Somewhere in Texas:
The high priced Luxury car came to a stop in the driveway. As the door opened the man stepped out and sighed a bit as he took his briefcase out of the backseat and shut the door of the Jaguar. He made his way into the house, briefly glancing around the nice, upper class, gated community he lived in and, seeing nothing amiss, he made his way to the front door and opened it. Walking inside the door, he set his briefcase down on the same spot on the little table he always set it on. “Honey, I’m home!” He called out as he took his smart phone out of his pocket. It was as he was glancing over his phone that the first sign that something was different hit him. He paused, his eyes staring at the screen of his smartphone, the light from the screen providing just enough illumination in the darkened foyer to be that ghostly kind of light in a horror movie that only succeeds in making the dark look more ominous and threatening. His wife and kids always beat him home. Where were they? He wondered to himself as he looked around. “Grace?” He called out, as he reached for the light switch and turned it on. But flip the switch as he might, the lights did not go on. This brought a sigh of frustration as he nodded. “Must’ve blown a fuse..damn kids running all their shit at once probably..” He muttered to himself as he walked through the dark house and came in to the living room. He took three steps into the room and stopped, the hairs on the back of his neck standing. He was greeted by a voice from the dark. ‘Amazing isn’t it? You can’t see any threat.. You have no actual facts to tell you in danger but you just… know that you’re being hunted..”
He turned, looking around. “W...who the fuck is there?! I have guns!” The female voice replied. “Had guns. Past tense. I’ve been here quite a while, Mr. District Attorney and you are not the most original thinker when it comes to hiding your guns. Then, out of the darkness, Valora Salinas stepped out, dressed in a black and white tuxedo, complete with tie. She nodded. “Hola. Your security is not as impressive as you might think it is.” He gulped “W...who are you?” Valora smirked as she sat down. “My name is irrelevant. But for the purposes of our conversation tonight… think of me as karma. Oh wait, you pretend to be a Christian right.. Well then you can think of me as the personification of Jesus Christ’s warning that one reaps what he sows. I’ve even been called the Angel of Death. Appropriate since I hold your life in my hands.”
He paced back and forth and looked at the woman before him. She was hispanic.. He thought? Or was she Asian? The dark made it hard to tell.. And her face was hard to clearly make out. He had to stall for time. Find out what this bitch wanted and find out a way to call the security force. “M..my wife. My children.” Valora nodded. “Safe. They are innocent though I wonder what your wife would say if she knew what you were doing to your daughter. No, unlike the fascist dictator you have sworn allegiance to, I do not believe in killing the families of my enemies. Not anymore, at any rate. No, your family will not interrupt us but they also will come to no harm. I am professional so feel free to take me at my word when I say this is between you and me.”
He pursed his lips in thought as he continued to study the intruder, his mind racing. She had made a mistake in revealing information about him. That made his decision easier, this woman needed to die. Simple as that.” “Well, why don’t you tell me what you think is going to happen here, then I’ll tell you what I think is gonna happen here and we’ll see which one of us is right.” The woman smirked. “Isn’t it tradition for a southern gentleman to offer a lady a drink?” He laughed for the first time since the tension filled standoff began. “Well you ain’t a lady. You’re a thief that broke into my house and is spreadin’ spurious rumors about me and my family and trying to threaten me.. Down here in the south, you get shot for that.” Valora nodded. “Yeah, I knew an arrogant Texan once.. Thought the same thing. He’s in a retirement home, crippled at the moment. Also, I’m not a thief. I haven’t stolen anything from you. The only crime I’ve committed so far is breaking and entering. However, I think I’ve been very civilized so far, so walk over to the liquor cabinet, pour whatever you want for yourself. I’ll take tequila.” He walked over to the liquor cabinet and nodded. “I don’t keep cheap shit like Tequila. I got Bourbon.” Valora rolled her eyes. “Fine. Use the bottle on the right for mine if you don’t mind. I noticed it’s better quality.. If I have to drink bourbon might as well be good bourbon.” He let out a grunt. “You know your liquor, lil’ miss.” He said as he poured two glasses, pouring his from the one on the right and giving the female intruder the bourbon poured from the bottle on the left. She didn’t seem to notice the switch and drank the bourbon. He took a big drink of his own bourbon and nodded. “Don’t feel bad.. Bourbon is a man’s drink.. Not many women can handle it.”
The female intruder sat down “Now.. as to what I believe will happen here. It’s simple. I have questions. You have information. You will provide me with the information I need. Afterwards, I will free you. If you lie to me, or rather fail to convince me that the information you are providing me is the truth, well, I’ll have to punish your insubordination. In short, how this plays out is entirely up to you.” She paused for a moment here, giving him time to consider this path which he did as he scratched his chin and looked at her. “And if I tell you to go straight to hell?” The woman smirked. “Then I will get the information anyways and you will die.” His lips curled into a snarl hearing this and he walked up to her. “I don’t know who the fuck you think you are but I’m the one with power here!” He said, his next sentence cut off as he felt the woman’s hand rest on his shoulder, a blade protruding from the hand pressing against his carotid artery. The woman smirked. “Do you feel in charge? Cause from where I’m standing, it seems to me that the only thing preventing you from bleeding to death like a stuck pig is my good graces and about 2 and a half lbs of pressure.. Or to dumb down even more for you.. A simple muscle twitch. The man looked into the woman’s face, still obscured by shadow and then looked to her hand and sighed. “What do you want to know, exactly? Let’s start there.” The woman nodded. “Abbigail Dresden and Takuma Sato. You issued the warrant for their arrest. You denied them both their constitutionally guaranteed right to trial by a jury of their peers. You detained them without trial, bail, or fair hearings.”
The man looked genuinely puzzled by this. “They were drug dealing scum.. And a flight risk.. Why do you care about them? They work for your cartel or something?” The woman laughed. “You are incredibly ignorant for a graduate of Alabama Law school, or perhaps choosing to go to Redeck U is why you are so ignorant. If I were from the Cartels you would be dead. Your family would be dead. Your pets would be dead. The two security guards at the gate would be dead. I wouldn’t care why you fucked with my someone.. El Jefe would tell me to kill you and you would die. The fact we are having a conversation is proof I am not with the cartels. Now, you didn’t decide to target those two yourself. Someone sent you orders.. Orders in a letter, a letter you have stored either here at home or your business office because even an ignorant shitheel like you knows he’s breaking the law and will want cover to hide behind when the shitstorm comes. Who gave you the order and where did the drugs actually come from?”
The man debated internally or a long count of moments as the question hung in the air.. This woman knew a lot. Too much. By now he was considering the possibility she was from the same government. He coughed. ‘Y...you CIA?” The woman smirked. “A question that is actually more of an answer to my question than a question. But fair is fair.. I expect honesty from you, I’ll give you honesty. I’ve worked for them in the past.” She pauses behind him, leaning in and whispering into his ear. “Much as ignorant racists like you despise people with my skin color, you always come to us to do your dirty work for you. Cuba, Venezuela, Nicaragua, Panama, Columbia. I’m not a cartel thug, you ignorant fuck, I fought your war on drugs for you. Now.. you made a mistake. You targeted two people who are friends of mine. If you would prefer someone other than you pays for that error in judgement, you had better fuckin’ give me a name.”
This seemed to register with the Texas Attorney General and he took a deep breath and nodded. “You’re right.. I have the orders.. From D.C. The Attorney General.. Who said he was acting on orders from the President. Whoever your friends are.. They made some powerful enemies.” The woman nodded. ‘I’m a powerful enemy too.” with a quick move, a syringe plunged into his chest and he watched in horror as the contents emptied into him. The woman walked around and he finally saw her face, his eyes widening in shock. “Y...you’re that wrestler whore!” Valora smirked. “And you’re a dead man.” He nodded. “Maybe so.. But all you’ve done is make me a martyr.” Valora tilted her head and looked at him before laughing. “Is that what you think? Let me break it down for you.. The prescription strength Ibuprofen you take? For the last 2 months or so, it’s been replaced with prescription strength opioids. What I just dosed you with? A lovely cocktail that will kill you and will continue to advance the narrative that you’re a drug addict.. Opioids, heroine, cocaine. Your death will be written off as just another hypocrite.. One of the scumbags you preached so fervently against. Your wife, and the local press is getting a video, taken by friends of mine and your daughter as well.. So no.. no one will know that you were killed. You will not be a martyr.. You’ll just be another pedofile and drug addict dead. Just another scumbag the world will be glad to be rid of.”
The man stood up and charged and Valora countered with a drop toe hold, sending him face first into the floor. She then wrapped her legs around his neck, locking in her submission move.. This time, she waited for him to pass out.. And then stop breathing and nodded. A moment later, she was gone as was any sign she had been there at all and he was left lying on the floor. A DVD disc and letter being the only new additions, resting on a table.
Villa de Valora, Valora’s private Caribbean Island, 2 days later*
Valora hung upside down, doing sit ups as she was suspended in mid-air. Abbigail sat on a chair watching her. “So where’d you go?” Valora rolled her eyes. “Work. Had to tie up a loose end.” Abbigail nods. “Well you have to fight Vastrix again for the title.. Maybe that should be your work?” Valora pauses her exercise for a moment, hanging upside down and looking at Abbigail and nods. “And who says I wasn’t? After all, Kronin and I have access to Warhammer’s databases.. You think I haven’t been looking for schematics for the cybernetics he has?” Abbigail smirked. “No, I don’t think you’ve been doing that because Samantha has been doing that.” Valora sighed and pulled herself up unstrapping her feet from their holders and gently turning her body to get down from the apparatus, doing some stretches as she glanced over at Abbigail. “Well then if you have it all figured out, what do you think I was doing?” Abbigail smirked and shrugged. “I don’t know what you were doing, but I know one thing you were not doing.” Valora rolled her eyes as she walked over to the small table on the side of the room and took the bottle of tequila resting there, drinking from it. Abbigail tilting her head a bit to her right side as she watched. “Anyone ask you how a fighter who spends most of her life drunk managed to win as many titles as you have?” Valora turns and flashes Abbigail a huge grin at the question. “Every fuckin’ day, Chica. I’m modern day fuckin’ enigma.” Abbigail nods. “So… how did you?” Valora shrugs. “Well first of all, I’ve been fightin’ my entire fuckin’ life. I just get paid for it now. But I never lost the street fighting portion.. Every fight, I’m back in South Central L.A. fightin’ for my fuckin’ life. I come into every fight with the mentality that I want it more than my foe. For my opponent to beat me, he or she has to be ready to fuckin’ kill me. If they’re not willing to go that far.. They’re fucked.”
Abbigail sat down, staring at her mentor as she listened and considered those words. For her part, Valora continued. “Perception is the other part of it. People look at me, they see a drunk, loud mouthed Mexican woman. They see what I want them to see and they forget that I’m a highly trained fighter. They forget I have a fuckin’ genius level IQ. They forget I’m college educated and that I bought and paid for that college education with an athletic scholarship meaning I’m not what I appear to be. But they forget all that. They see a drunk street punk. A ‘Garbage Wrestler’ as Kronin and the more technically skilled fighters liked to call me in the early days.” Vastrix is the same way. He crafted an image. Much like Bruce Wayne and Tony Stark of the comic books, he crafted a non-threatening image. A drunkard playboy. Someone partying and wasting time with women. A spoiled rich brat. He did this because if his father considered him a threat, he would kill him. But, beneath the veneer, Jeremiah Vastrix was learning and training himself to fight. He is constantly learning. I god damn guarantee you that like Tony Stark, Jeremiah Vastrix is looking at plans for his cybernetics, looking for a way to minimize or eliminate the weakness I found and exploited.”
Abbigail leaned back in her seat and nodded as she listened. “So you respect him, huh?” Valora nods. “I respect anyone who can push me like he does. I can think of maybe… 5 or so fighters who could have taken the beating that Vastrix and I laid out on each other. So yes, I respect him. I take him seriously. Because I know to an absolute certainty that if I don’t stay one step ahead of him, he will take his title back when he beats me unconscious.” Abbigail nods. “Or you tap.” Valora narrows her eyes. “I have never tapped out and I never will. I made that oath in blood. I’ve been knocked out a few times, but I will never willingly quit a fight. It.. is who I am. Where I came from, losing a fight means you risk losing your life.. To willingly quit, to place yourself at the mercy of your opponent.. Is suicide.” Samantha walked into the room as Valora finished her comment and Valora looked to her. “So? Any thoughts on how he might mitigate the fact that his brain still needs oxygen?”
Abbigail tries to help. “Oxygen tank?” Samantha shook her head. “No. First off, there isn’t a lot of space in the human body for a oxygen tank to fit. Secondly, oxygen tanks have other disadvantages.. Specially for someone who expects to fight regularly.” Samantha thinks for a moment. “Still, Abbigail might be onto something with oxygen storage.. Course it doesn’t solve the core issue of preventing oxygen from getting to brain causing loss of consciousness. I have a possible way I would solve the issue, but his cybernetics suite is completely different from the schematics I worked up. In some ways, more traditional, more.. Conventional. But still effective. I’m not sure he can solve the problem, other than perhaps making it harder for someone to get him in a position where they can capitalize on his vulnerability.” Valora nods. “Let’s hope Vastrix and his scientists reach the same conclusion… otherwise I’ll set a record for shortest title reign ever.”