by Logan Jacobs
“Well,” Thomas said from my other side. “We need to figure out something fast because this guy is the only living link we have the President’s daughter’s location. The computer is encrypted and even our best hackers can’t break it. At least not in the next thirty-six hours.”
Once Chaz had recovered enough, he teleported back to Paris and then got us all home. Thomas’ Strike Team had managed to save a good number of the Commando Jaubert’s soldiers but the mission had been an unmitigated disaster. The prisoner Aurora and I had been able to capture was our only chance to find out where the main Skalle Furia force was.
“Let me get in there with him for a little bit,” Nova said as she cracked her knuckles. “See how much pain his physiology can take.”
“If I thought it would do any good, Nova,” Olivia said with a sigh. “I’d be more than happy to let you. The harder you hit, the more it strengthens their resolve.”
“What are we going to do?” I asked. “We don’t have time for this.”
Just then, the door of the holding room opened and Aurora sauntered in. She’d changed out of her combat gear and was back in her normal attire. Actually, it was a bit skimpier than her normally skimpy clothing, and her curvaceous little body was clad in a sheer, lace banded teddy that left practically nothing to the imagination and would have the casting director for Victoria’s Secret drooling to sign her. She turned her behind to the prisoner, and I could see that other than a few straps, her voluptuous ass was almost completely bare, as she closed the door. She did it slowly as she tossed her hair over her shoulder and fixed the Skalle Furia with a sultry stare. I felt a stab of jealousy for a moment but then locked it down. Aurora was not one to go for intergalactic terrorists, so she must have had some kind of plan. Once the door was closed, she walked very slowly over to stand before the prisoner with her hands on her hips as she arched her back to accentuate both her breasts and ass at the same time in a pose that would have made Rob Liefield proud.
“Um, what the hell is Aurora doing?” Nova asked.
“I think I may have an idea,” I answered. “You catch more flies with honey than vinegar.”
“What the fuck does that mean?” Tempest asked from where she sat in a chair kicked back against the wall of the viewing room.
“Just watch,” I said with a grin.
That poor bastard didn’t know what the hell he was in for.
“Aw, sugar, did they leave you here all by your lonesome?” Aurora drawled as she absently let her index finger trace the outline of her full, pouty lips.
“Be gone with you, foul temptress,” the Skalle Furia said with a grimace. “I shall not succumb to your carnal sorcery, witch!”
“Oh, sugar, that is where you are very, very wrong,” Aurora said with a wicked gleam in her eye as she lifted one of her blue geometric tattooed legs up and over so that she straddled him. “That is where you are very, very wrong. You will succumb because I’m not a witch… I’m a vampire.”
Aurora leaned in close to the prisoner’s face so that their lips were mere centimeters apart. Her eyes blazed bright purple as blue life force, like exhaled breath on a freezing cold day, began to flow from his open mouth into hers. He struggled for a scant second, and then his body relaxed as his eyes rolled back into his head as if in the throes of the most intense ecstasy.
Years before, Aurora had been bitten by a life-sucking space vampire known as a Shriike. If not for the intervention of her Hand Maiden, she would have become a mindless predator, searching the galaxy endlessly for victims. The blue tattoos that covered her body helped Aurora keep the Shriike at bay, but she still needed to satisfy its hunger. Aurora had become very good at controlling it, taking little sips here and there when she needed. I’d experienced the feeling of sharing my life force with her during the first time we made love. It was like having every nerve ending in my body caressed by a velvet glove. The longer it lasted the more intense the feeling grew, but the more life force you gave up. It was a dangerous dance of pleasure and pain that would have made the Marquis de Sade quiver.
The prisoner's body began to shake as if on the verge of orgasm. Aurora closed her mouth and pulled her face away. The Skalle Furia’s eyes bolted open, full of longing.
“What? Why? Why did you stop?” He pleaded. “Please, please don’t stop. It feels so good.”
“Oh, sugar, I know how good it feels,” Aurora drawled as she licked a wisp of life force from her lips. “And it can feel even better if you want.”
“Yes, yes please,” he begged.
“But I need something from you first,” she whispered as if she were disappointed. “Give me what I want, and I’ll give you what you want.”
“Anything,” he stammered. “I’ll give you anything.”
“Where is the Skalle Furia headquarters?” Aurora asked softly, seductively. “Where is the President’s daughter?”
“I don’t know,” the prisoner gushed and almost began to cry. “I swear to you I don’t.”
“That’s too bad, sugar,” Aurora pouted and started to get off him.
“But… but I know where the people who do are going to be,” he rattled off desperately. “Dubai. There is a secret underground fighting competition in Dubai starting in the next six hours. Top ranking Skalle Furia members will be there to try to gain funding from the fights benefactor, The Sultan of Savages.”
“Good, sugar, good,” Aurora said as she leaned back in and took a sip more of his life force, but just a small sip. “Now, how do we get into this underground fighting competition?”
“You, you can’t,” he groaned as if in exquisite pain.
“Too bad,” she pouted again and started to get up.
“But, but, I can get you in,” he stammered. “With the computer I had. I can get you all forged invitations… maybe even enter one or two of you into the competition. That would help explain why the rest of you are there. I can do that if you let me… Please, let me do it for you.”
“It will have to be quick, sugar,” Aurora purred.
“So quick,” he stuttered. “Then… then will you keep going?”
“Oh, sugar, if you do that for us,” Aurora’s eyes glinted a deep purple in the overhead light. “I won’t stop.”
“Where’s my computer?” he asked almost frantically.
“I’ll have them bring it in to you, sugar, and then I’ll be back to finish you off,” Aurora’s voice dripped with pleasures untold. She stood, caressed his face, and then walked back toward the door. Just before she opened it and left the room, she turned and looked directly into the two-way mirror, smiled, and winked at us.
“Damn,” Thomas said. “That woman is good.”
“You have no idea,” I replied.
Several MPs walked in with the computer we’d taken from him less than an hour ago and set it down on a folding table in front of him. One MP stood over him as the other undid his cuffs. The Skalle Furia prisoner began typing in a furious frenzy.
A moment later Aurora walked into the small viewing room, and I felt a stirring in my loins. She glowed from the influx of life force, and it always seemed to increase her overt sexuality. It wasn’t obvious, but she just carried herself differently, as if she was ready to jump into bed at a moment’s notice.
“How was that?” she asked with false innocence.
“Pretty damn good,” Thomas said, impressed. He looked her in the eye, which, given what she was wearing was quite a feat of self-restraint. “If you ever leave the Crucible, I know a few black site interrogation facilities that would be more than happy for your services.”
“Thank you, Colonel,” she said. “But I go where Marc goes.”
“It’s done!” the prisoner said from the other side of the mirror. “Havak and Qwark have identities as last-minute competitors. The rest of you are part of their individual delegations. You all have rock-solid cover IDs, a few of you will have to use disguises, but I’ve outlined them here in the computer. I also removed the secur
ity safeguards. Anyone can use this computer which is tied directly into the competition’s information system. Can Aurora come back in now, please?”
The MPs took the computer and left the room.
“You all should take a look at the computer,” Aurora said as she turned to go back into the room. “You probably don’t want to watch what is coming next. I’m starving.”
“Fair enough,” I said. “Come on, let’s go to the briefing room.”
As Aurora sashayed into the interrogation room, we walked the other way down the hall. The poor bastard was in for the most intense pleasure of his soon to be very short life. I almost felt bad for him. Then I remembered he and his buddies had tried to kill just about everyone I cared about. He was getting better than he deserved.
When we got to the briefing room, a few of the IT personnel took the computer from the MPs and immediately plugged it into their workstations. A second later, the large display in front of us showed what was on the computer.
Pictures of all of my team, Thomas, and myself were arranged across the screen. Only, we all looked very different.
Nova’s orange skin had been turned caucasian pale and her eyes, while still green, didn’t beam like glo-sticks. PoLarr looked pretty much the same but had long, lustrous, blonde hair instead of her sharkfin. Tempest’s skin tone was now light brown and her hair a dark chestnut. Aurora’s skin was still pale white but her tattoos were gone, and her hair was dark purple instead of shimmery silver. Olivia looked pretty much the same. I guess Earth had seen enough blue-skinned aliens to not take too much notice, plus she wasn’t a famous member of team Havak. Thomas’ picture had him with a shaved beard and longer, shaggier hair, which was freaking weird because it felt like looking in a time-warp mirror twenty years into my future. There was no doubt that he gave me half of my genetic makeup… and that it was the dominant makeup. We looked eerily similar. I shoved that emotion down and focused on my own photo up on the screen. I had shorter hair, like one of those new short on the side but longer on the top buzz-cuts made popular by Ryan Reynolds, and I had a full beard.
“Um, this is super cool in an Extreme Makeover way, but how the fuck is Nova going to become whitey white person and how am I going to grow a six month worth of beard in like fifteen minutes?” I asked incredulously.
“Oh ye of little faith,” Thomas said with a smirk. “While we may not have weapons advancements, we have plenty of other cool shit.”
A white coated lab person came up to Nova with a handheld device that looked like an automotive paint gun. She motioned for Nova to hold out her arm and Nova begrudgingly did as she was beckoned. The lab tech sprayed Nova’s arm and before our eyes her bright orange skin turned whitey-white-person white in the blink of an eye.
“Huh, that’s kind of cool,” Nova said as she inspected her arm and tried to make it smudge.
“Yes, Ms. Qwark,” Thomas said. “If you and the rest of your cohorts who need to change your skin color would step into the small shower units in the next room, we will get your highly conspicuous natural coloring taken care of.”
“Wait, do you guys have Spif-O-Matic 2000s?” I asked in spite of myself.
“If by that you mean a private shower system that can alter a person's skin and hair color, then yes,” Thomas replied.
“Yeah, sort of,” I shrugged.
“Yes,” Thomas said, almost irritated.
“Okay, well then what about me getting a full beard in the next fifteen minutes?” I asked somewhat petulantly.
“Same,” Thomas answered. He motioned for another white coated lab tech who held a Flo-Bee looking thing in her hands over to me. Without even asking permission, the lab tech stuck the device to my face and a wash of ultraviolet light splashed across the bottom half of my face.
My face itched like it was overrun by a colony of ants for about ten seconds, and then the lab tech moved away and the itching stopped.
The lab tech, without being asked, grabbed a small mirror and held it up in front of my face.
The reflection I saw back was me but not me. I had a full six month growth of dark brown beard with blond highlights. It made me look all kinds of tough and rugged.
“Okay, that is cool,” I said as I admired myself in the mirror.
“Glad you approve,” Thomas said as he motioned for the computer tech to advance their image on the screen. “Once we are all set, we need Chaz to teleport us to Dubai in the next fifteen minutes which is when all the teams competing in the fight need to check in.
“Enter the Dragon,” I whispered almost under my breath.
“Kumite,” PoLarr said at the same time. We looked at each other and smiled.
“Yes, it is a Blood Sport sort of deal,” Thomas said. I was immediately impressed with his automatic knowledge of martial arts pop culture. “We need to get ready. I hope you and Nova know what the hell you are doing.”
“I can handle myself,” Nova said as she emerged from the bathroom area. She looked like a normal, Caucasian human… well, normal if you trained ten hours a day lifting heavy weights, that is. She wore tight yoga pants and a sports bra that made her look ready to rumble.
The rest of the team came out as well with their altered appearances and dress.
Tempest looked just like Leti from the Fast and the Furious, PoLarr resembled some kind of high-fashion model, and Aurora was fresh out of a rave. They all looked stunning.
Olivia, well, Olivia looked like Olivia but without her hard edged cop mentality.
“Okay,” Thomas said, in charge. “We need to get in, PoLarr, you are charged with finding out who the Sultan of Savages is, getting close to him, and finding out what information he has.”
“Simple,” PoLarr said with no small amount of sarcasm.
“Marc, you and Nova will clearly be diverting attention by kicking ass against the world's most accomplished fighters and martial artists,” he continued.
“Um, yeah, sure, no problem,” I said in an attempt to sound nonchalant and failing miserably.
“The rest of us will be hanging back and providing support,” Thomas said. “Ladies, your job will be to look super sexy and distract any attention we may garner. Our cover is paper thin, so you’ll have to pick up the slack.”
“Excuse me?” Olivia balked. “I’m a highly trained law enforcement official from a planet that makes your hardest criminals look like pickpockets.”
“While I appreciate that, Captain Har’Gitay,” Thomas said. “You also possess certain, shall we say, physical attributes that can help this stage of the mission more than any strong arm or law enforcement technique.”
“He’s saying you are smoking hot and need to work that booty,” PoLarr snickered.
“Fine,” Har’Gitay shrugged.
“Now, if you all are ready,” Thomas said. “We need to get to Dubai.”
“Chaz,” I said as I turned to my small blue alien ally as I scratched my beard furiously. “Take us to the City of Gold.”
Chapter Seven
“God, it’s hot,” Tempest said as we walked through one of Dubai’s busy pedestrian walkways on our way to the hotel where the secret fight club was going to be held. Chaz had teleported us in at one of Thomas’ CIA stations. Once there, we’d all been able to change and get ready for the mission. “I’m sweating in places I don’t normally like to sweat with all my clothes on.”
“Yeah, but it’s a dry heat,” PoLarr snarked with a line from Aliens that only I got.
“So is an oven,” Nova commented. “Which is what it feels like we are in right now.”
My newly pale-skinned companion wasn’t wrong. The sun beat down on the desert oasis, the crown jewel of the United Arab Emirates, at a blistering one hundred and ten degrees Fahrenheit. Which, whatever way you wanted to slice it, was fucking hot.
We’d all changed into culturally appropriate clothing once at the CIA station. It was all lightweight cotton and linen but still incredibly hot. We had about a half-a-mile walk to the
Burj Khalifa hotel, which was apparently where the illegal fight competition was being held, because, you know, of course, it was. Where else would you hold an unsanctioned Bloodsport style hand to hand fighting competition but at the single most famous building in Dubai? That shit never got held in a freaking Super 8, although, in my time as a truck driver I had seen some pretty epic fights at Super 8s.
Our big party was held up when we were three blocks away from the opulent hotel made famous in movies like Mission Impossible: Ghost Protocol.
“Alright, this is it, folks,” Thomas said. “You’ve all been given your ear canal comms. Make sure they are in at all times. We’ll be on a private micro-wave channel. You all know your assignments and cover IDs. I don’t need to remind everyone that the clock is ticking.”
“Although, you know, you kinda just did,” I couldn’t help myself from saying. Thomas just stared at me while sweat beaded on his forehead. “Okay, I am from this point forward, Bruce Van Damage, from the mean streets of Wilmington, Delaware. PoLarr, Aurora, and Olivia, you are all officially my entourage.”
“That is the most ridiculous name ever,” Thomas sighed.
“I feel you, Marc, oh, I’m sorry, Bruce,” PoLarr smiled at me.
“Thank you, Phoebe Barrett, high-fashion model and girlfriend,” I said back.
“Uh, I’m going to vomit,” Nova said as she rolled her eyes.
“Oh, Nora Roussey, rough and tumble street fighter from Ukraine,” I joked, using her new alias. “Save that plucky spirit for the octagon, or ring, or whatever the hell we are going to be fighting in.”
“I’m going to plucky spirit you into next week,” she shot back.
“Please do, because then we’d be out of the heat,” Tempest said.
“Ha, Tabatha Carano,” I replied. “Nora’s short-fused manager. That is so you.”
“Oh, my god, is he always like this?” Olivia asked.
“Yes,” Nova sighed.
“Typical, Opal Devine, Bruce Van Damage’s no-nonsense manager,” I laughed and whacked her playfully on the arm.