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The Odd Job Page 16


  ***

  Wellington looked up from the strap he had been tightening at his wrist. "Well" he asked, "have the elders at the circle been advised of our situation?"

  Belinde looked at Wellington is surprise. "They have," she admitted.

  "Good. I've taken the liberty to inform everyone at The Estate of the situation. Should anyone ask your name within The Estate, offer it quickly starting with your title of ‘Adjustor’. Even the chef is armed now,” he concluded, shaking his head in worry.

  "Is there something else?" Belinde asked.

  Wellington actually chuckled before answering. "Angus is patrolling the halls wearing ammunition bandoliers and carrying a drum-fed shot gun. I don't which is the greater risk, the Sly or Angus."

  "He just wants to help," Belinde offered. "He has a good heart. He's a bit of a ‘perv’, but he has a good heart." She snickered as she remembered the big gorilla’s hand gripping her butt cheek.

  Wellington rose from the armchair he had been sitting in and offered an arm to Belinde. "Smith has sent word that he is ready for you and will be waiting in the armory for your final fitting."

  Belinde took his arm and the two of them transitioned to the armory. She blinked her eyes as the scene before her suddenly changed. This would take some getting used to. It was a little too easy to get from place to place with this ability and she worried about her figure. Those thoughts quickly flew from her mind when she saw Smith standing at his workbench with a clothing bag draped over his arm. He looked annoyed.

  "What is it now?" Wellington asked as he caught sight of Smith's scowling visage.

  "I was told everything was finished, fine and proper! Yet I look in the bag they send up and there's naught here but underclothes!"

  "Oh, lemme see!" Belinde squeaked excitedly, perking up at the thought of new clothing. Opening the bag elicited more squeaking and bouncing from Belinde, "A catsuit! I've always wanted a catsuit!"

  "There ain't no suit in that bag, lass. Nothin' o' yours 'cept some underclothes and a pair of long johns, and for a child no less!" Smith grumped and crossed his arms over his chest.

  Belinde laughed and hugged the clothing to her chest. "Where can I change?" she asked.

  "I had a blind brought in over there," Smith said pointing at a corner nearby, "but there's really no point. The bit they did get right won't cover more 'n yer privates."

  Belinde had already dashed to the dressing blind that had been set up and was behind it peeling off clothing before Smith could finish.

  "Welly, this is an outrage! The underclothes are fine but they won't protect her liver, her kidneys or most of her heart!" he paused in thought to work out angles given Belinde's endowment. "Ok, maybe her heart, but that still leaves a lot!" Wellington was enjoying Smith's ignorance far too much to share any information. Smith drew a deep breath and was about to continue his tirade when Belinde called for someone to zip her up.

  "Hold that thought," Wellington said as he went to assist Belinde. Smith stood scowling with his mouth open and a finger pointing heavenward.

  Belinde was waiting behind the blind with her back facing Wellington as he came around the corner. He could see the tab of a zipper barely poking out from between two slight folds of material. Wellington grasped the zipper and pulled it up past the back strap of Belinde's support bra to its final position. He then folded the Velcro-backed collar over the zipper enclosure and stepped back.

  "I'll be right out," Belinde said, “I just have to put my shoes and socks on."

  "Of course," Wellington said, respectful as always, and withdrew to wait with Smith.

  'Socks?' Belinde thought, was very surprised that anyone would take the time to make socks from the tactical material that Smith had designed, not to mention a support bra! She couldn't help but be amazed at the attention to detail that each and every person at The Estate paid to every task. The catsuit was a marvel. At first she thought it would be too tight and doubted that it would actually zip closed over her annoying buxom frame but it had and every inch of it fit perfectly. Belinde pulled the last shoe on and called out to the men waiting.

  "Ok, close your eyes," Belinde called from behind the blind. Smith looked at Wellington in puzzlement, but closed his eyes when Wellington nodded.

  "Ok," Belinde said, "you can open your eyes now," she concluded, striking a pose with a hip cocked dramatically.

  "Sweet glory!" Smith yelped and slammed a hand over his eyes hard enough to make a smacking sound as he turned away scandalized. Wellington broke out in fits of laughter, holding his side and leaning on the workbench.

  "What?" Belinde howled, wanting to cry.

  Wellington held up a hand to calm Belinde and struggled to regain his composure. "You look marvelous, my dear. Please forgive Smith, he hasn't seen a movie since 'Gone With The Wind' and has no idea what a catsuit is," Wellington was still shaking with barely controlled mirth.

  "I was worried when you laughed at me," Belinde pouted.

  "I am truly sorry, dear," Wellington offered, "but I was so enjoying this big prude's reaction that I forgot myself."

  "I think it makes me look badass," Belinde said proudly as she lifted her chin regally.

  "I'm no authority on 'badass' my dear, but I can honestly say that it makes you look very disarming," Wellington said, still shaking with mirth.

  Belinde scowled at him slightly because she wasn't quite sure he was still laughing at Smith. With a sigh Belinde walked over to Smith and started pulling him toward his work bench. Smith was refusing to take his hand away from his eyes, which seemed to be a constant source of entertainment for Wellington. "Damn it, Smith!" Belinde complained. "I need your help to finish getting ready!"

  "Put some decent clothes on and I'll help as much as you want!" the giant whined from behind his hand.

  Wellington had a hand clamped over his mouth and was starting to change color. Tears were actually streaming down his face. This was ridiculous! They were facing a crisis and she, as the senior functional adjustor, was stuck babysitting a pair of idiots!

  "Look you!" Belinde chastised Smith. "You will remove your hand from your eyes, open them, look at me and help me. Or I will strip naked as the day I was born and sit on your work bench until you are willing to behave!" she finished with a stamp of her foot.

  "Wellington, I will be needing your help with my zipper again," Belinde said, not sure if the giggling Englishman behind her even heard.

  "Alright!" Smith yelped from behind his hands as he turned around.

  "Hands!" Belinde reminded, sternly.

  "Fine," grumbled Smith as he lowered his hands with his eyes still tightly closed.

  "Eyes!" Belinde snapped.

  "Right," Smith complained, looking at the ground and tracing patterns with his toe. Belinde groaned loudly. This was going to take all night and she had people to kill.

  "Weapons," Wellington whispered in her ear. The Englishman’s hint gave Belinde the expected idea.

  "Oh well,” she said, "I guess I'll just have to grab something off the rack. Come on Wellington, help me dig up a holster and something to hack with."

  "You'll do no such thing!" roared Smith.

  Belinde made sure to remove the satisfied smile and replace it with a meek expression before she turned toward Smith. She noticed he was looking at her red-faced, looking from under his eyebrows, but looking. "Well, maybe you could help me get set up?" Belinde asked as if she was a child wanting to stay up late.

  "Come on," Smith grumped, waving her toward the bench. "I didn't have time to prepare anything like I did for Declan, but I do have these," he said pulling two rings from a pocket in his apron. Two rings sat in his palm with blood-red stones glinting at their center. Belinde held out her hands as Smith slid a ring onto the third finger of each hand. She was about to complain that they were too big but the rings shrunk right before her eyes to fit her fingers perfectly.

  "This must be how the suit fits so well!" Belinda exclaimed as she looke
d at the rings and then ran a hand down the left side of her cat suit.

  "What?" Smith barked, then reddened, as his reaction brought Belinde's bosom into view. "I thought I was the only one who had that worked out." Smith pouted.

  “I believe that the elder Thor helped the sisters,” Wellington offered, “purely in an effort to speed up the process.” Smith nodded at Wellington, feeling better about the safety of his secrets.

  Belinde cleared her throat to rattle Smith free from his mental wanderings and smiled, as he looked her directly in the eyes for the first time since she had changed.

  "Sorry, I also have these," Smith said as he retrieved a pair of buttons from the workbench. They looked like they were covered in the same material that her suit was made from. Smith, taking one of Belinde's hands at a time, separated each of the buttons, and snapped it into place at the inside of her wrist. "Ready to go," Smith said, satisfied with his work.

  "Not yet," Wellington said, "we test everything twice before she leaves." When Wellington took that tone, everyone listened. Conservative in his movements as always, Wellington selected a small caliber revolver from the gun rack and returned. "Miss Dagmar, if you would be so kind as to step back a bit," Wellington requested in his businesslike manner.

  Belinde's eyes flew open in fear. "You're going to shoot at me?" Belinde squeaked.

  "We are testing bulletproof clothing, Miss Dagmar," Wellington said as if he was talking to a student that hadn't been paying attention in class.

  "Really?" Belinde asked.

  "Yes. Now please step back and raise your arms out to the sides." Belinde complied slightly uncertain now that the moment was upon her. "I assure you, Miss Dagmar, I am an excellent marksman and should the garment fail, you will be sore and angry but you will most certainly live."

  For some reason Wellington's words actually inspired the expected confidence he had intended. 'Must be the accent' he thought, but quickly refocused on the moment, enough time had already been wasted and Belinde wanted to get on with her mission.

  Standing perfectly still with her arms outstretched, Belinde waited for the shot. She was scared but she had been through worse. The shot rang out and she felt the sound of a clang on her side just above her hip but no discomfort. If the bullet hadn't ricocheted off her and knocked a hammer off the tool rack, she'd have looked down to make sure she wasn't bleeding.

  "Excellent," Wellington confirmed.

  "Hey, watch out for me tools!" Smith complained.

  "Of course," Wellington agreed as he laid the revolver down on the workbench. "Now maybe something with a little more punch," he said as he lifted his left fist to his chest and suddenly grasped the bow that had appeared there. Reaching over his right shoulder with his right hand he drew an arrow from an unseen quiver and readied the bolt.

  "Miss Dagmar, once again, if you please," Wellington instructed. This time Belinde was relaxed and fearless. Wellington drew the shaft back to it full length and loosed the arrow at its mark. Once again the tactical garment deflected the projectile. Unfortunately it once again struck Smith's tool rack, knocking a number of tools from their hooks.

  "Welly, me tools!" Smith complained.

  "Sorry," Wellington consoled with a mischievous grin that only Belinde could see. Dropping the bow and letting it disappear, Wellington turned to Smith. "My only concern," he said, "is that she has no protection for her head and face."

  "Oh, there's a button on the back of her collar," Smith said as he made the motion of pulling on a hood.

  Belinde reached back and felt the button Smith had mentioned. With a shrug she pulled it up then down over her face. "Oooo, this must be like what Declan sees through his glasses!" Belinde exclaimed as sharp details sprang into view.

  "And you didn't think that I would consider the hood to be pertinent information before I started shooting at her?" Wellington asked Smith reproachfully. The large man smiled meekly and shrugged.

  Belinde pulled the hood back from over her face and felt it recede into the collar. "Amazing," she said to herself as she reached back to touch the collar and found the button was again in its resting place. Much better than the vacuum cleaner she had at home with a retractable cord that never went back in all the way.

  "Weapons," Wellington said as he turned back toward Belinde.

  Belinde stood before the two men, and reached up and back with both hands and pulled them forward holding shining twin scimitars.

  "Excellent," Wellington commented with approval. "Now your pistols," he instructed.

  Belinde reached back with both with both hands and brought them back holding two guns, upside down. "What the hell?" she muttered.

  "Just drop them and try again," Wellington coached.

  Belinde dropped the guns and watched them disappear before they hit the floor. Reaching behind her hips once again she drew the guns with the same result and dropped them with an annoyed hiss.

  "No, no," Wellington said, stepping in front of her and placing her palms flat against her thighs. "Now don't turn your hands," he instructed as he stepped behind her. Smith looked at Belinde and rolled his eyes as Wellington grasped her arms above the elbow. Wellington drew Belinde's arms back and slid them behind her, keeping her palms facing him.

  "Lord!" Smith yelped again and Belinde heard his hand slap into place over his eyes once more. Looking down at her own chest, overly enhanced by the posture Wellington was forcing her into, Belinde had to grin.

  "Uh, I don't think you're aware of what's happening up front," she said as she felt the grip of each gun slide into her palms. Wellington was behind her shaking with laughter again. "Oh you two!" Belinde growled. "You're insufferable!"

  Wellington was laughing openly again. "I'm sorry," Wellington said, still shuddering with laughter, "I couldn't resist."

  "You two are welcome to stay here and joke around," Belinde said, noticing that Smith had removed his hand from over her eyes. "I'm going to check on Declan and then kill a few people." And with that she turned and stomped out of the armory. A few feet past the door Belinde felt like an idiot. Stomping made her stupid boobs bounce even with a sports bra. If she hadn't let her temper get the better of her she'd have remembered that she could simply transition.

  Pausing to sigh, Belinde lifted her chin, squared her shoulders and transitioned to the doorway of the infirmary. She had her inherent skills as a succubus, new sharp things and things that went boom; she was significantly better prepared for this life than Declan. That thought sent a pang through her heart. After she had seen to Declan, someone somewhere was in for a nasty surprise tonight.