Chapter 3

I thought that it would be a good idea to take a break from the Tom Cats and look for other scum bags to hit. I was afraid that the Tom Cats might go into some sort of hunkered down defensive mode if they got the idea that I was concentrating on them. If they did that, they might be impossible for me to find without more detective skills than I knew I had.

I talked it over with Martha, and she had a suggestion. We rigged up a disguise for me where I looked like a low income, but not penniless, African-American woman. The reason for the African-American racial selection was that it would let me wear my black costume under my top disguise and not look out of place. The idea was to attract pimps and rapists who would be likely to go after a woman who looked fairly defenseless. Anyway, we gave it a try.

For lack of a better idea, I drove my little black Accura down to Jamaica Plain and found a place to park that seemed to be reasonably safe. It was close to 10:00 PM and pretty dark. Of course there were street lights, but street lights don't do a hell of a lot of good that late at night.

Well, nothing ventured, nothing gained. I did play it safe by carrying my baton in my hand so that it would be ready at a moment's notice. I walked away from my car and didn't get 100 yards before I ran into my first potential attacker. A man walked purposefully toward me from about a block away. It was hard to tell with the amount of available light, but he was definitely African-American and well built. I had no way at this distance to note whether or not he was handsome.

When he got up close, his intentions were obvious. He was about 10-15 feet away when he took his hand from his pocket and flashed a knife at me. "Hey, Bitch, let's step over into that alley and get better acquainted."

I ignored him and kept on walking, just waiting for him to make an offensive move. "Bitch, I'm talking to you. You better stop, or you'll sure as hell get cut. Now, do what I say!"

He was now just a little bit behind me, so I slowed down so that he could catch up. "OK, Cunt, now that's more like it. How about giving me a sample of that thing between your legs?"

This shit head was only armed with a knife, so there was no way he could really hurt me, so I had decided to play with him a little bit. I turned toward him and looked directly into his eyes as I flicked my baton down onto his wrist. The bones shattered, but he did not drop the knife, why I don't know.

The knife was in his right hand, so he reached across his body to grasp the broken wrist with his left hand. That's when I struck again and shattered the left wrist. He was screaming and writhing in pain, so I clipped him just hard enough on the side of his head to knock him out for a few minutes. I had a new trick in mind.

I caught him as he sank to the ground and laid him out so that I could wrap duck tape around his body and arms. I figured that he had enough problems with his wrists, but I didn't want him interfering with my next act.

I cut the crotch out of his pants the way I had become accustomed to doing and put a tourniquet around his cock. I had picked up some smelling salts so I used that to wake up my latest client. I wanted him awake so that he could appreciate what was happening to him. The first thing I did was to give him a good look at my knife before I cut off his cock. He thought that was pretty bad, and I had to use more smelling salts before I had him awake enough for his ball crushing. He passed out again, but I was expecting that. I didn't waste any more smelling salts, but used the nail gun to pin a calling card to each of his knees. Lastly, I jammed his severed cock into his anus, up far enough so that it would be very unpleasant digging it back out.

At last, I was finished. I wiped my gloves on some of those moist wipes so that I would not mess up the cellphone when I called 911. We were pretty far back in the alley, so I didn't know if this client would be found soon enough. Here's where I got cute. When the 911 operator answered, I said, "This is Nyx. Perhaps you have heard of me. Well I have a new client for the EMTs." I gave the address and closed the phone before the operator could ask questions.

The 911 system kept a record of all calls, so I knew that I would have to ditch this phone before dawn. I had bought a couple of prepaid throw-away phones at Walmart for just this purpose. I could afford it, and it went a long way in maintaining my cover.

That episode seemed like a good start for the evening, so I left in hopes of finding at least one more rapist before I quit for the night. I had walked about six more blocks when I met my next opportunity.

Three young men in their early 20s stepped out of an alley as I walked by. "Hey, Momma, where you going in such a hurry?"

I turned around and said, "Hello, Boys, what can I do for y'all?"

They moved up to surround me, and I got my baton ready. With a three to one margin, I couldn't afford to kid around this time. As usual, I didn't want to kill any of them, but I might have to, this time. The spokesman said, "We like your looks and are feeling in the mood for some fun. How about joining us for a three-way sandwich with you in the middle?"

"I don't think so, Boys. Now, back off and go home. That way, none of you will get hurt."

Well, that had the effect I expected. There was no way they were going to back down now. How could one small woman defeat three men, each of whom was bigger than she was?

"Come on, Sweet Momma, let us see what you got under them clothes." He reached for me, and that's when I pulled my first surprise. I jerked my wig off, and that let my skull-mask fall over my face. Talk about surprised!?! From the looks on their faces, I was sure that at least one had shit in his pants.

I now went into fighting mode and stamped both feet to release the spikes at the toes of my boots. At the same time, I poked the spokesman in the solar plexus with my baton. He reflexively bent over and I clipped his head with the baton to knock him unconscious. The man standing next to him was too close for a knee-shot, so I kicked him in the ankle with the spike on my right boot. That very effectively took him out of the fight, but it did slow me down a moment as I had to wiggle my foot to get the spike to come loose.

The third man was fumbling in his pocket and finally pulled out one of those little .25 caliber automatics that are normally all bark and no bite. I couldn't help but laugh when he aimed the little gun at me, but I'll admit that it was not so funny when he pulled the trigger. I felt the bullet rattle off my breast plate, and it did jar me slightly for a moment. Unfortunately for the shooter, that really pissed me off!

I pulled one of my pistols and shot him four times, once in each knee and once in each elbow. I'd show him what it felt like to be shot! While I had my gun out, I just shot the other two in a knee. Just to be on the safe side, I changed the magazine in that pistol before I holstered it.

That was too much noise to fool around. Surely someone heard the shots and was going to call the cops. As fast as I could, I did three "penisectomies" and crushed their balls. Each shirt pocket got one of my cards, and I left the scene before the cops could show up. I really hated being rushed like that!

It was getting late, so I decided to head home. I walked back to my car, and I heard the cops arriving about the time I had walked a block, so I had just left in time. Martha had a nice late snack for me, and I ate while I regaled her with my exploits for the evening. It was about 5:00 AM before I got to bed; it was a good thing that I did not have to work the next day.