42 Lance - We are not in Kansas Anymore (1/2)
Yep, he babbled. Boy did he babble. You would think that seeing the earth from space was a big deal. Although spending a very long and lonely two minutes watching the ground coming towards you, while you have neither a ship around you, nor a parachute on you does an amazingly good job of loosening tongues. Luckily our technology uses lots of fields instead of metal and plastics, so minor issues like being able to breathe at that altitude is not an issue.
Was I worried about historical effects? Not really, as first off who is going to believe in technology that might as well be magic. But even more so there were tons of reported alien and UFO reports that were all thoroughly debunked by the powers that be.So even if he reported being abducted by aliens—who would believe him? It would be just one more fairy tale in a massive pile of stories.
In investigating our target,—yes, our girls had put together a team who had no idea of why these gorgeous girls wanted to know the strange things they asked questions about, but as they got paid well, and the girls could charm the spots off a leopard, or as the saying goes sell ice cubes to Eskimos. Well, suffice it to say that whenever we needed to know things they found answers and Marjorie kept it all organized and available.OK, all that aside—, our investigators had discovered that the team who had attacked us in the park was now sporting cement overshoes. We knew who mister big was and where he lived. And we knew that he failed kindergarten—He did not play well with others….
The gorilla that had sung his heart out to me turned out to be a smart guy. He left town and vanished without reporting back to mister big. We had found that mister big was eyeing the eastern region big guy spot and had left a trail of blood behind him. He was smart, and his gorillas had been very careful to make all their hits look like common accidents; choking on a chicken bone, slip and fall, accidental drowning in the bathtub, and such. Things that did not say mafia.
Mister big was pushing all the current rackets; prostitution, drugs, gambling,—anything that turned an illegal buck. Our investigators had reported that at this moment mister big had a couple of hostages that he was holding as insurance that two of the top prostitutes would do their jobs again. He was reported to be torturing the two women right now and threatening to kill the hostages. That forced our hand, and we went in with less preparation than usual.
Serina and I had been in armor for some hours now waiting for dark, but in a ready state just in case our intelligence was wrong and we had to move right now.
We slid down the sky on only antigrav. No flaming jets marked our location. Our reports all said that the goons that patrolled mister big's mansion were all without question the dirtiest of the dirty. The entry requirements to be a lieutenant of mister big was murder. You would think that a woman who was a prostitute would not be affected by ****, but you would be wrong. These guys used all manner of mental and physical means to control their products, but their favorite was **** and degradation. Products? Yes, products of fear and torture. These girls were not doing what they were because they loved their work. No, they were forced into it and kept there by mister big and his men.
There were no innocents guarding mister big and his mansion, which was good for us as we would not have time to just punish. We might have to leave bodies behind this time. There were too many goons, and the goons were too well armed with Tommy guns. Plus they supposedly had hostages.
As we arrived above the mansion, we heard the screams of women. Thunder and lightning raved from the skies as we attacked. What we hit vanished as they were disintegrated. Small bits might escape the center core of our beams, but effectively there was nothing left.
Typically being attacked with such a destructive force out of the clear-blue would create at least a moment of hesitation. In this case, bullets were flying towards us before the first echo of thunder washed over the grounds.I briefly wondered what they were thinking of—seeing the dark heroic figures of a man and women hovering above them in the air. Fire flaring below them as if they were standing on pillars of flame. A storm of lead bouncing off of their bodies while lighting reaching out from their hands as if Zeus himself was tossing those bolts of destruction. I could not question their bravery as they stood their ground as man after man was vaporized in front of their eyes.
We lit on the perfectly manicured front lawn as if a seed blown from a dandelion.The front door crashed open, and lead was thrown our way as fast as a handful of Tommy guns could spit it.We merely waded through this storm of lead and in our hurry we were not gentle like we had been with the bikers. When these goons hit the ground, there were no moans, just a deathly silence that trailed behind us.
Following the sounds of terror-stricken women to the basement, we left only silence behind us. The sheer pain and terror in those screams were so vivid in our ears, and our knowledge of the wickedness of the men we were facing was too well spelled out as to their guilt that we became judge, jury, and executioners on the spot.
In the basement, we found the guys torturing the women, mister big and his two top henchmen, were interrupted so abruptly that they had not had a chance to pull up their pants let alone get off of the two women strapped down on tables in the center of a large basement room.