by Joseph Pryce
Curse it to hell! She groaned inwardly. I am so out of bloody practice.
Busha reloaded the charge in her rifle and caught eyes with Trane and Big Dutty who were using the bar for protection.
“Trane! Get down! Get down!” She shouted. Busha saw that one of the mysterious armed men was making his way behind Trane and meant to fire upon him. The vigorous young woman unleashed a double barrelled blast from her rifle that burned a large hole through the masked man’s chest and instantly melted his lungs. He dropped dead to the pub floor leaking out blood and water from his body.
Trane leaped up from behind the bar to fire his blaster. He managed to get off only one shot that missed its target before finding himself surrounded by the surviving members of the amour wearing assault team. The leader of the masked team was a bulky looking man named Sidalbak. He pressed the muzzle of his rifle hard against Trane’s right cheek. “Don’t move you, dirty thief!” He growled with severe menace. Sidalbak’s partner posted next to him was named Westek. He glanced in rage at the dead braided woman on the ground.
“Nairoma’s dead!” He yelled at Sidalbak.
Westek spun his assault weapon around and aimed it at Busha’s head.
“Drop your rifle, you big trollop!” He howled at her.
Busha aimed her rifle at Westek in return. “You drop yours and I will drop mine, brigand!” She shot back hotly and unafraid. This was not by far the first fire fight that she had been involved in.
Instead of uttering a reply Westek calmly turned and fired a point blank blast at Big Dutty. The assault weapon’s energy beam just happened to be set at its maximum setting, so the red blast completely vaporized the strapping man to a steaming stinking puddle of primordial sludge.
Trane and Busha both recoiled in shock and anger their breaths caught in their throats. Sidalbak’s eyes had never left Trane. The dim hard lights of the pub glinted dangerously off of his silver and black battle shaded mask. The mask completely covered his mouth and muffled his voice but Trane was still able to make out what he told him. “Tell the big bitch to put down her weapon or I will order my men to kill her next”, he grunted gruffly to Trane.
“Go to hell, you piece of rat filth!” Trane replied still dismayed over the fact Dutty had been slain so casually.
“So be it, thief”, Sidalbak countered and pointed his assault rifle at Busha with every intention of killing her but before he could fire, a flashy mini hover-car coloured in a shade of neon purple crashed violently through the shattered pub doors.
“What the devil?!” Sidalbak and Westek cried out together upset at the sudden turn of events.
It was Trane’s best friend, Hiero Thothe, which crashed through the doors. He was a dashing bearded young man with a devil-may-care attitude about him, who although being the same twenty and two years of age as Trane appeared much more worldly and wily. He wore a long purple leather surcoat that matched the colour of his vehicle which egotistically bore a hand painted image of Heiro’s handsome face emblazoned on its back. With a mad twinkle in his eye, Hiero calmly leaned out of the driver’s side window and unleashed several blasts from the long golden pistol he lovingly named Yamila, after the only woman he had ever loved. The pistol’s handle was a shrine to her and even been carved in his long lost love’s naked image.
“What say you, villains!” Hiero laughed heartily as the gold coloured bolts of energy fired from his pistol and unerringly found their their targets.
Sidalbak and Westek were killed instantly as the ion based energy beams ripped open the chest plates of their armour and disintegrated their hearts. The third assailant named Tektan, fell to the ground in excruciating pain clutching his right knee that Hiero’s blast had ripped to a bloody pulpy mess.
Trane pounced on him with most haste and immediately sent the injured Tektan’s assault weapon scattering across the pub floor with a furious kick of his boot. He then crouched down and roughly ripped off the man’s battle mask. Underneath was a craggily faced man with a tattoo of red-eyed white viper burned into his right cheek.
This took Trane back slightly. “A Viper Agent?” He grabbed hold of Tektan in hostile bewilderment. “What the hell are you doing in Slum Village?”
Hiero and Busha both approached for a closer look. “Why would a Viper Agent be looking for us?” Busha cautiously asked. “We have never stolen anything from the capital”.
“I, for one does not want to find out”, Hiero raised his fire arm and before anybody could stop him he blasted Tektan dead in the face which abruptly reduced the agent’s head to a murky burgundy sludge.
“What the bloody hell did you do, Hiero?!” Trane yelled in exasperation.
Hiero shrugged in nonchalance. “What’s the problem?”
Busha gave Hiero a sharp smack on the back of his neck.
“Ow! That hurt, Busha!” He tenderly rubbed the spot where she had hit him.
Busha was only a few years older than Hiero and Trane and acted like an older sister to them which earned her much leeway with the two men.
“Good!” Came Busha’s quick response. “You are a horse’s ass, Hiero! You just killed the one person that could have garnered us some answers!”
Trane looked down at all of the dead Viper agents and shook his head. “No, Busha. You are wrong. There is another who can give us some answers”, he advised her. “You and Hiero help me get rid of these bodies. Then we have to pay somebody a visit”.
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Black Peaches stormed into her small and untidy residence and quickly locked the door behind her. She threw open the closet door in her living room and ripped down two pieces of red luggage from its top shelf. She hastily tore some clothes from their hangers and jammed them into the suitcases. She quickly moved into the tiny lavatory and removed all of her glass vials of toiletries from the medicine cabinet and carried them out with her. The young woman efficiently zipped them up into a hidden compartment in the larger of the two suitcases. There was a small but deadly looking pink blaster sitting on the picture mantle across from where Peaches was standing. She picked it up and checked its power indicator to ensure that it was fully charged.
“Norfolk, could you please order me a transport to arrive in ten minutes?” She said into her wrist com-link. “I need to get to the jetport in a hurry”.
“As you wish, mademoiselle. A transport will be waiting for you outside in exactly ten minutes”, the link replied in a deep male voice.
Peaches dashed into her bed quarters and stripped off her clothes which she threw down onto her unmade bed. She climbed into the frosted glass enclosed shower stall and the hidden nozzles in the wall automatically activated, dousing her perfect brown skin with warm water and pink cleansing gel. After three full minutes of shower time the flowing water abruptly stopped and was replaced by the roaring sound of hot air blowers that dried her skin in mere seconds. She walked out of the shower stall feeling clean and relaxed only to find Trane sitting on the edge of the bed aiming her own blaster at her chest.
“I often fantasied about what you looked like naked”, he commented matter-of-factly as his eyes roamed across her firm brown breasts and legs.
Peaches was more angry than surprised to find Trane sitting on her bed. So much so that she did not even make an effort to conceal her body from him. She planted both fists on her hips and flared her nostrils. “Just what the bloody hell are you doing in my room, Trane?!”
“I am here because I want you to tell me exactly why Four Viper Agents were sent to kill me”, Trane quietly informed her. He studied Peaches face trying to get a read on just much she actually knew about what just had transpired at the pub. His mother had often told him that he was born with the skill to know what other people were thinking. “You obviously know what is going on”, he added.
“You were supposed to be dead by now”, was Peaches callous reply. She glanced casually over her right shoulder at her clos
et. “Do you mind if I get dressed? I have a jet to catch”.
“Yes. I saw the jetport transport downstairs. I told it to go. That I would take you on”, he told her evenly.
“That was very kind of you”, the sultry woman shot back with heavy sarcasm as she inched her way carefully toward the wardrobe.
Trane raised up Peaches blaster that he was holding in a menacing fashion. “I need you to keep still”, he snarled. Peaches blaster was little but still powerful enough to burn a hole through those pretty brown knees of hers if need be. He thought seriously.
Peaches smiled coyly at him. “I need to put some clothes on Trane. I’m beginning to catch a chill”.
Trane did notice that the cool air from the room’s air vents had hardened her black nipples causing them to stand up very erect. He became very aroused despite himself.
“Get dressed, Peaches. Bu make any sudden move and I will shoot you”, he advised her sternly trying to ignore the swelling in his pants front.
“As you say”, she answered with flippancy. Peaches sashayed over to her wardrobe and started pulling down several outfits and dropping them disrespectfully onto the floor.
It was extremely difficult for Trane not to stare at her perfectly shaped chocolate coloured bare ass.
Stay focused! He chided himself harshly. Keep in mind that this women had something to do with you almost being murdered tonight.
Peaches bent over into the closet giving Trane a full view of her nether regions. “Ugggh!” She grunted in frustration. “Where are those red heels?”
“Don’t bother with fancying yourself up too much, Peaches. I am only taking you back to Hiero’s place. He and Busha are going to keep an eye on you until I find out exactly just who you are working for”, Trane told her curtly. The sight of her honeypot staring him right in the face a few feet away was putting him in a bad mood. Under different circumstances of course it would have been a joyful sight but not tonight.
“Hurry up, Peaches” he added impatiently. In his mind he ordered his penis to stand down.
Trane was so distracted by her luscious underparts that he had failed to notice that Peaches had reached for a gleaming red bladed sword that just happened to be sitting up against the back wall of the closet. The petite young woman swung around with the sword and just about managed to slice open Trane’s chest. But her killing stroke fell slightly a few inches short which gave Trane the opportunity to throw himself backwards over the bed and onto the floor.
Trane was too shocked to even speak and Peaches did not even give him a chance to register the situation. She just charged headlong at him brandishing the sword like a person that knew exactly how to use one.
“Do yourself a favour and just return what you stole, Trane! That way I won’t have to kill you!” Peaches yelled at him.
Trane rolled across the carpeted floor to avoid her next sword stroke which sliced apart a hole in the thick pink carpeting. He jumped up from the floor and realized that he accidentally had dropped Peaches blaster in the attempts to avoid her sword.
“What you doing, Peaches?! What are you talking about? I did not steal anything from you!” Trane shouted. He whipped out his own blaster and pointed it at Peaches. She stopped in her tracks but kept her red sword raised and ready.
“Do not force me to kill you, Peaches”, Trane pleaded. He liked the woman and had known her for three years, it would give him no pleasure to put her down.
“You are going to have to kill me, Trane because if you don’t I will surely kill you!” Peaches retorted and recklessly rushed him again.
Trane shot her without hesitation in the right knee but made sure his blaster was at its lowest setting. The blast shattered Peaches kneecap and she collapsed screaming in immense pain onto the floor dropping her sword in the process.
Trane snatched up the sword and stood over her and that is how Busha found them when she burst into the room bearing her rifle. “What the bloody devil happened in here, Trane?” She asked staring at the naked woman on the carpeted floor and the disheveled state of the room.
Trane casually handed Busha the sword and slipped his blaster back into the hidden holster around his back.
“Bring her downstairs. She is coming with us”, Trane ordered Busha and left the room without nary a backward glance.
The bedroom door slid closed silently behind him.
Busha looked down at Peaches knee. The skin covering it had turned black and swollen like a rotten pumpkin. “That looks like it really hurts”, Busha laughed.
Peaches eyes were filled with tears from the pain but to her credit she did not let them fall. Who really is this woman? Busha thought. She has more stones to her than just some gangster’s paramour.
“Come now, Peaches….Tell me what is going on. I do not want to hurt you. Why did you bring Viper Agents into the pub?”
“Go to hell, you bitch!” Peaches grunted.
Busha crouched down and pressed her big left knee into Peaches chest until the young woman gasped for breath. “You see, girl? The problem with Trane is that he is a man and he very much wants to fuck you. Just as every man that lays eyes upon that ample ass and bouncy tits of yours. But I do not want to fuck you, Peaches. What I want is some answers!” Busha pressed the edge of the red sword against Peaches cheek. It was so sharp that it drew blood right away.
“How many men will want to fuck you if I take off that pretty face of yours?” Busha asked with every intent of carving up the woman’s face. It was something that she had done before during mercenary days when put in the position to torture an informant in order to get answers from them.
The tears finally found their release from Peaches eyes and streamed down her cheeks. “Wait! Don’t do it! Baba will tell you what you want to know!” She pleaded.
Busha removed her knee from Peaches chest and stood up. She strode over to the wardrobe and yanked a long red topcoat from its hanger and tossed it scornfully at the injured young woman along with a pair of white rubber soled canvas shoes she found on the shelf.
“Cover yourself with that and get those shoes on”, she commanded huskily.
Peaches rose unsteadily to her feet and managed to limp to the side of the bed. She gingerly slipped into the top coat and shoes.
Busha found a white pair of Peaches cotton panties in the closet and flung them at her with nary a courtesy. “Use those to clean off your face. If you were to drip blood in Hiero’s hover, he would shoot you on sight”, Busha laughed.
Outside Peaches’ building was Trane and Heiro sitting in his plush hover-car waiting for Busha to bring Peaches downstairs. Peaches building was in a low rise residential red plasti-steel building about thirty-five metres tall located in a section of Slum Village that was in the midst of gentrification but still slightly dodgy at the moment. It was a nice enough building that it could afford a twenty-four Robo-Concierge. The four foot tall elongated shaped silver automaton was perched behind the reception desk in the front lobby and watched silently with it’s three visual sensors that favoured large insect eyes as Busha led an unsteady Black Peaches out of the elevator toward the lobby’s front doors.
“Are you alright, Mademoiselle Daya? You seem slightly irregular this evening?” Norfolk asked Peaches in a deep male sounding voice.
Black Peaches forced a slightly realistic smile at the concierge to reassure him. “I am fine, Norfolk. Just a little too much to drink tonight, I am afraid”, she replied lightly.
Norfolk mimicked her disarming smile with his silver metallic face and nodded politely. “Of course, mademoiselle. As you say. Have a very good evening then”, the machine replied very professionally.
Busha guided Peaches by the arm through the sliding lobby doors across the pedway and straight into Hiero’s hover-car which happened to be parked several metres away from the building. When Busha shoved the injured Peaches into Heiro’s backseat, he turned to her with a sly grin and said informally, “Peaches…. understand that you are one of the most desir
able women that I ever met in my life but if you happen to bleed on my custom made seats. I will not hesitate to shoot you”.
Peaches leaned back into the black plush leather seats grateful to be finally sitting down. Her knee was throbbing in deep pain and she was beginning to get a vicious headache. “I know that, Hiero. Busha has already warned me”, she answered with as much sarcasm as she could muster for the moment.
Trane sat in the passenger seat of the hover and refused to even turn around and acknowledge Peaches’ presence. Why did she try to kill me?
“We are taking you to Baba’s place”, he told the pretty woman. “He will sort out for us what you know and do not know”, he told her as Hiero’s hover levitated up into the roadway.
Peaches pulled the topcoat she was wearing closer against her body as the open windows were giving her a chill and she was wearing nothing underneath it. Or maybe it was just the feeling of impending danger that was giving her the chills. I wish I had the chance to warn Baba.
