It's been a long ass day. Got to the Kravis Center at 11am. Just got home after 12 hours in the theater with no real break. Sang well and got some compliments. Felt super awkward after the show, as I knew no one, and the friends I was waiting for were swamped with people praising them. Awkward. Understatement. Then I had a burger and a beer. And all was good with the world.
So, again Fiction Friday is happening Saturday morning. I'm sorry. Here it is, with a suggestion of the word Lantern, by the same friend who offered up Chevron last week. I'm listening to the Big Chill Soundtrack as I write. That might explain the below story.
Lantern
by This Girl
by This Girl
Scantily clad women standing in windows beckoned to me as I made my way through the Red Light District. Some were attractive. Many were not. They posed in provocative positions as they tried to tempt me into their storefronts, where thick red curtains would be closed to conceal from pedestrian view the sexual acrobatics that were about to ensue.
I wasn't interested. I had never been interested and never would be. With my short cropped hair, lack of makeup and lean frame, I was often mistaken for a young man when in fact, I had the same parts that these women placed on display for the world to see. It didn't bother me at all. My asexual nature had kept me safe more often than it had harmed me in my 28 years. The errand that I was currently running would require that protection.
The chill in the air caused puffs of steam to surround my head as I hurried towards the small coffee shop with a literal red light mounted next to a swinging sign. Wanting to get this over with, I grabbed a hold of the handle and was surprised when it did not turn. Looking down at my neutral black banded watch, I cursed under my breath in English, hoping to keep my cover for few more moments. Pulling a guide to Amsterdam out of my satchel, I pretended to be a baffled tourist while checking out the security system of the small building in front of me. I felt I was being watched. This feeling was confirmed as I sighted a camera swiveling in my direction. Knowing that my errands success hinged on immediacy, I decided to improvise.
Improvising consisted of grabbing a stacked chair off a table in front of me and throwing it through the window.
Not my most subtle moment, but I knew that the current crop of baddies who dealt in trafficking humans would be caught off guard by my actions. I also knew that I had backup a mere 3 blocks away. What I couldn't handle with surprise and the two .500 Smith and Wesson's I had concealed beneath my neutral peacoat could be handled by my comrades and their testosterone fueled justice.
Unbuttoning my coat and squatting as masculine shouts arose from the interior of the coffee shop, I grabbed the handles of Peace and Understanding and flicked off the safety on both of my beloved guns. I felt a smile cross my face. Anyone looking on would have recognized the smirk of a berserker ready for a bloodbath. Reigning that side of me in, I started counting the pages of paperwork I would need to fill out if I actually killed someone today, and launched myself through the busted window.
It had begun.
The shortsighted and comfortable douchebags tried to reach for their weapons. They failed. A well placed shot in the shoulder or leg incapacitated them enough for me to make my way further into the room. High pitched screams joined the grunting and mewling from the wounded heavies by the bar. Men's voices roared behind me, telling anyone with a weapon to drop them, now. Realizing that I was no longer the only white hat in the room, I made my way towards the piercing sounds. Turning a corner, I was fired on by a roided out jerk in a grey T-shirt and jeans. His shot went so wide I reflexively shot his leg out from under him and waited for his graceless plummet to the ground as I shot the other one in the exact same spot above the knee.
A hand grabbed me from behind, pulling me back. Swinging, I almost kicked the guy in the balls before I realized he was on my side. Signaling me without speaking, he indicated that the building was surrounded and to proceed with caution. Caution is not my strong suit, and I've lived when many would have kicked it. I signaled him back, one middle finger extended to show what I thought of his idea.
Barreling around the corner, I saw that Roid Boy had been dragged out of the hallway. Streams of brilliant red blood showed the path the big man had taken. The smell of blood in my nostrils and the sounds of scared women caused me to see red. I ran for the door that closed above the scarlet streaks and kicked it open while staying low. A gunshot rang out but passed above me by several feet. Pulling up Peace, I didn't even aim, but fired at the man who had attempted to kill me. I didn't care where it hit. I only cared about the teenaged girls and slight women all tied together in the corner of the room, sobbing and moaning.
I hit him. Of course I hit him. I never miss. Never. It's not boasting or bragging. It's the truth. The only casualty in the entire operation died with a bullet in the middle of his forehead. I made sure the women were ok from a slight distance, then turned to the man I had flipped off moments earlier, and said one word to him that indicated I was done with the job that had been assigned to me.
"Later."
I wasn't interested. I had never been interested and never would be. With my short cropped hair, lack of makeup and lean frame, I was often mistaken for a young man when in fact, I had the same parts that these women placed on display for the world to see. It didn't bother me at all. My asexual nature had kept me safe more often than it had harmed me in my 28 years. The errand that I was currently running would require that protection.
The chill in the air caused puffs of steam to surround my head as I hurried towards the small coffee shop with a literal red light mounted next to a swinging sign. Wanting to get this over with, I grabbed a hold of the handle and was surprised when it did not turn. Looking down at my neutral black banded watch, I cursed under my breath in English, hoping to keep my cover for few more moments. Pulling a guide to Amsterdam out of my satchel, I pretended to be a baffled tourist while checking out the security system of the small building in front of me. I felt I was being watched. This feeling was confirmed as I sighted a camera swiveling in my direction. Knowing that my errands success hinged on immediacy, I decided to improvise.
Improvising consisted of grabbing a stacked chair off a table in front of me and throwing it through the window.
Not my most subtle moment, but I knew that the current crop of baddies who dealt in trafficking humans would be caught off guard by my actions. I also knew that I had backup a mere 3 blocks away. What I couldn't handle with surprise and the two .500 Smith and Wesson's I had concealed beneath my neutral peacoat could be handled by my comrades and their testosterone fueled justice.
Unbuttoning my coat and squatting as masculine shouts arose from the interior of the coffee shop, I grabbed the handles of Peace and Understanding and flicked off the safety on both of my beloved guns. I felt a smile cross my face. Anyone looking on would have recognized the smirk of a berserker ready for a bloodbath. Reigning that side of me in, I started counting the pages of paperwork I would need to fill out if I actually killed someone today, and launched myself through the busted window.
It had begun.
The shortsighted and comfortable douchebags tried to reach for their weapons. They failed. A well placed shot in the shoulder or leg incapacitated them enough for me to make my way further into the room. High pitched screams joined the grunting and mewling from the wounded heavies by the bar. Men's voices roared behind me, telling anyone with a weapon to drop them, now. Realizing that I was no longer the only white hat in the room, I made my way towards the piercing sounds. Turning a corner, I was fired on by a roided out jerk in a grey T-shirt and jeans. His shot went so wide I reflexively shot his leg out from under him and waited for his graceless plummet to the ground as I shot the other one in the exact same spot above the knee.
A hand grabbed me from behind, pulling me back. Swinging, I almost kicked the guy in the balls before I realized he was on my side. Signaling me without speaking, he indicated that the building was surrounded and to proceed with caution. Caution is not my strong suit, and I've lived when many would have kicked it. I signaled him back, one middle finger extended to show what I thought of his idea.
Barreling around the corner, I saw that Roid Boy had been dragged out of the hallway. Streams of brilliant red blood showed the path the big man had taken. The smell of blood in my nostrils and the sounds of scared women caused me to see red. I ran for the door that closed above the scarlet streaks and kicked it open while staying low. A gunshot rang out but passed above me by several feet. Pulling up Peace, I didn't even aim, but fired at the man who had attempted to kill me. I didn't care where it hit. I only cared about the teenaged girls and slight women all tied together in the corner of the room, sobbing and moaning.
I hit him. Of course I hit him. I never miss. Never. It's not boasting or bragging. It's the truth. The only casualty in the entire operation died with a bullet in the middle of his forehead. I made sure the women were ok from a slight distance, then turned to the man I had flipped off moments earlier, and said one word to him that indicated I was done with the job that had been assigned to me.
"Later."
