The Girl Who Twisted Fate's Arm

Playlist: Video 3/67

Playlist: Video 3/67

“Lemme go you snotty, filthy animals!” cried out Antioche, but she was smiling. The kids grouped up around her and hugged her with their little arms.

They had parked in front of the orphanage. It wasn’t really an orphanage the way people picture it, those things didn’t exist anymore except in general terms. This was an SOS Children’s Village, a non-profit that housed orphans or abused children and took care of them.

A Mother, one of the caretakers of the SOS Village, came close to the Amazons and bowed, her arms extended. She was of African origin, perhaps a Greek-Nigerian. “Thank you, warrior, for bringing my children home safe.”

“Yeah-yeah, take your midgets off me!” said Antioche but patted their heads, messed up their hair and still smiled, all in direct contrast to her words.

Bremusa stood next to her leader and crossed her arms, feeling proud of her. The kids went to ambush their Mother now, so she leaned close to Antioche and said, “I didn’t see you actually struggling against their hugs.”

Antioche scoffed. She addressed the Mother and pointed a thumb back at the school-bus, “Keys are in the ignition. I think it’s safe to drive, but if there was any damage send an email to Artemis and ask for repairs.”

The black woman hugged and kissed her children, tears in her eyes. “You’ve done more than I could ask for.”

Antioche turned around and walked back to the rest of the team, who was enjoying the sun, laying back on their bike’s seats. The second team had split already, these were only the ones under her direct command.

Bremusa fell to her side as always.

“Can you believe those charity guys? If it were me, I’d charge us a wax job, an oil-change, an ecologic interior cleaning. Something. Everything!” Antioche muttered as she walked.

“I think that’s what makes them suitable for charity work and us, well, unsuitable,” Bremusa said, grinning.

They got to the rest of the team. Antioche’s body language changed, and the team sensed it. They didn’t stand attention or anything, but their eyes all focused on their leader.

Melousa, the chubby sss discreetly put something away in a pocket.

Orosa sat upright on her tall bike’s seat, alert, but appeared bored. She was only a temporary member of Antioche’s crew, a camerawoman to record the team’s exploits and put them up online. She had to follow her orders but wasn’t a regular teammate.

Antioche glanced back to the SOS Village, saw that the kids were safely inside and out of sight and squeezed her fists. Bremusa could see it coming a mile away. She didn't even try to avoid it. As Bremusa casually stepped behind her, Antioche spun and punched her hard on the face.

Bremusa fell on her back and stayed down. Her leader sat on her and punched her again and again, but she didn’t fight back, but simply covered her face with her arms.

“Didn’t I order no guns? Are you f*****g deaf you b***h? There were kids everywhere,” Antioche screamed in her face. “Why did you pull your shotgun? Against my direct order? Why?” The woman became red with anger, leaning down over her subordinate, veins pulsing in her throat. Her blonde hair fell forward over Bremusa’s bloodied face and she breathed hard, as if she was the one taking the blows, as if she was the one hurting.

Melousa extended a hand in protest as if to stop her leader but she didn’t dare say or move any closer.

Orosa just watched, her expression blank but her eyes focused on Antioche.

Bremusa stared at her leader with killer eyes. She was the fierce warrior after all. She kept down the tidal wave of fury, the instinct to preserve oneself, with merely her own will keeping her passive and taking the blows. She said nothing.

Antioche stopped and sagged over Bremusa’s body. She breathed in hard and cried. “I know that the fucker had a g*n on me but you shouldn’t have. You shouldn’t. What if-” her throat dried up, and she stopped talking.

Melousa went to Bremusa’s bike and took the rifle out of its side-holster. She clicked the weapon open and checked the chamber. What she saw was apparently enough to give her courage, and she showed it to her leader, whispering but making sure she was heard, “It was empty. The shotgun was empty, Antioche.”

Antioche stared blankly at it and then at Bremusa underneath her. She wiped her fingers on Bremusa’s bloodied lips and shook the droplets off into the ground. Then she stood up and said, “That’ll do for tribute.”