The LA Connection
Caution: This Action/Adventure Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Consensual, Fiction, Crime, Science Fiction, Paranormal, First, Violent,
Desc: Action/Adventure Sex Story: Chapter 1 - This is a direct continuation of "Regrowth" and "Expansion." Please read those stories first or this one won't make sense. Here, Billy and Jenny continue the battles against the bad guys, this time in Los Angeles. They go after drugs and human trafficking, with an interesting side issue no one expected.
Jenny and I had fun apartment hunting at first, but it turned into a real grind before we found a place in Crawford that fit our specifications. We had been warned, so we found an apartment with an attached fully-enclosed garage. Our first goal was to do something about the crime rate in the city. Crawford was a nice place, but it was being slowly strangled by gang-related crime.
We decided that we needed to get some idea of what the current life in the city was like, so we decided to take a little walk around the neighborhood after dark. We had our full arsenal with us, but we only took our .45 caliber Glocks with us on this outing. We could not be injured by bullets or knives, and we were strong enough not to need weapons beyond what we were born with. However, we did feel that we might need the guns to protect some innocent bystander, so we took them. We had our concealed carry permits from Arizona, so we figured that we were safe from the police. We would claim that we had just moved in and would go tomorrow to get a California permit.
We dressed as best we could as ordinary citizens so that we would not advertise that we were looking for trouble. From the reputation of Crawford, the kind of trouble we wanted would find us. We stepped into a convenience store and asked the clerk, "Hi, we are new to the neighborhood, and we have heard that there are sections that we should avoid. Can you tell us what they are so that we won't wander into them by mistake?"
The clerk was very helpful and gave us detailed instructions of the sections of town to avoid. We thanked him and walked back out into the street after paying for a couple of cans of Dr. Pepper. As soon as we were out of sight of the helpful clerk, we headed toward the nearest place we were told to avoid. It was only four blocks away, so we were quickly there.
This section of town looked like it had last been cleaned up about 25 years ago. There was trash in the street, and every building looked like it badly needed a good washing. Most of them also badly needed painting. It seemed like nobody around here cared what the place looked like.
We had only walked half a block when we were confronted by three thugs, at least they looked the part. They were Black, and the first thing one of them said was, "What the hell do you damned honkies think you're doing in our territory? You look like you need a lesson in manners."
I almost laughed at that statement, but I was trying hard to stay in character. "What do you mean about your territory? This is a public sidewalk, and we can use it anytime we want to."
"Look here, you White SOB (Son of a Bitch), this is our territory because we are strong enough to keep wimps like you and your bitch out. So what do you say to that?"
I said, "Get your black ass out of our way, Nigger, or I will splatter the street with your blood!"
Aha! Now I was getting the reaction that I expected. All three of the men in front of us reached into pockets and produced knives. The spokesman of the group said, "Okay, Smart Ass, you are in trouble now. I'm going to cut your gut open and fuck your bitch until she screams in pleasure."
I was getting bored with the conversation, so I spit on the toe of his shoe. That was enough to break the hesitation, and the spokesman jerked his hand forward to stab me in my belly. Meanwhile, another one grabbed hold of Jenny and started to pull her toward an alley not far away.
The man had stabbed so hard that the knife slid back in his hand with it stopped moving forward as it was blocked by my skin. Sure, he cut the fabric of my shirt, but that was a far forward as the knife would go. He screamed in surprise more than pain when the blade slid back far enough to cut his fingers.
I wanted to make a point, so I did no hit him as hard as I could when I poked him in the solar plexus. He did expel all of his breath, but I did not hit him hard enough to rupture his internal organs. He fell to the sidewalk and was out of action for the moment.
The third man's eyes bulged when he saw what had happened to the knife his friend had tried to use to stab me. That guy was smarter than the average bear and turned to flee. He had gotten about five steps of a head start on me, but I had no trouble catching him because I could run so much faster than he possibly could.
I grabbed his belt and pulled him to a halt. At that point, he tried to slash me with his knife, but I simply held up my arm and let him strike it with the knife arm. He dropped the knife and screamed as both bones broke in his right forearm. He was in so much pain that he did not resist when I dragged him back to where his friend was lying on the sidewalk.
I pulled both of them into the alley and waited a moment for my eyes to adjust to the reduced light. After a few seconds, I could see almost as well as I could out under the streetlights. There was Jenny with the man who had been holding her. She had both his arms held behind his back and pulled up so that he could not move without considerable pain. I grinned at her and she grinned back. "Billy, do you want me to tie this sorry excuse for a man with cable ties?"
"Yeah, go ahead. These three should be able to tell us some of what we want to know about the after-hours street life in the fair city of Crawford."
We set about to learn all we could about the gang operations in this neighborhood. One of the things we found out was that the spokesman for this group was known as "Big Al," and he was a terror to just about everyone else who lived around here. There were two gangs that operated in this neighborhood, and there was a very uneasy peace between them. The least little thing could set off a gang war that was libel to hurt a lot of innocents.
Big Al and his two friends belonged to the "Honky Haters," and the other gang was the "Black Shirts." Both gangs were made of up Blacks, but about 10 blocks over to the west was an Hispanic gang known as the "Diablos." The problem with the Diablos was that they were prone to use guns, and they were known to spray bullets at the slightest provocation. They would certainly warrant a visit from us pretty soon.
Just to let the Honky Haters know that we were a force to be reckoned with, we broke the right elbow of each of the three captives. All three were bare from the waist down where they had had their testicles pinched by Jenny to prompt them for the information that we wanted. By the way, that was adding insult to injury since Jenny was a woman, and White at that. I did use Big Al's cellphone to call 911 before we left. These guys had to live through the night if word of our presence was to get around where it would do the most good.
This was a slow night judging from the fact that we wandered around for another hour without seeing another person. It looked like we weren't going to get any more action tonight, so we went back to our apartment. The rest of the evening was spent trying to make Jenny pregnant.
The next day was spent getting the apartment in order. It was a furnished apartment, but it still lacked many of the items that we were used to, so we had a lot of small items to purchase. We then looked into getting California driver's licenses and gun permits. Uh-oh, it was going to take more than one day to register our pickup and get driver's licenses, and the same was true for our gun permits. Well, we got the wheels turning on those jobs, but we were not expecting fast results. We figured that to be California's problem and not ours.
It took us a week to get everything squared away and legal, and some of it was a real pain in the ass, but we finally settled everything, and the state seemed to be happy. If they were happy, we were happy and set out to do what we had come here for. Man, it's hard to be nice to some people.
Based on that set of experiences, we decided to put off the pilot's license and getting a plane until after we had our own home. There was just too much bureaucracy and paperwork in California. I was almost sorry that we came. Hell, the Hispanics must know something we didn't, or they would stop coming to California in such droves!
Okay, enough jokes and foolishness, Jenny and I were now ready to get down to business. Apparently we had made an impression on the Honky Haters by the way we had put down Big Al and his cronies. We heard that there was a price on our heads, but the difference in what they were paying for me and for Jenny showed that they still were not taking her seriously. We should fix that pretty soon.
We wanted to meet some Black Shirts, hopefully with a reputation equivalent to Big Al's. We went for almost two weeks without meeting any, and we wondered if they were avoiding us. Finally, we ran into a pack of 10 Black Shirts, and it turned out that they were hunting us. One of the group greeted us with, "Are you the two what took down Big Al?"
"Yes, we are. Why do you ask?"
"Because we are about to do the same to you." That was the extent of our conversation at that point and they charged us. This was perfect from our point of view. We were at a street corner where there was plenty of room for us to maneuver, and we could be easily seen by anyone who cared to look.
The gang members came at us with knives and sections of pipe. I don't know if they only intended to main us, or if they intended to kill us. They were armed with enough pipes to make either one happen if we had been ordinary people. Well, let me tell you that those 10 gang members regretted ever hearing of us. Not a one escaped, but not a one died. However, I am sure that some of them wished that they were dead from all of the pain they felt that day.
The whole fight took less than 15 minutes, and we had 10 subjects that we could question. It did take us a few minutes to identify the ring leaders, but broken joints and pinched testicles made the information flow rather freely after we established that we would not take bullshit for an answer. We spent most of an hour asking questions, and we got come interesting answers. Specifically, the Black Shirts had a sweetheart agreement with the Honky Haters, but both of those gangs were literally scared of the Diablos.
We made a point of letting the Black Shirts know that we did not approve of the careless way they treated innocent bystanders, and we would be back if they did not back off. Furthermore, when we came back, we would not be as gentle as we had been this time. They had seen the pipes and knives bounce off our skin, so they were almost as scared of us as they were of the Diablos. We would fix that if we had to come back.
One very useful thing that we found out was where the territorial boundaries were with the Diablos, and we said that we would be visiting them soon. Possibly as soon as tomorrow night. The idea was to make the Diablos sweat a little.
We knew that we would be facing guns when we faced the Diablos, but our only real worry was that an innocent could be hurt by a stray bullet. Unfortunately, there was not much that we could do about that.
We wanted to give the Diablos a little time to stew while they waited for us to show up, so we took a day off to visit the zoo. That was a lot of fun and well worth the trip. The next day we visited the Universal Studio tour, and enjoyed that, too. The Los Angeles area did have a lot of things to do, and we had hardly scratched the surface. We still had not been to Disneyland or Knotts Berry Farm, nor had we attended any musical events yet. We decided that LA was going to be a blast!
Finally, we broke the suspense by visiting the Diablos' territory. As usual, we only had our Glocks with us, but we were prepared to meet gunfire with gunfire if the need arose. Apparently the Diablos were on the lookout for us because we had hardly penetrated their claimed territory when we were met by five overly clichéd Hispanics waving guns. The mustaches were ridiculously overdone. It was obvious that they had little grasp of gun safety because they were not careful which way they pointed the guns and they kept a finger on the trigger. Our first impression was that these guys were either crazy or very high on some drug.
One of them said, "Okay, we know who you are. Get out of our territory or face the music."
To add a little bit of disdain to the meeting, Jenny was our spokesman. "This is a public street, and you have no right to block our way. Either you get out of our way or I will personally bust your excuse for balls."
This was more than the Diablos spokesman could take. This was a direct blow to his macho self-image. He pointed his gun, a 9 mm automatic from Brazil, at Jenny's belly and acted as if he was about to pull the trigger.
"Pull that trigger and you will live to regret it until your dying day, which may not be that far away."
That was just too much. The fool pulled the trigger and a hollow-point bullet struck Jenny just below her belly button. Her development was well along by now, and the bullet did not penetrate her skin, though it did make a large hole in her shirt as the slug expanded.
Jenny erupted into a blur of motion that I am sure was very difficult for the regular humans to follow. She used her hands in blade-fashion to strike the man's elbows hard enough to shatter both of them. She followed that up with a quick kick to each kneecap. Both knees were rendered useless and beyond repair. Knee replacement surgery would be required before he could walk again. As a final insult, she hit him in the solar plexus hard enough to make him expel all of his breath, but not hard enough to kill him.
He fell to the sidewalk completely helpless and unable to breathe. That prompted the other four to fire their guns at Jenny. I went into action at that point, and both of us thoroughly worked over the four men. Both shoulders of each man were broken, and they too were soon lying on the sidewalk blubbering tears like children.
It looked like we had actually gone too far with these characters. They were already in so much pain that there was little that we could do to add to it. Jenny used one of their cellphones to call for 911 medical assistance. We picked up their guns and bent them into unusable shapes before we left. We had no use for the guns, and we wanted them to know that we could have done much more to them if we had been so inclined.
We walked around for a while to drive home our point that we were not afraid of them and their guns. Jenny's clothes showed obvious damage from bullets, yet she was not affected. That should make an impression if nothing else would. We even stopped off at an open convenience store and bought Dr. Peppers which we sipped as we meandered down the streets.
It was nearly an hour later before we were met by 12 men and older boys dressed in the same outlandish costumes. We were challenged, and I asked, "Did you see what we did to the first of your gang that we met? If so, you must know that we are not afraid of you or your guns. Go ahead and shoot at us if you are that foolish, but rest assured that we will not be as gentle with you as we were with that first bunch. They were a friendly warning, but you will not live long enough to regret fooling with us.
"My wife especially dislikes the macho attitude, and I am having a hard time restraining her at this point. Now go away right now or regret the results when I turn her loose on you."
They were surprised at my words, but did disappear without further ado.