Joined: Wed Oct 08, 2008 10:07 pm
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Written by Janet Brown and Mr. X Apologies in advance, only the first couple chapters are illustrated -- but I can't just let this rot away on my hard drive, and I'm proud of the story we wrote -- so enjoy! -------------------------  Victoria Devergonde stalked in front of her massive window like an angry silk-clad cat, far too nervous to take in a view of the Las Vegas night that most of the fat little spinsters and vacationing rubes down below could only dream of. The lot of them not even fit to clean up after her league, she knew as she admired her reflection in the window -- she had the body of a forty-year-old supermodel with clothes to match, and the experience… well quite a lot more experience. The city lit up before her, but only one bright structure caught her attention -- New Camelot. A towering white palace that stood defiantly in stark contrast to her own casino, the Silver Skull. Hers was a black pyramid, previously independently owned but now the property of her employers, the massively powerful (and militantly matriarchal) conglomerate known as Axis Sundries. When they bought it, they put Victoria at the helm, and she was the one who chose to top the structure with its signature gigantic silver winged skull. The Silver Skull wasn’t the most heavily trafficked casino in Vegas but it was by far the most lucrative, with its sexually charged and high class atmosphere it attracted the biggest spenders… and this was without taking into account the many projects Axis tasked Victoria with ‘off the books’. She was currently supervising one such project and it was a big one. It weighed heavily on her mind. The stakes were high for the company and, more importantly as far as Victoria was concerned, her own gorgeous ass was on the line ... failure on this project was not going to be tolerated.
“Specify quadrant C, designation ‘New Camelot’,” Victoria barked at nothing, halting her pacing and turning her steady gaze onto the penthouse window. A crosshair sprang into her view to highlight New Camelot, as if her window was a massive computer screen -- which wasn’t far from the truth, “Enhance designation one hundred twenty five percent.” Within the crosshair, New Camelot ballooned in size, giving Victoria a crystal-clear close-up view of the building. She pouted with just the faintest trace of petulance and shifted her weight… state of the art and largely goddamn useless, she considered. Most days she just used the apparatus to play the world’s largest game of solitaire, “Overlay the tracking blips with the New Camelot and tunnel maps, please.” In a corner of the window a map of the tunnels under New Camelot appeared, complete with little red dots denoting members of her team. They were all accounted for and traipsing through the tunnels and New Camelot’s more advanced security systems were still paralyzed, caught in the throes of Axis’ computer assaults. So far, so good.
Victoria tapped her headset com, “Captain Von Brun, sitrep.”
A husky female voice with a light German accent crackled to life in her ear, “Sabine had to silence a couple of vagrants that were making a bit of a fuss ma’am but, other than that, no real problems - we’re approximately a minute and twenty behind schedule. Marie is working on the door.”
“Good. I don‘t want any fuckups Von Brun, or I‘ll take it out on your pretty little Aryan ass. Project Jotun is of paramount importance to Axis. Director Devergonde out.” Victoria tapped her earpiece again. Satisfied for the moment, Victoria sauntered back to her desk, sitting and crossing her legs to reveal an entirely immodest amount of creamy white thigh. Clearly visible on her thigh-high silk stocking was a swastika pattern -- most Axis girls didn’t dare nakedly display a swastika, settling instead for the Axis logo, but Victoria had never cared much about PR. She distracted herself momentarily with displays from the Silver Skull security cameras on her regular-size computer monitor. Waitresses and security guards -- all women, as with all Axis employees of any consequence -- in skimpy black uniforms worked the clientele mercilessly, and Victoria smiled slightly as she almost felt the dollars rolling in. She shifted in her seat, parting her glossy lips slightly at that sublime sensation… that feeling of a summer home or a new yacht materializing in her bank account.
Thoughts like this always managed to relax her. Thusly inspired, she toggled the display to the office of her Head of Security, Jessika Drakenburg. Jessika -- a tall, tan, severe and mildly psychotic redhead -- was enjoying her lunch break with her direct subordinate and lover Emma, a dusky-skinned young killer. Which was to say they were fucking like rabbits, only they weren‘t holding carrots.
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Meanwhile, miles away and under the ground, a shaven-headed amazon by the name of Jan Von Brun hefted a dead hobo over a nearby rail and into the gloom below. There was a distant splash. It wasn’t the most glamorous facet of what was generally a very slick and high-paid job and now she smelled slightly of malt liquor, but it had to be done. Jan scowled, “The next time you get the urge to inflict a little collateral, Miss Sabine, I’m going to make you carry the goddamn corpse yourself!” The Nazi irritably dug a bottle of perfume out of her New Camelot custodial jumpsuit pocket and sprayed a light cloud on her ample tits, hoping to banish the scent of poverty.
A curvaceous and extremely well-endowed brunette who had been leaning on the rail turned towards Von Brun with narrowed eyes. She spoke in her native tongue, German, which of the team only she and Jan could understand, “Collateral. Hmm. Well, the next time that collateral runs at you with a switchblade, maybe I’ll allow them to let the air out your kidneys, yes?”
Jan’s gray eyes gleamed and she was standing in front of Sabine in an instant. The rest of the team looked away with practiced indifference, suddenly taking a great interest in the state of their equipment. Sabine put on a brave face, but her eyes gleamed in sudden alarm -- she’d taken a step too far, and Jan was her superior officer -- in Axis, rank was everything. Captain Von Brun could toss her over the rail and never suffer so much as a dock in pay. An officer murdering her subordinate in a fit of anger was such a common occurrence they called it a ’black slip’. Jan put her hand gently to Sabine’s heaving chest, taking the zipper of her jumpsuit and slowly drawing it downward, exposing Sabine’s golden breasts. Sabine haltingly began to speak, but Jan put her finger to the girl’s glossy lips, “Shhhh...”
Jan slid one hand into the jumpsuit, causing Sabine to blush a deep crimson as the skinhead caressed the girl’s full breast. Then the aristocratic brunette squeaked in sudden pain as Jan grabbed her engraved silver nipple ring and twisted it painfully. Sabine grabbed Jan’s wrist with both hands, baring her teeth but not daring to speak, save an involuntary squeal through her clenched teeth as Jan maintained her grip. Operative Von Brun was built more or less like a brick shithouse (albeit a shapely one), whereas Sabine was used to the easy life and was thus no physical match. As if to drive the point home, Jan grabbed Sabine’s short ponytail and wrenched her head back, exposing her elegant neck.
They gray-eyed skinhead hissed in German, “Those men were no threat to us. You simply wanted to get your rocks off shooting a couple vagrants. I know who your daddy is, bitch, but if you think that gives you a free pass to sashay through this little adventure doing whatever you want and sitting back while I clean it up, you can think again. I don’t see you dragging that weight around and making yourself useful, you’ll not survive to receive your negative evaluation. I’ll tie you naked to a pipe and leave you for the hobos in the Vegas tunnels, do I make myself clear?”
Sabine fought back the tears of pain welling in her eyes, and also managed to resist spitting in the bitch’s face, instead forcing out, “Jawohl Frau Von Brun--”
“Louder.” Jan twisted the squirming girl’s nipple, regarding her with blank gray eyes. She wrenched Sabine’s head back even further so the girl was staring wide-eyed at the ceiling.
“JA MEIN FRAU!!!” Sabine shrieked with uncharacteristic desperation as she apparently tried to turn her entire body with her nipple.
A chipper little voice piped up from the darkness, “I’ve polished the knob ma’am. Secondary security is disabled, we’re in.”
Jan immediately let go of Sabine’s rock-hard and now reddening nipple, Sabine clasping one hand over her wounded mammary as she zipped her jumpsuit back up with the other. With Jan’s back to her, Sabine shot her superior an acidic gaze that promised future retribution and then some. She hustled to catch up with the team as Jan glanced casually over her shoulder, “Pistol in the cart Sabine. Hate for you to set off the detectors and continue ruining my day.”
Taking the lead, Von Brun emerged from a lonely maintenance tunnel out into the stark white halls of New Camelot -- deep within ‘employees only’ territory. Her team was close behind, headed by the diminutive yet perky and athletic blonde Marie. Getting the all-clear from their fearless leader, the team immediately began pulling a small arsenal from the cleaning cart they’d brought along, each taking a sidearm and some spare ammo, but leaving the heavy artillery in the cart for any special occasions. Marie herself was a handgun girl anyway, but they’d brought along a couple of big heavies -- a lithe, curvy blonde former freelancer who went by the name of Julie, and an ex-CIA throat-slitter named Karin (incidentally sporting an obvious close-cropped red dye-job that Marie had to bite her tongue to keep from commenting on) -- who knew how to use the SMGs in case things got nasty. Rounding out the team was the silent, nigh-sociopath Laotian/French assassin Yoko. She was on loan from a Hong Kong subsidiary, very good at what she did -- which was, of course, murder. Marie had to admit that Yoko’s lustrous reddish-brown hair actually nicely complemented her tan, and kept her from looking too ‘oriental’ for regulations. In Axis, anyone who was ‘foreign-looking’ was pressured to change their appearance to be more ‘western’. It helped fuel the neo-Nazi rumors, which Axis really did nothing at all to discourage. The rumors in this regard were, of course, completely true. Marie herself was the great granddaughter of an elite SS lieutenant, to her immense pride. Marie holstered her handgun and sighed. So much gorgeous tail all around her, with nothing but a flimsy jumpsuit between them and her roving hands… hopefully at some point she could find a little spare time, maybe with Julie. Marie liked them athletic. And mean. She was clearly in good company.
Jan grabbed a silenced Rondel (a sleek black Axis military-spec handgun) from the cart and stuffed it into the shoulder-holster under her jumpsuit, silently giving thanks for the Axis holster rig that was specially designed not to irritate the hell out of bare skin. She tapped her headset, “Team com. Test. Test. Anybody not hear that? Good. I’ll take Marie, Karin, and Julie down to the vault for a little party. Yoko, you and Sabine head up to Security. Double time it. We have four and a half minutes before the worm runs its course and communication pops back up. I want you to be the only ones watching the cameras when that happens. MOVE IT!” Without a word Yoko set off down the hall with Sabine in tow. Jan snapped her fingers and departed with the remnants of her team in the opposite direction.
Several minutes passed without incident, Jan and her team were making their way steadily towards the office of the Resource Manager. Jan checked her watch, tapping her headset, “Call Sabine. Sabine, report.”
“A couple of knuckle-draggers in the security room. We took care of them, locked the door, the place is ours for at least an hour ma’am … unless you get loud.”
“Brilliant,” Von Brun purred, “We’re about to do something naughty. Stay put until you get the word.” The skin-headed Nazi conveyed a complex series of hand signals to her team as they arrived outside a door marked, “James Norton -- Resource Manager”. They nodded, Karin silently counting to three and sweeping open the door. There was a feminine grunt as the door slammed into somebody and Karin quickly turned to face a second woman standing next to her. She was a tall black girl, muscular and athletic, her hair cropped back in fashionable cornrows. The woman, probably a personal bodyguard (these were, after all, dangerous times), was clad in a spotless white leather vest and matching tight, low-cut pants. Naked on her hip rode a pistol holster, and she immediately went for her handgun. Karin lunged toward the bodyguard as Marie quickly strode into the room, leveling her Rondel at the man sitting at the desk, “Don’t touch that phone Mr. Norton.” She smiled cheerily as, poking the gun around the door, she fired a couple silenced shots blindly. Her smile widened as she heard a satisfying female grunt from the other side.
Karin, meanwhile, was engaged in a hand-to-hand tousle with Norton’s other bodyguard, having wrested away the girl’s handgun -- and the black bitch was big, but she couldn’t fight. Karin weaved under telegraphed blows and slammed her fists into the girl’s smooth stomach. She grabbed the bodyguard by the dreads and slammed her knee into the black girl’s forehead. “Huuurgh--!” The white-clad bitch was driven back into the wall, knocking a framed (community) college degree off its hook and sending it to shatter on the floor. Relishing the momentary opening, Karin gripped the bitch’s neck and drew her gun, pressing it to her adversary’s stomach. The Nazi took a moment to bask in the bodyguard’s terrified gaze before pumping a gratuitous amount of bullets into her gut. *phut phut phut phut* “Uuhuhh--” The bodyguard’s vest was blown open, her full chocolate tits flopped out as she quivered and shook on her feet, rocking with the impact of the rounds. Karin watched with mild interest as the girl clutched her belly, standing only with Karin’s extra help, the beads adorning her dreads clicking and clacking together as she trembled. After a short while the Nazi hurled the taller woman’s limp body to the ground. Immediately she set upon the lightly-moaning bodyguard, frisking her for anything of value, unclipping the dying guard’s belt and plunging her hand down the girl’s pants with a wolfish grin. She sneered as she saw the tribal tramp-stamp tattooed above the black girl’s tailbone -- amateur hour. Most mid-level bodyguards -- especially the Vegas variety-- were hired to look gorgeous and imposing on a client’s arm, not for any actual talent. Probably a local exotic dancer who fell in with a corporation – well, happy retirement, bitch. She took a few bills from the girl’s wallet and stuffed them in her jumpsuit. Spoils of war.
Marie, meanwhile, peeked around the door to get a look at her victim. The second bodyguard was an identically-dressed Indian girl who was slumped up against the wall in a pool of her own blood. Marie grinned and gestured for Julie and Jan to enter. Jan strode in last with the cart, shutting to the door carefully behind her before turning her cold gaze to a portly, balding, trembling James Norton. She smiled; it was a smile devoid of warmth or positive emotion. “Mr. Norton, I’m going to have to ask you to come with us,” she said softly. Julie smiled softly and pressed her gun into the terrified man’s cheek.
Marie nodded gravely, looking up from her shameless grope-session with the fallen Indian, “We’d hate to have to go medieval on you in your own castle.”
There was a light noise from across the room as Karin slapped her forehead with her palm.
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“This is Forrest, come back good buddy. Hello. Home base.”
Sabine smirked and sauntered over to the beefy security guard -- who was currently zip-tied by the wrists to a chair. His granite jaw was set tensely and he couldn’t quite take his eyes off the silencer Yoko was pressing against his temple. Sabine sat on his lap, grinning and leaning against his broad chest as she held his walkie-talkie to his face, “Go on liebchen, tell the man you’re okay, ja?” Yoko pulled back the hammer on her handgun with a ‘click’ which caused Knuckle-Dragger to jump involuntarily. Sabine giggled as he jostled her, her big breasts swaying under her jumpsuit -- which she’d unzipped somewhat for Knuckle-Dragger’s benefit, “Good boy.” She activated the walkie, idly fingering the silver rune pendant that hung between her breasts with her free hand.
The guard, known to his friends as Ted, swallowed nervously, “Hey, yeah, what’s up Forrest?”
“Monitors and stuff back up?”
“Ayuh--”
“Anything I should know about?”
Sabine waved her hand with an impatient flourish, motivating Ted to step it up, “If the Red Chinese invade, I’ll let you know Forrest. Stop fatting up my airwaves.”
“Ouch. Ten-four good buddy.”
Sabine pouted cutely and poked Ted’s nose, withdrawing the walkie, “Good boy.”
“Uh, thanks.” Ted swallowed again, noticing with some nervousness that Sabine’s soft, curvy form against his was starting to arouse him. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, and Sabine’s devilish grin told him she could feel his cock hardening. The beautiful oriental girl standing beside him sighed wearily, “Kindly do not get too comfortable, Ted, or I will put a bullet in your head and see if your dick lives on after your brain has died.” Ted had read somewhere that it would, but didn’t really want to think about it. He nodded dutifully, trying his damndest to think of cold showers and baseball while Sabine ground against his pelvis with her ass…
Several agonizing (for Ted) minutes passed before Jan’s voice barked in Sabine’s ear, “Sabine, report.”
“Everything’s fine Captain Von Brun. Isn’t it Ted?” Ted nodded, apparently unaware Jan couldn’t see him.
Sabine detected incoherent gibbering from an unidentified male, causing Jan to raise her voice a bit as she spoke, “Mister Norton is being extremely uncooperative, Sabine. We’re going to have to call in the Second Line. I’d like you to let the interrogators in, they’ll be waiting at the employee entrance.”
Sabine frowned … after all, she was so comfy, “Won’t they attract undue attention?”
“As long as the cameras are shut down and there’s no electronic evidence, we need not concern ourselves with details Sabine. A few civilian witnesses are of no concern, and they will deal with any guards along the way. You’re to treat them with the utmost respect Sabine … just remember that they outrank all of us.”
Sabine ran her hand lightly across Ted’s thick neck, “But--”
“Move your ass. This is not a discussion.”
“Jawohl.” Sabine hopped off Ted’s lap, and Yoko stared at her quizzically. Sabine read the assassin‘s expression, “Don’t kill him. We need to hold the security room yet. I’ll return shortly.” The curvaceous Nazi emerged out into the hall, passing a couple of forgettable office workers. She was momentarily confused by their befuddled gaze before she blushed slightly, zipping her jumpsuit back up. Details. After a short walk (and attracting no further attention) she wound her way back to the employee entrance from the casino proper to the restricted section. Between the two was a hall with detectors that would put any modern military base to shame – which, of course, she and Yoko had completely disabled. Axis had engineered a specialized computer virus known as ‘Mal-X’ that kept all the requisite beeps and boops and green lights active, except that any ID card, any iris scan was approved for access. Sabine cracked open the inner door and waited.
On cue, a couple of chilly Nazi bitches entered the employee area. Each was clad in a gleaming leather Axis business suit, complete with crisp black shirts and crimson silk ties -- but aside from their attire, the two made for a sharp contrast. The lower ranking of the pair was Paola Russo, an experienced former Comorra torturer with a long list of fully questioned corpses to her credit. She was a severe woman, not entirely accustomed to physical labor but nevertheless in very good shape, athletic and toned. Her skin was a deep, rich brown and in an effort to look more “Aryan” she’d bleached her hair white (it was drawn back in a painfully tight bun), and stuck in a couple of ice-blue contacts. Even so, you couldn’t take the Italy out of the woman -- her every motion exuded an effortless, almost lazy sexuality, even as her light blue eyes smoldered. Her leather skirt was hiked way up, showing off her toned brown legs -- further complemented by stiletto-heeled strappy sandals.
Her direct superior, Scilla Necis (a pseudonym that literally translated to, “flower of murder”), stood in stark contrast. A young, fair-skinned and rail thin German girl, she was almost a full foot shorter and the better part of a decade younger than Paola, her dirty blonde hair spiked up in a haircut that couldn‘t have cost under a hundred dollars. She had aristocratic cheekbones, a severe Germanic beauty -- and although she was shorter, and physically smaller, Scilla was clearly the more wicked of the two. It was in the eyes. Like Jan’s, dull and gray. You could easily imagine Scilla doing anything to you with the same cold, aloof look in those gray orbs -- and she’d probably done it before to someone else. Unlike the simmering Paola, Scilla was precise and severe. Her leather skirt suit revealed only her knees; to match the suit she wore polished leather boots. Each of the interrogators, Sabine noted, was carrying an ornate leather case, the contents of which Sabine frankly didn’t want to know.
Scilla snapped off a salute to Sabine, who quickly returned it. Scilla began striding in the direction of the vault with Paola following while Sabine scampered to keep up. Scilla checked her watch, speaking in a husky German accent, “If the estimates are to be believed, we have plenty of time. I want you to be precise, operative. The last time we worked together we had a handful of severed fingers and little else to show for our efforts.”
Paola shrugged, lighting a thin black cigarette as she sauntered effortlessly in pace with her superior. Her voice was deep and silky, “I lost my temper … the man was being insufferable. Besides, he knew nothing…”
“Speculation, Miss Russo. He did not survive the questioning process, and so we will never know. This time our success is not negotiable, and you can bet that I’m not going to be the one to pay for failure what is it Sabine?”
Sabine jumped at the sudden address, “Do you require anything else m--”
“Nein.”
“What if somebody spots y--”
“Yoko is keeping us informed of guard patterns. We are perfectly able to traverse the facility. Back to your post, Sabine.”
“Jawohl mein frau.” Sabine snapped off another salute, which Scilla didn’t turn to see much less acknowledge, before heading back to the security room.
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Forty minutes later, a weeping Jim Norton pled his case in the middle of a massive vault stacked to the gills with piles of money, “I didn’t know you were after that, okay? I swear to god -- I would have told you earlier if I’d have known--”
Jan tapped her foot impatiently, “What’s the difference Jim?” Paola squeezed the Resource Manager’s cheeks in her gloved hand in a not-so-subtle encouragement to speak.
And speak he did, “Genetic material, adult stem cells like that, they’re in the vault but they’re in a specially sealed chamber -- it’s specially locked-- one screwup and the material is destroyed--”
“So specially unlock the specially sealed specialty chamber. It’s a hell of a lot more than I can deal with, I’m not a miracle worker,” Marie called out from across the vault. Glancing shiftily from side to side, the little blonde grabbed a stack of bills and stuffed it deep into the nether region of her jumpsuit -- momma’s gotta eat. The first few bills would smell a little like sex, but what the hell ... that would only make them more valuable in certain quarters…
“I can’t! I would if I could!” Norton gibbered as Scilla waved a syringe gun in his face.
The German interrogator popped a small clear vial into the syringe gun, “This is tetrodotoxin, Mr. Norton, one of the deadliest natural venoms known. It’s my own special dosage and it has a spectacular effect. When I inject you, you’ll start to get short of breath. Then your throat will close. Then your heart will stop…”
“I’m telling you the truth!!!”
“…then they’ll bury you. Later you’ll wake up, fully conscious, inside your coffin. Under the ground. You don’t want that, do you?”
“No--!”
“How do we open this sealed chamber?”
“I can’t, you need the general manager of the casino to do that… _________…”
Paola smiled, squeezing Norton’s cheeks cheerily, “Ah! Perfetto! And where can we find her, friend?”
“P-penthouse office, top floor--”
Scilla smiled coldly, “Good. Say hello to the inside of your casket for me. Perhaps you shall get lucky and they‘ll kill you during autopsy. You would feel every slice of course.”
“No-- NO! You need me to get up there!!”
“Security is disabled Mr. Norton. Sweetest of dreams.” Scilla jabbed the gun into his neck, pulling the trigger with a hydraulic hiss.
The portly manager collapsed and burbled as Jan moved to leave the vault, “Julie and Karin, stay here. Anybody sees the vault is cracked, kill them as quietly as possible. Marie, follow me. Executive Necis, Executive Russo, if you would please follow me I can take you to…”
Scilla placed the syringe gun in her carrying case and snapped it shut, “My thanks, Captain. I’m sure I don’t need to tell you this but we must interrogate and dispose of this General Manager as quickly as possible. And heaven help anybody that stands in our way!”
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