Killin' Time

Ramon was a snitch; he'd been caught being careless by the police and plea bargained to save his own ass. He would point the finger at the Professor's organization and hope the police protection would save him. That's where Otis B. Driftwood and Vera-Ellen 'Angel Baby' Firefly come in...master criminals and murderers, they could go where the other members could not or dare not. They tracked their target's flight and came up with a name and location that the Witness Protection Program had given him. Baby was astonished at how smart, thorough and creative Otis could be, it was he that found the fool. She gained a new appreciation for her father's partner-in-crime.

"Now how to do it..." considered the long-haired man.

"Best to get him at home, I think. He's livin alone, thinkin' he's safe," suggests the girl. "Wait till around dark. Then--"

"Then we get to play," hisses Otis with anticipation. They checked their arsenal before camping out across the street from Ramon's suburban house. The 40-ish, nondescript rat took his trash out, puttered about outside, seemingly unaware of two extremely volatile predators observing him. When night fell, they made their move, walking right up to the front door and ringing the doorbell.

Stupidly, Ramon opened it, and Otis' wiry arm shot out and knocked it against the man's face, both he and Baby entering the house smooth as silk.

"What the--?!," he stammered, dropping the sandwich he was eating. Then the realization crawled across his plain features, he saw the strangers' faces and read his death there. "Wait," he screeched as they advanced on him. "Whatever the Minions are offerin' you, I can better! I'll double it! Good business, yanno? Come on!"

Baby sidles up to him, purring. "You think this is business, dead man? Hahahahaha! We'd kill you for free. Killin is what we do," she breathes in his face, sending a thrill of fear up his spine. That was when he produced a handgun from his back pocket and swung it at Baby. She caught metal in the temple and stumbled back holding her head.

Otis brought his own gun to bear on Ramon, who dived to the floor squeezing off a couple of rounds. A bullet grazed Otis' cheek; he'd dodged just in time. Baby had her weapon trained on Ramon, who's attention had switched to her. As if in slow motion, both had the business end of their guns pointed at each other, and both squeezed the trigger...Baby was faster, however, putting two rounds in Ramon's chest. He slumped onto the floor on his back, gun falling out of stiffening fingers. Otis stood over him and emptied his gun into Ramon's abdomen, blood and chunks peppering the Persian rug he was lying on. "Sneaky fucker," he growled. "You ok?," he goes over to the woman and helps her up.

"I'm fine," she says, dusting herself off. "Didn't last as long as I hoped."

Otis pulled out his machete, saying, "Well, after we get the head what say we have some fuuuun before headin' back?"

Angel Baby giggles and throws her arms around Otis in an adoring hug.

A few miles down the road at a more rural house, hours later, presents another picture in carnage. The small house was permeated with the scent of sex, fear, and death. Otis was having intercourse with the recently expired woman of the house's corpse. A nude, bloodspattered Baby was chopping up the body of the woman's hapless husband in the next room, sated, dreamy expression on her blood encrusted face. She had promised the man his and his wife's freedom if he could please her, and man had he tried. Angel had him tied up and rode him till he was spent, then fucked him some more. She squeezed every drop he had in him out and when her aching sexual needs were satiated and he was begging her to stop she hit him repeatedly with a chunk of wood she'd picked up from outside until he moved no more.

She could hear Otis' moans of pleasure as he finished with the lady. Baby jumped in the shower in the single spacious bathroom and washed the bodily fluids and dirt off her supple skin. She noticed Otis was in the room when she was finishing up, turning the squeaky knobs to the off position and peering around the curtain. Her companion was staring at his reflection blankly in the mirror above the sink; she'd never seen him so pensive, especially after a session like he'd just had. She threw a towel around herself and stepped carefully onto the tile. "Otis?," she asked. His pale naked form tensed then relaxed as he turned light blue eyes to her. "Are yew all right?"

"Am I?," he returned hoarsely. Baby was at a loss; he should be elated and happy just as she was after all the fun. "I don't know whut's wrong," he muttered. "Feelin sorry for mahself I guess," he glanced back to the mirror and sunk his fist into it, drawing back a bloody fist. "Look at me, terrifying females everywhere I go." He chuckled, eyes returning to the self-confident madman Baby was used to.

She knew he sometimes hated his appearance, but it rarely surfaced. He was proud of his abilities and self-assured much of the time, but the alienation and sense of rejection was still there, ingrained in him as an abused child and unwanted teenager. He climbed in the shower to clean himself up. "Well, we gotta disposes of these assholes then back to the lair," Otis said over the shower spray.

Towel-drying her dark brown hair, Baby says, "Yep, and more fun times with the crew. I think that Lisa has a thing for you."

"She might be worth fuckin' with. While havin' a go I tried to kill her last night, she just twisted the knife outta my hand and kept fuckin. Never missed a beat."

"Nice! Maybe you should keep that one a while," Angel Baby was glad Lisa sought his bed out on her own. She also thought about seeking the slender beauty out herself...


"Very good," praised the ethereal, angular lady when Ramon's head was brought to her for verification. Her coppery eyes flicked to Otis, sending a vibe of unalderated lust through him. Lisa gave them their pay, which was unbelievable, the two hillbillies had never seen so much money at one time before. Otis and Angel Baby spent the rest of the day sleeping, having exhausted themselves with the mission and the fun. The albino was back to his normal high spirits and seemed contented as he usually was after playing with the rabbits. The girl was in her adopted brother's arms, feeling rather exposed and unsettled--she'd never been so far among so many different people before and with him she always felt safe.

A few days later, the demonic duo was touring some of the organization's far-flung holdings and watched a porno movie financed by the Minions being made; both were entranced and wanted in on the action. "Oh I think you'd be perfect," says one of the actresses to Baby. She looks Baby's figure up and down thoughtfully, declaring, "We could write her in, right Jamie?" The portly, balding director looks up and bites his lip, then nods his head. "Hi, I'm Rona," she shakes Otis' and Baby's hands, the pale man's eyes roaming over her curvy form appreciatively. "You wanna get in on the fuckin', too?," she asks him.

"Ah no--I wanted to have a look at yer cameras. This is some fascinatin' stuff here," he indicates the set and everything in it.

Rona laughs, tossing her bottle-blonde hair. "The Dick Hedley seal of quality." At the newcomers' quizzical expressions she explains, "The movie company, we call it Dick Hedley Productions." Baby and Otis burst out in laughter. "So you're serious? We can get you into the next scene right now." The younger woman shook her head enthusiastically. Otis got his hands on the equipment and had a great time lighting coochies and asses to full effect.

"Ok, so is there a script?," Baby asks while putting the Victorian-looking costume. Rona answers yes, but that she can be the extra girl in the next scene. It was a porno western currently being shot, a typical whimsical Dick Hedley production. The thirtysomething actress had to step in a few times to give pointers to the younger lady who was unsure, expecially at first. Soon she was sucking and fucking her way through the shot like a pro.

"You catch on pretty fast," commented Jamie to Otis as he filmed the sex. "So that's yore sister?"

"Yep," replies the slender ghostlike figure looking through the camera. "She's quite the fox, ain't she? Ain't a bad actress, either," he guffawed. The director looked at him in dismay, then shook his head. It was too weird for words.