Forum Saradas
Female Muscle Art - Female Muscle Fiction => Muscular Women Fiction => Topic started by: GLKnight on April 08, 2021, 01:48:24 am
-
Decided to write a new one shot for you guys. More of a type of story I like to write, so I hope you enjoy!
_________________________________________________________________
As I entered the building, I could immediately hear Amelia's voice cry out from the room in the back. My heart hammered in my chest as I quietly made my way to the chair by the back room door, sitting down slowly as my girlfriend moaned in a way I had never heard before, gently placing the brown bag I was carrying in my lap. Whatever she was doing to her was getting results that I had never been able to achieve for her. Feeling like a bit of a disappointment, I remembered the first time Amelia dragged me to this spot.
"Come on," Amelia said, laughing and pulled my arm as we walked down the street. "My friends said her place is this way!"
I fell in love with her at first sight. Amelia wasn't... quirky, to be honest. A bit odd? Yeah, if calling someone who loved learning new languages as she worked out after running riptide on the stock exchange and earning $30,000 dollars in five minutes just to fuel their expensive geeky habit odd was you're thing. Amelia was, by far, the smarter and better looking of the two of us. Tall, naturally blonde, trim but still somehow very curvy body, and with a fresh faced beauty that should have landed her a modeling gig by now. I'm just a bit of a schlub who's really good with technical things, like cooking and mechanics. Amelia loves me deeply, but we've been having a slight personal problem lately, and no matter how I tried, I just couldn't please Amelia. So, she asked her friends about a specialist.
And that led us to...
"Verity's?", I asked looking at the non-descript industrial warehouse Amelia had stopped in front of.
"That's her name," Amelia crowed, smiling brightly. How I ever hooked up with a beautiful genius like her is anybody's guess.
Dragging me through the green door, the smell of cinnamon and amber filled my senses as I looked around at the frankly boring front room that looked like any typical waiting area. Looking at the front desk, I saw a little countertop bell and a note that read "Ring For Service" right next to it.
"Do you wanna ring it?", Amelia asked, nudging me.
"Do you wanna ring it?", I asked, nudging her back.
"Nah, how about you do it?"
We obnoxiously nudged each other back and forth, being lovey dovey when we heard the bell ring out loudly, startling us out of our reverie. Which is when we first saw Verity for the first time.
Standing to her full height, Verity practically towered over the two of us. While I wouldn't immediately call Verity beautiful, she was still extremely attractive in that "Classical Handsome" kind of way. With her long dark hair and regal features, she had an upturned, superior air to her that was undeniable. Like you were here for her instead of the other way. Her full lips, strong features and dark, mysterious eyes were like a perfect counter to Amelia's bright and feminine features. As I looked at Amelia, I noticed she couldn't help but stare at Verity with... arousal? Interest? Desire? Respect? I'm not sure, as it could be one of those things, or maybe ALL of them at the same time.
"Allow me to ring that," she said, smiling down at the two of us.
Amelia was the first one to jump into action.
"Y-you must be Verity, right?"
I had honestly never seen Amelia get flustered by anything, let alone another person. But as my eyes roamed Verity's physique, I couldn't help but understand WHY. Her powerful pale arms looked like they somehow warped reality and made the muscle tee she was wearing out of nothing to perfectly frame her thick and incredibly tight arms. Her shoulders and neck stretched the frame of it perfectly, adding to the tightness of the fabric as it stretched across her broad chest as the bottom of the shirt seemed to vacuum against her middle, not showing off any definition but highlighting her incredible taper. Her black workout shorts were tight against her titanic thighs, unable to hide just how thick they were before capping at the knee and revealing the incredibly defined calf muscle, tear shaped and coiled beneath her skin before heading down to her running shoes.
As I took in Verity's full appearance, I knew that most would say she was unnatural. But I couldn't help but think "Holy shit, Verity's fucking HOT."
"YES! OH GOD, YES! THAT'S IT!"
Amelia's voice crying out broke me out of my reverie. I knew that if Amelia's voice was getting that loud, then their session would soon be over. Then I'd have to keep my end of the deal. I looked down at the bag as my mind slipped back to our first meeting once more as I waited.
"So," Verity said, kicking her feet up as we sat down. "You're in need of my services, are you?"
"Y-yeah," Amelia replied. "You see, I love Aubrey. He's my everything. He's capable of SO MUCH. But lately, I've been needing, you know... RELIEF. And no matter what, he tries his best, but-"
Verity raised her hand, cutting off Amelia's explanation.
"No need to worry," she said, eying up my girlfriend. "I think I know exactly what you need."
"You do?", I asked, warily.
"Hell yeah," Verity said, putting her feet on the floor as she dove into her desk cabinets. "I just need you two to sign right here."
Slamming a piece of paper onto the desk, the intense amazon grabbed a pen and held it out to us. Amelia took it into her hand and looked over the document real quick. Suddenly, her eyes went wide near the bottom.
"Whoa, this is all you're asking?"
"When you guys scheduled the appointment to meet me," Verity replied, pursing her fingers. "I did a little digging. I'm not hurting for money, so I request... PECULIAR payments, if that's alright with you."
Amelia smiled while she signed it before handing me the paper and pen. As I looked it over, I saw what Amelia did, and my eyes went wide. How in the Hell did Verity find out about this? I had told NO ONE! NOT A LIVING SOUL! I looked up at Verity, who had a "cat that ate the canary" smile on her face. Whoever this woman was, I knew she was someone not to be trifled with. But I knew that this was for Amelia's sake, so without a second thought, I signed the paper. Without needing to lean over, Verity snagged the paper out of my hands before grabbing another pen and signing the document herself.
"With that out of the way, you are now my client and our first session is next week on Thursday at 6:30. Does that sound good to you?"
"Yes," Amelia told Verity. "That sounds WONDERFUL!"
Amelia's voice crying out one more time, dragged me back to reality once more.
"Ooooh, yeah!"
With that, the door opened as Amelia lazily stumbled through it.
"You doing okay, babe?", I asked as I stood.
"Neva bedder...," she mumbled before stumbling into my arms and kissing me.
"Now that the session's over," Verity exclaimed, walking out of the room and drying her hands. "You got what I want."
"Here you go," I said, handing her the bag. "One double goat meat burger with cabbage, shredded carrots, pickles and smoked cheddar on a homemade pretzel bun with homemade Curry sauce, and sweet potato fries. The number 4 on my planned menu."
Diving into the bag, Verity pulled out some fries and quickly popped them into her mouth before doing a little happy dance of gastronomic joy.
"These are SO GOOD," she squeed as she pulled out the burger. "I LOVE your cooking!"
"I'm glad you do," I told her. "Kind of glad you wanted this, to be honest. I was just thinking how odd it was you wanted me to make food for our deal."
"I don't need money," she said, her mouth full of spuds and meat. "So I figured a fair trade for my deep tissue massage treatments was more than enough."
"Speaking of doing things at home," Amelia purred, kissing my neck and nuzzling into my shoulder like a cat. "I want to do something at home too..."
When Amelia acts like this, it's a clear sign she wants one thing at home. And it wasn't my homemade cooking.
"Verity, I'd love to talk, but Amelia wants to head out. Are you free this weekend?"
The massive masseuse's mouth was packed with food.
"Appoin'mn on Sa'u'dah, buh fee dah nighd!"
"Good! Come over for dinner, then! Around six thirty?"
"Fee yew den," she shouted out before continuing to devour her meal. Leading Amelia out, she was still being very affectionate as we headed towards our car.
"Mmmm I have a something I wanted to ask you," Amelia said, nibbling my ear a bit.
I looked over at her while fishing for my keys.
"Go ahead, honey."
She kissed me on the corner of my mouth before looking me in the eye.
"I'm thinking of asking Verity to train me so I can be as built as her. Are you okay with that?"
I have never gotten that hard, that quick in all my life before. I smiled a mischievous smile at her.
"I'm gonna have to make a lot more food for the two of you, then..."
-
What a great little story! I must say, my mind couldn't help but go to naughty places at the start of the story. I like that kind of teasing in a story... only to reveal later that it was something totally innocent. And his secret that he never told anybody is.... the number 4? Classic! Even hilarious, considering that my mind wondered to another naughty place...
I liked the characters, especially V. She has this tremendous presence over everyone that demands respect, almost submission even. And then with a simple act - a mouthful of food, she showed them she's a mere human after all.
And then you sealed the deal at the end of the story with the best quote in the whole story:
I want to be as built as V. Are you okay with that?
I'm definitely okay with that!
-
What a great little story! I must say, my mind couldn't help but go to naughty places at the start of the story. I like that kind of teasing in a story... only to reveal later that it was something totally innocent. And his secret that he never told anybody is.... the number 4? Classic! Even hilarious, considering that my mind wondered to another naughty place...
I liked the characters, especially V. She has this tremendous presence over everyone that demands respect, almost submission even. And then with a simple act - a mouthful of food, she showed them she's a mere human after all.
And then you sealed the deal at the end of the story with the best quote in the whole story:
I want to be as built as V. Are you okay with that?
I'm definitely okay with that!
Thanks! The funny thing about the number 04 bit is that this is the fourth visit to Verity's. She essentially had him sign a deal that allowed her to try every item on his menu before his restaurant even opened, leading to a friendship between Aubrey and Amelia and Verity.
-
SURPRISE! Another story about Verity, the Personal Problem Solver who is talented, confident and seductive. And she's also six feet tall and built like a bull.
_________________________________________________________________
On a cool Saturday like any other, a teenage girl with dark dusky skin and curly hair walked onto a basketball court where a small crowd of well dressed teens were residing over like a mock court of sport royals. All dressed their parts in clothes that betrayed the fact that all of them came from money. This girl, dressed in simpler clothes, bandaged and bruised, grit her teeth and clenched her hands as tight as she could as she walked over towards them. As she rode on the wave of her courage, one of the pseudo lords, a fashionable blonde girl named Sarina who wore enough makeup to hide who she truly was, began to laugh as she pointed out the girl to her friends.
"Look who came back," she called out. "Gangly Mandy wants a rematch!"
_____________________________________________________________
All Amanda wanted to do was shoot some hoops. Before her father died, he would spend every chance he could on the court, going one on one with his daughter. Showing her tricks, giving her tips on how to improve her shooting game, playing Horse. But when she moved to Acen because her mom was hired at a better job, things had gone downhill. Bullied at school for being lanky earned her the nickname of Gangly Mandy from a bunch of rich girls with too much money and not enough heart, she tried to retreat further into the sport she loved.
But the way with those who have the most means has always been to encroach on every safe space and sanctuary possible. So the girls enlisted the help of their boyfriends, all of them Juniors or Seniors, in order to take away the one area she felt most comfortable. Today being the worst of it yet. Challenged for the right to use the court, the fourteen year old girl was pressured into a two on one match that she knew she couldn't win. But like her father told her, "No matter what, you never stop moving or else you gotta pass the ball along".
So she rose to their challenge... and then was so thoroughly manhandled that it left her bleeding and bruised from all the trips, fouls and elbows they inflicted on her. By the time the game was over, the score was 39 to 3, the only points she had earned being a three pointer she scored at the very start. But that was the last of it for her, and as the boys laughed at Amanda and the girls threw insults and barbs at her, she rose to her feet and ran.
__________________________________________________________________
The two boys that challenged her, a white kid with more muscles that common sense named Alan and a slightly less muscular but more concerned with his looks kid named Mick, rose to their feet and with a swagger, put themselves in Amanda's way.
"You back for a rematch, Mandy?", Alan said, leaning down a bit to look her in the eye.
"Yeah," Mick joined in. "Two on one for the court and your daddy's ball, Mandy? What will you offer up if we beat you again, huh?"
As they surrounded her, Amanda felt the confidence she had start to wither on the vine she had grown in the last few days. She knew she had to get them to agree to her terms, so she took a deep breath and looked Alan in the eye like she was taught.
"I am," she told them. "Winner gets my dad's ball and the court."
"And the loser?", Mick asked, eying her up and down like a piece of meat.
"The... The l-loser-"
The boys saw an advantage, so they pressed in.
"Loser has to WHAT?", Alan asked, glowering at her with a cocky smile.
"...L-Loser must do as the w-winner says for one week," Amanda stuttered.
"ALWAYS wanted my own slave," Mick said. "And she's gonna be ours for a week? HELL YEAH, BRO!"
Both boys shared a high five as they reveled in how far Amanda was willing to go to defend herself.
"Then let's go," Alan said. "Two on one!"
As the boys took their position on the key, Amanda surprised them all with five little words.
"No," she said. "It's two on two."
__________________________________________________________
She ran as hard and as fast as possible. She ran until her lungs burned and her legs screamed at her. She ran until she collapsed, screaming and crying. As she wiped her eyes and fought back her tears, she looked up at the sky and saw a sign swinging back and forth with one name on it. And then she heard a deep feminine voice, one that was both commanding but comforting.
"Are you alright?"
____________________________________________________________
"Excuse me?", Sarina whined, walking out onto the court.
"You heard me," Amanda retorted, not budging an inch. "You guys always beat me one on one. So two on two shouldn't be a problem, right?"
"The only problem I see," Alan scoffs. "Is that you've got no friends. So who's gonna play with you, your daddy?"
The crowd of bullies began to laugh boisterously, nearly driving Amanda to tears once more. But she knew she wasn't alone. Not anymore.
"I said what I said," she told him, as instructed. "What, you too much of a chicken that you can't accept a challenge and instead have to beat up little girls like your dad hits your mom?"
She knew that one would hit deep, but she didn't know just how deep. Nor how angry that would really make Alan until she saw the look of pure evil in his eyes.
"How the fuck did you find out about that?!?", he screamed, charging at her until Mick got in the way.
"Save it for the game," Mick shouted at him. "SAVE IT FOR THE GAME!"
"Fine," Alan said, pointing at Amanda. "Get whatever little bitch is willing to stick up for you! TWO ON TWO! NOW WHERE ARE THEY?"
The sound of heavy boots walking onto the court signaled her arrival. The way she walked caused them to fall silent. The way she stood demanded their attention. The way she looked at them demanded their respect. And the way her clothes could barely contain all 6'5, 352 lbs. of pure might and dominance caused them to realize the nightmare they had just unknowingly agreed to.
"The name's Verity," she said, walking to Amanda's side and wrapping her arm around the kid. "And I'll be her teammate today."
_________________________________________________________
Bringing the girl into her business, Verity had Amanda sit on her desk while patching her up.
"What's your name?", Verity asked the girl she had brought inside.
"Amanda," the teen told her, trying to stop herself from feeling sullen and failing.
"These are not 'falling down naturally' injuries," the domina told her. "So maybe you could tell me who gave them to you, Amanda?"
"Just these jerks from school," she said, watching the titaness carefully patching her up with precision and speed. "They've been after me since I arrived."
Verity, knowing all too well what the girl in her care was going through, sighed and nodded her head.
"Bullies are mostly a weak and cowardly lot," the muscular madam told her, brushing her long black hair over her pale boulders that comprised her shoulders. "The sad fact is just standing up to them's not enough. You need to make sure to end it entirely."
Tapping her foot, Amanda lifted her leg to allow the big lady to finish taping her leg up.
"And violence... is... not... the best... answer! There! All done!"
Sliding off the desk, Amanda wiggled her leg back and forth, amazed at how just a little consideration already made her feel much better.
"Thank you," the teen said, clearly happy someone was willing to help her out. "But this is my matter, and I gotta find out how to resolve it."
Giving a predatory smile, Verity quietly sat down behind her desk.
"About that," she said, pulling out her new nameplate with the slogan "Personal Problem Solver" before reaching over and ringing the bell right next to it. Amanda took one look at Verity with a confused look on her face like the woman had perfectly planned her arrival to a T.
"Wait, really?"
_________________________________________________________
"Who the Hell's the meathead?", one of the crowd, a skinny brunette with eyebrows as thick as her skull said, deriding Verity's size.
"I don't know," Verity shot back. "Maybe the same meathead who knows about your half sister that your dad had with a woman he slept with while on a so-called 'business trip', without even knowing that the woman in question was his own cousin? Or am I just some meathead, Theresa Salvagno of the family that owns and runs Salvagno Automotive?"
Immediately, the crowd of bullies started getting worried. Friends turned to Theresa for answers, people started turning to each other wondering what this roid freak really knew. Alan and Mick just stood there, knowing that she was the one who told Amanda about Alan's dad.
"How the fuck do you know all this?", Alan shouted, demanding she reveal the truth.
"I have my ways," she replied, dropping the bag at her side as she sat down. "And don't worry, I know more where that came from."
Quickly pulling her boots off, Verity soon took off her dress pants, revealing a pair of Jersey shorts she was wearing underneath. Giving the boys a good look at her massive pale thighs, easily big enough to crush a watermelon with no effort before slipping on some expensive looking blue hi-tops with black laces. Getting to her feet, Verity gently kicked the bag to the side before loosening up.
"Here's the rules, boys. Two on two, half court. We'll go as long as you want. You score ten points, and you win. We score 100, we win. You can quit any time you'd like."
Alan looked at Mick, who shot back a smile.
"Sounds good," he said, passing the ball to Amanda.
Amanda, however, passed it right back to him with a look of determination in her eyes.
"Nah," she said, walking onto the key as she stared Alan down. "Ladies go first."
__________________________________________________________
Verity nodded her head as she listened to the broken girl talk.
"So these guys are making your life hell, right?"
Amanda only nodded her head, deflated and worn from what she had been through today.
"Perfect," Verity said, reaching into her nearby cabinet and pulling out a slip of paper. "I'm willing to help you come up with a game plan, as well as enact a proper revenge. In return..."
Amanda picked up the paper, and giving it a quick read, brightened up at what Verity was asking for in return.
"Wait," she asked, feeling hope for the first time in months. "This is all you want for your services?"
Verity just nodded her head, smiling.
"I have means," she said. "So I ask for... in kind type things..."
________________________________________________________
Alan and Mick were exhausted, sweat pouring off their bodies as they were left hunched over. Their breath was ragged and worn, while Amanda and Verity looked like they had barely started to play.
"We started the game with control of the rock," Alan complained. "We're the best players in the state. SO WHY ARE GANGLY MANDY AND THIS ROIDHEAD STOPPING US FROM GETTING A SINGLE FUCKINTG POINT?!"
"Maybe you're not as good as you think," Verity taunted, slamming the ball into Mick's stomach hard enough to knock some wind out of him. "87 to 0, boys! Your ball!"
Wearily taking his position at the top of the key, Mick passed the ball to Verity. Verity, giving Mick an almost evil smile, checked it back to him. And with a burst of speed, Mick tried to break away. But all he found was Verity's leg, calmly placed at the perfect level for Mick to be sent head over heels, slamming into the blacktop face first and losing the ball towards Amanda, who sped back to the top of the key before Alan could keep up and sinking another three pointer.
As Alan cursed his luck one more time, he looked over to the crowd, only to see them picking their things up and walking away.
"Babe," he called out to Sarina. "Don't go! I can still win this!"
"No you can't," Sarina said. "You may call me some sort of bimbo behind your back, but even I'm not that stupid to not see you're gonna lose. And I don't date losers."
As he watched his girlfriend walk away, he felt the ball hit his stomach, involuntarily catching it due to reflex.
"90 - 0," Amanda gleefully told him. "Your ball, Romeo."
_______________________________________________________
As Amanda read the terms of their deal once more, she couldn't help but be amazed.
"This doesn't seem fair," she tells the massive woman. "You're going to help me with my bullies and- This can't be-"
"This is exactly what I want," Verity tells her. "In all honestly, I have more money than I know what to do with. So if I can help out for small things, then it's in both of our interests to do so. Besides, this will really help me out."
Pulling out a manila envelope, she handed it directly to the teenage girl.
"Go home," she told Amanda. "Talk to your mom. Then make a decision, alright?"
"I will," Amanda said, nearly crying at the amount of kindness Verity was showing her. "I swear I'll come back tomorrow!"
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
"99 - 0," Verity said, throwing the ball to Alan, barely able to stand. Looking over at Mick, he could see his friend was spent, on his back as he gazed up at the sky.
"I can't," Mick panted. "I can't go on, Alan! We gotta-"
"WE'RE NOT QUITTING," he screamed at his buddy, grabbing him by the arm and forcing him to his feet. "Not to a couple of dumb bitches who don't know who they're fucking with! Now get the fuck up!"
Breathing like a greedy vacuum, Alan's expression was one of pure murder. He knew how wealthy his family was! He knew how POWERFUL they were! Where was this dumb musclebound tranny coming in and trying to ruin his position and status! He was a damn Vanderwall, and NO ONE FUCKS WITH A VANDERWALL!
"Check," he said, coldly. All emotion gone from his face.
The ball bounced, and before Amanda even knew it, Alan was charging at her. His fist high in the air like his father had done to him and his siblings many times before. If she wasn't going to accept her place, he reasoned, then he had every right to FORCE her into submission. There was nothing inside him at this point except rage and the desire to dominate as he swung with full force at the teenage girl that had become his target.
Unfortunately, there was one rule of nature that he had forgotten: when you consider yourself the apex predator, you must always remember there is always something bigger and stronger than you.
When his fist stopped mere inches from Amanda's face, he turned to look at who had stopped him, only to find an absolutely furious Verity with an iron grip on his arm.
"You really ARE like your father," she seethed, her words like icy darts as she began to squeeze. He began to feel the pressure intensify, growing more and more powerful as her grip tightened. And within moments, his fist loosened as he could feel the bones in his forearm begin to creak and bend against his will. He screamed in pain as Verity's practically pneumatic like grasp grew stronger still, sending him to his knees as he began to babble and cry like a child. Driven back to this primal state as if his father was the one punishing him. Unable to do anything as Verity grunted slightly, closing the circuit in her hand as both his right radius and ulna completely snapped from the strain. Looking towards Mick, she saw that the worn out boy had pissed himself as the display of power.
"Go," was all Verity told him before he ran away like a scared little bunny, leaving his friend behind as Verity let his arm go and fall to the ground. Grabbing his arm, Alan proceeded to rock himself back and forth as he held his arm and cried.
"I'm sorry you had to see that," she told Amanda, who just held the ball to her chest as she looked at Verity with a fearful look. "But he swung at you. I might have overdone it a little-"
"No," Amanda said, shaking her head as if she were still processing things. "You heard the deal, right? If they won, then I'd... I'd have been their slave. This... would have happened to me, either way."
Understanding what the girl was telling her, Verity held her hand out.
"I got an idea," she said, smiling reassuringly. "How'd you like to win with a slam dunk?"
Looking down at Alan, still in the fetal position at her feet, Amanda just smiled.
"Only if he watches me do it," she said.
Without needing any incentive, Verity turned towards Alan, grabbing him by the other arm and making him scream in panic.
"Don't hurt me," he cried out, scared out of his wits. "Please, don't! I'll be a good boy, I swear!"
Not heeding his words, Verity proceeded to drag the traumatized boy towards the hoop, placing him on his back so he could watch what was going to happen.
"You ready?", Verity asked.
Amanda nodded her head and begun to dribble the ball. Slowly walking over the net, she looked up at Verity appreciatively.
"Thank you," she told her guardian before looking directly at Alan. "I only have one thing I want you and everyone else to do: LEAVE ME ALONE or else Verity will come back!"
Alan looked up as Verity walked behind the girl, flexing her arms as she gave him a death glare, towering over the kid like a muscular angel of vengeance before she reached down and held her by her waist.
"One, two, three!"
With one smooth motion, Verity lifted Amanda high over her head, letting the teen slam the ball into the net for a final score of one hundred and one to a big fat zero. And once the ball hit the ground, Verity brought her ward back down to Earth once more.
"That's game," Verity said, smiling an evil smile down at the broken and defeated boy. "Now go home, Alan Vanderwall! This court's no longer yours!"
Scrambling to his feet, Alan quickly grabbed his things, and cradling his broken arm, ran away as fast as he could.
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________
It was a typical Friday in the middle of summer. Amanda had just gotten out of school for summer vacation and was heading towards Verity's spot with a huge smile on her face. In a couple days, she would be off to a training camp before trying out for the basketball team. Not only that, but ever since the incident on the court, she had not only been able to gain some real friends, but the entire clique that had been tormenting had completely fell apart. Theresa left to go to a Private school upstate, Sarina had broken up with Alan and was now dating one of the wrestlers on the high school team, Mick had quit playing altogether. And Alan? Alan had come into school with a cast on his arm and covered in bruises, which made the teachers take notice. And when pressured about it, Alan caved and told them about his father's long history of abuse. Which in turn created a media circus around the patriarch of one of the richest families in the country being charged with a litany of offenses, including conspiracy and tax fraud that were offered up by an anonymous source that turned out to be easily verifiable. And after that, no one had even her a whisper about Alan since.
Reaching the door, Amanda threw it open and saw her mom once again at the reception desk.
"Hey! How was school?"
Amanda ran inside and hugged her mom.
"It was AWESOME," she told her. "I'm actually loving it here!"
Hearing her voice, Verity calmly walked out of the back rooms with a huge smile on her face.
"That's great news," she said. "Do you need some extra cash for some stuff like snacks and pizza for the sleepover?"
"Verity," Amanda's mother playfully whined. "You're paying me thirty dollars an hour to be your receptionist! I can easily afford the sleepover!"
"And you wouldn't be my receptionist," Verity say, walking over to the two ladies. "If Amanda didn't show you my offer, Shawndelle."
"She's got you there," Amanda said, smiling like a brat.
Amanda's mother could only shake her head at the no win predicament she was now in.
"I guess you've got me there."
"Speaking of got you," Verity said, reaching into her pocket and pulling out her wallet. "Here's money for the sleepover, and you can take off early."
Shocked at her boss's kindness, Shawndelle could only stare as Verity handed her three one hundred dollar bills.
"You don't have to, Ms. D-"
Quickly pulling the money away, Verity wagged her finger at her receptionish.
"No no," she told her. "No last names. No Miss ANYTHING. Just Verity."
With a smile, she quickly handed them the money and tilted her head towards the door.
"Now go on and enjoy the time you have before camp!"
With a couple quick "thank you's" and "see you next week's", they ran out the door to go prepare for the sleepover. Leaving Verity alone with her thoughts for a few moments before an older gentleman entered her establishment.
"Excuse me," he said. "I was told you could help me with a problem by Mrs. Lachlan?"
"My name's Verity," the dark haired Problem Solver said as she sat down. "Whatever your problem is, I can help."
With that, she easily reached over from where she was sat and rung the bell on the desk.
-
Love the characters and like the stories - looking forward to seeing where your next flight of fancy might take you :)
-
I missed The Deal when you posted it in April (hectic month). Thanks for sharing. I enjoyed it.
-
Love the characters and like the stories - looking forward to seeing where your next flight of fancy might take you :)
I can let you know now that the next VERITY tale will involve some shady people trying to take things for their own at great cost to the people living there. Nothing like a little ass-kicking, really.
I missed The Deal when you posted it in April (hectic month). Thanks for sharing. I enjoyed it.
I'm glad you enjoyed it! Trust me when I say that writing this Kindhearted Butch Goth Dom has been a LOT of fun, surprisingly. Especially in terms of defying expectations.
-
Is there any way to retitle the thread as VERITY, considering it's the continuing adventures of the kindhearted, 6'5 muscular Goth Jock?
Anyway, I know some of you have been waiting. So here it is, the beginning of the next installment of Verity's story. With some bad blood, a bit of build up to ass kicking, as well a look behind the curtain to Verity's secret origins!
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
THE LAND DEAL - Part 01
Templar Deveaux's life was built around one simple principal: to be the best, you have to be seen AS the best.
At the young age of six, he started his first business doing odd jobs. Often called a go-getter or driven, what the boy that would become the man was is obsessed. Like his father, his real concern was gaining that which others were so willing to give away. For his first business, it was free time for money. When he was eleven, it was opportunity for illicit childhood items like cigarettes, alcohol, porno mags and such. When he was sixteen, he bought his first fast food franchise and earned achievements for his business acumen and "can do spirit". All the while, the franchise spot served as a front for a cartel drop point for drugs, guns and women. When it came time to move on to college, he paid the right people and had the place raided and seized after he sold it to an unknowing patsy who was arraigned on Rico charges and more. Opportunities came easily to Templar, and he never suffered one iota of complication his whole life.
College gave him connections. Money gave him access. And the odd time he got his hands dirty, he reveled in the opportunity to let himself flourish in ways he never let the public see. A crooked child to a crooked man, he earned his luxury on "the suffering of simpletons", as he put it. So when he moved into land development, he took to it like a shark to the sea. Always undercutting prices, getting land that seemed impossible to get or outmaneuvering every bit of competition that came his way.
And recently, one bit of competition he finally took under gave up some prime real estate they had been holding onto in secret. A low income apartment complex on the edge of town that sat on some ideal vista, giving an overview of the city that no other piece of property had. A single building sitting on the tip of over two square miles of undeveloped land that was worth more than forty million dollars to the right buyer. But as he pulled up to the complex large and intimidating black car that seemed glossier than it had any right to be, there was just one problem...
"We're not selling!"
That was the owner of the property, Mrs. Lachlan. A cantankerous carbuncle of a woman in her mid-60's. An old bat in Templar's eyes, and one who didn't deserve to stand in the way of his progress.
"I'm sorry," one of his cajolers- er, 'business associates' said. "But you don't know the opportunity you have right now!"
"I don't care," she scowled, spitting on the ground at the associate's feet. "I've lived here my whole life! And you're not gonna-"
"It's not about kicking you out," Templar said, pouring on the charm. "It's about giving you the means to take care of yourselves!"
Mrs. Lachlan looked Templar up and down, from his expensive shoes to his pseudo-casual outfit that screamed "I spent more money to look relaxed than you do to look presentable", to his shit eating crocodile smile. She knew he was up to something, and it involved not just her home, but the home of every single tenant under her care. And she did not like it one bit.
"I take it you're this man's boss?", she asked, gesturing over to the development sign with his face on it that was placed there overnight.
"Indeed I am," he replied, changing his smile to look like the sign. "And like the sign says, 'let's develop, TOGETHER'! So how can I help you develop our business relationship?"
The squat, stout woman looked this way and that. An uneasy look on her face, a primal feeling telling her she was currently being hunted by a predator.
"I don't know about that," she said. "Something's telling me there's more going on than you're "ass-so-ci-ate" is letting on. As I've been telling him, I've lived here my whole life and I ain't never been offered less than three million for this land. And I ain't sold to NO ONE! This is a home for those that haven't got the means, you hear me?"
"Mrs. Lachlan," Templar said, shooing away his employee. "May I call you Emily?"
"Only my friends can call me Emily," she shot back at him.
"Emily," he continued on, not caring one bit. "Su casa es mi casa! And I take care of my own, too!"
Suddenly, the voice of a child cut in.
"That's not how you say it."
Turning towards the front of the building, a young girl that had to be no younger than nine with dark skin and dark hair stood. Looking at the two of them.
"I'm sorry?", Templar asked, trying to hold back his anger at being challenged by this child.
"It's "tu"," she continued. "'Tu casa es mi casa', not 'su casa es mi casa'. It's improper."
Suddenly, a woman that obviously had to be her mother quickly came out the door to grab her child.
"Caiete, Eva! Este no es nuestro asunto!"
"Don't worry," Mrs. Lachlan shouted out to the two of them as Eva's mother dragged her inside. "She's not in trouble, Josefina. Just stay inside, now."
Rubbing his eyes, Templar tried to focus and bring his anger down so that it would remain unnoticed.
"Look," he said, pulling out a pair of sunglasses. "Let's make a deal here so you can be happy, your tenants can be happy and I can be happy. Comprende?"
"I. Ain't. Selling," Mrs. Lachlan fired back. Causing Templar to almost lose his temper when the sound of a powerful engine roared loudly behind him. As he looked back, he saw another black vehicle, this one designed for power and looking just as large and intimidating as his despite being an older model, pulling up to the right of his. Through the closed windows, the sound of intense metal could be clearly heard before the large figure inside the vehicle killed the engine and opened the door. And when he got a good look at the driver, Templar had to fight himself from panicking.
"What the fuck is Verity doing here?", he thought to himself.
_________________________________________________________________________________
Three days earlier, after Amanda and her mom left for the day, an older gentleman walked into Verity's office.
"Excuse me," he asked, taking off his flat cap. "I was told you could help me with a problem by Mrs. Lachlan?"
"My name's Verity," the large powerhouse told him as she sat down. "Whatever your problem is, I can help."
As the man sat down at the desk, Verity reached over from where she say and rung the bell on the desk.
"I'm... not sure," he said. "Mrs. Lachlan never said you'd be so... And so..."
"Born female," Verity said, giving him a wry smile. "I mean, if that's what you're asking."
Quickly realizing how he was acting, the man put up his hands as he panicked.
"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to offend you! I just-"
"Never met a girl like me," Verity finished for him. "I get that a lot. No need to worry. What can I do for you?"
Scratching his beard, the old man looked down and sighed as he collected his thoughts.
"I live in Mrs. Lachlan's complex," he began. "As you know, we've had people trying to buy that place out from everyone now for a while. But recently, Mrs. Lachlan let me know something very important. The realtor who had last tried to get her property recently went under and were bought out by a rival developer."
Verity faces slipped from one of careful to consideration to dark realization.
"And the name of the rival developer?", she asked him.
"It's a Mr. Templar-"
A look of anger crossed her eyes when she knew she was right.
"DEVEAUX," she finished his sentence again.
"It sounds like you know the man personally?", the gentleman asked.
"Not him, per se," she told him. "But I know his family well. And what they've done."
The older gentleman shuffled in his chair, leaning forward with an imploring look in his eyes.
"Th-Then you should know that his business associates have been going out every day, speaking to the tenants? Telling them about the deal they wish to make and how they plan on benefitting everyone in the building?"
"Common tactics," Verity said, looking the man in his eyes. "They come in, stir up trouble. Strong arm-"
Her words stopped cold when she saw it. The black and blue and green and yellow mark behind the man's ear.
"Strong arm tactics," she hissed, a knowing, angry look on her face as she stared at the bruise. Causing the walk in to put his hand tenderly to it.
"Y-yeah..."
"Tell me everything you know," she told the old man. "Including what they've been telling you about the deal."
-
As soon as Verity opened her door, Templar sprung into action.
"I'm sorry," he sternly told her. "But you're trespassing on private property! You're gonna have to-"
As soon as she stood up to her full height, Deveaux was cut short, both literally and figuratively. While not a short man himself, when compared to the pale powerhouse's full height, he couldn't help but feel small. Not aided in part by the pair of combat boots she wore, or the leather jacket decked out in little spikes and bits of metal that seemed to perfectly contour her frame. Every segment of cloth and fabric looking damn near painted on, showing off her impeccably sculpted physique that even a male bodybuilder would be jealous of. Her naturally black hair tied back in a braided ponytail to show off her bull-like neck and mountainous shoulders that led up to a rather handsome yet still very feminine face. Staring down at Templar behind mirrored sunglasses before giving him a knowing smile.
"I'm sorry, sir," she said, pretending not to know who she was talking to as she closed the door and began walking to the trunk so he got a good look at her back. "I'm here on a personal matter!"
As she opened the trunk of her car, Templar could feel it. The little twisting of needles in his stomach and head. The needles in his head, he knew was him getting angry. Of that, he was well aware. But it was the sensation in his gut, like pushpins attached to fuzzy string that seemed to be constantly pulled through his torso, that took him by surprise. Because he had only felt that way twice in his life. The first was the only time he disobeyed his father as a child. The second was when he had taken a more... "hands on approach" with a rival in his mid-20's, only to have said rival fly into a rage and slip free from his restraints to pounce on him and begin beating him savagely before Templar's men dragged him off.
Even with all the reports. Even with the photos, and the bio of the mystery woman who was making things difficult for every single person of means she came across. Even knowing that this woman was somehow connected to groups only whispered about by the upper echelons of the circles he ran in. Nothing, and he meant ABSOLUTELY NOTHING could have prepared him for an actual encounter with Verity. Even while carrying several bags of groceries towards the front of the building as Mrs. Lachlan tottered towards the genetic monster with a look of pure joy on her face, he was positive he could see it. Waiting underneath that facade, there was something incredibly dangerous. A danger that went beyond the physical and into the esoteric. A danger to his way of life and the lives of those he associated with. He prided himself on being a wolf, culling the herd to greater profit.
But what fear lies with the wolf, when the wolf finds itself in the presence of a dragon?
As people began to come out of the building to greet Verity as she handed off each of the four marked brown bags in her arms, Templar knew it would be best to beat a hasty retreat for now.
"I can see you're quite busy," he shouted out to Mrs. Lachlan, drawing Verity's attention as well. "So I'll just get out of your hair and let you fine folks enjoy the rest of your day!"
Snapping his fingers at the associate that talked to Mrs. Lachlan when he arrived, he signaled for his men to withdraw from the scene as he walked backwards to his car. His eyes not looking away from Verity, as she did the same. Waiting for him to pull out of the entrance before even stepping foot towards her car to hand off more groceries.
"So he wants your land," Verity said, glancing over as Mrs. Lachlan joined her in retrieving the deliveries for everyone.
"He ain't getting it," Emily told her. "He can do what he wants. I ain't selling! These people need a good home, and I aim to provide it!"
Smiling warmly at the old lady, Verity just nodded her head at the sentiment as she continued handing out everyone's food.
"I think Arlo would be proud of you. He was always a good man."
"You don't need to tell me twice," Emily said, handing off a couple bags. "Not like that damned Deveaux. Putting up his development sign before he even got my land from me? Man's a snake that's yet to shed his human skin, if you ask me."
"I'm with you there," Verity said, handing off the last of the bags before grabbing's Mrs. Lachlan's. "You wanna take this discussion inside, so you can tell me everything you know so far?"
"Yeah," Emily said, quickly shuffling towards the entrance as Verity closed the trunk with two full brown bags in one arm. "I could use a damn drink!"
__________________________________________________________________________
The smell of time and lemon filled Mrs. Lachlan's apartment. Everywhere were tchotchkes and photos of a life well lived. On tables and desks, on the deep green and brown walls, on the old TV. You couldn't take one step in any direction without seeing angels or photos of Arlo, now gone four years as of this month, or photos of her grandchildren and children. The space was a momento of a life well lived. Emily Lachlan moved to this complex when she was a child. She met Arlo here. Raised her kids here. And now, as the owner of this complex, she knew she had to give the people here the same opportunities to live their lives, as well.
"Gimme a moment to put stuff away," Emily told Verity as she walked in.
"Let me help y-"
Mrs. Lachlan started laughing, waving her hand at the gloomy giant.
"Please," she told her friend. "I'm old, dear. Not helpless! Just put the bags on the counter, and I'll put'em away myself!"
Following her into the kitchen, Verity quickly put the bags down on the kitchen table as Mrs. Lachlan quickly went to work. Even with her age, Verity couldn't help but be proud of Emily. Treating her more like a mother than an acquaintance.
"You should have told me about Deveaux making moves on this place months ago," she gently chastised Emily. "I could have come sooner to take care of things for you."
"Don't," Mrs. Lachlan told her, reaching into a bag and pulling out a can of soup. "I've known you since you were six years old. And I don't want you getting involved with this. I can handle someone like Templar just-"
A shooting pain ripped through Emily's hand, forcing her to drop the can as she gripped her wrist. Verity ran forward, quickly squatting down to pick up the can before putting her hand on her shoulder.
"Your arthritis is flaring up," she told her. "Let me take care of the groceries. Bag three's got some rum, the brand you like. Just take a seat and enjoy it. I know where everything goes, okay?"
Quickly picking up a bag, Verity speedily started stocking a cupboard with boxes and cans while she let her old friend pull out the bottle of dark rum.
"One of the downsides of getting older," Mrs. Lachlan bemoaned with a chuckle as she sat down. "Things get harder to hold on to."
"Are you talking about groceries," Verity asked as she quickly handed the landlord a glass. "Or the property?"
Letting her smile slip, Mrs. Lachlan slowly opened the bottle in front of her.
"I think it might be both," she admitted, a despondent sigh punctuating her statement.
Putting the empty bag down in the sink, Verity grabbed a seat and parked herself next to her old friend.
"Don't think that," she told her, placing her hand over Mrs. Lachlan's. "Nothing's gonna happen. Not while I'm here, okay?"
With a sad smile, Emily placed her other hand on top of Verity's powerful mitt and nodded her head.
"I know you wanna help everyone," she told her, a tear in her eye. "But you know you can't do that. Some things just happen that are beyond your control."
Slowly taking off her glasses, Mrs. Lachlan saw for the first time in years the bristling anger that lay dormant inside Verity. She had seen it before, when Verity first arrived at the complex. After the incident that forced her there after the death of her parents. When she was forced into hiding at the apartments to protect her. A wintery night, when the snow came down like a solid blanket. The chauffeur opening the door and leading Verity to her doorstep. And the image of the little girl she was, the pure, violent rage she held inside her. The look of pure evil in her eyes as the air around her was left in a steamy mist as the snow seemed to melt the second it fell into her general vicinity.
She had never seen such pure aggression before in all her life. But now, she was seeing it again. She could feel it, the palpable heat that seemed to naturally flow through Verity's whole body. The gentle warmth she knew the girl had now slowly building in temperature. Her skin growing hotter to touch.
"Verity," she demanded. "Verity, focus! Don't give in!"
Blinking her eyes, Verity snapped back to attention. Shaking her head and rolling her shoulders as she grunted slightly.
"I better put the rest of these groceries away," she said, standing from her seat and grabbing the second bag. "And then I can join you for a drink, yeah?"
But as the musclebound problem solver got back to the task at hand, Mrs. Lachlan couldn't help but wonder what was stoking the embers that she thought were long since dormant within Verity. And how, after all these years, Verity never once told her what happened to her family.
As she poured herself a drink, she knew that something might be brewing. Something bad. Something violent that was left to linger for far too long. And she knew that the sweet, kind woman that Verity was might be harboring something darker than she dared realize before. And at that moment, she couldn't help but feel like the mother she was, worrying over their child.
-
Love the effot put into this one shot. Good flow and progression. Hope people join your patron.
-
Love the effot put into this one shot. Good flow and progression. Hope people join your patron.
Actually, The Deal started off as a one shot. Then when I started adding to it, it kinda became more. It's still the same Verity, just with a lot more of her actual backstory that I could barely hint at in the first story.
-
The Land Plot, Part 03
Deep in the middle of the night, on the outskirts of town, a soul was wrought with terrible dreams. Dreams of fire and screaming, of blood and betrayal. Of a man in shadows looming large against the wall of flames, glaring down at a couple and their son. A large pistol in his hand as the couple begged for him to spare their child. But with unflinching disinterest in their pitiful words, firing spears of flame into their bodies. Striking them again and again as they moved to protect their child, who was the first to be hit in the head. Tilting like a ragdoll as their faces showed their absolute horror before each being gunned down in turn.
As they fell there, like broken dolls, she watched as the gun was pointed towards her. Putting a hand up to protect herself, she screamed. And once again, Verity woke up from the same nightmare that had been plaguing her for her entire life. Her body soaked in sweat, she threw the king size blankets off of herself before kicking her legs over the edge and sitting upright. The cold air seeping the furnace within herself, she stayed there. Gasping and panting, hunched over in exhaustion. She knew that she would have trouble sleeping tonight. Getting out of bed, she made her way over to the large mirror, keeping an eye on her form. The way she moved in the moonlight. The way her muscles tensed and shifted. Keeping her powerful form in motion so she can spot areas that needed improvement before turning on the lights.
She sighed deeply as she took a good look at herself in the now well lit room. Her skin porcelain, though not from lack of trying to get sun. She never burned, but she never tanned, either. Her skin, for all of the workouts and chemicals she took to get this big, never seemed to get rough or leathery. Even when digging ditches two weeks back to help someone find the watermain to their home, she shocked the homeowners by staying outside for over five hours in the blistering sun, but came in with barely pinkened shoulders after finding the issue. She went meant to be pale and ghostly, plain and simple. A phantom of size and strength few possessed or could match.
"A phantom," Verity mumbled to herself. The image of her parents and brother seared into her thoughts like the flames that consumed their home. Quickly going into a double biceps pose, highlighting the 24 inch peaks of her arms, she began her nightly routine to scare her demons away. Causing her to tense her chest as the sweat soaked black tank top stretched across her frame.
"Verity," she heard her mother crying out in her memory, switching to a most muscular, rolling her shoulders forward to highlight her traps. Veritable hills of striation that further filled out her bull like neck as her switched her stance a bit.
"Strength is only a tool," she heard her father saying in her mind, lifting her shirt to flex her abs. Solid bricks of power as they stood out even under her insanely pale skin. Her Adonis Belt shredded to absolute perfection as it led into her black panties.
"I'd help whoever I can," she heard her brother say, his young voice timed as she switched to a side chest pose. Her tears beginning to flow as she fought a losing battle to withhold the heartache.
"I won't ever lose again," she heard her child self defiantly tell her brother, on the day of the murders and the arson. She turned her back to the mirror as she tensed her lats, taking a superhero pose so as to not she her child self that she was freely crying, now. Her eyes burning like smoke as the warm drops of anguish cascaded down her handsome face.
"Never again," she told herself. Renewing her vow to her brother, and reminding herself why she always chose the right thing to do over the easy way out before taking off her top and walking towards the bathroom to take her third shower of the day.
________________________________________________________________________
Deep in the middle of the night, on the outskirts of the other side of town, Templar Deveaux was in his office, waiting for visitors. Though maybe not "visitors", given each of their status. More like colleagues, though their businesses were more... illegal than his. A gentle knocking on his office door preceded a woman's head popping in. A forced smile on a face that was made to look younger and more attractive greeted her husband's eyes.
"Templar," she said. "Honey? Your fellow associates are here."
Taking a quick sip of his scotch to calm his nerves, he wagged his hand to let them in as he took a quick drag of his cigarette.
"Gentlemen," he loudly said as he stood before they had even entered the door. "And lady! Thank you for coming to my home at this hour."
"Do you know what I was in the middle of when you called?", a stern looking woman dressed in simple business attire said, quickly moving into the room with the air of a queen and the attitude of a wasp.
"I do," Templar said, giving her a dour look as he nodded. "But this is of utmost importance, Illyana."
"I'll decide if it's important when I hear it," a tall, handsome black man in a nice casual suit said.
"You should know me by now," Templar told him. "This will concern us all, Painter."
An older gentleman, accompanied by a younger man with a hawkish face and eyes that screamed of something being not quite right with him, began to enter the room. But paused as he walked by Templar's skittish wife.
"Thank you, Diane."
Giving a quick bow of her head, she shot a quick concerned look at her husband. Templar nodded his head as he waved her away, allowing her to skitter out of the room before locking the room per Templar's demanding behavior. With everyone on the council in his soundproof office and taking a seat except for the young man who chose to remain standing, Templar knew they could talk, so he cut to the quick.
"I met her," he told them, letting his panic slip into his words as he took a deep drag of his cigarette.
Illyana threw her tight blonde ponytail over her shoulder, letting him see her neck, visibly showing off the eyes over her right shoulder, and the sun on her left. A clear sign that she was down to business.
"Met who?"
"HER," he replied, emphasizing his words with an angry look.
"No fucking way," the old man said. "Verity actually SHOWED herself?"
Grabbing his drink in frustration, Templar just quickly nodded his head without looking at anyone before drinking the rest of his glass. Painter, however, grew excited at the announcement, shifting in his seat like that smile that grew on his face.
"You know what this means?", he giddily told them all. "This means we can find her! This means we can-"
"No," the old man interrupted him, mid-speech. "This means nothing, son."
Painter's face immediately dropped into frustration. He knew they had an opportunity, but for some reason, the old man didn't want to take care of her? He couldn't stop himself.
"Why not?", he asked the old man, trying to gauge the old man's excuse.
"We know almost nothing about her," Illyana told him. "We know her gender, her height, her build."
"We also know she has connections," the old man added. "She knew things about Vanderwall that not even the authorities knew about. And if she could take down someone protected by God damned Senators, that means she's got someone behind her. Or a group of someones with more power than Governmental protection can provide."
At this, the rest of them grew more solemn at the weight of his words. When a person as cagey and experienced in their line of work as the old man says something's up, you know he truly means it and that you should pay attention.
"So what do we do?", Illyana asked them all.
"She somehow knew about the complex," Templar said, pouring himself another drink. "She showed up right after I did, bringing goodies to all the little spics and peasants in that dump. Either she got lucky, or we might have a mole in our works."
"This is bad on all fronts," Illyana said, rubbing the crown tattoo on her right hand. "She took down Vanderwall. She might have someone that scares the old man backing her. Я не знаю, что это влечет за собой, но я знаю, что это означает, что грядет война."
"You know I don't speak gobbledygook," Painter said, giving Illyana a disgusted look.
"She's saying we might have a war on our hands," the hawkish man told him, his nasally voice grating on Painter's ear.
"Oh ho," Painter said, shooting the young man a contemptuous look. "So you DO talk! So lay it on me, Harvey Birdman. What do you mean by a war?"
"You know my activities aren't... you know," Templar said. "But this means even I might need to get some muscle to protect myself. When you actually MEET the damn bitch, you'll understand why I'm not taking this lightly."
"You mean the roided out tranny that thinks he's a bitch?", Painter said. "Shit, one bullet's all it takes to-"
"You're not getting it," the old man cut in as he pointed towards his companion. "Look in Abel's eyes, Winthrop. What do you feel?"
Painter looked at the old man like he's insane, sucked air in through his teeth and turned to look at the old man's companion once more. Finding Abel's gaze firmly fixed on him. And he instantly could feel it. The look of a predator. Someone who was able to commit grievous harm without even trying, staring directly at him. THROUGH him. Looking deep into his soul like a piece of meat. Sending a shiver down the well to do man's spine.
"I don't get it," Painter said, breaking eye contact. "What does this have to do with this... Verity person?"
Templar slammed his drink before reaching for the bottle once more.
"She looked at me the same way," Templar told him. "She was wearing sunglasses, yeah. But it was the very same look. The one that can curdle your soul. Er, no offense, Abel."
"It's more a compliment," Abel said, shrugging his shoulders with a smirk.
"She takes no payments," Illyana said, tapping the side of her face. "So she's not a contract killer like our friend. So what is she?"
"She's fury," the old man said, crossing his fingers in contemplation. "We don't know who she is, so we don't know why. But if you ask me, there might be something more personal to this whole thing than we dare realize. And my mother, God rest her soul, taught me something very prescient."
"And that is?", Painter asked.
"The Devil isn't God's enemy," he said, the color gone from his face. "The Devil is God's scourge for the follies of your actions. And when he comes for you, so will all of Hell."
Everyone grew quiet again as they realized what the old man was implying.
"Either we created this monster," Illyana said.
"Or we're connected to someone who did," Painter joined in, the fear of the whole situation finally getting to him. "And now she's out for blood. Meaning we're just stepping stones."
"Fuck," was all Templar said as he put down his glass and grabbed his hair.
"Thank you for contacting us," the old man told Templar, raising his hand for Abel to help him up. "We must now prepare, including you."
Walking towards the door, the old man gently knocked on the door three times before the sound of the lock turning and clicking filled the room. And as soon as Diane opened the door, the old man and his companion hurried out of the room and back towards their vehicle. Soon enough, both Illyana and Painter followed suit. One knowing what war is like, while the other previously thought he would never have to encounter, realizing now that he had grown too complacent. And a complacent man is one that's too easy to kill.
"Templar," Diane asked. "Is everything alright?"
Corking the bottle of Scotch, Templar slowly stood. His hopes of avoiding notice dashed upon the rocks of his rash actions, his face a tempestuous storm of emotions as the pins and thread in his stomach and chest pressed themselves further inside him.
"Did you get all that?", he asked her.
Diane nodded her head.
"The audio's on the cloud, sweetie. Maybe we should go to bed?"
Templar knew that he was screwed. Screwed beyond all measure. All he wanted was that fucking property on the outskirts of town, flip it and sell it to some developers he had been sweet talking into buying for nearly a billion dollars.
"It was just a land grab," he thought. "And now I'm in the middle of a vendetta fueled land war with someone that scares even the old man."
As she wrapped her arms around her husband, Diane knew that she would have to do something soon. She didn't want to be caught up in all this. So, as they climbed the stairs to their bedroom, she decided that she would call her lover in the morning and begin the necessary steps for divorce before anything happened to her or her children.
-
Great to see more, and nice exploration of ideas. Keep up the good work.
-
Over the next few days, an uneasy calm settled over the city. On the news, almost all crime seemed to fade from concern as activity trickled to the occasional drunk driver or petty theft. Twice a day, Verity stopped by the complex, making sure the tenants were not being bothered and had what they needed. Every time she stopped by, whether morning or evening, Mrs. Lachlan was there, giving Verity an earful like only a mother can. But they both knew they cared for each other, a surrogate mother caring for a surrogate child. But the gentle giant couldn't help but let the worry eat at her. Whether it was handling some dogs that were a bit unruly, or recovering a man's truck that had been stolen by his brother-in-law on the basis of "needing it to get to work" and said work being transporting an unconscious tiger across state lines or the odd jobs she did for people like an occasional massage.
In fact, today's event involved one such odd job was the growing class of female weightlifters that Verity took on over time. A class of five woman, each having been inspired by the Goth Goliath to build themselves up. Verity offered to create a special spot for them all to meet and train together. But one of her Metal Maidens, as the ladies called themselves, had already beaten her to the punch of financing an entire state of the art private gym in a warehouse just a block away from her offices.
And today was all about one on one time with the lady who set up the gym: Amelia.
"Come on," Verity called out as she flanked Amelia as she was finishing the last set for her shoulders. "Five more! You can do it!"
Amelia's arms began to tremble, gritting her teeth as the strain burned its way down her arms and into her chest as she slowly lowered the free weights. Only to grunt once more as she shakily pushed the forty five pound barbells up once more.
"F-four," Amelia staggeringly exclaimed, exhaustion clearly on her face. "Four more!"
"That's it," Verity cheered on. "Four more! You can do it!"
Sweat pouring down her body, she slowly lowered the weights again. Letting them rest slightly on her soaked black sportswear top as she quickly readjusted her grip without letting the weights slip from her gloved hands before groaning out again as she lifted them skyward once more.
"Threeeee!"
Verity couldn't help but smile at how far Verity had come. When she first met Amelia, she was your typical thinsporational model type. But after getting to know both her and her now fiancé, Aubrey, Amelia had become interested in putting on some muscle. Which not only made her happy, but also Aubrey, who reveled in the chance to learn new recipes that not only expanded her diet to be as calorie packed but healthy as possible, but also gave Verity more options, as well. And it was Amelia's brilliant mind that helped Verity grow her already considerable finances to the point where she would never have to worry about straight up giving large amounts of money out whenever she wanted. Making Amelia one of Verity's most trusted confidants as her financial manager.
"Slowly," Verity reminded Amelia. "Don't bounce at the bottom! That's a good way to cause fatigue!"
"I...," Amelia shouted as she lowered her arms again. "KNOW!"
With that said, she held her breath as she pushed up again. Her face growing red as she began to really struggle. Soon lifting the weights above her head once more.
"ONE!"
The sound of Verity's phone ringing in her pocket drew both of their attention.
"Ignore it," Verity told her. "One more, Mel! You got this!"
"It... UNGH," her trainee grunted as she lowered the weights to her shoulders. "It might be important!"
"After," Verity told her. "Last one! Let's go!"
With a last ditch primal scream, the pretty blonde fought to raise the weights up once more. Her face a mask of determination as she grit her teeth and growled as slowly, ever so slowly, she lifted the weights in victory.
"ZERO," Amelia cheered, a smile spreading across her face like dawn. "I DID IT!"
"Yes you did," Verity told her, proud of her breaking her record of three sets of fifteen with thirty pound weights by a whole fifteen pounds. "Now slow and you'll be done for the day!"
As she slowly exhaled, Amelia tremored as she brought the weights down. Slowly lowering them further and further until metal met floor. And quickly releasing them, flopped over onto her side.
"Oh God," she panted. "On fire. Everything. On fire."
Kneeling down, her mammoth coach began to rub her right arm and shoulder to work out any lactic acid buildup to prevent Delayed Onset Muscle Spasms.
"You did great," Verity proudly told her. "Now you can rest and-"
The sound of Verity's phone ringing once more cut through whatever else she was going to say. Amelia turned her head, giving her coach an exhausted look.
"I think I'm right," she told Verity, as the goth giant reached into her pocket. "I think you should take that."
Looking at her screen, Verity's heart dropped. It was a text message from Emily that only consisted of two words that caused her to begin panicking.
"Fire" and "Help".
"I have to go," Verity told Amelia, coldly. "Lock up the gym and head straight home, okay?"
"Is something wr-"
Without giving a response, Verity started to sprint towards the door. Slamming her way through and hopping into her car before pulling out of there as fast as she good. Knowing that it would probably take her about twenty minutes to get there, leaving her no choice but to break the law and drive like a madwoman to the apartment complex.
By the time she got there, a fire truck had already arrived and teams began to work on putting the fire out. Verity scanned the crowd outside the building, trying to find Mrs. Lachlan. But when she saw that her second mother was not among the other tenants, fear began to claw at her heart. Darkly realizing that she had to be inside the building still.
"No," Verity babbled, reaching into her glove box to grow some bandanas, then below the passenger seat to grab a spare bottle of water. She knew that since no one was visibly preparing to go inside, they considered the building a loss and were looking to let it burn. Throwing the driver door open, the goth goliath quickly poured water over both pieces of cloth before wrapping them around her face to ensure her nose and mouth were protected. And with that, she quickly slammed the door and sprinted towards the entrance.
"VERITY!", one of the tenants screamed, drawing the attention of some firemen who looked at what was causing the commotion. The rest of the crowd cheered as the firemen tried to get in her way, only to be steamrolled by the titan, thrown aside as she continued her mad dash into the building.
Her eyes began to sting as she leaped over the steps, into the apartment complex. Only to feel her skin begin to sizzle as the inferno roared around her. Causing her to freeze, her mind flashing back to the night where everything was taken from her. Her family, her home, her sanctuary. The urge to run, to hide somewhere, to escape clawed at her like a ghoul, the memories of losing all she knew fighting to keep her away. Her breath deep and rapid as she began to hyperventilate.
"If I don't find her," Verity thought to herself. "I'm gonna lose her."
Then the realization struck her. She would lose Mrs. Lachlan, the woman her took her in. If she lost Mrs. Lachlan, then she would lose again. Suddenly, the flames seemed cooler than before as the rage within her began to warm the rest of her. She would lose again? Verity's breath began to grow steady as her eyes narrowed.
"Never again," she told her, anger in her growl as she began to run once more. "I WON'T LOSE AGAIN!"
Sprinting down familiar halls, Verity made quick work towards Emily's door. Pushing it quickly, she found that the normally easy to push open door was unmoving. Meaning that either the door her second mother kept open was either locked tight, or something was in the way.
"NEVER AGAIN," Verity bellowed, kicking the door with all her might over and over. Each kick causing the door to slightly open more and more, granting her the chance to peek in. Her growl growing deeper as she saw Mrs. Lachlan, her second mother, lying motionless on the floor. With one last scream of fury, Verity threw her entire body at the door, knocking the wall of furniture and tables and other items to the ground with a massive clatter as she pushed her way in. Quickly kneeling down beside to Mrs. Lachlan's side, her heart began to ache as she saw the first person that showed her kindness after the loss of her family, her second mother, completely still. Her eyes closed as her mouth lay open, her head wrapped in a thick sheet of plastic, suffocated on the floor. As she picked up her body, Verity noticed that is was slightly cool to the touch. A thing her training helped her recognize as her death being hours earlier, probably before the fire even began.
"I'm sorry," Verity cried, her tears falling down onto Mrs. Lachlan's chest. "I'm so, so sorry, mommy."
Weeping with every step of the way, Verity walked back out of the building, carrying the corpse of her second mother as she tried and failed to fight back the anger and pain welling up inside her. Nearly stumbling down the front steps of her second home, burning to the ground behind her as smoke streamed away from her clothes, she laid Emily's body on the ground with a look of pure anguish. The other tenants openly beginning to wail and scream at the sight of their landlord that did everything she could to give them every chance at a fresh start or some small oasis of safety in their lives, laying there lifeless on the gravel. Firemen surrounding Verity, now grown numb as she was pulled away from Mrs. Lachlan's body without a fight towards some nearby trees.
"What the Hell were you thinking," one of the firemen asked her. "You could have gotten yourself KILLED!"
The word reverberated in her head. "Killed". "KILLED". "KILLED"!
Her eyes darted toward the nearby billboard.
"KILLED," Verity growled, her eyes zeroing in on the face of the man she knew had to be responsible for all this. "HE KILLED HER."
"He, who?", another fireman asked, getting brusquely bumped to the side as everyone watched Verity quickly storm towards the smiling face of the one she knew was behind all this. The one who greedily craved this land. The one whose father was involved in the murder of her entire family.
Kneeling down, Verity grabbed one of the base posts of the massive wooden sign that Templar Deveaux had put up. Showing off his fake smile as a memorial to his own "greatness". She began to pull, pushing herself to work every muscle she could, use every ounce of strength she earned in training her body to upend this mockery in her hands. And with a groan, the wood slowly began to comply. Creaking as the large lumber eked out a moan as it slid out of the ground, inch by inch. Until, with a loud crack, the billboard broke as the log used as a stake fell backwards and to the side. Leaving the whole think looking lopsided. So, to make it even, Verity moved to the other post, grabbing the log by its base as she commanded it to come out of its whole as well. Pulling it out in defiance of its entire existence, letting it rest on her shoulder as it fell before swinging the pole down with a terrifying scream of pure sorrow and rage. Her face a deep red from both the flames and her blush, leaving her with the appearance of a demon as she continued to scream her pain and agony over cliffs. Her voice echoing powerfully before fading away as she slumped to her knees and wept.
-
Though it pained her to have to plan it, Verity made sure to plan her second mother's funeral for a Saturday. A day where all of the former tenants of the now burned down apartment complex could find temporary shelter, as well as making sure no one had to work. But what killed her the most was calling Michelle and Abe, Emily's children, and telling them the horrific news. She knew that Michelle, always a soft hearted person, would break down on the phone. But what drove the goth giantess to tears was the sound of Abe's voice breaking, begging her to tell him it was all a sick joke. That she was lying. But when she solemnly told the man she considered her brother it was the truth, the wailing of Emily's 42 year old son was the tipping point for her own sorrow. And for the rest of the afternoon and evening, Verity drank herself into an insurmountable stupor that she passed out into a dreamless sleep.
The next morning, Verity was awoken by two things pounding away.
The first was her immense headache, the first time she had ever had a hangover in ten years after celebrating her sixteenth birthday out in the middle of the Arizona Desert during Reconnaissance And Survivalist Training. The fact that Captain Laveaux somehow snuck some homemade moonshine from a family still in Louisiana that was able to bypass Verity's titanic tolerance level surprised the mighty teenager. Not for the taste or the actual alcohol content, but the fact he got permission from the agency's higher-ups to bring it along in kit. Something like that was unprecedented, in her opinion.
The second was the sound of someone hammering on the door to her moderate sized home. Throwing herself out of bed, still dressed in her clothes from yesterday, she stumbled towards the entrance of her home. Looking like a zombie, feeling like a zombie, and groaning somewhat like a zombie, the sound of her boots plodding along as whoever was on the other side of the door kept slamming their fist against the wooden spike that was jamming a massive sonic skewer deeper and deeper into the noble titan's head.
"Hol' on," Verity grumbled, grabbing the door handle and throwing it open. Her heart dropping slightly as a beautiful mature black woman, haloed in light in a tight purple business shirt that strained to properly hold her large breasts and black business pants that contoured her legs and hips with great finesse, waited. Her relaxed hair tied back in a stern ponytail, smiling as a pair of dark mirrored aviators, the same pair she's owned since her time in the Air Force, covered her eyes. The light glinting off of them sending little flares of pain through Verity's eyes and into the back of her head.
"May I come in?", she sweetly asked the goth jock.
Ushering her former commander in, Verity knew that if Annalise came to you in person then you never keep her at your door.
"So you've been keeping yourself busy," Annalise slyly told her, the clacking of her two inch heals causing Verity to wince with every step as her commander walked into the kitchen. "Playing do-gooder, using company resources to bring down that bastard Vanderwall. You know he's been a thorn in our side for a while, now. Trying to get some Senators to privatize our Ops to make us into his own personal guards."
"We're extra-governmental," Verity said, wincing at her slipup. "I mean, YOU'RE extra-governmental..."
Opening the cabinet above Verity's coffeepot, Annalise just chuckled at her favorite operative's Freudian Slip while grabbing preparing her favorite brew.
"You've been out for two years, and you're still saying you're one of my agents? That's kind of cute, Angel."
"Don't call me Angel," Verity said, opening the fridge to grab some milk. "I'm not about that life anymore."
"Verity," Annalise tittered, turning on the coffee machine before turning around and leaning on the counter. "You'll have to face facts. You're my Angel Of Death. It's what you were made to do, darling."
"There better be a damn good reason you're here," the goth giant said, reaching up to grab some cereal from the cupboard. Annalise just sauntered over, took the box out of her hands and put it back.
"You mean besides making sure you don't puke from a long night of drinking?", she said, giving Verity a coy look. Verity just closed her eyes, shaking her head as she sighed.
"Please stop trying to flirt with me," she told her commander, nonplussed as she went to put the milk back, as well.
With a dramatic sigh, Annalise took off her sunglasses, rolling her eyes.
"You know I can't help it," she said, grabbing two mugs by the sink. "Nymphomania and all that."
"I know," Verity said, remembering the time her commander hit on her after a mission when she had just turned eighteen. It did not go in the direction Annalise was hoping, accidentally triggering Verity with an off-hand comment about her mother.
The room grew awkward as neither said anything, the only sound being the coffee machine as it brewed. The trickle of the steamy drink flowing into the pot filling their ears as the smell of rich bitter aroma filled the room for a minute or two.
It was Annalise that broke their mutual silence first.
"You're given the green light."
Verity closed her eyes as she reached for the sugar. She knew what Annalise was telling her.
"So I'm being given coverage?"
"Yes," Annalise told her. "As of this moment, you are authorized for operations. As an Operative of the GCB, you have full access to our systems, our resources and our insurance policies. Recent audio recordings we have ascertained revealed that Deveaux is not only connected to certain powerful local figures, but have given us reason to believe he is in the chain to a very important figure in regards to your personal interests."
Verity's gaze turned steely, knowing who Annalise was talking about.
"You mean one of the people responsible for Emily's death might lead us to The Devil Of The Abyss."
Annalise quietly turned, pouring the two of them a cup of coffee each.
"This operation is totally dictated by you," the busty black beauty continued, handing a cup to Verity. "If this is to be a strict surveillance procedure, then so be it. If it's to be a bloodbath, then you are a go for a Wetworks Op."
"I don't know if I want to take it that far," Verity told her. "Maybe Black Bag or Intelligence. But I've sworn off killing."
"Of all the times to be moralistic," Annalise chastised her favorite operative as she scooped two teaspoons worth of sugar into her coffee before grabbing the creamer. "NOW is when you choose to not want to go scorched earth?"
"It's... not about that," Verity replied, gripping her mug tightly with both hands. "I don't want to have a hand in any more deaths than I need to. I'm not the Angel Of Death, anymore. I'm just... Verity."
Annalise sighed as she leaned on the counter next to Verity. She knew that when Verity put her mind to something, it was always resolved. Yet here she was, a woman with immense strength and size, with a body count in the upper five hundreds, and she just calmly swears off something that she was just innately talented at? A talent that was refined over hundreds of missions, excelling in training that would drive even strong wills to crumble, willing to take a chemical cocktail that killed so many others and not only gaining benefits, but THRIVING on it? A real Engine Of Destruction, the human equivalent of The Hand Of God... and she was taking the Swords To Plowshares route? Madness, absolute madness.
"Alright, we'll do it your way. Black Bag, crippling enterprises and more."
As she took a sip of Verity's preferred coffee, Annalise quickly realized that joining her for a drink was a bad move as she began to react to just how STRONG her operative's favorite blend was. Fighting to swallow it, Verity's commander gagged and coughed at the taste before shaking her head and pouring the remainder down the sink.
"Uh uh," she told Verity as she rinsed her mug. "This is damn near varnish, girl! We're going out! You need to get some food in you, and I need some coffee that isn't going to eat me from the inside out!"
Verity chuckled as she poured her coffee down the sink.
"Who's buying?", Verity shouted.
"YOU ARE," Annalise said, sauntering towards the front door. "And grab your shades! It's really bright today!"
-
Let me just say this now.
Unlike every other story I'm writing, I'm immediately working on the next installment for Verity.
Believe it or not, this is what the story's been building to. You may not have guessed, but I've actually been hinting at Verity's dark and violent past since The Deal. And things are about to get brutal for Templar and the other members of the cartel.
-
Turning on the bathroom lights, Verity stepped into the bathroom to begin her ritual preparation for what she was about to do. Standing in front of the mirror, she slowly pulled her black wife beater over her head, letting her dark hair fall across her well defined pecs and shoulders. Standing out like thick cliffs and hills as black strands draped her snow white skin. Closing her eyes, she breathed in, subtly flexing her massive arms and torso, urging every muscle to be more visible as she tensed in meditation. Slowly tightening her body, bringing her veins closer to the surface as she willed her body to let the beast inside her show. Opening her eyes when she felt ready to continue less than a minute later and take off the rest of her clothes to jump in the shower.
_____________________________________________________________________
The day of the funeral had come. While overcast with a projected thunderstorm, the sky refused to rain, seemingly respectful of the wishes of the mourners. The occasional burst of thunder or streak of lightning tearing through the clouds but never making its way to the ground. The crowd that came that day turned out to be bigger than Verity had expected, due in large part to Abe and Michelle reaching out to former tenants and their families who had been touched by their seemingly cantankerous mother's generosity and kindness over the years. While not a quiet service by any means due to the storm and the wailing of the people who loved Emily like she was their family, all were in agreeance that it was more than a fitting send off to someone many considered a matriarch of the city. Even drawing the attention of local news stations who wanted to know more.
But as soon as she saw the cameras and reporters going around to ask who put the whole thing together, Verity chose to quickly shy away. If there's one thing she didn't want, it was her face to be well known. She'd rather be able to act freely than become some sort of celebrity, if she was able. All fame did was make it more obvious that you were doing something. And if it was something dirty, then that was far easier to find. For what Verity needed to do, for what she was planning, she couldn't have her face out there for everyone to know and recognize. Especially when things were going down.
Rounding a corner, she began to pull out a little flask she kept in the inside pocket of her leather jacket. While somewhat dressed up in some dress pants and leather shoes and white dress shirt, she had to keep some semblance of her usual ensemble. So in a slight compromise with Michelle, she was allowed her jacket. Taking a quick nip off her flask, she ran behind the nearby mausoleum to have some solitude.
"Welcome back, Verity."
His calm, monotone voice quickly caused her to jump. If there was one person in the world who could sneak up on a ghost, then the GCB Broker called Tucker had to be that person. Coughing as she recovered, Verity looked at her old friend with the usual bit of pleasant surprise. eying him up and down in his dark blue suit and tie with white dress shirt.
"Jesus Christ," she said, leaning over as she rubbed her chest and throat. "How the fuck are you able to do that, Tucker?"
"You've got your talents," he said, stroking his dirty blonde handlebar mustache. "And I've got mine."
_____________________________________________________________________
As she jumped in the hot shower, Verity closed her eyes once more as she stepped inside the stall. The heat felt good. Almost welcoming. Like it was purifying her within as the water running down her body was purifying without. She could feel the water rolling down her back, especially. Her head tilted forward in a little prayer for forgiveness. Her back was a veritable network of muscle fibers under porcelain skin as the water cascaded across it. If one entered the bathroom now, they would see an ephemeral being of might and grace standing away from them. And the giant tattoo on their back. An almost entrancingly beautiful Reaper, reaching towards the Heavens in supplication as she pointed her scythe down low. The skeletal neck and shoulders barely visible through its robes as they led to the death mask of a beauty with no name, eyes closed as if breathing her last breath. And the words "I am Time and Tide. Let those who see me know I have come to seal their fate" in a funerary banner beneath the reaper's unseen feet.
But if they were able to look into the face of Verity at this time, they would see her tears being washed away by the steady flow from the shower's head. Tears of the emotions she must shed in order to do what she must in the midst of war.
_______________________________________________________________________
Verity quickly opened her arms, embracing her friend as he did the same. Their mutual warmth and familiarity kindling after several years of no contact. The 6'5 goth giant welcoming her 5'7 friend back into her life.
"I've missed you," she told him, chuckling. "The mustache is new."
"Trying a new look," he replied. "Familiarity assigned me to you."
Verity became puzzled at his choice of words.
"The criminal network is now a part of the GCB?"
Fixing his sunglasses, Tucker laughed at her question. Especially as they were paired up to take down the Familiarity Network before she chose to leave the Bureau.
"I mean our familiarity, Tee. The network's been annihilated for a couple years."
Her cheeks turning crimson, Verity's embarrassment was palpable as she paused.
"R-right."
"Anyway, let's talk about where we're beginning..."
_____________________________________________________________________
In the middle of the night, on the Northern outskirts leading to the plains, a large area with several storage facilities was more active than it normally was during the day. Normally filled with several large vehicles meant for construction or some form of labor, they had all been rented in large orders over the past week by several names that seemed on the up-and-up, but were really filed under the name of one man. Because in reality, these storage facilities were owned by Winthrop Painter, one of Templar Deveaux's associates who had been preparing for the past week due to the old man's warning.
For Monday night, he was to make a deal on several cargo crates of illicit goods that he had networked to get from various Central and South American cartels. A deal worth two hundred million dollars. But unknown to him, that Sunday night, they were being targeted. As the clock approached 11 PM, two guards on the Northwest Perimeter had stopped to take a quick break on their patrol by the gate.
"You got a light?", one of them, a bearded white man asked. His fellow guard, a smaller black man, reached into his pocket as the bearded man pulled out a pack of cigarettes. Each letting their guards down, putting their guns to the side in front of a small patch of woodlands in order to enjoy the night. Blowing a puff of smoke in the air, the bearded man smiled briefly before hearing a rustling in the trees.
"Hold on," he said, peering into the darkness for any signs of trouble. "Did you hear that?"
"Probably a deer or some shit," the other man said, looking into the darkness. Neither man reached for their guns as they stood there, side by side. But then the other guard noticed something. Something moving at incredible speed. Something large.
"Holy shit," he said, going for his gun. "There's something-"
Without a chance to finish, both men were frozen as they saw a large woman, her white skin glowing in the moonlight as her dark hair streamed behind her, bounding out of the woods, arms outstretched. Before they even knew it, she had grabbed both of their faces in her charge, using her momentum to slam the back of their heads into the wall behind them. Throwing them back with such impact that both never had a chance to fight back as they slipped into unconsciousness.
Standing over the downed guards, Verity quickly began to go over each of them. Stripping them of anything she could use. Weapons were first, followed by anything for access, then potential tools.
"One shotgun," she said to herself. "One pistol, one lighter and one keycard. Perfect."
Pulling the men into the bushes, she quickly climbed her way over the wall and into the facility proper.
_____________________________________________________________________
Reaching into his pocket, Tucker pulled out a USB drive. Holding up the silver and blue thumb drive in front of himself.
"These are the maps for Painter's delivery hangars," he said, holding it out towards his Arm Of War. "Including a full itinerary of expected deliveries and overall numbers of men he's hired. Although I have to say, for a man with his funds, he's either an idiot or a skinflint of the highest caliber."
Verity scoffed at the idea the Broker was telling her.
"What, did he hire something like 40 men?"
Tucker laughed as he pushed his sunglasses up.
"I'm not going to spoil the surprise," he told her.
_______________________________________________________________________
Delivering a quick elbow to another of the hired goons in Painter's employ, Verity had a quick laugh as she took a tally of the men she had taken out so far, pointing at the three at her feet.
"16... 17... 18," she said, before smiling. "Eighteen out of twenty-five. Where did Painter find these guys? Goons-R-Us?"
The sound of a man yelling caught her attention. Dropping to the floor behind a nearby desk, she kept her eyes glued on the nearby windows as she watched two men run by in a panic. Letting the voices fade before she creeped towards the door, slowly opening it as she dropped the shotgun to grab the SMG she disarmed from one of the men in the room. Wrapping the strap around her hand, she eked out from her hiding spot, quietly closing the door before making a sprint towards the first of the three hangers. If she remembered things correctly...
______________________________________________________________________
"The first hanger has HOW many weapons?", the goth giant asked, leaning in to look at the warehouse docket on her computer screen. She couldn't believe what she was reading. Guns from Central Asia? Rocket parts from North Korea? Chemical Agents from China and Indonesia?
"Painter's got enough shit stored away for any sort of terrorist activity you could want," Annalise told her over the secured line. "Looks like you kicked a big enough hornet's nest to actually warrant a complete cleanse."
"I didn't kick nothing," Verity retorted. "They're the ones who lit a fire under my ass."
"That's dark," Annalise laughed. "Even for you."
Taking a sip off her glass of rum, Verity slammed it back on the table. Pissed that she had to cancel her weekly Saturday dinner with Aubrey and Amelia for this, especially after the funeral earlier that day. But getting even more pissed that authorities let this shit slide for this long.
"Point still stands. Vanderwall was the one running interference so Painter could accrue all this, right?"
Annalise's heavy sigh was all Verity needed to hear.
"You know how it is, Angel. U.N. gives approval, America's gotta act like it's the Big Boy and stonewall our efforts. We've been trying to find this cache for a little while, and we were lucky to get a snitch in exchange for a Shadow Pardon."
Shadow pardons. Or as Verity liked to call them "Get Out Of Hell Free Passes", seeing as they technically did not need the approval of any Head Of State to be given out. Once they were given, the recipient's entire criminal record was wiped clean. No trace whatsoever in any database anywhere in the world. A true fresh start, unlike the more public versions. Whoever received the pardon must have been someone pretty important.
"So, what's the plan?"
"Hanger one is full of weapons and tactical pieces that cannot be put into enemy hands," Annalise told her. "Our informer said that Painter plans to sell the equipment to militia and Domestic Terrorist cells on Monday evening. Destroy what is in that hanger, no excuses."
____________________________________________________________________
Sliding the keycard she had stolen from the bearded man at the front gate, the panel lit green and a lock unlatched, granting Verity access to the first warehouse. Making her way inside, she pulled out her phone and began to take pictures of everything around her. After a few minutes of popping open crates, capturing images of writing from all over the world and creating quick notes, she made her way towards a smaller box by the shipment of military rifles from Eastern Europe. Ripping it open, her smile widened as she looked down as the bundles of C4 and timed detonators. Grabbing four, she quickly placed them on the most volatile crates in the hanger. One on explosives, one on unstable chemicals, one on fuel cannisters for the rockets from North Korea and the last one on the front doors, guaranteeing that whoever chose to enter after they went off would be walking into an inferno of the most dangerous degrees.
Feeling satisfied, she quickly took another minute to prepare another four for the second hanger.
__________________________________________________________________________
"That's a lot of cocaine," Verity said, impressed by the sheer volume Painter chose to have on hand. Annalise just rolled her eyes with an amused smile.
"Painter's got so much snow coming through, we should start calling him Rico."
The two ladies shared a laugh as they raised their glasses.
"Good one," the pale powerhouse told her boss before joining her in a drink.
"Same as Hanger One," Annalise continued. "Burn it all. He's got enough material in there to make the whole place go up like a bonfire."
"Seems he's got some chemicals in there that'll make that easier than you can imagine," Verity said, leaning in to read the stock. "Some things for meth production designated for the Heartland. Nebraska, specifically. That ring any bells?"
"It does," Annalise said, leaning forward. "An offshoot of the Aryans that consider themselves The New Valhallans are headquartered in Nebraska. Basically a cult centered around a man who calls himself The True All-Father. Got a squad of women soldiers he calls his Valkyries. Despite bombing several black community centers and the mutilated corpse of a pregnant woman with the words "No Cinders Of Surtur" carved into her back after they tore her unborn out of her belly, they were taken off the U.S. watch list for no reason."
Verity couldn't help but be disgusted at the absolutely monstrous actions. If anything, this was the first time she had heard about this cult.
"Gotcha. Let it burn."
_______________________________________________________________________
Sneaking into the second hanger, Verity began placing the C4 at critical points. Chemicals, powder, plants and entrance. Setting the timers, she prepared to book it for the third hanger.
But when the lights turned on, she realized time was no longer on her side.
Hearing the sound of several men shouting and running towards where she was, she immediately pushed through the front door, running as fast as she could as the last of the guards opened fire on her. Praying she wouldn't get hit, she could hear the bullets rifling by her. She could see them whizzing by in front of her, missing her by mere inches. Running to the security lock on the side of the facility, she pulled out the keycard, only to feel a burning sensation as she was spun around. There, down the pathway she just ran down, a man was holding a revolver in his hand. Clearly shaken by the stark reality he had just shot someone, fear was in his eyes as he stood there, trembling at the realization of what he had done.
It was the first time this man had ever shot someone. But it wasn't the first time Verity had been shot. As she fell, she quickly squeezed the trigger, sending a short burst in retaliation. The man's legs quickly become splotchy as she peppered his lower half in bullets. Both to take the man's ability to retaliate, as well as occupy the guards that she was sure were almost there. Scrambling to her feet, the goth giant grimaced as she slid the keycard with her wounded arm. The burn spreading as she lifted her arm and letting it fall.
"Grab your friend," she screamed as the lock turned green. "Because the hangers are about to go SKY HIGH!"
Diving through the door, Verity slammed it close before diving for cover between two cars as first hanger exploded, causing every window to explode into a waterfall of glass shards. The ground practically rolled due to the overall might of the blast, rocking every car as they blared to life with every alarm they had been programmed with. Giving things a minute to settle, Verity quickly made her way towards near the front of the hanger for something that caught her eye.
________________________________________________________________________
"No fucking way...!"
"What is it?", Annalise asked her.
"This asshole has one of my dream cars in hanger three!"
Annalise could only stare at Verity as she was visibly getting giddy.
"You like cars?"
"Why wouldn't I," Verity replied. "And it's in my dream color and everything? Fucking SCORE! I'm claiming this!"
Annalise began to scowl at Verity's blatant desire on display.
"Angel, you know you can't. That's car's going to be put into evidence."
"With all due respect," Verity said, looking straight into her camera. "The fact that there's going to be chemical residue and literal rocket parts from North Korea entered into evidence kind of means one car can be lost in the shuffle. Right?"
"I don't-"
Verity got closer to the camera, keeping her eyes held so she knew Annalise could directly feel her gaze.
"It's one car. You got way more evidence otherwise. So please, let me have this."
Staring back at her agent on-screen, Annalise closed her eyes and shook her head.
"Fine! One car! Which one is it, anyway?"
_____________________________________________________________________
As the 250 horsepower V6 engine roared to life, Verity couldn't believe her luck as she hot wired the car. Climbing into the driver's seat, she closed the door, throwing the SMG into the passenger seat before shifting into first gear. As she adjusted the rear view mirror, she smiled as she reveled in getting her hands on one of her bucket list items.
"I'm taking you to the coast after I register you," she said, getting a comfortably grip on the steering wheel before stepping on the gas.
Launching through the wooden doors of the hanger, the blood red and black Ferrari 250 GT handled like a dream as the Goth Giant cackled with glee, driving as fast as she could towards the gate she had opened when she first began her raid. And as she sped off into the night, the second hanger exploded, causing a ball of flame to roil out and catch the roof of the third, wooden hanger on fire. Effectively destroying every bit of storage on the property and crippling Painter's current enterprises.
-
I'm officially ending my work on the Verity story.
This did not come easily. Far from it. In all honesty, I really enjoyed writing her. While she's effectively like no other muscular woman in the niche, she was too far of a stretch for what a vast majority are interested in.
So, with that said, here's what I had lined up for her overall story.
In THE LAND PLOT, her retaliation would have escalated until she had crippled 65% of the total criminal enterprise in her city. The cartel, in kind, would have gone out of their way to try and cripple her, as well. Finding her home, a shootout would have occurred, leading to who she was being leaked. In a surprising twist, people would learn that Verity's full name is Verity Halloway, the long thought lost daughter of the Halloway Empire. Meaning she would have been revealed as one of the richest people in the world, with a net worth of 398 BILLION DOLLARS. With that, she changes tactics and buys out EVERY property Templar Deveaux was after, shutting him out of town before Templar's wife, in the midst of divorcing him to stay with her lover, ILLYANA aka one of Templar's "associates", gives Verity EVERY bit of info in regards to Templar's activities in exchange for Illyana's pardon.
After everything is in place, Verity would have stormed Templar's mansion, neutralizing every guard he has before dragging him to the authorities. And in the struggle, she would reveal that Templar's father was the one who sold out her family, attempting to embezzle her family's fortune to line his own pockets and further ties with the one she's really after.
As a epilogue, The Old Man and Abel would talk about his Black Pardon and their need to prepare for vengeance as both Diane and Illyana are dispatched by Montreal, an assassin sent by The Devil Of The Abyss, as she is one of the secretive mastermind's favorite tools.
After that, it would be a couple fun stories.
-The Fallout, about Verity helping a man whose home was sabotaged by shady builders in order to force him to hire them at exorbitant rates. Verity would have literally brought their building down after helping the man start his own construction company.
-The Showdown, where Verity helps Amelia prepare for her first bodybuilding competition. But when competitors start falling ill mysteriously, the Goth Giant investigates the creators of a line of tainted steroids.
-The Hot House, where illegal products would be coming into the warehouses near her place of business, forcing Verity to do some stealth work in order to find out who their supplier is (spoiler: it's Painter, making his grand return).
And that's as far as I got with the outlines and plots of the adventures of the woman called "The Angel Of Death".
I'm incredibly sorry if you truly liked Verity. But with the dismal interest in the story, as well as extremely limited interactions I got on it, I knew that it was a concept that was going nowhere. Which is a shame, as I figured an old school 80's style Action Film-esque character would be something that helped differentiate her from everyone else out there. But that wasn't the case.
"Too weird to live, and too rare to die." - Hunter S. Thompson.
-
So, uh... SURPRISE!
It's been almost a year since I said I wasn't moving forward with any Verity tales. But I was recently thinking about my 6'5 Goth Jock Problem Solver For Hire that's a mix of Arnold Schwarzenegger and Peter Steele from Type O Negative, and I just couldn't get her out of my head.
I realized... I missed writing her, and I really, REALLY wanted art of her.
So, to quote a song that's extremely cliche by this point, "Guess who's back? Back again?"
Yeah, Verity's back! And writing her feels like I'm writing a friend!
- - - - - - - -
For the past three months, The Outpost has been the hottest bar in the whole city. Opening its doors to massive fanfare, it serves as one of the best venues for touring bands, on top of entering into a state-wide bartending competition where its four mixologists dominated almost every single category. The techniques and combinations the servers put on display drawing national attention through a viral video of a juggling act that involved several shakers and an entire routine to debut a brand new drink called a Lollipop Swirl that created a vibrant multicolor swirl when poured. The mastermind behind the entire setup, a man in his 50's named Bertrand Sellers, took great delight in how successful everything was. There wasn't a night where the bar wasn't packed, sometimes wall to wall with the young, the affluent and those desperate to look cool on social media.
"Do you think we'll be able to get in?"
And on this night, a lovely couple was waiting in line. He was dressed in a nice pair of jeans, a good dress shirt, a velour jacket he had gotten on his birthday three weeks prior and a nice pair of shoes he had bought since his restaurant had begun to really take off. She was dressed in a soft blue dress that showed off her trim arms, slightly towering over her husband in her four inch heels that highlighted her incredibly toned calves. Her blonde hair tied back in a somewhat harsh ponytail.
"I don't know, Aubrey. She told us to meet her here, so she might have told them to add us to the list?"
He gave his wife a quick worrying look, trying to not let his worry-wart nature take things in a curmudgeonly way. But the way she squeezed his arm, flashing him a comforting smile helped ease him as they witness a part of five girls being turned away at the door by the three burly doormen didn't help his nerves in the slightest.
"Names?" the man with a clipboard asked drolly as he looked over the two of them with some palpable indifference.
"Um, Aubrey and Amelia?" she told him. "I believe we're on the-"
"Wait a minute!" the doorman loudly stated as he took a better look at the two of them. "You're Aubrey Gomez, aren't you? The guy who owns La Cabra?"
Worrying gave way to embarrassment as the shorter Hispanic man scratched the back of his head.
"That's me," Aubrey told him with an uncomfortable chuckle.
"I love your food!" another guard, a bald and more heavyset guy piped up with some happiness in his voice. Causing Aubrey to blush.
"Thanks! It means a lot to me that you like it!"
"You gotta teach me how to make your curry aioli, man!" the third doorman, a taller and thinner man of Latin heritage, said with a smile as he pat Aubrey's shoulder.
"I can do that sometime," Aubrey told him. "But to be honest, tonight's our date night and a friend of ours is inside? So we were wondering-"
"You're on the list," the first doorman told him as he stepped aside. "But to be honest, we would've let you in anyway, Mr. Gomez!"
With a nod of his head, Aubrey started pulling Amelia through the entranceway.
"Stop by La Cabra some time so I can teach you guys, okay?"
Receiving a "Thanks, Mr. Gomez!" from the doormen, Aubrey pushed the door open as a wave of heavy beats and EDM washed over the two of them. Too focused on getting inside and finding a spot to notice the look of pride Amelia gave him as she saw just how his own success was adding to their lives like hers had. But Aubrey was too focused. With all the music and patrons moving back and forth, he was unable to tell if she was here or not. So, moving through the crowd like a fish in a busy current, he guided his wife towards the nearby bar where he saw a young woman with auburn hair and two bars in her eyebrow pouring a series of tequila shots for the customers sitting next to the two chairs that had just opened up.
"Thanks, Amanda!"
"No problem, guys!" she fired back, pointing at them with a smile before turning towards her newest customers. "Welcome to The Outpost! What can I getcha?"
"I'll have an Irish Whiskey Sour," Amelia coolly told the bartender. "And he'll have an Rum and Coke."
"Coming right up!" Amanda chipperly replied, reaching down to grab some bottles.
Aubrey took a glance around as the bartender began pulling bottles onto the counter. He was shocked at just how big the place seemed. There were two separate sections for patrons to get drinks, separated by an open floor layout surrounded by tables and chairs on all sides. And right by the stage where acts would perform were two large stairways that led to an upper floor that overlooked the main area, with another one or two bartending stations for maximum efficiency, by his guess. And hovering over the entire thing like a swarm of electronic angels was a series of fancy lights and speakers, clearly costing thousands of dollars each producing an incredible light show punctuated by the resounding beats of the music that drove the toned down bacchanalia on display.
"We're trying to find a friend of ours?" Aubrey loudly asked. "She's the one who put our names on the guest list."
Squinting as she pondered Aubrey's question, she looked at him like his head was turning into a pickle or something strange while slowly making their drinks.
"We get a lot of people in here," she told them. "What does she look like?"
"She's pretty unmistakable," Amelia joined in. "Tall? Athletic? Long black hair?"
"Sorry, not ringing any bells?"
"Looks like she can bench press a car?" Aubrey told her.
"There's a gym down the block," Amanda told them, pointing towards the crowd of people who all seemed to workout. "Maybe she's with them."
"She's not that kind of person," Aubrey told her, as the bartender put their drinks in front of them. "She sticks out against anyone, really. She goes by the name of-"
The sound of a pistol being fired caused an immediate panic across the bar. Many of the customers ducking down allowing Aubrey and Amelia to see seven people marching into the building, each fully clothed up in similar dark casual jackets, pants, boots and masks. The music suddenly going silent as the seventh member of the team brought in the taller and thinner doorman from outside before throwing him to the floor.
"Ladies and gentlemen!" The leader of the group, an older sounding white man with a stocky build holding a smoking pistol, called out. "We want to keep things orderly and peaceful! So if you'd please pull out your wallets and pocketbooks, as well as things like watches, necklaces and so on and hand them over to us, that would be most appreciated!"
The six members of the crew began to spread out across the establishment, holding out bags as they went from customer to customer. Barking and shouting at people to give up all their goods. From cash to jewelry, to expensive looking items like purses and more, they worked to strip everyone within the place of what they had. Keeping their heads low, Aubrey and Amelia did their best to stay out of sight as they quickly went through the bartender's sectional divide to take cover.
"Give up the ring, bitch!"
A young lady in a short black dress with dark brown hair screamed as one of the robbers grabbed her wrist and pulled at her fingers. Causing her boyfriend, a meathead looking guy with more fashion sense than common sense, to immediately try and protect her honor. Only to be met with the bottom of the robber's gun smacking into his jaw, sending him to the floor in an unconscious heap for his noble actions.
"I thought I told you," the leader of the crew shouted as he calmly walked towards the couple as the girl placed herself over her boyfriend. "We wanna keep things orderly and peaceful! But if you're gonna fight back, then this is going to be much, much worse for you!"
"Please," the girl begged them, tears streaming down her eyes. "Just take it! Take the ring! Just don't hurt Bobby, okay?"
As Amelia kept her eyes on everything, Aubrey looked over and saw the bartender pull out her cellphone and dial for the authorities. He could hear the quiet ringing of the reception before a sudden click.
"911, what's your emergency?" he heard the operator ask loudly. Causing him to realize that if he could hear it, then that meant there was a good chance...
"Someone get whoever's hiding behind the counter!"
"Aubrey," Amelia stage whispered in a panic. "Aubrey!"
But before he could even react, he watched as one of the larger thieves calmly point the barrel of his shotgun over the counter and directly at his face.
"Peek-a-boo!" the man said in a deep voice. "I see-"
"C'mere, asshole!"
The robber suddenly cried out as he was hastily pulled away from the bar. Dropping his gun as it knocked some glasses to the floor, shattering as it followed suit. As Aubrey peered over the counter, he watched as someone proceeded to throw the burly robber towards two of his fellow thieves with an ease befitting a sack of grain. The two stumbling over the girl and her unconscious boyfriend as people near the door scrambled to their feet and past the titanic figure dressed in full attire for a metal show. Her black leather jacket perfectly fitted to her broad and powerful frame as she marched towards the three career criminals that struggled to get to their feet. Her painted on black jeans contouring her massive legs that almost seemed to struggle to contain her as she stomped on the man she threw, laying on top of his fellow armed compatriots, with one of her impressively thick looking steel toed boots.
"Devin!"
The woman turned towards the voice, seeing a smaller man rushing towards her side of the bar. On pure instinct, she reached out to her right, grabbing a bottle off of the bar and flung it with full force. Hurtling it at the attacker like a knife as he went to ready his gun, only to be met with the broadside of top shelf vodka as it struck him across the eye and nose and shattered upon impact. Dropping him to the ground as blood began to steadily pour from his face.
"Get off me!" the heavy shouted at her, twisting underfoot as he went to push it off. Saying nothing, the brawny protector proceeded to pull it off of him and kick him like a soccer ball with a sickening crunch. Causing his head to bounce violently as his jaw went slack and he went limp. His full bodyweight doubling as he slumped over the two he had trapped beneath him before she bent down and started delivering a flurry of blows to the two trapped underneath the larger deadweight that pinned them down. Putting them in a similar state before standing upright once more and brushing her long black hair back to reveal...
"Verity!" Amelia screamed in joy, causing her trainer and friend to turn and wave as she pushed up her sunglasses. Smiling as she knew her friends were safe before a gunshot rang out, causing the Goth Jock to duck and turn back towards the fight.
"I'll handle the gunmen," she shouted. "Just get the people on this side of the bar out of here!"
Aubrey popped his head up just as Verity's training kicked in, quickly crouching to grab the dropped shotgun and scuttling her way towards the bend at the far side of the bar near the dance floor.
"How are we going to- DAMN IT!" Aubrey shouted, hating that he found himself, once again, involved in a firefight he wanted nothing to do with. But by this point, he had come to accept that when problems needed to be solved, Verity was always the woman to turn to.
-
Yay! Verity is back.
-
Stopping at the crook of the bar for cover, the mighty metalhead maiden slowly peeked around to take a tally of where the last of the robbers were.
"One upstairs," she thought to herself. "One on the stage, one on the dance floor."
It was then she heard a man groaning to her right, reminding her of the full count.
"And one with at least a broken nose, maybe more. I've been in worse situations."
The sound of a gunshot filled the air right before the wood near her head splintered with a solid impact, causing Verity to pull her head back behind cover.
"We know where you are," one of the thieves, a woman with a somewhat deep voice, shouted. "Nobody likes a hero! So come out with your hands up!"
"Better idea," Verity shouted back. "Let these people go and leave with what you got, or else you deal with me! And trust me, you don't want that!"
The sound of a man cocking his gun before a woman screaming caught Verity by surprise, realizing where all of this might be heading.
"Best idea! We take everything here, you let us treat your ass like a bitch deserves AND we get to go with our loot! How about THAT, bitch?!"
Readying her gun, Verity took a quick breath. And with one smooth motion, spun on her knees and lifted the shotgun towards the ceiling of the dance floor. Aiming high before pulling the trigger and hitting one of the lights in the rig with a slug, killing the power to it and knocking it out of place before anyone could react. The robber unable to look up in time as the fixture crashed on top of him, the pretty redhead in blue shorts and white tee falling away from him in time to avoid being crushed herself. The groans of severe pain bouncing across the area as the other two robbers began to run towards her. Quickly ditching their guns as the hostages began to move towards her, as well.
Pushing herself to her feet, Verity took the initiative. Guiding the rushing crowd as she threw her gun to the side, standing by her vow of no killing.
"Stick to the walls! Go! Go!"
The robber closest to her position quickly closed the gap between them as the frightened patrons followed the Angel Of Death's advice, granting Verity enough time to see him telegraphing his punch.
"Fucking BITCH!"
As soon as he bent his knees, she knew what he was going for. Bounding at her at full speed, his hand cocked back for a Superman punch. Allowing her enough space to lower her stance and tilt her head, causing the punch to graze her shoulder instead of landing on her jaw. And like a spring, Verity stood to her full height as she spun on her heels, slapping her hands on his wrist before jerking him forward. Barely giving him time to cry out before raising her foot and stomping him with full force mid-air. Launching him several feet into a nearby wall with a loud slam and crashing to the floor.
"Watch what you say!" Verity fired back, cajoling the downed fighter. But before she could revel in her quip, she suddenly felt something hitting the side of her knee. Unable to respond quick enough before she felt someone hitting her ribs with incredible precision.
"Watch who you're fighting!" the female robber chastised her before clinching Verity's head and proceeding to start kneeing her in the stomach once, twice, thrice, four times before the Goth Jock slipped her arms through her captor's and then around them. Locking around the smaller woman's in her own grapple and noticing something interesting.
"You work out a lot, don't you?"
"MARSOC does that to you!" The robber shouted at Verity, leaping up and stomping on her thighs with all her weight to knock her down only to find the giant woman's relaxed legs wouldn't give. Causing the robber to look down in sheer panic at what was happening when she saw just how much mass the titanic woman truly had at her disposal.
"MARSOC, huh?" Verity asked, her eyes locked directly on the woman she had in her clutches. "I take it you washed out, then! Otherwise, you'd be a Raider like me!"
"What the Hell are you?"
Verity laughed at the woman's question, giving her a glare that left a curdling feeling in her opponent's gut.
"The name's Verity-"
Snapping backwards, the Metalhead Maiden of Battle hurled the robber over her head, causing the woman to land with incredible impact before springing back to her feet. The robber began crawling away from the imposing being before her. The feeling of the icy cold fingers of terror digging into her spine and chest as she realized that this person was truly holding herself back. That she had control of the situation the entire time, her sheer presence changing the way everything felt. Forcing her to confront the stark reality of just who it was that had given all of them an out, but foolishly turned down.
"...But I'm also known as The Angel Of Death!"
The robber held up her hands as Verity stalked towards her, fear overtaking her rational senses.
"Please!" she begged Verity. "I promise I'll turn myself in, okay? Just- Just let me go!"
Pausing at the woman's groveling, she gave her words a split second before she felt something hitting the back of her head. Leaving her head tilted forward for a beat before slowly turning to find the man she had stomped into the wall before, now holding a broken pool cue and looking like he was about to shit himself from the nightmare now turned his way.
"Did you really think that would work?"
Like a viper striking an unwary prey, Verity's arm was a blur as it proceeded to grab the man by the throat. Causing him to go bug-eyed before his feet left the ground as she lifted him high before choke-slamming him back down to Earth. Crumpling the poor man in half as all the wind within him was forced out.
"Now stay down, you-!"
Verity words were cut off as she felt her knees give from the weight of the someone diving into them. Her eyes looking down at her feet as the man she clipped with the bottle, his face still bleeding from the shards of glass embedded in his flesh, his nose at an unnatural angle beneath his mask and his eyes a violent red, quickly wrapped around her leg.
"Get her gun!" he screamed, his voice reedy and scratchy as the man Verity had slammed on the ground quickly moved to grapple her other leg. She tilted her head in time to see the woman she had thrown scrambling to her feet to make a mad dash for the weapon. Making the ex-operative realize that if she didn't end this now, things would go sideways real quick.
"I'M DONE TAKING IT EASY ON YOU FUCKERS!" she screamed, quickly lifting her leg high. Causing the man she had choke-slammed to curse as she carried him upright with it before pulling him down on top of her left. The back of his head viciously colliding with his friend's face as both screamed out in pain and letting her legs go. And once freed, the Goth Jock spun with drill-like speed before pushing herself up with such force, she was practically on her feet. And once she had found her footing, she broke into a full sprint. Quickly making it across the dance floor just as the last of the robbers grabbed the shotgun and moved to aim it.
But upon seeing the bull-like charge, she knew she could do nothing as Verity's shoulder slammed into her stomach. The impact lifting her off her feet as Verity used all of her six feet, five inches and around two hundred and ninety pounds of purely sculpted muscle to carry her attacker's much smaller frame with incredible velocity into a nearby pillar. The area shaking from where flesh and bone were driven into thick wood kept in place by solid concrete foundation. Both beam and floor audibly cracking as the gun slipped from the robber's unresponsive hands.
Letting go of the ragdoll that was one of her assaulters, Verity stood there, wobbling and out of breath as she watched the woman slide to the floor. Then, rolling her shoulder with an audible pop, she dusted off her jacket and brushed her hair back over her shoulders as she began walking back towards the entrance.
"I said you wouldn't wanna deal with me! But did you listen? Noooo... OOF!"
Feeling someone else running into her, the Goth Jock's instincts were still in problem solving mode until she looked down and saw her friend and trainee Amelia. Her arms wrapped around Verity's thick but incredibly toned midsection with an incredibly joyful look on her face.
"Thank God you're alright, Vee!"
"Just some bruising," she said dryly as she rubbed her pecs and solar plexus. "I mean, besides what you just gave me!"
With a smile and a nod, Amelia proceeded to hold out Verity's sunglasses to the Goth Jock.
"I'm sorry you had to get involved like that," she said as she handed Verity's eyewear over, letting her friend and trainer put them on before continuing. "I guess it was a bad idea coming down here tonight, huh?"
"Not at all!" Verity told her, straining her Abbath shirt a bit as she puffed up her chest and ran her fingers through her hair with a smile. "Who knows how badly things would have been if Bert didn't invite me to check on my investment?"
Amelia put her hand over her eyes, shook her head and chuckled at Verity's admission.
"So that's why you were able to get us on the guest list? You're essentially a co-owner!"
Verity couldn't help herself as she opened her arms and gave that same confident smile she always wore when caught red handed.
"I've got that "fuck you" level of money, after all! Why not use it? Now let's go! I'm in the mood for some street tacos, and there's a spot on 33rd that's just-"
Time seemed to slow down for Amelia as she glanced past Verity's arm, watching as one of the robbers that was trapped beneath the larger man that pointed a gun at her husband was finally able to finally free himself. Rising to his feet as she slapped on Verity's arm and pointed behind her. The spokes of darkness that was the Goth Jock's hair twirling through the air as she looked at where she was pointing as her expression changed from one of joviality to a mask of stony seriousness as she moved herself into a defensive posture. The gunman pulling off his mask, revealing a middle aged man with a thick white mustache that was screaming something at the two of them as his gun drifted towards her. She knew Verity could tell where he was going to shoot, but he looked far more ready than her trainer could move despite listing her way to try and shield her. But she knew it was too late.
She closed her eyes and prayed that whatever happened to her, Aubrey would be okay. Fully expecting this to be her final moments on Earth.
What she did not expect was the sound of broken glass instead of a gunshot filling her ears. Causing her to open her eyes just in time to watch the older gunman slump to the ground, and for Aubrey to be standing behind him with a broken bottle of Tequila.
"AUBREY!" Amelia screamed, running forward and wrapping her arms around her husband. Tears streaming down her face as the realization she was going to be alright sank in. Aubrey said nothing, stroking his wife's golden hair as he soothed her while her tears soaked into his trimmed beard and velour smoking jacket.
Taking the opportunity, Verity waved to get her friend's attention before gesturing outside and mouthing an "I'll wait outside". Each giving the other a thumbs up before walking outside to let Amelia calm down in Aubrey's arms. As she walked through the door, the authorities finally made their grand entrance. Sirens blaring as officers quickly abandoned their vehicles and rushed into the now mostly empty building while paramedics began to take cover of the customers that were waiting near the entrance. As she walked down the sloped pathway to the front door, people were coming up to Verity. Most thanking her, others complimenting her, and others still looking shaken up beyond a point they were used to.
She had to remind herself that in times like these, she was not ordinary. She had never been ordinary, if she was honest with herself. She had been on an incalculable number of battlefields. Seen so much death and destruction and suffering. Been the cause of so much death and destruction and suffering. But seeing all these people make it out of a tense situation in one piece? It was worth it. She'd have to contact everyone here, so those who needed the most help wouldn't have to afford it on their own. But she was willing to be there for those she could.
It was her calling, after all.
She was a born Problem Solver.
"...Still wanna get tacos." she mused to herself, rubbing her abs as she turned to walk back inside and get the questioning over with so she could grab Amelia and Aubrey to get some food.
-
Wow, this is the first time I've noticed The Deal.
Great set of stories! I'm sorry and bewildered why it did not get more interaction back in 2021.