Even with her eyes closed, she could still detect the glare of the sun through her eyelids. The humid heat that it generated, as its rays beat down on the sub-tropical forest below, encompassed her naked body as if she was in a sauna.
Angela Black was hot, sweaty and loving every minute of it. She loved the freedom of being totally naked, and she was often naked or so near to it that it made little difference.
In a hedonistic society, she was an exhibitionist who delighted in shocking people by only wearing the latest sprayed on cat suits.
Only those privileged few with genetically enhanced bodies, could get away with this fashion; as it showed up every area of cellulite or flab on a woman's body.
Needless to say she had no such blemishes, and was self confident to the point of arrogance about her body.
She needed the excitement of her job to give meaning to her life. When she wasn't on a mission she tended to get blasted on drugs or alcohol, to relieve the tedium of a pampered life style.
Angela, or Angel as she liked to be called, was sunning herself on a ledge high on the side of a cliff overlooking a clear blue lake. The ledge was fifty feet above the water, and she could see for miles across the verdant forests teeming with a wide variety of life.
The hot Jurassic sun beat down on her perfect body, the ultra violet component was a lot higher in this time period due to the lack of pollutants in the atmosphere, so she had to turn over more often to protect her tanned flawless skin from burning.
A warm breeze caressed her, bringing a multitude of scents from the flowering plants that rimmed the lake. Although more than capable of looking after herself, she accepted that discretion was the better part of valor in the Jurassic. Her sunning place was high up, to keep her out of reach of this worlds predators.
Angel was stunningly beautiful with a tanned body like a Miss World on steroids. However she was aware that T.Rex would only see her as an appetizer, if he caught her sunbathing on his territory.
She had set her implant to time her various parts exposure to the ultraviolet rays, and at the predetermined beeps she dutifully turned over to expose her firm bottom to the sun. She had many quirks, and one of them was not having white areas on her skin.
Her body relaxed as the heat soaked into her; the mournful honking of the big dinosaurs drinking at the lake lulled her into a light doze, she needed a break after her last mission.
Owing to her various privately financed enhancements, she was often sent on physically dangerous missions. It was thought correctly by her superiors, that she could take good care of herself in most situations.
The British Temporal Organization was paranoid about anything that might change the timeline, and often sent observers back to pivotal events just to make sure they happened as recorded.
Sometimes of course they didn't, not because someone was trying to change history, but simply because the record was unintentionally or deliberately wrong. It was unfortunately true that the victors wrote the history books, and as a consequence the truth was the first thing to suffer.
History was very fragile, she was aware that she could go back in time and advise the German leader Hitler on his mistakes during the war of the mid twentieth century. If she or any other Agent did this, it would have a devastating effect on her own present, which is why every Agent was thoroughly conditioned to be unable to consciously try and alter historical events.
Angel's last mission had been to accompany a wagon train of pioneers, from the east of the North American continent to California during the 1840's. Her job was to ensure that an ancestor of a pivotal President, who had been a friend to Britain, actually made it across the country.
The time computers had given the trip a low probability of success despite the fact that the intrepid pioneers had actually made it, so she had been sent to ensure it did succeed despite the low odds. As it had succeeded in her present, she was free to do anything to ensure the wagon train made it to California safely.
What they didn't explain to her, was that most of the journey was on foot, the pioneers usually walked alongside their wagons. The wagons themselves were so full of equipment there was little room for passengers. Still the pace was very slow, and it was no great hardship to wander across untouched wilderness with a group of friendly folk.
Like most of her class she had been sent away to private boarding schools for most of her life, and hardly knew her own parents. Her father was CEO of Britoil, the largest Oil producing company in the world. Her mother was a dedicated socialite, who worked tirelessly behind the scenes to ensure their family stayed at the top of the social tree.
She found the families traveling with the Wagon Train kind and generous, to a single girl traveling to join her parents in California. She grew to like them all, and was very protective of them.
Despite lurid stories of attacks by Red Indians, the greatest threat to a Wagon Train was from White immigrant thieves that preyed on the smaller trains. They demanded goods and money, to allow free passage through their self-proclaimed territory.
Her Train would have had to fight off quite a few of these gangs, but she learned to visit the thief's camps during the night before they attacked, and dissuade them.
On one occasion, she had walked into a raiders camp just before they settled down to sleep. There were ten of them, too lazy and stupid to make an honest living. They had been drinking and planning their raid for the morning, so the sight of a beautiful young woman walking into their camp was quite a surprise.
Their leader, a large unkempt vicious man named Luke, thought his dreams had come true when he saw her unprotected and alone. To blend in with the women of the time she had to wear the standard gingham dress, but she refused to wear the clumsy underwear that went with it.
Consequently Luke was hardly listening to what she was saying, as he was staring at her nipples as they thrust against the thin material. She stood by the campfire, apparently unaware that the light from it shone through her thin dress, and proclaimed the fact that she was naked underneath it. In a clear voice asked them to please leave her Wagon Train alone, as she didn't want to hurt anyone if at all possible.
Luke forced himself to be professional, and told his men to watch her as he quickly checked the perimeter of his camp. He was concerned in case a group of men with rifles were backing this foolish girl up. When he was sure that she was indeed alone he relaxed, and told her that he was going to attack her Train in the morning. Also he and his men were going to take turns raping her first. As leader he asked her if she didn't mind doing him first.
'Why I don't mind at all,' she said with a wicked smile, she was aware of the sensation she had caused by standing by the fire, and she was aware that her nipples were hard. What Luke and his gang had no way of knowing, was that it was the anticipation of doing some serious arse kicking that had turned her on.
Luke's mocking leer as he reached for her large firm breasts, soon changed to an agonized grimace as the young woman seemed to blur in front of his eyes. He felt and heard his right thighbone snap, sending him crashing to the dust. The rest of the gang all jumped towards the girl, each eager to be the first to grab her body.
Angel didn't bother to boost anymore, she simply used the training she had, combined with her enhanced musculature. She broke each man's right arm as they touched her, until they were all writhing on the dusty ground, screaming in pain and shock.
If there had been an audience they could have been forgiven for thinking they were watching a ballet routine, as she danced and spun around the campfire. The only sour notes would have been the bandit's screams of agony, as she broke their arms with each of her graceful kicks.
What made it more bizarre was that they could hear her singing a strange song as she fought them. With hindsight they wondered why they had simply not shot her. Then they remembered that as she fought them her skirts were flaring out, and exposing her nakedness to their view. It was this that had obviously short circuited their reasoning processes.
Angel had learned early in her career, that she could use sex as a weapon as well as a lure. Like all Agents she was trained not to kill anyone because of possible timeline damage.
Although these men were scum they could well have children in their future, she couldn't risk these possible lives not happening due to her actions. She knew that the gang would be licking their wounds for a few weeks, and that they were no longer a danger to her Train.
There was a lot of feline in Angel, and she liked to mark her victims so that they would remember her. She went up to each member of the gang as they lay on the ground moaning.
Bending down she gave them a last look at her firm young breasts, before lightly brushing a fingernail across their cheek. They yelped in pain as a two inch scar was burned into each man's cheek. Then she walked calmly out of their camp, and back to her wagon.
Trained in stealth, no one saw her leave or return to the Train. The Wagon master when he reached California, boasted to his peers that it had been the most peaceful trek he had ever commanded. It was like we had a guardian Angel looking after us, he said to his drinking pals in the Saloon.
Saying goodbye to the friends she had made on the trip was hard for Angel, she didn't have any real friends in her own time. Her eyes were wet with tears as she kissed her favorite pioneers Mr. Kennedy and his family goodbye.
She then sold her Wagon and goods to a storekeeper, and gave the proceeds of the sale to a poor family. They had been looking in the window of the store in hopeless yearning. She then walked around the corner of his store, and jumped back to the B.T.O. to report on her mission.
The Director had been pleased at the result, and suggested she take a short break, which she was now doing.
In the twenty-sixth century, human values and morals had evolved into something that a primitive twentieth century human would find strange, if not downright disturbing. If you liked sex and drugs and rock and roll, then you would be in your element in Angel's century.
Machines and computers did most of the hard boring work, and there were a lot less humans on Earth than there had been in the previous centuries. Most diseases had been eliminated, and everyone had a higher standard of living. People of her class ie. Rich, White and British, normally chose to do a job because they liked it, and rarely because they needed the credit.
Angela had trained for years to be considered for the British Temporal Organisation, and when finally chosen she couldn't have been happier. Every credit she earned, she spent towards her goal of mental and physical perfection.
To augment her already brilliant mind she'd had computer implants placed in her skull, that gave her instant access to the Web, and total recall of any facts she might need in her missions. She trained every day in a combination of martial skills that suited her body's strengths and suppleness. She took a cocktail of drugs daily, to keep her body and mind as sharp and alert as possible.
Her most recent enhancement was an ex-military boost implant. For a short period of time measured in seconds, it could increase her speed and strength. To an observer she appeared to blur when moving. This was achieved by a mixture of drugs and nanosurgically changed muscle fibers.
She was currently saving her credits towards the next step in her physical augmentation. The acquisition of a sub-dermal synthetic mesh, that would make her body effectively impervious, to normal edged weapons and projectiles.
This desire had an unfortunate effect on her social life, even before she had become an Agent. In her century, sexual activity was not frowned upon to say the least. She had sex partners whenever the urge took her; in her culture sex was of no more importance than eating when you were hungry. Recreational and performance enhancing drug use was also commonplace, and she had been using various types of drugs for years.
Procreation was a very different thing altogether. When you were the product of a line of genetically altered ancestors, you didn't get pregnant without serious examination of your prospective mates genetic line. It would have been considered a crime against her family. To ensure no mistakes, she, like most of her class, had implants to make her effectively infertile.
Like most fanatics she had regarded anything or anyone who didn't help her achieve her goal, as an irrelevance. Consequently she had very little experience in the social niceties of her century. By the time she had achieved her goal of physical perfection, she was a goddess that nobody loved.
The recall signal from London came via her implant and reminded her of the realities of life. She dusted the stone dust from her bottom, and picked up her gear. After topping up her alertness with the appropriate drug, she took a last deep breath of the fragrant Jurassic air, sighed and jumped directly into the Directors office in London , AD2525.
The Director looked up from his desk and smiled at Angel, 'Although I'm used to Agents appearing in my office via QT, they normally get dressed first Agent Black.' Angel looked down at herself and realized she was still naked, 'Sorry about that sir, ' she apologized calmly ' I'll be back shortly' and vanished. The Director sat for a while his work forgotten for a moment, there were some perks to his job after all.
Angel appeared in her apartment and got herself showered and dressed. She favored the latest fashion of synthetic skins and chose a tiger striped version, that covered her whole body leaving just her face and hair free.
To get dressed she simply stood in the spray booth wearing only a tiny thong. She then dialed the combination of colors and design required, and the booth sprayed the one piece cat suit onto her body. The coating contained an insulating component that gave her the final effect of being covered in silky fur. A pair of matching pumps and a utility belt, which among other necessities held her QT, completed her ensemble.
She flashed her claws at the mirror and snarled playfully at herself. Calling up the co-ords again, she once more appeared in the Directors office. He got down to business quickly, and briefed her on the situation as it appeared at the moment.
Agent Red was missing, and she was to find him and his QT Device and bring them back. She downloaded all the available data into her implant, and jumped back to her apartment to prepare for the mission.
Angel had worked with Red once, and knew him to be a good agent. His one weakness was that he tended to follow orders without question, and always went by the book. Which was fine as long as every one else did. Angel tended to adapt to situations as they occurred, but she was aware that the world would be boring if people were all the same.
She studied the data provided and considered the best way to find Red, and rescue him if required. Whatever had happened to him, it was vital that she bring the QT back.
There were only Twelve B.T.O. Agents, one from each major political and economic player in Britain. This was because there were only Twelve QT devices in existence. Needless to say all Agents were British, and Britain kept rigid control of Time and Portal technology.
This was by order of the British Government, whose greatest fear was that one of them might fall into untrained hands and cause a temporal paradox. No need to worry she thought, in her upper class arrogance, I'm on the job, what can possibly go wrong?'
Certain crimes and criminals offend society more than others, at one end of the scale of crimes one could put parking offences; while at the other end are Paedophiles.
Everyone despised these criminals; even hardened murderers in prison despised them. To attack children is against nature, as without children the human race would cease to exist.
The big man had a special hatred for Paedophiles, and he now had the power to do something about them. One of his advantages, was his access to information not readily available to the general public. He was reading the police files on child killers and disappearances, and after much thought picked out a slim one. There was not a lot of information in the file, a little girl had left school to walk home one rainy day and had never arrived. Sadly her body had been found in a ditch three days later.
Weeks had passed, and the investigation had stalled due to lack of information. The man considered his plan of action, and after collecting the gear he thought he might need he hired a rental car. He parked it within sight of the school entrance, and settled down to wait.
At the sound of the school bell the street was suddenly filled with shouting chattering children. The rain gusting along the street made everyone move more quickly, mothers were loading the very young children into cars. Older children were walking in their various directions with their heads down against the driving wind, all anxious to get home quickly.
He spotted the young girl walking off towards her home using her school jacket as a makeshift umbrella, and pulled out to follow her. She had only gone around the corner from the school when she walked past a parked car, he saw her stop suddenly and appear to be talking to the driver. To his surprise the little girl got into the car and it drove off quickly.
He had been trained in the art of following suspects without being noticed, and despite the rain had no difficulty in keeping the car in sight. He rang a restricted number and soon got the name of the cars registered owner, the licence plate belonged to a lorry and was obviously a fake as it was on a nondescript Volkswagen Beetle.
He shrugged, it had been worth the try, and concentrated on following the car. After about five minutes the car pulled into a driveway of a bungalow just on the outskirts of the town. The man continued past for about fifty yards until he came to a lay-by.
He parked the hire car and walked quickly back towards the bungalow, his long black leather coat protecting him from the driving rain. By the time he had walked back to the driveway the bungalow looked uninhabited. The little girl's name was Mary, every day on her way to school she had to walk past her next-door neighbours house. Being only young she didn't have much to say to the man who lived there, his name was Vince and unbeknownst to his neighbours he was a paedophile, albeit a passive one.
So far he had restricted himself to downloading pornographic pictures of children from the Internet, and spying on the little girl next door with binoculars at night. However these activities didn't satisfy him any more, and he had decided to abduct the girl and use her for his own perverted pleasure.
Everything was going to plan, Vince was shaking with excitement at the thought of pleasures to come, and the stupid little girl had fallen for his story. As he was their next door neighbour the girl believed him, when he told her that her mum had asked him to pick her up as it was raining so hard.
Even when he had turned into the driveway of his rented bungalow, she had accepted his muttered excuse that he was just dropping off a tool he had borrowed from the owner. Only when the automatic garage doors had opened as his car approached them, had she queried his actions. By then they were inside the garage, and the doors had closed behind them.