Killin' Time

"Man that guard bitch had one hell of a right hook," jests Otis, meaning Angel's bruised eye. She slaps him playfully, munching on popcorn. "Ow," he goes, his whole side was sore from the other broad kicking him. A pitiful gurgling sound floated up from the floor, it seems dear Bobby was on his last leg, so to speak. Then....it was over. Mission accomplished.

Opening up the garage door, a new shiny white 1971 Pontiac LeMans greeted them. Otis grinned and Baby groaned. She knew he wouldn't be able to resist. Turning on the radio as they cruised Led Zeppelin's Immigrant Song blasted out of the car's speakers.

"Ahhhh, Ah! Ahhhh, Ah!
We come from the land of the ice and snow
And the midnight sun where the hot springs blow
The Hammer of the Gods
Will drive our ships to new lands
To fight the hordes, singin and cryin
VALHALLA I AM COMING!

On we sweep with, threshing oar
Our only goal will be the Western Shore"

"Ahhhh, ah! Ahhhhh, ah!," Angel Baby screams along. Otis shakes his head at her. He was more of a Black Sabbath man, himself.


Angel Bee, Baby was known as in the porn movies she starred in, and whe was becoming rather popular. Rona was proud of her protege and Otis learned all about the cameras and equipment. He also spent time with Quayle, a former surgeon and psychopath. Otis was all to happy to find someone freakier looking than himself.

One day in the underground headquarters the Professor sought out Otis in his chamber, his tall, imposing stature filling the room. "Whut can I do for ya, Earl?," Otis asks him. For reasons known only to the lean madman he'd taken to calling the cult leader 'Earl' who took it with good-natured aplomb.

"I just wanted to have chat with you 'bout your sister...Soloman wanted to know how Angel might feel about marrying him and staying here permanently. And you too, of course; your talents are useful and much appreciated."

"Well now," said Otis, his facial expression going neutral. "Guess you'll just have to talk ta Angel about that. Was her wantin' the adventure anyways. And yew know I ain't into all that Satan rhetoric."

The Professor nods his acceptance. "You have some interestin' ideas of your own, Cheever. But anyway, we're having a gathering of the Minions tonight, Soloman and Quayle got an assload of 'shrooms so it's gonna be a doozy."

"Wouldn't miss it," says Otis, eyes narrowing at the Professor's back as he leaves. "See ya, Earl."

Knocking could be heard on the door again. "Come in," calls Otis, and Lisa lets herself in, a twinkle in her eyes. She drops her dress revealing she was nude underneath and smiles at him wickedly. Heh, I've been too complacent the last little while, he thinks as she slinks toward the bed. They proceed to have hot, steamy sex, and when they're done and she's basking in the afterglow Otis glances over at her, observing her long smooth neck. He slips fist one hand then the other around her white throat and squeezes all at once. Her coppery eyes bug open, focusing on her lover's face bent on her destruction. She didn't even have time to cry out, tries to scream but only strangled moans come out. She never expected to die like this! Feebly her hands beat at his head and shoulders to no avail, then she decides to try something else as her air is completely shut off. She'd have to time this just right in order to pull this off. She flailed about a little bit more then rolled her eyes to the back of her head then lay still. Oh please, she thought, please I'm gonna die...

He released her throat satisfied she was dead, laying back a moment on his back. He didn't see her chest rise up in a few deep breaths, and when he looked back over she was lying so still and peaceful, her delicate features so perfect in her eternal repose. He kisses the full lips and whispers, "Sorry, lil darlin, but you know too much about me. Yer a bit too smart fer yer own good, heh. And I've grown too lax." God, she was so beautiful, he'd have to come back and fuck her after the party. He dresses and departs, only after the door is shut does Lisa bolt up, tears falling down her cheeks at the betrayal.

The main hall was full of carousing satanists, eating their fill of food and meadow mushrooms. Otis was in a dark corner by himself where he could observe everyone else--his constant mistrust had saved his skin on more than one occasion and even while tripping like a motherfucker he was always aware. Sounds carried forward and back like coming out of a tunnel and he was elated, pupils dilated in his faded eyes. He enjoyed being with depraved individuals like himself but it wasn't like family, wasn't the same...as the night wore on people in groups of two or more retired to chambers or corners to engage in more intimate sport. Baby had been entertaining Soloman with her dancing (she was quite good at it) and now came staggering to Otis, wine bottle in hand.

"Heya doodyhead! Where's Lisa?"

To Otis it seemed to take forever to answer and his mouth felt full of cotton. "Guess she had better things to do. Come sit down, light awhile! Hahaha," Angel complied, taking another swig of wine.

"Otis, are yew sulkin? Why dontya cozy up with one o' these other chicks? Hell, I just might," she giggles.

"Naw, I'm fine where I'm at, Angel." He takes the bottle from her and takes a pull.

The girl was filled with overwhelming concern for her adored companion and lays her tousled head on his arm. She raises her head after a few moments to gaze at Otis' craggy face and wished she could express how attractive and awesome she thought he was. She surprised them both by putting her lips to his. After a moment he pushed her away, grumbling, "No, Baby. Don't."

She looked at him, hurt welling up in her blue-green eyes. What did she do wrong? Even though she thought of him as a big brother, they really weren't related. "But, I thought--"

"I love you too much, don't ya see?" He left unsaid the fact that if anything sexual ever come between them, he'd kill her, and he didn't want that. Sex, violence and death were so intertwined in his twisted psyche that he looked at most women as meat, things to be used and discarded. And Angel Baby was better than that. "Cutter would kill my ass for messin' with you, besides."

"Pa wouldn't dare," she huffed.

"I know yer tryin to help," Otis told her. "But it's ok." His head was reeling; he felt ten thousand miles away. He was definately tripping out.

"I miss Ma and Pa," Baby declared wistfully. "And my brothers and Grampa."

"Go on and have fun," he encourages her, and she goes back to Soloman. They needed to be leaving soon, they were growing fat and lazy, and they were their own masters, not these cultists.