Rubber Maid: Rebounder

Note: this story is created by eent242 for RRR and here the story

May I come in?�<br><br>Rushton Sparks stood at
the entrance to Detective Rhonda Mord�s cubicle, the
hat of his topcoat in hand. He carried a folded
newspaper under his arm, and looked, Detective Mord,
thought, in a state of extreme dejection. She was
polishing and reloading the clip of her sidearm. Her
fingers worked independently as she studied
him.<br><br>�You�ve got a hangdog face,� she said quietly. �That
could mean one of three things: a) you lost a pet or
family member, b) you lost a bet with the guys, or c)
you�re about to tell me something I don�t want to hear.�
That was understandable, relaxed as she was, her feet
perched atop of her desk.<br><br>�All I�m asking is ��
Sparks�s mouth crooked in a half-hearted grin � �that you
don�t shoot the messenger.� Rhonda rolled her eyes and
groaned. �That means c), then. �Now, please don�t get mad,
don�t shoot the messenger� � the sure sign of the
dreaded option c). We all used it on our folks, didn�t
we? �Now Mum, promise you won�t get mad.� Nothing
good will come of this.� She swung her legs off the
desk, giving him space to move closer. �Out with it.
The Chief didn�t like my report?�<br><br>Sparks shook
his head. �Nope.�<br><br>Detective Mord leaned
forward, her face anxious. �Oh no, the evidence, that
evidence from the drug bust. Please tell me you�re not
saying we lost the evidence, Sparky.�<br><br>Another
head shake, and she relaxed, slightly. Until she heard
Sparks say, �It�s worse, Rhonda. For you,
anyway.�<br><br>�Sparky, it�s not something to do with my job, is it?�
Another headshake. �Not directly, Rhon.�<br><br>�Sparky,
don�t pussyfoot round the issue. Not directly � it�s
related to my job INdirectly. Now why can�t you just say
that? And, for the record �Rhon� does not become a
trend. Makes me sound like Veronica. There�s a second
syllable at the end of my name, Sparky.� A bit more
snappish than she intended, but she was suddenly on
edge.<br><br>Sparks sighed, and passed her the folded paper from
under his arm. �On one level, it�s part of your job. On
another, it�s rather personal.� Mord took the paper and
scanned the headline.

NOTED CRIME BOSS TO WALK FREE TODAY it read.
�Alleged crime boss, Georgio Gambini will be released
today, after��<br><br>Detective Mord, the furious and
flexible Rubber Maid, snorted derisively, and crumpled the
paper violently. When she looked at her partner,
Rushton was glad looks couldn�t really kill. Or that he
wasn�t the target of her anger.<br><br>She jabbed the
paper violently with an index finger. Her nail, finely
cut, and covered in clear polish, tore a hole through
the centre of The Boss�s smiling face. �Yutz,� she
said with venom. ��Alleged�. When we nailed him, they
couldn�t WAIT to show all the oh-so-OBVIOUS connections,
and sound off, �oh yes, Mr Gambini was a bad apple
from the start, wasn�t he?� Can we go after them for
libel?�<br><br>Rushton shrugged. His voice was as calm and unruffled as
ever. �I�m not the shyster, rubberband girl. I�m just a
cop who happens to be your sometime partner, and the
other times, I guess I�m your sidekick.�<br><br>�Our
case was solid,� Rhonda said, talking almost to
herself. �We had warrants, we had evidence out the wazoo.
But Mr Gambini apparently has Aladdin�s Lamp to pull
from HIS butt. We did EVERYTHING right!� She crumpled
the paper, and threw it down in a wadded ball. �So
where�d the genie come from, Sparky? Eh?�<br><br>�Turns
out he had a pal we didn�t know about. A lawyer who
also happened to be a close personal friend. A lawyer
I would LOVE to nail � quite literally � to the
squad room wall by his ears, for a number of unrelated
things.� He moved round the desk, and rescued the wadded
paper from the floor.<br><br>Mord frowned as Rushton
Sparks smoothed out the paper on her desk. Beside the
now-mangled visage of Georgio �The Boss� Gambini, was a
slender, elegant-looking white-haired man in a sharkskin
suit. An old-fashioned watch fob and chain was visible
behind one of his lapels. Sparks tapped him. �Philip
Breckinlaw�� he pronounced it �BREAKIN�law �
�attorney.�<br><br>�I know this snake-oil salesman?� she
asked.<br><br>�Yeah, you do. He�s got that slow Southern accent that
slides like spit on a doorknob, comes across all elegant
and charming.� He saw the flare of recognition in her
eyes, and she snapped her fingers. <br><br>�EVIL
MATLOCK!� she crowed. �I KNEW he looked familiar!� Then she
slumped. �That�s one powerful magic lamp, I must admit.�

Yep. Lord only knows what loophole he found, but
rest assured, he found it. Talk about your elastic
feats. You�ve got some SERIOUS
competition.�<br><br>�What do we do now?� Rhonda muttered. She put her face
in her hands, and felt very tired.<br><br>�Now, of
course, we do nothing, because we can�t. You know the
drill.� He placed a hand, briefly, on her shoulder.
�Look, just take off. I cleared it with the Chief when I
told him I wanted to tell you. Go home, put your feet
up, and think about it for a while. If he�s just
getting out, he�s not going to be doing much else,
anyway. And I recommend a stiff drink. Maybe
several.�<br><br>�Thanks, Sparky,� Rubber Maid muttered. She retrieved her
purse and coat and slung them over her shoulder. Then,
feeling squashed flat, as though she were pressed under
the weight of the world, she walked to the
elevator.<br><br><br>The limo came to pick up Mr Georgio Gambini just past
noon. It was charcoal grey, and held itself aloof from
the squat, surrounding area of the prison. If cars
had noses, this one was definitely looking down
it.<br><br>The man known as �The Boss�, now a free man, walked
slowly through the opening gates. He took a brief moment
to APPRECIATE all this lovely skyline and brilliant
sun. It had only been a few months, and he�d been
outside to exercise, certainly, but to see it all without
the silhouettes of bars, or guard towers, or
monotonous uniforms was a pleasurable experience. He could
hear the two guards who�d been his escort, muttering
behind him. He could tell they didn�t like him, and that
was fine. They�d done what they were supposed to do,
nothing more. Not great conversationalists either, but
he�d asked for no conversation. Furthermore, he hadn�t
exactly been fond of THEM, either.<br><br>�Have a nice
trip,� one of the guards said, and laughed. �We�ll see
you when you get back IN THE FALL!� A weak, clich�d
parting shot, and The Boss didn�t even bother to
acknowledge it. The back door of the limo opened. The fur
coat that swarmed out to greet him must have been the
cause of death for a great many rabbits. He saw her
flash of hair. �Kiss, kiss, darling! It�s so good to
see you Georgie Porgie puddin� and pie!� He smiled
back. All his teeth had either been artificially
whitened, or capped.<br><br>�Popher, honey, it�s great to
see you, gal. What have you been up
to?�<br><br>�Bored, Georgie,� she almost whined, �Terribly,
dreadfully, bored!�

Popher � no last name, known behind her back as
Pop-Tart, Puffer Fish, or Betty the Blow-Up Doll, was a
marvellous creation. What nature hadn�t provided, science
had augmented � and continued to augment. The Boss�s
associates and bodyguards, most of whom had hung the
alternative names on her, had a pool going. It was a source
of considerable interest to Mr Gambini�s employees
as to whether Popher�s lips or chest would be first
to reach a previously agreed-on measurement. And
currently, a small but growing and rabid splinter group felt
her continually poofing bleached-blonde hair should
be included in the race. Their wager was currently
inter-group; an agreeable comparative standard of measurement
had not been found.<br><br>Popher�s hand, decked with
rings, and yet feeling limp and devoid of strength, like
a sea slug out of water, squeezed The Boss�s hand
in damp excitement. She squealed, and began to
rummage on the floor of the limousine. There was the
clink of ice, and a glass was pressed into his hand.
Champagne. �It�s so good to have you back, Boss. There�s
SUCH catching up to do!� She giggled, pressed her
hands together, and rocked back and forth on the seat
like a child.<br><br>�Is there a phone?� Gambini
asked, quietly. Popher looked at him, and he inwardly
winced. She�d used FAR too much eyeshadow today. It
wasn�t pretty. Her lip gloss was too much as well. The
way it shone on her lower lip as she pouted made his
teeth ache. The leather of the seat creaked as her
enthusiastic rocking slowed and stopped.<br><br>�Boss, you�re
NOT going to WORK now, are you? YOU just GOT HERE!�
The overwaxed lips trembled. But she reached down and
dug among her bags and baubles at the side of the
car, and produced a cellphone. He took it from her,
dialed a number, and switched the phone to his other
hand. Then absently, almost casually, his free hand
pinched the flesh of her cheek, and twisted it.<br>It was
marked with a bright red welt, and she rubbed it,
sniffling �Owwww! Georgie, what�d you do THAT
for?�<br><br>�Sorry, hon,� he said, pecking her on the injured spot.
�Just�checking.� Then he lifted the phone to his ear.<br><br>�It�s
me,� was all he said. �How�s everything been holding
up? Distribution, market coverage, everything all
good?� He smiled. �Now THAT, my friend, is some
seriously GOOD news. By the way, has she been around?� His
face tightened for a second. �You weren�t just talking
about POPHER there, were you? I thought not. You KNOW
who I mean. The inner tube with the BADGE, and the
RACK. Yes, HER. RubberCop. Has. She. Been. SNOOPING.
AROUND?� He listened, let out an angry chuckle, and shook
his head. �You don�t know. You WOULDN�T know. Well
tell me, Wise Man, what do I pay you for, hmmm? Well,
if that�s the case, you�re quite useless to me then,
aren�t you? Call me back once you�ve found your brain. I
know a good proctologist.� He clicked off the phone,
and sighed. �I go away to Club Fed for a few months,
and they can�t organise a thing. It�s sad. Now, how
about that champagne, honey?�

Rubber Maid watched herself with interest. This,
she told herself, might be what a giraffe feels like.
She sat, clad in her heroic two-piece, cross-legged
on the carpet, a good fifteen feet away from the
table. There were no chairs at the <br>table. Just a
bowl of stir-fried meat, vegetables, and brown rice,
and her two hands merged into pairs of chopsticks.
They, along with her elongated arms and neck, were
perched delicately, on the very edge of the table. The
chopsticks worked VERY well. As a part of her, the
co-ordination and muscle response was immediate, as there were
no separate pieces of wood to manipulate. And, as
she peeped down at the floor � no spillage!
Success!<br><br>Except, she now realised, for the wine. The glass was at
least a foot to her right, placed normally for a seated
person. She heard the voice of the nature host in her
mind. He � it was a he, she decided � was British. All
the good nature show hosts were either British, or
Marlin Perkins. She giggled.<br><br>�The giraffe has an
exceptionally long tongue, which it uses to strip off the
acacia leaves on which it feeds.�<br><br>Genetics had
determined Rhonda Mord was one of those people who could
completely curl up their tongues at the edges. Apparently,
this wasn�t a sure thing. She did so, forming a hollow
tube. Now what Rhonda Mord had begun, Rubber Maid was
about to finish. She stretched her tongue straw over to
the glass, dipped it in, and began to gently suck up
the wine. It was an unusual sensation, but not an
unpleasant one. OK, she was playing hummingbird here rather
than giraffe, she decided. No less fun. When the phone
rang, there was a spurt of bubbles, and the wine
slopped over the edge onto the table. �Sblthur!� Rhonda
spluttered in exasperation. �Uhrm cyumning.� It took her
seconds to untangle her tongiue, then she extended her
neck to the phone, and tweezed up the receiver with
one long chopstick hand. �Hello.�<br><br>�Rhonda,
it�s Rushton here.�<br><br>�Is there a
problem?�<br><br>�No, actually, I�m at home. A couple friends of yours,
Buffy and Sandy, are here at my place. We thought we�d
watch DVDs or shoot pool in my basement, or something.
Is this a bad time?�<br><br>�No, sounds great, I
haven�t seen Buffy and Sandy in a dog�s age. I was just
finishing dinner actually. Stir-fry.
And�experimenting.�<br><br>�Sounds tasty.� Sparks suddenly slipped into a
badly-dubbed Japanese accent. �Fukui-san! Rubber Chef Rhonda
Mord has prepared this delicious meal with 10-year old
bicycle tyres � very good for flavour. That should make
her a strong contender in this match�I predict the
Rubber Chef will coast to victory.�<br><br>It was
ludicrous, but the �Iron Chef� send-up was so dead-on
perfect, Rhonda howled, and felt tears streaming down her
face. She waited until she could suck air into her
heaving lungs, and said, �Give me an hour, Sparky. I�ll
be there.� She was grinning ear to ear when she hung
up.

�Popher,� The Boss said. They were seated in his
leather armchair, Popher draped across his lap like a
cat, his broad, blunt, gangster�s hands stroking her
hair, �do you know what fight fire with fire
means?�<br><br>�Yeah,� she said. A fire was crackling in the grate, and
she felt very drowsy.<br><br>�Well, pumpkin, I�m
beginning to think I should do the same, except I guess
this would be fighting rubber with rubber, wouldn�t
it?�<br><br>�Yeah, hon,� Popher sighed again. She was almost asleep,
she felt so warm and cosy inside.<br><br>�In fact,
sweetie,� he said, �you�d do anything for me, wouldn�t you?
I mean, if I asked you to test this idea I have for
me, you would, wouldn�t you?�<br><br>No response. Her
chest moved up and down, she was asleep. He bent down,
very tenderly, and kissed her.<br><br>�That�s just
what I wanted to hear.�<br><br><br>Just as Rhonda
finished slimming herself down for one of her more casual
dresses, the doorbell rang. �Coming!� She went to the door
and opened it. It was a beautiful night outside, the
sky darkened to a fetching shade of purple-black.
<br>A figure stood in front of her door, the night and
dim light from across the road leaving only a
silhouette. Rhonda�s cop training told her it was a young
man.<br><br>�Collecting, ma�am,� the voice said. �For the paper.�
Defiinitely a young man.<br><br>�Oh?� Rhonda said. �I thought
you were just here.�<br><br>�That was the old
paperboy,� the young man said. � I just got the route this
week.�<br><br>�How much?� Rhonda said. She�d have to go back and get
her purse. �Come in, if you want.�<br><br>�Six
forty-five,� the paperboy said. �I�m fine where I am, thanks.�

Six forty-five,� the paperboy said. �I�m fine
where I am, thanks.�<br><br>Rhonda went down the hall
and got her purse from the kitchen table. As she
started back, she heard the paperboy say �Say, aren�t you
that famous rubber lady my friends told me
about?�<br><br>She felt the beginnings of a smile. �You know, right
next door, there used to live this insufferable brat,
who believed there was a rubber lady in this house.
He was almost obsessed with her, trying to spy on
her, trying to get her to play games with him, and
even turning her into his personal trampoline WITHOUT
PERMISSION, TOMMY!� Her arms lengthened and encircled the
paperboy like an affectionate anaconda. �Come HERE, you!�
As she flicked on the light, she saw she was
right.<br><br>It was Tommy, and she briefly wondered what had
happened to make her miss the insufferable child in the
moment when he had begun to grow older. It was, she
thought, the process of getting older. Constants drifted
apart all the time, and a year had snuck in between
them, just like Tommy had constantly tried to sneak
over her fence.<br><br>�And you know what?� Mord said
softly, continuing in storyteller mode. �The rubber lady
was a kind-hearted woman, and deep down, she always
thought the insufferable brat had a crush on her. He just
didn�t know how to say it.� She saw Tommy flush all the
way to the roots of his hair, hiding the spattering
of freckles on his still-pixieish nose. He was
wearing glasses now, and they sat adorably askew on his
forehead. His �Hi,� was mumbled somewhere between his feet
and the carpet.<br><br>�So what HAPPENED?� Rhonda
said. �I mean, I had my job, and that SOMETIMES means
weird hours, but I can�t think of how many summers you
tortured me � or was it just one? Funny how time plays
tricks on you.�<br><br>�Well, it WAS primarily that
summer,� Tommy said. His face had gone shy. �Then Mum sent
me to camp. And I was pretty awful to you, but I
have to admit it was also fun.�<br><br>�I was a kid
once,� Mord said. �I just forget when.�<br><br>Tommy
smiled. �Like fun you did. Could you�put me down, now?
Please?�

Rubber Maid uncoiled herself from him, and pulled
a ten-dollar bill from her purse. �Keep the change.
And don�t be such a stranger next time; when you�re
going to be RESPONSIBLE, of all things, tell
me!�<br><br>Again, the shy grin. He hadn�t aged that much, a year,
and yet it seemed like the boy who had peeped over
her fence one afternoon when she was trimming a tree,
had grown up, and become someone else.<br><br>�Take
care, Tommy.�<br><br>�I will.� The impish grin again.
�I�m cutting across your lawn rubber lady, and there�s
nothing you can do to stop me!�<br><br>�Oh, REALLY?� she
said, smiling. Her arms began to lengthen, hands
shaping into a funhouse mockery of a witches� claws.
�You�d better START running, then, my
pretty!�<br><br>The young entrpreneur shrieked with laughter, and
danced away from her mock attempt, paperbag flapping
against his side. �Thanks, rubber lady. See you!� Then he
was running, as he�d said. Rhonda picked up her car
keys, stepped outside, and locked her door. She was
unable to stop smiling.<br><br><br>Colleen Verhoven,
librarian, felt understandably confused, and a little
vulnerable. When the large, dark-suited men came to her desk,
she�d thought she�d suffered an eclipse of the sun.
They dwarfed it, and her. Fortunately, all they�d
wanted was to ask for the Yellow Pages.<br><br>The book
was returned by a smaller man, but one who looked no
less threatening. �Miss,� he said, �would you happen
to have foreign phone directories, by
chance?�<br><br>�I�m afraid not sir,� she said. �But if you log onto
one of our available computers, there�s websites with
the information you need.�<br><br>�Would you be
willing to show me how to do this?� He smiled, but it was
not particularly reassuring. �I�d pay for your time,
and the library�s � a donation, of course.�<br><br>It
took an hour to find the information he was looking
for: an Italian web site, and the required area and
region codes for a certain part of Italy.<br><br>�Can I
get a copy of this?�<br><br>�Of course, sir. All you
have to do is click PRINT.�

The Boss waited until he�d got back to his house
before he made the call. He spoke in Italian, but the
gist was something like this.<br><br>�Good morning,
Signora Dipezno. I have a request to make, for some of
your�special clothing. Cost is no object.�<br><br>�Signore,
there is no question of cost. If you desire the
clothing, you will pay the price.� A youngish woman, he
thought. Gambini considered himself something of an expert
on women. He was trying to imagine what she looked
like. Dark-haired, just as a change from Popher, and no
doubt buxom, which he always liked. To business, then.
He had things to do.<br><br>�I�m willing to double,
triple, quadruple the price, whatever it takes. I need a
special fitting, on-site, here in America. I�ll cover
your plane ticket, your lodging -- whatever you
need.�<br><br>�I have a son, Signore, he is only eight. Also, I
will not be able to get away until the end of this
week.�<br><br>The Boss thought. With today being Monday, that would
be Friday. �Name your price, and your time of
arrival.�<br><br>�Do you have a fax?�<br><br>�Yes.�<br><br>�I�ll
itemise all the requirements, and fax them to you. The
travelling will cost you extra, as will the
accomodation.�<br><br>�Done, and done. It�s a pleasure to do business with
you. Grazie, Signora.�<br><br>�No, thank YOU,
Signore.�<br><br><br>Mord stacked the last of her reports in her OUT
basket, and leaned back, closing her eyes and sighing
with pleasure. Abruptly, her nostrils twitched.
Without opening her eyes, and turning around she said.
�Pinch me, Sparky. I must be dreaming.�<br><br>�How so?�
Rushton Sparks said. He stood directly behind her chair.
Not moving.<br><br>�I smell coffee.�

How�s that dreaming, partner? The coffee machine
is right over there. If you opened your eyes, you
would see it.�<br><br>A sneaky arm stretch resulted in
a solidly accurate punch on the arm �OW! Hey, watch
it! This stuff is hot. So, would Detective
Stretchalot Holmes be willing to tell poor Watson how she
knows this?�<br><br>�Sparky. Don�t be dumb. There�s no
elementary deductions; it�s experience. That machine over
there is an oil refinery, NOT a coffee decanter. EVERY
squadroom has them. That, and we don�t use Starbucks. That
is a unique blend I smell. Ground, I would say,
within the last fifteen minutes, half-an-hour at
most.�<br><br>�Amazing, Holmes,� Sparks said. She felt him reach past
her, and place something on her desk. She opened her
eyes, and saw a jumbo coffee mug with the Starbucks
logo on it, steam rising from the cover. She opened it
and smiled. �Cinnamon, even. Thanks, Sparky.� She
breathed on it, and took a small sip.<br>�And thanks for
the invite last night. It was great to just hang out
with friends, and do nothing.�<br><br>�That�s not the
ONLY reason you�re happy,� Sparks grumbled, and placed
a ten dollar bill next to the new coffee ring on
her blotter. �Next time, could you PRETEND some
angles are close to impossible? And use a CUE? It would
give a much-needed boost to my sagging male
ego.�<br><br>She stuck her tongue out at him. �Wuss.� She took
another sip, and closed her eyes. �Heaven. But, we must
come down to Earth eventually. What do we have on The
Boss?�<br><br>�Not much. I called in a couple favours from some
people. He went to the library with a couple goons, and
he called Italy.�<br><br>�Italy? What for? Do we
have any idea?�<br><br>�The librarian, a Miss Colleen
Verhoven � � it came out VAIRHOOVEN -- �told me she pulled
the number of some clothing store off the Internet.
Makes special rubberised clothing.�<br><br>Rubber Maid
looked around, and arched an eyebrow all the way to her
hairline. �Any particular reason? Or is he a fetish hound,
and we�ve just found out now?�<br><br>�Don�t know. In
any case, it�s not illegal to call overseas. And we
don�t have a wiretap, so we don�t know if he was only
asking for a dozen sets of women�s
underwear.�<br><br>Detective Mord sighed. �I�ll bet dollars to doughnuts it
wasn�t a nice thing. Nice isn�t in his nature.� Then she
grinned impishly. �I think I�ll take a look
around.�<br><br>Her partner smiled. �Well, so long as we�re getting
doughnuts, why don�t we use that newly-acquired ten of
yours?�

Francesca Dipezno placed her two suitcases on the
floor of her room and looked around. �Thank you for
this, Mr Gambini.� Her accent was strong, but her
English was clear. Her hair was dark brown, and tumbled
around her shoulders in a series of curls. She wore no
makeup; and her eyes were a smoky grey. Her suit was a
bright, almost stunning white. She placed the two cases
by her bed. �Still, I can�t stay overly long; I have
clients waiting back home, and in Europe. It�s in my best
interest � and my son�s � to conclude our business as
quickly as possible.�<br><br>The Boss nodded. �Of
course.�<br><br>Ms Dipezno nodded curtly. �Again, thank you. Nicco!�
A young boy, about eight, and almost the spitting
image of his mother ran up to her. �Would you show
these people where my special cases are, and bring them
in?� The boy nodded. �Yes, Mama.� He went out the
door. Gambini watched him go.<br><br>�Isn�t it unusual
for a professional woman to take her children to
work? Or is that normal in Italy?�<br><br>The woman was
looking out the door where her son had gone. �Niccolo is
everything to me, Signore. His father was killed by the Red
Brigade, and when he was gone�Nicco was all I had left to
remember of him. I�m successful enough that I can make my
own rules.�<br><br>Gambini nodded. �I�m a little like
that myself. A little more�diverse, I think.� He took
a small gold case from the inside of his jacket
�Cigarette?�<br><br>�No thank you, Signore. I don�t smoke.�<br><br>�I
have the cases, Mama!� Nicco was returning, all beams
and smiles, flanked by two men the size of a mountain
range, groaning under the weight of a pair of immense
cases. Again, The Boss took note of her smile as she saw
her son. �Thank you, Nicco. Go and play.� She turned
to Gambini. �Pardon me, Signore, but would it be
possible to start this now? I�m grateful that you pay for
my time, but I really have other schedules to keep.
Could you call the client in for a measuring, please?
And have some games or other things brought for my
son to another room?�<br><br>Gambini nodded, and
walked to the door of the makeshift seamstress�s room.
He moved aside as Niccolo nudged his leg, and
�Popher? Would you come here, doll? We need to measure you
for your new dress!� Then, to one of his guards: �And
put some games in the study for the
kid!�<br><br>Popher appeared at the door, squealing with excitement.
�A DRESS! Oh, Boss, you�re so good to me!� Then she
frowned. �Who�s SHE?�<br><br>�She�s the seamstress,� The
Boss said. �Here to measure you, and make the
dress.�<br><br>She frowned more. �What�s she DOING?�

Ms Dipezno was removing her suit. Underneath, she
wore what looked like a plain, white, spandex body
suit, that was marked with strange symbols in a seeming
random order. She looked at Popher. �The clothes are for
you?�<br><br>Uncertain, Popher nodded.<br><br>�Would you stand in front
of me, please?�<br><br>Popher gingerly stepped over
in front of the seamstress � and suddenly gasped.
The Dipezno woman�s limbs and torso EXPANDED,
stretching out like a blanket, and the Italian wrapped her
flattened form about the woman, covering her from neck to
ankles in a living sheet with a human head and
neck.<br><br>Popher shrieked, and The Boss and his guards
goggled.<br><br>�Please don�t struggle Signora,� Ms Dipezno said quietly.
�You distort the measurements if you do that. Also,
don�t hold in your stomach, or the same thing will
happen. Just relax.� She shifted, and The Boss saw she
was conforming herself exactly to Popher�s
dimensions, taking particular care with bust, waist, and
hips. After what to Popher seemed like an agonizingly
long time, the Sicilian woman slowly unwrapped
herself. When she stepped back, Popher�s dimensions were
clearly imprinted on the strange marks of the suit and
her body. The measurements. She picked up a device
like a supermarket scanner, and slowly ran it over her
body. He wasn�t surprised to see her arm stretch as she
did this. When she reached her feet, or where her
feet would normally be, it beeped, softly. She nodded,
reassumed her natural shape, and picked up her suit jacket.
�Thank you, Signora. I can start on the patterns and
models immediately.�

Tommy whistled to himself as he went from house
to house. Collecting was easy tonight, most of his
customers were home. Only a year since he�d first met
Rubber Maid, and it seemed so long ago. Nice lady, if a
bit freaky (OK, she WAS made of rubber), and she
treated him like a kid. It bugged him sometimes. She was
right about the crush, though, he thought, and he
blushed to himself in the dark. She was HOT.<br><br>He
paused at the large house on the corner. It wasn�t on
his route, but he was impressed every time he went by
it. It was so HUGE, like one of those old-style
places with pillar things, and those stone animals at
the front. The two big guys in suits, he�d never seen
before.<br><br>�What�re you doing kid?� The bigger of the two, though not
by much, and his voice didn�t sound too friendly.
Also, he was getting closer. Tommy smiled and held up
his paperboy bag. �I�m
collecting.�<br><br>�Getouddahyeah.� Now he sounded like one of those guys on the show
he wasn�t allowed to watch on the special channel;
the one that was full of guys that talked like that
and sometimes used guns. They also used words that
Mum had said were bad, but he didn�t see how they
could be when Dad used them all the time. Adults were
STRANGE. These guys were wearing sunglasses. At
night.<br><br>�Why do you have those sunglasses, Mister?� he asked,
in that �why-is-the-sky-blue� or
�enquiring-minds-want-to-KNOW� tone recognised and feared by adults the world
over. �It�s � � he caught himself; he�d almost said
�freaking� � �really DARK out. How can you
SEE?�<br><br>�Shaddap, kid. Go peddle your papers.� A hand the size of a
Buick was reaching for his shoulder. Tommy flinched,
and thought this might be a bad idea: the guy might
have a gun. But wouldn�t SEEING it just be soooo
COOL?<br><br>The outside lights flicked on, up at the house. The
doors opened and a square of yellow light
appeared.<br><br>�Do you have a gun, Mister? Can I see
it?�<br><br>�OK, snotnose. I asked you NICE. Now. Get. OUT.� Tommy
flinched; this was NOT good. But if he could just get a
PEEP at that GUN� sooo COOOOOL� <br><br>�What�s going
on?� There was a shadow in the square of yellow light.
Smoke from a cigarette. Buick-Hand Boy turned from
Tommy, to stare back at the house. �Nuttin� boss. Just
some punk collectin� fer the
papers.�<br><br>�COOOOOOL�

Well let him go on his way. And give him ten
bucks for his trouble.� Buick-Hand�s jaw CRACKED.
�Boss?�<br><br>�Do it.� The voice raised. �And young man, I�m sorry
about all this. Good to see the youth of this country
working for our future.�<br><br>Yeah, yeah, Tommy
thought. Whatever. He felt a crackle as the bill was
rudely stuffed into his pocket, the man nearly knocking
him off his feet. �Thanks, Mister.�<br><br>�You�re
welcome, son. Good night.� The door closed, and the square
of<br>yellow disappeared.<br><br><br>Francesca Dipezno looked
up and smiled as Gambini entered her
bedroom-cum-workroom. �The pattern is done. The dress will be done by
tomorrow.�<br><br>The Boss shrugged, and made an elaborate gesture with
his cigarette. �And these clothes will make Popher�do
what you do?� He blew a plume of smoke in her
direction, and watched her nostrils seal over to avoid
inhaling. He also thought the hand she waved as she coughed
was a bit larger than it had been.<br><br>�I checked
out a place called Exotic Dreams Ltd, that sold
similar stuff. The stretch was limited to, ah, solo
sessions when the wearer couldn�t be seen, unless the
viewer was the provider of the clothes.� The woman shook
her head.<br><br>�So long as she wears the dress, she
will stretch, yes. Anyplace. Any part of her body. Any
direction, any shape, any size. It�s wise to be sure she
returns to normal before removing the
dress.�<br><br>�Will something happen?� The Boss was
interested.<br><br>Signora Dipezno smiled again. �I don�t know, Signore. But
you will definitely void the return
policy.�<br><br><br><br>�Look, I need a couple more of these, so could you ��
Dipezno was shaking her head. �What�s the problem? You
have the pattern, I�ll pay of course.�<br><br>�I am
sorry, Senore Gambini, I have other
commitments.�<br><br>�Look, whatever extra money you need, it�s no problem,
it ��<br><br>�Contrary to what you Americans think,
it is not about money. It�s about integrity. I made
previous commitments, and was able to come here only
because you provided for me. I cannot break the
engagements; I would lose a large portion of my European
business.�<br><br>�That�s too bad.� The door creaked, and one of his guards
came back, hand resting lightly on the shoulder of
Niccolo Dipezno. He heard the mother�s shoclked gasp of
breath. He smiled at her, and pulled out a switchblade
with his free hand.<br><br>�Now, before you start to
go all bendy on me, I have this lady cop breathing
down my neck that�s probably your first cousin once
removed or something. I know all about funky rubber
stuff, or enough about it to not underestimate you.
Little Nicky will be my guest until you finish. Then, I
pay you, and you and your boy can go back to Europe
or wherever it is, and tell all your hacked-off
customers to go elsewhere. You�re retired.�<br><br>Another
smile. �Doesn�t this sound MUCH better? But I would have
SO preferred it if you co-operated.�

The Rubber Maid air matress was in session. It
was warm enough to use the pool today, and with a
sick day off, Rhonda thought, best to make use of it.
To observe the clouds, the sky, and to just think
about � WHUFFF! There was no pain, but the impact was a
shock. Something had leapt onto her from the pool�s
edge.<br><br>A freckled face with pixie nose, no glasses, eyes
squinted against the sun. �Hey there, rubber lady.� Tommy
rolled over, pillowing his chin on his elbows, and
smiled into her outstretched face. �You�re pretty,� he
said, and flushed. �Pretty comfy, I mean � I mean, you
do a good air mattress.�<br><br>Rhonda groaned.
�When I said I missed you Tommy, I didn�t mean I wanted
it to be EXACTLY as it was Back In The Day. Unless
you want to be bucked off, I HOPE you have something
you want to tell me. But I might buck you off
anyway.�<br><br><br>�I heard something collecting last night I thought
you might want to know,� Tommy said. �There�s a house
on my route � I don�t deliver there, and it�s pretty
big, fancy, like those old places. Pillars. I like to
look at it.<br><br>�Anyway, I was looking at it, and
there were these two big grown-ups who came up and
tried to scare me off. They were big, and they had
sunglasses. It was DARK, and they were wearing sunglasses.�
He paused, noticed he had no reaction, and his face
fell. �You don�t believe me. The silly kid, making up
stories. �Grown-ups never believe the kid.� He pulled
himself to a cross-legged sitting position where Rhonda�s
navel would be, and turned his face away.<br><br>Rhonda
stretched her neck up from its matress form, and turned her
head to look him in the face. �Tommy, look at me.� He
ignored her, tucking his face down between his knees.
Rhonda inflated her stomach, pushing Tommy�s bottom off
the raft and into the air, like a bubble of yeast.
His eyes widened.<br>Rhonda�s neck looped round
again, and she rested her chin on top of Tommy�s head,
then stretched forward until she was looking at Tommy
upside-down. Her hands crept stealthily up behind him, and
began an elongating tickle attack on his ribs and
armpits. Tommy shrieked and giggled, and tried to tuck his
elbows in. Useless; the tickling fingers flattened and
squirmed under his arms, continuing their merciless
assault. He collapsed helplessly on the living mat as her
stomach deflated and she released him, shaking
breathlessly, then making a combination giggling and snorting
sound as his breath came back. Then he rolled over, and
looked at her head swaying above him like a flower on
its stalk. It drooped down to plant a soft kiss on
his forehead.<br><br>�Tommy,� she said quietly. �I
didn�t say I didn�t believe you. I was busy listening.
That�s what listening is sometimes, not saying anything.
Go on.�<br><br>�Anyway, they talked like the people
do on that show, you know, �fuggedaboudit�. And I
thought they might have guns. This one big guy acted like
he was going to hurt me, but someone showed up at
the door and made him stop bugging me, and he gave me
ten bucks. The big guy called him
�boss�.�<br><br>Now, she WAS interested. �Boss? Did you see him?�
Tommy shook his head. �I�m sorry, rubber lady, the
light was on and I just saw a shadow. I wasn�t that
close to the house.� His voice dropped. �The guy was
acting like he was going to hurt me. I was kinda
scared.�<br><br>Rubber Maid shifted again, stretching into her normal
human torso, and wrapping her arms loosely around him,
rocking slowly back and forth. <br>�That�s normal. And
it�s sensible. You did the right thing � especially in
letting me know.� She kissed him again. �I have work to
do. You ready to go home?�

Tommy nodded. Rubber Maid stretched her torso
forward to the fence, and shaped into a set of monkey
bars. Tommy grabbed the bar above his head, and began
to move forward. He was good � he did it one-handed
instead of moving both hands to each bar. As he reached
the fence, Mord bent herself into a ladder. �OK
Tommy, climb up.� As he did, she reformed into a slide,
and flopped herself over the fence. �Now COME ON
DOWN!� He did so, eagerly, laughing as he flipped off,
scooped safely to the ground by giant hands.<br> He
turned, teeth flashing again in a bright smile. �See ya,
rubber lady!� Then he was running quickly through the
yard toward his house.<br><br><br>�It�s done,� Dipezno
said. She looked like she�d slept very little, and
probably hadn�t. �The dress is finished. I�ll start work
on the other ones right away. But I�d like to see my
son.�<br> Gambini moved forward and looked at the dress. It
certainly didn�t FEEL like rubber when he poked it. More
like silk. �That�s not possible.�<br> He wasn�t able
to evade the arm with its noose-like loop that
settled over his shoulders, but he was able to block it
from his neck with his hand. For the moment. Her eyes
were blazing at him.<br> �Stronzo,� she hissed.
�Cafone. I will kill you if you harm my boy!�
<br> �Admirable,� he said. �But consider: my boys know where I am,
and you don�t know where yours is. They have �
explicit instructions about what to do. You may not be
able to find OR save him in time if you harm me.
Finish your work. I�ll pay you, like I said, and you can
both go home.� He waited, acknowledged his victory
with satisfaction, as her shoulders and face slumped.
She released him. He scooped up the finished dress,
and laid it over his arm, like a waiter�s napkin.
Then he went to the door.<br> �Popher, honey, your new
dress is ready!�<br><br><br>�So that�s it,� Mord said.
�He knows where the house is; he told me the number.
And we know The Boss owns property all over. If it
isn�t Mr Gambini�s main house, it�s one of his other
houses.�<br> �Do you believe this kid?� Sparks said. �More
importantly, do you trust him?�<br> Rhonda let out an
exasperated sigh. �He can be an INCREDIBLE pain in the
backside, but I trust him on this one.�<br> �I�ll start
paperwork on a warrant,� Sparks said.<br> �Good idea,� Mord
said. �I�m going out there to do some prowling around
by myself. If I find evidence, I�ll call you, you
come running with the backup. And the warrant. Even Mr
Breckinlaw won�t be able to dig him out of the hole I�m
going to put him in.�<br><br><br>Gudio, one of the
guards outside The Boss�s �holiday home�, as he liked to
call his non-essential holdings, was puzzled. He�d
gone to do his �business� in one of the bushes at the
edge of the property � a practice The Boss frowned
upon. But Nature wasn�t taking no for an answer
either.<br><br>He listened again. A soft panting. Must be someone�s
dog. He zipped up, and stepped out of his cover. He
looked, and saw what looked like paw prints at the edge
of the shrubbery. Best to be sure. He stepped along
the path watching the pawprints until they came to an
end. And stared.<br><br>Dogs were NOT purple and
white. Dogs did not have limbs ten feet long. And that
smile was far more frightening than any dog�s teeth
he�d ever seen. Then, one of those soft, puffy-looking
paws tapped him on the head like a cotton
sledgehammer, and he went down. Rubber Maid cuffed him with the
single pair of riot cuffs she�d
brought.<br><br>�Bow-wow-wow, Einstein.�

Popher grinned, twirling and pirouetting to show
off her green dress. Her head was almost brushing the
ceiling. �Do you like me this way, honey?�<br><br>Georgio
Gambini smiled. �You look perfect, beautiful.� Inside,
his head was constantly repeating IT WORKS IT WORKS
IT WORKS IT WORKS IT WORKS�<br><br><br>Eventually,
Mord decided squeezing inside through the outside
water spigot was the safest way to go. Cramped, but
safe. After travelling through what seemed like endless
copper miles, she found a weak spot in one of the
joints�as luck would have it, she landed on top of the one
thug who could have spoilt her plans if she�d waited
longer. His attempt at a warning was smothered by the
stretchable sleuth�s accidental landing on his face, and he
tripped over his own shoelaces and knocked himself out
trying to right his balance. Rubber Maid checked his
pulse; no problems there, steady and strong. She pulled
his laces from his shoes, and used them to bind his
hands. Felt momentarily guilty about gagging him with
one of his own sweaty socks � but only for a moment.
And she felt not a hint of guilt at taking the
cellphone she found when she frisked
him.<br><br>�Mama?�<br><br>She turned, and saw a little boy of about eight
looking at her. He looked pale and scared, but Mord
instinctively knew, it wasn�t her. Chesnut curls framed an
adorable little angel face, and wide grey eyes. He looked
at her and said nothing. She was tough as steel when
needed, but Rubber Maid would have been the first to
admit she was a sucker for kids. She smiled, her usual
dazzling warmth and sincerity. �No, sweetie, I�m not your
Mummy.� She thought about his strong Italian accent,
which made him even more of a cutie. �Do you understand
English?� He nodded. �Do you know where you Mummy IS?� He
nodded. �All right, I�ll take you to her. Just a second.�
She activated the cell phone and
dialed.<br><br>�Sparky? C�est moi. You got the warrant?� A wolfish grin
spread over her face. �Oh YEAH. And Sparky, you want
something that�ll make it STICK? Try KIDNAPPING. I got a
little Italian kid here � could be the son of that
rubber dress maker. I�ll get them out, but get here as
soon as you can.�<br><br>�Most pliant partner, most
flexible of fabulous females, I�m on my way to the car as
we speak. We�re rolling.�<br><br>�Enough flattery.
Just get here, Sparky.� She hung up. �What�s your
name?�<br><br>�Niccolo.� A shy smile.<br><br>�OK, Nicky, stay here. I�m
going to check around to be sure it�s safe, then I�ll
bring you to your Mummy, OK?� He
nodded.<br><br><br>There were only five guards outside, all seated playing
poker. They were completely outnumbered, so Mord took
advantage of them. Each was rendered unconscious by an
unbreakable, inescapable version of the standard police choke.
An arm for two, a leg for two, and the last one was
sent into dreamland with her elongated neck; a unique
experience for both parties. She did the shoelace and socks
routine to restrain them, then quickly stretched herself
round the rooms to make sure there was no one else.
There wasn�t.

Ms Francesca Dipezno turned from her work when
she heard the tap at the window. She saw a young
black woman sliding back the outside window, opening
the inside ones, sliding them open, and stretching
herself through to place her son in front of her. She
stared. �Nicco?�<br><br>The boy pointed at Rubber Maid.
�Police, Mama.�<br><br>�NICCO!� The mother sprang forward,
completely encircling her son in her body and hoisting him
up, covering him with kisses as he giggled. Mord took
the opportunity to slither herself into the room and
reform. Francesca looked at the ductile detective, her
eyes wet with tears. �Thank you.�<br><br>Mord smiled.
�Not yet, the other police are coming, but we still
need to get you out of here.�<br><br>At that moment,
the door to the room openeed, and The Boss walked in.
�Ms Dipezno,� Gambini said, �I just came to see how
those dresses were coming along, and �� He took in the
scene partially, as the dressmaker�s arms SHOT past him
to the door, and deposited her son on the floor.
�RUN, Nicco!� He squirmed past Gambini with a child�s
agility, gone before The Boss could react. His eyes were
focused completely, INTENTLY, on Detective Rhonda Mord,
who was smiling at him.<br><br>�YOU,� he said. It
said a lot. He tipped his head, hearing the sound of
sirens in the distance, and he frowned. Then a fierce
smile. �I�ve GOT something for you. Hope you�re
thirsty.� He removed t a small glass vial from his jacket �
and staggered back as Francesca Dipezno whopped him
in the face, then scooped up the vial with the same
hand before it hit the carpet. �NEVER touch my son!�
She opened the vial and sniffed. �Ginko juice!� She
smiled. �Bottoms up!� She drained it dry and dropped it
to the carpet, and looked at Mord. �You don�t like
it?�<br><br>Mord grinned and shook her head, as she wrapped an arm
around the stunned Boss. �It doesn�t agree with
me.�<br><br>�POPHER!� Gambini screamed it as though his life depended
on it. �Get in here and HELP me!�<br><br>Popher�s
head appeared in the doorway. �You called, sweetie?�
It appeared, in Popher�s case, the only reason for
elastic limbs was to allow the wearing of more jewellery.
The length of neck in the doorway had enough gold on
it to rival Mr T. Mord couldn�t understand how she
was holding her head upright.

Popher, find the kid, and wrap him up as a
hostage. Then, get us OUT OF HERE!�<br><br>�Sure thing,
hon.� Then her expression changed, and her face
reddened with strain. �HOOOG!� she grunted, and then
paused, panting. �Just a second, Georgie�I seem to
be�stuck.� Her neck curled back on itself. There was a
shriek of rage, �You LITTLE BRAT!� Puzzled, Mord and
Dipezno elongated their necks to the door as well and
peered out. The first thing Mord saw was Rushton Sparks.
He stood, the picture of unruffled calm as always,
at the bottom of the stairs, toting a standard pump
shotgun in his hands. He smiled at Mord. �Hey, partner. I
trust you�ve got everything wrapped up here.� Mord
winced. �We got your other baddies out in the cars.
They�re being read Miranda right now.�<br><br>Nicco
Dipezno stood beside him, smiling. He�d just finished
knotting Popher�s elongated body into an elaborate cat�s
cradle in the wrought-iron stair railing. VERY
elaborate. For someone just introduced to a set of rubber
powers, it would take � Mord calculated. Perhaps three
hours to unravel herself. She winked at Nicco, and got
the shy smile in return.<br><br>Francesca Dipezno
looked at Mord and smiled. �That�s my Nicco.� Mord
smiled back. �And how lucky you are to have him.� She
retracted her neck, and looked at The Boss. �Popher won�t
be joining you. She�s tied up.�<br><br>Gambini
groaned, and shifted in her coils like he was trying to
get comfortable. He snapped. �Not talkin� till I see
my lawyer.� Then, more like heartfelt
pleading.<br>�Why are you always on my case, freak? What did I do
to you?�<br><br>Rubber Maid considered the matter.
�Hmmm. Well, you DID create me, Georgie, not to mention
you tried to rub me out � ooh, BAD pun. But I�m not
bitter.� Then she grinned like a shark. �Gee, I don�t
know, could it be because I�m a cop, and you�re, well,
a BAD GUY? Hmmm?�<br><br>The Boss closed his eyes
and sighed. �I shoulda stayed in bed this morning. Or
in prison. Or even in bed in prison. It was SAFER
there.�

END

Rebounder: A Few Notes
For those who may be interested:<br><br>Ms
Francesca Dipenzo and her son were originally created as
characters I never used in a WW II Champions campaign -- her
last name was different, and it currently escapes me.
She WAS a dressmaker, and her powers came from the
typical funky chemical accident that seems to be so
beloved of this power type. Her husband was killed by
Blackshirt fascists, and she was unwillingly drafted into
Mussolini's super-army, kept in line by threats to young
Nicco.<br><br>She was also a devout Catholic -- one of those
quietly strong religious people who follow their faith
without forcing it. This made her a reluctant hero: she
always looked for ways to subvert orders (saving people
and enemies behind the scenes) because everything
they wanted her to do was against her
beliefs.<br><br>Her powers were pretty much the same as Rubber Maid's
or any other standard elastic character. Her code
name was Gommadonna, which according to the
Italian-English dictionary, means 'Rubber Woman'. Italian
speakers may feel free to correct me.