That Bitch Robin Slick

Franklin looked down the corridor. “Groups of two. Don’t be late, I’m not waiting for any of you.”
Big Julie and Weasel Man took off down the corridor, disappearing into a room at the far end.
“You okay taking up the rear?” Franklin asked.
“I’ll lock the doors behind us, so we don’t trip any alarms,” Portia said. She had found her data pad not far from the holding cell, sitting on a table. Bea’s sword cane was also there.
Franklin and Brick took off down the corridor, disappearing into a room at the far end.
“Ready?” Portia asked.
Bea nodded. They entered the corridor. It was empty. They walked swiftly down the corridor, towards the room at the far end.
“Hold it right there!”
Portia recognized the voice and turned around slowly. “Does anyone really say that. I mean, really?”
Robin Slick was blocking the hall with a rifle pointed directly at their chests. “Don’t move. Trust me, I have no problem with shooting your pretty ass.”
“Listen,” Portia started, not really sure what she was going to say.
“Don’t I know you?” Bea asked.
“No! For the last time, you do not know me, you kooky old bat,” Robin said, visibly irritated.
“I do know you,” Bea said. “You were that scrawny groupie turned manager always hanging around Boone. You were stealing his money.”
Robin grew red in the face. Her grip on the rifle did not lessen. “I was his girlfriend,” she said.
“He was a married man,” Bea corrected. “You were the bit on the side.”
“I was his manager!”
“You were stealing his money and not in a very clever way. Antony saw the fraud.”
“Boone loved me! He couldn’t even remember that bitch Lydia’s name most of the time, but he remembered me all right. So what’s a little money between lovers?”
Bea took a step forward.
Robin waved the gun in a threatening manner. “I’ll shoot, don’t think I won’t. I have no problem picking off an non-producing citizen, do the world a favor, won’t it?”
“What have you done to yourself?” Bea asked. “You can’t be anything but ten years younger than me and look at you.”
“Well, look at you, you old bag. You’re face is wrinkled and your hair white. You look old.”
“I am old. You look terrible.”
Portia closed her eyes and prayed for a miracle. Bea was not handling the situation well and was going to get herself shot. Portia wasn’t really sure how to handle the situation but was positive it did not involve telling the angry woman pointing a gun that she looked terrible.
“Bea, maybe you shouldn’t,” Portia started.
A shot fired went above her head. Portia flinched.
“Shut up. And I’ll have you know, Miss Clovelly, that not all of us can afford the high end rejuves.”
“Some of us are proud of our experience and don’t want them to be erased by temporary cosmetic treatments.”
“Do you think I wanted to look like this? Like my skin is stretched on too thin?”
“Like a nasty, used up old groupie,” Bea offered helpfully.
“I couldn’t stand you,” Robin said. “Neither could Boone.”
“Boone was a world class ass.”
“I loved him!”
“You loved his fame. You loved the association. You loved his money.”
“Antony thought he could confront his father about my theft but Boone wouldn’t listen to him. I had him wrapped around my finger so tight he wouldn’t believe the sky was blue unless it came from my lips.”
“What’d you do with all that money?”
“I needed it for our children.”
“You didn’t have any kids back then.”
“No, but I do now. I collected all the DNA I needed to produce a bouncing baby Fabulous.”
“You were collecting pre-child support?”
“Why do you say it like it’s a preposterous idea that Boone loved me? That he said he wanted to have babies with me? That he was going to divorce Lydia Two and marry me?”
“Me thinks the lady protest too much,” Bea said.
The butt of the rifle smacked solidly with Bea’s chin.
“Bea!” Portia shouted.
Bea wiped the small trickle of blood with the back of her hand.
“I was counting the days until you and Antony left to colonize but somehow this actually penetrated Boone’s consciousness and upset him.” She laughed. “The man was so drunk or stoned half the time he didn’t know where he was but he knew his son was leaving. And this upset him. And I had only his best interest at heart so I suggested a nice retreat with his son, a weekend in the mountains, some real male bonding time.”
Portia edged closer to Robin. She was nearly close enough to knock the gun out of her hands. Maybe tackle her around the waste…
“Don’t get any bright ideas,” Bea said in a warning tone of voice.
The rifle swiveled back in Portia’s direction. “You,” Robin said, “take five steps back. Now!”
Bea interrupted, drawing Robin’s attention back to herself. “The ski trip was your idea?”
“Brilliant plan.”
Bea moved surprisingly fast and lunged forward, connecting the cane with Robin’s ankle, knocking her off her feet. The rifle clattered to the floor.
Bea moved surprisingly fast and kicked out a leg in a low swing, knocking Robin off her feet. The rifle clattered to the floor.
Portia lunged for the rifle. She didn’t know much about weapons but she did now the right end to point with. “Don’t think about it,” she warned as Robin tried to climb to her feet.
“You were a nasty gold digging leech back then and you’re a nasty exploitive leech now,” Bea said. “I’ve spent fifty years thinking about the day Antony died. Give me one reason why I shouldn’t kill you now.”
“Do it,” Robin said.
The butt of the rifle connected with her chin, sending her in an arch backward to the floor. She landed hard.
“I’m so sorry,” Portia said, “I really don’t want to hurt you.”
Before Robin could sit up, Bea’s boot was on her throat, pinning her to the ground.
“I said,” Bea repeated, placing pressure on the throat, “give me one reason not to kill you, traitor.”
“The Corporation already knows you’re here,” Robin said, voice strained. “You don’t have time to escape. Congratulations, I distracted you.”
Portia squatted besides Robin. “How is Viktor Ang here?”
“Look at you,” Robin said with visible contempt in her eyes. “All that famous DNA and you’ve done nothing with it. I worked so hard to give my daughter that kind of advantage and you’ve squandered it.”
Portia tied Robin’s hands and feet together, leaving her helpless on the floor. Portia tried to stuff a ball of cloth in her mouth but Robin refused to open her mouth.
“Try pinching her nose,” Bea suggested.
Portia pinched the nostrils together. Thirty seconds later, Robin gasped for breath and had the ball shoved in her mouth.
“Destiny is not genetics.” Portia stood up. “If you listened to Twelve, you’d know what.”
“That looks like a nice utility closet over there,” Bea said, motioning to a panel in the wall.
“Good enough for her at least.”
They put Robin Slick in storage.
“Those were some pretty impressive moves,” Portia said.
“Why thank you. Some things you never loose.”
“Like the ass whooping?”
“I was thinking more along the lines of riding a bicycle.”
“Or chewing gum?”
“I’ll be sore in the morning, though.”
“Totally worth it.”
“Totally.”