81, Brawl

“I’m hornier than a unicorn at a rainbow orgy!”  Sergeant Schuman stood over a three hundred pound Polynesian thug who lay crumpled under at her feet, his nose bleeding and his ribs broken.  The tiny white, blonde woman had fists like stone with muscle fibers that contracted at double the speed of a normal human.  Her bone density was that of hardened steel, and combined with a mental psychology of a natural born fighter, these attributes made her the most efficient fighter humanity would ever know.  With her fists clenched tightly, she lifted her head towards the casino ceiling and roared like a lioness with her very feminine, beautiful voice.

“More bogeys on your six, Sarge!”  The voice of Yen Roar filled her ear piece.  Roar’s heart was beating furiously as she tried to keep an eye on several different computer monitors at once.  She was sitting in the hotel penthouse suite next to General Rice, and the two women were in complete control of the casino security footage system.  “Make that ten bogeys!  Shit!”

The one hundred thirty pound skinny woman spun around like a dreidel on Hannukah and instinctively threw an uppercut.  Schuman’s soul was electrified as her fist connected with a tall Mexican thug who was also dressed in a three piece suit.  He’d lifted his arms in an attempt to block her punch, but being a mere mortal, he was too slow.  The American military goddess connected with the force of a two ton battering ram.  The man’s jaw broke as his brain instantly went offline.  Schuman had side stepped him and lunged for her next opponent before the unconscious man had even hit the floor.

The sound of M80 fireworks were still going off in various parts of the posh Mexican casino.  The screams of the other gamblers and patrons was deafening.  Special agents Trent Murdock and Angelica Schuman were engaged in an old school brawl with guards and security thugs, all of whom were trying to apprehend Murdock.

Special agent Jack Miller was normally a sniper for most missions because being unique like Schuman, he was elite amongst humanity when it came to long distance shooting.  He was also a great fighter and grappler.  For this mission he had a few toys to engage the thugs in hand to hand combat.  He was crouched down in a pouncing position with a small black device that looked like a remote control.  “Come on, fuckers!” he yelled at a group of four security guards that were running at him.  “Whatcha got, bitches?!”

The pandemonium was insane.  The vast majority of the casino patrons were scrambling for the exits while opportunistic assholes grabbed chips off of random blackjack and craps tables.  One greedy man ran between Miller and his foes.  The greedy patron had his shirt full of plastic chips as Miller clicked a button on his hand held device.  The running man fell to the floor face first, twitching and writhing in pain.  “Dammit!” Miller yelled to himself.  “That was meant for the big guy!”

As the greedy tourist twitched on the casino floor, a very large, tall security guard stepped over him and lunged for Miller.  Still crouched, the American did a double roll to his left and clicked the button on his device again.  Before the large guard could give chase, he too was on the ground twitching.  “There ya go, fatty!” Miller cried out with glee.

Miller turned around to see several guards on the ground in front of Murdock, all of them unconscious and not moving.  There were a few that were approaching him with weapons drawn and pointing their hand guns right at Murdock’s head.  Miller pulled out another gadget and pointed it at the guards, then clicked a button.  Instantly the guards all dropped their guns and opened their mouths in silent screams, too much in pain to vocalize their discomfort.  They all doubled over in pain and fell to the floor while holding their hand that had just been holding the gun.  “Science!” Miller yelled with great joy.

Murdock looked over at Miller and with a curious smile he asked, “What in the fuck did you just say?”

The guards were recouping their composure as Miller held up the device to show Murdock.  “Static charge!  If you’re holding metal, you’re gonna get shocked!”  With a shit eating grin he turned back towards the remaining guards who were now charging at him.  In one swift movement, he’d discharged his other device and watched the three remaining advancing guards drop in pain.  “Electricity for the win!” he yelled in delight.

“Sarge, to your right!” Murdock yelled.

Schuman didn’t even look.  She simply threw a hard left handed outside hook as she spun to her right.  It was like she had eyes in the back of her head.  She perfectly connected with the cheek of another thug in a suit who had lunged at her and was just putting his hands on her.  The man crumpled as the sound of firecrackers finally subsided in the casino.

In awe of her power and prowess, Murdock could only yell, “Meet you at the buffet!”

“Roger!” Schuman responded enthusiastically.  The two agents made a run for the large buffet area as Miller static shocked another guard in the hand who’d been holding a gun just moments before.  “I gotta get me one of those!” Schuman yelled.  Her face hurt from smiling.

As the two agents reached the buffet, they turned around to see thugs and guards approaching at full speed.  “I’m at six!  How many for you?” Murdock asked.

Knowing that he was asking about how many men she’d knocked out, she responded, “Eleven!  I’m hoping for fifty!”

Trying to make a joke about how many partners she’d slept with, Murdock yelled, “Way to whore it up!”

“You know I love the big ones!” Schuman yelled back as she ran behind a salad bar set up.  Turning around quickly, the fight was back on.  A second later another man was crumbled unconscious at her feet.  “Twelve!” she said, correcting her number from just moments before as Miller ran to join them.

Yen Roar was watching the chaos on her computer screens and couldn’t keep track of it all.  Her heart was racing and her eyes watered heavily since she hadn’t blinked for several minutes.  She realized her body was tense and she tried to take a deep breath, but her mind was in full panic mode.  “Rice!  What do we do?” she asked frantically to her boss sitting next to her.

“Watch the fecal festivities,” General Rice replied calmly in her trademark “I give up” tone.

“What?” Roar asked in complete panicked confusion.

“The fecal festivities,” she said as she lifted a cup of luke warm coffee to her grateful lips.  She looked away from her computer screens to see Roar’s face twisted up in knots.  Rice felt a little bad for Roar as she clarified, “Shit show, Yen.  Watch the shit show.”

Roar was freaked out and all she could mutter was, “Huh?”

“Fecal festivity is another way to say shit show, honey.”  Rice waited for a second, then added, “Yes, it’s dumb as fuck.  That’s the point.”  Rice could see that Roar was having difficulty processing the moment, so she reassuringly said, “There’s not damn thing we can do until this is over.”

The two women watched on their computer screens as Sergeant Schuman picked up a salad bowl full of chopped Romaine lettuce and threw it at an approaching security guard.  It barely slowed the man down.  Roar then watched the man lift his arms to protect his face as a container of ranch dressing flew at him.  Schuman was a tiny woman but she did not throw like a girl.  The ranch dressing baptized the man and momentarily stopped his advance.  By the time he’d recovered from being covered in salad dressing, Schuman had side kicked the man in the ribs with the force of a race horse.  The man flew backwards twenty feet and hit the wall so hard that it cracked the sheet rock and left the outline of his human body.  “Thirteen!” Roar heard Schuman yell through her ear piece.

Out of nowhere, special agent Death came charging into the buffet.  She was clearly having fun.  “Y’all are having a food fight and you didn’t invite me?” she yelled happily.

Ever the sarcastic one, Murdock replied, “We were afraid you’d eat all the bacon!”

“You know me too well!” Death laughed in reply as she pulled out a device that looked like a car antenna.

Murdock picked up a large stainless steel tub of fried chicken from the buffet line and threw the whole thing at two approaching guards.  It hit the first one on his outstretched arms with a loud “thud” but barely slowed the man down.  Murdock picked up the next tub that was full of sliced ham and did the same thing with the same result.  A second later the guard was within punching distance.  As he lunged for the American, Death had reached out with the skinny piece of metal.  The man dropped unconscious after a shocking sound.

“What is that thing?” Murdock asked?

Death grinned.  “My Harry Potter wand!”

“I thought that’s what you called your vibrator!” Murdock joked as he threw another stainless steel tub full of sauce at another advancing guard.

“John Wayne is the name of my vibrator, you dumbass!” Death retorted as she shocked another approaching guard with the skinny device.

“That’s the name of my vibrator too!” Murdock joked back as he watched Death duck down and disappear from the fight.

Food was all over the floors and walls as the unconscious bodies of guards and casino security thugs were piling up.  Two guards cautiously approached Murdock and tried to spread out.  Murdock kept grabbing big tubs of food and heaved them at the men.  They easily swatted down the tubs but the mess it created was extreme.  Murdock grabbed a stainless steel napkin dispenser and threw it at one of the guards like he was pitching a baseball in the world series.  The napkin dispenser hit the guard in the forehead and knocked him backwards.

The second guard didn’t slow down and was about to be on top of Murdock when suddenly a loud “clang!” reverberated through the area.  The man went down to reveal agent Death behind him.  She’d used a stainless steel tub full of corn to hit the man in the head while making an incredible mess in the process.

“Where’s McVandalay and Doc?” Death asked calmly as she turned to look for more thugs.

“No clue about McVandalay, but I’m guessing Doc is drinking somewhere,” Murdock answered honestly.

“Fucking Doc,” Death laughed as she picked up another tub of mixed veggies.

Despite over thirty guards having been knocked out or neutralized, it seemed there was a never ending stream of thugs in suits that were in pursuit of the Americans.  Schuman was ready to stand her ground and fight it out as Miller joined them.  Her competitive nature made her ask, “How many?”

Jack Miller had a quick wit.  “You gotta buy me several drinks before I’ll tell you how many women I’ve slept with, Sarge!”  His shit eating grin showed how highly he thought of his own joke.

Schuman stepped up and slapped him at the exact time more M80 fireworks detonated and filled the air with their symphony of chaos.  If it weren’t for the gunshot sounding fireworks blowing up and reverberating all over the casino, the slap would have resonated in the whole room.  For her, it was a light slap, but for him, it was as if he’d been hit by a dinner plate.  “How many?!” she demanded as her friend grabbed his face in pain.

“Fuck!” Miller yelled as his smile disappeared.  “That fucking hurt!”  Being slapped by Schuman, even lightly, hurt more than being punched by a grown man.  “What the fuck is wrong with you?” he yelled at his friend.

Schuman’s mouth watered for more fighting.  “I’m horny,” she replied honestly.  “I’m sorry,” she said just as honestly, then she turned away.  Her excitement grew when she saw a few thugs running at her full speed.  She ran at them and with her laser fast instincts and perfect timing, both men were unconscious at her feet within a couple of seconds.  Schuman yelled back at her friends, “Fifteen!”

Miller turned to Murdock and both men nodded in understanding.  Team Whiskey was comprised of super human freaks, but Schuman was the craziest of the lot.

Murdock shrugged and said, “I’m glad she’s on our side.”

Miller rubbed his face from where he’d been slapped and asked, “Yeah, but is she, though?”  His cheek throbbed.

“Good question,” Murdock answered.  The lull in action made the agents take stock of the carnage.  A dozen men lay unconscious, slumped in various places around the buffet area while random food was strewn about on the walls and floor.  “Now what?” Murdock asked?

The universe answered his question.  Three very large muscular Mexican men approached the Americans at a normal walking pace.  They were wearing tight fitting grey t-shirts and long black slacks.  All of them had pock marked faces, perfectly trimmed mustaches and short, perfectly cut and cropped Mexican military hair cuts.  They weren’t identical, but they could’ve been triplets.  Two of them walked behind the leader, all of them looking mean as fuck and very determined to do some carnage on the Americans.  Miller took one look at them and his heart dropped into his stomach.  “Shit.”

Murdock had good instincts when it came to danger, and every cell of his body was telling him that these three thugs were better fighters than Schuman.  “Oh no,” is all he could muster to say.

Schuman was a god damn lunatic psychopath who felt no fear.  “Yes,” she whispered to herself hungrily with a big grin.

“Sarge!” Murdock yelled.  “They’re not normal!”  Murdock’s instincts were screaming to run but Schuman was too laser focused on fighting.  “This is no good!” Murdock hollered as he looked around for a place to run.

“Dibs!” Schuman said as she walked out to meet them.

The fight was epic before it had even started.

The lead thug cracked his neck from side to side as he nodded to his two buddies, instructing them to pursue the three Americans in the buffet line.  They nodded in response and gave a wide berth to him and Schuman.  The three thugs had mean expressions on their faces while Schuman’s eyes were huge and a big smile betrayed her excitement.

“Sarge!” Murdock yelled.  “We gotta run!  This is not good!”

The sergeant couldn’t hear anything but the sound of her own heartbeat.  Her senses sharpened.  Time slowed down as her instincts honed in on the lone thug in front of her.  Space seemed to curve around him, as if he were the only thing in the universe that had ever mattered.  Schuman knew, this thug was a superhuman freak like her.

The fight was on.

Murdock’s instincts knew that these thugs were bad mother fuckers and since he had no weapon to shoot them, running was the only survival option.  “Suit yourself, you crazy bitch!” Murdock yelled as he ran for a door that lead to the back kitchen.

“This way!”  Agent Death was trying to get Murdock’s and Miller’s attention but it was too late.  Murdock dove into the kitchen followed by Miller as one of the thugs walked calmly to follow them.  It was unnerving watching the bad guys walking the whole time in solid gangster fashion.  “You’re on your own!” Death yelled as she took off down the burgundy wine colored casino hallway away from the noisy slot machines and she took note that the firecracker noises had stopped again.  The third thug followed her while walking quickly but never jogging or running.

The casino was mostly empty.  The employees and patrons who remained were all cowering behind things, poking their heads out to take stock of the situation.  The firecrackers had sounded like machine gun fire and scared everyone into running or hiding.  As the normal sounds of beeping machines filled the air, the panic was subsiding.  The peace would be short lived.

More M80’s started going off in two different parts of the casino and the rat a tat tat sound reverberated throughout the large open areas.  The sound was deafening over the beeps and chirps of the slot machines.  Screams from patrons resumed and fear returned to the sheeple.

Agent Death jogged quickly down the deserted hallway and looked for a place to hide or escape.  A tall, good looking white man in a suit stepped out of the mens restroom thirty yards in front of her and she recognized him.  It was special agent Bradley McVandalay.  He was rubbing his hands together and running his fingers back and forth in an attempt to remove water from them.  He looked up and saw agent Death jogging towards him.  “They’re out of paper towels in there.”  He shook his head in disgust.  “Cheap fuckers.”

“Bradley!” Death said with a slight pant.  “Help!”

McVandalay looked down the hallway to see the tall Mexican thug approaching.  The man’s glistening muscles radiated through his skin tight grey shirt, and the determined scowl he had showed that he meant business.  “Well fuck, this aint good,” McVandalay muttered.

“What do we do?” Death asked.

“We do what we came here to do.”  McVandalay carefully started taking off his suit jacket as he said, “We make a mess.”

Both agents had instincts like Spiderman and the alarm signals in their heads were going off.  This thug was a special human like them, they just knew it.  He was a super human fighter and he would not go down easily, if at all.  Death and McVandalay were both hardened killers of bad men, and although neither of them had planned on killing anyone in this casino, they both knew that this thug would fight until his dying breath.  It was gonna get messy.

“Fuck!” Death said as she dove into a gift shop looking for anything she could use to fight.

McVandalay tossed his suit jacked against the wall by the bathroom door and rolled his arms in their sockets as if he were a swimmer warming up for a race.  “If you bleed on me, I’m gonna be really pissed,” he said to the thug who kept walking in his direction.

Meanwhile, special agents Murdock and Miller were in the kitchen.  The place had been abandoned during the gunfire sounds and the cooks had left burners on, so despite the hood vents all being on high, the smell of burning meat on the grills filled the area.  Both agents had spread out while grabbing large skillets to use as weapons.

The thug pursuing them kept walking at a uniform unbroken pace.  Miller found himself backed up against a stainless steel prep table covered in knives and heads of lettuce while Murdock stood his ground holding a large iron skillet while standing next to a lobster tank full of live, large crustaceans.  When the thug was about ten feet away from Murdock, he stopped walking.  Never taking his eyes off of Murdock, he smiled a huge smile.

Fear went through Murdock’s body.  “Fuck,” is all he could manage to mutter.

In the distance, the remaining members of Team Whiskey planted stink bombs in random places as Yen Roar clicked a button on her keyboard setting off a fire alarm at deafening volume while patrons and scared employees alike all evacuated the casino in frantic fashion into the cool Mexican autumn weather.