Ms Patriot: The Heroine Trade (Chapter 1) (Patreon)

Ms Patriot: The Heroine Trade

A Ms Patriot and Britannia Crossover

“Be careful,” Ms Patriot whispered. “Don’t take any unnecessary chances. These men are dangerous.”

Seven large, brutal looking white men stood under the lone light in that dark alley. Their captives whimpered and sobbed.

Her blonde sidekick, Patriot Girl, looked grim as she nodded. “Don’t worry about me, Ms P. Worry about what I’ll do to those sorry pieces of poop. Excuse my French.”

Ms Patriot smiled and shook her head. If “poop” was the worst word the gorgeous, busty eighteen year old could come up with, no forgiveness was necessary.

Goddess help me, she is just so cute and adorable.

One of the eight kidnapped young women cried out, pulling the heroine’s full attention back to the slavers. She and Patriot Girl had spotted the sex slavers corralling those poor drunk girls as they left the lighted area of the entertainment district near the university. They’d followed them to that dark alley, behind a brothel in the Sugar Town red light district. Three of the slavers were making phone calls while the captured beauties knelt in the filth, sobbed, and begged to be let go unhurt.

The raven-maned heroine’s baby blues narrowed as she gazed at the notorious international human trafficking ring. Word was they operated in sixteen different countries, across five continents. The question was were they calling in people to take the girls away to other countries, or calling local pimps in to conduct an impromptu auction. They did both on a regular basis.

“I think we’ve seen enough,” Ms Patriot whispered. “Let’s put them down before more unsavories show up.”

“My pleasure,” the pigtailed sidekick said. “I’m ready to rumble.”

Ms Patriot did a double-take on her protégé. Ready to rumble? “You watch too much wrestling on TV.”

As one, they charged out of the night shadows. The human traffickers cried out, dropping into defensive stances. Ms Patriot charged a pair, and dropped low at the last second to duck under two haymaker swings. She spun and swept their legs away. Then rising to her feet, she locked eyes with the kneeling young women.

“Run!” she shouted, pointing back the way she’d come.

None of them hesitated. Eight pretty coeds leapt to their feet and raced away into the darkness. Then Ms Patriot turned back to the fight. Her sidekick was kicking ass and taking names. Four slavers were writhing on the ground, one clutching his smashed nuts as he puked. Then the two men she’d just put down jumped back to their feet. The closest tried to tackle her, but she vaulted over him, only for the other to smash an uppercut to her chin.

Ms Patriot fell to her back, head spinning. He loomed over her, smirking, and stomped done at her belly. She recovered and rolled away before he connected. Rising to a knee, she swept his feet away a second time with her other leg. Then she was on her feet, stomping down on his belly. Twice. That’s when the first man and two others charged her.

Looking past them, she spotted Patriot Girl in trouble. Two slavers held onto her arms, while a third pounded fist after fist into her face, chest, and belly. Her protégé’s golden power belt lay on the ground at her booted feet.

How did Patriot Girl’s get depowered so quickly?

Ms Patriot charged the men coming at her. At the last second she leapt up and kicked off one of their shoulders. Landing behind them, the busty heroine in red, white, and blue plowed into the back of the man beating Patriot Girl. She forced him face first into the cold concrete, even as she lashed out with a roundhouse to the head of the man holding Patriot Girl’s left arm.

Once free of his hold, the blonde sidekick quickly started punching the other man holding her. He released, allowing her to grab her power belt and put it on. And then stood toe-to-toe with him, both punching and blocking furiously. When the puncher started to rise, Ms Patriot grabbed him and threw him over Patriot Girl and into the man fighting her. Then the two heroines turned to face the three slavers charging them. As one, they leapt into flying roundhouses that took out all three.

“Call the police to come pick this scum up,” Ms Patriot said, pulling some heavy-duty zip-ties out of her thigh boots. “I’ll get them bound and ready for the cops.”

Men came racing out of the darkness from both directions. She recognized a few faces. King Pimp and his thugs.

“Watch out, Patriot Girl!”

They came in so fast she couldn’t count them. The two heroines were tackled to the ground, pushed away in opposite directions. Multiple men piled atop her, grabbing at her face, hair, arms. One of them pulled her top down until her right boob popped out. Another wrapped his arms around her knees and held tight. While the others just pounded her until she went limp.

For the longest time the only sounds were male grunts of effort, feminine grunts of pain, and the dull thunk of fists pounding into heroine bodies.

“That’s good,” a familiar voice called. “Let me see them.”

Ms Patriot was hauled to her booted feet to just teeter atop her tall heels. Her beautiful protégé was brought up to stand next to her, looking battered and disheveled, eyes glazed over. Patriot Girl was beaten into a stupor, no longer fully conscious or able to defend herself. Ms Patriot grunted when someone removed Patriot Girl’s power belt, and then her own.

King Pimp stepped up to them, demanding Ms Patriot’s full attention. The six foot seven, muscular black man grinned with self-satisfaction at the two captives. Reaching out, he pinched Patriot Girl’s chin, pulling her full red lip down. His dark eyes swept over her large breasts, her flat belly, and sweetly rounded hips. Then he rubbed her golden blonde tresses between two fingers.

“This ho was born to fuck,” he said. “She’s going to make a fortune as a whore.” He caught Ms Patriot’s eyes. “Your sidecunt is a perfect ten in my opinion, while you are a strong nine.”

That was the first time anyone had actually said, to her face, that her protégé was prettier. Didn’t matter. Beauty was fleeting. Justice was more important.

“Get your filthy hands off her,” Ms Patriot snarled. “She’s pure and untouched. Unlike you and your filthy minions of evil.”

“Filthy? Minions of evil? Not just miscreants?” he laughed. He looked around at his thugs. “I think she just gave you all a promotion.”

“Release us this instant,” she demanded. “We’re super heroines. Not your playthings.”

King Pimp held his hand out. One of his men placed Ms Patriot’s golden power belt in it. He held her eyes, wagging his brows.

“I believe you need to rethink that, Ms Pussylicious,” he sneered. “The fact your all-important power belt is in my hand, and not around your waist, tells me that you are indeed our plaything.” She only glared at him, so he continued with a cold leer. “Strip her.”

Someone behind her swept her waist-length black hair aside, reaching for her corset’s zipper. At the same time, the human traffickers challenged King Pimp.

“We get one of them, since they freed all of our captured girls.”

“I disagree. You were all defeated, and we captured them,” he said. “They belong to us.”

“Not if you wish to continue doing business with us.”

Everyone tensed up, the two groups of men glaring at each other. Ms Patriot saw her chance. Kicking up between the pimp’s legs, she doubled him over. She immediately then dropped all of her weight to the ground, while kicking her feet up into the faces of the men holding her arms. She was free in a flash, lunging at King Pimp. Instead of attacking him, she yanked her power belt out of his grip and snapped it around her tiny waist.

“I am empowered!” she cried, rising to her full height as the magic of super powers surged and tingled throughout her shapely body.

King Pimp’s thugs plowed into her, trying to tackle her once again. She couldn’t allow that to happen, so gave ground. They forced her all the way across the alley, pushing her back against the brick wall. And then, seeing all hope fading away, she dug down deep and exploded on them. Ms Patriot attacked with a fury born of pure terror and desperation. Backed up by a super-powered body.

It was pretty much a standoff for a good ten minutes, when flashing red, white, and blue lights of police cars flooded one end of the alley. The pimp and his minions fled, leaving her alone, battered, tousled, huffing and puffing. And then realization hit her hard. She truly was absolutely alone.

“Patriot Girl!”