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Function Fugly

by Made in DNA 2 years ago in fiction
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Surrounded by the cops in a mountain pension after an armored truck heist, gunmen receive pizza delivery...

The three-wheeled pizza delivery scooter complained as it strained up the mountain road, a load of four pizzas set in its spring-loaded rack, bouncing noisily every time the driver hit a bump.

Pulling up on a police road block, the driver lazily pulled out her ID, blew a bubble with her gum and sucked it in loudly, popping it. The officer who checked it winced and waved her through begrudgingly.

Hopping back on the bike, she deftly swerved between the two cars along the road and continued up to the address she'd been given.

She was met by another contingent of officers and a compliment of six squad cars surrounding a private-run pension. It was one of those honest to goodness log cabin deals with smoke coming out of the chimney and everything.

Again, the ID and the bubblegum.

She dismounted and grabbed the pizzas from the rack, the bill from her pouch, and approached a stern-faced older officer who didn't bother to look at her. "You..." she looked at the bill, "Senior Detective Tanigawa? I got a delivery of four. That correct?"

"Make the delivery yourself."

A gruff male bark followed by womanly scream rose from inside the cabin. A second male voice pleaded for mercy. The door opened and a disheveled woman in her 40s appeared, her hands behind her back and controlled by a beefy hand through her long black hair.

A gun appeared at her temple. "That better be the pizza bitch."

The delivery woman started to return to her scooter, "Sorry, I don't make hostage situation calls."

"Hey! The fuck you think you're going!? Get your ass up here with those pizzas, toots, or this auntie gets it!" The gruff voice continued.

The detective didn't bother acknowledging the taunt from the hostage taker. "Your show." And then, "Just do your job."

Her lips pressed into a fine line. "Fuck you. This guy better be a good tipper." And turned toward the door.

"Hands up, sister!"

She raised the pizzas over her head and walked to the awaiting woman and the gunman. As she closed on the door, the woman was yanked backward by her hair several times to give both the delivery woman room, and the gunmen the ability to see her from behind his hostage.

"Close the door." She did.

"Turn around." She did.

"Slowly put the pizzas on the reception counter." She did.

"Can I leave now?"

A second man came in, gun in hand. "The food arrive?"

"Yeah, Hama. And, no, bitch. How do we know you're not a cop and that pizza's not laced with something?" He shoved the woman to the floor next to her husband, who looked like he'd been worked over pretty good.

The driver rolled her eyes, walked over to the pizza, and opened the top box to pull a slice.

"Uh-uh... take one from the third box down."

She shrugged, opened the third box down, stuck her gum on the inside of the box, took a slice, and took a bite. She was hungry, she ate the whole slice.

The second gunman watched her eat a little too closely. "Hey, you know, heh heh, I ain't never seen a girl eat pizza naked before. How do we know she ain't hiding something?"

The first gunman eyed the lasciviously. "Ain't that the truth? Take off your clothes. We gotta check you ain't brought in anything... dangerous."

The second man sniggered.

"I brought you your pizzas, I ate a slice. Now, can I leave?" she growled.

The second man raised his gun.

"Please?" She put in nicely.

"I don't like your attitude. Not at all. I think you should spend a little time with us making nice. Now hurry up, take off your clothes."

Narrowing her eyes and gritting her teeth, "At least..." She nodded at the pension owner and his wife.

"Oh, sweetheart, please. You worried about these two?" The first man kicked the owner.

She shrugged. "I deliver pizzas, not peepshows."

"I like this girl, Ryosuke." The second man laughed, grabbed the subdued owner by his shirt and pulled him up. Like his wife, the owner's hands were tied, but so were his feet, forcing him to panic-shuffle as the second gunman shoved him from the room. The wife followed on her hands and knees pleading for him not to hurt her husband any more.

The first gunman waved his pistol at her matter-of-factly. "There. Both locked away in one of the rooms. Happy?"

She nodded and began to undress. Making eye contact with both men, as if it might them at bay. Finished, she stood over the pile of clothes, not bothering to cover herself in any way, as if to challenge the two men.

"Well, she ain't strapped. Not unless she's hiding something up her– "

Without warning, the first man rushed the delivery woman, grabbing her roughly and cackling as he forced her backward at an awkward angle and off-balance against a table in the cramped lobby that served a secondary purpose as a cafe. He licked her belly, once, twice in quick laps, working his way up along the bottom of her rib cage, stopping just before a breast. He stared her in the eye, holding her gaze, taunting her, threatening her. With a quick snap of teeth he came within millimeters of biting her nipple and then pushed off her laughing.

She held his gaze, her face a mask of cool contempt.

"You're a heap of fun, girlie, and the afternoon is still young."

"Yeah, she got balls. Maybe you should hook up with us. I bet you got a lotta heart in you for the darker side of life."

"I gotta job."

"Why deliver... when you can take?" The men both laughed.

She shrugged, sitting up on the table. "All's fun and games until some asshole with a badge comes along."

The first man snarled, "Meh. Fuck those guys. They haven't the balls to come in here and face us."

She dropped her head and looked down at her dangling legs, her long dark hair falling over her features. "And do I?"

Something in the way she said it turned the room glacial. Both the men stiffened and were in the process of brandishing their guns at her when she raised her face.

Outdoors, Tanigawa looked up from his cigarette at the sight of the bright yellow flash from within the building, and slowly exhaled at the choked screams of terror that followed the light show.

When the young woman walked out several minutes later, she was dressed once again in the pizza delivery uniform. She approached the stern-faced Tanigawa who silently signaled his men to go in with a flick of his chin.

"Good job, Officer Fugly," he stated.

She nodded in passing. "I left you some pizza."


About the author

Made in DNA

The not-yet bestselling, non-award winning author of work you haven't read yet!

Work spans various genres -- scifi, weird, non-fiction, life in Japan.

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