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Special Guest: Kungfukitten
2008-06-14, 2:50 a.m.

Hi there. This is Kungfukitten filling in for Smash who is on vacation but should be back this weekend. So, I thought I would write about the first time we met. It was the summer of 1997 and I had just been picked up by Interpol following college. My first job was to investigate a small terrorist cell thought to be organized outside of London.

It was spring time and I had just flown in to Heathrow and taken a cab to one of those quaint little towns that still have sheep dotting the countryside. I carefully sat on top of my tiny suitcase and pulled out the file. Inside was a picture of my contact, code name, Smash. In the photo his unruly blonde hair was forcefully combed into place and his dark eyes looked like they could bore holes straight through you. His tie was knotted in a double windsor but crooked. I thought I could see the faintest dab of lipstick on his collar. I wondered what sort of unprofessional kid they'd partnered me up with.

I heard the motorcycle before I could see it. The loud rat a tat tat rumble that only a Harley Davidson could make. I watched the biker swerve towards me and I sighed. The last thing I wanted to do was fend off a drunken biker, especially when I was about to make contact with an Inspector Smash.

"Hey pretty, lady. Waiting for a ride?"

I pursed my lips tightly together as I watched him pull off his helmet. A tumble of messy blonde hair fell around his shoulders. He smiled at me and I couldn't help but think this was the sort of man I would have loved to have dated back in college. But I had grown up.

"Sorry. I've got a ride."

"Yes, you do, Kitten." He handed me the helmet and took off his sunglasses. Those eyes. It was him.

"Inspector Smash?" I asked agog.

"And you're The Kitten." He started strapping my little case onto the back of his bike. "Put it on."

I looked at the helmet. "You're kidding. We're riding on this?" I looked down at my tight pencil skirt and high heels.

"It's all I own. Come on. I got some info on the terrorist cell. They're meeting at a pub fifteen miles down the road. We've got to hurry."

I swore under my breath and pulled on the helmet. After Smash got on the bike, I pulled my skirt as high as I dared and climbed on behind him. I spent some time trying to adjust the skirt so at the very least my ass was covered, and he jump started the bike. I squealed and wrapped my arms around his waist wondering just what the hell I had gotten myself into.

We pulled across the street from the White Swan Inn. I jumped off the bike and heard a ripping noise as the slit in my skirt gave up the fight. I pulled it down and assessed my bottom still had adequate coverage and pulled off the helmet. I grabbed Smash's head and forced him to stand still so I could use the reflection in his sunglasses to fix my hair.

"Are we done?" he asked.

"Yes, and you owe me a new pencil skirt." I answered.

"You packing?" he asked quietly as we walked across the road.

"I've got a sig saur 226 strapped to the small of my back and six inch knife down my knickers."

"Guy's gotta be careful if he's going to frisk you."

"Damn straight. You?"

"Two glocks in my jacket. Shall we?"

We walked across the street and into the pub. It was mid day so it was only half full and fairly quiet. A rugby game was on the telly and the bartender was reading the paper. "What can I get you?" he asked without looking up.

"I'll take a Guinness and she'll have a pint of bitter." Smash ordered. Normally, I would have demanded to order my own drink, but I wasn't planning on drinking it anyway.

"Honey, I'm going to freshen up." I said quietly and headed down the back hallway to the restrooms.

I had scoped out the bar and I didn't see anything that looked like a terrorist cell meeting. I walked past a room with a "Private" sign on the door and could hear voices inside. I put my ear against the door and couldn't hear anything other than a low rumble of voices. I tip toed further back to the kitchen and pilfered an empty pint glass. When I got back to the Private room, I placed the glass against the door and pressed my ear against it. It helped a little bit. I could hear some words. It sounded like they were closing a deal. I could hear someone saying "thank you" and the sound of hands smacking against each other. Then I heard someone saying they should drink on it. That's when the door suddenly opened and I fell into the room.

Fuck.

The glass broke after it bounced across the concrete floor in front of me.

"Is this the ladies loo?" I giggled.

There were five of them and from the look on their faces, they weren't buying it. On the table was a steel suitcase opened to reveal a nice compact bomb. I guessed the two men in the suits were the bomb makers and the scruffy looking guys in work clothes were the terrorists.

The two in the suits pulled their guns simultaneously and aimed them at my head. "On your knees, hands behind your head." The dark haired one ordered. "Who the hell are you?"

"Honey, is this where you've gotten to?" Smash said loudly and almost incoherently, holding his half empty pint glass.

I took the opportunity to pull my own gun and shot each of the bomb makers in the shoulder. The dark haired one went down clutching his arm but the other one only looked slightly stunned. I jumped to my feet and closed the distance with a spinning roundhouse kick that sent his firearm soaring across the room.

Smash threw his pint glass in the face of one of the terrorists and then threw one of the men across the room and into the wall.

I screamed as fire ripped through my right leg and I went down in a flurry of swear words. As more gun rounds pounded into the floor next to me, I rolled away and returned fire until I managed to take out the terrorist who had shot me.

One of the terrorists was busy with the suitcase. My first thought was that he was going to try a scoop and run, but it became clear that he was setting the timer.

"Smash! The bomb!" I fired twice and was out of bullets.

Smash easily took him out and the room was deathly quiet. "Holy shit," he said. "We have fifteen seconds."

Smash grabbed my arm and expertly pulled me over his shoulder before I could protest and tell him I could walk. He ran down the hallway with me yelling for everyone to get out of the bar. We were pushing the bartender out the door as the bomb detonated.

Double fuck.

I came to lying on my back staring at the sky. The ground beneath me moaned and moved and I realized I was sprawled over Smash's prone body.

"We blew up a fucking pub." I moaned.

"We did get rid of the terrorist cell." He pushed himself up into a sitting position. We could hear police sirens and fire trucks in the distance.

I tried to move but Smash kept me on his lap. He pulled a bandana out of his pocket and tied it tightly around the bullet hole in my thigh as I grit my teeth.

"Interpol's going to fire my ass. I was suppose to take them in, at least one of them, to get information."

"Well, look at it this way. Those bomb makers aren't going to be making any more bombs and we stopped the terrorists from blowing something up."

I pulled off his sunglasses and kissed him quickly before he could see it coming and before I changed my mind. "I think I've figured out why they call you Smash." I said as flaming debris floated down around us. I wiped a burn hole off my suit jacket. "You also owe me a coat."

You know, I'm still waiting for that jacket and skirt.

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