Dark Angel: Narkbyinyotefi©
The ever present searchlights shone over the desert sand scanning for intruders. The military personnel were on high-alert as they navigated their assigned patrol routes, their fingers itching against the triggers of their assault riffles. This was no ordinary military base; it was assembled after the Pulse of June, 1st '09 for the protection of National Security. The base held information on a special 'transgenic soldier' project helmed by a government splinter faction dubbed: Manticore!
The facility itself held only one individual; kept deep underground in an old fallout bunker.
The explosion illuminated the night sky as four army jeeps were engulfed in flames and shot up into the air. Loud sirens and flashing red lights threw the base to life as the soldiers readied themselves for action. A second explosion sent a large thick, metal door flying off its hinges; and when the smoke cleared it revealed an ominous sight...
Not much of the man could be seen; for he wore a thick, tattered coat, and a hood concealed his face. He also appeared to be wearing a gasmask, but still, from the dark shadow that hid his brow; his hazy, ice blue eyes appeared to shine thru. He held a young boy by the scruff of his neck. The boy was scrawny with unkempt, jet black hair that was short on the sides but thick and bushy on top. He was, at present, rigid with fear.
The hooded stranger peered at the dozen-plus marines with riffles trained on him, his breathing shallow and raspy.
The marines were all staring at his exposed hand, the one around the boy's neck; it had a dirty bandage wrapped round it, but it was the skin that was, weird; it was pasty and chalk white!
The stranger was focused on the military presence, as if he were studying each soldier; trying to expose a kink in the chain. It made the men nervous, but they dare not fire and risk taking out the boy accidentally.
Finally he broke the tension and spoke, 'stand down, or I snap his vertebrae.'
He watched the marines in silence, waiting for them to test his resolve; the young boy whimpering in his grasp.
'At ease,' came the voice from within the huddle of marines. The general; an elderly man in his early-seventies walked out into view, 'lower your goddamn weapons!'
The marines reluctantly obeyed the command from their superior. The general looked up at the imposing man who stood a head taller than he was...
'Okay son, I'm General Dan Whitaker. I'm in command here, so just take it easy, this is a government facility. You can't-'
'The boy is worth more than this entire facility, so we can and will walk out of here, and you can't do a fucking thing about it.'
Across the country away from the desert, in the pouring rain in a dark, dingy alleyway; she moaned...
Pressed up against the brick wall, her bare ass scraping against the concrete; she gave a deep, throaty, grunt as she tightened her legs around the stranger. Her hands ran through his thick dreadlocks and she writhed as his hands clutched and squeezed her firm buttocks. Her chest was heaving and slightly red because of her hyper-aroused state; her breasts were swollen and her hard nipples stood on end like pencil erasers, especially with cold raindrops splashing against her. Her vagina was soaked with her oily secretions, and gripped around the man's pulsing organ as it slid so deep into her body.
Her name was Max; and she was unlike any ordinary person...
The sexual agony that had consumed her entire body for the past two days were proof of her origins.
They- the scientists who had made her- called it an estrocycle. She knew it was because of the feline genes she was spliced with; she was nothing more than a cat in heat climbing the walls looking for some action three times a year: a nigh-uncontrollable, unyielding, and insatiable need to have sex with the first male she laid eyes on.
And so here she was; bucking in pleasure as this Rastafarian drug dealer pounded her tender pussy and ravished her toned body in some random, filthy alley. Worst still was that she was thoroughly enjoying it!
'Ahh gurll,' the man breathed trying to control his cock, his hands slipping as he tried to grip her sweaty thighs. Max stretched her neck, looking up and swallowing a moan, the rain water streaming down her sated face. She was at her sexual plateau, the stimulation growing more intense; her vagina narrowing and gripping the man's erect penis, her orgasm imminent. Her entire body seemingly hummed with arousal, her orange top pulling tightly over her chest, her hard nipples poking obscenely thru the fabric.
She had come down here to the rough lower-east side of Seattle, to where no one would recognise her to do what she was doing. The man was selling blow at the entrance of this alleyway, and she just threw caution to the wind; and was now reviling in the aftermath along with him; he probably thought he was the luckiest SOB in the city.
'Ahh' hahh' yeesss,' Max whined latching onto him.
'Jummun, bahby,' he groaned as she flexed her cunt muscles around his engorged penis. She latched even tighter onto his body, humping him as she felt the pleasure from her pussy begin to envelope her entire body, a little longer and she'd find release-
The door across from them abruptly flung open causing the Rasta to almost drop her slender body in shock. He turned to see an out-of-breath, scrawny teenage boy ogling at them...
This boy looked hysteric, terrified even.
If he was afraid before, the Rasta wasn't going to help the situation none, this kid had just interrupted him fucking the shit out of some gorgeous, horny slut.
'Wut da fuck ya tink ya be doin mun, miyoo?' he growled, turning to the boy ready to give him a beat down.
Max sensed the danger and reacted in a blinding speed; grabbing, twisting and locking his arm behind his back, then gripping the back of his head and slamming it into the wall leaving a blood stain and him out cold and half naked on the ground. She then turned to the boy to find him gaping at her, his face now pink with embarrassment. She finally realised she was still naked from the waist down giving him a nice long look at her hairless pussy...
'Oh shit, turn around you perv!' she freaked covering her crotch with her hands and turning her waist to the side; looking for her discarded jean and panties.
'Oh hell I'm soo sorry. Jeez fuck I gotta go, his after me, shit, shit,' the boy started rambling in a panic, half jumping on the spot.
Meantime Max had gotten her pants on and was growing more annoyed by the second.
'What the hell are you doing? What are you talking about you peeping-tom whacko?'
Suddenly the boy froze on the spot! The expression on his face went blank, and he spoke fast as if reciting something, 'voice recognition validated, facial identity matched. Female X5 transgenic soldier.'
The same panicked expression appeared on his face and he looked at Max who was now gawking at him...
'You're X5-452,' he said.
Senator Bill Riley sat at his desk tapping his fingers in time with the ticks of the large grandfather clock that stood in his office; deep in thought.
He was distracted by the phone that buzzed and pushed the button.
'Senator, he's arrived, shall I send him in?'
'Please do Blanche, and clear my schedule for the rest of the day, will you.'
The office door opened and the man that walked in was stern and serious, dressed in a bland suit and grey trench coat.
'White,' the Senator smiled getting to his feet and shaking the man's hand, 'thank you for coming to DC so promptly.'
'I was told it was important, Senator Riley,' Ames White replied.
'Yes, well you're heading the situation in Seattle with the whole Manticore debacle-'
'I'm not at liberty to discuss that sir,' White interrupted.
'Please son, I'm well informed about that mess; not that it's necessary with those mutants running loose on the damn streets for the world to see...'
'Anyway, like I was going to say, the current dilemma is related,' the Senator finished handing him a folder.
White opened it and gleaned over the contents, then looked up at Riley questioningly.
'After the Pulse, it became an immediate concern to house sensitive information securely,' Riley started to explain, 'especially the information pertaining to the creation of genetic soldiers and assassins.'
'Manticore,' White said, looking down at the picture of a nerdish, thin, kid.
'Eh-yes. Computers became risky, so a different form of human tinkering was tampered with, namely neurology. The result was that boy...'
'To the world, hell even to most of the government, he doesn't exist. He was kept locked up in a bunker in Odessa his entire life; drugged up to his eyeballs, kept in an induced coma with wires and machines monitoring his brain waves, all very nasty stuff. Our own little black book...'
'Inside his head lies everything; everyone directly and indirectly involved with the project from its conception. All the scientists, geneticists, biologists, and physicists who made the soldiers as well as the surrogates who carried them. And a nifty list of names and info on every X-series created...'
'That boy is a human-nark list!'
'I was unaware of all this sir, had I known of this boy, I'd of had a hell of an easier go at recapturing the escaped transgenics,' White blurted out in anger.
'His existence was deemed classified above top secrete, you know how all this need-to-know stuff works, White. He was kept in a goddamn fallout bunker for a reason. Can you imagine if he fell into enemy hands,' Riley protested.
'So why tell me now? Sir!'
'Because the boy was taken 13 hours ago, we believe by a transgenic. Thirty soldiers killed and seventeen badly wounded by one man. The debrief on the general in charge is in that file...'
'You are under explicit orders to find the boy; and given the nature of the intel he hold, you are to retire him.'
'Is this an, official, order, sir?' White asked.
'This conversation never happened son. As far as Langley knows you came into town to give a progress report on your current assignment.'
'Understood sir,' White nodded before turning around and leaving the office.
Max and her new 'friend' sat in secluded corner in Crash; she was staring at him as he gobbled down a plate of French fries, still wigged out by who, or what he said he was.
She spoke in an undertone, 'so, do you have a name?'
'The guys in the white uniforms who guarded me, called me Flinch...'
'I have that attention deficiency thingy, and extreme neurosis, panic attacks, and oh, I have mild seizures too. And, also, I'm kinda jumpy, I think that's why they called me that, Flinch, I mean.'
'Yeah, I got that. And I know all about the seizures...'
'So tell me bout this guy who sprang you out the joint then kidnapped you; Sway?'
Flinch got that blank expression on his face again, Max had seen it for the third time now (the second being when he told her what he was), it seemingly happened when he was retrieving information from his brain...
'X7-005, polar insurgence operative, able to withstand sub-zero climates. Trained in hand to hand combat, demolitions, tactical warfare, and anti-terrorists tactics. Deployed in the field October ,2010 to Moscow to asses probability that suspected Russia of the electromagnetic pulse. Discovered sensitive intel on the creation of the human-nark list; mission was listed, failed, X7-005 KIA.'
'Killed in action; right!' Max snickered, Sway found out you were being mixed in a test tube and faked his own death to wait it out till you were all grown up...'
'Then he decides on a more profitable line of work, prolly planning on selling you on the black market. Yahoo's would pay thru the butte to get their hands on a Manticore how-to manual,' Max said using a serviette to dab her sweaty brow.
'Y-you in the advanced stages of your estrocycle,' Flinch ventured.
'Listen up 'brain job' keep a lid on it kay, I don't need the science babble on this bitch, I got a handle on it...'
'Now the way I figure, you got the government looking for you too, so we got to stash you somewhere. B'lieve me; suites aren't too friendly bout genetic freaks walking round Seattle these days.'
'You're helping me!' Flinch grinned hopefully.
'Look don't get all jolly, kay. You're the same as all us other Manticore rejects; thrown into the pool without a life-jacket; 'cept unlike the rest of us, you can't swim. You got no training and I don't want your blood on my hands,' even while speaking the words Max realised how much Logan's ideals had rubbed off on her. Either way, her body was on fire; and being here in Crash, all this testosterone around, even the thought (and it was there) of not finding the relief of an orgasm with the Rasta in the alley was making her terribly irritable and extremely horny.
But where could she take him? She didn't dare go to Logan while in heat; not while infected with the retrovirus. Max sat there weighing her options: she couldn't take him home, even though he was a thin little eighteen year old loser; she was still very much in heat and couldn't risk being alone with a guy. Alec? He lived alone; if she explained things he would let Flinch bunk there for a night or two. Or she could take him to Terminal City; it was 'freak central' but Flinch wasn't transgenic, and didn't have immunities to biohazards.
'Let's blaze,' Max said getting up and dropping some notes on the table to cover her tab, she decided she would make her mind up on the way because she was getting dangerously close to throwing in the towel and dragging one of the bars patrons into one of the toilet stalls.
Flinch got up and followed her outside Crash. Sighing in relief as she once again felt the soothing rain on her heated flesh, her keen senses peaked and she looked over the street at the man in the tattered coat watching them.
'Flinch, you gotta move, now,' she warned.
'Down the alley, go, I'm right behind you,' Max said sternly.
Flinch was in a frantic panic again, it looked like he'd have a heart attack. Max grabbed his arm and pulled him down the alley. She ran, careful not to use her transgenic speed because of Flinch. She stopped abruptly realising they had come up on a dead end, then turned when she heard footsteps behind them.
The man stopped several feet away and removed his hood. Max looked at his pasty, chalk white skin, and the bluish-purple veins that ran like spider-webs down the sides of his face; she glared into his icy blue eyes- she had seen worse Manticore creations.
'You must be Sway,' she smirked.
'I don't wanna hurt you little girl, so just hand the kid over,' Sway said in a calm but intimidating voice.
'So what, you put a bug on him? That how you found him?'
'Who are you?' Sway asked, realising it wasn't a typical question and that this girl was way too calm confronting him.
'You're blocking my exit, so step aside or you're gonna get an ass-whooping,' Max said keeping her stance ready for attack.
'X5 right?' Sway sniggered, 'yeah, all you X5's are so damn cocky...'
'I'll ask you one more time, hand over the boy.'
'You're so stupid, the word special comes to mind, why don't you think bout what the odds are of me doing that!' Max retorted.
Sway now had a smug look on his face, 'fine!'
Max acted on trained instinct, slipping a knife out her belt and flinging it. It lodged into the electric fuse box on the wall next to Sway, and he had to cover his face to shield himself from the blinding sparks.
Taking advantage of the distraction, she grabbed Flinch by his arm ready to make a run for it. But Sway was mobile again; pulling out twin pistols! Max had to act fast; she tossed Flinch into one of the rubbish dumpsters, pulling the lid closed, kicking it around, and taking cover behind it as Sway opened fire; the bullets ricocheting off the metal.
The gunshots echoed in the narrow passageway, nozzle flashes illuminating the dark. Taking a breath, Max rose and kicked the dumpster hard hearing Flinch wail inside it as it skidded along the alleyway. Taking advantage of the moving cover, Max ran behind the dumpster; and when it got close to Sway she used her transgenic juice and leapt over, flying thru the air. Max kicked, catching Sway full in the side of the face with a sickening crunch. He fell, tumbled, and rolled across the floor groaning in pain.
With Sway once again out of commission Max quickly pulled Flinch out of the dumpster and ran out of the alley. Sway got up clenching his aching jaw. He pulled on his hood and gave chase; but on coming out of the alley he found no sight of his quarry, they were lost in the sea of people. Keeping his cool, he pulled his hood properly over his abnormal face and disappeared into the crowd as well.
'Holy fuck, yaaarrgh!' Flinch yelled out as the heated knife pierced just under the skin of his shoulder blade.
'Oh quit being such a baby,' Max quipped as she prodded under his skin trying to flake the small object out.
Finally she managed it and dropped the blood stained tracking device on the floor then stepping on it, 'that should take care of ice-man finding us again. He must of injected it under your skin before reviving you at the Odessa base; that's what I would'a done.'
'Jeez, couldn't he just hide it on my clothing,' Flinch complained looking at the crushed device as Max bandaged the wound she had made.
'it's a field transmitter with global positioning to within a 10 000 mile radius from anywhere; used in case a soldier fell behind enemy lines,' Max explained.
'I thought those who got caught were disavowed,' Flinch asked.
'Well, sometimes the intel is worth the risk of a rescue attempt,' Max explained casually, 'there you are, good to go.'
She stretched out her body in a lingering yawn, her ample chest causing the fabric of her top to stretch obscenely. Flinch caught sight of her hard nipples poking through the fabric and swallowed audibly. Max heard this and opened her eyes looking at him. Her heat clouded and misinterpreted what she actually saw; in her currently depraved mind, Flinch was seductively licking his lips and leaning back in the chair so that she could watch him rub his cock through his trousers; it made her almost unbearably horny.
Flinch's mouth fell open as he watched Max slip off her black leather jacket and run her hands over her breasts, cupping them before tracing her fingers over the outline of her nipple thru the material of her top then squeezing and mashing her tits together. She sat back and parted her legs cupping her vagina thru her jean while still fondling her bounteous chest. The look in her eyes were that of sex incarnate; or at least Flinch believed this to be so, he had spent the eighteen years of his life in a fallout bunker; suffice it to say: he was a tad inexperienced.
Max moaned sucking her plump bottom lip while sensually looking Flinch square in the eyes; she was so damn hot. She could feel her damp panties sticking to her slick pussy-lips as she teased herself...
Enough was enough! She needed a fuck now!
She got to her feet and peeled off her tight orange midriff top; standing before Flinch in a black bra, 'seeing as how you got the skinny on all the details bout my heat cycles, you may as well lend a hand, or, a dick, in relieving me.'
Flinch visibly shook before her as she made the suggestion.
Max looked down at him shaking her head, 'look, its just a quick fuck. I mean I'm giving you a treat here right, and afterward we'll forget it ever happened,' she said while unclipping her bra.
With her full, round, bronzed rack on display; Flinch felt as if the oxygen had been sucked right out of his lungs, all he was able to do was gape at her. Her breasts sat high on her chest and looked succulent, capped off by two perfect stiff little light brown nipples, her tummy was flat and toned, and her belly button was pierced with a silver little stud. His cock was rock hard and bulging against his trousers making him swallow uncomfortably again.