“You…” he seethed, seeing the woman who had more than likely ended his life.
“It’s me, sugarplum. How are you doing? Feeling good? Restraints too tight? I hope so.”
“You’re so dead. You’re all dead. The orders were given to wipe you all out. Kill me, somebody else will come. You’ll see.”
“See, if you keep talking, we won’t have to hurt you none,” Rob told him.
Khamenei laughed out loud for a few moments, then turned serious. “I’m not telling you anything.”
“Hey hun, how many bones does the human body have?” Angelica asked her husband.
“Two hundred something,” Rob answered.
“Two hundred and six, you fucking ignorant dead assholes,” Khamenei said, his voice quavering.
“Ok, I’ll get to work,” Angelica said, taking a Hello Kitty pink backpack off, and putting it on the bench next to the bed.
“What are you going to do?” Rob asked.
“I’m going to teach him what a monkey stomping ass kicking is,” she shot back, looking at him in surprise.
“Then only break 205 of the 206,” Rob answered.
“Why?” she stopped, she’d been taking off her outer shirt, leaving herself in a tank top and jeans.
Rob sighed as she pulled out some wraps from her backpack and started wrapping her knuckles. He helped her tie them off, then tape them up.
“The stompy boots, really?” Rob asked.
Khamenei looked down and saw she was wearing what looked like steel toed work boots.
“They make me taller,” she snapped back. “Which one don’t you want me to break?” she asked, putting her arms around her husband's chest.
“His jaw. Can’t talk good if his jaw’s broke.”
“Goodie, that’s 205 I can work on for a while. Do you remember that song about the bones and what they connect to?”
“No,” Rob said simply.
“Well shit, I’m going to have to wing this. This shithead kidnapped me and is responsible for untold horrors. What connects his penis to his body?”
“It’s called a boner, but not because it’s a bone,” Khamenei said, feeling the first hints of fear.
“I’ll cut his clothes off,” Rob said. “You save your energy for now. When you’re done breaking things, I want my turn. Nobody lays a hand on my wife.”
“You’re going to kill me anyways, why does it matter?” Khamenei asked.
His files on Angelica suggested she might also be a sociopath. Both of them, actually. He would have loved to have recruited them, they’d make good agents. That’s what had him starting to get scared though. No matter how tough you are, everybody has a breaking point. Training and pain tolerance could only get you so far. Both of the Littles would keep him at the brink of death until they got what they wanted. He knew what he had to do.
“If we do it on accident, we have the reservation’s doctors, as well as a compliment of specialized emergency room and trauma doctors that we imported from a state over. We’ll just bring you back, give you time to heal up, and then start breaking you all over again. Unless one of your other agents tells us what we want first. The feds and rez police are offering amnesty to whoever spills the beans. The sheriff’s murder, ADA Winters, the attacks at the farm, who’s calling the shots… the first to give us the details will remain on the reservation in hiding, out of the feds’ reach.”
Khamenei considered that, then shook his head. He didn’t believe them.
“Your funeral. Hey, you guys recording this?” Rob called to the doorway.
The door opened and Gorman poked his head in. “We have it in 4k, man.”
The reality of what was about to happen was starting to sink in. Rob backed up to the doorway after snagging the half empty backpack from the bench. He knew his wife might use it as a springboard at some point, and didn’t want her makeup to spill. She might decide to use her eyeliner pen on him if she saw it, and not in the traditional sense. That’d be a waste of makeup.
“You know if I talk, they’ll kill me,” Khamenei said.
Angelica’s hands blurred, and Khamenei felt something around his left eye socket snap. He started to scream, but her next punch was to his Adam’s apple, and suddenly he was choking. He looked up with his good eye and saw her bouncing on her feet, a smile on her face.
“Left zygomatic arch. Not sure if the Adam’s apple counts since that’s all cartilage. I pulled my punch, so it won’t kill you. I’m sure there’s lots of fun places that aren’t bones I can test that theory out on though.”
She bounced closer, looking every bit like a tiny MMA fighter.
“Stop,” he croaked, one finger going up on his restrained right hand as he gagged and choked.
Angel went still and then shook her arms out. “You going to talk?”
“You said the first person who speaks gets amnesty, yes?” Khamenei asked, not really believing it, and not really intending to talk.
“Yes.” Rob had been leaning against the door. He stepped forward and put his hands on his wife’s shoulders.
“Fine, I’ll talk. Get me the doctor first.” Khamenei was playing for time, but the others didn’t know that.
“That’s fair,” Rob said, then handed Angel her shirt and Hello Kitty backpack.
“No Hun, you hold onto these. Just because he wants to talk doesn’t mean he still doesn’t get his ass kicked. I owe him at least a minor monkey stomping for the shit he did to me.”
Rob considered it, then nodded and walked out into the hallway, closing the door behind him. The agents were on the other side of the one-way glass, recorders on either side of the door filming. The governor, agents and half of the farm were there.
“What’s a monkey stomping ass kicking?” Agent Gorman asked.
“You don’t want to know,” Anna told him. “It’s something so special that Angelica learned it from a book, and has used it ever since.”
“Yup,” Rob said by way of agreement.
“So, is it like a regular ass kicking, or does she start
