I was a hired geek by a gun-friendly magazine called Gun Scum, hired to infiltrate a Montana-based, fulltime, militia camp. It was a task that only a true professional could handle, and I was that professional. This job would require extra sensitive equipment and a shit-load of firepower. I would also need my assistant, the one who's always had my back and laughed in deaths face. I had to make the call to my Yakuza connection.


"Hello?"



"Hitomi! I need your assistance. How long till you can make it here? I've just chartered a private jet. We need to be on the move. We'll need the duffle bag, this will be full penetration."

"Fuck, Erik, slow down. Penetration, huh? This sounds exciting! I can be there in less then an hour." She replied in a thick Japanese accent.

"Good, wear something sexy."

I hung up the phone and went back to packing the supplies and going over the agenda. This would be a sketchy one by all definitions of the word. These groups of radicals were fifty strong, living like hermits in the thick, armed to the teeth about seventy-five miles north of Kalispell. Only god knows when the last time they'd seen an outsider; trespassers were commonly flogged and shot in the spleen, and for what ever reason they wanted an interview. Now they had words to vent about the government and Gun Scum was to be the median.

Hitomi's an amazingly ill cat to have around. She's an angelic vixen on the outside but blackened and deadly on the inside. Bi-sexual, long jet-black hair down to the middle of her heart-shaped ass, sexy scars on her face, dark mysterious features, athletic, sick fashion sense, and she's quick on the draw. She and I have been bucking for close to two years and its VERY hard to believe we haven't got over of each others presence. She's had my back in many a sticky situation and vise verse. As legend has it, Hitomi has killed more people then cancer.

Anyways, she finally shows up in this hot (and I do mean freshly stolen) Mazda RX-8 around midnight. She exited the car wearing a tight, black leather mini-skirt and a button-down white shirt, partially opened, teasing me with beautiful Asian cleavage. Fishnet stockings accentuate her beautiful legs, which are surprisingly long for a full blooded Japanese girl. She has a very large army surplus duffle bag in one arm and an overnight bag in the other.

"Impeccable timing, my love." I offered, kissing her softly on the lips.

The flight in the chartered turbo-jet was a four hour breeze, of which all cost were billed to Gun Scum. Hitomi and I bucked like retards in the back of the plane over body shots of Jack Daniels then changed into our black jumpsuits, draping them over Kevlar vests. We took an inventory of what was included in the duffel bag: Desert Eagle (naturally), 2X HK USP .45, 2X Ingram Mac 10 with sound suppressors, S&W .44 Magnum, 2X 9 mm Berretta with sound suppressors, .32 Berretta Tomcat, AK-47 with ten fully loaded hundred round drums, AR-15, twelve hand grenades, a katana, knives, shoulder holsters, ankle holsters, and bandoleers for magazines. All of which was concealed under dark trench coats.

We had our pilot radio down to the militia camp, asking to light up the runway.
"Here, take this." I said to Dutch, our pilot, handing him the AR-15 and .44 Magnum. "Things could get ugly with this group of radicals and we need to insure your safety." Dutch understood this without any questions. He and I have been down similar roads.
"Let's get into character," I turned to Hitomi, who was looking as excited as a kid at Christmas.

The plane landed with great ease on the dirt runway. Before Hitomi and I left the plane we gave an extra radio to Dutch and asked him to stay sharp.
We were greeted by a burly-ass man who smelled foul and spit chew spit towards my feet. He said his name was Sergeant Hawthorne. The scenery was amazing. A fifty acre clearance just passed the runway, secluded in dense pines. The air was so crisp it singed my senses. Up some one-hundred feet was a two-story compound which was the bases operations and barracks.

"You guys never said anything about bringing a slope along. What's her story, son?" The Sergeant asked, eye-balling Hitomi.

"She's my assistant. If she can't be here then I'm not here either. If you want your story told then I'm afraid you'll have to succumb." I eyed him crossly, like a snake does a mouse.

The sergeant scratched his ass, "well I suppose, son. We have people all over this place and we tend to stay to our own kind." I could see the blood boil in Hitomi's beautiful face. She started to bite her lip. "Follow me, let's make this brief", the Sergeant ordered us.
We followed him through a maze of dim-lit corridors. Other people within the camp eyed the interlopers suspiciously, talking about gooks and chinks, making the air stagnate and uncomfortable. Some other people were making "I want to fuck you" gestures to Hitomi, who passed this off as another common advance. Everyone we passed was armed with either a holstered pistol or a rifle slung over their shoulder. The popular hairstyle seemed to be the Mullet which caused Hitomi and me to make remarks about in Japanese. We started to giggle a little bit until we were interrupted.

"Well if it's funny in gook then it's got to be funny in English, so what's so fucking funny?" We were asked by a man dressed in full military garb. He was distinguished as a General and I assumed he was Maddox, the man I came to interview. He was surrounded by three guards, each armed with military issue M-16s.

"Maddox, I presume?" I asked extending my hand in a friendly gesture. "We were just assuming that the people of this camp were hockey players, you know, by their hair styles."

"No one plays hockey here, boy". He replied embracing my hand. "The only sport we have is shooting and stringing up the enemy."

I pressed my recorder on. "Let's get on with this sir. My assistant and I understand that your time is pres-"

"You want to know why we're holed up here, boy?" The sixty year old man asked.
"You tell me and I'll tell the world"

"It's because of people like you, havin a fucking foreigner at your side. That's the very problem, boy, get it? You shouldn't have this worthless chink at your side but a hard-working white man, whom will do you right. Look at the state our government is in, Christ, how can the bastards in DC call this America? There are now more niggers, kikes, spicks, and gooks then there are NATIVE born white people in our political offices, calling the shots. Well I'll be dipped in cow shit if they'll be calling OUR shots. What's your little slope friend working off of, a green card?" He laughed and pointed at Hitomi, who now had the murderous look in her eyes.

I looked Hitomi's way. She had her hand in a jacket pocket, fumbling with something. Sweet baby Jesus, what is she going to do? What the blue-fuck has Gun Scum got me into? God Damn, I'm only being paid two grand for this life threatening, piece of shit interview!

"So you see boy, you'll find that this is our land, where we govern ourselves, and exercise our rights to bear arms. And anyone whom trespasses or gets in our way gets either shot or strung up in a tree." He was looking right at Hitomi, attempting to strike fear in her heart. My body washed with adrenaline, making my mouth saucy, I knew what was coming. I understood Hitomi's rage. It was my attraction to her.

"I asked you a question, nip. You workin off a green card or what?" He persisted outstretching his right hand, pointing at Hitomi.

Hitomi was now smiling wildly as she answered Maddox, "As will find, asshole, I ONLY WORK WITH DEATH!!!" She hissed, drawing a throwing knife from the trench coat pocket and flinging it with lightning speed. The knife sizzled through the air completely severing the general's right hand and then imbedded into the crotch of one of his guards. The general let out a scream in disbelief as the wounded guard slumped to the ground groaning in misery.

I snapped both my arms down and drew the dual 9 mm Berettas from my wrist-sliding holsters and spit hot lead into the faces of the other two guards. POOF! POOF! POOF! The silenced bullets punched skin singing holes in their faces, splattering brains and skull against the wall behind; their bodies fell down like a sack of potatoes. Hitomi was now standing on the table, over the wounded General, her trench coat open, seductively withdrawing her deadly katana. This sight made me aroused like crazy. I wanted to buck her right there on the table but this wasn't the time for bare-assed action.

"Now you will taste my cold steel, General," Hitomi said looking down on the General then made an effortless swipe with the blade. The General's mouth hung open in a big sloppy O and his head slumped forward then slid apart from the neck falling to the floor. Rivers of blood spurted then flowed from the stump where his head once rested.

"Well sweetie," I said to Hitomi while I removed my trench coat, "I've had better interviews."

"Yes, I know this," she answered, "you have also had better interviewees".

"Dutch, get that plane in the air. We'll radio you when it's safe to land. If you don't hear from us within an hour and a half just head home without us. Break radio silence in one point five hours".

"Roger, Erik. Killing the radio. Gods speed and best o'luck, you two." I could hear the turbines fire up in the back round. I knew this would alarm the militia members. Our riddance of the General was quick and silent but things were about to liven up fast.
I grabbed some thin rope out of the corner of floor and made my way to the door. I could hear footsteps scurrying over head. I was sure they were heading this way. I then fastened two hand grenades to the wall near the bottom of the door and looped the rope to the pins, then looping that around the doorknob. Some real MacGyver shit.
Hitomi was removing her trench coat, looking down at the soldiers I'd smoked when she 86ed the General. The guard with the knife embedded in his crotch stopped playing dead and started to cry. Hitomi kneeled down and started to toy with him.

"Look at you, you look so cute with those tears. Please, baby, don't cry", she whispered into his ear, sucking on his earlobe, "can you still get aroused with that hunk of steel in there?" She asked grabbing the knife and twisting it. The faceless guard opened his mouth as if to scream in terror but Hitomi silenced him quickly by sticking an Ingram in his mouth.

"Keep quiet, little man. I'm sure you'll have some last words for a loved one, huh?" She asked. "Erik, would you like to relay a message from this dying man to his wife or mother?" She asked me.

"Stop fucking around, girl." I snapped back, flipping the steal table on its side so the top faced the door, "This is gonna get serious-"

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!
Fuck. At this moment my heart skipped a beat. I knew the ugly truth of which was behind the door. Some real life and death shit. As many times as I've put myself or have been put in this situation there is always the fear of the immediate future. Fear of the bullet.
"General?" knock… knock… knock… "It's Cleaves, sir, is everything ok? That jet has left, sir. General?" I could see the doorknob barley start to turn. Hitomi was paying close attention to recent developments and decided to swiftly remove the blade from the tortured guards crotch and plow it twice into his heart, covering his mouth with her other hand. A little blood sprayed her gorgeous face resembling melancholic freckles. Her eyes widened as she crawled to meet me behind the table.

"Are you ready for this?" She asked me as I chewed two xanax and slammed a drum into my AK-47.

"Oh baby, you know it."

The door swung open and what looked like four figures came stumbling in, their faces looking like they knew they'd been had.

"Oh fuck."

BOOM! The two grenades went off sending people pieces in all directions. Hitomi and I still fired rounds into the massive flesh casserole just to make sure. Three more people stumbled in and were mowed down by my AK-47 and Hitomi's dual Mac-10s. We started to grope aggressively behind the table until we heard what sounded like an air-raid horn and somebody over a PA system.

"We must kill the interlopers! The General has been killed, repeat, The General has been killed! We must make them pay and set an example for the US government!"

"Oh fuck that shit," Hitomi added, "Nobody will make an example out of me!"

We peeked over the side of the table and could see two more silhouettes holding M-16s.
"Look! Behind the table! Suppressive fire!" The militia members cried, sending hot lead into and above the table. This seemed to go on forever but they ran out of ammunition and took a break to reload. Hitomi and I lobbed three grenades into the hallway and made our way closer to the door. We could hear…

"oh shit."

BOOM!
We then exited the room that housed the corpse of the dead General. In the hallway were random arms, legs, and people screaming in wretchedness. "It burns! It Burns! Momma! Someone help us, OH MY GOD!!!" Hitomi and I put these pieces of meat out of their misery by dropping caps into their skulls.

There was movement all around. I took small arms fire in the back but the Kevlar saved me. I turned and faced my assailant sending rounds from my AK his way but he had ducked behind a curve in the hall and scampered away. Hitomi assumed lead, kicking in doors and spraying rooms with red-hot projectiles from her Macs. She wore an ear to ear grin on her face the whole time while humming "Battle Hymn of the Republic". Her face snickering in total murderous concentration.

We separated and I was pinned down by four brutes, throwing everything at me from shotgun shells to .22 cal bullets. The drywall next to my head was exploding as shells sizzled through the air. I reached for another hand grenade but found I was all out. Fucking unfortunate. The AK wouldn't do me very much good in this tight situation so I slung it around my back and reach above my ass for the dual HK USP .45s. I blindly reached around the corner and fired several shots into their general vicinity then chilled trying to listen to pain.

"Hey Zeke? Zeke? SONOFABITCH! You done killed Zeke! You gonna die, motherfucker!" The incensed man made a mad dash in my direction against the wishes of his comrades. As soon as he got to the corner where I was pinned I dropped to the floor and fired a balled fist right into his gut, causing him to drop his shotgun. I busted a cap into his left foot and grappled with him until I was behind him and could use him as a human shield. I dashed out of the corner, guns blazing, and was met by two armed goons who dumbly sent a volley of fire right into the chest of my shield. I dropped the dead weight and dove to my left, unloading my .45s into their chests. Blood discharged out of their mouths as the men let out a whimper and dropped. I walked over to where the bodies were to double check my handy work and was hit with a powerful blast knocking me face-forward into the corpses.

Meanwhile, Hitomi was in a world of shit of her own and I wasn't there to back her.
"We're gonna get you, you fucking gook cunt! We're gonna kill you then fuck you, bitch!" They pestered and taunted.

"Not while I still breathe, MOTHERFUCKERS!" Hitomi dashed from behind her cover, Macs spitting lead, she growled like an animal. "I ALWAYS PREVAIL!"

She charged a group of five blood thirsty militia men, taking shells to the Kevlar pressing onward with true warrior spirit. She had 86ed all but two of them when her Macs ran out of ammo. She dropped her weapons and somersaulted on the ground, taking a .32 to the arm, and popped up holding a shotgun, right in the face of the enemy. She twirled the shotgun over her head, slamming the butt of the weapon against the man's jaw dislodging teeth, and jammed the barrel of the gun upwards into the mans belly then pulled the trigger (BOOM) completely annihilating his upper half. The last man standing held his revolver to Hitomi's face.

"Now you is gonna die, slope." The enemy informed. Hitomi smiled, blood poured from a bullet graze on her face right across her cheek, holding her wounded arm. "Do as you please, sir. It would appear you are the one with the gun. You can do anything you want." Hitomi offered seductively. Her smile only widened as she opened wide and stuck the barrel of the man's revolver inside her mouth. Her eyes never left his.
Fuck, this is nice and quite, I thought to myself. No more explosions no more people crying in misery. I'm pretty comfortable right now, other then this wolverine gnawing on my arm, OWE!! MY ARM AND SHOULDER! Owwweeee, FUCK!! Where the fuck am I? How long have I been passed out like this? One day? Two?

My eyes opened and I was not dead. Instead I am face first in a rotting corpse. Somewhere off in the distance I could barley make out what sounds like the sheer cries of a man. Probably someone we've wounded. Better him then myself or Hitomi.
"HITOMI!" I turned over and cried, my arms outstretched, blood pouring from my left arm and shoulder, reaching for her. She's not here. May be dead.

"Hitomi, huh? That slope ain't nowhere near here, boy." I jumped, startled, an unfamiliar voice insures me while he cocked his shotgun. A familiar sound. Off in the distance the man's voice screams louder, more miserable then ever. This is followed by a couple gun shots and dead silence. The lights have dimmed, as a matter of fact, they've all been turned off. The compound is now running off generators. All the lights have turned from soft white to blood red. The smell of smoke is apparent and ominous. There is electricity in the air. The aura and wretch of death is everywhere.

"Well sir seeing how your up there and I'm down here, on my ass-. " I'm interrupted by a barrel jabbing into my head. This splits the skin about five inches above my left eye. My accelerated heart-rate causes the blood to ooze.

"Ouch. You dick"

"We been expecting you two strangers for a long time. We had ourselves a little run-in with the ATF about six months ago. They wanted us to hand over ninety-five percent of our weapons and we done told them to fuck right off. About one week prior to the twos of you we received a VERY threatening letter from the CIA's antiterrorist department and the Department of Homeland Security saying that if we didn't turn over our weapons they would use excessive force, media be damned. Well here you two are and what a mess you've created."

This was all becoming so much more clear. All of it. Gun Scum never existed, shit, I've had subscriptions to all kinds of pro-gun magazines for years and years and I've never heard of them. Unbelievable! This is why they sought me out for this mission and asked I armed myself excessively and concealed the weapons. It became plain as day. Hitomi and I were here to do the ATF's and Homelands dirty-work. Those shysters! Gun Scum was an ATF and Homeland Security front!

The man continued as I lit a cigarette, "So you see…" briefly interrupted by more gunshots in the distance and the sound of an animal growling. "We trained and trained and trained for six months, expecting you folks, thinking that we had what it took to totally overthrow the government. And alas we are wiped out by a tiny Jap bitch and an ugly skinny bastard from California." He pauses briefly. "Well, almost wiped out." The deranged man then starts to kick me, starting with a blow to the head then kicks to the body. "You sonsofbitches done killed my brother and my nephew! Now you gonna die!" He rages cocking his shotgun and pointing it at my head. I take a long pull off my cigarette and … BLAM!

I reach upwards and feel my head and feel the pain associated with it. This pain is good now. My head is still there! I STILL LIVE! I looked towards my potential murderer, my vision obscured by a trail of blood washing over my left eye. Oh my god, it's Hitomi! She is wrestling with this monstrous man and it looks like she is loosing the struggle. She appears tired, dilapidated, and seasoned. I make my way to my feet and hobble towards the skirmish. I start to deliver kicks into the mans face while Hatomi fights to keep his hands pinned. Her and I switched at her command and I now grapple to keep the enemy's hands pinned to the floor.

"Hold that BITCH down NOW, god damn it!" She commanded me, blood and saliva spitting through her words while she twisted a butterfly knife through the air. I complied and before I could exhort anymore effort to the conflict I heard this CRUNCH, and the mans body ceased to resist. Then again, CRUNCH, CRUNCH, CRUNCH, CRUNCH, CRUNCH, CRUNCH, CRUNCH, blood and teeth fly through the air, CRUNCH, CRUNCH, CRUNCH, CRUNCH, CRUNCH, CRUNCH, we are now lathered in brain matter, CRUNCH, CRUNCH, CRUNCH, followed by insane laughter, followed by sorrow, and what sounded like children crying. Children and woman crying?

Hitomi finally decided to stop stabbing his face when his face finally caved in, resembling something out of a cartoon, but totally real, so I guess not really like a cartoon. Her face was a stark expression of emptiness. It was the same kind of emptiness I was feeling but just not expressing. She was ill looking and not in the good way, pale, then she started to laugh, "Fuck, did you see that shit cave in? Look at that fat fucks brains!" More nervous laughter. "Do you hear that, it's fucking creeping me out!" She asked looking wide-eyed across the room, referring to the sobs of woman and children.
"Yeah I hear it too, hold on a sec-" I vomited right next to the dead guys caved in face. It was a nasty mixture of blood and bile. My body feels ancient and decrepit, as if I'd just aged fifty years in the span of one long-ass hour.

"Pussy." Hitomi jokes while lovingly rubbing the back of my neck.

"Daddy! Daddy! Mommy, why won't daddy wake up? Why is he bleeding?" "Oh my GOD! Jim, baby, wake up! Wake Up! Oh, please, Jesus, someone help us! Someone Help us!! Oh God!!! "

Fuck, I don't want to be hearing this. I really don't. The laws of cause and effect are at hand. The yen and yang.

Shit, I knew who was responsible for this and it was making my heart hurt and stomach curdle. Hitomi was smiling at all this as if it was her cherry on top. Sick bitch, figures, I thought. She and I simultaneously arose to our feet, leaning on each other, using each other to keep ourselves off the floor. She picked up a Tech-9 off the floor and groaned audibly on the way back up, holding her lower back, while I withdrew my trusty Desert Eagle. I asked her for her radio since mine was all shot up, she complied.

"Dutch, are you still around? Dutch, copy." I inquired to the man above.

Silence.

"Dutch? Are you there?"

Static followed my question and then,
"Erik? Fuck am I glad to hear you. Permission to land?"

"Granted, Dutch. I wanna go home. I just want to go home."

"Roger, Erik. See you in twenty minutes. There is a fire on the west end of the structure. I'd get out of there ASAP"

"Copy Dutch, thanks old man."

Click.

We were making our way outside through the smoky corridors of carnage and despair. Hitomi and I would pass the occasional "out of control" wife or girlfriend, who'd pick up a weapon and receive a bullet for it from the both of us as soon as we passed her off as deadly. They'd drop down to the floor, fishing like people do when they receive a fatal blow, and their son or daughter would cry at their chest, realizing they'd lost both their mother and father in the same night and their lives would never be the same again.
On the way out, Hitomi took three more shots to the Kevlar from a .25 caliber wielded by twelve year old girl who saw that the only effect it had was an, "uuuggghhh" from her.
"My parents are now dead! My family is all dead!" The child exclaimed through a river of sobs and tears.

"As are mine," Hitomi answered as the girl, pointing the Tech-9 at the child dressed in a blood-stained grey dress, obviously hand crafted by a loved one. "Try to enjoy the rest of your life, ok?" Hitomi offered the little girl, trying to smile, while she lowered her weapon. The child stuck the barrel of the gun against her right temple and pulled the trigger. Prepubescent grey matter and skull fragments shot out a hole the size of a plum from the left side, a couple inches above the temple.

"Oh Fuck! I'm SO over this, Erik!" Hitomi released me and took a knee then vomited on a pile of empty shell casings and a random leg. Even the insensitive Hitomi has a breaking point.

This suicide enraged four more adults, screaming, fuming, men and women who were laid to rest by me and my Desert Eagle. I took two shots from a semi-automatic of sorts to the back of my Kevlar and unloaded Desert Eagle on my, would be, killer. The kid didn't look much older then fifteen. I picked Hitomi up off the ground. It was obvious she was trying not to cry.

"Hadn't you idiots enough blood shed! This place is burning to the ground, get the fuck out or, by Christ, your all dead!" I snarled, loading a fresh magazine into my pistol. I didn't receive a response to this, only blank, questioning, glazed over glares. Blank expressions of total devastation.

The jet touched down right outside and it was music to my ears. I could see our way out and all of its beautiful specter. Sunbeams of the rising sun blasted through the open door like the hands of Christ and Satan coming to take away all the souls Hitomi and I had offered to them. Lord knows these people were not Buddhist.

Dutch pulled a golf cart to the door where we were lying. We loaded Hitomi up on a very small dosage of morphine then I took an injection myself. I'd been lugging Hitomi around since I blazed that last kid and her dead weight killed the VERY last of my energy.
"Jesus Erik, I've seen some bad sides of you two but is bar none-", Dutch started.
"I hadn't…don't want to hear about it. Lets fucking leave now, old man." My words slurring. "I need to feed the wolverines." I was awake.

"It's ok, Erik, we're already airborne. Take a shower and get some rest." Dutch eyed me suspiciously.

This was true, after the morphine injection into the vein I do not remember us taking off, hopping on the plane, or being some twenty thousand feet in the air, drooling and slumped in the co-pilots seat.

I staggered towards the back of the luxury-jet and found Hitomi sleeping soundlessly. I feared waking her up.

"Baby, get up." I nudged her softly. "Get up honey, we need to freshen up."

"Oh Erik, you need to feed Muffin Cakes. They are all so lonely and hungry. I miss my mom, I really do. It's too cold in here. And I love you soooo… We should die together, lovingly; only in death do we part." Her eyes rolled to the back of her head. She was as pale as a ghost and it was obvious that she in some sort of shock. I did manage to make her conscious enough to completely disrobe her. Her beautiful body, dear God; black, red, and blue polka dots everywhere from bullets slamming into Kevlar. There would have been less pain if the bullets made it through the armor, however there would have been so much more pain. Two different sides of the spectrum.

I took an inventory of the damage to her. One ruptured disk in the spine close to the tailbone, three broken ribs, a bullet graze on her right cheek, two grazes on the scalp revealing bald crevasses, a surprisingly clean gunshot wound to the left arm, another graze on her right thigh, and missing about a quarter of her upper right ear. She was still so beautiful to me as she still is to this day.

I then lovingly bathed her, then dressed her wounds, stitching her up to the best of my ability, reattaching petals to a rose. I fed her two oxycotin and an ambien and watched her fall fast asleep.

It was now my turn. Dutch put the plane on auto-pilot and helped me out of my jumpsuit and armor.

"Like I was saying, Erik, you really look like shit. Really banged up. Lets see here…"
My body too was all blackened and blue, I had buckshot embedded in my left arm and left shoulder, a graze in my lower left ankle, a graze across the back of my neck, a graze across my scalp, a laceration to my head, multiple concussions, a hairline fracture to my skull, one broken rib, and a scratch to the surface of my left eye.

Dutch stitched me up with craftsmanship and expertise. Like I said previously, Dutch and I had been down similar roads.

I don't remember falling fast asleep but I do remember being woken up be three huge thugs in Armani suits. The plane had landed, Dutch was VERY busy with the task of cleaning up the plane, a task I was fortunate enough to dodge. Hitomi was still passed out, snoring very loudly.

"Mr. Swinesen, my name is Agent Peccia, ATF. To my left is Agent Green and my right is Agent Torres."

"Gentleman." I replied. I was in an immense amount of pain. More morphine was in order, I decided spiking my veins in front of these fed swine was not acceptable so I crushed up two oxycotin and snorted them off the table. Fuck em if they can't a joke.

"We'd like to talk to you about what happened in Montana, Erik." Agent Torres started.
"What happened in Montana, sir?" I sarcastically asked.

"That's exactly the answer we're looking for. You see, what you and you little sleeping beauty over there was huge to America on many different scales. We are honestly surprised to see the two of you still alive."

"Thanks, that's reassuring."

"You saved the American tax payers well over twelve-million dollars by demolishing that camp. Perhaps saved a couple federal lives as well, you know, men with families. Did you know that, Erik?"

Rushes of pain relieving goodness washed over me. I opened an icy bottle of water and drank aggressively, way parched. "No sir, I thought some magazine wanted an interview, that's all. I knew these people were armed to the teeth so I thought I'd bring a friend to back me up and arm ourselves as well. Any of you chaps want a beer, perhaps some whiskey, a pull off a blunt?" I was buzzing again, feeling better in the worst way.

"No thanks Erik. Your hospitality is too kind."

I sparked the victory blunt.

"As a token of our appreciation to what you and your lady friend over there did we'd like to offer this to you. As insurance that you NEVER speak A WORD of this to anybody, EVER. Do I make myself clear?" Agent Green asked as I was lobbed a heavy briefcase.
I opened it up and Agent Peccia started in again, "That's fifty-thousand, Swinesen. That should be more then enough to keep your mouth shut, eh?"

"That and then some, sir. I'm glad Hitomi and I could be a service to our great nation." I opened the case, my mouth salivating like crazy. I couldn't believe it! All the murder, justified by one briefcase full of cold hard cash.

"Enjoy yourself, Erik. Please take some time off, rest and heal. I'm sure America will need your services again".

"Thank you, gentlemen", I replied. "I'll be looking forward to our next encounter."
The feds left the plane and I instantly awoke Hitomi and informed her of the news. She was still under heavy-sedation and seemed not to care.

We left the plane and hired a limo to take us home. Prior to leaving I kicked fifteen K to Dutch for a job well done. Hitomi finally came to and awoke instantly, grinning madly at the sight of all the cash. I explained the story to her. She seemed more pissed that our beloved government used us, but as far as she was concerned the payout was worth it.
The next couple of days Hitomi became VERY close, never really leaving each others sight, watching over each other like two destined guardian angels. Making sure we healed and catered to each others needs.

We bought annual passes to Disneyland where we showered tourist with random gifts of kindness. Stupid shit like, intervening in people buying lunch and picking up the tab, plush toys for children, and sweaters for people whom complained of the cold. The expression on their faces was priceless. I suppose it was a way to make our Karma better…




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