by David Carnes
The man turned back to them, “Oh you’re a funny, strange little guy aren’t you? What’s with your stupid lookin’ dog. What is it – a poodle? Foo-foo, fancy French dog. Worse than useless.” He laughed and spat again, this time landing a big goober that splashed onto Fifi’s foot.
All the guards chuckled along with their leader.
“Come on ya’ll, let’s escort our new friends in and make them comfortable. Why, they can just join the party in the big house. The boss is still celebratin’.” The man motioned with his head toward the big building in the center of the compound as he said big house. “This leder-hose-a-whats-it guy and his stupid dog can be part of the entertainment.” He made a motion to bring the rest of the goons in closer.
Brady interrupted him, “Ah, she may look stupid, as you zay. But look, she can do a fancy dance and tricks!” He signaled Fifi and began to clap a steady rhythm while dancing a little jig in his lederhosen.
Fifi stood up on her hind legs and began to dance along with Brady, really hamming it up. She did somersaults and spinning circles. She even threw in a couple of back flips and tried to bark the Benny Hill theme song along with Brady’s clapping.
The guards all stood still, evidently stunned speechless and mesmerized at the sight of a smiling, clapping lederhosen wearing young man and his happily dancing and singing poodle.
Fifi slyly closed the gap between herself and the spitting lead guard, spinning, twisting and flipping in the air. Brady smiled to himself as he saw how carefully she avoided the wet goober spots all over the ground. She noticed glancing back that Brady had danced along with her just inside the gate.
Brady and Fifi’s eyes met and they silently signaled each other - now!
Fifi bared her teeth and let her temper loose. Growling, “Ki-yaaaa!” She drew her nunchucks and came up fast and hard, striking the sweet spot right between the spitting guard’s legs. The nun chuck impacted perfectly, sounding like a wet cantaloupe dropping onto pavement.
The guard grunted, squeaked a little feeble “Ouch,” and fell down to his knees, holding his hands over his newly tenderized region.
Fifi place her paws on each of his shoulders and looked directly into his beady, watering eyes. She said slowly and deliberately, “All that spitting is just gross and disgusting. Don’t ever spit like that around a lady like me. Your mother would be ashamed. Have I made myself clear? Are you understanding me here? And I’m not Foo-foo, I’m Fifi.”
The guard squeaked and nodded, then toppled over.
Brady looked down. “Easy there girl,” he said quietly. “Let’s not be impolite.”
“OK, now where’s the creepy dancing guy!?” Fifi turned and asked the stunned guards surrounding them.
Fifi’s question seemed to wake the remaining goons up. They started bringing their guns around to fire. But it was too late. They hadn’t noticed the gas grenades that Brady rolled in front of them during Fifi’s little speech. They went off with a flash, suddenly releasing huge clouds of knock-out gas that was specially formulated to not effect Brady and Fifi.
When the smoke cleared, the four guards were laid out on the ground, unconscious.
“See,” Brady said to Fifi, “The lederhosen trick always works.”
Fifi just shook her head and rolled her eyes.
--
They tied up the guards and left them in a heap next to one of the barrack buildings. Then they quickly snuck over to the big warehouse.
As they drew closer they could hear applause coming from inside.
“Fifi, let’s scout around. The computer detected a couple hundred life forms, that must’ve been the crowing and barking we heard. There’s definitely something very weird going on here. Let’s circle the building.”
As they went around the far side, they saw a fenced-in area with a huge variety of animals. There were chickens, dogs, cats, snakes, spiders, and scorpions all penned inside rows of cages lining the side of the warehouse.
“Hmmm,” Brady shook his head, “Poor critters, they must be what the Shaman practices on. What do you think Feef, shall we go front door or back door?
Fifi was staring at the animals. She hated to see animals of any kind caged and mistreated. She looked up at Brady, bared her teeth and growled, “Front door. I really don’t like this guy.”
They circled back around to the front of the warehouse to the small door the guards had originally come out of. Next to it was a huge sliding door similar to an aircraft hangar entry that covered the front half of the building. It was shut tightly now.
There was a small keypad and a security camera mounted next to the door.
Brady altered settings on his comlink, going full stealth so he was virtually invisible. Fifi did the same and they snuck up to the key panel near the door. Brady popped the panel cover and looked inside. He grunted, looking down to where he knew Fifi was watching his back, “Pretty standard stuff, I’m going to patch in a control buster and we’ll take over the building electronics.” He opened a tool kit built into his thigh armor and starting disconnecting wires and reconnecting them to a small black box he had taken from his tool kit. Within thirty seconds it was done.
“OK Fifi,” Brady said, “It’s front door time.” He lifted up his arm and spoke into the comlink, “Number Eight, come around and give us back-up. We need a full light show. We wanna dazzle and shine.”
Within ten seconds Number Eight silently appeared, hovering behind them like a protective mother eagle over her nest. Eight turned on its bank of floodlights, brilliantly lighting up the front of the building. The ultra bright lights hung from hidden panels that had opened on the sleek underside of the hovering egg.
“Ready weapons,” Brady triggered the PODS. Fifi braced herself.
“Computer, open the big door.” Brady ordered.
“Number Eight, play Thus Spake Zarathustra as the door opens. Super loud.” Fifi added.
Brady looked at her. Fifi shrugged her shoulders and growled, “Music adds to the dramatic effect.”
The door began to open, brilliant light streaming into darkness.
The dramatic orchestral music played with perfect timing, giving a movie like effect to the opening of the door.
As the door slid open, the details of the interior were revealed. There was a huge interior space, the floor littered with numerous animals like the ones that they had seen outside – dogs, cats, chickens, snakes and others. Small smoky fires burned pale green and blue on some of the animal bodies. The smell of burnt hair and charred flesh washed over them.
At the far end of the huge room there was a raised platform. It had a row of about twenty folding chairs facing the large space as if some kind of show were going on.
About half the seats were occupied and the dancing man was standing in front of the group on the warehouse floor. He held his hands up over his eyes, momentarily blinded by the lights from Number Eight. It looked like he had been taken completely by surprise.
Brady noticed two men get up and quickly exit through a small door behind the row of chairs. They appeared to be wearing military uniforms. One of them had a silver mask covering one side of his face. Brady’s observation was cut short as his attention was drawn to an epic tantrum being thrown by the shaman as he recovered from his surprise.
“What!? What is this interruption? You will paaayyyyy!!” The Kachina shaman screamed as he reached into his cloak and started dancing.
Rattlesnakes started slithering in from every direction, their scales making whispery, scratching sounds against the ground as they charged toward Brady and Fifi. Their forked tongues frantically licked the air, searching for their targets.
“Cover fire, Eight! Assume all approaching are hostile,” Brady yelled into his comlink.
The snakes came for them in a huge wave, hundreds pouring out from inside the warehouse and the surrounding countryside.
Brady began focusing on directing the PODs. A huge rattler sidewinded in on their left. It’s mouth was op
en, grey fangs exposed and oozing yellow venom. It’s black, reptile eyes fixed on Fifi. Brady sent the PODS to it, freezing it in place. Then he made a fist and the PODS cut the snake into neat, even sections. With a look of concentration, Brady gestured with his hands sending the PODS into another charging rattler, then another.
Fifi looked over at him and smirked, “Nice work, Brady. Snake tartare.”
Number Eight’s computer guided laser turrets joined in. The ship targeted the incoming snakes with the cool precision of a robot surgeon. Rotating on well-oiled hinges, the turrets fired suspended from hidden compartments in the ships underside. Beams of high intensity purple laser darted out, stopping each snake by instantly cooking it.
Fifi smiled, “Snake, well-done,” she said.
As fast as Brady and Number Eight were working, a few snakes were starting to get through. One almost bit Brady in the left calf, sneaking in behind him. Fifi took it out quickly with a flashing silver nunchuck to the head.
“And,” she growled, “snake ala Fifi.”
The waves of snakes continued, and all they could do was defend. Brady and the ship took the incoming reptiles out at a distance while Fifi mopped up any that got through.