Three Down and One to Go

A spurned liquidator gets even

By Mongoose750 (mongoose750@yahoo.com)

Crowds of people walked up and down the sidewalks to their various destinations. One of them was a slender 5'9" woman with straight blond hair extending to the nape of her neck. On that morning, she wore a black long-sleeved dress shirt with white pinstripes and black slacks. To accessorize the outfit, she carried a large black purse with long handles. The pants were rolled up at the knees, revealing that she was barefoot. This was a curiosity to some, a reaction of horror to others, but most people didn't give her a moment's notice, as they had their own places to go.

From her stride, it was obvious that the woman was walking toward her destination with purpose. Her steps finally slowed as she walked around the side of a building with only her and one other woman, a shorthaired brunette in a burgundy pantsuit. Suddenly in one quick move, the barefoot blonde slipped off her purse, and threw the leather rope handles around the brunette's neck. She jerked her into a secluded corner of that alley, and slammed her into the side of a wall before pulling her off her feet and landing her face down on the ground. In the process of attempting to fight off her attacker, the brunette looked up at her assailant, who had a tight small grin on her face.

Using raw strength, the blonde rolled the brunette on her stomach, and pulled up on her neck with her purse, performing something similar to a camel clutch in wrestling, except it was a strangle hold instead of a submission hold. Her bare feet were planted on each side of her victim's head, as if to let her know who her murderess was. After a few more minutes of struggle, the deed was done. The blonde slipped her purse from around her target's neck, which dropped to the ground. She went through the brunette's purse and pulled out a wallet, a cell phone, an electronic organizer, and a few other things to make it look like a robbery went wrong. She pulled out the money in the wallet and placed it in her own purse, along with everything else. When she saw the coast was clear, she reentered the sidewalk and walked away, her strides more casual this time.

David Fields drank his second cup of coffee, and put down his paper. He had the luxury of coming to work late this morning, but all good things had to come to an end, and he walked through the living room to pick up his briefcase and charcoal gray suit coat. David Fields was a man that stood around 5'7", and had a medium build. His black hair was permed, adding an additional two inches to his height, and making him eligible to the ladies. In fact, he stopped at a mirror in the hallway of his high-rise apartment to comb it one more time when he felt a draft. It was a pleasant spring day, but he didn't recall opening a window. Yet according to the reflection in the mirror, he could see some curtains from the living room slightly waving in the breeze.

He walked to the window to close it, when he saw someone sitting on the wooden railing of his balcony. It was the blonde woman. This time, she wore a black sleeveless blouse held on the shoulders by spaghetti straps, and short white shorts. Like before, she was barefooted.

"Michelle? What are you doing here?" David exclaimed.

"What's wrong, David, aren't you glad to see me? I mean, you were going to see me sometime soon, so I thought I'd save you the trouble and drop by," she said.

"I don't know what you're talking about," David said, his eyes on the woman, but at the same time looking around to make sure there weren't any additional surprises.

"That's what they all say," the blonde said, jumping off the railing. "But to help you out, let me give you a hand; or rather, a foot."

Before David could access the meaning of the statement, the blonde delivered a right roundhouse kick to his chin that attempted to knock his head off. Though his head was still attached, the power behind the kick almost knocked him out. He stumbled to the floor, half woozy. Before he could make any attempt to get up or get away, the woman slammed her foot on his face, particularly the nose and mouth area.

"You should feel honored, I've wanted to do you for a long time now," she said, increasing the pressure of her foot on his face, squeezing his nose shut with her toes, pausing from time to time to stomp it. She didn't know why, but she always enjoyed finishing her opponents with her feet. David struggled to get himself free, but the delivery of stiffened toes to his larynx gave him an additional problem of obtaining air along with a concussion, a crushed nose and a foot on his face smothering him out of existence.

After a couple of well-placed stomps and some more foot smothering later, she was finished. The blonde woman lifted up her bare right foot to examine it. She saw blood, and mucus along with the usual dirt on her sole. She cringed at the thought of someone's boogers on her foot, and wiped it off on his trousers. She stretched, suppressing a yawn, and walked off the balcony of the apartment back into the living room, and to the kitchen to find her a quick snack and a soft drink.

Later that day, at the gym, the blonde woman, clad in a tank top leopard print leotard that showed off the muscular definition in her arms and legs, performed a couple of standing curls with each arm as she thought about the event that led to this day.

The blonde woman was standing before the desk of her supervisor, a middle-aged black man in his mid-forties with a stout build, and salt-and-pepper hair. He was polishing his glasses before he talked to her ' a sure sign that he was nervous, and what he had to say was not good news.

"Michelle, I received a message from my superior that you are to be demoted to desk duty immediately," he said.

"Why?" Michelle said, shocked. "What have I done?"

"He said that your tactics of liquidation, er, stand out in an unprofessional manner."

"So he's firing, excuse me, demoting me because I hate shoes? I know he's new, but it bothers him that much?"

"I know you have done your job in an excellent manner, despite your eccentricities. After all, all your previous clients haven't complained, have they?"

Michelle couldn't help but grin a little at that one. That was their in-joke regarding the successful liquidations she's performed without shoes. Even at that moment, she wore a yellow sundress with white flowers, and white toenail polish being the only thing on her feet. Her supervisor's new boss thought Michelle's hatred of shoes was unusual, but when he saw her for the first time at a formal function, dressed in a nice black dress, black hose, and no footwear, he thought something must be done, regardless of her performance.

"He also said with the present climate being what it is with COIL and the war between DOOM and the Silkworms and Poison Geisha, we can't afford to stand out in our regular matters," her supervisor continued.

"Oh come off it, John!" Michelle said. "COIL barely knows we even exist, and DOOM has more than their hands full fighting the Geisha and Silkworms. In fact, I expect DOOM agents to be an endangered species by this time next year if they even last that long. In any case, that doesn't have anything to do with us. Anyway, I thought you would be the one promoted to that office, not this dude who came out of nowhere."

John just shrugged his shoulders and said, "Politics."

Michelle sighed. "So who's taking my place?"

"Actually, it's narrowed down to three people who want your position. My superior is bringing in all three, so it's not in-house. I believe they're David Fields, Jimmy Crawford, and Ashley Murphy."

"Ashley Murphy, isn't she the one who's been sleeping with your boss?"

"As your supervisor, I will not participate in chasing such an unfounded rumor," John said.

"In other words, you agree with me, but because of your position, you can't officially say so," Michelle said wilily.

John replied with a nod.

"Well if he has a problem with me, demoting me won't take care of it. Shanna and Lana, our two other liquidators have started doing it. Lana enjoys the stealth benefits of hunting barefoot, and Shanna admitted that it gives her a sensual feeling every time she does it (don't mention it to her, please). Even our mature liquidator, Margaret is giving it a try. I told her one-day that she has such a powerful body, why go to all that trouble to keep the bottom part of it covered all the time. So far, she loves it. He may have to demote all of us if he wants shod liquidators around here."

"Michelle, you know I don't have a problem with your work, shoes or not. In fact, the Corporation doesn't have any problems with it. But this new man, he insists on having some dignity to this branch."

"Dignity, huh? I do not trust him. I remember in his department, there was someone in liquidations who decided to voluntarily take a desk position after serving his department there for many years. The next day, he dies in a suspicious auto accident. Is that what's going to happen to me, John?" Michelle asked.

"I mentioned that very thing to him, and he swore to me that nothing was going to happen to you, Michelle. You're a good worker, and an excellent liquidator, and I will not personally allow that to happen to my people, no matter who's in charge," John said.

"I appreciate that, John, I really do. I've just heard that this was a guy who doesn't like to play by the rules. And that's a scary thing when that same behavior extends to how he treats his employees."

"I'm sorry, Michelle; at this moment, there's nothing I can do, my hands are tied."

"Okay. Hey, how about this; instead of sending me to my desk, how about sending me home at lunchtime, and giving me the next day off? There are a few things I'd like to check out."

"No problem; and again, Michelle, I'm sorry."

Michelle went home at lunchtime, but she didn't stay home. Instead, she grabbed a few things, clothes and toiletries, and took a taxi to a nearby hotel to spend the evening. Later that night, she drove back to her place in a rented car, parked a safe distance away, and watched. Sure enough, as she expected, some people, the ones John had mentioned who want to take her place, were on the grounds attempting to break in. To prevent possible damage to the house, she left it unlocked. After twenty minutes, they realized she wasn't there, and left.

"And all this is because I hate shoes?" Michelle said to herself. No, it couldn't be, it's something deeper. And if I'm in danger, so is everyone else at my department, including John.

And that's where she started formulating her plan.

Michelle snapped out of her thoughts when she saw Jimmy Crawford arrive. Jimmy was a taller man of 6'2", and dark brown hair. He went to the gym regularly to keep his physique trim and fit. He was wearing a black jogging suit as we walked to the free weights. Once he reached his destination, he took off the jacket, revealing a white tank top. Like others serious about their fitness, Jimmy liked attending the gym when it was either empty or near empty. At this time, there was only two there.

Michelle, who had his back to him, turned around, surprising him.

"Hello, Jimmy," she said neutrally.

"Michelle, what a surprise. How are you?" Jimmy said, not missing a beat.

"It's too bad, what happened to Ashley, wasn't it?" She continued.

At this point, Ashley's death was discovered earlier that morning, but it hasn't been made public knowledge. Jimmy looked at Michelle and realized the truth.

"Ashley, it, it was you, wasn't it?" Jimmy asked.

Michelle walked a few feet in front of Jimmy, blocking his way to the free weights. "Yes, it was me. David's body you can find on the balcony of his apartment. I really don't appreciate strangers showing up on my doorstep uninvited in the middle of the night, especially when they don't have my best intentions in mind."

"You're a loose cannon, Michelle, a rebel; the Corporation can't afford that," Jimmy said, attempting to inch near some of the free weights.

"No, I'm just a loyal liquidator who hates shoes. Your boss is a megalomaniac who wants it all for himself. I can't have that."

Jimmy by way of remark, charged Michelle, arms open wide. Michelle just met his charge with a reverse headlock with her right arm. Adding a reverse half nelson to it with her left arm, she swung herself forward, wrapping her legs around Jimmy. The added weight caused Jimmy to tumble to the ground, hitting the top of his head. Once they landed on the ground, Michelle switched her headlock to a guillotine choke.

"Even if you took me out of the way, neither one of you three are suitable for the job, anyway," Michelle said, applying her leg scissors at full power. "There were several ways Ashley could've reversed my attack. And David was just pitiful; one good kick, and he was mine to finish off. And if you studied my file or learned my tactics, you would've known my specialty was fighting in close quarters. Right now, you have only one arm left to fend me off. That is, unless I do this."

Michelle gave a quick jerk with her right arm, breaking his neck. She rolled the body away, and grabbing a towel, went to the showers. She had an appointment to make.

John has had a long day. He had found out that there was one agent found dead that morning in an alley, another missing, and another agent found dead later that afternoon at the company gym, and it was all his fault. Or at least, that's what his new boss had said in so many words. Truth was, he was starting to see Michelle's reasoning about his boss' dubious designs, but he couldn't do anything about it quite yet but wait.

He entered his house, sighing. He entered the living room, and was shocked to see Michelle lounging on his sofa. This time, she was wearing a pink sports bra with black trim, and black shorts. Of course, as always, she was barefoot. She was fingering a remote.

"Michelle, what are you doing here? Do you know there are people looking for you?" John said.

"Yeah, I expected as much. But I needed to see you," Michelle said.

"Are you going to add me to your body count?"

"Now John, why did you say that? I'm an assassin, not a butcher. Besides, why would I kill you? You've been a great boss to work for, and a good friend. Besides, those three I took care of broke into my house looking for me, so I just returned the favor."

John had another surprised look on his face. "He lied to me," he said.

"Yes, he did. Anyone who would knock off his own people like flies is not someone I would take at his word. Anyway, I'm here to see your promotion."

"Promotion, what are you talking about?"

Michelle turned on the remote to his TV and VCR. A picture of his boss' house appeared.

"That's his house," he said.

"That's correct. Now watch carefully."

Sixty seconds later, a small explosion started in one corner of the house, followed by another at a different corner, followed by a third at yet another corner, and a fourth. The entire house caved in, until it looked more like a war zone than a house.

"Your promotion is now complete," Michelle said, tossing him the remote. "What will you do now?"

John straightened up, grinned slightly and said, "Michelle, I expect to see you at work in your normal capacity in the morning. We'll access this disaster, and see why DOOM would want to bomb my supr- ahem ' my ex-superior's house."

"Yeah, maybe he got caught in some crossfire. That bombing pattern looks like their work. Not as satisfying as using one's bare hands or feet, but it got the job done."

"We'll have a staff meeting in the morning discussing everyone's positions and duties. I'll see you there," John ordered.

"Yes sir!" Michelle said, giving him a peck on the cheek and waving goodbye on the way to her car hidden in the brush, and the trip home.

For comments, suggestions, or story ideas, email the author at shrewsberry@juno.com.

# 2007 Barefoot Heroines, Inc.