In the dead of nightIn the dead of nightIn the dead of night by LXKatz
In the dead of night, on a small rural road in Ohio sits a modest farmhouse that nestled in the middle of a wheat field. As the wind blows the light of the moon catches on the waving wheat and it moves like waves in the ocean. Billy a 16-year-old boy from Chicago comes to this, his uncle’s farm every summer. Here he meets his friend Susie who lives one house over, a mile away. In the past few years she sneaks out of her house and meets him in the loft of the barn. Its traditional and cliché, red but instead of hay the loft was converted into an apartment for bully and the bottom is now a garage and workshop for his uncle. The young lovers lay in Billy’s bed post coitus looking up at the full moon through the loft’s upper open doors.
“You know” Susie says, “we haven’t been back there since 1972”
Billy laughs then chimes in, “unless you believe that YouTube vid
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A beautiful young black woman sits in a chair, her hands cuffed behind her. 4 large burly men in tacky sport coats stand around her seemingly uninterested in the obviously worked over woman. She is almost in a spot light in this otherwise darken warehouse. Blood trickles down from her lip and hits the floor as she sits slumped bent forward held in the set by her handcuffs. Her charcoal gray pantsuit is wrinkled and torn in some spots and her bright orange shirt is one of two sources of color on this drab setting. Her bright orange high heels sit neatly together a few feet from her. A car horn is heard outside and the bay door starts to open, a crack that splits the silence as the corrugated metal rolls up. The sub zero wind of a Boston winters howls as it cuts through the souls of the 5 warehouse inhabitants, like the harbinger of death leading the black town car into the building. The car comes to a stop a few feet from the 5. The driver gets out and opens the back door. The only man here with any taste in clothing steps out of the back, a dapper dark haired man in a camel hair over coat leather gloves and dark glasses. "Close the damn door, close it, it's freezing out there." The bay door drops back into place and the warehouse returns to its prior stale state. The dapper man walks towards the woman taking off his gloves.
"You know there used to be rules to all this.” He says. “No women, no children. But times they are a changing."
He slips out of his rabbit fur lined leather gloves that look expensive and smell new. He folds them and puts them in his coat pocket.
"You know this is all because you demand equal opportunities." He continues. “Don't get me wrong I don't discriminate, but my pay rate is based on merit not sex. Makes me progressive I guess. The thing is you want to do the work of a man you want to be paid like a man, which is fine by me but the flip side of that coin is that when you come and step to me like a man you get put down like a man, hurray for progress."
With that he pulls out his 9mm berretta the light reflects off the nickel plate suffice polished to with an inch of its life. She doesn't register acknowledgment of his words. He crouches down in front of her trying to find her almost deadeyes that point to the floor. His gun barrel pressed against the side of her kneecap.
"If it's any cancellation, “he begins again, “had you asked...I would have given you a job. Not now though, not with this level of you disrespect you show me. I can't let that discretion stand".
She finally looks up and makes eye contact with him.
"I'll give you one chance,” He says almost sounding like they have a history together. “You'll need to change your hair, straitened it maybe, get a little plastic surgery to change your appearance, change your name, I'll let you work for me. But to get this one time offer you'll need to tell me everything I want to know."
Finally she speaks, "and how much respect would you have for me then?"
He stands up pondering the question, "far enough...I would have no respect for a coward that would rat out their friends to diminish their own punishment.” He walks around a little bit. “However respect shown towards me goes along way in this organization."
She looks up more to regain eye contact, "this is just Cuz I'm a woman".
"I will admit to that" he says, " but you would be my body guard, people seem to dismiss an attractive woman, underestimate them, the perfect disguise for you".
She laughs at that, which makes the dapper man chuckle a bit.
"Fine" she says, "you win".
The dapper man crouches down again jonesing for the information. The woman straitened her self up in her chair, closes her eyes and in hales though her nose, the as she exhales though her mouth slowly she opens her eyes and slightly smiles flirtatiously at him, causing him to smile back then she snaps at the waist bringing her head down on to his nose causing blood to spurt from it getting all over her suit, one of the tacky gentlemen hits her in the face and she slumps down in her chair again.
"STOP!" The dapper man yells out "it's ok, it was a good hit. Yeah danmit she broke it. Thank you for proving my point, I won't underestimate you again. Take me to the hospital. Mikey, you’re in charge, let me know what you get out of her".
With that he disappeared back into his car, the bay door opens and the car drives off. As the door closes the tacky men take off their tacky jackets and roll up their tacky sleeves.
Mikey walks up to her "think you’re funny do you bitch?"
She looks cocky at him, "don't you have some offs you need to fuck?"
Mikey looks confused at her. "What did you say to me?"
She reiterates, "Fuck off".
Mikey is outraged at the lack of respect and begin a to shout back at her. "You dirty cunt how dare you speak to me like that. I'll show you what a whore with a smart mouths gets..."
The sound of metal hitting the ground stops Mikey in mid tirade. The men stop frozen in their tracks trying to place what the noise was. Mikey sees the handcuff that used to be around the dainty wrists of the attractive black woman, now lying on the floor behind her chair.
"Shit!" he makes a move towards her and she gets up grabbing the chair and swings it down in his head. She then throws the chair at a goon behind her as the other two go for their guns. She rushes one grabbing his wrist as he brings up his gun, with her other hand she hits him in the elbow breaking it in 2 places. Grabbing his gun she shoots the last goon standing pop pop pop! Then she shoots the one with the broken arm in the head. The one goon hit by the chair gets up and shoots at her while backing up, she returns fire while she moves forward, they both miss and are now out of ammo. She throws the gun hitting him in the nose, as Mikey starts to get back to his feet she runs up to him and kicks him in the balls, putting him down on all fours. The thug now with a broken nose moves to fight her, she cartwheels and grabs her shoes, and her fingers in where the toes should be she raises her hands like a boxer and moves in. Swinging the stiletto like heel at him he dodges her first swing and swings at her, she doges, slashes his face with her shoe then kicks his knee with the heel of her foot braking it in 3 places. The fat Irish bastard goes down like a sack of potatoes. Mikey gets his gun out and she directs her attention to him, he pops off a shot and misses, she throws her shoe as him as she runs towards him. She grabs his gun hand and twists, hitting him in the face. He drops the gun and she kicks it away, she swings him a round and puts her arm around his neck from behind and bends him backwards then pulling sharply at his head she snaps his neck and he falls limp twitch on the floor. She grabs his gun and fishes out Mikey's keys, puts on her shoes and opens the bay door. The wind howls and cuts through her again. She walks off to finish the night’s work. Her name is Cafe Noir, her mom loves movies from the 70s and here in Boston some just refer to her as... The Transporter