THE BUSINESS END
by Legion



They called him "Felix The Cat," - and as much as he hated that nickname the
first dozen times he'd heard it... as many heads as he'd cracked, as many lips
as he'd split, or noses he'd busted over it... he was finally realizing,
tonight, that it really was him.

He first noticed it when, as he stepped out of The Hanged Woman - his favorite
little dive down here on the waterfront - he caught himself sniffing the air
like a... well, like a cat. It was something he always did, just habit, just
another way of taking in the world around him; as his good eye took in the
lights of the city stretching away up the into the mountainous foothills, as
his ears took in the clang of buoys out in the bay, or the hushed but heated
conversations of pimps, prostitutes, pushers and peckerwoods from Uptown...
his nose took in the scent of saltwater, seaweed, fish, filth, and... and
expensive perfume.

Now that was a new one down here at The Hanged Woman. Perfume, nothing new in
that, but expensive perfume? The Woman got a lot of every type of human refuse
you could think of from the docks area. From the natural influx of dock
workers, cheap rummy fishing-charter captains, to real fishermen still plying
the genuine trade, to streetwalkers looking to make a fast Jackson or two, to
wharf-rats, petty thieves, pickpockets, pirates - yeah, the world still had
more than a battalion of those jolly boys and girls - and other assorted
animals, Felix Arvainitis, a.k.a. Felix The Greek, a.k.a. Felix The Cat, had
seen, heard and smelled them all.

But not expensive. Not down here.

This was Chanel, this was money, and it didn't belong in the dark, misty
sodium-vapor chill of the Docks. "Well," Felix muttered to himself as he
tugged his Captain's hat down low over the mismatch of one smoldering, dark
eye and one worn black leather eyepatch, and aimed himself for his cabin back
aboard The Aegis, his ancient, cluttered catamaran, "Someone is surely looking
to buy a fast education tonight, hey?" he chuckled under his breath. "I'd love
to play Professor, my secret sweetheart, but - "

That's when something tall and curvy stumbled into him, all legs and breasts
and hair and perfume in the dark, and let out a little scream. He barely had
time to get a look at her before she was clicking away fast on high heels, but
what he saw was an eyeful - long waves of red hair cascaded down a small back
above wide hips, a full, round, hard ass that swayed deliciously as she moved.
Long, seriously powerful-looking thighs and calves under black nylon... and
suddenly giving an education was sitting in an entirely different context. A
woman like that... good God! Three things ran rapidly through Felix's mind:

First, she was built to fuck. Just built for it, he knew that without a doubt,
and he hadn't even seen her tits.

Second, she was looking for a date. If she wasn't, she wouldn't be dressed
like that. Not down here.

Third... she was good. She'd have to be, if she bought that sweet stuff that
still tickled at the back of Felix's finely honed nose. And if she hadn't
bought it? If she'd stolen it from a fancy store uptown? Well, then, she might
be useful in more ways than one.

But first things first, Felix thought - start as a customer, end up the boss.
He started after the retreating figure, reaching for his wallet to see how
many $20s he could peel off before he'd end up digging into his dock
utilities...

His hand met nothing but the inside of his pocket. A wave of electricity
slammed through his arms and legs, and a ball of it lit up in his guts as
sudden shame and fury reddened his face - it took literally every ounce of
self-control he had to keep his mouth shut, knowing that if he shouted, swore
like he wanted to, the bitch would only move faster.

Instead, he broke into a run - and here was a thing about Felix the Cat:
Although no one down here had figured out how he could manage this in those
big, black, steel-toed boots that had ruined so many marks' nights, he could
haul ass in those boots... and he could do it quietly.

"Easy money," Misty laughed under her breath as she turned the corner from the
dark, garbage-strewn alleyway to see her Harley was still back here, just
where she'd left it nestled comfortably between the back wall of this shitty
little hole-in-the-wall nightclub and an empty dumpster. "Still can't believe
that ugly little fireplug didn't see it coming... or that he was wearing my
hat! Jesus!" Snickering to herself, the gorgeous six foot redheaded thief
climbed aboard the gleaming black Fat Boy -

And jumped backward off the seat a split-second before it slammed into the
dumpster, then slid down to the pavement. "You got somethin' belongs to me,
bitch." A gravelly voice spoke up out of the darkness. "You're going to want
to hand it over. Right now." Black and white stripes seemed to glow in the dim
light before Felix stepped out of the shadows, one black-gloved hand
outstretched.

"Mother fucker!" the big redhead screamed, and leaped over the fallen
motorcycle. Felix saw her coming, but froze - just for an instant - as the
juxtaposition of her beauty, size and speed simply didn't reconcile in his
mind, bypassed his reflex for evasion or attack.

Fortunately for him, the ground back here in this filthy alley was slick,
strewn with refuse, and Misty's leap of rage carried more passion than
forethought. That was all that stopped her stiletto-heeled boot from shredding
his trachea or popping his one good eyeball. Instead, it glanced off his
cheek, sending him staggering backward until he slammed into the greasy stone
wall behind him, the impact cracking white light across his vision.

More fortunate for him still was that stiletto heels weren't designed for
back-alley brawls, such as this was rapidly becoming - Misty herself
staggered, fighting both her own forward momentum and the threat of falling.
For an instant, her fury gave way to fear.

Felix saw her struggling to keep her balance, and knew that this would be his
one chance to end the fight right now - before she could either run or call
for help. Planting his short but powerfully muscled arms behind him, he
launched himself off the wall and flew at her, drawing a jackhammer fist back
and letting it fly, burying it in her side to send her sprawling across the
wet pavement, wheezing in agony as she fought to collect her legs under her as
well as her breath.

Rather than slowing to appreciate his handiwork - as an amateur would surely
have done - he continued his forward rush, intending to pin and subdue her -
but her reflexes were as good as his own, and as he dropped toward her
shoulders, her long, powerful legs folded up and in, found his solar plexus as
if they'd been laser-guided. She braced her perfectly manicured hands on the
damp, dirty pavement and rolled her entire lower body along with his forward
momentum -- and with a fluid, powerful thrust, shot her feet directly upward
into his abdomen, launching him beyond her.

"Ohhhh... shiiiiiiiiiiit!!!" she heard him howl, before he crashed into
something out of her view. She rapidly rolled back to her feet - only to fall
to her knees again as one overstressed heel snapped loudly.

"Fuck!" she swore under her breath, kicking the expensive, ruined shoe off her
foot and then using that foot to slap it away amongst the other detritus back
here. Its twin followed shortly after. Now her feet were cold, wet and gritty
in the black nylon stockings she wore - and that, for some reason, infuriated
her even more than the disrespect he'd shown her scoot had. "I am gonna
fucking kill you, you little prick!" she shrieked.

At this, the back door to the seedy nightclub crept open, and a pair of eyes
in a craggy, bald-headed male face peered quizzically out at the gorgeous
wild-woman.

"What?!" she roared. "You want some, Mr. Clean?! Huh?!"

The door slammed shut again; rapid, heavy footsteps receded, unseen. Mr.
Clean, it seemed, clearly did not want Some.

"That's right!" Misty shouted at the closed door. "You better - "

Her thought was interrupted as Felix bulldogged her with brute force, sending
them both skidding across the pavement again before hammering her midsection
with three rapid-fire blows, the third sounding a muffled, wet crack that
elicited a choked whimper from the amazon. "You're gonna pay for that, you
pint-size piece of shit!" she hissed, before Felix's beefy forearm pressed
down and in across her throat, his other arm moving to pin her right bicep to
the pavement.

His eye was caught by the firm, round upper curve of her mountainous breasts
as they swelled against his collarbone. Oh, yeah, he was gonna fuck this bitch
good, you bet your ass... he licked his lips in anticipation of this treat.

Misty caught this... and this was her favorite game. She'd played this game
with every man unlucky enough to have something she wanted. Honeytrap. She
knew all too well what her body could do to any man, knew how it could turn
their cocks to stone, their brains to soup... and their bodies into broken
bags of bones and blood and dying meat.

She moaned, low in her throat, and thrust her breasts up into him, rolling her
eyes back up into her head, fluttering her eyelids in an expert simulation of
sexual arousal so convincing that Felix - who had been a first-hand witness to
literally dozens of imitations and should otherwise have never bought it for a
second - was for that moment in time thoroughly taken in.

She bucked her hips under him slightly, ground her crotch lightly against him,
and watched as his own eyes began to lose focus. Gathering his legs up around
him, she pressed her knees into his sides - to him it was only a light caress,
but to her... it was bracketing the target. She moaned a little louder,
modulating the pitch perfectly to give it a sound of insistence, and wiggled
and bucked her hips under him again, grinding herself up into him harder. Then
she closed the trap.

Felix felt her long, heavily-muscled thighs rise around him, snuggling into
his sides, rising further still - and cursed himself for being so fucking
stupid as to let it happen only a fraction of a second before she closed her
ankles behind him and began to crush his torso, driving the breath from his
lungs in a long, tortured hiss.

"I think you broke one of my ribs, you little one-eyed faggot." She snarled up
at him, though her own breath was still throttled by his heavy forearm
pressing into her throat. She continued anyway, despite the distorted quality
of her voice. "I think I fuckin' owe you for that!" The gigantic muscles of
her adductors, quads, hamstrings and glutes bulged and rippled with obscene
power, her 27 inch thighs devouring and chewing at his sides.

Felix had never been in such pain before - the sensation was beyond anything
he could even recognize as pain in the normal sense, approaching the level of
pure animal shock. He had never, ever in his life, screamed - but he would
have now... except that he couldn't. There was simply nothing left in his
lungs to make a sound with. His ribs were so compressed that he could actually
feel them pressing into his lungs and heart, and barely heard it when the
flame-haired giantess gasped in genuine arousal at the sensation of his heart
beating against her crotch.

The snap of a rib sounded like a shotgun blast in his own ears, followed by a
second and then a third almost too quickly to tell the sounds apart. The world
began to fuzz out and fade - until the walls of hot, nylon-clad muscle
encasing his body suddenly opened, allowing his ribs to spring back out to
their normal places, forcing a choked howl from him.

Felix felt her roll to the side, dumping him unceremoniously on his back on
the rough pavement, with the smell of her perfume overpowering his nose, and
now she straddled his waist under her massive, muscular thighs and full,
powerful ass.

"Oh, that would have been so satisfying..." she said wistfully, reaching
behind her back. "But this will be even better. I told you I'm gonna kill you
- but I want you awake when you die." She brought her hand back around, let
the light from the night club play off the blade of a thin, razor-sharp
stiletto. "I want to see the expression on your face after I slit your fucking
throat like the pig you are."

She brought the blade down, intending to finish him then and there - but
although her legs were absolutely lethal, her upper-body strength was no match
for Felix's. With fear and instinct guiding him, and despite the searing pain
that burned in his chest at the move - he reached out and caught her wrist in
an iron grip, digging his fingers in as best he could.

That's when he caught sight of her tattoo - and she of his. And they both
began to laugh - quietly, timidly, because laughing was as exercise in torment
- but laughing nonetheless.

"Stud Tamer, huh?" Felix chuckled. "Well, you can... Submit... Bitch!" Now it
was time to show her his own squeezing power, crushing her wrist in an awesome
grip as he shoved her own arm back toward her, the blade drawing inexorably
closer to her own throat until her free hand lashed out, raking long,
talon-sharp nails across his cheek and drawing surgically precise lines that
welled red.

He hadn't wanted to hit her in the face - knowing that if he did, she wouldn't
fetch as high a price - but the instinct for retaliation filled him with blind
rage, and before he had thought twice, his right arm wrenched her wrist down
and away, clearing a path for a left hook that cracked across her cheek,
snapping her head back before his right hand dropped her limp knife hand and
slammed into her chin in a brutal right cross that knocked her clean off him.

He rose unsteadily to his feet. She saw him, scrambled for the stiletto - but
his boot slammed down on it, anchoring it; she backed away, and it was his -

That's when she bolted for the back door to the club, her insanely long,
muscular legs carrying her to and through it in only two leaping strides.
Bitch still has my wallet! Was his only thought; he was on her heels in an
instant, but an instant behind was still out of reach.

He redoubled his speed, his chest on fire with the exertion of breathing - but
something stopped her short directly in his path - Mr. Clean. She shot a
savage kick directly to the unwise onlooker's gleaming, bald scalp, her bare
foot connecting with his nose in a sickening, wet crunch of shattered
cartilage.

Before she could get moving again, Felix slammed into her at full speed,
smashing his meaty forearms into her lower back, spinning her straight down
the hall rather than knocking her to the floor as he'd hoped - now that she no
longer had to contend with her foolish choice in footwear, she danced catlike
on the balls of her feet, and with those monstrous thighs and huge, hard
diamond-shaped calves in play, there was no way he'd get her off her feet
again.

The smell of cheap barbecue sauce on buffalo wings was strong in here - this
flicker of distracted thought almost cost him the head on his shoulders as
Misty's foot sang past his face and back again, the wind of its passage
cooling the hot skin under his 5 O'Clock shadow.

A lesser fighter than Felix would have backed away, trying to stay out of
range of those deadly feet - Felix knew better, knew that there was no way,
with legs that long, that he was going to not take a few kicks. His only
chance to survive, let alone beat the bitch down and take his property back,
was going to be to -

He crouched low and launched himself toward her, shoulder first, as the next
kick came sailing in, barely missing the top of his skull but sending his hat
flying from his head an instant before he plowed into her supporting leg and
her outstretched limb snapped back toward her, her heel thudding into the back
of his head before they both tumbled through the swinging metal double doors
of the club's kitchen.

Both groaned in pain, Felix having landed hard on Misty's big tits. Realizing
with sudden fear where it was he found himself for the second time, Felix
rolled away barely in time to avoid the big redhead's thighs as they sought to
entrap and crush him for a second and final death squeeze.

Screaming in rage and frustration, Misty climbed to her feet - and was
momentarily stunned by a resounding metal clang as something hard but thin and
flexible slapped her cleanly across the face. Blinking in more confusion than
pain, she saw Felix staring back at her, equally dumbfounded.

He looked down, not having bothered to see what it was he had hit her with
until now. "Aw... fuck." He muttered, dropping the baking sheet.

"Now what the fuck were you gonna do with that, little man? Make me into a
batch of cookies?" Misty asked, casually pulling a massive paring knife from
the wooden block on the metal counter behind her. "Now let me show you how
it's done..."

Now it was Felix's turn to run - directly into a waiter, who stared in shock
and amazement at the gigantic, busty Celtic amazon in shredded clothing
bearing down on him with a fistful of cutlery.

"Move move move move move!!!" Felix howled, shoving himself and the stunned
waiter out through the door and out into the club's main floor, grabbing the
nearest thing he could reach on his way out -

Which turned out to be slightly more useful than a baking sheet. As Misty
charged out through the door, barely a second behind him, he brought the iron
frying pan down on her knife hand in a blisteringly fast arc, edge first,
sending the knife tumbling off across the room, out of reach.

She hissed for all the world like a huge, angry cat, catching him under his
good eye with a solid left jab, rocking his head back - but punches Felix
could take, and take as many as anyone cared to dispense. He let fly with
another solid right of his own, returning black eye for black eye... and now
that he'd already uglied her at this point, there was no point in drawing
things out any further.

He followed blow after blow, driving her back, ignoring the growing swell of
outraged cries from club patrons as long as they didn't interfere - but his
attention had been divided as this thought occurred to him, and Misty knew it
was the only and only break she was going to get.

Sidestepping clumsily, her thoughts blurred now, she swept one long leg up and
around in a hammer kick meant to catch him dead in the spine, and - if she
could - break his back and then finish him off in her thighs, right here in
front of everyone. At this point, she had about 75% odds of calling it
self-defense and getting a charge of manslaughter at worst - maybe getting
away with it altogether.

That was the plan, anyway. The kick actually did connect, for what it was
worth, but when it did, the outside of the back of her thigh was the first
thing to connect, not her calf of foot - and so the only effect it had was to
send him speeding toward the large, panoramic window behind her.

If he had been a taller man, Felix might have gone through that window
face-first. As it was, he threw his hands out in front of him, slamming them
into the windowsill and snarling at the pain as the impact bruised his palms
and rattled the bones of his arms all the way up to his broad, hulking
shoulders.

This last impact finally dislodged his must trusted tool out of his pocket.
One he'd grown so accustomed to the feel of that in the fevered pitch of this
battle, he'd entirely forgotten he even had it with him tonight.

He turned, looked down, seeing the thick, black mass of his lead-filled
leather sap smiling up at him from the cheap tile floor. "Well, I'm being a
son of the bitch..." he murmured, his second language slipping in his
absolutely floored state.

Misty, seeing this, had no intention of allowing him to get his hands on it.
She charged directly for him, forgetting her training in her haste. Felix had
a split instant to react -

He continued bending down for his weapon, and just as Misty reached him, he
took a half-step back, placing one hand on either of her sides, and used her
own trick against her, heaving upward with all his strength, sending her
screaming toward the thick glass of the window -

And with an earsplitting explosion of glittering shards, she burst out and
onto the wet sidewalk, rolling to a stop in an unceremonious, moaning heap.
Scooping up his sap, Felix looked around at the silent, stone-still patrons of
the club. "Night, folks." He said as if nothing at all had just happened, and
strolled out through the front door, past the astonished bouncer.

Misty lay like a rag doll on the sidewalk as consciousness slowly flickered
back into her long, powerful frame. Her hair was a sweat-soaked tangle, her
perfect makeup streaked into a clownish mask, her dressed-to-kill outfit was
now pretty thoroughly killed, itself. Fat raindrops began to explode into
watery mist before her pain-dulled eyes. She looked up.

Felix stood over her, one arm wrapped protectively around his busted sides.
The other was out of view. "Nighty night, bitch." He said calmly, and his
other hand reappeared light lightning - then something that looked a lot more
like lightning flashed behind Misty's eyes as the sap put her lights out
again.

Felix guessed this bitch had to weigh a solid 200 pounds, all of it legs and
all of them muscle - there were all manner of uses he could put her to, and
would - but later. First, it was time to get a little payment for his trouble
in a more direct, up-front and personal end of this relationship. He'd handle
the business end later.