Codename: Nefertiti! The Big Takedown, Part III

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Humor  |  House: Booksie Classic
Part 3

Submitted: July 12, 2014

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Submitted: July 12, 2014



Codename: Nefertiti! – The Big Takedown, Part III


Quiana is sitting in the middle of her couch staring at the two empty boxes of Pathfinder Lasses Cookies, Andrea limps towards her but when she sees Quiana crush one of the boxes with her bare hand, Andrea decides to give her space and takes a seat in a beanbag chair next to the couch instead.

“So what’s the plan?” Andrea asks.

Quiana continues looking at the remaining box in her hand and starts to read the labeling.

“The plan? This box says Pathfinder Lasses of America has their main offices here in the Inner City, right downtown. Quiana is going to pay them a visit and get some answers!”

“You can’t just go in there guns blazing, there maybe children there!” Andrea says to her.

“Quiana won’t go in with guns blazing, Quiana will go in undercover, cool like to get answers.” Quiana says jumping up from the couch.

“I’m going with you.” Andrea says, trying to get up off the beanbag chair but can’t get her footing and starts floundering around in the chair.

Quiana walks over and pulls Andrea to her feet.

“You’re not going anywhere like that, we got to get you cleaned up first, get some Tussin on that wound and get you into something innocuous.” Quiana grins.

Quiana leads a concerned Andrea to the bathroom.




Quiana’s candy apple red Chevrolet Corvette ZR1 pulls up to the Pathfinder Lasses of America’s offices and Quiana and Andrea get out, they are dressed as Telephone repairman, wearing dark blue coveralls that are tight fitting around their waists, with platform work boots and white bandanas tied around their heads, underneath two Phone Company hard hats labeled Thelma and Louise. Quiana grabs a toolbox while Andrea puts on a utility belt and the women walk up the front steps and into the building, passing a few Pathfinder Lasses carrying boxes as they walk by. Looking around the lobby, the women walk up to the reception desk and talk to the young lady sitting there.

“Welcome to Pathfinder Lasses of America, how may I help you?” The young lady asks.

“My name is Thelma and this is Louise. We are with the Phone Company, there has been a report of phone trouble and we need to take a look at your phone lines.” Quiana says.

“Really? I didn’t call in any trouble with the phone lines.”

“How could you call in trouble, when there is trouble with the phone lines.” Quiana says, reinforcing the cover story.

“Oh, right. Well, the phone closet is all the way to the back, behind the elevator.” The young lady says, pointing to the door just past the elevator.

“Thank you for your cooperation.”

Quiana and Andrea high five each other and head to the phone closet.

When Quiana and Andrea get to the closet, Quiana instructs Andrea to stand watch by the phone closet, while she takes the elevator up to check out the other two floors. Quiana gets off on the first floor and walks down the corridor and into an open floor of cubicles. There are people moving from one desk to another with papers and some are talking on phones making sales, the floor is busy and Quiana doesn’t see anything unusual so she steps back into the elevator and tries the second floor. The second floor is quiet and as Quiana walks down the corridor, she sees it is divided up into offices and a conference room; Quiana steps to the office door and tries the handle but it’s locked, so she moves to the next one but before she can test it someone calls to her.

“What are you doing, who are you?”

Quiana turns around and sees a woman dressed in an uniform similar to the one she saw the two little girls that brought her the cookies were wearing. The woman has a wide sash draped over her shoulder down to her hips that reads ‘Troop Master’ and the woman is wearing elbow length black gloves.

“I said who are you?”

“Who are you?” Quiana asks, throwing the question back in the woman’s face.

“I’m Troop Master Amy, I’m the boss here! Now tell me who you are or I’m calling the police!”

“I am Thelma, I am with the Phone Company. There has been a report of phone trouble on the phone lines.”

“There’s nothing wrong with our phones and the phone closet is down in the lobby. What are you doing up here?” Troop Master Amy demands.

“Thelma must have taken a wrong turn.”

Troop Master Amy stares sharply at Quiana, trying to determine if she really is who she says she is and Quiana stares sharply at Troop Master Amy, trying to determine if she really is the Boss here. Their eyes lock in a battle of silent wills and neither one seems willing to yield. An intern steps out of an office and into the corridor between the women, looking back and forth at them.

“Excuse me, I was just going to make some copies.” The intern says as he passes through to the room on the other side.

The struggle between Quiana and Troop Master Amy is broken.

“Thelma will be leaving now.” Quiana says.

“That is probably for the best.” Troop Master Amy says.

Quiana steps into the elevator and pushes the lobby button and Troop Master Amy returns to her office.


Quiana steps off the elevator and waves for Andrea to follow, they leave the office building and walk back to Quiana’s car and get in, unaware that Troop Master Amy is watching them from her office window. Troop Master Amy moves to her desk and picks up the phone to make a call.

“Did you find anything?” Andrea asks.

“Nah, Quiana ran into a little resistance when checking things out, so Quiana will try another approach.” She says reaching into her glove box for her 44-Magnum.

“Wait! Maybe that might get you the answers you’re looking for.” Andrea says pointing to a shipping truck marked ‘Pathfinder Lasses of America Cookies.'


Quiana looks at the shipping truck as it drives by, she nods in agreement and puts her gun away and starts the engine to follow the shipping truck as it heads down the street towards the edge of town. Quiana stays back so as not to be spotted by the driver, as ‘Strawberry Letter 23’ by the Brothers Johnson plays on the radio. Quiana spots a van following her; it’s the same van that came after her earlier, sparks from the hanging bumper kick up from the ground and the van’s suspension appears to be wobbly as a gunman wearing a sling leans out the open side door of the van and aims his machine gun at them. Bullets start to fly as Quiana speeds up and weaves around other cars trying stay out of the line of fire but the van keeps coming.

“Take the wheel!” Quiana shouts as she grabs her gun again.

“Take the what?” Andrea says in a confused tone, as she watches Quiana side out her driver side window and sit on the door, leaving no one driving the car.

Andrea grabs the steering wheel and then straddles the center console to get her foot on the gas peddle; Quiana takes aim and starts shooting back at the van, this time hitting the grill, the left headlight and her last shot goes through the windshield, shattering the glass. The van spins out of control and flips over twice before coming to a stop, Quiana slips back into the driver's seat and takes the wheel from Andrea, just as she sees an old lady using a walker crossing the intersection directly in front of them. Quiana turns the steering wheel hard and hits the breaks; the Corvette spins, just missing the old lady and slides into an open parking space between two cars and stops. The old lady turns and looks at Quiana and Andrea sitting in the car and gives them a one-finger salute before continuing across the street.

“Damn! We lost the shipping truck!” Quiana says.

“I think I got whiplash.” Andrea says, rubbing her neck.

“Whiplash? Just rub some Tussin on it and you’ll be alright.” Quiana tells her.

“What now?”

“Back to the crib, we need to get some back-up!”

Quiana pulls out of the parking space and heads down the street.




The static light from the large Television monitor fills the darkened room with an eerie light as a cloaked figure moves into view in front of the monitor. An image comes on the television and a picture finally comes into view; it’s a man sitting in an oversized chair behind a large oak desk, his face is hidden in the shadows but he is splendidly attired in a white silk Nehru jacket and rings adorn both his pinky fingers. A large orange tabby hops up onto the desk and sits down right in front of the camera, blocking the view.

“Really? Get down Raja! Get down!” The man barks at the cat, which simply ignores him and starts licking itself.

The cat hisses at the man as he pushes Raja off the desk and straightens the papers in front of him.

“Report, Number One?”

“We are almost complete with phase one.” A silky voice says.

“Almost? Are you behind schedule?” The man asks.

“No, but we have run into a slight problem with distribution, which has brought some people around, snooping at one of our businesses. It is being taken care of as we speak.”

“What people?” The man demands.

“We haven’t been able to identify them as of yet but we have pictures that were taken by the security cameras at the location.” The silky voice says, holding up photos of Quiana and Andrea disguised as Telephone repairmen.

There is a long pause by the man before he speaks again.

“Do you know who that woman is? She’s former C.I.A., a rogue operative, she doesn’t care about the law, she doesn’t care about proof, she only cares about what is right. She’s the only one who can takedown this whole operation. Her name is Quiana, codename: Nefertiti!”

“This is Nefertiti!? I thought she was out of the game? Who’s the other one with her?”

“I have no idea, she looks like she’s fresh off the boat, but it does look like Nefertiti is back in the game. This means we need to step up our timetable and the Chemist must be moved, we cannot afford to lose him!” The man says.

“As you wish, I will make the necessary arraignments for the Chemist. I will also take of Nefertiti… personally.” The silky voice says.

“See that you do Number One, I would hate to think of you as number two.”

Raja the cat jumps up on the desk again and sits down right in front of the camera, blocking the view.

“Get down!”

The image turns to static light again and the cloaked figure leaves the room.




Quiana and Andrea walk into Quiana’s house and as Quiana takes off her gun and holster, Andrea walks to the phone and picks it up and starts dialing. Quiana comes over and stops her by pressing on the cradle and taking the phone receiver away.

“Who are you calling?” Quiana asks.

“I was calling the big man, I need to debrief and request support for us.” Andrea answers.

“Look Quiana don’t trust Grant, the less he knows, the better. Besides Quiana has her own back up.”




Every seat at the table is taken and the gambling den is full tonight; some of the most unsavory individuals are staring at Geoffrey, codename: Dead Shot! as he peers over the cards he’s holding in his hand. The fat Russian sitting across from him breaks the silence.

“Do you have any Nines?” The fat Russian asks.

Geoffrey looks at his cards and then says; “Go Fish.”


The fat Russian frowns and pulls another card from the deck on the table, as a collective sigh leaves the table.

“Do you have any Fives?” Geoffrey asks the fat Russian.

A look of anger sweeps across his face as he throws down a pair of Fives; Geoffrey smiles and lays down his pair of Fives next to the fat Russians cards.

“I’m out.” Geoffrey smiles.

There is another collective “Ah!” that leaves the table as the others stare at the cards. The fat Russian rolls his eyes and looks around the table at everyone staring at him, Geoffrey waves two fingers at the fat Russian to hand over his winnings and the fat Russian fakes a smile and pushes a tub of Red Vines over to him. The waiter comes over to Geoffrey and whispers in his ear and Geoffrey nods.

“Well ladies and gentlemen, this is where we part ways. It’s been a pleasure.” Geoffrey smiles as he stands and steps back from the table.

Taking the tub of Red Vines with him, Geoffrey walks over to the bar and asks the bartender for his usual drink, Colt 45 Malt Liquor as he picks up the telephone receiver laying on the bar top.

“Who dis?” Geoffrey asks. “(Bleep) Nefertiti is that you? It’s been a while, how you living girl?”

The fat Russian walks up behind Geoffrey to take him by surprise but meets Porky, one of Geoffrey’s twin pearl-handled .45 revolvers, aimed at his forehead. Geoffrey turns his head and looks at the fat Russian.

“Oh, you know me, just chillin.' What’s up?” Geoffrey shakes his head no and gestures for the fat Russian to get to stepping.

The fat Russian gives a nervous smile and backs away turns and runs out of the gambling den. Geoffrey holsters Porky and then reaches for the tall glass of Colt 45.

“Well, I’m down. No, I haven’t seen her but I might have an idea of where she might be hanging out. I’ll wrap up here and track her down and we’ll swing by the crib as soon as we can. Ok, solid!”

Geoffrey hangs up the phone turns his head towards a beauty sitting at the end of the bar, he tilts his big brim hat to her as he picks up his glass and drinks his Colt 45 down.



A gray-haired man with pot marked skin and a lazy eye sets a leather wrap case down on a metal cart and unrolls it, revealing a set of scalpels and surgical tools. He examines them carefully, holding each one up to the light and smiles.

“Perfect.” He purrs. “We can begin now.”

The pot marked man turns and walks over to Brittany, codename: White Chocolate and smiles. Brittany is hanging on a hook by her shackled feet, stripped down to her underwear and her hands hang over her head, with her corn rolled braids dangling over the handcuffs.

“Such beautiful skin, so soft and smooth, I shall enjoy peeling it from your body.” The Pot marked man smiles, running the dull side of the scalpel along her thigh. “Nothing to say?”


Brittany scowls at him; he knows she can’t speak with the gag in her mouth. The pot marked man moves to make the first cut, when gunshots in the distance distract him. He turns to see Geoffrey, codename: Dead Shot! kick in the door and roll across the floor (for no reason) and on to one knee aiming Porky and Bess at him.

“Freeze sucker!” Geoffrey shouts.

Geoffrey looks at the pot marked man and then at Brittany.

“(Bleep) girl, did I come at a bad time?”

Brittany loosens her gag and spits it out onto the floor.

“Kind of! This fool was about to tell me everything about his operation.” Brittany snaps. “Why are you here?”

“Nefertiti has been trying to reach you, she needs us.”

“Oh. Well, give me a minute.”

“(Bleep) do your thing girl.” Geoffrey says, rising and holstering his guns.

“Wait what’s going on here, you’re in no position to do anything!” The pot marked man says to her.

“That’s where you’re wrong, Boris. I’ve been secretly picking the locks on these handcuffs with my braids and with my hands free a can do this.”

Brittany reaches up to her feet and pulls herself off the hook and drops her feet around the pot marked man’s head, wrapping her shackles around his neck. The pot marked man drops his blade and gasps for air before passing out. Brittany releases the body and drops to the floor and frees herself from the shackles.

“Sorry Boris, will have to pick this up later. Now where are my clothes?” Brittany asks, looking around the room.

“Right here girl.” Geoffrey says, holding up her clothes and boots.

Brittany walks up and takes the clothes as she gives Geoffrey, a cute smile.

“Turn around.” She instructs and Geoffrey complies.

Once Brittany is dressed in her tight fitting red leather motorcycle jumpsuit and matching boots, Geoffrey and her leave and head to Quiana’s house.




A cloaked figure moves down a long corridor to a steel reinforced door with a small window high and centered in the door. The cloaked figure punches a code into a keypad above the door handle. The door buzzes and the cloaked figure grabs the handle and gives it a slight turn to open the door, but the door doesn’t open and an alarm rings. Trying the code again, the cloaked figure turns the handle again but gets the same results. Looking through the window, the figure can see that there is a table blocking the door and in the center to the room a man is sitting on the floor, gently swaying to the music that only he can hear. He is wearing an American flag bandana tied as a headband around his head, holding his shaggy brown locks in place. Rose-colored glasses sit on his nose and he has beads woven into his goatee, a tie-dye shirt hangs loose on his frame as he watches his fingers dancing before his eyes.

“Alex, ALEX! You’ve blocked the door again.” The cloaked figure says to him through the door.

“God, is that you?” Alex responds, looking up at the ceiling.

“No, it’s me. Move the table and open the door!”


“Yes, look over here.” The cloaked figure says, banging on the door.

Alex dips his head and turns to the right and then to the left.

“No, no. This way straight ahead.” The cloaked figure repeats.

Alex sees the door and gets to his feet; he pulls his blue jean cutoffs loose from where they were bunching up and slips into his Birkenstocks and walks up to the door and leans over the table blocking it.

“Man you should get in here… God’s in here.” He whispers through the door.

The cloaked figure’s head drops before taking a deep breath.

“Why don’t you move the table and then I can see him with you.” The cloaked figure suggests.

“Oh yeah, right on!” Alex agrees.

He pushes the table to the side and the cloaked figure can finally enter the laboratory. There’s a smoky scent in the air, which makes the cloaked figure cough and fan the air.

“I see you’ve been redecorating again.”

“Oh yeah man, I was going for a feng shui feel. Cool, right?”

“Yes very cool, now look I need you to concentrate, Alex. We need another batch of the compound.” The cloaked figure says.

“No can do man, not without the proper supplies.” Alex says, bobbing his head.

“What supplies? Everything you need is all ready here.”

“Dude, I need some Cheesy Puffs, Ho-Ho’s and a six pack of Dew.” Alex smiles as he rubs his belly under his tie-dye shirt.

The cloaked figure’s head drops again.

“All right, I’ll see that the items you requested are brought in, but you need to hurry with the compound, we must leave soon.”

“Right on!” Alex plays his air guitar in triumph.

The cloaked turns around and leaves.




After changing clothes, Quiana sits at her kitchen table opposite Andrea, sharing a bucket of General Jackson’s Alabama Fried Chicken with a side of mashed potatoes and corn on the cob. Quiana pulls out a small bottle of Crystal Hot sauce from inside her Afro and sprinkles the sauce over her drumsticks, before passing the bottle to Andrea. Reluctantly Andrea takes the bottle and pours some over her chicken but when she takes a bite, she begins to choke from the spices and Quiana slides a bottle of grape Crush over to her and Andrea gulps it down.

“You all right, girl?” Quiana asks.

“Yeah, spicy!” Andrea nods, as her taste buds cool down.

Quiana smiles but the smile quickly falls away, when she thinks she hears someone at the front door; Quiana turns down the Stylistics singing ‘You Make Me Feel Brand New’ on the radio and listens again. A knock at the front door is much clearer now and Quiana sucks her fingers clean before picking up her gun and moving to the door. She leans in and when she does not hear anything she shouts; “WHAT YOU WANT?”

(It’s me David; open the door.)


Quiana opens the door and sees David, codename: Shopkeeper standing before her wearing a smart navy two-piece business suit, ivory ascot and black Fedora with the brim turned down on the side.

“David, codename: Shopkeeper, what the hell are you doing here and I’m not even going to ask how you found my urban contemporary home!” Quiana says.

“I’m in town for the Covert Professional Armorers Convention, CPAC for short and I heard you were in a wee bit of trouble and I thought I could lend you a hand.” David says.

“You are a slight for Quiana’s sore eyes.” Quiana smiles as she pulls him into her arms.

They hug for a brief moment and then Quiana asks; “What happened to your beard?”

“Oh, I needed to change my appearance for the convention to protect my identity. Brilliant right?” David winks.

Quiana looks down at the sticky name badge stuck to his coat that reads ‘Hello, my name is David, codename: Shopkeeper’ and then she looks up to him again and nods. Quiana takes David into the kitchen and introduces him to Andrea; they shake hands as David sees the bucket of chicken.

“General Jackson’s Alabama Fried Chicken, Brilliant!” David smiles, looking into the bucket. “What no drumsticks?”

There’s another knock at the front door and Quiana goes to answer it, with the same tack as last time; opening the door she sees Geoffrey, codename: Dead Shot! and Brittany, codename: White Chocolate standing in front of her.

“Hey girl!” Quiana and Brittany say together, as they hug each other and bounce around in a circle; Geoffrey stands to the side and enjoys the show.

“(Bleep) girl, I’m catching a cold standing here. Why don’t you two take it inside?” Geoffrey says, breaking up the reunion.

Everyone heads back into the kitchen and says their hellos and fist bumps to each other, except for Andrea, who sits quietly as everyone finishes their greetings. Brittany turns to Andrea and looks her over, sizing her up and Andrea stands for inspection; the two women turn and circle each other. They are both wearing tight fitting leather motorcycle jumpsuits, Brittany in red and Andrea in yellow with black side trims; Brittany starts to nod her head in approval as Andrea nods back.

“Girl…” Brittany says.

“Girl…” Andrea answers back.

“I like your style!” They both say together.

As Brittany and Andrea high five each other, Geoffrey sees the bucket of General Jackson’s Alabama Fried Chicken and walks over to peek inside.

“What no drumsticks?” Geoffrey says in a disappointed tone.

“Ok, everyone gather around so Quiana can tell you what’s going down.” Quiana says.

“Did you just rhyme?” David asks.

“No, Quiana does not rhyme.”

“So what’s this about?” Geoffrey asks, as everyone moves in around the table.


Andrea moves the food to the counter as Quiana spreads out a map of the Inner City. Quiana proceeds to lay out everything that has been happening in the hood, the drugs, the Crip walking, her housekeeper and the cookies; the information leaves everyone stunned.

“Wow, so they’re getting the drugs out through the cookies. Ain’t that a (Bleep).” Geoffrey says.

“What is that noise?” Andrea asks, looking around the kitchen.

“What noise?” Quiana questions.

“I don’t hear a (bleep) thing.” Geoffrey says.

“There, right there when you speak.”

“Oh, that’s my ‘Profanity chip’ implant, it was installed for a mission and they can’t take it out. It’s a (bleep) pain in my (bleep) but what are you going to do?” Geoffrey shrugs.

“Do we know who’s behind it?” Brittany asks while buffing her nails.

“No, Andrea and Quiana were following a shipping truck leaving the Pathfinder Lasses of America offices, when we were jumped by some fools in a van trying to take us out. Andrea and Quiana lost the truck.” Quiana tells Brittany.

“Wait, which way was the truck heading?” Geoffrey asks.

“North on Pico, why?” Quiana asks while finishing the last drumstick, both David and Geoffrey seem disappointed.

“North on Pico will take you out of town and do you know what’s just outside the city limits that way?”

“The Bottoms Up Gentlemen’s Club, a place where well drinks are always half off.” David answers.

Everyone turns and stares at David in silence.

“I mean that’s what I’ve heard…” David adds.

“No, there’s an old Keebler cookie warehouse just off of Pico outside of town. What do you want to bet that’s where they’re putting this stuff together?” Geoffrey says.

Quiana smiles and says; “Sounds like it’s worth checking out.”

Everyone turns in the same direction when the doorbell rings; Quiana slowly walks up to the door, followed by everyone else. Quiana leans in and when she does not hear anything she shouts; “WHAT YOU WANT?”

(It’s Grant aka the big man; open the door.)

Everyone turns and stares at Andrea.

“I have protocols to follow…” Andrea says, in an attempt to explain herself.

“Awe (bleep)!” Everyone says together; Quiana opens the door.

“What the hell you want, big man?” Quiana asks as Grant steps inside.

“I heard you’ve made some headway into the mission and might need support.” Grant says.

“Quiana doesn’t need support, Quiana has got her own back up.”

“Things are heating up on this one, we need results fast. It you can’t handle this the military will and they are not known for their diplomacy.”

“If I’ve said it five times, I’ve said it twenty-five times; Quiana, codename: Nefertiti has got this!”

Grant takes his sunglasses off, revealing a smaller pair of dark shades that he is still wearing underneath and says; “You’ve got twenty-four hours.”

“Quiana will do it in twelve; now split!”

Grant frowns and puts his first pair of sunglasses back on, slicks his hair back and leaves; Quiana slams the door behind him, she turns around to face everyone.

“Well, you heard the big man, the clock is ticking. Let’s load up and go handle this!” Quiana says.


In the kitchen, Geoffrey, codename: Dead Shot! is polishing his twin pearl-handled .45 revolvers, Porky and Bess. He pockets some extra rounds of bullets in his waistcoat pockets as he looks over to Brittany, codename: White Chocolate, she is polishing a set of throwing knifes and daggers. Inspecting the sharpness of each blade, she slides them one by one into slots of her vest, sleeves and boots; Brittany looks over at Andrea, codename: F.O.B. and sees Andrea polishing her 44-Magnum revolver and slipping extra bullets into her pockets. Andrea turns to see Quiana, codename: Nefertiti polishing her 44-Magnum and sliding extra rounds into her Afro, Quiana winks back at Andrea and then looks over to David, codename: Shopkeeper polishing off the last of the General Jackson’s Alabama Fried Chicken.

“David, what the hell? Don’t you want to get ready?” Quiana asks.

“I’m good, I’ve got two bags of goodies in the trunk of my car.” David says as he sucks his fingers.

“Alright then; let’s split!”


Everyone walks outside and stops at the driveway.

“Who’s driving?” Geoffrey asks.

“Quiana can only fit two people in my car.” Quiana says.

“I’m driving a rental, I have to have it back to the rental office with a full tank of gas.” David says.

“Alright; Quiana and F.O.B. can ride together and everybody else rides with me.” Geoffrey says.

The Chevrolet Corvette ZR1 peels out of Quiana’s driveway, as Geoffrey’s convertible Cadillac Eldorado with the gold finish and white walls follows. ‘Street Life’ by Randy Crawford and the Crusaders fills the air.




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