Avenging Angela, Part 2
By Littlesilverstar, silverstar222b@yahoo.com
Angela continues her fight against her husband's killers

Angela spent Tuesday morning and afternoon alternating between cleaning 
the bloodstains out of the carpet, thinking of her dead husband, and
planning her assault on the company's headquarters that night.  They
would not know what hit them.

Late in the afternoon, when she was finally done cleaning, she stripped
off her clothes and prepared to take a shower.  She paused to look at her
reflection in the mirror.  Her shoulder-length blonde hair was still 
messed up, and her blue eyes, set against her tanned face, still glowed
with a look of anger.  At 5'7" and 135 pounds, she combined a muscular,
athletic body with a feminine figure.  Her small, firm, round 36B breasts
stood proudly on her chest.  What truly astonished her, however, was the
change that had taken place on her face. While it was still as attractive
as it had been before Ted's murder, the innocent, sweet beauty had been
replaced by a hard, cold, sexy look.  In a single day, she had gone from
looking five years younger than she really was to looking her actual age.

After finishing her shower, Angela put on matching red panties and red 
bra, then covered them with a sexy yet professional-looking black 
business outfit.  After adding a pair of black gloves, she brushed her 
hair until it was neat and shiny.  She then took out a briefcase and 
placed the AK-47, the Browning pistol, and some ammo into it.  She had to 
disassemble the AK-47 to make it fit into the case.  Her fingers flew 
nimbly over the weapon as she expertly took it apart.  She smiled fondly as 
she remembered how she and Ted would practice assembling and disassembling 
it together.

Snapping the loaded (no pun intended) briefcase shut, she picked it up 
and headed out to her car, looking every inch the successful businesswoman.
She drove towards the headquarters of the corporation where Ted had worked,
making sure to take her time so she wouldn't arrive there until after most
of the employees had left.  The sun was setting as she parked the car in
the almost empty lot and headed towards the main entrance, briefcase in
hand and a dangerous smile on her pretty face.

Her footsteps echoed through the quiet, attractive, plant-filled lobby.  
The two security guards on duty looked up as she approached.  She looked
them over in response.  The first guard, who had slicked-back dark hair
and a permanent smirk on his face, had been sitting in a swivel chair and
reading a book.  The second guard, who was fat and eating a donut, was
sitting at a desk, on which were several video screens that enabled him to
see what all the security cameras were observing.

"Easy," she decided. "Wannabe cops, probably don't know the first thing
about fighting, never any action here and not prepared for it.  Surprised
they even have guns.  First guy thinks he's tough, big-time armchair
commando.  Fat guy doesn't even pretend to be tough."

"May I help you?" asked the first guard in a monotone.

"Yes," Angela replied. "I'm Angela Doherty, widow of the late Theodore K.
Doherty.  He was...he was killed last night.  I'm sure you've heard.  I'm
here to pick up his things."

"Oh, yes.  Terrible tragedy.  Terrible tragedy indeed," said the guard in
the same monotone. "I'm very sorry.  Go right in, Mrs. Doherty.  Just gotta
pass you through the metal detector first.  Company policy.  You do
understand, don't you?"

"Oh, I understand," she said with a smile. "I just hope you understand what
I have to do."

"What's th-" The guard got no further than that, because at that moment
Angela delivered a brutal high kick to his face.  The force of the kick
shattered his jawbone and dropped him off his chair and onto his knees.  
She swiftly wrapped her muscular thighs around his neck, then gave a quick
but powerful twist with her hips, snapping his neck and sending him to meet
his maker.

"What the fuck?" The fat guard dropped his donut and began reaching toward
his holster.  He never got to it, however, because Angela picked up the
(hardcover) book that the other man had been reading and flung it at the 
fat guard.  It struck him squarely on the head and he went down.

Angela back handspringed towards him, stopping a few feet in front of the
man.  He stumbled to his feet and swung a clumsy punch at her, which she
easily dodged.  She responded by smashing her left fist into his fat gut,
doubling him over, then straightening him out with a vicious uppercut from
her right.  As he staggered around dizzily, she put all her strength into a
lethal spin kick.  Her formal-shoe-clad foot impacted the side of his head
with such sheer power that it broke his neck.  His fat corpse slumped to 
the floor in an undignified position.

With a wicked grin on her face, she moved over to the fat guard's console.
She turned off the metal detector and all the security cameras, then stole
all the tapes and put them into her briefcase.

After moving the guards' corpses so they couldn't be seen by anyone passing
by outside, she walked through the non-functioning metal detector and
headed for the elevators.  Pushing the button for the 29th floor, she 
opened the briefcase and began assembling the AK-47.  The skilled woman had
it fully assembled, loaded, and ready to fire by the time the elevator 
reached her floor.

Angela slipped the 9mm pistol into her pocket and slung the AK-47 across 
her chest.  She began walking confidently down the main hallway of the 29th
floor, ever alert for any unfortunate soul that might cross her path.  A
faint crack of light and raised voices drew her to a room at the end of the
hall.  Silently setting the briefcase down, she pressed her ear against the
wall and listened.

"Look, those guys were dead and I don't like it!" came a man's voice. "The
plan was fouled up, and that can only mean trouble for us! And how did that
ordinary blonde chick suddenly turn into Lara Croft or Lady Rambo? She must
be one badass bitch."

"Oh, you worry too much," said another man. "Ted's dead, and that's all 
that matters."

Angela felt her hands clenching into fists.  These *were* the people who 
had murdered her husband!

"But what if he told his wife, or someone else, before he died?" came the
voice of the first man. "And what if the guys we sent talked before they
were killed?"

"You do worry too much," came a woman's voice that spoke with a strong 
degree of authority. "The police report said that all our guys were killed
directly in the shootout.  As for Ted telling anyone, we've been reading 
his email, tapping his phone, and following him around.  He can't have told
anyone except his wife, and we have a plan for dealing with her permanently.
Edward's up in his office putting the finishing touches on it right now, and
he'll fill us in and give us the good news as soon as he's done."

Angela had heard enough.  Unslinging the rifle and pressing the stock 
against her shoulder, she kicked open the door.  The eight men and three
women in the room stared at her in shock. "My plan is better," she said with
a cold smile.

"What the hell..."

"How the fuck did she..."

Two of the men were wearing security guard uniforms.  Their hands started 
for their holsters.  She shot them first.

A long burst from Angela's weapon cut down all the executives seated on the
near side of the meeting table. A second burst brought down everyone on the
far side.  The authoritative woman at the head of the table, who Angela
recognized from her picture as Olivia, the Chief Financial Officer, was the
last to remain upright.  Angela shot her in the stomach and she went down.

The lethal machine-gun vixen looked down at her victims, who were pumped 
full of bloody holes.  Two of the men were still moving.  She drew her
pistol and finished them each with a shot to the head.

She approached Olivia, who was lying on the floor, moaning in pain and
clutching her wounded stomach.  Dark red blood stained her attractive blue
business suit and skirt combo.

"When you get to hell, tell 'em Angie sent you," said Angela, not a hint of
mercy showing on her once friendly face.  With that, she emptied the
remainder of the AK-47's magazine into the CFO's head.  Olivia's attractive
face turned into a pile of goo.

Angela looked down at the eleven people she had just slaughtered.  She felt 
no remorse.  In fact, she was surprised by how good she felt.  She made such
a good natural killer! She had never felt so powerful. "If my traditional, 
old-fashioned parents could see me now," she thought with a sardonic laugh.

She re-slung the rifle across her chest and picked up the briefcase, heading
back down the hall.  At the elevator, she pressed the button for the
penthouse office. "Your turn, Mr. CEO," she whispered to herself in a soft
but deadly voice.

To be continued...

Comments, compliments, and constructive criticism encouraged.

silverstar222b@yahoo.com