Posted by Extranjero on May 14, 2007 at 10:57:19:
STORM SISTERS (Part 2)
“You shot that bitch too soon,” Louisa grumbled. “She hadn’t told us everything she knew.”
Leilani folded her bare arms and leaned against the table. She met her colonel’s glare defensively. The office was hot, the windows fogged. The log fire popped and crackled in the background.
Her clothes were still Command-Guard black: a tight tee-shirt and pair of Lycra leggings. A band of muscled midriff showed between them. The tee-shirt held her shapely bosom snug.
“You’re meant to lead on counter-terrorism,” Louisa said. Her tone of voice was almost petulant. She was sitting behind her rosewood desk, a tall brunette with pale, pampered skin. Her large brown eyes and dimpled cheeks gave her a winsome look, but Leilani knew the sweetness was skin-deep.
“So I am,” she muttered. “And I think we’ve got the Foxes on the run. Another base was hit last night. I’ll have a full report when Zoey’s back.”
Louisa didn’t look impressed. She sat back in her chair. Her rust-brown jacket, draped with braid, fell open to reveal her black silk bra.
“We still don’t have their leaders, though. That prisoner could have put us onto them.”
“Sure, if we had tortured her. Stuck needles in her tits.” Leilani shrugged. “I’m sorry, but I’m not that kind of girl.”
“It’s just as well that someone is,” a dry voice said from over by the fire.
Leilani glanced reluctantly towards the other person in the room. The girl beside the hearth had just returned from a patrol and was basking in the warm glow of the flames. She wore a long black coat with a fur collar, unbuttoned now to let the heat inside. Beneath it she wore knee-high boots, a pair of tight black shorts, and a matching waistcoat moulded to her curves.
The girl called Nikola looked round, still rubbing her soft hands. Her face was finely-chiselled, with high cheekbones and a primly tilted nose. Her pale complexion made her eyes seem bluer, and emphasised the gloss of her dark hair. She was wearing a hat of darker fur. A silver skull insignia gleamed on it.
Leilani pouted, looked away. She felt the gooseflesh spreading up her arms. Nikola led a troop of mounted raiders, affiliated to the Field Brigades. They’d started out as Doll Soldiers – the brainwashed raw recruits – and coalesced into a vicious gang. Now they carried out reprisal actions, and turned the snows to scarlet in their wake.
She and her girls were known as the Black Cossacks. A sabre was still slung across her thigh.
“I do know how to fight a war,” Leilani countered flatly. “Why else did the Commanders send me here?”
“Why indeed?” Louisa asked, a sour look on her face. She’d always been resentful of Leilani. Envious of the girl’s exotic beauty, to be sure, but mindful of her murky past as well. Her gaze flicked to the sigil on Leilani’s naked arm. The mark of the Commanders on her flesh.
Nikola had taken out a silver cigarette case. She pushed a slim cheroot between her teeth. A match flared and she sucked on it, still staring at Leilani. The flame reflected in her eyes like sparks in pale blue ice.
“Let’s wait and hear what Zoey has to say,” Leilani murmured. She rubbed at her tattoo uneasily. Her eyes went to the death’s head above Nikola’s cold gaze. The crushed grin of skull was just as scornful.
* * *
Lena peered out of the window. “Jeez, those bitches just can’t get enough.”
Leilani sipped her drink and moved to join her. The gates were open down below, and the Cossacks were already riding out. Each girl wore a heavy coat that draped over her mount so she could share its steaming body heat. That was how they managed with so little underneath. The Doll Soldiers were always thinly-clad.
“They’ll butcher anything that moves,” Leilani muttered grimly. “Including any stray civilians.” This region was off-limits to the people in the cities, but they couldn’t keep the fighting quiet for ever.
The two of them had also been civilians once, of course. Then they’d been snatched out of their lives, and trained as killers in a secret army. The Commanders had the planet now, but people still resisted. The fringes were still rent by ragged wars.
But the beings which they served would surely conquer in the end. They were the spawn of angels, after all. Demons from an older world who’d risen from the ashes. Now they ruled the nations, although life went on in blissful ignorance.
“What did the Colonel have to say?” asked Lena, as their breath fogged up the glass.
“She wants more missions launched against the rebels – while she sits back and counts the cost from here. I’m meant to lead them personally. Louisa doesn’t like me very much.”
“You should’ve learned to lick her arse,” grinned Lena.
Leilani’s smile was faint but fond. “Oh, I can think of sweeter ones than hers.”
Lena blushed despite herself and glanced along the passage. “You may not like it here,” she said, “but at least you can say you’re living in a palace!”
And so it was, or used to be: a great house in the country. Abandoned and decaying now, but its former grandeur showed in every room. She guessed a prince or nobleman had lived here. There was a great oak staircase, and a ballroom that could take a hundred guests.
The Field Brigades had commandeered it as their winter quarters. There were Humvees in the stable block, and troopers bivouacked in the main hall. Officers had their own rooms, with fires and four-post beds. But much of the building was unused, and snow was creeping in through broken windows.
Leilani finished off her vodka. “Right, then, let’s get back to bed,” she said.
“Jesus,” giggled Lena. “You’re insatiable, you know.”
“Nah – I’m simply saving fuel,” Leilani told her sweetly, and they raced each other back into her room
* * *
The sentries in the stable-loft were the first to spot the incoming patrol. Two snowcats came out of the trees, and then the captain’s Humvee, with the battered half-track following behind. One of the troopers peered at them, then spoke into her headset. “Bravo Team are coming in.” She huddled up inside her dappled coat.
“Bet you they got lost,” the duty sergeant smirked below her, adjusting her own headset carelessly. She and her cronies were sitting in the stable, playing cards. An upturned barrel served them for a table, and they sat on boxes and old bales of hay. A paraffin heater made the stale air shimmer. Their coats hung open on their tight silk tops.
The floorboards creaked above them as the sentry started pacing. There were bitter snowflakes in the wind. The other sentry massaged her gloved hands. The convoy came up to the gates, but no-one showed much interest. The snowcats slithered to a halt, but the Humvee rumbled through into the yard.
The gunshots sounded like damp squibs, and no-one seemed to notice them at first. Apart from the few girls in sight, who felt the ripping impact of the rounds. They died with little squeaks of shock and whimpers of dismay, while life around them went on as before.
The Humvee circled on the snowy cobbles, and rebel fighters scrambled from their seats. One girl wore a bearskin coat over her skimpy clothing. A crimson scarf was wrapped around her face. She darted for the stables as the half-track clattered past, and kicked the door wide open with her boot. The card players looked round in irritation. She sprayed them with a blast of silenced slugs.
The thermal tops the troopers wore were good for insulation but didn’t stand a chance against hot lead. The tight silk outlined each girl’s breasts, which joggled as the bullets punctured them. The players squealed and clutched themselves, grimacing as they toppled. In moments there was no-one left alive.
The sergeant landed on her back, her cards pressed to her chest. The ace she held had been shot out, and blood came oozing through the punctured pasteboard. Ignoring her and all the rest, the rebel scurried forward. She started up the wooden steps, her fur coat falling open as she climbed.
But the sentries in the loft had realised something was amiss, and one of them was waiting at the top. Her trigger-finger squeezed before the rebel could react, and her Kalashnikov blazed down through the trapdoor. There was just a thin chemise beneath the rebel’s shaggy coat, and a crop of poppies sprouted from her tits. The girl flipped backwards off the steps, her own gun spitting wildly. Her anguished scream was muffled by her scarf.
The burst of gunfire split the air and galvanised the dozy garrison. Louisa was sitting at her desk, swirling brandy round a glass; she looked towards the window with a start. Leilani was basking in Lena’s glow beneath a mound of bedclothes. Their snuggled bodies tensed, then surged apart.
As they threw the covers back, the half-track’s heavy guns began to fire.
The four big Brownings mounted on the truck’s rotating platform had sufficient firepower to stop a plane. They tracked across the palace front and sent a cyclone tearing through its rooms. Heavy curtains filled like sails as windows shattered inward. A chandelier was severed, and disintegrated even as it fell.
The roar of gunfire drowned the sound of splintering and screams. The unsuspecting troops had little chance. Those in the ballroom bivouac were only wearing panties and silk tops. The doors were blown wide open and a gale of bullets tore into their flesh. A chaos of squeals and spattered blood engulfed the hapless troopers, and the dusty dance floor came to life again. Bodies jerked and jiggled to the beat of the machine guns, while haughty paintings frowned down from the walls.
The scything barrage ripped into the officers’ rooms too. A lieutenant, preening in her bath, cried out in panic as the squall blew in. It overwhelmed her in an instant, chewing through her flesh. Her flailing corpse splashed water up the walls.
The .50 calibre bullets hammered through the room next door, where two girls were canoodling in bed. They just had time to squeal in fright as the antique bedposts splintered, and then the searing hailstorm riddled them. Their bodies bucked, the bedclothes ripped, and scarlet splashed the linen. Then the storm passed on and left their naked corpses lustfully entwined.
The next room down the passageway was gutted in its turn. The French doors to the balcony blew inward. The mattress ruptured in a burst of feathers. But the bodies which had lain on it were pressed against the floor.
Leilani raised her head as the cacophony diminished. She still had one arm over Lena’s back. The air was full of dust and shreds of fabric. The cold flowed in and made her skin shrink tight.
“Shit,” she breathed and raised herself. The Brownings kept on clattering outside. She snatched up her discarded briefs and wriggled into them. Her holstered gun was on her writing desk.
She crossed the room and yanked it out. The pistol’s chunky outline reassured her. It was a Sig-Sauer 226, a weapon she had come to know and trust. Holding it up beside her cheek, she sidled to the doorway. The chill air brought her nipples up like stalks.
Even as she risked a look, the few surviving troops were fighting back. One of the girls in the stable loft fired down into the half-track from behind. A bullet struck the Browning gunner just above her temple, a gout of crimson clotting in her hair. As her elfin body slumped, the pounding guns fell silent. The sentry sprayed the yard as well, and the rebel fighters scurried to get clear.
Louisa was at her shattered window too, and peering out. Her dark hair straggled down her shocked, pale face. Her office was so fuggy that she’d left her jacket open, and now the cold was gnawing through her bra. No time to do the buttons up. She drew her automatic. At least she wore her long brown skirt and boots.
Down in the yard, another girl dismounted from the Humvee and huddled up against its iron bulk. She wore a long black velvet cloak, with a glimpse of gauzy lingerie beneath it. A fur-lined hood was drawn around her pretty, green-eyed face. She clasped a hunting rifle to her chest.
The gun was polished, elegant, with a bolt action and telescopic sights. She gripped it calmly, listening to the bullets ricocheting off the jeep. Across the yard, a trooper darted out and opened fire. The cloaked girl took deliberate aim, and blew the brains out of her pretty head.
Leilani swallowed, searching for a target. She glanced around as Lena came to join her. Her bodyguard was naked underneath a short silk wrap, the garment marred by several bullet holes. She held her MP5, its butt against her firm right breast. Whatever Lena did, she never left her trusty carbine out of reach.
They heard the half-track’s gearbox grate, and then the engine roared. It clattered back and crashed into the stables. As it disappeared inside, the Brownings started firing, the bullets ripping up into the loft. The pair of sentries had no chance as the floor beneath them splintered, the bullets driving up into the roof. One girl flipped into the yard, her hands pressed to her pussy. Even above the snarling guns, Leilani thought she heard her high-pitched squeal.
Several of the Foxes made a rush for the front door. Leilani aimed with both hands, firing down. Louisa opened fire from her own window – but then her weak nerve faltered and she backed away, her gun hand trembling. She bit her lip uncertainly, not sure if she should hide. Oblivious to the cross-hairs which had centred on the arc of her left breast.
The high-powered bullet struck her without sound, and burst her heart. It ploughed out through the back of her brown coat. The hole it left was bigger than a golf-ball, and spurted blood into her brandy glass. The entry wound was nail-head neat, an inch above the cup of her black bra. “Ugh!” she blurted in surprise, and died with wide eyes and a gaping mouth.
As her body flopped, the cloaked girl worked her rifle bolt. The spent shell dropped and sizzled in the snow. Her fighters stormed the palace doors and charged into the building, their weapons spraying anything that moved.
A trooper tried to face them in the hallway. She’d pulled a dappled coat over her panties and crop-top. A fusillade of silenced bullets made her gasp with pain. She crumpled, and the rebels hurdled her.
Some went haring up the old oak staircase. The first one reached the landing as Leilani came towards it from her room. The girl was obviously an ex-Doll Soldier, with a Napoleonic coat under her fur. But her hands clutched a Beretta sub-machine gun, and the thick tube of its silencer swung round.
Leilani’s beauty saved her life. The rebel’s gaze locked onto her bare breasts. The heartbeat’s hesitation was the only break she needed, and her Sig-Sauer blasted down the passageway. The rebel sobbed and stumbled back. Leilani kept on firing. Her left hand closed around her right as the pistol’s recoil throbbed into her tits.
The bullets smashed the Fox’s breastbone and she somersaulted down the stairs. Leilani pumped her trigger, rushing forward. The next girl glimpsed her bouncing bosom, then went down as well, a coin-sized crimson blot on her pale forehead.
More guns spewed from further down the staircase. The bullets chewed the wooden panelling. Leilani skittered back, retreating down the corridor. The rebel vixens scrambled in her wake.
Lena swung out of a doorway, aiming from the shoulder. The leading Fox was wearing a red neck rag. Lena shot her through it, and the girl clutched at her throat. She gave a crimson cough and slumped aside.
Leilani ducked around the nearest corner, then leaned back out to cover Lena in. Together they fled on into the depths of the old palace, while fitful gunfire echoed round the walls. Leilani had a fresh clip in the waistband of her knickers, while Lena’s spare was gripped between her teeth.
They came into a gallery that overlooked the body-littered ballroom. A couple of Foxes were scavenging; they looked up and Leilani killed them both. The girls collapsed among their victims, looking thunderstruck. And then the other rebels caught them up.
Lena threw herself aside as bullet holes defaced a mildewed portrait. Her thumb clicked the selector and she fired a three-round burst. It caught the Fox beneath her breasts and flipped her over backwards. A sunlit window smashed beneath her weight.
Leilani’s eyes were dark as caves, her pouting lips pursed tight. A strand of silken hair was in her face. She blazed away implacably, but the Foxes drove them back. There were snipers firing from below, and some had reached the facing gallery. Lena flipped her gun to automatic and kept shooting. The space resounded like a storm, and empty shells spun out into the void.
The two girls darted back through the next doorway. The room beyond was full of muffled shapes. Bits of antique furniture, forgotten under dust sheets. The grate was long unused and choked with snow.
Leilani panted, glancing round. She realised they were trapped. There were stealthy footsteps in the gallery. Her pistol had locked open. She released the empty clip, and pulled the only backup from her briefs.
Lena moved in front of her, and pressed her back against Leilani’s breasts. Leilani hugged her tightly from behind. Her left arm cuddled Lena’s tits. She aimed the Sig across her lover’s shoulder. Lena was breathing nervously, but kept her carbine braced.
There was a nipple-prickling pause, and then something was thrown into the room. It bounced and rolled towards them like a drinks can. “Grenade!” yelped Lena, rearing back. The object spewed a hissing cloud of smoke. Leilani’s eyes began to sting, and then she started coughing. A burning pressure grew inside her chest.
The white fumes were as thick as curdled milk – not smoke, but gas. The two girls panicked as it filled their lungs. Leilani’s thoughts grew dark and soupy as she choked on it. She slumped onto a sheeted couch and sprawled there like a graceful effigy.
Lena fired a blinded burst, then crumpled at her feet. Her wrap rode up her shapely, naked thigh. The gas began dispersing but the two girls lay inert, like a pair of sulky-looking sleeping beauties.
Figures closed in through the haze and kicked their fallen weapons out of reach. Gas-masked faces peered down at them. One of the rebels went back out into the gallery and peeled her respirator off again.
The cloaked girl in the lingerie was lounging in the passage, her hunting rifle braced against her thigh. She turned to her confederate. Her dimpled smile belied her cunning look. The cold had made her fair skin paler, but her eyes were bright.
“That’s it,” the rebel said. “We’ve got them both.”