Thread: a national dialogue [ft. xanaphia & november]

Maritza laughed as she caught her breath, nibbling on the fingers he forced in her mouth. She rested against him for the time being, letting the adrenaline of the escape wind down. It had been fun, but where did it leave her now? Stinking of sex and still in need of a shower. And still, not sure what she was going to do. Not sure she could bring herself to kill him. Not because she cared him. It wasnt some whirlwind romance between them. It wasnt love, was barely affection. Almost purely physical between them. Lust. He was fun, and rich, and a fucking animal in bed and being with him made her feel alive. Still, she curled into as they continued to travel towards the base. Outside the capitol, where those still loyal to him awaited. Resting against his chest, not asleep but in a dazed relaxed state. Once they knew the score, knew if there was any chance of retaking the palace. Then shed make a move, make a choice. Nothing to do now but wait. Within the hour they were at a safe house in Vallerta. An old plantation house, from when sugar was grown here. Now it housed the Trujillo Brothers. The shacks, that had once been for slaves, had been converted into barracks, to hold the loyal troops. Twenty five hundred here, crammed into every available space. As it was, Antonio and she were just given a bedroom on the first floor. Temporary, they had been assured, as they were going to leave again, to rendez-vous with more loyal generals. Or they were coming here. The whole thing was a clusterfuck. Maritza didnt care, not in the moment. She needed a shower, and she needed it three hours ago. Antonio was busy, getting the newest intel on the situation. It was good, get away from him for a minute, and figure things out. Face up to the facts she had been avoiding. Staying with Antonio was a losing bet. If the Americans were determined to depose him, he was as good as done. Oh sure, he might survive this attempt, but he wouldnt hold power. Not for long. At best hed be a beggar dictator in Russian, or Venezuela. Hiding out with him in some shithole wasnt worth the risk. So that was it. Shed kill him tonight, maybe when he got back to the room. She still had the pills the CIA gave her, in her make-up bag. Arsenic or whatever. Mix it with the coke, and get him to snort a line. Simple, easy. She was brushing through wet hair as she psyched herself up. Convincing herself she could do this. She could kill him. Better late than never. She almost believed it when she heard the door opening to the bedroom. She froze. Not Antonio, he would have called for her when he entered. The footsteps were quiet, moving carefully into the room. Someone looking to sneak in. Catch Antonio of guard, maybe? She dug through the suitcase. Where was it? Fuck, all this junk she packed, wasnt going to do her any good if she was dead! There, the Lugar. Already loaded, too. Turning off the safety, she pressed the door open, seeing movement in the bedroom. A young man, carrying a gun. Stupid bastard looked nervous, as he pulled open the closet door. What, did he think he would jump out, kill Antonio? The stupid idiot might end up shooting her, as twitchy as his finger was on the trigger. Hell, shed be doing him a favor, shooting him, especially after what she had seen Antonio do with the machete earlier. So she stalked out of the bathroom, throwing the door open. That caught his attention, as he half stepped out of the closet to see what it was. BANG! The shot was off before they made eye contact, and his brains painted the closet walls red.