Bitch's Night Out

by Michael Anderle

  “Would those be oak or redwoods?” Peter asked.

  “Guns?” Eric asked.

  “They should have a few, but they commonly use machetes and other knives,” John answered.

  “No, I meant what guns do we use?” Eric clarified.

  “Pistols at most, but I’d suggest knives for close up work. You are looking a little weak in your hand-to-hand.”

  “Whatever John, just don’t take my kills,” Eric said.

  “God, still on that? We were even back there.” Darryl commented.

  The six Black Eagles dropped down over the moonlit jungle to a set of coordinates Frank supplied. It wasn’t until the team was within a thousand meters that they could see the break in the tree’s that showed them a small village.

  The six Pods quietly separated and landed two at a time. John and Eric got out, first placing their helmets in the Pods, followed by Scott and Darryl, then Akio and Peter. The Pods went back up into the air and disappeared in the darker sky.

  John called out loudly in a dialect none of the men understood. When he stopped after saying it the third time, they had a lot of movement in houses and people leaving past them. They gave the six curious glances as they took in the men carrying pistols, knives, and a sword.

  “This way,” John supplied, and the six men walked abreast of John as they started down the small dirt path. Six sets of boots kicked up dust as old weather- and time-beaten faces regarded them from the cutouts used in the small huts as windows.

  People too old to leave or too old to care anymore.

  The six could hear the group coming towards them long before it appeared. They moved to the shadows beside buildings about twenty yards from the jungle. Akio had disappeared up a tree. John just shook his head. He couldn’t find the little vampire at all.

  The attacking group congregated just out of sight, and John counted to sixty before the yelling and running started.

  The five men allowed half of the attacking team to appear before they stepped from the shadows. Each attacker who held a gun was horribly torn apart by the powerful pistols the Bitches held. Many of the attackers had to pick themselves off the ground when body parts slammed into them as they ran down the crowded pathway.

  The runner faltered in their advance when the screaming began. The simple village attack turned into an ambush as the Bitches announced themselves. Many froze in terror as the screaming from their own people behind them began.

  “Akio!” John yelled out, “For God’s sake man, leave a few!” He pulled his Bowie knife and smiled as he strode towards the closest man with a machete.

  “Let the fun begin!” He growled as he parried the first swing with his knife and kicked the attacker, crushing two of his ribs as he flew back into plants next to the path. “NEXT!” He yelled into the carnage of men who were cursing, slashing, and screaming into the night.

  The cries of attackers had turned to whimpers before each voice was systematically silenced in the darkness.

  The six pulled all of the ADF’s weapons and placed them in the center of the small village. John looked around and spied a smaller knife on one of the attackers and also a machete two bodies over. He found one body that seemed to be the leader with a more military-looking coat. Grabbing the knife, he walked over to the corpse, grabbed the jacket’s collar, and started walking into the jungle. He had gone about a half mile before he placed the body against a tree that allowed him to throw the arms over limbs. He pulled the machete back with both hands and used his massive strength to impale the blade through its chest and embed it into the tree. He took the knife and ripped off his Queen’s Bitch patch and held it on the body’s chest and stabbed it with the knife.

  It was a warning to the ADF if they didn’t get the message he would personally come back and make it again. Permanently.

  You don’t fuck with this village; it was under the Queen Bitch’s protection.

  John walked back through the jungle, complete in its silence until he passed through.

  Minutes after he left, the jungle sounds returned.

  New York City, New York

  John ‘The Don’ Cherynsky pulled his coat closed as he stepped out of the limo. His two men had already confirmed the warehouse, a twenty-foot high affair a hundred feet long and sixty wide was safe for the meet, so his car drove through the garage door and parked thirty feet away from a similar limousine. By the time John came around the front of his limousine, each SUV that had followed the limousine had unloaded ten men.

  The agreed number for each side.

  John’s six-foot-four-inch height and barrel chest usually dwarfed most men, but the Asian man might be equal. Maybe not in height, but his chest was even larger, and his arms were massive.

  They shook, firm handshakes with neither playing stupid ‘who is stronger’ games like you would get with more immature operators.

  “John,” he spoke, in a whispered breath due to an unfortunate ‘accident’ with chemicals in his youth. He made it out alive. The others did not.

  “Jing,” John supplied, “I trust the family is well?”

  “Yes, thank you, John. You are always a most pleasant American to interact with on my trips. Rarely do you speak business first.” Jing turned to look around, “It is refreshing.”

  “Jing, you might find more Americans pleasant if you didn’t treat them as uncultured barbarians first, and then work up to barely accepting them as civil over a year.” John replied, smiling, “Even if, between you and I, it is mostly true.”

  The powerful Asian man clasped the taller American on the shoulder, “You provide this wisdom every time we meet, and yet I am not wise enough to understand.”

  “Uh huh,” John supplied as the two turned to walk together towards the far wall, “Why do I feel it has more to do with our tv shows we ship all over the world?”

  “That is because it is true!” Jing laughed, “The value of the reality T.V. shows that you export explains the zombie-like mental state of the unwashed masses!”

  “Which, I might remind you, are very ‘washed’ compared to the rest of the world?” John replied.

  “Bah,” Jing waved a hand, “Physically clean yes, mentally full of sugar.” Jing put his hands on his ears and pulled them away, “You open it up, and there is nothing but talk about someone’s ex-wife or the latest actor scandal.”

  The two men turned before reaching the wall and started walking back. It was time to get down to business for the two of them.

  “So, we have retrieved the four boxes from the cargo containers. Do I have your personal promise these are not to be used here in my state?” John asked.

  Jing raised an eyebrow, “Did you open them?”

  “No, of course not.” John replied, “My people know discretion. You might blame a complete lack of consideration on someone's choice of shipping containers. Two of my men are ex-military. They know what an RPG crate looks like.”

  Jing stopped and turned back slightly towards the wall and lowered his voice, “John, we have done business for a very long time. I cannot promise where these might be used. I can tell you that they are slated to be used against a CEO, who frequents her home in Florida or possibly against one of her flying vehicles.”

  “Yes,” John kept his voice low, “I’m aware of the person you are speaking about. There is an open offer of a million dollars for her capture.”

  “Five.” Jing admitted and looked up into John’s eye, “But if you bring her to me, I’ll double it.”

  “Well,” John considered, “That makes the effort worthwhile. I understand, and I respect, your need to keep your options open. If they are to come back inside my territory, please give me a heads up. I’d hate to have a team get between your effort to send one of these as a gift and my effort to acquire a guest.” John held out his hand.

  Jing nodded and took John’s hand, “Agreed.”

  —

  “Can you believe that shit?” Darryl hissed. He and John were up on the roof right
next to one of the old windows listening to the discussions below. Eric and Scott were watching one door, Peter and Akio watching the opposite door of the warehouse. “He wants to off Bethany Anne.”

  John’s face, if it were possible, moved from dark to impossibly black. “Yes, I can believe it.” His voice was quiet, if grim.

  “Did you know about it?” Darryl asked.

  John shook his head, “No, Frank said that a Chinese cache of weapons was being unloaded at the port, and there was a meeting to pass them over here tonight. So, mafia types and Chinese players. I didn’t know they were looking to hit Bethany Anne.” John reached around to a pouch on his back and pulled out two grenades and leaned over to look down into the building again.

  John reached up to his microphone, “Hey Y'all. Watch this shit!”

  “Oh fuck,” Darryl whispered and started quickly and quietly moving to the edge of the roof to drop down as John reached into his pouch, pulling out another grenade.

  John’s face was lit by the light in the building streaming up through the window into the night, his face, contorted in anger into a grin at anyone who would threaten Bethany Anne as he pulled the three pins. “Say hello to my little friends!” he whispered as he raised his arm to throw them through the glass.

  On the south side of the building, two sets of boots could be heard running away from the southern door. On the north side, there was a hushed conversation, “No! John does NOT mean watch this!” Scott grabbed Akio’s arm, allowing him to be pulled away. They started running from the building. The two had made it as far as the side of the building when Darryl came running out of the alley and joined them.

  Akio was confused but started running with purpose now that Darryl was with them. “What is it? Didn’t John say to watch this?”

  “Hell yes!” Darryl huffed, “But whenever John Grimes says, ‘Hey y'all, watch this shit’ that is code for 'get the fuck out of there'!” Darryl and Peter grinned as three explosions rocked the warehouse behind them.

  The three men slowed to a stop and turned around. A massive amount of smoke was billowing up out of broken windows, glass still tinkling as it fell to the street around the old warehouse.

  In a few moments, they could hear pistol shots from inside the building.

  “Does he need us?” Akio asked.

  “Oh, I don’t think so,” Darryl answered, “He’s getting his mad out right now.”

  “What happened?” Peter asked Darryl when Scott and Eric joined the other three.

  Darryl answered, “The Chinese in there were importing RPG’s to use against Bethany Anne, and John heard it.” He answered as two more shots could be detected among the crackle of the flames.

  The four men turned from looking at Darryl to looking back to the now burning building. Soon, a figure emerged from the door, walking calmly towards the men as a siren was cutting through the night’s stillness in the distance. John made it about halfway to the group when another round of explosions rocked the warehouse.

  “There go the RPG’s.” Darryl mused.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Akio stepped out of the suite’s bath. “Next,” he called out as he shoved his clothes into his overnight bag. He had changed into a nice dark blue pair of pants, white pressed shirt, and a gold watch, with dark blue loafers on his feet.

  “All me!” Peter called as he rushed into the shower.

  The men had rented a large suite on the other side of New York to give themselves a place to change. John had to be brought by a side entrance because he smelled too much of smoke to walk through the main entrance. The huge fire and discovery of dead men inside the warehouse had made the news. The police were keeping quiet so far about how the men died.

  John, Eric, and Darryl were using the connected suites’ shower while Scott, Peter, and Akio used the room on one side. Scott had to cut out a small piece of metal, from the fight over in Iraq and was making sure he didn’t have anything else stuck in his body he hadn’t noticed.

  John walked in through the open door between their suites, “Damn Akio, you clean up well.” He turned to look at Scott, “Are you done, Dr. Demento?” Scott threw up his middle finger. “Told you not go get too close but you had to go all Rambo and shoot off your Dukes Special on 10!”

  “Mother fucking thing should show ’11’ on the side. Not ’10’,” Scott grinned, “God, it packs a punch like a mule.” He rubbed his shoulder, “I know the healing is done, but you don’t forget that feeling.”

  “Experience is the mother of all teaching,” John said. “We have a limo picking us up in thirty minutes, guys. Carry concealed only, nothing to get us in trouble.”

  The shower door opened, and Peter stepped out in a towel, “Next!”

  —

  The six men, all decked out in nice clothes swept through the hotel lobby and many ladies’ eyes followed them as they walked through the front doors out to a waiting limousine.

  John walked up to the driver and held out his hand, “John Grimes,” he said.

  “Um, Bartholomew,” His driver supplied and shook his hand. The driver stuttered just a bit as he watched the men enter his car, his eyes open in shock.

  John leaned forward, “Bartholomew?” The driver nodded his head, “You know I asked for you especially, right? I wanted a Nacht to drive us around?

  “No, I didn’t realize that.” Bartholomew answered as he turned to face John, “I didn’t know that I was on a list for anyone to understand… um… what I am.”

  “Bartholomew, Bethany Anne doesn’t care so long as you stay ‘good’ ok? Don’t go Forsaken, and you will never hear from her. However,” John reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a business card, “Here’s my card. You need help? Call me. We are here to let off some steam, and I’m sure you know most of us?”

  “Of…of course!” Bartholomew commented, “You're practically rock gods in the UnknownWorld. The only gentleman I don’t recognize was the one in the blue slacks.”

  John looked down to the limo and back up, “Akio. He is a Guard, the lead of the Queen’s Elite.” John supplied.

  “And uh..uh.” Bartholomew stammered before John could finish it for him.

  “Yes, He is a Queen’s Bitch as well. We are here to have fun for the next few hours. Can you help me make that happen for these guys?”

  Bartholomew smiled and gave a sharp nod, “Yes I can, Mr. Grimes.”

  John put one foot in the car, “Let’s go to 245 Eldrige first, Bartholomew.” then finished sliding inside.

  “Bar Goto it is, Mr. Grimes,” Bartholomew said as he closed the door.

  —

  “Bar Goto was excellent,” Akio admitted, “It was a touch of home in this new world. Thank you.”

  John had nodded before Peter spoke up, “I’m voting best choice of the evening was Club Purple.”

  “You’re voting for the babes around their pool!” Scott called out to hoots from the rest.

  “And the bikinis,” Darryl added.

  “I’m voting for the willingness to drink until they found Peter handsome,” added Eric.

  The glass separating the front driver's area from the back started to open. “We are almost to the last place, Mr. Grimes. Are you sure you wanted to come here?”

  John was sitting on one of the seats that ran down the length of the car so he leaned over to speak to Bartholomew, “I’m positive.”

  The limousine pulled up to the side of the street in a dilapidated neighborhood. Bartholomew stepped out and put on his hat. He hadn’t expected to take these men from some of the hottest clubs in New York to this neighborhood, run by gangs.

  Ones that, Bartholomew suspected, had eyes on them right now.

  He stepped around the vehicle and walked down to the door and opened it. The first one out was Darryl, then Akio, Peter, John, Eric, and finally Scott, who had a look of shock on his face. “Dude…” He turned around. “This is one of my old, old areas!”

  “I know.” John said, “You know who hap
pens to be in that two story a block down with the two guys lounging outside smoking?”

  “No, who?” Scott asked, looking down the street.

  “A world class fuck-head pimp who killed a particular prostitute a long time ago. Care to have a word with him?” John asked, “We got your back.” He paused, “This can be civil…”

  Scott quickly started walking towards the building. “God, I hope not.” he murmured.

  Darryl winked at John as he followed Scott. John told Bartholomew, “I expect this car to be right here when we get back.”

  Bartholomew's eyes flashed red, “Oh, hell yeah, Mr. Grimes. No one is taking your ride tonight.”