Tag Archives: guns

Tales from the Amazon Wars, Episode 6

Princess Katarina sat in her tent, trying to think of a strategy for the next day’s march. Suddenly, her dark brown eyes lit up as she got an idea. She hurried out of the tent and called out to one of her aides. “I want all the company-level commanders to gather for a meeting with me.”

“Just the company-level commanders? Not the senior officers?”

“That’s right.”

“Yes, milady.” He hurried off to spread the word.

When the officers had been gathered, Katarina led them to an isolated part of the camp where the others couldn’t hear them. “Gentlemen, I have called you here for a very important and secret reason. I want each of you to make a list of six or seven men from your companies that are troublemakers, malcontents, or other dead weight.”

The officers looked at one another, not quite sure what was going on, but obeyed her order. When she had all the lists of names, she thanked the officers and dismissed them. She then made her way across the camp, heading for one man in particular.

She found him sitting alone glumly by a campfire, staring off into space with a blank expression on his dull face. He was the fat ex-colonel (remember him, from Amazon Wars Episode 2) who she had demoted to private for his sexist attitude, lack of command skill, and general asshole personality. She tapped him on the shoulder and motioned for him to follow her away from the fire. Puzzled, he obeyed.

“Listen,” she whispered, putting on her best fake smile. “I want to apologize for insulting and demoting you earlier. I am a hot-tempered woman, and sometimes my anger gets the best of me. I have created a new battalion to take the position of honor in the front of the army tomorrow, and as a way of making it up to you, I want you to command it. By the power vested in me by His Majesty, I hereby re-promote you to lieutenant colonel.”

The fat, dim-witted man broke into a wide smile, falling for her act hook, line, and sinker. “Thank you, my Princess. I am very happy to accept.”

“Excellent. Here are the lists of the men you will be commanding.”

“Thank you, my Lady. I won’t let you down.”

“You sure won’t,” she thought to herself, a smirk appearing on her elegant face as soon as he turned away.

* * *

The next day, the battalion of malcontents, four hundred men, with the fat colonel in command, formed up in the vanguard of the army and led the march out as they broke camp. None of the fools in the battalion had the brains to realize what was going to happen. In their arrogant, delusional minds, they thought they were the best soldiers in the Royalist army and were being given a position of honor.

Soon, they approached the mouth of the narrow canyon. The fat colonel and his battalion of deadweight happily and stupidly marched right in. It was only when they had marched several hundred yards in that one of the soldiers in the rear turned around. “Hey, the rest of them aren’t following us!”

“What the…” The fat colonel whirled. “Is this some sort of…AAAAAHHHHH!” He suddenly fell to the ground, writhing in agony. An arrow had pierced him right in the groin.

Then the sky was filled with arrows. Hundreds of men dropped, killed or maimed. The survivors fired their muskets uselessly up towards the sides of the canyon at an enemy they could neither see nor hit.

“It’s no use! Retreat!” shouted a lieutenant. The men who still could began running, but suddenly there came two quick bursts of cannon fire. Cannonballs slammed into the canyon walls, triggering a rockslide that blocked off the escape route. Arrows were still falling like rain, steadily reducing the number of moving male bodies. Trapped and helpless, the men could do nothing but wait for an arrow to find them.

Amazon Princess Livia, watching from high up on the canyon rim, laughed as the slaughter of the battalion was completed. Most of her officers were smirking and giggling at the killing right along with her, but two of them were several yards behind the others, whispering.

“We should have waited until more of them entered the canyon to spring the trap. This is but one battalion of their army, and an undersized one at that,” said one Amazon quietly.

“When they stopped coming, Livia got impatient and gave the order to fire. So impetuous, that one,” the other girl whispered back.

“This might even be a trap on that Katarina’s part.”

“Perhaps, but I can’t see her sacrificing a battalion of her own men. Unless…”

“Unless what?”

“Shh! Here she comes!”

Livia approached them. “Now let’s get our cannons repositioned to…”

BOOM! A Royalist burst of grapeshot exploded among a group of Amazon archers, blowing several of them to bits. Then the massed fire of an entire artillery line began firing into the Amazon army. Screams from wounded and dying women came from all directions.

“TAKE COVER! GET THOSE CANNONS FIRING BACK! FAST!” Livia roared. As the girls ducked, the two who had been whispering earlier gave each other looks of “We told them so.”

Livia, though cocky and arrogant, was still an intelligent tactician. Knowing that even when her cannons were up and firing, she would still have fewer of them than the enemy, she ordered her archers to advance.

“Here they come!” shouted a Royalist officer. “Amazon archers, advancing en masse!”

“Concentrate all artillery fire on the archers!” ordered Katarina. “Kill as many as you can before they get into range! Infantry, advance!”

“What?” said her chief of staff. “My Lady, the infantry will…”

“Suffer many casualties from the arrows, yes. But they’ll get in range with their muskets faster. We have the advantage at long range with our cannons and at short range with our muskets, but at medium range the Amazon archers rule the battlefield. We must make sure that advantage lasts for as little time as possible. In this way, we will suffer fewer casualties in the long run.”

“Yes, my Princess.”

Just like Katarina had predicted, the next phase of the battle started out well for the Royalists. Their cannon fire blew many of the Amazon archers to bits. But then, the Amazon cannons began firing and started blowing up male infantrymen. Still, the Royalists held the advantage, with thirty cannons to the Amazons’ fifteen, until the surviving archers got into range. With howls of vengeance, the girls fired devastating volleys of arrows into the advancing but still out of range Royalist musketeers, the archers’ rapid rate of fire enabling them to inflict far more carnage than artillery ever could.

Katarina winced as she watched many of her men fall. But the army, purged of malcontents and cowards, bravely charged forward until they were in musket range and the survivors could fire back.

Livia watched the scene from the rear of the Amazons’ side of the battlefield. “This is the great Katarina’s plan? Send her musketeers against my archers, who can fire four shots for every one they fire?”

“But their musketeers outnumber our archers four to one,” said one of Livia’s officers.

“And there’s still an artillery duel going on, and they have more cannons than we do,” another girl added.

“Still, it’s not like the enemy to fight a battle of attrition like this,” murmured Livia. “They are soft, they don’t have the balls to fight like that. That girl has something else up her sleeve, I just know it.” She suddenly whistled for her horse. “Cavalry, prepare to charge!”

But suddenly, sure enough, the Royalist cavalry, a thousand men and horses, led by Princess Katarina herself, burst out of the forest and charged straight for the Amazon archers. The Amazons, though taken completely by surprise, reacted coolly and without fear. Half of them turned and began firing on the charging horsemen, while the other half kept pressure on the musketeers.

A cavalry charge against Amazon archers without the element of surprise, without a second force supporting them, or without Princess Katarina would have ended in slaughter for the charging force. But luckily for the Royalists, they had all three of those things. Though fully one-fifth of the cavalrymen were shot down by the girl-archers, the 800 male survivors did what few ever had by reaching the Amazon line, lowering their lances. Katarina, her shield now with three arrows stuck in it, armed with her trusty sword and trusty double-barreled pistol, fired twice, killing two Amazons whose fancy headdresses indicated they were women of high rank, then drew her blade.

The Royalist cavalry crashed into the archers, trampling and lancing them. Katarina cut off several Amazons’ heads with her sword. The musketeers on the other side let out a loud cheer, preparing to advance and finish the trap…

Suddenly, an Amazon war horn sounded and several dozen musketeers fell dead with arrows in their bodies. Arrows fired from much further away. Amazon light cavalrywomen were in the distance, firing with deadly accuracy into the male infantry, who were far out of range with their muskets for shooting back. At the same time, the Amazon heavy cavalry, led by Princess Livia herself, charged the male horsemen. Katarina, knowing she couldn’t leave her riders vulnerable, ordered them to re-form to face the new threat. The surviving Amazon archers swiftly retreated.

The two forces of heavy cavalry charged one another. Katarina, leading her men, and Livia, leading her women, looked at each other as the distance between them shrank, both knowing what they had to do. As the two forces collided, Katarina and Livia drew their swords.

The two female commanders’ blades clashed for the briefest of moments as they rode by each other. Each woman would have easily killed a normal opponent with her swing as she rode by, but both ladies were as good on defense as they were on offense. Livia received a minor wound to her left shoulder and Katarina a small cut on her left forearm, but both girls were otherwise unhurt.

Livia brutally slaughtered every man she passed by as she made her way through the male riders to turn around and charge Katarina again. The sadistic Amazon preferred gut slicing, ripping open men’s stomachs and sending their intestines spilling onto the dirt. Katarina, making her way in turn through the Amazons, made her kills cleanly by cutting off her opponents’ heads or stabbing them through their hearts.

Now facing off once more, Katarina and Livia stared across but twenty yards of space at each other…

Suddenly, a Royalist war horn sounded. From over a ridge, 500 more of Katarina’s horsemen appeared…

Wait a minute, thought soldiers from both sides as they looked at the newcomers. They weren’t horsemen, they were horsewomen! Female citizens of Frederick’s kingdom, they wore a modified version of the blue and white Royalist uniform, consisting of black knee-high riding boots, black leather gloves, low-cut white pants, and blue and white blouses with three-quarter length sleeves and midriff ties, showing off their toned six-pack abs and slender but muscular forearms.

The new Royalist female light cavalry charged their Amazon counterparts, firing carbines and pistols as the Amazons shot arrows back at them. Another fierce battle erupted as the two forces of light horsewomen crashed into each other, swords and axes clanging.

Livia saw that her army was now being pressed hard on all fronts. Not wanting to lose her cannons, she quickly rode back to her lines, slicing and dicing several male cavalrymen to death along her way, and ordered a general retreat while they could still do so in an orderly fashion. The Amazon archers and light cavalry covered the retreat with their bows. Katarina, looking at them, ordered, “Let them go.”

“Congratulations on your victory, my Lady,” said one of her cavalry officers.

The Princess looked around the battlefield, surveying the heaps of her dead soldiers, including many high-ranking officers, and shook her head. “One more victory like this, and we are ruined,” she responded grimly.

* * *

The fat colonel (remember him?) groaned as he crawled along the canyon, leaving a trail of blood behind him. He was alive. Everyone around him was dead, but he was still alive. His right testicle had been pierced and destroyed by the arrow, but he still had his left. He still had his life. And he still had his desire for vengeance. The fat, stupid man had finally realized that Katarina had set him up. He would survive. He would make it back. He would get his revenge…

There was a whizzing sound, like the buzz of a bee, followed by a horrific pain in his chest. The colonel looked down and saw that he had been shot with another arrow. He took a few last gasping, wheezing breaths before expiring.

Livia, high up on the canyon rim, smirked as she lowered her crossbow. It was she who had first shot him in the groin with an expertly aimed arrow. Now, she had finished the job and salvaged some pride from this defeat at the hands of Katarina. The Amazon warrior spat down into the canyon before turning away.

* * *

“1600 men dead. One-quarter of our army,” reported Katarina’s chief of staff.

“Although only 1200 of those are real losses,” said a colonel. “Those 400 who died in the Battalion of Knuckleheads were just dead weight anyway.” Murmurs and nods came from the assembled officers. Nobody had liked those troublemakers, and none of them had any problem with Katarina’s decision to sacrifice them.

“How about the enemy?” asked the Princess.

“The Amazons suffered about 1400 dead. That’s more than a quarter of their force,” said her chief of staff.

“But they can bring up reinforcements almost immediately, while we have to wait weeks for ours to be brought from across the sea,” she responded. “In addition, General Norton’s bad defeat on the other side of the island has put us in a severe position of weakness. We will have to retreat to our interior line of forts despite the casualties we inflicted on the enemy today. Only when we receive full reinforcements can we go on the offensive again.”

“I have to admit, those female riders provided that extra push we needed,” said a general. “They came just in time.”

Katarina allowed herself a smile. “After seeing how well those girls performed in drills, I thought it was time to test them in battle. With their petite weight and fast riding speed, they’ll make an ideal light cavalry counterpart to our male heavy cavalry. All right, meeting adjourned. We’ve had a rough day and it’s time to get some rest.”

* * *

ROYAL AMAZON PALACE, AMAZON CAPITAL

“Fourteen hundred Amazons dead? By the Mother Goddess, Livia, what have you done?” Amazon Princess Jenova said to her sister. “We have not seen slaughter of that magnitude among our people since the days of the civil wars.”

Princess Livia glared at her younger sister. “I killed more of them than they killed ours! And we can get reinforcements a lot easier than they can!”

“War of attrition is not the Amazon way! The Amazon way is to strike fast and hard, hammer the enemy while they don’t know what’s hitting them, and retreat before we get into a situation where we’ll take many losses!”

“You won an easy victory over a MALE commander, while I had to fight a WOMAN, and you think that makes you better than me?! You think defeating a mere MAN makes you a great warrior?”

“Girls, ENOUGH!” shouted their mother, the Amazon Queen. “There will be NO MORE ARGUING! Now, let’s move on to more important matters. Jenova, I understand you have some prisoners?”

“Yes, Mother. About two hundred males, including about twenty officers. I was planning to interrogate the officers as soon as I had the time. The grunts can be inspected, with the strong ones to become breeder slaves and the rest to become slaves in the fields.”

“Let me handle the interrogations,” said Livia, a cruel look appearing in her eyes.

“Mother, please don’t…” began Jenova.

The Queen looked at her daughters. “Quiet, both of you. Just remember, Livia, that the purpose of torture in interrogation is to extract information, not to satisfy a desire for revenge after a battle gone wrong. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Mother,” Livia pouted.

“Good. Now since you said there are about twenty officers, I see no reason why both of you can’t work on questioning them. As for me, I will inspect the grunts and personally select those I feel suitable for status as breeders.”

* * *

FORT OSWEILER, ROYALIST COLONY

“A letter from the King, my Lady,” said the messenger, handing Katarina a sealed envelope.

“Thank you.” She opened the letter and began to shake as she read it:

“My dearest sister,

I am deeply saddened to report that our beloved father has died of a heart attack. As you know, he has named me heir to the throne. I am recalling you to the Imperial Capital immediately. Your silly island adventure has gone on long enough. A ship is waiting for you at the Colonial Capital.”

Katarina paused to wipe away the tears. Her father? Dead? Of a heart attack? It couldn’t be! He was in excellent health. No, her slimy brother must have had him poisoned! Earlier, she had been on the fence about being able to obey her brother’s orders, but that had been when she had thought her father would die a natural death. Now that her brother had revealed himself to be a vile sack of shit who murdered his own father, she knew that there was no way she could ever obey him. She clenched her fists, the muscles in her slender but muscular brown forearms rippling, as she continued to read:

“These gentlemen are here to escort you to the Imperial Capital and make sure you get there without any delays or misadventures.

Your brother and YOUR NEW RULER, AND DON’T YOU FORGET IT,

King Frederick X.”

The Princess looked up and saw four burly men pointing muskets at her. The messenger lowered his head. “I’m sorry, my Lady. I had no choice. Your brother is holding my wife and daughter hostage.”

One of the men, wearing the uniform of a major, suddenly stabbed the messenger in the back with his bayonet, the tip sticking out of the front of his chest. He withdrew it with a squishing sound as the messenger slumped down. “Yes, and your usefulness is over now. After the king gets tired of them, he’ll give your wife and daughter to us as a reward for a job well done,” the murderer sneered to the dying man. He then looked up at Katarina. “Let’s go, Princess.” He spat the last word.

Katarina looked around. The major smirked. “You think we haven’t thought of that? I have three hundred men here, personally hand-picked by the new king, who are loyal to me and have been specially selected for not wanting to take orders from women. They are all armed and alert, ready to take the unsuspecting men who are loyal to you by total surprise. All I have to do is shout and there will be a massacre. Now I’m sure you don’t want that, so I’m sure you’ll go quietly.”

She looked down at her feet, nodding with a sigh.

“Excellent. All right, men, play it cool. To anyone who doesn’t know, we’re just escorting the Princess. She knows not to try anything.” He began moving towards the exit of the large tent, another man beside him. The other two formed up behind her. Katarina saw out of the corner of her eye that their muskets were shouldered, so not to look suspicious.

She struck with lightning speed, performing a spin kick that struck both the men behind her in the face, knocking them down. She then grabbed the major and his companion and bashed their heads together, stunning them. Snatching up one of the muskets, she stabbed one man in the heart with the attached bayonet, kicked another in the head with enough strength to both fracture his skull and break his neck, and simply beat the third to death with the butt of the musket.

Only the major was left. She stood over him, then suddenly stabbed the bayonet right into his throat.

“All you have to do is shout. Too bad you can’t do that.”

She savagely twisted the point of the weapon, then withdrew it with a squishing sound. Blood sprayed out like a fountain.

She cautiously peeked outside as the major expired. Sure enough, her tent was surrounded by hundreds of men in identical uniforms to those of the major and his three goons. Further in the distance, she saw her regulars, blue-and-white uniformed men who were loyal to her, but they were unprepared. They had no idea what was going on, and being safe in the fort, most of them didn’t even have weapons on them.

Katarina tucked two double-barreled pistols into her belt, making sure they were loaded. She tucked a knife into each of her knee-high black leather boots, sheathed a sword on her hip, and finally slung the musket over her shoulder. She took a deep breath.

“This is for you, Father.”

She slipped out the back of the tent, a knife in each hand. The two men guarding the rear exit had their throats ripped open before they knew what was happening. She quietly shoved their corpses into the tent.

She began making her way as rapidly and silently as she could towards the nearest cluster of her loyal soldiers. If she was lucky, she could…

“Hey, she’s getting away!”

The enemy soldiers, who had been milling about, bored, jerked to attention. Katarina was already in action. She emptied both of her double-barreled pistols, killing the shouting man and three others. Tossing the empty weapons aside and drawing her knives, she stabbed a nearby man in the heart, then hurled both knives at a pair of soldiers taking aim at her with their muskets. Both dropped dead, one with a blade in his throat and the other with one in his eye.

“TRAITORS AND MURDERERS!” she shouted. “LOYAL SOLDIERS, YOUR PRINCESS NEEDS YOU!” There wasn’t time for proper explanations, but the soldiers had already heard the shots. Seeing these new, differently attired men attacking their Princess, the loyal soldiers sprang into action. A quick volley from several of them slammed into a squadron of enemies who had been taking aim at her.

Katarina raced for the cover of a large boulder. Two enemies popped up in her way, preparing to fire. She shot one dead with her musket, then suddenly did a standing layout backflip, being athletic enough to pull off the flip despite wearing a long dress. The second man’s musket ball flew safely between her legs as she was upside down.

She landed elegantly on her booted feet and charged him as he drew a pistol. Lashing out with her sword, she cut his hand off, snatched the pistol in midair, and whirled and shot dead another enemy who had been about to fire at her. She then turned back to the screaming one-handed man.

“No, please…”

She cut off his head, shutting him up.

Looking back again, she saw more enemies advancing. A gun battle had broken out between the loyal men and the traitors, but the traitors had the advantage of preparation and greater numbers. Seeing several muskets being aimed at her, she threw herself into a cartwheel followed by a series of fast back handsprings. Her elegant, blindingly fast backflips in the style of a pro-gymnast allowed her to dodge the musket balls fired at her. She finished her tumbling run with a high back tuck that took her over the boulder to land safely on the other side. She swiftly reloaded the pistol she had appropriated, then began reloading her musket.

She heard a noise behind her and whirled, aiming the pistol. An enemy was standing there, with the tip of a bayonet sticking out from his chest. The weapon was withdrawn and the corpse kicked down, revealing one of her officers standing behind him.

“Thank you, Colonel,” she said, squeezing his hand gratefully.

“Any time, my Princess.” He smiled as she went back to loading her musket.

On the parade grounds lay the corpses of a dozen loyal soldiers who had made a heroic stand. In front of them were at least fifty dead traitors. Still, Katarina knew that she and her allies were badly outnumbered. She alternated between firing her musket and pistol, while the colonel leaned out and fired from the other side of the boulder. Even though every one of their shots found its mark, and more loyal soldiers were firing at the enemy from different positions, there were perhaps twenty of her allies left alive, facing over two hundred enemies.

Katarina and her loyal men shot enemies dead by the dozens, but the enemy pressed on by sheer weight of numbers. One by one her blue-and-white coated allies were shot down. There were only a few left now. Was this how it was going to end?

Suddenly, a loud, clear female voice rang out. “Take aim! Fire!”

Musket balls slammed into the traitors, killing over half of them with a single devastating volley. Sure enough, in the distance stood a company of female Royalist soldiers in their sexy uniforms. The front line of girls knelt down, reloading their weapons and revealing a second line of ladies with muskets aimed.

The surviving enemies, suddenly facing fire from two sides, tried to turn around. They were greeted by a volley from the second female line. Blood splattered.

The few traitors left alive dropped their weapons and either raised their hands in surrender or began running away. The first line of female soldiers, who had finished reloading, coolly shot down the running men with expert precision. The second line charged the surrendering men with their bayonets, brutally stabbing them to death, showing them no mercy and giving the cowardly traitors exactly what they had coming. One enemy ran right by Katarina’s boulder. She stuck out her leg, tripping him and sending him to the dirt face first. Before he could get up, she stabbed him in the back with her sword. She spat on the corpse. A coward’s death for a traitor.

“My Princess,” said the female captain in command of the girl-soldiers, bowing.

“Rise, Captain,” Katarina said, giving her a hug. “You saved our lives.”

“So what happens now?” asked a female lieutenant.

“Little F probably already has an army on its way. Handpicked men who are loyal to him,” said the colonel grimly.

“Well, we…” Katarina began. Just then, a messenger rode up, staring at all the dead bodies.

“I’ll explain later,” said the Princess. “From the look on your face, you have something important to report.”

“Yes, my Lady. Amazons are approaching, two days’ march away. Eight thousand of them. A force of equal size marches on San Sebastian in the south.”

“By the gods,” murmured Katarina. “Talk about being caught between a rock and a hard place.”

They stood in the already battered stone fort, men and women together, knowing they faced an army of angry woman-haters on one side and an army of angry man-haters on the other. As if on cue, dark clouds covered the sun and a cold wind began to blow.

TO BE CONTINUED…

 

Advertisements

Tales from the Amazon Wars, Episode 5

The two Amazon princesses, daughters of the great Queen, sat alone in the large command tent in the middle of the Amazon war camp. Livia, the older sister, the fiery woman with long straight auburn hair who was heiress to the throne, moved some figurines of army women across a map. “Take three brigades and attack the enemy on the other side of the island. I’ll take these five brigades here and attack that Katarina, that woman who fights for those men, and bring her down once and for all.”

Jenova, the calmer and more patient younger sister, ran a finger through her curly, shoulder-length jet black hair. “Only three? Let’s divide them evenly, four and four. The armies each of us will face are the same size.”

“You have the easy job,” said Livia. “All you have to do is defeat an army led by a man. I have to defeat a female commander. Now get your girls moving. You’ve got a long march ahead of you.”

“Yes, sister,” sighed Jenova reluctantly, departing the tent.

Livia watched her go, then ran her fingers over the map, knocking over the male figurines that represented the enemy. From the reports her scouts had brought her, Livia knew she would be facing perhaps 6000, or 6500 at the most, Royalist soldiers. Her force of 5000 Amazons should be able to defeat them easily. She had won facing worse odds many times before.

* * *

Princess Katarina, daughter of King Frederick IX and commander of the Royalist Army that had been sent to this island to defeat the Amazons, tossed and turned in her tent, unable to sleep. Every time she closed her eyes, she kept seeing those words from that letter from her father:

“I am naming your younger brother heir to the throne.”

Frederick Junior. Little F. Little Fuck-up. Her younger brother was far too incompetent to ever make a good king. But because of her father’s reasoning – that he feared she would be assassinated by power-hungry nobles who preferred the easy-to-manipulate Little F as ruler if she was named queen – the stupid young Little Fuck-up was being given this undeserved chance.

Despite his misguided decision, she loved her father. She would never betray him. As long as he was in charge, she would fight for king and country. But when Little F ascended to the throne…that would be a different story. Her two choices when that happened – obeying her idiotic little brother’s orders or committing treason – seemed equally repulsive. Luckily, it was a decision she would hopefully not have to make for many years. Her father was getting on in age, but was still strong and in good health.

She yawned. Running her fingers through her long silky black hair, she turned over and went to sleep.

* * *

General Norton sat on his horse, frowning as he surveyed his army. The general had been sent to lead this half of the Royalist relief force while Katarina led the other half. The army had marched out strong, 6000 infantry and 1000 cavalry, the same size as Katarina’s force. He wondered how she was doing, on the other side of the island. He was a capable officer – she wouldn’t have chosen him to lead if he had not been – but no man in the King’s army could match the Princess’s intelligence, leadership, or fighting skills.

His army was not so strong now, he thought worriedly. The small bands of Amazon troops had fallen back before the advance of his large force. But as they marched further inland, Amazon archers had begun nailing the fringes of his army with lethally accurate arrows, targeting officers first and always getting away before the Royalists could mount an effective response. Although the casualties they had taken were relatively light – about two hundred men dead – the disproportionate loss of officers and the fact that the Royalists had been unable to retaliate was crippling to morale. The biggest losses had come from desertion. Over a thousand men had deserted, some from simple cowardice and some tempted by greedy slick talkers who promised them riches and women if they became bandits roaming the countryside. Norton had ordered captured deserters beheaded to make examples of them, but still the desertions continued.

* * *

The band of 30 thuggish-looking deserters, hidden in the trees, smirked as they looked down at the three Amazon wagons passing by on the road below, each driven by a single teenage girl. After abandoning the Royalist army, they had raped and pillaged their way across the countryside, attacking their own citizens. Now, they would attack these girls. They didn’t care who they killed. They had lost all honor, if they had had any in the first place. The men aimed their muskets, waiting for the signal to fire.

But suddenly, all three wagon covers were ripped away, revealing half a dozen Amazon archers hidden in each wagon. With blinding speed and deadly accuracy, they released their arrows. Eighteen shots. Eighteen men dropped dead. At the same time, each of the girls driving the wagons drew hidden knives and threw them. Three more males dropped, blades driven straight into their hearts.

The survivors screamed in fear, panic, and shock. Some began running away, while others fired off their muskets, none of the bullets finding their mark. The Amazons reloaded and fired a second volley.

* * *

“My Princess Jenova. I bring you a gift,” said the slender, pretty teenage girl. She motioned with her slim wrist, bracelets sliding as she raised her arm, and two equally petite girls shoved forward two male captives, each wounded with an arrow right in their buttocks. The girls savagely kicked their victims, then yanked them up by their hair. “Show your faces to the Princess.”

“And what have we here?” asked Jenova.

“Deserters from the Royalist army, milady. They’ve been raping and pillaging their way across the countryside, attacking friend and foe alike. They thought they could ambush one of our caravans. Of course we outsmarted them. There were thirty of them. These are the only survivors.”

Jenova calmly walked up to the first prisoner. “You will tell me everything you know about the strength and position of the Royalist army.”

“Like hell I will, bitch,” he spat at her. Despite having deserted from the army and having no loyalty to it, he didn’t want to talk because he was a sexist pig who hated the idea of obeying a woman.

The Amazon princess, in one fluid motion, drew her sword and cut off his head. Ignoring the blood splattering all over her dress, she turned to the second captive and said, “You will tell me…”

“Yes, yes, of course! I’ll tell you everything!” He was shrieking, sobbing, begging for his life to be spared.

“Squeeze all you can out of him, then use him for target practice,” Jenova whispered to the teenage girl next to her. The girl nodded and smirked. Jenova crossed her slender but muscular arms in front of her as she watched. She wasn’t a sadist like her sister, but cowardly deserters who raped and pillaged even their own people deserved no mercy.

* * *

“The Amazons are coming! The Amazons are coming!” shouted the scout. “General Norton, the Amazons are charging! Cavalry coming up on us very fast! Infantry behind them!”

The general looked off into the distance in alarm. 500 Amazon heavy cavalry were charging the front part of his long column of marching soldiers, their lances already lowered. Further back, he could see a thousand female archers, accompanied by a thousand swordswomen, jogging towards the scene of the coming battle, their fit bodies showing no sign of getting tired. In the rear, Princess Jenova, in command, sat on her horse, calling out orders.

The Royalists were in panic mode, despite the attacking Amazon force being only half their size. Some fired their muskets wildly, but the ragged shots had no chance of stopping the powerful charge of the horsewomen. As they frantically tried to reload their muskets, they froze in fear as it became clear that the Amazons would crash into them before they could fire their second shots. Some of the men dropped their weapons and raised their hands in surrender. It did them no good. The sexy warrior maidens, showing no mercy, rode into them, impaling male soldiers with their lances or simply trampling them to death. Other men tried to run away, but they were swiftly ridden down by the girls or slain with well-aimed axe throws to their retreating backs.

“FORM SQUARES, YOU FOOLS!” roared General Norton. “FORM SQUARES!” The Royalist soldiers finally began forming up. It was too late for many of them, who were slaughtered by the Amazon riders before they could get into formation, but the surviving infantry managed to group themselves into four large squares of a thousand men each, with the commanding officers clustered in the center of each one. A thousand infantrymen already lay dead on the field.

General Norton and his staff officers, on a small hill to the rear of his army, barked more orders as he continued observing the scene. “Artillerymen, get those cannons set up, and start blasting the enemy! Cavalry, hold but be prepared to charge at a moment’s notice!”

The Royalist force was well-equipped with 20 cannons, but the slow, clumsy weapons took time to set up. Meanwhile, Jenova, recognizing the danger the squares would pose to her cavalry despite never having seen those tactics before, uttered a sharp command and through a rapid relay of signals, her horsewomen retreated under orders and regrouped in the rear.

In their place, the female archers marched up and began firing into the squares with their powerful longbows. Despite being outnumbered four to one, the longbow-women were able to dominate the field with their long-range weapons, which could kill at 300 yards, while the Royalists’ muskets had an effective range of only 100 yards. Slowly but steadily, male bodies began dropping with arrows impaled in them, while the musket balls they fired back at the enemy fell short into the ground.

Finally, the cannons, set up in four rows of five each, were ready. They began blasting the girl-archers with grapeshot and canister. The longbow-women’s arrows couldn’t reach the cannons, but they continued firing into the musketeers, who still couldn’t hit back with the shorter range of their weapons. “Infantry into line formation. Prepare to advance,” ordered General Norton.

Jenova scowled as she watched the scene. Livia had refused to allow her to take any of the cannons the Amazons had captured with her army, saying they had to march quickly across the island and the artillery would slow them down too much. Now she would have to make do with what she had.

She knew she had to act fast. As the blue-coated Royalists shifted from one formation to another, she gave a signal with her fist. Immediately, the thousand Amazon swordswomen charged straight at the male infantry with spine-chilling warrior cries. As soon as they got within a hundred yards, they threw their athletic female bodies into cartwheels followed by back handsprings, elegantly backflipping at incredible speed towards their targets.

The male soldiers were not yet properly formed into lines, and their musket fire was ragged and ineffective, only scoring a few lucky hits. The cannons fired into the charging swordswomen, but the Amazons were charging in a loose formation instead of being densely packed, limiting the effectiveness of the artillery. In less than twenty seconds, the rapidly flick-flacking girls crashed into the male soldiers, forcing the cannoneers to stop firing so they wouldn’t hit their own men. The swordswomen, each wielding a blade in each hand, easily sliced and diced their way through their male victims, the Royalists’ bayonets being no match for them. Slowly but steadily, they began chewing up the much larger male army.

Then a war horn sounded. The Amazon heavy cavalry were charging again. General Norton barked more orders. “Cavalry, intercept the enemy riders! Artillery, soften up the horsewomen, then switch to the archers when our boys ride into them!”

At first, it seemed to be working, although the cannons weren’t able to do much damage to the Amazon cavalry because of the speed of their charge. But the Royalist cavalry attacked their female counterparts, seemingly pinning them between the infantry and themselves…

Suddenly, 500 light horsewomen charged out of the nearby woods where they had been hiding. Jenova had kept them in reserve, waiting for a situation just like this. Now, the Amazon light cavalry attacked with arrows and thrown spears and axes from the other side, making it the Royalist cavalry’s turn to be facing a double-sided attack. Panicking, the surviving male riders urged their horses away in a rapid retreat until they were under the covering fire of the cannons.

Now freed, the Amazon heavy cavalry rode straight into the mass of male infantry, lancing and trampling everything in their path and splitting the Royalist force in two. They, along with the swordswomen, completely surrounded the far half of the male army, while horse archers and longbow-women fired over their comrades’ heads and into the trapped men. Meanwhile, Jenova detached part of the female infantry from the main Amazon army and personally charged forward to lead the small force of swordswomen and archers to attack the other half of the Royalist army.

“Retreat!” shouted General Norton. “First line of cannons, keep firing! Cover the retreat and hold off the enemy for as long as possible! Get the rest of the cannons hitched up to the horses and get them out of here!”

“My lord,” said one of his staff officers. “What about the men on the far side?”

The general shook his head. “They’re lost. All we can do now is save the other half of the army.”

“And the front line of cannons?”

“Better to lose five cannons than twenty.”

The staff officer gulped and nodded, glad that he was not one of the expendables.

Men, horses, and cannons hurried away from the battlefield as fast as they could. When they had passed, the soldiers manning the front line of five cannons that had been ordered to cover the retreat were left alone on a ridge, firing desperately at the screaming, charging Amazons led by sexy Jenova.

An explosion of canister blew several Amazons in the front rank to pieces and splattered Jenova with blood. Some of the younger girls began to hesitate, but the Amazon princess, with a shrill shriek, drew back her bow and fired a perfectly aimed shot right into the heart of a man just before he could light the fuse to another cannon. With cheers, the Amazons, now in archery range, fired a devastating volley into the cannoneers. The survivors turned and ran, but were all shot down by a second volley.

General Norton took one last, sad look at the scene below him before turning his horse away. In the distance, the surrounded men were screaming, begging, pleading, their horrified cries audible even at the great distance. He shook his head. It was them or the whole army.

“Secure these cannons!” Jenova ordered. “Drag them back to our lines. Archers, cover them and drive off anyone who tries to take the cannons back, but do not pursue.” With that, she rode back to the main force of Amazons.

In the middle of the deadly trap, there were only a few hundred men left alive, surrounded by piles of male corpses. The highest-ranking Royalist left, a colonel, raised a white flag of surrender.

“What say you, milady?” the commander of the archers asked Jenova. “Do we take prisoners or slaughter them all?”

“I’ll handle this,” said the Princess. “Cease fire!” she ordered. The girl-archers looked at her, most of them wanting to continue the massacre, but obeyed their Princess’s order.

“Drop your weapons!” Jenova ordered the men. “Form one line, facing me! Officers, stand in a separate group over there!”

The terrified males quickly obeyed her command. Because the Amazons were wearing their traditional leather uniforms of short shorts, tank tops, and knee-high boots, showing off their tanned, muscular bodies, many of the men had hard-ons despite their fear. Some of the men who were badly wounded remained on the ground, moaning. Even some of the wounded males had erections.

Jenova, smirking to herself at the men “standing at attention,” addressed the line of enlisted men. “Starting from this end, every third man step forward!”

Again they obeyed. The Amazon Princess raised her arm, then lowered it. A perfectly aimed volley of arrows slammed into the soldiers who had been ordered forward, each arrow striking its target right between the eyes. A hundred men fell dead in complete unison. The males still standing quivered in terror. Some wet their pants.

Jenova addressed the survivors coldly. “I am capable of showing mercy. I will never show weakness. That demonstration was to assure you that what I am showing now is the former and not the latter. You are now the property of the Amazon Nation. Accept your fate, and you will live. Resist, and you will die.”

Unarmed, she walked fearlessly up to the line of men, most of whom were taller than her and all of whom were heavier than the slender girl. She strolled in front of them, looking straight into the frightened eyes of each captive she passed, and stopped in front of one. “What are you?”

“I am a soldier of the Royalist army, loyal servant of His Majesty, King Fred…”

With lightning speed, Jenova performed a standing backflip, kicking the speaker in the underside of his jaw. Her backflip kick was so powerful that it broke his neck instantly with a sickening CRACK. The odd angle of his neck as he fell to the dirt left no doubt that he was now a corpse.

The Princess’s face remained expressionless as she landed perfectly on her booted feet. She turned to the next man. “What are y…”

“I am a humble male slave, the property of the Amazon Nation!” he cried in panic. She smirked. Looking at the other men, her gaze was met with submissive lowerings of heads. She nodded in satisfaction, then, with a series of elegant standing back handsprings, made her way back to her officers.

“Shackle the men and march them off with the other spoils of battle,” she ordered. “Keep the officers separate, I’m going to interrogate them later. Any man who is wounded too badly to walk…put him out of his misery.”

* * *

Princess Katarina’s army marched through the green, rolling hills towards Amazon territory. Like she had earlier, Katarina rode up and down the column, checking in with each of her high-ranking officers, making sure that everything was all right and keeping a sharp eye out for any Amazon ambushes.

Suddenly, there was a commotion from the rear. “A messenger!” came a shout. A haggard-looking soldier rode up and handed the Princess a sealed envelope.

“For your eyes only, my Lady.”

“Thank you.” She found a private spot to the side of the column, then opened the letter. She cursed as she read it.

Katarina rode over to her chief of staff. “Norton suffered a bad defeat. He lost half his army and five of his cannons. The survivors have retreated to our fortifications at San Sebastian, licking their wounds.”

The male officer shook his head. “Perhaps if I had been in command of that force…”

She gave him a hard stare. “Most likely, your army would have suffered the same fate. It appears that it takes a woman to stand up to the might of these Amazons. I hope you are not questioning my decisions on who to appoint as my division commanders.”

“Of c…course not, my Princess. I’m sorry.”

“That’s what I thought. Now, back to business. If we can defeat the enemy on this side of the island, we can secure the northern flank of our territory, then march south again and intercept any enemy that might be coming to attack.” She raised her arm, bracelets sliding down her slender wrist. “Messenger!”

The haggard rider hurried over. “Yes, milady?”

“Get a message to my father. I want two full divisions of reinforcements from the mainland. And one more message, this one for the Colonial Capital.” She whispered into his ear and he nodded.

“Yes, my Princess.” He swiftly rode off into the distance.

Katarina turned back to her chief of staff. “Until we get those reinforcements, with Norton’s losses we simply don’t have the manpower for large-scale offensive operations. After this battle we’ll have to confine ourselves to defending the part of the island between San Sebastian in the south and Fort Osweiler in the north until fresh troops arrive. Keep Norton’s defeat secret, I don’t want the men’s morale to drop into the toilet. I’m going up ahead to talk with the scouts.”

Katarina rode up to the scout commander. “What have you to report, Captain?”

“This open country continues for a little while longer, my Lady. However, sometime tomorrow the main route would take us into a narrow canyon. It would be…you know.”

She nodded. “Way too easy for the Amazons to ambush us there. We’ll have to come up with an alternate plan.” She looked at the sun, low in the western sky. “Keep on for another hour, then we’ll make camp for the night.”

TO BE CONTINUED…

 

Chase Me Faster

“You’re all set!” said the salesman. “The cabin is yours for a week. Enjoy your vacation, Miss…” He looked at Rania’s last name written on the paper, not sure how to pronounce it.

“Just call me Rania,” she said with a smile in her slight Lebanese accent.

He smiled back. She was quite hot. She had a slender and athletic body, standing at 5’8″ and 125 pounds. Her eyes and long hair were both dark brown, and her skin was nicely tanned. Her small, firm breasts looked like 34B’s and she wasn’t wearing a bra. “Enjoy your vacation, Rania.”

“Thank you,” she replied, taking the key he held out to her. She picked up her backpack and headed out to her car.

Rania was a 19-year-old college sophomore. As she drove out to the cabin, she thought about how much she needed this break. A few weeks ago, her sister had been murdered by a man with diplomatic immunity. She had gone through many days of rage and agony before finally being able to team up with three other lethal women and going on a mission to kill the murderer and avenge her sister’s death.

She now had peace in her dreams, but when she had returned to college she had discovered that the contrast between being a female commando/assassin and sitting in a lecture hall was just too great. But perhaps a vacation, she had decided, would help her settle back into her regular life. She had rented an isolated cabin for a week, many miles away from civilization. It would be perfect, she had thought.

After an hour of driving, the road, which had changed from paved to dirt long ago, ended in a pile of loose rock. Rania parked her car and put on her backpack. It would be a four-mile hike from here to the cabin. Just her, all alone, for a week. Or so she thought…

U.S. Department of State Agent Bender sat at his desk, smoking a cigar. The corrupt agent grinned as he read the email offering him a large sum of money in exchange for allowing a terrorist group to smuggle weapons into the United States. This kind of deal was very familiar to him. He typed a quick reply agreeing to the deal and had just clicked ‘Send’ when the door to his office opened and his aide, Tim, entered, carrying a piece of paper.

“You’re supposed to knock,” said Bender.

“Sorry, boss, but I think you’ll be really excited to see this,” Tim replied, handing him the paper.

As he read it, his eyes indeed widened in excitement. Bender had been the agent who had protected the murderer who had killed Rania’s sister from having any chance of being stripped of his diplomatic immunity. He had done it partly out of greed, as he had been paid a large sum for that, but also because he had a domineering mother and an ex-wife who made more money than he did. He was jealous and resentful towards strong women and in his mind, helping people with reactionary, Stone Age views towards women, such as Islamic extremists, made perfect sense.

When Rania had come to meet with him, Bender had sassed her and treated her disrespectfully. He thought he had won, but when the murderer (and a large army of his henchmen) had mysteriously turned up dead, he knew she had been responsible and became enraged. To him, it was a slap in the face, an insult to his manhood, and he couldn’t let that stand. He wanted revenge on her, and waited for his opportunity. Now, it seemed to be literally within his grasp, as he read the paper again. “So she’s going to be all alone at that isolated cabin for a whole week? No witnesses, no help, out in the woods where ‘accidents’ can happen very easily?” Bender grinned evilly and looked at his aide. “You know what to do. Get a team together.”

“Yes, boss,” said Tim, taking out his cell phone as he left the office.

Rania smiled as the cabin appeared in the distance. The four-mile, mostly uphill hike was a little tiring even for someone with her fit, muscular body. She unlocked the door, tossed her backpack on a table, and looked around. The cabin was small and cozy, with a bedroom, bathroom, and combination living/dining room. A stove was at the far end of the dining area. The living area was decorated with a painting of a waterfall on one wall and a large moose head over the fireplace.

She quickly unpacked the few things she had brought. A low-maintenance, tomboyish girl, Rania liked to travel light. When she was finished, her attention was drawn to a large trunk in one corner. Curious, she opened it and found a longbow and a quiver of arrows. “Hunters must use this place sometimes,” she thought. She picked up the bow and tested it. It had a heavy draw weight, but thanks to her slim but strong arms she was able to handle it without trouble. “Maybe I’ll play around with this sometime,” she thought. Rania had taken archery lessons when she was a younger girl and had done quite well.

The dingy, smoky bar was a popular hangout for mercenary types and general thugs and buffoons. Tim sat at a table with six rough-looking mercenaries. He handed Zeke, their leader, a large envelope. “Here’s the advance payment,” he said. “$50,000. You’ll also find maps and all the other information you need in there. You’ll get the other $200,000 when the job’s done. Oh, and the boss asked me to tell you that if you want to have some fun with the target before you finish her, he strongly encourages it. When you see her picture in there, I’m sure you’ll like the idea.”

The mercenary leader grinned evilly. “Well, ol’ Zeke always likes to have fun with his chow before eatin’ it, don’t he, boys?” he chuckled. Loud laughter came from the group. “Don’t worry, we’ll get her done, and get her done right.”

The black SUV pulled up to the end of the road and the six mercenaries got out. One of them looked at Rania’s bright red sedan. “Nice ride,” he said. “Who wants to roshambo to see who gets it after we kill her?”

“We can talk about that later, Ormsby,” said Zeke. “Right now, we have a job to do.” The thugs readied their weapons. Three carried Uzi submachine guns, and two had M-16 assault rifles. Zeke had a 12-gauge shotgun and a .45 pistol. They headed up the trail towards Rania’s cabin.

Rania was hiking in the woods, at peace and not yet aware of the danger that was targeting her. Suddenly, she heard heavy footsteps and deep voices off in the distance. Her sixth sense caused the hair on the back of her neck to stand up. She hid behind a tree and peered through the greenery.

She saw six men in camoflauge clothing, slowly coming closer. At first she thought they were hunters, but then she noticed what kind of weapons they were carrying. Assault rifles and submachine guns, things that no legitimate hunter would carry. A chill ran down her spine. These men were coming to murder someone, and the only someone here was HER.

She thought about what to do. The men were between her and the road, and there was nothing but wilderness in every other direction. But the men had no idea she had seen them. They would go straight to the cabin. If she just circled around and headed for the road through the forest, she could escape. It would be a difficult trek off the trail, but she had a compass. She could get to her car. She would be safe.

Rania moved back through the woods silently. She had enough of a head start to get back to the cabin, grab essential supplies, and hide in the trees before the men got there. She hurried inside the cabin and grabbed food and water. The compass was already in her pocket. She then went over to the chest and took out the bow and arrows. She was glad someone had left them here. If worse came to worse, she wouldn’t be helpless.

Scurrying out the back door, Rania darted into the woods. She made good progress despite the thick trees, checking the compass periodically to make sure she was heading towards the road. The sound of voices and footsteps drifted to her again. She stopped to look and saw the men marching towards the cabin, guns slung over their shoulders. She turned in the direction of the road again, then paused, staring at their guns. The men were about 200 yards away. And three of them had submachine guns and one had a shotgun – weapons that were ineffective at that distance. But her longbow wasn’t.

A wave of anger began building up inside her. These men were coming to murder her, and if she ran away, they would probably get away. She didn’t want to let that happen. She wanted to kill them, but not before finding out who hired them. She was sure it had something to do with her killing the diplomat who had murdered her sister. “I’m tired of running,” she thought to herself.

But did she really want to do this? “Safety,” came the voice of caution inside her. “Protect yourself. Run away. You can get to your car. You can escape.”

“No,” said Rania, covering her mouth when she realized she had spoken out loud. She looked at the men. They hadn’t heard a thing. “No,” she thought. “Not escape. Vengeance.” She took out her bow and inserted an arrow.

She took aim at the man at the back and let the arrow fly. It whizzed through the air…and embedded itself in a tree trunk one foot away from him. “Fuck,” she thought to herself. “Dammit, Rania, you’re out of practice. You’re not as good as you once were.” She thought she was in deep shit now. Maybe she should have run away. But…

Collins, one of the mercenaries, paused. “What was that whizzing sound?”

“Must have been a wasp buzzing by,” said Ormsby. “Damn woods are crawling with those things.”

“Come on, time’s a-wasting,” said Zeke. “Let’s keep moving, men.”

As the men moved on, Rania sighed in relief. She drew another arrow and aimed at the same man. She knew she had shot slightly to the left the first time and adjusted her aim accordingly. This time, the arrow sailed through the air and drove itself with cruel force right into the center of his back. The power of the longbow sent the arrow right through the body armor he was wearing and straight into his heart. His corpse slumped to the ground.

The heavy boots the men were wearing made loud crunching sounds as they walked through the fallen leaves. None of the five remaining men heard their comrade fall. Rania smiled grimly at her luck. Inserting another arrow, she fired at the next man. Again an arrow drove right through body armor and into soft male flesh. The mercenary fell, but just before he died, he let out a faint cry of pain.

Collins, who was walking just ahead of him, whirled around. His eyes widened in shock as he saw two of his comrades dead on the forest floor. His shout echoed through the woods like a trumpet. “WE’RE UNDER ATTACK!!” All four mercenaries whipped out their guns and began shooting wildly.

“FUCK!” cursed Rania. One of the survivors had a rifle. As his weapon had the longest range, Rania fired her next shot at him. The arrow slammed into his thigh and the man fell, screaming in pain and dropping his weapon.

Ormsby realized the futility of using his Uzi at that range. He dropped it, picked up the wounded man’s assault rifle, and began shooting. Collins picked up the second M-16 from beside one of the dead men and began firing as well. Outgunned, Rania had no choice but to retreat. She darted off in the direction of the road, swearing loudly at every tree in her way.

“After her!” bellowed Zeke. “We have to stop her before she gets to the cars!”

“Reddington’s hit,” said Collins, bending over the wounded man. “He can’t move. I’ll stay here with him and…”

“No,” said Zeke. “We need maximum firepower concentrated on her. I don’t want to take chances with just two on one.”

“We can’t just leave him here,” Collins argued. “He’s losing a lot of blood. We have a real serious problem…”

Zeke drew his pistol and executed Reddington with a shot to the head. “Problem solved. Now let’s fucking MOVE.” He raced after Rania, Ormsby right on his heels. Collins stared at Reddington’s corpse for a second, then ran after the other two, shaking his head.

Rania ran through the woods as fast as she could, compass in one hand and longbow in the other. She could hear heavy footsteps pounding behind her. Occasionally, a burst of gunfire would rip through the leaves. She rounded a large tree…and suddenly came face-to-face with Zeke and his shotgun, which was aimed right at her head.

“Uh-oh,” said Rania.

Ormsby and Collins came up from behind, each aiming an M-16 at Rania’s slender back.

Zeke smirked evilly. She was even hotter than her picture had indicated. He was going to enjoy raping her before he killed her.

“I don’t suppose we can talk about this?” offered Rania in a small voice.

Zeke’s response was to whack her in the face with his gun. She cried out in pain. She raised her right hand to touch her bleeding face and flipped Zeke off with the middle finger of her left.

Zeke sneered. “You’d better watch the attitude, girlie. We have all the guns here.”

“Yeah,” said Ormsby. “Now drop that bow of yours.” Having no choice, she let her weapon drop.

“Now drop your pants, bitch,” snickered Zeke.

“WHAT?!” growled Rania.

“We’re going to gang-rape you, you hot little Lebanese cunt,” said Zeke, laughing loudly. “You have such a fit and slim body, I bet your pussy is real tight. I’m boss, I get first fuck.”

Ormsby turned to Collins. “I’ll roshambo you to see who gets second fuck.” He held out his hand to do rock-paper-scissors.

Collins had steadily been growing more and more outraged at the actions of his comrades. He had become a mercenary because he expected to be shooting bad men. He hadn’t signed up for executing his own side or raping a teenage girl.

“Roshambo this,” he snapped. With that, he kicked Ormsby right in the groin. Ormsby fell to the ground, clutching his wounded family jewels. Collins then began aiming his assault rifle at Zeke, but the mercenary leader was faster. Zeke blasted Collins with his shotgun. Collins dropped dead to the ground, a gaping hole in his head.

Rania moved with lightning speed. She tackled Zeke before he could aim at her. Her training and athleticism allowed 125-pound Rania to take down 200-pound Zeke. His shotgun went flying as the Middle Eastern beauty landed on top of him. Her fist shot out and nailed his jaw with a vicious punch, stunning him.

Ormsby, still on the ground, reached for his rifle. Rania snatched Zeke’s .45 out of his holster and shot Ormsby twice in the chest. Ormsby cried out in pain, but continued to move towards his M-16. Rania realized he was wearing body armor under his camoflauge clothing. Her arrows must have gone right through the armor of the men she had killed earlier.

Rania began aiming the pistol at Ormsby’s head, but suddenly Zeke punched her in the face. With a curse, she involuntarily dropped the gun, which bounced away down a slope. Zeke rolled his heavy body on top of Rania’s petite one. “Just where I like to be, on top of a pretty woman,” he sneered. His breath reeked of tobacco. He punched her again, his big fist smashing into Rania’s right eye, turning it black. Meanwhile, Ormsby, groin-hurt and crawling, had almost reached his assault rifle.

Rania was not going to go down quietly. She headbutted Zeke, hard, then thrust her body upwards, throwing him off of her. She swiftly kipped up to her feet. Zeke growled, but she shut him up with a kick to his head.

Ormsby had reached his rifle. Picking it up, he began aiming at Rania. She saw the danger and threw her athletic body into a dazzling sideways aerial cartwheel. Several bullets flew safely between her wide-spread legs as she was upside down. Rania landed elegantly and picked up Zeke’s shotgun. She aimed at Ormsby…

Ormsby aimed his rifle at her…

Click.

Click.

Both weapons were empty. Ormsby ejected the empty magazine and reached for a fresh one in his vest pocket.

Rania had noticed the box of shotgun shells in Zeke’s pocket earlier. She bent down and snatched the box. The shells had to be loaded one by one, but one was all she needed. She finished loading her single shell just before Ormsby finished reloading his weapon. Pumping the shotgun one-handed, she blew Ormsby’s head off. Her heart beating fast with triumph, Rania turned back to finish dealing with Zeke.

He was no longer there. “Oh, shit,” said Rania. Sure enough, a split second later Zeke crashed into her from behind, tackling her to the ground. His eyes burning with rage, he began choking her as he lay on top of her.

Losing air fast, she put all her remaining strength into a punch. The blow hit Zeke squarely on the nose, breaking it. As his blood began flowing, his hands flew to his injured nose. Rania breathed in a deep lungful of air, then threw her opponent off of her just like she had done earlier.

She stood up and kicked him in the side as he was down, cracking one of his ribs. A second, well-aimed kick to the same spot broke the rib completely. A third kick cracked another rib. As Rania drew her leg back for a fourth kick, Zeke suddenly tripped her. Rania began falling…and turned the motion into a back handspring, landing perfectly on her feet. Zeke, who had been about to laugh, scowled in fury instead.

She laughed at him. The mercenary leader, holding his battered ribs in pain, stood up slowly. Rania, on the other hand, was much faster. She performed a front tuck somersault towards him, landing right in front of his face. She punched him in the eye, giving him a nice shiner. “That black eye’s payback for mine, dirtbag,” she snapped. She pummeled him in the stomach several times with her fists, then rammed her knee into it. Zeke gasped for breath and felt like puking. Rania turned sideways, then suddenly elbowed him in the head. As stars appeared in his eyes, she side kicked him in the chest. She then roundhouse kicked him in the side of his head, sending him flying. His back crashed into a tree trunk.

With her victim pinned against the trunk, Rania balanced on her left leg and fired lightning-fast high kicks from her right into his face. Blood and teeth flew as she kicked the crap out of him. Finally, she paused, blew him a kiss, and performed a spin kick. Her boot slammed into his head, knocking him down and out.

When Zeke woke up a few minutes later, he saw Rania standing over him. She was now wearing his .45 pistol on her slim right hip. She smiled down at him coldly. Grabbing him by the hair, she yanked him up to a kneeling postion. “Now it’s time for a little Q and A,” she announced. “Be thankful I’m going to be generous. If you cooperate, I won’t shoot you. Who hired you?”

He spat at her. Rania rammed her knee into his face. Droplets of blood stained her pants. “Now, who the fuck hired you?” she demanded.

“Fucking bitch,” he said, spitting again, but spitting blood this time. Rania kneed him in the face three times in rapid succession, putting a little more strength into each successive blow.

“I kneed a guy’s skull in once,” she said. “I can do it again.” She began raising her knee.

“No!” cried Zeke. “Enough! I give! This guy named Tim hired us. He’s with the State Department.”

“State Department. Those traitors. I knew it,” Rania muttered.

“Now that I know who it is, I know why,” she said. “This Tim guy, was he the big boss? Or was he working for someone?”

“He was working for a guy named…”

“…Bender,” Rania finished, remembering the rude State Department agent who had sassed her after her sister was killed.

Zeke gasped. “How the fuck did you know?”

“That’s not important. Anyway, I’m asking the questions here. Now, you guys look well-equipped. Cell phones don’t work out here, but I assume you have some method of communication that does?”

“I have a satellite phone,” Zeke admitted.

“Good,” said Rania. “Now, here’s what you’re going to do. You’re going to call Bender and Tim and tell them the mission was successful. You’re going to have them meet you in an isolated location to pay you whatever they haven’t paid you yet. And you’re going to give a very good and very convincing performance, because if you don’t, I will blow your brains out.” She tapped her .45 threateningly.

The mercenary leader trembled in fear. “If I do this, do you promise you won’t shoot me?”

“You have my word of honor as a lady,” Rania answered.

“All right. The phone’s in my pocket.”

“Take it out. Slowly.”

Zeke took out his phone and began dialing. “Hey, Tim, it’s Zeke. Mission went off without a hitch. We capped the bitch and made sure to fuck her good before bumping her off. Where can we meet to get the rest of the money? I want someplace more isolated than the mercenary bar. Don’t want those other guys getting their greedy eyes on the green.”

There was a pause as Tim responded, then Zeke said, “It’s settled then. Over and out.”

He turned to Rania. “Pretty convicing, huh? Tim and Bender will be at the third bench on the north side of the pond in Snowmane Park in Washington DC, at noon the day after tomorrow.”

“Good job,” said Rania. Zeke sighed in relief.

“And now, it’s time for you to die,” she added.

Zeke wet his pants. “What?! But you promised you wouldn’t shoot me!”

“I know. I’m going to break your neck.” With that, Rania wrapped her slender but muscular thighs around his neck and twisted her boyish hips 180 degrees, killing him.

She spat on the corpse. “You were going to gang-rape me and you expect me to let you live? Fucker.” She spat on Ormsby’s corpse too, then knelt by Collins’ corpse and covered it neatly with leaves. “Thanks for saving me,” she whispered. “Rest in peace. The rest of you mercenaries, burn in hell.”

Rania felt her heart rate slowly return to normal. She was safe now, but she still had a job to do. Before heading back to her car, she looked through the mercenaries’ packs. Among other things, she discovered several small land mines. An idea popped into her head.

Rania stood in the Washington DC park, hiding behind a tree and waiting for Bender and Tim to show up. She rolled up her sleeve and looked at her watch. Sure enough, right at noon, the two men appeared. They walked towards the bench they had indicated. Closer…closer…she waited until one of them stepped in just the right place…

Tim stepped on a mine. It was well-buried and he didn’t notice.

Rania leapt out from behind her tree and aimed the .45 she had appropriated from Zeke at them. “Freeze, assholes!”

Both men stared in shock. “YOU!” shrilled Bender. “How the fuck did you…Where the fuck’s Zeke?! He said…”

“Never mind that. The important thing is that I’ve planted land mines all around here. When you step on one, as soon as you step off it’ll blow you to kingdom come. So hold really still and listen very carefully.” Bender and Tim trembled in fear. They both nodded.

“You,” she growled, pointing an elegant finger from her left hand at Bender. Her right was still aiming the .45. “You’re a big cheese at the State Department. You’re corrupt and you know who else is corrupt. Give me the names of every corrupt agent you know. If you refuse, I’ll kill you. If you cooperate, I promise I won’t shoot you or make you step on a mine.”

“You swear to it?” asked Bender.

“You have my word of honor as a lady,” Rania answered.

“Okay,” said Bender. He began rattling off names, which Rania committed to her excellent memory.

“That’s the last of them,” said Bender. “Now remember your promise.”

“Oh, I will,” cooed Rania. She smiled wickedly…and shifted her aim and shot Tim in the head. She then holstered her pistol and began backflipping away, doing back handspring after back handspring in rapid succession.

Suddenly realizing where the mine must be, Bender grabbed Tim’s corpse, trying to keep his weight on the mine. “YOU DIRTY BITCH!” he roared. “Motherfucking cunt! I’ll get you for this! Gaaaahh!”

Bender struggled. He held Tim’s weight on the mine for as long as he could. His muscles burned with agony, but that was nothing compared to the pure terror in his mind, with the knowledge that he was going to die and there wasn’t a fucking thing in the universe he could do about it.

It may have been his body that gave in first. It may have been his mind. But whatever it was, Tim’s corpse slipped loose from Bender’s grasp and both men blew up in a spectacular explosion.

Rania, watching from the trees, smiled grimly. “Vengeance is mine,” she said in triumph. She then whipped out a notebook and wrote down the names of the corrupt agents that she had memorized.

THE END

Immunity, Part 2

Abby picked the lock of the mansion’s back door and she and Natalie slipped inside. They cleared the rear first-floor rooms quickly, finding only two guards along the way. Abby cleanly decapitated one with her sword. Natalie shot the other from behind in the hand with a poisoned arrow. He was down and foaming from the mouth within two seconds.

Rania and Angela split up as they began going through the rooms on the front side of the first floor. Angela went through empty room after empty room until she finally came to one where three men were playing cards for money and drinking whiskey. Three AK-47s were piled on the floor near them. “Dirty hypocritical bastards,” she thought to herself. “These politically connected types make laws against drinking and gambling that oppress the regular people, then break the laws themselves because they can get away with it.” She was going to enjoy killing these fuckers.

Angela, unnoticed by the men, stepped through the doorway and killed one man with a perfectly aimed throw from her dagger that sent the blade right into his right eye. Before the other men could go for their assault rifles, she was upon them, launching her muscular body through the air in a flying kick. Her booted foot impacted the second man and he in turn was knocked into the third man, sending both of them down. She swiftly finished the second man with a kick to his neck, breaking it. The third man, dizzy, sat up, his back to her. She knelt down and grabbed him in a choke hold from behind, her tanned and toned arm cutting off his air. Her muscles bulged as the athletic blonde vixen choked her helpless victim to death. When he was gone, she did a back walkover to get back to her feet, then casually pulled her dagger out of the first man’s eye and wiped the blood off on his shirt before resheathing it.

The lethal beauty continued her rampage. When she rounded a corner and almost bumped into two guards, Angela simply reached out and used her superhuman wrist strength to snap both men’s necks one-handed. Moving on, she again almost bumped into a guard. She dealt with this one by performing an ultra-powerful backflip kick on him. The kick was so strong that it not only broke his neck, but nearly decapitated him as well. The corpse’s head was now loosely attached to the body at an odd angle.

Rania, after going through several small rooms that were empty, heard voices speaking in Arabic coming from a larger room. She paused and listened. Several voices were ranting about their desire to kill “the infidels.” What surprised her, however, was a female voice among them speaking the same words encouraging violence.

Rania quietly opened the door – and found herself staring directly into the face of a guard who had been standing there. Though both of them were equally surprised, Rania reacted faster. She punched him in the jaw with all her strength, knocking him to the plush carpet. She then bent down, wrapped her slender but muscular thighs around his neck, and twisted her slim, boyish hips 180 degrees, snapping his neck. She looked up. The others were so engaged in their angry conversation that they hadn’t noticed her silent kill.

She drew her silenced 9mm and let out a soft whistle. Four heads, three male and bearded and one female and headscarfed, looked up at her. She began shooting them, one perfectly aimed bullet to the heart for each. Rania had killed the three men and was about to kill the headscarfed woman when she suddenly cried out in broken English, “Please no kill me! Me victim of bad men!”

Rania looked at her coldly. “I might believe that…if I didn’t speak Arabic,” she said, emphasizing her Lebanese accent. The woman’s eyes widened in panic and a dark spot appeared on the crotch area of her ankle-length dress. She had wet herself. Rania, shaking her brunette head in disgust, did a vicious crescent kick to the woman’s face that knocked her to the carpet face first. She then finished her victim with five swift kicks to her head from her heavy boots. Blood and brain matter flowed from the mutilated skull. “That was for all the REAL victims of bad men!”

Suddenly, she heard soft footsteps padding up behind her. She whirled around, gun at the ready, but relaxed when she saw that it was only Angela. “I heard,” whispered Angela, giving Rania a hug. The blonde turned over the body with her boot. “You were doubly right to kill her,” she added.

Rania looked over. Outlined under the dead woman’s dress was a pistol, and near it was the outline of her hand.

Rania and Angela met Abby and Natalie at the bottom of the mansion’s grand staircase. They could see faint lights upstairs, and a crack of light coming from underneath the closed door to what appeared to be a grand ballroom. “Have you checked that out yet?” Angela asked, nodding at the ballroom door.

Natalie and Abby shook their heads. “Take a look and take out the people inside if you can do it quietly and there aren’t too many,” Angela instructed. “Rania and I will go upstairs.”

Abby and Natalie approached the door. “Sounds like a lot of people in there,” whispered Natalie.

“But there’s no way to tell without opening the door and being discovered,” Abby sighed.

“Maybe there’s another entrance. I’ll go around and look for one,” said Natalie.

“Okay. I’ll stay here by the door.”

Meanwhile, Angela and Rania padded silently up the stairs. Two guards were at the top, their backs to the girls. Angela stabbed one in the back, her dagger finding his heart with expert precision. Rania smashed the butt of her shotgun down onto the other’s skull with all her strength, killing him.

They entered the upstairs hallway. “Let’s check all the dark rooms first to make sure there are no suprises,” said Angela. “We’ll save the room with the light for last.”

The first two rooms they tried were empty, but the third contained a pair of guards smoking marijuana. The ladies quietly snuck into the room, unnoticed by the high men. “Hey, fuckers,” said Rania softly in Arabic. The guards whirled in shock and tried to go for the guns in their holsters. The women were much too quick for them, however. Rania reached out with both hands and snapped the first man’s neck. Angela snapped the second man’s neck one-handed.

Rania stared at her companion. “Wow!” she whispered excitedly. “I wish my wrists were strong enough to do that!” She compared her slender forearm with Angela’s thick one.

“Honey, they probably are,” Angela whispered back, ruffling Rania’s long dark brown hair. “You just haven’t tried it yet. C’mon, let’s check the next room.”

Downstairs, Natalie returned to Abby. “Couldn’t find another entrance. I was thinking about slipping back outside and trying to peek in one of the windows.”

“Good idea. We’ve got to get a count of how many people are in that room.”

Upstairs, as Rania and Angela left the room where they had just killed the two weed-smokers, a flash of movement came from their left at the far end of the hall. A guard was there…and he had seen them. He raised the AK-47 he was carrying, but before he could take aim, Rania shot him twice with her silenced pistol. She breathed a sigh of relief as he fell…until in his death spasms his finger jerked the trigger of his weapon. Several bullets went into the ceiling. The sound was incredibly loud. “Uh-oh,” said Rania.

“Never mind that, get ready for a fight,” said Angela. She whipped out her AK-47. Rania drew her shotgun and pumped it one-handed.

At the ballroom door, Natalie was just about to leave when the gunshots were heard. “Uh-oh,” she said.

“Never mind that, get ready for a fight,” said Abby. She removed the suppressor from her high-powered rifle and attached the bayonet in its place. Natalie drew her Uzi. The girls took kneeling positions and aimed at the door.

Two seconds later, the ballroom door burst open and men began pouring out. Abby fired off well-aimed head shots into the men, while Natalie dispatched any Abby didn’t get with short, controlled bursts from her submachine gun. Together the two ladies slaughtered ten men before they stopped coming. The girls then advanced into the room. They stopped and stared when they saw dozens more men inside. “Please!” begged one man in broken English. “We unarmed!”

“That evens the odds then,” said Natalie calmly. “After all, there are only two of us.” She flicked her Uzi to semi-auto and killed the speaker with a single shot to the head.

With animal roars, the rest of the men charged Abby and Natalie. Abby killed five more men with her rifle before it clicked empty. Natalie flicked her weapon back to full auto and cut down several men with a single long burst before it too went dry. “Now we get to the fun part,” said Abby. Bayonet ready, she charged straight at the crowd with a high-pitched warrior cry.

Natalie stayed back as several men rushed her. There wasn’t enough time to reload her gun, but there was just enough to draw her crossbow and fire a single shot into the chest of the man nearest her. The others ran around the dead body and as they converged on her, she got into a fighting stance.

Meanwhile, upstairs, men began pouring out of the room with the light. Bullets from Angela’s assault rifle and slugs from Rania’s shotgun cut them down with brutal efficiency. Although these men were armed, their female opponents’ lethal firearms skills brought them down before any had a chance to shoot.

The flow of men stopped. Angela still had a few bullets left, but she ejected the magazine from her AK-47 and inserted a fresh one with a full thirty rounds. While she was reloading, Rania, her shotgun emptied, kept her pistol trained on the doorway. When Angela was finished, Rania holstered her pistol and swiftly reloaded her shotgun as Angela trained her weapon in turn towards the door.

Angela noticed a grenade attached to the belt of one of the dead men. With a wink, she picked it up, pulled the pin, and tossed it into the room. There was a loud BOOM. Angela and Rania stormed into the now smoke-filled room, guns at the ready. Two men were just standing up dizzily. They had been stunned by the blast, but were not hurt as they had been hiding behind a couch ever since the shooting had started.

Rania let out a hiss when she recognized one of them as Abdul al-Razizi himself. “At last,” she growled. “You murdered my sister. You thought you got away with it because of your diplomatic immunity. But now you’re going to face justice.” Al-Razizi simply glared at her coldly. His assault rifle was on the floor a few feet away. The second man, a big, burly fellow who looked about 6’3″ and 240 pounds, looked at his AK-47, which was on the floor near him.

“Don’t even think about it, asshole,” snarled Angela, aiming her own AK-47 right at his heart. The big man raised his hands in fear.

“Both of you fuckers, kick your weapons away!” Rania ordered. A growl from the slender brunette and a wave of her shotgun spurred both men to obey her. Angela then searched the men while Rania kept them covered. Angela found a revolver in the big man’s pocket and a knife strapped to al-Razizi’s leg. She threw both weapons away as the men cursed in Arabic.

“Who the fuck are you, anyway?” said Angela, addressing the big man. He hesitated, but spoke up when the blonde woman’s finger tightened on the trigger of her AK.

“I’m Salim, chief bodyguard for al-Razizi.”

“Oh, are you now? Well, I’m glad you’re here.”

“Er…why?”

“Because now I have someone to beat to death while my friend Rania here takes care of the asswipe who murdered her sister.”

“Yeah,” growled Rania, her shotgun pointed right at al-Razizi’s head.

“Go ahead, bitch. Shoot me,” spat the murderer.

“Oh, you don’t deserve to die that quickly. I’m going to make you suffer as much as you made Leila suffer.” Rania tossed her weapons aside and raised her fists.

Al-Razizi broke into a grin and advanced on her. “Like a skinny little girl like you can beat me. After I beat you and before I kill you, I’m going to rape you just like I did your sister.” At that, Rania screamed in rage and charged. Angela tossed her weapons away and advanced on Salim.

Meanwhile, down in the ballroom, Abby bayoneted one man in the heart and another in the throat. She stabbed a third man in the center of his chest. As he screamed, she raised her rifle upward, lifting him into the air. He was impaled on her bayonet like a piece of meat on a stick. Holding his weight up with one incredibly strong arm, she drew her sword with the other. She spun her helpless victim around and in rapid succession cut off his legs, his arms, and finally his head with her sword. Dropping the rifle, limbless and headless corpse still stuck on the bayonet, she readied her sword for the other men, who were now all trembling in fear.

Natalie was facing five men. She leapt into the air, splitting her legs and kicking two men in the head. She grabbed two more men and bashed their heads together. An athletic aerial cartwheel kick from her knocked the fifth man down. Four dizzy men were still up. She knocked two down with a crescent kick that struck both their faces. A lethal spin kick to the side of another’s head broke his neck with a sharp CRACK. His falling corpse crashed into the only man currently standing and knocked him down too. She raised her leg over her head in a full vertical split and casually but swiftly smashed it down onto his skull, shattering it and sending blood and brain goo flying all over the place. “There now, three against one, seems a little more fair!” she laughed brightly.

Abby sliced one man in half at the waist with her ultra-sharp sword. Hearing another try to sneak up behind her, she donkey kicked him in the gut, then spun around and cut off his head. Picking another victim, she stabbed him in the heart, then killed another with a powerful roundhouse kick to his head that both cracked his skull and broke his neck. Moving on to another man, she simply cut off both his arms and left him to bleed to death. The remaining men began running away from the sword-wielding vixen in fear. Some of them had wet their pants, and two had soiled themselves. Laughing mockingly, Abby did a tumbling pass towards them, starting with an aerial roundoff and then a set of whip backs. She caught up to them easily.

Rania, charging al-Razizi, suddenly threw herself into a one-handed cartwheel as she got near him. The murderer was unprepared for the unconventional attack and Rania’s boots kicked him hard in the face in rapid succession as she cartwheeled. Before he could recover, Rania had landed neatly on her feet and sent a wicked one-two-three combination of punches into his face. The third punch from the slender but muscular 5’8″, 125-pound girl sent the 6’1″, 190-pound al-Razizi to the floor, hard. “Not bad for a skinny little girl, huh,” she mocked him.

Angela’s 5’7″, 135-pound frame looked very small facing big Salim. Fully confident in her abilities, however, and not afraid in the least, Angela easily dodged two of his attempted punches, then sent a punch of her own right into his nose, breaking it. As he howled in pain and his hands flew upward to his bloody face, she doubled him over with a vicious fist to his solar plexus, straighted him with a powerful uppercut, and finally sent him flying backwards with a kick to his chest.

As Rania approached the downed al-Razizi, he tripped her. The slim Lebanese girl began falling backwards, but used her athleticism and cheerleader training to turn the motion into a standing back handspring, landing perfectly on her feet. Cursing at his failure, al-Razizi stood up and charged her. She expertly stopped his charge by pivoting and firing a side kick into his chest. She then aimed a little higher, doing another side kick into his face. As the diplomat’s right hand flew up to his wounded face, Rania performed a cheerleader-style high kick. Her booted foot smashed his hand against his face, breaking several small bones in his hand. She laughed sadistically as he howled in pain. Moving in close, she rammed her knee into his stomach, then headbutted him hard enough to knock him down again.

Angela did a tumbling pass of a roundoff followed by two back handsprings to bring her close to her opponent. “I’ve studied your culture, if you can even call it that. I know you guys like to do this to your women.” She viciously backhanded him across his face. “Hurts, doesn’t it? Well, this is going to hurt worse.” With that, she delivered two roundhouse kicks to him, one on his left side and one on his right. Each kick broke a rib. While he was rendered helpless by the extreme pain, she moved in close and drove her knee into his groin three times in rapid succession, pulverizing his genitals. She then stepped back slightly and knocked him down with a kick to the face.

Downstairs, one of the men Natalie was fighting heaved himself to his hands and knees. She kicked him in the head with her powerful leg, breaking his neck. “Two against one!” she counted down mockingly. The two remaining men climbed to their feet. A swift side kick to one’s gut sent him doubled over, gasping for breath. The second swung a punch at her elegant face, which she easily dodged. She responded with a lethal palm strike to his face that drove the cartilage from his nose into his brain. She laughed. “Finally, one on one!”

Five men were running away from Abby. As she finished her tumbling pass and caught up to them, she smirked, “Don’t any of you cowards have the balls to face me?” Two men turned around and charged her. She rammed her sword into the throat of one, swiftly pulled it out, and stunned the second man with a quick kick to his face. As he stood there, dizzy, she held out her sword in front of her, positioning it under his crotch. She then raised her sword arm upward. The blade sliced him in half vertically from groin to head. Blood flew everywhere.

The last three men were still running away. Abby hid her sword behind her back by tucking it into her pants. “Hey, guys!” she called out, raising her hands. “I don’t have my big scary sword anymore. Wanna come and fight now?” The men turned. Seeing her empty hands, they ran at her and surrounded her. With a wicked grin and lightning speed, Abby drew her hidden sword, raised it above her head, and spun around like a ballerina, brutally decapitating all three men. “Suckers!” she laughed.

The guard Natalie was facing was now the last man alive in the room. He looked around and trembled in fear upon seeing all the corpses. In desperation, he swung a punch at Natalie’s stomach. Seeing it coming, she tensed her abs. The man screamed in pain as his fist impacted her rock-hard six-pack. Unhurt, Natalie giggled. “Wimp. I’m a girl and I have better muscles than you.” She saw Abby, having slaughtered all her opponents, watching her.

“C’mon, Nat, finish him off. I want to go get something to eat.”

“Yeah, I’m hungry too.” Natalie grinned wickedly at the guard. “This will be quick but painful.” With that, she slammed her left fist into his eye, turning it black, then drove her right into his jaw, breaking it. She did a fierce low kick to his knee, breaking it too and sending him to the floor howling in agony. His howls only got louder when she stomped down hard on his broken knee with her black leather boot, mutilating and grinding down on the bones. She jumped onto him and began punching him in the head with her gloved fists. Blood flew as the slim but lethally strong girl pummeled him, smashing through tissue and bone, cracking and penetrating his skull, and finally bashing his brains in. Thirty punches later, all that was left of his head was a mass of blood, gore, and pieces of bone. Natalie and Abby walked up to each other and gave each other a hug. Both stunningly hot girls were covered with the blood of the helpless enemies they had mercilessly slaughtered.

Looking at the gory scene of death, Abby smirked, “We are so good.”

“Yeah, we’re the best.” Natalie rubbed her toned abs. “C’mon, let’s go upstairs and see how Angie and Rania are doing. Maybe they’re done and we can all go out to eat.”

Angela and Rania were doing just fine. The same could not be said for their opponents, however. Angela peformed a front tuck somersault to take her to the downed Salim. He climbed to his hands and knees as she reached him. She knocked him down again by driving her elbow down onto his head. “Finishing time, honey,” she said in her slight Southern accent. She wrapped her ultra-muscular thighs around his skull and began squeezing. Salim, crying in pain, tried to pry her thighs loose with his hands, but she was far too strong. He thrashed and struggled helplessly, feeling agony and crushing pressure he never thought possible from a woman. Angela squeezed harder. Soon she heard cracking sounds as her opponent’s skull began to give way. Salim’s eyes closed and he went limp. The cracking grew louder. Finally, with a horrible squishing noise, Salim’s skull caved in completely. Bloody goo rolled off of Angela’s thighs.

Meanwhile, Rania was standing over al-Razizi, who was still on the floor and dizzy from the petite girl’s powerful headbutt. She stomped hard on his face with her black leather boot. “That’s for harassing me.” She then began kicking him in the groin with all her strength. The first kick sent searing, white-hot pain through him. By the third kick, he had permanently lost the ability to be a father. By the tenth kick, his gonads were no more than messy paste. “Those were for all the other girls you harassed!”

Al-Razizi was in unimaginable pain and crying like a baby. Rania reached down and lifted him by the hair. As the Lebanese beauty looked straight into his frightened eyes, he began begging for mercy. Rania glared at him with hatred and scorn.

“You want mercy? I bet Leila begged for mercy before you raped her! I bet she begged for mercy before you slit her throat! I’ll show you exactly the same mercy you showed her, asshole!” She dragged him to the nearest wall and placed him against it in a sitting position. He was too wounded to move and could only continue to make feeble pleas to be spared, which Rania ignored.

“This is for Leila,” she said softly. With that, she rammed her knee into his head. Blood flew, splattering on her black pants. Al-Razizi shrieked in agony. Again she drove her knee into him, striking him with expert precision in the middle of his forehead. His cry of pain was fainter this time as he began losing consciousness. She smashed her knee into his forehead again and again, cracking and weakening her victim’s skull. After several blows, he was mortally wounded, blood from his brain oozing out. Rania looked at him with a smirk and prepared one final knee strike, putting every ounce of strength she had into it. Her knee impacted his forehead with devastating force, driving right through the skull bone and deep into his brain. Rania stood up straight, heart pounding, as she looked at al-Razizi’s corpse. “Leila, you are avenged. Justice is done,” she whispered.

Angela came up and gave her a tight hug and a long kiss. “Good work, Rania. How do you feel?”

“I feel like I have closure now. I think I’ll be able to get a good night’s sleep tonight.” She looked over at Salim’s mutilated skull. “What did you do to him?”

“Crushed his head with my thighs,” said Angela.

“Wow, you’re so strong,” said Rania admiringly.

“You’re strong too, especially for someone as thin as you. Even most men don’t have the muscle to do what you did.” Angela stroked Rania’s back. “C’mon, let’s find Abby and Natalie.”

“We’re here!” sang out Natalie’s voice as she and Abby entered the room. Natalie looked around. “Looks like you guys did some good work too.”

“Yeah,” said Abby. “We almost tripped over some of the corpses in the doorway. So is everyone finished off?”

“Yep, all the men in the house are dead,” Angela confirmed.

“Great!” said Abby. “Nat and I are really hungry.”

Angela looked startled for a second, then nodded. “I guess we can go out to eat. No one’s going to find these bodies until tomorrow, and we’ll be long gone by then. But we should change first. Luckily we have clean clothes in the Explorer.”

Rania looked down at her clothes, looked at Angela, then at Abby and Natalie. “Sheesh, you guys are COVERED in blood. Angela and I have some, but you two…What did you DO downstairs?”

“To be fair, most of mine I got from Abby when I hugged her,” said Natalie. “She was a machine with that sword of hers.”

Abby, laughing, drew her sword, twirled it, and resheathed it. “Yep! Those guys didn’t stand a chance.”

The women headed out of the mansion, stopping downstairs to look at Abby’s and Natalie’s handiwork in the ballroom. Rania gasped when she saw dozens of corpses. Some had been shot or had their necks broken, but others were decapitated or sliced in half. One corpse, which was armless and lying in a massive pool of blood, had a look of pure terror frozen onto its face.

Angela shook her blonde head in amazement. “There were this many and you did all of them? Wow. I never thought there would be so many. Something must be up. Maybe Danica will know when we get back.” They exited the house, Natalie and Abby walking ahead, already chattering to each other about what they wanted for dinner.

Rania whispered into Angela’s ear. “Are they always this…casual about killing?”

“Yes, they are, pretty much,” Angela whispered back. “They’re natural born assassins.”

“I don’t think that’s the life for me,” said Rania. “I mean, I’m glad I killed al-Razizi, but that was a personal case of revenge. I can’t imagine living the way Nat and Abby do. I’d rather get back to college.”

“That’s perfectly fine,” Angela responded. “The assassin’s life isn’t for everyone. And even if it is your way of life, you don’t have to live it the way those two do. Take me, for example. I’m a professional killer, but I don’t make fun and games out of it.” She paused. “But I want you to know, any time you want to go on another mission with us, you’re more than welcome.”

“Thanks,” said Rania, squeezing Angela’s hand.

After an excellent dinner at one of the fine restaurants in Kurtaria City’s Diplomatic Quarter, the girls boarded the cargo plane for the long journey home. On board, Angela called Danica on the plane’s radio. “Mission accomplished, Dani,” she said with a grin.

“Excellent,” crackled Danica’s voice. “We’ll do the full debriefing as soon as you land.”

It was 2 AM Pacific time when the plane landed at the secret base. Danica was waiting for them as they disembarked. She gave each of the women a hug. “Luckily it’s night so I could sneak onto here,” she said. “I could have scheduled this during my normal off hours but I like to do these as soon after the mission as possible. Feels funny sneaking away from a regular Army base where 99% of the soldiers don’t know about this secret one. Anyway, let’s go into the basement room and you can give me all the details.”

Inside, Angela did most of the talking, summarizing the mission from start to finish. Abby and Natalie occasionally interjected with boastful but true statements of their kills. Rania talked about peronally finishing al-Razizi off. Danica gave her a kiss when she said that. “And so after we made sure there was no one alive in the mansion except us, we went out for dinner, got back on the plane, and here we are,” Angela finished.

“All wrapped up nice and neat,” said Danica.

“Actually, I do have a couple of things,” said Angela. “One, why were there so many men there? And two, will there be any international repercussions over our going to a foreign country and killing a bunch of people?”

“People who had it coming,” said Natalie.

“Agreed, they had it coming,” said Angela. “I was just saying…”

“Anyway, who’s going to know it was us?” Abby asked, interrupting her.

“They could guess, based on what al-Razizi did,” said Rania. “But there’s no proof against us, and frankly, they did have it coming. And not just al-Razizi himself. They were all associating with him. Lie down with dogs, get up with fleas.”

Danica raised her hands for quiet. “I can answer both of those issues right now. It seems that the Shah of Kurtaria is a reformer who wants to modernize his country, and the Kurtarian reactionaries don’t like that. Some of them were plotting to overthrow and murder the Shah, and al-Razizi was in on the plot. All of those extra men at his house were conspirators who were to provide muscle for the coup. If the Kurtarian government ever finds out it was us who ‘took care’ of al-Razizi and his men, I’m sure they won’t be anything except very grateful.”

Angela broke into a wide smile. “Wonderful!”

“Would you ladies like a drink before you head off to the airport to catch your flights back home?” Danica asked. “I have some excellent tequila here.”

“I’d love a drink right now!” said Abby.

“Yeah,” added Natalie. “We couldn’t have any booze at the restaurant because alcohol is banned in Kurtaria.”

Danica smiled. “Incidentally, that’s one of the things the Shah is trying to change. He wants to legalize alcohol.”

“Can’t he just make it so?” asked Angela. “He is the Shah.”

“Laws have to go through the Kurtarian parliament, and it’s full of reactionaries,” said Rania. “Democracy in this case is actually a roadblock to freedom. People shouldn’t have democracy unless they’re smart enough for it. In countries where they aren’t, a benevolent dictator is actually better.”

“I’ll drink to that,” said Danica. She poured shots for everyone. “To freedom. True freedom,” she said, raising her glass.

“To a clean and successful mission,” said Angela.

“To victory,” said Abby.

“To kicking some serious butt,” said Natalie.

“To vengeance…and closure. To Leila,” said Rania.

“To Leila,” the others echoed. The girls downed their shots and leaned back, content.

THE END

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…

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