277 searching for nanny cunt

277

 

It took over a week for the Nanny cunt to surface.  She never really surfaced it just took that long for the company to put its resources into finding her.  Somehow they had considered her case closed with my change in status.  They still hadn’t gotten used to me being in the equation.  I guess since I was the first Ghostbot they were have trouble deciding what to do with me and how much to do for me.  In the end they told me that someone had registered a car using Nanny Cunt’s Boyfriend’s driver’s license as an ID.  It is always the little things that trip us up, I thought.

 

I wanted them both.  I was also pretty sure that since I had found one, I had found them both.  I downloaded the official police photos for each of them.  Then I had them printed at the drugstore.  I did it while I was on my way to breakfast and then my walk on the morning after they surfaced.

 

The two of them had gone to ground in a coastal North Carolina town no more than a hundred and fifty miles from Aster.  It seemed as though they couldn’t bring themselves to get too far from their lifeline.  Family being the only source of secure revenue for them at that moment.  No doubt they would be involved in something where ever they landed.  It might or might not be something legal.  There were plenty of casual labor jobs around on the coast.  It would have been easier to find one in the spring or summer, but there were always jobs to be had.   Neither of them to my knowledge had a drug problem, so most likely they wouldn’t be involved in any high visibility activities.

 

Then again they might have considered the matter closed, since no one had come for them in over four months.  After my walk at the mall, I went home changed for my road trip, then just drove away.  I was very careful to obey all the speed laws as I drove toward the coast.  I did make one stop to buy gas for the woody and to take care of clearing breakfast from my disposal area.

 

The town wasn’t on the beach.  It was an old town along a major river.  Finding the address the boyfriend had listed with the DMV wasn’t difficult.  “Good morning,” I said to the clerk behind the counter of the Mail boxes ect store.  I’m looking for  holder of box 772. Can you help me out?”  I asked.

 

“I’m sorry that information is confidential.  You would have to have a warrant go gain access to our files.” the middle age man suggested.  I didn’t have a clue if he was the franchise owner or the manager or just a clerk.  What I did know was that I needed information and one way or another  he was going to help me.

 

I showed him a fake business card with a hundred dollar bill behind it. “I am an insurance claims adjuster.”  I  really need to settle a claim he filed against one of our clients.  I can tell  you his name and his automobile description, I just need to know where he lives.  I know he doesn’t live in that post office box.”

 

I can’t help you with the address, but I can tell you he paid for three months in advance about a month ago.  He has been in once a week or so to check his mail,  I know because we have to hand it across the counter.  There aren’t really any boxes.”

 

I showed him the picture of Nanny cunt.  “You ever seen her with him?” I asked.

 

“No it’s just him.  He talks funny though if that is any help,” the man said.  He said it even after I had slipped him the card and the money.

 

I knew guessed that he was showing up regularly to pick up money from home or something like that.  Sure most of us used electronic banking these days.  Yes I did check the family and friends bank accounts before I made the drive.  I could find no one who owned a bank account which showed an unexplained money transfer.  Most of the family and friends were just ordinary people with no significant bank balance.  If those people were sending money it was most likely to be small amounts in the form of money orders purchased at the convenience store.

 

While I had coffee at a local restored hotel’s coffee shop, I checked the police reports for the county where the small town was located.  There were the usual burglaries and convenience store robberies.  I had access to the information, but it was still a drag to read all those police reports looking at the descriptions.  I had not learned to use the scan feature of my brain even though I had been instructed how to do it.

 

Nothing jumped out at me, so it was going to be a job for Maxine the cop.  In my case a cop with no badge but a pocket full of cash.  Since I knew they had a car, it seemed to me that the most logical place to start would be the convenience stores which sold cheap gas.

 

“You ever see either of these two,” I asked laying the two pictures on the counter of the third small convenience store I had tried.

 
“Sure the girl has bought gas here a few times,” he suggested.

 

I added a hundred dollar bill to the pile.  “Are you sure?” I asked.

 

“Sure I am, she has a great body and a funny accent.” he said.

 

“How often does she come in?” I asked.

 

“Couple of times a week for a while, then she will miss a week or two.”

 

“When was the last time?” I asked.

 

“Couple of days ago.  She will probably be back soon,” he said.  “Want me to tell her that you are looking for her?”

 

“No that wouldn’t be a good idea. Has the guy ever come in with her?”

 

“To be honest he might have, but I don’t really remember.” he said.

 

“Anything else you can tell me?” I asked.

 

“Is she in some kind of trouble?” he asked.

 

“She skipped out on a bail hearing.  No biggie,” I replied.

 

“She isn’t dangerous is she,” he asked with his eyes lighting up.

 

“No, she is just a writer of bad paper,” I said giving him something to think about.

 

“She comes in wearing one of those waitress name tags from the downtown diner.  They wear slacks and tight white men’s tee shirts there.” He said it as if he approved of the tight white tee shirts at least.  I didn’t remember the nanny cunt as being that well endowed, boob wise that is.

 

I had packed the long red wig, so slipping into the downtown diner might not be too big a deal.  It was dinner time so she most likely would not be working.  I went in mostly to get the lay of the place.  I decided that a snatch and grab from there would be way too risky, but I did learn where the employees parked their cars.  I also knew what car she was driving, so it would be easy to follow here somewhere for the actually grabbing her up phase of the operation.

 

The operational phase was going to present a new set of problems.  Unlike the old days, I couldn’t go to jail and take my chances in court.  These days things were going to have to be done differently.  Fortunately the people in the cross hairs had already disappeared themselves.  My job was to make sure they never showed up again anywhere.

 

I suppose it was what I was designed for.  No dna would be left behind.  No identifiable finger prints since there was no body oil to leave them.  Also I had finger print markers that changed periodically.  Super glue on the finger tips changed my prints if necessary  in a pinch.

 

I needed a base of operations that wouldn’t leave a trace of me.  I could drive an hour away and check into a motel, or I could find an abandoned house and move in.  There were plenty of foreclosed houses which would work for a base of operations.  Not being spotted would be the trick.

 

I decided that the woody was too distinctive to use, but it did have a bicycle rack on the rear.  A quick check of craig’s list got me a used bike from a woman whose son was in the Marines.  If anyone asked, she might remember the skinny redhead who bought the bike.  But I doubted that anyone would ask unless I left it behind.

 

It was well after dark when I found the right house for my base.  I parked the woody in the parking lot of the revived downtown shopping area.  It was a ride of about five miles on the bike to the foreclosed house I chose.  It was a small house but would work just fine for my needs.  First I needed to decide on what kind of scene I wished to stage.  To do that I needed to be patient and to determine where the couple lived.  That would most likely take all the next day.

 

Rather than the old days stake out kind of thing, I just popped a gps tracker under her fender.  I did it the next morning while the car was parked in the downtown cafe’s parking lot.  I rode the bike there as well.  With a sweatshirt hood pulled up to cover most of my features, it was easy for me to look like a guy on a bike.  I would bet a thousand dollars that would be the description, if anyone even noticed me at all.

 

I didn’t have a plan and I needed a plan.  My plan so far was to break into the house when no one was home and then form a plan based on what was there.  I was leaning to a murder suicide scenario.  It was by far the easiest to pull off.  Of course that would depend on where they were living.  That I would know that very night.

 

My immediate problem was to not be noticed.  I rode the bike to the city park.  I left the the bike far from the entrance, but not hidden.  It was more hidden in plain sight.  I walked to one of the benches and just sat there with my hood pulled up as if I was cold.  I wasn’t cold at all, what I was doing was running old TV shows in my head.  I had Eve’s built in wifi connection to the net.  Of course I was one giant computer.  Before I knew it the fancy phone I had been given let me know that Nanny Cunt was on the move.  I overlaid her movements with a map of the area.

 

The car stopped in a state campground.  They were obviously living in a camper or tent.  Most likely a small camper of some kind.  I needed to take a look at it.  It was ten miles away and that would be quite a bike ride for the old me, but not for the new me. Nonetheless I went to the downtown parking lot to retrieve the woody.  I drove it to the campground.  I didn’t stop, I just drove by the camper with the small red foreign car parked outside.

 

I knew where it was which was my total mission for the evening.  I didn’t want to hang around the campground to determine how many were living in the camper, so I planned to leave a dear hunter type camera.  It was a digital camera that would take a shot every time it sensed movement.  I parked the woody in the office parking lot, then removed the bike from the rack.  It wasn’t suspicious since it hadn’t gotten dark yet.  I looked like just another trail rider.

 

As I rode back to place the camera, the Boyfriend came out headed to the bathhouse not far from the camper.  That solved my problem, so I just rode on by and kept the camera in my pocket.

 

I rode the bike around the area for another twenty minutes before I loaded it up and headed back to the temporary base of operations.  I needed a plan and to move as quickly as was prudent.  There was nothing to be gained by delay and lots to lose if I got myself spotted.

 

 

 

About cindypress

sorry it is a mystery.
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17 Responses to 277 searching for nanny cunt

  1. jack says:

    Max the loner on this mission, seems fitting for her first mission . Revenge is best served cold.

    • cindypress says:

      now how is the agency going to react to max going rogue lol/ So many possibilities\./

      • jack says:

        They need to see what a Hubot can do in the real world on its own. They knew what they were getting when they chose Maxine , they had her complete history and were equal partners on some of her adventures. besides they can’t just walkaway and forget it when someone tries to kill one of their agents they have to retaliate.

      • cindypress says:

        more or less what i expect

  2. cindypress says:

    I got an anon feedback from SOL tonight. It said please proof read more your spelling and grammar make the story almost unreadable. I say to those of you who feel that way, we are on episode 277 why are you still reading if it is that bad. Sorry, I don’t write for the elitist who can’t enjoy work that isn’t perfect. I write because I enjoy writing. I don’t proof read more, because i don’t enjoy that. I don’t worry a lot about grammar because I don’t speak with perfect grammar either. So get over it or just stop aggravating yourself and myself please just move on to someone who writes perfect but boring stories. thank you for you support.

  3. jack says:

    You are doing great. To those perfectionist at SOL just f um .

  4. Barney says:

    That is the point, your story is enjoyable! Why not more enjoyable by making easier to read. No one enjoys proof reading, but it need to be done. Just wait a day read what you have written and you will be surpised.

  5. Barney says:

    See what happens when you don’t proof read? Why not make it more enjoyable by making easier to read. Should read” Why not make it more enjoyabe by making it easier to read.

  6. cindypress says:

    Barney i suggest you move on to someone else I did that before and you chose not to stop reading so please give it a rest I do what I enjoy doing why the fuck should I do drudgery work for you lol

  7. Jim says:

    Anonymity is the signature of a Coward.

  8. Jack Sprat says:

    Rather you write more than proof read it 10 times and give us less Max. What would Max say? Prolly “Fuck ’em if they can’t take a joke”.

    Thanks for a great story!

  9. Finbar Saunders says:

    I’m actually a bit of a grammar Nazi myself. I usually can’t abide spelling mistakes and all that jazz. But this story sets itself apart mainly because of the characters and the style. I know you have your own view of the subject, but I actually feel all these so-called ‘errors’ are a major part of the appeal. It’s lovely and raw and we’re actually closer to you as a writer since we’re effectively reading it as soon as it comes out of your head.
    SOL has its reputation as a bit of a home for anal-retentives, and I guess that’s part of its original reason for being, but it can often get tiring.
    I for one, am just happy to follow along on the ride..

  10. cindypress says:

    You know I tell everyone I’m not an author. I’m a story teller in the tradition of the ladies who used to travel from settlement to settlement telling the news. They often embellished it to make it more interesting since their being able to eat that night depended on the gratitude of the listeners.

    I try to tell the story how I see it happening in my mind. And I don’t worry too much about how it looks on paper because it plays as a movie in my mind. I proof read one time to be sure the story is told how I see it. I made common typos and storyteller mistakes I’m sure, but I hope that is forgivable because it is what is not a novel.

  11. Mr. T. says:

    Max,
    If you were to turn this over to a publisher, they would simply PAY some grammar puke to dot the i and cross the ‘T’ or do the myriad of other bullshit that they require.

    JUST REMEMBER:
    If it weren’t for AUTHORS; there would be NO reason for EDITORS…

    I’ll take it raw, unless you confuse me. If you do, I’ll ask a question (or TWO).

    • cindypress says:

      Which is why i chose this format to writer as opposed to sol or literotica. Here you ask and your question becomes part of the record for the next reader.

      And as for the other I’m not an author i’m a simple story teller.

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