The Deal

[GLKnight]

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.

[GLKnight]

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.

[GLKnight]

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.

[GLKnight]

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.

[srielley]

Yay! Verity is back.

[GLKnight]

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.

[Jaguar]

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.