Fatal Urge Carefree Kiss

 


 

 

 

 

 

 

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A Fatal Urge For: Carefree Kiss:

 

 

 

 

 

Mishiida Alexander

 

“It’s a myth people find love. None ever has, none ever will. It’s always love that finds people.”

 

Chapter Two: You found me!! (Part I)

 

As a neutral spectator standing outside the confines of our universe, the first thing we may notice about it may perhaps be how crowded it is with galaxies, stars, planets, comets, rocks and gases. The next moment will belong to the dawn of the realization, how lonely everything is among this crowd, everything busy with it’s own lonely monotonous routine. Our lives have so much in common with our universe, of which we are just a tiny negligible part, perhaps mere aberrations of reality.

 

 

 

Lost in our chain of errant philosophies we are trailing hot on the heals of our intriguing guest as she speeds down Stuart Highway, away from Adelaide and deep towards the desert. The speed limit signs exist for dummies and people on road need to learn how to give way to the vehicle coming head on. And the vocabulary everyone is using is not the best one to be taught to a guest. We are sure she’ll have her first encyclopaedia of abuses ready for publishing by the time she gets to wherever she is headed to. A siren distracts us from the road in front as we turn our heads and see a hapless cop car trying to chase this, unknown to them, alien vehicle which is moving at a speed we are sure it might have as well flown to avoid the wear and tear of it’s tyres. The cops give up the chase but we are not impressed, looks like there will be trouble heading her way finally.

 

 

 

We turn around to have another look if the cops are following us when we suddenly bump into the back of our not so friendly friend’s vehicle and fall on our bums onto the road and are dragged behind her was-craft-now-van as it bumps to a halt, thankfully before our bum skin was shaved of our bones unlike our now rag jeans. Didn’t even show the courtesy of letting us know before hand she was stopping, or perhaps being forced to stop. She slowly pulls her craft off the road into the sand.

 

 

 

We walk to the side of one of the windows and peep inside the vehicle. She is sitting behind a wheel which looks more like the handle of a fighter jet in a typical cockpit styled cabin. We notice how a bright green light is flashing in one of the gizmos that forms a part of her craft’s dashboard. She shuffles around a few control knobs, pushes a few buttons as we hear the sound of the engines dying down. She pushes a lever and the door of her craft opens again as she hops out of the craft, looking stunning in her now shorts and top outfit with long high heeled boots. Her hair still tied in a pony tail and her blue eyes showing intense displeasure at the whole situation. She kicks her vehicle as if saying, “You knuckle-doodle!” She pulls out a remote control from one of the rectangular pouches hanging by the side of her white belt and presses a few digits. The vehicle lifts itself in the air, it’s tyres are withdrawn and we notice a single jet lining it’s lower end blowing sand around it into a pit.

 

 

 

It’s all very confusing as we cannot make head from tail about what’s going on. We look at our wrists to check what time it is and we realize we’ve lost our watch. Perhaps it fell on the road while she was waxing our bums, so we check the road but it is nowhere to be found. Perhaps we dropped it in the pub she just been to earlier, where she killed three and a half men earlier. We look at her as she is busy digging a hole and we hope she will perhaps bury herself along with her craft in the same hole although we know it’s hoping against hope. We decide to have a quick dash back to the pub to look for our watch.

 

 

 

In a flash we get back to the pub and the first thing we realize is that all four of them are still alive even though badly injured. The one she had flung back to the wall was only knocked unconscious by her kick collapsing his trachea momentarily blocking his breathing passage, while the two who have a leg each as a part of half a chair sticking inside their chest only have one punctured lung each. They fainted instantly as one of their lungs had collapsed and started to fill up with fluid. The fourth one was one limb less but still alive with a hope of getting his arm restored to his body with restricted movement for the rest of his life. We quickly rush inside where we see a very badly shaken pub owner crying and narrating the incident to the police as his wife is seen comforting him.

 

 

 

“I am telling you officer she was insane. She was something else. The way she flung my good old mate Mike meters behind into the wall with one kick and the way she tore apart the steel frame of the chair, I tell you she is no ordinary woman. She is insane. She didn’t drink wine, instead she ate the glass,” the owner was narrating the incident to the officer.

 

 

 

“That’s fine Stewart, we’ll check all of that in detail when we see the CCTV footage,” the officer questioning him replied.

 

 

 

“I am sorry officer but there is a technical problem with our video surveillance system and the company hasn’t sent anyone to have a look at it despite three reminders. So you won’t get anything from the CCTV footage officer,” the pub owner’s wife added helplessly shrugging her shoulders.

 

 

 

As we are overhearing the conversation while busy searching for our watch, an officer rushes in, “Sir, just heard a call on the radio. A vehicle similar to the one these people have described was seen speeding up north at more than three hundred kilometres per hour on Stuart Highway.”

 

 

 

“Three hundred kilometres per hour!?” the senior officer exclaimed in amazement, “Call for a chopper back up. Let’s not waste anymore time.”

 

 

 

He then turned to the pub owner and said, “Look, we’ll send a forensic portrait artist to you to create a picture of the suspect. You can give him all the details about how she looked etc. We’ll try our best to nab her.”

 

 

 

The pub owner nodded and they all rushed out towards their cars to follow the lead. We just find our watch in the flower vase by the side of the bar and we rush back to the one we were so keenly following a few moments back.

 

 

 

When we get back to her we notice she has dug up a hole big enough to fit her vehicle in it. She hops back onto the vehicle as we wait outside wondering if we should also hop on and have a look and feel of the vehicle from the inside. While we are still undecided as to what to do, she returns towing two huge cases behind her. She hops out of her vehicle and pulls out her remote once again, presses some buttons and her craft sinks into the hole completely. She jumps onto the roof of it and opens up a lid in the middle of it where we notice a small screen with a lot of buttons on a pad below it and many coloured wires around it. She punches some data into the microchip housed in that box, then opens a small circular flap on her left wrist band and rotates a dial inside it and looks like all is set as to the location of her craft as she gets off the roof of her craft and out of the hole.

 

 

 

She opens up a small hatch on the side of one of the boxes she had pulled out and a pipe emerges out of it. We notice a small control panel on top of the box. She punches some data into it via it’s associated keypad and the pipe starts blowing sand on top of her craft. The power packed in her device is immense and it covers the hole in dirt in less than a minute. In fact if we hadn’t latched onto one of her heals at the last moment we ourselves would have been used as a part of the sand covering.

 

 

 

All is now set for her to set on foot we think when our thoughts are broken by a buzzing sound that is getting louder with each passing second. We turn around towards the small town we just came from and we notice two police helicopters fast approaching us. Sensing the gravity of the situation we decide for our own good to walk across the road to the other side and watch the next bit of action from the farther side.

 

 

 

We notice her looking towards the approaching air and land traffic as well, at full throttle with sirens blowing. She slowly walks towards the road, leaving her boxes on the sand, walking slowly with her hands held on her hips, putting one leg in front at a time, majestically, heel first followed by the toes, much like a Victoria’s secret model. She stops right in the middle of the road, standing there with right hand on her hip while left sitting relaxed on her left thigh, her body weight balanced on right leg and left foot pointing straight to us and there we are ready to duck for cover in case the need be.

 

 

 

The traffic arrives in quick time and screeches to a halt in even quicker time.

 

 

 

“Lady, are you out of your mind? What are you doing in the middle of the road and in the middle of the desert?” the officer driving the first car yells at her.

 

 

 

We notice the officer we saw in the pub who was getting her description from the pub owner peeping out of the window and realizing instantly, she’s the one they are looking for. Her clothes, her hairstyle and above all the black tattoo marks around her eyes are a clear give away.

 

 

 

“She’s the one. Arrest her,” the officer yells at the top of his voice.

 

 

 

“Yes Sir!” a young constable replies, hops out of his car, pulls out a handcuff and says, “Lady, you are under arrest for hooliganism, assault, attempt to murder, excessive speeding. You have the right to stay silent. Anything you may say can and will be used against you in the court of law. Please turn around and put your hands behind your back.”

 

 

 

She is however unmoved. She didn’t understand a word he said, nor what he is asking her to do, nor she understands why and what is happening. The officer repeats his warning but when she doesn’t move, two more officers hop out of their cars and circle her. They repeat the warning the third time but when she doesn’t move, one of them tries to grab her arm.

 

 

 

She may not understand the language but she definitely understands when she is under attack, in a flash she grabs the officer from his arm, pulls him above her head and tosses him across the road towards where we are. We duck to escape being bodily hit and turn around to see the officer taking three or four stumbles in sand. Meanwhile the second officer has pulled out a capsicum spray can and sprays it directly in her eyes. She doesn’t even blink while the spray makes the two officers still left standing cry painfully. She grabs the first officer from his collars and kicks him in his groin with her knee as he collapses to the ground and then grabs the other officer and tosses him over his car. Meanwhile the other officers have jumped out of their vehicles and the two choppers have surrounded her with officers ready with their guns. One more warning is given and an officer rushes at her with his stun-gun, but the stun gun fails to have any affect on her. Rather the officer is grabbed and tossed in air as he finds himself seated next to his mate on one of the helicopters holding a machine gun.

 

 

 

By that time the officer in charge has had enough and gives the order, “Fire!”

 

 

 

We close our ears with our hands as we see bullets fired at her from every side while she still stood there in the middle of the road with her hands on her hips. As lead is pumped through the thin air, one of the bullets hits and opens the flap of her waist belt and another bullet hits a button inside it.

 

 

 

In a flash her belt opens up along with the clothes she is wearing and they together fall off to the ground just below her feet behind her heels as the feminine marvel that she is, is exposed to the world. Everyone standing there, including us, feel their jaws dropping down below their knees as we look astonished at the incomparable beauty that beholds us.

 

 

 

“Stop the fire!” we hear the commanding officer give his order as an after thought without realizing, nobody was firing anymore. Everyone had their eyes opened wide and glued to her like a magnet. One of the new recruits however lost control of his finger and a bullet shot out of the pistol he was holding in his hands.

 

 

 

Stuck in amazement, like everybody else, we notice the bullet labour it’s way inch by inch, millimetre by millimetre towards it’s intended target as if even the bullet didn’t want to hit what it was heading towards. Finally after a long delay of a few milliseconds, the bullet finally approached one of her feminine prides to hit it with all it’s might. As it hits her body, we notice two surprising things. Firstly, the bullet lost it’s shape completely on hitting her and ricocheted. Secondly, at the point of impact of the bullet, we notice the sand coloured skin covering her body temporarily ruptures revealing a dark, black underlying hard layer which damages the bullet, before the outer skin grew back again to make her body look like normal again.

 

 

 

The ricocheted bullet hits the leg of the commanding officer as he falls down to the ground in pain, shouting, “Stop firing your idiots.”

 

 

 

“Sorry Captain,” one of the constables who happened to have fired the bullet replied.

 

 

 

Everything has stopped for a moment in the heart of the desert at that time. She finally kneels down on one knee more like an athlete getting ready for a race, opens up a box on the outside of one of her boots and presses a button and stands up stretching her arms towards her sides. In a flash, her clothes jump up from the ground and wrap themselves around her as if she was a magnet and the clothes were made of iron.

 

 

 

The next moment she pulls out her weapon from it’s case hanging by the side of her belt and next moment it looks like we are watching live action with a very slow shutter speed camera. Her hands move so quickly that it appears she has many hands, all doing the same thing at the same time, firing at her opponents. Powerful rays emanate out of her weapon that looks more like a silver plated old fashioned gun. The rays hit officers one by one knocking them out of their senses in an instant. In lesser milliseconds than what the bullet took to hit her, she had knocked down every officer on the ground as the two helicopters too got jammed and came down to the ground in a jiffy.

 

 

 

She goes to the captain who is bleeding from the wound caused by the ricocheted bullet. She kneels down besides him, shows him her weapon then points it towards one of the cars and blows it to shreds with one single hit, perhaps trying to tell him, “See I didn’t kill you!” She then opens her mouth and screams as if she has been hurt by the behaviour of the officers but her shriek is different than the normal human sounds, in fact, it’s different from all the animal sounds as well. It is more like a metallic high frequency radio sound that is deafening. We grasp our ears with both our hands and roll on the ground with pain as we see windowpanes of all vehicles break in unison under the direct impact of her sound. We also hear the painful crying sound of far off animals too as if they are all pleading her to stop. The few birds who happened to be there, try to fly as far away and as quickly as they can but they all drop off from the skies and into the sand as if they were also in pain.

 

 

 

The Captain of the police force puts his hands on his ears and cries out louder than what he did when he was hit by the bullet.

 

 

 

“Stop! Stop! Stop! Stop it!” he screams out pleadingly and we nod our heads in agreement.

 

 

 

She finally lets’ go, gets up and walks to her boxes, pulls out a small gadget from her pocket and looks at a flashing spot and looks towards the direction it is pointing. She grabs her boxes and starts walking in that direction. However, unknown to her we are still following her.

 

 

 

 

 

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Female Vocalist

 NEEDED

for collaboration on my projects (for English lyrics). If you have a youtube channel and you like the idea of a fusion production, please contact me at either of my two channels:

 


 

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