Brionn's Takeover
by Alpesco
Brionn runs across some bad characters and changes some plans.


It was cold up here in the mountains. We had come a long way very fast, and we 
were glad to get into the welcoming warmth of the Cairn Maw resort hotel. 
Carter, Brady, Roberg and I were tired and ready for whatever pleasures the 
resort had to offer. We had been driving for a day and a half solid, but now we 
must be beyond pursuit.
Checking in at the pine reception desk, we were soon eating thick steaks in the 
connecting suites our new-found wealth enabled us to afford. Counting the 
money and dividing it between the twin attache cases, we slept well. Perhaps we 
slept too well. It was three in the afternoon when Roberg shook me awake, the 
yellow near-winter sun flooding in through the window. By the time the others 
were roused and dressed it was close to four. I was worried by this unexpected 
alteration to our plans. Carter, always sure of himself, was less so.
"We're safe enough now," he said. "Those fruit-chuckers will still be running 
round in circles three states away. There's nothing at all to connect us with 
this place. That's the benefit of coming up here. We'll stay another night, then 
change automobiles, and drive across the pass in the morning. It'll give us time 
to relax."
We nodded, but I bought a paper in the lobby just to make sure we weren't in it. 
We weren't. Why should we be? What we'd done was not really even a crime.

The hotel called itself a resort. That was an overstatement. It was a place for 
families to come and hike or fish or ski. There were a few bars, a pool table 
and 
swimming pool, some TVs and pin-ball machines, and that was it. It took us an 
hour and a quarter to exhaust the possibilities of the place. Then Carter 
decided he was going to the gym. It was so like Carter. You couldn't keep him 
away from a gym, even when we were on a job. He was 6 feet tall, only an inch or 
so taller than me, and fully three inches shorter than the thinner, apparently 
meaner, Brady, but he never forgot that he had been a contender for the state 
boxing title in his day, even though that was nearly 10 years ago.
With nothing better to do, the rest of us accompanied him down into the 
basement. The gym was not much to look at - a few sets of weights, some 
punchballs and punch bags, and one of those chrome multi-gyms that Carter 
scorned. Only a couple of other hotel guests had found their way down here, two 
sweating businessmen and a young woman. She was striking and unexpected. 
About  6'1" and dark blonde, she wore a white sleeveless tee-shirt and cut-down 
jeans. She was jabbingaway at one of the punchballs.
Carter made a comment about women being good for just one thing - maybe two, if 
there was a vacuum handy - and began to hit one of the two big 100lb punching 
bags that swung from chains in the middle of the room. He was hitting it pretty 
hard, working up a sweat in his singlet and tracksuit bottoms, when the woman 
strolled up and started to hit the other heavy bag.

"You're crowding me, honey." Carter growled as he began to take up more space 
with wider, sweeping swings.
The blonde didn't bat an eyelid. She was obviously used to this sort of 
reaction. "There's plenty of room for two," she said.
"This is for training, not posing, sweetheart."
"I think I can keep up with you, if I put my mind to it," she said.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. And if you think you're so big, why not make a wager of it - which of us 
can keep hitting longest and hardest?"

 "I'll give you a wager," Carter sneered. "How about a thousand?"
"Done," the girl said without hesitation.
Carter was surprised. He'd expected the size of the bet to put her off. "How do 
I know you're good for it?"

"I'm good for it," she said. "These gentlemen here can stand witness." She 
pointed to the other two men in the gym who had already been drawn to within 
earshot of the confrontation. They nodded their agreement.
"It's your funeral," Carter grunted and began to hit the bag heavily once more. 

Without a word the girl started to hit the bag with what seemed every bit as 
much power as the man who weighed at least half again as much as she did. I was 
astonished at the force with which she struck the thick leather bag. Each blow 
crashed in noisily, creasing the leather deeply as it rocked the dead weight 
backward. The two spectators let out whistles of astonishment as the heavy blows 
set the huge bag swinging wildly.  Carter too was clearly surprised, although he 
tried not to show it. This girl was clearly a good deal stronger than she 
looked. 

I waited for her to tire, but she did not. Again her fists ploughed into the 
100lb bag, and again, 5, 10, 15 times, each blow every bit as powerful as the 
first. The huge bag leapt and jolted in response to each fierce blow as she 
began to focus and increase her intensity. Beside her, the apparently more 
powerful Carter seemed to be flagging. He was continuing to hit hard, but the 
frequency of his blows was falling behind the young woman's. He was sweating and 
red faced, perhaps a little breathless. No such reaction seemed to be affecting 
his younger opponent. Amazingly, she seemed perfectly fresh, not a single bead 
of sweat yet visible on her features.

"Tell you what," she said suddenly. "These bags are real old. Let's see who can 
burst one first."
"Burst the bag..!" Carter stopped punching. "Don't make me laugh..."
"Five thousand says I can do it - or are you afraid you'll lose?"
"Five thousand, you say?." Carter growled. "This is going to be the easiest five 
grand I ever made." Taking a deep breath, he began punching once more.

But now the girl's long arms began to pump even faster and, incredibly, even 
harder than before, delivering an awesome series of shattering blows. The noise 
level grew as the unending chain of blows crashed in to the heavy bag. I could 
still hear Carter's intermittent heavy punches, but the most noise was clearly 
coming from the other bag, into which the young woman's compact fists now tore 
remorselessly. Carter tried to up his pace to match hers, but I could see he 
could not keep it up. The girl's face hardened. Now each of her blows seemed 
more powerful than the last. I imagined what it might be like to be on the 
receiving end of that fearsome sequence of blows. Jets of dust began to hiss 
from the bag seams as each punishing blow landed. The bag was jolting and 
swinging wildly as her huge punches smashed into it.

"Now," she whispered beneath her breath. Then her eyes narrowed as she delivered 
three colossal blows, each far harder than anything she had delivered so far. 
The first ploughed so deeply into the bag it seemed it were made of wool, 
lifting it physically by a foot or more. The second rocked it even harder, 
sending it spinning wildly on its chain. I noticed a small tear in the thick 
leather covering, that had begun to release a thin trickle of sand. Her third 
blow was delivered right to the middle of the bag, just above the first tear. It 
ripped in explosively to the dull sound of tearing leather. And the tortured bag 
tore itself apart. Sand cascaded down from the ruins of the punching bag to 
spill across the floor. The girl breathed deeply. She was sweating now, but 
still did not look totally exhausted.

Carter stopped swinging, gasping for air, and stared in bewilderment. "This is 
some kinda rip-off" he gasped. "It's a fake!"
"That's five thousand you owe me, Mr..."  
"..Carter." Roberg said.
Carter said nothing.
"My name's Brionn, she added, turning away. You can find me through the lobby."
The two business men pressed round her, marvelling at her ability to hit so hard 
and in so sustained a manner. "I've always been able to hit really hard," she 
told them, "I knocked my gym teacher out with one punch when I was 13. I've done 
a lot of training in the eight or nine years since then. I figure I'm at least 
twice as strong as I was in those days, most likely a lot more." She flexed her 
arm and the men flipped at the size of the bicep that seemed to pop from 
nowhere. I too was impressed by the hard melon-shaped muscle that towered above 
her long arm.
"That's a hell of a peak," one said.
"Thirteen inches relaxed," she said. "Sixteen and a half, flexed and pumped."
Carter sneered and stormed away up the stairs.


"I'm damned if I'm going to give that little hustler a red cent!" Carter rasped 
upstairs in his room the next morning. Our suites were alone at our request, on 
the otherwise empty top floor of the hotel. "It was a fix, a con. No girl can 
outhit me!"
"Perhaps not," I said. "But we've plenty of money, and don't want any trouble 
that might draw attention to us. What's five thousand to get rid of her?"
"We give her shit!" Carter insisted. "What we do is stick to our plan and move 
out. I'll set off first in the hire car with half the money. You three follow  
on in a couple of hours with the rest. Then we'll dump the old car somewhere in 
the woods."

It was a half hour later, as Brady, Roberg and myself were finishing the packing 
up of our few belongings that the knock came at the door. I opened it to see 
this tall blonde in a blue denim mini and halter top. It took me a second to 
recognise this as Brionn, the girl from the gym.

"Can I come in?" she asked, walking in before I could answer.
"We're busy." Brady shot at her.
"It won't take long." Brionn's voice had a slightly harder edge as her long-
limbed body stepped further into the room. "I've just come for the money your 
friend owes me."
"I told you to get lost!" Brady turned, stretching to his full six foot three to 
stare down at her. "Whatever con you're trying to pull hasn't worked. Now blow, 
before you get into more trouble than you can handle."
"Your friend owes me five thousand," the girl stared straight back at him. "I 
want it now, before you leave."
"Why not give it to her?" I suggested.
"All this tramp is getting from us is a load of pain, if she doesn't get out of 
here." With one hand he shoved her backward out of the door and slammed it 
behind her.

He'd just begun to turn away when, with a shuddering crash the door behind him 
disintegrated. Its lock and twisted brass door handle shot past him across the 
room as Brionn's sandaled foot blasted through it.

"What...?" Brady swung round in fury to see the wreckage of the solid hotel room 
door. "Think you're real tough do you? Well you just made one big mistake. I'll 
chew you up and spit out the pieces! Then we're gonna take you out in the woods 
and leave you somewhere no-one will ever find you." His right fist shot towards 
the girl's narrow waist - an obvious target, bare and unprotected. It was a 
furious blow that I fully expected to finish off the girl completely, doubling 
her up in agony. But to my astonishment and even more to Brady's, his fist met 
her stomach with a heavy smack and stopped dead. She didn't even wince. It was 
as if his fist had struck a brick wall. He drew back his arm in amazement to 
reveal a wall of tensed, defined, stomach muscles, barely marked and totally 
undented.
"Want to try again?" She said with a sneer.
Furious, Brady drew back his arm, intending to hit her in the face, but his 
second blow never fell. Brionn was already out of its path. Ducking down to 
snake her long left arm about the taller man's forward leg, she jerked 
powerfully upward to lift both Brady's feet clean off the floor.
He let out a startled yell of astonishment as his upper body fell heavily back 
to be caught by the young woman's outstretched right arm. Both arms continued 
their upward sweep, lifting Brady's 220lb bodyweight with ease as they swept him 
a full six feet above the floor.

The long powerful arms held him there a minute as he struggled helplessly to 
free himself of their iron grip. Roberg and I stood immobile, mesmerised by the 
sight as the slender Brionn bore the heavier man's weight without any visible 
strain. Her arms were indeed strong, although it did not show until she exerted 
them. Sinuous muscles snaked along their length, her chiselled shoulders and 
swelling biceps prominent now as they restrained her prisoner.
"Let me go, bitch!" Brady yelled.
Brionn shook her head, her face a mask of anger.

"Let's see how far you get into the woods after this!" she said. At once she 
hurled her captive downward with all her force. Dropping to her left knee, she 
left her right outstretched to meet his plummeting body, which crashed heavily 
into it.
Brady screamed as his body broke across her implacable knee, folding across it 
like a cardboard cut-out. There was a horrific crump and the dull cracking of 
bones.
Brionn stood slowly, rolling the broken body from her knee to the carpeted 
floor. Brady tried to move, but moaned in anguish and fell back. He was sobbing 
with the pain like a baby.

Appalled by what she had just done, I aimed a hard punch at the girl's head, but 
she was incredibly fast. She seemed to sense my blow coming, and spun out of its 
way. There was a blur from where her right hand had been, and before I could 
even think about dodging the blow, her fist had exploded into the side of my 
face.
I saw lights. I must have blacked out for a second, because the next thing I 
remember was hitting the ground really hard. I was astonished at the sheer power 
of the blow. Sure, she was six feet tall, but I've had six foot men hit me with 
barely half that power. I couldn't remember anyone hitting me that hard. I tried 
to get up, but my body just wouldn't obey my command. At last I managed to 
struggle to my knees, but when I tried to stand, the room began to spin and I 
toppled over. I could hardly believe that one single punch had almost completely 
totalled me. For a moment I thought she must have used a lead weight or 
something, but through my fast-closing left eye, I saw only her bare fists 
tightly clenched. The wide shoulders which had powered that fearsome blow looked 
deceptively soft and inoffensive in the morning sunlight from the window.

Now only the 5'8" Roberg was left. He backed off a pace, and from nowhere 
produced a gun that I never guessed he owned. "Stay back!" he called to his 
lanky antagonist, waving the weapon wildly.

At first she looked concerned. Then, as Roberg produced a cartridge and began to 
fumble with the base of the weapon, it became clear that the gun was not loaded. 
She advanced on him like some lean, lanky predator. He backed away, desperately 
trying to keep out of range of her long, powerful limbs. He knew he was no match 
for her in either skill or strength. He bumped into one of the room's veneered 
closets. Quickly he backed inside, pulling the door shut behind him, as he 
fumbled to load his weapon. Brionn tested the chipboard door with her hand, and 
a thin smile passed briefly across her face.

"Drop the gun and come out," she ordered.
"No, bitch!" Roberg was more confident now. "I'm going to frag you!"
The young woman's fist drew slowly back, seeming to measure the distance to the 
door. Her eyes narrowed for an instant in concentration.

Then her fist launched suddenly forward, smashing into the chipwood door - and 
crashing right through it! There was a startled cry of shock and pain from 
inside as the devastating blow reached its target. Drawing her fist back through 
the jagged hole she had just made, she drove it again into the fragile door, but 
this time a foot and a half lower down. Again her fist passed straight through 
the door as if it were made of pasteboard. There was a muffled groan from 
within. Her third blow was aimed directly between the first two holes. The crash 
echoed about the hotel room as the whole door fell apart. She stepped back to 
allow the unconscious form of Roberg to spill out onto the floor.

I was back on my feet by now, the thought of what Carter would say if I allowed 
this one girl to defeat all three of us, filling me with determination. I kicked 
out at her desperately, but again she dodged the blow easily, and in the same 
heartbeat her right fist smashed brutally into my stomach, her long arm crossing 
the space between us in a millisecond. The crushing power of her blow still 
astonished me. The strength of that long, powerful arm drove my whole body back 
into the rear wall. That did not save me from her left, which crashed into my 
chest with the same awesome force, driving all the air from my body. Then came 
the coup-de-grace. Her right fist exploded into the base of my chest. There was 
a deep detonation of intense pain, as two of my ribs gave way before it, and the 
fist seemed to keep on going, deep into my body.

The pain was indescribable. I felt as if I were going to die. But I didn't. The 
pain just went on and on. When my eyes cleared, Brionn was standing in front of 
me, fists clenched, ready strike again if necessary. Now I was really 
frightened. She was breathing deeply but not breathlessly. My two confederates 
were incapable of helping me. She could hit me with the same bone-shattering, 
force again and again if she felt like it. I knew I couldn't take any more, and 
I could do nothing to stop her.
"Please don't hit me again," I begged, betraying tears springing to my eyes. 
"I'm sorry. I'm really sorry."
She seemed to think for a moment, then, mercifully, unclenched her so-powerful 
fists. "So you should be," she said softly. "Now where's Carter?"
I told her.

"And what's in that case?" she asked Brady, who was still moaning quietly on the 
floor.
"Our money," he hissed weakly.
Picking up the attache case, she sat and opened it on the bed, whistling as she 
saw the crisp bundles of bills. "Where is it from?" she asked.
"A deal," he wheezed painfully. "Look, lady, I need a doctor. I think you've 
broken half my ribs."
"You'll see a doctor soon enough - a prison doctor."

"The money's legit." Roberg stumbled shakily to his feet in front of her. "We're 
businessmen. Now close the case. It's private property."

Brionn looked across at him sharply. "Are you telling me what to do?"
Streaks of blood still ran down the smaller man's face from where the closet 
door had imploded on him. There was a huge ugly bruise where her fist had struck 
home, his lip was cut and swollen and his whole face looked misshapen. He shook 
his head. "No ma'am. Now can I go and clean myself up?"
Brionn nodded towards the washbasin and continued to search through the case, at 
last producing some papers, which she read. "This money is wages - for contract 
labor -and none of it has been paid out." She riffled through the twenties. 
"You're on the run with money stolen from penniless farmworkers."

"Are you going to hand us in?" I asked. In our current state all three of us 
together would have given her no trouble whatsoever to deal with. We were all 
absolutely in her power.
"The money's going back," she said. "I'll make up my mind about the rest when 
I've seen Carter. Now get up and move. We're going to make that rendezvous. I'll 
walk behind you till we get to the car."

Roberg and I struggled to our feet. I didn't look too bad, Roberg's face was 
still a mess despite his attempts to clean it up. Worst of all was Brady. He 
needed the assistance of both of us to rise, and was clearly in enormous pain.
"He's going nowhere," Brionn admitted. "I used a harsh move on him, perhaps a 
bit too harsh. But I was outnumbered, and I was really angry." She shook her 
head. "We'll have to leave him. I'll send the police once we're out of here."
Doing as we were told, we reached the car by a side exit. Brionn sat behind me 
and Roberg. "Drive," she ordered.

Roberg drove us higher into the mountains towards the gap. He turned up a narrow 
side-trail, as Carter had directed. After a bumpy few minutes we came to the 
clearing in the trees where the new hire car was parked. "Get out," Brionn 
ordered. We did so. She followed.

"What the hell's she doing here?" Carter shouted, striding up from the edge of 
the clearing. 
"She made... I mean, she.." Roberg stumbled then fell silent.
Carter looked at our bruised and battered features with disbelief, transferring 
his gaze to the lithe, unmarked, mini-skirted girl who accompanied us as he took 
in the situation.
"Don't tell me you let this one little girl beat up on all three of you?" He was 
exasperated. "You pathetic bunch of faggots!"
"I'm here for the rest of the money you stole," Brionn began.
"Don't mess with me, baby." Carter said. "You may have whipped these wusses with 
that Hong Kong Fooey of yours, or whatever it is, but I'm a trained fighter, 
nearly won the state title in four states."

"That may impress your friends here," Brionn said. "Doesn't impress me one bit. 
I'm having that money one way or the other."
"Okay then," Carter nodded, "Prepare to be whipped." He took a boxing stance and 
called to us, "Roberg, Williams, stand by to see she doesn't run off."
Brionn turned to the two of us. "Get in the car," she said.
Both of us got in the car.
"Faggots!" Carter roared. He was six feet tall, and must have weighed 250 pounds 
of solid muscle to the girl's 160, but I was no longer prepared to bet on him 
winning this battle.

He advanced on Brionn, ducking and feinting to confuse her. The instant he was 
in range, her right foot struck out to catch him hard in the ribs. He groaned in 
pain, reeling backwards.
"I didn't say I was going to box with you," Brionn said, her long leg poised to 
strike out again. "I'm just going to give you the biggest whipping you ever 
had."
The jibe worked, enraging Carter enough to bring him in range of her powerful 
kick once more.
The fight did not last long. Brionn got in a few more debilitating kicks to the 
larger man's head and midsection. Her speed and long reach enabled her to land 
jabs to his face and body almost at will without taking a blow in return, and 
Brionn's jabs were as hard and destructive as many men's best punches. Each blow 
that landed either marked or drew blood, the fourth and fifth broke Carter's 
nose and cheekbone. He came at her hard then, but she just backed off, then came 
back with more of those punishing jabs. The muscles in her shoulder, arms and 
bare midriff coiling and rippling like snakes as she moved, hitting where she 
chose. Her long arms struck with the speed and accuracy of rattlesnakes as she 
closed an eye, split a lip or snapped a collarbone in turn until he was too 
drained to resist. 
Only then did she begin to unleash her really big punches, hitting with the full 
force of her long, powerful arms. Just three of those horrific blows had been 
enough to reduce me to a beaten man, and I'm no lightweight. Carter's powerful 
body took eight, nine, ten or more, but each huge blow left that body less 
powerful, less capable of resistance. Just as with the punching bag in the gym, 
her blows seemed only to grow in force as this tall, beautiful girl unleashed an 
amazing display of raw destructive power. 
"Do you think the bag was a fake now?" Brionn asked.
"Sure." Carter spat between swollen lips. 
Brionn's eyes narrowed, and she delivered three more colossal blows. I heard a 
groan of pain and the crack of breaking ribs as the first landed. The second hit 
the base of his shoulder with a savage crack of bone. Her last tore deep into 
his chest, smashing his breastbone. Finally Carter slumped to his knees. 
"I give." He muttered. "No more. Please!"
Brionn drew a breath and turned away. "Wise decision. I was just getting into 
the 'zone'."
An hour later she made a call to the police from a roadside café, telling them 
where Carter, Brady, Roberg and the money were to be found. Me, she decided to 
let go. Perhaps it was because I didn't go along with Brady when she first burst 
into our room. She dropped me off in the next town, and just drove away.