Hipster Intelligence Agency

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A Rebel’s Dangerous Kink (2)


The show ended, as Candy and Heather untangled themselves and blew kisses to the crowd, responding to deafening catcalls and applause. The girls grabbed their clothes as the men pointed their cell phones at the stage, snapping pictures and transferring tips to the girls.

“That’s Silverstein,” Trevor said, nodding at the back of the room where a short frizzy-haired, middle-aged man had entered, followed by a large black man. They walked to the other side of the room and disappeared through another door. A voice from the loudspeakers announced last call – “you don’t have to go home but you can’t stay here” – and the lights went on, as a handful of bouncers started hurrying people out of the doors.

Trevor and Eric followed the crowd out, meandering around until they got to their car. Two hours prior, they had strategically parked near the back entrance, a place they expected to see Harry Silverstein emerging from shortly. As always, when operatives were on assignment in System territory, they had pinched a car and swapped license plates with another, checking to make sure all lights and signals worked, and scrupulously obeyed all traffic laws. They could not stop for the police, not even for a routine ticket. No operative could be taken alive, and the System could identify anyone, fake ID or not, in just a few minutes.

So, all it took was seeing the blinking blue lights, and it was decided. Someone wouldn’t be getting out of that situation alive, and Eric and Trevor were determined that it wouldn’t be either of them. The standard procedure was to immediately stop, exit the vehicle, and use the AR-15s to quickly eliminate the threat, immediately dump the vehicle and get another. Then keep going. No sense trying to outrun radios and helicopters.

They had their emergency bug-out packs in the back, along with flack jackets and some, er, unconventional weapons in case things got real, real quickly. Which happened from time to time.

Life during wartime.

Trevor and Eric got in the car, and donned the vests. They relaxed, affecting that curious air of apparent unconcern so common to combat veterans, but their watchful eyes were alert, constantly scanning for police, anything unusual or out of place, and the designated target, Harry Silverstein. Despite his youthful appearance, Eric has participated in many raids, starting when he was still a teenager, and had become quite skilled, with not a trace of the nervousness typical of the inexperienced. Trevor’s looks were even more deceiving. With his gray slacks and a navy blue sweater, he could easily pass for a college professor or your dentist. Yet he had been an active guerrilla for many years, and had seen action countless times. Many System men’s last sight had been that of Trevor taking aim at them. Trevor remembered the first time he had killed, and longed for the day he killed his last. That day would be the day they had defeated the System. Not a day sooner.


Eric was having a hard time deciding when to ask Trevor exactly what their plans were for the girls. Eric was perfectly aware of Silverstein’s eventual fate that night, and it was quite possible that Candy and Heather would meet a similar fate. Business is business; war is war. But, they were women. White women. “So the beauty of the Aryan Woman shall not perish from the earth.” It would be a shame, Eric thought. Curiosity getting the better of him, he decided to ask Trevor exactly what his intentions were, but did so in a round about manner. He may be still somewhat young, but he was hardly an innocent.

“Well, if we are going to stop these girls from performing again, how are we going to get their addresses?” he asked Trevor, in a flat, emotionless tone of voice. Just business.

“Silverstein will tell us,” Trevor murmured, almost offhandedly, the menace in his voice barely noticeable, but apparent to Eric. A few years ago, that tone of voice would have scared Eric somewhat, but not now. Ever since he was “made” he was all in, no hesitation, no fear, no regrets.

“Ok, after we get their addresses?” Eric persisted, but Trevor just parried. “We make sure they never display their charms to skraelings ever again,” Trevor said, lightly almost, mockingly.

Eric almost lost his cool. “Ok, how damn it?” If he had to do something particularly unpleasant, he wanted to know, at least. Trevor knew what he was asking.

Trevor just gazed out the window. “Well, I reckon those two would make some fine babies for me.” He glanced over at Eric, and broke just a hint of a smile.

“Ha!” Eric laughed, not even bothering to try to hide his relief. “You old dog. It’s about time you did your duty, sir. I have to say, those two are fine looking women. They could make some beautiful children. 14 words, my man.” Eric was grinning now.

Eric had no interest in the pair. He had his heart set on a high school girl that Trevor had agreed to help him acquire. KD’s informants inside the System had picked her as a likely candidate for rescue. She was beautiful, healthy, and very smart. But being poisoned by System propaganda. Her teachers, parents, the media, and every authority in her life we telling her the same things: to join the system, to mate with skraelings, to hate and fear the Rebels. She was young, and an innocent victim of propaganda. Eric was determined to rescue her before she was ruined. She was simply too valuable to concede to the enemy. One glance from her was all it had taken and Eric’s heart was set. She would be his, one way or another.


It wasn’t long until the pair noticed Silverstein, and his big black bodyguard, exiting the club and getting into their late model town car. Followed by Candy and Heather. Harry looked ridiculous, like some sort of Miami beach comber cum 1970s porn star pimp, with a shirt unbuttoned to show a gaudy gold necklace half buried in oily chest hair. Tight pants. The girls looked like teenagers, in tight designer jeans and silky blouses. The town car pulled out of the lot, and Eric and Trevor followed from a distance. KD intelligence had trouble finding Silverstein’s official address, so they had to do this the old fashioned way. A much greater risk or failure and capture, but they had no choice at this point. The town car turned left onto the highway, and Trevor sighed a sigh of relief. “Oh, the gods are with us,” he said. “It’s almost certainly in Oak Park. We’ll have a clear get away. This is turning out easier than I thought.”

Eric almost rolled his eyes. It would be a long night, he thought. Trevor was great at careful planning, with no possibility left unplanned for. But, Trevor had an annoying habit of talking about omens and luck, and Eric was never quite sure how seriously he took it. There had been a few times when Eric had wanted to just strangle Trevor, but so far, the raids they had done together had all been successful, mostly. Not that there weren’t times … accidents.

It was going to be a long night, Eric thought.

Talking HeadsLife During Wartime (Alternate Version)


Heard of a van that is loaded with weapons,
Packed up and ready to go
Heard of some gravesites, out by the highway,
A place where nobody knows
The sound of gunfire, off in the distance,
I’m getting used to it now
Lived in a brownstore, lived in the ghetto,
I’ve lived all over this town

This ain’t no party, this ain’t no disco,
This ain’t no fooling around
No time for dancing, or lovey dovey,
I ain’t got time for that now

Transmit the message, to the receiver,
Hope for an answer some day
I got three passports, a couple of visas,
You don’t even know my real name
High on a hillside, the trucks are loading,
Everything’s ready to roll
I sleep in the daytime, I work in the nightime,
I might not ever get home

This ain’t no party, this ain’t no disco,
This ain’t no fooling around
This ain’t no mudd club, or c. b. g. b.,
I ain’t got time for that now

Heard about houston? heard about detroit?
Heard about pittsburgh, p. a.?
You oughta know not to stand by the window
Somebody might see you up there
I got some groceries, some peant butter,
To last a couple of days
But I ain’t got no speakers, ain’t got no heaphones,
ain’t got no records to play

Why stay in college? why go to night school?
Gonna be different this time
Can’t write a letter, can’t send a postcard,
I can’t write nothing at all
This ain’t no party, this ain’t no disco,
This ain’t no fooling around
I’d like to kiss you, I’d love you hold you
I ain’t got no time for that now

Trouble in transit, got through the roadblock,
We blended with the crowd
We got computer, we’re tapping pohne lines,
I know that ain’t allowed
We dress like students, we dress like housewives,
Or in a suit and a tie
I changed my hairstyle, so many times now,
I don’t know what I look like!
You make me shiver, I feel so tender,
We make a pretty good team
Don’t get exhausted, I’ll do some driving,
You ought to get some sleep
Get you instructions, follow directions,
Then you should change your address

Maybe tomorrow, maybe the next day,
Whatever you think is best
Burned all my notebooks, what good are
Notebooks? they won’t help me survive
My chest is aching, burns like a furnace,
The burning keeps me alive
Try to stay healthy, physical fitness,
Don’t want to catch no disease
Try to be careful, don’t take no chances,
You better watch what you say

2 comments on “A Rebel’s Dangerous Kink (2)

  1. Hipster Racist
    March 1, 2014

    Reblogged this on Hipster Racist and commented:
    Eric and Trevor find themselves deep in enemy territory, on a mission of revenge, stalking their target and prepared to use lethal force. But this mission also has another objective, as the pair of seasoned guerrilla fighters plot to acquire a bounty of a very different kind.

  2. Craig
    March 3, 2014

    I like. I can see where this spanking series is going.

    Shit tests, shit tests, shit tests…Spank de feminists. 😆


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