My blaxploitation piece

Well mission was ”Something old, something new, something borrowed”
so I went to my usual HC violent prose(old) and borrowed Rama's sweet blaxploitation babe and as i have not done blaxploitation I guess that is new.
So take a comfy position and let's go...




There is one thing you have to understand in order to stay alive.
Chicago is a modern metropolis, shiny, hi-tech, respectable.
And be it after dark or plain daylight, on a wrong street you say the wrong thing to a wrong person and your swift death is considered mercy.


The civvies go to their nine to five-lives, commute to suburbia, kiss the wife/husband and get the kiddies to school en route to their lovers.
To them it's an imaginary world from news and TV's series.
There are parts of town they instinctively stay the fuck out.
That's common sense.


Those streets are white spots on a map. Filled with nomads, warlords, barbarian hordes and yes, there be Dragons.
One of meanest firebreathing lizards was Afanasy,a hulking georgian who came to US to build a crime empire of his own.
He aspired to be a modern Al Capone, hence Chicago.
In a decade his merciless rule spread through-out the city feared by any sane people.

While somewhat sane, Thomas Coyne actually believed that his status as a journalist would provide protection from physical harm. He followed his story and the trail of money and drugs far too far.
This he found out a bit too late while meeting his contact in a carage on the North side.
The blued menacing pistol was the first sign of danger, his contact's burly companions the second.
After short but exceedingly brutal beating the four russians tied the unconcious reporter and tossed him in the trunk of sleek black Chrysler.
They rode out in high spirits. Afanasy would be pleased at them and that meant money and girls.
No one noticed GTO rolling silently without lights after them.

Russians stopped after an hour. In a few years this would be a flourishing suburbia, close chitown but at a safe for middle-class distance.
But every white picket fence needs a foundation.
And Afanasy loved some traditions.


They pulled the reporter out. The small white man was awake, gagged and his eyes filled with desperation.
”Oleg, video”
One of the men pulled out a small handheld videocamera ,flipped the light on it on and pointed it at bound Thomas.
The men forcemarched him to plasticsheet next to construction pit.
One of the russians switched the concrete mixer on.
”any last words for camera mr. Reporterman?”
they chuckled hyena-like.

”How about you comrades call it a day and piss off?”
Russians turned at the soft voice their guns raised.

She was alone, sporting red leather jacket and blue top above skimpy latex miniskirt that fondled her ample curves.
Her long dark cocoa-toned legs were captured in large-holed fishnet stockings and ended in high-heeled shoes.
Pulling her shades down with single index finger she tilted:
”You boys hard of hearing? Go back to your mama's and there wont be none. Ok?”


The russians gazed at each other then back at the black woman standing defying them.

”Listen you bitch, he's going go first and then we are gonna have some fun with you.” He brandished the pistol he pointed the woman with.
”See, four of us with guns and you all alone”

”yeah” She said ”odds aren't even”

”still, I gave you the chance and you really shouldn't have called me bitch so I am not letting you off easy”


The words had merely left her lips as she spun around, flipping twin derringers down from her leather jacket's sleeves.
Before the gangsters got their shots off her ”sissygun accessories” as she called them had barked.
Her second shot missed her target and blew one russians kneecap to oblivion, the first shot had struck it's mark and taken head clean off from the gangster next to Thomas.
Then again her derringers were singleshot 12 gauge. And matched her earrings perfectly

She dove behind the russians car as the remaining gangsters opened fire. She kept moving as cars stop bullets only in movies. The M-16 was back at GTO with Hendrix so she had to do with her Smith & Wesson.


Over the deafening gunfire she could hear one of them circling at her. She leaped up from the darkness and let it go zen: arm, eye, focus, flight.
The semiauto in her hand spat five pieces of molten lead out straight to center mass of the russian.
The videocamera guy lifted his handgun as her gun belched twice.
First shot tore the wrist holding the gun, second removed his manhood.

She walked gracefully as a lioness at Thomas seemingly untouched by carnage around and flipped a stiletto open.
”Relax Thomas” she said cutting his ties open ”you are safe”
Thomas pulled gag off his mouth
”Wait, who are you? Where..”
”Easy boy, you make Wanda's world go round and she asked me to look after your skinny white ass. You have any idea how hard it is to find a hairdresser who actually knows her shit?”
”Wanda's? But who..”
the woman tossed the stiletto straight behind her back.
It entered unerringly through the leg-wounded russians right eye all the way to his brain.


She helped Thomas up and went to sole russian alive.
The man whimpered and tried to hold his groin together. She took his videocamera, checked that it still records and flipped it at herself.
”Hi there Afanasy. Looks like I broke your boytoys. I leave one of them to give you this message: Chicago is not safe for you. If you aren't gone in two days I'll bring you down. Because I got some for you all. Nothing personal”
She blew a kiss at the camera
”Love, Neda Ebony”

And then she just dropped it and walked away.

Like I said in the beginning: in order to stay alive you DON'T mess with Neda Ebony.