WARNING: This is a fantasy of extreme nature about violent, brave, lusty people who are willing to personally suffer the consequences or reap the rewards of their actions with out regards to the norms of modern society or the qualms of conscious. Don?t read it if you are not interested in such topics or at all squeamish. Also, make sure you are mature enough to know the difference between illusion and reality. This is not a how to book.


Midnight Meat Train II ? A Deal I Couldn?t Refuse by Mr. Cage

Convincing Lionel Twain to give me a couple of weeks was more difficult than I imagined. He was happy with his set-up and didn?t like the idea of going professional. ?Don?t need no white boy telling me how to deal with crazy cunts.? It took Mr. Political Hack to convince Lionel that his gig had been bought out by people who had given both of us ?a deal we couldn?t refuse.?

I couldn?t just install my equipment. Lionel Twain had no control over the overnight transit system and at any time one of our cars might disappear in the system with all my equipment. I?d have to do a quick install in public then a panic breakdown and hustle. It reminded me of some of the ?get across the county line by midnight or else? Carnival fights I had done in my early years.

Luckily the transit system had already prepared for surveillance cameras, even installed a few which had never worked. I spent a couple of days riding the train in stolen transit workmen clothes gathering intelligence. If I was lucky the fight car would be in at least as good of condition as the ones I studied.

Lionel conducted two fights while I did my studies. I did quick amateur set-ups to test my theories. Of course the results were superior to Lionel?s shaking one hand held cell, but let?s just say there was a steep learning curve.

Using two mounted over the door cameras I caught about a third of the ten on ten Guatemalan versus Puerto Rican Melting Pot battle. Two street gangs of teen girls arguing at school and on the internet had agreed to settle it on the Midnight Meat Train. They started out in boots, jeans and t-shirts swinging chains and baseball bats. The bats turned out to be singularly ineffective inside the train car since the polls and overhead rails for strap hangers took most of the strikes.

But the chains came in handy on the ground. Young faces were mangled and the fight ended with four dead Puerto Ricans and two dead Guatemalans, but eight Guatemalans and four Puerto Ricans had been knocked out or choked out. The Puerto Rican?s boyfriends held a party in the beaten girls?, alive and dead, privates. The fucking ended two more of the badly wounded girls from the south. I saw Lionel?s disposal methods up close and personal. The sound a body makes flying from the end of an underground train is quite memorable no matter how loud the train sounds, especially if they cartwheel and splatter on a supporting beam. I assume the rats and underground humanoids gave the dead girls far more attention than the city?s overwhelmed missing person?s squad.

I used four corner mounted fixed cameras on extension bars for the next fight involving four dykes, two in-the-closet women cops and two blackmailing bar owners. The bar owners brought bats, too long for the enclosed space. The cops brought Billy Clubs. The fight didn?t last too long as the bar owners had nothing but brawling skills. The cops used their training and NYPD?s talent for choking out suspects. The bar dykes ended up with broken arms and badly bruised throats. Then cops enjoyed themselves using their Billy Clubs as dildos. The bar dykes, however, did not seem to appreciate the wooden love toys. While the fight wasn?t memorable, my quick set-up did very good on the standing action. I missed almost all of the ground action though.

The day of the fight began with Lionel?s evening run. I went to work in my grunt?s uniform with two of my security guys, Old Marine types that would rather die than take shit. These bastards had faced down angry bikers and drug gangs for me as I scampered like a rat for an escape. They just had that look about them that said they didn?t give a fuck and if you did give a fuck it was best you not mess with them. Someday they?d get killed and I hope if that day comes they last long enough for me to runaway screaming like a little girl. Cowards run in my family, run fast.

I hooked up four zoom wireless digital cameras on extension bars to the useless standard fixed over the door mounts. I couldn?t move them but I could at least focus on the action from my control room. I had four coordinated corner views I?d catch anything I missed during the post fight edit. I didn?t have time or the equipment to do a proper job on the moving train.

My control room was a treat. There was a tiny box in the back of the car where apparently conductors once stood. I cleaned it out and wired up a field editing device together with a console to control my feeds. Next I installed four clip-on cameras under the bench seating. These babies were tiny, but had servo-motor mounts that could rotate their field of view. If the fight went to the ground or under the seats I had a decent chance to capture it. I added sound microphones in four places, also under the seating It took five solid hours of sweaty work inside the stand-up metal coffin and out among the devolved strap-hangers that made New York City such a lovely place to live, but by the midnight run I had the fight car covered as best I could. Tearing the shit out would take no more than twenty minutes with my guys? help. This was a ?dine-and-dash? deal for sure. As I worked, Lionel assured me he had everything covered with his cell phone.

I thanked him and suggested that whatever else he did he stay out of my camera?s lines of site. I tried to hint that having his face in the digital universe ass fucking a Mafiosi?s badly beaten girlfriend, daughter or wife was probably even less a career move than his infamous ?this is my cock, this is my train, I fucked this bloody bitch, exhibit one for the prosecution face shots.?

He grinned, ?Have you seen the tits on those chicks? Man I?m going enjoy putting my black snake in whichever bitch loses. Hey, I get first pop, bro. It?s my train.?

?Lionel, you know the blonde is a Hood Number One?s girlfriend and the black haired one is Hood Number One?s daughter and Hood Number Two?s wife. Think about my man.?

?Yeah, it?s going be great. Two cow-titted rich bitch cunts tearing into each other and I get to fuck the loser.?

I tried again, ?Lionel. The women hate each other. They specified no one else could be here, but you, me and my guys. They dared each other to fight to the death and you are the punishment for the one who loses and lives. You aren?t the prize. You?re the thing worse than death.?

?Fucking A!? he said as he gave me the high-five. Oh well, I tried.

My only appearance outside the stand-up coffin control booth was individual interviews with the fighters. They wanted an historical record to enshrine their defeat of their hated rival. I?m not the Hollywood Reporter, but I have done these before, especially at grudge fights. I decided to just let the girls speak for themselves, cutting even the sound feed as I asked the questions. I didn?t want any evidence floating around on this one.

The blonde?s edited introduction began with her standing showing her long muscular legs and very hot looking strap on high heels, pink four inch stilettos. It was still hot so I imagine she got looks in her full length raincoat when there was not a cloud in the sky above ground. And if the raincoat didn?t get looks her blonde mane and model perfect face would have turned eyes.

?I am Anna, originally from Ukraine. I love America. I was dancer and made a lot of money. I made boyfriend, good boyfriend and wanted no trouble. But his bitch wife wanted to kill me. She hired men to kill me. This Bitch! Then she challenged me to fight. I kill her dead after taking her nipples and clit for trophies. She hurt me bad, but doctors fixed. You can?t see scars. She died with my left nipple in her mouth. But, I get a new one. It even feels real although I don?t think it could feed baby.?

She helpfully opened her raincoat at that moment and pointed her long square pink nail to the very long and fat light brown nipple riding the nose of what looked to be a 38E perfect world globe of a bra buster beast of a breast.

?The rest of boob is all me. I am very beautiful, see.?

She opened her coat. She was indeed ?very beautiful.? At 5?10??, tanned and body toned like an athlete she was in the top ten of women I would jack-off to. I guessed 150 pounds due to the muscle in her arms and thighs. She had a ridged belly, firm and flat. She had an extreme Barbie Doll figure of probably 38E 22 34. I have to compliment the Rus Viking Clan who raped their way across that part of the world in the good old days. In addition to yellow blonde eyebrows and hair she had sky blue eyes. And, she was a natural blonde down below with a tight trim triangle of Golden Fleece on her perfect mound. The hair triangle came to a point just short of her upper slit and the large visible clit hood that jutted between the tight brown-pink lips. She wore pink thigh high stockings and her high heels and nothing else under her raincoat.

?Now this Bitch Girl wants to kill me because I kill her Bitch Mother. I don?t want trouble, but this Bitch Girl sends men to kill me. My boyfriend protects me good. And he let me cut off their cocks and balls. I have them with the Bitch Mother?s boobs and sex in plastic bags in my basement freezer. Now maybe I add Bitch Girl to freezer.?

I left car four and walked through the arena, cutting the feeds to make sure I left no visuals. I entered car six and interviewed the Bitch Girl.

?My name is Fuck You None of Your Business, Asshole Pervert.?

I explained with the sound cut that she didn?t have to use her real name, but that she seemed to want a record of her vengeance. She nodded and surprisingly told the truth.

?Okay, my name is Gina. That Cunt Russian Whore comes to this country and sucks cock and takes it in the ass and then humiliates my mother by showing up on TV with my daddy on her arm. My Mama was forty years old and she had no business fighting some young cunt, but she fought her and would have beaten her I?m sure if it had been a fair fight. Now I?m going to tear that Cunt Russian Whore to pieces and then piss on her face while that ugly sweaty nigger fucks her in the ass.?

I winced at the politically incorrect speech of this lovely young lady, but Lionel was standing behind her smiling. He made a fist off camera and out of her sight and then pumped it showing what he intended to do to her ass if she lost. With the sound off I told her that Anna was pretty tough looking and quite beautiful. Gina stood up and whipped open the wrap dress she was wearing.

?With this body I?ll out fight her and I could out fuck her too. These tits are real. This pussy is hot.?

Gina stood 5?8?? and weighed a lush Italian 165 pounds. Her