The following FICTIOUS account is written by Faibhar and intended solely for the readership of LEGALLY ADULT readers where such material additionally meets with local standards. DO NOT READ further if neither of the above conditions apply to you. 

Do not continue if extreme themes offend.

Please do not use this original work for any purpose other than your appropriate enjoyment. Should you be bothered by themes of torture and mayhem, please do not continue.
Your constructive comments are welcome.
Thank you.




                                                                        Caliente Alto The End Game.

	Another magic moment in movie making transferred the once desolate WWII strip and surrounding desert into a relative beehive of activity as Allen Smithey dutifully yelled out "Action!" 
	"Boss! Look right above us," said Clem as he and the others strained their necks skyward. Sure enough, one, then two, then three 'chutes appeared to open as the propeller-driven plane soared high overhead. 
Looking up, Lord grabbed his trusty pair of old 7X50 binoculars and focused them on the descending parachutes. A fourth parachute opened as it left the aircraft, one he recognized had to belong to Randy. Lord saw that his man was fully clothed, while the earlier skydivers were wearing brief costumes, and ...no briefs. It had to be cold up there, he idly thought as the spec focused on twirling bare legs and bottoms. Chilly, in fact.
	Too high to be heard from on ground, the shot fired through the narrow cabin and into the back of the pilot's seat mortally wounded the silver-haired plane owner. Just as Lord watched Randy's successful egress from the plane, its left wing dipped. Lord watched with grim satisfaction as the big metal bird turned into the first of many flat spin revolutions.
	Back on terra firma Master Brief's decision making powers remained intact.. Lord could only marvel at the man's cowardice and vanity. The lawyer had readily forfeited the lives of the two girls for his own. Given the long odds of Master Briefs actually being rescued while out wandering the desert, who in their right mind would actually believe the story of some crazed man dressed for Halloween in a Roman soldier's get-up? Lord shrugged at the folly of it all and handed the hairy-legged attorney a mallet and some nails. His plan was working.
	"Here's your gavel, counselor. Now let's see what you can do with it. You be the Judge."
	The unwilling divers from on high were getting closer to the ground. The parachutes were not the commercial variety, but rather military issue. That meant the parachutes offered less resistance to the wind, thereby falling to the ground faster. At least Randy was properly attired for the hard landing that was to be, but then he happened to be on the "right" team for this production.
	"Nooo..." Susan moaned as her wrist was grabbed and she was thrown to the ground. She would be the first. Candi could only stand mutely and watch as the lawyer pinned one of her friend's arms along the crude beam. Other hands held the nude girl in place, and once steadied, Master Briefs placed the first nail in the middle of Susan's upturned wrist. The mallet fell and the girl cried out. Blood spurted around the wrist as another blow forced the nail deeper. Susan's thumb reflexively turned inward toward her palm. Her entire body writhed and shone in the sun. Candi grimaced and turned her head away. A third blow pounded flesh into wood. Candi dared not to open her eyes but heard the fast rustling of the men as they shifted position.
	"Not bad, counselor," Lord sad in a slow drawl as he watched both the scene near his boots and the action in the sky. "Seems as though you've had plenty of experience …nailing clients."
	Master Brief's positioned himself and was about to pound the mallet to the metal when the whole ground around them shook. All except Susan looked up at the temblor. A huge fireball just over the horizon appeared.
	"Well...that's one landing I don't think our pilot friend will be walking away from," Lord said as the others waited to exhale in the excitement.
	"Go ahead, counselor. You may continue."
	Master Briefs looked down at his sweating captive. He chanced a look at her face and the pain there made even he grimace. Driven by motives of self-preservation, he lifted the heavy mallet high in the air, one more time.
	It landed with a crash. He felt the nail penetrate and rather than waste more time thinking of the enormity of what it was that he was doing, Master Briefs raised the mallet into the air again, and forcefully brought it crashing down. He tried wiping his fingers free of the fresh blood that ran over them but the short soldier skirt he wore would not clean them.
	After the third blow, Lord spoke and said, "The butterfly is fully pinned to that crossbeam. Now, the next one."
	Master Briefs looked pleadingly up into the sun. Around Lord's head he could see the approaching shapes of the dangling members.. He also saw the glint in Lord's eyes that told him he better move, and fast. He grabbed Candi's weakened right arm by the wrist and pulled her to the ground. With her, he took the time to look over her body. Once beautiful, it was now an angry road map of scratches and bites. The girl's right flank was discolored in dark hues. The right breast with the mangled duct tape was purplish and swollen. Taking a large swallow, Master Briefs placed the girl's right wrist on the rough wood and pressed the tip of the rusty nail between the veins. Raising the mallet high above his head, he brought it crashing down.	
	She bucked as the nail was driven. Rivulets of sweat pooled in her deep navel and streamed between her legs and along her long arms. Another blow rocked her as she lay. Candi's screams pleaded for mercy. A thickness in her arm, starting at the abraised wrist where the nail was being pounded flooded her body. Senseless until that very moment, all of Candi's nerve endings seemed to reawaken with agony.

	Lord swiveled at the male cry then heard the crunch then the silence. The first of the jumpers was landing. Tough break to land on the hard macadam. The silk parachute behind him fluttered like so many crushed vertebrae of the man's spine. Another scream was heard as the second one landed nearby. Lord had to wince as he heard what must be the man's two legs being broken in the fall. 
There was now so much to see and do. Lord looked at Smithey sweating over his custom-made board. "You getting all of this, Smithey?"
	Dark pools stained his now dirty polo shirt, but the young director looked up, forced a smile and gave Lord a thumb's up to indicate that all was faithfully being recorded. He readjusted the brim on his ball cap and looked back down at the monitor and T-bar on his custom switcher.
	"Excellent," Lord said and slowly looked up at the crucified females. Their bloody toes were just about eye-level with him when he nodded to Master Briefs and said, "Looks like your jobs are done, counselor. Depending on how you look at it, you are either now on the clock or off of it."
	Master Briefs nodded with a foolish grin and tried to hide his blood-soaked fingers.
	Lord slowly rubbed his jaw-line and considered the wretched legal beagle. "So, I am a man of my word. You can go now. Go ahead, take off!"
	Without hesitating a second more, Master Briefs turned and ran barefoot away, his short Roman army skirt swishing behind him.
	Susan coughed, then gasped, then slowly pressed down on her nailed feet and raised her body painfully up the cross. At the apex of her ascent, she sucked in air. Her strength gave and she slid back down, supported by her extended arms and the nails piercing her tiny wrists.
	A howling noise was made and heads looked up. The last of the third members, the most portly was descending and fast. It seemed as though he was going to land right on top of them. As he fell from the sky, he flashed down in front of Candi's crucified form but he had little interest in peeking at her even at such close range. He landed with a crash and moaned in agony. The parachute he came in on draped over Candi's left arm and crossbeam. She shrieked as the tension jerked her body and the whole cross. The full nipple, dark areola and shining plastic boob jiggled as the silk caught on the wood.
	Lord issued immediate orders. "Get the thing off of her cross, and put this poor, fat slob out of his misery."
	"Boss, Randy just landed and he's okay."
	"Of course he is, Clem. Now get everybody and let's head out of this place. Smithey, you've got your tape. Sell it if you can. There's got to be a market for it somewhere out there."
	Smithey started to protest and said, "But…. you just can't leave me out here by myself!"
	Lord turned back when he heard the protest and said, "Oh but that we can, Smithey. That we can."


                                                                      Caliente Alto Epilogue

	Smithey looked up at the crucified girls and the other carnage that encircled him. He then looked down at the dusty Doc Martens shodding his feet. At least, he was better dressed for the desert than that lawyer, he thought. 
He then wondered if possibly, once he got out of there, if Big Jack might be a good contact. If Jack wasn't in the market for what he had just produced, Smithey knew that Jack certainly would know someone who was. 
For all of the hassles, this could all be really serious money. Smithey smiled at the thought.
	Before making that pitch, however, there was something yet to do. He had to escape from this location.

                                                                                    -30-

