Death and Breakfast by Mr. X and followup (1 Viewer)


Club Regular
Mar 13, 2011
Mike worried. It seemed like that’s all he ever did. New York was a beautiful city, cleaned up to all hell in the past few years, and he had an amazing job. So why was he always so worried? He took a sip of coffee and padded across his modest apartment’s carpet to go step out on the balcony. Suddenly, with the crisp cold air, it came into focus.

Down the street, looming like an unholy obelisk, was Axis International’s gigantic black glass skyscraper. At the sight of it Mike’s stomach started turning in knots. Supposedly living so close to a major Axis headquarters was a good thing. Crime rates were almost nil, the city practically sparkled, all the best restaurants flocked to the area, and there was more tail than you could shake a stick at downtown during lunch hour. There were people now that went down around Axis just for the view, taking covert camera phone pictures and rating the hottest employees, trying to spot their various concealed weapons. It was a dangerous practice, and that was Mike’s problem with the whole thing.

Axis was dangerous. With a capital ‘d’. Sure there was no crime, because criminals had a way of disappearing if they operated near an Axis building. Mike had heard of a guy that bumped into an Axis exec on the street, tipped her right over in her six inch heels, and he made the mistake of laughing. She picked herself up and went on her way and that night he vanished from his apartment. They never found him. Everybody wore uncomfortable plastic smiles around Axis, nobody spoke out of turn, the whole thing was… disturbing. And to make matters worse, Mike had just started living with an adorable girl named Brooke.
She was beautiful, blonde, and athletic – just Axis’ type. And last week some femme fatale in tight black leather had noticed her, gave her a card, and Brooke was actually considering sending Axis her resume.

They’d had a big fight about it, she and Mike, knock down drag out, and she’d seemed to see things from his angle… but in the end he couldn’t blame her. He’d have been tempted himself, if they’d ever deign to take a male. Even an entry level Axis salary was through the roof, and good jobs were hard to find. Still, Brooke was the sweetest girl he’d gotten to know in a long time, and the thought of her swimming with those stiletto-heeled moray heels…

His train of thought was broken by a knock at the door. Brooke’s voice chirped cheerfully from the kitchen, “I’ll get it! I think it’s Sharka!”
Sharka Devantier, the Axis recruiter. Her business card had said ‘Executive Consultant’, which was corporate jargon for “you don’t get to know what this person does”. Seemed like most of the unfriendly ones claimed that as their job title.

Mike almost collapsed, his gut seized up on him so quick and hard. Before he could even collect himself she was in his living room. Sharka was a tall woman in her late thirties, packed with muscle but lithe, like a ballerina, with an elegant swan neck. Her features were beautiful and Germanic, with maybe just the slightest trace of exotic blood; cruel eyes set into high cheekbones and dark, almost mahogany skin that was probably helped along by regular tanning bed sessions. Her hair was cropped in a short but expensive cut and bleached a platinum blonde in keeping with Axis trends. Curving around the back of her neck like half a collar was a tattoo of a snake and between the tip and the tail, right in the middle of her windpipe, was tattooed a small swastika. As before, she was clad head to toe in leather, a leather skirt suit to be exact. It hugged every curve and was adorned here and there with gleaming steel buckles, it must have cost a fortune. There was a slight bulge under her left arm Mike seriously doubted was a cell phone.

Sharka plucked off her designer shades and hung them on her jacket, between her ample breasts. She stared at Mike in his bathrobe and boxers and narrowed her slate grey almond eyes, smiling a smile that was half polite and half hungry.

“Meat.” She said. Her voice was dark and husky, she spoke with a thick accent Mike had learned was South African.
Mike blinked. Had he heard her right? “Uh, excuse me?” He finally managed.

“I said pleased to meet you.” Sharka extended a gloved hand, which Mike quickly took, “You must be Brooke’s little plaything?”
Mike cleared his throat, mentally parsing the insult into something relatively inoffensive. The last thing he wanted was to piss off an armed chick named ‘Sharka’, “We’ve been together awhile now, yeah.”

“Hmm, that’s a shame.” Sharka’s grey eyes practically bored into Mike’s skull, the two stared at one another for a long, tense moment.

The standoff was broken by Brooke entering in her favorite pink pajamas, carrying a couple steaming cups of coffee and wearing a cheerful grin, “Coffeh time!” She offered a mug to Sharka, who took it with a little nod and sat on a nearby couch, crossing her tanned legs. Brooke sat opposite the Axis exec and took a sip from her favorite teddy-bear cup, patting the cushion next to her invitingly; Mike finally worked up the nerve to take a seat in spite of the deep instinct that he should be ready to run at a moment’s notice. He was a big guy, college football till just a year ago, but the most action he’d ever seen was a couple fistfights from his frat days – Sharka was a killer, it was etched on her face and in her body language.

And the way she continued to look at him… well it made him feel like he should be writing his will. He turned his gaze downward, but found his eyes drawn to the Nazi’s legs—shapely, long, and muscular, sheathed in silk stockings. Her shoes were stiletto-heeled slingbacks, looked like some sort of snakeskin. She wore a thin silver anklet around one ankle, a charm hung from it though he couldn’t make out from his seat exactly what it was.

“Enjoying the view?” Sharka chuckled dryly with not a hint of mirth, uncrossing and recrossing her legs, giving Mike just the briefest hint of lacey black underwear. Brooke elbowed Mike irritably, “Don’t mind him miss Sharka – you wanted to talk? I was gonna put together my resume and send it like today, I swear, but --”
“No need Brooke, I was so charmed the other day I took the liberty of putting our people on it. I have a nose for these things.” Sharka tapped the side of her suspiciously-perfect button nose conspiratorially.

“You--? Wow!” Brooke seemed pleasantly shocked, Mike was deeply unsettled. She’d put ‘her people’ on them? But the way Brooke squeezed Mike’s leg… was she as nervous as he was? She didn’t look it.

Sharka smiled pleasantly, “You had a look to you Brooke. I knew right away we’d be a match – and look what we found!” She placed a PDA on their little glass coffee table and slid it across to Brooke, who caught it and began reading silently.

“So it turns out I was right, does your little friend here know that you were Sandra Peters? Of Chicago? You ever tell him what the pills were for Sandra? Did you say they were vitamins?”
Brooke turned pale, she got a look about her Mike had never seen before. Her eyes never left the PDA, “I – how—“
Sharka simply shrugged, sliding a cigarette between her lips, “You don’t mind do you. They tell me it’s bad for me but what isn’t, you know?” She lit her cigarette up and stared at Brooke appraisingly, her head cocked slightly like a cat that was waiting for the mouse to make its move.

Brooke swallowed, staring at her kneecaps. Her voice was pleading, “Look, things were different then, I was sick but I’m better now – “ She sounded like she was trying to convince herself as much as anyone else.

Sharka snorted derisively, a plume of smoke pouring from her nostrils, “More boring now, I’ll give you that. But you could have it all again! Come on. Don’t you remember how fun it was being in your own right mind? Leave the pills in the cabinet. Come with me. We’ll get you a place of your own uptown, a rack of suits anybody with taste would kill for, a line of credit you can ride into a life of luxury. That’s just for starters.”
Brooke’s sea-blue eyes widened, “You want me to just leave with you? Right now? Just like that?” She shared a glance with Mike. Her eyes said ‘this is NOT what I had in mind, help me’. He’d never felt so powerless.

Sharka nodded, “Just like that. Listen Sandra, I want you on board with this, I really do. I’ve sort of made you my personal project; the company doesn’t even know I’m here yet. Things go smoother that way. But you’re coming with me whether you like it or not – and even if it stings a little now to dump this lunk you’ll come around to realizing I was right. Trust me; I’ve been doing this awhile. They always come around in the end. Okay?” She wore a comforting smile with warmth that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Brooke’s lower lip quivered, she was squeezing Mike’s leg in a death grip, “You can’t just -- now I don’t think I want to anymore–“
Sharka raised her eyebrows, “And you turn down a dream job why? Him? This lump of nothing?” She gestured at Mike without even throwing him a glance, “At Axis you’ll get your pick of the choicest pussy in town, don’t be petty.”

Brooke frowned, “I’m not just some pet you can lead around on a leash-- I love him –“ First time she’d used the ‘l’ word in Mike’s presence. The moment was sort of overshadowed by the mortal peril though.

Sharka scowled in frustration. She knew she’d miscalculated, pushed too hard; but pride wouldn’t let her back down now, “This is ridiculous, don’t be such a child. If you want a man you can buy as many as you like later, but right now you’re coming with me.” She got to her feet, taking an angry drag on her cigarette and hurling it on the carpet. From this angle the glint of a bellybutton stud was just visible under Sharka’s short suit jacket.

Meanwhile, Mike was steeling himself. Brooke… she said she loved him. And here she was, cowering from this cunt like a frightened little kid. Mike wasn’t a brave man, and there was some heavy sh*t going on, but he’d had enough of this Axis lady and her bulls**t. Sandra or Brooke or whatever her name really was, his girl didn’t deserve to deal with this amazon on her own. Mike cleared his throat. Sharka didn’t seem to notice, so he did it again, louder. Her grey eyes turned on him with a viciousness that made him think twice, but his mind was made up. He got to his feet and cleared his throat a third time, “She said she didn’t want to go.”

Sharka reached underneath her suit jacket, revealing the slightest hint of a black-lace bra. There was a ‘pop’ at her shoulder like a button being unsnapped. She raised her eyebrow and hissed in a low voice, “Excuse me?”

To his immense shame, Mike’s voice cracked as he spoke, “I said leave her alone, get the f– please leave my apartment – now, before I call the police.“
“That was the worst thing you could have said, little boy.” A gun was in Sharka’s hand, faster than Mike could react. She shifted her weight, tossing her hair haughtily and pointed her pistol straight between his eyes. Affixed to its barrel was what Mike recognized to probably be a silencer -- he’d seen the movies. So that was it, she was going to kill him, and nobody would even hear it. Those merciless eyes and that self-satisfied little pouty smirk would be the last things he saw.


Sharka grunted as Brooke’s coffee cup slammed into her forehead dead between the eyes. The Axis bitch’s head flopped around limply on her long neck, rocked by the surprisingly heavy impact.

Her formerly shrewd grey eyes rolled back in her head and crossed almost comically; her mouth hung open, jaw slack. She was thrown back like a ragdoll onto the couch, momentum bouncing her forward limply head first into the coffee table, which shattered noisily on impact with her face.

And it was stuck half inside the now-empty frame of Mike’s shattered crystal coffee table that Sharka came to rest, her delectable ass up in the air and her arms dangling over the sides of the table’s frame. She trembled and made a few low, agonized grunting noises, but a few shuddering breaths later and she fell completely still.

Mike’s jaw was as slack as Sharka’s had been.
He was dumbstruck.
His brain sputtered in vain to form a coherent thought.
After a long moment he glanced over at Brooke, who was arguably more shocked than he was.
She seemed frozen in time; her arm was outstretched in the same position it had been the moment she’d let the coffee mug fly. Mike’s eyes turned back to Sharka, who was still not moving.
He stared a little while longer. Nothing. The waistband of the Nazi’s black lace panties peeked out from under her belt; Mike could now see she had a tattoo of a pair of handcuffs just above her tailbone. He tried to follow the loop of the cuffs endlessly around her back, anything to forget what was happening. It wasn’t working.

“Oh no – oh no oh no—“ Brooke had managed to drop her arm, but her eyes remained fixed on Sharka, “Oh no…”
Mike ran his hand through his matted brown hair, “Brooke, you just –“
“Oh no—“
“We are so f***ing dead, you have no idea, they are going to skin us and make purses –“
Brooke squeaked irritably, stomping her little foot, “Shut up! That is NOT HELPING!” She shook her head, violently clearing the cobwebs, her strawberry blonde hair haphazardly framing her face. There was a crackle of broken glass under her slippers as she crossed around to Sharka’s side of the table. She poked the Nazi’s ass tentatively with her foot. Sharka’s ass swayed back and forth lightly with the force, but she was otherwise still.

Mike knelt down beside the Nazi, “Is she dead?”

Brooke straightened her pink jammies and knelt, grabbing Sharka’s jacket by the collar and hauling her upright. Displaced glass tinkled and rained to the carpet as the Axis thug was taken from her resting place in the table. Surprisingly, for a bitch that fell through a pane of glass, Sharka didn’t look half bad. There was a single thin cut across her cheekbone and a small but nasty-looking blue-purple mark between her eyes in the shape of a teddy bear, like the one on Brooke’s mug. Not too bad. But even so, if she wasn’t dead she sure looked it. Her gorgeous grey eyes were half open and staring at nothing, and her mouth still hung open. Not breathing as far as Mike could tell. Her immaculate platinum blonde hair had come undone and now hung around her face messily.

Brooke began picking little pieces of glass from their resting place between the girl’s breasts, “I dunno, I think so.” She gave Sharka a little shove and the Axis exec’s head lolled around limply on her long neck, and as her neck moved there came a small cacophony of crackles and pops. Brooke frowned, “Yeah, that doesn’t sound good.”
The couple froze as there came a knock at the door. An old woman’s voice filtered through, “Folks heard a noise, is everything okay?”
Mike spoke up, calling out, “Yeah everything’s fine Missus Jorgenson! Just a little accident! No big—“

“Okay, I’m comin’ in!” The sound of the lock being fumbled with.
Brooke and Mike exchanged a desperate glance, “Help me!” Brooke hissed, grunting cutely as she made a token effort to lift Sharka onto the couch. Mike hopped over the table and grabbed the inert Nazi under the arms, dumping her onto her former seat. Brooke took the opportunity to kick Sharka’s fallen gun under the couch.

“Now get rid of this glass!” Brooke took Sharka’s shades from her jacket and slid them onto the Nazi’s nose, pushing them up until they obscured Sharka’s blank eyes. She tilted Sharka’s head back and began fussing with her disheveled platinum hair, placing a strand between her eyes to obscure the black-and-blue teddy bear imprint. Mike, meanwhile, hustled to clean the broken glass from the carpet, taking the table under his arm and hustling out of the room. He dumped the glass on the bed, and took a moment to look at himself in the mirror. He looked like sh*t, predictably. He fiddled with his hair and his robe a bit before taking a deep breath and going back to the living room to face his notoriously nosey landlady.

When he got there Erma Jorgenson was already inside, chatting happily with Brooke while Sharka reclined on the couch with her legs crossed and her chin resting on her collarbone.
“I don’t know what it could’ve been either, we were just having breakfast, weren’t we honey?” Brooke glanced at Mike, who nodded dutifully.

Erma nodded, “Long as everything’s okay –“ she looked down at Sharka, “—how bout you sweetie, did --?”
Brooke cut her off, “Please don’t disturb her, Miss Jorgenson, she’s dead.”

Mike made a choking sound, which Brooke ignored, “She’s a friend of ours, slept over after a really long night – out like a light --“
Erma cackled, “Slept right in her clothes! Okay darlin’. I’ll leave you alone – you didn’t hear anything--?”
Brooke was politely ushering Erma to the door, “No Mrs. J, thanks Mrs. J, bye Mrs. J.” She shut the door carefully behind the landlady and braced herself against it, chest heaving, a thin sheen of sweat beginning to coat her skin, “Geeze –“
Mike put his hand on her shoulder, “Are you okay?”
Brooke stared at him like he’d just grown a second head, “Been better, Mike.” It was a side of her Mike had never seen. He hadn’t decided it was necessarily a bad thing quite yet. It had saved his life, after all. After a moment she swallowed and added, “But thank you.” She gently pushed past him and padded back to Sharka, unbuttoning her suit jacket.

“What are you--?” Mike stammered.
“I’m not sure, I heard they got tracking devices – like GPS and stuff on em.
We need to find it so we can, y’know, get rid of her. Want to give me a hand? All this needs to come off.”
There was a part of his mind that had been just waiting for her to ask, but he dared not admit it. Instead he simply knelt beside her and tilted Sharka forward, wiggling her jacket off as Brooke worked with her skirt. As Mike had suspected, it took a lot of work for Sharka to get her fetching skin tone, there were some major tan lines around her breasts, and he’d venture to guess there were some downstairs as well. He plunged his hand into Sharka’s soft cleavage, feeling around under her bra for hidden pockets. Nothing but a nipple ring. His face scrunched up in concentration as he tried to work it off, “S’got like a clasp or a lock or something—“

Brooke grunted noncommittally, sticking her hand lewdly down Sharka’s panties and rooting around for hidden piercings and pockets. If she’d been watching the Nazi’s hands, she’d have seen them twitch a bit as Sharka was fingered and probed. Satisfied that nothing was hidden in or around the Nazi’s naughty bits, Brooke unclasped the Nazi’s bellybutton stud, removed her diamond earrings, silver anklet (the charm hanging from it was a small crescent moon), and thin lady’s watch, working off her pistol rig as well.

Sharka’s tight body jiggled, her already-ruined hair bobbing around her face as Brooke worked her skirt off. They hurled Sharka’s discarded skirt suit and holster rig in a heap on the carpet, and the bitch was left with nothing but her leather gloves, shoes, and lacy black underwear. Her stockings were fastened to a garter belt with little straps; at the moment she looked less like a corporate goon and more like a woman looking to surprise her husband on Valentine’s day. A little pink bow was fastened to the front of her panties, and another between the cups of her bra. Did they all walk around wearing stuff like this? Mike couldn’t help but wonder. After a Herculean effort, he got her nipple ring unclasped and pocketed it, reaching around her toned stomach to undo her bra. That, he had experience in.

“Hey!” Brooke elbowed him in the ribs, “Knock it off, help me with the suit.” They rifled through Sharka’s suit together. The grand total at the end of the search was: an Axis smart phone, a pack of gum, a pack of cigarettes, a lighter engraved with a swastika, a wallet, a little key chain, and an ivory-handled butterfly knife. Brooke took the keys and organized the rest of the objects, along with the PDA, the jewelry, and the shades in a neat pile and stuck it in the oven, cranking up the dial.

“See if their fancy-schmancy tech can handle a little heat!” Brooke beamed at Mike, who chuckled in spite of himself.

“Alright, lets get the rest of her clothes off.” Brooke moved back to Sharka and began removing the rest of the Axis exec’s clothing, carefully sliding off her gloves and removing her expensive stiletto heels with the reverence that only a shoe-addict would really understand, letting each meaty leg thud to the floor as its shoe was removed. Mike noted as he began to unclasp Sharka’s bra again that all her nails were painted glossy black; this was a woman who had cared deeply about her appearance. But when one was a sociopath, what else really was there to care about? He could feel her hair on his neck as he worked to undress her, her smooth brown skin was lightly scented with exotic perfume and maybe some lotion.
He wondered if she wore flavored lip gloss.
The fact that these where things that crossed his mind freaked him out a little, but he was only human wasn’t he?

He tried to think of Brooke, her laugh, her hypnotically beautiful blue eyes. But she wasn’t the girl whose bra he was unclasping. Within a moment it was off, and after Brooke jerked off Sharka’s panties and rolled the stockings off her shapely legs the Nazi was sitting on their couch buck naked, jaw slack, staring at a spot on the floor. Mike had been right about Sharka’s skin tone – the skin around her sex and pert nipples betrayed pretty drastic tan lines.

Smoke was starting to trickle from the oven, and as Brooke rushed to turn it off Mike worked a hand under Sharka’s chin and tilted her head up. Not so damn tough anymore. The predatory gleam was long gone from her grey eyes, they now angled slightly upward and crosseyed as if to stare at the goofy teddy bear imprint on her forehead. Unable to help himself, he ran a hand along her smooth stomach, working downward towards her sex. Barely an ounce of fat on this girl, seemed like. All muscle, just the right tone. He lifted her arm and let it drop into her lap.
At this point he noticed her pubic thatch, shaved into a straight little ‘landing strip’, her natural hair color now revealed to be a rich dark brown.

With great effort he willed himself to break his gaze, craning his neck to look back at Brooke, “What’d we do with her?”
“You got any pigs?”
“Uh, no?”
“Phooey. Well your bedroom window looks out on an alley right?”
“Yeah –“
“What if we just throw her out and let the garbage men deal with her?”

Sharka made a little noise neither of them heard.

Mike pondered this a moment, “Won’t the apartment be one of the first places they look if she turns up dead right under it? With her head split open like she fell out a window? Brooke?”
Brooke began muttering to herself, Mike could barely hear what she was saying, “Yeh yeh you’re right. Anyway she prolly drove here… got to have a GPS in the car prolly… we have to get her to her car. We get the GPS from that too and then get rid of them together.”
Mike grinned and snorted, “Oh yeah sure, we’ll just take a dead naked chick downstairs.” He glanced back at Brooke, and his smile slowly faded. She was serious.

“You got a better idea?”
He had to admit he didn’t. He mentally sized Sharka up. Without her heels she didn’t quite clear six feet, probably weighed not more than a hundred thirty to a hundred forty pounds. He could lift her easy if he had to and carry her as far as he needed. He shook his head, “No. It’s a good idea honey.”

Brooke beamed in sheer joy that her idea had met with approval, “Okay! So I’ll go downstairs and pull her car into the alley and you meet me with… her. Lets do it!” Without another word she scampered off into the hallway with Sharka’s keys clutched in her hand. Still wearing her pink jammies. This was the most f**ked up morning Mike had ever been a part of, and he’d seen a few contenders in his day. This topped the time he’d woken up next to a circus clown.

He turned to Sharka, “What’d you think Sharka. You figure we can pull this off?” Sharka didn’t answer. She simply sat, motionless, her hands nestled primly in her lap. He took her arm and hefted her up with a grunt, lifting the limp Nazi bitch over his shoulder, her perfect ass now pressed against his cheek. He gave it a little pat and ventured to the door, sticking his head out to see if the coast was clear. Of course, if anyone saw him they’d also see a woman’s naked ass draped over his shoulder, but Mike was not the brightest bulb under even non-stressful circumstances. Luckily for him, the coast was clear. He sprinted as silently as possible to the stairwell, his bathrobe billowing out behind him and Sharka bobbing and dancing limply with every stride.

At the bottom, twelve stories down, Mike felt like he had to catch his breath or his heart would explode. Anyway, he heard someone having a conversation in the hall outside, hopefully they didn’t inexplicably want to take the stairs or he’d be up sh*t creek. He took Sharka off his shoulder, laying her breasts up on the stairwell floor as he caught his breath and waited for the voices to die down. Her eyes were obscured by her platinum hair; he brushed it aside for reasons even he didn’t really understand.
Her eyes had been brushed closed at some point in her little post-mortem adventure, it almost looked like she was sleeping… sleeping off a hit between the eyes anyway, she still had a bit of a shiner.

The voices faded; he tried to heft her back up on his shoulders but it had been a long time since he’d had a workout like this. His muscles felt like they were on fire, and grunt as he might they wouldn’t obey him. All he could do was hold her in his arms like a battering ram. And in that vein, he lurched clumsily into the door and used her head to open it with a hollow *BANG*. His eyes wide with fear, Mike stumbled down the hall and out into the alley, kicking the door shut behind him. Waiting for him, its engine idling with a menacing growl, was an Axis Sedan. He was either soon to be saved or soon to be dead, with little to do about either.

Mike was so relieved to see Brooke pop out of the driver’s side he dropped Sharka face first into a puddle. Too tired to do anything about it immediately, Mike simple leaned on a nearby wall and caught his breath. Brooke glanced down the alley nervously, but as it seemed clear for the moment, and they knew this alley was rarely trafficked, she decided to let her man rest a couple minutes.

It was too subtle for either of them to notice, but a tiny trail of bubbles had broken the surface near the Nazi’s nose, her toes clenched and unclenched as she quivered almost imperceptibly, but within a half minute the bubbles and the movement ceased.
After another minute, Mike had worked up enough strength to heft Sharka into the trunk and collapse into the Sedan’s passenger seat, more out of breath than he’d been in years. The day wasn’t over yet, but Mike suspected that as long as they were careful things would go smoothly. He glanced over at Brooke, who didn’t look much better, and she looked like she’d aged a decade. Poor kid, she’d really put her ass on the line for him. She looked at Mike, her blue eyes now sunken and sallow and yet still somehow good-natured, and gave him a tired little smile.

Mike smiled back, “Love you too.”



Club Regular
Mar 13, 2011
The followup, by "Charley":

It was oddly cleansing to be out of New York. If Mike stared out the window and watched the trees go by he could convince himself, sometimes for stretches of a minute at a time, that everything was alright. That he hadn’t been party to a murder. That he and his sweetheart weren’t hoping to dodge the attentions of a band of killer corporate Nazi bitches that by all accounts were above the law. But the feeling never lasted. It was Brooke’s turn to drive the Axis Sedan, it was a classy ebon ride with a leather interior he wished to hell he could keep, but Brooke’s idea was to dump it in Lake Placid. And once again, he had to admit she was onto something. Anyway there was a curvy amazon’s corpse in the trunk, and what kind of an asshole would keep a car knowing there’d been a dead Nazi bitch in the trunk? So they’d grabbed a change of clothes from a local thrift store, two pair baggy jeans and a couple t-shirts, and hit the road.

Brooke had said Lake Placid was her hometown, and suddenly, on hour three and a half of their journey, something occurred to Mike, “Honey?”

Brooke blinked as if being woken from a deep sleep, glancing towards her boyfriend with tired but still-beautiful blue eyes, “Yeh?”

“The chick in the trunk said Chicago was your hometown.”


“So is it Chicago or Lake Placid?”

Brooke nodded vaguely, “Uh, I moved around a lot…”

“Oh.” Mike wasn’t sure that had answered his question, but another one sprang to mind, “So is Lake Placid a lake or a town?”


“So what’s the name of the lake?”


Mike nodded again, feeling unsatisfied but unsure what else to ask. He focused on the car’s GPS display; Brooke had managed to find and remove the tracking device so it had kept giving them gibberish directions in an Australian accent until they’d found out how to turn it off. Now it just displayed a map of the entire state, at least it could still be of some assistance. There was a sound from the trunk as the car drove over a crack in the road; Brooke squealed and Mike jumped, they exchanged a fearful glance. But there wasn’t a repeat, probably poor Sharka (the name of their deceased cargo) had just been jostled. Still, neither Mike nor Brooke could wait until the whole thing was behind them.

It wasn’t until they hit the Lake Placid city limits that it occurred to them they’d need a way to get back HOME once they’d dumped the Sedan. As luck would have it, though, there was a gentleman in the parking lot of a bait shop looking to sell his pickup for dirt cheap – the pair resolved to take it with them and use it to drive home.


Meanwhile, trailing far behind was another Sedan, this one populated with three black-suited Axis agents from the Albany branch. Around the office they were called the ‘sisters’, not because they were actually sisters but because they stuck together and they were all pretty little Asians, and Axis on the whole was fairly racist. None of them were very big in the company, which was why they had been sent on this errand.

The first ‘sister’ was Remi, the youngest of the three having just turned twenty, a porcelain skinned Japanese girl who was little more than a glorified intern. She had managed to keep her head down over the four months she’d worked for Axis, and in spite of her bloated salary the most extreme work she’d ever had to do was wave her gun in the face of the owner of a local graphic design studio. She was committed to rocking the ‘sexy emo nerd’ look, complete with trendy purple fauxhawk, a vintage pair of glasses in black plastic frames, and a little steel labret that accentuated her small but sensual lips. At the moment she was in the passenger seat playing with her chrome-plated Axis Rondel .45; she’d unloaded it to assuage the fears of her fellow passengers, its clip was bouncing around on the dashboard.

The second ‘sister’ was the Korean, Susan; Susan was the only one of the three who had ever committed murder. Naturally, she felt most of the things she did were beneath her, and for the most part they were. Not much action in Albany. She was barely taller than five and a half feet, but in standard Axis stiletto-heeled fetish pumps ™ she was able to peer levelly into the eyes of most any frightened male she came across. Her face was beautiful and somehow statuesque, with high, chiseled cheekbones, soulful almond eyes, and a perfect button nose all perched on a long athletic neck. Her skin was lightly tanned and her hair a reddish brown, shot through here and there with streaks of blonde, a single lock of which was done up in a braid that had a tendency to hang fetchingly (but annoyingly) in her eyes. She was currently smoking a clove cigarette in the back seat, her light brown legs crossed and draped over the gear shift, one foot tapping against the air conditioning vent. Every now and again Remi would give her ankle a poke. Remi was always fucking around; Susan had to periodically give the front dash a little kick to get her to knock it off.

The driving ‘sister’ was Julia, Julia was the tallest of the three, a fair skinned young woman with long raven hair. She was also Korean (her given name was Joo-eun), but unlike Susan she was first generation, actually emigrated from Korea and working for Axis with a special Visa. She hadn’t killed anybody yet, but she’d done plenty of dirty work for local gangs back home. Not many girls could say they’d forced somebody’s hand into a deep-fat fryer. Julia could. She still spoke with a noticeable accent, but she had a solid enough grasp on English to earn her business degree. She wore a couple lip rings, one on each side of her lower lip in a style called a ‘snake bite’ Every now and again she had to swat Susie’s long legs aside to shift gears, eliciting an irritated little mewl from the back.

The ‘sisters’ were well aware of the ‘asian schoolgirl’ craze, and made subtle adjustments to their Axis uniforms to take advantage. The skirts were ultra-short, just a bit flared and pleated, the better to show a hint of panty here and there. Each was equipped with a matching pair of fingerless calfskin gloves for a fetching ‘punk’ look, and additionally, they wore high-collar black dress shirts and crimson ties under the suit, the better to draw attention to their long legs – and one thing the ‘sisters’ did share was their dynamite legs. It had been joked now and then that legs must run in the family. This joke was rarely if ever laughed at.

Susie blinked and glanced around as the car stopped, “Why are we stopping?”

Remi rested her hand on Susie’s knee and craned her neck to glance towards the back, “They stopped. Bait shop.” She tapped the Sedan’s display: Axis had been tracking Sharka’s car via satellite since it left New York, and the sat feed showed the car indeed parked at a bait shop.

Susie wrinkled her cute little nose in thought, “Bait shop?”

They debated amongst one another whether or not to close in; Susie was of the mind they should end the whole thing immediately, while Remi was predictably hesitant. Soon it was a moot point as the car began moving again, and the Axis agents followed a good distance out of sight.


Brooke knew a place along the lake that no tourist had ever set foot near, she parked the Sedan at the shore with Mike following close in the truck. She was uneasy… this was the sort of thing people did in the dead of night wasn’t it? Yet it was 1:00 PM, birds were chirping, the sun was shining. There was a rainbow over the lake for Christ’s sake, it just felt weird. Even so, it had to be done, and ideally they’d be back home in New York in time for work the next day. The world didn’t stop turning just ‘cos you killed somebody. Brooke popped the trunk and met her man outside; he was staring down uneasily at Sharka’s corpse.

She’d seen better days for sure, the combination of her tan and her untimely demise had given the Nazi’s skin an odd grayish pallor. Her slate gray eyes were sleepily half-open, she was currently curled up in the trunk naked in a graceless and uncomfortable-looking fetal position. Her tongue had lolled out of her mouth and a small puddle of drool was collecting on the plastic wrap laid under her; all in all Sharka was barely a shade of the dangerous bitch she had been a few hours ago.

Mike swallowed, “You really think we have to do this?”

Brooke nodded adamantly, “It’ll look like she got drunk or something and drove in the lake.”

Mike gave Brooke a strange look, “Like she got drunk, lost her clothes, drove five hours and ended up in a lake?”

Brooke stomped her foot, “That’s enough mister! Stop bein’ a backseat driver and help her out will you? Please?” Mike finally buckled under her imploring gaze, as he always did. He took Sharka by her platinum hair and jerked her half out of the trunk. There was an ominous series of cracks and Sharka just stayed there in a sitting position, like a living statue. Her muscular body seemed oddly tensed. Neither Brooke nor Mike spoke for a long moment, but finally Mike ventured, “… must be rigor…”

Brooke raised her eyebrow, “How do you know that?”

Mike shrugged, “Saw it on CSI New Hampshire.” He gingerly took Sharka’s arm and dragged her out of the trunk, letting her fall into the dirt with her legs still draped over the bumper. He took her arms and grunted as he straightened them at her sides in spite of their unhealthy-sounding cracks. He picked her up again and dragged her into the driver’s seat, manipulating her body like she was the world’s largest action figure until she looked vaguely like she was driving. It still seemed silly to him, nobody would believe this scenario they’d concocted. But then maybe it would give Axis just enough of an excuse to sweep the whole thing under the rug, they were notoriously slow to let police in on their business. He poked Sharka’s tongue back into her mouth, lifting one of her legs to hover over the gas.

“Later, Sharka. Nice to know ya.” Mike grunted in exertion as he slammed Sharka’s foot on the gas, letting her rigor mortis keep it in place -- he stumbled back to let the Sedan careen into the water. Within moments it was sinking out of sight. Mike stood, taking Brooke’s waist and drawing her close, the two of them watching the car disappear into Lake Placid.

“Now there’s a story to never tell the grandkids.” Mike chuckled hollowly. Brooke giggled, more out of sweet relief than anything, hugging Mike tighter. Their strangely touching moment was shattered when they heard tires crunch on pebbles in the woods, not fifty feet from them. Mike whirled to the source of the noise: an Axis Sedan.


Remi fingered her SMG almost lewdly, flicking little switches on the gun she didn’t know the function of, her chest heaving with excitement, “If we have to do this I have to say, holding this little baby I feel a lot better… mmm, I want my first kill to be full-auto…” Her tongue flicked out to dance on the dull black Axis gun’s barrel. She’d fired an Axis submachine gun on the range but never at a person before, it was a really hot prospect.

Susan looked up coolly from screwing a silencer on her .45, “Keep the hand cannon out of sight Remi, we don’t know what’s happened here yet. We go in prepared, but nobody dies if nobody has to. First and foremost –“

“Observe and report.” Julia finished primly, sliding a speed-loader full of rounds into her .357 magnum’s cylinder and snapping it back in the gun with a flick of her wrist.

Susan smirked, “That’s right Jules. Jules gets the message.” She fixed Remi with a condescending gaze, “Jules is on the right page.”

Remi simply stuck her tongue out, racking the bolt on her gun with a satisfying ‘clack-clack’ before checking her violet hair in the rearview mirror and adjusting her specs.


Mike elbowed Brooke, silently observing the Axis agents from the relative safety of the woods. Three little Asian femme fatales, dressed in slick black leather skirt suits, poking around the lake shore with an air of vague boredom. One of them, the one with spikey purple hair, was brandishing what looked like a machinegun. The brunette was cool and collected, she kept making the purple-haired one stow her piece. The third, a tall raven-haired girl, was simply staring out over the lake contemplatively. They were gorgeous, Mike couldn’t help but notice – their skirts barely functioned as clothing, displaying every inch of their long legs, accentuated as they were by sky high heels. The girls didn’t seem to be doing too well in the heels, incidentally. The mud on the shore was making their footing unsteady; the purple-haired girl looked ready to tip over at any moment.

Mike would have been content to just leave them to screw around at the lake, except for one little problem: the Nazis were between the couple and their pickup. As Mike and Brooke silently contemplated what to do, the tan little brunette began snapping pictures of the tire tracks leading into the lake with her camera phone. Mike leaned into Brooke’s ear and whispered harshly, “Listen, we gotta get outta here, they’re gonna find the truck –“

Brooke nodded hurriedly, and stared at Mike in frightened silence until he caught on that she was waiting for him to make the first move. As quietly as he was able, he began creeping through the woods in a semicircular path around the lake shore – with a little bit of luck, they’d be able to move around the Nazis completely without any of them noticing.


“What was that?” Remi almost fell over backwards as she twisted at a noise and her mud-sunk heels refused to turn with her. She peered fearfully into the woods, feeling a little like a victim in a teen slasher movie until she remembered she was holding a gun generally restricted to SWAT teams.

Susie turned to look over her shoulder, “I didn’t hear anything. You and Jules check it out though. The scene hasn’t been properly sanitized yet, if it walks on two legs, drop it.”

Julia nodded matter-of-factly and drew her magnum, beginning to trudge off towards the woods. Remi frowned and stared at Susan pleadingly, “Me --? Aw c’mon Susie –“

Susan smirked, “What’re you worried about. That artillery in your hand could take down Bigfoot.”

Remi nodded, shifting her weight from foot to foot, the excitement beginning to take over again as she steeled herself, “Yeah – fuckin’ a— gonna pop my murder cherry--“ The Japanese bitch grinned sadistically at the thought of pumping some camper full of holes, brandishing her SMG at thin air.

“Atta girl, kick some ass!” Susie cried enthusiastically, rolling her eyes as Remi bounded off to catch up with Julia. She loved the both of them but two hours on the road was too damn much.

Remi soon caught up with Julia, nearly slamming into her as the Korean turned to hiss “SHHH!”

“Sorry—“ Remi mouthed with a slightly hurt expression, crouching into a ready stance with her butt stuck out and her gun pointed vaguely into the woods. The two of them froze as they heard a twig snap behind a nearby tree. Julia was first, with Remi quickly following her lead – they jumped from behind the tree and brandished their weapons, startling the hell out of a tasty-looking twenty-something blonde chick who was wearing jeans and a t-shirt.

“Oh god--!” Brooke threw her hands up, “Oh god don’t shoot!”

The two Nazi’s chuckled in sadistic amusement, before Remi’s sharp ears again detected a noise. She turned in time to see a branch as thick as a baseball bat hurling towards her, and could barely let out a terrified squeal before it struck the two Nazis across their backs. They were lifted literally off the ground by the force of the impact, sailing through the air screaming to land facedown at Brooke’s feet among a displaced cloud of leaves. One of Remi’s six-inch fetish pumps flew off her foot as she landed, rolling past Brooke to tumble aimlessly down a hill. Mike emerged from around the tree trunk, “Did it work--?”

Brooke giggled in disbelief, staring down at the prone forms of the two Nazis, “Yeh – I gotta admit honey I thought it was a long shot – they usually do that in cartoons --“

Mike chuckled in giddy amusement, “Me too! But holy shit it worked, look at em –“

Neither young Nazi stirred, each lying facedown with their arms sprawled out in front of them. Remi’s left leg was bent at the knee, her now-bare foot pointed demurely towards Brooke. Purple nail polish to match her hair, very cute. Julia’s skirt had drifted up around her hips, revealing a pair of hot-pink panties with a little cartoon devil on the seat, and just the edge of a tramp stamp at the tailbone. Their guns were lying in the leaves next to them, and Brooke collected the ordinance with a vaguely disgusted grimace on her face, “Ugh, guns.” Still, Mike couldn’t help but notice she seemed to know where everything was – she popped the cylinder on Julia’s magnum and shook the gun distastefully until all its rounds spilled out onto the ground.

Mike raised his eyebrows, “How did you--?”

But before Mike could finish, a round slammed into a tree trunk not three inches from Brooke’s head with a heavy ‘THOK’. Brooke squealed, shielding her eyes as they were sprayed unexpectedly with debris. She fell to her hands and knees, pawing at her face and screaming in sudden pain. Another bullet impacted in the ground near her feet, there was no sound of a gunshot, only the ‘plop’ of the bullet hitting dirt. Someone was trying to kill Brooke.

Mike saw red.

Suddenly nothing mattered but dealing with the threat. He ran to Brooke, grabbing her harshly by the arm and hauling her safely behind a tree, poking his head around the trunk to catch a glimpse of the shooter.

It was Susie, the cinnamon-skinned brunette. She held her silenced pistol at her hip casually, her expression was cold, nearly bored, her full lips set in a haughty pout. She was close, very close, like fifteen feet close.

*PHUT* The bullet, if it had gone traveled in a straight line, would have hit Mike in the ear. As it was it thudded into the tree trunk and glanced off; unlike Brooke, Mike was ready. He shielded his eyes from flying chips of wood, letting out a surprisingly fearsome bellow as he bounded out from around the tree trunk.

Susan fired, but Mike was low, lunging forward in a classic tackle. The bullet whizzed over his head, and Susan’s smug expression evaporated into one of alarm. Her eyes suddenly wide, she attempted to adjust her aim, but before she could fire again Mike slammed into her gut with a tackle that had, back in the day, leveled an angry three-hundred-pound lineman.

“UUNGH!” The breath was immediately driven from Susie’s lungs; her gun gleamed in the stippled daylight as it flew out of sight. Susie slammed tits up to the ground with Mike on top of her. She’d wrapped her long legs around his waist and now she straddled him, coughing and gasping, half conscious, pawing at his broad chest in a half-hearted attempt to get him off her.

“Get off my man you slut –“ Brooke grabbed Mike and tossed him off the Nazi bitch with deceptive strength, grabbing Susie by the lapels and dragging the woozy Korean to her feet.

“OWWW--!” Susan cried out, forced to writhe on her tiptoes as Brooke grabbed the waistband of her underwear and pulled her gorgeous butt skyward in a vicious wedgie, finally shoving the stunned woman towards her fallen Nazi companions. Susan stumbled, pulling at her painfully-high panties as she staggered forward. After a few wobbling steps she spilled onto Julia as she tripped on the fallen girl’s shoulder, her face slamming down hard between Julia’s ass cheeks. The two of them jiggled together with the impact before falling completely still.

Brooke dusted herself off and helped Mike to his feet, “Thanks for the tackle, babe! Is that all of em --?”

Mike nodded, “From what I saw. Lets skedaddle.”

Brooke was looking down at the fallen ‘sisters’ contemplatively, “Hold up hon, there’s no rush.”

Mike blinked. He was pretty sure there WAS in fact a rush, “Eh?”

Brooke got a mischievous gleam in her eye, “I mean what if they were to follow us --? What if they were to come around in a couple minutes and catch up?”

“Uh – left my rope at home, babe.”

Brooke giggled, “Nothing like that, but we could at least delay them a little.” She took Remi’s shoulder and rolled the sexy little Japanese girl on her back. Carefully, almost tenderly, she loosened the Nazi’s tie and unbuttoned the top button on her shirt, running a finger carefully along the Japanese girl’s glossy lips. Brooke tasted the gloss: strawberry. She plucked off Remi’s glasses and tossed them aside, taking her by the necktie and propping the limp bitch up on a tree trunk, sitting to straddle the Nazi. Brooke squeaked as she felt a sharp pain in her pelvic region, groping Remi’s sex until she found the offending object – a chrome-plated .45 stuffed in the Nazi’s underwear. Brooke tossed the gun aside and glanced at Mike as she stripped off Remi’s jacket, “Get the picture?”

And how. Mike nodded, rolling Susie onto her back beside Julia. Following his girl’s example he straddled Susan and pulled the girl up to a sitting position by her necktie, roughly stripping off her suit jacket. Her shirt, aside from the conservative high collar, was pretty skimpy. The sleeves were short enough to bare her smooth arms, and the shirt was cut high enough that Mike could see a good swath of her toned stomach. He discarded the suit jacket and let her fall back to the ground; she let out a cute little grunt as her head hit the dirt, her eyelids fluttering briefly before closing again. She looked so angelic, hard to believe just a couple minutes ago this brown-skinned little doll was trying to kill his girl.

Angered by the memory, Mike got to his feet and slid his foot under Susie’s shoulder, flipping her roughly over onto her stomach again, her limbs flopping limply as she was manipulated. Mike knelt, unzipping the Nazi’s skirt and pulling it off, revealing her perfect ass. Her pink underwear was still wedged unpleasantly in the crack of her ass, and as he flipped her over tits-up he saw that it had also gotten stuck nicely in her pussy lips.

Mike turned his attention to Susan’ pigeon-toed feet, still clad in glossy black pumps on the end of shapely legs that were now totally bared. He popped off the shoes; her toenails like her fingernails were painted a rich burgundy, and Mike noted with some amusement that on each big toe was a small, bright red swastika decal. He slid her tie off her long neck and, rather than bother with the buttons, simply tore her shirt open, wiggling it off. Unsurprisingly, Susan was not wearing a bra, and also unsurprisingly a pink diamond stud was nestled snugly in her bellybutton. Now that her entire body was visible it was clear Susie was an athletic girl, not nearly the muscular Amazon that many of her co-workers were but physically fit and toned by any estimation. Mike pulled down Susan’s panties and discarded them in the growing pile of her removed clothing. Intrigued by her undies’ slight dampness, Mike slid a couple fingers into the Nazi’s warm sex, tweaking her erect brown nipple. The hunt must have excited her… well that made two of them. The Korean girl took in a shuddering breath, her eyes clearly rolling around under her closed eyelids, lips parted slightly, her lovely backside beginning to arch. Mike pumped his fingers inside Susie, teasing her clit expertly, cupping his hand around one of her soft breasts.

“Uhn –“ Susie’s sleepy little grunt was a bit too loud for comfort and Mike quickly withdrew his fingers, leaving the unfulfilled Nazi to quiver unconscious among the leaves. He glanced over to Brooke, “You done with yours?”

Remi was lying against a tree, now buck-naked but for her watch and jewelry, her once carefully styled violet hair now matted and disheveled around her face. With her jacket and shirt gone a striking tattoo was revealed, a full-sleeve work spanning one arm from shoulder to wrist that seemed to depict some sort of winding tree or plant. Brooke tossed the girl’s panties into another growing pile, “Yep.” She took Remi under the arms and dumped her naked body roughly on top of Susie (the trembling Korean grunted breathlessly at the impact and laid still), stacking the two girls like firewood, before squatting next to Julia, “Help me with contestant number three.”

Mike nodded and began wriggling off Julia’s skirt. He was getting to be a natural at this, disturbingly enough, “Who do you think they are?”

Brooke shrugged, stripping off the raven-haired beauty’s jacket, “Who cares? They’re Axis. They all get printed from the same press apparently.”

“This morning you were psyched to work for em –“ Mike had a grip on Julia’s meaty calf and was working off one of her pumps. It was surprisingly tough – he suspected her feet were a little too big for them.

Brooke rolled her eyes, “Don’t remind me, well I’ve gotten a pretty heavy crash course in why it woulda been a bad idea –“ She pinched Julia’s cheeks, pursing the Nazi’s sensual lips into a cute pout, and turned the girl’s slack-jawed face to meet her gaze, “—wouldn’t you say, hot stuff?” Julia opted for no comment, but her circumstances still didn’t speak well of Axis as a career path. In spite of her edgy lip piercings, Julia turned out to be more modestly dressed than the other two in that she actually opted to wear a bra to work. But it was quickly removed, along with her underwear, leaving her in the buff like her ‘sisters’. The tramp stamp it turned out was just a typical tribal pattern, almost disappointing really. Mike dumped her onto the other two, slapping his hands together, “Job well done, honey. Now lets –“

But Brooke was fishing around in their jackets, drawing out three pair of designer shades with a little smirk, “If somebody found em like that they’d just wake em up, come on – lets go that extra mile. C’moooon --” She hopped up and down, and then to Mike’s horror made with the puppy-dog eyes. Mike grumbled irritably, grabbing Susan and Remi and hefting one over each shoulder, “Okaaay. Where would you like em.”

Brooke smiled sunnily, “Right this way!” She led Mike to the lake shore, where he laid the girls down as if they were sunbathing. Porcelain-skinned Remi could probably be seen gleaming from space, but with the shades perched on their noses it was still pretty convincing. Susie was posed facedown with her forearms folded under her chin, and in turning her on her stomach Mike couldn’t help but run his hand along the curve of her perfectly-shaped ass. Brooke meanwhile was dragging Julia to the shore by her ankles, leaving a little trench in the dirt behind her as she went.

Julia’s skin was fair too, but more a healthy pink, she looked a little more used to the sun than Remi. Brooke posed her on her back next to the other two, dropping the Nazi’s hands to rest on her flat stomach, finally going back to cover up the trail she’d left in the dirt. Julia stretched her long legs a little, making sleepy noises; there was no telling how long the ‘sisters’ would stay out, it was time to go.

All that was left was to hurl the girls’ clothes in the lake, fire a few silenced bullets into their Sedan’s tires, and bury the weaponry, and the couple was on their way back home.


Hours later, in a diner just shy of Albany, Brooke and Mike took in some well deserved rest. They ate in silence, but it was a comfortable silence; they were just happy to be safe, warm, and fed after what was definitely the longest day of their lives. After a time, Mike worked up the nerve to ask another question, “Hon?”

Brooke swallowed a mouthful of burger and looked up at her man, “Yeh?”

“What was Sharka talking about? About the past?”

Brooke knew the question would come eventually. She frowned, “It doesn’t matter.”

“Brooke –“

“Come on Mikey, haven’t you ever done stuff you wish you hadn’t done? Stuff that isn’t who ya are anymore? Look, what if it was the worst thing you could imagine – what if I’d killed a hobo and like –“ her eyes darted around wildly as she ate another bite of her burger, “—and like chopped him up and used his skin as furniture – wouldja forgive me?”

She had him there. Mike smirked, “Yeah. Yeah I’d forgive you.”

Brooke threw a fry at him, “Then who cares!” She stood abruptly, “I gotta pee.”

Mike nodded solemnly, picking the fry from his forehead and eating it, “Via con dios. I’ll be here.” And so Mike sat, sipping coffee for a couple minutes before he caught a sight that caused him to quickly bury his face in a menu.

Remi had entered the diner, her purple hair now tied back in a short ponytail. From Mike’s vantage point peeking over the top of his menu, she did not look happy. Her delicate little neck must have been hurt in the scuffle; she was wearing an uncomfortable-looking neck brace that seemed to force her jaw to stay perpetually clenched. Her formerly creamy white skin was sunburned red, all except for a patch on her back where the sun hadn’t hit her. She was wearing a pair of pink sweat pants that had ‘juicy’ printed on the ass, a pair of blue flip-flops, and a white tank top that had “I’m with stupid 🡪” printed on it. Her nipples stood out starkly against the cotton; obviously she hadn’t grabbed any underwear while they were shopping. Mike almost burst out laughing at the mental image of three naked Axis hitwomen bursting into a discount clothing outlet and grabbing clothes off the rack at gunpoint. Luckily he held his tongue, because when Remi spoke he would have been howling with laughter, “Ghhh mh thrh cffhs pls—“

The guy at the register cleared his throat nervously, “Uh I didn’t catch that –“

Remi banged her tiny fist on the counter, “Hh SDDD –“ She worked her fingers under the brace to loosen it, wincing in pain, “I said get me three goddamn coffees –“ she leaned against the counter and clasped one hand to her neck, squeezing her eyes shut. The cashier nodded hurriedly, “Sorry m’am, three coffees. We need to brew a fresh pot; it’ll just be a minute okay?”

Remi shrugged and waved her hand vaguely; the cashier retreated into the back. A couple minutes crept by before Remi got antsy about something. She checked her wrist, sighing sadly as she remembered her watch was at the bottom of Lake Placid, finally walking off towards the restroom.

“Oh SHIT!” Mike hissed under his breath. She’d run right into Brooke!


Brooke, meanwhile, had just finished up and was washing her hands. She looked like total crap; she frowned sadly as she inspected her eyes. They looked all wrinkly and baggy. She hadn’t been able to put makeup on this morning, and that was not counting all the shit she’d been through in the meantime. Maybe with some sleep she’d be alright. She dried her hands and turned to leave, her jaw nearly dropping as Remi burst in. The violet-haired Nazi didn’t seem to notice her; she headed right to a bathroom mirror and mewled in misery as she saw her own face. Gingerly she prodded her cheek, jumping in pain and nearly bursting into tears as her finger touched the sunburn. Brooke was struck by a sudden bolt of pity; poor kid was probably in way over her head. If not for Mike, Brooke herself could easily be in Remi’s place. Even so, kid or no kid, sunburn or no sunburn, any Axis agent was dangerous now.

Brooke attempted to sidle around her, but before she could do so Remi glanced in her direction and pulled an awkward neck-braced double take, “—YHH!” She grabbed for the beat-up pawn shop .38 revolver stuffed in the waistband of her sweatpants. Brooke lunged forward, but even with the brace Remi was too fast – it was clear she’d pull the gun before Brooke could react.

“Oof!” Remi grunted as the bathroom door swung open, hitting her in the shoulder blades. She stumbled forward into Brooke’s waiting arms, still scrabbling for the revolver, but Brooke took the Nazi by the wrists and attempted to wrest the pistol from her grasp.

It was a toss up as to who would end up with the gun, they both had a good grip on it and neither was exactly competitive arm wrestling material. Luckily for Brooke, she had backup. Mike came up from behind and slid his arm around Remi’s braced neck in a headlock. The Japanese girl gurgled in alarm, relinquishing her grip on the pistol to claw at Mike’s meaty forearm. She started to let out a cry, forcing Mike to clap a hand over her mouth, her steel labret pressing against his palm. They danced together a moment before Brooke pressed the revolver to the Nazi’s stomach, “Freeze, bitch!”

Remi’s almond eyes got as wide as dinner plates, she bucked in alarm at the feel of the gun barrel on her skin. Suddenly there came a wet ‘crack’ and a squeal from Remi -- her eyes got blank and glassy, still glistening with pained tears. The neck brace came apart in Mike’s grip, he had to catch it instinctively before it fell to the floor, and the couple stared at each other in shock.

Mike looked horrified, holding a suddenly-slack Remi under the arms, “Oh no – oh god not again –“

Brooke mewled, “Oh no – oh please – I’m sorry lady I’m sorry!” She patted Remi frantically on the sunburned cheek, but the Nazi’s head simply lolled around on her neck until her chin was resting on her collarbone. The girl’s gleaming eyes remained open, staring blankly down at her feet. A light trail of drool trailed its way down her chest and disappeared under her tank top.

Suddenly footsteps were audible, growing steadily closer to the door. Without thinking, Mike hustled Remi’s corpse and a startled Brooke into a stall with him, slamming the door behind them. Remi was plopped onto the toilet seat; there was simply not enough room for Mike and Brooke to make themselves hidden – if whoever it was looked under the stall they’d see three pairs of feet and the jig would be up. Still, the mystery guest didn’t seem too interested. Mike and Brooke stood in silent fear, a corpse between them, while the woman in the next stall took a piss. Brooke was cradling Remi’s head between her breasts in an almost motherly gesture; Mike noted with a sort of dark amusement that the arrow on the dead Remi’s ‘I’m with stupid’ shirt was now pointing at him.

He waited for the woman to finish going to the bathroom, an awful fantasy playing in his head of an endless string of customers keeping them in the bathroom till the Nazis came themselves to investigate. Luckily, it didn’t happen that way. The woman left (without washing her hands, gross), and the three were again alone together. Mike darted out and locked the bathroom door, returning to the stall to stare at his second corpse of the day. This time he hadn’t just watched it happen, he’d felt the young Axis thug’s neck break in his arms. He felt like he was going to be sick.

Brooke grabbed Remi’s purple ponytail, carefully pushing and pulling her by her hair until her limp form was balanced on the seat, pulling the Nazi’s pink sweats down around her ankles. She looked up at Mike and saw something in his eyes, “Oh honey – look it wasn’t our fault. We were defending ourselves and it just happened…”

Mike didn’t hear her, his attention was fixed on Remi with a grim fascination. It looked like she had fallen asleep on the can, her knees were pressed together, feet pigeon-toed, little arms resting flaccid at her sides. Remi had indeed skipped the underwear portion of her shopping, and Mike noticed a little silver clit ring he hadn’t caught before. He blinked as Brooke’s words finally set in. They were cold comfort, “Uh, yeah.”

Brooke frowned, knowing she hadn’t gotten through. She pushed past him to the sink and lightly wet a paper towel, rubbing it all over the place. On the sink, on the stall, on the toilet.

“What--?” Mike started, even as it dawned on him what she was doing.

“Prints.” She confirmed his guess, dabbing Remi gingerly with the towel, watching her carefully to catch her if she started to fall, “We can still get out of this honey, we can still do it—“ She backed away from Remi carefully, like one might a freshly built house of cards, and closed the stall door, locking it and sliding underneath to stand beside Mike, “Okay lets get outta here. We’re gonna go home and none of this crap ever happened, yeah?”

Mike nodded half-heartedly.


Susan’s face was red as a beet – not from the sun, but from sheer embarrassment. The muscles in her long neck worked as she swallowed nervously, “M’am, they took us by surprise – look we’ve been through a lot already – but m’am when I woke up our clothes -- Remi is – but her neck--“ She loosened the collar on her baby-t, it felt like it was strangling her. Even for a shirt that was supposed to be tight it felt way too small. The woman on the other end of the phone yelled so loudly in response to Susie’s mewling that the Korean had to hold it away from her ear.

Julia rolled her eyes at her friend’s cowardice as Susie stammered, “B-but – b-but – yes Miss Victoria. Yes Miss Victoria. A dock in pay, yes m’am. I agree, it’s only fair.” Julia gave Susan’s bare arm an angry little punch, snapping something in Korean that Susie only half understood. It probably translated to ‘speak for yourself’, with a few expletives thrown in for flavor. Susan hung up, clenching her jaw. She was in no mood; her enormous ego was already bruised quite enough. She backhanded Julia square in the face, growling over the raven-haired Nazi’s surprised cry, “Don’t forget who’s in charge bitch.” She scowled and crossed her tanned legs, feeling better already.

Julia swung her fist into Susan’s soft stomach, causing the brunette to double over with a retching noise, her brown almond eyes suddenly wide open. With practiced speed Julia grabbed a handful of the girl’s hair and slammed her head into the dash, the impact popping the glove box open as Susie’s skull hit with a *BANG*. Susan bounced up, out like a light, her head reclining sleepily against the seat. Julia tossed her hair angrily, “Take a nap, bitch.”

She looked her tasty coworker up and down… she’d always had a bit of a crush that Susan had never wanted to reciprocate, but at the moment the tanned little brunette was in no condition to protest. In the wake of their humiliating loss of wardrobe, Susie had opted for a light blue baby-t shirt and a pair of skimpy little jean shorts, with some cheap white sneakers. Julia leaned over, giving her unconscious Nazi cohort a passionate kiss which she could swear Susie returned, pulling up Susie’s little shirt to her collarbone as she enjoyed the taste of her lips. She ran her hand along Susan’s smooth stomach, playing idly with the Nazi’s prized bellybutton stud as she kissed the Korean’s fragrant swan neck. Susie moaned woozily – she’d be pissed when she woke up, but she’d get over it. Anyway, Julia reflected as she unbuttoned Susan’s shorts, depending on how much she remembered she might believe some bullshit story about how she’d just nodded off. Susie wasn’t nearly as clever as she thought she was. It was with this thought that Julia flicked her tongue teasingly along Susan’s nipple, smirking as she heard more little noises from the inert Nazi. Julia took Susan’s hand by the wrist and slid it under her own jogging shorts, gasping in pleasure as she guided the inert girl’s fingers.

Julia was far too distracted by the business at hand to notice the young couple in the rearview that hustled out of the diner, climbed into a beat-up pickup, and pulled out of the lot.


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