Lady Carla - The Reaper vs. the Tooth Fairy
by DarkMagician

http://www.lady-carla.co.uk/

London 02.00 A.M. In the hotel room alone man was waiting in the dark. He was a big man in his late forties, bearded, with a muscular and lean frame. His dark hair was crew-cut, military style; his ice-blue eyes had a predatory quality about them, and his thick arms were covered with scars. He had a disciplined, dangerous air about him.
In some secret circles all over the world, he was known as the Reaper.

In the past had been a member of the United Kingdom's vaunted Special Air Service, the world's most highly trained elite military unit. He had fought all over the planet for Queen and Country, conducting commando raids in four continents, eliminating terrorists and guerrillas both on the battlefield and in secretive, for-your-eyes-only operations. But after having been discharged from the British Army, his morals had gone downhill: a long stint as a mercenary soldier in Africa and the Middle East had accelerated his descent in the dark pit of cynical disillusion. Money was everything that mattered to him, now: there was too much blood on his hands to still believe in the lofty ideals of his adolescent years. He had found his true calling as a professional killer.

Over the last ten years he had built a reputation as the world's foremost assassin for hire. His clients were usually members of the corrupt international elite, the champagne-guzzling tycoons and industrialists that from time to time needed to "remove" some unwanted attention: inconvenient politicians, nosy journalists, human rights activists, judges...and that particularly rare breed - uncorrupt, honest government officials. One of those was going to end up dead in a few minutes...

She was an idealist. A whistleblower.

A courageous Ukrainian woman, miss Anna Chernikova was a United Nations lawyer who had discovered an international ring of human traffickers. Billionaire entrepreneurs were paying enormous sums to import beautiful girls...most of them were kidnapped in Eastern European countries like Romania, Poland or Hungary; some others came from India or Cambodia. Their destiny was to be exploited as sex slaves. And only a small fraction of these women survived for long...

Ms. Anna Chernikova had found the proofs, the names, the connections: everything. She was going to bring down some powerful people, people above suspicion, pillars of the community; now she had come to London to meet with some colleagues who were investigating the same crimes in England. But she had committed a severe mistake: she was traveling without bodyguards...

Not that it would have made a lot of difference for the Reaper: in the past he had routinely defeated or bypassed the best security money can buy. But with a protection team in the picture, making the hit look like an accident would have been much harder. A woman alone, on the other hand...

The Reaper put on his white gloves. Time to go to work.

He left his room, closing the door behind him. Anna's room was on the same floor. Room 262.

The Reaper walked towards his target with the slow inevitability of Death himself. 259, 260, 261...

Here. 262, second floor. Anna's room.

There were no cameras in the corridors, no witnesses. At four in the morning, the whole hotel was silent. Everyone was sleeping.

Perfect.

The Reaper produced a custom-made lock pick set and went silently to work on the lock. After less than twenty seconds, the lock cracked open.

He waited a few seconds. Then, slowly, he slid inside the room.

It was a full moon's night, the light was coming through the windows illuminating the inside. The Reaper could see the silhouettes of the table, the chairs, the sofa. He could see the bed.

And a feminine figure sleeping on it.

He smiled in the dark. Killing women was taboo for a lot of men in his profession: but he wasn't like them. On the contrary, he had found that murdering members of the fairer sex was at the same time easier, and more enjoyable. The Army shrinks had not dug deeper enough in his psyche, during evaluation, or they would have rejected him: the Reaper was aware of possessing a mysoginist, sadistic streak inside himself. After all, as a mercenary in Africa he had abused and raped a lot of girls...not an activity happily endorsed by the Crown...

But in his current role as a contract killer he had to exercise a steely discipline over himself. Detachment was the key.

The plan was simple. Break the whore's neck. Take the corpse to the bathroom, simulate a fall. The culprit? Soap under the feet. Simple as that.

It was almost offensive, such an easy job for a pro of his caliber. But his client was paranoid about being discovered and outed as the monster he was: he was a big name politician or something like that, the Reaper was sure. He had been contracted anonymously using middlemen and brokers, to ensure total deniability. But if this unknown pervert was redy to pay the Reaper's outrageous fee to be absolutely sure of success, why complain?

He was slowly getting near her, silent as a cat; despite his size, he could move without making the slightest noise. He was just a couple of meters from her...

...when the woman suddenly turned the lights on.

It was a mild shock for the hitman - and not only for the obvious reason of having been discovered. There was another problem:
it wasn't Anna Chernikova.

His target was supposed to be a skinny bitch in her early fifties, with dark hair and brown eyes: he had studied and memorized every detail of her face, her body and her gait. But it wasn't necessary in this case to possess these informations, because THIS woman was completely different.

She was an attractive girl that looked to be in her late twenties; actually, to call her "attractive" was a serious understatement. She was drop-dead gorgeous, with a mane of sandy blonde hair and piercing, lively blue eyes. She was of medium height and her voluptuous figure couldn't completely hide a muscular, sinewy frame. She looked like an enticing mix of athletic and seductive qualities. A Goddess.

This particular Goddess was now standing in front of him, wearing only a skimpy black outfit on her feminine curves. Bare feet, her hands resting on her hips. And a friendly smile on her face.

"So", the blonde said, with a hint of amusement in her voice. "You must be the big bad Reaper, the famous invincible assassin. Very pleased to meet you: my name is Carla. Are you looking for Miss Chernikova?"

He was speechless: this bitch knew his identity? What the fuck was happening?"

"I am sorry" Carla continued, still smiling, "But she isn't here at the moment. You will have to deal with me instead, I am afraid."

The Reaper regained his sang froid, feeling cold anger running through his veins. "What do you think you're doing? Who are you, some kind of bodyguard? You better tell me where that bitch is hiding, if you want to survive this encounter. You don't know who you're dealing with, kid." With these words, he began to tense his muscles, ready to pounce on the blonde and pummel her senseless...she was so sexy, maybe he could have a little fun with her before taking her life...how many years had passed since the last time he had enjoyed a good ol' rape-and-kill?

Carla,perfectly calm,went on speaking. "A bodyguard? Me? Well, not exactly. Let's just say that I am hired to solve problems...especially problems affecting women, you see. Right now, you are one of those problems. And by the way..." Carla's face became serious, her smile disappearing "YOU are the one who doesn't know who he's dealing with."

Before the Reaper could process her last words, Carla kicked him in the chest with blinding speed.

It wasn't just that the kick was fast; it was just damn' near unstoppable. He barely had the time to blink and then Carla's foot impacted with his sternum, sending him flying backwards like a rag doll.

The Reaper landed hard, pain radiating through his chest; but he was a born fighter, and like any self-respecting professional assassin he was supremely well trained in unarmed combat. He had mixed it up with some fearsome adversaries in hand-to-hand encounters, and he had always come out on top. That blonde slut was going to pay for daring to attack him.

He got quickly on his feet, ignoring the pain. "Congratulations, Carla - you said this was your name, right? You got your lucky strike. I don't know what your game is, and I simply don't care. But now, kid...YOU'RE PLAYING IN THE BIG LEAGUES!"

His attack was ferocious, determined, skillful. He went at her with a precise combination of punches and elbow strikes, and...
...and Carla, even more skillfully, evaded all of them.

It was like trying to attack water: for a good half minute he threw at her everything that he had, while she was dodging every single blow with perfect elegance. It was obvious that she was as higly trained in the martial arts as he was...and, the Reaper couldn't help thinking, she was clearly even better. The thought was deeply humiliating for him.

But he didn't have enough time to think too much about it, because Carla began her counterattack. And it was deadly.

She kicked him again, this time in full face. Her bare foot impacted with the power of a freight train on his chin, breaking his jaw with a loud "crack". It was an impossible move - an explosive high kick, straight out of a Bruce Lee movie. But it worked like charm.

The Reaper went down like a ton of brick, spitting blood. With a single kick she had dropped him like it was nothing. Like HE was nothing.

He was on all fours, stunned, his gaze beginning to falter. He looked up, and saw Carla towering over him.

She wasn't even breathing hard.

"Looks like your reputation is a little bit exaggerated, Reaper...you, the world's most lethal killer for hire? C'mon, let's be serious. I am just a woman, and I am kicking your ass without even breaking a sweat. To be frank, there are some twelve years-old girls in my dojo that could mop the floor with you. Maybe you should find another line of work..."

These humiliating remarks sent him into a fit of rage. He was the Reaper, a top hitman: he was a motherfuckin' killing machine. He had been the best in the SAS, the best in his mercenary days, and now the best in this damn' contract killing business. He was a human nightmare, an Alpha predator. He was going to fight back and destroy his blonde torturer...he was going to show her what happens when you mess with the best. NOW.

He jumped up, threw himself at her with all his weight and took her on the ground with him with a wrestling takedown. THAT'S IT, he thought. YOU'RE MINE!

He was on top, and he attacked again with a right punch to her head. But Carla intercepted her arm with both her hands, took it between her legs and executed a textbook jiu-jitsu armbar. He tried to resist it, tried to escape using his own jiu-jitsu training...but it was of no avail. Carla's blend of technique, speed and strength was simply too perfect...

CRAAAACK!!! The Reaper's mighty arm broke at the elbow like a frail pencil, pain overwhelming his rational brain. He rolled away, moaning, delirious with sheer agony.

Carla, calm as ever, got on her feet and continued lecturing him. "Oh, Reaper...or should I call you "Wanker"? You really are no match for me, darling. You see, not all women are defenseless damsels in distress, as you can now attest. Some, like me, are more than capable of taking care of themselves. I am sorry of having broken your arm...you're really made of shit, you know? A girl can't play a little without hurting you. Here, let's see if your other arm is more robust."

Carla gripped his left wrist and went for another armbar with her full force. The hitman's feeble resistance was useless: another loud "CRACK!", another wave of pain and nausea flooding his brain, and even his left arm was left destroyed and useless.

He was now completely defenseless, at the mercy of Carla. He tried to talk, his fractured jaw feeling like broken glass.

"Who...who are you? A cop? An MI6 agent?", he muttered.

Carla laughed. "Me, a cop? Oh, no...far from it. You see, Reaper -oh, excuse me, "Wanker"- we're in the same line of work...up to a point. I am an assassin, exactly like you. But there are a couple of important differences. First of all, as you can see" she smiled a devilish grin "I am MUCH better than you: I am claiming your throne as the world's best, and you can't do shit about it. And second" she returned serious, looking at the wrecked killer laying at her feet "I only accept jobs on people who deserve it. You know: mobsters, terrorists, drug traffickers, rapists, paedophiles...and unscrupulous colleagues like you, who bring shame on our profession. You see, being an assassin is a vocation...but a vocation requires a strict code of conduct, that you clearly don't have. For example, wanna know about MY personal honor code? Well, mister Wanker, let's just say that I am a passionate feminist at heart. And I have no mercy for people that hurt innocent women. That's why you and your employer will have to die. You first!"

Carla kneeled at his side and grabbed him by the hair with her left hand, yanking his head so that he could watch her in the face: even in his battered condition, he couldn't help but marvel at how beautiful she was, like an avenging angel sent to make him pay for all his sins. She looked at him straight in his eyes and said "Look at this! Look at the female muscle that is going to annihilate you!" With these words she flexed her right arm, and the Reaper could see a bulging bicep bouncing menacingly just inches from his face. "Take THIS, Wanker!"

PAM! PAM! PAM! Carla's right fist impacted the Reaper's mouth with terrifying force, again and again. PAM! PAM! She punched hard multiple times, making sure to inflict maximum damage with each blow. Her strikes were swift and powerful: she continued to pummel his face with relentless determination...

The Reaper's teeth were flying all over the room, little white pebbles covered in blood. PAM! PAM! More teeth leaving their owner's mouth. PAM! PAM! Carla rested for a second, looking at her victim's ruined face, feeling no pity for that monster. She had to take revenge for all the women killed, for all the suffering that this man had brought to the world. This was justice, not sadism: he didn't deserve a quick death.

PAM! PAM! With another couple of punches Carla knocked out his last visible teeth, and left his hair. The Reaper slumped to the ground, motionless, emitting rasping sounds.

Carla stood up, lloked at him with disgust. "Have you ever heard about the "Tooth Fairy", Wanker? The assassin that only kills with her bare hands and feet? Well, that's me...I am called that way because I like to take a souvenir from all the bastards that I send to the cemetery. A single tooth, like this..." Carla picked up one of the Reaper's teeth from the ground, and showed it to him. "What a beautiful specimen, isn't it? I am gonna put it in my collection. The people who pay me don't mind my little hobby...they're all women themeselves, you know? Imagine the fun I'll have when I tell them how easy it was for me to defeat and kill the great Reaper!"

The hitman was trying to say something, but he could not speak anymore. Beside, Carla was uninterested in what he had to say. She was going to humiliate him some more.

"You like women, isn't it? You liked to have your way with them, treat them like inflatable dolls... Well, take a look at this."

She turned over, exposing her behind to him. It was the epitome of B-side perfection: a big bubble butt that would have made a Brazilian diva blush in envy. The ass straight out of any heterosexual male's dreams.

"See this, Wanker? I bet you would have loved to touch it, caress it, maybe even bury your face in it. Well, they say you should be careful of what you wish..."

...and she slammed her ass on his face, sitting on him with her full weight. She could hear a suffocated MMMPH! while she was pushing his face between her statuary buttocks.

"What's wrong, Wanker? Can't breathe? You really are a weakling - can't push a little girl away? Oh, I forgot - I broke your brawny arms like matchsticks. What a naughty girl I am!"

Carla smiled: she was having fun. She could have easily killed him this way, smothering him to death under her ass, tightening her cheeks until no more oxygen could arrive to his lungs. She had executed a Colombian drug lord in this exact way just a couple of months before, in his Jacuzzi bath: a delicious experience for her. Her own particular brand of sadism delighted in total degradation of these vermins. Her day job as an elite dominatrix wasn't entirely a cover: she actually ENJOYED submitting men. The only difference was, her "normal" victims survived the encounter with her. This killer of women surely won't.

But this wasn't the fitting way to go, for the Reaper.

She stood up, looking at the almost-suffocated killer. He was a pathetic sight now, totally defeated and harmless. A complete loser.
Time to end this. Carla prepared herself for the final curtain.

"Bye Bye, Wanker. I am gonna crush you under my foot like the worm that you are. Have a nice trip to Hell. Tell the Devil that a woman did this to you."

Carla raised her lovely bare foot, and stood still for a second...the calm before the storm...and then...

WHAM!!! She stomped down on his head with all the strength of her massive quad. Her legs were like pistons: she trained them religiously. There was more power in one of her thighs than most men have in their entire body. The effect of the kick was horrendous.
Carla's foot impacted the assassin's face like a baseball bat could impact a fragile Chinese vase. Her heel smashed his skull, breaking bone and cartilage, squashing his brain and killing him instantly.

There was a sickening sound, and then it was over. The Reaper was dead. Carla has snuffed him out, stomping the life out of him like he was nothing more than a cigarette butt.

She smiled. It had been easy, for her. She had been too superior to him: she could have fought three guys like him all together, and killed them all with little effort. Her skills as an assassin were exceptional... even too much, she thought. Nobody could give her a decent challenge, these days: it was almost boring.

Carla wiped her foot clean of the blood, and said aloud "It's over now. You can come out."

The door of the bathroom opened, and Anna Chernikova came put.

She was pale as a ghost. She saw at the corpse on the floor, and she looked like she was going to faint. "He is...was...this man here..."
"He was the Reaper, my friend. A top assassin, hired to take you out. But now he's no more a threat, as you can see. I killed the bastard with my bare hands." There was professional satisfaction in Carla's voice, pride for a job well done.

"But now..." Anna said "How can i justify this...a body in my room...they will ask questions..."

"No problems", Carla answered. "I am gonna take care of that. Open the window."

Anna reluctantly did so; Carla kneeled beside the Reaper's body, and with a single swift motion she picked up his huge body. She made it look so easy that the corpse could have been a bag of feathers. Anna watched her with awe in her eyes.

"Oh my God...you're so strong. You're incredibly strong."

Carla smiled at her, flexed her bicep in triumph while holding the Reaper on her shoulders. "Girl power, milady. We're the new dominant sex. This sucker here learned this lesson the hard way. By the way, it's time to say goodbye to this sack of shit."

Carla went to window and threw the body outside. There was a THUMP!, when the corpse hit the pavement two floors below. Then, silence.

"All done. He is now splattered in a deserted back alley - that's why I selected this room. They will not discover him until tomorrow morning. Judging by the damage that I inflicted to him, they will believe it to be the work of an entire gang...nobody in his right mind could believe that a frail little woman like you could do such a thing to a big man like him. You will just have the clear the room from the blood and -ahem- teeth...and you'll be clear."

Anna was looking at her with admiring eyes. "I don't THINK I will ever be able to thank you enough...how I can..."

Carla interrupted her. "Just do your job. Make justice for all the women in the world that suffer at the hands of these monsters. Arrest the motherfuckers. That's all I am asking."

Then, she went on. "Normally, you see, I get paid for this kind of work...in your case, I made an exception. You got a free ticket, and I accepted to do this just for my feminist ideals. But don't disappoint me now: find the big bosses behind all this. Do it for us women."
Anna nodded, fierce determination in her eyes. She was going to raise hell, that was for sure.

Carla went for the door. Before she could exit the room, Anna called her and said: "Wait! What's your name? How I can contact you again?"

Carla smiled and said. "I am called the Tooth Fairy, miss Chernikova. And don't worry: I will find you if you need me."