Chapter Ten

Alice and company hobbled up to the attic in pursuit of their prey. The evil woman visibly winced with each step she took, feeling the throb in her battered crotch and the sting all over her seething ass and anals. The brat's blood wouldn't satisfy her. After murdering him, she planned to torch the house until nothing but cinders remained. Of course, the family would be next in line for the furnace. Though, she could settle that piece of business once she had the microchip and all the money it was worth at her disposal.

Such vile ideas preoccupied her. And, predictably, she failed to detect the tripwire at the top of the stairs.

Fwiiiip – Bomph!

Then and there, a huge, well-laden sack dropped from the ceiling. It collided into the trio and unloaded its contents over them. Without warning, they found themselves steeped from head to toe in dust. And not just any ordinary dust at that. Emerging from the lingering cloud radius, they discovered that the accursed substance irritated their skins, compelled them all to scratch at their bodies like a bunch of baboons.

Alice fervently raked her rear-end. She snarled. "Itching powder!"

"Uh, no duh, captain obvious," Unger whined, scratching his scalp and armpit.

"Grrr…. Enough lip! Go spread out and search!"

Where did the kid run off to? The three stooges peered into every nook, every cranny. However, they simply couldn't find him. Instead, they found the scraps he'd left behind. A few cans of soda stood watch over an old couch and table. Potato chips were scattered across the floor. It looked as if they'd stumbled upon the hazy aftermath of a children's party. Yet, most outrageous of all was the makeshift video security system! The trio stared blankly a moment into the stack of television monitors before the realization hit: Alex had been filming them this entire time! Indeed, even here in the attic, they could see themselves in one of the screens, huddled together, the camera trained on their big, toasted butts. It was the perfect – albeit most unflattering – image to sum up this absurd and humiliating mission.

Earl Unger and Burton Jernigan seemed only mildly annoyed, though. The two men knew who really to blame for their present troubles.

By contrast, Alice was thoroughly, thoroughly pissed. So much so that she couldn't find the proper words to express her wrath. Nor was she able to look away from the stack of monitors. It was like taking a jog down memory lane, and each screen merely visited upon her the remembrance of how badly she'd fallen from grace. On one screen, she spied the deep imprint her body had made after she'd tumbled into the mud pit; on another, she saw the broken porch steps and the burnt out box of fireworks; then the gunge Jacuzzi; the bucket of honey in the kitchen; the sofa in the living room where she received her spanking; and much more. Overcome again with loathing and embarrassment, she yanked at her artificial curls and cursed. The boy's taunts returned to haunt her. Blubber butt…. Naughty girl…. Stinker….

"Hey! You're not gonna' find me up there, you big, dumb, law-breaking knuckleheads!"

And, Alice shuddered. That last one sounded too real to be a voice in her head.

She turned to her cohorts. Unger and Jernigan appeared just as surprised. Consequently, the three came to the same conclusion. "He's outside," they declared in unison.

At that instant, they dragged themselves towards the window, and beheld the most disheartening sight. Outside, the blizzard had swept across the neighborhood, burying everything in a great expanse of pure white snow, obscuring the rooftops, the alleyways, and even their get-away car. Yet, one small figure stood out from the backdrop, dressed as he was in a colorful winter coat. It was Alex!

The kid gazed back at the trio of criminals with a mischievous smile. Then, when he knew he had their attention, he opted to further tease them. Alex pulled out the Axus microchip, raised it up, then waved it as if holding a prized lottery ticket. "Looking for this, you losers?!"

Up in the attic, Alice was dumbfounded. She watched the boy show off the microchip, then watched him saunter out into the street. He didn't even bother to hurry away. And, this was the profoundest insult of all. It meant that he didn't consider her a threat anymore! It meant that he simply expected her to stand there, scratching her itchy bum! She punched the wall. It was the very last straw. This stunt only vindicated her intention to annihilate all evidence of the Pruitts' ever existing. She had to defend her faultless reputation, her image, her ego. And still, it dawned on her that she hadn't yet answered the most essential question – just how did he get down to the backyard so fast? By what means?! He couldn't have teleported down there! There must've been some kind of trick involved. "Aha! Gotcha!"

A trampoline below by the pool! She'd found him out. That's how he'd snuck out! The lady thief wasted no time informing her goons, and the two tired men seemed to shrink into their clothes.

"You want us to what?!" Jernigan cried, his countenance going pale.

"Jump. I want you both to jump," Alice said matter-of-factly.

"You're not serious," Unger griped.

Alice reassured them – not very convincingly. "If an infant can do it, you can too."

"Children are more flexible!" Jernigan yelped.

And without hesitation, Alice brandished her M16 assault rifle for dramatic effect. "It's a trampoline," she repeated coolly. "T-r-a-m-p-o-l-i-n-e. Must I spell it out for you twits?"

Clearly, Unger and Jernigan were cornered. They understood the implicit threat in the woman's gestures. So, steeling themselves, they decided it best to take a leap of faith than face the firing squad. A sense of finality gripped them. Had they known things would turn out this way, they'd have run away much earlier. They'd have followed Beaupre, or begged him to stay. Of course, he had the smarts to flee, seeing that Alice had become incorrigibly compromised, that – frankly – she'd gone nuts. Indeed, there was no mistaking the end. They could already feel it in their broken bones, feel it in the bruises on their bruises, and in the quaking in their knees.

They climbed out onto the frost-covered window sill.

"I presume that you won't be joining us," Unger snapped. His last act of petty rebellion.

"No! I'll cover you from up here," Alice responded. "Besides, someone has to destroy those tapes!"

That's right, the ex-beauty thought. She could never allow any degrading footage of herself to go public. It just wouldn't do. Especially for someone like her – the divine muse of larceny, the real-life Catwoman... She was far too absorbed in her own legend. The woman's vanity and cruelty remained unchanged.

Unger recognized this, and shot her a disgusted glare. "Go to hell," he barked.

Then, both the mercenary and the hacker jumped. They plunged downward, clenching their teeth, tensing their muscles, and readying their loins for the eventual rebound off of the trampoline.

It was to their misfortune, however, that the anticipated rebound never happened. The dread-filled duo didn't bounce off the surface. Rather, they burst right through it! The trampoline put up zero resistance, gave way. And, by the time they learned that it was nothing more than a decoy, Unger and Jernigan had crash landed into the icy swimming pool hidden underneath.

Splaaaaaaaaaaaaassssshhhhh!

Both men were out of the game. The immense physical shock had shut down their motor skills and left them powerless to pull out. Ultimately, Unger and Jernigan could only float in the freezing water, feebly hugging their own bodies for warmth, wistfully regretting their bad decisions.

[…]

Alice stared down at her vanquished cohorts in disbelief. She blinked, rubbed her eyes, and blinked again. From her vantage, it appeared as though Unger and Jernigan had been swallowed by a chasm in the earth, then dumped into a subterranean lake, their heads bobbing, arms threshing, helplessly splashing about. The kid had put them on ice. And soon, they'd be on their way to the cooler – a shameful conclusion to a shameful day. Of course, once the initial bewilderment had dissipated, the wicked woman couldn't help but curl her lips into a mocking smirk. She had to admit it. This startling development was... acceptable. Such a fate served them both right for their many insubordinations. Likewise, it spared her the actual trouble of eliminating those expendable fools herself.

Certainly, there was no point dwelling on lost causes now. Her prey was getting away, and Alice had no choice but to chase him on her own. The incriminating – humiliating! – tapes could wait. This couldn't.

Then, right on schedule, a noise from behind caught her attention. Clunk!

In shock, Alice wheeled around and assumed a defensive stance. Her curvaceous figure went rigid. Her cold blue eyes narrowed. But, as it were, the source of the sound soon became apparent. And, as this reality dawned on the lady thief, a glint flashed across her eyes. She loosened her guard, relaxed her body, feeling a rush of confidence wash all over her again. Indeed, a veritable fog seemed to lift, for confronting her now was the answer to her conundrums – the dumbwaiter! That's how the blasted boy did it! That's how he'd gotten down so quickly! "Hah! Sweet, sweet victory!" she proudly exclaimed.

And so, Alice limped towards the dumbwaiter and yanked open its door. Unsurprisingly, the space inside was dim and cramped. A tight fit for any adult. The villainess, however, could no longer be dissuaded by such trivialities. She cracked her knuckles, did a few stretches, and worked her aching neck. Afterwards, mustering up every last ounce of her renowned flexibility, she bent over and eased her gigantic rump into the yawning cavity. She fidgeted this way and that, squirming frantically until she was panting for breath. And yet, to her dismay, the opening resisted her labors and refused her entry. It was simply too small. Her oversized glutes couldn't possibly squeeze in.

Nevertheless, Alice didn't surrender. Growing purple with rage, she withdrew her shapely backside, then slammed it into the dumbwaiter once more to no effect. A sinister intensity seemed to possess her. The thief gritted her teeth. She wasn't done. And she renewed her hysterical efforts with heightened vigor. Again and again, she rammed those enormous ass cheeks as though trying to twerk the doorway into submission. Her rubber galoshes screeched under the strain, and the fervent rustling of her frilly pink tutu resounded throughout. Regardless, though, the obstacle wouldn't budge.

"Damn it! This isn't helping at all!" Alice growled as her breasts heaved in exhaustion and indignation. By now, she was so drenched in sweat that her cutesy wig was reduced to a sodden mess, and her even cutesier panties were soaked to transparency. Still, the femme fatale was no closer to capturing the kid. And, plainly, some sort of assistance was necessary, some sort of lubrication. She scanned the attic for anything that might be of use to her, but spotted only one item that suited her very special needs: a bottle of volcano hot sauce!

Alice grimaced. The sight caused her to recoil in bitter revulsion.

Still, she was losing precious progress. The unthinkable had to be done. Thus, she took a deep breath, grabbed the bottle, and unceremoniously emptied its contents onto her protruding posterior. With shaky hands, she then spread the liquid fire all across her bum. The consequences were almost immediate as the hot sauce reacted violently with the itching powder.

What resulted was a sweltering cocktail that aggravated a hundredfold the soreness in Alice's tush. And, inadvertently, some of it seeped like lava into the crack of her ass. The buxom bad girl chewed her lip.

She wasn't going to pass out. Not now. Not yet. She fought off the blistering sensation, struggled against the pain, and waddled back to the dumbwaiter. This was the decisive point, her final chance at redemption. Cautiously, Alice stuck out her glowing red butt, thrusting it towards the opening. She then wedged it in, and – miracle of miracles! – the massive pair of globes managed to slip right through! Soon, a huge surge of power filled her. The haughty woman grinned. And – to her mind – her buns, slick with the spicy lube, were unstoppable. Nothing could impede them, yet alone conquer them. Indeed, nothing more could go wrong today. Her unlucky streak had ended. She was utterly convinced of it. So, without hesitation, Alice kicked her feet off the ground, and pushed herself in deeper. "Here I come, you little brat!"

Of course, that last push was enough to seal her fate. The thief's cocky grin suddenly dissolved into a look of speechless terror, for something was terribly amiss. And she promptly apprehended what it was. The dumbwaiter no longer had a bottom! Her giant arse was sitting on air!

The hapless vixen gasped. She flailed her arms and legs in an attempt to wrench herself away. However, it was much too late. The lubricant she'd rubbed across her rear guaranteed a smooth descent, and Alice vanished into the shaft with a high-pitched scream. "Hyaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhh!"

She fell, and she kept on falling, plummeting down that claustrophobic abyss. Darkness engulfed her. The light from the attic above dwindled until it was a mere glimmer in the far off distance. And, desperately, Alice clawed at the walls around her. She dug her nails into the moldy concrete, deep into the grime. Yet, nothing could slow her steep descent. The inevitable itself was fast approaching as her barreling booty gathered more and more speed, more and more momentum. All color left her face. Her bowels contracted. A warm stream trickled along her inner thighs. And her screams continued to echo in those confines. She continued to fall. Four stories all in all.

"Kyaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhh!" Boooooooom!

Then, crashing ass-first into the base of the dumbwaiter, Alice hit rock bottom.

Her screams abruptly ceased. The impact caused the ground to tremble, the walls to sway, and the roof to shiver. It was like a bomb being set off there in the basement. Cataclysmic. Subsequently, an uneasy stillness seemed to choke the neighborhood. Silence reigned. Though, surely, this was not to last.

A cacophony of creaks and groans soon began to rumble forth from the Pruitts' as fissures formed at the very foot of the house. It was a bad sign. The fissures gradually extended upwards, splitting the residence right down the middle, tearing its foundations asunder. In turn, chunks of plaster dropped from the ceiling. Support beams ruptured. Sewage pipes burst. Within a matter of seconds, the entire structure collapsed, folding in on itself in a grand display of deafening destruction. Gray clouds of smoke mushroomed out. The sky darkened. And, when the dust settled, the cozy abode was gone. Only ruins remained now – the ruins of a home, an ally, a former fortress….

Truly, the battle was over. The players were spent. Time was up.

"Ouch."

[…]

Upon arriving at the scene, the police were taken aback by the devastation before them. The house they expected to glimpse was demolished. The kid they expected to rescue didn't need any rescuing after all. And, to add to that, four of the world's most wanted criminals had just been neutralized. The cops didn't know what to make of it. It simply felt unreal. They scratched their heads, shrugged their shoulders, and chose to leave the investigation to the Feds. Whatever the case, a big clean-up awaited them.

Quickly, squadron after squadron dispersed, weaving through the debris, searching for the beaten rogues. It didn't take long for them to capture Unger and Jernigan. However, Alice proved more elusive. A whole half hour passed before the police discovered her bare legs jutting out of the rubble, plus another half hour before they successfully unearthed her.

The besmirched belle was, of course, in the worst shape of her life.

Having fallen four stories down a dumbwaiter shaft and having had a house literally cave-in on top of her, it was only natural that Alice had dislocated her ass and broken her butt. Moreover, her statuesque body was now scrunched up, locked into a permanent squatting position, as though forever tensing above an invisible toilet. Her arms dangled stiffly overhead. Her neck lolled at an odd angle such that her ears were level with her shoulders, her chin between her breasts. By all means, she looked like a bashed-up ballerina doll that'd been toyed with a tad too much. The thief couldn't move, couldn't feel anything, save for the supreme humiliation which accompanied her defeat. How was all this even possible?! She still couldn't believe it, couldn't understand it. In the short span of a week, everything she ever valued had been stolen. Her glamorous career! Her flawless reputation! Her elegant figure! Lost! Lost! Everything lost!

And, as the boys in blue carried her away, she wanted so badly to throw a hissy fit, to bite and scratch and murder her captors. Indeed, none of this seemed fair to her. The brat had cheated. Her goons had dragged her down. Such technicalities abounding, she just couldn't let things end this way. No! Not when she was meant to be the world's most infamous cat burglar! She demanded a do-over! A fresh start! And, already, the gymnastic maneuver for a daring escape arose clear in her mind. She needed only to execute it….

Unfortunately, though, her body ignored her commands, merely twitching instead.

Worse yet, a crowd of curious onlookers had gathered around the villainess, shoving their cellphones into her mud-splattered face, taking cheerful selfies, pointing fingers, laughing. The disgraced dame scowled. Her mouth contorted into a sour, defiant sneer. But, really, there was nothing else she could do. Robbed of her athleticism, her logic, and her feminine charms, Alice had become a living, breathing punch-line: the sorest loser of them all! As helpless as a newborn babe, and every bit as pathetic!

Then, as if to heap indignity upon indignity, the crowd eagerly parted, and in rushed a local news crew, HD camera on the roll. The crew snatched a fine close-up of the evil woman's mug. All the while, a lively reporter narrated the outcome of the heist, naming it "the flop of the century", "an epic fail".

Alice herself hadn't the strength to speak. She stared dumbly into the lens, unable to tear her gaze away, knowing deep down that her crippling defeat was being televised across the country. The camera lingered on her long enough to immortalize every delicious detail of her transformed self. Then, it shifted its focus elsewhere. The woman's eyes darted about in their sockets to follow, and she learnt what was going on – a waking nightmare! For there, to her side, stood the wretched brat, now in the midst of presenting the ten-million Dollar microchip to FBI Deputy Director Stuckey! The felonious femme shrieked, but only a choked gurgle emerged. She could have strangled the kid, could have snapped his neck. She yearned for it. But, alas, her body disobeyed her again. Likewise, another spurt of wetness gushed forth into the front of her Hello Kitty panties. And, she feared, something firm may have also popped out by the backseat.

The idea alone appalled her. Yet, thankfully, nobody had noticed.

For now, everyone busied themselves praising Alex Pruitt. The crowd cheered him on as a hero, a patriot. His mother embraced him. His siblings patted him on the shoulder. And, as the cops loaded Alice up into the back of their holding van, she could have sworn that she'd caught a glimpse of the kid, sticking out his tongue at her, waving goodbye.

It was a fitting send-off.