Tag Archives: assassin

Immunity, Part 1

Rania stared at the two men seated across from her, her mouth open in shock and anger. “That’s ALL?! That’s all they’re going to do? That’s bullshit and you both know it!”

“It is bullshit,” said the first man, whose badge identified him as a police lieutenant. “It’s truly fucked up. But that’s what the law says and that’s what standard operating procedure is. People who have diplomatic immunity who commit serious crimes are simply deported to their home countries. They cannot be prosecuted.”

“The lieutenant is correct about the procedure,” said the second man, who was an agent of the U.S. Department of State. He turned to the policeman. “However, I’d appreciate it if you showed a little more respect for our procedures. We must…”

“Fuck the State Department and its fucking procedures!” shouted Rania, losing her temper. “My sister was raped and murdered in cold blood. And we all know who did it! He brags about doing it! That man right there!” She pointed to a picture on the desk in an open file. “Abdul al-Razizi, Kurtarian diplomat. He cut my sister’s throat. And you’re talking about respecting procedure? How about showing some respect for my dead sister, you gutless sellout?”

The State Department man glared at the fiery girl angrily. As a an agent of the U.S. Department of State, it was his job to sell good Americans out to Third World interests, on orders from his boss, who hated his own country. He was quite pissed off that she was pointing it out. “Young lady, you need to learn to have more respect for your elders,” he growled. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some business to attend to.” As he got up and left the room, Rania extended her middle finger towards him. The policeman smiled at her when she did that. She smiled back shyly.

Once they were alone, she looked at the lieutenant sadly. “So there’s nothing else we can do? Will he ever be punished?”

“We can’t prosecute him, and his home country won’t, either. They don’t have the jurisdiction to. So I’m afraid he’ll get away with it.”

Rania clenched her fists. “I just can’t let him. If there was anything…Justice just HAS to be done!”

The cop looked around furtively, then reached into his pocket and handed her a business card. “Er…this may be able to help you get what you want,” he whispered. “And remember, you didn’t get this card from me.”

Rania slipped the card into her pocket. “Thank you,” she said softly.

As she left the room, he called out to her, “Good luck.”

It was only when she was outside the building that Rania looked at the card. It read:

“Colonel Danica Cooper

Fort Lewis, Washington”

Beneath that was a telephone number. Rania smiled grimly, took out her cell phone, and began dialing.

Rania stood in the ladies’ room at the trendy restaurant, studying her reflection in the mirror. She was due to meet this Colonel Cooper in five minutes. Rania’s dark brown eyes were red with weariness. She had slept little since her sister was murdered, and hadn’t been able to sleep at all on her flight. Still, she looked quite stunning. Her 5’8″, 125-pound frame was slender but muscular, and she had long dark brown hair, darkly tanned brown skin, and an elegant, youthful face that reflected her age of nineteen years. She looked at her watch, a man’s Rolex that accented her slim, feminine wrist well, and saw that it was almost time. She headed out of the bathroom and sat back down at her table, scanning the new arrivals.

A middle-aged woman entered the restaurant. She was wearing civilian clothes, but something about the confident and aggressive way she carried herself made Rania think that this must be her contact. Rania stood up and went over to the woman. “Colonel Cooper, I presume?”

The older woman’s attractive face broke into a smile. “You can recognize the military type. You’re perceptive. I like that. Yes, that’s me, but please call me Danica.”

“Nice to meet you, Danica. I’m Rania, your client. Well, hopefully your client. You didn’t tell me much over the phone.”

“This has to be as off-the-record as possible. That’s why I’m meeting you off the base and in civilian clothes.” As they sat down, Danica covered Rania’s hand with hers. “This is one of the most emotional cases I’ve ever heard,” said the colonel. “How old was your sister?”

“She was twenty-one,” answered Rania in her slight Lebanese accent. “Our parents were killed by a Hezbollah truck bomb when we were little. We came to America to live with relatives, but my sister was the one who really raised me, even though she was only two years older than me. We were so close.” Rania let out a sniffle. “Sorry,” she said, wanting to appear strong.

“Don’t be,” said Danica, squeezing the younger girl’s hand. The colonel continued, “I and my associates specialize in cleaning up the cases that fall through the cracks of the justice system. Don’t get me wrong, I believe in the system, but sometimes it fails. And in this case, it failed spectacularly. I’ve already called in the three best agents I know to take care of this. They’re at one of our facilities right now and as soon as I’m finished briefing you on what they’ll be doing, I’ll be going right over there to help those girls with their plans.”

“Girls?” asked Rania in surprise. She was a modern woman who played sports with men, shot guns, and practiced martial arts. Still, even she was not quite used to the idea of an all-female team of assassins.

“Yes,” said Danica with a smile. “All three of them are extremely talented and deadly, not to mention beautiful. They’re all better fighters than any man I know. In fact, I could take you along to meet them. Normally, the client doesn’t meet anyone besides the point person, but since your case is so special, this is different.”

Rania took a deep breath. “If I could,” she began, heart pounding. “I’d like to do more than meet them. I’d like to go with them. If they’re going after that murdering bastard I want to go along and avenge my sister’s death.”

Danica opened her mouth in surprise, then closed it. She should have seen this coming. “I understand where you’re coming from, but with the types of things they’re going to do…”

“The things WE’RE going to do,” interrupted Rania, sticking her small chest out, her shyness turning into confidence. Danica smiled at the sight of the other girl’s beautiful B-cups being stuck out.

“Do you know how to fight?” asked the colonel.

“Second degree black belt,” Rania answered with a toss of her long dark brown hair.

“Do you know how to shoot?”

“Best markswoman with rifle *and* pistol out of my Girl Scout troop.”

“The Girl Scouts teach that now? Damn, I wish they’d done that when I was a little girl. I had to ask my dad to teach me. Nice to hear that they’ve finally gotten modern enough to…”

“Um…” said Rania.

“Oh, right,” giggled Danica. “Questions relating to the mission. Just one more. Does the idea of killing in cold blood bother you?”

The younger girl took a deep breath. “If avenging my sister’s death is involved, then no.”

“Then it’s settled,” said Danica. “The four of you will go. I’d love to come with you but unfortunately duty calls this time. Now let’s go over and meet the rest of the team.”

Two hours later, after lots of driving out of the city and through wilderness on a series of roads that got smaller and narrower, the women pulled up to a heavy gate. “Off the record, this is a secret base that the Army uses for planning *special* missions. But officially, this place doesn’t exist.”

They had stopped only briefly at Rania’s hotel so that she could pack a suitcase. She had also scooped up some cash and put it in an envelope. Handing it to Danica, she had said, “It’s not much but it’s all I can get right now.”

Danica, squeezing Rania’s hand, had said, “It doesn’t matter – with a situation like yours, we’d do this for free. But I’ll give this to the other girls and tell them to split it three ways.”

A high, barbed-wire fence continued off in either direction from the gate as far as the eye could see. Posted on the fence at frequent intervals were signs that read, “PRIVATE PROPERTY. KEEP OUT. EXTREME DANGER – 10,000 VOLTS. TRESPASSERS WILL BE SHOT SURVIVORS WILL BE SHOT AGAIN.” The colonel punched in a code on a panel next to the gate and it silently swung open. Rania gulped in apprehension as the truck passed through and the gate swung shut again with a loud click.

Danica brought the vehicle to a stop in front of a small shack. The girls climbed out, Rania with her suitcase and Danica with a briefcase. Inside, there was nothing but a set of stairs leading downward. They emerged in an enormous basement, where three attractive young women were seated at a table, reading various books and pamphlets about the nation of Kurtaria. They stood up to greet the new arrivals.

“Hi, girls,” said Danica. “This is Rania, our client.” Rania smiled and waved shyly.

A blonde woman who looked about thirty was the first to respond. “Nice to meet you. I’m Angela.” Angela looked around 5’7″ and 135 pounds, and she had piercing blue eyes and a deep tan.

The two other girls looked younger, maybe in their early twenties. “I’m Abby,” said the bigger of the two. Abby stood at 5’6″ and 130 pounds, with shoulder-length dark brown hair and matching dark brown eyes.

“And I’m Natalie,” said the other girl. She was around 5’5″ and 120 pounds, with the same color eyes and hair as Abby, although Natalie’s hair was longer and went down to the middle of her back. All three girls were dressed in tight pants and tank tops, and Rania could see that they were all powerful, fit, and muscular, but still feminine.

Danica held up her briefcase. “I brought the rest of the intel for the mission. You four girls should now have everything you need for your trip. I’ll…”

At the word “four”, Angela tilted her blonde head back and smiled, while Abby and Natalie stared at each other, saying, “Again?” at exactly the same time.

Rania looked puzzled. Danica stroked Rania’s hair affectionately. “Oh, this happened on our last mission too. The client wanting to come with us. It’s not standard operating procedure. But she…”

“…did a really good job,” finished Abby. Natalie and Angela nodded in agreement.

Danica continued. “Ladies, you know how seriously I take these things. I wouldn’t let Rania go with you unless I was as confident in her abilities as I am in yours.” Rania smiled when she heard that, and let out a sigh of relief when the other women nodded their consent.

Danica rolled up the sleeve of her top and looked at her watch. “It’s getting late. I have to be back at the base soon. You ladies know what to do. From now on, Angela, you’re in charge.” Natalie opened her mouth, but before she could say anything, the colonel added, “Because she’s the oldest.” Natalie let out an exaggerated sigh and Angela playfully patted her on the rump. “Good luck and God be with you,” said Danica, giving each woman a tight hug. She then disappeared up the stairs.

“Well, let’s get to work,” said Angela. “We leave tomorrow afternoon. We already know some of the details but Rania, why don’t you tell us the story from the beginning.”

Rania took a deep breath. “My sister’s name was Leila. She was twenty-one and a senior in college. I was a sophomore at the same college. One of the organizations there is a Muslim group that’s very active in politics. They protest in front of barbecue joints, strip clubs, churches, synagogues, the ROTC program, European cultural festivals…anything that offends them. Which is pretty much everything. The girls in the group all wear headscarves and the guys…they’re all real creeps. They were always harassing Leila and me after they found out we were born Muslims but left the religion.”

“Abdul al-Razizi was an ‘advisor’ to this group. He’d come onto campus sometimes and make speeches. Leila went to one of his talks one day and started heckling him, saying that he was inciting hatred and violence. Well, he decided he wasn’t going to take that. He started stalking her. One night, after she had a late class, he ambushed her while she was alone on the top floor of the parking garage. The fucker…he…he raped her, then cut her throat. He went around bragging about his crime, saying he had diplomatic immunity and couldn’t be prosecuted. And the fucker was right. All the government did was send him back to Kurtaria. And now he’s sitting in his mansion, laughing at getting away with murder.” When she was done speaking, Rania discovered that she was now clenching her fists in rage. She looked around and her eyes widened when she saw that the three other girls were doing the exact same thing.

“I’m so sorry,” said Angela, coming over and giving Rania a hug. “We knew it was a case involving diplomatic immunity but I had no idea it was this vicious.”

“If anyone ever needed killing, it’s him,” Abby added.

“I’m going to enjoy this mission,” said Natalie in a cold voice.

“Well, let’s show the world not to get on the bad side of sexy Amazon Ladies,” said Angela, opening Danica’s briefcase. “Here, maps and satellite photos showing the exact location of al-Razizi’s mansion in Kurtaria City, and reports on his security force.” She passed them around.

“Boy, this guy doesn’t mess around,” commented Abby, as she read about the size of al-Razizi’s security team. “Paranoid little fucker.”

“Is he really paranoid if we really are out to get him?” said Angela with a snicker. All the women laughed at that comment.

They spent the afternoon soaking up all the intelligence they would need for the mission. “We have a private cargo plane that will fly us to Kurtaria City, so we can take all the weapons we need with us. After we land, we assault the mansion at dark,” said Angela.

As afternoon turned into evening, Natalie rubbed her flat stomach. “I’m getting hungry. How about we order some Chinese food for delivery?”

“Great idea,” said Abby. “I was just in the mood for Chinese.” She began reaching for a phone on the table.

“Um…” said Rania.

“Oh, right,” said Natalie. “Secret base, locked gate, bad idea for deliveryman to come over and all that.”

“Ya think?” said Angela, trying to look stern but instead breaking out into a giggle. “Never mind, I’ll go into town and pick it up.”

After dinner, the girls took a break and played cards and video games. They then turned in for a good night’s sleep. The next morning, they headed out to the secret base’s weapons range to get in some practice before leaving.

Rania watched with a mixture of nervousness and excitement as Angela, Natalie, and Abby in turn fired shots from a high-powered rifle with sexy skill and accuracy. When it was her turn, Rania tossed her hair confidently like she had seen action heroines do in movies, then loaded the rifle and took aim. She nailed head shots on the mannequins at 200, 300, and 400 yards just like the other girls had. They all gave each other high-fives. The girls then did some practice with pistols and shotguns. After that, Natalie showed off her skill with a crossbow by shooting an apple off of Abby’s head.

Angela took out a wicked-looking 8-inch dagger, perfectly balanced for throwing, and another apple. Handing the apple to Rania, she said, “Will you do me the honor of being my volunteer?”

Rania took the apple nervously. “Are you sure this is safe?”

“Relax!” laughed Angela. “I’ve been doing this for years and never missed.”

Rania stood in position and put the apple on her head, then closed her eyes. Angela drew back her powerful arm, took careful aim, and threw. The dagger flew through the air and landed right in the flesh of the apple with a THUNK. Rania opened her eyes and sighed in relief. She, Abby, and Natalie all applauded.

Soon it was almost time to go. The ladies changed into skintight outfits consisting of black leather pants, black boots, black wrist-length gloves, and short-sleeved black tops that showed off the muscular but feminine arms of all four girls. They then gathered their equipment and weapons. Angela had an AK-47 assault rifle and her elegant dagger. Abby carried a high-powered semi-automatic sniper rifle with suppressor and bayonet as accessories, and a long, straight, ultra-sharp sword. Natalie had her crossbow, specially equipped with poisoned arrows, and an Uzi submachine gun. Rania had chosen a 12-gauge combat shotgun and a 9mm pistol with a silencer. The cargo plane picked them up at the designated time and they were off.

Rania’s heart was pounding with excitement. Just a week ago, she had been an ordinary college sophomore and the most exciting things in her life had been Friday night keg parties. Now, she was part of an elite team of lethal Amazon warriors, on a real combat mission to avenge her murdered sister. “Don’t worry, Leila, I’ll do you proud,” she whispered to herself.

Fifteen hours later, the plane landed at a private airstrip on the outskirts of Kurtaria City. After Angela paid off an approaching immigration official with a wad of cash, they were left alone. A black Ford Explorer was unloaded from the plane and Abby got behind the wheel. The rest of the women piled in and the vehicle headed towards town. “It’ll be dark by the time we get to al-Razizi’s mansion,” said Angela. “Perfect timing.”

Abdul al-Razizi’s enormous mansion was built with a combination of Arabic and Mediterranean architecture. It was surrounded by a high fence on all sides, unbroken except for two locked gates, one in front and one in the back. Abby parked the Explorer two blocks away from the mansion, completely out of sight of any of the guards. The girls climbed out, readied their weapons and two-way radios, and gathered in a huddle for their final instructions.

“We’re on the side of the front gate,” whispered Angela. “Abby, circle around the left way and take out all the outdoor guards on that side. Natalie, do the same on the right. Then you two take care of the back gate. Radio us when the job’s done. Rania, come with me. We’ll handle the front gate. Good luck, ladies. Let’s kick some ass.”

Abby and Natalie headed off in opposite directions. Rania and Angela were left alone in the black night. Although it was warm, Rania couldn’t help shivering a little. This was so new to her. This would not be like shooting paper targets at the range or fighting under strict rules at the dojo. She was glad Angela was next to her.

“You ready?” whispered Angela.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Rania answered.

“Let’s do it,” said Angela. She drew her long dagger. Her AK-47 was strapped to her muscular back. “For Leila.”

“For Leila,” Rania echoed softly, memories of her sister flooding through her mind. She drew her pistol and attached the silencer. Her shotgun was slung across her chest.

Abby attached the suppressor to her semi-automatic rifle and flicked the safety off. Her trained eyes scanned the left side of the mansion for guards. She counted them as she saw them, watching them walk back and forth, noting the patterns of their paths. When she was sure she had counted all of them, she began taking them out with expertly aimed shots to their heads, firing each killing shot on a man when he was not in the field of view of any of his comrades. Six men, one after the other, fell to the lethal brunette beauty’s markswomanship. Abby felt no emotion except for the familiar tingle of excitement she got when she killed.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the mansion, Natalie unshouldered her crossbow and loaded a poisoned arrow. A lone guard came into her sight. She took aim and killed him instantly with a perfect shot through the middle of his heart. Grinning wickedly at her kill, she loaded another arrow and moved alongside the fence towards the rear of the house, in full huntress mode. Two guards came by, walking side by side. She shot one in the head, the force of her powerful crossbow easily propelling the arrow through his skull bone and into the soft brain matter. The second guard, looking straight ahead, heard only the faint thump of a body hitting the ground. It took him a second to look to the side and see the body, another to notice the arrow sticking out of the corpse’s skull, and yet another second to open his mouth to prepare a yell. He never got the chance to make a sound, however. In the three seconds that had passed Natalie had rapidly and efficiently loaded another arrow, taken aim, and shot him in the head too.

Nearing the back, Natalie saw two more guards walking together. She waited until they paused in their conversation and were no longer looking at each other, then shot one in the heart. Again a corpse hit the ground with a soft thump, and again a guard went through the process of noticing a body and realizing what was going on. The remaining guard was quicker on the uptake than the earlier one, however, and Natalie, reloading, saw that taking the time to aim properly would give him enough chance to let out a scream of warning. She improvised, loosing her next arrow as quickly as possible. The projectile slammed into the man’s thigh. He had time only to let out a faint moan of pain before the powerful and ultra-quick-acting poison caused him to slump down dead, foaming from the mouth. Natalie reloaded again and waited cautiously to make sure no one had heard the dying guard’s faint cry. She then moved on to meet Abby at the back gate.

Angela and Rania approached the front gate silently. Angela motioned for Rania to stay back and cover her as she went right up to the gate. The blonde sheathed her dagger, took out a lock-picking kit, and went to work. Rania covered her, holding her pistol tightly in a two-handed grip, her heart thumping. Suddenly, movement caught her eye. An approaching guard, seeing Angela, began reaching for a gun at his waist and also began opening his mouth to shout. Rania, taking careful aim, shot him in the middle of his forehead before he had a chance to complete either act. As the guard’s corpse fell, Angela gave the younger girl a thumbs-up. A few seconds later, the blonde got the gate open. Rania went up to join her.

Angela tilted her head in the direction of the dead man. “First kill?”

Rania nodded.

“How do you feel?”

“Frankly, I feel good,” Rania whispered. She paused. “Is it wrong to feel that way?”

“When you kill someone evil, it’s not wrong at all,” Angela whispered back. “I felt the exact same way after my first kill.”

A rustle came from some bushes. A guard, who had apparently been taking a pee, came out with his back to the women, zipping up as he walked. Angela, her blue eyes concentrating with focus and passion, snuck up behind him and drew her dagger, gripping it in her right hand. Pouncing like a tigress, she jerked his jaw up with her muscular left forearm and quickly and brutally slit his throat. Blood flowed freely as he collapsed to the dirt.

Suddenly, the front door of the mansion opened and two more guards stepped out. Seeing the girls, not to mention the bloody corpse of their late comrade, two mouths opened. That was all they had time to do. Rania shot one man right between the eyes. At the same time, Angela flung her dagger straight into the second man’s heart. The two pretty women looked at each other and gave each other a high-five.

Meanwhile, Abby and Natalie had met at the back gate. No one else seemed to be around. Abby took out her lock-picking kit and was about to approach the gate when Natalie tapped her on the shoulder. A guard had appeared and was heading straight for the gate. The girls quickly hid themselves behind a thick column that separated the gate from the rest of the fence. When the man came close enough, Abby suddenly stepped out, reached through the bars of the gate, and, taking advantage of her superhumanly strong wrists, snapped his neck one-handed. Before his body could fall, Natalie leapt out and snatched a ring of keys hanging from his waist. She quickly found the right one and opened the gate.

The young women stepped onto the mansion’s grounds. “Looks all clear,” whispered Natalie.

“Let’s peek around the corners to make sure,” Abby whispered back. Natalie nodded and headed off to the left as Abby went towards the right.

Natalie glided silently through the well-watered grass of the mansion’s grounds. She rounded her corner…and found herself staring straight into a guard’s bearded face. Before he could react, she drove her left foot into that face in a blindingly fast and powerful high, cheerleader-style kick. The force of her kick drove the cartilage from his nose into his brain and he slumped dead to the grass.

She met Abby again at the back door. “All clear on my side,” Abby reported. “Yours?”

“One. Liquidated the bugger.” Natalie tapped her slender but ultra-strong thigh.

Abby grinned, then reached for the two-way radio on her hip. “Abby to Angela, all clear on our end.”

“All clear on ours too,” came Angela’s response. “Rania and I each got two. How many did you guys get?”

“Six,” said Natalie, activating her radio.

“I got seven,” said Abby proudly, sticking her chest with its C-cup breasts out. Natalie playfully slapped her on the ass.

“That’s a total of seventeen,” said Angela. “The intelligence reports stated that al-Razizi has a security force of about twenty-five on duty at any one time. That means either most of the guards were stationed outside, or something else is going on and there are a lot more men here than we thought. We’d better be real careful, ladies. Natalie and Abby, clear the mansion from the back. Rania and I will go from the front. Over and out.”

“Acknowledged. Over and out,” Abby responded.

TO BE CONTINUED…

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The Liberators, Part 3

Paul sat on the cot in his cell, filled with worry. Time was running out. It would be mere hours before the deadline would be up. Suddenly, there came the familiar sound of loud footsteps in the hall. He gulped in fear. Was his execution coming already?

The key was inserted in the lock and the door swung open. Instead of a guard entering, however, a blonde woman that he had never seen before was shoved into the cell, hard. He opened his mouth to say something. At that moment, however, another blonde woman was shoved into the cell. He stared. “Christina!” he cried out. The cell door was shut with a bang.

Christina looked up in shock from her position on the cold cell floor. “Paul! Oh, sweetie! Are you all right?” She jumped up and gave him a tight hug and a long kiss.

“I’m fine, I guess. Just scared. But you’re here! I knew you’d come for me! My heroine.”

“Well, I tried,” said Christina. “Unfortunately, things didn’t go as planned.”

The two of them were still holding each other. Angela cleared her throat loudly. Christina and Paul pulled apart and looked at her. “Oh, I’m sorry,” said Christina. “Paul, this is Angela. She’s one of the people who helped me on this rescue mission. Angela, this is Paul, my boyfriend.”

Paul and Angela shook hands. “Nice to meet you. Thanks for coming to rescue me,” said Paul.

Angela smiled. “He’s cute,” she commented. “Christina, you’re a lucky girl.” Christina and Paul both blushed.

Paul told the girls about his time as a prisoner, including the visits by Marina. “Oh, we’ve met *that* bitch,” said Angela with a growl. “She’s the one who captured us.”

“She…she also murdered Samantha,” said Paul. “S…she just shot her, right in the heart.”

“Oh, I’d like to get my hands on that cunt right about now,” hissed Christina upon hearing that, clenching her fists.

“I think we’d all like to kill all those fucking mobsters,” said Angela. “But first we have to get out of here. The others will probably be coming soon, since we didn’t call in to them. Let’s be free so we can help them take these fuckers down.”

“The others?” asked Paul.

“Three more were on the rescue mission with us,” explained Christina. “We split up to search different locations where you might be.”

“So when those other guys…” began Paul.

“Girls,” Angela corrected him with a smile. “Other girls.”

Paul smiled too. “I should have known.”

“So getting down to business,” said Angela. “Anything that could help us get out of here?”

“I’ve searched this cell top to bottom many times,” said Paul. “Nothing.”

“If the guards hadn’t taken my hairpin, I could have used that to pick the lock,” Angela sighed.

“I may have something,” said Christina. She reached into her shoe and pulled out a small piece of wire. “The guards didn’t find this.”

Paul looked at her with admiration. Angela thumped her on the back. “Smart blonde!”

Christina grinned. “Here,” she said, handing the wire to Angela. “You probably have more experience with this kind of thing.” Angela took the wire and inserted it into the lock, rattling it around.

Meanwhile, Danica, Abby, and Natalie moved cautiously along the halls deeper into the warehouse, weapons at the ready. Danica had her M-16, Abby her sniper rifle, and Natalie her Uzi. Eventually, they came to a closed door. “I’ll check it out,” said Danica in a barely audible whisper. She turned the knob slowly, then silently pushed the door open a crack and peeked inside.

“It’s a big room,” she reported. “Four men inside, working. They’re moving crates around. We’ll take them out as quietly as we can. They’re armed, so I’d rather try taking them out from a distance. Natalie, use your crossbow on them. Abby, you and I have suppressed weapons, but they won’t be completely silent. We’ll keep them trained on a standing target. Fire only if they notice something.”

Natalie nodded and took out her crossbow, loading a poisoned arrow. Abby gripped her rifle tightly, the suppressor already attached. Danica shouldered her M-16 and took out her silenced pistol. She then nudged the door open silently. Natalie took aim at the man farthest on the left. Danica and Abby aimed at the two men on the right.

Natalie fired. The arrow struck her target in the stomach. He jerked, then toppled over, foaming at the mouth. Even as he was falling, she rapidly and expertly loaded another arrow. She aimed at the next man and fired. He fell, an arrow lodged in his throat. Grinning wickedly, she began loading another arrow.

“Hey, can you give me a hand with…” One of the men turned to call out to his comrades, but stopped in mid-sentence when he saw two of his buddies lying dead on the floor, both foaming at the mouth and with arrows stuck in their bodies in undignified positions. Before he could shout out a warning, Danica shot him between the eyes with her pistol. The faint sound of the shot alerted the last man, but before he could do anything Abby had killed him with a clean shot to his chest from her rifle.

“Good work, girls,” said Danica. They searched the room.

“Here,” said Abby softly. Behind a stack of crates, a narrow set of stairs led downward. The ladies pit-patted quietly down the stairs. The stairs curved to the right, revealing an open door. Beyond the door was what looked like a control room. There were several computer stations and switchboards. Another doorway was on each side of the control room. Three men were inside, all with their backs to the girls and all busy on computers. Danica nodded and the three women stepped into the room, aiming their weapons.

“Good evening, gentlemen,” said Danica calmly. All three men whirled around in shock. “Now nobody do anything stupid,” continued Danica. “A stupid move will be your last.”

“Wh…what do you want?” stammered the man in the center.

“We want to know where the prisoners are being held,” said Danica.

“Hey, you’d better look out behind you!” said the man on the left suddenly.

Natalie rolled her eyes. “Come on. We’re not falling for that one.”

“Unfortunately for you, it was not a trick,” said a female voice from behind them. Danica, Abby, and Natalie let out simultaneous groans. “We have you covered. Now drop your weapons,” continued the female voice. The sound of guns being cocked was heard.

“It’s no use,” sighed Danica. “Do as she says.” They dropped their weapons.

“Now turn around. Slowly,” the voice went on.

They turned around and saw two men and a woman pointing AK-47s at them. The woman was a tall brunette in a black dress and black boots. She grinned wickedly. “I’m Marina. My, but this is getting to be quite a party. After I torture you to find out how much you all know, I’m going to have a lot of executions to take care of.”

“You fucker,” said Natalie. Marina just laughed.

“Hey, you’d better look out behind you!” said Abby suddenly.

Marina laughed again. “Like we’re going to fall for tha…”

At that moment, like three pouncing panthers, Angela, Christina, and Paul tackled the three gun-wielding thugs from behind. The three men at the computers jumped up and a massive rumble broke out.

Danica broke into a wide grin. “She did warn you!” she laughed as she attacked the computer guy in the middle. Abby and Natalie charged the other two computer guys. Christina began punching the guy she had tackled repeatedly in the face from her position on top of him. Angela, who had insisted on being the one to jump Marina as she was the most dangerous, punched Marina in the eye and was preparing another punch when the Russian woman suddenly headbutted her hard, stunning her. Marina used the opportunity to kip up to her feet.

Unfortunately for Paul, he simply was not built to be a fighter. When he had seen that one of the men was the bald guy that had originally kidnapped him, he had insisted on taking him as his target. Although he had succeeded in tackling his man with the aid of the element of surprise, the bald man quickly recovered and began choking him. Paul tried to pry his attacker’s hands loose from his throat, but he was much smaller and weaker than his opponent.

Christina looked over in alarm. She was about to go and help her lover when the man underneath her, taking advantage of her distraction, bucked her off, sending her crashing into a wall. He grinned evilly and got up, advancing on her. Christina scrambled to her feet and got into a fighting stance.

Poor Paul was soon choked unconscious by his opponent. The bald man got up and looked around, trying to decide which fight to intervene in. Noting that Danica seemed to be the leader of this attack group, he rushed at her, intending to sneak-attack her from behind.

Danica had been busy working over her computer-guy opponent. She punched him in the nose, kneed him in the stomach three times in rapid succession, and kicked him in the face. She was about to kick him again when her sixth sense detected danger coming up behind her. She fired off a back kick that plowed into the gut of the man attempting to sneak-attack her from behind. Laughing at his failure, she grabbed both wounded men and bashed their heads together.

Marina was not one to mess around when the situation got serious. She raised her right leg in a full vertical split (ripping her dress and showing her sexy black panties), intending to do a lethal axe-kick on Angela, who was still on the floor. Angela rolled out of the way just in time. Marina’s booted heel slammed into the place where Angela’s blonde head had been a second earlier. Angela kicked Marina in the stomach. The brunette was wounded long enough for Angela to kip to her feet. The two pretty and deadly women circled each other, trading punches. Angela was stronger than the slim Marina and her blows did more damage, but Marina was faster and landed more hits. After landing a good punch, Angela did a jump kick to Marina’s face. It would have knocked her down, but Marina turned the motion into a back handspring and landed neatly on her feet. Angela swore and did a front handspring to take her closer to her opponent.

Abby’s legs crashed into her victim as she performed an aerial cartwheel kick on him. Before he could recover, she punched him twice in the gut and once in the face. She grabbed him by the shoulders and looked into his eyes. He looked back and she could tell he was attracted to her, despite the fact that she was engaged in kicking his ass. She teased him by making a kissing sound with her lips, then suddenly headbutted him and kneed him in the groin. She followed that up with a brutal roundhouse kick to the side of his head that sent him to the floor.

Natalie elected to charge her target not by running at him, but by doing a roundoff followed by a series of back handsprings directly at him. Before he could do anything, her booted feet plowed into him as she was backflipping, knocking him down. Landing neatly after her tumbling pass, Natalie stomped on her victim’s face, then kicked him hard in the side, cracking one of his ribs. A second kick to the same spot broke the rib completely. She laughed. “Get up, you pussy. Fucking wimp. Can’t even handle a little girl.”

Christina’s opponent swung a punch at her, but she ducked under it easily and slugged him in the gut. Before he could recover, she punched him in the nose, releasing blood. Next, her front kick to his chest knocked him backward. Realizing he was now at the perfect distance for one of her specialties, Christina smiled sexily and performed a cartwheel, her feet impacting his head one after the other. The force delivered by her muscular legs knocked him to the floor. Looking over, she saw that Paul was unconscious. She was about to run over to him when her opponent began getting up. With a sigh, she turned back to face him.

Danica did a crescent kick on the two men she was fighting. Her kick struck both of them in the face. The one on the left recovered faster and she quickly pivoted and fired a side kick into his chest, sending him crashing into his desk. She winked at her second opponent, the bald man. “Say good night,” she taunted. With that, she put all her strength into a backflip kick. The kick was powerful enough to break his neck. As his corpse slumped to the floor, his comrade trembled in fear.

Angela greeted Marina with a strong punch to her other eye. “Got a matching pair of black eyes now, bitch.” Marina cursed in Russian and nailed Angela in the jaw with a wicked one-two combination of punches. The Russian beauty grabbed the blonde hottie and rammed her knee into her stomach. The attack was delivered with enough strength to wound even Angela’s hard abs. She stumbled backward. Marina laughed, growing more confident…then suddenly howled in pain as Angela’s roundhouse kick crashed into her side and cracked one of her ribs. Screaming in fury, the brunette did a high crescent kick that Angela barely ducked under. She couldn’t avoid Marina’s cheerleader kick that plowed into her face, however. Marina then did a spin kick to Angela’s head that knocked her out.

The Russian woman looked around and decided that escape was the best option. She ran out of the room through one of the side doorways. Christina took notice. “Oh no you don’t, bitch. You’re not getting away.” Anger building up inside her, she launched herself at the man she had been fighting, nailing him with a flying kick and knocking him down. Grabbing his head and placing it between her thighs, she swiftly twisted her hips, snapping his neck. Not giving the body anything more than a quick glance, she raced off after Marina.

Natalie smirked as her opponent dragged himself to his feet, clutching his badly wounded side. “Here’s what a girl’s fists can do,” she sneered. She pummeled his face and chest with fast punches, far too swift for her helpless victim to put up any kind of defense. “And here’s what a girl’s boots can do.” She kicked him in the groin with her metal-toed boot, causing him to howl like a wounded pig. As his hands flew to his nuts, her boot struck him in the face, knocking him to the floor. She began kicking him in the head repeatedly with her heavy boots. His skull was quickly shattered and blood and brain matter flowed freely. She finally stopped long after he was dead.

Abby’s opponent got up and swung a punch at her. She blocked it with her thick forearm and slugged him in the face, knocking him backward. “Try again, baby,” she cooed. This time, he charged her. She calmly waited until he had almost reached her, then suddenly sidestepped and smashed her elbow into his head. Laughing, she turned to face him and did a standing back handspring, kicking him in the face. She noticed that his look of pain was combined with a look of arousal. “Like my gymnastics skills? Then you’ll love my finisher.” With that, Abby let out a shrill scream and launched herself into a handstand on her opponent’s shoulders. Gripping his neck, she twisted hard, breaking it from her handstand position. She somersaulted back to the ground, watching in satisfaction as the man’s corpse fell.

Danica did an uppercut on her surviving opponent. As he stood there stunned, she balanced on one leg and began kicking him repeatedly in the face with her other. Finally stopping her barrage of kicks when he was almost dead, she grabbed his throat with both hands and finished him by choking him to death.

Danica, Abby, and Natalie all looked around. Suddenly, Angela let out a moan from her position on the floor. Danica bent over her, while Abby and Natalie ran after Marina.

Marina raced down the hallway. Ordinarily an extremely fast runner, she was slowed by her cracked rib, courtesy of Angela. She could hear Christina’s footsteps running behind her. Marina ducked into her quarters and grabbed her pistol, as well as her purse that contained all her travel documents. She then headed back into the hall, smirking. She had a nice .45 caliber surprise waiting for Christina.

Christina rounded a corner…and suddenly came face-to-face with Marina and her .45. “Oh fuck, not AGAIN,” she sighed. “I just can’t get away from these blonde moments.”

Marina laughed. “Time to die, cunt.” She pointed the gun at Christina’s head…and suddenly fell to the floor, her pistol sailing loose. “WHAT?!”

Paul was standing behind Marina. He had tripped her to the ground. Marina dove for her gun, but Christina got to it first and snatched it up, pointing it right at the Russian’s head. Marina closed her eyes.

“You won’t die that quickly,” snarled Christina. She whacked Marina in the face with the gun, then transferred the weapon to her left hand as she stood up. Grabbing Marina by the hair with her free right hand, she began brutally kneeing her in the face. Blood splattered on Christina’s dark jeans as she brutalized the once deadly, but now helpless vixen. Christina paused briefly, then lowered her target slightly and started kneeing Marina in the throat. She rammed her knee into its target again and again. When the blonde finally released her opponent, Marina simply flopped down dead, her throat crushed.

The sound of applause suddenly came from behind. Christina and Paul both whirled around and saw Abby, Natalie, Danica, and Angela standing there, all clapping.

“You go, girl!” said Abby.

“You’ve got a deadly mean side!” grinned Natalie. “If you ever want to, you can join up with us!”

Angela, holding her injured head, said, “Thanks for finishing that witch.”

Danica walked up to the little blonde and gave her a hug. “It’s over now. You did good. You all did good.”

Christina blushed. “Actually, I couldn’t have done it without my lover here,” she said. “He saved my life by tripping the witch from behind when she was about to shoot me.” She and Paul gave each other a passionate kiss. Danica and Angela smiled, while Abby and Natalie let out wolf whistles.

Christina and Paul finally pulled apart. “Paul, there was something I was going to ask you when you got back from your trip,” Christina said. “But I think now is as good a time as any.” She reached into her pocket and took out the ring. “Will you marry me?” The other women gasped in surprise.

Paul smiled and blushed. “Of course I will,” he said. He and Christina kissed again, while the others stood around them, applauding.

THE END

The Liberators, Part 1

Christina hugged her boyfriend, Paul, as they stood in front of their apartment. “My man, going on his first business trip,” she smiled. “You’re moving on up in the world.”

Paul blushed. “Aw, this is really big shot Senior VP Samantha’s trip,” he replied. “She’s the one who’s going to make or break this deal with the Russian company. I’m just along to report on the condition of their labs.” Paul and Christina both worked for a company called Worth Chemicals. Christina was the company’s head of security, and Paul was a chemist. They had been dating for almost two years.

“Don’t sell yourself short,” said Christina. “Sam needs you, and the company needs you. Remember, out of all the chemists Mr. Worth chose you to be the one to go.” She kissed Paul on the lips.

A car horn was heard, indicating the arrival of the company vehicle that would take Paul to the airport. He reluctantly disengaged himself from his hot blonde girlfriend’s lips. “Have a good trip, and travel safe,” Christina called. “Love you.”

“Love you too,” Paul called back. The driver opened the trunk and put Paul’s bags in. Paul climbed into the back seat next to Samantha.

On the way to the airport, Samantha filled him in on the details of the trip. “Mr. Worth thinks that if we can make a deal with these Russian guys, we can have a supplier at a much lower price than our competitors. However, he’s worried about quality. That’s where you come in. I need you to do a careful inspection of the Russian company’s facilities while I’m handling the business end of things. Make sure everything’s up to our standards.”

Paul nodded and leaned back in his seat, excited to be on his first real business trip. He had no idea how exciting – and dangerous – things were going to get.

In Moscow, Paul and Samantha were met at the airport by a driver from the Russian company. As they drove along the streets, none of them noticed the black Mercedes that was following them. Inside the Mercedes, the driver, a big, ugly, curly-haired man, nodded to his comrade in the passenger seat. “Call Marina and tell her we have a fish and we’re in pursuit.”

The second goon, as big and ugly as his companion but bald, nodded and took out his cell phone. The two men were thugs working for the Russian mob. They were in the business of kidnapping rich people and holding them for ransom.

“We got something, Marina,” said the bald man into his phone. “Looks like a couple of rich American business travelers, one man and one woman. They have a local driver.”

“Location?” said the cold, feminine voice on the other end.

The bald man told her. “We’ve got it under control. I’ll call you when we’ve got them. Over and out.”

The vehicles entered a deserted stretch of road. “Let’s do it,” said the bald man. The curly-haired man snickered evilly and accelerated, ramming the back of the company car. There was a loud clash of metal. He rammed the car again, forcing the company vehicle off the road. It crashed into a tree and came to a stop. The Mercedes braked to a stop behind it and both goons jumped out, carrying pistols.

Paul and Samantha looked at each other in fear. They had been enjoying a nice ride when they had suddenly been rammed and forced off the road. A moment later, two men with guns appeared.

The curly-haired man cold-bloodedly executed the driver with a shot to the head. Paul and Samantha both gasped in shock. The killer pointed his gun at Samantha. “Get out, now!” On the other side of the car, the bald man, pointing his gun at Paul, motioned for him to do the same.

“Follow my lead,” Samantha whispered to Paul, before getting out of the car. She approached the curly-haired man with her hands up. A scared look was on her face, and only part of it was acting. She saw him relax as his brain told him he was dealing with no more than a frightened woman.

She struck with lightning speed, kicking the gun out of his hands and drawing a hidden stiletto from underneath her skirt. She plunged the weapon into his throat, twisting it hard, then yanked it out. The curly-haired man collapsed to the ground. Blood bubbled out of the dying man’s throat.

Paul had been watching Samantha closely. When she attacked, the bald man began aiming his gun at her. Paul did the only thing he could do. He jumped on the bald man, trying to wrestle the gun away. Paul was much smaller and weaker than his opponent, however, and the big goon soon gained the upper hand.

Samantha dove for the curly-haired man’s gun, which was lying on the grass a few feet away. Just before she could get to it, however, a shot rang out. Samantha looked down in surprise and saw that she had a large hole in her chest. A second later, she slumped dead to the ground.

“NOOOOO!” shouted Paul, who saw what happened from his position pinned under the bald man. Who could have shot her? He was still keeping the bald man busy.

He got his answer a moment later, as a tall, slender brunette woman appeared, a shiny, still-smoking .45 caliber pistol in her right hand. She had the stunning beauty of a model, but he could see the evil in her eyes.

The bald man whacked Paul in the head with the butt of his pistol, knocking him out. He then looked up at the woman. “Marina!” he said. “What are you doing here?”

“Saving your incompetent ass, apparently,” she answered. “You idiots can’t even do a simple kidnapping right. It’s a good thing I decided to come here myself. I had a gut feeling that something would go wrong.”

“Hey,” said the bald man defensively. “I got my man. And at least I wasn’t the one who got beat by a girl.”

“You just may be getting a beating from a girl, if you keep giving me attitude,” she snapped.

The bald man stood up straight. “Sorry, ma’am,” he said in a frightened voice.

Marina pointed at Paul’s unconscious form. “Now put him in the trunk and let’s get the hell out of here.”

Christina sat in her office, going over the weekly security report. She plucked out the last two French fries from the carton and ate them, even though they were cold, and tossed the empty carton and a crumpled burger wrapper into the trash can across the room.

Suddenly, there was a knock on her door. “Come in,” she said. Mr. Worth, President and CEO of the company, entered, an extremely worried and alarmed look on his face. Christina stood up and stared. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m afraid I have some bad news,” said Worth. “You’d better sit down. It’s about Paul and Samantha. They were…attacked by the Russian mob on the road from the airport. The mobsters were targeting Westerners for kidnapping. They killed the driver…and the fuckers killed Samantha too. They said she was resisting. Paul’s been kidnapped. The kidnappers are demanding that the company pay them $10 million within 72 hours, or they’ll…they’ll kill him.”

“Oh God,” said Christina, her hand flying to her mouth.

“I’m already working on getting the money together,” said Worth. “We should be able to…”

Christina jumped up. “Wait a minute. How do we know the fuckers won’t kill Paul even if we do give them the money?”

The CEO sighed. “We don’t. But I’m not going to give them an excuse to kill him. I’ve also been in contact with the Russian police, and they said unless they get extremely lucky, there isn’t much chance of catching the bad guys before time runs out. Handing over the money seems like the best chance we have to get Paul back alive.”

Christina began pacing. “I can’t stand by and let this happen without doing anything.”

“I know he’s your boyfriend…”

“He’s more than that!” the blonde interrupted. She reached into her pocket and showed Worth a ring. Her voice softened. “I was going to ask him to marry me. I was going to surprise him when he got back from his trip.” She felt the tears start to flow. She hadn’t cried since she was 13.

Worth stared at her. “I didn’t know you two were that close,” he said softly. “Er…I know how you are and I know how you operate,” he continued. “I kind of figured you might react the way you did. There may be another way to handle this. I have a…connection who may be able to help you.” He pressed a business card and an envelope into her hand. “If you need to take some time off in the next few days, it’s granted,” he said. As the CEO exited, he called out, “Good luck.”

Christina wiped the tears from her face and looked at the business card she held in her hand. It read:

‘Colonel Danica Cooper

Fort Lewis, Washington’

Beneath those lines were an address and telephone number. She opened the envelope and saw that it was filled with hundred dollar bills. There was a note on top of the money that read, “You’ll know what this is for.” A grim smile appeared on Christina’s attractive face as she reached for her phone and began dialing. Those mobsters were going to get a swift, sharp, and brutal lesson in pain very soon.

Danica met Christina at the entrance of the base. Christina had driven there as soon as she finished her call, stopping only at the bank to withdraw as much cash as she could on short notice to add to the stash in the envelope. The two women shook hands, then Danica led Christina into her office and closed the door.

“I’m so sorry about your boyfriend,” said Danica, squeezing the other woman’s hand. “Unfortunately, we have very little time. You told me the deadline was 72 hours and the kidnappers were Russian mobsters. I’m familiar with them and it pains me to say it, but they do have a tendency to kill kidnap victims even if ransom is paid. We’re going to have to move fast if we’re going to rescue him.”

“Which unit will be performing the rescue?” asked Christina.

“Unit?” said Danica, staring. “Honey, that rescue ain’t going to be performed by any Army unit. Do you have any idea how much red tape there is in this organization? By the time we got everything together, the deadline would have long passed.”

“And so just who will be executing this mission, then?”

“I’ll be leading a team of…hmm, how shall I put it…I’ll just say assassins.”

“ASSASSINS?!” Christina jumped up from the comfortable chair she had been sitting in. “Aren’t you an Army officer? What are you doing dealing with a…”

“There are a lot of shades of gray in the world. Sometimes things have to be done that regular soldiers just can’t do. There’s always going to be an underworld. My philosophy is to make deals with the ones who have some sort of code of honor, and make war on the ones who don’t.”

Christina sat back down, nodding her blonde head in understanding. This was a whole new world to her, and Danica knew it a lot better than she did.

“In my dealings I’ve gotten to know some good assassins,” the colonel continued. “I’ve already called the ones I think would be the best and brightest for this job. They’re on their way right now. Two of them, Abigail and Natalie, are coming in from Denver. They should be here in a couple of hours. The other one, Angela, is coming in from Tennessee, so she’ll need a little longer.”

Christina stared in surprise. “All girls?”

“Like I said, I picked the best and brightest. Funny how that worked out!”

Christina smiled. She was starting to like this woman.

Danica smiled back. “I promise you, us four girls will be a lethal and unstoppable team.”

“I’m sure you will be. However, five girls will make an even more lethal and unstoppable team. I’m coming with you.”

The colonel opened her mouth, but Christina continued speaking. “I assure you, I do not make this statement lightly. I’m experienced with firearms and well-trained in hand-to-hand combat. I’m not just an ordinary businesswoman.”

“I don’t doubt your talents, but this is a mission that will require killing people in cold blood,” said Danica. “Are you sure you’re up for that?”

“Those fuckers killed Samantha, my friend, and kidnapped Paul, my lover. Trust me, I’ll have no problem killing them.” Christina’s voice was grim.

Danica nodded slowly. “Then it’s settled. The five of us against the Russian mob.”

“Thank you, Colonel,” said the blonde.

“Please, call me Danica,” she replied. “Now we’d better get to the airport. The rest of our team will be arriving soon.”

Paul awoke with a terrible headache. The first thought that came to his mind as he regained consciousness was, “Not again.” In the past two years this was the second time he had been kidnapped, the second time he had been knocked out, and the third time he had been taken hostage.

Finding himself lying on a dirty cot, he sat up and groggily tried to remember what had happened. The drive…the ambush …Samantha getting killed by that sexy but deadly woman…and the ugly bald guy knocking him out.

Paul looked around and saw that he was locked in a dark, musty cell about eight feet square. There was no window, and a barred door was the only exit. A sink and toilet stood in the corner.

Suddenly, footsteps approached. There was the sound of a key turning in the lock and the cell door swung open. A pretty woman stood there…the same woman who had murdered Samantha.

“Ah, so you’re awake,” she said in a sexy accent. “I’m sorry we haven’t gotten the chance to become acquainted yet. I’m Marina.”

Paul said nothing.

“Now now, where are your manners, Paul?” she snickered. She held up his wallet. “Luckily, I already know who you are.”

“You murdered Samantha! How could you?!” He finally spoke up.

“Oh, was that her name? She was resisting. I had to ‘take care’ of her. We would have preferred two hostages but you’ll do well enough. We’ve already asked your boss for $10 million.”

Paul’s glance traveled past Marina and towards the open door. She noticed and laughed. “You’re thinking about escape, aren’t you?” She smiled sassily. “Well, go on and try it. Try and get past me.”

Paul shook his head and turned his body as if he was going to sit down on the cot, then suddenly charged her, hoping to take the vixen by surprise. She was too fast for him, however, and stopped his charge abruptly by kicking him in the face. His hands flew to his injured jaw. Glaring at her, he rushed her again. This time, she pivoted and knocked him back with a swift but powerful side kick to his chest. Paul, growling, was about to charge her a third time when she suddenly whipped out a gun from under her coat. He recognized it as the same one she had used to kill Samantha.

“All right, playtime’s over. I have some business to take care of. You be a good boy now.” Marina exited the cell and locked the door behind her. Paul sat back down on the cot and rubbed his sore jaw. He wondered if Christina knew yet. He began to sob. He didn’t want to die without seeing her again.

At the airport, Christina and Danica sat on a bench in the baggage claim area, waiting for Angela’s flight to come in. Abby and Natalie, whose flight had arrived earlier, were sitting on another bench across from them. When Danica had pointed the two new girls out, Christina had been shocked at how young they were. The skinny girl, Natalie, had rather irritably responded that “Abby and I are 21 now and we don’t even have to use our fake IDs anymore to buy beer.”

Christina sighed with uncertainty. Did she really want to go through with this? Associating with assassins and personally going on a mission that would involve cold-blooded killing? She tried to steel her resolve. “I have to do this for Paul.”

Abby and Natalie whispered to each other as they sat on their bench. “I don’t like this,” said Natalie. She nodded at Christina. “Why is she here? It’s not SOP for the client to come out here like this.”

“And why did Danica want to bring in another assassin? Does she think we can’t handle this ourselves?” wondered Abby.

“All right, stuff a sock in it, you two,” said Danica. “Abby, I have the utmost confidence in your and Natalie’s abilities. That’s why I chose you for this job. But this operation is too big for just two people.”

“When are you going to tell us the details of this operation?” Abby asked.

“When we’re all together back at headquarters. No need to go over everything twice.”

Christina stood up, pointing at the TV screen labeled ‘Arrivals.’ “Look, Angela’s flight just landed.”

The black, unmarked SUV sped over the deserted roads. It was a dark and moonless night. Danica, tight-lipped and silent, was at the wheel. Christina sat in the front passenger seat, a million thoughts racing through her head. She couldn’t believe she was actually doing this. Abby, Natalie, and Angela were in the back seat. Christina had watched the assassins size each other up when they had first met at the airport. She had been relieved to see that Angela, at least, was close to her age.

“Hey, that sign said Fort Lewis was the other way,” Angela piped up from the back seat.

“We’re not going to Fort Lewis,” said Danica. “We’re going somewhere more …private.”

After traveling on a succession of roads that got narrower and bumpier, the black SUV came to a stop in front of a gate. A barbed-wire fence stretched off to the left and right. From the illumination of the headlights, signs on the fence were visible that read PRIVATE PROPERTY. KEEP OUT. TRESPASSERS WILL BE SHOT. SURVIVORS WILL BE SHOT AGAIN and EXTREME DANGER. 10,000 VOLTS. Danica got out of the vehicle and punched in a code at a control pad next to the gate. The gate silently swung open. The Army colonel got back in the car and drove into the secret base. Christina gulped as the gate swung shut behind them.

After a few more minutes of driving, they came to a small tin shack. Inside, there was nothing but a set of stairs leading down. At the bottom of the stairs, Danica flipped on a light switch, revealing that they were in an enormous basement. For the first time, the five women were together in a private, well-lit place. They looked at each other carefully, sizing each other up.

Danica, as the leader of the expedition, was the oldest woman in the room, nearing forty (although she still looked youthful and sexy). At 5’8″ and 132 pounds, she was also the tallest. She had shiny, shoulder-length brown hair that was pulled back in a neat bun. Angela was thirty years old and a sexy Southern beauty. She was 5’7″ and 135 pounds, with blonde hair, blue eyes, and a deep tan. Abby and Natalie were both 21 and the youngsters of the group. Abby was 5’6″ and 130 pounds, with long dark brown hair that went down to the middle of her back. Natalie was slightly smaller at 5’5″ and 120 pounds. Her shoulder-length hair was exactly the same color as Abby’s. All four women had very well-toned, muscular, and feminine bodies.

Although her body was as muscular, well-toned, and feminine as the others, Christina was still a little intimidated. She was 29 years old, but her youthful face and long blonde hair made her look younger. At 5’3″ and 120 pounds, she was also the shortest woman in the group. In addition, for the others, killing was their profession, whether legitimately or illegitimately. She was just a businesswoman.

“All right,” said Danica. “We don’t have a lot of time, so let’s get right to business. We’ve all been introduced. Christina here is our client. Her boyfriend, Paul, has been kidnapped by the Russian mob while he was on a business trip to Moscow. They demanded $10 million in ransom and threatened to kill him if they didn’t get the money within 72 hours. Since that was about six hours ago, we have 66 hours left. Christina and I both believe there is a good chance that Paul will be killed anyway even if the ransom is delivered on time. Therefore, we’ve decided on a rescue mission. I called the rest of you here because if I tried to get the Army to rescue him, by the time we got through all the red tape the deadline would have long passed. Angela, Natalie, Abby, I’ve read all your files…”

“Wait a minute,” interrupted Abby. “We have *files*?!”

“Yes. But that’s not important right now,” answered Danica. “What’s important is that I’ve read your files and I know you’re the best people for the job. The five of us will be going in…”

“Wait,” interrupted Natalie. “Five? Since when does the client go on the mission? We can’t carry passengers.”

“Excuse me, but I won’t be a passenger,” said Christina. “I know as much about weapons and hand-to-hand combat as anyone else in this room. I can take care of myself. I’m not going to just sit here while my boyfriend is in danger.”

“What-evah,” said Natalie. Danica scowled at her, not liking that attitude.

“Now as I was saying before I was interrupted, *repeatedly* I might add,” continued the colonel, “we’ll be leaving tomorrow evening. It’s getting pretty late and we all need a good night’s sleep. Once we get to Russia, we’ll have to work fast to beat the deadline and we may not have much time for sleeping. We’ll make preparations tomorrow. There are bedrooms off the hall to the right.” The five women headed off to bed, Christina full of apprehension, Danica still intensely focused, Angela cool and expressionless, Abby eager but calm, and Natalie eager and excited.

The next morning, after a quick breakfast in a makeshift dining room, they got down to business. Danica had already contacted her sources in Russia about possible places the mobsters might be keeping Paul. “We’ve narrowed it down to these three locations as the most likely. They’re known hideouts for the Russian mob, and they’re all isolated places that would be ideal for holding a prisoner. I have blueprints of each of the locations here.” The colonel put some documents on the table. “When we arrive, we’ll split up to do reconnaissance on each of these places. Abby and Natalie, you’ll take this one here. Angela and Christina, you’ll do this one. I’ll take this one alone, since it’s the smallest.” Danica then pulled out a map of Moscow and marked each of the mobster hideouts on it. “I have a map for each team. If you discover that Paul is being held at your location, call the others and we’ll be there as soon as we can. If our reconnaissance fails to reveal the hostage’s location, we’ll have to raid all three locations.” She paused. “Are there any questions?”

“What if we raid all three places and the hostage isn’t at any of them?” asked Angela.

“We’ll cross that bridge when and if we come to it,” Danica answered. She continued, “Go over your blueprints with your partner. Decide on a game plan for recon and get it drilled into your heads good. Then we’ll all get together and make plans of attack for raiding each location. I want each of you to know all of these places like you know your own house. After that, we can start getting our supplies and weapons ready. Decide what weapons each of you wants to take. There’s an outdoor firing range at this facility, so we can get some practice in before we leave. We all need to be very sharp. A cargo plane will be landing at 6:00 this evening to take us to Russia. We need to be ready to drive to the base’s airstrip at 5:45. We have a lot to do. Let’s get to it.”

Christina stepped forward. “I…I just want to thank you all for doing this. I love Paul and I don’t want to think about life without him.” She pulled out the envelope that Worth had given her. “Here’s the money for the mission. Split this four ways, or divide it however you usually do these things. I’m sorry that it’s not more, but my boss and I had to grab whatever cash we could on short notice. No one else knows about this mission. Of course, no one would have had a problem with him using $10 million of company money to pay off the mobsters, but he uses less than that to pay for a rescue…then the sensitive and whiny would be offended if they found out. Go figure.” Angela nodded in understanding and agreement at that remark.

“It’s not really about the money for me,” said Natalie. “It’s about the thrill and the excitement.”

“For me, it’s about being the best at what we do, and being able to prove it by utterly defeating our opponents,” put in Abby.

“I’m motivated by the desire to take revenge against those who are truly evil,” said Angela.

Christina felt a small smile come to her attractive face. She was very different from these women, but there were similarities too. In any case, she hoped they could get along, work well together, kick some major gangster ass, and rescue poor Paul.

The women then got to studying their blueprints. Angela leaned over close to Christina and touched her arm. “I know what you’re going through,” she whispered. “My husband was murdered and I couldn’t have any peace in my dreams until I took revenge on the assholes who killed him. That’s how I became an assassin in the first place.”

Christina smiled at the other blonde and squeezed her hand. “Thank you,” she whispered back. She was especially glad to hear that from Angela because they would be working together. She also wondered whether she might have ended up like Angela if it had been Paul who had been murdered. She would have certainly wanted vengeance, and could easily have been driven to violent acts herself. In fact, if the Russian mobsters killed Paul, she might become…

“No,” she thought. “I’m not going to think about that. Not as long as Paul’s still alive.” She turned her attention back to the blueprints.

After they had finished their tactical planning, the five sexy women headed out to the shooting range. Christina, although she owned several guns and practiced frequently with them, was still nervous about how her performance would compare to those of the professional assassins. Though she was disappointed that her markswomanship wasn’t quite as good as theirs, she smiled when Abby told her, “You’re still a better shot than 99% of cops.”

The ladies had a fun time shooting various weapons. They made a bit of a friendly but intense competition out of it. Danica was revealed to be the best shot with pistol and revolver, Abby won the rifle contest, Angela took the shotgun competition, and Natalie was the best with the submachine gun and the crossbow. The shooting helped the tomboyish women bond and they shared jokes and work stories over lunch. After the meal was over, Danica went over some common Russian words and phrases.

The sun slowly moved lower in the sky as the girls continued with their preparations. Christina took a break to talk to Danica. “Thanks for organizing all this,” she said to the colonel. “This means so much to me.”

“No problem,” Danica replied. “I can only imagine how I’d feel if my husband or my daughter was kidnapped.” She paused and looked around, seeing that the others were busy. “I’m glad to see everyone’s getting along decently enough,” she said in a low voice. “I was worried about bringing so many clashing personalities together. I’m an Army officer and not a referee. Even in my capacity as a mom. My daughter’s an only child, so I’ve never even had to deal with squabbling siblings. But even though we may be different, I think we have enough in common that we can work together very well. I really think this mission is going to work.”

As the afternoon shadows got longer, the ladies changed into their combat clothes, each packed a small bag for their personal things, and readied their weapons and ammo. Danica called her husband and daughter to say that she was going on a secret mission. Abby, Natalie, and Angela were all comfortably single. At 5:45, the women, armed, beautiful, and dangerous, headed out of the building for the ride to the airstrip.

Danica was dressed in camoflauge pants and top and military boots, though she wore no rank or other insignia. Not for this mission. Her brown hair was tied back in its ubiquitous bun. She carried an M-16 assault rifle and a 9mm pistol.

Christina wore dark jeans and a black T-shirt that was tight enough to make the shape of even her small breasts stand out distinctly. Her long blonde hair was in a bun like Danica’s. She was armed with a 12-gauge shotgun and a .357 magnum revolver.

Angela wore tight black shorts that showed off her cheerleader’s legs, and a black top that had the sleeves rolled up to show her muscular forearms. Her shoulder-length blonde hair was in a ponytail. She had an AK-47 assault rifle, along with an elegant but extremely sharp combat knife.

Abby and Natalie both wore tight black pants and black tank tops that displayed their well-toned biceps. Abby’s long brown hair was ponytailed, while Natalie’s shoulder-length brown hair was left free. Abby was armed with a semi-automatic, high-powered sniper rifle and a knife similar to Angela’s. Natalie had an Uzi submachine gun and a crossbow. Abby wore ordinary black sneakers, but Natalie had on a pair of sexy knee-high black leather boots.

Soon, the cargo plane landed. The girls climbed aboard and the plane quickly turned around and took off again. Danica alone spoke briefly with the pilot and co-pilot. It was clear that this was a ‘talk as little as possible to others’ type of mission. As the aircraft headed off into the darkening sky, each woman felt a surge of excitement run through her. They were all eager to kick some ass.

TO BE CONTINUED…

My Wife The Assassin

My name is Brett. I’m 28 years old and married. My wife and I live in a nice two-story house in a quiet suburb of Reno, Nevada. Sounds pretty normal so far, right? Well, it’s about to get abnormal. My wife is a professional assassin.

Her name is Deborah and she’s the most extraordinary woman I’ve ever known. She’s everything I’ve ever wanted in a woman – confident, smart, beautiful, powerful, athletic, and feminine. I consider myself the luckiest guy in the world to be married to her.

Debbie is 32 years old, but looks more like 25 – when she’s in her “normal” look, anyway. (As a professional killer, she often plays different roles to get close to her target, and she can play anything from a ditzy 18-year-old girl to a 40-year-old soccer mom). She has long brown hair that goes down to the middle of her back, blue eyes, an elegant and high-cheekboned face, and a deep, healthy tan. Her long muscular legs, slim waist with six-pack abs, medium-sized and steel-hard ass, and ultra-toned arms all drive me wild. At 5’10” and 140 pounds, she towers over my 5’6″, 135-pound frame, especially when she wears her knee-high black leather boots with razor-sharp four inch high heels.

People do stare at us when we’re out in public. I guess they assume the only reason a woman like her would want a guy like me is that I’m a rich guy. But I’m not. I’m an IT specialist for a small company, and I make about 50 grand a year. Debbie makes much more than that with her… line of work. Depending on what kind of contracts she gets, she can pull in anything from half a million to 1.5 million a year, and all of it tax-free. It’s her money that’s allowed us to pay cash for our house, buy expensive cars, go on Hawaiian vacations, etc.

So our relationship is almost completely non-traditional. My wife is taller than me, stronger than me, makes more money than me, is more comfortable with violence than me, and is even older than me. A lot of guys – dumb guys – would let that intimidate them and make them feel insecure. But I don’t feel insecure at all. I mean, come on. I’m married to a beautiful, athletic, smart, rich woman. What guy with a functioning brain wouldn’t want that?

Now, just so there are no misconceptions: Do I still find myself in awe of her capabilities, even after knowing her for years? Yes, I do. Does she usually take the lead during sex? Absolutely, and we both like it that way. But do we have one of those weird relationships where she pushes me around or humiliates me or makes me do shit like eat bugs or wear women’s clothes? Definitely not. We have a passionate and healthy love for each other based on mutual respect, and though she’s strong enough to easily hurt me, she would never do that. We occasionally play sex games where she ties me up and spanks me, but we both strongly believe that that kind of activity should be restricted to the bedroom. At any rate, if we got too weird it might lead to attention from the neighbors, and as a professional assassin Debbie certainly doesn’t want that.

So why would a woman who could have any man she wanted get involved with a guy like me? Well, in the first place, we have a symbiotic relationship. Sometimes she needs someone with expert computer skills to help track down a target. That’s where I come in. And the hacking experience I get from tracking Debbie’s future victims helps me in my work, enabling me to better prevent hacker attacks on my company’s network.

Also, most guys don’t know the proper way to react around a woman like Debbie, and she hates that. When they found out the full range of her physical capabilities, most of the guys she dated would either become insecure and withdrawn, get aggressive and try to out-macho her (they always failed), or start acting like she was a dominatrix for hire and offer to humiliate themselves. While she enjoys being dominant, she also wanted a stable long-term relationship that had more meaning than just S&M sex.

We are quite different from each other. In addition to what I’ve already mentioned, Debbie is amazingly athletic. She was a three-sport varsity athlete in high school, on the softball, volleyball, and gymnastics teams. She’s excellent at doing back flips despite her height. She also received a full softball scholarship to the college of her choice. I, on the other hand, have never been good at sports. When I played baseball with the other neighborhood kids as a boy, the two team captains would do rock-paper-scissors to see who would pick first, and whichever captain lost would invariably moan, “Oh, no! I’m stuck with Brett!” And when I had completed the mandatory two years of physical education in high school, I remember jumping for joy (not very high).

But we have some similar interests too. We both enjoy traveling, going to hockey games, reality TV shows, and science fiction. And at the end of the day, at least in our case, opposites do attract. How did we meet? Well, that’s material for another story.

My wife has turned one of the smaller upstairs bedrooms into what’s basically her secret assassin room. Pretty much anything related to her kills, she keeps in there. She’s told me not to go in there for my own safety. If, God forbid, I’m ever captured and interrogated by her enemies, I can’t tell them what I don’t know. She also keeps quite an arsenal in there. I only see the weapons when she brings them out, but at various times I’ve seen an assault rifle, a submachine gun, Lara Croft-style twin pistols, a sniper rifle, a samurai sword, twin throwing daggers, and a crossbow. Though most of the weapons in the house are locked up in the arsenal, my wife does keep a pistol in the drawer next to her side of the bed, and a shotgun in the closet, just in case something happens. She’s taught me how to shoot and I’m sad to say that I’m quite bad at it. I can hit the broad side of a barn, but the narrow side might give me some trouble. Debbie, on the other hand, is an excellent markswoman. She can easily nail a head shot on a target from 500 yards.

I work regular nine-to-five hours, but my wife is home most of the time. She generally does about one hit a month. Because of her excellent reputation, she doesn’t take small jobs and can afford not to. Every contract she takes pays a minimum of fifty thousand dollars, and most pay more than that. She has something of a regular cycle. She spends a few days researching various offers, and after careful investigation she selects a contract. She then spends several days researching every little detail about her target and planning out exactly how she’s going to do her mission. If she needs computer help tracking him (they’re usually male) down I come in at that point. When she has everything she needs, she goes off on the actual mission. Sometimes she’s gone for six hours, sometimes six days. After her mission is accomplished she spends the rest of the month relaxing at home, the beach, the spa, etc. Sometimes I join her for vacations at this time, though not often because I only get two weeks of vacation a year. When the next month rolls around, the cycle starts all over again. Some months she declares a ‘vacation month’ and simply spends the whole time relaxing.

Quarter past five on a Friday afternoon. Finally home for the weekend. I pulled my silver Lexus (courtesy of my wife’s money, of course) into the driveway. Debbie’s black BMW still wasn’t there. She had left on Tuesday on one of her missions.

I turned on my cell phone to see if any calls had come in while I had been driving. My heart leapt with excitement when I found a message from my wife, saying she’d be home in a few hours. She generally doesn’t call me while away until her mission is completed. After she comes back from an assignment, we go out to a fancy restaurant to celebrate, then come back to the house to celebrate with sex. Our sex life is great all the time, but it’s by far the best right after she’s returned from a kill. She’s feeling aggressive, dominant, and powerful, and that gets her in the mood more than anything.

I made myself a ham sandwich to keep my stomach satisfied until we went out to dinner, then grabbed a book and plopped down on the couch. Around eight, the doorbell rang and I eagerly jumped up. Debbie walked in, looking beautiful as always. She was wearing black leather pants, a tight black T-shirt that showed off the outline of her small, firm, perky 36B breasts, and black leather gloves. Her tanned, muscular arms looked great and her long brown hair, which was wild and loose, added to her female warrior image. She greeted me with a long, aggressive kiss.

“Welcome home, Debbie,” I said when we finally pulled apart. “All went well?”

“Went great. One more scumbag taken out of commission permanently, one more notch on my belt. How have you been?”

“Same old, same old. Spent about half my time bailing out people at work after they forgot their passwords and locked themselves out of their own computers.”

Debbie tossed her wild hair and laughed, playfully pinching me on the ass. “I’ll go change quickly, then let’s go out. I had to hitch a ride on a cargo plane if I didn’t want to wait till tomorrow to get back here. No food service on there. On the way over on Tuesday the private jet came complete with a flight attendant who served me lunch.” She picked up the duffel bag she had taken with her, her arm muscles rippling as she did so. As she swept upstairs, I saw that she was wearing a dagger on each well-developed hip, and the long telescope case she wore over her shoulder undoubtedly carried her sniper rifle.

She came back downstairs three minutes later. She was now wearing a long, sleeveless red dress with a slit on one side. Her hair was piled up in an elegant bun. She looked equally beautiful as a tomboyish warrior or a feminine lady. “I’m wearing flats tonight,” she said. “I won’t look too much taller than you this time.”

As we sipped red wine at our favorite Italian restaurant, I looked into my wife’s deep blue eyes. “So, sweetie, how much can you tell me about this one? It turns me on so much to hear about your kills.”

Debbie gave me that heart-melting smile of hers. “Nothing too spectacular this time. He was a mid-level guy in a drug ring. There was a contract on him for $100,000, though, so I took it. I sniped him – it was only about 300 yards, so it was an easy shot. But on the way out I bumped into two of his bodyguards who had been spread out to watch for danger. That’s where my daggers came in handy. Their pieces ended up in two different dumpsters.”

“Wow,” I said. “I’d call that pretty spectacular.”

She laughed. “You think all of my kills are.”

“Well, they are.” I put my hand on hers. Looking down at our forearms positioned next to each other, I couldn’t help noticing the differences between them. Mine was pale, with no real muscle definition, while her forearm was darkly tanned and had prominent veins and heavily developed, well-defined muscles. Her wrist was bigger than mine – she had playfully commented on it once and we had measured them. Mine was six and a half inches around, while hers was just over seven inches. Her biceps were bigger than mine too – mine measured a paltry eleven and a quarter inches, compared to her impressive thirteen and a half.

“I wish I could come with you on a mission sometime,” I said. “I’d love to see you in action up close and personal.”

She leaned her head against mine. “As much as I’d enjoy your companionship, you know I can’t let you do that. It would be too dangerous. I feel responsible for protecting you and if anything ever happened to you I’d spend the rest of my life blaming myself.”

“I know. I understand. I just like imagining how exciting and fun it would be.” I sighed. She moved in and kissed me.

After an excellent dinner, we headed out to the parking lot. Just as we reached the black BMW, Debbie suddenly pushed me to the ground, shouting, “GET DOWN!” A split second later, several bullets went through the air space my chest had previously been occupying. They slammed into the BMW’s left rear window, shattering it.

Two men were standing at the edge of the parking lot, both armed with submachine guns. Debbie had already reached underneath her dress and whipped out a small pistol, which she had been wearing strapped to her thigh. More bullets were sprayed at us, some only missing by inches. My wife fired two expertly aimed shots, one nailing one man right in his forehead and the other hitting the other guy in the arm. As his companion’s corpse slumped to the asphalt, the second man screamed in pain, dropping his weapon and clutching his wounded arm.

She tossed me the keys. “Start the car!” Trying to snap myself out of the state of shock I was in, I managed to stand up and open the driver’s door. My body was still shaking. Debbie, too well-disciplined and used to violence to have a freak-out, raced toward the injured man, doing a roundoff followed by a series of back handsprings in his direction. As she elegantly backflipped at him, he wasted precious seconds staring at this image of athletic, feminine beauty, amazed that a girl could do back handsprings in a long dress. He finally began reaching for his gun, but it was too late. Debbie had been much too quick for him. She crashed into him on her last backflip, knocking him to the ground, while she landed perfectly on her feet. She bent down and knocked him out with a swift karate chop to his neck.

I had managed to get the car started by this time. My wife motioned for me to drive it over. I did so and she opened the rear door. Picking up the unconscious man, she tossed him into the back seat. He was a medium-sized guy and she was able to handle his weight easily. She jumped in after him. “Now go! Fast!”

I raced out of the parking lot with a squeal of tires. As I drove off, I saw in the rearview mirror that several people were coming out of the restaurant, hands over their mouths as they saw the dead body.

“Thank you for saving my life,” I said. In the rearview mirror, I saw her smile.

“Now what?” I asked. My heart rate had declined somewhat since the shooting, but it was still well above normal.

“Take us out of town, out into the desert. I need to interrogate this fucker to see who put him and his buddy up to it.” She looked behind her. Satisfied that no one was following the car, she added, “That was some excitement right there.”

Remembering what I had said in the restaurant, I suddenly felt guilty. Debbie must have sensed what I was thinking, because she said, “You have nothing to feel bad about. You had no way of knowing that was going to happen.” I felt better immediately.

About fifteen minutes later, she said, “This is far enough.” I pulled over and turned off the engine. Debbie pulled out the thug, who was just regaining consciousness, and threw him onto the dirt. “You may want to step away,” she told me. “Things could get brutal if he refuses to talk.”

“It’s okay, I’ll stay.”

She forced the would-be assassin into a kneeling position. He was awake by now and glared at her, then at me. I shivered in fear as his angry eyes focused in my direction. I was very glad my wife was out here with me.

Debbie reached under her dress and pulled out her pistol. Pointing it at the man, she said, “It’s very simple. Tell me what I want to know and I won’t shoot you, or refuse and I will shoot you. Your call.”

“I ain’t telling you nothing, bitch,” the thug growled. Her face remained expressionless. That seemed to frighten him more than an angry expression would have. He talked tough, but was trembling with fear inside.

Debbie suddenly rammed her knee into his face. Blood sprayed out from the impact. Some of it landed on her dress, which luckily was red and matched the color. Her model-like face still showed no emotion as he cried out in pain. She kneed his face again. More blood and another shriek of pain. “Every time I knee you, I’m doing more damage,” she said calmly. “Soon the damage will be permanent and irreversible. I suggest you start talking before then.”

She began raising her knee.

“Wait!” he cried out. “If I talk, do you swear you won’t shoot me?”

“You have my word of honor,” she answered.

“Okay, I’ll talk! Someone put a bounty on YOUR head. Two million dollars.”

She smiled slightly and glanced over at me. “Well! I had no idea I was worth that much.” She turned back to the thug. “Who put the bounty out?”

“I don’t know.”

“Wrong answer.” She began raising her knee again.

“Wait! Please! I swear I don’t know! He’s not going to tell who he is, he’s too smart for that! It was over the Internet, completely anonymous!”

“Internet, eh?” Debbie glanced at me again. “Now we’re getting somewhere. Tell me the details.”

“I have a printout of the email he sent me in my pocket. That’s all I got from him.”

“Take it out. Slowly.” She aimed her gun at his forehead to enforce her point. Shaking with fear, the man obeyed. My wife motioned for me to approach. Normally I would have been nervous about getting close to a guy who was likely a trained killer, but I could see that she had him completely under control.

She handed me the paper. “Can you trace this email?”

I looked at it. “I think so.”

“Good.” Debbie turned back to the failed assassin. “That means we don’t need you anymore, and that means it’s time for you to die.”

“Wait! No!” he protested. “You gave me your word of honor that you wouldn’t shoot me!”

“I know. I’m keeping my promise. I’m going to kill you with my knee.” With that, she rammed her knee into him again, but aimed a little lower this time. Her knee impacted the underside of his chin with such force that it snapped his neck backward, breaking it with a sharp CRACK. The dead body slumped to the desert floor. My wife looked at the corpse dispassionately, while I looked at it with wide eyes.

Slipping her pistol back underneath her dress, she came close and held me affectionately. “Are you all right?”

“Yes, honey. Thanks to you. You were amazing, once again. You seem so fearless.”

“I’m not. I’m human like you and there are things that scare me. But not that guy. He was just a small-time thug.” She held me tighter. I loved this girl who could go from brutal killer to loving wife in just a few seconds.

“Our home may not be safe,” Debbie said when we finally pulled apart. “Let’s check into a hotel.” She got behind the wheel of her BMW. I got into the seat beside her and we drove off, leaving the dead body for the vultures.

“Just one quick stop before we go to the hotel,” said my wife as she drove. “Luckily we’re already out here in the desert.” I was puzzled as she drove down a series of dirt roads, then came to a stop by two large boulders. Midway between them was a smaller rock. She went over and lifted it, revealing that it was a fake rock covering a chest. With a key from her large keyring, she unlocked it.

“One of my secret stashes,” she explained. “I knew that someday we might get into a situation where I couldn’t access my main arsenal in the house.” I peered into the chest. Inside were a mini-Uzi submachine gun, a 9mm pistol, a crossbow, several spare magazines of ammunition, and a quiver of arrows. There were also MREs, bottles of water, and a small, locked box. She unlocked the box with yet another key from the large keyring. Inside this one were half a dozen wads of $100 bills, two tubes filled with gold Krugerrands, and two more tubes of silver dollars.

I stared at my wife. “Debbie, you never told me…”

“Sorry, Brett. I guess I should have told you.” She stroked my cheek. “Forgive me?”

“Of course I do.” I touched my forehead with hers. I had to stand on my toes to do it, as she was taller.

“Thanks, sweetie.” She turned back to the chest and removed all the weapons and ammo. “We’ll leave the food and water here, and the gold and silver too. A different kind of situation might come someday when we’ll need those. We have all our credit cards, but just to be safe I’ll take half of this cash out.” She slipped three of the six wads of bills into a convenient dress pocket, then locked the small box and the chest again and put back the fake rock.

As we were carrying the weapons and ammo to the car, my wife said, “By the way, I have two other secret stashes out in the desert. One is north of town and the other is to the southwest. I’ll tell you the directions of how to get to each. Memorize them because they can’t be written down anywhere.” I memorized them quickly. At least that was something I was good at.

Debbie popped the trunk open and we put the submachine gun, crossbow, and ammo inside. She handed the pistol to me. “Brett, I want you to carry this with you at all times until I take out the guy who’s behind all this.” I took it a little nervously – I still wasn’t that comfortable with guns – and put it in my pocket. She still had her own pistol in her dress pocket. It was nice that they made formal evening dresses with pockets.

I was silent in the car on the way to the hotel. The full magnitude of what had happened was finally sinking in. Deep down, I had always known that my wife’s profession could put me in danger someday, but I had never really given much thought to it, probably because it was something I feared. But there was no getting away from it now.

We pulled up to one of the big casino hotels downtown (the closest thing to a high-end hotel in this town – such is life in Reno). Soon we were in a large suite on one of the upper floors. The large weapons and ammo we managed to smuggle into the hotel in a couple of big bags. Finally (relatively) safe, Debbie bolted and chained the door, put a chair in front of it, then sat on the bed next to me and looked into my eyes. “Are you okay, Brett? Are you *really* okay?”

“Yes, honey. The shock’s finally worn off. Mostly.”

“I’m sorry I got you into this. If you weren’t married to me…”

“No!” I cried out. “Don’t say that. Being married to you is the best thing that could ever possibly happen to me. I’ll happily take everything that comes along with that. Including the danger. I’d much rather be married to you and have my life at risk than be married to some non-warrior woman and have a perfectly safe life. Don’t blame yourself for what happened.”

She kissed me, gently. “That’s why I love you. You may be a shy and quiet man, but when you feel passionately about something you always stand up and speak out.” She began undoing her hair, which was still in a bun. “You know, we’re here together and we have this nice suite. And we need something to take our minds off what happened…”

I got an automatic erection in my pants. She noticed and laughed. Motioning for me to remove my clothes, she kicked her shoes off and took off her dress. She stood there dressed only in red panties – because of her exceptionally firm and perky breasts, she didn’t wear bras, except for sports bras when she worked out. Her nipples looked like they could cut glass. She wrapped her hand around my erect cock and applied pressure. The muscles in her big forearm became even more defined. The slightest movement she made with her arm always caused the muscles to start rippling. I moaned in pleasure, then in pain as she increased the strength of her grip. “Sweetie, you know your superhumanly strong forearms turn me on immensely and you’re probably strong enough to crush it, but please don’t,” I gasped out.

She relaxed the pressure. “Sorry hun. Better?”

“Mmmm yes, Miss Debbie.”

She began moving her hand in a rhythmic and steady up-and-down motion, sending new waves of pleasure through me. It was not long before I came hard, shooting a large load of semen onto her wrist. The white cum sharply contrasted with the darkly tanned skin of her forearm. I wiped it off with some tissues (no, she’s not one of those women who makes her man lick it off), then kissed her clean wrist in tribute to the powerful muscles that could give so much pleasure…or pain.

She smiled seductively, then sensually removed her red panties, sitting there completely nude. Her dark brown pussy hair was neatly trimmed. She stood up and turned around, then launched herself into a powerful standing back tuck, her well-developed thigh and butt muscles propelling her high into the air. She landed neatly on the bed and motioned for me to lie on my back. She then performed a cartwheel into the splits, landing her splits perfectly centered right on my face. Her wet pussy was right over my mouth and I eagerly began going down on her. She grinded down hard as I plesured her with my tongue and I knew that my face would be bruised tomorrow. Soon she had a powerful orgasm, screaming “Yes! Yes! Yes!” as she came all over my face.

As I was wiping the sticky girl-cum off my face, a loud banging came from the opposite wall. The suite was available with one or two bedrooms. We just needed one, and when not part of the suite the second bedroom was sold as a separate room. Whoever was in there now was making the ruckus. A man’s angry voice shouted, “Why don’t you fuckheads keep it down in there!”

Debbie giggled. “Cranky bastard, ain’t he? Well, let’s get back to business.” With that, I lay down again on my back, my cock now hard again and pointing straight up in the air. She giggled again when she saw, then mounted me in a reverse cowgirl position. She fucked me dominantly and hard. My earlier release, courtesy of her handjob, allowed me to last much longer this time. She came hard and first, then had an equally powerful second orgasm, moaning and shrieking in pleasure all the way. Finally I came, shooting my load deep into her. She climbed off me and we lay in the bed next to each other, breathing heavily.

Suddenly the banging on the wall started again, louder this time. “I thought I told you motherfuckers to keep it the fuck down!” came the angry voice.

My wife’s eyes got that mischievous sparkle and she got out of bed. Putting on her panties and dress, she said, “I think I’ll teach that asshole a lesson.” Noticing the worried look on my face, she added, “Don’t worry. I won’t do any permanent damage. She walked over to the connecting door and opened the one on our side. I put on my clothes and followed several feet behind her, my heart pounding.

Debbie suddenly did a lightning-fast high kick, the slit on the side of her dress enabling her to do it without damaging the garment. Her foot crashed into the other side’s connecting door with extreme force, splintering it and knocking it down. The man inside, who was dressed in a button-down shirt and boxer underwear and had been furiously typing on a laptop, jumped up and turned around, a look of fear and anger on his ugly face. His mouth dropped open in shock when he saw the remnants of the kicked-down door…and my wife standing in the doorway.

“How…how are you strong enough to…” he gasped.

Debbie laughed. “I get that a lot.”

She advanced on him. He was about my height, so my wife was a good four inches taller than him. Her muscular, tanned body looked powerful and dominant next to this scrawny loudmouth, whose pale, weak legs were showing. He cowered in fear.

Her fists moved, first one and then the other. There were two loud impact sounds and one cry of pain. He now had a broken nose and black right eye. She kneed him hard in the stomach. He doubled over, unable to breathe. She grabbed him and tilted his head up, looking straight into his frightened eyes. “My husband and I have had a very rough day and we’re trying to enjoy each other’s company,” she said coldly. “And we don’t need you giving us any shit. So take this as a lesson in manners.” With that, she headbutted him with all her strength, knocking him down and unconscious. She turned to me and winked, then walked over to her victim’s pants, which were lying on the bed.

When the loud jerk woke up, Debbie was standing over him, her muscular arms crossed in front of her. She smiled icily down at him. “Okay, asshole, here’s the deal. You’re going to keep quiet for the rest of the night. And you’re going to tell the hotel that YOU broke the door and pay for it yourself.” She pointed to his pants pocket. “While you were out, I looked in your wallet and memorized the address on your driver’s license,” she continued. “If you try to give us any shit or don’t do as you’re told, I know where you live and I will pay you a visit. Is that clear?”

“Y…yes,” he stammered, shaking like the coward he was. The biggest talkers always crumbled the quickest when faced with real strength.

“Are you going to be a good boy and do what I told you to do?”

“Y…yes,” he stammered again.

“You will address me as Mistress Lara,” she smirked, using one of her favorite undercover names.

“Y…yes, Mistress Lara.”

“Good.” She tossed her long beautiful brown hair and smiled. “Sleep tight, sucker.”

Once we were back in our room and the connecting door was closed, she turned to me, laughing. “That was fun.”

“And we needed it,” I said.

“That’s right.” Her elegant face became serious. “Let’s try to get a good night’s sleep. We have a lot of work to do starting tomorrow. There are going to be a lot of bad guys after us.”

“May the odds be ever in our favor,” I said. My wife giggled.

The next day, after a room service breakfast, we were both sitting in the living room of the suite. I was on my spare laptop (which, luckily, I had had in the car) trying to trace the email Debbie had gotten from the would-be assassin. My wife was cleaning her pistol.

“This isn’t an ordinary email,” I said as I typed away. “It’s got a lot of encryption and extra security. But I’ll find out where it came from. It’s only a matter of time.” Debbie smiled, came over and gently kissed me on the forehead, then went back to cleaning her gun.

“Do you have any idea who might be behind this?” I asked.

“It could be anyone. I’ve killed many targets and the friends of any one of them could be the ones who put the bounty out. But I thought I covered my tracks well enough each time. If it does turn out to be one of them I need to find out how they found out it was me so this doesn’t happen again.”

I continued pecking away at the computer. Finally, about fifteen minutes later, I shouted excitedly, “I got it! The email was sent from a company computer at a place called Dyno-Novo Industries.”

“Jesus Christ,” Debbie swore.

“What is it, honey?”

“Dyno-Novo. They were one of the organizations that HIRED me. A few months ago they paid me half a million to whack some industrial espionage guy who they said was stealing secrets from their company. It looks like they want to keep their secrets so well guarded that they feel the need to have me ‘cleaned up’ Jack Ruby style.” She got up and stood behind me, looking at the computer screen. “Can you find out which individual sent the message?”

“I’m afraid not. It’s a company address not matched to any one person. It could be anyone who works there.”

“Fuck. So we have no way of knowing who’s involved or how high up the corruption might go. Unless…” Debbie’s blue eyes lit up as she explained her idea. She reached into her purse and took out a makeup case. She then lay down on the floor. Following her instructions, I applied red makeup on her forehead to look like a bullet hole, complete with what looked like blood trickling down from the wound. I then got my cell phone and used it to take a picture.

As I uploaded the picture to the computer, Debbie stood back up and grinned wickedly. “Now those fuckers will think I’m dead,” she said, wiping off the phony blood. “How long will it take you to hack into Mr. Failed Assassin’s email account?”

“Just a couple of minutes. His doesn’t have the security that Dyno-Novo’s did.”

“Good. Ask for a meeting and tell them to have the cash ready.” I quickly hacked into the dead thug’s email and typed the message my wife wanted. I attached the picture of her and clicked SEND.

“Now we’ll find out who the guilty ones are,” Debbie said. Her voice and look were passionate but cold. I was glad this lethal beauty was on my side.

“Come on,” she said. “We’ll go nuts just waiting. Let’s go downstairs and do a little gambling.”

We came back to the suite a couple of hours later. I had lost about $500 on the slot machines, but Debbie had won $2,000 on the roulette wheel and another $3,000 at poker. She’s really good at reading poker faces.

I immediately went to the computer. Sure enough, there was a response from Dyno-Novo. “They want to meet tonight at nine in a warehouse,” I reported. “Here’s the address.”

“Good job,” she said, kissing me. “Let’s have an early dinner, then around seven I’ll head out there so I can be there by 7:30. That should be enough time before they show up to set up an ambush.”

“You’re going alone?” I asked. Truth be told, I didn’t really want to go. I’m not used to dangerous combat situations and have no desire to get a lot of experience in that area. But the desire to be near her and watch over her while she was in danger, plus my desire to see her in action, pulled my thoughts in the opposite direction.

“It’s going to be extremely dangerous,” my wife said. “I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

“I know. I just…I just don’t want to feel like a coward.”

She came over and held me. “Trust me, Brett. I’ve never thought of you as a coward and I never will. There’s nothing cowardly about someone with no real combat training staying out of a danger zone. I really think it’s best if I went alone.”

“All right, Debbie. If you think it’s best.” She smiled, then led me towards the bed.

After an afternoon of lovemaking, followed by dinner in one of the hotel restaurants, we went back up to the suite so Debbie could change into her combat outfit. When she was ready, she was wearing tight black pants that showed off her muscular ass, black boots, black leather gloves, and a tight black top with three-quarter length sleeves that emphasized her perky breasts and slim waist, and showed off her big forearms. She wore the crossbow on her back and had the Uzi slung across her chest. Her pistol was on her hip. She put on a long coat to cover the weapons.

We stood by the door as she prepared to leave. “I don’t think anyone will find you here, but just to be safe make sure to keep your pistol on you, especially if you go downstairs. And if you do go downstairs make sure to hang the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign on the door. Try to relax and have some fun while I’m gone. Don’t worry about me too much. I’ll call you as soon as the action’s over at the warehouse.” She kissed me on the lips. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Debbie. Stay safe and kick some ass.”

After my wife had left, I tried to distract myself by watching TV, but I couldn’t concentrate on any of the shows. I then decided to go downstairs and play the slot machines some more. Maybe that would work. But the slot machines couldn’t stop my worrying either, even though I was winning this time.

I looked around at all the happy (and some sad) people gambling, talking, laughing, crying…all oblivious to the dark forces my wife was up against. I decided I couldn’t take it any longer. I couldn’t be one of those oblivious people. I had to be with the woman I loved in her hour of danger. Even though I was not the kind of man who was capable of protecting her, I had to be man enough to try. I looked at my watch. It was 7:40. There was still time. I went outside and stood in the taxi line.

“Are you sure this is the right place?” the taxi driver asked as he pulled up to the warehouse. “There isn’t anybody here at this time of night.”

“Yes, this is it,” I said. I paid him and climbed out, watching as the vehicle disappeared in the distance. Completely alone now, I shivered. Was I doing the right thing? Patting my pocket to make sure my pistol was there, I headed for the warehouse entrance. It was only a little after eight and the bad guys shouldn’t be here yet. I would find my wife and we would wait together.

I looked at the front door, then paused. What if the bad guys had come early and were watching the door? I decided instead to head around the side of the building. Finding an unlocked window, I climbed inside, my heart pounding. I made my way cautiously though the dark warehouse. Suddenly, a tall figure popped up right in front of me. I almost wet myself in fear before recognizing the feminine shape of my wife.

“Dammit, Brett, what are you doing here?” she whispered. “I heard someone sneaking in the side window and thought it was one of the bad guys.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, hanging my head. “I just couldn’t stay away.”

“You’re definitely not a coward, but you just may be a fool,” Debbie said, in a tone that was angry and loving at the same time. “If you want to stay safe, go out the way you came and go down to the next block. I’ll call you when…” She suddenly stopped when we both heard the sound of someone climbing in the same window I had come through. A second later, we heard the front door of the warehouse open.

I paled in fear. My wife’s face kept its tan color, but there was a look of alarm in her blue eyes. “No time,” she whispered. “Hide!” She pointed to a space surrounded by piles of boxes on three sides. “Whatever you do, stay here and shoot anyone that isn’t me,” she whispered. Trembling, I nodded and pulled out my pistol with a shaky hand.

Debbie spotted a platform about nine feet above the warehouse floor. She leapt upward, grabbing the edge with her leather-gloved hands, and used her upper-body strength to pull herself up. She positioned herself and took out her crossbow. Inserting an arrow, she waited.

From the direction of the side window, two men appeared, both in work clothes and both carrying pistols. Then from the direction of the front, two more men appeared. One wore a trench coat and carried an assault rifle. The other was dressed in a business suit and had a pistol in his right hand and a briefcase in his left. The man in the suit uttered a sharp command and the two men in work clothes moved in opposite directions, taking up positions in the shadows. The other two men remained where they were.

Debbie took aim at the workman nearest her. In his position, he was not directly visible to any of his comrades. She fired, sending an arrow straight through his heart. Before his corpse had hit the floor she was already reaching for another arrow. The body hit the floor with a THUD.

“What the fuck was that?” came from the man in the suit. The thug in the trench coat raised his rifle.

Debbie fired another shot from her crossbow at the second workman, who was also not directly visible to his companions. This time, her arrow impacted her victim in the head, causing it to erupt in a fountain of blood and brain matter. Another THUD and another curse. The man with the assault rifle opened fire wildly.

Whipping out her Uzi, my wife fired two quick but expertly aimed bursts. The first put half a dozen holes in the shooting man’s chest, dropping him stone cold dead. The second burst sent another half dozen bullets into the other man’s legs. He fell to the floor, screaming in pain and dropping both gun and briefcase. Debbie backflipped off the platform, landing neatly on her feet on the warehouse floor. She hurried over to the wounded man, keeping her submachine gun trained on him. She kicked his gun across the room.

“How the fuck are you still alive? Where’s Ziggy?” the thug groaned, recognizing her.

“I’m guessing Ziggy is the would-be assassin who failed to kill me last night. He’s dead. My husband and I played a trick on you and you fell for it hook, line, and sinker,” she smirked.

“Dammit, bitch, how could you have…”

Debbie stomped hard on his face with her big black size 10 boot. “I’ll be asking the questions now, asshole. Now are there any more of you guys here?”

“No,” he gasped out. He was bleeding quite badly.

“You’d better not be lying, cocksucker,” she snarled.

“I swear, it was just the four of us! Please!”

“All right. Now tell me the whole story of putting a bounty on my head. The truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.” She aimed her Uzi at his groin threateningly.

Trembling in fear, the man began, “One of our rival companies was developing a valve system that could be used in space suits to make them less bulky. NASA would pay big bucks for something like that. So we had a spy go in and steal the technology. We were going to patent it as our own and sell it to NASA first. Then one of their security guys got suspicious and started an investigation. Luckily, we were able to stop him in time.”

“That was the guy you hired me to kill. He wasn’t a spy at all. You dirty lying fuckers, you manipulated me into killing an innocent man,” Debbie growled as she realized. She looked down dominantly at her terrified victim. “Go on,” she said icily.

“Well, we became afraid that you knew too much,” he continued. “So we…you know. That’s the whole story.”

“Who else is involved?” my wife demanded.

“Just my boss, Mr. Skinner. He was the one who came up with the whole thing.”

“That’s all? Who was the spy?”

The wounded man pointed to the corpse in the trench coat next to him. “He was the spy. And yeah, that’s all. Just Skinner and his three bodyguards.”

“And where is this Skinner now?”

“At his house, I guess. 1330 Baker Street.”

“All right. That’s all I need.”

The thug sat up. “When you call the police to get me, can you call an ambulance too?”

Debbie laughed. “Police? Are you nuts? I’m not going to have you arrested. I’m going to kill you.”

“But…please…no…” His begging was halfhearted, as he knew my deadly wife wasn’t changing her mind. Debbie calmly wrapped her muscular thighs around his neck, then twisted her hips 180 degrees, brutally snapping his neck like a dry twig.

I climbed out from my hiding place and stood next to my wife, looking down at all the dead bodies. “Once again, you were amazing,” I said to her.

She let the tension exit her body. “Thank you, sweetie. And you were a fool. But a brave and loving fool.”

Debbie bent down and opened the briefcase. Inside was two million dollars in $100 bills. She grinned. “With this plus the money I’ve already earned, we’ll have enough to buy that very nice private turboprop plane I’ve had my eye on.” I should mention that in addition to her many, many other talents, my wife has had pilot training.

“So now what?” I asked.

“We go get Skinner, of course. And by we, I mean me.” Noticing the disappointed look on my face, she added, “After I take out his bodyguards, I’ll let you watch me take care of Skinner.” I smiled at that.

Skinner’s house was a large two-story dwelling not far from his place of business. Debbie parked a couple of blocks away and instructed me to wait in the car. Staying hidden in the shadows, she made her way towards the house.

A bodyguard was on duty outside, carrying a shotgun. She snuck up behind him. Wrapping a muscular arm around his neck, she gave a quick jerk, breaking his neck. Smirking to herself at her strength, she lowered the corpse to the ground. She took a ring of keys out of his pocket and unlocked the front door. Inside, she encountered no one until she reached the bottom of the staircase. Hearing footsteps approaching, she quickly hid.

Soon the second bodyguard came into view. She popped out from her hiding place and, before he could react, punched him in the face, sending him down. Standing over him, she raised her right leg in a full vertical split, then brought her booted foot down with tremendous force onto his head. Her lethal axe kick shattered his skull easily, sending blood, brain matter, and pieces of bone flying everywhere. Debbie climbed the stairs swiftly but silently.

She found the third bodyguard and Skinner himself in the den. “Evening, gentlemen,” she said as she entered the room. Both men looked up in surprise. With a shrill, feminine, high-pitched warrior scream, Debbie performed a front tuck somersault to take her right to them. Landing perfectly on her feet, she fired a lethal palm strike into the bodyguard’s face as he was trying to draw his gun. The cartilage from his nose was driven into his brain and he slumped dead in the chair he had been sitting in.

Skinner recognized my wife. “You! What the fuck are you do…”

POW! Debbie punched him in the face, knocking him out and knowing it would leave him unconscious for at least fifteen minutes. “And that’s what happened while you were in the car,” my wife finished as we stood together in the den, looking at Skinner’s unconscious form.

When Skinner woke up, Debbie was standing right in front of him, her muscular arms crossed in front of her. He gave a yelp of fear. I was seated in a chair across the room, watching the whole thing.

“I know everything,” she said to him calmly. “I know that you were the real industrial spies. I know that you were the one who put the hit out on me. I killed the would-be assassins that came after me, I killed your co-conspirators, and I killed your other two bodyguards before I came in here. Now all that’s left is you.”

“What are you going to do?” he whimpered, shaking like a leaf.

“Well, if you can actually put up a fight against me, I’m going to fight you to the death. But more likely, it’s just going to be a one-sided massacre of me beating you to death.” She showed off her large, ultra-developed forearms that were displayed by the three-quarter length sleeve top.

“Please,” Skinner begged. “I can give you more money…”

“Are you hard of hearing or just slow? I’m not interested in your money. I’m only interested in your death. Now get up and fight me like a man.”

Skinner got to his feet, still shaking. At 5’8″ and 140 pounds, he was a little bigger than me, but smaller than my wife. He tried to punch her, but she dodged easily and nailed his cheek with a quick jab, opening a bloody cut on his face. He took another swing, which Debbie blocked with her thick forearm. She responded by lashing out with a swift and brutal punch to his left eye, turning it black. As he stood there stunned, she kneed him in the stomach, stepped back and with a whirl nailed his face with a spinning back fist, and then performed a standing back handspring, kicking him in the head with both feet as she flipped and knocking him to the floor.

“Get up, you big baby,” she mocked him, kicking him in the side while he was down and breaking one of his ribs with her powerful, well-aimed kick. Cursing and moaning in pain, Skinner got up and tried to charge her. She stopped him easily with a kick to his chest. She roundhouse kicked him in the side, breaking another of his ribs, then crescent kicked him in the face, sending him flying backward and into a wall.

A dizzy Skinner tried to look for a way to escape. Instead, he saw Debbie turn into a brunette blur as she did a blindingly fast series of cartwheels and handsprings toward him. He froze helplessly like a rabbit faced with a snake and a second later my wife was on him, punching him in the stomach and causing him to double over gasping for breath. Struggling to stand back upright, he took a swing at Debbie’s stomach. Seeing it coming, she simply tensed her abs. He screamed in pain as his fist impacted the rock-hard wall of my wife’s abdominal muscle and several small bones in his hand broke. His other hand flew to his mouth in shock and fear. She immediately kicked him in the face while his hand was there, breaking both his jaw and several small bones in that hand too. She savagely kneed him in the groin, then headbutted him, knocking him down again.

Skinner was in the fetal position, clutching his badly damaged testicles. Debbie leapt on top of him and punched him in the nose with her big, leather-gloved fist, breaking it. She rained several more punches down onto his face, sending blood and teeth flying. Finally, she climbed off of him and placed her semi-conscious victim in a sitting position against the wall. She then began kneeing him in the face. She worked calmly and efficiently, ignoring his cries of pain and the blood that was flying everywhere. She simply continued ramming her knee into his face again and again, slowly pulping him to death as her relentless knee strikes weakened, then cracked, then shattered his skull bone and penetrated deep into the remnants of his brains. She finally stopped long after she had killed him.

She turned towards me. She was covered in blood. I sat there, unable to move or speak. I shouldn’t be that way. I’ve known what she does for a living! But I simply was not used to seeing extreme violence up close…or seeing my warm and loving wife being so brutal.

“You okay, sweetie?” she asked.

I finally managed to speak. “Yes. I think so,” I said, standing up. In every action movie with tough, macho male heroes, a man who was brutal to the bad guys was never portrayed as a dangerous or unsuitable mate to a woman. Why should it be any different with the sexes reversed?

After that we cleaned up, literally and figuratively. I hacked into Skinner’s computer and put the word out that he was dead and the contract on my wife was off. Debbie took off her bloody clothes, washed up in Skinner’s shower, and put on a fresh outfit. “It’s over now,” she said as we embraced in the room where the dead bodies still lay. “Let’s go home.”

THE END