Killer Bs
Chapter 8

Copyright© 2016 by aubie56

Science Fiction Sex Story: Chapter 8 - Two siblings, Bob and Beth Argo, develop an unusual sense so that they can sometimes read the emotions of people under great stress. Early on, this sense helps them to fight crimes and gets them pegged as the Killer Bs. This is the story of their advance through high school and their later life fighting crime and sometimes terrorists for Homeland Security. 10 chapters.

Caution: This Science Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including mt/ft   Consensual   Heterosexual   Crime   Superhero   Paranormal   Incest   Brother   Sister   First   Violence  

The news cycle the next day was full of reports on our attack last night. The fires had not been nearly as intense as with the first two, so there were some bodies recovered. Furthermore, the drugs stored in the basement of the first building attacked had not all burned, so there was plenty to fuel the reporters’ zeal for a shocking story.

The fact that a number of people had been killed in the attack was not lost on the news media. They were all viewing with alarm what had happened, and that was reasonable. So far, little word had been released by the police on who had occupied the two buildings, but there was obviously a big drug operation being run from there just based on the amount of drugs, mostly heroin, that was found.

Now, interest shifted to speculation that a fourth, formerly unknown, ring was trying to take over the drug business in our city. A lot of politicians were jumping on that bandwagon and calling for a full investigation to find and arrest those people who were threatening the safety of the common citizen. The fact that none had been hurt so far was beside the point.

Dad called a temporary halt to our war until we could see what developed. If his information were correct, there was now a drug “vacuum” in our city, and we were all curious as to who would fill it and how long it would take. Over the next few weeks, there was a precipitous drop in the number of OD cases showing up in the hospitals, and most people were happy about that. Dad speculated that the reprieve would not last long, but we should soon feel the effects of a big collapse of the drug culture.

Oops, there it was. There was about a week’s delay before it happened, but the pharmacies were being hit by a rash of burglaries. In every case, the stock of drugs like Vicodin were the main target, but other drugs were being stolen, probably to cover the real purpose of the theft. The pharmacies countered by doing what they should have been doing all along, and being more careful to lock up those drugs in vaults with time locks.

That was not the complete answer to the problem, but it did shift the robberies from the night time to days when the shops were normally open. That made it easier for the normal police to fight the thefts, and the situation was brought under better control.

We stayed away from that problem because it was not the kind of situation that we were set up for. Of course, if a robbery happened while one of us was in a pharmacy, then that person could do everything possible to stop the robbery and catch the crooks, but that depended on a very thin chance of it happening. It never did.

By the way, we did salvage Helen Trask’s car, and it is now the one that we use to ride to school. It now has the secure gun rack for two combat shotguns just in case Beth needs one. I am quite happy to let her drive every day while I sit in the “shotgun” seat. We have not yet had to use the shotgun, but I make it a habit to be ready if the situation changes. Now Mom has the SUV for shopping, and Dad uses the old sedan. He likes it because it is an old Tarus and about as inconspicuous as a car can get.

Dad is back to working for his old company, but he works from home now. I don’t know what story he told them to get management to agree, but Dad can be very persuasive when he tries. He rarely leaves the house, but Mom always knows where he is going and when he should return. She has the same arrangement with Dad.

The rest of the school year was as dull as they usually are, and we managed to get through it with all As. We were wondering what we were going to do for the summer, but Dad came through for us and had an in-ground swimming pool installed. Beth and I pitched our swim suits into permanent storage and did nothing but skinny dipping as soon as the privacy fence was up and functional.

Mom did ask us not to engage in active fucking while she was around because she could not help being embarrassed by the show. We went along with her request, but it was annoying to have to dry off and go into the house to our bedroom just for sex. Oh, well, Mom was a good sport about most things, so we put up with the inconvenience.

Dad also converted part of our basement into a pistol shooting range. We did have to wear hearing protection when we were shooting, but Beth and I spent at least an hour a day in practice. We had an informal competition going which I was leading, but I could not help wondering if she were letting me win just enough to stay ahead. Oh, well, I appreciated the gesture, and Dad insisted that we both were doing very well.

We went out to Mr. Andrews’ farm to practice with the shotguns because of the noise of a shotgun shell being fired. That was usually only once per week, but we often spent a whole afternoon in practice. We had the full range of military-issue ammunition for the shotguns, but we mostly stuck with the standard #00 buckshot loads that civilians could buy off the shelf. The kind of work we expected to do did not require the usual military-issue stuff, so we did not practice nearly as much with it. At least, with the shotguns, there was no question that I was a better shot than Beth. I felt better about that.

Uh-oh, you can’t win them all. Our city usually went whole hog for the July 4th celebration, with a parade in the morning, a big gathering for a non-alcohol party (at least, that was what it was supposed to be) in the afternoon at the high schools, and a fireworks display at the largest football stadium after dark. There was also a dance for any folks not interested in fireworks. The basketball gym at our high school was large enough for that.

Well, the news media was bombarded with threats of death and destruction during the big celebrations in the afternoon. That was real trouble because there were four places that could be hit, and there was no way of knowing how many of the four were targeted. Dad was called in to run the security for the four venues.

Naturally, there were not enough police even with everybody called in, to cover all four celebrations. Police were borrowed from several cooperative suburbs to help, and Dad finally had the minimum number he thought he needed. However, he was still concerned, so he asked Beth and me to act as a mobile squad to cover any place that got out of hand.

Hey, this was a lot more fun than the regular activities, at least for us, so we readily agreed. We used our going-to-school car for mobility, and we were given some magnetic signs to hang on the car to make us look official. As usual, Beth was the driver and I was shotgun. A police radio was installed in our car, so we were able to keep up to date on any problem spots.

For lack of anything better, Beth and I hung out at our high school to await a call to arms. We sat in our car with the police radio monitoring the traffic. It got pretty boring for about an hour, and we wondered if we were going to get any action. All we could do was talk, and we had exhausted most topics when there was a tremendous explosion in one corner of the building we were near. You can bet that got our attention!

The moment the explosion went off, a car tore out of the parking lot at full speed. That was absolutely ridiculous for someone who was innocent, so Beth took off after the car. Meanwhile, I called in that we were chasing a light green Dodge sedan. I included the license plate numbers, and word came back almost immediately that the car had been reported stolen yesterday.

Fortunately, there was not much traffic, and Beth had no trouble gaining on the car we were chasing. As we got closer to the Dodge, we could see that there were three men in the car: one driver, one front seat passenger, and one rear seat passenger.

We were chasing as much out of reflex because they were running from us, so a chase was a natural thing to do. We had no solid evidence against the car or the people in it, except that it had been reported stolen. The day before, our car had been equipped with temporary police lights, a siren, and a bullhorn (public address speaker).

 
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