Current Transmissions:

20130616

Lip Service



"What kind of name is Mags, anyway?" the brutish man asked.

"It's my name," she said with a slight smile.

The big brute gave her a backhand, sending her head back in a violent jolt. She couldn't defend since her arms and legs were wired to a wooden chair.

He towered over her, 375lb, his eyes showing his anger at the smart-ass that sat before him. This was the person who took out 33 of his men on the docks, when the shipment of slaves came in. They said that this one girl came in and wreaked havoc and ruined everything.

It took him a ton of money, but he finally found the girl. And he was going to make her pay for the fatal mistake that she had made. She had interfered in his affairs, and no one did that.

"Careful, Bolo," a voice cautioned from the shadows. "They say she's an assassin."

"This chick ain't all that good," Bolo quipped. "We got her. No one is untouchable."

"Can't touch this," she said. And then she went into a musical riff, which sparked a nerve in Bolo. He hated that song.

Bolo punched Mags again, her body sagged, weakened from the severe beatings she had undergone.

"Hit me baby, one more time," she sang through swollen lips.

"Don't you get it bitch!" Bolo shouted at her. "You're as good as dead. There is no way in hell that you're getting out of here in one piece."

Mags chuckled.

"What's so funny?"

"I've been through Hell a few times," she said. "When I get there I will have to deal with Lucy and right now, as of this moment, we ain't on speaking terms."

Bolo's fist balled up again. His anger was growing; he had controlled it for the past hour but now his patience was wearing thin. Any moment now he was going to go Mount St Helen's on this girl. He was surprised by her stamina, that she took the beating he dished out. Usually they would have been dumping her body in a shallow grave somewhere by now, but she had held on for hours longer than anyone else had.

"This chick ain't right in the head," another voice from the shadows said. "She doesn't know shit, Bolo."

Mags smiled again, "I know shit, lots of shit. Shit that you can only imagine."

Mags looked up to the ceiling, a smile widening on her face.

Bolo punched her again. Her body wracked with such force that Bolo thought he had killed her. A small satisfied smile crept across his lips, like someone carving a jack-o-lantern... which disappeared when Mags' head rolled over and she looked up with one eye and flashed him another toothy grin.

"Alright thats IT!" Bolo screamed. He grabbed one of Mags' guns from the table and pointed it at her. "Any last words bitch?"

"Yeah," she said. She spit blood from the side of her mouth. "It's about time you got her, hun."

Bolo looked at her in disbelief. He was just about to pull the trigger when a new voice from the shadows said:

"I didn't know what shirt to wear."

That's when all hell broke loose.