BLONDE HEROINES DOUBLE EDITION by Christopher Zisi Extended Book Teaser

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Creators Unite Magazine and Zisi Emporium for B Movies present

An International Crime Novel by Christopher Zisi Chapter 1: Patricia Patricia Marceau! The statuesque blonde is one of those rare air hostesses that can make even the most tired and put-upon traveler forget their destinations. The AIR FRANCE stewardess was ecstatic to be back to work. The management at AIR FRANCE had no choice but to bring her back. The Flight Attendant Union was a powerful force. All the stewardesses knew that AIR FRANCE’s corporate bigwigs would never have been suspended for the same alleged infractions. Most of the other stewardesses were happy to have Patricia back. The 30year-old beauty was an inspiration to them. The five foot seven blonde loved being a stewardess. She got to see the world, meet handsome men, and explore who she was as a human being on this mortal coil known as life. BH DOUBLE EDITION

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The last two weeks were frustrating. After her reinstatement, Patricia was assigned several standby shifts. Waiting in the AIR FRANCE lounge at Paris’ Charles de Gaulle Airport was boring. Still, Patricia learned not to complain. One more strike and she was out… or so management told her. During her six-month suspension, she had plenty of time to think. Only after agreeing to anger management training and taking the Jim Mitchell Leadership and Communication course, was Patricia taken back on probationary status. This was all bullshit. Yet, she needed to keep her job. The sultry blonde began to wonder if she would ever be called. Then, her AIR FRANCE iPhone rang. “Yes!...” Okay, it was Flight 1622 to Munich and a quick turnaround. Still, it was a start. She would be able to look hot for businessmen and pilots and show off her fabulous legs wearing her shiny red heels, again. Today Munich, and perhaps Tokyo or Rio de Janeiro next week. The statuesque beauty, sporting the non-regulation three-inch shiny red heels, alluringly strode to her gate. Her slightly tight uniform, jacket, blouse, scarf, skirt, and her bold pumps, carried her nicely. She passed four KOREAN AIR stewardesses on the way. The anger management and Jim Mitchell course seemed to have worked, she did not yell “Fucking whores!” to them. Back in late 2017, her brawl with the KOREAN AIR stewardesses was what had gotten her suspended the first time. The 2017 brawl was more of a beat-down. As usual, Patricia was looking good. The makeup was vibrant on her face, the perfume was aimed to drive men mad, and her legs in those red pumps told every man: “Ravage me and make passionate love to me!” While approaching her gate, on that fateful day, Patricia caught the eye of two KOREAN AIR pilots. The two handsome Asians immediately forgot about the two KOREAN AIR stewardesses that had been vying for their attention. Both pilots undressed Patricia with their eyes and raped her with their minds.

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The two KOREAN AIR stewardesses, Kim and Christina, were ravishing beauties themselves. When their two pilots began to focus on Patricia, Kim and Christina sneered at the AIR FRANCE beauty. Patricia, knowing she defeated her rivals in the seduction game, gave them an equally hostile stare and in perfect Korean, sniggered: “Fucking amateurs!” Kim and Christina bolted at Patricia. Skilled in Shotokan Karate and Tango, the AIR FRANCE hostess used a few moves to defeat her attackers. Kim ended up headfirst in a trash receptacle. Her beautiful face came to rest at the bottom of the receptacle in a pile of discarded Szechuan Pork and fried rice. Christina ended up nude and hogtied with her own undergarments opposite Gate 25. Patricia told her management the two Koreans started the brawl. The KOREAN AIR lawyers told AIR FRANCE another story. AIR FRANCE believed the Korean lawyers. Still, Patricia knew she did what she had to do. That suspension was only three months. The second suspension occurred in 2018. Patricia loved being a stewardess. She was tired of reading articles in Air Stage (a flight attendant magazine) on proper ways to tie scarfs. The French beauty submitted an article to the magazine. An article she believed all her stewardess colleagues would want to read… and learn from. Air Stage’s editor called AIR FRANCE when he read what Patricia had submitted. AIR FRANCE called in Patricia after a Tokyo to Paris flight and laid down a six-month suspension. Corporate was alarmed that one of their hostesses would pen an article entitled “18 ways to Kill Man Using Objects Found in Your Make-Up Case.” At first Patricia believed that AIR FRANCE was miffed that she only came up with 18. When she read the letter they presented her, Corporate used words like “terrorist,” “Unstable,” “social disorder.” Her response to corporate caused them to expand the three-month suspension to six months. Patricia was sincere, and in no way joking, when she told them: “If those Malaysia Air babes knew the stuff in my article, the plane wouldn’t have gone MIA!” (MIA is an abbreviation for “missing in action”, Ed).

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Patricia, with her new anger management training, pushed those memories out of her mind… for now. Heads were turning as she strode to Gate 20 to meet Flight 1622. Asian men, European men, and American women all gave her a look of lust. Munich was a shithole. Okay, maybe not a shithole, but Patricia wanted five-star hotels, erotic showers with handsome pilots, and perhaps a champagne breakfast with those same aviators. Instead, Munich was good for the standard airport HILTON, annoying families with toddlers, and breakfast buffets featuring Fruit Loops and stale croissants. “Get over here, whore!” Catherine Binoche, the dumpy and smelly stewardess beckoned Patricia. The two hated each other. “I’m the number one, you are the number seven.” Patricia was not happy about this. As the number seven, she would be stationed at the back of the airplane with the poverty-stricken university students. These pukes always wore sandals exposing their toe-nail fungus. “I see AIR FRANCE chose not to get rid of the riff-raff… you fucking whore.” Patricia gave Catherine a smile. The 55-year-old Catherine was retaining water and was big-boned… Patricia decided not to mention this. Focusing on Chapter four of Jim Mitchell’s Everyone is Your Friend, she just gave the smelly witch an insincere smile. Catherine was angry for two reasons. One: Every man would focus their gazes on Patricia. Two: Every woman would focus their gazes on Patricia. As the number one, Catherine would be serving First Class passengers. Catherine was sick of being humiliated by the whore who should have been fired. Many of the First-Class passengers would wander to the rear of the aircraft, during the flight, and flirt with Patricia. This always happened, when the two flew together. “Hello Catherine!” Patricia’s smile infuriated Catherine. “It is so nice to work with you again. I had so much fun last time. Where was that flight to? Ah yes! Cairo!” Catherine’s face turned red.

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An especially important Saudi sheikh was in First- Class for the Cairo Flight. The man was trying to buy AIR FRANCE. He called AIR FRANCE corporate in the middle of the flight: he ordered them to move Patricia to First-Class and the “smelly goat” to the back of the plane. Corporate radioed the pilot and the change was made. “If you want, we can switch-up again.” Catherine started to run at Patricia, but two other stewardesses grabbed her. “I’m going to rip your tits off!” Catherine’s face was deep red. Patricia blew her a kiss and continued onto the aircraft to meet the pilots.

Chapter 2: Hans Dietrich Hans Dietrich was in love. He had been in love before… but never like this. The goddess in the AIR FRANCE uniform was the most beautiful woman who ever walked the planet Earth. The way the vixen wore her red belt on her black dress… and the loosely tied scarf… made Hans sweat. His underwear was now wet. He had to have her. The Munich based computer programmer was sure the sultry stewardess would love him, if only she got to know him. The 32-year-old German was not handsome. Homely was a better description. He stood five-foot five and weighed 260 pounds. He wore a white dress shirt, no tie, and black slacks. Belts were not an option for this obese man… suspenders did the trick. His 220 IQ was working overtime. In his mind, Hans told himself that the AIR FRANCE vixen would not have been so decked out if she had not known he was on the flight. God’s providence must have brought them together. The fat man did not notice that perspiration had soaked the underarms of his shirt. The deodorant stopped working an hour ago and the homely German was also a smelly German. Hans was sure the vixen with the red belt did not care about odors and excess weight… true love would prevail. She would instantly fall in love with him and the two would marry as soon as they reached Munich.

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The flight to Munich was now sold out. Hans was seated in 44C, an aisle seat. Row 44 was the second to last row on the plane. Flying Economy was not Hans’ choice, but his talents weren’t yet appreciated. Major tech firms would not hire him. Being self-taught meant he had no university degrees. With no degrees, he remained unemployed and living in his mother’s attic. After First-Class, families with strollers, wheelchairs, AIR FRANCE Platinum Elite, Business Class, Economy Plus, and Zones One and Two, Hans was called to board. He was nervous… the true test was coming up. If the vixen with the red belt… a red leather belt… was in love with him, she would be waiting for him at his seat. All the other hostesses had cloth belts… his woman had a leather one. This could only mean she wanted him… and now! Down the gangplank he went and finally entered the pane. If the vixen was indeed waiting for him in the back of the aircraft, he would give her the pre-marital sex she so desired in the airplane latrine, after the pilot turned off the FASTEN YOUR SEATBELTS sign. Fate would take care of his initial moments with the beautiful hostess. Hans had another problem. Mother. Mother believed all young woman were hussies and not good enough for her son. Hans’ father fell for one of these hussies many years ago and left. Surely, Mother would see this hostess’ charm and saintly aura. That is what Hans told himself. They would live together in Mother’s attic so Mother would have plenty of time to get to know her. “Welcome aboard!” Hans was jolted out of his fantasy. A brutish and big-boned stewardess with a red face greeted him. Her nametag identified her as “Catherine Binoche.” She was scary and Hans hoped he would not have to see her again. Hans carried a briefcase as his carry-on. Inside the briefcase was a grenade, an UZI (Israeli machinegun), and a pack of breath mints (spearmint). He hoped his new girlfriend would not be frightened when he sprang into action. Hans guessed she would support him fully, after all, she was in love with him.

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“Ah…” Rudger almost asked Catherine if the blonde in the back could take his order. Correctly, he decided not to ask this… Catherine looked like she could beat him up. “Yes… I’ll have a Jack and Coke.” He needed one after being interrupted by Catherine. Catherine gave him a seductive smile: “Yes, Mr. Scharff… anything else?” Gross! Thought Rudger… “Ah… no, that’ll be fine.” As Catherine retreated to mix the cocktail, Rudger watched the Economy Class passengers pass him on the way to the rear of the aircraft… What a waste! The Economy-Class passengers were mostly depraved twenty-somethings with open-toed sandals and scraggly hair. To think that sultry blonde would be serving them and not him!... Rudger knew the AIR FRANCE crews stayed at the airport HILTON in Munich. This presented a perfect opportunity. There was a quaint watering-hole next door called Crown’s Club. Rudger would ask the blonde if she would meet him there for a drink later tonight. Fool proof. She would realize it was next door to her hotel and immediately accept… Rudger began getting incredibly sad. Who was he kidding? The INTERPOL stud possessed a fear of talking to beautiful women. He would always start stuttering and freeze in midsentence. The blonde hostess was worth leaving a comfort zone for but, worth it or not, Rudger had serious doubt if he could pull this off. “Ahhhh!” Rudger let out a short scream. He was startled by the brutish hostess. “Your rum and Coke, Mr. Scharff!” Catherine was trying to give the stud her most seductive look. This was not working. Rudger thought about telling her that he had actually ordered a Jack and Coke, but that would prolong the time he would have to look into her face. “Yeah… thank you.” Rudger took the cocktail and quickly looked away to some imaginary lint on his sleeve. Catherine went to the third row to take their drink orders. As soon as Catherine began taking orders from the third row, a little fat man caught Rudger’s attention. He sped on the airplane.

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He was wearing a soaked shirt and carrying a black briefcase. He looked like a pervert or a hijacker. Rudger giggled: the sweaty man almost knocked Catherine down when he motored past the third row. He seemed to be on a mission and Rudger was happy he was not a First-Class passenger.

Chapter 5: Solange Dubonet Solange Dubonet was thrilled: she was going to work a flight with her idol, Patricia Marceau! The perky AIR FRANCE hostess just got off probation and aspired to be exactly like Patricia. Patricia was always nice to her. She readily gave her great advice. What a contrast Patricia was to Catherine… thought Solange. Catherine, “the beast” as the 23-year-old beauty referred to her, was demeaning and always looking for an opportunity to write her up. Solange loved being friendly to all passengers. If the beast saw her smile and talk to a man… she would write her up. Solange knew Catherine was jealous… the only people who lusted for Catherine were American women. AIR FRANCE Flight 1622 to Munich was taxiing. Solange was the #8… therefore would man the rear of the airplane with Patricia. This would make the flight bearable… even fun. The passengers in the back three rows all smelled bad… sweat, curry… and Russian dressing… nauseating! Solange had so much to talk with Patricia about… so much to learn. Men… make-up… uniforms… substituting leather accessories for regulation ones… and ways to kill aggressors. Patricia loved talking to Solange. Solange reminded Patricia of herself ten years ago. The two beauties began their talkfest as they buckled into two flight seats behind the rear latrine.

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Patricia waxed eloquent: “Use dental floss! Soak it in kerosene and it becomes the perfect fuse. The elements in MAYBELLINE eyeshadow, mixed with just a little bit of ammonia-nitrate can cause quite a spark. With the right combination, and just a little bit of ESTEE LAUDER base… well, the explosion can blow off a man’s hand.” Solange was awestruck: “That wasn’t in your article, was it?” Patricia was beaming: “No! When I was on suspension, I rewrote the article. I now have 25 ways to kill a human using my make-up kit.” “Is Air Stage going to print it?” Solange sounded hopeful. “No way, Jose!” Patricia was adamant. “Last time I sent those stooges one of my articles, they sent it to Corporate… Mercenary Today is going to publish it.” “Oh cool!” Solange had been reading Mercenary Today since she was 14 years old. “I love that magazine. I’ve ordered from their catalog so many times… I even have this tactical catsuit, it is so easy to accessorize with.” “Oh, the Galls one? I so want to order that one,” Patricia wasn’t kidding, “You actually ordered that one? The gray or black?” “Oh please… black! Do I look like a whore!?” Solange was indignant in this answer and both ladies laughed. “Besides, if you want a tactical belt, the colors for those just never work with gray.” Solange was correct and Patricia was nodding. Then, the horror began. The plane took-off and rapidly climbed. During the ascent, Solange noticed Patricia fondling her make-up case. In a perfect segue, she changed the topic of discussion to smart strategies of make-up application for stewardesses. Neither saw Hans Dietrich approach. For a fat man, Hans was quick. The insane usually are. Hans was upset that a whore was dominating Patricia’s time. He was eager to grab Patricia and pull her into the latrine and love her. If it were not for this whore, he would’ve had that done by now. The two ladies showed no sign of ending their discussion.

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Hans grabbed his briefcase from under the seat in front of him. He popped it open, pulled out his UZI and leaped out of 44C. He, then, took two strides to the rear of the airplane, reached for Solange’s seatbelt fastener, clicked it open, grabbed the 23-year-old beauty by her scarf, and threw her down the aisle. Solange was petrified. She landed in the aisle between 38C and 38D. An asthma attack prevented her from breathing. “I love you!” The would-be hijacker unbuckled Patricia and scooped her into his midsection. “Love me! Mother will approve!” Patricia was now Hans’ hostage. Her only concern was for Solange. The sultry stewardess saw Solange gasping for breath. She also saw Solange’s medic-alert bracelet and assumed Solange an asthmatic. Every university student in rows 42 through 45 was filming with their smart phones. “Solange!... Let go of me!” Hans was not letting go: “Forget about that whore… she’s a vessel of Satan!… Mother will tell you about girls like that!” Hans was desperate for Patricia to move on from her colleague. “Let me go you, beast!... Solange… breathe, love! Breathe!” Patricia was trying to strive forward, but Hans was too strong. “She needs me, let me go!” Hans held Patricia around the neck. Still holding her make-up bag, she shouted to the nearby passengers: “Someone find her purse!… Get her inhaler! She needs her inhaler!” Solange was turning blue. “I love you! You have to meet mother!” Hans needed Patricia to focus on him, not the whore in the aisle. The university aged passengers kept filming. “Solange!” Patricia was not going to stop trying to save her friend. From the front of the airplane, Rudger Scharff shot out of 2B and began a sprint to the rear of the aircraft.

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Chapter 6: Saint-Louis Hospital de Paris [AP-HP] Solange and Patricia sat in a curtained off area of the emergency room of Saint-Louis Hospital de Paris. Neither of them remembered their helicopter ride. A nebulizer did wonders, and Solange was breathing fine. The two air hostesses embraced each other. Both women were still shaking. A pretty nurse in green scrubs slid through the curtain: “How are the two heroes doing?” Helena Leclerc had been watching the news coverage on the television in the ER waiting room (ER, Emergency Room, Ed.). It was terrifying. Her two patients were true heroes. Solange and Patricia forced smiles realizing Helena was trying to be nice. Sensing the duo did not want to talk about the recent horror, Helena moved on: “These are low dose tranquilizers… they will help your nerves…” Helena expected to have to do more of a selling job. The stewardesses grabbed the pills and swallowed them before Helena could give them a cup of water. “Right.” Helena was glad they took the tranquilizers. The fright could trigger another asthma attack if Solange weren’t careful. “You folks have some visitors.” Guy and Marie Dubonet were hurried to Saint-Louis Hospital de Paris by police escort. The scared couple burst through the curtains and embraced their daughter. Patricia let go. Mr. and Mrs. Dubonet were sobbing. Guy Dubonet spoke first: “It’s okay, you’re fine now, we’ll bring you home.” Marie looked over to Patricia. She recognized the hostess from the news footage. She embraced her: “Thank you… thank you… you saved our daughter… she’s all we have.” Patricia was crying again. Helena was also teary eyed: “Patricia, can I see you for a second?” Helena motioned for Patricia to follow her to the other side of the curtain.

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The nurse saw she was not ready to leave her friend yet: “It’s okay, her parents will be with her, just for a moment.” Patricia was confused. What did anyone have to see her about? Helena was gentle and loving. She softly held Patricia’s right hand: “Just for a moment, love… someone wants to see you.” Now, Patricia was really confused. Helena led Patricia to the other side of the curtain where Rudger Scharff was waiting. She, then, went back to Solange and her parents. “Ah… yes… I’m… well… my name… ah…” Rudger was struggling. Sweat started beading on his forehead. “You’re the hunk in 2B!” Patricia’s smile was radiant. “I know who you are… I so wanted to serve you today… but I was number seven.”

Chapter 7: Rudger and Patricia Patricia sensed Rudger’s nervousness. She thought it was cute: “You’re going to ask me out for dinner!” Patricia figured she would give the handsome hunk a prod. Rudger’s stammering was increasing. Helena slipped back to their side of the curtain. The lovely nurse handed Rudger two of the same pills she gave the beautiful duo a few minutes earlier. Rudger shook his head no. Patricia grabbed the two pills from Helena’s hand and approached him. Now standing 15 centimeters in front of Rudger, Patricia went to work: “Be a big boy and open up!” Patricia raised her hand to Rudger’s mouth and stuck two pills in it. Helena gave Patricia a smile, then, handed Rudger a cup of water. The obedient hunk washed the pills with the water. “Now, where are you taking me for dinner?”

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Rudger stopped shaking and smiled: “I know a place… my friend Yvan will give us a corner table.” Rudger could not believe what he just said. He was about to ask Helena for the whole bottle of pills she just gave him. “Sweet!” Patricia was game: “Oh… just one minute, wait here!” Patricia snuck back to the other side of the curtain. Guy Dubonet gave her a warm smile: “Don’t let him take advantage of you!” “Don’t worry sir, you should give that warning to him.” Patricia gave that same smile back to Guy. The AIR FRANCE hero removed her red leather belt and walked over to Solange. She reached to her friend’s waist and undid her cloth belt. Solange was wide-eyed. “Here, my love!” Patricia wrapped the leather belt around Solange. “I have more of these.” Solange sprung forward and hugged Patricia. “Thank you!” Solange did not know exactly what she was thanking Patricia for, it could have been for dozens of things. “I’ll call you in the morning. Go home and listen to your mom and dad, they’ll take good care of you!” Patricia slipped back to the other side of the curtain: “Let’s go!” The pills were mild. Rudger began shaking and stammering again. The hunk INTERPOL agent was not ready for what happened next. While he was walking out of the emergency room with Patricia, she took his left hand in her right and pushed up against his side. “Am I going to get my mascara pencil back?” The question was a sincere one. Part of being a good stewardess was the proper application of make-up. Rudger surprised himself by getting the next sentence out: “It’s still up the fat man’s nose… do you want it back?” Patricia made a face of mild disgust: “I got that at the airport in Seoul, it was expensive. Tell them to pull it out and wipe it off.”

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Rudger gave her a confused look. Patricia laughed: “Well, on second thought… maybe not.” Patricia and Rudger laughed hysterically. “Nine o’clock already!” Patricia could not believe it was so late. Rudger looked exhausted. The blonde realized he was genuinely concerned about her. The two departed the emergency room through two sets of sliding glass doors. A black AUDI drove up. Rudger opened the door of the back seat, guided Patricia in, sped around to the other side and got in next to her: “YVAN’s!” An anonymous driver responded: “Yes, sir!” Patricia figured she would have to take the initiative: “So, other than the hunk in 2B… who are you?” “Rudger Scharff, INTERPOL Chief, Munich.” Rudger hoped this would impress Patricia. “INTERPOL? You mean us going out to dinner is in official capacity?” Patricia looked disappointed. “No, going out to dinner is a date! I think you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” Rudger knew he was still under the effect of the pills Helena gave him. He made a mental note not to have any alcohol at YVAN’s. Patricia blushed, she slid against Rudger and put her head on his right shoulder. She thought it was cute that Rudger’s whole body tensed as she did this. The two sat in silence the rest of the ride. 12 minutes later the AUDI pulled in front of YVAN’s and the anonymous driver opened the door on Patricia’s side. Rudger slid out after her. The square-jawed driver looked at Rudger: “Take your time Chief, I’m at your service all night.” “Thank you, Marcel,” responded Rudger; he tensed up again when Patricia grabbed his right hand. The two walked into YVAN’s. Patricia nestled against the agent.

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Yvan Cournoyer, a short bald man of 68 years, owner (and Maître) of YVAN’s met the couple at the front door. He recognized Patricia right away… the AIR FRANCE uniform was a big clue. Yvan embraced Patricia with tears in his eyes:” Vive la France!” Patricia was stunned. Rudger looked at her with a sad smile: “You’re a hero.” The INTERPOL chief knew that being a hero in the war on terrorism could be dangerous. Yvan led the couple into a back candle-lit room of his restaurant. The small banquet room was reserved for them. Patricia was impressed… so was Rudger. “Please!” Yvan pulled out a chair for the sultry stewardess. She was still awestruck. Rudger pulled out his own chair. “Now my friends, Jocelyn will bring you menus but, please, choose the veal!” Yvan kissed the forefinger and thumb of his right hand and made an exaggerated kissing sound. “What can I bring you two to drink?” Yvan looked at Patricia. “Can I have a Sloe Gin Fizz?” “Of course, Madam!” Yvan assumed she needed a drink. “Rudger?” “Oh, I’ll just have a Coke.” Rudger was already feeling tipsy. “No! Yvan, can you bring him a double vodka with a shot of lime juice?” Yvan nodded excitedly. “No… eh… I shouldn’t… eh…” Rudger was stammering again. “Oh, yes, you should! We both need to loosen up… besides, we have a driver.” Yvan backed away leaving the couple alone. Patricia gave Rudger a big smile: “You know, Solange would have died if you hadn’t come along.” Rudger blushed: “Oh no, I don’t think so. You were the hero. You saved her life.” “I was so scared, I don’t even remember most of it.” Patricia was tearing up again. Jocelyn arrived with their drinks. He put the Sloe Gin Fizz in front of Patricia who grabbed it and downed it in its entirety before he could put Rudger’s double vodka on the table.

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Rudger gave Patricia a surprised look. “One more, Jocelyn, and for him, too!” “No!… eh… I…” Rudger’s stammering was betraying him. Jocelyn was game and backed away toward the bar. “Drink, please! I assume we need to talk!” Patricia was quite correct. “I know you think I’m beautiful… from you that is high praise and I’m all for romance… especially with you… but you have some bad news for me, I can see it in your face.” Rudger downed his cocktail: “Yes… I would never let anyone hurt you, Patricia.” Patricia reached across the table and put her right hand around Rudger’s left hand which still held his glass. “Spit it out Rudger, my sweet, and then we can get to the romance!” Patricia was beginning to shake again. What happened next did not help. Jocelyn brought two more drinks over. Rudger downed his in less than three seconds. “Oh boy, this is gonna be bad!” Patricia was scared and desperately wanted Rudger to hold her. Rudger did not want to tell Patricia what he needed to tell her. Instead, he wanted to go over to her side of the table and hold her tight: “The man who tried to kill you and Solange… well, his name is, or was, Hans Dietrich.” Patricia nodded and downed her second Sloe Gin Fizz: “Hans Dietrich?” “Patricia, Hans is, or was, a dangerous man: over the past six hours, I have had my men arrest 16 of his cohorts here in Paris. All awfully bad men.” Patricia desperately wanted another Sloe Gin Fizz and for Rudger to hold her: “16? So, you got them all?”

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Rudger did not want to keep going: “No Patricia, there are a lot more throughout the world! It is a terrorist cell. A bad one and part of their signature is bloody revenge. They have undoubtedly seen the video of your heroics on the newscasts. The CIA is telling us that your name, ‘Patricia Marceau’ is mentioned in a lot of the chatter their spy satellites are picking up.” “Chatter?... Spy satellites?” Patricia was numb. “Yeah, their spy satellites focus on dangerous terrorists. Their cell phones, their girlfriends’ cell phones, their social media posts etc. The CIA is blaming global warming, climate change and North Korea’s desire to acquire more weapons of mass destruction. We can ignore them; they get off on global warming and WMDs.*” Patricia turned white and nauseous. Rudger bolted out of his chair, came around to her side of the table, seized a cloth napkin from her lap, dipped it in a glass of ice water, and applied it to her forehead. “Rudger…” Patricia could say no more. “Patricia… I will never let anyone hurt you… never!” Rudger was sincere. Patricia threw both her arms around Rudger. Rudger felt like Jell-O and started shaking. “Get used to it, Rudger! I’m going to be holding onto you a lot, from here on out.” Patricia knew she had finally found her man. Rudger prayed silently: “God, please put words in my mouth… words that I can say without looking like a fool!” A full minute passed and God delivered: “Patricia, I have this handled. Now, let us get on to the ‘romance’ part of our evening!”

*Nuclear, radiological, chemical, or biological weapons are Weapons of Mass Destruction, Ed.

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Chapter 8: Helga Dietrich Toni Kruger wished the ugly fat woman would just kill her. The concierge clerk at BAYERISCHER HOF HOTEL Munich was not going to get loose from her straps. She tried struggling but her wrists and ankles were beginning to bleed. A ball gag strapped to her head prevented any begging. Clad in some shiny leather boots, black hose, a tight black skirt, and a white shiny blouse, the attractive blonde was now a prisoner. Over the span of a few hours, the ugly fat woman was content with slapping Toni and hurling insults: “Whore!” “Hussy!” “Cunt!” “Slut!” Then, she brought out the electric prod and continued the torture. Toni’s mascara was streaking down her cheeks. The fat lady had already used shears to cut off most of her long blonde hair. Helga Dietrich was a master torturer… it was a hobby. The ugly woman had always been ugly. Her only devotion in life was to her son, Hans. When Hans traveled, Helga did her best to rid Munich of its “whore” population. Women like the slut tied to the chair in front of her only served to turn good men into deviates. The way they wriggled their ass when they walked. The smell of bordello perfume. The red lipstick. Because of women like this, Helga’s only son was addicted to porn. She found Toni outside The BAYERISCHER HOF HOTEL. The whore had just purchased a salad for lunch. She was carrying the salad in a white paper bag. Every man she passed on the street stopped to stare at the black-booted whore. Helga knew this bitch’s only mission in life was to fornicate and ruin the purity of good men and boys. Helga was well practiced in abduction techniques. In less than ten seconds, she fired a tranquilizer dart into the whore’s right buttock, grabbed her before she hit the ground, shoved her into the passenger’s seat of the van, buckled her in, and drove off. The skank’s salad remained on the sidewalk in front of the hotel. Toni would not wake until she was bound in a chair in Helga’s bedroom.

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“Where are his ears?” Guy’s question was sincere. “Hey, wasn’t he your very first boyfriend?” Marie was remembering. Solange didn’t answer, but Guy did: “Yes! He cheated on you with that…” “Gymnast!” Solange finished Guy’s thought. Guy asked again: “He doesn’t have ears, where did they go?” “C4 explosive… somehow it ended up in his oatmeal… no one ever figured out how...” Solange was smiling. “Solange?” Marie had a disapproving tone. “Now, I remember the gymnast! Joan Richard! didn’t she die in a bicycle explosion?” Guy was curious. Solange looked guilty: “I’m sure I wouldn’t know. Hey mom, can I have the other half of that English muffin, too?” Marie was smiling again: “Of course, dear, and I’ll refill your Tony the Tiger mug with some more cocoa.” Marie was a doting mother. “Awwww... I love you mom… I love you dad!” Solange really adored her parents. In unison, Guy and Marie responded with beaming smiles: “We love you, Solange!”

Chapter 10: Hung Over Waking up was a mistake. Rudger tried to remember how many vodka cocktails he had. Fifteen, maybe? He looked at the clock beside his bedside in his Paris luxury apartment: 1:04pm. “What!!!!” Rudger panicked. He launched out of bed, naked. “No! I have too much to do!” The naked INTERPOL chief needed to call Patricia, she needed his protection. Rudger never slept beyond 6:00am. His master bedroom in his South Pigalle (SoPi) apartment overlooked Le Carmen, across the street. (South Pigalle is in the18th district of Paris, Ed).

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Rudger opened the door to the walk-in closet and picked out a blue necktie and a white dress shirt. The garments were thrown on the bed with some clean underwear. “Shower!” The hulking international cop did not realize he was talking to himself. Needing a shower, he burst into the bathroom: “OH MY GOD!!!!!!” Rudger screamed. “Oh, thanks a lot. I think I look pretty good!” Patricia’s presence in his soaking tub shocked Rudger. He was in panic mode: “Ah… eh… oh… I…” “Now… Now, it’s too early for cocktails, shall I call that sweet nurse for some more of those pills?” Nude and lathery in the tub, Patricia was not doing much to calm Rudger down. The INTERPOL agent backed out of the bathroom. He was now trying to talk to Patricia on the other side of the door: “Eh… I mean… I…” Rudger was falling in love with Patricia. The thought that he might have taken advantage of her during the night sickened him… he threw up. “Oh sweety! I’m coming, I’ll help you.” Patricia slowly rose out of the tub, “Do you have a robe I can borrow?” “No! I… eh… stay in!” Rudger was lucky, the vomit fell into a wastepaper basket. He took it into the kitchen, sealed it in a plastic garbage bag, and put it by the front door. “Can you take me to Le Carmen tonight?” The beauty yelled from inside the tub. “No!” Rudger was not doing well. “I mean yes!” Rudger was ashamed. Did he take advantage of that beautiful woman? He would have rather died than to soil her: “We… ahhh… did… No?… Oh no?…” Not really in the form of a question, still, Patricia found Rudger easy to connect with: “Oh! No! Of course, not! You were a perfect gentleman.” Rudger let out an enormous sigh of relief.

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“A policewoman picked out some clothes for you at your apartment.” Rudger handed Patricia the two shopping bags. “Oh! Great!” She looked in the bags: “Oh my, I don’t know who that policewoman is, but you should see the panties… do you like thongs?” Patricia was a little embarrassed. She remembered she needed to do laundry… the naughty intimates were the only clean ones: “Can I change in your bedroom?” Talking was not going to happen for Rudger. He just nodded. Patricia talked through the bedroom door as she dressed: “My manager at Charles de Gaulle called… that’s what woke me at noon! I’m a hero. Hah! She had no idea how scared I was. She told me I would be on paid leave for a week and to show up next Tuesday. A psychologist must clear me. Apparently, that’s standard procedure. If I pass, she can get me on the Hong Kong flight next Thursday!” Rudger was thrilled. He sensed the glee in Patricia’s voice. Patricia sashayed out of the bedroom and Rudger’s jaw dropped. The Air vixen was wearing a tight red halter top, a black leather motorcycle jacket, black stretch vinyl pants (not too tight), and black leather boots. “You like?” Patricia spun around for Rudger. He liked. “This feels so weird wearing a thong with this get-up.” Rudger blushed. “Is this place yours?” Patricia was impressed with the SoPi apartment “Yes!” Rudger was relieved… he could talk: “I keep an apartment in Paris since I come here a few days every fortnight.” “So, we can see each other a lot?” Patricia turned red. “Oh, I’m sorry, you probably have a girl. I didn’t mean to…” “No!” Rudger had his groove back. “No! We can see each other! I have just you!” Rudger knew this did not sound suave, but Patricia was beaming. “Good!” Patricia was in love.

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“Oh gross! I’m not doing your boobs!” Patricia had limits. Solange’s bikini taste had few: “Come on! Every hunk on this beach will be over here if you feel me up!” Solange gave her friend a disappointed look: “Besides, Rudger isn’t here… you can fool around.” “Well, not with you! I’m sure we can call Catherine… She’d love to rub your boobs!” Patricia felt bad talking about Catherine. The mean hostess had been so nice to her since her return. “Don’t even say that!” Solange apparently did have limits. “Hey! Get that guy to rub some of that stuff on your boobs! What was his name?” Patricia remembered their night at the roof top bar at the MARRIOTT. “I’m sure I don’t know.” Solange’s playful demeanor disintegrated. “Yeah, when I left you to go to bed, you two were still pawing each other.” Patricia did not take any of Solange’s nonverbal cues. “You must be mistaken.” Solange grew stiff. “Escobar! The stud from Cartagena… that’s it… Escobar!” Patricia figured Solange and Escobar would have a lot of pre-marital sex during the night. “Solange, you need to be careful. He had cartel written all over his face.” “You must be mistaken; I don’t know any Escobar.” Solange was now rubbing HAWAIIAN TROPIC on the tops of her boobs. “Say, didn’t Escobar have a baseball cap on… what was it… MANCHESTER UNITED?” Patricia was genuinely curious. “I don’t know who you’re talking about… now, if you’re not going to rub my boobs, shut up and let me!” “Okay, fine… I was simply curious. I’m sure it was just a coincidence.” Patricia finally caught on to the fact Solange did not want to talk about Escobar.

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Still, earlier that morning, when Patricia went on her sunrise jog, she came across a police scene just outside THE MARRIOTT. Apparently, a charred body had been hurled off one of the top floors. Her and Solange had 20th floor suites. Out of good decorum, Patricia kept jogging and did not see much. While jogging around the scene, she did see a body smoldering covered in a tarp. What caught Patricia’s attention was the MANCHESTER UNITED baseball cap laying on the sidewalk, just two meters from the charred dead man. “Okay, partner! I’ll pull my straps down and you can rub some of that HAWAIIAN TROPIC on my shoulders.” Patricia figured she needed to get Solange in a good mood again. “Yippee!” Solange shot up, pulled Patricia’s straps off her shoulders and went to work. The men at the beach all converged on the sexy stewardess duo.

Chapter 13: Lunch Rudger arrived in Brussels just before lunch. The Boss summoned him. This was not rare… The Boss liked Rudger… immensely. Rudger was 30 years his junior, and The Boss always treated. The two met at Peck 47, a trendy overpriced Brussels café. Every time Rudger ate there, he would swing by MCDONALD’s for a couple of cheeseburgers on the way back to the office. “Have some of this CHABLIS… great on the palate!” The Boss loved expensive wines. “No sir, I’m not good with alcohol!” Rudger did not want to make a fool of himself in Belgium. “I understand, you are smart. Don’t let me corrupt you!” Perfect segue… thought the Boss. “Say… speaking about being corrupted, how is Miss Marceau?” Rudger blushed and a sheepish smile grew on his face.

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The Boss saved him from stammering: “Say no more! Hey, she seems like a terrific gal! You aren’t planning to let her get a way, I hope!” Rudger did stammer: “Ah… well… you see… ah… no!” There… he said it. “Smart man!” The Boss obviously approved. “Hey, have a cup of the cold cucumber soup… it’s divine!” Rudger had his limits: “No!” The Boss laughed. “I bet if Miss Marceau made you cold cucumber soup, you would eat it.” “Well sir, she’s prettier than you.” Rudger was starting to relax. Since he began dating the AIR FRANCE hostess, his stammering had greatly improved. The Boss giggled and sipped his CHABLIS: “You know Rudger, you have done an amazing job. Since the raids you orchestrated in Paris, 155 of Han’s cohorts have been arrested all around western Europe. We live in a safer world now. Those guys were all psychotic killers.” “Sir, I know, but…” Rudger was not as impressed. “Unless we get the top guy, the head of the snake, all those psychopaths will be replaced. Europe has enough of them to choose from.” “No idea who this guy is?” The Boss looked grim. “No. We believe he’s in Munich. We know Hans Dietrich was one of his top guys.” Rudger was frustrated. The Boss gave Rudger a fatherly look: “You’re worried about Miss Marceau. You think the snakehead will want to make an example of her.” Rudger nodded: “She’s not the type of gal who will take round the clock protection.” The Boss laughed: “Really!? It sounds like… from what I’ve heard… she’s had it!”

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Rudger blushed: “Ah… yeah… I have spent a lot of time with her. Still, I can’t be with her all the time.” “Be careful, Rudger! Right now, Miss Marceau is bait. They’ll definitely come after her.” The Boss was legitimately scared for Patricia… and Rudger. “He’s being careful and he’s planning. He will strike though… maybe in a week… maybe in a year.” “I know sir.” Rudger knew one thing: he would never let anyone harm Patricia. “Rudger, this guy, whoever he is… is in or around Munich. How about if I transferred you to Paris on an indefinite assignment? That way you could keep an eye on Patricia and keep her out of harm’s way.” “I agree sir. Patricia said no. She is determined not to let this terrorist cell inconvenience her.” “My kind of woman… that is if I was 30 years younger! Take care of her Rudger!” The Boss knew Rudger would. “Now… should we head over to MCDONALD’s and get some real food?” Both men laughed.

*** As Rudger and The Boss were sneaking off to a Brussels MCDONALD’s, Helga Dietrich was murdering another German beauty. Katja Hesse was a cocktail waitress at Crown’s Club Lounge, the one in downtown Munich. The tall thin brunette could afford her own apartment with just the tips she made. Unfortunately for Katja, Helga saw her one morning wearing a black leather mini-skirt and white hooker boots. When Katja strutted by Helga’s house, the ugly fat woman charged out the front door. She tackled the beauty, slammed her noggin on the pavement four times and dragged the poor waitress into the house. Katja screamed, but the entire abduction took less than ten seconds.

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A bold move, admitted Helga, though she had to work off some frustration… She dragged Katja into her house, kicked the beauty in the midsection and ended her protestations. Katja attempted to get her breath back. This was not going to happen… Helga found a sledgehammer in her kitchen pantry... and… five swings later, Katja’s head was unrecognizable… “Fucking whore!” Helga felt much better. Crafting a state-of-the-art torture chamber in her attic had helped her in her time of mourning. Suddenly, the vibration of her flip-phone indicated a call… Being the Queen Bee of Europe’s most vicious terrorist cell meant hearing bad news occasionally. Yet, Helga was easily set off. News from Brazil brought news of failure: her man Escobar was missing and believed dead. Police supposed that Rio drug gangs identified Escobar as a Colombian cartel boss and burned him alive. They had no suspects but the Colombians were sending their heavy hitters to Rio to war with the neighborhood gangs. Escobar was assigned to seduce Patricia Marceau and her cohort, drug them after sex and put them on a freighter destined for Bremen. Helga would collect them there. Escobar did not complete his mission. The whores were able to board the AIR FRANCE jet back to Paris later that night. Helga looked down at the formerly sultry cocktail waitress. She took several deep breaths. Annihilating whores and sluts just brightened her day. After the bad news she received earlier, Katja had come by at a perfect time.

Chapter 14: Mandolin Serenade Patricia Marceau’s face had never been in so much pain. The smile that adorned it stretched so many muscles. The smile was not going away. The joyous laughter did not help. Rudger just continued strumming his mandolin and crooning: “The sight of you leaves me weak, there are no words left to speak…”

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“Oh my god!!! Where did you learn the mandolin?” Rudger was blushing: “Awwww, I just fiddle with it. I picked it up in Beirut when I was there.” Rudger had never dreamed he would ever sing to a beautiful woman, not with his shyness. Patricia wrapped both her arms around her man: “Oh Rudger, I don’t want to leave!” Now, she wept. In an hour, Rudger would bring her to the airport for her flight home. “I’ll be in Paris in a week, then you can sing to me!” Rudger sounded excited. “Oh no… you really don’t want to hear me sing… really!” Patricia believed she couldn’t sing: “Hey! I can do better… I’ll teach you the Tango!” “Ah… I… no… no… eh…” Rudger knew what the Tango was. “Oh no, you’re going to learn… I’ll teach you!” Rudger could not stop it, it just shot out: “I love you Patricia!” Still embracing the INTERPOL mandoliner, Patricia cooed: “I know, I love you, too.” Dressed in her AIR FRANCE uniform, she was tempted to resign right now and never let go of Rudger. “We’ll be together next week and, then, the week after, I’ll be on the 1622 again from Paris… and we’ll Tango.” “There are still some bad people out there, Patricia… I wish you would take a leave of absence and stop flying… just for a little while…” Rudger didn’t finish his sentence before the sultry Patricia cut him off. “Oh no… besides, who is going to watch out for Solange if I’m not flying?” Both laughed at this. Solange and Patricia had become awfully close. Solange needed Patricia’ mentoring. Solange’s devotion to Patricia Marceau reminded Rudger of a Golden Retriever’s devotion to his master… this was okay with the INTERPOL hunk. He was grateful that Solange kept so close to his love. “Hey! Solange is coming with me on that flight… in two weeks.” Patricia and Solange were flying a lot together. They buddy-bidded their schedules so they could be together.

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“She’ll be with us next time you serenade me unless you find her some INTERPOL dude… a handsome one!” Rudger laughed: “I’ll take care of it.” Patricia felt obliged to her girlfriend to add: “Handsome, and don’t forget rich!” Rudger knew: “Yep!” Time was flying by: “Oh no!” Rudger looked at his watch. “I should drive you to the airport.” The INTERPOL hunk frowned like a little boy. His lower lip began to quiver. Patricia kept embracing him for another several minutes. Before they had to let go of each other, the sultry stewardess whispered in his right ear: “Soon, my love. Soon!”

Chapter 15: Fuck Fuck Shit AIR FRANCE Flight 1194 was an easy one. The less than two-hour jaunt was going to be a fun gig for Patricia and Solange. The two beautiful hostesses pushed the snack and beverage cart down the aisle. Most of the Economy Class passengers only wanted a soft drink and pretzels. Patricia looked very sleek in her black uniform, red leather belt and red high heels. She smiled as she peered down at the man in 18C: “Something to drink?” “Fuck! Fuck! Shit!” The sweaty man was not winning friends with the cabin crew. “Well, fine… I guess not…” Patricia answered indignantly. “No, no!” Solange saved the day. She gave Patricia a stern look and bent forward. The young hostess whispered to the blonde air vixen: “He has Tourette’s Syndrome. Be nice!” Then, in a louder voice, she added: “Sir, would you like a Coke?” The sweaty man in 18C nodded his head eagerly: “Shit! Shit! Fuck! Yes!” Patricia was red faced and shocked that her young charge had saved her from a meeting with the Human Resources Police at AIR FRANCE corporate.

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“Oh, yes, of course!” The sultry stewardess poured the contents of a can of Coke into a plastic glass and put it on the sweaty man’s tray table. She, then, gave him two little bags of pretzels: “There you go, sir.” She sported a sweet smile. “Fuck! Shit!” The greasy man was sweating some more. “Awww, you’re so welcome!” Patricia was glad to be on his good side. She was also relieved to be continuing up the aisle. The man in 18C was not just a man with Tourette’s Syndrome. With 278 dirtbag terrorists picked up and arrested, he was the bottom of the bench. The Portuguese terrorist was one of the last few of Helga Dietrich’s henchmen. Because of Rudger’s intense operation, Helga’s ability to task terrorists in Europe was almost lost. Abel Salazar was in love… The young stewardess understood him. Her nametag said “Solange” and he would gut her soon… Solange would look so enticing with her entrails leaking out… After Solange’s gutting, he would abduct the blonde whore. His plan was fool proof. He would await outside customs until the two beauties cleared. Before the babe Solange and slut Patricia boarded a shuttle bus to the airport HYATT, he would make his move. The Queen Bee in Munich had provided Abel with their pictures and itineraries. Below the trash receptacle at the HYATT shuttle, a Bowie knife had been secreted. When the babes were waiting to be picked up… he would gut one and grab the other. Easy. In the meantime, he would molest Solange. This was expected to happen in Lisbon. The beauties finished their beverage service and buckled into the rear flight seats. “Oh my God! Have you tried CLAIROL’s new Root Touch-Up Color?” Solange was excited. “No, is it good?” Patricia was all ears. “You have to try it… I swear, it lasts two days! Besides, with the same chemicals, it won’t only blow someone’s hand off, it’ll penetrate the ribcage.” Solange was excited. “Really?!”

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40 minutes later the beautiful hostess duo passed through customs with their bags. On their way to the HYATT shuttle, they turned every male head and a few female ones. “Oh my god, Solange! Are you okay?” Patricia would not get off the molestation that occurred earlier. “Hey, when you look as good as I do, you have to expect this stuff.” laughed Solange. “Besides, he was mentally challenged, you shouldn’t be so hard on him, Patricia.” Patricia felt bad. The blonde AIR FRANCE vixen could not have been more impressed with Solange’s maturity and coolness. “I know, but I just don’t like it when someone tries to hurt my best friend.” Patricia was sincere. “Oh… I love you Patricia!” Solange was almost in tears. “Hey, let’s pick up some dark, swarthy Portuguese men tonight at the bar!” “I’m taken, girlfriend!” Patricia was beaming. “Okay, fine! No pick-ups… just cocktails!” Solange faked dejection. The HYATT shuttle appeared in the distance and both ladies heard: “Fuck! Fuck! Shit!” behind them. Patricia cringed. Solange looked at her Rolex and played with the winding mechanism. A soft pop, emanated from behind the stewardesses. They heard some screaming before the HYATT shuttle arrived. “Let’s get on first, we’ll get the back seats!” Solange was eager. Both air hostesses rushed on. Meanwhile, about ten meters from where Solange and Patricia were waiting, Abel laid on the ground. Cut in half by a weird explosion, his entrails were leaking out both his halves. The screaming intensified and, in a minute, 10 airport police officers were trying to get people away from the mess.

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Chapter 18: Brunch at L’Hôtel Napoléon They looked so alluring. The stewardess duo was clad in their black AIR FRANCE Air Hostess costumes, a non-regulation red leather belt… and of course the boots. For Patricia, the non-regulation black leather (very shiny) boots with three-inch heels. Solange had the same boots, except in red. Brunching in their uniforms was necessitated as both beauties were on standby. The stewardesses had been sitting at a patio table at L’Hôtel Napoléon for almost a half hour when they begrudgingly ordered. Obviously, the duo would be there for a while, but management did not mind. Sultry babes on their patio was something L’Hôtel Napoléon did not mind… at all. The tea arrived after a few minutes: Earl Grey for Patricia, Green for Solange. Solange was sipping her tea when Patricia told her about Rudger’s serenade. With no warning, Solange spit out the sip she just took in: “What!?” Patricia feigned annoyance at this gesture. “A fucking mandolin!? Are you fucking kidding me!?” Solange was laughing hysterically. “Hey! He was so sweet!?” Patricia was trying not to laugh. “Oh, sure! So, next time he serenades you… let me guess… he’ll pull out his accordion!” Solange was laughing so hard she was now crying. “Come on!” Patricia suppressed her giggles nicely. “Besides, he told me he loves me.” Patricia, now, developed tears. Solange stopped her laughter. She looked at Patricia with a look of love and joy: “Oh Patricia, I knew it! And continue… you told him you loved him?” Solange was not assuming anything. While blushing, Patricia Shyly nodded. “Oh Patricia! I am so happy for you!” Solange was beaming, as was Patricia.

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The red booted stewardess got up from her chair, marched around the table and hugged the sitting Patricia from behind: “So, do you think he’ll serenade me?” Solange was dreaming. “No,” answered Patricia. “Okay, fine!” Solange returned to her chair. “How about a foot massage? Do you think he’d give me a foot massage?” Solange was trying not to smile. “No!” Patricia threw her napkin at the red booted vixen. “Oh Patricia! Do you think anyone will ever sing to me or give me a foot massage?” Solange was starting to get sad. She knew Rudger would marry Patricia soon… this was good. She also knew Patricia was her only friend. Solange desperately wanted a man to love, one that would love her. “Solange, dear!” Patricia reached across the table and with both hands held Solange’s right hand. Solange was trying to not cry. “I know someone will… and a lot sooner than you think.” Solange went on: “Oh Patricia! I’m sorry! I am happy for you. I’m just going to miss you and I don’t like being lonely.” Solange sniffled for a few seconds, then, perked up: “Hey, in the meantime, we’ll share Rudger!… Kidding!” The AIR FRANCE iPhones of Patricia and Solange went off simultaneously. With the same coordination as synchronized swimmers, the stewardess pair picked them up, answered, and hung up. “Fuck! I’m the number three on the 3620 to Atlanta! Atlanta is such a shithole!” Solange hated Atlanta, as did all AIR FRANCE hostesses. Patricia was about to tell her to watch her language. She decided not to as Solange was right about this pathetic American city. “I’m the number one!”

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Solange was overjoyed: “Oh cool! If you’re the number one and I’m the number three, we can sit in the flight seats next to each other!” Both stewardesses were beaming. Solange tried to push her luck: “Hey! Call Rudger, tell him to meet us at the hotel and we could have a threesome!” “Solange! No!” Patricia was not smiling. “Okay… just thought I’d try.” Patricia paid the tab and the two ladies got up. “So, on our flight to the shithole you can tell me all about the bridesmaids dresses you’ll pick out… I like blue, not pink.” Both babes were laughing again. Before they left, Patricia noticed a weird man drooling a couple of tables over, now whispering. “Solange, that guy’s been staring at us for the last hour. I wonder who he is.” Solange lied: “I’m sure I don’t know.” Solange had no patience for weird men stalking either her or Patricia. “On the cab ride to Charles de Gaulle, I’ll tell you what I discovered about mixing some REVLON stuff with some CLAIROL stuff.” “Oh good!” Patricia was excited. “Does it make a boom?” Solange gave a sneaky smile: “Well… not a boom… something a bit quieter… still lethal, though.” Patricia did not see Solange pull a black compact out of her purse. “Come on, let’s walk out together! We need to pass right next to that drooling creep.” Both beauties walked out and seemingly ignored the creep as they walked by his table.

Chapter 19: The CIA Creep The two sultry AIR FRANCE hostesses walked by the table of Michel Desjardins… CIA’s main man in Paris.

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Chapter 20: Li Zhang Li Zhang wore many hats. She was a beautiful daughter… okay, so she never knew her mother. She was a great lover… okay, so she murdered most of her paramours. She was a brilliant scholar… okay, so her diplomas and honors from SHANGHAI UNIVERSITY OF FINANCE AND ECONOMICS were forged. She was a moral pillar of Chinese womanhood… okay, so she was a nymphomaniac homicidal maniac. Well, Li Zhang, in fact, was many things. The sultry assassin/secret agent for Beijing took pride in being interesting. Today, Li Zhang was an AIR ASIA stewardess. The AIR ASIA hostess uniforms were so sexy. Tight and red, they also sported a mostly unbuttoned white blouse and some shiny red heels. Her layover in Paris gave her ample opportunity to see the sights, identify known CIA operatives, and conduct counterintelligence against the Americans. The Chinese seductress/agent did her job well. She often teamed up with Bai Wong and Ruby Lin. Together, the three stewardesses would infiltrate and compromise America’s CIA Paris operations. Four hours ago, Li Zhang awoke. Her beautiful hostess uniform was strewn all over the hotel room. She quickly pieced together the events of the previous night. The snoring Australian football player next to her was a clue. What was his name? The stud was rather good, Li thought. He was brutal and unmerciful. A perfect match for her. Li Zhang slowly slid off the bed. Her aches and bruises brought back memories of deviant satisfying sex and many orgasms. She decided to let “the animal” live. Tonight, she would bed him again, inflict bruises and aches on him, then, kill him. The naked beauty walked over to the coffee table where the packs of her VIRGINIA SLIMS and the football player’s CAMELS lay. She put one of each in her mouth and struck a match. After lighting both, she walked back to the bed…

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The Australian tripod had not woken yet. Li laid her naked torso on top of him, pulled the CAMEL from her mouth and gently placed the cigarette between the stud’s lips. The Australian player finally began to stir. The vixen removed her VIRGINIA SLIM from her hungry lips and placed it in the ashtray beside the bed. She softly blew the cigarette smoke into the stud’s face and, with her free right hand, stroked the athlete’s side. Her right hand went to his crotch and began massaging his man-organ. The Australian was awake, now. “Beat me into obedience, dick-face,” Li softly cooed. Usually, Li Zhang loved being the dominator. This time was an exception. This football player knew what he was doing. He certainly knew how to satisfy a real woman. The bloke rolled over and straddled Li. Flat on her back, Li displayed a seductive look of want. The Australian slapped her right cheek and spit on her face. “Game on,” Li whispered. Her whisper was too soft for the stud to hear. 75 minutes later, Li Zhang was ready to face the new day. “One more time, love?” The football player spoke and this annoyed Li Zhang. “I already told you last night, shithead! What part of ‘SHUT THE FUCK UP’ don’t you understand?” The Australian looked hurt. The sultry Asian slid off the bed one more time. Now, more bruised and achier, she wanted a shower. “Come on!” She grabbed the player’s erect penis as if it were a leash and led the athlete to the shower. “Clean me off, and good!” The Australian knew what he was doing; all ten of his fingers worked to clean off the naked and lathered-up stewardess/assassin. The football player caressed, wiped, probed each of the beauty’s orifices, and smeared shower gel appropriately. 20 minutes later, the duo stepped out of the shower. The naked athlete followed the naked stewardess out of the bathroom. She found her iPhone next to the cigarette packs on the coffee table.

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Suddenly, dread enveloped the satisfied stewardess: Bai and Ruby had not texted her… The three stewardesses/agents were supposed to keep tabs on each other… especially on assignment. “Hey baby, how ‘bout warming up my sausage?” The athlete was getting annoying. The naked Asian spun around and delivered a karate kick to the Australian’s head rendering him unconscious. “Bai! Ruby!” Tears welled in Li Zhang’s eyes. She knew. Her beautiful friends, the besties she shared so many orgies with, were dead. Probably horribly murdered after humiliating torture and rape… Still naked, Li activated the app on her iPhone which could open any hotel door. She ran down the hall to check on room 1002 and 1008, Bai and Ruby’s hotel rooms. Both rooms had not been slept in. She remembered the drooling man. The CIA operative which her buddies had seduced in the lounge. What was his name? “Michel Desjardins!” Beijing supplied Li Zhang with an app that could tell her anyone’s hotel room in France. She punched a few keys: “1805!” The naked stewardess took the stairs. In under two minutes she was inside Michel’s room. Blood was spattered on the white walls. In one corner was Bai’s hand. On the coffee table was one of Ruby’s eyeballs. Li vomited. On all fours, the AIR ASIA babe was dry heaving. A hacksaw, still dripping of blood, hung off the coffee table. On the floor, below her, were blood-drenched pliers. Li Zhang looked up and, in Mandarin, screamed: « 复仇! » (“Vengeance!”, Ed).

Chapter 21: Flight 3620 Patricia Marceau loved being an air hostess. She sashayed up and down the thin aisle with a dancer’s dexterity. Lifting carry-on bags, fitting them in overhead bins, serving pretakeoff cocktails to her First-Class passengers… she did it all.

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The children on the flight were enthralled. Tango moves were evident in the way this beauty went about her job. Forward. Backward. Dip. (Okay, maybe no dips… but this was not just a routine for Patricia…it was a dance!). After watching Patricia seduce in every task she undertook, four little girls (one in 12A, one in 14B, one in 16A, and one in 17C) changed their minds and decided they wanted to be stewardesses when they grew up. Two of Patricia’s First-Class passengers, a 77-year-old Jesuit (3C) and an 85-year-old widower (2A), flirted with her. Patricia brought them cocktails. They both offered to buy her a drink and laughed as First-Class drinks were free. Solange was not so lucky; she was getting her posterior pinched by scraggly Paris art students several rows back. Time for take-off! The two AIR FRANCE beauties occupied the front flight seats. Both were giddy. Neither liked Atlanta, but the rooftop bar at the hotel was very nice. Solange was happy to be away from the art students: “Sold out, I think. Don’t these people know that Atlanta is a shithole?” “I think most have connecting flights there… no one is stupid enough to actually stay in Atlanta.” Patricia was thinking about the first Mai Tai she was going to have at the rooftop bar... “Hey, the guy in 2C isn’t here, he must’ve missed the flight!” The blonde stewardess checked her AIR FRANCE Tablet. “Some guy named Desjardins… I wonder what happened.” “I’m sure I don’t know!” Solange was a master at changing the subject. “So, I ordered another dagger holster for my catsuit. The old one rode way up into my crotch. This one stays just an inch above the knee.” “Oh cool! These companies need to start making better holsters for us women. We’re not all built like American servicewoman!... We actually have shape.”

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Patricia was writing more articles, all for Mercenary Today: “I might write an article about this!” The phone buzzed and Patricia grabbed it. The stewardess sitting in the rear of the airplane could be heard laughing by Solange. Patricia hung up. Solange did not ask, but the sultry blonde told her anyway: “About six dirtbag art students are cramming into the two latrines… they all have the runs.” Patricia was laughing. “I’m sure I don’t know anything about that… Hey! I’m saving for a new crossbow!” Again, Solange was the master of changing the subject. Patricia again offered Solange the advice of the experienced: “Good. Now, if you get the WICKED RIDGE brand, just know you will be breaking your nails everyday so, watch out for that. But, TENPOINT is easier on the pull back, your nails should do fine, and you only lose minimum accuracy beyond 25 meters.” Solange had pulled out a mini-notebook and wrote down all of Patricia’s advice. “Awww, you’re so smart. When Rudger marries you, you will still be my friend, won’t you?” Patricia was now beaming: “Solange! We’ve only been dating a short while.” “I know, but… I know he’s going to marry you soon!... We’ll still be friends?” Solange did not have other friends. She valued Patricia’s friendship. “Oh Solange! It’s way too early to discuss marriage… but we’ll always be friends, you and I. Besides, who else would be my maid of honor?” Solange was happy. She smiled wide. “Hey, when you pick out the bride’s maids’ dresses… make them tight!…” Solange had thought this out. “They should show our boobs!” “Whatever!” Patricia rolled her eyes.

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“Why do you have to leave so soon? Stay with me, here!” Patricia was getting sad. “I have to get back to Munich. Besides, you’re heading there next Thursday, aren’t you?” Rudger did not want to leave either… but duty called. “I was given a turn… but I did a trade or two, so I’ll be in Munich through the next Sunday. I don’t suppose you’ll have some free time… maybe we could go on a park tour, I want to see… and feel… those mosaics.” Patricia really did want to see more of Rudger’s mosaics. “I think the sangria and those raw oysters are stirring something inside me.” The sultry stewardess giggled. “I hope so!” Rudger put down his glass and turned his torso so he could wrap both arms around his love. Patricia dropped her empty glass. The two kissed and made out for over 20 minutes. “Someday… soon, we’ll be able to do more than just make-out.” Patricia was beaming. She knew what this meant: “I can’t wait. Oh Rudger, I Iove you so much!” Patricia felt her red satin thong screaming underneath her leather pants. Suddenly the sultry hostess felt a cascade of guilt: “You know, my sweet, I should tell you that I didn’t prepare all this alone.” Rudger did not seem to care about this: “Did Solange help you? How is she?” “Awww, she’s so cute… she’s in love. You should see this new guy! Some hunk… He has a funny name… Manny or Murray, or…” Patricia was really trying to remember. “Man-Tat Ng.” Rudger was only trying to be helpful. Patricia shot up, very startled: “How… how did you know?” “His boxers are on the floor of the bathroom. Looks like he and Solange had a pretty nice time.” Rudger was laughing and so was Patricia. “I was going to tell you about them… Solange picked up the groceries so I could have the fondue, the beverages… oh, and the oysters, ready for you!”

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Patricia was giddy again, but only for a few seconds: “Wait! How do you know a guy just from his boxers?” Rudger planted another passionate kiss on his darling: “I have to give him credit: white satin boxers with hearts all over them… nice!” The INTERPOL hunk stood up and scooped up his stewardess. He carried her into the kitchen: “Good, there is still some pineapple. I’m so hungry.” Rudger stuck the pineapple chunks into the chocolate sauce and fed the first one to Patricia. Patricia was quite the seductress. She sucked on it before her lips pulled it off the stick. She, then, fed Rudger one and made sure to drip some of the chocolate sauce on his chin. After Rudger chewed the fondue treat, Patricia moved in and licked his chin clean. Patricia was still feeling guilty and was about to elaborate on whatever they were just talking about. If only she could remember what they were just talking about… “Anymore oysters?” Rudger was hungry. He needed to do something, like eat, so as not to ‘take advantage’ of the woman he loved. The sultry stewardess giggled. She could feel his erection through his pants: “I don’t think you need any more.” Patricia remembered what Rudger and her were just talking about: “Oh, I want to be honest with you…I didn’t prepare them.” Rudger smiled: “Whoever did, knew what they were doing. The last time I saw oysters prepared like this… oregano, I think…” Rudger paused and sniffed the serving dish that had contained the raw oysters. Patricia had no idea: “Old bay… I think.” “Ah right! Yes.” Rudger seemed satisfied. “Oh yeah, it was in Rabat. This Chinese assassin… what was her name?” Rudger paused again. “Li Zhang.” Patricia was about to tell Rudger about the Chinese assassin. “Right!”

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A very pretty Charles de Gaulle airport policewoman approached Li. The assassin did not see her coming. Monique Darc was trained through the Jim Mitchell’s Leadership and Communication course. She was the perfect officer to diffuse the angry AIR ASIA hostess. Confident and looking sexy in her very tight police uniform, Monique spoke to the Asian beauty: “Hello sister, can I help you with something?” Monique thought her approach was brilliant. She was not confrontational. If anything, she showed empathy and compassion to a suspect she would probably have to overpower and arrest. The beautiful Monique Darc never saw the karate kick that landed on her right cheekbone. Li’s kick sent the hem of her tight red stewardess skirt up to her hips. The French police beauty was spread out near a trash receptacle. The top two buttons of her uniform’s shirt broke open revealing a terrific view of her cleavage and a white lacy bra. The Japanese businessmen and Ahmad immediately lost interest in Kyoko and converged on poor Monique. Ahmad shoved his right hand into Monique’s groin. The Japanese businessmen filmed new YOUTUBE videos and Li stepped in a shuttle to the airport HILTON. The Asian assassin did not notice all the police cars and ambulances. The added emergency traffic delayed her arrival at her HILTON suite. Li Zhang wanted to tie Patricia up and slap her silly. Her response to the French stewardess betrayed that hostility: Please, Patricia. I don’t want anything to happen to you. I beg you: cancel your Thursday trip! Please!!!! Patricia’s reply was equally tender: Awww. Thank you, sis. I’m sorry I told you to fuck a goat. No need to worry. I’m no wallflower. BTW, Rudger’s parents are flying in from America. I will meet them on Saturday.

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Li began crying. If anything happened to Patricia… Well, the Air Asia stewardess was bent on not allowing anyone to harm Patricia. As the shuttle pulled into the driveway at the HILTON, the police were busy at Charles de Gaulle. The four Japanese businessmen and Ahmad were the only witnesses to have stayed after the attacks. These five witnesses spoke almost no French. The cops spoke no Japanese nor Arabic. When Monique Darc was rushed to the hospital with temporary amnesia, Kyoko came to wondering where her panties were. The French cops interpreted the stories of the five foreigners as best they could… The unfortunate NIPPON AIRWAYS hostess, was arrested for the brutal attack on a policewoman. She was brought to the fifth floor of a local hospital to be locked away for 72 hours of psychological examination.

Chapter 31: The Killer The beautiful young stewardess knew Li Zhang was not going to like this. Still, Li was a new friend and was not owed explanations. “I know you don’t understand what I’m saying, but I do love you!” Solange cooed to ManTat Ng. The Chinese Intel Analyst, turned operative, was now pouting. “Oh my love, I have to leave for a few days… but I’ll be back!” Solange Dubonet tried to put a smile back on Ng’s face… alas, to no avail. “Oh, please don’t be sad.” Solange began crying. Man-Tat Ng cried too. The two lovers embraced. “Just a few days, my love, and then we’ll be together forever!” Not knowing Mandarin, nor her lover’s name, made saying goodbye difficult for Solange. “I love you!” Ng knew nothing else to say. With a cascade of tears flowing down her cheeks, Solange, could only respond: “I love you!”

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For the young AIR FRANCE hostess, the make-up application was a science. 55 minutes later, every part of her face worked every seduction angle. The back of Solange’s closet had her wardrobe for the next few days: a new catsuit! The vixen slid into the tight black suit, quickly zippered it up, caressed her sides and cooed: “Oh Solange… you… are… so… hot!” The French stewardess strapped on several tactical holsters, then, and filled them with the appropriate weapons. Boots were next… Black shiny go-go boots. This footwear had no useful purpose except to make the wearer look trashy… but in an ‘oh, so seductive’ type of way. The air hostess had now transitioned into a vixen/warrior… almost. The beauty in black slid a big table away from the center of the floor and removed a small, and very worn, Oriental rug. With the help of a flat head screwdriver, Solange lifted off four floorboards. She threw the screwdriver aside, looked at the just revealed secret compartment, smiled and said: “Showtime!”

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She was a good student: when the horde dove over the nurse’s counter, Kyoko grabbed a scalpel and a syringe which were also on the floor and waited for the horde to come to her. She slashed, kicked, punctured, slashed some more… 17 minutes later, 25 sexual deviants were dead on the floor and 19 had taken the elevator to the fourth floor. Kyoko Honda was no longer a diminutive NIPPON AIRWAYS stewardess. The cobwebs in her head were all gone. Her memories of the previous hour and a half were clear. The naked beauty, covered in blood and armed with a scalpel and syringe knew what she had to do: Revenge! She screamed: “Li Zang ! 今行くわよ。” (“Li Zhang! I’m coming for you!”, Ed) 2 minutes before that, Nurse Carol, who was the only fourth floor hospital staff not bleeding out, saw an insane killer arrive after the surviving lunatic horde left. Her colleagues were all dead. The doctors were in pieces. The nurses were all ordered to strip while a mysterious lunatic ninja tried on their uniforms. If the uniform did not fit, the ninja-madwoman sliced their throats. Paralyzed with fear, Nurse Carol could not move her feet. After witnessing the carnage, she could only whimper. Nurse Carol was the sultriest nurse in Europe. She had even adopted a pseudonym when MAXIM featured her in a photoshoot entitled Europe’s Sexiest Public Health Vixens. Not able to move, the centerfold/nurse could only cry and watch the naked ninja-madwoman approaching. Kyoko Honda did not really want to kill Nurse Carol. Okay, maybe the old Kyoko Honda did not want to kill Nurse Carol, but the new one did! Most of the fourth-floor nurses were bigboned and retaining water. Nurse Carol’s build was similar to Kyoko’s. When the NIPPON AIRWAYS hostess, turned maniacal ninja-madwoman, neared Nurse Carol, the two ladies stared into each other’s eyes. Kyoko spoke first: “Strip!” Nurse Carol was used to hearing this order. Usually, it came from hunk doctors or dominatrix women with whips.

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“Please, no! I’ll do anything, just don’t hurt me!” Nurse Carol used her standard reply. In a strange way, she was beginning to enjoy this chance meeting with the ninja madwoman. The agile nurse beauty found her uniform’s zipper behind the nape of her neck and gently pulled it all the way down. The MAXIM centerfold had only one strategy for survival: seduce her attacker. After Carol unzipped her white uniform, she pulled her arms out of the sleeves and stepped out of it. Licking her lips while shooting the ninja a look of love, the centerfold/nurse undid her black shiny bra. She was confident her striptease was seducing the would-be attacker. Naked and filled with rage, the soaked in blood Kyoko was turned on by Carol: although she was holding a bloody scalpel, she was staring at Nurse Carol’s breasts. Carol picked up on this. She softly began massaging her boobs: “You like?” “Everything!” The ninja-madwoman had business to attend. She needed all of Carol’s garments, including undies. “You can have everything!” Carol gave her tormentor her best look of seduction. The naughty nurse slowly rolled down her shiny white pantyhose revealing a sexy black thong. Without bending her knees, she leaned over, stepped out of her thong, pantyhose, and shoes all in one move. Now, completely naked, she set her sights on disarming the ninja-madwoman. “You like what you see?” Carol had her groove back. She slowly stepped forward leaving her garments on the floor behind. Kyoko Honda started licking her lips. Carol stood only a few centimeters from her wouldbe killer: “Please don’t hurt me, I’ll do anything!”

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Kyoko, if she had more time, would have made passionate love to Nurse Carol. Nurse Carol decided to caress Kyoko’s upper arms. Her lips, then, shot forward and attacked Kyoko’s lips. Instantly, both beauties had their tongues inside each other’s mouth. Carol moved forward even more. Her breasts were tightly pressed against Kyoko’s when she withdrew her tongue: “I can show you so much.” As much as Kyoko Honda wanted to ravage Nurse Carol, there was no time to waste. In one quick jerk, Kyoko raised her right hand and sliced Carol’s throat. The Maxim centerfold hit the ground immediately and was nice enough not to bleed on her uniform. Before the police tactical units could respond, Kyoko Honda, NIPPON AIRWAYS stewardess turned maniacal ninja, showered off, moisturized, and dressed in Nurse Carol’s uniform. While departing, Kyoko looked at Carol’s corpse, smiled, and said: “あなたが次の犠牲 者だわ。” (“You’re next Li Zhang!”, Ed).

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The French beauty, clad in a sleek black catsuit, was giddy. She had no idea that the pathetic playboy sitting next to her was the son of The Sultan of Brunei. She did know that when a NEUFELD convertible appeared… she would have to seize the moment. The poor schmuck playboy never knew what hit him. Solange surprised herself with the accuracy of her shot at 40 meters. As Omar and Solange entered Munich city limits, they received sneers from the local population. They assumed Omar was a drunk college kid playing a stupid prank. Solange looked at her ROLEX (actually, Omar’s ROLEX), and saw that Patricia’s flight would land in an hour. She needed to protect her friend; maintaining a tight schedule was paramount in doing just that. Solange turned onto a side street and stopped in front of the Peking East Art Gallery… the site of Mai Li’s demise. The rancid odor appeared first. Solange expected this and was determined not to be judgmental. Princess Velnuvia crawled out of a sewer grate covered in feces. The dripping alien regal stood up and peered at Solange: “Who is the fellow with the sagging eyeball?” The question was a sincere one. “Who? Oh, him! How should I know? Get in!” Solange was focused. Princess Velnuvia opened the passenger side door of the NEUFELD convertible and ripped Omar’s corpse from the seat. She then slid in. “Put the top back up, we need privacy.” Princess Velnuvia was also focused. “No!” Solange did not mean to sound so harsh to her reeking friend. “I mean, we’ll draw less suspicion if I leave it down.” “Fine!” The alien princess sounded offended. “Target is gone… left her house two hours ago with a yellow work vest, a hard helmet, and a shovel.” Solange nodded and began driving: “First stop is target’s abode… then, we’ll collect Patricia when she leaves the airport. She’ll head to meet the shuttle for the HILTON.”

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“Oh, you mean you wouldn’t?” Solange was persistent. “No! Gross! Stop it!” Patricia was trying to keep her voice down. “Hey, how about you me and that night nurse… a threesome in that lady’s room we just passed?” Solange was hopeful. “Stop it! No! She might hear you!” Patricia was about to hit Solange. “Well good, shall I ask her, or do you want to?” Solange was focused. “Here we are! I’ll wait down the hall at the nurse’s station.” The beautiful nurse gave Solange a wink. She, then, turned around and retreated to the station. The four entered the room. The sight of the broken Li Zhang was almost too much to take. Bandaged, bruised, and unrecognizable, the Asian assassin opened her right eye. “Li my love, you’re going to be fine.” Patricia was trying to hold back tears. “You have to get out of here soon, I need a bridesmaid… Solange can’t be trusted to do it alone.” Li saw Patricia’s ring and smiled. The smile was very painful. She looked at Man-Tat Ng and Solange and smiled again. Solange’s playful smile was just what Li needed. “Li, Solange was the one who saved you. She rescued you and brought you to the hospital… and of course murdered that kid who raped you.” Patricia realized she said too much. “Raped!? Who!?... What????” Li was getting more animated. Solange stepped in: “Don’t worry! I shot him through the neck with an arrow and I took back your panties and pantyhose!... He thought he would keep them as a souvenir.” “Awww, Solange!” Li began crying, and so did Patricia and Solange.

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“I brought you here. I’m going to come get you out of here in a few days. I am getting married, too. Me and, er… what’s his name… and you have to be there!” Solange was beaming and, now, Li was too. “You are going to be the prettiest bridesmaid in Europe! We’re both going to pick out some really trashy and slutty dresses for you! You’ll like them: tight with lots of boob showing… You can pick the color.” “Okay, folks!” The night nurse had snuck into the room. “You can come back tomorrow. Ms. Zhang needs rest.” Rudger stepped up: “If you need anything Li, we’re here for you. We’ll all be back tomorrow.” The hunk INTERPOL agent peered at the nurse and her nametag: “In the meantime, Nurse Carol will take good care of you!”

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THE LUNATIC OF THE NORTH by Christopher Zisi

Chapter 1: Vendela Bjorlin Officer Vendela Bjorlin was arguably the most beautiful woman in Sweden. That was not so important at this moment. The sultry cop lay naked and bloodied in the snow. The blonde beauty did not feel beautiful now, rather she was humiliated and swollen. Blood poured from both her nostrils. Ugly bruises were appearing on her neck. Her extended Kubaton was shoved deep into her vagina. Vendela had wished the monster had finished her off. She coughed. Blood shot out of her mouth. Her ribs were a mess, probably broken. She was sure her lung was punctured by one of these ribs. Calling for help was not an option. The beauty patrolled Nikkala where the male population was very old-fashioned. If they found her in this bloody state, they would rape and humiliate her some more. The naked cop, laying on her front, began to regain her senses. Officer Bjorlin developed a short-term plan to get herself out of public display. At 5:00pm the shops and insane asylum would see their daytime employees pour onto the streets. Vendela did not want to be a spectacle for them. Step one would be difficult and very painful. Though her arms were not broken they were either dislocated or almost dislocated. Her right shoulder seemed to be slightly out of socket. Still laying on her front, the Swedish cop jerked to her right, forcing her naked and spray-tanned shoulder through the snow and into the ground. She heard a piercing crack as the shoulder moved back into socket. BH DOUBLE EDITION

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Chapter 2: Dr. Lars Andersson The afternoon did not begin in a horrific manner. Sweden’s leading expert of criminal psychiatry was also this country’s most eligible bachelor. The six-foot two muscular blond had just completed his rounds at the state-run lunatic asylum on the island of Seskaro. This remote island, near the Finnish border, in the northern reaches of the Gulf of Bothnia, was where the maddest and most dangerous criminal minds were sent. After completing his rounds just before 3:00pm, Dr. Andersson, or as he liked to be called, Lars, was ready to party. The hunk took out his iPhone and sent a text to a couple of psychologists and a nursing intern. The text read: “Meet me at the front, I’m driving… 10 minutes.” Dr. Margot Bergstrom, a 35-year-old beauty, received Lars’ text. She had just completed her rounds. Clad in a white lab coat that did not hide her tight blue sweater, and equally tight ecru suede skirt, she was also ready to party. Her high-heeled black leather boots proved an alluring accessory. In addition to that, her sexy get-up had ensured all her patients were experiencing erections. The sandy haired babe doctor’s preference was a party with Lars. She was not pleased about sharing him with Dr. Emma Ericson… never mind that slut nursing intern Anna Olin. At the same time Margot received her text, Dr. Emma Ericson, a pioneer of Swedish psychology, also received the text. Emma was not finished with her rounds but decided to cut them short. She would leave her nursing intern, Anna Olin, orders to inject all the patients with extra Thorazine. Emma figured this would hold them over until the morning. She too was anxious to party with Lars. The addition of her rival, Margot, was an annoyance. BH DOUBLE EDITION

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THE XTREM COLLECTION PATRICIA M AD Lars secured a small table near the door. The very pretty and scantily clad waitress, Nooma, arrived; Lars made a kissing motion with his lips. Nooma giggled as Lars’ three dates all sneered. Nooma’s cleavage was on full display; her tight leather miniskirt impressed the psychiatrist. Already working for a huge tip, Nooma kept her stare on Lars and licked her lips... she placed four bottles (long necks) of MARIESTAD beer on the table. Lars always ordered his dates long necks. He loved to see his ladies lick the top of the bottle as they drank. Usually, anyone who dated Lars, was all too happy at plying their seduction while drinking their MARIESTAD. As his stare trickled down from Nooma’s lips to her breasts, Lars was witness to a most amazing sight: Nooma’s nipples tripled in size. The increased nipple size was not due to any magic from Lars’ stare, rather, it was directly related to the frigid temperatures that engulfed the Sexig Krog waitress. Those frigid temperatures wrapped around Nooma’s cleavage since the front doors of the establishment were opened. Frigid Swedish air cascaded in. Nooma and her four new customers who all diverted their gazes to the front door, were, then, all observers to a most astonishing and alarming sight. Inge Hammarstrom had entered the Sexig Krog. The six-foot seven hulk, clad in bear furs, was thirsty. Not having any money, he identified himself immediately knowing that if people knew who he was, he would never have to pay for his own liquor: “I am Inge Hammarstrom!” Nooma, Anna, Margot, and Emma all stared at his groin while Lars decided to impress his dates with some flippant comedy. Laughing hysterically, Lars made a fatal mistake: “Chill out Inga!” Inge flew into a fit of rage: “The name is Inge, not Inga!” The beast did not appreciate his manhood being questioned. Unfortunately for Nooma, who was still staring at Inge’s groin, she was the first to be murdered by the brute. With a roar, Inge swung a machete and severed Nooma’s pretty head from her formerly sexy torso. The head landed in Margot’s lap sending all three of Lars’ dates into fits of primal screaming.

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THE XTREM COLLECTION PATRICIA M AD Unable to move and unaware that Inge Hammarstrom did not enjoy loud noises, the ladies were unprepared when the hulking monster dove at them. He knocked them off their chairs onto the floor. The ladies hardly struggled as Inge smashed their heads into the floor and ripped off their clothes and shoes. In a matter of seconds, the monster had the dates hogtied and gagged. Anna, Margot, and Emma were all bleeding from their noses and whimpering. They gazed at Lars and realized he would be no help. Inge Hammarstrom was back on his feet, standing over the psychiatrist who was himself crying. Nooma’s blood was dripping off Hammarstrom’s machete; the beast was still holding it. “No! Please no! I beg you! No!” Dr. Lars Andersson was not accustomed to begging. He had never begged before. In fairness to the renowned psychiatrist, this sudden desire to beg was more reflex than a chosen course of action. “Oh, please no! God no!” Lars could not stop... “I don’t want to die! Please let me live!” The rantings of Dr. Andersson were now high-pitched: “I’ll do anything! I am so sorry!” Lars was not impressing the three lovely ladies he had brought with him. The three hogtied babes beside him were stripped to their underwear and horrified to the point of not being able to scream. “Anything! I can get you… drugs?! Money?! I have lots of money! I have a Swiss Bank account!” Lars was now a pathetic mess. His eyes were focused on the large machete that was now over the head of the menacing lunatic. The amorous psychiatrist would not accept that in a matter of seconds, his own head would be separated from his body. “I beg you…no!” Lars had little else to offer his tormentor. He was not even looking at his three dates. They were beaten, humiliated, and awaiting torture or worse. The machete wielding lunatic obviously had plans for them, and the handsome psychiatrist was not wondering what they were; he was only focused on himself. The suave coward believed he was too good to die. BH DOUBLE EDITION

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THE XTREM COLLECTION PATRICIA M AD Emma had wished she had been nicer to her intern… even though she was a trashy cunt. Anna did not have to think twice. “Fucking whores!” With this insult, Anna swung Inge’s machete. Sprays of red shot up covering her and Inge. There was no screaming; the gags on Margot and Emma were never taken off. Within 15 seconds the two bound beauties were unrecognizable as humans and more resembled hairy blobs of strawberry ice cream. “Take that, cunts!” Anna was in her glory. “You can take those Thorazine injections and shove them up your ass, Dr. Ericson!” Inge Hammarstrom was frightened himself. He did not know how anyone could be that vicious. Still, the blonde nurse intern did repent, he had to give her that. In a gentle manner he put his arm around Anna’s shoulder and gently lifted the machete out of her right hand. “Now, now, my sweet, that’s quite enough. Why don’t I take this before someone gets hurt?” Anna Olin surrendered her machete to the monster that hovered over her: “Are you going to rape me now?”

Chapter 3: The Asylum The 16th Century molded the modern-day ethos of Sweden. King Eric XIV personifies many in this northern land. A madman, no doubt, Eric XIV had dreams and pursued them. Like every good king, he desired conquest and love. Elizabeth I of England had her own brush with the crazy Swede. Minding her own business, drinking tea in here country castle, a courier brought her a letter from King Eric XIV. Her response to the courier, after reading the letter, was “who is this blubbering fool?” When told the letter was from the Swedish king, she responded, “Gross!” Eric’s marriage proposal to Elizabeth I may be termed sickening. BH DOUBLE EDITION

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THE XTREM COLLECTION PATRICIA M AD A woman of modest demeanor, it was likely she was put off by Eric’s offer to “…rub my manly body parts against your womanly body parts so you will give me sons.” Next up was Mary, Queen of Scots. Upon reading her letter from Eric, desiring marriage, she told her maidservant: “Disrobe my darling, I have suddenly become a lesbian.” Foiled again, Eric was not done. Renata of Lorraine was equally as vicious to Eric’s proposal: “He couldn’t even spell copulate correctly! I’m sure his penis is decrepit and weak!” Anna of Saxony laughed for the next 16 months after receiving her letter from Eric. Christine of Hesse began looking for a convent to hide in after receiving her letter. This last rejection sent Eric the XIV into an abyss of insanity. Perhaps modern historians can accurately portray him as Sweden’s first serial killer. The king’s homicidal rampage took over his romantic side. Eric the XIV’s victims probably numbered over 20. Eric the XIV was determined to find a wife. Confident in this endeavor he had a palace built on Seskaro Island as a wedding present for the fool who would accept his proposal. He also mounted an army and conquered Estonia. The Estonian campaign was a failure; the women in this Baltic locale were all homely and whined non-stop. The sprawling castle in the northern reaches of Sweden went largely unoccupied over the centuries when in the 1930s, was taken over by the government of Sweden. Supplying utilities to this castle was cost prohibitive, and the castle was given to Stockholm University. The university gave it to their medical school, who did not want it. Nevertheless, in 1977, the medical school allowed their department of psychiatry to form an institution for the study of criminal and other insane behavior. Every European nation gave Stockholm a lot of money for the privilege of sending their most dangerous criminals to the Seskaro Island institution. The more superstitious in the region believed the spirit of Eric the XIV controlled the destiny of this cursed castle. Initially called The Eric the XIV Asylum for Criminal Behavior, the university saw fit to change its name to New Horizons Rehabilitation Center. BH DOUBLE EDITION

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THE XTREM COLLECTION PATRICIA M AD No matter, the citizens of Seskaro Island and Nikkala still referred to it as merely, “The Asylum.” The Asylum had rooms for 166 patients, with appropriate security. 10 psychiatrists, 22 psychologists, 30 nurses, and 4 interns staffed it. 64 orderlies doubled as security officers and armed Swedish army veterans were also hired to provide added security. The 166 patients currently at The Asylum were all mass murderers and quite delusional. Additionally, they were all heavily medicated for the safety of the staff. *** Inge Hammarstrom was tempted to rape Anna Olin, but priorities got in the way: “Not now, my slave, first we have business at The Asylum.” Anna Olin quickly put herself together. She slipped on Margot’s high-heeled leather boots. “I’ve always admired these boots, cunt!” Anna reveled in the opportunity to goad Margot, even if Margot had ceased breathing several minutes ago. “Let’s go In…. er… Inge!” Almost calling him Inga, Anna Olin was happy to be on Hammarstrom’s good side. “We’ll do your business, then we’ll fuck… er… you will rape me… violently… you have to punish me for all my past sins!” Anna was aroused by the prospect of being dominated by the lunatic hulk. “So, what is your business there, anyway.” She almost yawned while asking this question. “I seek the one they call… Wilhelmus Abraham Remmerswaal!” Inge Hammarstrom looked to the heavens as he recited this name. “Oh god no!!!! Not Remmerswaal!!! Please, not him!!! Anyone but him!!!” Anna Olin was horrified. She thought about running away. Sensing Anna Olin’s sudden fright, Inge Hammarstrom grabbed the blonde nursing intern. He threw her over his right shoulder and began walking out of the blood-spattered Sexig Krog: “You will help me and, then, I will rape you!” Inge threw in that last point to maintain Anna Olin’s loyalty… in reality, he would allow Remmerswaal to rape her first. Draped over the brute’s shoulder, Anna Olin was helplessly flailing. Inge slapped her buttocks with much force and headed with his sex package to the Bridge of Seskaro. BH DOUBLE EDITION

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THE XTREM COLLECTION PATRICIA M AD Anna spied a disapproving look from Inge, “What, we’re… or were friends!” She, then, slipped into the dress which looked radiant matched with Dr. Margot’s boots. “Do you want to rape me now?” Inge’s erection was throbbing. Still, he owed allegiance to his hero and mentor, Remmerswaal: “Rape?” He would present Anna Olin to Remmerswaal soon, but if he did not have a replacement for Anna, the throbbing man organ would explode: “Yes, rape.” He did not really lie, Hammarstrom was particular about being honest. After all, Anna would be raped (…and more… oh so much more), just not by him. “Are there other nurses here?” the beast growled. “Oh yes!” Anna said excitedly. She wondered if he was getting at a threesome. Anna hoped so, as there was one in particular, she wouldn’t mind raping herself during a threesome. Anna was not picking up on the fact she was selecting her own replacement. “Do they wear white?” Symbols of purity were also big with Inge Hammarstrom. In his mind, only the pure could be soiled. “Well, most wear green scrubs… but there is one! Josephine Ovmar!” Anna so wanted a threesome with Nurse Josephine. “She wears white and her breasts are perfect. And that ass!” Anna looked at the clock, 5:02pm, “Uh oh, she gets off at five.” Then a miracle happened… Mats! The biker dude clad in a leather jacket and cradling his motorcycle helmet walked past Inge and Anna. “Can you call Josephine Ovmar, tell her I’m here.” Mats did not seem to realize that the pretty receptionist was propped up in her chair with an arrow sticking in her eye. The underwear clad former receptionist was also beginning to draw flies. Inge was incensed that this heathen was looking to soil his future conquest. Mats looked at Inge and smiling said, “I’m gonna get some pussy tonight, you know what I mean?” Inge knew what he meant and sprung at him. Mats never knew what hit him.

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THE XTREM COLLECTION PATRICIA M AD The lunatic grabbed Mats’ head with both hands and twisted it all the way around. He, then, picked up Mats’ corpse and laid it on the desk in front of Izabella’s corpse. “Call her now!” Anna obeyed, picked up Izabella’s telephone, punched in four numbers: “Yes, nurse’s station? Send Josephine down, her ride is here.” Anna wondered if the threesome would occur here at the reception area, not that it mattered. Anna looked at Inge and motioned to the double doors just to their left: “She’ll be getting off that elevator!” A few seconds later a ding signaled the elevator had arrived at the reception area. Three nurses got off, all beauties… but only Josephine wore white. They were talking about the size of man organs and giggling. Inge was repulsed. The nurses never noticed; Hammarstrom raised his crossbow and fired twice. Johanna Morck, a stunning blonde in green scrubs took a projectile between her eyes and fell immediately. Uta Hagen, a stunning redhead, also in green scrubs, took a projectile through her sternum. Uta ended up pinned on the wall beside the elevator doors. Josephine screamed in horror. She was indeed beautiful, and she wore white! The long blonde hair almost extended to the small of her back. Her nipples protruded slightly through her slightly tight uniform. The nurse’s uniform was white except for a thin hot-pink belt that served to highlight the beauty’s figure. The skirt came down just above the knee and the nude pantyhose highlighted her magnificent calves. Josephine still was unaware of the beast’s presence in reception. Screaming, she made eye contact with Uta, who was very much alive, albeit pinned to the wall with a sharp projectile. “Help me!” Uta’s beauty fled; a flow of blood leaked out of her mouth as she beckoned to Josephine. Josephine let out a primal scream, but that was short lived. Inge Hammarstom was through playing around. He picked up Anna. Josephine, his next conquest, thought he was going to body slam her. She screamed. The lunatic threw Anna with great force at Josephine. BH DOUBLE EDITION

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THE XTREM COLLECTION PATRICIA M AD The doors slid open. The lunatic grabbed Anna and Josephine by their hair, then, dragged them off the elevator. Both ladies screamed, one in horror, one in orgasm. Two orderlies, Sven and Petr watched the hulking beast throw the two beauties against a wall. After unslinging his crossbow, Inge fired two projectiles. Sven took his projectile through the heart and Petr took his through his right ear… both died immediately. Josephine’s screams were now silent as fright had played havoc with her vocal cords. The beast looked down the hall. 10 cells were visible, numbered one through 10. Anna was beginning to think that Inge was going to give Josephine to Remmerswaal. “Poor bitch,” she muttered. Anna thought Remmerswaal would probably rape and eat her. “What cell is Remmerswaal in?” howled Inge. “Nine! He’s in nine! But he hasn’t…” Anna did not finish her sentence. She was silenced by Inge’s backhand slap. She was about to say that Remmerswaal had not been sedated this evening. Her and Margot were so eager to meet Lars for drinks, the late afternoon Thorazine injections did not occur. Both beauties now lay at Hammarstrom’s feet. Again, he grabbed them by their hair and dragged them down the tile hallway to a heavy metal door. There was a keypad to the right of the door and a black #9 was stenciled above it. “I am here Wilhelmus Abraham Remmerswaal! I have a gift for you!” The two beauties knew the unspeakable horror that waited on the other side of the door. Each prayed Inge would not make them open it. An inhuman wail erupted from behind the door. The two beauties cupped their ears and cried.

Chapter 6: Remmerswaal Dr. Wilhemus Abraham Remmerswaal… the world’s premier geneticist. The year was 1980 and the smartest man in the world had already begun his journey into madness. BH DOUBLE EDITION

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THE XTREM COLLECTION PATRICIA M AD The Netherlands boasted of the genius scientist who was working to cure all disease. Now, every institution in the small European nation was scheming on how to get rid of him. Rumors of human experimentation in Dr. Remmerswaal’s laboratory were confirmed. The hideous results of those experiments slithered their way through the halls of the Universiteit Van Amsterdam Medical College. The ghastly byproducts of Dr. Remmerswaal’s experiments raped the provost’s very pretty secretary before eating her. Because the provost, an old cantankerous grouch, was having an affair with the 25-yearold secretary, he ordered the firing of the mad doctor. The eccentric and wealthy Dr. Remmerswaal continued his experiments in his Noordwijk mansion. The results of those experiments are still not known but the mad doctor published a 2300-page volume detailing his laboratory achievements. The tome was entitled Mutants Are Our Friends. No one read it. By 1982, every copy printed was collected by a mysterious world conglomeration of mysterious medical corporations. Infuriated that no one showed any interest in his passion and discoveries, Dr. Remmerswaal, ahead of his time in branding, put the exact same information out in a comic book. The 56-page, full color, comic was entitled Mutant Man. Only school children read it, and they loved it. Little grade school boys all over Holland were so inspired that they began stealing used condoms and used feminine napkins from their parent’s bathroom trash cans. This period in Holland’s history is forbidden to be talked about, however many believe this phenomenon was causally related to the disappearance of three dozen schoolgirls in that small country. The authorities in The Netherlands did not want Dr. Remmerswaal’s experiments to get out of control. In the middle of a winter’s night in 1983, the mad doctor was snatched from his seaside mansion. The mad geneticist was then delivered to a remote Swedish insane asylum. Since 1983, The Netherlands has paid the government of Sweden over 2 million Swiss Francs per year to keep Dr. Remmerswaal locked up.

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THE XTREM COLLECTION PATRICIA M AD No one missed Dr. Remmerswaal and pretty university women could traipse through the hallowed halls of the university again without fear of being impregnated by an experiment. An unwritten rule was known by everyone… never mention Remmerswaal… ever. The mad doctor did have one admirer. In 1980, when Mutant Man hit the shelves, 16-yearold Inge Hammarstrom spent all his allowance and purchased it. The pimply faced giant of a teenager read it 250 times. The not-so-brilliant boy soon had it memorized. Inge Hammarstrom, who did not have the grades to even consider higher education, built a mini laboratory in his bedroom closet. One by one he kidnapped each member of the female synchronized swimming team at his high school. He used each soon-to-be nubile swimmer in his experiments… with his own semen, of course. The experiments yielded mixed results but what became of the beautiful swimmers is still a mystery. Soon, the aforementioned world conglomeration came for the Mutant Man comic books and was able to collect all but one of them. Inge Hammarstrom, of course, possessed the last one. Decades into the future, fate was about to play a horrific card. As dinner time approached at this macabre asylum in rural Sweden, an evil being locked in Cell #9 smelled two nubile wombs on the outside of his door. Finally, Remmerswaal thought, his experiments would continue.

Chapter 7: Vendela Reborn The humiliated and bloodied Swedish cop sat on the floor behind the bar at the Sexig Krog. She had heaped a bucket of ice on her groin. This helped the pain and throbbing, so she did the same to her face. Still naked and crying, Vendela was determined to be beautiful again. First, she was raped by a monster and, then, by citizens she had sworn to protect. Two of the three were dead and rotting, and the third would be soon. This, she promised herself. After murdering the monster, she would check into a spa for another spray tan and cleavage buff. Life’s little pleasures. BH DOUBLE EDITION

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THE XTREM COLLECTION PATRICIA M AD A wiry octogenarian with gray hair hanging down to his buttocks, naked, and erect, drooled over her. “You’ll do… I need another womb for my experiment… you will birth a new species… a species immune to all diseases… stronger than any living thing… you will mother a new breed of human!” “Whatever, you, fucking lunatic!” Vendela had discarded her leadership and communication training. Her adversarial tone was contradictory to the mandatory Jim Mitchell Leadership and Communication Training that was mandated to all Swedish law enforcement. Her adversarial tone also signaled her willingness to use nontraditional means in order to combat the mentally unbalanced offender. Being mentally unbalanced, Remmerswaal did not take kindly to sass. He grabbed both of the nude and slimy cop’s ankles and dragged her into the corridor. “All right friends!” Remmerswaal had everyone’s attention… even the four semen-soaked babes on the floor. He motioned to Josephine and Vendela, “Tie these two, the hooker and the nurse, to gurneys and make sure their legs are spread far apart, I need to get at their groins. The other three, keep raping them, I need them filled to the brim with your love juices! Now!” “Wait!” Remmerswaal had just noticed the corpse of Waldo in the elevator. The former maniac had a knife sticking through his eye. Remmerswaal, still grabbing Vendela’s two ankles, spread her legs and delivered a vicious kick to her groin. Vendela moaned. “Inge! Get over here!” The monster came over: “Hey, she’s a cop!” Inge Hammarstrom sneered at Vendela and she sneered back. Remmerswaal either howled or laughed, Vendela was not quite sure which. “A cop!? Oh, this is perfect!” The mad scientist and former resident of Cell #9 looked incredibly pleased. “My friend… er… what’s your name again?” “I am Inge Hammarstrom!” Inge was all too happy to deliver this line again. BH DOUBLE EDITION

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THE XTREM COLLECTION PATRICIA M AD “Yeah, whatever, okay listen Inge Hammarstrom, we don’t have much time. I am going to round up meds and surgical supplies. You my friend, take the ladies into the room of water.” Remmerswaal pointed to a door just behind the nurse’s station. The room was four meters by four meters, all cement. It had a drain on the floor and a firehose attached to the wall by its door. The room was used to hose off urine and shit laden lunatics. “Take our subjects into there and hose them off good, we have to get a move on. That cop’s friends will probably be here soon.” Now, to the other lunatics who were raping Anna, Tuva, and Margreth: “That’s it for now, you saints get in the elevator, there’s more raping to be done on the top floors!” The lunatics obeyed. Tuva, Margreth, and Anna had undergone continuous penetration and groping over the past several minutes by the mad horde. Each had a thin cocoon of lunatic semen encasing them. Their sanity was gone, at least for now. Inge went over to the pathetic beauties and dragged each one to the room of water. Then, he came back for Josephine and Vendela. These two, favorites of Remmerswaal, were also dragged into the room of water. The five were piled at the far end of the room; Inge Hammarstrom turned a metal wheel. The firehose instantly became erect as it rapidly uncoiled. The beast enjoyed what happened next. By twisting the head of the nozzle, a powerful stream of cold water shot out of the firehose. The beauties were helpless as the spurt of frigid water slammed them against the wall. Inge’s sadistic side appeared again: he aimed the hose at the groins of the ladies and for the next ten minutes he cleaned them off. The beauties underwent humiliating torture. When Inge finally turned the water off, a whirlpool of cold water, carrying lunatic semen, circled into the drain. The, now clean, ladies were in no condition to get up. Josephine did not know it, but still attached to her blonde hair by hairpins, was her traditional nurse’s hat. The humiliated babes were shivering and scared shitless…. except for Vendela. She was shivering, but fear was not crippling her.

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THE XTREM COLLECTION PATRICIA M AD The sultry cop was scheming. Somehow, she needed to get a sharp object and kill the monster and the lunatic. She knew her moment would come, she just had to endure a little more.

Chapter 10: Off to Finland Remmerswaal and Hammarstrom worked fast. They were on a mission. The mad geneticist, still naked, had filled a laundry hamper with syringes, medications, scalpels, clamps, etc. Hammarstrom filled another laundry hamper with babes, more specifically, Tuva, Anna, and Margreth. Over his right shoulder he slung Josephine and over his left, Vendela. Remmerswaal looked at the eight, naked and mangy lunatics congregated at the elevator. He no longer had any use for them but felt some obligation for their future. “Okay my friends. There are more nurses on SUBLEVEL 3!” The horde cheered. There were indeed three nurses on SUBLEVEL 3. In the next few minutes, they would be gang raped unmercifully. “Take this elevator to SUBLEVEL 3 and make them repent for their sexual deviances!” More cheering and in a few seconds the horde was on their way to SUBLEVEL 3. A minute later Remmerswaal called back the elevator using Tuva’s access badge: “Time to go!” He and Hammarstrom pushed their hampers on the elevator. Inge was still toting Josephine and Vendela when he boarded the elevator. The laughing Remmerswaal pushed a button for SUBLEVEL 1. Even though Remmerwaal had been locked in Cell #9, he remembered the lay out of this castle asylum. The loading dock could be accessed from SUBLEVEL 1. The mad geneticist was anxious to commandeer a van. The elevator doors opened and Hammarstrom burst out into the corridor first. Despite hauling Vendela and Josephine, he still maneuvered his cross bow with ease. The monster fired four projectiles Two nurses, and two orderlies died instantly from the impalements. The two nurses got it in the back as they turned to run. BH DOUBLE EDITION

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THE XTREM COLLECTION PATRICIA M AD At 110 pounds, the scrawny, greasy haired loser was the only employee on duty during the over-night at the petrol station. He was gazing at porn and squeezing his penis, when a sultry blonde clad in leather crashed through his window. The babe landed at his feet. He tossed away his nudie magazine and began stooping down to fondle the blonde’s boobs. “Not so fast shithead!” The meth-head looked up in horror. He gasped as he saw a monster dressed in bearskins towering over him. Diesel pissed in his pants. An entire night’s worth of soft drinks soaked his underwear and denim jeans. “If you turn on that gas pump right out there where the van is, she’ll suck your cock dry.” Diesel’s wet and stinky cock became rock hard. “If you refuse, I’ll twist your head off.” Diesel nodded his head. His arm extended to the area by the cash register. The piss smelling meth-head flipped the switch to pump number 1 to the ‘on’ position. Inge gave the pathetic clerk a wide smile and looked down at the sultry cop: “Suck his cock dry, you, whore!” Inge, then, stomped on Vendela’s midsection sending more blood out of her vagina. The lunatic departed the food mart to go pump gas. Vendela ignored the throbbing and intense pain and got on all fours. Diesel wasn’t used to having his cock sucked by women who looked like Vendela. Most of his blow jobs came from toothless women who smelled like shit. Vendela held her breath and undid the zipper of the urine-soaked jeans. She reached in and slid out Diesel’s man organ which was unusually long for such a puny man. She slid the organ into her mouth and began massaging it with her tongue. Both her hands worked their way up to his belt. Diesel began to howl. Vendela pulled his dirty tee shirt out of his jeans. Her hands caressed his lower torso and belt area. Diesel’s organ exploded: methhead semen flooded the cop’s mouth and exploded all over her face.

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THE XTREM COLLECTION PATRICIA M AD The vixen slid onto the bed and embraced Vendela who continued sobbing. Several minutes later the vixen asked, “I can give you some valium?” “No… no.” Vendela was confused. This beautiful vixen was not a nurse and she could tell she was not in a hospital. “I have to help Josephine… please, I have to go find Josephine! They’ll kill her!” “I know, I know. First you need to get well.” Tears welled up in the vixen’s eyes. She could not imagine the horror that Vendela had just survived. Vendela picked up on the vixen’s tears, “but… who are you?” The vixen in vinyl slid back down in the chair, “You mind?” She picked up the cup of water and Vendela nodded. The mysterious woman, then, took a few sips from the same straw Vendela had just sipped on. “Oh, that’s good! My name is Kyra and you are on my yacht, The Sea Vixen.” Vendela could feel her strength returning. “You were left for dead at a petrol station in Kemi just off Highway 8. That is where I found you. You were alone and your pulse was barely detectable. I am guessing the fiends who took you believed you were dead.” “Dr. Joonas Petelius is a fine surgeon so I brought you back to my ship so he could save you. You had massive internal hemorrhaging, a bad infection, a concussion, several cracked ribs… and…” Kyra began crying, “…I’m so sorry, my sweet… injuries consistent with being gang… er… sexually assaulted.” Kyra lost it. Her sobs prevented her from going any further. “I am so sorry. It must have been horrible.” Vendela reached out her right hand and placed it over Kyra’s left hand: “It’s okay, you saved me, I’ll be fine.” The two beauties smiled at each other. Kyra looked at Vendela sadly. She decided to lighten the moment: “Hey, whattya say you hurry and get well… I know a couple of hunks at the marina, we’ll get shitfaced and screw their brains out!” Both ladies now cried with laughter. 30 seconds later, Vendela’s sedative took hold.

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Chapter 17: Babes in Catsuits

“My, my… let me look at you,” Kyra was impressed. “You are beautiful!” Kyra stepped over to Vendela. The Swedish cop was standing in the stateroom. She had just put on the stretch vinyl, black catsuit. Kyra could not keep her hands off her. Kyra’s hands caressed Vendela’s upper arms. “Are you two becoming lesbians!” Joonas surprised both vixens. “Step away, my love, I have to finish accessorizing our police friend!” Kyra hesitantly moved away; Joonas took her place. “Hi big boy, how about some rough sex before I leave?” Vendela’s flare for flirting was returning. “No!” Kyra was smiling. “He’s mine. Bitch!” Both women laughed. “Put your right leg up on this chair.” Joonas reached out for Vendela’s right thigh. He held a black tactical holster and buckled it onto her upper leg. Vendela loved the feel of Joonas’ hands on her leg. Despite Kyra’s warning, she looked seductively at the doctor. “You are unbelievable! Get your own guy!” Kyra stepped back into the game. “Here Joonas, give me that! “Okay, my Swedish friend, put your other leg on this chair now!” Vendela obeyed. “Are you going to feel me up now?” She was now teasing Kyra. “You wish!” Kyra was putting on a teasing tone. She then placed a black tactical holster on the cop’s left thigh. “Just a moment, love,” the mysterious vixen filled the holster on the left leg with a dagger. “Okay, gimme your right leg again!” “Yes Ma’am!” Vendela was having fun with her two new friends. She almost stopped smiling when she suddenly realized she had no idea who these two were. What was this yacht? How did they find her? Why were they seeking the asylum escapee and the lunatic?

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THE XTREM COLLECTION PATRICIA M AD Kyra filled the right legged holster with a Glock .23 handgun: “There, step down!” Kyra began to tear up. “Kyra, no, please don’t cry!” Vendela did not want her new friend to be sad. “Vendela, my dear… I don’t want anything to happen to you.” Tears now streamed down Kyra’s face. Vendela stepped into Kyra and embraced her. The sight of the two catsuited vixens embracing caused Joonas an erection. “No! You’ll protect me! I promise to listen to all your orders.” The policewoman was also tearing up. “Listen Vendela… this isn’t a game.” Kyra looked sternly into Vendela’s eyes. “You are going to have to forget all your training. You tried that before and it nearly got you killed. It got you gang-raped and left for dead, in fact. Now, you will have to reach down deep into yourself and be prepared to do what you are capable of doing, not what you think you should do… do you understand?” Vendela lied: “Yes, I think so.” Kyra smiled: “No… you couldn’t. Very soon, though, you will understand… and you won’t like it… you will be changed forever, and you may not like the change.” “I have to do this!” Vendela was determined. Kryra wiped away the tears on Vendela’s face, “I know… I know…” Both beauties took a deep breath. Kyra grabbed Vendela’s upper arm and led her to the now empty hospital bed. On the bed, a large map of northern Europe was spread. “You see the Swedish-Finnish border up here. They took you along the coast of the Gulf of Bothnia… straight down to where we are now. They were bold and stayed on the main highways… Four and Eight.” Vendela listened intently and studied the map. Kyra continued: “We picked you up in Kemi, here.” Vendela wanted to ask Kyra why she was in Kemi but did not. “I was going to kill Remmerswaal in Kemi, but you showed up.” Vendela was agape. BH DOUBLE EDITION

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“You saved me instead.” Vendela was shocked. “Of course!” Kyra caressed Vendela’s upper arm. “Instead of pursuing them, I carried you to a motorized dinghy at the coast. The Sea Vixen was only ten miles out to sea. If I got you here five minutes later… well… let’s not think about that.” Kyra teared up again. Vendela was shocked. Kyra and Joonas had saved her life and sacrificed so much to do it. Still, the cop knew little about them. Kyra’s finger traced a line southward on the map: “I know where they’re headed, so we sailed southward to Oula.” “Wait!” Vendela had a question. “How do you know where they’re going? They don’t even know! They’re insane!” Joonas chirped in: “Birds.” “What!?” Vendela was not following. Kyra gave Joonas a nod, signaling him to continue. “It’s really quite simple. The seasonal migration patterns of most bird species in Scandinavia are very predictable. They will travel southeast toward the Black Sea and Caspian Sea.” Joonas noticed Vendela’s facial expression. “You follow?” “No! Should I?” Vendela hoped she was not sounding disrespectful. She dearly valued her two new friends. Joonas smiled warmly and continued: “You see my dear, Remmerswaal and Hammarstrom are criminally insane. You are quite right… they do not know where they are going. We do, however.” Joonas looked pleased with himself. “How!?” Vendela was wide-eyed and confused. “You see, my dear,” Joonas wanted Vendela to understand, “the criminally insane always look at the birds. They don’t know they’re doing it, but they always do.” Kyra took over and motioned Vendela’s stare back to the map: “The bird patterns, after hugging the coast of the Gulf of Bothnia, will veer eastward across Finland and into Russia right here!” BH DOUBLE EDITION

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THE XTREM COLLECTION PATRICIA M AD She squirted the whipped cream, so Irina’s face was covered within a few seconds. Anna quickly licked the sweet stuff off. Irina screamed in horror as Anna yelled: “Again!” Tuva sprayed Irina’s gorgeous face again. Anna licked it off again. This process repeated itself five more times. “This isn’t good for my diet, cunt!” Tuva was now laughing maniacally. Irina continued to scream. Tuva put her right hand inside the front of Irina’s black leather tactical belt. She pulled up. Tuva had an idea… a perverted, one. The red underwear clad vixen shoved the whipped cream nozzle under Irina’s pants. Facing Irina’s groin, the whipped cream shot a load into the groin of the beset Russian. “Don’t worry bitch, I’ll lick that up later!” Anna was merciless. Both nursing interns were thrown off Irina. The monster now stood over her. Irina was crying and paralyzed with fear and pain. The beast roared: “I am Inge Hammarstrom!” Irina’s response was more screaming. The lunatic admired her thigh-high shiny leather boots. He grabbed irina by the ankles, pulled her up and swung her over his head. The Russian babe landed with a hard thud on the roof of the van. Unable to move, but very conscious, she did not resist the monster. Inge tied her spread eagle on the roof of the van. Anna and Tuva were now gang raping Margreth, again. The whipped cream was an added treat for the two interns. Conscious again, Margreth just cried and whimpered. Remmerswaal spoke: “Let’s go!” A few moments later, the border guard adorned van moved into Russia and veered southeast.

Chapter 19: Shot Down Vendela was beginning to breathe heavy as her stretch-vinyl covered right thigh pressed against Kyra’s stretch-vinyl covered left thigh. “I’m not a good person, Vendela.”

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THE XTREM COLLECTION PATRICIA M AD The Swedish cop listened intently while her new friend was bringing her up to speed. “I kill people. That’s what I do. I’m sent a name… I find them… I kill them.” Vendela was agape. “I guess ‘international assassin’ is the best term for that.” Kyra was coming clean. “If you killed them, then, they probably had it coming…” Vendela could not imagine her new friend as evil. “Well, I’m sure you’re right,” Kyra appreciated her new friend’s trust. “I was hired by The Conglomeration two years ago.” Kyra saw Vendela’s confused face at the mention of her employer. “The Conglomeration is made up of two dozen billionaires. All of them head pharmaceutical and medical companies.” Kyra could have said so much more but she knew their time was short. In a half hour, the chopper would deposit her and Vendela outside of Saint Petersburg. Vendela was all ears. “For decades, The Conglomeration has been monitoring Remmerswaal. In 1980, they collected all his research and books. Back then, they claimed that Remmerswaal’s experiments were so ghastly… well, they wanted to collect all semblances of them to ensure they were never carried out.” The Swedish cop was horrified: “Experiments? To do what?” Kyra became somber: “I am so sorry, my love. Shortly, you’ll see. You would never believe me if I told you.” Kyra was almost in tears while mentioning ‘the experiments.’ The chopper sped eastward across Finland. From Oula it traveled toward the Russian border, near Hossa. As soon as it reached the Russian border, an altitude of 200 meters, the thing veered southward. The sudden change in direction caused Vendela to end up in Kyra’s lap. Kyra smiled: “Oh my, at least buy me a drink first.” Vendela blushed: “We changed direction.”

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THE XTREM COLLECTION PATRICIA M AD This shout fell on deaf ears. No matter, the mad scientist fumbled through the Mutant Man comic that Inge Hammarstron gave him. The comic was opened to page 33, to a section called “step 1: Get a Babe.” Remmerswaal was indeed ready… to pick a babe. The mad geneticist leafed through the comic book: “Ah yes, now I remember!” The babe needed to have been raped recently (page 34, Mutant Man). The babe needed to be of a nubile age (page 34, Mutant Man). The babe needed to have her senses blunted by intense fear and desperation (page 35, Mutant Man). This last point was important. The selected babe would not be able to take in any kind of anesthetic. “Inge Hammarstrom, my friend! I need you!” There was no answer. No one knew better than Remmerswaal that good help was hard to find. “Bollocks!” Remmerswaal suddenly remembered. He sent Hammarstrom out to investigate a mysterious fireball in the sky just before dawn. The naked geneticist flew out of his office. He took two stairs at once and sashayed onto the second level of East Cell Block. He arrived at Cell 210… Margreth’s cell. The beautiful nurse looked so fine in her black undies. Laying on the floor, she was defenseless. Remmerswaal entered. He pounced on Margreth; his erection got busy. Over the next 45 minutes, Remmerswaal raped Margreth. Orally, anally, and up her vagina, the mad geneticist deposited much of his semen into the pathetic nurse. Margreth’s will to fight and live was long gone. Remmerswaal’s man juices covered her and soaked her hair. He dragged the nurse out of the cell by her hair and down the stairs. Margreth would be the first. BH DOUBLE EDITION

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Chapter 21: Vendela’s Corpse

Michael Steele never failed The Conglomeration. In Saint Petersburg, the commando intended to work fast and return to Scandinavia. His proclivity with rocket launchers proved true as he brought down the chopper several minutes ago. Killing that Swedish cop and Kyra was easy. Dawn was just minutes away. The hulking brute trudged through the Neva River. No one could have survived that explosion. Nevertheless, Steele needed to confirm the kills. 10 meters into the river he trudged, knee deep, toward the chopper’s wreckage. “Bingo!” Steele could not believe how easy this was. The corpse of the Swedish cop lay in the water, face down. Her broken body was strewn along with the wreckage 200 meters east of that abandoned prison. Michael Steele felt a tinge of sadness. He was hoping to rape Officer Vendela Bjorlin before offing her. The former babe was floating on the surface. Now waist deep, Steele examined the body. She was a babe, he thought. The commando slung his M-4 rifle back over his shoulder. With his right hand he touched the buttocks of Vendela. Even through the catsuit, her buttocks turned him on. “What a waste!” Michael Steele was capable, though not incredibly intelligent. He spent two years in America’s National Football League before being banned for abusing Performance Enhancing Drugs. After raping two of his former team’s cheerleaders, he found himself in prison. Then, his luck changed. A mysterious medical organization busted him out of prison. They made him an offer he could not refuse. “Work for us… or go back to jail.” Steele loved the work. He was able to shoot a lot of people. The Conglomeration fitted him with any weapon he desired and sent him all over the world. This job was typical. Usually, beautiful women were involved. The Conglomeration did not mind if he raped them. Unfortunately, the Swedish cop was assuming river temperature.

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Chapter 22: Margreth No More

Alas, the sad fate of a beautiful nurse. Margreth lay on the cold floor of Level 1 of East Cell Block. The naked and erect Remmerswaal was finishing up the operation. The mad geneticist was ecstatic that his man Hammarstrom had saved his copy of Mutant Man: “There! Now I remember!” On page 50 of this comic, between the ads for SEAMONKEYS and the book How to Pick Up Girls, was the final step of the operation. The former sultry nurse lay naked on the floor with her legs spread. Remmerswaal was camped between her legs holding a syringe. The syringe contained 20 ccs of glowing green liquid. The mad geneticist had a heart. The former babe was feeling no pain. Remmerswaal had severed all her nerve endings. He, then, did several procedures through incisions on Margreth’s abdomen. After that, some special tools did micro-surgery as they traveled up her vagina. The Benzelene Solution (his own invention) was the final step. This concoction would bind the semen of the lunatics that had been deposited inside this nurse over the past few days. Remmerswaal moved the menacing looking syringe toward the nurse’s vagina, more blood shot out at him. This was not a big deal. In a few moments, the new creation would go seek more blood. In addition to binding the lunatic semen, the concoction would also activate the spider DNA. The Benzelene solution utilized certain antibiotics. The antibiotics which Remmerswaal grabbed from the asylum were made in China. The Chinese would add arachnid (spider) DNA to their antibiotics. This addition made shelf life of Chinese antibiotics more extensive without using banned preservatives. Remmerswaal’s Benzelene solution would reactivate the genetic properties of this spider DNA. As he plunged the syringe far into Margreth’s vagina, the mad geneticist giggled like a schoolgirl. He injected the solution and backed away rapidly. BH DOUBLE EDITION

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THE XTREM COLLECTION PATRICIA M AD Despite two years in Holland’s army, Vendela Bjorlin never fired a rocket launcher. She had watched a lot of movies and vividly remembered Chuck Norris firing one in Invasion

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Vendela remembered Chuck Norris loading the thing and firing at his Soviet nemesis… she loaded a shell: “There… ready… I think.” Then, movement. That bitchy voice signaled someone’s approach. “When are you going to rape me?! I’m a better lay than that whore!” Anna Olin’s screeching was loosening Vendela’s fillings. With horror, the Swede looked through the hedges at a trio approaching the front gate. “Kyra!” Vendela quickly silenced herself. Her best friend was draped over the shoulder of the lunatic. “No!” This time her plea was a whisper. Then, the spectacle that played out presented her a unique opportunity. 25 meters from the front gate, Inge Hammarstrom threw Kyra down. Her impact on the ground made quite a thud. Still, Kyra was not moving and that scared Vendela. “Now! Strip and spread your legs!” Inge Hammarstrom had enough of Anna Olin’s pathetic whining. With Kyra on the ground, Vendela carefully aimed her rocket launcher. Inge was now in its crosshairs. Anna Olin stripped and spread her legs: “Come get me big boy! I need punishment!” Inge Hammarstrom was impressed. His man organ began rising again. He stood only three meters from the horny nursing intern. He threw off his bearskins and they landed on top of Kyra. “I am Inge Hammarstrom!” The lunatic looked into the heavens while extolling his favorite chant. As he looked to the heavens, Vendela applied an exceptionally smooth trigger squeeze. To her surprise, the rocket launcher fired its missile. “Shit!” She missed Inge Hammarstrom.

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THE XTREM COLLECTION PATRICIA M AD Anna Olin disintegrated in a spray of red and Inge was still looking to the heavens. By the time the lunatic gazed back down to earth, Anna Olin was gone. A normal man would have been curious at this unfolding of events. The lunatic believed the gods saved him from having to endure sex with an annoying intern. Thinking nothing more of Anna Olin, Inge scooped up Kyra and continued striding into the prison. Vendela was awestruck. “Holy shit!” Mildly disappointed she hit the wrong target, the cop was the eternal optimist. Sure, her rapist still lived… but that annoying intern was vaporized.

Chapter 25: Tuva Tuva Weivers was unaware at Anna Olin’s sad fate. The other nursing intern, clad in shiny red undergarments, patrolled East Cell Block, Level 2. The nymphomaniac was feeling frisky; her buddy had leant her the long leather coat. Anna had taken it off that cop… who had taken it from the Sexig Krog. The leather overcoat over her undies made her feel like Ilsa, the She Wolf… Tuva wore it with pride as she neared East 202. The intern made a mental note to find some black boots and a whip. East 202 was the only cell that was locked. The other prisoners were either strung up or too scared to move… or both. Josephine was being preserved by the master. Tuva strode in front of her cell. Josephine, in her new nurse’s uniform was backed against the far wall. Tuva loved the role reversal. Up until a few days ago, Nurse Josephine was giving the orders. Now, Tuva looked at the frightened nurse and sneered. She loved taunting this prisoner: “You fucking slut! I should make you crawl over to me and lick my toes.” Josephine began crying. “No please, please don’t!” She was whimpering. “Pathetic! You’re a cunt!” Tuva was imagining herself as Ilsa, the She Wolf, again. Still, Josephine was a babe. BH DOUBLE EDITION

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THE XTREM COLLECTION PATRICIA M AD A spray of silver stringy stuff shot down from above and a shiny black monstrosity dropped down on top of the leaking, former nurse intern. An eight-legged monster with a scorpion’s tail mounted Tuva and scooped her up. The thing, grabbing Tuva’s corpse, then shot up into the air toward the ceiling of the five-story cellblock. The thing was so horrible, Josephine could not bring herself to walk over to the bars and look up. Not realizing she was talking out loud, the sultry nurse remarked: “Shit! I need to get back to church!” Before peeling her eyes off the spot on the floor where Tuva was lying, Josephine saw a shiny pair of black FREDERICK’S OF HOLLYWOOD panties. She recognized the garment and in disbelief said: “Margreth!?!”

Chapter 26: The New Prisoner “Owwww!” Kyra screamed. She had regained conscious just before the lunatic plopped her down on a cold cement floor. She opened her eyes and saw an elongated penis of an octogenarian: “Shit, not again!” Remmerswaal was impressed. Babes in tight black catsuits had quite an effect on his always aroused man organ. Kyra knew what was coming. Her throbbing body and internal bleeding made resistance futile. The mad geneticist unzipped the catsuit and peeled it off the sultry assassin. Her lacy undergarments were next; Remmerswaal flipped Kyra over onto her front before sliding them off. The blood oozing from the assassin’s anus and crotch turned the fiend on even more. “No! Ohhhhhh no!!!!!!” Kyra’s protestations were silenced as the old smelly penis penetrated her anus. Determined not to black out, the assassin could only wait and endure. For several seconds, the long man organ traveled upward into her. Remmerswaal howled. BH DOUBLE EDITION

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THE XTREM COLLECTION PATRICIA M AD His hands grabbed the assassin’s hair and his organ penetrated deep into her rear. Then, Remmerswaal pulled back the assassin’s head and slammed it, face first into the cement floor. Kyra refused to pass out. “You’re a fucking cunt!” Remmerswaal was always the wordsmith. “Sinner!” He was also a Puritan at heart. He quickly withdrew. The withdrawal was just as painful to Kyra as the penetration. Kyra felt a stream of her blood pouring out of her anus. The mad geneticist rolled her over. She was now lying on her back. The madman spread her legs and pounced. Numbness had set in. The old smelly penis traveled into the assassin’s vagina but there was no pain. Kyra showed no emotion. Remmerswaal thrust his pelvis forward dozens of times. “I’m going to fucking kill you!” Kyra was insistent about this statement. The mad geneticist waited until he withdrew to respond to his new prisoner. “Kill me!?” He laughed maniacally. “You’ll feel differently when you become half insect.” Remmerswaal was sincere. He had used too much Benzelene solution on Margreth. As a result, Margreth was now 90% spider. With Kyra, he would be more careful… he wanted a 50% human, 50% arachnid. Kyra thought about Vendela. Was she dead? If the Swedish cop were dead, Kyra knew Remmerswaal would succeed in turning her into a bug. Her only hope, so she thought, was Vendela. Remmerswaal was groping Kyra. His long thin fingers caressed the broken assassin’s torso. Carefully he slid her undies back on, then, he zippered up the her catsuit and groped the assassin through the sheen stretch vinyl. Kyra finally passed out. The maniacally merciful Remmerswaal was not totally evil. He looked at Hammarstrom: “Ahhh… you… what did you say your name was, again?” “I am Inge Hammarstrom!” the hulking lunatic was always proud to identify himself. His booming voice echoed through the East Cell Block building. BH DOUBLE EDITION

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THE XTREM COLLECTION PATRICIA M AD “Right! Hammarstrom! I knew that.” Remmerswaal rarely remembered the names of humans who did not have breasts and vaginas. “Yes, we need this one alive. Bring her to the nurse. The nurse in white… the other one is a spider now.” Hammarstrom was confused by the spider and bug talk, but he knew enough not to question the author of Mutant Man. 25 meters above Remmerswaal, Hammarstrom, and Kyra, Margreth was busy. Her legs held onto the ceiling. The former nurse, now monstrosity, hung Tuva’s corpse on a steal beam. Her scorpion tail type appendage penetrated the web cocoon she had made to hold Tuva. The tail also acted like a straw which drained Tuva’s blood. The blood tasted so good. The former Margreth needed more calories and craved more. The former nurse also craved warmer blood, from a living human. Hammarstrom scooped up the broken assassin. Before he arrived at the staircase to the second level cells, Remmerswaal gave him one more order. Already forgetting Hammarstrom’s name, Remmerswaal charged the lunatic: “Oh, on your way back down, bring me a border guard!” Hammarstrom grunted approvingly. “For good measure, my friend, fill her up with some more of your lovely juices.” Hammarstrom’s gesture of approval was a vicious hard slap to Kyra’s buttocks as she was slung over his shoulder. The echoing slap startled Josephine. Fear crept back into the angel in white. The slapping sound was distinct. Josephine knew, from many S&M episodes with Mats and his friends, that someone’s buttocks had just been hit. This could only mean one thing… another prisoner was on the way.

Chapter 27: Xanadu Carpathia “I’m going to fucking incinerate those cunts!” Xanadu Carpathia’s stunning looks had gotten her far in life. The Human Resources Manager of the Bothnia Import Export Company, Ltd. was not a patient woman. BH DOUBLE EDITION

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THE XTREM COLLECTION PATRICIA M AD In fact, her temper often led to homicide and torture. Therefore, The Conglomeration hired her. In her former life she was Stockholm’s most feared and vicious madam. The mysterious Conglomeration needed killers. People and government officials who asked too many questions needed to be… eliminated. Never in her adult life had the 35-year-old Xanadu Carpathia been embarrassed. This changed a few hours ago. Her lover and boy toy, Michael Steele sent her a communication that both Kyra and Vendela Bjorlin had been “eliminated.” This was no surprise. Michael Steele never failed in his mission. Killing two sluts was an easy assignment for him. The Swedish madam sent a telegram to The Conglomeration (properly known as the EuroAsian Bio-Medical Cooperative). TO SANDERS LEVINE, CEO EURO-ASIAN BIO-MEDICAL COOPERATIVE, HELSINKI FINLAND OUR OPERATIVE HAS ELIMINATED TWO FEMALE TARGETS STOP I’M NOT WEARING UNDERWEAR STOP FROM XANADU CARPATHIA, HUMAN RESOURCES DEPARTMENT, BOTHNIA IMPORT EXPORT STOCKHOLM SWEDEN Michael Steele’s success aroused Xanadu. Her telegram was also an attempt to get Sanders Levine to fly to Stockholm for some vicious and deviant sex. Dressed in a tight black leather business suit, Xanadu was notified by text that her telegram had been delivered. She estimated that Sanders would be in her office in three hours. The CEO of The Conglomeration was very frisky. This news was bound to excite him. Three hours was a long time. Xanadu could not wait. She was about to summon her boy toy assistant, Garth Mullins, when he stormed into her office without knocking. Garth was a 24-year-old rugby player from Perth, Australia. A knee injury ended his career but because he had a big penis, Xanadu hired him as her personal assistant. Garth had important news… Xanadu could not wait. She sprung at him.

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THE XTREM COLLECTION PATRICIA M AD Remmerswaal turned to page 17 of Mutant Man. The table was located underneath the advertisement for the footlocker full of plastic army men. The table indicated ideal amounts of Benzelene solutions for different desired results. “Ah, yes, here it is. Five CCs of this solution and she’ll still be 40% human. Shall we try that?” Hammarstrom nodded. He was in awe. The lunatic was gone when Margreth assumed 90% the identity of a spider monster. Remmerswaal hoped that Minttu would keep enough of her womanhood so that her reproductive organs would still exist after the metamorphosis. Remmerswaal filled up the syringe with five CCs of the glowing green solution. He knelt and lowered the syringe into Minttu’s vagina.

Chapter 30: Xanadu Arrives She stepped off the helicopter clad in a shiny royal blue catsuit. Her white, high-heeled go-go boots were an impressive accessory. The thin, shiny gold belt accentuated her thin waist. Xanadu Carpathia knew she looked good. Her own hands caressed her sides and front. She desperately wanted to masturbate. Of course, there was no time for this. Xanadu saw herself as a 21st Century woman. No man would take advantage of her. She would have deviant sex with anyone or anything she chose. No one would dominate her. If anyone cried out in pain, it would not be her. The Scandinavian beauty also saw herself as an inspiration to every other woman in the world. In her speech at last summer’s Northern European Women’s Forum, she waxed eloquent about equal wages among the genders. Behind her, the helicopter took-off. She gave the pilot instructions to return in an hour. An hour would be enough time to kill the Swedish cunt and collect Remmerswaal. Armed with only a dagger, Xanadu Carpathia never needed any other weapon. She had killed several dozen men and women. BH DOUBLE EDITION

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Chapter 32: Inge vs. Vendela, Part 2

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Remmerswaal and Hammarstrom were mesmerized at the show they were watching. The former Minttu, Finnish Border Guard, was raping some blonde babe. For the fifth time, the mad geneticist shouted: “Astounding!” Hammarstrom smiled approvingly, “So, who is the babe? The blonde one.” Remmerswaal shook his head, “Haven’t the foggiest, my good man.” The two fiends enjoyed the show for several more minutes until Remmerswaal gave his deranged assistant new instructions: “Go prep the other babe… you know, Miss Whipped Cream!” “Yes master.” The lunatic of the north was obedient and walked back inside. Ever since he violated every member of his high school’s synchronized swimming team, Hammarstrom never suffered from a lack of babes. He mired at how sultry babes just sort of fell out of Heaven at him. Vendela could not see Hammarstrom walk back into the prison. She was focused on the medical supply bag down below. Quite agile, the Swedish cop had her jump planned. She would gently push away from the railing with her feet, land with bent knees, then go into a roll, and emerge on her feet a meter and a half beyond her landing point, right next to the supplies. The sultry cop took a deep breath and jumped off the second level of East Cell Block. She would never get to do her duck and roll. Inge emerged from underneath the overhead. He held up his hands, and was about to yell, “I am Inge Hammarstrom!” Before he could do his traditional pre-rape scream, a sultry Swedish cop fell from the heavens into his hands. The lunatic was not surprised and immediately delivered a classic body slam to the catsuited beauty. “Oh fuck!” Wincing in much pain, Vendela only uttered those two words. Her right ribcage exploded in excruciating pain. BH DOUBLE EDITION

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THE XTREM COLLECTION PATRICIA M AD The lunatic took no mercy on the ribcage and delivered it a might kick. The kick shot Vendela five meters across Level 1 of East Cell Block. A cinderblock wall stopped her momentum. Barely conscious and certain of another rape Vendela chose her words carefully: “You cocksucking lunatic, I’m gonna kill you!” Vendela was sure her words were an empty promise. “Spread your legs sinner, I am Inge Hammarstrom!” The lunatic flipped off his bear skins. His monstrous and smelly penis began rising. “Have some man meat, whore! Then, Repent!” In an instant, the six-foot seven lunatic was now just over three feet. If Vendela had heard the explosion she might have had a sense of what happened. Inge Hammarstrom was now missing both his legs… and his magical-man-snake was laying on the floor, still attached to his groin. “Fucking A!” Whatever happened, Vendela was all glee. She looked up to the heavens, intending to thank God, when she spotted Kyra, leaning over the second level railing, holding the rocket launcher. A trail of smoke arose out of both ends of the weapon. “Nice shot, bitch!” Vendela’s smile was almost as long as Inge’s penis. “Nah,” Kyra had a modest sense about her. “Only a retard could miss with one of these.” Kyra didn’t know why her retort caused Vendela to lose her smile and sport an offended look. The blast took off both Inge’s legs and cauterized the new stumps. Unfazed, Inge let out another howl: “I am Inge Hammarstrom!” “Shit, he’s still alive!” Vendela’s surprise turned into hysterics. The lunatic of the north could not move. The cop drew her dagger and rolled over to her nemesis. “Hungry, asshole?” In a swift left-handed move (her right side was on fire with pain) she sliced off Inge’s tally-whacker. Kyra lost consciousness again and Irina grabbed her before she fell off the second level. Vendela also lost consciousness as the pain was too much to endure. BH DOUBLE EDITION

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THE XTREM COLLECTION PATRICIA M AD “Astounding!” Remmerswaal sounded victorious; his beautiful experiments were bearing fruit. “I’ve done it!” He looked down at his sultry prisoners, “Now, hand the dead one over… or the nurse gets it!” Josephine held onto Kyra even tighter. Before Vendela could say “Fuck you!” a cascade of sticky, web like strings rained down on the mad geneticist. Remerswaal was encased in the sticky web stuff in just a few seconds. The sultry prisoners watched him being pulled up into the rafters of their prison. A horrible squealing sound echoed from the ceiling as a few drops of human blood fell to the floor in front of the four beauties. Vendela was focused: “Now!” Irina and Josephine lifted Kyra up. “Follow me, don’t look down!” If they had looked down, the sight would have been horrible. The baby spider creatures were feasting on commandos. They were busy and the four babes ran past them. Vendela knelt to pick up two M-4 rifles, then, she continued onward. She overtook her three friends and led them onto the helicopter. Ingrid and Josephine gently, but she quickly, slid Kyra onto the floor of the whirly bird. Armed with two machine guns, Vendela knelt beside the chopper pilot: “Go west… I’ll let you know when to turn!” For good measure, the Swedish cop fired a machine gun round into the bird’s radio, “We’re going to want some privacy… understand?” The pilot did. The helicopter proceeded westward. In a few minutes it crossed back into Finland. Josephine was nursing the dying Kyra: “Don’t worry, my love… you will be fine, I promise!” Kyra smiled.

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Vendela guided the pilot westward and then northwestward. Over Oulu she directed the pilot to fly across the Gulf of Bothnia. The cop knew Joonas was monitoring them somehow. She was right. From 250 meters above, Vendela saw The Sea Vixen. “There! Land there!” The pilot skillfully guided the bird onto The Sea Vixen’s helipad. Joonas was there to meet them. A look of horror enveloped his face when the doors flew open: “Kyra!” “Quick, let’s get her to the OR… we can save her!” Josephine was in nurse mode. The Sea Vixen was equipped with an OR. Four hours passed. Vendela, Irina, and a scared helicopter pilot waited in Kyra’s stateroom. “So, what are we going to do with him?” Irina’s question was a sincere one. “Who the fuck is he, anyway?” The scared pilot removed his helmet: “I am Hans… Hans Dietrich!” Hans was a handsome man and Irina took immediate notice. “Well, fucking A!” Irina was impressed. “We can shoot him or push him overboard.” Vendela’s response to Irina’s question was also sincere. “We could cuff him and rape him… then shoot him.” This was also a sincere idea. “No, please don’t! I’m on your side now!” Hans sounded honest. He had no idea what their side was, but they had the guns. “Strip!” Irina was going to have sex, one way or another. Alas, the opportunity was interrupted. Joonas stormed into the stateroom. The look on his face was a happy one: “She’ll be fine! Another half hour would have killed her.” Vendela cried, she was so happy. Josephine came out next. Vendela ran over to her and the two embraced. BH DOUBLE EDITION

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THE XTREM COLLECTION PATRICIA M AD Then, the yacht would enter the Baltic Sea, the North Sea, and would head northward into the Norwegian Sea. A secret laboratory in Ny-Alesund (on the west coast of Svarlbard Island) was the destination. There, The Sea Vixen would undertake a surprise attack on The Conglomeration secret facility. This is the facility they intended to bring Remmerswaal to, with his experiments. The missiles and nukes that would be loaded on at Kokar Island should do the trick. “We’re going to kill a lot more people, aren’t we?” Vendela sensed war. Joonas looked sad, “Yes, my dear. I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t want to come.” “I’m fucking coming! Hell, you and your bitch owe me a threesome!” Vendela was only half kidding but Joonas took it well. “Yes, we do,” Joonas was laughing. “I know Kyra needs a maid of honor, anyway.”

Epilogue The Sea Vixen, located at the midway point between Iceland and the Norwegian coast, travelled north by northeast. “I’m fucking done with recuperating!” Kyra swung her long legs off the bed. “Please my dear, your stitches… even the ones inside, you need more rest.” Joonas’ tone was loving and concerned. “Hah!” Joonas did not see Vendela enter Kyra’s stateroom. “She knows I’m that close from taking you into the shower and screwing your brains out, Dr. Joonas.” The cop held up her right hand so they could see her thumb and forefinger two centimeters apart. “You wish bitch!” Kyra was trying not to laugh. “I’m fine dammit… besides if anyone is going to fire a rocket launcher, it’s going to be me.” “Hey, I thought I was going to man the rocket launcher,” Vendela sounded offended. “You! Oh right! You couldn’t even hit a giant lunatic from 25 yards.” Kyra had a point. BH DOUBLE EDITION

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About Christopher Zisi Christopher Zisi is an American horror writer from Fredericksburg, Virginia. In 2013, he created the blog "Zisi Emporium for B Movies" which showcases his thoughts and witticisms of horror, exploitation, and science fiction films. To date, over 2100 films have been reviewed on this blog. Mr. Zisi has published several books including six in The XTREM COLLECTION by CREATORS UNITE. Those books are The Himalayan Devil Woman, The Ghosts Of Brisbane, Abilene-The Bondage Of Suyin Wong, Patricia M-The Perils Of A Sultry Stewardess, The Vixen Of Vladivostok and The Lunatic of The North. Before writing about horror full time, Christopher Zisi was a Special Agent for the Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI). During his 25-year career with the FBI, Zisi conducted drug and organized crime investigations in the Baltimore Division and eventually moved to the FBI's training academy in Quantico, Virginia. At Quantico, he taught Interviewing and Interrogation, Detection of Deception, and also issues related to police involved shootings. The FBI sent Zisi to over 25 countries (including Vietnam, Cambodia, Guyana, Poland, The Maldives, and Brazil) to instruct on interrogation and detection of deception. Christopher Zisi travels the world seeking inspiration and plot ideas for future works. During his trip to Alaska in 2018, he found inspiration for his firth novel, The Vixen Of Vladivostok. His visits to Kansas inspired his third novel, Abilene-The Bondage Of Suyin Wong. Christopher Zisi has visited all 50 states. He is now preparing for his next story with his present travels.

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