The Firefly's vs....the Mob?

The trio had picked up a damaged dirtbike from a neighbor to be repaired and had it strapped in the truckbed of Sandoz's pickup, along with some other items RJ needed for his trade. Sandoz and Moon had picked up some new knapsacks and more ammo, and were thinking of heading to Spaulding's to shoot the shit, but Moon stopped them as they walked out of the hardware store. "Something's wrong," she told RJ and Sandoz, indicating all the strange, unusually clean vehicles of varied description popping up everywhere they went. The one thing they had in common was the tinted windows making it hard to discern who was inside.

"Let's get the hell outta dodge," muttered Sandoz as they got inside the vehicle. As they expected several floatboat cars followed them as they exited the town. Then the bullets began to fly.

"Gun it!," Rufus and Moon said together. The redhead put the truck into high gear and stepped on the accelerator when a Ford Maverick with several Cadillacs came at them from the side. Cursing, Sandoz swerved as RJ pulled out his Mossberg Persuader and waited till a vehicle got close enough for the shotgun spray. He unloaded on it, a spray of red painting the interior, the car crashing into a bank. The weapon was what was called a riot gun, a shotgun with a pistol grip and was what city cops used in dire need. RJ reloaded while Moondragon slid the back cab window and began firing her .44. Slugs whizzed past them, peppering the hull of the truck and putting holes in the windshield.

Sandoz floored it.

Moon shot out the front wheels of one of the pursuers but there were at least half a dozen others chasing them. "What should we do?," demanded Sandoz.

"Go home," RJ replied.

"What?! But we'll lead them right to the rest of us!," Sandoz objected.

"As many as there is after us, there's prob'ly some already at the house," Rufus told her. "We have more protection an' guns there. Duck." Moon and Sandoz ducked as he yanked his handgun and shot the gunman in the vehicle coming up from the driver's side. It looked like one of Berlucci's men: both girls' hearts sank. They'd been found.

"Awright, fine!," Sandoz jerked the wheel, swinging the truck all the way around and catching a car that was coming up on either side, the front and back end shredding the cars' sides, revved the engine and peeled out. She barrelled through the surprised pursuers and headed for Cherrypicker lane. She cut across the dirt and bushes, burst through, and took a 15 foot leap onto the dirt road and kept trucking. Several seconds passed before the gang reappeared.

Stretching through the opened cab window, Moon undid the fastens on the dirtbike, sending it plummeting into the path of one of the Cadillacs. It flipped around and hit the ditch something hard, ruining transmission and busting out the oilpan. Onwards the trio flew, several cars still on their tail.
Otis was bored with the ladies gone and was debating on what to do with his captive now, she was weaker and squirmed a lot less now. He'd found her a couple of days ago during an attempt at a whorehopping. She was a prostitute living way beyond her means and trying to be more than she really was, and she sneered at him with mild disgust when he approached her. Thought she was too good for a low-class freak like him. Well her blue eyes were red-rimmed and swollen, makeup and blood running down her face and her slutty clothes pretty much tatters, and she sat whimpering before her abductor. She'd said her name was Dee. He stooped and removed the gag from her mouth. "Well, Dee," he said. "Wonder who'd pay money for you now? Haha. Nobody would give a nickel for such a sorry specimen of a live whore...but dead and remade--could be worth somethin' there." He picked up a leather hole punch and held it before her face.

The dark-haired prisonor tried to keep from weeping more. "Oh please, please don't. Don't kill me, mister! I'll--I'll do whatever you want. Please, please--," she begged.

"Stupid cunt!," he roared, flattening her against the chair she was strapped in. "I don't need you compliant! I do whatever I want to you. He jabbed her forearm with the hole punch, a spurt of blood spattering his pale skin. She squealed in pain and terror, tears rolling down her cheeks. He licked the blood off his hand, sporting his wide smile. God when Sandoz gets back he's gonna fuck her so hard--

He became aware of some kind of commotion downstairs, and Mother Firefly shouting at someone. Confused, he stuffed the gag back in the whore's mouth and slipped to the doorway and strained to listen.

A big man was dragging Ma through the house to the tv room by the hair of her head. This was his second attempt; the first had her wig come away in his hand which he glared at in horror until he realized it was a wig. Mother Firefly's short-cropped greying hair was revealed, which the mob lieutenant latched onto and pulled her, screaming obscenities, to the back of the house. Tiny made a move to stop him, but a dozen Italians had machine guns trained on him, and Mother told him to stay there and everything would be all right. "Yer makin' a biiiig mistake, bud," she informed him.

"Yeah, whatever ya wrinkled broad. We ain't here for you anyways. There's two young bitches we have a score to settle with, and we know they're tight with you."

Suddenly a blur of a yellow mane tackled one of the men, snatching up his weapon and turning it on the others. Startled, the leader was too slow to counter as Mama slashed his face with her nails and relieved him of his gun. "Motherfucker, no one messes with the wig!," she spat, her normal sugary tone replaced with a menacing growl. She then filled his gut with lead. Gunfire rang outside, Mother declaring, "There's more o' them out there. We're probably surrounded. Get under cover!"

"Come on, baby. Come on, baby," mumbled Sandoz, and Moon realized she was talking to the truck. The freckle-faced woman hoped that junkyard owner she'd had a short fling with knew what he was doing when he supercharged the pickup's engine. She wanted it to appear innocuous and harmless, as the girls themselves did on first glance. As if hearing her prayer the beat-up vehicle kept pulling, keeping ahead of the pursuers despite their best efforts. Moon swore and declared she was running out of bullets, RJ replied never mind they was almost home.

"Is the gate locked?," Sandoz glanced over at Rufus with worry.

He shook his head no and said, "Gun that sumbitch! Go round back!"

"SHIT!," swore all three as they barrelled through the gate and yard, scattering chickens and pigs. Whipping the steering wheel Sandoz skidded the bullet-riddled truck to a stop in front of the back porch, smoke and dust slowly settling around them. "Like a pro," crowed Sandoz, overjoyed they'd all survived this far. Sporadic gunfire and shouts from inside spurred them into action once more, grabbing what could be carried and jumping out of the trusty farm vehicle. The trio rushed inside and saw Baby reloading several firearms and Otis and Tiny going at 4 or 5 assailants with sledgehammers. One got off a shot at Tiny, striking him in the thigh. Grunting in pain he staggered toward him, raising the hammer. Brains were dashed onto the hardwood floor, bones crushed and organs ruptured--soon the men were bloody piles on the floor.

"San, Moon--you all right?," asked Mother, clutching a submachine gun. The ladies nodded yes, then the older woman shrieked "What the hell have you got us all into?"

The pair looked at one another and Moon spoke. "It's Grant Berlucci, a big crime boss we sorta pissed off. Sandoz killed his brother, Lonnie."

"Only because he had a buncha roughnecks try to rape and kill you! The fuck!," Sandoz interjected.

"I know that! He was mad 'cause me and you were leaving and I didn't wanna be tied down, same as you."

"What the hell kinda mafia name is 'Grant', anyway?," piped up Otis. "'Yes, I'm Mr. Barnaby Jones, straight in from Sicily' hahaha. Aw, we can take em. Tell em to bring it!" More shooting sent all them them to the floor instinctively. Otis ripped his shirt up and used it as a tourniquet on Tiny.

"I believe they're bringing it," Moon said drily. During a lull in the firing she dashed to the closet for more ammo, tossing it to Sandoz. The redhead had her handguns tucked in her belt and held her automatic rifle at the ready. Otis told them they should spread out, to cover more area. Just as they began moving out, attackers burst through the big windows. None of the members looked like what you'd expect mob gangsters to be--they were very casually dressed and led by...a Mexican? This wasn't anything like what Otis had seen in the movies. "This fat ho can't be the one," he said, catching Sandoz by the throat. The others surrounded the family.

"No, I'm the one," Moon said, facing him. He released Sandoz.

"Any other of these rednecks here?," he called to his men searching the place.

"Just an old man," came the answer. Shortly two olive-skinned men appeared, half-pushing, half-dragging a frail, stooped figure.

"Get yer paws off me!," Grampa snarled, looking like a bedraggled rat between the gangmembers.

"So, if you're Moon," the leader of Berlucci's men indicated the brunette. "Then this one's Sandoz. You messed with the wrong people, my sweets. Now you all gotta die."
Another approaching car could be heard outside, followed by several big thuds and the familiar loud rolling voice of none other than Spaulding. "Haha, good ol' Cutter," chuckled Otis.

"What now?!," griped the Mexican, craning his neck to peer outside. The room exploded into movement: Baby and Otis rushed the leader while Tiny smashed Grampa Hugo's guards mercilessly, then Mother lead the old man to the relative safety of the basement. Moon and Sandoz opened fire on the others and RJ made his way to the front door to assist Spaulding.

"Weeehaaaa!," went the huge clown. He'd run down several mobsters in his souped-up convertible and mowed down even more with his semi-automatic. Clad in t-shirt and workpants, he still has his trademark greasepaint on, making for an incongruous sight as he murdered their attackers left and right. RJ slammed the butt of his SKS against the back of a man's head then followed the clown back inside amid a hail of bullets. Rufus stumbled when one penetrated his upper arm, burning pain spreading up to his shoulder, but he kept going.

Baby had found the leader quicker than she thought, he dodged the shots she squeezed off at him and aimed at her, but Otis put half a dozen rounds into his right leg, perforating his well-tailored pants. He sank to the floor with his finger still on the trigger, laying down fire that nearly caught Spaulding as he entered the room. Sandoz and Moon had cut the remaining ones down, crimson blotches covering them and the walls of the tv room. A round from the Mexican's gun struck Sandoz's hand, dropping her weapon with a yelp. Moon suddenly clutched her side that was seeping with blood. Baby finally kicked the gun out of the leader's hand, crushing his hand under her boot. Otis pointed the barrel of his gun at the man's head.

"No," declared Baby. "I wanna play with him."

"There's still some o' them assholes outside," Spaulding reminded them.

"Yeah, one of them got me," spoke RJ with blood running down his arm. Baby tore the bottom of the big man's shirt and bandaged it while they all got their breath.

Sandoz was doing the same with her maimed hand when Otis noticed the two women. "San?," he checked on her then had Moon sit in one of the armchairs. "Bullet's lodged in there," he said grimly after lifting up Moon's shirt and examining her hip. The slender woman was breathing heavily and fighting to stay conscious.

Baby and Spaulding went outside and picked off the rest of the gangmembers, the blonde's crazed laughter drifting inside as she dispatched them with glee. After it was all over, they took stock of all the vehicles, new clothes, jewelry and weapons they'd now acquired. Ma dug out the bullet in Moon's side with a pair of tweezers, poured the hole full of alcohol and gave her some herb tea that put her to sleep. Otis stood watch over her, still bare to his waist and wearing the same bloodstained camouflage pants until a freshly bathed, towel-clad, hand-bandaged Sandoz returned to her friend's side. "I'm sorry, Moon. This was all my fault," she said softly.

"Don't go blamin' yerself," Otis told her. "Right now the only thing I can blame ye for is givin' me a raging hard-on." He followed her to her room and gave the old bed-springs a bit of a workout.

Grampa watched the Munsters on tv and threw beercans at it while Mother took a bubble bath.

Tiny slept after Mama medicated him and his leg, his mask removed and his scarred face in peaceful repose. Spaulding was stretched out on the couch reading a porno magazine.

Baby's moaning of pleasure could be heard as she used and abused the Mexican. Things were returning to normal at the Firefly household. Moon opened her eyes and smiled at RJ bending over her. He tentatively put his lips on hers, the unspoken promise hanging in the air.

Otis awoke in bed with a warm, not a cold, body pressed against his thin frame. Rolling over he got a face full of wavy red hair and memories of last night's fun flooded back to him. Sandoz looked cuter and younger in blissful sleep, much younger than the 28 she claimed to be. This was a new situation for him to have a girl still alive the next morning after a night of sex....should he wake her up? Let her sleep? Tell her it was great? He slowly pulled his arm out from under her and got out of bed, the woman thankfully remaining asleep. Then he remembered where he stashed Dee. Satiated, it would take him a while to do what needed to be done to her.

The prostitute was barely conscious as he drug her out of the closet, attaching her to some manacles sprouting from the wall. She couldn't even stand but just hung there. Ah, no fun at all. The wraith selected a carving knife from the myriad ones stuck in the table and proceeded to open her from collarbone to groin. Her vitals spilled out onto his arms and the floor in a hot slurp, the whore's only reaction a surprised, wide-eye gurgle as her remaining organs were pulled out by the wraith. Her insides looked a lot better than her outside, he thought. Ohhh, he felt gooood. Now where's that formaldahyde?