She of the Jade Skirt

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

** Part II **

The drop of rain on my face and the sound of thunder is what woke me. I felt very disoriented from the after effects of my dream. Who left the window open and when did it start to rain? It must be one hell of a storm for the rain to reach me all the way from the window of my room and I felt pretty certain that Danielle would not have left it open if there was a storm coming. I opened my eyes and I could not see the ceiling, just open sky above me.

“What in the...” I said, before the pain in my throat and the sound of my own voice caused me to stop. My throat felt so raw and my voice sounded so high pitched.  Not at all like my voice should have sounded with my throat feeling the way it did. I felt something heavy around my neck. I brought my right hand up and felt a short  necklace that fell to the top of my breastbone. I did not remember getting a necklace or putting one on before I went to bed.  This one felt very heavy with long segments that felt like polished stone.

I tried to sit up in my bed so that I could look down at the necklace and see what happened to my room, but a sharp pain in my chest stopped me. I let out an involuntary gasp of pain and forgot all about the necklace.  Was I having another heart attack? It did not feel like a heart attack. No, it felt like I had been stabbed and I promised myself the last time that had happened that I would not let that happen again. I had far too many “I forgot to duck” awards on my dress blues already.

That was also when I realized that my bed felt like it had been replaced with a slab of rock and that my groin felt very very wrong. It felt like the nurse had jammed a catheter right through my nuts and into my stomach in an attempt to tap directly into my bladder, and then repeated that a few times just to make sure. I knew that I was old, that my dick was useless and I hated the fact that I was born with one, but a man still has some instinctual concern for that region.  In addition to that, the skin of my thighs felt raw and my muscles screamed in agony. It felt like someone had ripped my legs apart.

The rain was really pouring down now and it washed over every inch of my body. It felt like the rain was washing both over me and through me. As it did, a sense of peace settled over me. I didn’t want to get up. I felt like I was snuggled under the warmest of blankets on the softest of beds, but that didn’t stop me from realizing that except for the necklace, I was completely naked.

Why was I naked?

Why was I lying on some stone table?

Why was I not in my room?

Was that dream real?

Why did the rain feel so good?

Did I really die and meet an Aztec goddess?  

Was I confused?

Hell yes!  

The Goddess said something about storms and healing me if I was hurt.  Is that why the rain on my exposed skin felt so heavenly?

Based on everything I could see, touch and hear, I had to be in Melody’s body, but I could not summon the energy to do anything more than just lay on the hard stone surface as the warm rain washed over my body. I felt thirsty. So, I opened my mouth and greedily drank from the sky.  The rain tasted heavenly and as I swallowed, it soothed my torn throat.  

I did not know how long it rained for, but when the rain stopped; I felt my lassitude fade and I found the energy to sit up.  Long wet hair was plastered against my back, then as I looked down I was further stunned when I confirmed my theory. I was in Melody’s body and with a flash of lightning, I remembered the men raping me, no raping Melody, but it felt like it was me. I started to cry and I knew why my groin felt the way it had when I first woke up.  They had done things to me. Horrible things to me. Then, they had stabbed me, narrowly missing my heart and left me for dead on the altar. I felt like I should scream in horror, but instead, I felt pissed. How could these men, no animals who call themselves men, have done this to such an innocent young girl?

Now, I remembered my promise. Melody did not deserve this and yes, those fuckers were going to pay for what they had done.

I quickly checked over my body and discovered that there was no sign of a stab wound and I didn’t feel any pain in my groin.  I hoped that Melody’s virginity had been restored as well and that if she was fertile, that the goddess had taken care of that as well. I also noticed the lack of scars on my body. My old body was riddled with scars, so not having those scars wasn’t a big surprise to me. The big surprise was the fact that after a quick inspection, I couldn’t find a single scar anywhere on Melody’s body.  Her skin was absolutely perfect; not a single blemish, mole, freckle or scar anywhere that I could see.

I knew that her body was much younger than my old and worn out body, but the lack of any kind of blemish at all kind of worried me. I hoped that there weren’t any identifying marks that we might need in order to prove our identity with later. I was not sure why I thought of ‘me’ and ‘Melody’ as ‘us’ or why I was worried about ‘our’ future. It just felt right.

I was able to get a better look at my new necklace. It was absolutely beautiful and it looked very expensive to me. Instead of a simple chain, the necklace was constructed from two inch long jade segments that had been carved to resemble fangs. I guessed that they were supposed to be jaguar fangs, but I could not be sure of that. Each jade fang was hollowed out to allow a sturdy looking gold band to link the fangs together with a large semi-circular jade centerpiece.  The centerpiece was about the size of a half-dollar coin and it had the stylized image of an Aztec goddess carved into it. That had to be Chalchiuhtlicue.

I spun it around a few times and I first, I could not find the clasp. Just a small, marble sized, oblong shaped polished bit of jade that looked seamless to me.  That concerned me because the necklace was also too small to slip over my head. I guessed that the Goddess wanted me to leave it on.

From my perch atop the altar, I looked around and spotted Melody’s green bikini bottoms on the ground next to the altar. Her top was further away. The top was the first item of clothing that the men had ruthlessly ripped from Melody’s body before they pinned her struggling body on top of the most convenient flat object, the altar. Then, the pigs pulled off her bikini bottoms as she screamed and begged for them to stop.  The rest of what happened flashed thru my mind like a nightmare, burning the leering faces of the pigs into my brain. Calling them pigs was an insult to pigs everywhere, but I refused to think of them as men. A real man would not have done this to Melody or any woman. While I was not exactly sure how I was going to go about accomplishing my mission, I was sure that no matter what it took; I would fulfill my promise.  

Not wanting to waste any more time, I jumped down, grabbed the small pieces of fabric and put them on. As I did so, I felt something happily stir inside of my head.  It was Melody and I got the sense that she was peacefully asleep.  The bikini was something that she was proud of. It gave her happy memories, but from the memories of hers that I now seemed to have; I knew that the bikini being forcibly removed from her struggling body would not be a happy one for her.  I prayed to Chalchiuhtlicue that Melody would never wake up and if she did, that she would no longer have the memory of the rape that I now had.  I drew comfort in that idea by the fact that other than her name and the rape, I couldn’t see or feel any memory of hers.

The top was a bit of struggle for me, but I figured it out pretty fast. I just snapped it together in the front, then spun it around and covered my small breasts with the fabric while I adjusted the shoulder straps. I guess that I shouldn’t have judged them so small because I thought that they were perfect. They were something that I would be proud to have and I figured that Melody was probably rather proud of them as well. However, if Melody was like my daughter when she was her age, Melody probably wished that they were larger.  That thought made me smile.

I felt good. No, I felt great and as a 58 year old man, I shouldn’t feel this way about my sudden transformation into a girl. I knew how any normal red-blooded, apple pie eating, pickup truck driving American male would probably have felt. He would have felt horrified, completely freaked out or even sexually aroused by the sudden change, but I did not feel that way at all. I felt like I was finally in the body that I should have been born in from the beginning of my sad life. I was finally a girl and I felt myself smiling with true happiness for the first time in almost a decade.  

The lack of pain in any part of my body and the feeling of complete health was just an added bonus. I could see without using a magnifying glass and could stand without feeling like my knees were about to explode. Hell, I could even walk, too. I felt so light on my feet that I briefly considered trying to jump up to see if I could fly. Although, the bar was set kind of low since just being able to take a piss in the toilet was enough to make me feel happy these days.  Hell, that was actually something that I was looking forward to now. Sitting down to pee because that was how my body was designed and not because I was too sick to stand.

That feeling of happiness was somewhat spoiled by the reason that I was here. I had a mission to complete and animals to put down. I really was on a mission from a goddess and I was all out of bubblegum.

Unlike my prior life, this time, I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that my mission objectives were 100% on the side of good.  There were no shades of grey.  The animals who had done this and caused this were evil. Their deaths would not stain my soul in anyway.  Not that I had to worry about that now. Not since, I had valued my soul so cheaply and given it so freely to the first goddess who had asked for it.

In my defense, I can’t say that I had a lot of experience with either gods or goddesses. Actually, I had zero experience since I kind of gave up on that ideal decades ago because what kind of all knowing and all loving god could just stand by and allow the things that I have seen and to my shame, done, without fixing it?

I can’t say that I instantly adjusted and was completely at home with my new body either. I noticed pretty damn fast that I was no longer 6’ 2” and 250 lbs. I guessed that I was now maybe 5’ 6” and umm, 100 and something pounds.  “Half the man I used to be” ran through my head.

That made me smile, but something told me that I would not be able to bench 400 lbs like I could before I got sick. My arms looked positively tiny. Hell, my old thumb was probably bigger around than my new wrist. Okay, maybe not, but it sure looked that way from my viewpoint. My legs, those looked nice. Okay, they were pretty damn tiny too, but I liked them.  They looked perfectly toned and exactly right. They matched my butt perfectly and flowed into the trimmest tummy I have ever seen on a girl. My tummy, I mean, stomach looked liked I could have wrapped my old hands around my new waist and touched my fingers together. Okay, I liked my arms, too. I guess that I would look rather silly with my old Popeye arms on this body. It was just a bit of a shock at first.

I caught myself making a mental checklist of all the exercises I could do to help improve my strength and fitness levels after I finished my mission.  That sobered me real fast because I was not sure if I would be alive when I finished my mission.  Would the Goddess just take my soul out of Melody’s body and throw me away like a old and worn out knife? Oh well, time to worry about that later.

I had a mission to plan.

Okay, the first rule of planning a mission is to take an inventory of your assets and determine your desired end results. Let’s see, I had me, I had a bikini, a necklace from a goddess and as I looked around, I spotted...nothing. Nada. Zip. Zero. Zilch. Well, that was a fast inventory. I laughed at that thought, but my laugh came out sounding like a giggle instead.  My goddess!  I sounded so cute.

Okay, mission objectives, those were easy. Kill the animals that raped Melody, but the lack of equipment and intel was going to be a problem.  If need be, I decided that I might be able to use the straps of Melody’s bikini top as a garrote. Yeah, that would probably be an embarrassing way for a man to die. Strangled by a topless 12 year old girl and her bikini. That mental image kind of made me feel a little creepy, but that kept me from giggling again. So, it was golden.

The next thing that I needed to worry about is how visible I that I was.  While Melody’s dark hair and jade green bikini was helpful, her abundance of pale white skin was not. The necklace was also a little too reflective and I had no idea if the pigs who did this to me were going to return or not.  If they returned right now, I would be an easily spotted target and from my experience, an easily spotted target is not a happy target.  

With that in mind, I gave the area one more quick once over, just in case they left something that I could use, but they did not.  I could see surprisingly well in the dark and I was not sure if that was due to my young eyes or something else.  I hoped that it is a bit of both, because if the goddess just brought me back into the body of a 12 year old, but healthy girl; I did not see how I could fulfill my promise to Chalchiuhtlicue or to Melody.

There was a lot that I could do with the proper tools, but the old saying about, “there is no replacement for displacement” certainly applies when hand to hand combat and lugging around lots of ammo and weapons are involved.  I would have to be sneaky instead of relying on brute force.  Old and sneaky, I could do, but young, wise and sneaky, I could do even better.

Okay, I had no weapons, no support, and no clothes, other than a bikini and a necklace, and no idea where to even start looking for my targets.  I would try tracking the men by their footsteps, but the rain had to have washed them away by now. I also did not have Melody’s memory on how she got here, so I cannot even retrace her footsteps. All in all, I would have to rate this op as the worst planned op that I have ever been tasked with completing and I only had myself to blame. I thought that I had learned my lesson about volunteering when I joined the Navy all those years ago.

Oh well, I am a good little mushroom and good little mushrooms only grow up big and strong when fed shit op plans. I started my mushroom growing phase by hunting down a good sized mud puddle and jumping into it with another annoying giggle escaping my lips. I covered every inch of my skin with a light coating of mud, even my face. The mud would help me blend in with the jungle and even help to keep the bugs at bay. I felt a little guilty about coating the necklace with mud, but it would wash off and I am sure that the Goddess understood.

I left my hair alone though. It was black and I really did not want my scalp to feel, umm, yucky, to use the technical term for how it feels to have mud in your hair. If you think that mud drying on your skin is itchy, try having it caked into your scalp as it dries. I braided my daughter’s hair for her often enough. So, I debated trying to braid my hair or use a vine to make a ponytail, but decided that the wild child look might actually offer a psychological advantage.  Besides, my hair was still wet and easy to manage.  When it dried, I might have to rethink my hair plans.

All my old skills came back to me and with my new body; I found it even easier to move silently.  I felt so light and supple on my feet that it was almost impossible to move and make noise. My muscles flowed so smoothly beneath my skin. I ghosted over and through the forest. Maybe I did not need to be able to bench press 400 lbs anymore.  Melody’s body felt amazingly fit and agile. After all, a good, sharp knife does not take a lot of muscle when properly used.

I was in the zone and in total harmony with the land around me and it felt wonderful.  It reminded me of the time that I ghosted past an entire company of VC to setup the shot of some sick bastard who enjoyed torturing captured American servicemen. Getting out proved to be a bit harder because the VC were pissed when their man died. It took me two days of lying doggo, buried under one foot of mud and breathing through a bamboo straw before I was able to ghost my way back out.

I got the crap bit out of me, but thank the fucking goddess that I had my big mama panty hose on to stop the crawlies from burrowing into my legs. My single regret was that the bastard never felt even the slightest remorse for all the sick shit that he had done to captured American soldiers. Me, I barely even felt the recoil when his head exploded as my round entered his temple from just shy of 900 meters.

And, that is why I did not want to have mud in my hair.

Unless it was absolutely necessary, like if I had to bury myself in mud and breathe through a straw to escape a VC patrol again.

Okay, so maybe never.

It was about then that I heard them.  It was kind of hard not to hear them. They were making enough noise and swearing enough at each other to wake the dead, or at least disturb their dreams.  The strange part about me hearing them wasn’t the fact that I heard them. The strange part was the fact that I could understand every word. Living in Florida, you pick up some Spanish by default, but I could never understand Spanish like this before.  

Maybe the Goddess gave me an unexpected asset that I could factor into my op plan.

I easily zeroed in on their location and stalked them as they cursed their way through the jungle.  Maybe the rain helped me even more than I expected because their once fine suits were soaked and covered in mud. I watched as the man in the lead slipped and fell on his ass. It was one of my targets. He was one of the animals that held me down, and then took his turn after his buddy was done with me.

His ‘friends’ laughed at him. “Serves you fucking right Carlos.  If you hadn’t left the bitch here, we wouldn’t be out here.”

“This fucking sucks. What was I supposed to do?  Juan stabbed the bitch after she scratched his face.” Carlos said with disgust while glossing over the fact that he raped me too.

“Doesn’t matter. The Don said not to come back until we had the girl’s body. Just be fucking lucky that he didn’t shoot you like he did Hector!”

“Yeah, Juan is fucking lucky that he is the son of the Don’s favorite lieutenant. He’s the one who should have been fucking shot!”

I could not listen to them any longer. I wanted so badly to just run down there and kill them all with my bare hands, but that would be a suicide mission and Juan, aka Shifty, was back at their HQ somewhere. Since Creepy was the other man who raped me, I guessed he must have been the Hector that this “Don” person killed for me. I did not like this “Don” person one bit.

Okay, Op plan edit time.  

I decided to back track their trail while they wasted their time hunting for Melody’s body, I mean, me. I bet that they would shit a few bricks and waste time hunting for me when they didn’t find me on the altar. With them slogging through the mud out here, that should make infiltrating and taking out the enemy at their HQ a little easier.  Then, when they returned, I could deal with them and my new buddy Carlos at my leisure.

Their trail was so fucking easy to follow that even a 12 year old girl could have done it.  I crack myself up sometimes.  I managed to avoid cutting my feet up as I traced the back trail to their HQ.  It was not that hard to be careful where I stepped so I guessed that poor Melody must have really been in a panic when she ran from her attackers.

Their HQ or Mansion looked like a pretty nice place to live, very swank and very modern. Not at all like I expected. I made a cautious circuit of the perimeter as I easily avoided their roving sentry. The mansion grounds were bisected by a large detached garage. I decided not to check it out because I noticed that there were motion lights above the entryway doors. I did peek into one of the garage’s side windows and I was amazed at what was parked in the there. Four of the five stalls in the garage where empty, but the fifth stall had a sweet looking Audi R8 parked in it. It was even in my favorite color, black. I guess crime does pay because those things are hard to get. I was a little jealous, but it was not like I would have a chance to drive the thing anyway.

Aside from the R8 looking all badass, there were no hostiles in the garage. I did worry about the garage being empty of any other vehicles.  How did the current hostiles get here and why didn’t they have transportation?  That meant that someone was planning on picking them up sometime in the near future. Which also meant that I could be overwhelmed by additional hostiles at anytime.

Not much that I could do about that right now. So, I circled the house area proper and spotted my buddy, Hector the Creepy.  He was lying face down next to the pool with his skull looking oddly distorted.  From the look of it, I decided that he had been shot, execution style in the back of the head by this “Don” person. Yes, I knew that “Don” is a title used in Spanish speaking countries to denote respect.  That made me wonder what in the hell was going on.  Why was Melody here in the first place?  She did not seem like the kind of girl who would get mixed up with drug lords.

The single perimeter patrol dude was an idiot. He never ventured off the sidewalk that ran tightly around the house.  He was bored, lazy and a chain smoker. For me, those all added up to three strikes and you are out! Predictably, he lazily strolled clockwise around the mansion and if he even glanced to the outer perimeter, I never noticed it.  I used that to scope out their security system.  

It proved to be very basic. I decided that the owner of this place trusted his muscle more than electronic security systems. I spotted a single, easy to avoid camera in each corner of the house. They were positioned more for watching the doors than the exterior perimeter.

There were also motion sensor lights set up above the entrance doors.  Those went off every time the rover walked past them. His night vision was totally gone. I found a nice rock, then ghosted over to the north side of the house and waited for him to walk past me.

With his night vision utterly destroyed by the pool lights, motion lights and his cigarette, I figured that he would effectively be blind when he turned the corner.  I waited for him to pass me and he made my job easier by stopping to light another cigarette.

[Crack!]

He never knew I was there, but that was the plan so I did not gloat over it.  An easy kill is just fine in my book. A quick search of his body revealed a wallet with some ID, cash, somewhere between 100 and 150 pesos, a cheap cell phone, a switchblade knife, a crappy Llama 44 special with a 4 inch barrel, and a cheap Spanish clone of an mp5 submachine gun.  This Don dude needed to pay his people better and based on that, I was skeptical of what I would find when I tested the switch blade's edge with my thumb.

I was totally surprised when I discovered that it was both dull and poorly maintained. Not!  He must have used the switchblade more for show than anything else, which made me wish he was conscious when I thrust the blade into the side of his neck, severing his arteries and windpipe in the process.  I waited until his body relaxed in death before I pulled out the blade. I hated getting sprayed with the target’s blood when I killed someone and blood was such a PITA to wash out of my uniform, errr, bikini. I took better care of his blade than he did when I wiped it clean on his pant leg before hitting the button and retracting the blade with a snickt.

I was not sure how long I had before whoever was watching the cameras noticed the fact that their buddy was no longer walking around the house.  So, I quickly pulled off his belt and removed the clipped on belt holster that held his Llama. I wanted to use his shirt to cover my upper body and protect my skin, but when I rocked his body from side to side so that I could slip his belt off; I discovered that he was too damned heavy. A dead body is hard to move and extra hard to move when the body is twice your size. So, I ditched the plan to take his shirt too. I just did not have the time and it wasn’t really that critical to my plan.

Okay, lesson learned. I was a 12 year old girl and not a big, strong man. His shirt would have probably fit me like a tent and gotten in my way anyway. The belt was definitely too large and even on the smallest setting, it was still too large for my waist. Using the knife, I quickly performed a field expedient size alteration and buckled it tightly around my waist.  The man’s clip-on belt holster pinched my skin a little, but it was bearable and I would not need it for very long anyway.

He proved to be even dumber than I previously thought. The fucktard did not carry a single extra magazine, or mag for his mp5. Was the damn thing even safe to fire? With that in mind, I checked the action of both weapons, first the mp5 and it seemed to be good, then the Llama by flipping the cylinder open and checking the barrel to make sure that the idiot didn’t have a cigarette butt or something stuck in the damn thing.  It looked okay, so I snapped the cylinder closed, then made sure that there was a round under the hammer before I slid it into the holster on my hip.  

For the mp5, I carried that using its sling. Thankfully, I was able to adjust it enough to make it more useful.  I slung that across my back and held the switchblade with the blade extended as I cautiously peeked around the east side of the mansion and into the pool area.

There was nobody there, except for the body of Creepy.  That still pissed me off. I wanted to kill him. The pool actually tempted me for a second. My body was still caked with mud and it did itch a little where that had worked its way under my top. That was a new sensation, but I could worry about the mud and where else it had worked its way into when the mansion was secure.

I closed my dominant eye for when the pool’s motion lights kicked in. A pirate eye patch would have come in handy.  

Arrrr Matey!  

Sorry.

Just past the lower level entrance, I noticed a pile of sheets and blankets that had been tied together. That must have been how Melody escaped. I looked up and spotted an open window three levels up.  The second floor of the mansion, but third floor from where I was standing.  Melody was one brave little girl to have climbed down from that high up using bed sheets.

By sticking to the wall of the house, I was able to avoid tripping the sensors until I was at the door handles.  They activated and bathed the pool area in bright light.  Thank fucking goddess that I had my shooting eye closed.  From a crouch, I slowly turned the handle and pushed the door open. Then, as soon as I had a gap large enough for me to squeeze thru, I slipped into the room and gently closed the door behind me while I let my night blind eye regain some effectiveness.  The room was dimly lit with recessed ceiling lights and looked like it was used as a home entertainment center.  There was a bar off to the side and a very large big screen TV against the back wall surrounded by pale white leather couches. I heard the sounds of a soccer game being played at extra loud volume echoing down from the floor above.

Staying low, I kept to the darker edges of the room as I made my way counterclockwise around the room.  I found a heavy duty steel reinforced door that was secured with an electronic cipher lock.  Past that was a set of stairs that led up to the next level and the soccer game.  I heard a man scream and yell at the play. He sounded very invested in the game and completely unaware of my presence. Just the way I liked my targets.  

I continued my circuit of the room.  I was not about to go up to the next level without ensuring that this level was clear first.  I did not like surprises and the locked room concerned me.  What if there were additional hostiles in that room?

I slipped past the TV and felt a twinge of jealousy. It was a fucking nice one. I bet that watching a movie or the big game on it was fucking awesome.  I did not like the owner of this house even more now.  Past the TV was a small 10x10 storage room and its door was wedged open. There was a lock on the outside of the door, but not on the inside and no windows or exits from the room. Strange. Maybe they intended to use this room to keep cleaning supplies safely locked away from children or something?  I thought that it might make a decent holding cell. If there was not all the other crap in there that someone could use to escape with.

Things like a large tub sink, mops, buckets and racks of cleaning supplies mixed in with a random soccer ball, camping gear and other miscellaneous office supplies and junk.  The camping gear looked brand new and never used.  From the sight of the mansion so far, I couldn’t blame whoever bought the gear. Why would anyone want to sleep in a tent when they had a place like this?

Okay, storage room was clear.

Past the storage room was a small office that had a cluster of security monitors, but even better, there was no one watching the feeds.  Idiots!  I liked easy jobs, but this was getting ridiculous.  Could they really be that dumb or was this all just a big James Bond style trap designed to lure me to my doom?

The quote, complete with German accented English, “No Mr. Wolf, I expect you to die!”, ran through my head.

Yes, the strangest things run through your head in the middle of an op, but you had to find something to occasionally find funny to relieve the tension. Stress can cause you to make mistakes and mistakes get you killed.  I did not like making mistakes.

I noticed that three of the feeds were turned off and that made me curious. So, I found the switches for the corresponding screens and turned them on.  

The room upstairs with the soccer fan came to life.  Excellent, he was alone and facing away from the stairs that I would have to use to enter into that room.  The second screen showed me the same room, but from a different angle while the third screen showed me a large, formal dining room. That was a strange choice for a room to monitor, but maybe he liked watching people eat? After watching the feeds for another minute, my JB villain senses were slightly reassured. I decided to continue my scan of the basement level.

The bar area made me pause.  There were some really nice bottles of booze and beer in his collection. I am sure his wine collection was nice too, but meh. Give me a bottle of 20 year old single malt scotch over some old sour grapes any day.  He had three bottles of 20 year old and one bottle of Macallan’s Centennial that made my eyes pop out of my head.  The fucking bastard had the Macallan’s mixed in with the cheap shit instead of someplace safe. A $600+ bottle of 100 year old scotch deserved to be in a safe or on the top shelf under lights to inspire your guests. I really really hated him even more now. Just to spite him before I killed him, I might have to try a sip or two of that when I was done securing his mansion.

The cipher locked room was the only area that I had not been able to secure on this level and that really bugged my Combat OCD survival instincts.  I debated trying to CSI the lock open by using some clear tape on the keypad to find the keys that had been pressed the most, but I wasn’t sure if I had the time. It would really suck major doo-doo if the soccer fan or someone else decided to walk down the stairs while I was playing with the lock.

The downstairs area was as secure as I could make it, even with my Combat OCD bitching at me.  So, I flipped my OCD the bird and crept up the stairs.  The kitchen was off to my right and the soccer game was in front of me with the large dining room past the kitchen.  I glanced down at the crappy switchblade knife in my hand and decided that it would not do. It was just too dull to be useful for taking down the soccer fan.

Unfortunately, procuring a better blade meant that I would have to take a chance by slipping into the kitchen.  A boning knife is what I wanted, but a good filet knife would work in pinch.  I waited until the soccer fan screamed profanities at how a play was called, and then I slipped undetected into the kitchen.  The knives were easy to spot. They were all stuck to a magnetic rail and they looked pretty high end. Better yet, I spotted a boning knife. I glanced over my shoulder to make sure that the soccer fan was still paying attention to his game. Then, I reached up, grabbed the knife and crouched back down.  I was not disappointed in my selection. The blade was perfectly honed and crafted from good high quality steel.  Yes, it would do nicely. Thank you Senor Don dude for having only the best.  

The soccer fan, he was a little trickier to take down than his buddy outside. I was able to get behind him and hide behind the couch that he was alternating between sitting on the edge of his cushion, to standing up to cheer, to collapsing back into the cushions in frustration when his team missed a goal.  That was what I was waiting for.

I heard the announcer say that the kicker was fouled and my little soccer fan’s team would get a penalty kick.  Soccer fan sat back up and as he moved forward, I vaulted over the back of the couch and with my left hand; I slid my knife into the middle of his back while I wrapped my right arm around his chest and held him close against my body to prevent him from pulling away from me. I might not be as strong as I used to be, but my aim was perfect. I got him right in the sweet spot because my blade paralyzed his lungs and severed his descending aorta all at the same time.

Of course, he tried to scream, but nothing came out of his mouth. It is impossible to make a sound when your lungs don’t work. He tried to stand, but I twisted the blade back and forth, and that was enough to make him forget about that idea.  He tried to roll away, but his effort was half hearted at best. I easily kept him from going anywhere and as his body began to relax, I hugged him tightly to me as I leaned back into the back rest. He turned his head to look at me.  His eyes pleaded with me for a second before the light faded and he was dead.

Of course, he was just as fucking heavy as the other asshole because it took me a second or two to push him off of me so that I could extract my knife from his back and get out from behind him on the couch. I also left the cushions smeared with dirt and mud, but not my problem.

I ignored his cheap mp5 that the idiot left sitting on the coffee table in front of him. He had a Smith and Wesson SD9 in a shoulder holster and after a quick once over, I decided to dump the sentry’s belt and crappy Llama 44.  He also had a spare mag for it in his shoulder holster. Okay, so this guy wasn’t as big of an idiot as his buddy outside.  I guessed that the sentry must have been the Fucking New Guy or FNG as we liked to call the newbies because it didn’t pay to learn their names until they got their cherries popped by surviving their first mission or two. FNG or not, they were both still idiots for working for the Don guy.

After a bit of a struggle, I managed to push a few seat cushions behind his body to prop him more upright on the couch. Hell, it took more effort do that then it took to kill him. Since he was more or less upright, I was also able to remove his shoulder holster and adjust it to fit my body. Satisfied with the fit of the holster, I closed the dead dude’s eyes and covered his eyes with his sunglasses. If someone walked up on him, maybe they would think he was asleep instead of dead.  Well, maybe for a second or two.  The TV, I left on. It provided plenty of noise to cover just about anything I might do.

With the soccer fan taken care of and myself better armed, I slipped over to the main staircase. No movement from up there and no noise either.  Well, no one screaming or yelling anyway.  The TV pretty much ruined any chances of me over hearing anyone moving around up there.  I searched the main floor and found the servant’s quarters.  

The servant's quarters contained two sets of bunk beds with two dressers, a vanity, a couple of sitting chairs and a small LCD TV in the corner.  It looked very utilitarian and not at all up to the same standards as the rest of the house.  Can’t have the servants living on the same floor with the regular folks or give them nice furniture. They might start thinking above their station.

I also found two additional people that I might need to kill. There were two female targets sleeping in the bunk beds against the north wall of the room. The female on the top bunk looked to be in her late teens to very early twenties, while the bottom bunk occupant appeared to be in her mid-thirties to early forties.

They just worked here and didn’t deserve to die, but I also could not leave them unsecured.  I knew where I could get some rope to tie them down with, but I needed a good gag too.  They probably had something in their dressers that I could use, but pawing through those was too risky. I needed to find a linen closet or a bathroom with some towels that I could cut up for gags.  A nice thick bath towel makes a good gag.

I eased their door closed again and continue my search of the main level.  The Don’s office was the next room that I found.  His office was huge with a large expensive wooden desk with a long rectangular cutout off to the side and at an angle. I didn’t see a monitor, so I assumed that he had it made retractable. I didn’t spend any time looking for how to raise it because a quick glance under his desk showed me a Kahr 9mm attached to the desk via a magnetic holster to the underside of the desk with the barrel pointing toward the guest area and the trigger exposed. Kind of sneaky, but very predictable and it just goes to prove that even the bad guys know that Han shot first.

Past the desk and against the back wall there was a small set of file cabinets. The north wall was full of expensive looking leather bound books, so I ignored that wall. I did check the file cabinets for weapons, but all I found were partially full drawers with a few bits of paperwork. I could see that he was not a fan of filing or he just didn’t like leaving evidence of his criminal operations in easy to access locations.

The south wall had a large stuffed marlin mounted to it, along with scores of photos showing how manly he was. He looked rather pleased with himself posed next to a huge fresh caught marlin with the stern of an expensive and sleek looking yacht docked in the background.  I was able to make out the name of the yacht. I was called “El Conquistador” and with my new found appreciation for the Aztecs, I really disliked him even more. I hoped that the pictures on his wall were old because he looked pretty young, maybe 25 or 30 at the most. Far too young to have this much wealth.

The item on the wall that chilled me to the core was the garish nickel plated 45. It looked like the same 45 that the drug lord I killed almost 30 years ago had on him.  The framed college diploma made out to one Victor Rodriguez banged in the final nail on the coffin for me. The ‘Don’ had to be the grandson of the bastard I killed.  This family was actively trying to prove Darwin’s Theory of Evolution all by themselves.  

I noticed a conspicuously placed picture frame on that same wall and proved to be poorly hiding a wall mounted safe.   Unfortunately for me, the safe was closed and locked. It was also protected by a fancy cipher lock with a biometric finger pad.

The next room I found was the washroom.  I also found my gag materials for the maids and I cut the heavy duty towels into long strips to use as gags and ropes. I readied those because I would need to secure the maids before I searched the upstairs level for more hostiles. As thick and high quality as the towels were, I figured that I wouldn’t need to venture back down to the basement storage room for the rope. The main dining room was empty as well as the formal sitting room.

The maids proved to be more difficult and stressful for me than the two guards.  It is far easier to quietly and quickly kill someone than it is to quietly and quickly subdue them.  I started with the younger woman on the top bunk because I did not want her waking up and jumping down on me.  I climbed up the ladder and stood above her with my feet on each side of the bed to prevent disturbing her mattress as little as possible. She looked very young and pretty.  Well, not as young as me, she was maybe 18, but when you are 58, everyone under the age of 30 looks young to you. I really prayed to the Goddess that I would not need to kill her.

Knife in hand, I quickly lowered myself down and used my knees to pin her body down under her blankets as I covered her mouth with my hand.  As she opened her eyes, the first thing she saw was my face and the boning knife held at the ready.

“Don’t scream, because if you wake up your friend, then I will have to kill you both, comprende?” I said, whispering in perfect, unaccented Spanish.  I didn’t even realize that I had spoken in Spanish until after I said it. I had no idea how I managed that trick, but I guess the Goddess provided me with a language dump or something to help me.

Her eyes immediately began to tear up with fear, but she nodded her head once to show me that she understood.  Now for the really stressful part.  Removing my hand from her mouth and gagging her.  

“Roll over.” I said, whispering as I lifted myself off of her body and pulled her blankets aside.  Thank the Goddess that she followed my instructions.  I quickly gagged, and then hog tied her hands to her feet behind her back.  Not the most comfortable of positions, but it would keep her very secure and helpless.  At least, she had her bed and pillow to lie on.  It really sucks to be hog tied and on a hard floor for hours at a time.  

I didn’t make a lot of noise, but there was still enough to make me nervous. Thankfully, her bunkmate did not wake up. As I climbed down from the top bunk, I held my fingers over my lips as a warning her.  Her pillow was soaked with her tears and she was softly whimpering through her gag, but she didn’t scream or go out of her way to make noise.

The older woman on the bottom bunk proved to be harder. She was so panicked by my appearance that she flailed around for almost 10 seconds before I had to press the flat of my blade against her neck to help her focus on my words.

“Quiet! Don’t make me kill you.” I said, whispering in her ear.

In hindsight, I probably should have said something a bit less threatening, but it worked. She stopped struggling and trying to scream. Her partner on the top bunk whimpered even more during that time.  The older woman looked like she could be the mother of the woman on the top bunk and that would not have surprised me in the least.  Jobs are hard to get in Mexico and nepotism was very common.

Once she was gagged and hogtied, I double checked the younger woman on the top bunk. Her bindings were still secure and yes, she did look like the older woman’s daughter.  

“Stay here and do not try to escape. If I have to come back before I have killed the rest of the animals, I will not be happy.” I said, softly enough for them both to hear as I left their room.  

They were both crying pretty good now, but they quickly nodded their heads to show me that they understood. I really hoped that they decided to stay put. I made another cautious circuit of the main level. Just to make sure that no other hostiles decided to join the party.

I climbed the main staircase to the upper floor and the first room I checked was a winner.  My buddy Juan, aka Shifty, was passed out on the top of a naked mattress.  Based on that and the still open window, I guessed that this must have been Melody’s room. I smiled when I noticed a half empty bottle of cheap tequila on the nightstand next to the bed.  I needed more ropes, but I needed to clear the rest of the floor first.

The remaining five guest rooms on this floor were empty and so was the huge master bedroom.  The master bedroom confused me.  Well, the closet did.  It was full of expensive men’s clothes, but there was a small section in the back of the closet with some expensive looking women’s clothing and shoes.  By small, I mean 15 to 20 dresses and only 10 pairs of women’s shoes.  

At first, I thought that that The Don Rodriguez was a closet crossdresser, but based on the men’s clothes and shoes, the women’s clothing were all too small.  Maybe the clothes belonged to an ex-girlfriend or something. There were also two black plastic trash bags on the floor.

I was a little worried about the first bag.  Based on the shape of the objects inside the bag and a stray bit of long blond hair showing from the top, I expected to find the bag filled with human heads. I hate to say it, but it would not have been the first time I have seen a bag of human heads before, but no, it was only 4 or 5 Styrofoam mannequin heads and wigs thrown haphazardly into the bag.  The wigs appeared to be high quality wigs, maybe even real human hair wigs.

The second bag was full of a mixture of women’s panties, bras, socks, nylons, t-shirts and jeans. Basically, clothing that would belong in a dresser. Did The Don kick out his last girlfriend or something and why didn’t she take her clothes?

I did find a big ass Desert Eagle .50 under the pillow of his King sized bed though. In my old body, I might have ‘secured’ it in my pack, but it was just too big for my body now. I did hide the Desert Eagle’s mag and empty the chamber before I left the room though. Big fish on his office wall, big yacht, big house, and big ass hand cannon under the pillow and nice fucking car in the garage; He must be trying to compensate for something.

I also found a bowl full of random spare change mixed with a few 100 Dollar, 100 Peso and 200 Peso bills. I brushed them aside to see if there was anything else hiding under them.

“Hello, what do we have here?” I said, whispering with amazement when I found his Audi R8 keys sitting below the bills. I longingly held them in my hand for a few seconds before I dropped them back into the bowl with a sigh.

The master bath was also drool worthy and I found some women’s cosmetics randomly jammed into a drawer.  Yeah, something did not go well with his ex-girlfriend. I could see a woman leaving a few dresses or pairs of shoes, but not their cosmetics or intimates.

The mirror captured my attention for a minute or two.  My field expedient mud camouflage was starting to wear off, but even where it had rubbed or flaked off my skin; my skin was still stained a pale brown instead of pale target white. With all the mud mottling my body and face, I really did look rather scary in a beautiful kind of way. My hair was a tangled mess, but that added to the overall effect.  My eyes also drew my attention.  They were a brilliant emerald green color that really stood out due to the dark mud that stained my face.  No wonder why the maids were so scared of me. Hell, even I would be a little worried if I saw some girl who looked like this coming at me in the dark. I looked a little crazy and crazy is dangerous.

I liked what I saw, but as I studied myself in the mirror, I caught sight of a familiar object sitting on top of the towel reservoir.

“Fucking A!” I said, whispering with amazement.

The fucker had an USMC K-Bar knife sitting in its genuine USMC Made in Mexico leather sheath next to the shitter. What in the hell was he so worried about and why would he have a knife here?  If he was so worried about getting whacked while on the shitter, why not the Desert Eagle or something that didn’t require you to pull your pants back up to use?

I felt a little dubious about the blade. It was almost too good to be true, but the blade was razor sharp and in perfect condition. While the kitchen knife was a pretty good tool, I dumped it in favor of the K-Bar.  When your target absolutely, positively has to be dead overnight. Accept no substitutes.

I clipped the K-Bar to my bikini bottoms on my left hip. Yep, I looked even scarier now and I liked it.

Finally, I appropriated and modified a few more towels to use as restraints for Shifty. I also grabbed some belts from The Don’s closet.  Except for the soccer game still playing downstairs, there were no further sounds to indicate that anyone returned or discovered their dead buddies. That was a good sign. I entered Shifty’s room and closed the window. It would not be good to have the screams I planned Senor Shifty to make, be heard by anyone outside the house.    

I studied the animal passed out on the mattress for a few seconds. I was not sure how I wanted to go about making his remaining time on this earth as painful as possible.  I could just kill him now.  That would not even require a lot of effort, but I did not think that I would feel satisfied by that and I doubt that Chalchiuhtlicue would either.  No, Shifty deserved something special.  He deserved to be a sacrifice performed old school Aztec style and for that he needed to be tied down.

Brute strength was not the approach that I could take with Shifty. No, he required a more subtle touch.  I set the mp5 on the floor, then like a little mud covered geisha; I gently kneeled by his side on the mattress. He didn’t stir. Next, I pulled the k-bar from its sheath and placed it beside me on my right side and out of his reach in case I needed to use it on him.

I studied his face for a second before I could dredge up the courage to do what had to be done.  I began to slowly unbutton his shirt while whispering sweet nothings in his ear. Once his shirt was unbuttoned, I slowly and gently rubbed his chest with my hands as I continued to whisper in his ear. That took more effort than I expected. I hated him so much that the thought of what I was doing to him made me feel like throwing up.  

He began to respond to my touch by smiling in his sleep as his pants began to tent.

“Oh yeah, you like this, don’t you lover? Let me give you more...” I whispered, breathlessly in Spanish as I started working on maneuvering his left arm above his head. It was so hard to not gag on my own words, but I kept going. It was just one more dirty job that had to be done.

“...you’re such a stud...” I said while I thought ‘disgusting animal’ instead of ‘stud’.  

I used a slip-knot to bind his left wrist with a thick strip of towel and secured it to the bedpost. The slip-knot would just get tighter the more he struggled when he finally woke up. I didn’t care that it would also cut off the circulation to his hands in the process.  I also twisted the towel like a rope to keep it from tearing when he pulled on it.

“Uhhhh, you make me feel so, wet...” I said, whispering as I leaned over his body and wrapped his right wrist in another thick strip of towel using a slip-knot again.

“Sick and the only wet I want to feel is your blood!”

“Oh yeah, you’re so fucking hot...” I said as I grabbed my knife and cautiously stepped over his body to kneel at his right side so that I could tie off his right arm to the other bedpost.

His hips started to slowly grind back and forth.  His dick was really tenting his pants and it was probably getting a little uncomfortable for him. I did not want him to wake up just yet.

“Oh my, you look so uncomfortable...let me help you with that....” I said, whispering in his ear as I unbuttoned his pants. I made sure to exhale so that he would feel my warm breath against his ear.  I remembered how much that turned me on when a woman did that to me.

I just about puked when I had to reach in and adjust his penis for him, but as soon as I did, his body relaxed once more.  Feeling disgusted, I wiped my hand against the bed.

“Oh yeah baby, I’m going to fuck you so good.” Juan mumbled in his sleep.

That was what he said to me just before he raped me. I tasted some bile in my throat and it took all of my self control to not barf and kill him right then and there. He was going to suffer and with that promise, I worked my way down his body, teasing his dick by rubbing it through his pants. I dry heaved once before I could regain control of myself. I did not want to touch the repulsive thing again!  Unless it was to cut the fucker off.

For his right leg, since Shifty was still wearing pants, I used one of The Don’s belts to secure his leg to the bedpost.

“Oh my goddess, you are just so...dreamy. I can’t wait to fuck you...up.”  I said, softly as moved over to his left side and started to wrap his left leg in another belt.  The ‘up’ part, I whispered more to myself.

He started to wake up. I left his left leg alone and grabbed my knife. Maybe he would fall back to sleep, but I guess that the bindings were uncomfortable enough to wake him all the way up. He was confused and he started to weakly struggle against the ropes.

I could not have that.  So, I slammed the haft of my knife into his sternum and followed that up with rabbit punch to his nuts with my left. That took the wind out of his sails and I easily finished securing his left leg to the bedpost.  

“What the fuck!?” Shifty yelled, slurring his words as he tried to pull his arms down.  He tugged a few times and I moved over to stand on his left side. That is when he finally saw me. He started to violently thrash around in an attempt to break free, but the towels around his wrists held and so did the leather belts around his feet.

I smiled with satisfaction as I held my k-bar up where he could see it. “Hello Juan. I bet that you didn’t expect to see me again. Especially, since you and your buddies raped and left me for dead.”

He started to scream bloody murder and flail around even harder. So, I had to punch him in his nuts again. Except this time, I made sure to get them good.  That stopped him from trying to escape his bindings, but it did not shut him up.  Not that I really cared about what he had to say because it seemed like the only words he knew were too dirty for my young ears.

I stepped up, onto the bed and straddled his body as I absently tested the blade of my knife.  “If you are trying to make enough noise to bring your friends in here to save you, you can stop now.  They are all dead.” I said, softly so that he would have to stop yelling to hear me.

“Get off me, you crazy bitch!” He yelled.

“Tsk, Tsk, Tsk.” I put the tip of my blade in his shoulder, just above his heart and where it would not hit anything vital. “Now, that is no way to talk to a girl Juan.” I said as I rammed my knife into his body and left it there.

“Ahhhhhh!” He screamed and thrashed around some more. I could see his hands starting to turn purple.

“Oops.  Did I just accidentally stab you?” I asked with mock concern.

“You fucking crazy bitch! I’m going to kill you!” He screamed.

I looked down at my mud covered body, and then shyly smiled at him. “But, Juan, you already did.”

His face turned a delightful shade of white as he finally rubbed enough tequila drowned brain cells together to really see me and put two and two together.

“Ahhhh! Get off me! Get off me!” He bucked and screamed until I reached back and squeezed his abused nuts with my hand.

He screamed in agony and I was actually surprised that he could still feel anything down there with all the nut shots he took.  “Now, now, now.  Isn’t that what I said.... and how well did that work?” I asked with a mock pout.

He started to cry and beg. “I didn’t mean to. Please don’t kill me!”

I slowly took out my SP9 from my holster.  His eyes widened in panic and he begged and pleaded even more.

“Shut up.” I said, both disinterested and bored with what he had to say to me.

[Whack!]

I pistol whipped him across his face and that finally got him to shut up. Yes, I know that going all Hollywood on him could affect the point of aim and it was very unprofessional of me. I would have just punched him, but with my size and weight, I doubted that I could have made enough of an impact. Plus, I didn’t want to accidentally break a knuckle or a finger.  

“Oh, I’m sorry. Did that hurt?” I asked, innocently.

Shifty started to cry, beg and plead for his life now, but I ignored him. “Well, now that I have your full attention, here is what is going to happen.” I pulled my knife out of his shoulder and was rewarded with an excellent blood curdling scream of pain from him.

“You crazy bitch!  You don’t know who you’re fucking with! When Don Rodriguez finds out he is going to kill you and your parents!”

“Interesting, tell me more. Why did he kidnap me?” I asked as I dragged the bloody tip of my blade across his chest, leaving a shallow line of blood as the tip scratched his skin until I stopped at his left shoulder.

“I can’t tell you! He’ll kill me!” Shifty said, crying with pain and fear.

I slammed my knife into his other shoulder.

“Ahhhhhh! Okay, okay!  He wants your father to make him some new wonder drug!  Please stop!  I’ll tell you everything!” Shifty said, openly weeping in pain now.

“What were his plans if your friends couldn’t find me or I was dead?” I asked.

“I don’t know...” Shifty said.

I wiggled the knife a little inside his shoulder causing him to scream in pain again.

“Okay! Okay!  He said that if we couldn’t find you, that he would have to grab your parents!”

“When?”

“I don’t....” Shifty stopped himself. “Tomorrow! Tomorrow morning! He said that if we didn’t find you tonight, then he would have to grab your parents in the morning!”

I pulled my knife out and he screamed again. I was really starting to get tired of hearing him scream.  I needed to get this over with. The three hunting for me back at the ruins were probably on their way back by now.

I dragged the tip of my blade down to the bottom of his rib cage, leaving a trail of blood as the knife cut into his skin.  

“Ahhhhhh!!! Please, please, please...have mercy! Don’t kill me!”

Oh, that was rich. I laughed. “Like you had mercy on me when you and your friends raped me as I begged for you to stop?  I’m sorry, but you fucked up. One, you raped me, which was bad enough, but two, you also raped me on the sacrificial altar of Chalchiuhtlicue and boy was she fucking pissed.”

“No, no, no! I didn’t know! It’s not my fault! It was Hector’s idea!” Juan said, his eyes desperately searching for something, anything to save him.

“Well, isn’t that convenient? Hector is already dead. So, I can’t really ask him now can I?” I asked, tilting my head to the side, pretending to be disappointed with his answer.

He pissed his pants, and then flushed with embarrassment. “Please...” Juan said, blubbering almost incoherently.

I glanced over at the clock next to the bed. Then, I wiped my knife off on his pant legs before I put it back in my sheath. “Well, I am sorry lover boy...” I patted his leg. “...but I think that I need to ready a warm welcome for our buddy Carlos and his two friends when they give up trying to find me.”  

I turned and started to leave the bedroom. “Hey! Where are you going bitch?!? I’m bleeding here and I can’t feel my hands!” Shifty yelled.

That made me smile. I could not have asked for a better prompt. “Oh crap! I like almost totally forgot! Chalchiuhtlicue wants your heart. Silly of me to forget something like that!” I said as I pulled out my knife again, set my mp5 down on the bed between his legs and kneeled back down on his right side so that I could face the door in case we had invited guests.

“Hey! What are you doing!?!?” Shifty screamed.

I have patched up a lot of fellow soldiers and dealt with more than my fair share of sucking chest wounds, but I have never performed open heart surgery.  I knew that I could not break through his rib cage to get to his heart. I would have to come up, from below to reach it. “Oh yes...” I put the point of my blade just below the bottom rib on the right rib cage. “Here it is. I think. This might sting a bit...”

I thrust the blade in at an angle, up and into his chest cavity. Then, I sliced across his chest to the other side of his rib cage; creating a slot for my left hand. Oh yeah, it hurt. He screamed and writhed in agony as his blood gushed out of the wound. Next, I grimaced with distaste as I reached into his chest cavity with my left hand and found his heart.

Shifty was in such exquisite agony, but he was a trooper; he had not passed out, yet.  I kind of expected him beg more, but apparently, he was in too much pain to form a coherent word. I pulled, and then used my knife to sever the arteries holding his heart in place.  It came out of his chest and he sagged. His eyes, filled with horror, remained focused on his heart that I now held in my left hand as blood drained down my arm.

Amazingly, he was somehow still alive and conscious.

“Oh, look...you did have a heart.” I said with a smirk. Then, I walked over, opened the window wide and held Shifty’s heart and my bloody knife up to the moon as his blood dripped down my arms.

“Chalchiuhtlicue, please accept this offering and thank you for allowing me to achieve vengeance for this man’s crimes against us.” I said, softly as tears began to spill from my eyes.

Other than the mess running down my arm, I didn’t really expect anything to happen, but I guess that I should have.  In my hand, his heart erupted into pale, ghostly flames that flickered and licked their way down my arm, following the blood. Cold and unearthly, the flames danced in the moonlight as his heart and blood were consumed without burning me in the process.

I glanced back at Shifty. His face was frozen in horror from watching his own heart burn up. I don’t know if he actually lived long enough to watch his heart burn up or how he even stayed conscious while I cut his heart out, but I felt pretty damn happy that he was dead. I glanced down at arms and hands, expecting them to be covered in blood, but instead, I only found perfectly pale and clean skin. Even my knife was clean of blood.

Damn it! Now I had to do something about camouflaging my hands and arms again.

I ran into the bathroom and got my hands wet. Then, as I headed back down to the servant’s quarters, rubbed some dirt back onto my arms and hands from the rest of my body. It wasn’t perfect, but it got rid of my pale target white skin tone.

The two maids screamed and whimpered into their gags even more when I entered their room.  “Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you. I just have a few more animals to kill, and then I will be done.” I said as I checked their bindings. They were still trussed up pretty securely and it looked like they tried to escape, but my work held; just like I expected it too.

“I am sorry if you are uncomfortable, but I have to leave you like this. If I am able to, I will come back and let you go.” I said as I climbed down to check on the older woman’s bindings.

I felt a little bad for them.  They both looked positively terrorized by me and I am sure that they heard Shifty’s screams.  That had to be messing with their heads, but I had a mission to finish and they could cause problems for me if they worked their way loose.

The operation clock was ticking. From the time that I found the mansion to now was 30 minutes.  Carlos and his buddies had to have given up on finding me by now.  Since Carlos and his buddies could be getting back any second now, I treated the house as insecure as I cautiously made my way down and into the basement level. It would not be good to just run into them.

I walked over to the doors that lead out to the pool area and flipped off the switch labeled “Piscina”.  Just in case that wasn’t the correct switch, I closed my dominant eye and stepped outside. The motion light above the door did not come on.

Crappy mp5 tucked into my shoulder and ready to service targets, I slipped over to the balcony that overlooked the valley below and the direction that I had came from. About a half of a mile away, I spotted the intermittent flicker of light coming through the trees down in the valley below me. That could only be Carlos and his buddies returning. Based on the difficult terrain and the fact that they were probably not in a rush to return empty handed, I estimated that I had between 20 and 30 minutes, tops, before they got back to the mansion.  

Hmmmm, I decided to see if I could get into that cipher-locked room.  I rubbed my finger tips on the dried mud on my legs, then lightly across each number on the keypad.  Next, I used the tape on each number and I was pleased when my CSI watching days paid off for me. The five, eight, nine and one keys were the four keys that had fingerprints on them.  Hmm, that looked suspiciously like it could be a year.  The owner wouldn’t be that stupid, would he?

1985

[Beep][Click]

Yes, he was. I opened the door and holy fucking shit!

It was his arsenal and from what I could see, his stuff was much better than the crap he gave his men.  Thank the Goddess for Fast and Furious because he had an M4A1 with all the goodies just waiting for me. Actually, he had five of them, but one was plenty for me.  I dumped the cheap ass mp5 clone and the Smith and Wesson 9mm from the soccer fan.  

“Holy fucking shit!” I said, whispering with amazement as my eyes tried to pop out of my head.

I spotted the carrying case for an M4 SOPMOD Block II kit. So, I grabbed that, plus the M4 and set them both on the room’s workbench.  Then, I rapidly disassembled the M4 to check it out, then satisfied, I reassembled it. I was a little bit slower than my best time, but I still managed to get that all done in less than a minute.

Fearing that the SOPMOD kit was just an evil trick to get my hopes up, I cautiously opened it with one eye closed so that if it was not what I expected, only half my brain would be disappointed.  I had to open my eye to prevent excitement overload on the other half of my brain. It was a complete and brand new kit. Not wanting to waste any more time, I threaded the suppressor onto the barrel to reduce noise and almost eliminate muzzle flash. After a second of internal debate, I also attached the EOTech 553 Holographic Sight to use for aiming my weapon at night.

Next, I grabbed 10 spare magazines and a 1000 round box of 5.56mm ammo for the M4. The damn ammo box was a bit of a struggle to lift.  I had to use both hands and even then it was a struggle to lift it up and onto the workbench. No upper body strength, check. I used to be able to carry four of the damn things pretty easily. So, I was feeling a bit wimpy, even if I had a good excuse. I quickly popped the top and loaded the first three mags with 25 rounds each. Each magazine held 30, but I knew that filling it to capacity was more likely to cause feed jams. I looked around for what else I could use.

I spotted an adjustable MOLLE Vest that I could use to hold my extra mags and even attach my K-Bar’s sheath to instead of having the metal clip dig into my hip or pull down my bikini. I grabbed the vest and was delighted to discover that it looked like I could make it fit me. I had to tighten every strap all the way to their stops and it was still a little loose, but it was something that I could work with it.

Oh Goddess, I was literally a kid in a candy store in here.  I spotted a Glock 17, but next to it was a H&K USP tactical 9MM with a suppressor kit for its threaded barrel.

*Drool*

I snatched it up, along with its holster and attached the H&K’s holster near the bottom of my vest and on the left side so that I could easily draw it; If I needed to drop the M4. However, if it came to that; I was truly in a world of shit.

I found the three spare mags for the USP, but I was worried about the time. So, I only loaded one before I slapped it into the USP, racked the slide, put it on safe and snugged it into its holster. Finally, I grabbed the mag carriers for the vest and loaded my spare mags onto the vest, attached the K-Bar and put the vest on.  I had to quickly redistribute a few things to make it feel right, but I was rather pleased with the results.

I wished that I had more time to search the room, but I needed to be gone. With that in mind, I grabbed the M4, seated a mag, cocked the loading lever and flipped the selector lever for semi-auto fire mode as I left the arms room. Just in case they made better time than I expected, I cautiously made my way back to the doors that lead out to the pool area. I didn’t spot any motion, so I crept out, M4 slotted into my shoulder and ready to service targets.

Staying low, I ghosted over to the railing and lying on my belly; I spotted my new best friends trudging up the hill about 250 meters away. Sighting through the kit optics, my buddy Carlos was in the middle, a perfect asshole sandwich.  I wished that I had been able to zero my weapon, but maybe with the suppressor, I could get in an extra shot or two before they even noticed that they were being shot at.  They were certainly making enough noise to not hear my weapon and with the suppressor, they wouldn’t see the muzzle flash either.

“I’m so excited!” by the Pointer Sisters flashed through my mind before I took a slow breath to calm my breathing as I lined up my first shot.

I waited until they were 100 meters downrange and a little more in the open before I fired my first shot. I aimed for the head of the asshole in the trailer position and squeezed the trigger between heart beats.

[Pffftt!]

Miss, damn it!  The sights were off, but I expected that. The M4 was probably still using the factory settings and I was a little too high, but none of them noticed.  Instead of messing with the sights, I applied some Kentucky windage and adjusted my aim and squeezed the trigger once again.  

[Pffftt!]

He fell backwards and his asshole buddies were swearing too much to even notice him falling.  I adjusted aim for the lead asshole.

[Pffftt!]

He dropped like a marionette whose strings had been cut, spraying a fine mist of blood on my buddy Carlos’ face.  

“What the fuck!? Watch where the fuck you’re...” Carlos yelled wiped his hand across his face.  He probably thought his buddy had spit on him or something, but then he noticed that his buddy was lying boneless, face down on the ground and not moving.  

It was just about then that it looked like he was figuring out that something wasn’t right and that it was not spit that he wiped off his face.

[Pffftt!]

I shot his leg and I was rewarded with a scream as he fell to the ground and clutched his leg. Oh yeah, that looked like it hurt. I smiled when he crawled over to the lead asshole and grabbed his mp5.  He looked scared. He probably thought that his boss was trying to kill him for being an idiot.  

“Juan!? Don Rodriguez!? Victor!? What is happening?” Carlos yelled as he started to aim the mp5 up and towards the mansion.

“Sorry ya fucking turd, but I am going to kill you, you sick degenerate little fucker.” I said with a whisper as I squeezed the trigger once again.

[Pffftt!]

He screamed in agony and dropped the mp5 when I put a round through his right shoulder. That was my cue.  Keeping my head low, I scooted over to the edge of the pool area, and then ghosted down the hill until I was level with his position.  He hadn’t moved, but he was sobbing in pain as he desperately tried to tie a rag around his leg with one hand.

He did not notice me until I placed the suppressor equipped muzzle of my M4 against his temple. If the goddess dropped down or up or from wherever she is and claimed my soul right then, I would gladly go; Happy with the knowledge that Carlos was literally scared shitless by my sudden appearance. His face turned absolutely white as all the blood drained out of his head, followed immediately by the crap from his bowels.  Then, he passed out.

Damn it!  

I forgot to find something to stake his ass down so that I could cut out his heart.  He also stank to high heaven, but that didn’t stop me. It just made me want to get it done with sooner, but I also wanted to verify the intel that Shifty gave me.

I sighed with frustration.

What to do, what to do?  

I think that I saw some camping equipment in the storage room.  There should be something I could use to hold him down in that. Not knowing when he might wake back up and try to leave, I shot him in his other leg.  That didn’t wake him up, but it made me feel better.  He wasn’t going anywhere now.  

I carefully made my way back up the hill, but instead of just running inside the mansion; I checked to make sure the room was clear before I rushed inside.  It would suck for me if the maids figured a way out of their bindings and had arranged an ambush for me.  Okay, not that likely  a scenario, but it’s the details that will kill ya.

Hell, the Don Rodriguez dude could have returned with his entire posse and be waiting for me too.  They would have to be a fucking elite posse for me to not have heard them, but again, it could happen.

Nope, the mansion was silent and I could only assume that the maids were either still in their room or they had managed to slip their bindings and escape. Right now, it did not matter either way because I had Carlos to play with.

I grabbed the tent and extracted the tent stakes from the bag. Then, I grabbed the rope and made my way back down to my buddy Carlos.

Thankfully, he was still unconscious. So, I pounded the tent pegs into the ground with a rock, then I used the rope to tie his body, spread eagle against the hillside.  I waited for a good five minutes and I was just thinking about running back up the damn hill to get some water to splash him with when he came to.

He was not happy to see me.  He screamed and thrashed against the ropes in a blind panic.  They all held.  I smiled at him when he finally ran out of steam.

“What are you?” He asked, wailing in fear.

Honestly? I did not actually know. Was I really here or was I back in Florida having the most vivid drug induced dream ever?  I was tempted to tell him, “I am your worst fucking nightmare. I am a pissed off rape victim with a gun.”, but instead, I said, “Chalchiuhtlicue’s vengeance...”

He almost passed out on me again. I saw his eyes start to roll back in his head, so I dug my foot into the wound on his leg. That made him scream again.  I debated fucking with him like I did with Juan, but I was feeling a little impatient.  Melody’s parents were in trouble and I worried about them.  

I questioned Carlos just to confirm what Creepy told me.  Actually, Carlos was able to provide me with one additional bit of intel.  Don Rodriguez was staying on his yacht and it was docked in Salina Cruz’s harbor. I didn’t bother asking him why he raped me. I didn’t care. In the end, his heart went up in flames just like Shifty’s heart did.

I felt emotionally drained and thoroughly conflicted as I made my way back up the hill for the last time. On one hand, I was pretty damn satisfied with myself and what I accomplished with so little to work with in the beginning.  I was also pretty damn happy to be young and a girl. Being a 12 year old girl was a bit of an adjustment, but I did it. So, on that side, I was one happy little mushroom.

One the other hand, I was feeling very concerned for Melody’s parents. Now that I had avenged her, was the goddess going to come and take me away?  What would happen to Melody? Was Melody even alive anymore? Other than that brief ghost of emotion when I saw her bikini, I wasn’t sure if she was.

I ignored Creepy’s body as I walked past it on my way a pool side table and chair set. I set my M4 carefully down on the table and sat down on the chair.  Then, I realized that I had not checked my M4. It was a habit born from many mission and experience. Never put your weapon away without checking it first because the first time that you didn’t check it; that would be the time that an easily corrected deficiency would get you killed. I checked the chamber and the mag, then satisfied, I loaded a full mag and put my M4 back down on the table.

Before I could sit back down, I decided to check on the maids. I should have done that first, just to make sure that they were still secure, but I had a lot on my mind. I debated just pulling the USP out and leaving the M4 behind, but habit prevented me from taking more than two steps away from my weapon. Never let your weapon out of your sight and unguarded. I carefully stepped back inside the mansion and headed back up to the servant quarters.

They whimpered in fear when I entered the room and that made me feel like a bad person. Okay, I guess that, technically, I was a bad person, but sometimes it takes a bad person to make things right.  I could not just leave them hogtied for who knows how long before someone came to release them.

“Okay, sorry about all this, but the Don’s men are all dead now.  I am going to release you, but please don’t try anything. I don’t want to have to kill you.”  I said.  I was still a little curious about how I was able to understand and speak Spanish fluently now, but the Goddess did say something about not looking a gift horse in the mouth.  

They both nodded their heads frantically in agreement. So, I started with the older woman on the bottom bunk.  She panicked a little when I drew my k-bar, but relaxed with visible relief when I only cut her bindings off. Then, she quickly huddled back against the wall as far away from me as possible. So, I let her remove her own gag. I did not think that she would appreciate me using my knife for that anyway.

The younger woman was less fearful of me. She actually looked a little angry when I cut her loose.  As soon as her hands were free, she ripped off her gag and I jumped down.

“Momma? Are you okay?” She asked, sounding pitiful and concerned.

“Rosalita? Yes, are you okay?” Rosalita’s mother asked.

I stood in the center of the room, relaxed, but with my M4 ready on the off chance that they tried to rush me.  With a scowl at me, Rosalita climbed down and joined her mother on the bottom bunk.  I debated just leaving them here, but I could not take the chance.

“Grab your pillows and a blanket or two. We are going to the basement and you two are going to stay in the storage room so that I don’t have to tie you back up or kill you. I really don’t want to have to do that, but I will if you force me to,” I said, feeling and sounding emotionally numb.

Rosalita almost yelled at me, but her mother held her back with a fearful glance at me.  “No! Do what she says.”

I smiled in response and gestured toward the door. “Please, I am a little tired of killing right now.”

They both grabbed their pillows and a blanket. I waited until they were a few paces in front of me before I followed them down to the basement; ready to snap my weapon up for a hip shot if need be and at this range, it would be hard to miss.  I directed them into the storage room and gave the room one last once over for anything they could use as a weapon. I did not spot anything that anyone short of myself could whip together in a pinch. It really is amazing what you can make with simple household cleaning chemicals.

Satisfied that they would not be a threat, I closed and locked the door. Then, I walked back to the pool area as I felt the weight of the world settle onto my now tiny girl shoulders.  Melody’s parents were in danger and they were probably worried sick about their little girl.  They didn’t know what had happened to her or if they were ever going to see her again. Hell, even I didn’t know that.

I automatically began to think of an op plan to rescue them, but I did not like the odds.  Even if, right this second, I rushed into town and pulled them out of their hotel; How would I get them to safety? In addition to his goons, Don Rodriguez probably had a few cops and politicians on his payroll.  The American Embassy was in Mexico City and a long way from here. If I we were exceptionally lucky, we might have an hour or two before The Don realized his pigeons had flown the coup.  That still left him plenty of time to find and kill us enroute to Mexico City.

“Oh fuck...what’s the use?  I killed the bastards that raped Melody. My mission is done...” I said as tears of frustration began to fill my eyes.

The caked on mud started to really irritate me. Especially when the mud around my eyes started to absorb my tears and run down my face. I stripped off the MOLLE vest and set it on the table next to my M4. Once again, I managed to only get a step or two away from my weapons before I felt naked.  I pulled the K-Bar with its sheath off the vest and clipped it back onto my bikini bottoms. Then, I set the M4 on top of the vest next to the edge of the pool, where I could get to it quickly and without exposing myself to fire.

With my Combat OCD satisfied, I tested the water with my toes and reassured that it wasn’t freezing cold; I jumped in feet first. When my head went under the water, I felt an overwhelming sense of panic hit me from out of nowhere.

{“Oh my god! What’s happening?!”} Melody screamed from inside my head as I felt my body thrash around on its own.