Hero Force United Boxed Set 1

by Baron Sord

  Pulled away a flattened bullet from right between her boobs. It’d torn a hole in her costume and hit the bone. She felt for blood.

  Nothing.

  She couldn’t believe it.

  Angerboy was looking right at her. He couldn’t believe it either and thought, Why didn’t she go down?!

  She screamed, “YOU SHOT ME, YOU PIECE OF SHIT!”

  Angerboy’s eyes popped and he ran back around the Angerbot and jumped in the cab. Floored it.

  Tires screeched and the truck tore away.

  BAM!

  That was the sound of Kristy’s boots banging down in the bed of the truck. She’d jumped long before it’d started forward. Now, she adjusted her center of gravity to compensate for the backward lurch of acceleration, then punched out the back window like she’d imagined earlier. Several strikes broke big holes in the glass.

  BASH!

  BASH!

  BASH!

  She clawed away crumbling glass until the hole was big enough for her to lean her head and shoulders inside.

  “Stop the truck!” she shouted.

  Pop!

  Pop!

  Pop!

  Kristy saw the gun coming around long before it did and dodged.

  Angerboy had shot with his left hand across his body and was aiming behind. The gun wasn’t even pointing at her. The bullets could’ve gone anywhere, but they didn’t hit Kristy.

  Pop!

  Pop!

  Click!

  Click!

  Click!

  Kristy reached in and punched Angerboy in the side of his head above his ear.

  His head slammed against his door window on his left and he went limp.

  The truck suddenly slowed and started to curve toward the side of the road, aiming for the natural rock wall to the right. It was taller than the truck and was inches from the side of the pavement.

  Kristy leaned half-through the broken back window and grabbed the steering wheel. Tore the crap out of her costume on the glass in the process. Kept the truck going straight with one hand on the wheel while she crawled completely inside, sat on the center console, got her feet in front of her, and stabbed the brake with her boot. When the truck screeched to a stop, she threw the stalk shifter into park and broke it off. Reached over and popped the door latch. Climbed over Angerboy, who was totally out of it, and dragged him out the cab.

  Laid him on the road more gently than he deserved.

  He moaned.

  She went around the truck and tore the valve stems off all four tires.

  Hiss, hiss, hiss, hiss!

  They deflated and left the truck helpless on flattened tires. Remembering you could drive on rims, K-Cray reached into the cab and ripped the steering wheel off the column and hurled it spinning like a discus into the shadows of the distant desert dirt.

  Still furious, K-Cray dragged Angerboy away from the truck and laid him on the shoulder ahead of it. She went around to the passenger side of the truck, which was only a few feet away from the tall rock wall to the right. She squatted beside the truck in the middle, grabbed the side step bar, and lifted.

  It was effing heavy!

  With a fair amount of unladylike grunting and straining and gritting her teeth, K-Cray got it up to her waist. Took a moment to switch grips, getting one hand under the step bar, then the other. Grimacing and squatting like a power lifter, she pushed it over her head and rolled it onto its side on the road where it landed with a—

  BANG!

  Good enough.

  Not it wasn’t, not if you asked K-Cray.

  On its side in the middle of the road, the Angerbot was blocking both ways.

  K-Cray pushed it skidding on its left side toward the dirt shoulder. Had to squat low to not tip it over, and go back and forth, alternating between axles. One side at a time. Each time she pushed, the paint job made a pleasing scream on the road.

  SCREEEE!

  K-Cray smiled the entire time, periodically checking on Angerboy to make sure he wasn’t going anywhere.

  He wasn’t.

  She pushed the truck again.

  SCREEEE!

  “You like the sound of that?” K-Cray asked Angerboy.

  He didn’t answer.

  SCREEEE!

  “I do! It’s music to my ears!”

  SCREEEE!

  When the truck was finally on the dirt and hit the angle of the shoulder, it rolled on its own, bashing onto its roof down at the bottom of the short dirt slope. It rocked a few times in the desert weeds and came to rest.

  That was good enough.

  Smiling, K-Cray dusted off her gloves and stood back on the dark road looking at Angerboy.

  He had pushed himself onto his hands but couldn’t quite sit up.

  What to do with him?

  In the distance, Kristy heard a rumbling engine.

  Oh, no!

  Her dad’s Ninja!

  It was parked in the middle of the road!

  She didn’t want some 18-wheeler smashing into it!

  Panicked, she sprinted back the way she’d come.

  The rumbling grew louder and louder.

  Kristy had no idea how fast she was running, but it was faster than any person ever and then some. She came around a bend in the road expecting to see an 18-wheeler plowing through the Ninja and shattering it into a trillion pieces.

  All she saw was one headlight in the distance.

  It slowed and stopped in the road.

  Turned around slowly and farted away.

  Sounded like a Harley.

  Whatever.

  All she cared about was her dad’s Ninja.

  It was right where she’d left it, engine idling in the middle of the road. She hopped on and cruised back to Angerboy. Parked the Ninja on the gritty dirt shoulder and turned it off.

  Angerboy pushed himself up to sitting.

  “You tried to murder me,” Kristy said.

  He looked at her with glazed eyes. Said nothing.

  “Maybe I should return the favor,” K-Cray said for her.

  It would be so, so, so easy to kill Angerboy right now.

  There weren’t even any witnesses.

  He certainly deserved it.

  No, Kristy couldn’t kill him.

  K-Cray was talking crazy.

  Kristy walked over to Angerboy and squatted in front of him.

  “Ew! You reek!” Kristy grimaced and waved her hand in front of her nose. “I can smell your beer from here! How much did you drink tonight? A whole keg?”

  Angerboy stared at her like a booze zombie.

  “Ugh, you’re pathetic,” Kristy said and stood up.

  Too bad she’d rolled the truck over and broken everything. If she hadn’t, she could’ve easily lifted her Ninja into the bed, drove the truck and Angerboy to the nearest police station, and turned him over to the police so they could put him in jail forever.

  But K-Cray had destroyed the Angerbot truck.

  Oh well.

  What now?

  Angerboy had gotten up to his hands and knees.

  Kristy saw his wallet bulging in his back pocket. She grabbed it and tore it and the pocket off his jeans with a pleasing rip. Opened the wallet and looked at the drivers license.

  “Wilson Frit.” she said. Smirked, “Are you sure it’s not Wilson Frat Party?”

  He didn’t answer, but he had collapsed back onto the road. He wasn’t going anywhere.

  Wilson was young. Only 22, according to his drivers license. Barely old enough to drink, but he sure hadn’t wasted any time getting wasted. He was also 5’11 and weighed 185. Looking at him, that seemed about right.

  Wondering if somehow he’d stolen the Angerbot from somebody other than his parents, Kristy went down the slope to the battered truck lying on its roof. The driver door was now closed. It must’ve shut itself when she’d rolled the truck onto its side. She opened the latch and pulled. The top of the doorframe dug into the dirt and stopped short, so she had to force it hard. B
ent it in the process, folding it like tinfoil.

  Sorry, not sorry.

  Being super strong sure was nice, Kristy thought with a smile.

  Once the door was open, she crawled inside the upside down cab and opened the upside-down glove box. Everything inside fell out. Kristy found the registration inside the vinyl folder for the owner’s manual and scanned it.

  Hayden Frit.

  Hayden lived on Verona Hills. Same address as Wilson’s drivers license.

  Surprised, not surprised.

  A hundred bucks this was Daddy’s truck.

  Kristy glared at Angerboy the Entitled Asshole out on the road.

  She needed to do something about him.

  But what?

  She sighed and took a look around inside the crew cab. A toolbox lay on the truck’s ceiling, which was the floor now. Next to it was a heavy-duty orange extension cord. Looked like a hundred footer.

  That gave Kristy an idea.

  —: o o o :—

  “The shit people do never changes,” said Sergeant Ronnie Wooten from behind the wheel of his Escondido PD cruiser.

  Next to him sat Officer Grant Hodges, a first-year rookie.

  Both men were in full duty gear, ready for anything the city served up.

  Hodges prompted, “Oh yeah?”

  “Yeah.” Wooten had been talking nonstop for the last fifteen minutes. He continued his monologue, “That’s the thing, Hodges. People are the same. They never change. The shit they do is the same year after year after year. After nearly twenty years on the job, I’ve seen it all.”

  “I hear you,” Hodges nodded and glanced absently out the side window. His eyes popped at what he saw. A grin spread across his face. He turned back to Wooten and said, “You ever seen that?”

  Wooten leaned to look past Hodges’s shoulders and out the passenger window. He snorted a laugh, “What in fuck is that?”

  “You tell me,” Hodges chuckled.

  “Is that an extension cord?” Wooten chortled.

  “I think it is.”

  Riding beside them on a sportbike was a woman in colorful tights. Strapped to her back with an orange extension cord was a human backpack. Guy was bound up in a ball. He did not look happy at all.

  “That can’t be legal,” Hodges snorted.

  “What tipped you off?” Wooten laughed.

  “How strong you have to be to carry a dude around on your back like that?”

  “Strong enough,” Wooten chuckled in disbelief.

  The woman sat up straight on the motorcycle. Backpack Man’s weight settled onto the tail. The woman pulled slightly ahead and waved with one hand, motioning to Wooten and Hodges.

  “What’s she want?” Hodges asked.

  “You tell me,” Wooten snorted.

  Hodges smirked, “I thought you’d seen it all, Sarge.”

  “I have now,” Wooten laughed as he flipped on the lights.

  —: o o o :—

  Kristy pulled ahead of the police cruiser on her Ninja. Maintained a stable speed just ahead of it. Waved repeatedly over her head, pointing to the side of the road.

  “Pull me over already,” she said to herself.

  A moment later, blue and red lights flashed behind her. She could see them shining on the dark road ahead.

  Kristy slowed to a stop.

  She could feel the extension cord digging into her shoulders with Wilson’s weight, but it didn’t bother her. Riding with 185 pounds on her back had taken some getting used to, but she’d managed, and taken it easy on the ride back into town.

  She put the side stand down and slid off the Ninja.

  Wilson’s weight pulled against her, but she easily muscled herself off the bike.

  She turned around and saw the two policemen were already out of their car. The older driver came forward while the younger passenger stood by his door.

  “Hey, guys,” Kristy said after flipping up her visor. “Can you help me with him? He’s really heavy.” She was lying, but men always liked to help.

  In this case, they weren’t sure what to do.

  Kristy walked up to the hood of the cruiser, turned around, and lowered herself so Wilson’s weight was resting on it. “That’s a relief,” she sighed like it actually was, which it wasn’t. She shrugged the orange extension cord straps off her shoulders and pulled her arms out. She laid Wilson on his side so he wouldn’t roll off the hood. Laughed, “Woo-wee! I don’t know how I managed that!”

  Annoyed, the older policeman thought, Why’d she have to put him on the car?

  “Sorry,” Kristy shrugged, picked up Wilson like she was bear-hugging a ball, and set him on the street. Then she stood with her hands on her hips and arched her back to present her breasts. Give them a little breast and you got what you wanted. A tale as old as time.

  The young policeman said, “How’d you do that?”

  “I work out,” Kristy said.

  The older policeman looked her over and thought, Now that’s what I call a body.

  Kristy knew how good her Lady Liberty costume looked on her. It accentuated everything on purpose. She’d sewn it that way.

  The younger guy thought, If she’s as hot under that helmet as the rest of her, damn!

  Kristy tried not to roll her eyes. She said, “Okay, so, yeah. This guy chased me, like, for-ever in his pickup truck, right?” She tried to sound as dumb as possible. Men always went easy on the dumb pretty ones. “And, um, he like, rolled it into a ditch, right? Then he like, shot me, like, a bunch of times.”

  “Wait, slow down,” the older policeman said. “What did you say?”

  Kristy said, “What’s your name?”

  “Sergeant Wooten. This is Officer Hodges.” The sergeant tipped his head over his shoulder at the younger policeman.

  Officer Hodges waved a smile and thought, Man, she has the best tits and hips. And some fine-ass thigh gap.

  Kristy ignored it. She’d heard it a billion times at Flashbacks, and she wasn’t even reading minds there. Guys literally said that stuff out loud. Usually not to her face, but she could always overhear the guys when she was dancing because they thought she couldn’t hear them talking to each other because the music was so loud. She heard. And sometimes, the bold ones said it straight to her face. No biggie. These two policemen thinking rude stuff was nothing.

  The sergeant said, “What happened again?”

  Kristy nodded, “Like, yeah. He chased me in his truck.”

  “Why was he chasing you?”

  Kristy rolled her eyes, “Because he’s super drunk, and he like, almost hit two others cars twice. I saw it. Anyway, I got like, super mad, and followed him. Told him to stop driving. Anyway, he didn’t. Then he like, crashed. Then he got out and like, shot me.”

  “You mean he shot at you?”

  Kristy shook her head, “No, he like, shot me shot me. See?” She peeled open the bullet hole in the chest of her costume, revealing slightly pink skin. She could still feel where it’d hit her, but it hardly hurt now.

  The sergeant gave her a dubious look.

  Kristy rolled her eyes, “I’m telling you, he like, shot me like, bunches of times! But he only hit me once.”

  The sergeant frowned, “Were you hit by a fragment ricochet?”

  “What’s that?” Kristy giggled dumbly.

  “When a bullet hits something hard, breaks apart, and a piece of it hits you.”

  “Yeah, that,” she giggled. She didn’t care what they thought, as long as they believed Angerboy’d shot at her. “Anyway, here’s his gun.” Kristy squeezed her knees together and bent down over Wilson. She’d tied the gun onto the extension cord by running it through the trigger guard. She’d had to rip the plug off the cord to fit it through the guard. Now the gun was hanging from the cord right over Wilson’s chest. She knew the basics of guns, and she’d made double-sure it was empty before tying it to him.

  Officer Hodges had joined her and the sergeant to look at her handiwork.

  Kri
sty wiggled the gun by the barrel. “It’s empty because he like, shot all his bullets at me.”

  Both men exchanged surprised smiles.

  Kristy stood up. “Do you guys like, wanna know where the truck is? It’s way, way, way out in the boonies.” Before leaving Wilson’s truck behind, she’d marked the location on her smartphone using GPS and the map app. “I can show you on my phone. Can I go get my phone? It’s like, on my motorcycle. I’m just gonna go get it, k?”

  When she turned around, Officer Hodges thought, Look at that ass! That is a flawless ass!

  Kristy sashayed it for the benefit of both men. Grabbed her phone and came back. Opened up the map app and showed them.

  “That’s out in Bandy Canyon,” the sergeant said.

  “Uh huh,” Kristy nodded earnestly.

  “I know right where that it is.”

  “So you guys can like, take it from here?” Kristy backed up a step from the policeman.

  “You can’t go, miss,” the sergeant said.

  “Why not?”

  “If you were involved in a shooting, we need to take your statement.”

  The young guy grinned and thought, I need to take your phone number.

  Kristy said, “Oh, I wasn’t shooting. He was.”

  The sergeant nodded, “Yes, but if you were involved…”

  “I wish I could stay, but I really really have to go.” Kristy turned and hurried to her Ninja. She already sensed another disaster coming soon.

  “Stop! Miss!”

  Kristy jumped on without looking back, revved the growling engine, and raced off.

  When you had as much riding experience as Kristy, enhanced super-reflexes, and your dad’s Ninja H2R, not even the police radio could catch you.

  The long arm of the law would never catch Kristy Crawford.

  —: Chapter 17 :—

  The head dungeoneer called me the next day.

  At that point, everything took a turn for the worse.

  When I had woken up early that morning, I had started by emailing my boss Sanjay Gadroo for the third day in a row that I was sick. Used the crappy 3-generations-old Robot phone I had bought yesterday from some dude on Craigslist because I couldn’t afford another $500 for a second new phone in two days.