Posted by Extranjero on April 20, 2007 at 15:15:52:
DOLL SOLDIERS (Part 10)
A squad of Guards fell back along the narrow alleyway, their rifles laying down a squall of fire. The Desert Foxes followed, using every niche for cover, their sub-machine guns blazing furiously. The centuries-old fortress had endured a thousand storms, but none of them had been so shattering. A hail of bullets scoured the ancient brickwork, and automatic lightning fried the air.
The Guards were at the fag end of their night shift, dispirited and bleary with fatigue. But adrenalin had pumped them up, and they fought their shrinking corner ruthlessly. One of the attackers raised her head at the wrong moment and paid for her imprudence right away. She wore a German-pattern cap with goggles strapped around it, and a rifle bullet smashed the right-hand lens. Blood spilled through the broken glass and streamed out from beneath the cap itself. The blown-out bloody goggle seemed to mock the girl’s wide eyes. She slumped into the gutter like a sack.
The Guards had reached a dusty square in front of the Napoleonic stables. Debra’s troop had ridden out from here two days ago. Now the place seemed derelict, with most of its “whore soldiers” in the Doll’s House. The wooden gates stood open and the girls retreated through them, some changing magazines as they fell back. The rearguard gave them cover from behind the square’s dry fountain, then scurried over as the gates swung closed. Bullets rang on cobblestones and whined off cornices. And then a howling engine filled the square.
A Boar came barrelling along another of the streets, its canvas loose, its windshield smeared with gore. The stepped incline gave it a mad momentum. It slewed around the fountain and drove straight towards the gates, while Guards fired wildly through the closing gap. Their bullets ricocheted off steel, and then the jeep smashed home. The big gates splintered inwards and the nearest Guards were thrown aside like dolls.
Danni kept the pedal to the floor and powered through. The muscles rippled in her arms; her bosom joggled as she spun the wheel. The Boar caromed across the yard, dust rolling out behind it. Jenny’s door was open and her snarling Thompson raked the startled Guards.
The girls were milling round like headless chickens. In moments it became a turkey shoot. Muscled bodies proved too soft; cropped tee-shirts were no substitute for Kevlar. The hapless night shift squealed and jerked as Jenny mowed them down. One girl fired into the ground – another sprayed the sky. Blood burst through a bare belly and filled a screaming mouth. As bullets pocked the stable wall, a figure lurched into the open doorway. It was Laura – Debra’s posh, blonde squeeze – still nude beneath her dove-grey hussar’s coat. Her cheeks were pale and blotched with wine. The noise had spoiled her sleep. “What the fuck …?” she started, then wailed miserably as bullets pierced both breasts. She clutched at them and slithered down the doorframe, while Jenny’s aim tracked on across the yard.
Danni hit the brakes and snatched her sub-machine gun up. It spluttered at the Guards on the far side. Punctured tits spewed scarlet through black tee-shirts, and the grunting girls flopped limply to the dirt. One spun round and pitched into the stagnant water trough, where Wendy had wanked Susie days before.
The rest of Jenny’s team-mates had rushed through into the yard. They massacred the last few Guards still standing. In seconds the exploding roar had dwindled to an ear-numbing stillness. Danni clambered out and peered around, her bare tits heaving. Jenny panted in her seat, her left leg braced and naked to the thigh.
Danni stooped and picked a fallen automatic up. Coldly she began to shoot out each Guard’s jewelled navel. One girl had been playing dead, and squawked with agony, but the others simply bucked and then lay still. The Foxes watched in puzzlement. Her dark shades gave no clues. The magazine held fifteen rounds and Danni used them all. Laura wore no navel stud but stomached the last bullet anyway.
“No need to take it personally,” said Jenny at her shoulder.
“You didn’t have to live with them,” said Danni.
She turned away from Laura’s corpse and walked back to retrieve her MP5. “Good work,” she said, “you’re doing well. Now let’s take the next quarter.”
Jenny and her team smiled proudly, flushed with their success. They set about reloading from the Boar.
* * *
Jaz had been enjoying a massage when war broke out. The burst of shooting yanked her from her doze. She was lying face down on the couch with scented oils being rubbed into her skin. Her bodyguard was very skilled. She trusted no-one else when she was nude.
The gunfire thickened like a storm. She scowled and raised her head. Her damp black hair coiled down around her shoulders. A throb of apprehension filled her chest.
Emma, her pert bodyguard, had tensed beside the couch. She was a feline teenager with dark bobbed hair and emerald green eyes. After a pause she wiped her hands and fetched her M4 carbine from the bedroom. She was nude as well, apart from skimpy scarlet panties and a matching ribbon knotted in her hair.
“What the hell is that?” said Jaz. It didn’t sound like any exercise. She sat up and swung off the couch, still glistening with oil. Picking up her headset from the desk, she clipped it on. “Vincent, this is Jaz – what’s happening?”
“Nothing to get worked up about,” his voice responded smoothly. “There’s been some kind of breach in Sector Nine. Some of the Dolls have got out of their barracks. Your Guards are moving in to round them up.”
Jaz moved to the window and stared out across the rooftops. She could see no sign of fighting, but the gunshots popped and crackled like a fire. “Get it sorted, Vincent. This is bloody dangerous.”
“No worries, Jaz. It’s even better than the exercise. The ones who come through this alive are definitely ready for the front!”
The calm of the Control Vault didn’t reach her where she was. God knew how the Commanders would react. Jaz chewed her lip uneasily, still watching from her window, while Emma waited patiently behind her.
* * *
The two Guards on the Sacred Gate were unsure what to do. The squalls of rifle fire were getting closer. The orders crackling through their headsets left them both confused, but reinforcements must be on their way.
The portal was an access to the Inner Citadel. One of the forbidden courts lay just beyond it. A long pool stretched away between two marble colonnades, its surface mirroring the cloudless sky.
It made the girls uneasy even looking through the archway. There seemed to be a chill in the bright air. The ancient courtyard’s crumbled grace bespoke forgotten ages. The shadow of old terrors lingered there.
One of the Guards was fingering her headset. “It’s just the two of us,” she said. “We need some backup, now!” A moment’s crackly silence – then her worries were decisively resolved. An arrow whirred across the street and whacked into her chest. The girl cried out and clawed herself. Her partner wailed with shock. Then her own cry peaked with pain as two more arrows punched into her breasts. The Guards collapsed together, faces twisting as they died, and Jemma’s warrior maidens rushed the gate.
Their sword blades were still bloody from the bath house, and now their fervour wouldn’t be denied. All the girls wore Greek or Roman helmets, the metal burnished to a mirror sheen. Some wore loin-cloths, some wore briefs, but few still wore their bras. A couple fought in hoplite style, quite nude apart from greaves to guard their legs.
The backup Guards were running for the archway, but they didn’t see the danger till the two groups met head on. The leading warriors raised their shields and rammed through their opponents. The Guards reeled back, too close to aim their guns. A few wore Kevlar helmets but had no other protection. Some had not even had time to put their tee-shirts on.
The warrior maidens hacked them down or stabbed them in the belly. The tactics learned in open fields were devastating in this narrow space. A girl grimaced in Jemma’s face as steel ripped through her stomach, and flecks of scarlet speckled Jemma’s breasts. Leilani slashed another of the Guards across her stomach, bisecting the girl’s navel perfectly. The air was full of gasps and squeals. The Guards kept lurching backwards. Some of them were shooting now, but the bullets ricocheted off tilted shields. One Guard fired at point blank range to penetrate the armour. The flattened bullets gouged into the girl who held the shield.
But the Doll Soldiers had broken through. They surged across the courtyard. A few Guards fought in isolation, battering at shields with rifle butts. Leilani paused to wipe her sweaty hair out of her eyes – and glimpsed a pair of figures at the far end of the pool.
For a moment she assumed they were just statues, the city’s ancient heroes cast in iron. But then the black shapes started gliding forward, imperious and baleful on their armoured-plated thrones. The warrior girls had seen them too, and wavered for a moment. Then they screamed defiantly and charged.
Leilani felt her stomach plummet, just before the eyes began to glow. Suddenly the air felt charged, as if a thundercloud was overhead. Then the light of a blue sun came blazing through the courtyard. The screams of fury turned to shrieks of pain.
The warriors writhed and twisted but could not escape the blast. The lethal charge flowed through their upraised shields. Whimpering, they clasped themselves and crumpled to the poolside, their swords and armour clanging on the tiles. One of the Commanders turned its helmet like a turret and scoured the courtyard with its dreadful gaze. Guards and warriors died together, squealing helplessly. A girl in a black Kevlar helmet pleaded to be spared, then clutched her tits and screamed like all the rest. Jemma wailed in anguish as a thousand white-hot needles pierced her breasts. Her sweet face twisted tearfully, then slackened to a blank as she collapsed.
The clash of metal faded and an eerie silence fell. The two Commanders sat impassively. After a pause, a squad of nervous Guards appeared behind them. They ventured past and made their way between the tangled bodies to make sure that the gateway was secure.
Leilani lay quite motionless and wished her heart would stop. Her breasts were pressed against the tiles: the marble seemed to magnify each beat. One of her arms was trailing in the shallow, stagnant pool. Her nerve-endings were tingling painfully.
A pair of girls had masked her from the first rays of the blast. Their twisted bodies lay as still as hers. It felt as if she’d just survived a huge electric shock. She didn’t want to move again, and doubted if she could.
She heard the Guards walk past her. They were talking nervously. No way could she escape the way she’d come. The sun beat down on her bare back. She wanted to be sick. After what seemed half an hour, she carefully raised her head.
The armoured things had disappeared. The body-littered courtyard was deserted. But soon someone would come and put a hook into her back, and she’d become a living rubber doll. The prospect made her raise herself, despite her queasy dread. Grasping her sword, expecting death, she slipped into the shadowed colonnade.
* * *
Karen sat back in her chair. The Control Vault felt more stifling by the moment. “They’ve got into the Inner Courts. The Commanders are engaged!”
Vincent’s chiselled face was calm, but she glimpsed a pearl of sweat on his top lip. “We need to finish this right now,” he said, and wiped his mouth. “Bring four Recluses up from Nergal Field.”
She looked at him uncertainly, eyes wide behind her glasses. “We can’t let them inside the gates – they’re programmed to kill anything that moves.”
His pale eyes flared. “Just do it, girl! We might lose all the Dolls, but that’s too bad.”
Karen hesitated, then began to punch the codes. Vincent turned to look at the main screen. It showed a row of caves which overlooked a bowl of open ground. The earth was scraped and scarred by tracks, as barren as a ploughed-up cemetery.
The noise came first: a muffled roar that spilled out of the bunkers. Then the black tanks started to emerge into the sunlight, like iron spiders creeping from their holes.
She knew they had been based upon a World War Two design: the fearsome British Cromwell cruiser tank. Each vehicle had two antennae sprouting from the rear – but Black Recluses, once unleashed, were bastards to control.
The tanks fell slowly into line, tracks sawing back and forward. The dry soil billowed up as they slewed round. The turrets were locked down and sealed, like rivet-studded boxes. No human crews inside them, but each tank had a machine brain of its own.
Vincent nodded. “Right. Let’s get this done.”
The lead tank’s throttles opened with an atavistic howl. It surged along the track towards the town. The others followed, churning dust, their V-12 Meteor engines roaring thickly. Karen cringed instinctively and watched the beasts come racing for the gate.
* * *
A section of the inner wall had crumbled, and Danni clambered through the narrow gap. The breach had been allowed to fester, poison ivy clinging to the bricks. The Guard were getting ever more complacent. The rubble crunched beneath her boots as Danni eased into the Citadel.
Jenny and her team were running riot in the town, but here the ancient alleyways were silent. Danni had let them charge ahead, then faded back and given them the slip. Their eager onslaught might tie down a company of Guards, but in the end they would be crushed – unless someone cut off the monster’s head.
She’d served with the Shield Section – the elite squad who patrolled the Inner Courts. She knew that everything was run from here. If only she could get a shot at the Battalion Leader, this suicidal mission might succeed.
The tension made her stomach ache. She braced her gun and side-stepped down the lane. The battle sounded miles away, its clamour muffled by the brooding walls. A patrol truck stood abandoned at the corner. She guessed the crew had gone to join the fight. It was a Black Hound pickup; she approached it cautiously. The Court Guard carried MP5s, and a pouch of magazines lay on the seat. Danni glanced around, then took a fresh clip for her gun. There were spare black helmets in the back, which gave her an idea. Taking off her sunglasses, she hooked them through her waistband, then pulled her goggles up over her eyes. She put one of the helmets on and felt herself transformed, once more a member of the grim elite. No-one would look twice at her as she went jogging past – unless it was to double-take her tits.
She hoped they wouldn’t notice that she’d thrown away her navel ring long since.
* * *
A Black Boar had been cornered and was barging round the courtyard, its engine snarling like a maddened beast. Tracey and her team were firing bursts from all around it: dodging out and dancing back, defiant as toreadors. Bullets clanged on armour and whined off at crazy angles. A Guard hung sprawling from the turret ring.
The Boar backed off, guns blazing from its windows. It scrunched around and charged towards the gate. Tracey and the others broke from cover to pursue it. They’d never felt so giddily empowered.
A sudden roar came from the gate, as if some giant beast was in the tunnel. Startled, Tracey broke her stride. Foreboding gripped her stomach. A clatter underpinned the noise, like skeletons in armour on the march. Then a monstrous black shape surged through into the courtyard, and Tracey’s exultation came apart.
The jeep, one and a quarter tons, drove straight into the twenty-nine ton tank. It reared up with a crunch and rolled aside. The Black Recluse smashed past it and bore down on Tracey’s team. Before the Dolls could scatter, the machine gun in its turret opened up.
The blast of bullets made them squeal like schoolgirls at a concert and head-bang to the devastating beat. Wounds were gouged in tender flesh, and mottled camouflage was splashed with red. Each third round was a tracer, glowing vividly in flight. They zipped around like demon fireflies.
Tracey wailed in fear and fury, triggering her gun. The turret turned unhurriedly towards her. The fleeing girls it tracked across cried out in agony. She backed away and realised she was up against the wall. Her PPS clunked empty - then she felt her breasts erupt.
The first two rounds to strike were standard ammo. They seared into her firm right breast and carved two bloody holes above her bra. The impact slammed her back against the stonework, but before her open mouth could scream, a tracer bullet punctured her left breast. The round deflected off a rib and lodged inside her chest. It sizzled and ignited there, not even quenched by blood. Tracey shrieked despairingly as it devoured her heart. She writhed in anguish, clawed her tits, then slithered down to sprawl among her friends.
The tank came clanking on across the courtyard, its sensors homing in on body heat. The frontal gun was firing too. Another arc of tracers streamed away. “Pull back! Run!” Jo shouted through the terrifying racket. She was crouching at the corner, pistol pointed uselessly. The few surviving girls retreated past her down the street. The roaring engine, squeaking tracks and hammering machine guns filled the air.
“Christ, come on!” sobbed Nicola, and she and Jo went dashing after them. The black tank lumbered in pursuit. It sheared a marble pillar, dashing centuries-old carvings to the flagstones. The street was too confined for it. They glimpsed it take a chunk out of the corner. As it reared across the rubble, they dodged round into another alleyway. It was too narrow for the tank to follow. The wide shape of a Boar was blocking it.
The crew of Guards were firing even as they disembarked. Their rifles flared like lightning in the shade. The last of Tracey’s team were cut down, clutching at themselves, too shaken to return the hail of fire. A few tried to find shelter in the arcade on their right, but the slender pillars offered little cover. The big girl in the camo pants found nowhere she could hide. She screamed as bullets tore through her large breasts.
Rebekah swung out of the Boar, still triggering her pistol. Her smile was vixenish beneath her shades. She’d put her boots and shorts on, but her own breasts were still bare. They quivered with each kick of her M9. The Dolls who’d blundered down the lane died squealing – but the renegades behind them were already shooting back.
Nicola’s gun chattered as the dying girl in front of her went down. The Guard who’d fired the fatal shots had switched her aim already, and her slender suntanned belly was exposed. The burst minced through her stomach muscles, making her cry hoarsely and convulse. Jo, meanwhile, pumped two shots through the Doll who was collapsing in her path. The magnum rounds made short work of the girl’s expiring flesh, and burst through to cut down another Guard. Nicola screamed hatefully, her M16 vibrating. The hemmed-in roar of gunfire almost blotted out the tank.
The Boar’s windshield imploded and the driver jerked and shimmied in her seat. Rebekah hit the gutter while the other Guards shrank back behind the jeep. Her M9 blazed as fast as she could pull the pistol’s trigger, and one shot caught the girl below her crisscrossed bandoliers. Nicola wailed miserably and hunched around the blow, the M16 still spewing in one hand. Rebekah put a round into the bulge of her left breast, and watched her pretty features clench with pain.
“Nicky!” shouted Jo and rolled aside, her own gun blasting. Rebekah matched her shot for shot, the marble pillars splintering between them. Nicola flopped down to join the other nubile corpses, but neither girl gave her a second glance. Jo twisted like a breakdancer and killed a Guard who was trying to outflank her. Rebekah now lay on her back, her bosom pulsing as she blazed away. Bullets shrilled through the arcade. Another Guard sobbed out in sudden pain. Jo swung round to finish her, and her trigger-finger stiffened with surprise. The girl was bending forward with an arrow stuck between her shoulder blades.
Even as she stared, more arrows hissed into the alley. The last Guard by the jeep screamed pitifully. Jo glimpsed the archers crouching on the tiled roof opposite. Not all the warrior maidens had been killed.
Rebekah cursed and scrambled up. She wasn’t smiling now. Crouching in the shelter of the Boar she kept on firing, while Jo closed in along the colonnade. Chips of marble filled the air as ornate capitals were gouged away. The arrows whirred and streaked around them both.
Rebekah’s gun locked open, and Jo tasted victory. She lunged in for a final shot, but the bitch sprang up and came at her head-on. Before Jo could correct her aim, the smaller girl was on her, a lissom cougar clawing for her gun. They reeled around the dim arcade, grimacing in each other’s furious faces. Rebekah’s shades gave her a soulless look.
Abruptly she grasped Jo’s lapels and swung her round towards the open street. Jo felt her spine begin to itch, the archers taking aim. She kicked and struggled fiercely, but Rebekah held on tight. Her soft tits bulged against Jo’s chest, but her muscles were as hard as unripe fruit.
The two of them lurched back towards the edge of the arcade. Jo gave a little whimper of despair. Then she felt a choking blow as something struck her back. It punched straight through and pierced her lung: the pressure made her choke. And then Rebekah grunted too, mouth open with surprise beneath her shades. The arrow had emerged and sunk its barb into her breast.
“Hnuh!” gasped Jo, too anguished to enjoy the irony. She gripped Rebekah’s shoulders with both hands. Rebekah made a girlish sound of horrified dismay. Her tender flesh was throbbing painfully.
Then Jo’s knees unlocked and she slumped backwards. Rebekah bleated shrilly as the barb gnawed at her breast. She toppled over with the girl – and realised what was going to happen next. She just had time to squeal before they landed on the arrow in Jo’s back.
The shaft drove through the dying redcap’s body and straight into Rebekah’s lovely breast. She screamed in helpless agony, her cry rebounding from the ancient walls. Her body heaved and squirmed, which only made the arrow twist, the pain increasing till she screamed again. She ground her pelvis against Jo’s, then bit her lip and sobbed. The Doll Soldier stared up at her and smiled. Blood came oozing from her mouth, as red as her beret, and then her head rolled loosely to one side. Rebekah slumped on her like a spent lover, her own lips red as blood beneath the death stare of her shades.
* * *
Jessika didn’t feel her lover dying. She was too focused on the job in hand. “Stand and fight, you bitches!” she yelled crossly, and grasped the tee-shirt of a fleeing Guard. The fabric ripped, revealing all. The frightened girl blushed pink despite herself. Her fellow Guards lurched into line and began returning fire. The Dolls in desert khaki hit the dirt.
Jessika’s own sub-machine gun belched defiantly. The butt was jammed against her hip; the recoil made her pelvis grind and thrust. Her 36C breasts were joggling through her open jacket. Her handsome face was clenched exultantly.
She’d rallied them around one of the watchtowers on the wall. There were orange-trees behind it, and the Dolls had infiltrated through the grove. Once, this grassy garden would have been a place for poets. Now the trees were shredded as a bonfire crackle filled the patio.
Jessika clapped one Guard on the shoulder and fell back. They dodged between the streams of Schmeisser rounds. She led the girl into the tower, and up a flight of steps to the next floor. A glassless window gave them a fresh angle, and they fired down at the advancing Dolls. The closest were caught unawares and fell beneath the burst. One girl clapped her hand against her forehead, as if she’d just remembered something she was meant to do. Blood came leaking out between her fingers, and her eyes stared blankly as she fell aside.
The other sub-machine guns spat and chattered, and the group of cornered Guards began to die. They backed towards the tower, but were picked off one by one. The girl in the ripped tee-shirt wailed and clutched her riddled bosom, her blush becoming ashen as she dropped. Jenny’s Foxes leaned around the trees and sprayed the tower, their bullets biting chunks out of the brickwork. Jessika jerked back and heard the Guard beside her grunt; a ripe tomato splattered on the wall. Blood spilled from a hole in the girl’s forehead and she slumped, but Jessika kept firing ruthlessly.
A trench ran underneath the tower – a passage from one bastion to the next. Jenny used it to get round behind the last few Guards, and let her Thompson blaze into their backs. As they crumpled, gurgling, she ran up to the main doorway, and swung into the dimness of the tower. Her bright eyes squinted warily. The clammy coolness turned her nipples hard. Then she heard another burp of gunfire from upstairs.
By this point she was breathless with excitement. Her heart was leaping underneath her ribs. Compulsively she pulled her coarse shirt open and fumbled at her breasts with her free hand. Her flowered sepia panties were becoming moist and sticky. She hoped that blonde ex-Guard would peel them off.
Trying to breathe shallowly, she tiptoed up the stairs, her Thompson now gripped tightly in both hands. The upper space was gloomy, but she glimpsed a figure crouching at the window. Unlike the other Guards, she wore a short black jacket rather than a tee-shirt. Jenny fired a burst into her back and watched her jerking. The girl pitched through the window and was gone.
Jenny’s perky breasts grew taut. She hurried to the window and looked down. The five survivors of her team broke cover and came forward. Distant gunfire spiked the air, but the body-littered orange grove was silent.
The girl she’d shot was spread-eagled like roadkill on the flagstones. Jenny smirked. “I take it that she’s dead?”
“Sure,” one of her girls called up. “You let her have one right between the eyes!”
Jenny blinked. Her smug look faltered. “Through the forehead? But …”
“But nothing, bitch,” said Jessika. “Goodbye.”
Jenny swung around and glimpsed a naked girl behind her – her modesty concealed behind her sub-machine gun’s drum. The weapon gave a throaty roar and Jenny screamed as bullets lashed her body. The impacts drove her back out through the window, and as she fell, her killer followed through and sprayed the team. The PPSh burped three more times – each belch was seven rounds. The startled girls flipped off their feet and died before their leader hit the ground.
Jenny’s corpse bounced upward like a broken doll, then slumped. The jolt sprayed fresh blood from her punctured tits. Her cat-with-cream expression had become a whey-faced sulk. A dark new bloom soaked through her flowered briefs.
Jessika came down the steps, her body nude and splendid. The fug of smoking cartridges was better than a spliff. A rack of magazines was on the wall beside the doorway, and she took a fresh drum for her PPSh. Fondling her crotch, she sauntered out into the sunlight, and stripped her jacket off the twice-killed Guard. The corpse had not bled much, but there were half a dozen holes in the material. Jessika clicked her tongue and slung the jacket round her shoulders. The silver skull was grinning hungrily.
* * *
Vincent wiped his mouth again. His blue eyes were intense. Karen glimpsed dark patches in the armpits of his coat. The Vault was feeling crushed and claustrophobic, as if they had been walled up here alive.
The tanks were on the rampage, lurching onto every screen. The Range technicians looked on, mesmerised. The Black Recluses smashed through walls and bulldozed ancient cloisters. A tracer-blizzard whipped across the town.
“Jesus, Vincent!” – Jaz’s voice – “I want some buildings standing when you’re done!”
“No worries,” Vincent told her. Then to Karen: “Rein them back.” She tapped her keyboard, hoping for the best. Someone came into the room. She saw them from the corner of her eye. Vincent turned, preoccupied. “And who the hell are you?”
It was a Guard in goggles, staring back impassively. He registered blonde hair under the helmet, and big tits. Then her silenced sub-machine gun rose to point at him. “Fuck!” he gasped, and Danni smiled.
“No thanks.”
The sub-machine gun gave a muffled cough and smashed his chest. The back of his coat turned red and blew apart. Danni turned her gun on the technicians. Their lab coats sprouted poppies as they fell. In moments there was no-one left but Karen. She sat with both hands frozen on her keyboard, and waited for the worst with saucer eyes.
Danni curled her pretty mouth and let the trigger go. She took her helmet off and let her mane of hair cascade around her shoulders. Still aiming with one hand, she pulled her goggles down to dangle at her throat. Then she crossed the room and placed the silencer against the shocked girl’s head.
“Those tanks need tougher meat to chew. Let’s see how the Commanders cope with them.”
“Jesus,” Karen whimpered. “I’ll be dead if I do that!” The suppressor burned the skin behind her ear. Danni jabbed it in a little harder. “Believe me, girl,” she murmured, “you’ll be deader if you don’t.”
* * *
Jaz took her Beretta from the antique writing desk. Still nude, she went back over to the window. The sunlight warmed her skin and found its golden undertones, but a queasy chill was lurking in her gut.
She leaned across the windowsill, not caring who might get to see her tits. The crack and zip of gunfire filled the air. But all around she heard the tanks. Their engines roared and whined. Tracks clattered over cobblestones and crunched on broken bricks. She glimpsed one briefly, prowling, as inhuman as a sphinx. It made her very glad she was up here.
“You’d best not show yourself, Battalion Leader.”
Emma was watching earnestly, her carbine’s butt extended, the weapon angled down across her breasts. Jaz gave her a look, and then moved back into the room. “The Commanders will go mad,” she murmured softly. “Could you stop a fallen angel with that gun?”
Her bodyguard just swallowed. Then her naked muscles tensed. She’d sensed a shift of air in the apartment. Jaz’s fine hairs stiffened as she registered it too. She watched as Emma’s wide green eyes grew narrow.
Silence from the other rooms. The distant pop of gunfire couldn’t pierce it. Emma turned and prowled towards the doorway, carbine braced. Jaz brought the Beretta up, her finger twitching through the trigger-guard.
Emma paused to listen, then eased through into the passage. A shape was waiting poised beside the doorway. She glimpsed it and began to turn. Leilani’s sword lashed out. The edge sliced into Emma’s throat and lodged between her spinal vertebrae.
Emma made a croaking sound. Her mouth gaped like an O. Blood welled up around the blade and spilled onto her breasts. Her pale green eyes stared wildly, but her twitching flesh was dead from the neck down. The M4 clattered from her nerveless fingers. Leilani glimpsed her panties fill with pee.
She tried to wrench the sword out, but the edge was stuck in bone and cartilage. More blood poured like sauce out of the slice through Emma’s neck. Her loosened body slumped towards Leilani’s. Her eyes glazed and grew hooded, but the blade would not come free.
Jaz’s pistol blasted, tearing splinters from the doorframe. Leilani ducked and dragged the girl around. The next shot pierced Emma’s back and blurted from her breast. Leilani squealed as more blood spattered her. The sword came loose at last, and she dived headlong out of Jaz’s line of fire. The hapless bodyguard collapsed. She heard the smack of wet breasts on the tiles.
Jaz cried out in fury and poured bullets after her. The blasts resounded off the stuccoed walls. Leilani rolled across the passage, scrambled up and darted through a doorway. She found herself in Jaz’s bedroom, gilded and engraved with Cufic script. The air was full of body-musk and incense. The crumpled linen sheets still smelled of sex.
Leilani crouched beside the doorway, muscles throbbing with adrenalin. All her fears had focused in a calculating rage; she flexed her hands around the bony hilt. Jaz, meanwhile, came stalking from her study, her oiled body gleaming lusciously. Stepping over Emma’s corpse and the pool of blood around it, she cat-footed towards her bedroom door.
Leilani chewed her lip. Her heart was bulging in her breast. The sharp curve of her sword was poised to strike. Then the bitch plunged through the doorway, diving in under Leilani’s slash. She rolled and fired, the bullets gouging chunks out of the wall, an antique vase exploding in the corner. Leilani dodged aside but lost her balance. The sword slipped from her grasp as she went down.
Jaz squirmed round to finish her. Leilani pounced and tried to claw her face. Jaz got off one unaimed shot, then dropped her gun to fight the wildcat off. The two girls kicked and wrestled on the polished wooden floor. Jaz locked her hands around Leilani’s throat.
“You stupid little bitch,” she snarled. “You think that you can take on the Commanders?” Leilani kicked and clutched at her, but couldn’t get a purchase on her flesh. “Their world is older than ours,” Jaz went on fiercely. “They walked the Earth before the Flood, and now they want it back!”
Still on her knees, she shoved the girl away and grasped her pistol. Leilani caught herself and snatched her sword up from the floor. She put her strength behind it in a straight, instinctive thrust. The point pierced Jaz below the diaphragm.
The Indian girl grimaced and mewled, her pistol still half-raised. The pain was like the world’s worst tummy-ache. Leilani bared her teeth and got both hands around the sword-hilt. “I guess that hara-kiri is your only option now.”
She sliced the blade straight down through Jaz’s belly. It cut the girl’s firm flesh like scissored silk. Jaz felt a gutted numbness for an instant, and then her guts caught fire and made her shriek. The razor edge cut smoothly till it grated on the diamond in her navel. Flecks of scarlet stung Leilani’s breasts; she kept on straining. The Battalion Leader howled towards the ceiling – then gurgled as her throat filled up with blood.
* * *
“Oh my God,” said Karen, as a Black Recluse smashed through the inner courtyard. A row of slender pillars snapped, and tipped a portico on top of it. The black tank shrugged the rubble off, still blundering around like a trapped bull. Its turret swivelled with a whine, and then its cannon thundered, demolishing a building’s whole facade.
It seemed as if the chaos on the screens would flood the room. She pressed her fingers to her trembling lips. Beside her, Danni watched the mayhem with a twisted smile. She’d put her gun down on the desk, well out of Karen’s reach.
One of the Commanders moved across another screen, like an armour-plated chess piece on the prowl. Karen scarcely dared to look, afraid that she would meet the Gorgon’s gaze. The mobile throne swung round to face a lumbering Recluse, and then began to glide out of its path. But the black tank scuttled forward like a spider. The evil figure crumpled like a can beneath its tracks.
“Checkmate, I reckon,” Danni murmured dryly. The turret of the tank came whirring round. It pumped a high-explosive shell through the Commanders’ palace, which foundered in a burst of smoke and bricks.
Karen winced and Danni grinned. “Mind if I interrupt?” a cold voice said.
Danni swung around, her face shocked back to adolescence. A shapely girl was coming down the steps. She wore a panzer jacket but was naked underneath it, with round breasts and a tidy pubic tuft. Her brown hair was like fire-lit smoke. Her dark eyes gleamed like buttons. She held a pistol in one hand, a stubby sub-machine gun in the other.
Danni glanced towards her gun. She knew she’d never reach it. You dozy cow, she shouted at herself.
Jessika smiled amiably – then dropped her gaze, like everybody did. “Mm, nice tits,” she murmured. “Shame to spoil them.”
She aimed the pistol casually and fired a bullet into Danni’s navel. It struck the healed puncture where she used to wear her gem. “Ough!” the blonde girl grunted with an agonised grimace, convulsing round the sickening implosion. Jessika let her pistol rear up, and fired again. A bright red spot appeared on Danni’s forehead. Blood spattered through her long blonde hair and daubed the wall behind her. The ex-Guard stuck her tits out as though inviting the next bullet, but Jessika just stood and savoured them. They bounced and joggled as the girl flopped backwards, then settled as she slithered to the floor.
Jessika turned to Karen as if surprised to find her there. “Don’t think much of yours,” she said, and fired her sub-machine gun. The blurt of bullets riddled Karen’s chest and choked her scream. She toppled loosely from her chair, her spectacles still balanced on her nose.
Jessika sighed dreamily, then moved to the workstation. Holstering her pistol, she pored over the controls. Up on the main screen, a tank drove forward brutally. The Citadel was looking like a demolition site. She scanned the lights and switches with a faint frown on her face – then stepped back, raised her PPSh and gutted the console. The asterisk-shaped muzzle flash reflected off the screens, which died as sparks erupted from the banks.
Out in the streets, the Black Recluses powered down at once. A boxy turret stopped in mid-traverse. Shattered buildings settled, and sporadic gunfire still rang out around them. But the four black tanks remained inert, as the Guards and Dolls began to re-emerge.
* * *
Leilani came upon one as she limped around a corner. It was standing in an open square, as daunting as an iron dinosaur. Her heart squeezed like a fist, but she was too drained to react. The armoured shape stayed motionless. She sensed that it was sleeping if not dead. At least it wasn’t one of those black creatures. She padded past it, wishing she could just collapse and sleep.
Jaz’s screams still echoed, like they’d never go away. Her blood felt sticky on Leilani’s breasts. But the disembowelled girl was in her bedroom, a woebegone expression on her face. Leilani rubbed her forehead, brushing lank hair from her eyes. She trudged around the tank – and came up short.
A girl in a black jacket was approaching from the far side of the square. She’d lost her panties somewhere, but she didn’t seem to mind: her hips swayed with instinctive provocation. Long-limbed, sleek and auburn-haired – Leilani guessed she was a stray Doll Soldier. But then the girl looked up, and fixed Leilani with a predatory stare.
She brought her sub-machine gun up, and Leilani skittered backwards. The weapon stuttered hungrily, and bullets rang and rattled off the tank. Leilani rolled behind the hulking shape, her heartbeat racing. Part of her was scared the noise would wake its demon crew.
She gripped her sword, but knew that it was useless. She needed a restricted space to even up the odds. Keeping the tank between her and bitch in the black jacket, she ducked into the nearest alleyway.
No cover here. She dashed along it, feeling needles prickle her bare back. She came into a courtyard with a water pump in it. A dead girl in a Hussar’s coat lay crumpled on the blood-splashed cobblestones. Leilani realised this was where the whole thing had begun – the Doll’s House outside which they’d disembarked. She glanced around uncertainly, then fled into the building. A trail of crimson spots gleamed in her wake.
Jessika came panting in pursuit, her weapon braced. As she ran into the yard, a couple of Doll Soldiers came at her. The girls were Redcoats, drunk on plundered wine, their faces flushed. She dropped them both with one dismissive burst and kept on going. The two girls squealed with pain, abruptly sobered, and tumbled to the cobbles in her wake.
Leilani cast around in the cool building. The silence and the whitewashed walls enclosed her like a tomb. The dry air had a musky, sweet aroma – a tang of incense and essential oils. She moved along a passageway and reached a wooden door. The smell was getting stronger all the time. She glanced over her shoulder, then slipped quickly through the doorway. And then she gave a whimper of dismay.
The room beyond was long and narrow, lined with dado tiles. She thought it might have been a bathhouse once. Now there were worktops on one side, and meat hooks down the middle. A double row of girls were hung on them.
Leilani clapped her hand across her mouth. Her eyes grew huge. The girls were nude and slick with oil – it must have been rubbed in to help preserve them. Each body had been neatly hooked between the shoulder-blades, which made them dangle with their tits stuck out.
Wendy was suspended at the end of the front row, her sweetness locked away behind a sulk. And there was Susie next to her – the short-haired blonde who’d help rescue Leilani. Her pubic hair was mousy-brown. She wouldn’t want just anyone to know that …
The stealthy scuff of combat boots came down the passageway. Leilani gasped and ran towards the girls. She moved behind them, cringing at their closeness. The row of perfumed sex dolls seemed to stir. Leilani closed her eyes. The smell was cloying in her brain. She didn’t even realise she was crouching next to Katy, the snooty redcoat whom she’d helped to kill.
Jessika came through the door and saw the ripened bodies. Her naked breasts grew taut as she breathed in. She recognised Louise and Claire, strung up in the front row, their punctured flesh cosmetically repaired. Their mouths were wide in silent accusation. Jessika prowled closer, smiling now.
“All right,” she called, “let’s finish this!” The cool room gave her voice a hollow sound. “Don’t make me wait, you bitch. I’m getting hot!”
Leilani swallowed, gripped her sword. She listened to the boots come creaking closer. Then Jessika fired a burst into the bodies. Susie jiggled on her hook as bloodless holes appeared in her pale flesh. Her head flopped loosely, mouth agape. The bodies round her twitched in sympathy.
Leilani lunged through the limp crowd and slashed at Jessika. Her blade cut through the tall girl’s sleeve. Blood welled out of the slit. Jessika gave a yelp of pain, and brought the sub-machine gun round one-handed. Leilani was caught up in the embrace of the dead girls – it took a nightmare moment to get free. Then she stumbled back as bullets hammered through their flesh. The bodies jerked and wriggled like hooked fishes. Amelia and Zoe danced with Vicky and Leighanne. Connie’s carefully patched-up breasts were ruptured once again.
“Fucking bitch!” said Jessika. She shouldered through the lines. As the dead Dolls hampered her, Leilani lunged again. Jessika brought her sub-machine gun up to block the blow, but the strength behind the downswing left her reeling. Leilani followed through and tried to aim another slash, but Jessika put a boot into her belly. Leilani whooped and stumbled back. The tall girl tried to bring her weapon round. But a lifeless, trailing arm was still draped round her, as if the corpse was seeking company.
Leilani charged again, with strength she didn’t know she had. She swung the sword at Jessika’s pale face. Again the tall girl parried, but this time the blade sank into the gun’s forestock. Leilani bore her backwards with their weapons locked together until Jessika collided with a worktop. She gasped with pain and bent across it, drawing up one knee, her muscles straining as she blocked the sword. Leilani craned above her, trying to force the cutting edge towards her face. Then she glimpsed the pistol in its holster next to Jessika’s left breast. Impulsively she snatched the gun, and shoved it into her opponent’s pussy.
Jessika was wet already, oozing with her murderous desires. The pistol slid in snugly, like an angular vibrator, a fist in her vagina’s velvet glove. She gasped to feel her pelvis filled, her wide eyes staring up into Leilani’s. Then the trigger gave, and sent a bolt of sizzling energy right through her. The bubble of hot gas compressed her G-spot and she arched her spine with an orgasmic sob. It felt for just an instant like being fucked by a dark angel – and then the bullet ploughed up through her guts to pierce her heart. Jessika bucked fiercely with her head thrown back, breasts heaving. Leilani was thrown off and stumbled clear. The pistol slipped out of her hand and clattered to the floor tiles. Jessika’s breath sighed out, and she went limp.
The blast had cauterised the wound. There wasn’t any blood. But as Leilani watched, a wisp of smoke came curling from the dead girl’s pussy. It rose like pale mist through her pubic hair.
A grim smile crossed Leilani’s face. “You told me you were getting hot,” she said.
* * *
Picking up her fallen sword, she walked towards the doorway, not giving Jessika another glance. The sex dolls had grown quiet again, and dangled dolefully. She turned her back on their slumped bodies too.
Glistening with blood, she plodded down the corridor – then stiffened as she heard an engine growling. It sounded like a Black Boar pulling up in the front yard. Boots came down on cobblestones. She almost turned to run. But what would be the point after all this?
Flexing sweaty fingers round the sword, she kept on going. A voice was speaking curtly in the yard. She heard the rasp of rifle bolts, and then the Guards barged in. Leilani screamed and went for them head on.
The blade flashed forehand, backhand, spraying globules of blood across the wall. She kicked a dying girl aside and lunged into the yard. The sword hacked through another Guard’s slim belly, and then a gun butt slammed into her head. She gasped and crumpled forward, but the ground was snatched away and she plunged into a bottomless black pit.
Half a dozen Guards trained M16s on her prone body. “She killed the Boss,” said someone. “And the Spearhead Leader too!” One of the girls took aim towards the base of the girl’s skull. But someone else said, “Hold it!” and then touched her earphone. She listened, then allowed herself a wintry little smile. “The Commanders want to get their claws on her.”
* * *
* * *
She woke up slowly, muzzily, and opened her dark eyes. The room was full of early morning gold. The sheets felt cool and crisp, though she’d been sweating in her sleep. A spicy hint of incense tinged the air.
Leilani sat up in the bed and stretched luxuriously. The sheets slid off her glossy, naked skin. She listened to the silence. There were pigeons whirring just outside her window. She shook her silky dark hair back and clambered out of bed. Fresh rose petals floated in the washbowl in the corner, and she splashed and dried herself unhurriedly. Then she put on a black thong and matching miniskirt, the latter garment decent by an inch. She shrugged into a tight black bodice, fastening two buttons, her firm breasts straining to be free again. She posed before the mirror, taking time to get things straight. She’d always been a rather vain young lady.
As she brushed her mane of hair, she thought again how privileged she was. Most of the past was just a blur, but she knew her strength and skill had got her here. The thought of what was lurking in the Watch Tower made her pause – but the adulation of the girls would compensate for that.
She stroked the tattoo on her left arm – an ethnic cross which framed a hooded eye. It wasn’t itching any more. Like the gash behind her ear, it was well healed.
A knock came on the door as she was putting on her boots. “Come in,” she called and straightened up. A pair of Guards came through, saluting smartly. “I hope that you slept well, Battalion Leader,” simpered one. “The exercise is waiting on your word.”
Leilani preened herself and put her shades on. The lenses were like insect’s eyes, but the smile beneath was no less beautiful. This strange new world was endlessly exciting. “Let’s rock,” she said, and led them through the door.
The End
This story and many of its characters were inspired by “Winsome Warriors”, “More Winsome Warriors” and “Soldier Girls”, three photo-books featuring a number of sexy ladies almost wearing a range of historical uniforms. Highly recommended! Published in the UK and quite hard to get hold of, but try www.caliverbooks.com.
Extranjero_solo@hotmail.com