Tweet.....tweet.... Intimacy in the near future 31st July 2018 or was it 2088

I was listening to the radio and there was this panel discussing the intimacy in the near future. I had a good laugh then and it did not go way from my mind till now which is midnight in my time zone.

There was one subject drew on a lot of laughter then. It was about Sex dolls and how it will replace the real woman in the acts. No, I was not caught up in the concerns but the mischief in me was causing me to think of bawdy jokes. Here are some I will share so maybe I could sleep later after....

The few facts that may occurred as a result of the above are described in these one liners and it involves sex droids or dolls in the action instead of humans in the real interaction.

1. No, Ma'am. I don't have a bed post for a tool. That is the bed post you are seated on.

2. Maintenance Order 4067; burst rubber lining in the lower posterior due to over use.

3. Mistress, can we do it now? I may have overfilled my tanks and its overflowing.

4. Yes, Master it did hurt. I could try it on you if you think an electrical probe will not fry your circuits too.

5. Oops, Fantasy Number 345. I need to change the Boobs Size to DD44 and increase the flatulence sound levels.

6. Master, if you want me to put my legs over my head and my hands in the rear, I think you need to exchange me for Model Yoga 5 for that posture. I am Model Yoga 3 with limited bends.

7. Yes....Yes..... Please replace battery soon for continuous posturing.

8. Yes, Mistress. I can do it forever but I doubt you could last forever.

9. Master, given the statistical counts, I think you have got your investment value return justified.

10. Pardon me, Master. I need to 'douche' the spent contents.

11. Yes, I am self lubricating. You need not go on your knees.

12. Master, I am a Sex Droid and not a Doll. Please stop the rear intrusion.

Cheers, mate. I am going to ....

Team of Seven Heroes Shorts Tales 1; Chapter 15 & 16

The Fox Hunt

15.

Sushila held Duncan on her shoulder while her sight was on the rear. They were alone then. The doctor had left the room to check with a Sergeant Lestrade.

“Why the authorities? You have burnt down their House? Do you still trust them?” Duncan made his point.

“That was the renegade part of the Regiment. I don’t condone their actions at the Frontier, but we are in London and here we have the proper law. The Sergeant may be able to help us.” Doctor Watson looked away and then made the passing comment. “We need their help. I will be back shortly.”

Duncan was still recovering and retired to his rest on the bedding. The lady paced the room and was looking outside the window the return of the doctor. It was then she saw the duo below. They looked like the usual ones there. She knew from her instinct, they are waiting for someone.

Sushila moved fast.

“Duncan, we will go from here.”

Sushila knocked on the door. It was only two doors away from the one where they exited from. The door was opened by an older lady. Without an invitation, Sushila barged into the room.

“You can’t barge in here. This is my room.” Sushila ignored the lady and placed Duncan on the nearby chair.

“Listen here, you bitch. I won’t have your kind storming my place.”

The elder lady was about to throw some tantrums when Sushila lashed out with her fist at the face. The elderly lady went down on her knees and then face down. Sushila was not stopping there. She closed the door and then looked for some weapon.

Sushila found it.

A three feet hard wood walking stick.

“You shouldn’t….” Duncan told Sushila off while trying to reach for the elderly lady faced down on the flooring. Sushila yanked him back and then glared at him.

“Duncan, I am trying to save us. Even if she dies, I don’t care.” Sushila told him. “There are killers after us now. The doctor may have sold us off.”

Duncan was to reply when Sushila cut him off. She leaned on the doorway to listen. She heard two sets of steps and then the noise stopped at the doorway to the room they were in. She held the walking stick in her hands and listened harder. She heard the knock and then the noise of the door knob being forced. They forced themselves in and it was then, Sushila stepped out. She closed the door where Duncan was still standing in. She approached the other doorway and saw the two men there searching the room. They were dressed in the tweeds jacket over their work clothes, but their shoes were the giveaway. They were military issued.

“Looking for me? Did the Mullah send you?” Sushila rushed in with the heavy stick aimed at the rear of the one standing near to her. She aimed at the inner thigh where the flesh is more tender. The stick went in hard and then she went jabbed in once more at the lower groin. The figure went down and the other had turned to look at her. Sushila was ready and lashed out with the stick at the face. The other blocked it with the left arm, and then reached out with the right hand to grab the walking stick. She felt the pull on the stick but the other was already into action with the side kick. The right leg impacted at Sushila’ left midriff and knocked her back.

The lady half crouched and saw the other injured figure had recovered. They were tougher than she thought. She was in trouble then. They were the better trained from the military. Like Duncan.

The Hidden Ones have found them.

Sushila backed out and turned to run for the doorway. She made it but the one in pursuit caught her by the back of her clothes. He yanked her back into the room and then jumped over her fallen body to run punches at her. Sushila felt several punches before the man fell on top of her. She pushed him off and then saw then the dagger in the back of the neck. She rolled over to sit up. She saw then the second man was holding a dagger in his chest where the heart was.

“Are you ok?” Sushila saw Doctor Watson looking in at the doorway. “We need to move. I took down the one downstairs. I think that all of them.”

Later in the carriage down the street, Sushila cradled her lover looked at the doctor. She wanted to ask a number of question’ but the doctor was looking outside. He was on the lookout for any one tailing them.

“How did they know?” Duncan asked. “We were discreet. Did you see the Sergeant? Did he tell them?”

“Those were our mates. They are the best in intel.” Watson replied. “You ought to know.”

“We are but that was at the Frontier and even with that, we got casualties.” Duncan replied. “So, the Hidden Ones may be the best. There are others who are better.”

“Sushila, proven that. Now you need to tell us where are the Hidden Ones? Whoever they are, they are in London now. So, tell me, how many of your mates are here?” Doctor Watson asked. “Who is your C.O? The real one not the Major I killed.”

“I am not sure. There was a name. General Steven McLaren.” Doctor Watson knew the General; a maverick in the wargames and hero in the Frontier before he was returned here after he lost his left leg. He was retired according to the Regiment. “Where is he based?”

“Our base is at the Highlands. He is there. They are all there.” Duncan replied.

Doctor Watson noticed the runner that was following them for two blocks. He was unsure but was suspicious when he noticed the runners seems to be replaced by another. No one chases a carriage until he was asked to follow it. It was well coordinated.

“We have the runners posted in a quadrant. These boys are good. They do this daily.” The one named the Colonel looked from the carriage window towards the Doctor.

“And I am going to be late for my lecture.” The other occupant replied. “This task is adding pressure to my schedule. When can we solve the equation?”

“Soon, Doctor Moriarty. The organization is growing on and we will be more efficient soon. We will win it all.”

“Colonel Sebastian, I am not a kid anymore. Tell me of the Mullah. Is he still …. solvent? As my banker will asked.”

“The Mullah is safe. He is with the General. They shipped him there till things settled here.” Colonel Sebastian replied. “Its standard procedure.”

It was all standard procedure then.

“Where are we headed?” Duncan asked.

“To the one place they won’t think of looking for us.” Doctor Watson replied. “The hospital. Regiment.”

16.

“Watson, I am surprised to see you here. So, what is with your patient?” The resident surgeon at the Regiment Hospital stretched himself on the garden stool below the cherry tree. Doctor Watson sat across the surgeon then, but his sight was on the second level window on the right of the hospital. He was concerned on Duncan, but he knew then the other was being treated. He also knew that the Hidden Ones will do anything brash there for they are on neutral grounds.

“Watson?”

“Huh? Yes, I am here. I heard you. Duncan was my mate. He had those from some thugs and approached me for help. I did all I could but lack the equipment. So, I brought him here. You …. “

“A few days late but its better than none. Your patient is on recovery. Who is the foreigner?”

“Huh? Oh, she is … his friend. A former servant and followed him here.” Doctor Watson smiled. “You know how this could happened?”

The Surgeon laughed. He then stood up and went back to the wards. Doctor Watson remained seated there with his eyes on the grounds. He saw the guards at the main gates and there are guards inside the hospital. He took Duncan there for he was part of the Regiment. He may not be threatened there.

With Duncan safe, Watson was to resume his hunt. He went there for the General was incapacitated and his records will be in the Hospital. He found it and discovered the General was in London.

Across the county in a nursing home, General McLaren crumbled up the paper that contained the message for his eyes. He had dismissed the aide that delivered message. He was seated on the wheelchair made of wood to complement his missing leg. He was still dressed in his uniform and have another aide to assist him. He kept the Webley in the special harness on the wheel chair right side.

“Corporal Murphy, it seems that your old mate, Duncan is onto us.” General McLaren looked to the aide that was standing by him. “You lost an eye for him.”

“Not for him, Sir. But by him.” Murphy replied. “I lost my right eye due to his traitor methods. I have still the other eye to shoot with.”

“And you will. He is in London and according to this message, he is gunning for me. So, you could be there to stop him. And do it well.” General McLaren patted the Webley. “Don’t worry, I will be your back up.”

It was then General McLaren saw a fellow officer and greeted him.

“Colonel Sebastian Moran? Are you to far from your roost?” General McLaren called out to the other officer who had walked in with the walking stick. “How’s your leg?”

“Still there but painful if I push my weight onto it.” Colonel Sebastian replied and approached the General. “I came to see some old friends and …adversaries.”

“Me, I am in the later. Good one, Colonel.” General McLaren then dismissed the Corporal and the Colonel asked to take him to the far corner by the garden doorway where they may have some privacy. “I am sure you are here because of one named Duncan.”

“Yes, I am. I have …. I mean we have far too much interest in the works there. I have posted two snipers out there. They will take down whoever resembled Duncan. Inside here, I will be your guard.” Colonel Sebastian told the General. “You are …”

“I am retired. I am no more the CO there. The other is doing it.” General McLaren clarified the matter. “But I appreciate the concern.”

“General, you…”

“I started the Hidden Ones, but the other demonize it to be the Dark Ones as I called them now. I have no part of it. I am searching my conscience to tell all, but I will hurt my Regiment.” General McLaren sighed. “You …”

“I know of it. And it’s my advice to tell you that if need be, I will stop you.”

“Appreciated, Colonel. Which is why we are having the talk here. If need be, stop me. I cannot be that traitor even under duress.” General McLaren looked to the others in the hall. “I am going mad here. Staying with them when I should be with my men.”

“I will assist there, General.” Colonel Sebastian raised his walking stick to the shoulder. The shot came through the glass door and impacted on the General’s head by the right ear an into the brain. It was a dead shot. The commotion went out with the attending nurses rushing to assist the slumped General on the chair, while a certain Colonel walked away. He saw the Corporal standing at the far corner. He approached the Corporal.

“Its done, Corporal. There will no fall out with the Regiment.” Colonel Sebastian took his leave.

At that moment, Doctor Watson was registering himself at the main gate. He heard the alarm at the main building. Before that, he thought he heard the sound of gunfire.

“Was that….” Doctor Watson was cut off.

“It’s the routine. The alarm goes off when some one kicks the bucket. We have old folks there and half of them are dying. It’s the nurses which kept them alive.” The impartial guard at the gate have seen it all. “Pesky foxes I guess. The grounds have been filled with them.”

Doctor Watson took his pass and took the long walk to the building. He had to see the General. It was the only clue they have then.

It was unfruitful.

“Damned!” Duncan tossed the bowl that he was feeding on. He was with Sushila and the doctor at the lonely cottage some miles away from the nursing house. It was the only option then; abandoned cottage and wide span of grounds to see anyone coming at them.

“Somehow they knew. And they covered it well. We are just not catching up. No, we are not to catch them. We have to overcome them.” Doctor Watson snapped back. “I am tired of catching up. With the General gone, we are back to who are they?”

“Forget it. Forget the Hidden Ones. Find the Mullah. We will stop the operations.” Sushila cut in. “Where could the Mullah be?”

“Where the fox will hide. In 

Team of Seven Heroes Shorts Tales 1; Chapter 13 & 14

The Torture

13.

“Yes, Mistress. I will be obedient.” The whip came down hard across the back of the figure crouched on the four limbs on the flooring. The figure was strapped in leather throngs with the leather piece serving as a blindfold. Standing before the crouched figure was the lady in the tight leather corset, and tight pants to the above the knees with the long socks and leather boots. The lady was holding the cat-o-nine whip in the right hand. The lady stepped to the front of the crouched figure who was a man.

“Lick at me.” The leather clad lady spread her legs towards the crouched figure. “Do it well and I may just let you feel the real flesh.”

The crouched figure leaned forward using his scent to reach the lady and performed the task as requested. The lady stood there and trailed the whip gently over the spine of the man. The spine to many is an erogenous zone and it excited the man awaiting the hard blow; unpredicted which made the senses peaked for it. The blow came just when the man was intensely licking the leather outside the flesh.

“Ah…” The man was satiated then by the last blow. He fell with his face to the toe end of the right leather. “I… salute you.”

That was the safe word for the act to end.

The so named Mistress stepped away from the spent figure and approached the lady held in the cage. The lady there was a foreigner by her looks to the local blonde look on the Mistress. She looked at the seated lady there chained to the cage bars and voiced out.

“You will learn these moves. There is honour and power in it. The men you will served needs to be made servient to you.” The Mistress looked at the lady. “They are pleasure to the pain.”

The Man who was spent on the flooring then stood up and walked to the wash basin. He stripped off the leather bands before using the wash towel to sponge off the sweat and dirt off his body. He then donned on his three-piece suit and took on his alter ego as Major Bromshead. He took to the stairs that led him to the corridor that held doorways to the normal life style of the local society. He took to the first doorway that opened him to the living area where a long bar stood on the right side with the rows of liquor bottles. The long bar was served by the walrus lipped elderly man dressed like a butler.  

“Martini, shaken and not stirred.” Lieutenant Bromshead placed his order while he picked put the ones sharing his social space. There were two other officers there; one a Lieutenant and the other a Colonel. Senior in ranks and age but not in taste; they were paired to a lady each; foreigner by the looks and dressed tardily for other purposes. The Lieutenant smiled to himself; the place was an establishment of sorts for one to induced in without the restriction of the authorities. It was a reminiscence of the parties they used to hold at the Frontiers; where their lives could be shortened any moment.

“Sir, I can’t let you in without an invitation.” The words reached the ears of the Lieutenant. He knew the voice of the Sergeant who was in charge then of the main doors. A fine non-commissioned officer with a rather long list of misfeasors on the list but obedient to the Colonel like his yappy pet doggie.

“Sergeant Haskell, I outranked you. And I am here to see some friends.” Doctor Watson raised his voice. He looked over the Sergeant and saw the Lieutenant approaching the doorway.

“Doctor Watson, I am afraid today is a closed session for the invited officers today. They cannot admit you but perhaps next week.” Lieutenant Bromshead looked at the Doctor. “Most embarrassing but you were not updated into my list then.”

“That explains it well, Lieutenant. I will be on my way then.” Doctor Watson did a turn and took his walk down the drive way. He paused to look at the spread of the ground there. He was standing in the drive way; the distance of over a hundred yards from the high walls and the main gates manned by a solitary sentry. To the right of   
him was the pavilion struck in the middle of the flower beds, and there was a small pond besides the structure. To the left was the stables for half a dozen horses and there were the staff quarters. He noticed there was a sentry thereby the stables but there were no signs of horses. He recalled on his arrival the huge two-level house with the nine windows; five on the right and four on the left with the main doorway. There was the left doorway after the second window with the path leading to the pavilion. He recalled during his stay there were eight bedrooms upstairs; one dining and library with the two living areas, the kitchen and the stores. There were two doorways from the living areas each to the rear of the house opening to the gazebo and the vast green area with narrow spread to the line of trees and after it was the high walls. There was a rear gate where the stores were replenished by the wagons from the nearby village. He believed they have hounds there for he heard the barking from the rear.

“Nasty encounters…” Watson muttered to himself.

“Would you be needing a carriage, Doctor?” Doctor Watson heard the question from the Lieutenant who had approached him. “I can arrange one in an hour perhaps.”

“None, whatso ever. I am fine. I will walk back to London. Ten miles was it? Nice distance to walk.” Doctor Watson strutted off on his long journey back. The Lieutenant watched the healer walked out of the gate before he returned to the house. He saw the Sergeant hurrying down from stairs upstairs.

“Pardon me, Lieutenant. The Colonel needed some help with his lady. He was trading for the tradesman entry and she was …. non-complying.”

“Sergeant, discretion please. If the lady was not gratifying, get her to be coached. We cannot have the seniors feeling left out.” Lieutenant Bromshead reminded the Sergeant. “And another thing, keep your eyes open for the Doctor. I don’t think he is here by mistake. He may return soon here, and he cannot be allowed to leave.”

It was then the Lieutenant saw his Mistress stepping past his walk. He bowed before her and watched her strut her way towards the rear where the carriage was awaiting. The lady stepped into the carriage and then tapped on the carriage side to signal the driver to return her to London. She had worn on the skirt over her tight pants and threw on the shawl over her shoulders. She leaned back and closed her eyes.

It was to be a long ride.

14.

The bumps on the ride woke her. The lady named the Mistress tapped on the carriage side and turned to sleep. It was a short sleep for she was awakened by the non-movement in the carriage. Her instinct told her she was not in London yet and the carriage had stopped. She tapped the carriage side and heard no reply. She reached for the bottom of the seat and removed the Webley she kept there. She then opened the door. She peeked out. She was not on the road but behind some wall. She stepped out and saw that the carriage was parked inside the compound of small house with the white walls surrounding it. She looked for the doorway on the wall and saw that she was in the rear part of the house. She then saw the lady standing there, dressed in the traditional wrap of the Frontier with the machete in the right hand.

“The one that got away.” The Mistress smiled. “I was wondering where you were hiding. How did you find me?”

“Questions, Mem Sahib. May we do the formalities first?” The lady with the machete spoke up. “My name is Sushila. I am also known as the Silent One.”

“Madame Rosalind. Margaret Arthur Rosalind. I am also known as the Mistress or the Bitch to some.” The other lady introduced herself. “I am the silent one too although my friends are vocally loud.”

“What can you tell me of the House where you have departed from?”

“House? Oh, you are ignorant of the place. With that fact established then I will not speak anymore.” Madame Rosalind replied. “We shall continue on how you escaped from the wagon and what am I do with you?”

“Perhaps I will ask the questions.” The madame looked to her right and saw the figure in the uniform of the Regiment standing there. He held the Webley in his right-hand level.

“And to whom am I addressing, Sir?” Madame Rosalind asked. “Do you know its rude to meet strangers behind walls? Gossips may spread wide and my reputation tarnished.”

“Fear not, Lady Rosalind. My name is Doctor John Watson and in this uniform, my behaviour is impeccable. We have been watching the house for over two days and night. We saw a few guests pulled up there and then there was you. The only non-uniformed person and that intrigued me for that was an officer mess.”

“Officer Mess? John Watson, Doctor? Messy? I am indeed.” Madame Rosalind. “I am afraid I can’t tell more. It will be undignified of me to tell you more.”

“I may suggest that you drop the gun, Madame.” The Doctor told her. “We can then speak more freely.”

“Drop? I say, dear Sir. You should had said it very clearly as discard.” Madame Rosalind reached with her left hand to unnotched the catch on her skirt and it dropped off. It caused a momentarily distraction on Doctor Watson and he did not noticed the Webley aimed at him.

“Gun!” Watson saw the Webley and was prepared to raise his own. It happened so fast.

“Arghhh…” The scream came from Madame Rosaline. The machete had crossed the distance to hit the Webley held by the lady. The blade hit the barrel and caused an impact which Rosalind dropped the gun.

“That was quick.” Rosalind rubbed her hands. She looked from the fallen weapon and the machete that caused it. She was upset her action was foiled. She was not one to be taken by surprise. She looked at the lady who tossed the machete.

“Bitch! Fight me one on one! No weapons.” Rosalind was not the unforgiving one/ She stood there with her hands spread to show her bare attire was devoid of weapons. The other lady took the first steps towards Rosalind.

“No one calls me a bitch!” Sushila replied in her native tongue. Her steps took on quick steps and then she leapt high with the twist to her body, she lashed out with the side kick with her right leg. It was a form of the Oriental fighting art that she had mastered. The other lady retreated and held her left arm to block the kick.

“A good move.” Rosalind took up her battle stance. “I know some moves of my own. It’s taught in Paris.”

The kick came fast; the ‘chasse frontal’; the front kick was high and caught Sushila in the upper chest. Rosalind followed on with the ‘crochet’; the bent left elbow with the right leg firmed to add power to the blow. She was stopping there with a jab at the reeling foreigner. Sushila went down barely missing the last blow but she was ready.

Sushila went down and did the under kick at the other lady. Her left leg swung for she needed her right leg for the balance. The left leg hooked the other lady at the right knee. The kick would had dropped the lady, but she had moved. The kick scraped her knee cap when she bent her leg back. Rosalind had braced herself for the next move. She turned her body and did a back-swing kick at the other. It was met by the upper block of the right arm and Sushila left fist went at the right leg ankle. The bones there crunched at the hit.

“Arghh…” Rosalind screamed. She was a mistress at pain inducement but hardly on the receiving end although she lusted for the occasional rectum intrusion. She pulled back but the other was onto her. The next hit was the fist into the right ear of her’ and then she went black.

Sushila pulled back on her fist although she had clenched her fingers. The other was defeated.

“Sushila, are you that … I am not that kind of a killer.” Doctor Watson watched the defeated naked and hog tied and hung face down over an upright sword. Sushila looked at the doctor. They have moved the battlefield to the emptied cottage a few miles away. They needed intel and the defeated was the informer. It was the proposed methodology that concerned Doctor Watson. At the Frontier he had seen many forms of torture and some of it, he had personally done it too. He had victim on a slow noose death but that one was new to him.

“She will talk. Or end up with an open ribcage soon.” Sushila pulled at the rope that swung the lady in a pendulum over the sword. The cuts were there; shallow but deadly.

And painful.

“Now we know. I need to go back there.” Doctor Watson looked at the other lady. She was dead; the chest a mangled piece of lacerations with blood dripping.

“She told us many things. One was the Mullah which intrigued me.” Sushila focused on her task. “I kill him, I can bring Duncan back to my home.”

“We still have to clear the stain on the Regiment.” Doctor Watson added in. “We cleared that, and Duncan may be a hero.”

That last line came out flat out.

“There are no heroes, Doctor. Not even for us who had to do the messy tasks. We are all the soldiers in the war. We will go on fighting and we die or live to fight another until they tell us the war is over. And we begin once over. We can go different tasks. You take on the scum in the Regiment and I will kill the Mullah.”

Team of Seven Heroes Shorts Tales 1; Chapter 11 & 12

The hunt for the prey

11.

“Fools! Am I to be plaque with them?” The Mullah threw the book he was holding. He was in the Library of his mansion. “Tell me how a task could so simple be … fuddled by these fools?”

The book landed close to the lady dressed in the leather suit under the red shaded waist length coat, but she was not concerned on it. She was looking at the dagger held in her left hand. She was examining the blade. The dagger was a Kurdish dagger known as Janbia. It was a dagger with a curved blade, and a medial ridge. It was worn by man of the Arabian descents. The hilt was made of rhinoceros horn. The blade was of steel with the sheath made of wood covered with metal. She weighed the dagger and liked the balance.

“Am I heeded here?” The Mullah looked at the lady seated there. “Where is Bromshead?”

“I have no concerned on him.” The other occupant growled from the far corner nursing the long drink held in the right hand. He was unlike the others; his taste of attire was rough wear and coarse clothing. He was bald headed with the goatee. He looked like the grocer on the block, but his real work was smashing people’s head. He was an enforcer for the docks leader.

“You should be. He is ….” The Mullah stopped when he saw the Major stepped into the chamber. “Major, I don’t like to wait.”

“And I don’t like to be haul out of my bridge game to …” Major Bromshead lashed back. He was dressed in his business suit with vest inside his dark blue coat, and on his right hand was his walking stick with the heavy head piece made from metal.

“Major, may I remind you that your lifestyle is handed by my generosity. If you chose to be impudent, I will go above you. He may not be pleased.”

“And he won’t be. He will have all of you dead by nightfall.” Major Bromshead laid it out flatly. “I served with him …”

“Okay, tell me of the one that you said was getting close to our …business.” The Mullah cut to the business. “Who is this Duncan?”

“Duncan McLeod is a fool. I had him done in. I had the …Sorry, Pierce was the one who arrange his men to do it. Just like the ones who could not shoot the hens in the chicken coop.”

“Tell me once more who Duncan McLeod is?” The Mullah asked again.

“Duncan McLeod is one of us. He is a part of the Hidden Ones. He was on our leash and hence he could not catch you. We had it arranged. He was sent back here on the grounds of misconduct, but he decided to seek you here when he found out from his own sources, that you are here. He was also pursuing his lover whom we lay the news of him being here. It was all a ploy for his lover is an assassin; the Guild trained one.”

“The elusive lady?” The Mullah was upset. “The Guild have a bounty on me.”

“Which we knew then and their assassin is here on her own accord. She is considered a renegade. We were to hold her as a hostage and exposed Duncan, but things are sometimes as planned.” Major Bromshead looked to the one named Pierce. “Pierce had him killed.”

“Contravening my order.” The Mullah looked at Pierce. “You also had the lady escaped.”

“Mullah, am I here to hear your raving madness recounting what you had known? I will be leaving now.” Major Bromshead turned to leave but was stopped by the Mullah.

“Major Bromshead, you are right. I am raving mad. I am raving mad because all of you had killed fake Duncan McLeod. And tried to make up by having a shooting gallery by the river on the real one. And he escaped with his lover whom you were supposed to have captured. And the only reason, I am not shooting you is because I am raving mad.” The Mullah glared at the Major. “From now, listen up. I am taking on the elusive Duncan McLeod. I am going to kill him and his lover. I am going to heal this festering wound.”

“You are raving mad, Mullah. I will not stand in your way. Do it and let us get our life back on track.” Major Bromshead smiled. He then looked at the other two. “You are all mad like him.”

“Mad? Who are you to call us mad?” Pierce reacted in anger and rushed at the Major. The later took on his battle stance and held the walking stick in front. He saw the raging brute approaching and the walking stick lashed out. A swinging blow to the left side of the face with the metal head, and then the plunged of the wooden end of the stick into the left thigh just below the hip. Pierce feel forward with the left leg in pain, and the metal head of the walking stick was slammed into the face breaking the nose.

“Don’t ever make me mad. I can be …mad.” The Major cautioned the brute then on the flooring holding his broken nose. “I am not here to work ….”

“The Major will assist in any way he could.” The new voice came from the garden doors which was ajar then. A figure stepped in and approached the seated lady.

‘Hello, Colonel Fleming. I am ever glad to see you.” The lady greeted the newly arrived senior officer. The officer was a tall slim figure dressed in the fine suit with the homburg.  The officer took the extended right hand of the lady and laid his kiss on it.

“Major Bromshead, I trust you do know how to address an officer even though you have retired.” The Colonel reminded the Major who threw in the salute to his commanding officer.

“Mullah, your pursuit of the man and lady may be an act of harsh decision.” Colonel Fleming looked at the Mullah. “You must not have induced yourself in such trivial acts. The Major will accomplish the task for you. Am I understood, Major?”

“Yes, Sir.” The Major stood to attention with his face flashed red either in anger or embarrassment.

“Duncan McLeod is one of ours. Trained by us. And he will be killed by ours.” Colonel Fleming replied. He then looked at the Mullah. “Don’t ever threaten my officers on their lifestyle. I am responsible for that lifestyle.”

“May I look at the dagger?” The Colonel reached out his right hand towards the lady. She offered him the dagger which he held at the tip of the blade.

“Fine balance.” The Colonel remarked and then tossed the dagger with the twist of his right hand. The dagger flew across the chamber and ended up in Pierce’s left eye. The so named brute fell to the flooring once more lifeless.

“No one fights my officer.” Colonel Fleming glared at the Mullah. “We have each our respect.”

“Find the named doctor; Doctor John Watson. He may be involved more than he knows.” The Colonel told the Major.

12.

Doctor John Watson placed his right hand on the door knob of the room he was renting then. His fingers clenched on the knob and then held there. His instinct told him that there was danger behind the door. He had survived on his instinct before. He looked to the flooring before the door. There was some dirt there which was not there before. His body tensed from his shoulders to his toes on his feet, but he knew that he needed to relax. It was part of his training. He pulled in his breath and then exhaled. His left hand reached in to his right shoulder holster and pulled the dagger out.

Watson was ready.

Watson turned the knob and opened the door. He turned his body sideways to present a narrow target while his left hand held the dagger ready to be tossed. He looked in and saw the room was empty. From where he stood, he saw his bedding and chairs with the table. The window was closed shut and the coal brazier was still there by the window. He looked to the other sides and saw nothing.

Watson was mistaken and stepped in.

“Doctor, please remain calm.” The dagger sharp end was at his neck on the left side. The doctor stood there with the door closing behind him. He was holding onto dagger in his left hand.

“I heard of your reputation, Doctor. I am not any ….” Watson heard the words spoken into him in the Frontier’s tongue.

“A member of the Guild. I have guessed it as much. Only your kind may have eluded me of the scents here.” Watson have met and fought with them before. “Your fair warning is your call sign. So, tell me why are you here? I have buried my hatchet with the Guild back there. A truce which I had with the Grand Master.”

“I was there, Doctor. The few who had fought us to a stand alive and won our respect as an adversary.” The other reply. “I am Sushila the Silent. I need your service as a healer. I have a friend named Duncan.”

Watson thought momentarily of the name. He had recalled the man; whichever he was had mentioned looking for his lover from the Frontier.

“Bring him to me now. Less words and delay may save his life.” Watson replied. It was then he heard stepping sounds from the rear of a figure dragging his feet. He ignored the threat of the dagger and turned to see the figure. It was a wounded man with his left shoulder bandaged. Watson took on his profession as the healer with the wounded man taken into his room.

“You are a lucky man, Duncan McLeod.” Doctor Watson looked at the wounded man while he was washing his hands at the wash basin. “The bullets went through but you have lost blood.”

“Thank you, Doctor. I trust you met Oates. He was a good mate. I heard he …” Duncan was snapped off his words.

“Moats died in your name. Who are you to have him as the victim?” Watson directed at Duncan. “I only got to know of this when the police told him.”

“Oates and myself knew the score line. We were in the same squad once before. He …was my good pal.” Duncan replied in anger. “Oates died soon after he met you for I told him so. He was to entrust our lives to an officer. Like yourself. The Hidden Ones are tainted with …. murderers and all sort. We discovered that plot and he died.”

“Now your tale spread out like the web of deceit. Tell me for once, Duncan McLeod who are you and who are the Hidden Ones.”

The tale that came from Duncan McLeod will never have made the headlines for it astounding in its content. The Empire was feeling the hold on the eastern colonies. The local monarchs or privilege families were rebelling against the Empire on the administration of their lands. The Viceroy of India have forwarded an appeal to the King then to increase the army there or withdraw.

The Hidden Ones were formed and called into duty under Colonel Fleming. The Colonel formed three squads of six to eight members. We were given tasks to remove those threats identified by the Colonel. Duncan was the master sniper and was to join any squad in need of his skills. Their tasks were to remove the renegade leaders like the Mullah. Or the traitors. It worked well for the Empire, but the Hidden Ones gained a reputation as merciless killer.

Duncan was ever proud to serve the Empire and on his mis-conduct he was sent back. He was told that his charge was a mock one and given him the cover to find the Mullah. He took the task to heart and worked his way into the network of spies and traitors. The Mullah was seen in London and was recruiting the locals including the local hands who was allegedly working for the Mullah. His last task was to remove Lieutenant Dunsbury. It was done but not by him. The scene was chaotic in situation, but Duncan was safe.

Duncan’s mistake was he missed on the Corporal and one other private. The leaders of the Hidden ones were not pleased and ship the Private home at the most opportune time. Duncan did the unthinkable; he told Sushila to elope. He left and waited for her but his time at London was to carry out the find for the Mullah. He found a trail that lead him to the Human Trafficking.

“It was arranged by someone named the Doctor with then help from our leaders like the Major from our own regiment; Major Brushed.”

“I don’t believe you.” Doctor Watson seated across the wounded man.

“Check out this place. It’s one of their safe houses. It’s also ours.” The address given was a small house on the outskirt of London. Watson remembered the place as a convalescent retreat for the officers. He was there once before when he returned after his missing period in the hills. He was there for a month to get briefing and rest.

“It was vacated by the Regiment and taken over by the squad for their recovery.” Duncan continued with his explanation. “Oates was there too. We escaped when we learned the truth. We barely made it out and since then, we have been trying to expose the activity there. No one believed us. Oates saw you in London and recalled your unofficial stay with the brigands. He thought maybe you could be the one to talk to. I did not know he used my name to get to you.”

“Duncan, I am a doctor. Not a battle-hardened officer. Not a ….”

“Doctor Watson, we heard of your reputation. You are not a ranking officer with the influences. You are a self-made officer and more to it, you were 9once the White Killer. You have your numbers marked on the wall and we knew it. We were twice given the task to remove you, but the orders were rescinded twice. You were doing our tasks although it remained unknown to many.”

“I…” Watson looked at Duncan. He had sworn to leave all that behind.

“Doctor Watson, you are the healer for those unfortunate ladies.” Duncan was convincing.

  

Team of Seven Heroes Shorts Tales 1; Chapter 9 &10

The other lady

9.

The lady stayed in the shadows keeping her presence on a low profile. She was in a foreign land sent there on the trail of her lover, and on her task to kill the Mullah. She was trained as an assassin, and her recent task was to get close to one named Duncan McLeod; a British soldier. It worked too well, for she was in love with him.

“Duncan, you are leaving.” The lady stood there on the balcony of the humble home she had shared with the white lover. It was provided by the Guild for her cover as the laundry lady who does the washing for the white soldiers. It was a front for her to know the soldiers.

“Yes, I am recalled to home.” Duncan had stood behind her with his arms wrapped around her. He leaned forward to lay his lips on the lefty shoulder. His fingers wrapped itself into the smooth cloth that was wrapped on the lady. It was the traditional wear of the lady’s culture, and to Duncan, it was an exotic look on the lady.

“Home? Is this not your home now?” The lady pulled away to step back into the private chamber of their home. “I thought you have told me that you will stay with me.”

“Yes, I do.” The man pleaded. “I have no other desire than seeing you daily. I had to go back to London as part of my placement with the Army. And I needed to go back to sort my life there. I have …other matters to conduct there.”

“Duncan McLeod, you are a liar.” The lady turned her glare at the man. “You will not return to me.”

“Sushila Tamchi, I am faithful to you. I just need your trust.” Duncan approached the lady and it was then she lashed out with her right leg at him. Her kick appeared out of the cloth but the other was prepared for it. Duncan blocked it and then reached out towards the lady, but she had retreated. She turned and then stepped on the nearby chair there to leap high. In the jump, she turned her body with the right leg swinging towards him. Duncan had to ducked from that kick and retreated. The lady landed on her feet and then lashed out with the left leg at Duncan. He was caught on the midriff and fell backwards.

“Duncan…” The lady rushed forth to attend her lover, but he was unhurt on the kick but on her mistrust. He grabbed the lady and pulled her down to the flooring. He laid his lips to her’ while subduing her struggles to get up. His kiss was returned by the lady and the flow of love was felt by them,

“I won’t leave you, my love.” His last spoken words that night. There she was in his home land, tired and hungry after a long gruelling voyage with no one to receive her. She was piled in with a group of her nationalities and led to a group of carriages. She was placed into one.

“She is an odd one. Probably stowaway.” Sushila heard the men who was leading them. “Consider it as a gift.”

Sushila did not complete the trip; she jumped the carriage midway in the open countryside. Her escape was seen and three of the guards who pursued her. They cornered her in the fields.

“Fancy a trollop today?” The one to the rear of Sushila voiced out. “I am sure she will scream on your size.”

Sushila knew the men were mocking her but she was not any lady from the ship. She was the assassin trained from the tender age of three. She did not wait for the attack and did her own. She rushed towards the man in front of her. She leapt high and with her right knee slammed hard into the face there. She then twisted her body to swing her left leg into the second man in the face. She then landed in a semi crouched posture facing the man who mocked her.

“I am not letting any filly tells me how to fight.” The last standing man rushed at her; his body frame was huge with the wide girth on the waist and the pants hung up by the straps snapped on at the waist. His aggressive move was tapered by his clumsy moves. Sushila swung out her right leg in a sweeping move toppling the huge attacker onto his haunches. She followed through with a body drop with the right elbow extended to snap at the throat. The man was soon gasping for his breaths.

“Child, you need to eat.” Sushila saw the piece of bread extended to her by the lady in the shawl. She had seen them around; doing the charitable offerings. Sushila sought shelter there and travel at night to search for Duncan. It did not take long to find out on the Mullah.

“The Saidullah the Sartor? Mullah of Mastun?” Fate had drawn her to London. Sushila will complete the task given to her by the Killer Guild; the one which the was reason she was assigned to get close to Duncan. The Guild knew that the Englishman could lead them to the Mullah who was hunted by the Empire. It had worked but each attempt was foiled by the Mullah’s escape. The Mullah was to know when the attack was to take place. The Guild suspected an informer and that person was Duncan. He was then marked for execution by the Guild, but the order was place on hold by Sushila on the excuse he will lead them to the Mullah.

An oath she was to fail and for that, she was hunted soon after Duncan’s departure. Soon Sushila was on the run from the Guild too. She learned that the Guild could reached you anywhere.

And it was discovered to be true.

Sushila leaned back to the wall keeping herself to the shadows. She regretted not having changed her attire; wearing the traditional dressing in London was alike a beacon there. She had always worn the design since young and was unable to visualise herself in the tight bodice and hoop skirt and the umbrella. She had seen the design at her homeland and to be exposed here was more nightmarish. Her attire had attracted the unwanted spectators, and one of them was on her trail.

Guild? Or was it a local stalker?

Sushila maintained her breathing to shallow depths while her body relaxed on the muscles. It was part of her training and when she moved into action, her body will react differently.

Her right arm struck out at the figure who had trailed her for the last hour. It was finger jab attack and was targeted on the left ear area. On contact the fingers curled in with the knuckles to lend more impact to the area before the knuckles cleansed up into a fist to complete the blow. The figure fell to the side with ugly howl from the throat, but the blows were impacting on his balance to stand then. Sushila then rushed onto the fallen body to straddle it with both her fists aimed at the face.

“Stop it!” It was a voice not expected to Sushila then. She pulled her punches back. It was Duncan. Her lover.

“How?” Sushila grabbed her lover. He was gasping to breathe and then turned over to throw up. She was glad that he was there.

10.

The hideout was a spot under the bridge; well it was until Duncan found the shed near it and had his occupation there. He was used to the rough living but when he heard his love was seen, he had it furnished.

“I knew you were coming. I had an old mate of doing the rounds. I was …. you knew my tasks. I am …. was doing my tasks.” Duncan spoke to her in the native language picked up at the Frontier. He was seated on the stool by the bedding where his love lady lay there still recovering from her ordeal in the new area. She may be a tough person; an assassin by profession but in the arms of her lover, she was a lady once again.

“Were…your task so … Don’t tell me. You were always doing your tasks. I should not had loved you.” Sushila looked away. “I should had stayed home…. My own home.”

“Sushila, I was still on the task I told you back then. The Mullah is here, and he was doing more bad things. I had to do my task…”

“The Mullah, the Mullah…are you his only consideration?” Sushila turned to sit up but Duncan stopped her.

“I will set it right. You must rest.” Duncan pleaded with her. Sushila pushed the hands away.

“Duncan, you know me well. I am not any lady you meet at the streets. I am not a washing lady. I do washing but its not dirty clothes. I removed dirt like corrupt officers. And bad men. Like you, I was doing a task. I may not like what the Mullah was doing but he was my target. I was to get to him through you. Instead I got through to you.”

“I knew all that. We discussed it before. The other factor we loved each other was because you are not entirely local. Your mother was Portuguese. You have her blood. She was an officer’s daughter. You came from a fierce father too who was a warrior. You are warrior bred. We both wanted the Mullah but neither of us was making way until I was sent back here. Here in London, I have clues to his whereabouts. I am close to grabbing him until I found my life was in danger. I had my mate. His name is Oates to cover me. We do look alike although we are not brothers. He pretended to be me while I work. He was to distract them off me. I …”

Duncan paused to look at the lady. She had stood up and was adjusting her attire.

“Are you leaving?” Duncan asked. The lady ignored him and walked towards the doorway. Duncan got up, but she stopped him.

“I need some air.” Sushila replied. “I will stand by the window.”

Sushila saw the shadow by the door slits. Her instincts told her that was potential trouble. She saw the long stick by the doorway. It will work for her. She turned to look at Duncan who was caught her expression. He stood up and reached for the familiar bayonet placed next to the bedding.

The door was kicked open and the figure rushed in. He was dressed like any other; jacket over the dirty shirt and pants. He was armed with a spear on the short staff. He was not alone. There was the second attacker; armed with a small axe on a short handle.

The spearman moved in on Duncan assuming he was the real threat. The other stepped in close to move right getting in position to help. He was not prepared for the lady with the stick. She did not swing the stick at him but thrust it into his face form the side. The axe man screamed out and it distracted the spearman. The later turned to look and had his heart pierced by the bayonet. The spearman collapsed while the lady was following up on her second attack. The lady thrust the stick once more into the left armpit pushed upwards towards the shoulder. She punched the nerves there and inflamed the heart. He was grabbing his chest trying to breathe but the lady was cruel. She went in with the leg to step on the next.

“It’s over.” Duncan voiced out.

It was not.

The shots came soon. The shooters laid cover fire on the shed. Duncan grabbed his lover and rushed to the far wall.

“Bottom level. Trap door.” The made it out, and then Duncan picked up the bottle he had rigged with the flammable. He lit it and tossed it into the shed. They ran towards the river and then jumped in.

“Duncan you are hurt.” Sushila pulled the man out of the river. She saw the wound on his left shoulder. She cradled him from the cold and his teeth was chattering. He mentioned a name.

“Doctor Watson. John Watson.”

Across the city, Doctor Watson was having his morning tea at the coffee shop. He was perusing the morning papers. Apart from the political jibes, there was the usual news on the crime scene. Ever since the mystery of the Ripper, the later news on killers have not taken prominence like that one. He was to read the sports section; he was a cricketer before but with the war wound, his limp narrowed his position to the batsman.

“Doctor, fancy meeting you here?” Doctor Watson looked up to see that the person addressing him was the Sergeant Lestrade. The other sat opposite him uninvited took the last scone.

“I checked the Duncan case.” The doctor heard the other watching his favourite scone went into the wrong mouth. “Guess what, I did some further check. He is not Duncan. He is Mathew Oates…”

“Do you want another scone? I am going to order more.” Doctor Watson extended the offer. He knew then that it was going to be a long morning. He was unaware of someone watching him.

“I hope you are right, Doctor. Surely the Sergeant may be just looking up an old friend.”  The figure was dressed in the brown suit with the overcoat on his lap. He was seated cross legged on the shop opposite the street. His tea cup was half full and his biscuits left untouched.

“I am seldom wrong, Colonel. Precision counts in my work.” The one addressed as a doctor replied. “Find out who is that man speaking to the Sergeant? He may know Duncan. He looked like a military officer from his moves.”

“Yes, Doctor. I will. He will end up like Duncan when he is found out.” The one named the Colonel conveyed his wishes. “They are all deserving.”

“Do what is needed but I need to know what Duncan knew. The operation cannot be exposed. I cannot be exposed.” The Doctor gave the order to the military officer. “Am I understood? Now, please excuse me. I have a morning lecture on aerodynamics theory.”

“I doubt I will need to know that. Sniping may be up my scope.” The Colonel reply, and then reached for the tea cup. His fingers held steady on the cup and levelled it to his eye level with the rim still showing the other Doctor with half the body hidden. “Just perfect the sight.”