Disposable Fiction – The Rabbit’s Last Stand: Part Two

And the action continues! More commenters have commented and so the show goes on! Be sure to read “Disposable Fiction – The Rabbit’s Last Stand: Part One” to get the conceit of whatever the hell is going on.

The Story So Far…

The McElroy mansion was robbed by Katrina, AKA “The Rabbit.” Soon after, a mysterious agency whose field team was lead by the mysterious Amy was on the site. As their forensics expert, Chris, surveyed the wreckage, Amy came to the conclusion that the place was indeed robbed by The Rabbit, even though everyone thought The Rabbit was dead.

Amy contacted Dane, the Chief. Together, they decided they couldn’t apprehend Katrina alone so they called Angela, even though Angela and Amy have a difficult past.

In the meantime, Katrina broke Stuart (her cohort) out of a minimum security prison and has taken the goods from the McElroy heist to her fence and underworld contact, Diana. Diana reluctantly agreed to fence the goods for an inflated price, but wants no part of whatever mysterious plan Katrina is bankrolling with her theft.

In the meantime, Amy and Angela have gone to their agency’s weapon supplier Robyn, who has to intervene before a knife fight happens.

What is going to happen next?! Maybe something!

NOTE: This whole thing is making a LOT more sense than I intended it to. Maybe I need to fix that.


The Rabbit’s Last Stand: Part Two


Chris knelt in front of the open, black safe, running a gloved finger along the inner edge of the door. “Definitely opened before the conflagration,” he said. “The trap mechanism is disabled. From the inside, apparently. I have no idea how they did that.”

Wilson shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. They tripped the second trap apparently. Upstairs looks thoroughly wrecked and unstable.”

“Yeah,” Chris said. “Nice of the safe to be considerate enough to crash through the floorboards and come to us. Whoever was here got whatever was in the safe anyway.”

“What was in there?”

“Stuff,” Chris said, “that we’ll never be able to afford.”

Heavy footfalls crunched through the debris. The earliest morning light did nothing to thin the smoke still hanging over the scene. Chris and Wilson tried to peer through the smoke that was replaced by a thick fog. They heard someone stumble and growl, “who the f**k put a tiger here?!” A hulking shape parted the fog.

He was wearing a yellow hazmat suit. His helmet did nothing to cover his cherubic face, which almost always displayed a child-like grin.

Bobo?!” Wilson snapped. The look Chris gave him was the only ‘shut up’ needed. Wilson looked away.

Bobo,” Chris nodded. “What brings you here?”

“What do you think? The Chief. He’s calling off the sweep. We know who did this.”

“Oh?”

“The Rabbit.”

Chris blinked rapidly. “Bullshit,” he said. “The Rabbit was cooked.”

“Oh? Has someone told her?”

“But the remains…”

“A fingernail. We found ‘A’ fingernail.”

“But the DNA…”

“A FINGERNAIL! I trim mine every two weeks. They’re all over the place. How hard is it to leave a fingernail?” Bobo asked.

“You may have a point,” Chris said, “but I mean… like the Chief says, DNA evidence doesn’t lie.”

Bobo sighed. “Am I going to have to slap a bitch?”


“You touch my whip, Amy, and you’re gonna need to get fitted for a hook hand,” Tam growled. Amy pulled her hand away, glaring.

“It’s like freaking day care here,” Robyn sighed. “Tam, give Amy the whip. It’s her turn to play.”

Tam growled. “Mine! I made special modifications to this whip, Robyn. I put in the hours. Look at this, for instance!” Tam flipped a switch in the base and small, metallic shards poked out between the leather weaves up and down lash.

Amy gasped. “That’s beautiful! What do you call it?”

“I call it mine, ‘Gazelle’,” Tam growled.

Robyn sighed. “Yeah, yeah. You created it… based on MY design, using MY whip and MY materials in MY workshop. You’re not even going out in the field. You’re leaving for the Atlantis resort in the Bahamas for two weeks.”

“So? Who says I don’t need a whip for a vacation?”

“I do,” Amy said. “Why the hell do you need a whip at a Bahama resort?”

“You’re not doing vacation right if you don’t have a whip!”

“Bored,” Angela said. “This is boring. I’m bored.”

Robyn glanced at Angela and whispered, “Safety scissors.”


“If you make a single Bugs Bunny joke during this Rabbit hunt,” Angela said, swirling her Cabernet Sauvignon, “I am going to hamstring you.” She sat back in her chair, smirking.

“You hamstring me,” Amy Lambert Polo said through a mouthful of Waldorf salad, “and I will amputate your entire body.”

“How the hell do you…”

“Amputate an entire body?” Amy asked. “I figured out a way. Grab a Ouija board and ask the guy who put the bullet in my left leg.”

A redheaded server came over to the table. She pulled out her pad smiled at both of them, and said “Welcome to P.J. McPuffy-Ranchers, home of the Dicey D.C. Potato Nuke. How can I help you…”

Amy and Angela looked at each other, then at the woman. “Help us?” Amy asked. “We’ve already been helped.” She pointed to her salad while Angela indicated her wine.

The server smiled slightly. “You didn’t let me finish. How can I help you… DIE!”

She threw he pad at Angela’s face and flicked her pen at Amy, then reached behind her and drew two Glock 17s, one in each hand.

“Shit!” Angela yelled, rolling backwards. She felt the wind of a bullet blow past her. Amy swatted the pistol upwards and the shot went wild. The woman jabbed the pistol forward and poked Amy in the forehead. Amy flinched and the hot barrel left a red mark on her cheek. She rolled backwards.

“The Sous Chef sends his regards!” The woman yelled as the restaurant erupted in chaos. Everyone ran towards the exits. The woman dove behind the bar and urged the bartender to leave. “You don’t want to be a part of this,” she growled. He scrambled out of the bar and into the back.

Return fire pocked the wooden face of the bar. The woman laughed. “Nice try,” she yelled.

“You’re trapped,” Angela said.

“Nuh uh!”

Amy looked at Angela and pressed a finger to her lips. “Do we know you?” Amy asked.

“I sure hope not!” The woman said.

Amy and Angela looked at each other. “I think I know who you are,” Angela yelled.

“No you don’t,” the woman said.

“You’re Trisha… er… Tirzah Halev or something, right?”

There was a long silence, then the woman said, “No?”

“Yes you are! You’re Tirzah Halev, aren’t you?”

“Crap!”

Amy tilted her head. “Why ‘crap?’”

“The fact that you’ve heard of me means I haven’t done my job right. No one should have heard of me. It means that somewhere there is a survivor.”

Amy said, “I don’t quite….”

Tirzah had leaned across the side of the bar and shot through the table. The bullet hit Amy’s left leg.

“GODDAMN IT!!!!!” Amy yelled. “I’m going to kill her!” She screamed as she stood up and hobbled quickly over to the bar. She blindly aimed her gun over the side and fired indiscriminately. She cautiously looked over the bar.

No one was there.

“Good shooting there, Elmer Fudd,” Angela said.


“Again?!” Tru exclaimed. “What, is your left leg an electromagnet? DON’T SQUIRM”

Amy held still but was still snorting angrily, her arms crossed tightly. She was laying on a gurney, Tru bent over her left leg, holding her forceps and peering intently at Amy’s leg wound. Angela was standing behind her, trying not to giggle.

“Nine millimeter,” Tru said. “Clean entry. Your muscles are pretty much steel cables, so that stopped it from exiting. Missed your bone, nothing but meat. Looks like you get another souvenir from your exciting lifestyle.”

“Would you just dig the damn thing out? We have stuff to do.”

Tru put down her forceps and looked evenly at Amy.

“Sure, I can dig it out.” Tru said angrily. “I have my forceps and a scalpel. How about I just dig around in there and see what happens. And maybe I tear a ligament or five on the way, perhaps do some serious tissue damage and then pop a cork in the hole and hope Little Miss MRSA doesn’t come a-callin’. Perhaps take out the bullet and turn it into a pendant. A reminder of the time when you lost your leg because you demanded that someone take a bullet out of you in the field.”

“Well…”

“Second thoughts?”

Amy nodded.

“Good. Tough it out. Hell, Tam has buckshot lodged in the right trapezius and never complains… about that, anyway. In the meantime, here are some pain killers.”

“Aw!” Angela said. “Want.”

Tru looked at her. “You get shot and you can hop in the queue.” She turned to Amy. “In the meantime, you… take it easy, don’t run unless there is an explosion on the way; and even then, just walk away slowly because it’s cool. So are impacted eardrums, I imagine. And if you have to travel, explain your situation to the people at the airport before you set off every metal detector in the area.”

Amy smirked. “That’s why I only travel with my private jet.”

Tru rolled her eyes. “Well, ooh la la.”

“Shut up, asshole,” Amy opined. Tru grinned.


Will there be more? What happened to Katrina and Stuart? Has Diana moved the merchandise? Who is the mysterious Bobo? Why does everyone seem to think that a single fingernail at a bombed-out disaster area constitutes a legitimately identifiable corpse? What was the deal with those daggers mentioned only once at the beginning? Who is the Mysterious Tirzah (Trisha to her friends) and why did she mention a sous chef? Why is Tru so grumpy? Where did that awesome spiked whip Amy wanted so badly go, and why wouldn’t Tam give it up? What does Tam’s dream vacation entail, and will they allow it at the Atlantis resort? And what the hell did Katrina do to that poor tiger?

Are we going to ever find out the answers to these questions? I DON’T KNOW!

Wait! I DO!!!!! Read Part Three more far more questions than answers!

 


PART ONE | PART THREE | PART FOUR | PART FIVE |
PART SIX | PART SEVEN | PART EIGHT | PART NINE | PART TEN