Some of the men start toward me. When they get close enough, I growl as deeply and loudly as I can, without winding up with an embarrassing squeak:
"I am these women's avenging angel! I am here to punish you for your sins! Who will be the first?"
The men look back and forth at each other, clearly confused at how to proceed. Hopefully they aren't too intimidated, that'd be a huge disappointment.
Ah, finally! There's some organization and one walks towards me, clearly intending to take me on. I mentally lick my chops, hoping he'll be a challenge. But the script calls for swift action. I doubt he'll take me seriously enough to avoid my first strike.
As expected, he's lazy as he arrives. He reaches out to grab me. I take his wrist, squeeze and twist to break the bones. As he gasps in pain, I spin him around and kick as hard as I can up between his legs. He drops like a sack of rice and may never walk normally again.
The leaders pause for a second, then one gestures toward two others. Hopefully these will be better prepared and provide some sort of challenge. They aren't as lazy as the first, that's a good sign. They move apart, clearly they've done this before, then close in. I stand relaxed, and wait for them to make their move. Without exchanging a signal, they rush forward at the same time. Good, at least they're taking me seriously. Just as they arrive, I step backward, taking an arm from each and twist their momentum so they slam into each other. I'm sure it would be comical if everyone wasn't so serious. Desiring to draw out the show, I let them get back to their feet. They have angry expressions. However, though clearly humiliated, they're more cautious as they come toward me. This time they don't lunge when they attack, but they time it fairly well. I use this to my benefit and slam a fist into each of their throats at the same time as their momentum carries them forward. One collapses immediately. The other tries to finish his grab onto me, but slumps as I step away.
While all this has been going on, the other men have been gathering in a loose semi-circle around me. It seems no one left is thinking about their weapons. I haven't noticed Seacay taking a shot in a while. At this point, there's only anger in the men's eyes. Hopefully I can get some of them to rush me and give me a workout.
Not yet, anyway. The leaders call out to someone and a big bruiser shows up. I sure hope he takes me seriously. So far, this has been a disappointment.
Excellent, he is. He's smart enough not to try grappling with me right off the bat and instead takes up more of a pugilistic stance. We circle around each other. Since he won't take the lead, I do. I feint with a punch, then give him a roundhouse kick. He takes the blow to his side with no visible effect. Good! I would rather not be wearing this dress, but I've practiced over the years wearing one while sparring, so have no issues. In certain cases, the dress can actually work as an asset, but so far I haven't had cause to use it that way. The bruiser keeps his elbows at his side and hunches his shoulders, clearly he knows a few things and isn't going to rely on just being big and bulky. As we circle, I look him over. He's a nice looking fellow, big but not fat. Not cut such that his veins pop out, but it's still easy to see the individual muscles as they move. Too bad I need to drop him; it might be fun to do something else instead.
He tries a feint of his own and copies my kick. I decide to add a little flair and roll over his kick with my legs wide in the air, making the dress look like a fan. I see some respect in his eyes; maybe this will be fun after all. We continue circling. I'm right on the edge of his reach, he is well beyond mine. He lunges forward in a punch, very powerful; I hack at the nerves in his arm as I bob and weave out of the way. I can tell by how the muscles bunch in his face that it hurts, but he makes no sound and manages to hold his arm as if it's fully functional. I think he knows how things are going to end. I wonder how he'll handle it.
Disappointingly, he dives at me with his arms outstretched. Since I know one is already useless, I allow him to bearhug me as I disable the other. Chopping his neck, he slumps to the ground.
The leaders tell the others to "get her" and a number swarm me. At last, I'll get a workout! I whirl around, kicking and punching, ducking and weaving among the lunging bodies. At first I drop them in rapid order. The later ones are more cautious. Out of the corner of my eye, I see one with a knife. He slashes at my midsection.
Bowing to Seacay's insistence, I'd put a layer of Kevlar on as I donned my dress disguise, so despite the dress being cut, the slicing knife has no effect on me. In my loudest voice I roar:
"I am an Avenging Angel, your weapons are useless against me!"
It's quite amusing to see the glint of fear in their eyes.
Now that they're all attracted around me, I widen my circle of mayhem, drifting around, taking out one after another. Sort of like Uma Thurman's character battling the Crazy Eighty-eight in the House of Blue Leaves, except I imagine I don't have that scared look on my face; what was the actress thinking? As I flit about, I make progress toward the leaders. Just about the time they realize they're in danger, I drop the few remaining attackers.
Again with the loud growl: "Let this be a warning: these women are under my protection! Next time I will not be so generous!"
With that, I take out the leaders. I turn to the women and say "Ladies, they're all yours! If any give you any problems, now or in the future, let me know."
The women move amongst the men, a number of them unconscious, but quite a few rolling around groaning. I see lots of kicks, and one or two stabs. I'm guessing the men will bury a few this evening.
As I walk away, I think about how we got here...
Seacay showed us how to access and respond to his job board, so we could look through the opportunities. There were several, but one caught the eye of Isabel and myself. The job, in Central America, seemed to be about some hard-core bullies that were terrorizing a group of women.
"These sorts of jobs are really tricky," he said. "It's hard to justify to the client the price necessary to cover the risk. Usually these need in-your-face, one-on-one physical beatings to have any significant impact. The risks of things getting out of control are too much for the small pay that's often available. I usually turn them down without bothering to investigate."
"Hold on now, don't you have a single bone in your body that's empathetic to these women?" Isabel asked.
"I may have a small bone or two, in my hand or foot," he smiled, "but I don't take jobs because of emotional reasons; I take them for money."
I said, "Well, as much as I enjoy sparring with the two of you, I like this job because of the prospects of beating the hell out of some guys, making some women's lives better and getting paid for it, so I vote 'yes.' "
Isabel raised her hand and nodded, Seacay shrugged.
"I guess this is a good first case to work together, though I doubt we'll make any money. I expect we'll be lucky to squeeze out a total of a hundred grand. And, before you ask, I'm very reluctant to go below that; I think it would unduly influence my rep."
Isabel crafted a response setting out the terms (Seacay generally charges fifty-thousand up-front to evaluate a job, then sets a price to complete it based on that analysis) and I started doing some online research. What I was able to find from local newspaper coverage is, this group of women, operating some sort of commune, have been victimized by a local drug gang. Worse, the women are mostly widows of men who've likely been killed by the drug dealers, and the area they live in is quite corrupt. I mentally rubbed my hands in anticipation, thinking I'll add local law enforcement to my list.
We decided Seacay would help me with the investigation, then stand by as backup during the chastisement; I'd interact with the people. Though I know a few things about disguise, Seacay is clearly a master in that respect. He developed one for me that had me a little disoriented when I looked in the mirror. My short blonde hair has been replaced by the typical long black so common to the target area, my face is darker still, with built-up cheekbones and larger earlobes. The dress had a small amount of padding in it to give an illusion that I have a waist and bigger bust. I saw this stranger. But when I moved, the stranger moved, exactly as I did. Weird.
We traveled separately, and wound up at our hot dusty destination a day later. It always amazes me how a place that gets this much rain can be dusty, I guess that's what you get with poor stewardship of the land. After scouting around to find a secure base of operations, I went to meet the clients. It's all Spanish around here, though the accent is distinct. I may not be the expert mimic that Seacay is, but I do have a decent ear and was able to emulate the accent without too much trouble. Not wanting to be seen entering the compound, and further, wanting to appear mysterious and dangerous, I infiltrated the ladies' compound and showed up in their kitchen early in the morning.
The first woman just about jumped out of her skin when she caught sight of me; I had to work to keep a serious expression on my face. Most of these women looked like they had very hard lives, scratching a meager living out of some truck gardens and preparing food for their fellow locals. Their ages ran from very early twenties all the way up to late forties, possibly even fifties; it gets difficult to tell age from a hard life at that point.
Once the woman's heart slowed down, I told her, "I am your avenging angel. Who made these arrangements?" Very portentous; kind of fun, actually.
There was a glint of fear in her eyes. I guess I should've toned it down a notch or two. I was there to make things better for them, not worse. Without a word, the woman turned. As I followed her, the place was beginning to come to life. As I passed, I left a wake of quiet exclamations and gestures. My guide took me to a door, knocked on it and, with a tremor in her voice, told those inside that someone was here to see them.
I heard some cursing inside, which wasn't the response I was expecting. Then some banging around. Out burst an older woman with a shotgun in her hand. By pure reflex, I snatched it out of her hands and pinched the nerves in one of her elbows. She stopped short, like she ran into a wall, and looked up at me in shock as she rubbed her arm.
"Gabriella, you need to be more specific when you say things like this!
"Miss," she said to me, "I'm so sorry. I thought it was another one of these damn bullies."
Off to a bad start. At least no one had been shot. Yet. Seacay listened to all this through a mike I wore and had already been in to plant a few bugs. Thankfully he didn't get trigger-happy when he heard all this.
"I'm here to deal with your problem, but before I start, I need to get details from you. Can we do this now?"
Most of these women are shorter than I am. Some, like this older woman who accosted me, by several inches. She's fully filled out from bearing children, but still has plenty of energy and is clearly protective of her compatriots. She asked for tea, then turned to usher me into the room. Inside was a hodgepodge of things; it was clearly a working office, but also just as clear a bedroom. Sitting on one of the beds was a pretty young thing who had a rifle in her hand, staring intently at me.
"Maria, put that thing away. This is the help we asked for."
Maria was slow to put the gun down. She didn't seem too impressed with me. Probably hadn't seen me snatch the shotgun out of the old woman's hands. Perhaps she was expecting a guy, or even a team. She wore the typical floor-length loose dress that's so common to the area, dark with white and beige accents sewn into it. The dress flattered her body. I wondered, idly, if she looked as good out of it as she did in my imagination.
"Miss, these bad men have been terrorizing us for years. First they take away our men. Now they threaten us directly, and have even lured away some of our older boys. They control the police, so we have no recourse but self-defense. There are many of them and armed, we are few, lack experience and have only a handful of pitiful weapons. Can you really help us?"
"I expect to help you, not just now, but for at least a generation to come. I am your avenging angel..." This time my portentous statement was greeted with enthusiasm instead of fear, even Maria seemed somewhat impressed. "Where do I find these bad men?"
I got detailed instructions on where to find them, confirming our earlier impressions. Rosa, her name, as I eventually learned, had been keeping a record of all the men she'd been having problems with. As she showed me her records, I made surreptitious photographs so I didn't have to try and memorize everything. The records have names, a brief description, estimated age, presumed location within the organization, as well as a mark whether they were known to have raped any of the women. There were a lot of marks! I planned on special treatments for those with the marks! I thanked the women for their information and told them I'd get back to them in a day or so. I donned a disguise on top of my disguise, basically a dress to blend in with the women I was there to protect. That way I wouldn't draw attention from anybody who might've been watching.
Seacay and I went over the information I obtained, looking at the copies of the records and familiarizing ourselves with the presumed organizational layout. That evening, we spent some time checking out their place of "business" so we could decide on a plan.
Seacay is way better at blending in with a bunch of guys than I am, so I did my recon from the roofs and shadows. He has this strange ability to adopt the look of the locals so thoroughly that sometimes I lose track of him in a small group, even while looking right at him. Bizarre. At least it allowed him to walk around the compound and place his bugs. It seemed there were around thirty guys who could pose a threat out of maybe fifty total, including women and children. I saw some of the boys I suspected Rosa was talking about, they were being made to fetch and carry, hazing I guess. It was still well before dawn when we regrouped to discuss our findings.
"I still don't like this job," Seacay said. "The client clearly doesn't have much money. If I kill every one of the drug dealers, more would pour into the vacuum in no time."
"Really, you need to leave this to me. I'm sure I can handle it. Besides, with you as backup, I have nothing to worry about!"
We discussed my plan. While Seacay clearly had some residual skepticism, he agreed with it. We communicated with Isabel, told her the basic plan, and that we intended to take the job, presuming the client came up with the rest of the money. I didn't tell Seacay that I was going to do the job one way or another; why create friction when there doesn't need to be any?
After we woke up, I found I'd recovered from my lack of interest due to our weeks long debauchery and wanted sex again. New places always make me horny. Also, watching him walk around naked is always a turn on. Despite being of average height and build and having that strange average face so easy to overlook, he has an amazing body with broad shoulders, a hard butt and thighs as well as his six pack. I really enjoy watching him move around and love the touch of his body. I convinced Seacay that we weren't really on the job at the moment, the investigation was over and we were waiting for feedback from Isabel, so he could re-engage his sex drive. I'm not sure if this argument would work all the time, but the guy clearly had been hurting lately and quickly agreed with my logic. Afterwards, we relaxed, then checked on our communication stream with Isabel. We found her message: the final payment had been transferred.
After disguising myself again, I traveled to the women's compound. I told Rosa to select a few who would most like to watch the chastisement and, after much discussion, almost the entire group of women decided they needed to see. I gave them a broad outline of the day's "festivities," so they knew not to interfere, and we headed off in a march toward the men's compound. In my head I kept hearing the showdown music from "The Good, The Bad and The Ugly." I hadn't looked this forward to a fight in years, maybe decades. I was really hoping I wouldn't get disappointed.
When we reached the gate at the compound, there were a few minutes of confusion, then the women started chanting and pushing on the gate. Several men showed up with guns; whenever one brought a weapon to bear, my protective guardian took a shot that permanently disabled the weapon, sometimes causing injury to the holder. Since Seacay's rifle was silenced and the rounds low velocity, except for those with the damaged weapons, few noticed.
The gate got pushed in and we swept into the central compound. As planned, I moved forward to the center of the compound and the women remained behind in a group. I occasionally noticed a weapon dropping to the ground, but the focus was almost entirely on me and the group of women.
It was an excellent workout, my best in decades. With the obvious bullies dealt with, I retire from the scene to prep for the evening's festivities. This time Seacay has agreed to take a personal interest. Somewhat surprising to me, he hates corrupt cops. That night, we visit the local law enforcement leaders and impress upon them, in a most direct and personal manner, that these ladies deserve their full support and protection. Much worse things will happen to the lawmen if harm comes to the ladies.
As we wrap things up, Seacay allows as it was more fun than he expected. Perhaps we could take more jobs like this in the future.
Back at the house, we fill Isabel in.
"This is the first time in a long time that I really got a good workout. Nothing against you or Seacay, but I just can't let loose and push myself without worrying that I'll hurt you. I didn't have any inhibitions this time and could go all out. Refreshing!"
Seacay says, "You should have seen her! At least thirty guys. She wiped out every single one of them!"
"Surely you played some part?" Isabel asked Seacay.
"I made sure there were no long-distance weapons, just like she asked. Anyone who tried to use their gun, I took out the weapon. The group was so focused on Tessa, and the mob of women with her, that they never looked around for me. I knew Tessa was good and above our grade, but she's not only in a different class, she's in another university all together!"
I may have preened from the praise, but I believe I earned it this time. Still, except for that one bruiser, they weren't that challenging individually.