This is a story for the Terribleminds Flash Fiction Challenge: They Fight Crime

The challenge was to write a story using a duo generated by the theyfightcrime.org site.

I got my pair but then I needed someone for them to fight against, after all how do you fight crime without criminals? So I grabbed a couple of my other favorites from the generation rounds and twisted them into villains to throw my heroes against. And thus the resulting story is based on:

Heroes

He’s a sword-wielding misogynist cyborg with nothing left to lose. She’s a tortured mutant mermaid prone to fits of savage, blood-crazed rage. They fight crime!

vs.

Villains

He’s a suave ninja master criminal with a winning smile and a way with the ladies. She’s a sarcastic impetuous fairy princess with a good twin sister. They commit crimes!

I had fun writing it and liked how it came out.

Enjoy.

Night. A hole in the wall joint down by the docks. That had been a mistake.

Dumb broad, Max thought as he peered across the smoky half filled room.

Patrice was showing off. Saying it didn’t matter how close they were to the water because she had them over a barrel now. Ever since the coffee house, the cops were after them. He still maintained that Buick had exploded on its own though. Max would have spat if he still had those glands. He glared instead, he was still good at that. The glowing eyes helped.

Melrose was at a table sixteen feet away. She was split tail at the moment and uncomfortable for it. The displeasure showed on her pale face. Barefoot in cargo pants and a Hawaiian shirt — her idea of a joke — she sat and drummed long nailed fingers impatiently on the scarred tabletop. He felt the same way and almost took an annoyed sip from the long neck he held before he remembered. He couldn’t drink anymore either. Hard with no stomach.

Bastards.

He heard the front door open, and there they were, trailing a dozen members of their Armani clad, necktie wearing, sunglass sporting, goon squad behind them.

Patrice — that bitch —  was in front of course. Pale hair flowing, something long and expensive cascading from her shoulders. She even had her wings out. No one here looked liked they’d notice. If it wasn’t drinkable and causing liver damage they weren’t interested. Glossy like glass, but he knew from experience, razor sharp, the wings swayed behind her as she moved.

Ito was at her side. Pressed and primped and slick as a glossy mag cover shot. He was all stride and swagger and smiles. He grinned at anything nearby with breasts. Only the meter long sheathed sword that dangled from one manicured hand said he was more than the douchebag king. He was the ninja douchebag king.

Max hated him almost as much as he did her. Almost. It’s hard to dislodge the slut that pulled out your heart and shoved mystic clockworks inside from number one on your shit list.

Melrose saw them too. Her fists bunched. Curls of wood thick as curly fries left the tabletop as her nails scoured across it.

One of the goombas pulled a chair out and Patrice swept down into it across from Mel. He still didn’t know how she managed that with the wings. Probably some special sort of freaking fairy magic just to pull it off. Ito wandered over oh so casually to the bar. He propped himself against it and shot Max a zillion dollar smile. Max didn’t smile back. Hard without lips, and yeah, hell no.

“You look great, Mel. Lack of sleep is doing you wonders,” Patrice said.

“Thanks,” Melrose growled. “How’s the queen bitch thing treating you?”

The fairy’s eyes tightened. “I’m sure better than the fish out of water about to get stepped on thing.”

“And you’re a crap sniffing housefly. See I can do it to, so cut the schtick. What do you want?”

“Both of you in chains. Your little do-gooder romp across the city stirred up some trouble, but you’re done now. There’s a hundred men outside. You come back to the Citadel, you and your windup boyfriend. You answer my questions and I might let you have a little pool time before I kill you.”

Mentioning the Citadel had been a mistake. They’d screwed Max up there, but they’d down right tortured her. Chemical, mental, magical. There wasn’t much they hadn’t tried to find out the way into her hometown. Into Atlantis.

“The soak sounds great, Trish, but no. Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to let us leave the island in exchange for walking out of here with your wings attached. How’s that sound?”

“It sounds like the impotent gasp of a half dead guppy.”

“So that’s a no?”

When Patrice said nothing further, Mel shrugged. One hand had drifted down to  the cargo pocket on her pants while she talked. Now it came back up holding a lighter. She flicked it open sparking a small flame.

“Suit yourself,” she said and flung it ceilingward. To the sprinkler system hanging there in the low rafters.

Of all the joints Patrice had to pick this one. The one with the working sprinkler system. The system Max had laced with fifty pounds of salt four hours ago before any of her men had shown up.

The flame struck the sprinkler head. The fairy’s eyes went wide.

Patrice shot back as the sprinklers went off all at once. Mel was fast and swiped for her but damn fairy magic was a hair faster. She disappeared behind a wave of goons as they closed on the table.

Big mistake. Water was one thing, but salt water? Hoo boy, now they had problems.

The first man screamed. People typically do that when their arm is torn from their body. Mel snarled and clubbed the next man across the face with the pumping stump. Blood and Ray Bans flew. Patrons finally noticed through alcohol inflicted hazes and ran for the exits.

As they poured outside, screams erupted from the street and something like a huge tentacle burst through the front door. Yeah. Docks, mermaid. Bad idea.

Oh well.

Ito shook his head and sent drops flying majestically. He swept his sword off the bar and took up an elegant angled stance.

Max didn’t do anything elegantly, but he didn’t have to. The thing about being a cyborg was you had lots of places for sharp pointy things. He popped a half dozen blades and felt the cheap trench he’d been wearing shred.

For everything he’d lost there was one good thing about being mechanized. He could now kick some serious ass. They were about to find out how much. If he’d still had lips, Max would have been smiling as he closed on the ninja.