Jackie Kane at the Dead End Saloon v1.3
by wormwood@flanet.com
Jackie gets into a fight with four guys, but only kills three of them




Hey all, this WAS my first Amazon story. After its initial 
posting, I noticed that it was riddled with errors. I fixed 
what I could find. Enjoy.


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JACKIE KANE AT THE DEAD END SALOON v1.3
by wormwood@flanet.com

When she walked into the bar, I knew there was going to 
be trouble.

You see, the Dead End Saloon was not your ordinary corner 
watering hole. It was the toughest biker bar in the 
county. Hell, the toughest in the whole state. A real old 
style panhead hangout, if you follow my meaning. No 
weekend biker wannabes with their high fashion leather 
and brand new bikes. Only outlaw bikers, the worst kind 
of thieves, dealers and gun runners could hope to walk 
out of the Dead End under their own power. I'd personally 
seen more beatings than I care to remember, and I'd 
witnessed at least five murders over my eight years 
tending bar (after the previous bartender got sent 
upstate for a string of drug and extortion charges). Like 
I said, it was the kind of place that respectable people 
avoided, and with damned good reason. 

Unescorted women just didn't walk in unless they were 
looking for trouble. The only chicks you saw in the Dead 
End were either property of one of the bikers, or street 
meat looking for a new road-daddy. This woman did not 
look like either type. She looked like trouble.

She stood over 6' tall in heavy riding boots. Tight black 
jeans hugged her every curve. She had on a sleeveless 
black vest covered with buttons and pins over a tight 
white t-shirt which clung to her like a second skin. I 
just stood there staring, because I'd never seen such a 
magnificent physique in my life! It was her muscles! 
Every inch of that woman radiated power and strength. Her 
shoulders were thick and broad, and her arms were like 
steel cables sprouting out of her shirt. I'd never seen 
muscles like that on a woman (or a man for that matter). 
I'd seen larger arms and legs on men, of course, but hers 
were so raw, so defined, it was like she was carved out 
of living steel. I could barely imagine the sheer 
strength in those arms, strength capable of effortlessly 
destroying a human body. Her chest was massive and deep, 
but not because of her tits (which were nothing to sneeze 
at) but because of the powerful chassis of firm muscle 
which strained her shirt and vest with every breath. 
Within those tight jeans her legs were pillars of rock 
hard muscle, easily capable of crushing the life out of 
any man. Black hair was cut into a short ruff, maybe 6" 
long and swept away from her face. Her eyes were 
concealed beneath mirrored riding glasses, and a hint of 
a smile was on her face. She was pale, almost white, and 
the thick veins in her bulging forearms and thick corded 
neck were blue in the dim light of the bar. She reminded 
me in that moment like a lioness, rippling muscles tensed 
to spring under her sleek hide. 

Everything stopped while she just stood there, giving the 
saloon a slow glance from behind her mirrorshades. Dead 
silence. She pulled out a pair of black leather 
fingerless gloves and slowly slipped them onto her 
surprisingly large hands. Her fingernails were long and 
polished black. Finally she spoke. "Which one of you 
pieces of shit is Randy Pritt?"

[A little background for you. Randy Pritt was the head of 
the local Hell Hounds, one of the oldest and most feared 
Outlaw biker clubs in the southeast. He was heavily into 
guns and drugs, and abused both of 'em. I once saw him 
break both of a man's legs over a jukebox dispute, and 
I'd seen him beat another man crippled over a spilled 
drink. Rumor had it that he had nearly twenty kills under 
his belt, and I can vouch for the fact that he was a 
stone cold psychopath. He was over 6 and a half feet 
tall, and must have weighed over 300 pounds. His friggin 
hands were damned near as big as my head, and his chest 
looked like an oil barrel. Bald and heavily bearded with 
filthy red hair, he was just about the ugliest man I'd 
ever known. He was also the most frightening. He was 
slow, but his sheer size and strength reduced his 
opponents to pulp, and the guy was completely immune to 
pain. I've seen pool cues and beer bottles broken over 
his iron head, and he just laughed them off.] 

Randy wasn't laughing now. He leaped to his feet, 
overturning the table he and four of his gang had been 
sitting at, rage and amphetimines burning in his piggy 
eyes. 

"What the fuck did you say, bitch?" he bellowed at the 
woman as his friends rose unsteadily to their feet beside 
him. 

She leveled her mirrored gaze in his direction and said 
conversationally, "I said which one of you pieces of shit 
is Randy, but I guess that you're the fatass piece of 
shit I was looking for."

This time some drunken biker in the back of the bar 
started chuckling, which caught on until half the bar was 
laughing. They stopped when Randy pulled his huge .44 
Magnum out and pointed it straight at the strange woman's 
face. 

"Before I blow your fucking head off, you mind telling me 
who the hell you are?" he said between clenched teeth, 
the gun shaking in his rage. 

To the astonishment of the entire bar, she calmly closed 
the distance between her and the furious Randy. "My name 
is Jackie. Jackie Kane. My brother is Alex Kane. Do you 
remember Alex, you fat scumbag?" 

Dim recognition played on Randys sweaty face. "You mean 
the narc? Yeah I remember him. Sorry to hear what 
happened to him". This got even more laughter out of the 
other bikers. Alex Kane was an undercover cop who tried 
to infiltrate the Hell Hounds a couple of moths back. He 
was found severely beaten in front of the police 
headquarters one morning, and had remained in a coma ever 
since. "Assailants unknown" was the official line,but 
everyone on the street knows it was Randy who crippled 
him. 

Jackie reached up slowly and removed her sunglasses, 
revealing piercing green eyes. Smiling, she told Randy, 
"You're not sorry enough, fat boy. That's why I'm going 
to kill you."

Randy laughed at this threat, "You? YOU are gonna kill 
ME? How were you gonna do it, gorgeous? You got a gun 
hidden in them tight pants?"

"I don't need a gun, pig. I'm going to kill you with my 
bare hands", she purred, closing the distance between 
them fearlessly. I watched her as she moved, her powerful 
leg muscles confined in those straining jeans. I could 
not believe how turned on I was by this dangerous 
musclegirl. Her powerful arms hung loosely near her 
narrow waist, but even at ease her tawny muscles were 
absolutely breathtaking. She radiated power and 
confidence even though her face was a mere 6 inches from 
the barrel of Randy's large .44. 

Laughter spread through the bikers, but it was nervous, 
on edge. I noticed that while the men found this scene 
amusing, some of the biker's women weren't laughing. They 
had a strange look in their eyes, as if they could see 
something that their boyfriends couldn't. I understand 
now that they knew the difference between threats and 
promises. When men prepare to fight, an elaborate ritual 
of threat and counter-threat, bluff and bravado takes 
place. A ritual display of dominance which is often more 
important than actual combat. When women fight, on the 
other hand, they do not make threats or bluffs. They 
fight to hurt, to kill. I may not have known that then, 
but I learned. 

Leering like an animal, Randy tossed his gun to one of 
his posse and spread his thick arms wide. "Lady, you just 
made my night. Take your best shot. Then I'm gonna fuck 
you right here on this pool table. And when I'm done, I'm 
gonna let the rest of my buddies have some fun with you. 
Hell, I might even let you be my bitch for a while..."

He was cut off mid sentence by a blinding fist to the 
mouth. Jackie threw that punch with such speed that 
nobody understood what happened until they saw Randy 
standing there holding his bleeding mouth in his hands.

Randy just stood there, stunned, as Jackie smiled, 
"That's not going to happen. You're going to be my bitch 
tonight, porkie. Then I'm going to break you in half. You 
ready, big boy?" She backed up a few paces, assuming a 
relaxed fighting stance with her muscular legs bent 
slightly at the knees. 

Randy did not answer, but howled in primal fury. He 
launched himself at her, leading with his huge 
outstretched hands aimed at her throat. Moving like a 
cat, she caught his right fist in her left, and pivoted 
at the waist. She let his considerable momentum carry him 
past her, then wrenched his huge arm out and behind his 
back as she kicked the side of his right knee with the 
heel of her boot. A sickening snap echoed in the silent 
saloon, as his leg was broken at the knee. Jackie 
released his arm and he crashed to the floor with his 
right foot splayed out at an unnatural angle. 

Shrieking in blind pain, Randy flopped around on the 
floor like a wolf caught in a leg trap. Jackie stood over 
his writhing bulk and planted three rib snapping kicks to 
his exposed flank, causing him to howl in agony. Everyone 
in the bartood there staring in mute disbelief and horror 
as this woman kicked the crap out of the toughest man we 
knew. Her first kick must have broken something, because 
we all heard a wet, muffled crack when her powerful leg 
connected with Randy's side. He rolled over onto his side 
in an attempt to protect his fragile ribs, so her second 
bone crushing blow ended up crashing into his solar 
plexus, blowing the wind out of him and raising his 
shrieking to a maddened pitch. He just lay there like a 
corpse after that, even as she planted a third 
devastating kick into his guts, a blow so powerful that 
his unconscious bulk rolled under the bar. I knew she 
must have broken something, something deep and important, 
because he just lay there, bleeding. 

The reverie was broken when Ray Ray, a tall wiry biker 
who served as Randy's lieutenant leaped to his feet, 
yelling, "What the fuck? That's enough bitch!" and 
levelled Randy's discarded .44 in her direction. In a 
single fluid movement, Jackie spun into a high kick and 
struck the gun, sending it flying across the silent 
saloon. Ray Ray looked down at his bloodied hand in 
disbelief as Jackie strode purposefully toward him. She 
launched a closed fist backhand at his face, which he 
feebly tried to block. She battered his arm aside like a 
child's and her fist cracked into his beared jaw, audibly 
breaking it. Then she grabbed his bloody hand and yanked 
down while bringing up her knee. His face collided with 
her raised knee with trainwreck force, snapping his head 
back in a spray of blood and spit. He collapsed to his 
knees, pathetic groans coming from his bloody lips while 
she held his one arm straight up above him. She began 
applying pressure to the shoulder, her own shoulder and 
arm muscles bulging from the powerful arm lock. She 
looked up, daring anyone else to step forward, then gave 
his arm a brutal wrench at the elbow, gruesomely snapping 
it. Ray Ray let out terrifying a high pitched scream at 
this, and began to vomit on the filthy floor. 

In a panic, I reached under the bar and pulled out an 
aluminum baseball bat which I kept there for emergencies. 
I figured this had gone on far enough and I'd better stop 
the beatings before someone got killed. And this lady 
looked like she would like nothing more than crush the 
life out of some of my customers. She looked up from the 
Ray Ray's twisted body and flashed me a cold smile. 
"You'd better drop the bat before I come over there and 
snap your neck. Okay?" Her green eyes were piercing and 
cold, and I shudder at the thought of her chilling smile, 
half hoping I'd take her up on her threat. I glanced down 
stupidly at the bat hanging uselessly in my hands. One 
more look at Jackie, her wide powerful shoulders and 
bulging arms, her strong firm legs, her heavy bloodied 
fists and worst of all her cold feral smile was all it 
took. I envisioned her applying those bone crushing 
muscles to me, effortlessly beating me into a bloody 
pulp...How could I possibly hope to defend myself from 
such brutal strength? I was like a child compared to her 
power. She could easily beat me to death, bat or no, and 
we both knew it. I dropped the bat and brought my hands 
up where she could see them. "Smart boy" she sneered. 

She turned, growling, "Anyone else wanna get involved?". 
At this, five or six bikers at the back of the saloon 
leaped to their feet and ran out the back door. Others 
got up and backed away from the carnage, too terrified to 
leave.

That's when I noticed Jimmy, a skinny little speedfreak 
who hangs out with th Hell Hounds, frantically fumbling 
with the pay phone near the pool tables. He must have 
slipped away from Randy's table during the commotion. He 
shot me a fearful look, his eyes white with panic. Jackie 
noticed also, and told him, "drop the phone or I'll break 
your back. Understand?" Driving her threat home, she 
grabbed a handful of Ray Ray's filthy hair in her large 
fist and drew his sobbing head back up. He was barely 
conscious, his eyes were closed and filled with tears, 
and bloody foam was dripping off his beard. Still holding 
his sobbing head in one hand, she slowly drew back her 
powerful right arm, beads of sweat on her rolling 
muscles. She held her fist back for a second or two, just 
long enough for Ray Ray to see what was coming. His eyes 
flew open in absolute terror, and a whimper escaped his 
bloody lips as her muscular arm pistoned out with 
blinding speed and incredible force. He flew back and 
crashed into a table, sending three chairs clattering 
away. He landed in a heap, battered face up. His eyes 
were closed, and fresh blood streamed out of his crushed 
nose. From across the bar I could see where his lips had 
been sliced open by broken teeth. 

She turned and looked at Jimmy still standing at the 
phone. In the silence of the bar, I could here a voice 
saying, "911 operator. What is your emergency?..." coming 
faintly from the receiver Jimmy held in his shaking hand. 
Now, Jimmy's mind had long since been fried on crank and 
speed, so I guess I should have seen what was going to 
happen. He started blubbering into the receiver, "Please, 
you gotta send some cops! There's this psycho bitch at 
the Dead End Saloon and she's kicking the shit outta my 
friends! Please you gotta help oh god shes's coming 
please pleas help me ogodogod..."

He was cut off when Jackie tore the cord out of the 
phone. Jimmy just stood there, stupidly blubbering into a 
dead phone. Jackie said softly, "Why did you have to do 
that, man? Now I have to break you. You understand that, 
don't you?" Jimmy, too afraid to even move, just stood 
there shaking like a rabbit.

She sighed and bunched up a handful of his filthy shirt 
in her left hand, pushing him against the wall. Slowly 
she brought up her right fist leaving it right in front 
of his face. "You see this, punk? Do you know how much 
damage I could do to you with just this fist?" She then 
brought her arm up, flexing her immense bicep under his 
quaking nose. Fully flexed, her arm was unbelievable, 
with a massive, dense bicep surrounded with thick 
striated muscles. Fully flexed, the arm easily measured 
16 to 18 inches. I was awestruck staring at that arm, 
fear mingled with inexplicable lust gnawing at my guts. 
"You see these muscles, baby? Do you have any idea how 
easily I could snap you in half with my bare hands? I 
could beat you to death, little man. I could punch the 
heart out of your chest. I could twist your little head 
off and there is nothing you could do about it. If I 
wanted to hurt you, nobody, nothing could stop me. I can 
do anything I want to you, and I will. I can crush your 
skull to powder in less than one minute. It'll take those 
cops at least fifteen minutes to get here. By the time 
they arrive, I could have broken every single bone in 
your scrawny little body. They can't stop me. Nobody can. 
You should have just done what I told you to. All that 
phone call did was make me angry. Now I'm going to punish 
you. Do you understand?"

Jimmy was frozen, his wide eyes fixed on the bulging, 
powerful arm inches from his face. His knees buckled, but 
she held him up against the wall by his shirt, supporting 
his weight with one arm. The useless phone receiver 
dropped from his nerveless fingers. He grabbed her arm 
with both hands, pathetically attempting to break her 
grip to no avail. Her arm was unmoveable, he pushed and 
strained and it didn't give an inch. He pounded his fists 
against her thick, muscular forearm, but his blows just 
bounced off like they were striking dense steel. I could 
smell the sharp odor of his piss as his fear took 
complete control.

Smiling, she drove her right fist deep into his stomach. 
He convulsed with the terrific impact, the air forced 
from his lungs in an explosive whoosh. He would have 
crumpled right there had Jackie not been holding him up. 
Jimmy was weakly struggling to break Jackies iron grip on 
his shirt, to somehow escape the unbelievable punishment 
he was enduring. He was quite literally fighting for his 
life, we all knew it, and we also knew that his life was 
completely in her control. 

Another punch and her fist seemed to be swallowed by his 
abdomen. She put even more brutal force into this blow, 
and I could hardly imagine the damage she was inflicting 
on Jimmy's internal organs. A gout of bloody saliva 
spurted from his lips and landed on her shirt. "You 
little fuck!", she screamed, and smashed the heel of her 
hand up and into his face. The numbing force of the blow 
whipped his head back into the wall behind him. She 
released her hold on his shirt as she drove her right 
fist into his belly, following it up with an equally 
devastating left. She alternated, right and left fists 
slamming into his guts, her flurry of body blows 
preventing him from falling to the ground. She kept this 
up for maybe 20 seconds, with one crushing blow landing 
every second while I watched in shock at this display of 
raw animal brutality. Her powerful back and shoulder 
muscles lent each obliterating blow enough force to 
actually raise his feet from the floor. From what I could 
tell, Jimmy's been KO'd since the fourth punch. She was 
hitting him like a boxer hitting a punching bag, except 
punching bags didn't have bones, blood or tissue. 
Jimmie's abdomen must have been just reduced to pulp, a 
thick paste behind his bruised and lacerated flesh. 

With Jackies attentions focused on poor Jimmy, the bulk 
of the remaining bikers decided to make a discrete exit. 
The place was pretty much cleared out except for 4 bikers 
standing around the bar, two more Hell Hounds who looked 
on in disbelief, a couple of drunks who had no idea what 
was going on, and a trio of biker chicks who stared at 
the grisly scene in open fascination. Ray Ray was still 
unconscious and bleeding in a heap, but Randy was slowly 
crawling up the bar, his teeth clenched from the pain of 
his broken leg and ribs, blood trickling into his matted 
beard. He shot a frantic look at his two remaining 
friends, motioning for them to attack Jackie while her 
back was turned. 

Exchanging uncertain glances, the two Hell Hounds, Billy 
Ray and Animal, crept toward the occupied Jackie. Animal, 
an ex-marine in his early 30's, drew a long wicked knife 
from a sheath on his hip. He was just under 6 feet tall, 
lean and strong. Billy Ray, a notorious drinker, was 
about 5' 6" but built like a linebacker. He unscrewed a 
pool cue and brandished the butt like a club. 

They got to within 6 feet of Jackie's back before she 
noticed them behind her. She moved like lightning, 
grabbing the incapacitated Jimmy by the lapels of his 
greasy jacket. She turned to meet her would be 
assailants, roughly throwing Jimmy's battered body on the 
floor between them. I could see dark wet stains on 
Jimmy's shirt where her devastating fists had reduced his 
abdomen to hamburger. 

Animal and Billy Ray stopped in their tracks, staring at 
what was left of their friend. Jackie wore a toothy 
smile, and she fixed them each with a cold glare. She was 
breathing a little heavy, her massive rippling chest 
straining the fabric of her blood spattered shirt. She 
lifted her powerful foot and slammed it crashing down on 
Jimmys pulverized stomach, grinding her heel in the 
bloody abdomen, crushing out out his life like she would 
crush out a cigarette. He spasmed for a moment, and a 
thick clot of blood and bile shot from his mouth and 
nose. His twitching subsided, and he stopped moving 
altogether. The human body can only withstand so much 
punishment.

That final act of brutality was enough to send the rest 
of the Dead End patrons fleeing for their very lives. The 
bar was empty except for myself, Jackie, and her four 
stunned or dead opponents. 

Without ever taking her eyes from Billy Ray or Animal, 
who watched Jimmy's death with dumb shocked horror, she 
raised one bloody fist and pointed a finger at them.

"eenie, meenie, miney moe, catch a tiger by its toe...", 
her finger pointing from one to the other, dripping blood 
like a grisly metronome. Animal and Billy Ray did not 
wait for her to finish. They spun in unison, dropping 
their weapons and running for the door. Before they got 2 
steps, Jackie had grabbed each of their collars, holding 
them back with her powerful arms. From my vantage point 
behind the bar, all three were facing me; two large men 
in complete panic being held in place by a single woman, 
a woman more powerful than both combined. 

With her right arm, she pulled Billy Ray off his feet and 
tossed him tumbling back into the wall behind her with a 
crash. He started to get up and she pointed her finger at 
him, saying, "If you try to run, I'll catch you." He 
slumped down, fear overriding his flight instinct. He 
knew he could never outrun those powerful legs. 

Jackie's massive left arm and shoulder muscles were 
bulging as she held fast 200 pounds of wriggling biker. 
She grabbed the seat of his pants with her right arm and 
hefted him up and over her head. She stood holding Animal 
completely helpless above her, her slabs of dense muscle 
handling the strain with ease.

"These are the best you can come up with, pigfucker?" she 
spat, looking at Randy who quaked with renewed terror. 
Animal's arms and lags were flailing, but he could not 
break free of her superior strength. I stared, awestruck 
by her seemingly endless strength, as she turn in my 
direction and strode to the bar. "I'd move if I were you" 
she said, looking at me. I got the hint, and so did the 
panicked Animal, who renewed his futile struggles with 
frantic intensity. It did him no good, not with her 
viselike grip holding him fast. I had barely cleared the 
bar area when she launched Animal through the air and 
sent him crashing into the mirrored wall behind the bar. 
The glass shattered, as did the neon signs which hung on 
that wall. Animals bloody, lacerated body bounced off th 
wall and onto the underlying shelf, covered with liquor 
bottled. The shelf collapsed under him and sent him dazed 
and sprawling in a bed of broken glass and bloody liquor. 
She turned and walked past Randy and I, heading for Billy 
Ray across the barroom who had not moved an inch out of 
terrified submission.

"Good boy. Now what am I going to do to you, I wonder? 
Anything I want to, I suppose. How could you possibly 
defend yourself against me?"

It was written plainly on Billy Ray's face that he knew 
she was right. He was pale and shaking, backed up against 
the far wall, his eyes wide with terror as he 
contemplated what those bone crushing muscles could do to 
him. 

"Tell you what. You were a good boy, so I'll make you a 
deal. I'll just hit you once. If you're still conscious 
after one punch, you can go. Ready?"

She grabbed him with her vise like left hand, preventing 
him from dodging the blow. Billy's eyes were riveted on 
her right fist, which she drew back with chilling 
slowness. Her arm was flexed back like a steel trap 
vibrating with tension. Billy Rays eyes were perfectly 
round as he stared at that fist, positively bursting with 
potential force. 

She had released his collar as she launched her punch, 
pivoting at the waist and throwing her weight behind the 
her right arm. Every muscle in her body seemed to lend 
its strength to the blow. Jackie's big fist flew in a 
sweeping arc, bringing the fist up and around in a blur 
of motion. The powerful uppercut smashed into Ray's face 
with a resounding crack. The titanic force of the blow 
actually lifted Billy Ray's feet off the ground, sending 
him crashing into the wall behind him. He crumbled to the 
ground in a boneless heap, his ruined face turned to the 
ceiling. At first I thought he was dead, since a vicious 
blow like that could easily have broken his neck or 
fractured his skull, but I could see his ragged 
breathing. I was shocked by how much damage had been done 
to his face with a single punch. Blood was flowing from 
his broken nose and left eye socket, which was purple and 
crushed. I learned later that she had shattered his right 
cheek and eye socket. His eye had to be removed and his 
sinuses were never the same again. The last time I saw 
him he'd developed a speech impediment and a healthy dose 
of gynophobia. 

She turn and looked at me, ignoring Randy who had used 
the distraction to crawl around after his discarded 
pistol. "How about that punch, barman?" 

"Awesome," I gulped, "it was awesome". 

"Damned right it was," she smiled callously. "I'm saving 
the best for fat boy here," she said, pointing at Randy 
who was furiously searching for the .44 Jackie had kicked 
into the corner. 

She reached down and grabbed his broken leg with her 
right hand and dragged him into the center of the bar. 
Groaning in agony, he tried to kick away, but he could 
not break her iron grip. She pulled his 300+ pound bulk 
across the filthy bloodstained floor with ease. She 
stopped her grim advance, then twisted his leg just 
enough to wrench a ragged scream from Randy's sore 
throat. "Stay still," she commanded through clenched 
teeth. He obeyed instantly, his body going limp. 

The scream must have wakened Ray Ray, who groggily shook 
his head and climbed to his unsteady feet behind us. I 
turned my head and saw him, his left eye swollen shut, 
his upper lip a torn strip of meat, his two lower front 
teeth broken, his jaw and cheeks a canvas of deep blue 
bruises and welts. He could barely stand up and had to 
support himself with a barstool, wincing at the pain of 
his broken arm. 

He took a long, one eyed look at the ruined bar. What he 
saw must have blown his mind. The only people standing 
were Jackie and myself (although I was tucked away 
quietly at the side of the bar). It looked like a tornado 
had hit the place, leaving nothing but broken glass, 
blood, and scattered bodies. Jackie turned and noticed 
Ray Ray, and a sad smile came to her lips.

"My my my. You really should have stayed down," she said 
taking long, powerful strides in his direction. 

He put his good hand up (his broken arm hung twisted at 
an unnatural angle) quickly shaking his head. "No no 
please no more ah god no...", he blubbered through his 
broken jaw, backing away from Jackie. He backed into the 
corner where the bar meets the wall, no escape from the 
woman advancing toward him. I tried to look away, sick of 
the violence, but I could not. Something deep and primal 
within me forced me to watch, forced me to watch HER. 

"You were going to shoot me, weren't you, big man? You 
are so weak that you needed a gun to take me out? Well 
guess what, sweetie..." she said, closing the distance. 
Before he could blurt out another plea, she rocketed a 
vicious left into his face with a dull crack. 

"I..." Slam. A punishing right cross which completely 
shattered what was left of his ruined jaw and sending 2 
broken teeth flying.

"...don't..." She followed up with another left, her 
blazing fist bashing his face in a spray of bloody spit, 
closing his other eye and sending him into spasms. 

"...need..." A vicious uppercut which interrupted his 
forward slump, driving him back into the wall. His broken 
face looked like raw hamburger.

"...a..." Her left hand shot out and grabbed his throat, 
pinning him up against the wall. 

"...gun!" Holding his head against the wall, she launched 
five savage crosses into the side of his skull with her 
right fist. I watched as her arm worked like a 
sledgehammer, pounding Ray Ray's skull to paste. She held 
him up for a couple of seconds, his disfigured head 
flopping in her grip. Twin trickles of bright blood 
dribbled out of his ear and nose as weak spasms twitched 
along his limbs. 

She let him drop to the floor, where he lay in a twisted 
heap until the coroner arrived 2 hours later. Death due 
to shock, with massive head trauma, multiple concussions, 
and a fractured skull. 

This was getting too much, and I sidled over to the front 
door to make my escape. I never made it. She crossed the 
room in a heartbeat and grabbed my lapels, effortlessly 
lifting me up into the air! I am 5' 10" and weigh 160 
pounds, but she hefted me up like I was a child! I have 
never felt so helpless, I was completely in her power. I 
hung there, half a foot off of the ground, staring 
dizzily at the powerful shoulders, deep chest, and 
massive arms which held me aloft.

Not thinking, I grabbed her arms, and even after all I 
had witnessed that night, I was absolutely amazed. It was 
like touching polished steel wrapped in silk! I'd never 
felt such power in a human being. God, it was like she 
was made of marble, living stone. If she decided to turn 
those incredible muscles against me, I would be utterly 
incapable of defending myself. 

She smiled sweetly and said, "No, I think you should 
stay, okay?"

I nodded like an idiot and she slowly set me back on my 
feet. Just a taste of her overwhelming strength left me 
breathless. 

She smiled and turned her attentions back to Randy, 
sprawled out on the floor. He was covered in sweat and 
his thick lips were split and purple. Fully aware of her 
ability to inflict pain and death, he made a feeble 
attempt to scramble away from her, but he had no hope of 
escape, and he knew it.

"So...where were we fat boy?"

Randy was positively blubbering, tears freely flowing 
down his bloated face. "Please lady, please," he 
whimpered, "I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry!"

"Are you afraid of me?" she teased. "Are you afraid or my 
strength?"

"Yes," he cried, "Yes!", blood staining his teeth. 

She stood in front of him, planting her powerful legs on 
either side of his head, forcing him to look up at her 
towering frame.

"Good. You should be afraid."

She knelt on one knee, bringing her face down to meet 
his. Their eyes met. "Now I'm going to kill you."

"Noooooo please..." he howled, wild animal panic driving 
his pleas as he begged for his life. 

Jackie stood over his back, straddling him. She pushed 
him down with one foot, forcing him lie flat on the 
filthy ground as he squirmed beneath her foot. She kept 
her boot squarely on his back, preventing him from 
moving. He struggled, but his injuries prevented him from 
summoning any real resistance. 

She reached down, grabbed his left wrist and pulled his 
arm straight up. He shrieked, shaking his head and 
stamping his good leg. 'I'm going to break you, fat man. 
One piece at a time," she said as she began twisting his 
arm in its socket. Even her considerable strength was 
tested, but inevitably her straining muscles won out over 
his sinew, cartilage and bone. Randy's screams of agony 
were ragged and hoarse by the time I head a sickening 
ripping and popping come from his shoulder. With a final 
heave, she wrenched his now useless arm violently to the 
right and dropped it, where it flopped to the ground, a 
bluish swollen length of useless meat. Randy had passed 
out from the pain, his breath rattling from him in wet 
gasps. She turned her attention to his right arm and 
duplicated her grisly work, tearing the muscles and 
tendons from his meaty shoulder before the final snapping 
of bone left the arm irreparable ruined. 

A wave of nausea passed over me as I watched her 
methodically torture this man to death. It was like 
watching a sadistic child pulling the wings off an 
insect. 

As if noticing his unconsciousness for the first time, 
she rolled him onto his back. His pale twisted arms 
flopped like deflated balloons. She grabbed a bottle of 
whisky from the bar and poured it on his face, slapping 
him roughly. Eventually, his eyes fluttered open, rolling 
in their sockets. 

"It's almost over, sweetheart. Don't die on me yet", she 
purred into his ear. He did not even have the strength to 
whimper, much less resist. 

Kneeling, she straddled his chest and unloaded a vicious 
backhand straight onto his face, then brought her hand 
back in a cracking openhanded slap. She continued this 
methodical single handed beating for an agonizing 45 
seconds. After the first twenty or so blows, her hand was 
spraying blood in a splattering arc. From my vantage 
point, I could not see Randy's face, just her powerful 
arm swinging like a gory pendulum, obliterating flesh and 
bone with each swing. 

She paused, breathless. "Damn, he's out again." This time 
she reached back and clasped her hand to the crotch of 
his jeans. Finding what she wanted, she squeezed, the 
tendons on her dense forearm rising in sharp relief from 
the force of her grip. I heard a rattling wheeze, which I 
assumed meant that Randy was conscious again. 

"That's better," she said, "Time to say good bye."

Reaching under his ruined arms, she hefted him clumsily 
into a sitting position, where he swayed in delirium. 
When I saw what she had done to his face I had to fight 
the urge to vomit. His entire face was a mass of raw 
meat. I'd never seen anything like it before in my life. 
She had obliterated him. Small eyes glinted under a mask 
of glistening red pulp. His nose was flattened, one 
nostril ripped open nearly an inch wide. His lower lip 
dangled by a single flap of skin, revealing a 
checkerboard pattern of broken, twisted teeth in a 
hingeless jaw. He hardly looked human any more. 

She wound her right arm around his neck from behind, 
resting his shattered chin and bloodsoaked beard in the 
crook of her arm. She flexed her arm, her bulging bicep 
and forearm squeezing shut his windpipe and causing the 
blood to flow even more forcefully from his many facial 
wounds. She would relax her huge arm just long enough to 
allow him to catch his breath, then she would squeeze, 
her muscles growing enough to nearly black him out. 
Finally, she wrapped her left arm around her right in an 
obscene mockery of an embrace. She gave a mighty squeeze, 
both arms exerting tremendous crushing force. Randy's 
eyes flew open with this renewed punishment, but I don't 
know what he saw, if anything. I could hear a muffled 
crackling stretching sound as his larynx and arteries 
were crushed. She squoze with renewed strength and his 
spine snapped with a wrenching pop.

She released his shuddering bulk with a boneless crash 
and stood facing me. Her rippling arms and corded neck 
were slick with blood which stained her shirt and vest. 

"Don't be afraid. I'm not going to hurt you," she said as 
she strode over to me. I was shaking violently, overcome 
with nausea and terror. 

She reached into a vest pocket and produced a large roll 
of bills. "For the damage," she said, placing the 
bloodstained money on the bar next to me. 

She walked past me and opened the door. I could hear 
sirens in the distance. 

"If you tell anyone my name, I'll come back and tear out 
your tongue. Understand?"

I understood.

---------------------------------------------------------
Okay, that's more like it. Thanks for your patience.

Stay tuned for more episodes in the "Jackie Kane goes 
somewhere and beats some big guys to death" series. 

RC