Synopsis

Aryan Storm is a story akin to something a reader might expect from a Tarantino film, filled with lots of gratuitous violence and casual sex as it follows the exploits of Angelika, Dakota and Mackenzie who, having been violated by a gang of African-Americans, grow to hate coloured people.

Without a qualm they kill for the thrill of it.

Meeting up with an old school friend, he introduces them to a supremacist group, the Aryan Clan, who train them to be storm troopers ready for the hoped-for racist war that will firmly re-establish white rule in the USA.

They take part in raids on an armoury and an armoured car company, but are they able to successfully carry out their ultimate mission?

EXCERPT

Chapter One





“Kill the fucking bitch!” Angelika screamed, flailing her left hand, managing
to momentarily grab a hold on their quarry’s denim jacket, jerking it
sufficiently to cause the fleeing girl to falter in her desperate attempt to
escape.

	 “Take that, Snipe Street slut,” Dakota snarled, lashing out with her hickory
nunchakus, delivering a blow to the back of the girl’s head, sending her
stumbling towards the ground.

	“Argh!” the girl squealed. “Please!”

	“Grab her!” Angelika instructed, shoving her right hand into the pocket of her
denim jerkin, slipping her fingers into the holes of her newly-acquired set of
brass knuckles.

	“Shithead cunt!” Mackenzie yelled, stamping her boot against the back of the
girl’s hand, it still holding the broken Coke bottle which she had used to try
and defend herself.

	“Argh!” she yelped, shards of glass penetrating her palm. 

	Dakota swiftly looped the nunchakus about the girl’s neck, pulling the
enjoining chain hard against the throat, pressing the two handles together as
strongly as she could, doing her best to choke their victim.

	Mackenzie reached down and gripped the wrist of the bleeding hand, wrenching
it behind the girl’s back. At the same time, her left hand grasped a hank of
hair and assisted in jerking the head upwards.

	“Hold the fucker!” Angelika shouted, adrenaline pulsing, she glaring down into
the terrified eyes.

	“Pleas—” the girl was begging, her words cut short when Angelika thumped her
knuckleduster into the frightened face.

	“Thud!”

	“Argh! Please! O—”

 	Angelika kicked her in the stomach whilst landing another punch, this time to
the left eye. “Thud!”

	She saw Mackenzie’s right hand release the prey’s wrist before reaching into
her pocket and pulling out the box-cutter. “Yes! Yes! Cut her! Cut the slut!”
Angelika bellowed, increasingly elated.

	Mackenzie did not hesitate, slicing the blade three times across the side of
the upturned face.

	“Aaarrrggghhh! Please!” the girl howled. “Mamma help me! I don’t wanna
die—”

	“Too late for that! You fucking sold us out to the Snipe Street Posse! So
you’re gonna pay. You shitty Snipe Street sluts have gotta learn not to tangle
with us Valley girls!” Angelika shouted, landing another punch to the head,
kicking her in the belly.

	Dakota released the chokehold and smacked the nunchakus against the back of
the offending head before she and Mackenzie shoved the girl to land face down on
the sidewalk.

	Scenting blood, Angelika punted the toecap of her right boot into the side of
the head, feeling a climactic gush down in her vaginal area. Her two friends
joined her in raining kicks to every part of the foetal-form creature. 

	“Aaaaaaaaa,” the girl whimpered, all three of them proceeding to concentrate
on stomping on her skull.

	“Let’s split!” Angelika ordered, convinced they had done enough, starting to
feel lightheaded from the excitement. 

	“Yeah! Let’s go! That was fun!” Dakota responded.

	“It sure was one hell of a buzz!” Mackenzie commented.

	The three of them ran off down the alleyway, heading for 111th Street,
laughing and giggling, congratulating each other on what they hoped would prove
to be their first thrill kill.