Part One: Open for Business
****
Monday began as well as could be expected for Carl Dynarski. After five minutes of ear-splitting noise from the alarm clock, he slid out of bed, only to step on his coke-bottle eyeglasses. With two fresh cracks in his lenses, he sped through the drive-thru at the nearest Breakfast King. The supersized coffee flew out of the server’s hand, landing square on Carl’s lap. Biting his lip to calm the pain, he ran into Independence City Bank, three minutes late. As his left foot stepped past the entrance and landed on the diagonal tile, he was summoned to Mr. Racine’s office. Five minutes of hand-wringing and apologizing later, he took his place behind the counter, standing at the teller booth on the far right. Exhaling slowly, he took out a new, blue comb and combed over the few remaining strands of salt-and-pepper hair.
His hands were still shaking from the boss’s warning when he looked over the sea of faces that awaited service. There was Mrs. Milner, the dyspeptic, wrinkled sack of skin with a pom-pom hat on top, ready with a fresh list of complaints. Behind her, Mr. Jenkins, the Yankees’ fan, number 2 jersey proudly worn, looking for good ol’ Boston-born Carl, ready to rub in the Red Sox’ latest loss. Mrs. Meriwether, a new pile of checks gripped in her hand, waited behind him.
It was the first new face that caught Carl’s attention, and nearly stopped his heart. She stood among the plain, bored, and angry like a diamond in a coal mine. She flipped her luxurious, maple-colored hair from one shoulder to the other, revealing high, porcelain cheekbones and cobalt eyes. The straight, shoulder-length hair brushed along the strap of her sleeveless pink leotard, which glared as bright as anything Carl had ever seen. Equally shimmering white tights slipped into the ribbons of her ballerina slippers. A plate tutu, which stuck straight out and hid little of her trim figure, finished the look. She carried a box, marked Tom the Florist in block letters, under her arm.
Please let her come this way, Carl prayed. Please please please you owe me one… As Mrs. Meriwether walked to Joy Quinlan’s booth, he heard a weak, almost shrill voice that he barely recognized as his own blurt out, “I can help the next person in line.”
She moved with an airy grace, giving the impression of floating rather than walking. Carl reached into his shirt pocket, took out his Primatine mist, and quickly shot up. As his asthma cleared, he saw her, face-to-face, with only the bars separating them.
“Hey there,” she said, her voice bright and almost chirpy, almost causing Carl to faint.
“Yes,” he said. “Hey there to you, too. My name is… is…” What is it? I know it starts with a consonant…
“The nametag says you’re Mr. Dynarski.”
That sounds right. “That would be true.”
She giggled. “Well, hon, my name is Pirouette. Pleased to meet you.”
“And an absolute honor here, believe me.” Beads of sweat formed around his former hairline. “So, how can I help you?”
“You’re soaking. Are you alright?”
“Absolutely. It’s just the weather.”
“It’s February.”
Carl wiped his brow with a kerchief. “Well, it must be my meds, then. I’m sorry.”
Pirouette nodded. “Not a problem. You seem like a nice guy, okay?”
His eyes went wide, and he could almost feel the dilation. “Really?”
“You do,” she assured him. “And that’s why I feel bad about this, about I have to let you know that this is a stick-up.”
Carl laughed. “And a sense of humor, too? You’re simply perfect.”
“No, seriously,” said Pirouette, frowning. “This is a robbery.”
He wouldn’t stop chuckling, and customers were beginning to look in his direction. “No, seriously. You look too sweet to be a bank robber.”
“Really?” Pirouette popped the top off the Florist box. “My AR-33 disagrees.” She removed the automatic weapon from its case and pointed it through the bars. Screams came out from the line behind her.
“What the…”
“Now, please let me through the door and take me to the bank manager. I promise you, nothing will happen if you do as I say. Don’t do anything rash. You’re not the kind of guy who’s fun to waste.”
The Alfa Romeo parked outside the bank waited outside the door. When the first screams echoed through the open entrance, the driver flicked her cigarette out the window.
“Time to work,” Donna Prima said, blowing out a stream of smoke. She put the strap of her AR-33 over her shoulder and stepped out. Her other henchwoman, Ballon, followed her, identically armed.
Unlike her lackeys, Donna Prima dressed in a long-sleeved black leotard. A floral-print skirt hugged her boa constrictor tight, and her white tights were slipper-free. Her black hair was tied back into a schoolmarm bun. Black eyes, naturally narrow, gave off an insidious aura. Her lips arched downward in a permanent scowl.
“Your attention, ladies and gentlemen,” she said, her machine gun at the ready. “As you are already aware, this is a robbery. If you lay down on the ground, we will probably not shoot you. If you come any closer to us than you are right now, we definitely will shot shoot you. Ballon, please follow Pirouette to the bank manager.”
“Yes, Madame Prima.” Ballon, a delicately pretty brunette dressed in the same uniform as Pirouette, took a running start, then leaped into the air. Using her legs to push off in the air, Ballon floated across the line of customers, over the bars, and into the tellers’ area.
“Nice trick,” said Carl.
Donna swung around. “Did anyone ask you to speak, sir?”
“Well, no, but I…”
“Then it’s best that you don’t until our withdrawal is complete. Now lay down.” Carl nodded, then disappeared behind the window.
“Now, this will only take a few minutes, and then you will be free to go about your day.” Donna then felt a slight breeze behind her, then the slight sound of footsteps.
“But you will not be free for the next 15 to 20 years, Prima.”
Bugger, thought Donna. Shock and Awe.
Shock looked through her dark blue mask. Twenty or so people laying down, hands over heads. Several tellers. One bank manager. Plenty of potential collateral damage. Time to be careful.
“Don’t you ever mind your own business, Shock?” asked Donna as she spun around, letting loose with several shots from her machine gun.
Shock jumped over the streak of bullets, landing on all fours. She stood up as Donna reloaded. “I do mind my own. And business is picking up.” Shock placed her palms on the outer sides of her legs, poured into light-blue leggings. As she slid her hands up her tights, bolts of lightning began to shoot from finger to finger, hand to hand. She then pointed, arms outstretched, toward her target. A surge of electricity bolted into Donna, lifting her off the ground. Directing the straight current, she threw the mastermind from wall to wall, then tossing her against a vending machine in the near corner.
“Madame Prima, I am coming…” Ballon jumped over the teller’s windows, floating halfway across the room. She was within reaching distance when she was tackled in mid-air by a leaping tank of a woman, spearing her down on the ground.
Ballon backed away from her attacker. Standing over her was a walking rock, five-eight, clad in a camouflage leotard, black A emblazoned on the chest. Black tights failed to hide the musculature of her legs, and eyes of fire glowed through a black mask.
“Time for a trip to Kennesaw State, twinkle toes,” growled Awe.
Ballon picked up her AR-33 and unloaded into Awe’s torso. The bullets bounced off without so much as a scratch on her outfit.
“Oh, no,” said the ballerina bandit as she got up to her feet.
Awe wasted no time in grabbing Ballon by the elastic waistband of her tutu, then pulling her into a clothesline. The powerful heroine flexed her muscles, then resumed her hunt.
Awe scooped up Ballon into a bodyslam position, pressing between the felon’s shoulder blades and into her backside. With massive force, she dropped Ballon over her knee, sending a burst of pain across the back.
“Let her go,” said Pirouette as she jumped on Awe’s back, wrapping her arms around the tree-thick neck. Dropping the injured robber, Awe stood straight up and flipped Pirouette off, sending her crashing to the floor. Lifting up the remaining henchwoman until she was facing away, Awe squeezed her in a bearhug.
“Not me, lady,” wheezed Pirouette. Using the power that Donna Prima taught her, she twisted her torso around until her head and shoulders were facing 180 degrees from her legs. Spreading her arms as wide as she could, she boxed Awe’s ears, causing the bodybuilder to release her grip.
Landing on her feet, she ran full steam for Shock. She connected with a spin kick to the side of the head before Shock could turn her attention away from the electrocuted Donna. The blow left both heroines temporarily stunned.
Pirouette dragged Ballon to the entrance as Donna regained her composure.
The leader favored her shoulder and stumbled to the door. “Mark my words well, Shock and Awe. The next time, we finish the job.” She then helped Pirouette in escorting Ballon out of the bank.
Shock held the side of her head. Walking to her fellow superheroine, she said, “That could’ve gone better.”
“Could’ve gone worse,” answered Awe, rubbing the sides of her head. “They didn’t get a dime.”
“But we don’t exactly strike fear into anyone, fighting to a stalemate with Prima and her hired hands.” Shock wiped dust off of her yellow leotard, then off the blue lightning bolt that arched across the midriff.
“Things change,” said Awe. “When they’re behind bars, everyone will know who we are. So… Breakfast King?”
Shock sighed. “Yeah. Why not?”
He saw everything. He looked up as soon as he heard the bolts of lightning.
He saw his elastic angel take out both heroines.
He gulped.
“Carl Dynarski, that’s the girl of your dreams,” he said.
The Adventures of Shock and Awe
-
The Great Dutch Ninja
- Henchman
- Posts: 53
- Joined: 22 years ago
- Location: Medford, MA
The Adventures of Shock and Awe
Last edited by The Great Dutch Ninja 21 years ago, edited 2 times in total.
-
The Great Dutch Ninja
- Henchman
- Posts: 53
- Joined: 22 years ago
- Location: Medford, MA
Adventures of Shock and Awe (Part II: Collaboration)
First, I would like to say thank you to everyone who gave compliments on Vengeance is Mine. Heck, I'd like to thank everyone who took the time to read it. It certainly received help with the suggestions made by some of the readers (i.e. chthulu1's idea to make Alpha and Beta part of a group of assassins).
Also, as per chthulu1's question: The costumes were based off a college production of Babes in Toyland I directed when I was a senior. Granted, I directed with the professionialism required, but I'd be lying if I said life wasn't pretty sweet around that time.
Finally, the illustrations of Shock and Awe were supplied by the talented superpics4les, who is far more advanced at using HeroMachine than I. Thanks, sp4l.
Liam Venture
****
“You know what the problem is, don’t you?” asked Awe before she chomped down on a Bacon Breakfast Burrito. “Respect. Someone like Wonder Woman, or Batgirl, or American Star shows up, and the bad guys freeze up in fear. Girls like us show up, and they might feel slightly inconvenienced, but that’s it.”
“Well, you can’t expect the fear right away,” said Shock. She leafed through the romaine lettuce in her salad. “We need to actually, you know, bust a few bad guys first.”
They ate in uniform, without as much as a passing glance from the restaurant’s morning rush crowd. Independence City, like many burgs in America, no longer felt surprise at the presence of superheroes. It wasn’t as much a distinction as an occupation, making caped crimefighters as inconspicuous as cops on the beat.
“Yeah,” said Awe, agreeing in mid-chew. “We almost had the Ballerina Bandits this morning. Were did we go wrong?”
Shock shook her head. “We assumed they’d just roll over and surrender, and that we’d prevail, just because we’re the good guys.”
A little girl, no older than eight, skipped up to the heroines, dressed in a Girl Scouts outfit. “Hey, who are you?”
“My name’s Shock, and my business associate here is Awe.”
The larger heroine waved. “Howdy.”
“Are you real superheroines?”
“Absolutely,” said Awe. “We just got back from a busy morning, busting up bad guys.”
“Killer,” said the Girl Scout. “How many criminals have you caught?”
Before Shock could respond, the flat TV set on the wall of the restaurant blared out the theme of the local news station. “Good morning, Independence City. We are reporting an WICN Newsbreak. This morning, an attempted robbery at an ICB branch in the South District was apparently foiled by a pair of superheroines, identified as Rheanna ‘Shock’ Watts and Jeanette ‘Awe’ Aysley, of Harvey Heights. However, the burglars, all dressed in ballet attire, escaped arrest. WICN obtained security camera footage that captured the daring escape.” The TV switched to black and white, showing Awe stumbling backward, having just been boxed in the ears. Then the footage switched to the spin kick that leveled Shock. “Any information on the suspects can be given to the ICPD at the following numbers…”
The Girl Scout’s jaw dropped. She stared at the superheroines. “Wow. You guys… really suck.” With a light bounce, she skipped back to her parents.
Shock looked down at her salad. “Man, this bites.”
“Don’t worry. We’ll catch them. We’ll ask the bank for any security footage from the parking lot. By tonight, we’ll be slugging back Coronas, laughing with Letterman. You dig?”
Shock smiled. “Yeah. I dig.”
“Dynarski! In my office, now!”
Carl rewound the security cameras, in the back of the bank. He watched the three figures, with the goddess and her boss dragging their injured comrade into the Alfa Romeo and driving off. He could barely make out the letters and numbers on the license plate…
“I’m not telling you again, Dynarski! Vaminos!”
He ran into James Racine’s office. Behind the desk sat the wiry frame of the bank manager, wizened face furrowed into a frown.
“And why weren’t you behind the counter?” he asked.
“I was checking to see if I could find any information on the robbers. Maybe I could find their license number, any better description…”
“At the expense of doing business with customers. Look out the window,” said Racine.
Carl wiped off the lenses of his glasses and peered outside. The line twisted three times, nearly long enough to go outside.
“I’ve waited a while to do this, Dynarski. You’re a slacker, no doubt about it. Daydreaming, extended lunches, and the last two days your till has been off. And now, you’re in the security area, without authorization mind you, to do someone else’s job. For all the good you’ve done this company, you could be erasing those tapes, for all I know. The cops will have their hands on it, and those bandits will be behind bars soon enough. As for you, Dynarski, you will be behind the other reprobates and slackers in line at Unemployment. You are fired.” Racine’s lips cracked open, showing yellowed, chipped teeth.
Dynarski stepped back. “Sir, you can’t.”
Racine stood up from his plush swiveling chair. “Why not? My bank, my rules. You have thirty minutes to pack your stuff. I’d wish you luck, but I really don’t care.”
Seconds later, the door slammed shut behind Carl. A tear ran down his cheek. His mind felt clouded, squeezed. He didn’t know whether it was tears of sadness, or rage.
“That close,” said Donna Prima, her thumb and pointer finger millimeters from touching. “That close to having that money. If this robbery business doesn’t pick up, we may actually have to work for a living.” She paced the steps of her studio apartment, leaving slightly darkened footprints on the serpentine-shaded carpet. In front of her, Ballon clutched her side, still in pain from Awe’s assault. In the adjacent chair, Pirouette blew a strand of her hair out of her face, leaving her with a full view of the sunset that painted the apartment a dark shade of amber.
“Maybe if we did a simple smash and grab instead of a multi-step plan, we would have the money,” she said, grabbing onto the armrests and lifting herself out of the chair.
“I’m sorry,” asked Donna Prima. “Did I ask for your opinion. Lackeys don’t make plans; they execute them. And if you executed your part perfectly, we’d be rolling in dough.”
“Hey, I saved our collective hashes out there,” said Pirouette. “It didn’t help that Ballon decided to play the role of Awe’s tackling dummy, either.”
“You shut your mouth.” Donna’s eyes locked in, brows arched. The slow burn did its job, and Pirouette sat back down.
With her underling back in check, Donna slid onto the couch next to Ballon, who continued to press her side with an iron grip.
“Oh, my poor little sweetie,” said the leader. “You’re still in a lot of pain, aren’t you?” A nod by Ballon, her teeth gritting in discomfort, was all the answer she needed.
“Let go,” she said, holding onto Ballon’s wrists until she released her grip. After Donna cracked her knuckes, she sank her fingertips deep into Ballon’s leotard-covered side, massaging the bruised area. Ballon rested her head back until she rested against Donna’s legs. Her nose tipped skyward, and she lightly moaned.
“That helping any?” asked Donna. Another nod from Ballon, another clear answer.
Keeping one hand in motion on the side, Donna used her left to brush Ballon’s fine brunette hair. The incapacitated henchwoman purred softly as Donna leaned down and gently kissed her on the side of the neck.
“Oh, good gravy,” said Pirouette. “Why don’t you two get a room?”
“Sorry, P, but this is our room,” said Ballon. “You’re more than welcome to leave. You can get your own room when we have a successful robbery.”
“And I think I can help.”
The three robbers turned to see a stout, balding man in glasses, standing in the open doorway.
“Mr. Dynarski,” said Pirouette.
Donna jumped off the couch. “What do you want?”
“Revenge,” said Carl. “They let me off this afternoon. No good reasons, either. They just told me to get lost. I think I deserve a little severance pay.”
“Why should we trust you?” said Ballon.
“Because I know enough about our security system to get us in and out without bringing the police. Or those heroes who tried to foil you.” Carl took out a folded wad of papers. “There you go. Anytime tonight after 1, we should have a clearing.”
“What do you mean, we?” asked Donna. “And how did you find us?”
“Don’t know if you realized this, but we do have outdoor cameras. Cameras are real good at picking up license plate numbers. And forty dollars will get you answers from the DMV. You were lucky enough I got to this info before the police.” Carl smirked, and he felt odd. He couldn’t remember the last time his mouth turned upward into anything resembling a smile.
“So, step one, we get out of here, double time. Then, we figure out the best way to strike. You might come in handy after all, teller.” With a smile, Donna lifted Ballon and walked her out of the apartment, leaving Carl and Pirouette alone.
“I want you to know it’s not just getting canned. I mean, it’s not the only reason I’m doing this. It’s…
“I know,” said Pirouette, grinning with a mix of devilish glee and gratefulness. “It’s all good.” She sidled close to him, and for a brief instant, Carl could register the feeling of Lycra as he wrapped his arm around her waist. She gave Carl a slight peck on the cheek, and the ex-teller could feel the blood rush to his head. He didn’t even feel the impact when he collapsed to the hardwood floor.
Also, as per chthulu1's question: The costumes were based off a college production of Babes in Toyland I directed when I was a senior. Granted, I directed with the professionialism required, but I'd be lying if I said life wasn't pretty sweet around that time.
Finally, the illustrations of Shock and Awe were supplied by the talented superpics4les, who is far more advanced at using HeroMachine than I. Thanks, sp4l.
Liam Venture
****
“You know what the problem is, don’t you?” asked Awe before she chomped down on a Bacon Breakfast Burrito. “Respect. Someone like Wonder Woman, or Batgirl, or American Star shows up, and the bad guys freeze up in fear. Girls like us show up, and they might feel slightly inconvenienced, but that’s it.”
“Well, you can’t expect the fear right away,” said Shock. She leafed through the romaine lettuce in her salad. “We need to actually, you know, bust a few bad guys first.”
They ate in uniform, without as much as a passing glance from the restaurant’s morning rush crowd. Independence City, like many burgs in America, no longer felt surprise at the presence of superheroes. It wasn’t as much a distinction as an occupation, making caped crimefighters as inconspicuous as cops on the beat.
“Yeah,” said Awe, agreeing in mid-chew. “We almost had the Ballerina Bandits this morning. Were did we go wrong?”
Shock shook her head. “We assumed they’d just roll over and surrender, and that we’d prevail, just because we’re the good guys.”
A little girl, no older than eight, skipped up to the heroines, dressed in a Girl Scouts outfit. “Hey, who are you?”
“My name’s Shock, and my business associate here is Awe.”
The larger heroine waved. “Howdy.”
“Are you real superheroines?”
“Absolutely,” said Awe. “We just got back from a busy morning, busting up bad guys.”
“Killer,” said the Girl Scout. “How many criminals have you caught?”
Before Shock could respond, the flat TV set on the wall of the restaurant blared out the theme of the local news station. “Good morning, Independence City. We are reporting an WICN Newsbreak. This morning, an attempted robbery at an ICB branch in the South District was apparently foiled by a pair of superheroines, identified as Rheanna ‘Shock’ Watts and Jeanette ‘Awe’ Aysley, of Harvey Heights. However, the burglars, all dressed in ballet attire, escaped arrest. WICN obtained security camera footage that captured the daring escape.” The TV switched to black and white, showing Awe stumbling backward, having just been boxed in the ears. Then the footage switched to the spin kick that leveled Shock. “Any information on the suspects can be given to the ICPD at the following numbers…”
The Girl Scout’s jaw dropped. She stared at the superheroines. “Wow. You guys… really suck.” With a light bounce, she skipped back to her parents.
Shock looked down at her salad. “Man, this bites.”
“Don’t worry. We’ll catch them. We’ll ask the bank for any security footage from the parking lot. By tonight, we’ll be slugging back Coronas, laughing with Letterman. You dig?”
Shock smiled. “Yeah. I dig.”
“Dynarski! In my office, now!”
Carl rewound the security cameras, in the back of the bank. He watched the three figures, with the goddess and her boss dragging their injured comrade into the Alfa Romeo and driving off. He could barely make out the letters and numbers on the license plate…
“I’m not telling you again, Dynarski! Vaminos!”
He ran into James Racine’s office. Behind the desk sat the wiry frame of the bank manager, wizened face furrowed into a frown.
“And why weren’t you behind the counter?” he asked.
“I was checking to see if I could find any information on the robbers. Maybe I could find their license number, any better description…”
“At the expense of doing business with customers. Look out the window,” said Racine.
Carl wiped off the lenses of his glasses and peered outside. The line twisted three times, nearly long enough to go outside.
“I’ve waited a while to do this, Dynarski. You’re a slacker, no doubt about it. Daydreaming, extended lunches, and the last two days your till has been off. And now, you’re in the security area, without authorization mind you, to do someone else’s job. For all the good you’ve done this company, you could be erasing those tapes, for all I know. The cops will have their hands on it, and those bandits will be behind bars soon enough. As for you, Dynarski, you will be behind the other reprobates and slackers in line at Unemployment. You are fired.” Racine’s lips cracked open, showing yellowed, chipped teeth.
Dynarski stepped back. “Sir, you can’t.”
Racine stood up from his plush swiveling chair. “Why not? My bank, my rules. You have thirty minutes to pack your stuff. I’d wish you luck, but I really don’t care.”
Seconds later, the door slammed shut behind Carl. A tear ran down his cheek. His mind felt clouded, squeezed. He didn’t know whether it was tears of sadness, or rage.
“That close,” said Donna Prima, her thumb and pointer finger millimeters from touching. “That close to having that money. If this robbery business doesn’t pick up, we may actually have to work for a living.” She paced the steps of her studio apartment, leaving slightly darkened footprints on the serpentine-shaded carpet. In front of her, Ballon clutched her side, still in pain from Awe’s assault. In the adjacent chair, Pirouette blew a strand of her hair out of her face, leaving her with a full view of the sunset that painted the apartment a dark shade of amber.
“Maybe if we did a simple smash and grab instead of a multi-step plan, we would have the money,” she said, grabbing onto the armrests and lifting herself out of the chair.
“I’m sorry,” asked Donna Prima. “Did I ask for your opinion. Lackeys don’t make plans; they execute them. And if you executed your part perfectly, we’d be rolling in dough.”
“Hey, I saved our collective hashes out there,” said Pirouette. “It didn’t help that Ballon decided to play the role of Awe’s tackling dummy, either.”
“You shut your mouth.” Donna’s eyes locked in, brows arched. The slow burn did its job, and Pirouette sat back down.
With her underling back in check, Donna slid onto the couch next to Ballon, who continued to press her side with an iron grip.
“Oh, my poor little sweetie,” said the leader. “You’re still in a lot of pain, aren’t you?” A nod by Ballon, her teeth gritting in discomfort, was all the answer she needed.
“Let go,” she said, holding onto Ballon’s wrists until she released her grip. After Donna cracked her knuckes, she sank her fingertips deep into Ballon’s leotard-covered side, massaging the bruised area. Ballon rested her head back until she rested against Donna’s legs. Her nose tipped skyward, and she lightly moaned.
“That helping any?” asked Donna. Another nod from Ballon, another clear answer.
Keeping one hand in motion on the side, Donna used her left to brush Ballon’s fine brunette hair. The incapacitated henchwoman purred softly as Donna leaned down and gently kissed her on the side of the neck.
“Oh, good gravy,” said Pirouette. “Why don’t you two get a room?”
“Sorry, P, but this is our room,” said Ballon. “You’re more than welcome to leave. You can get your own room when we have a successful robbery.”
“And I think I can help.”
The three robbers turned to see a stout, balding man in glasses, standing in the open doorway.
“Mr. Dynarski,” said Pirouette.
Donna jumped off the couch. “What do you want?”
“Revenge,” said Carl. “They let me off this afternoon. No good reasons, either. They just told me to get lost. I think I deserve a little severance pay.”
“Why should we trust you?” said Ballon.
“Because I know enough about our security system to get us in and out without bringing the police. Or those heroes who tried to foil you.” Carl took out a folded wad of papers. “There you go. Anytime tonight after 1, we should have a clearing.”
“What do you mean, we?” asked Donna. “And how did you find us?”
“Don’t know if you realized this, but we do have outdoor cameras. Cameras are real good at picking up license plate numbers. And forty dollars will get you answers from the DMV. You were lucky enough I got to this info before the police.” Carl smirked, and he felt odd. He couldn’t remember the last time his mouth turned upward into anything resembling a smile.
“So, step one, we get out of here, double time. Then, we figure out the best way to strike. You might come in handy after all, teller.” With a smile, Donna lifted Ballon and walked her out of the apartment, leaving Carl and Pirouette alone.
“I want you to know it’s not just getting canned. I mean, it’s not the only reason I’m doing this. It’s…
“I know,” said Pirouette, grinning with a mix of devilish glee and gratefulness. “It’s all good.” She sidled close to him, and for a brief instant, Carl could register the feeling of Lycra as he wrapped his arm around her waist. She gave Carl a slight peck on the cheek, and the ex-teller could feel the blood rush to his head. He didn’t even feel the impact when he collapsed to the hardwood floor.
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superpics4les
- Elder Member
- Posts: 493
- Joined: 21 years ago
- Location: Indiana USA