Zoe Codswallop looked all around her, her mouth agape at seeing the Bestial Corps laying all around her, their bodies in heaps. Their hair fell down in a rain all around their bald bodies, their powers obliterated at the hands of the Phantom Shotgun.
The shotgun floated down in front of her, its monocle glaring at her from above one of the barrels. Its long moustache danced in the wind, hanging off the bottom of the barrels as the fore-end pulled back. Another of his enchanted shells slid into place as a disembodied, high pitched cackle echoed around her.
“I’m feeling particularly peramene today, my diazingiber, but I am afraid I must discharge this discerping round into your illecebrous chest. No time for houghmangandy, today.”
Zoe turned her head at an angle. “Wait…what?”
The shotgun floated closer. “Calling me a phylarologist? Expire, then, drazel!”
The shell exploded from both barrels, hurtling across the velvet floors of the Adult Video Conference as it hurtled towards her. Only a thick layer of silicone stood between her heart and the spiralling steel, the Phantom Shotgun’s laughter freezing her to the spot.
Without warning, her hair extensions chittered in rage, a pair of sharp, squared teeth rolling in front of her eyes. She just stood, paralysed as a beaver made entirely of her hair lifted up off of her head, shooting across the room and beginning to gnaw through a thick wooden support. The bullet was almost upon her when the support gave way, dropping two tons of marital aids down on top of the shotgun and his enchanted shell.
Zoe had a hard time controlling her breathing as she watched the creature pull back toward her, sitting along the side of her head. She almost spoke to it when she heard a creak coming from within the wreckage. The beaver pulled a small revolver into its paws, tossing another down for her to use.
“I’ve never fired one of these before!”
The beaver didn’t look her way, just watching as Turbochuck, leader of the Bestial Corps, pulled himself out of the pile of smut.
“Lady, I don’t know who trained you, but you owe me some answers. How’d you learn to fight like one of us?”
Zoe kept the gun trained on him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Another member broke free, shaking off the vibrating plastic. “Not just any adult star can form their hair into a remorseless fighting machine. It’s takes real guts and bravery to be able to do that. No amateur could do it.”
“Well, Hyperskunk, it looks like one just did.” A woman extracted herself as well, running a hand across her bald head before extending it to Zoe. “I’m Cannonvole.”
The beaver in Zoe’s hair put its gun away, shaking Cannonvole’s hand. That didn’t make her feel any safer, but a moment later Zoe did the same.
The Bestial Corps convened on her, Cannonvole continuing to speak. “We’ve never stumbled across an amateur who could do what we do just as well, if not better. Maybe you’d consider joining us?”
Zoe was taken aback. “The Bestial Corps? The pride of the adult industry? Our last line of defense against the supernatural hordes that plague our filming and photography sessions night and day? I don’t think I could measure up!”
Turbochuck clapped her on the shoulder. “Lady, there are things that go bump in the night, and we’re the ones who bump back at a continual rhythm until you finish up, get tired, and fall asleep after maybe getting something to eat first. We think you’ve got a place with us. Besides, until all of our hair grows back, our powers will be useless. Can you help us out?”
Zoe shook, but nodded, ready to embark on a new adventure. “I will!”
Cannonvole smiled. “Then from now on, your name is Beavershot!”
The Phantom Shotgun thrust himself from the pile, ready to fire. “Desticate, vermin!”
Zoe’s hair fired the shot, the bullet knocking the shotgun out. She blew the smoke off the barrel, finally knowing where her life in stag films had always meant to lead her.