The Fleshsmith Job by Hansome Alvin (hansomealvin@yahoo.com) Fandom: Transporter 2/Taxi (1998; French)/Leon Pairing: Lola/Petra, Lola/Mathilda (at age 24) Rating: NC-17 for language, extreme violence and sexual situations (in later chapters) Summary: Lola travels from Hong Kong to Marseilles while being pursued by a mad slave trader and a mysterious assassin Archive: Mailing lists, WWOMB, my website Feedback: post here or mail to me Status: WIP Sequel/Series: Chaper one of ??? Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters, nor do I gain any profit from the use of them in this context. ================================================ Prologue: Hong Kong Lola stood at the window of her hotel room and marveled at the gorgeous, colorful city. It always looked best at night when the "less desirable" crowd came out to play. She was naked, her thin, toned form illuminated only by the outside lights: the hotel room was dark. Her perfect body was marred only by a series of small, pinpoint scars and started at the nape of her neck and spread down her back as well as her legs. Personally, Lola liked them, she thought they complimented her freckles. She wore her blonde hair severely short and her eyes were nearly dripping with black mascara. She noticed a car pulling up to the entrance of the hotel. Seven men got out of it. Seven *armed* men. Lola slipped into her chosen outfit: pink panties and bra complimented by a double under-the-arm holster for her machine pistols. She attached a few grenades to a belt that came with the holster set-up. Checking that her guns were fully loaded, she looked towards the door. They were coming. She swept out of the small, dingy hotel room and headed for the stairwell. She wasn't going to make it; she could hear them coming up the stairs. She thought about going to the elevators but the possibility that there were at least a few men waiting by them was a sure thing. The men were getting closer. By the sounds, she guessed there were at least three of them. At the last moment, she knew what she had to do and left the stairwell, heading back into the hallway. The first man was a big, brute, severe-looking native, hair shorn extremely short, sunglasses hiding his eyes. He held an AK-47. The second was smaller, lither, white with fairly long blonde hair that hung in his face. He cradled an Uzi. The third was another Chinese man, this one tall and angular somehow. He also carried an Uzi. He was the first to die. Lola was suspended above the three of them in the hallway, feet secure on either wall, spread-eagle, a wicked smile on her face. The barrel of one of her silenced Glock 17s just touched the top of the third man's head. Lola gave him enough time to realize what was happening before she pulled the trigger and blew a hole through his head. The bullet emerged from his jaw, fracturing it in two, his brains dribbling out onto his chest. He fell to his knees, then toppled forward onto the ground. The blonde guy whirled around, spraying his Uzi into the air but Lola was already on the floor and rolled towards him, firing both of her pistols. The blonde guy was hit twelve times, the bullets shattering his knee caps, his hip, a rib and finally, bursting the artery in his neck and putting out one of his eyes: the left one. The first man, quicker than he looked, grabbed hold of the blonde guy's body and kept it thrust in front of him. The dead blonde guy was now a human shield. The big guy and Lola both began to fire at each other. Lola was impressed that the big guy could hold onto his dead colleague and still fire an assault rifle with his other hand. Lola, who had no human shield, shot the lock off one of the hotel room doors and dived in. A man in a business suit was standing half-dressed while an obvious prostitute sat on the bed. The man opened his mouth to speak to her, but before he could finish, Lola put a bullet in it, then pushed the prostitute off the bed, getting her out of the way. She grabbed a grenade off her belt, grabbed the man from the ground and stuffed the bomb into his throat and pulled the pin. Quickly she threw the man into the hallway. There was a muffled explosion then the big man came rushing into the room. The remains of the businessman and the blonde guy were all over him. Obviously he had used his human shield to protect himself from the explosion. He was a bit out of it, Lola could tell, and he couldn't see that well: there was blood in his eyes. Still he rushed at her, firing wildly off the mark at her. Lola thought about shooting him but changed her mind. She moved to one side and, as the man passed her, she turned into him, using his own weight against him and tripped him, sending him head first out the window. He fell twelve stories and splattered onto the pavement. "You gonna' kill me?" the prostitute asked. Lola looked her up and down. She was a beautiful, curvy redhead with big eyes. "No," she said. "But stay here. I'll be right back." Downstairs, the four men watching the elevator got edgy when they saw that the lift was heading down to them from the floor where they knew the "subject" was. They got their guns ready and waited. The doors opened and they saw Sun, one of their own men, leaning into the corner of the elevator, his back to them. Sun was a tall and angular Chinese man. The four men crowded into the elevator. The head man nudged Sun. Sun, who of course was *very* dead, fell to one side. The men saw that his jaw had been blown off. Something small and heavy dropped to the ground. It had been wedged against the wall and the dead body. The head man looked down and realized what the small, heavy object was. "Out!" he screamed but it was too late. The grenade exploded, killing all of them. "Well, that takes care of that," Lola said, a big smile on her face as she stepped back into the hotel room. She walked over to the prostitute and extended a hand, helped her up. She kissed her long and hard. "I have to get to the docks," Lola said after the kiss was broken. "But we have a long cab ride that we share together." "All right," the prostitute said. "Come on," Lola said. "We'll take the stairs." End Prologue Next: "The Road to Marseilles"