Gangland Skirmish

I sweep into the bunkroom as the morning alarm goes off, cast my eye over the young women slowly waking up. With a scowl I unholster my pistol, hammer its grip against the doorframe, and the gazes of everyone in the bunkroom snap in my direction. I subtly preen under their attention, a leftover from when I was in their position, before pointing at five of the women and calling them over.

I've been tasked by the queen bitch to eliminate a rival gang's leadership, I feel pride at her trust in me but a glance at the henchwenches I've picked as my squad causes despair. They're now clad in our uniform, a white crop top and black miniskirt, their toned bodies on display. They’re bimbos though, was I ever that bad?, and chatter among themselves, giggle at nothings.

We pile into a van, I hand out submachine guns, and their eyes light up like it's Christmas. As a henchwench climbs into the driver's seat I bring up our target's social media, easily the best place to get the latest intel. I bite my lip upon seeing her photos, feel heat building as I imagine her riddled with bullets. It's a fate we all aspire to, gets us hot and bothered.

The van screeches to a halt some time later, I wince at the noise, and the first of my henchwenches crumples as she disembarks, crop top turning red. The rest charge out, firing wild bursts, and I follow behind.

***

Natalie is still seated at the beachside cafe, her guards the ones firing back. All three are in white bikinis, their gang's signature outfit, and I admire their beauty as I bring up my pistol. While my henchwenches draw their attention, another goes down moaning, I take aim at Natalie's left-hand guard, pull the trigger. The slut doubles over, neatly drilled through her belly button, and she staggers, slips a hand into her bikini bottoms. The moans of my injured henchwench reach a peak, I glance at her as she goes limp, and I assess our impromptu battlefield.

Natalie's table is now tipped over, she's resting her pistol on it, and her remaining guard is behind another. My squad is scattered, spraying bullets at our opponents, and I order them closer, want this done before Natalie gets any reinforcements. A third henchwench dances, caught in their crossfire, but I shoot the last guard through her heart, the bitch dying gracefully propped against her cover.

We advance towards Natalie, my remaining henchwenches loosing off bursts to keep her pinned. She quickly bobs up, a headshot puts the fourth henchwench down, but one of mine wings her, draws blood. She disappears again, bullets spank against the table, and I rush forward.

Natalie suddenly rises again, my gaze is drawn to her bare tits instead of the submachine gun she's holding. There's bright muzzle flare, I feel bullets hit me, and my hands dive beneath my skirt as I drop to my knees…