A STRIPPER'S QUEST

PREMIERATTACK

Ava stirred awake to find Damien engrossed in his laptop, the soft glow of the screen illuminating his focused expression. “Good morning,” she greeted, her voice still heavy with sleep. “I’m buried in paperwork for the upcoming proceedings. Have breakfast and meet the monk in the living room for your first training session,” Damien replied tersely, barely looking up.

“Training? I don’t remember that being part of our agreement. You promised we would—” Ava began, but Damien shot her a fierce look, silencing her with a sharp command to be quiet. “You need to train to stay fit. It’s either that or we terminate this whole arrangement and you go back to the club,” he barked, his frustration palpable.

With a sullen expression, Ava muttered an apology and hurried to the living room, where a butler in a crisp suit had laid out her breakfast. “Where’s this monk I’m supposed to meet?” she whispered, scanning the room.

“I’m right here, my dear. Look closely and believe,” a gravelly voice echoed from nowhere. Ava paused, her heart racing as she searched for the source. “I can’t see you! Where are you?” she asked, her voice trembling.

Suddenly, she felt a gentle touch on her neck and turned to find a short, elderly man clad in a flowing white robe, his hair a wispy match to his attire. “Are you an angel?” Ava blurted out, and the old man erupted into laughter, which quickly turned into a fit of coughing. “Call me Zazu,” he replied, a twinkle in his eye. “I’ve been tasked with your training.”

Now calm, Ava finished her breakfast as Zazu instructed her to choose a card from the table. “Whatever you pick will determine your first lesson,” he said. “I hope we can wrap this up quickly so I can return to the club,” Ava murmured to herself.

“That place is unhealthy and carnal. Don’t think like that. Seize this golden opportunity and make the most of it,” Zazu replied, as if he could hear her inner conflict.

Ava selected a blue card adorned with intricate dragon designs. “This card signifies that I will teach you how to wield an extensible bo staff,” Zazu announced, producing a dark wooden rod etched with dragon motifs. “First, hold it as if you’re pointing forward at chest height. Then, yank it forward quickly, and it will extend. Keep practicing until you reach the desired length. Understood?” he asked.

Zazu demonstrated, then handed Ava another staff. To his surprise, she extended it effortlessly. He guided her through basic defensive maneuvers and attack techniques. “That should be enough for today,” he said after a while. Ava struggled to retract the staff. “Just press those two projections in the middle,” Zazu instructed.

After a quick trip to the kitchen for water, Ava returned to find the living room empty. “Oh well, he vanished just like he appeared,” she sighed, flopping onto the couch.

Meanwhile, Damien was on the phone, his voice tense. “She’s here with me. Yes, she agreed. Shall we proceed?” He hung up, a sense of unease creeping over him. “Something isn’t right,” he muttered, resting his head back.

Later that evening, Ava awoke with her head resting on Damien’s chest. He kissed her forehead and gently caressed her hair. “If only you knew how valuable you are,” he whispered. As she blinked awake, she found Damien gazing intently at her. Before she could speak, he pressed his lips against hers, and she instinctively mounted him, deepening the kiss. Just as things began to heat up, a knock on the door interrupted them. “Dinner’s ready!”

They quickly dressed and made their way downstairs, where Damien’s guards were seated alongside an unfamiliar face. The atmosphere was relaxed until fireworks lit up the night sky, eliciting gasps of awe. But the moment was shattered by the sound of gunfire, sending shockwaves through the room.

Damien pressed a hidden button under the table, triggering loud sirens. “We’re under attack! Quick, guard the doors!” he shouted, grabbing Ava and pulling her close. They dashed to the nearest elevator. “The elevator? Really?” Ava exclaimed, her heart racing. “This elevator is made of titanium and is bulletproof. Nothing can get through,” Damien reassured her.

Ava clutched the bo staff tightly, her pulse quickening as gunshots rang out outside. “Shoot him, imposter!” one of the guards yelled, followed by a barrage of bullets.

“Get out now, or I’ll shoot!” a voice called, calm yet menacing. “That voice sounds familiar. I think I’ve met him before,” Ava said, her mind racing.

The man began counting down. “Three… two… one…” followed by a hail of bullets that ricocheted off the door, leaving deep gouges. “Curse you, Damien!” the voice shouted.

Damien quickly checked the security cameras on his phone, spotting the assailant—a tall, lean figure with sharp features and pale skin, obscured by a black mask that concealed his identity.

As Damien reported the incident to the police, his phone suddenly died, the battery low warning flashing. “Freeze!” someone shouted, followed by more gunfire. “He’s escaped! He dashed into the garden. Follow him!” the voice commanded. After that, silence fell over the house.

“How are we going to get out of this elevator? It’s getting hot in here,” Ava complained. “There’s a lever at the top, but it’s too high for us to reach,” Damien replied, his frustration mounting.

Ava looked at the bo staff and had an idea. “Why don’t you hoist me up so I can flip the lever with the staff?” she suggested. Climbing onto Damien’s shoulders, she extended the staff and managed to pull the lever, causing the elevator doors to slide open.

What lay before them was a scene of chaos. The once-elegant room was now a war zone—bullet holes marred the walls, shattered glass littered the floor, and overturned furniture created a maze of destruction. Blood stained the marble tiles, and the acrid scent of gunpowder hung heavy in the air. A chandelier dangled precariously, its crystals clinking like broken dreams.

Ava’s breath caught in her throat as she spotted a body slumped in the corner, a dark smear trailing down the wall beside it. Damien stepped forward, his shoes crunching over the debris. The atmosphere was thick with the stench of violence. They found the mask on the floor, strands of red hair caught in its fabric. “Don’t touch it!” Damien warned.

“We’ll let the investigators handle this. They can analyze the mask, the sweat, and the hair to identify who was behind that door,” he said, his voice steady despite the chaos.

“What just happened?” Logan Pearce, Damien’s right-hand man, burst in, shock written across his face. “Where were you during all this?” Damien demanded.

“I was in the restroom, Sir,” Logan replied, his voice shaky. Damien called the investigation agency to examine the mask and other evidence for identification. Turning to Ava, he whispered, “You saved us from being trapped in that elevator. I see you took your training seriously.” Ava beamed, a genuine smile breaking through her shock, and hugged Damien tightly.

“The masked man… his voice sounds so familiar,” Ava thought, her mind racing. The rest of the evening was consumed by the sounds of renovation and cleanup. “Bring in ten more guards,” Damien ordered as he hung up the phone. The compound looked relatively intact, save for two cars with shattered windows. “I guess this is the price I pay for bringing you home,” he mused.

A tall man in a black hat, puffing on a cigarette, stepped out of a minivan. It was personnel from the investigation agency, ready to collect samples and assess the damage. He moved with purpose, gathering evidence as the night wore on, leaving Ava to wonder just how deep this dangerous game truly ran.