Posted by Extranjero on July 12, 2003 at 08:02:01:
D A R K S C O R E
Jocelin pulled her T-shirt off, and shrugged out of her bra. Her own reflection eyed her levelly. Unblinking, she unfastened her dark jeans and pushed them down, together with her skimpy pair of briefs. Naked now, she studied her slim body in the mirror. The changing room was tiny and the bright light unforgiving - but Jo’s smooth flesh had no need of forgiveness.
She reached into the cubby hole and picked her pistol up. The weapon was a lightweight Glock, extended by a five-inch silencer. She trained it on the small, athletic redhead in the mirror, and let her aiming muscles find the balance. The redhead aimed right back at her, the muzzle of her pistol like a maw. The power of the illusion sent a quiver through Jo’s flesh: it felt like death was just a cough away. Her fine hairs stiffened, tingling with arousal.
“Shade One is cleared for entry,” said a voice from the loudspeaker in the ceiling. Jo breathed out, and gave a feline smile. She turned towards the metal door. It opened and she stepped into the darklock, a cylinder that whirred around and plunged her into suffocating gloom. She listened to the stillness for a moment – then moved into the Spook House on the balls of her bare feet.
Dead air hissed inside her head. The darkness flowed around her as she moved. She let her left hand trail along the roughly textured wall. Her silenced gun poked blindly through the murk. There was no sound from the void ahead, but Zoe was here somewhere: as nude as Jo, and armed the same as she was. They had to track each other down, and only one of them could leave alive.
The Spook House was a maze of rooms. The Section used it ruthlessly for training. Both of them had been through here with Kevlar and live ammo. The building had four floors, and every crack of it was sealed against the daylight. There were rooms of sheeted furniture, and staircases that creaked with every step. Her ears still echoed faintly with the racket of the carbine. Her nerves recalled the stunning hit she’d taken in her chest …
The Kevlar vest had saved her then - but now her tender breasts were unprotected. The thought gave her a sickly, sexy thrill. She meant to win, of course … but what if bitchy Zoe beat her to the trigger? Jo had dreamed of dying since she’d been a little girl. To flirt with death like this delighted her.
Her and Zoe’s rivalry had overreached itself. They’d both had eyes for the same guy; their fight had almost compromised the mission. The Section’s rules were clear enough: one of them had to go. The method of selection was established just as clearly. A death match in the Spook House, armed with silenced pistols, hunting in the nude.
The air was dense and sultry from the summer night outside. She felt her perspiration start to ooze. Breathless, she ascended the main staircase, her bare feet gently testing every step. A spot of dim red light showed near the ceiling. She knew it was a camera, watching every move she made …
Upstairs in the Dry Cell, the controllers saw her creep towards the screen. The cameras filmed in infra-red; the images were colourless and ghostly. Jo’s body had a spectral sheen; her eyes flashed like a cat’s as she looked round. Her dark red hair seemed black, an inky cowl.
Diane took in the details with professional detachment, then glanced along the row of monitors. They showed a range of empty rooms; a shrouded rocking chair; a rumpled bed ... And there - another figure, sleek and stealthy as a lynx.
She nodded at the screen. “Shade Two, where is she?”
“Section Five,” Elaine replied, a little huskily. The girl was a trainee and rather nervous. She fiddled with the switches till the monitors all showed the second floor. Beside her, Carl sat back and watched the naked girls close blindly with each other.
The dry creak of a floorboard scraped the silence. Jo froze, her breasts pulsating very gently. A doorway gaped beside her, but the noise had come from somewhere up ahead. She peered into the dimness … sensed a ghostly husk of movement … then heard the high-pitched blurt of Zoe’s gun.
Pewp!
The bullet thumped into the wall as Jo ducked to a crouch. A rush of pure adrenalin went sizzling through her veins. She glimpsed another wink of flame, and rolled beneath the shot. The bullet whacked some wood out of the doorpost. She raised herself, right hand in left, and fired back – Pew-pewp! No gasp of pain, no sound of a collapse – she rolled again. The silencers suppressed the flash as well as stifling noise. Their shots gave them away, but shed no light.
The two girls finished up on separate screens, their pistols poised. Diane stood watching, gnawing at her lip. The Dry Cell had been sealed into the dark heart of the house, and sweltered with the building’s sticky heat. Her blouse was half unbuttoned and she wore her shortest skirt, but that was still enough to make her sweat. Diane could feel the lankness in her collar-length blonde hair. She envied the two girls their nudity.
Elaine’s slim fingers rattled on the keyboard. Her off-the-shoulder cheesecloth smock had caused a few raised eyebrows, but her tied-back hair and glasses made her look like a librarian. She was shy and rather earnest, with a splendid pair of boobs. It was clear that she had eyes for Carl, the prissy little miss. Diane allowed herself a secret sneer.
Jo and Zoe waited, like two phantoms in the dark. Diane gave an impatient little sigh. “Christ, they’ll make this last for hours. I’m going to have my break.”
Elaine looked round, eyes wide. “So don’t you want to know who wins?”
Diane just shrugged. “They’re both cold-blooded bitches, so who cares?” She glanced at Carl, and went through to the poky living quarters. Elaine turned back towards the screens - but Zoe had already disappeared.
Jo knelt on the bare floorboards with her pistol in both hands. The blood was throbbing in her ears, a steady whap-whap-whap like rotor blades. The darkness was a yawning gulf, disorientating her. The red dot of a camera was the only thing she had to focus on.
She felt the faintest stirring in the dense air of the passage – then Zoe opened up from somewhere close. The bullets zipped above her head; they would have pierced her tits if she’d been standing. Exhilarated, Jo shot back. The red light on the camera was snuffed out.
One of the screens dissolved in snow. Elaine laughed nervously. Then she blushed and tried to get another view set up. Carl sat calmly at her side, his presence reassuring.
Jo eased backwards through the open doorway. The room felt boundless, swallowing her up. She meant to draw in Zoe after her – and Zoe came. Another fleeting spurt of flame betrayed her. A sheeted couch blocked Jo’s retreat; she let herself roll backwards over it. Landing on the cushions, she lay still while bullets thwacked into the stuffing. A floorboard squeaked as Zoe twisted lithely through the doorway. Her pistol kept on pumping, coughing slugs across the room. Another camera smashed and fizzled out.
“Oh, shit,” Elaine hissed anxiously. The girls were lost to sight. Two screens fizzed with static, and the others showed a row of empty rooms. She glanced towards the door, but there was no sign of Diane. “It’s all right,” murmured Carl, “just keep your cool …”
Zoe had stopped firing. Jo stayed curled up on the couch. Her pistol rested lightly on her stomach. She heard the pad of stealthy feet come closer. A shapeless figure loomed out of the darkness. Then Zoe’s hand groped down and gripped her arm.
“Okay?” whispered the other girl.
“I’m fine,” breathed Jo. “Let’s move.”
She swung herself back upright and they slipped across the room. By memory and touch they found the fireplace. The large grate had been boarded up. Jo felt across the panel for the lock. Locating it, she aimed her pistol downward and fired once. The stifled cough was roughened by the crunch of splintered wood. The lock gave way; she slid the panel open. A cramped void lay beyond it, and she ducked inside without a moment’s pause. The gap ran down between the walls and ended at a narrow flight of stairs. Dim light filtered down from the next level. Jo crept slowly up the steps, her pistol raised and ready. Zoe followed close behind, her nose an inch from Jo’s peach-perfect butt.
The secret staircase brought them to the Dry Cell. Jo stepped into the dingy passageway. The door to the control room stood half open. She heard the muffled hum of the equipment. The door across from her was shut; she didn’t pause to check what lay behind it. Heart thumping, she went creeping down the passage, with Zoe prowling tensely at her heels.
Diane didn’t hear them pass. She’d screened the Dry Cell clean out of her mind. Slumped down on the narrow bed, she focused on the glow between her legs. Her damp blouse was unbuttoned and she’d taken off her skirt. Her right hand was pushed deep into her briefs. Of course she cared who won the duel – she worshipped Jocelin. The agent’s green-eyed prettiness had hooked her from the start, and seeing her doe-naked was a dream. It had taken all her willpower to stay calm in the control room. She’d had to take a break from it – the tension was too much. Desire and dread were begging for release: they wouldn’t wait. Biting her lip against a gasp, she stroked more urgently.
Elaine was feeling guilty as she sat back in her chair. Diane was sure to blame her if the duel went awry. Carl was in the galley kitchen, fixing them a coffee, as if that would make things all right again. She flicked through all the cameras, but the Spook House seemed deserted. She pursed her lips unhappily, not sure what to do next. She heard a noise behind her, but assumed that it was Carl. “Remember that I like it black,” she said, not looking round.
Jo took aim and shot the girl between her naked shoulders. Elaine jerked up, her mouth an O, her brown eyes big with shock. The bullet punched straight through her and emerged between her breasts, embedding its squashed nose in her console. Her blood spilled thickly after it, in contrast to the oozing entry wound. The doomed girl made a croaking sound and slumped across her keyboard. The pressure of her breasts set off a rapid string of beeps.
Ignoring them, Jo turned towards the kitchen. Somebody was moving round and humming to himself. She stepped into the doorway, pistol aimed. A young guy in a T-shirt had just finished pouring coffee. She let him turn towards her and fired twice into his chest. His mouth gaped in a silent yell as red carnations bloomed on his white shirt. He slumped against the wall, and smeared it crimson as he slithered to the floor.
Jo’s green eyes were bright and wide, her pale complexion glowing with excitement. She glanced around, and saw that the control room had three chairs. Zoe was already peering round for a third target. Her olive skin was slick with sweat, her eyes intense and dark. Her black bobbed hair was pasted to her forehead.
Jo remembered the closed door they’d passed as they came in. Gesturing, she tiptoed back to it. Zoe gave her cover as she listened at the wood. A stifled whimpering came from inside. A slow smile crossed Jo’s face, and then she barged into the room.
Diane’s frantic gasps became a sob of utter shock. She sprawled there on the bed, her finger deep inside herself. Her bare breasts heaved, the nipples stiff. Her face grew horrified. This wasn’t the ghost-Jo, with her deathly skin and phosphorescent eyes. It was Jocelin in the flesh, her pistol braced.
Pewp! Pewp! Pewp!
The bullets punctured Diane’s tits and seared into her flesh. She bucked and squealed with helpless agony. Her hand squirmed in her panties but she couldn’t pull it free. She realised they would find her with her finger up her pussy – a final thought that filled her with dismay. She wriggled like a landed fish, then gurgled and went limp. Her tongue poked out in lifeless provocation.
Jo’s pistol had locked empty. She went back to the control room. A warm and gooey feeling filled her groin. Zoe was already bending over the console, her pert breasts filling out as she leaned forward. The dead girl slumped indifferently beside her. Zoe worked the keyboard and a list of files scrolled down the monitor. “I’ll download these to CD-Rom… it shouldn’t take me long.” Jo stared at her shapely butt, then looked back at the screen. Scores of MPEG files, recording shoot-outs in the Spook House. Faces, tactics, training methods – everything was there.
The plan had worked out perfectly. The rivalry they’d faked had brought them here. The CD drive was whirring, and that data could be sold for fifty grand. Jo stretched her tautened muscles, and glanced down at Zoe’s gun. It lay where she had left it on the desktop. Casually Jo picked it up. She cleared her throat.
“If we’d had that duel for real … you reckon you’d have won?”
“Of course I would,” said Zoe airily. She glanced over her shoulder, and then swung round with a gasp. Jo smiled and pulled the trigger, heard the fatal pewp! once more. A warm red splat appeared on Zoe’s breast. She lurched against the desk and gawped at Jo in disbelief, then crumpled like a rag doll to the floor.
Jo moved to the console and finished burning the CD. Ejecting it, she slipped the disk into a CD pouch, and cinched the Velcro belt around her waist. Her getaway was planned as well – her boyfriend would be waiting in the van. The way she felt right now, she might not even pause to put her clothes back on. Picking Zoe’s pistol up, she headed for the stairs.
The Spook House swallowed her again. She groped her way past half-familiar corners. Dust sheets rustled faintly in the rooms she scurried past. As she reached the main staircase, she thought she heard a muffled sound below her.
Tension gripped her muscles tight. She eased into a crouch. The darkness of the lobby was a bottomless black pit. Then the faint creak came again, and sent an icy tingle up her spine.
Silently she swore and backed away, her pistol braced. Someone else, perhaps a guard, was moving round down there. Her heart began to thump as she considered her next move. Try and find another exit route, or take him out? Instinct made her pat the CD pouch above her hip. Her future on a silver disk. She hadn’t come this far to lose it now.
Then she sensed another movement, soundless but much closer – and behind her. She twisted round, her pistol probing blindly. The Spook House loomed around her in a claustrophobic hush. Jo rose up, her pulse rate quickening. She found an open doorway to her left, and sidestepped through. The room beyond felt cavernous, but bits of furniture obstructed her. She backed her way between them, ears still straining. A draught crept after her and stirred the dust sheets.
She brushed against a rocking chair, which creaked alarmingly beneath its shroud. “Fuck!” she hissed, and squinted – but the murk was thick as soup.
Zoe crossed the threshold like a cat and stared at Jo. Her night-vision gear was strapped in place, the scopes protruding from her face like horns. She saw the room in grainy green, discerning every detail. Jo stared blindly back at her, her nervous eyes aglow.
Zoe stalked into the room. The fake blood was still streaming down her breast. Her gun had only held eight rounds – the rest were blanks and blood-squibs. She’d known that Jo would take the bait and fall into her trap. She was holding Jo’s reloaded pistol now.
Jo sensed a ripple in the air and fired towards it. Even in the dark, her aim was good. The blood-pellet stung Zoe’s midriff, spattering her skin. Zoe pinched a twisted smile. You’ll pay for that, you bitch. She raised the pistol casually and trained it on the dimple of Jo’s navel.
Pewp!
Where Zoe felt a sting, Jo felt a nauseating punch. She gave a guttural groan and doubled forward. Her groin and belly had gone numb - but then a fiery spasm gripped her bowels. She wobbled backwards, whimpering with pain and disbelief.
Pewp!
The second bullet thwacked into her midriff and she gasped. The impact knocked her over and she flopped into the creaky rocking chair. It reared up on its runners as she writhed in agony. Her useless pistol clattered to the floor.
Pewp!
She squealed as the next bullet sizzled through her. The anguish made her squirm and kick – the chair rocked crazily. This wasn’t death, it couldn’t be – the pain was much too bad. Jo sobbed and clutched her body. Zoe prowled towards the chair. She ogled Jo’s firm tits and smiled.
Pew-pewp!
The bullets hit her, left breast, right breast, ploughing through her chest. Jo threw her head back hard, as if she’d come. She wriggled on the creaking chair for one despairing moment – then sagged in it, and let her legs splay wide. She felt herself go slipping down the long slide to oblivion. She might have smiled in sheer relief, but her slack face stayed blank.
Pewp!
That was Zoe’s parting shot. Jo’s body twitched, but didn’t feel the blow. The chair rocked gently back and forth, as if to lull her sprawling corpse to sleep. Zoe breathed out raggedly. Her body dripped with sweat. She shoved the night-scopes clear of her eyes. The darkness pushed into her face – and then red lights came on. They bathed the room as if it had been flooded with Jo’s blood.
Zoe hauled the headset off, and shook her damp hair back. She heard the footsteps coming up the stairs. Then the Captain stepped into the doorway. He smiled at her, and nodded at the body in the chair. “Good work.”
Zoe grinned contentedly, not caring she was nude. The special operation had succeeded brilliantly. Not only had they trapped and purged a treacherous young agent, they’d also turned up flaws in the security and staff. New safeguards would be put in place, and training would be tightened. As for Jo, her final duel would join the other MPEGs - a warning to the greedy and the careless.
She walked across to Jo’s slumped form and unfastened the pouch. The agent’s lifeless flesh felt warm and soft. The red light made the blood look black, as sticky as molasses. The sheet beneath her corpse was soaked with darkness.