The Mouse Bites BackMature

"Just felt like letting them know that you're bleeding," the man said. He smiled at her, and his teeth seemed sharper than they really were.

She cringed and backed away against his grip. Between black curtains of hair, she exuded hateful reluctance.

Around her, his hands held and groped her tight in the dim darkness.

"Be a good girl and play nice, little mouse!"

She sneered as hands pulled down her dress bottom and trespassed against her inner thigh. Urging herself to comply, she knew the danger around her. The man upon her was armed almost to the teeth.

"Don't tremble," he told her as he lifted his t-shirt off. "I won't be cold." He began to grope at her blouse. The sight of blood seemed to excite her.

Welling up in her was a powerful desire to spit on him. But she told herself that'd only excite him more to rough her up.

"Be gentle," she pleaded, voice trying to be calm but coming out as delirious. "And I'll g-give you w-what you want..."

He grinned. Goggles hung on his forehead like an insect's eyes. The black hairs on his chest bristled. Something at the bottom of her vision rose up and swelled.

She smiled back, as if she was now complicit in the act.

An act.

Her hands began to play back upon him as her old highschool sweetheart had upon her in years past.

He sighed.

It was under his discarded suit, hard and steady. She brushed against it with her knee. Then reached for it as he lowered her to service him. Meaty hands gripped her shoulders firmly.

Through the shirt, she raised it up perpendicular to his overbearing lust. And then, with her right arm, she delivered an open-palm thrust to his bloated loins.

"Aaargh!" he doubled over in pain.

Left index finger squeezed against what was in her hand.


The tranquilizer dart shot through the shirt and hit his neck.

His arms caressed a tight noose around her neck, and tightened there with mad intent. Then he went limp, and fell against the cold floor.

Pulling herself together, Vivian Oliver took his radio, his nightstick and his gun. Then, upon searching his pocket, she found a sheathed, double-sided knife. One edge of it was serrated. She took the blade with her as well, sliding the sheath's clip over the waistband of her dress.

And then the radio spoke, "This is The Blue Doorman. The fire is lit. I repeat, the fire is lit. Over."

And then another message came, "This is The Eagle. Secure The Mouse! I repeat, secure The Mouse!" 

The half-naked man who had forced himself upon her lay against the wall, passed out.

"This is The Mouse," she said to nobody. "And I'm not your captive anymore."

Gripping the wounded side of her chest, Vivian began to limp down the hall. She attempted to follow the way in which she'd seen the man come for her. The lighting was scarce and spaced apart, like emergency lighting. The corridors were mazelike. It seemed deliberate, to slow down and frustrate those who weren't supposed to be there. It was damp, too, and smelled odd.


She heard them, and leaned against the wall where the light did not reach.

They passed.

She waited.

And then limped further along against the wall, until she slid into a doorknob. Opening it, it seemed locked. But turning the knob in a counter-intuitive manner, she managed to open it just fine.

It was a closet.

She felt around in it. There were shelves. Blankets. No light switch. Something hard. Two cardboard boxes of something heavy. And a pullstring! It dangled out of reach, but Vivian was sure she'd felt it. Within a moment, it was in her hand. Gently, she pulled it.

A light came on, illuminating the gray shelves.

There, of all places, was a medical kit. It was marked with a red cross. Vivian scrambled to open it. There was tenser bandage, and band-aids. She dressed her wounds, cuts and bruises.

I guess a pair of crutches would be too much to ask for.

Vivian sniffed the labeled water bottle that was there. It didn't smell peculiar, so she eagerly guzzled it down. The acetaminophen container, however, she didn't trust, as much as she wanted to do something about the pain.

One of the boxes caught her eye. She pulled it forward. The top was labeled, "Todesstrahl Backup Prototype D".

Is that German?

With curiosity, Vivian opened the box using the knife she'd taken earlier, which hadn't been sealed very carefully. Within, was a depth of styrofoam packing granules. She reached into them, and felt a soft styrofoam surface. Moving her hand around it, she discovered it was casing for something, and pulled it out.

After cutting the tape that sealed the casing, she split the halves of the off-white casing to reveal an oddly shaped gun of sorts. It was stylized like something out of the movies. The trigger was more like a button, and the handle had a self-conforming gel pad that fit her hand, or any hand so she reckoned, perfectly. It was thicker than a pop can, sleek and black, and capped with a mushroom top of a glass lense.

When she gripped it, it turned itself on and powered up. There was a battery power reading on the back end with three of four panels lit, beside dials to enable auto-targetting and an adjustable manual targetting viewer. Also, there was a purple outlined sideview of a spotted toad, or frog, on the side of its glittery black surface.  The creature had its tongue lashing out, as if trying to catch a fly ahead. Below it was another dial, with two symbols that Vivian did not know what to make of. One was a cluster of pentagons. The other was a thick straight bar with diagonal dashes through it. The dial was set toward the bar.

Whatever this is, it's pretty high-tech. And I have a feeling it's no flashlight.

Closing up the empty casing, she put it back in the box, and closed it. Then Vivian pulled the string. The light blinked out. She kept the Todesstrahl in hand, though, and closed the storage closet's door. The med kit, and the box she had opened, were right back where she'd found them.

At that moment, Vivian jumped in surprise as her radio spoke again, "This is Front Shadow. Man down! I repeat, man down! Over."

Vivian kept walking down the dark hall. Passing under one light, and then another.

There was a locked door.

"This is Prime Light. Where is Back Light? Report! I repeat, Where are you, Black Light? Please report!"

Then, fast footsteps, like two sets running.

She froze, gripping the Todesstrahl tightly.

One set stopped running.

"Here, mousy-mousy mousy!" came a woman's voice. "Come to Starboard Shadow!"


Somewhere, water dripped.

"Her trail of blood stops here," said a second voice, a man's.

Then, the sound of an opening door.

Instinct caught Vivian by surprise, and she spun around, and pressed the button on the Toddestrahl. The hallway blinked full of light for a moment, as a wave of photons and light rippled out of the Todesstrahl's lense in a smooth beam of indigo light.

For a moment, Vivian caught a glimpse of another man in black, with a smoking hole as wide as her fist right through his chest, where his heart should have been. He stumbled in front of the open storage closet she had been using moments ago.

"Holy crap!" said Vivian, realizing what she had done.

The hall was dark again, with the sound of a falling corpse that mumbled an obscenity with its last breath.

The End

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