“Well. You just wait! I ain’t done yet!” he railed at the black tormentor that just seemed to be sitting there taunting him. Turning and walking to a nearby row of hedges, he reached down behind it and came up with an old Quasar Arms rocket gun.
Up in the aerocraft, Nine’s white teeth were a sharp contrast against his dark skin as he smiled in amusement. “Would you look at this stupid mother?”
Three shook his head and pressed the external speaker button. “Sir, drop your weapon and return to your home. Do not fire on this craft. We have no quarrel with you and wish to keep it that way.”
“Fuck you!” Ollie screamed as he began firing rockets at the craft. With the defensive shielding technology of today, the small rockets had about as much chance of doing any real damage to the assault craft as shooting spitballs at a grizzly. One by one, they exploded against the hull, as fast as Ollie could squeeze the trigger. Inside the craft, Nine and Three merely looked at each other and shook their heads. What a dick!
Unlike Frost’s command craft, which was outfitted out more for logistical purposes, Three’s craft was fitted out for one purpose, offensive tactical operations. Designed for military special-ops units, it was a flying armored personnel carrier/hovering gun platform. It was designed to provide pre-emptive fire suppression before dropping a stick of soldiers into a hot zone. Once this was done, it provided overhead fire support while boots were on the ground, right up to the point of extraction.
This was not a fifty-year-old, unarmed Pegasus he was provoking.
When the man had emptied his magazine, Three simply said to Nine, “Light that asshole up.”
“My pleasure!”
“Don’t kill him,” Three felt the need to clarify his orders. “Just have some fun with him.”
“Fun? You wanna see fun?” Nine made no effort to contain his gleeful anticipation. “Watch this cracker dance!”
The spin cannon in the nose of the ship whirled, and a red rain of superheated destruction poured down upon Ollie’s pool patio. It truly seemed as if the sky was falling, as chunks of magnicrete, foliage, trellis timbers, and pool furniture now filled the air. He knew cowering under a chaise lounge wasn’t going to save him this time. Instinctively, he dove headfirst into the pool, as Nine delighted in destroying everything around him.
“Oh! You wanna take a swim, eh?” Nine cackled. “Well, soup’s on, asshole!” The pool would offer little refuge; the hot pulse rounds hit the water, instantly turning to steam and evaporated. He felt the temperature rise, almost to the scalding point, and feared he’d be boiled alive. In seconds, he lost a third of the water in his pool.
And then suddenly, it was over. Complete silence, save for the crackling of burning wood, the hissing of melting plastic, the smell of scorched vegetation, and his own pitiful screaming. Still, he dared not raise his head from what little shelter the now devastated and leaking pool offered until he heard the turbines of the aerocraft power up. It moved slowly over him, as if it were rubbing his nose in defeat one last time, before finally banking away back towards town.
Even when the sound of its engines had faded from earshot, he still waited another minute or so before raising his head to survey the damage. There was not one brick left atop another, not a board still nailed to another. It was utter devastation. His pride and joy … gone. All because of one man.
Wait! Maybe it ain’t all gone! There was still hope! With waning optimism, he turned to check out his beloved statue, but it was as if fate were simply waiting for the right moment to twist the knife. He heard the dull cracking of masonry, and the sickening sound of rock collapsing upon itself as he turned just in time to see the upper half of his beautiful nymph keel over headfirst into the pool. Or at least what was left of the upper half. The arms and those beautiful, big tits had already been shot away. With a dramatic splash, the mermaid returned to her natural habitat, landing unceremoniously on her head before finally settling facedown at the bottom.
“Nooooo!” he screamed in genuine anguish.
A few feet away, an uprooted loropetalum began moving. A dirt-covered, but otherwise unharmed, Churchill came crawling out. He looked at Ollie and gave him a short growl and an angry bark as if to say, Asshole! This is all your fault!
When he heard Beatrice push open what was left of the security gate, now barely hanging on one hinge, the frazzled dog took off straight for the house. No doubt to shit all over some expensive Persian rug or newly polished marble floor.
Beatrice had heard of earth-moving orgasms before, but had never experienced one before tonight. Unfortunately, the “earth-shaking” part of it had less to do with her new toy and more to do with all the explosions and gunfire outside. Now, after deeming it safe to come out from under her bed, she stood, hands on her hips, amidst the pile of rubble that had once been the family pool patio. She looked down at her husband with no sympathy whatsoever and shook her head.
“I hate to add insult to injury, Ollie.” She thought for a second. “Y’know, actually, I don’t.” Once she started
