies, that's news, but that was five years ago. Local residents have working memories of events from five years ago? Not news!"
"You know the people like these stories."
"Yeah, but that's because we're not giving them real news. Give me something good, Marty."
"Well, why don't you come in my office tomorrow and we can talk about it?"
Tricia groaned loudly. Charlie gave Anton a puzzled look. Anton nodded in Tricia's direction, and then pantomimed her giving a blowjob. Charlie chuckled.
"Hold that camera still, Charlie," said Marty.
She gritted her teeth. "Yes Marty?" She knew what was coming.
"Where are Huntley and Brinkley?"
"Oh, come on, Marty! Give me a break! Can't I do this straight for once?"
"You know what brings in the viewers. Do it, and I may find something better for you next time."
Anton called out "Sixty seconds, Tricia!"
Tricia groaned again. "Fine!"
Anton whispered. "Hold that camera still, Charlie."
"I am! I...", he began, but he stopped as he saw Tricia.
Tricia had unzipped the front of her blouse, and revealed a staggering amount of jiggling cleavage. She pulled her shirt open wide, reached in, and one by one adjusted each breast so it bulged out obscenely through the opening in her blouse. Every movement she made now caused a minor tremor to ripple in her ample bosom, and she stood with attitude.
A hush fell over the crowd as they noticed her massive breasts. A few pilgrims started cheering and applauding. The goth girl was standing next to the young boy with the dog. She saw his eyes bugging out as he stared at Tricia's near naked breasts, and she rolled her eyes.
"Oh, grow up!", the goth girl said to the boy.
"Satisfied Marty?", Tricia asked.
"There are my girls!", he answered. "Can you lose the crucifix?"
"Fuck you." She stood with her hand on her hip, and glared at the camera. "You know Marty, I'm really getting sick of this!"
"You love it. Admit it."
"No. I'm getting tired of this. I want to do real news. Something that takes brains, not body. I really don't give a crap that you get another five thousand viewers per quarter-inch of cleavage I show. You're wasting my talents!"
"Tricia, you know I appreciate your talents."
Anton called out. "Thirty seconds."
"Not THOSE talents! I'm a good reporter! Give me a good story!"
"Come to my office and give me a good reason to give you one."
"Crap, Marty! If I give you anything better, you'll never let me leave the station. I'll be stuck on the desk doing anchoring like Jeanine!"
Anton called out. "Ten seconds, Trish."
"Hey Charlie! Got a riddle for you. What does Marty say after an orgasm?"
Jeanine's voice cut into the line. "And now we bring you to field reporter Tricia Sanchez for a live report. Tricia?"
"Thank you, Jeanine!", Tricia said, simultaneously signing on and delivering the punchline to her joke.
Charlie nearly shook the camera as he held in his laughter.
"I'm here outside the Bank of America on K Street northwest where five years ago today, one of the world's most powerful and enigmatic superheroes perished in the line of duty. Omega Man, the amazing and mysterious hero who had caught and captivated the world's attention as some would say one of the world's most powerful superheroes, had a short but distinguished career. Local residents remember the tragic events of that day."
"And, roll tape!", said Marty.
A monitor nearby started playing the tape that Tricia and Judy had put together. Most of the crowd watching turned their attention to it. A montage of photographs and video showed as Tricia's recorded voice narrated.
"He was one of the world's most powerful superheroes. A paragon, possessing the classic abilities of flight, speed, super-strength, and invulnerability, Omega Man stunned the world with his dramatic appearance on June 4th, 2003, when he defeated the terrorist and super-villain Psi-Clone single-handedly. Apparently immune to the villain's mental attacks, Omega Man subdued and captured him in an astounding seven seconds. He then continued further with a career of amazing feats, from freeing hostages to fighting super-villains to rescuing people trapped from natural disasters. All through the summer of 2003, he mystified the world as his exploits showed a bizarre and unbelievable array of superpowers. A freeze ray when fighting the horrid monster FireClaw, magnetic telekinesis when rescuing victims trapped under a collapsed bridge, lightning fists when fighting the demonic sorceress Desdemona. With each new power, the world was captivated by this unique and unclassifiable superhero."
Tricia watched the playback for a moment, then pulled out her cell phone. She dialed and listened while watching the interviews play on the monitor.
"Oy! What are you doing?", asked the woman over the phone. She had an extreme, New York, Jewish accent.
"Please, Annie! For god's sake, tell me you are NOT Tivo'ing this dreck story I'm doing."
"Fine! You ask me to tell you I'm not. I'll tell you I'm not!"
"Good. Cause I'm in a foul mood. I hope you don't need anything, cause I just want to go hit the clubs tonight. You don't need anything, do you?"
"Well, now that you mention it..."
"Fine. Nothing. Now zip up before you catch your death of cold!"
"Annie! It's July, and it's eighty degrees out here ... You ARE watching this, aren't you? You're Tivo'ing this!"
"So what if I am? Now get back to work! Tipsheh!" And she hung up.
Tricia folded up her phone and checked out the monitor. The interview clips ended with the young boy and his touching remark, and the montage continued.
"But possibly the most unusual thing about this hero was the constant presence of a powerless sidekick, a young child known only as Omega Boy. Wherever Omega Man traveled, wherever Omega Man fought, Omega Boy was carried along, protected but not contributing. And as much as Omega Man was praised for his efforts, he also suffered ridicule for Omega Boy."
A clip from David Letterman appeared. "Did you hear about this new superhero? Omega Man? Apparently he can do anything! He can fly, he's bullet-proof, he's super strong ... About the only thing he can't do is find a sitter!"
Many in the crowd laughed loudly at the joke.
A clip from Jay Leno came on. "And apparently Omega Man was recently voted one of the top five most desirable men in the country by Cosmopolitan Magazine. And who can blame them? He's a super hero! He's famous! He's ... great with kids!"
Then there was a clip from Stephen Colbert from The Daily Show. "And that's why I have decided to adopt my own sidekick, Colbert Boy!" A young boy in a suit and tie walked onto the stage and sat between him and Jon Stewart, soliciting uproarious laughter. "Because there is nothing like dragging in a defenseless eight-year-old boy into a super-fight to let your enemies know that you are one tough, bad-ass, mother-fBEEEEEPer."
The montage continued, and Tricia's voice returned. "But the ridicule stopped when on July 10th, 2004, Omega Man was killed in action, here on the front sidewalk outside the Bank of America on K-Street, northwest D.C. As the bank was being robbed, Omega Man and Omega Boy arrived on the scene. He left Omega Boy with the police outside, entered the building, and within thirty seconds emerged from the bank engulfed in fire. As he succumbed to the flames, for some unknown reason his body detonated with a tremendous force, releasing a torrent of destructive energy, and leaving no trace behind. Omega Man's death left behind millions of dollars in property damage, an electromagnetic pulse that knocked out communications in the city for hours, and many unanswered questions.
"Who was this mysterious man? How did he become so powerful? Was he Science, Magic, Cosmic, or Mutation? How could he survive fighting two fire-based super-villains, only to burn to death later on? And what of Omega Boy? Why was he constantly brought along into battles, and what happened to him? The world may never know."
The video playback ended, and Tricia picked up the ending. "Witnesses reported that during those final moments there was mass panic and pandemonium as the bank robbers attempted to escape, and Omega Boy was lost in the crowd, never to be seen again. Authorities searched for the boy, but were unable to find him. One can only hope that he eventually found his way home. On K Street northwest, this is Tricia Sanchez. Jeanine?"
"That's a wrap!", announced Anton.
The lights turned off, and Tricia started pulling off her microphone and ear piece. Anton and Charlie packed up the van, while many of the crowd came up to talk to Tricia, get her autograph, and just get a better look at her. One man asked her out on a date, which she quite loudly refused, discouraging all the other men.
As the crowd dispersed, Tricia noticed the young boy with the dog watching her. She felt a little twinge of naughtiness bubble up, and decided to go and tease the boy one last time. She smiled and strutted up to him. His eyes went wide as she approached.
"So. What did you think?" she asked sexily.
"Huh?", he managed.
She struck a pose. "Enjoy the show?"
The boy furrowed his brow and glared at her.
"Fuck you, lady!" And he stormed off.
Tricia was stunned, and then looked down at her chest and saw the immense amount of cleavage she was still showing. She zipped up. Hmph. Maybe I'm just too much for him.
Her cell phone buzzed, distracting her. She opened it and saw the message. It was from Annie.
It was a grocery list. Tricia groaned.
Tricia speaks Spanish. Annie speaks Yiddish.
¡Dios mio! ¡Odio mi trabajo! - My God! I hate my job!
"¿Cuál es su nombre? - What's your name?"
"¿Esta bien?" - "Is that okay?"
"¡Sígame!" - "Follow me!"
"¿Qué quiere?" - "What do you want?"
"Gracias, Charlie!" - "Thank you, Charlie."
"Tipsheh!" - A stupid or foolish woman.