Chapter 6
The brick-walled room was brightly illuminated by stark floodlights suspended in each corner. Emma stood defiantly at the intersection of the four pools of light, wearing nothing but black panties and a piece of sheer cloth knotted across her chest. Her entire body was painted purest gold, with black stripe accents running horizontally from head to toe. Her golden hair was plastered back in smooth rows like a warrior's helmet.
Lo-Chen took one look at Emma, and a malevolent grin spread across his face. He clapped his hands twice. The Dragon appeared at his right elbow, wearing his steel visor.
"Now we will see which is stronger," Lo-Chen offered. "A Tiger, or my Dragon." He stepped back into the shadows while the green-scaled figure advanced towards the center of the room. Emma struck a martial pose, awaiting the attack.
The Dragon Man aimed a hammerfist at the side of Emma's head; it struck her just above the ear. She directed a kick to his knee and fired a rigid fist just below his breastbone. Neither fighter reacted to the blows. The Dragon Man roared out a bellow and charged at Emma, carrying her bodily and slamming her into the unyielding wall. He drove his shoulder forward in an attempt to crush her, but made no headway; after a minute, she nimbly squirmed out of his arms. She danced back to the center of the room with a graceful jete, completely unharmed. Lo-Chen stepped forward and arched an eyebrow.
"Remarkable," he said. "It seems you have discovered the secret of the Liao-lung."
"I've discovered the secret of your operation here, as well," Emma challenged. "Did you really think you could get away with abducting British citizens and selling them into slavery?"
"Merely slatterns of the street," Lo-Chen said contemptuously. "They are never missed."
Emma narrowed her eyes to slits. "They are women," she declared, "and one of them is my friend."
"They only have value as merchandise."
"They all have more value than you." She leaped directly at Lo-Chen, and the Dragon interposed his body to protect his master. The two fighters once again exchanged a series of attacks without doing any damage.
A click echoed through the room as Steed poked his head through the door. He stealthily entered, carrying a shiny steel pail in his left hand. Emma disengaged herself from the Dragon Man and backed towards him.
"Where have you been?" she asked out of the corner of her mouth.
"Filling a bucket of universal solvent," he said cryptically. "Don't touch. Have I missed anything?"
"Preliminaries," Emma said coolly. "Stalemate."
Lo-Chen watched the conversation between them, then pulled a single-shot Derringer from the pocket of his robes. Emma saw it and approached him with bravado.
"I don't think your gun can hurt me," she boasted, "unless you can hit my eye from that distance."
"You may be invincible from the Liao-lung," Lo-Chen sneered, "but he is not." He aimed the gun at Steed's chest and pulled the trigger.
Emma gasped. Steed had reacted a split-second before the shot was fired, covering his heart with his painted right hand. The bullet deflected, ricocheting once before burying itself in the wall.
"God save the Queen," Steed observed with a grin. He displayed the back of his hand to Lo-Chen. "There's a little bit of Dragon in all of us." He set the bucket down as the sinister figure in the purple robes rushed towards him. Emma tried to stay to defend Steed, but the Dragon Man grabbed her arm and pulled her away.
"Steed!" she cried. He was still without his bowler and umbrella. Steed smiled as he faced Lo-Chen.
"I can defeat you with one hand behind my back," he said wryly. "In fact, it'll have to be that way." Tucking his left hand out of harm's way, Steed formed a fist with his painted right hand. He threw a slow, looping punch that connected with Lo-Chen's cheek, then backhanded him across the face. Steed felt no pressure, but the effect it had on his opponent was dramatic; he looked as if had been hit by a rock. Lo-Chen staggered dazedly towards the wall.
Steed looked at his fist in amazement. "Wait until Mei-Ling hears. Did it with only one hand."
Emma had her own problems. The Dragon had grabbed a sword from one of the wall displays, and before she could get a weapon to counter him, he aimed a slash at her backside, perhaps assuming that she had failed to paint under her scant clothing. Steed's brushwork must have been thorough; the blade glanced harmlessly away. However, she did start to feel a cool breeze—her nylon bottoms now had additional ventilation.
With Lo-Chen temporarily disabled, Steed grabbed the pail handle and rushed to Emma's side. He waited until she delivered a flying spin kick to disarm the Dragon Man, then the instant she was clear, he hurled the liquid contents directly onto the Dragon's torso.
"What was that?" Emma asked as she sailed past.
"Paint remover," Steed said with a grin.
Emma closed back in on her opponent, her bagh nakh Tiger Claws at the ready. With an animal growl, she slashed at the Dragon's chest. The metal tines grated as if they were being dragged across stone, and at first she thought the attack had been ineffective. Then she saw a row of red scratches appear on the Dragon Man's skin as he retreated. Steed's paint remover was working!
The liquid solvent was running down the length of the Dragon's abdomen and dripping into a puddle on the floor. Emma took one look at his soaked loincloth and a mischievous grin spread across her face. Sprinting forward, she took a full swing with her foot and buried her instep into the bulging cotton pouch between his legs. This time, as her foot sank in, the reaction was immediate; the Dragon Man grimaced, bent at the waist, and let out a keening groan.
"You should have used a sealer coat," Emma smirked.
She darted in close and pulled off the Dragon's steel visor while he was still clutching his groin. His eyes betrayed a glimmer of fear, and to Emma, it almost made up for the humiliation that he had put her through earlier. Almost. She stayed near, planning to strike with the Tiger Claws while he was still incapacitated.
The Dragon Man suddenly straightened up and grabbed her wrists, and Emma realized she had made a tactical mistake by getting too close. Even though the Dragon was losing the paint that made him invincible, he still had bear-like strength. Just as she turned to face away from him, he pulled her close and squeezed.
While her own paint was keeping her from getting any cracked ribs, her opponent's iron grip prevented Emma from launching any attacks of her own. The Dragon Man grasped his elbow with one hand to maintain the pressure, then moved his other hand slowly upwards across her chest before finally clamping it over her mouth.
Emma realized in horror that although the Liao-lung protected her body, she could still be suffocated. She thrashed wildly, kicking backwards with her heel in the hopes of finding and unprotected area. His shins still felt as if they were made of stone; the paint remover hadn't reached that low, and she couldn't kick any higher. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Steed refilling the bucket from a jerry can. She bit at the palm covering her mouth, but it was painted. Emma felt dizzy, and knew she had only a few seconds left to act—Steed wouldn't be done in time to save her.
Luckily, the Dragon Man's efforts to strangle her had weakened the hold that he had on her chest, and with a final, violent effort, Emma worked one of her arms free. She jabbed an elbow back into her captor's ribs, easily finding a paint-free spot, and the Dragon doubled over with the wind knocked out of him. Emma staggered away, panting as she looked back at her foe.
Thanks to the solvent, the Dragon was both wounded and woundable. Emma merely had to bide her time and stay at a safe distance. The Dragon knew this as well; in desperation, he bulled forward. He fiercely began punching her in every conceivable spot, kicking at her groin, looking for a chink in her armor of paint. To her amazement, she felt no pressure at all. Emma thanked the stars she had allowed Steed to talk her into painting every inch of her body.
The Dragon Man managed to grab her wrist and pulled her into a face-to-face embrace. Instead of squeezing, he gyrated, rubbing his body against her. The move seemed foolish; Emma easily raked his forearms with her claws. Then he spun her around to face away from him, reasserting his bear hug. She could feel the dampness of the paint remover on her chest, and she suddenly realized his strategy. The pain in her torso immediately became intolerable; she had lost enough paint that she was now vulnerable to the pressure. Spots appeared before her eyes as the Dragon's tightly-clamped arms made it impossible for her to breathe.
"Stee—," she panted heavily. "Steed!"
Steed was by the door, having successfully fought off Lo-Chen a second time using his painted hand. He grabbed the filled bucket and shouted to Emma from the other side of the room.
"Mrs. Peel! Jump!"
She lifted her feet up off the ground as Steed flung the liquid across the floor. The solution washed over the Dragon Man's feet as Emma looked down in satisfaction. She landed by throwing all her weight onto her right heel, sinking it into the Dragon's instep. He immediately released her and howled in pain as he hopped around on one foot.
The door to the room opened, and Mei-Ling entered with Moo-Po. Moo-Po quickly started grappling with Lo-Chen, while Mei-Ling ran to Steed's side to watch. She was still dressed in her dancer's G-string with a piece of cloth tied across her breasts. Her eyes were on fire with anticipation, like a member of a wrestling team eagerly awaiting a tag into the ring.
Emma took one look at the Dragon still nursing his injured foot, and strode confidently towards the center of the room. She turned towards Steed and smiled, then addressed the martial arts instructor.
"All yours, Mei-Ling," she said with a cool nod.
Mei-Ling dashed forward and her tiny fists flew like lightning, peppering the Dragon Man's midsection. She delivered a Thai-style elbow to his solar plexus; as he bent double, she chopped the back of his neck with her hand. The Dragon Man attempted to escape by staggering away, but before he could get out of range, Mei-Ling ran up behind him and snapped a stinging kick between his legs. A loud groan echoed through the room as the column-like thighs collapsed inward with the contact, and the Dragon finally went down.
Lo-Chen had just succeeded in untangling himself from Moo-Po when Mei-Ling turned her eye towards him. The fiendish mastermind glanced at the Dragon Man rolling on the floor, and a look of fear passed across his face. Slowly, he took a step towards the room's only exit. A grin spread across Mei-Ling's features.
She swooped in, flying at him almost as if she was suspended on wires. Within seconds she was trying to strangle Lo-Chen with his own pigtail. Emma rubbed her shoulder against Steed's as they stood by and watched. Mei-Ling was smacking her foot into Lo-Chen's ribs.
"Shouldn't we stop her?" Steed asked.
"I don't think she'll kill them," Emma said with a touch of amusement. "But she'll probably make sure they ache for a very long time."
-oOo-
Lo-Chen and the Dragon Man were immobilized on the floor, nursing a variety of sore spots. Emma stood to one side, magnificent in her mostly-gold skin, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. The paint remover that soaked her clothing had rendered it more transparent than modesty allowed. Steed sidled over, and with a broad grin, leaned backwards to catch a glimpse of the rip on her backside. Emma looked directly into his twinkling eyes, prepared for his comment.
"Don't tell me," she wrinkled her mouth. "Sir Francis Drake and the Golden Hind."
"Wrong captain," he said wryly. "More like Henry Hudson and the Half Moon."
"Maybe you should get on the phone and contact the authorities."
"Moo-Po's already gone to do so. But knowing his penchant for avoiding police entanglements, maybe I'd better check up on him." Steed left through the door.
Mei-Ling nodded with satisfaction at her two defeated adversaries, then walked over. She slipped her arm around Emma's waist and kissed her on the cheek. "You look good in gold," she offered. Then she flapped the loose end of the cloth knotted across her chest. "It looks like we have the same fashion designer."
"Necessity is the mother of invention," Emma smiled. "Well, that should put an end to the exploitation here. Nice work, sensei."
"You've done a good night's worth of fighting yourself," Mei-Ling replied. "We were watching you earlier when you took care of that emir and the guards. I told you that you were strong enough to perform a thigh strangulation." She affectionately pinched Emma's waist. "Steed said you had the 'bite of a tiger'—a very good description of you, I think."
Emma eyes flashed in alarm. "Steed was watching?"
"Yes, along with Moo-Po. They were both very impressed."
"But I was topless!"
"I gather that was one of the things that impressed them."
As if on cue, Steed entered the room carrying a pail of Moo-Po's solvent. He held up a damp rag. "The police are on their way," he said jovially.
Emma narrowed her eyes. "What do you intend to do with that?""
"I painted you, Mrs. Peel," he offered innocently. "It's only right that my skilled hands remove my artwork."
"I don't think so," Emma said smugly. "Hand me that bucket. I'm off to take a long hot shower."
"In that case, I'm off to take a long cold one," Steed joked.
Mei-Ling came forward and took Steed by the arm. "Have I ever told you about my time with the Shaolin monks?" she asked. Steed watched the golden Emma as she vanished through the door, a flap of nylon from the seat of her panties fluttering in the breeze.
Mei-Ling continued, her eyes alight with passion. "They can actually kill a man using only a single finger..."
-oOo-
A dwindling number of glass and steel marbles were scattered in the three-foot circle on the floor of Steed's apartment. He was on his knees outside the ring, knuckling down for a shot at one of the ducks that remained from the original forty-nine. Emma knelt beside him, her cheek pressed against his as she analyzed the layout.
"You'll never make that shot," she advised.
"That's where you're wrong," Steed grinned. "Moo-Po has taught me a little something about handling small objects. It's true, marbles aren't buttons, but..." He released his shooter and two marbles caromed outside of the circle.
"Lucky shot." She nudged his hip with hers. "You know, I'm still cleaning gold paint out from between my toes."
Steed smiled. "I rather fancied you as a tiger."
Emma gave a sexy growl and nipped at the lobe of his ear. Her expression became serious.
"No telling how many woman were sold into slavery at the hands of Lo-Chen," she said grimly.
Steed matched her somberness as he knuckled down again. "The Ministry has escalated the issue to the highest diplomatic priority at The Hague. The Saudi ambassador and the new king, Faisal, assured us of their full cooperation in returning the women back to England. Reparations to be paid from Lo-Chen's fortune, of course. He won't be needing it where he's going."
Emma nodded. "That's more like it."
"They also rounded up the manager of the club, who was in on the whole scheme," Steed continued. "He was quite upset. Seems he blames his downfall on a masked stripper named 'The Erotic Emmanuelle.' You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?"
"No," Emma said, feigning innocence. "I was abducted soon after you left."
"How soon?"
"Soon," she answered vaguely.
"This one's for all the marbles," Steed announced. He carefully aimed for the final duck, moving his head to examine the line from every angle. Emma playfully maneuvered on her hands and knees around the circle to a point opposite him. Then she bent low so he would have an unobstructed view of the lacy lingerie inside her sweater as he shot. Steed missed badly.
"Distracted?" she asked with a smile.
"I think Mei-Ling may be starting to have a bad influence on you."
"Starting?" Emma grinned. She knuckled down and easily knocked out the final duck. "Now your marbles belong to me, John Steed. Keepsies and no quitsies."
"Fair is fair, Mrs. Peel. What can I do to regain control of my steelies?"
She pretended to ponder the question for a moment. "Dinner at Mario's would be a good start. I feel like Italian. Followed by a warm Chablis, I think; some of your Premier Cru private stock, mind you—not the casual stuff you keep out here on the liquor cart."
Steed pressed close enough that his lips brushed her cheek. "All that, just to retrieve my great-aunt's Cat's Eye Bumboozer?"
Emma shook the velvet bag of marbles next to his ear.
"We're just beginning," she teased.
-oOo-