An E&I Enterprises Story
copyright 2002 by Stormbringer
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Note: This story takes place during Solomon's wandering years.
Prologue:
Solomon King looked across the creek at the remains of the shack he had grown up in. He was surprised it was still standing, though it was more of a lean-to now then house. Progress hadn't come to this part of Mississippi. It looked exactly as it did back in the fifties, dirt roads, trash and all. What had possessed him to come back here? His mother was long dead, his father's identity unknown, brothers and sisters scattered to the winds. There were no good memories from his childhood except the joy he felt swimming in the creek. From here he had gone to live with an abusive Aunt until he turned old enough to join the Navy.
Solomon had been wandering around listless now for several months. He didn't know if the Gigamesh Project was chasing him since he had escaped and burnt down their facility. This aimless apathy wasn't like him. He was a natural born leader, a planner, a strategist. He needed a goal in life, a purpose, but what?
He heard a truck coming along down the dirt road and turned sticking his thumb out. It was a beat up, old, pick-up and Solomon could see three men filling the front seat.
The truck stopped beside him and one man leaned out, "You need a ride there darkie?"
Solomon frowned, "Yeah, can I hop in back?" The three men were rednecks, shaggy hair, unshaven, mustaches, etc.
"Youse is one big negro buck. Be worth a lot if the 'federacy had won."
Solomon stepped closer to the pick-up with every intention of yanking the arrogant hick out of the truck and kicking his ass. He reached in his fist gathering up the man's shirt and realizing that it was a white robe. They were all wearing white robes. Hoods were in their laps. "Pa, he's touching me. Get them filthy hands of your better boy."
An older man was driving. He threw open his door and climbed out. "Get your hands off my boy...boy," said the older man. He appeared in his late forties, had a big beer gut and sideburns covering large jowls. He spit tobacco on the ground and glared at Solomon. "What the fuck are you rednecks gonna do about it?"
"I don't care how big you are boy, you can't take us all on." The fat old man was grinning like an idiot.
"I don't know Pa," said the younger one staring at Solomon's meaty fist still bunching up his robe. "Look at his eyes, he looks like he's into it."
"Shuddup Jimbo. Joe Joe, why don't you make this negra buck show us betters some respect."
Joe Joe, the man sitting in th middle of the cab, slid out the drivers seat. He stood up, towering over the truck, bigger then Solomon, bigger then any man Solomon had ever seen. The man had a dumb look on his face. Solomon said, "This doesn't have to happen. Why don't you good ole boys get back in your truck and drive off." He was already assuming a fighting stance, arms coming up and one foot behind him for balance.
Joe Joe looked to the old man for instructions, but the old man just grinned and said, "Whatsa matta boy, scared? Get him Joe Joe."
Without hesitation, the dumb giant charged at Solomon, huge ham like fists coming up to beat the black man to a pulp. Then he was lying on his face in the dirt as Solomon easily sidestepped and tripped him. The big man wasn't down for long. He climbed back to his feet and as Solomon prepared himself, the big oaf released a fistfull of dirt into Solomon's eyes. Seconds latter, Solomon felt the punch.
The black man's rock hard abs absorbed the blow, but it had enough strength behind it to knock the air out of his lungs. Before Solomon could get the sand out of his eyes, another strong blow hit him in the jaw nearly causing him to fall to the ground. Instead, Solomon dropped and rolled, cleaning his eyes as he rose out of Joe Joe's reach.
As the other rednecks cheered, Solomon clenched his jaw and looked at the giant with such could calculating fury that Joe Joe paused for a fraction of a second trying to follow up his attack. The black man seemed to levitate in the air for a second, his leg striking out at the white man. Solomon's heel caught Joe Joe right in the neck and the white giant fell over like a tree, clutching his neck and gasping for air.
"Pa, don't," shouted Jimbo.
Jimbo was out of the truck standing by the door as the old man pulled a shotgun out of a rack behind the pickup's cab. Solomon kicked Jimbo in the chest sending him hard into the door at the same time reaching for the gun and yanking it out of the surprised fathers hands. Solomon reversed the gun swinging the butt up between the fat man's legs. In the same motion, just as the dad began screaming like a woman, Solomon reversed the gun again and slammed the butt into Jimbo's head, as he was standing up, without looking behind him. "Don't fuck with a Navy SEAL," growled Solomon, looking at the three fallen men still pissed off at himself for falling for the dirt in the eyes trick.
Solomon rifled through the truck finding nothing but a cooler of beer and a tool box. There was some duct tape in the tool box and Solomon went over to restrain Joe Joe. The big man was still lying on the ground gasping for breath. Solomon taped his arms and legs together, then put a strip across his mouth. He did the same for Jimbo who was breathing, but unconscious. The fat old man was crying, clutching his balls as he rocked in the fetal position on the ground. Solomon taped him up too.
Solomon grabbed a beer out of the cooler and tossed the shotgun into the creek. He looked at the setting sun and figured he'd better clean up his mess before someone else came along. He pulled Joe Joe's wallet out of the man's pants and removed the few dollars inside. There was a photograph inside of Joe Joe as a boy about ten years younger standing with another huge redneck and an older handsome woman with a stern matronly look. Solomon moved on to Jimbo who luckily had more money then Joe Joe. He also had a picture inside his wallet. It was a wedding picture of him with his wife and the bitch in the photograph made Solomon's cock jerk. Jimbo had married up. His wife was a classy looking brunette. She wore glasses and her hair was up making her look like an attractive business woman, but one with a body built for sex. Nice full breasts and a firm ass complimented a trim figure. The picture only looked a couple years old.
Solomon hit paydirt with the old man. His license said his name was James and he was obviously one of those losers who liked to flash cash because he had over three hundred bucks in his wallet. The old man also had a picture. His was of a family gathering at a water hole somewhere. James' wife was a fat cow bigger then her husband. Jimbo and his wife were in the picture. Jimbo's wife was wearing a conservative one-piece swimsuit that failed to hide her curves. But what really caught Solomon's attention was James' daughter. The hot little slut was wearing a bikini top and tight cut off jeans. The bikini was straining to confine two huge udders like her mom's, but without the fat to match. Her cut-offs were so short they showed off a hint of buttocks. Her body was simply incredible and she only looked sixteen. The picture was dated 1992, making it several years old and the little bitch over eighteen. Solomon's cock hardened as he stared at the two babes' bodies. He had an idea how to teach these rednecks a lesson.
Solomon heaved the three men into the back of the truck. Even with his considerable strength, Solomon had trouble throwing Joe Joe into the cab. Solomon hopped in the truck and found a road atlas under the seat. He got their addresses off their drivers licenses. Joe Joe lived closest. He decided to swing by his house first to see if there was anything to steal.
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Whoop Bing Rosie:
Joe Joe lived in a delapidated rancher. There was a car in the driveway, but no lights on. The big man didn't wear a wedding ring so Solomon assumed he lived alone.
Solomon looked around for anything worth stealing, but found nothing easy to resell without burdening himself. He wanted to get out of this state as quickly as possible.
What he did find of interest, was a video camera hooked up to the tv. He wasn't too familiar with their use, but it looked easy to figure out. A tape attachment sat beside the tv.
Solomon had entered what had to be Joe Joe's room. The man was thirty-something, but his room was like a little kids with baseball mitts and models lying around. He had just started looking around when he heard a door squeak behind him. He spun and shut the room door, hearing someone in the bathroom out in the hall.
Solomon peered through the crack in the door. He heard a toilet flush and an older woman walked out of the bathroom. Solomon immediately recognized her as Joe Joe's mom from the picture. She was still handsome even in her late fifties, thin, but a little hippy, her ass was a little big and her breasts were on the smallish side. She wore a nightgown and looked tired with her hair mussed up from sleeping.
The woman knocked on his door as she was walking past. "Joe Jr, come rub mommy's feet for her. I know you're in there. I heard you come home." The woman turned and shuffled towards her room.
Solomon snuck out and was standing by the bathroom when she yelled, "gets your ass in here boy and rub mommy's feet. I clean houses for nine hours a day to support you, now get in here."
There was a maid's uniform hanging on the bathroom door with the name Rosie stitched to it. Solomon saw the light go out under the door to the lady's room and figured, why not?
"Such a good boy," she said as he entered the room. The light was on, but she was wearing a sleeping mask and was lying on the covers. "This one first please." She held her right foot up.
