<span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 18pt;"><strong>Cherry Twist</strong></span><br/><br/><div class="floatright">(http://www.hairstyles123.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/11/Ghetto-Red-Hairstyle.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Daniela “Dani” Danger (legally changed from Daniela Duffy)<br/><strong>Hero Name:</strong>Cherry Twist<br/><strong>Mentor's Name:</strong>Whisky Punch<br/><hr/><br/>It had taken some years for Cherry to master the art of making the perfect  vodka gimlet. A standard Bartender’s Bible would inform you that it is “a simple mixture of equal parts simple syrup, fresh lime juice and vodka”.  This was accurate if you were a teetotaler with the liver of a high school girl. Cherry had a superhuman resiliency coupled with alcoholic tendencies and so she had discovered the Bartender’s Bible was full of shit. With her rarified taste, she opted for one part simple syrup to two part lime to seven parts vodka.<br/><br/>She had further opted to take a personal day according to her Twitter. “A spiritual journey with the destination of a better tomorrow and a better me. #CleanLiving”<br/><br/>As nebulous as the tweet was, it turned out that the path her journey took was dead bolting the door to her condo and singing karaoke alone. Well, not entirely alone. She had started the day with a puppy but some hours ago her pug had gone in search of a safe place to hide while she drank and sang. She took a bite of stale pizza, dropping the half finished piece ontop of her past due and final notice bills.<br/><br/>Chasing the feta and herbs with a bare swig of vodka from the bottle, Miss Danger began scrolling through the karaoke choices. Usually a fan of BOTH types of music, country and western, today was a doldrums day. And that meant disco. Cherry rested her lips against the cold mesh of the microphone as ABBA swelled,<br/><br/>“If you change your mind, I'm the first in line!<br/>Honey I'm still free! Take a chance on me!<br/>If you need me, let me know!<br/>Gonna be around if you got no place to go!<br/>When you're feeling down, If you're all alone!<br/>When the pretty birds have flo- FUCK!”<br/><br/>The ginger lost track of her place in the song as chaos broke out downstairs in the park. Dani slid open her patio door and peered our at Central Tokyo Piccadilly Park (or City Park. She couldn’t keep up with the name changes). Even above the daily cacophony of the City, the pursuit rose a special kind of ruckus, made all the worse by the heroes in pursuit.<br/><br/>It was handy that she happened to be outside just now as she had “left her phone” on the patio the previous night. By “left her phone”, she meant she had dropped it into the bottom third of a pitcher of margaritas once the ice had begun to melt. Unfortunately, she had sprung for one of the top of the line models that was waterproof up to ten feet. And so it lit up and rattled inside the glass pitcher, making it dance across the patio table in tune to her ringtone.<br/><br/>It was the Star Wars’ Imperial March, so she knew it was her agent. Dani shook off the excess margarita and dried it against her bathrobe before answering with an emphatic, “Absolutely not.”<br/><br/>“You see this situation in the park?”<br/><br/>“Absolutely not.”<br/><br/>“A little good press would be a big win for you. And 10% of a big win for me.”<br/><br/>“No. ... I’m finishing off my liquor cabinet then going down to the derby. There’s no way you’re changing my mind.”<br/><br/>“Fair enough. Just thought you might want to know... it’s Thunderfang.”<br/><br/>Dani felt the phone’s gorilla glass view screen crack in her hands as she clenched her fist. On the list of filthy hussies who had captured her partner during a caper so she could “interrogate” him with her tongue, that Fox bitch was in the top five. Voyuer Magazine had run an expose with some pretty damning photos of Whisky Punch railing that furry cunt from behind.<br/><br/>“... I’m on my way.” Dani replied before dumping her phone back in the pitcher. She didn’t bother to reopen the patio door fully, sliding through the two inch crack and onto the carpet. Hanging across the back of her couch was her saddlebag. She let her robe drop to the carpet and began digging her uniform out of the leather bag.<br/><br/>An ornate black western cut blouse with white trim and cherry accents, it was offset by her stitched jeans and intricately beaded leather chaps. The beadwork design was tight like only the tiny fingers of third world children could pull and Dani had had a “friend” stretch the quantum structure of the whole thing a few millimeters into the adjacent dimensions, rendering it indestructible with a nebulous quantum probability that fluctuated between 3 and 0.<br/><br/>It would still be around fresh and new well past the point when the sun expanded and swallowed the earth. Theoretically, it would still be in “gently used” condition a trillion years later when “the Crunch” came to roll up the carpet of reality. Though Cherry Twist may be long gone, whatever intelligence survived in the cold cosmos when time itself broken down would know... Dani Danger had a nice ass and good taste in boots.<br/><br/>Speaking of which, she slid open the door to her “weapons room”. It was filled with rows of hand tooled boots, and she selected the red ostrich. Dani picked out a pair of razor sharp reaper spurs, buffing them against her cuff before clipping them on. On her way out of the closet she picked up one from a row of identical black cavalry hats. Dani flexed her fingers inside her tight brown wranglers gloves, their molecular structure unspooling along with her rubbery digits as the leather warmed up.<br/><br/>She opened the patio door one last time, gripping the balcony rail tightly as she stepped backwards through her condo. When her back hit the front door, her legs began quivering from the tension. Her arm was stretched out 17 yards from the railing, extending through the straight shot from her karaoke room, through the dining room, along the edge of the kitchen past to the den and down the entry hallway.<br/><br/>With her free hand she finished her gimlet and slid on a pair of aviator glasses before taking a deep breath. She fed the attached earpiece into her right ear and murmured, “Alexa... play the ass kicking playlist please.”<br/><br/>Boss Hoss’ cover of “Word Up” began to blare as she lifted her boots off of the ground and let the tension from her arm slingshot her over the rail. Her body unfurled and took on the wind like a flying squirrel as she fell. She kept her vantage point in the sky, gliding above the pursuit warily. Whatever that Fox bitch wanted with the van didn’t concern her as much as getting a chance to wrap herself around the villain like an anaconda.