My name is Henry McCoy, but the girls call me “Beastly”.  I can only assume that this is a reference to my legendary fortitude in the boudoir.  In actuality it’s a code name.  You see, I work for a very elite detective agency, financed by a mysterious individual named Charlie Xavier.  Xavier, whom I have never met and know only as a disembodied voice emanating from a tiny little box, acts as our generous benefactor and Commander in Chief.  I assume the role of field commander, communicating Xavier’s orders and making sure they are carried out with a maximum of efficiency and no small amount of style.  And then
there are the girls.  Three of the most beautiful, intelligent, ass-kicking babes to ever grace the surface of our spherical globe of habitation.  Xavier’s very own Angels.

ELISABETH BRADOCK:
 
 Elisabeth crouched in the low shrubs lining the black surface.  Heat distorted the air above the land and she remembered how thirsty she was.  Her violet eyes quickly scanned the tarmac in front of her and the surrounding vegetation.  Almost time, she
thought, peeling back the clinging leather of one sleeve to look at the watch around her wrist.  Now if everyone else had done their job without a hitch....She hated hitches.  Little did she know that one was lurking right over her shoulder.  The man struck without a sound, taking her by surprise.  But years of training had honed her very body into a weapon that often acted without consent from the brain.  Elisabeth struggled with her faceless assailant, smiling at the arrogance of men that dictated that a feminine threat like her only demanded the attention of one grunt.  She moved with such grace that anyone watching might have assumed they were witnessing one of the exotic local dances, but her partner definitely wasn’t leading this dance.  She brought him to his knees in a rapid fire series of kicks and sent him to bed with a knee to the back of the head.  That minor
annoyance taken care of she smoothed the clinging leather of her bodysuit, flipped plum colored curls over her shoulder and helped herself to his canteen.  Once she had taken care of her thirst she moved back to the perimeter of the tarmac, and resumed her search for....

ORORO MUNROE:
 
 Ororo silently cut her way through the undergrowth managing to look like a regal African queen despite the heavy vegetation and even heavier humidity.  A quick glance at her compass told her she was right on track.  So far, so good.  She carefully ducked under low hanging trees and sidestepped nets of clinging vines with her trademark single mindedness.  Ororo Munroe didn’t make a sound as she moved, but neither did her stalker.  The tiger crouched low before springing up behind her to knock her to the forest floor.  A hastily thrown up knee was the only thing that saved her, and maybe a little bit of luck.  Too bad Ororo Munroe didn’t believe in luck.  Saliva dripped from the great beast’s jaws and her nose wrinkled in disgust as it landed on her cheeks.  She gripped huge paws in her leather clad hands, bringing up her other knee to join the first, wedged between the main mass of the beast and herself.  Yellow eyes glowed with a feral bloodlust, but she refused to be ruffled, waiting for the beast to strike for her throat again.  At the last moment she dealt a staggering blow to the tiger’s nose with her own forehead.  With a yelp, the cat fell back.  Ororo stood with a satisfied smirk, shooing the tiger away with an imperious gesture and the threat of another nose-thumping.  Minutes later she had reached the edge of the tarmac, the object of all their trouble gleaming in the sun a few hundred yards away.  She turned to her left, smiling as Elisabeth Bradock emerged from the
foliage.  They each surveyed the other’s disheveled appearance, speaking in unison,
“Don’t ask.”
They both turned towards the tarmac and waited.  And waited.
“Where in the world is....” Ororo began, only to be cut off by Elisabeth,
“Good Lord, is that........”

LORNA DANE:

 Lorna ran as if her life depended on it, and according to the eleven heavily armed men behind her, it did.  The tarmac seemed to stretch forever, her lungs burning and ears buzzing with the excited babble and jingling of gunmetal behind her.  The hot wind
whipped at her blonde wig, playfully styled in pigtails, and threatened to rip the short plaid skirt right off of her furiously pumping legs.  She cursed colorfully as one knee sock bunched around her ankle and the buckle of one shiny maryjane came undone.  Ahead of her the aircraft loomed like a glittering bird of prey.  She finally conceded her battle with the wind and sent her blond curls flying into the face of her pursuers, quickly followed by the defunct shoe.  She laughed into the wind at the sound of curses behind her, putting on more speed as she saw her companions materialize on the other side of the plane.
Elisabeth and Ororo looked her up and down in amusement as she skidded to a halt in front of them.
“Don’t ask.”
They answered with a nod, the three diving in unison as the first volley of gunfire pinged off the asphalt in front of them.
“What do we do now?”  Elisabeth asked, slightly annoyed at the ruin of their carefully laid plans.
“Just follow me.”  Lorna replied.  Ororo shrugged in answer to Elisabeth’s questioning glance and they waited to see how their emerald tressed partner would get them out of this one.  Lorna pulled two gleaming semi-automatic pistols from her garter belt, handing one to each of the other girls with a grin.
“Cover me.”
With that she stood, crouching against the side of the aircraft and nodding with approval as Elisabeth and Ororo answered another volley of shots with their own.
“Jeeze,” she observed, “These guys couldn’t hit the side of a frickin’ barn.”
“Maybe you could give them a lesson, Lorna.  AFTER we get the hell out of here,” quipped Elisabeth.
Lorna gripped the smooth edge of the wing above her and disappeared.  Moments later Elisabeth and Ororo looked at each other in confusion as the air vibrated with the birth of the jet’s engines.  The gunfire ceased as pack of gunmen broke up, scattering as the aircraft lurched forward.  Lorna’s face appeared over the side of the cockpit and she waved,
“Hurry up, you two!”
They didn’t need to be told twice and within seconds the canopy of the aircraft was lowering over it’s precious cargo.  Lorna grinned at her companions as the plane gathered speed, barreling towards the jungle at the end of the strip.
“Do you know how to fly this thing?!” Elisabeth fairly shrieked.
“How hard could it be?” Lorna shrugged, giggling before falling into moviestar mode with, “Fasten your seatbelt, dahling, it’s going to be a bumpy ride!”
Ororo shook her head with a serene smile as Elisabeth white-knuckled the edge of the instrument panel, eyes widening at the quickly approaching tree line.
“Oh God, I can’t look!”
“Me either,” agreed Lorna, closing her eyes and pulling up on the stick at the last second.  The aircraft lurched just a bit as the back wheels grazed the tops of the trees and then they were rocketing towards the stratosphere at nearly the speed of sound.  Their breathless silence was broken only by Lorna’s voice,
“Does anyone want a piece of gum?”

 “Here you go, Beastly.”  Lorna said with a grin, tossing him a set of keys before bending to plant a kiss on his cheek, followed by Ororo and Elisabeth.
 “What are these?” he asked as the three ladies took their customary seats in front of his desk.
 “They are keys, silly.”
 “I know that, Lorna. Keys to what?”
Ororo opened a slim file and read softly,
 “The X-451, the newest super secret spy plane in the Soviet arsenal.”
Beastly coughed a few times, eyes bugging with confusion before regaining the power of speech,
 “I thought you were just going to bring in the blueprints.”
 “We got a little carried away,” Elisabeth said archly, with a sly smile in Lorna’s direction.  The smile spread infectiously as the small box on the edge of the death crackled to life and that familiar voice filled the room,
 “Good job, Angels.”
 

The Angels will have more adventures, I promise!