And then the door to the pub crashed open and in stepped a gloriously blond Amazon, aiming two gleaming silver pistols at the Monsieur. She was at least six foot six, and every curve on her was exaggerated, her tiny rock hard waist, her bountiful bosoms that pulled at the constraints of her button down shirt, her ass, oh her ass with it's firm and rippled glutes that reminded Swotsy of nothing less than a prize race horse. Her muscled shoulders filled the door frame.

All the little people looked up at her and gasped. As did Swotsy. Poor confused Swotsy, her head spun, her loins burned.

The Monsieur, however narrowed his eyes and stalked the floor. Dwarves scattered to all corners.

There was no time for confusion. Swotsy pulled her weapon, as did all the other police in the room and the Monsieur just laughed.

"Those will not harm me." He tossed the nearest police man into the wall, and he grunted and slid down to the floor, unconscious. The hail of bullets that followed, he just laughed off. When it quieted, and the dwarves all peeked from behind their cover,

The blond goddess spoke. "But mine will. They are silver... that would be poison to your system wouldn't it?"

"The Giant Queen!" they dwarves whispered in awe from their hiding places. "The Giant Queen."

From her great height, the Amazon, looked down upon them and the whispers ended.

"I've got your back, Captain Velkiris. I don't know how you knew what was going on, but I'm ready," Joe said, his trusty gun warm in his hand.

"Stand down, Sargeant," she said, her steely eyes never leaving the Monsieur's. "I sent you in here without knowledge and without the proper equipment. Your bullets will just pass through him. If I had prepared you, if you had known, the Monsieur would never have exposed himself by following you in here. I needed you to be too attractive to his needs. I needed you as bait. And he was, wasn't he, Monsieur?"

The Monsieur hissed.

He didn't know why he did it. It was a nonsensical choice, the opposite of everything he had ever learned in the Special Forces. It was almost as if he was possessed by the spirit of his mother. He could hear her voice in her head, as she led him through the routine, just like she had when he was little. Oh, those days were the best days, his mom, in her sober moments, in the yard of the house, teaching Joe and Violet the routine that they would perform every year for the Christmas pageant.

He remembered how their little circus number had made Randy feel uncomfortable. They had always laughed at him for it, but he could see the deep unease in his eyes when they did it. Right now, Randy thought he was in control, covered in blood, holding Bill's old gun steady on the pair of them. Gloating.

He whispered into Violet's ear, "remember the lift."

A flash of understanding entered into her tear stained, shocked eyes, and all she had to do was blink to tell him she knew what he wanted. And then, with a tensing of his muscles and an effortless grace on her part, they started the routine.

Randy

This All Makes Perfect Sense

. . . murder and mayhem?”
“Inspector Smith-Jones, I am painfully aware that this is a most inopportune time to say this, but has anyone ever told you what lovely eyes you have?”
Inspector Smith-Jones turned away, tears suddenly welling up in the corners of her left and right eyes. She removed the tiny rainbow-colored paper umbrella from her glass and took a sip of her gin and tonic.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to . . .” Joe said, reaching out to her. Smith-Jones waved him away.
“Oh, it’s nothing,” she said, and then began to laugh. “Mostly I get comments on the size of my feet.”
“How rude. I hardly noticed them. Your feet, that is. Well perhaps when you tripped down the stairs, but that could happen to anyone. I don’t know why I said that just now about your eyes. I guess it’s all the stress, all the weirdness that’s going down. Lovely music, though.”
“It’s okay, I understand. People say strange things in situations like this. And yes, it is quite lovely. The music, that is. I've always been rather fond of James. Especially the old stuff.”
“Right. What we need to do here is focus. In fact I learned a special technique for focusing back when I was doing Special Ops for the British Army.”
“You were in the army?” she asked, somewhat surprised.“Yes, but it’s not something I like to talk about. Some really bad stuff went down back in ‘96. We were on the Menlung Glacier, hunting Yeti. I assume that you’re familiar with mountaineer Eric Shipton and his 1951 Everest Reconnaissance expedition?”
“I’ve heard the lads talking about it in the pubs now and then.”
“Well, we were doing a follow-up. What I’m now going to tell you might help you understand a little bit of what is going down here. You see Jack, Violet’s father, was my commanding officer. The second week out we came to a small village called Panda Town. That’s not what it was really called, but we named it that. You know how it is in the army. Anyhow, Jack met a lovely little native lass. She swept him off his feet. I think he was going through a mid-life crisis at the time. Anyhow, there was a third member on our team who was also a local boy.”Inspector Smith-Jones drew in a large quantity of air; “You don’t mean . . .”
“Exactly. So you see, in a way, this all makes perfect sense.” Joe raised his St Pauli Girl and drank deeply.