Wednesday, July 5, 2000
Just after 2am

Crying from laughing so hard, Sarah Steiner and Paula Glasse stumbled out of  the elevator and down the hallway to their posh 20th-floor Manhattan apartment.  Wiping her eyes and pulling her keys from her purse, Sarah grasped the doorknob and heard a crunch as it came off in her hand. Holding it up to show her friend, she burst out laughing again as Paula, giggling, pushed her way past, opened the door and made her way into the dark apartment.

"You're a menace," Paula sighed, shutting the door after her powerful roommate tripped her way into the room. The main lock now useless, the model latched several heavy deadbolts and shook her head.

"I'll call the super tomorrow," Sarah half-slurred, plopping herself down on the leather sofa. "And get him to fix the door." Leaning back, the young woman sank into the comfortable couch. "I had a great time tonight, P. Those tall ships were reeeeally cool. But man, am I beat..."

Filling two tall glasses with filtered water from a wall-mounted spout, Paula corrected, "You're drunk is what you are. You ever had champaign before?"

"Nope," Sarah returned, still turning the brass doorknob over in her hands. "I like it, though."

Moving to the front bay windows, Paula pulled the curtains and revealed a glowing cityscape that stretched out to the horizon and beyond. Sitting down on the couch next to her inebriated friend, she handed the teen her water and smoothed a curl of lustrous brown hair behind an ear. "Drink up," she ordered. "You don't want to be dehydrated in the morning with that early flight."

Rubbing her eyes, Sarah replied, "Yeah, I know. That would suck." Drinking deeply, she
gulped down half the glass and let out a long sigh.

Paula, her feet tucked up underneath her, gave the girl a sidelong glance. "What?" she asked.

"Thanks for showing me around town this week. It's really been a blast, seeing the sights, eating out and stuff. I really love New York... and I thought I was going to totally hate it."

"Give yourself some time," Paula smirked. "You'll get to hate it -- but you'll find that everywhere else sucks worse, so you'll never want to leave."

"Maybe," Sarah breathed. "Next week is going to be lame, that's for sure. Mom's got all kinds of crap planned for me after I get back from Miami. There's like something on every night... I won't be able to go to Oscar's with you, and I think the play's out too."

Paula sipped her water. "Bummer. Such is the life of a super-heroine."

Sarah snorted. "Yeah, some super-heroine. The only thing I've done so far is break stuff. Like the shower door, the dishwasher, and now the door."

"Not true!" Paula exclaimed. "You stopped those bank robbers like the first week you were here!"

"Yeah, but that was just lucky, I think. I won't know if I'm cut out for this until I meet up with someone seriously tough, like Think Tank or somebody."

"Think Tank?" Paula asked.

Getting up off the sofa, Sarah replied, "Long story." Since her powers had manifested, one of the subjects she'd been well versed in was metahuman history and current events. Sometimes she forgot that most of the general public didn't have quite the level of knowledge or interest in people -- things -- like Think Tank that she did. The general public, though, wasn't expected to face off against such horrors.

Slipping off her shoes, Sarah padded into the bathroom. Flicking on the lights, she paused when she saw herself in the mirror. The reflection, gorgeous as it was, was unsettling somehow. "Who am I?" she asked herself quietly, running a hand over her flawless face.

Paula, leaning back so she could see into the bathroom, saw the attractive girl staring into the mirror. "You alright?" she called out. "You're not going to puke, are you? If you're going to hurl, do it into the toilet."

Frowning, Sarah answered, "No, I'm not going to puke." Almost on cue, her stomach gurgled. "I hope," she added quietly, putting a hand to her belly. Raising her voice again, she said, "I'm just taking out my contacts -- they're driving me crazy."

"Oh. Okay." The brunette smiled. "I was just a little worried... with your constitution, I'm
thinking you'll like explode the toilet if you barf."

Plucking out her vivid-blue contact lenses, Sarah growled, "Can we please stop talking about vomit?"

"Yeah," Paula consented. "On one condition... you show me your Knock-out outfit. I still
haven't seen you in it."

"Aw," Sarah complained, coming out of the bathroom. "What do you want to see that for? It's kind of dumb."

"Just put it on. I'll be the judge of whether its dumb or not. Don't you want an honest opinion?"

Sarah sighed. "I guess so. Hang on, then."

Watching as Sarah stepped into her room to change, Paula finished her water and rested her head back on the pillows of the couch. "So who designed it?" she asked, loud enough to be heard in the next room.

Stepping into the bottom half of her suit, Sarah pulled the tight-fitting shorts up and adjusted their fit as she answered. "Some Italian dude. Mom and Mr. Raddison had it done. I didn't get much of a say, really."

"Get used to it," Paula griped. "You don't get a lot of say in what you wear in the modeling world, either. Just put on what they tell you to put on, no matter how heinous it is. You should have seen some of the stuff I had to wear at my last runway show..."

Stepping out of her bedroom, Sarah looked somewhat shyly at the floor. "That sucks," she said simply, then added, "Um, here I am. Ta-da."

When Paula turned to look at her roommate, her jaw dropped open and stayed there for several long seconds. As Knock-out, Sarah was dressed in a deep red midriff-baring two-piece costume. The shorts rode fairly low on the girl's rounded hips, and were tight enough to look like a second skin. They covered her to perhaps mid-thigh, like a pair of biker's shorts. Her top resembled a stylish, low-cut sports bra, and the cleavage it afforded her was nothing short of astounding. White highlights played here and there over the suit, accentuating the young woman's dramatic curves.

"Holy... shit!" Paula finally managed.

Sarah grimaced. "That bad?"

Standing, Paula rolled her eyes. "Bad? No. No! You look hot, Sarah! Like, fucking hot!"

"Oh, shut-up," Sarah returned, convinced the other woman was making fun of her.

"Sarah, I'm serious. I get the name now -- you really are a knock-out in that outfit."  Moving closer to her blushing friend, Paula blinked several times. "That suit's gotta be padded," she said incredulously, her eyes glued to her friend's chest.

"Nope. That's all me," Sarah replied, looking down at her breasts while silently noting that she'd wanted them smaller. Her mother had felt bigger was better, so bigger it was.

Paula couldn't contain a laugh. "I knew you had serious boobs on you, but jeeze. You're going to need a license or something for those, aren't you?"

"Very funny."

"I'm not kidding! They look dangerous..."

Stepping over to the full-size window, Sarah looked at her pale reflection in the glass.  Paula was right. She was truly stunning. So why didn't she feel as sexy, as confident as she looked? Why, when men looked at her body -- and they had been looking, certainly -- was she uncomfortable? Deep down, she knew. It wasn't really her they were looking at. It was the blonde hair, the blue eyes, the big tits, the perfect ass, the long, muscular legs. It was Knock-out, not Sarah, that everyone was interested in. So now Sarah was gone, and Knock-out was here to stay.

"So..." Paula began, carefully breaking the girl out of deep thought, "Do you run around
barefoot when you fight the bad guys?"

Sarah looked down at her tanned feet and smiled. "I haven't fought any "bad guys" yet, and no, I don't. I have a matching pair of boots, thank you very much." She was suddenly very weary. "I'll have to show you those later. I've gotta turn in if I'm going to be on that plane in the morning."

Paula nodded, thinking for a moment about asking what was suddenly troubling her friend. Deciding against it, she simply said, "Goodnight, Knock-out. See you when you get back."

Sarah winced and went to bed.

Monday, July 10th, 2000
10am

James Raddison looked across his meticulously organized desk at the two women seated in front of him. "So the Miami shoot went well, then?"

"Yes, it did," Lili answered tightly before her daughter could.

"The director liked me so much he might put me in his next music video." Sarah answered when her mother had finished. "It's a Backstreet Boys song, I think."

"And... what was it he liked about you?" Raddison asked, his eyes dropping to Sarah's chest for a half-second before coming back up to meet the girl's bright blue eyes.

Sarah steeled her jaw and straightened her back. She'd had enough. "My big jugs, you prick, what else?"

"Sarah!" Lili exclaimed.

"Fuck him!" Sarah returned, getting up from her seat. "Mom, he's an asshole! He thinks
my looks are all I have going for me!"

"That's not true," Raddison interjected calmly, unflapped by the girl's outburst. "Sarah, you can go a long way in this business -- this business of superheroes and entertainment, now that it's all mixed together the way it is. Not just because of your cup size, either. But you can't be afraid to use everything you've got to get ahead. The director of that chewing gum commercial -- the one who might want you for the video?  He called me at the end of last week. He did really like you. If you get the job though, I guarantee he'll pour you into a little costume that shows off your t&a. Get used to it.  You've got some dues to pay before people start taking you seriously."

"Bulls-"

"Sarah!" Lili cut her daughter off, red-faced and furious. "Sit down! Right now!  You apologize to Mr. Raddison." The older woman's eyes were like cold stone.  "Now," she growled.

A cool expression on her face, Sarah sat back down. "Sorry. I'm just tired of being treated like a piece of meat."

Raddison nodded his head. "That's understandable, Sarah. You'll just have to trust us -- your mother and I -- to make some decisions for you at the start. We have your best interests at heart, and won't make any... rash decisions."

"I'll deal with her later," Lili said icily, not looking at her child. "Let's get down to business. Did you contact the Protectorate, or Mike Musselman's gym?"

"Good news on both fronts," Raddison grinned. "I've got a meeting set up for next month at the UN with recruiters from the Protectorate. If Sarah can make a good impression, she's as good as in."

"Excellent," Lili smiled. Looking at Sarah, she continued, "Now, we have to get you as much good press as possible in the next few weeks. This is a crucial time, Sarah.  There's no room for screw-ups."

Sarah nodded, a little shocked about the news with the Protectorate. The most powerful metahumans in the whole world belonged to that group. "I... I know," she stammered, already feeling intimidated by the upcoming interview.

"And I spoke with one of the fitness trainers at Mike Musselman's gym. We haven't set a date yet, but we're working on getting Sarah a tour of the facilities to see if it meets her needs, and if she'll fit in at the gym. It's a fairly exclusive sort of thing, but I've got a good feeling about it."

"Cool," Sarah said, regaining her composure somewhat. "The weight room at my apartment complex just isn't cutting it."

"I'll let you know as soon as we have a date arranged for the tour, and if I hear anything further about the Protectorate interview."

"Please do," Lili stated. "Sarah and I have some errands to run, and we'll be out most of the afternoon. You have my cell number if anything comes up today."

Raddison smiled broadly. "Right."

As the two women got up to leave, Sarah hesitated. "Um, I didn't mean to freak at you earlier, Mr. Raddison. I'm just kind of sensitive about that whole thing, considering..."

"I know, I know, Sarah," Raddison said warmly. "Don't worry about it. Water under the bridge."

Sarah smiled sweetly and turned to go, happy her words hadn't offended him too seriously. He was pretty decent guy, after all, she thought, unaware that his eyes were glued to her trim behind until she closed the door behind her.

Friday, July 14th, 2000
9pm

"Grounded?"

"You heard me. I'm not going out tonight."

Paula, dressed to the nines and ready to hit the clubs, couldn't believe her ears.  "Grounded? How old are you, twelve? Jesus, just don't tell her you went out.  C'mon, Sarah, this is going to be a blast. There are a bunch of people hoping to meet you tonight."

Wearing just a white t-shirt and a pair of panties, Sarah was curled up in front of the television, looking in no way like she intended to move from her comfortable spot.  "Nope. I'm staying in, P. Besides, Entertainment a Go-Go is on tonight. They might have that clip where I was interviewed after stopping the bank robbery."

Paula couldn't believe her ears. "Oh, come on! Tape the damned show! Come dancing! A couple of these guys are really hot. And they'll be all over you!"

Sarah made a face and opened a container of ice cream. "Blech. No thanks. Tell them I said hello, though."

Finally giving up, Paula said, "Fine. But I might be bringing someone home tonight."

"Whatever," Sarah countered. "I'll be fast asleep by then."

Paula grinned. "We'll try to be quiet."

Sarah couldn't keep from smiling back at her. "No you won't," she laughed.

At ten o'clock, Sarah switched over to the entertainment show and settled in to watch it for a full hour. As the minutes ticked by, she watched stories about Hollywood's latest film projects, about who was dating whom, and about a dreadful-looking Tom Arnold sitcom slated to start in the fall. Finally, the anchors discussed the week in metahuman news, with the key story being the rumored return of Old Glory. One other story made the young woman sit forward, her eyes glued to the television. A tremendously powerful, tremendously conceited superhuman by the name of Omega had appeared on the west coast, and Sarah had never seen anyone like him. His smile, his eyes -- it was like he was in the room with her, like he was right there in front of her.  Goose bumps covering her skin, the girl shivered and sighed audibly when the segment finished and the cameras switched back to the studio. "Whoa," was all she could manage to say.

When the show's credits rolled, Sarah turned off the television and grumped off to her bedroom. She was tired, and not seeing even a passing mention of her arrival in New York City depressed her more than she was willing to admit. She really had been having fun with Paula, but these past couple of weeks had been hard, really stressful.  Perhaps a good night's sleep would help ease her mind.

"Mrphf?" Sarah grunted, woken from an unrewarding sleep. A sound, a groan, perhaps, had woken her up. Laying on top of her sheets, she cracked her eyes open when she heard it again. Still half-asleep, she swung her legs over the edge of the bed and stood up. Water, she thought. I need water.  The door to her bedroom was closed, and on humid New York nights like this one, getting a good sleep was a different prospect even with the AC on high.

Walking quietly into her darkened apartment, she headed towards the kitchen until movement on the balcony caught her attention. The glass doors were pulled almost shut, but as she approached the balcony, Sarah could see that two people were outside, making love in the cool night air. Making love perhaps wasn't the way to best describe it, she thought, considering what the pair was doing.

After watching for several long seconds -- or perhaps a minute -- Sarah saw that Paula had noticed her through the glass -- and had simply smiled. Turning away, ashamed, she jogged quickly into the kitchen. Fixing herself a glass of water, she zipped into her bedroom and shut the door, trying to block out what she'd seen and heard.

Sitting heavily on her bed after finishing the water, Sarah soon surrendered to her curiosity. Enviously listening to the pair finish, her mind returned to some of the conversations she'd had with doctors concerning her non-existent sex life. Her phenomenal strength, and more importantly, her inability to temper it, meant that Sarah might never be able to share the kind of physical intimacy she'd seen the pair on the balcony enjoy. She routinely ripped handles off of car doors, smashed alarm clocks and crushed computer mice -- all accidentally. In a passion-charged moment, specialists claimed that Sarah would be capable of badly injuring or even killing her partner without even knowing she'd done it. So with one more thing to worry
about, the young woman loosed a long sigh and laid back down. It was going to be a long night.

Saturday, July 22nd, 2000

By the end of the next week, Sarah's mood had brightened considerably. Her mother still demanded most of her time, but the teen was starting to get used to the rigorous schedule, and was finding more time to do her own thing in-between hair appointments, meetings with publicists, being glued to the police scanner and the inane "street patrols" she was forced to go on. She and Paula were getting along better than ever, and tonight Sarah had decided to cut loose -- just a little. A nice dinner, a little dancing, maybe meet some of the cute guys Paula'd been telling her about... nothing too serious, but a closer look at a part of the city she wanted to know more about -- its nightlife.

The two girls, all done up and ready to take the city by storm, were halted in their tracks just as they were about to leave the apartment by Sarah's cell phone ringing.

"I should answer that," Sarah said, pulling her phone from a stylish black bag that was the perfect accessory for the short black dress she was wearing.

"No!" Paula warned. "It'll be your mom, and she'll convince you not to go out tonight!  She's got like mind control or something over you! It's like she uses the Force -- the dark side of the Force!"

"Hello?" Sarah answered while Paula smacked her palm into her forehead.

"Sarah!" It was indeed Lili Steiner -- but she didn't sound herself. She was obviously excited, jubilant even. "Sarah, we've finally got one!"

"Um, hi mom," Sarah replied, surprised by her mother's tone. "Got one what?"

"A mission! A fight! An opportunity for some seriously good press and photo ops! You have to get down to a bar called the Boom Room! It's on 80th, near Hops."

Sarah felt her head swim a little. "Now?" she asked. "Like... right now?"

Lili's voice took on that harsh, familiar tone. "Sarah, you need to get into costume and get down to that club, and you need to do it right away. It was on the scanner not two minutes ago -- the Matrons of Mayhem have broken into this Boom Room place, and are causing a lot of trouble."

"What do they want? Don't they have some radical feminist agenda or something?"  Sarah asked, her eyes telling Paula that she wouldn't be going with her.

"It doesn't matter what they want -- they're supervillains, they're there, and there's no one on the scene yet. The police are waiting for the Draughtsmen, and it'll be a while. This is your big chance! This is what we've been waiting for!"

Sarah's chest tightened. The Matrons of Mayhem? Tough customers, by all accounts.  And how many of them were there? All of them? A scary prospect. Despite that, the girl found herself saying, "Okay. I'll get down there as fast as I can."

"Good girl, Sarah. One last thing--"

"Yeah?"

"Don't screw it up!"

"Thanks, mom," Sarah said somewhat caustically. Hanging up the phone, she darted into her bedroom and began undressing as quickly as possible.

"What's going on?" Paula asked, a little concerned. "Is everything okay?"

"Hang on!" Sarah called back, fighting to get into her costume. Her roommate came into the room just as she was pulling on her boots.

"Where's the fire? Why the KO-duds?" Paula asked.

Tying the laces on her boots, Sarah offered, "Down at some bar -- the Boom Room.  There are some supervillain-types busting the place up."

A look of shock came over Paula's face. "Really? And you're actually going down there to fight them?"

"That's the plan," Knock-out returned, moving quickly out into the main room as she slipped on her titanium knuckles. Grabbing her phone, keys and wallet, she stopped at the door. Looking down at herself, she exclaimed, "Crap! No pockets! Where do I put everything?"

"You need a super-purse," Paula grinned, coming out of the girl's bedroom behind her.

Handing everything she was carrying over to her friend, Sarah opened the door and bolted down the hallway towards the elevator. "Wish me luck! And don't lock me out!"

Juggling the handful of items, Paula leaned out into the hallway and wished the metahuman well. "Good luck!" she cried. "Go get 'em, Knock-out!"

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