Ms Patriot: The Heroine Trade (Chapter 13) (Patreon)

Chapter 13

Ms Patriot rubbed her lips together as she pulled up the tracking app on her phone. Britannia watched, looking both impressed with her and eager to kick butt. If Mikhail discovered the tracking device, or it fell off, she would just die. Everything hung on that hidden device.

The app came up, and she tapped the “Map” page, and it showed her a zoomed in map of Grimme City with lots of green lines. “The app tracks everywhere he goes, so those lines are his exact routes since I tagged him.”

“Brilliant! It was pure genius to tag him like that,” Britannia said, leaning over the phone. “Looks like the first place he went was that location. Then he made two more trips to Sugar Town and one to Lower Saxony. What’s Lower Saxony?”

“Another red light district,” Ms Patriot said, grinning. “But the app shows he always returns to that first location he went. And he’s there now.”

They grinned at each other. Ms Patriot tingled inside and out. It worked!

“Brilliant,” Britannia said. “I think we found them.”

“Yes, but unfortunately, during our recovery time they’ve grabbed at least three more girls,” the American heroine said. “Plus, we failed to free that poor Asian hooker when Chekov Blissed me.”

The blonde nodded, looking as grim as Ms Patriot felt. That failure weighed heavily upon her. The first priority was never her escape, but the freedom and safety of the victims. So it was a major failure. Yet, thanks to Britannia, she survived to fight another day.

“Let’s make plans on the car ride into the city,” Ms Patriot said. “Then I’ll pull over and let you out to spread your wings.”

“We’ll hit them with a two-pronged attack,” Britannia said. “Air and land.”

“Fitting, I am the more grounded of the two of us.”

“What?”

“What?”

“Oh my God, you are so…” Britannia said, shaking her head. “Shall we have a go at them again?”

They hurried down into the Patriot Cave and jumped into the Patriot Mobile. Ms Patriot really pushed the limits of speed to get into the city as quickly as possible. The Russian human traffickers’ new hideout was on the northern edge of Grimme City, so she pulled over a few blocks short of the house.

Using Google Maps, she located the hideout and zoomed in from above so Britannia could see and more easily identify the place from the air. Once they were both absolutely sure of the address, and what the house looked like from the air and street view, Britannia got out and flew up and away.

Ms Patriot put the car in gear and raced over to the address. She skidded to a stop, rolling out and looking up. Britannia was already hovering over the house, so gave her the thumbs up. She did a quick visual scan of the house, which was a two-story colonial painted white. Then she charged up to the front door and kicked it open. Britannia flew in an open second floor window.

Inside, the busty heroine stopped to look and listen for any sign of bad guys. Britannia was moving quickly between rooms above, her stilettos loud on the hardwood floors. Her footsteps practically echoed throughout the hundred year old house.

Ms Patriot moved quickly and decisively, checking every room front door to back door. Not a soul to be found. Then she returned to the living room and the stairs as Britannia came down. The stairs to the basement were under the main stairs. They both looked down into that darkness.

“The back garden is filled with cars and two vans,” Britannia said. “So they are here.” She looked at the stairs. “Down there.”

“And they know we are here,” Ms Patriot said.

“We’ve foolishly given them more than enough time to sort themselves out.”

Ms Patriot nodded and frowned. “Which means we are walking into a trap.”

“Let me carry you down so they don’t hear your footsteps as you descend.”

She started to object, but that might give them a tiny, short advantage. Hit them before the slavers knew they were coming down.

“If we were smart, we’d just call the police to come over and round them up,” Ms Patriot said.

Britannia looked at her like she was crazy. “We’d just be endangering innocent police officers by doing that.”

She smiled. Typical super heroine logic. Ultimately, their pride, arrogance, or narcissism wouldn’t allow them to call in the cops to do the dirty work. They had to be heroic. They had to make the bust. Ms Patriot considered all that, but knew what she’d do. No one could deny their true nature.

I’m a super heroine. I perform the impossible on a daily basis.

“Brilliant!” Ms Patriot teased.

“Wow. You mock me?”

“We only mock the ones we love.”

“Hmmm.”

Britannia swept her friend up in her arms in a cradle carry. Ms Patriot frowned, looking uncomfortable.

“Would you prefer I take you downstairs in an over-the-shoulder carry, or…”

“I’m good. Thank you.”

Britannia lifted a few inches off the floor. Both women sucked in a deep breath, and released. Centering themselves. Preparing themselves for extreme violence and danger. Good times were over. Time to kick ass and take names. Time to mete justice!

The beautiful English heroine suddenly leaned forward and shot down that one flight of stairs to the basement. No door at the bottom. Dimly lit beyond. They zipped in and landed, Britannia dropping Ms Patriot’s legs and then letting her shift away and into a fighting stance. They found themselves facing a wall across the basement with eight naked women mounted against it.

“That is so wrong,” Ms Patriot growled.

All eight women were unconscious, gagged, and with their ankles chained to the baseboard. Their arms were stretched straight up, wrists crossed, and locked in place with steel cuffs. An open wooden crate lay before each of them.

No one else was to be seen.

“Where the hell are the slavers?” Britannia whispered.

“This doesn’t feel right,” she said. “But let’s go release those poor girls before the bad guys return.”

They hurried forward, but stopped when the shadows to left, right, and behind started moving. Ms Patriot did a quick count. Twenty men in black hoods and clothes were slowly converging on them, already blocking their escape. None of them carried weapons, so they fully intended on capturing the heroines for fun and profit.

The heroines turned to stand back-to-back as the slavers moved closer and closer in absolute silence. So many of them, but super heroines were a good ten times stronger than a man. So even odds? That said, Ms Patriot knew the defensive side was the strongest, easiest. Still, she knew these were one and all experts at capturing and holding women.

“Well, this is just lovely,” Britannia whispered.

“You have a knack for understatement.”

Britannia spread her arms wide, preparing to fight. Ms Patriot’s red-gloved hands curled into fists. They glanced back at each other.

“Well, we came down knowing it was a trap,” Ms Patriot said.

“Let’s spring it on them instead.”