The Red Queen

'So...’ started Bo, later that evening, from the front of the small hall, leaning on her Chokuto sword, ‘...what have you learned today...?’.

She was dressed in close-fitting, dark blue three-quarter length jeans that flared slightly at the ends, green plaid blouse with rolled up sleeves, brown ankle boots and multiple gold bangles upon each wrist. Several hands shot up into the air to answer her question.

‘Yes, Ryan...’ started Bo, with slight weariness, '...I do look hot with a sword...’ Ryan, a blonde youth with square shoulders, put his hand down with slight embarrassment, ‘...and, no, Cynthia...’ Bo continued with the same tone, '...I am not “Merida” from “Brave” ...’ this brought a few giggles from the assembled group of teenagers.

‘The Romans were responsible for most of our modern way of life...?’ asked Kelly with uncertaintainty. Her auburn hair was swept back into a loose ponytail that spilled down the front of her cream T-shirt.

‘Well done, Kelly...’ Bo said, '...at least someone was paying attention to what I was saying, rather than imagining me as a Disney princess or fantasising about me slaying a dragon or two...’. This caused a lot more laughter from the class.

‘And the Knights Templar were bastards...?’ added Kelly. This sent the class into a rousing round of applause.

Even Bo laughed and clapped with approval.

‘Excellent observation, Kelly...’ started Bo, pointing to the girl, ‘...though, I don’t think you should put that in your final dissertation...’. This brought about more laughter from the students. Suddenly, there was a ringing from somewhere out in the hall, and the class erupted into a flurry of activity as the students hurriedly gathered their belongings.

‘Well done, everyone...’ called Bo over the sudden din of books being shoved into bags and murmurs from the students, ‘...would anyone like a bit more of a “hands-on” experience...?’.

Immediately, Cynthia, Ryan and Kelly shot their hands up.

‘Excellent...!’ declared Bo, clapping her hands together, ‘...you can help carry my stuff to the truck...!’ There was a playful groan from the “volunteers” accompanied by equally playful laughs from their fellow students as they hurried past Bo, absently giving her compliments as they rushed out of the door.

The small group were walking out of the University Hall carrying various books and assorted props and talking about the lecture from mere moments ago.

‘I loved the way you talk about a battle...!’ said Kelly, walking almost alongside Bo with the Chokuto safely in its elaborate box, '...it’s almost as if you were there...’. Bo smiled at the girl.

If she only knew, she mused to herself.

‘What about the death of Emperor Commodus...?’ asked Ryan, from behind Bo, ‘...is there any truth to that in the movie “Gladiator”? Could a lone slave really have killed an Emperor...?’

‘Not entirely...’ started Bo, ‘...although “Gladiator” takes some liberties with history, Commodus really did meet his end at the hands of one of his gladiators; a wrestler, in fact...’ she paused to glance behind her at the other two “volunteers”, ‘...in the bath house, of all places - not very glamorous, I know, but there you go...!’ she paused again, as they laughed. She failed to mention that the wrestler was her mentor Talos, ‘...so yes, there’s some truth to the scene - more so than in films like “The Name of the Rose”, which, despite its wealth of mediaeval accuracies, depicts the violent death of villain Bernardo Gui, who actually died a few years later in the south of France at the age of 69...’

‘Wow...’ breathed Cynthia, '...you know a lot... you must’ve started studying in nursery school...!’

Bo smiled absently as her mind raced back to her childhood in Cumbria; sparring with her father when she was a mere four-years-old with wooden swords; her father laughing when she got the better of him and her mother chastising him for “turning her into a man”.

Her memory is disturbed when a man dressed in a dark blue hooded jacket, grey jogging trousers and red trainers' barges into Kelly, gun in hand, and pulls the trigger at point-blank range to Kelly’s torso.

The gun misfired with a loud click.

Cynthia screamed and Kelly instinctively jumped back, away from her would-be attacker.

In a flash, Bo’s right hand shot out and grasped the hand holding the gun. The assassin snapped his head around just in time to see Bo’s left fist slam into his face, smashing the bridge of his nose. Keeping hold of his hand, Bo continued to pound her fist into the man’s face. As the man reeled back with the blow, Bo yanked him back towards her and delivered another punch. He managed to wrench the gun from Bo’s grip and, using both hands to steady the weapon, pulled the trigger once more, this time aimed at Bo.

Another audible click indicated that it had misfired again.

There was an awkward silence as the assailant looked at his gun in disbelief. Bo grinned and launched into a left-right-left combo at the man. All three blows landed perfectly upon the man’s jaw, and he staggered as Bo prepared herself for another strike. She launched a devastating haymaker with her left fist that collided with the would-be assassins' right eye socket, and, for him, the world went black.

When he finally came around, he was handcuffed amidst a dazzling display of red and blue lights, accompanied with multiple personnel from the City Police Force. His jaw ached in several places, and he could hardly open his right eye with the swelling.

‘Finally awake, are we...?’ asked Bertyn, staring down at the inept assassin, ‘...tell me...’ he continued, squatting down beside him, '...how does it make you feel; having your ass handed to you by a girl?’.

The man replied by spitting a mouthful of blood at Bertyn. Fortunately, the man was still weak from the beating, and it fell short.

‘Oh, dear...’ started Bertyn with more than a hint of sarcasm, ‘...performance issues...?’ then, standing, ‘...get him outta here...’ he said to two uniformed officers, who manhandled the man to his feet and bundled him into the back of a van waiting nearby.

‘I see you’re still as feisty as ever...’ Bertyn said, as he crossed the pavement leading to the steps of the University where Bo was standing in her sleeveless blue, embroidered coat. The other students were huddled together talking to police officers, trying to describe what happened in their own, unique ways. One officer was trying to calm Ryan down and make sense of his wild story; another was frantically trying to keep up with Cynthia’s accelerated version of events and Kelly was simply being comforted by a female officer while she was sitting on the steps.

‘Lucky I am...’ replied Bo, ‘...couldn’t have survived Talos’s training otherwise...’

‘Talos...?’ echoed Bertyn in disbelief, '...Talos Greywolf trained you...?’ he let out a short laugh, '...boy! Did that guy pick a fight with the wrong redhead...!’ he said, absently pointing to the spot where the hooded man was mere moments ago. He stopped laughing when he realised, he had an unamused audience.

‘How’s your girl, there...?’ Bertyn asked, softening his tone, ‘...will she be ok...?’

‘I think so...’ answered Bo, glancing over to see the officer stroking the younger woman’s hair. She was still shaking, '...now will you investigate...?’

‘I already am...’ replied Bertyn, '...after Detective Inspector Tindale left my office...my, she is a fiery one, isn’t she? Must be all that Latin blood...’

'After my wife left your office...?’ echoed Bo, sensing Bertyn was getting side-tracked as he usually does.

'Should’ve guessed she was your wife...’ he said, '...same temperament. Anyway... after she left, I read the statements again, and I think I know who killed Miss Granger and where she ended up...’

‘Not now... eh...?’ started Bo, nodding almost unnoticed towards Kelly.

‘Of course...’ answered Bertyn with a short bow, ‘...I’ll let Tindale know what’s going on. If it is who I think it is, then that was only the beginning...’.

*

Almost at the same time, Maria walked into her house with a brown bag full of groceries and absently heeled the door closed. She paused for a moment, scanning the house before slowly placing the bag on the floor, and immediately drew her Glock 17.

She knew she wasn’t alone.

It wasn’t just a sixth sense; things had been moved. Curtains were now moving as if they’d recently been touched. Things on her new table, made of driftwood and epoxy resin depicting a replica of the beach outside, had been moved. Even the cookbooks upon the shelf in the kitchen were in the wrong order. Living with Bo for so long, meant she knew where everything belonged, as Bo would often chastise her for putting a book, a towel or even a spoon back in the “wrong place”.

She walked through the house uneasily with her Glock drawn, her eyes scanning the lounge; the kitchen; the dining area; moving as quietly as her shoes would allow.

She walked past the bathroom and quickly thrust her gun inside; empty.

She continued on to the bedroom.

Standing just behind the door was a bearded man in a grey t-shirt, black jogging trousers and brown trainers, holding a hammer. He charged her and swung his hammer, hitting her on the side of the head, before she could bring her gun to bear. The force of the blow sent her crashing into the wall, dropping her gun as the man came at her again. This time, she anticipated the attack and dodged under the, no doubt, fatal swing of the hammer and replied with a hard right to his ribs. Without pausing for breath, she slammed her left, then her right, then her left again into the man’s rib cage. Despite being hit several times, the man still didn’t appear to be going down any time soon, so she leapt at him, and, using his body as leverage, she managed to rotate herself around his neck. Using her own body weight, she managed to get her assassin pinned to the ground in a sleeper hold and began choking him out. After a few frantic minutes of struggling against her, the man fell limp and she eased off.

He was unconscious, but still breathing.

Catching her breath, and using the man as a seat, she grabbed at the radio clinging to her belt and called it in.

Agent Bertyn received the call.

‘Jesus...!’ he exclaimed, ‘...you ok...?’

‘Just winded...’ she lied, ‘...is Bo there...?’

‘Yeah...’ he replied, ‘...we’ve had a bit of drama over at the University Hall ourselves... but she’s fine. Any idea who it is, or who sent him...?’ Bertyn already had a firm suspicion but needed clarity.

‘Abraham Grissom...’ replied Maria, ‘...I busted him last year for drug possession... who’s your guy...?’

‘Curtis Meadowfield...’ replied Bertyn, ‘...petty drug dealer, and wannabe gangster. He’ll probably walk, as Bo beat him up pretty bad. Are you seeing the same connection I am...?’

‘Freddy “The Builder” Leete...’ Maria spat, ‘...small-time hoodlum convicted of trafficking a few years ago. He was released last month...’

‘Yeah, Leete...’ echoed Bertyn, ‘...as in, “El-Leete Builders Merchant” over in South Central. Meet you there...twenty minutes...?’

‘It’s a date, Agent Bertyn...’ replied Maria, '...just don’t tell Bo; I know she can’t die, but it’ll be hard to explain what she’s doing there with a sword...!’

‘Roger that, boss...’ joked Bertyn, ‘...let’s nail this bastard once and for all...’

**

Maria was already crouched in a nearby copse of trees that hid her from the various guards patrolling the perimeter of the large warehouse when two black SUVs silently pulled up, followed by two dark saloon cars. Several men and women dressed in similar suits alighted them brandishing handguns.

‘Sit-rep..?’ asked Bertyn as he crouched beside her.

‘Five outside...’ she started without looking at him, ‘...at least sixteen inside. It’s like his own private army. With automatic weapons'

Bertyn made a few gestures with his hand to the other agents, who then quietly dispersed. The two sat watching the guard's pace back and forth for what seemed like an eternity.

‘Team one in position...’ a man’s voice finally crackled over the radio.

‘Team two... in position...’ came another voice, female this time. Teams three and four also confirmed that they were in position.

‘Team five... target sighted...’ came another female voice, ‘...it’s Leete... looks like a deal is going down...’.

Maria and Bertyn looked at each other.

‘Let’s go...’ said Bertyn, suddenly bursting out of the thicket. Maria followed quickly as the other teams simultaneously responded and moved in.

The five outside opened fire and retreated back into the building, as the combination of police and FBI returned fire.

Bullets tore through the wooden walled warehouse, sending splinters flying. The hoodlums inside ducked for cover as the windows shattered, spewing glass shards everywhere, and bullets gouged great holes in the walls. The hoodlums returned fire as the law enforcement teams rushed in, diving behind the cover of crates and boxes that were strewn about, kicking up dust and debris. One man in a brown suit was barking orders at the hoodlums whilst loosening off a couple of rounds from his Python revolver. Maria spotted the man and moved to a better position to shoot at him. The man had seen Maria’s shadow, heard the gunshot, sensed a whisper of movement and dove to the ground. Maria’s bullet went into a crate and spewed up a whirlwind of splinters. The man sprang up and loosened off two more rounds with the Python. The first struck against the crate she was crouching behind, and the other found its way into Bertyn’s leg as he joined Maria behind her crate. Bertyn yelped in pain and fell to the ground, the blood seeping from the wound.

‘You ok...?’ she called, with concern.

‘Flesh wound...’ he stammered, although it clearly wasn’t, '...I have a condition where I heal quickly...’. Maria smiled uncomfortably. She had completely forgotten that he was Immortal, ‘...Leete is the guy in the shit-suit...’ he stammered again, but slightly clearer.

Ignoring the pain in his thigh, Bertyn popped up again and fired three times with his Magnum .44; the huge revolver spitting its equally huge bullets with a sound that resembled a car back-firing badly. Two of the huge missiles found flesh, tearing into two hoodlums, who popped up at the wrong moment. The third, enjoyed a few milliseconds of fresh air before it became embedded into a concrete pillar supporting the vast roof.

Maria sprang up and her Glock took another two down, before diving for cover again under a hail of bullets from an automatic weapon that peppered the wall behind her.

She could have been home by now having a drink as Bo prepared dinner. She immediately wondered what coloured knickers Bo would’ve been wearing. Maybe they all could have been in their respective homes by now, having a drink. Maybe looking at the paper. Possibly putting the kids to bed. Probably none of them were planning to shoot it out with a bunch of sociopaths.

Maria certainly wasn’t.

Neither was she quite expecting what happened next.

In the midst of the gunfire, Bertyn sprinted behind her and around the outside of the kill-zone, his thigh completely healed. As the other agents and police officers kept the hoodlums busy, he dived for cover before appearing again, launching himself into the air and over the head of a bewildered hood, who received a blast in the chest as Bertyn landed. As soon as he turned to Leete, he lunged for Bertyn’s gun, but Bertyn rolled his hands down and away with a minor “Ving Tsun” deflection, and snapped the butt of the Magnum up hard into the bottom of Leete’s chin, popping his jaw like a rat trap. Bertyn’s open palm flashed again, and this time, he hit Leete in the Adams’ apple. The mob boss clutched at his throat, choking, his face turning bright red as he gasped for air. Bertyn spun and opened up with a sharp, precise three-round burst, which took two more hoods down. Maria took the chance and sprinted across the kill-zone, firing as she ran. Some of the others joined her and the hoodlums lost three more of their guys. Vaulting over the makeshift barrier, Maria took out another hoodlum with a shot direct to his chest. Almost immediately, another sprang at her, kicking her gun away before throwing a right hook in her direction. She deftly blocked with her left arm and landed a hard right to the assailant, who dropped heavily to the ground. Leete had recovered enough to raise his Python with the intent to shoot Bertyn who was distracted with the remaining hoods. Maria spotted the raised gun, and, as Leete cocked the hammer back on the large revolver, instinctively fished out her back-up weapon; a black Walther PPX, from behind her, and fired. The bullet punched through Leete’s right temple as he aimed his Python. He still wore a shocked expression as he fell to the ground. Bertyn spun around with his gun to face the assassin. There was an awkward moment as the two stood staring at each other from behind their respective weapons. The sound of weapons dropping to the floor distracted them both and they turned to see the remaining hoodlums throwing their weapons to the ground and raising their arms in surrender to the advancing law enforcement officers. With a quick scan of their allies, Maria counted all the agents and police officers they started with. With a glance back to each other, they lowered their weapons and laughed.

They’d won.