De Sade Assassins

Ana was a cold, hard bitch.

With a scar that danced its way up from her pouty lips to her deep-set, azure eyes, she had long, ratty black hair, and genocide-thin curves.

Yet despite her comely shortcomings—which Flower personally found rather attractive—the way she slaughtered was poetic. By Uzi, arrow, or a well-placed Herpes Cluster-Bomb, Ana never missed her target. And be the enemy SWAT team or Yakuza zombie, she slaughtered with an enthusiasm rarely seen by the eyes of the living.

And Flower loved her for it. Ana was her girl.

Still, it wasn't all whine and poses dating a half-gynoid bitch from the MoonBase Bronx. Ana could be as cold as the steel she was fond of using. And the way she fucked... utilitarian start to finish—positively zombie-like. Not that Flower had any complaints; zombies were a good fuck if fresh enough.

The assassin nearly back-kicked herself in the head—this was no time to let personal feelings Vaseline the job at hand. Clear thoughts. Clear thoughts. Still, a tattered remnant of doubt lingered in her mind. Ana was all business. For her to go rogue, well, it just didn't fit her profile. Then again, profiles were for the dead.

It had occurred to Flower though, that perhaps Ana had contracted Hemo-mania during a raid on the Triad warehouses near Jersey Shore last year. It would explain a lot, and yet, there was far too much that needed explaining.

The Triad houses had been a slippery job and the lover-partners had ended up dodging the very government agents and fedora-sportin' Grey who'd paid them to clean house. A cluster fuck two shades too ambiguous for Flower's personal liking. At the same time the clients had the assassins kicking people's nuts into their throats, they were employing bloodsuckers as bulletproof bodyguards. Flower and Ana had gotten separated.

Flower had thought nothing of it at the time, but if Ana had been even scratched by one of those assholes, that could explain the cooling of her once incendiary sex drive over the past few months. Hemo-mania doesn't kick in all at once; it's a spiked time bomb shoved up your ass by Shiva hirself.

Or... perhaps Ana was just fucking somebody else. Maybe she'd grown tired of Flower. It happened. The world was full of such happenings.

Either way, Flower had to know... and either way, Flower would have to kill her. There was a status to uphold.

The assassin slipped a short, hoopset one-piece over her head; holding her arms up, it slipped down her body like an anxious lover's tongue. Skirted the very firmness of her buttocks, it promised tantalizing breathtaking delights to anyone bold enough to seek the right visual angle. Doubly so since she never bothered with panties.

A utility belt hugged her waist like a lecherous old man, accentuating her voluptuous curves without bunching the dress in all the fashion-faux pas ways.

Then skullcap, under which Flower tucked everything but her bangs, and secured under her chin. Hair—any hair—was a liability in a fight. She kept her naturally large ringlets protected, and her bush shaved at all times. More so than the hair on one's head, the last thing one wanted was the ill-intent yanking out a fistful of pubes.

She positioned herself in front of a mirror to attach a Data Module to its place on her upper back, and snapped the datalink line of her skullcap to it.

Last was her armament; come Hemos or cheating heart, the only piece of hardware Flower was going to need in zappin' Ana a new asshole was her faithful ray-gun. She positioned it diagonally forward on her hip, so that it clung accessory-like to the reflective rainbow glitter-gray of her hoopset dress. Made of a light resin and powered by an atomic pellet the size of a pea, its barely negligible weight wasn't even a ripple in the fabric. No reason a girl can't style while she's zappin' freaks. And since Ana was hardly a freak, she would need every advantage she could get; speed, mobility and something glittery to keep her lover-partner off-guard. Ana tended to drool over 'glittery'.

It was well after 2200. The parched sky rippled under the searing heat of an ever expanding Sol. The cooling elements in the dress switched themselves on in anticipation. Flower's firm, fat nipples did a little rocket dance, tingling to liftoff. She considered switching the elements off, but she would be outdoors in the heat of the angry sun soon enough.

She checked her equipment once more; satisfied she stepped out into the late evening sun. Time to go hunting.

***

The nano-satin sheets flowed underneath, the microscopic bots anticipating Ana's every move, shifting like air currents to caress her firm ass in a chocolate-on-tongue melting way.

Between her thighs, N lapped ferociously at the menstrual flow. His elongated tongue resembled a sea cucumber split into four miniature articulations of itself. A starving hellhound, N sopped up every drop with it, nourishing his otherwise malnourished de-form. The welts on his mutie tongue played hardball with her engorged clitoris. It was enough to drive a girl insane if she wasn't careful. And maybe that was N's intention behind holding back the hordes of cannibal mutants—he wanted to transform her into one of his special children.

She looked down into his golden eyes with their ability to pierce the pitch black depths of space. It was rumored that despite their 'special dietary needs' that muties made excellent planetary explorers, and that the World Government sent them with heavily-armed crews into the outer rim of the galaxy to aid in finding new worlds to colonize.

As the prince of the ghoul colony Ana now communed in, N was unique in his ability to control his appetite. If he so desired, he could thrust his rigid fingers into her soft human flesh like a shovel into sand, and scoop out a serving to feast on if he so pleased. But Ana devoted to him what no femutant could... her period. And so he exerted his power to hold back the fiendish packs of diseased, rotting cannibals who would otherwise rip hunks out of her body, and drink the pooling blood as it welled from the open wounds.

N's head snapped back, and he leapt up to straddle Ana as she lay there. He roared and then his abdomen jerked. A thick wad of goo shot from his dilapidated cock onto her smallish breasts. Immediately the flesh touched by his irradiated semen began to prickle and sting as individual sperm cells took microscopic bites from her flesh in a dying act of mutant love.

Without a word, N rolled over and fell into an almost disturbing, soundless, motionless sleep he could not be rousted from until his body finished digesting her blood.

At dawn, Ana wasted no more time than necessary in slipping out of the bed and onto the floor of the living flesh that undulated there, waiting for scraps from its master's bed. N's underlings and children snapped at her legs and feet, but only to go so far as to dare nicking her. She stopped and squatted over one—a male—so as to allow it the pleasure of her period-perfume.

"Hungry?" she smiled.

It sniffed tentatively and then lifted its face as if to lick her like a dog licks its master's hand. She released a steaming stream of piss in its face. It sputtered and cursed her before skittering off like a giant bug. Wary she may also try to abuse them, the other mutants parted before her like the Red Sea. As long as she had the protection of N, she had N's power as well. They resented and hated her for it.

Creeping into the dead city's carcass of shadows and sunspots, Ana made her way toward the last known location of the city's underground bunker system. Under both a red harvest moon and a sun as mean as piss, she lurked the skeletal remains of civilization. Colony 13 of the Kuril Islands had been unsettled since the fallout of the second Korean War eleven years ago. Now it harbored the ghouls, mutants, and brainless fuckwits.

Ana's study of the pre-war city claimed the bunkers were two sectors over from N's lair. She hadn't originally planned on fucking with the mutants, but as karma would have it, she was on the rag when she'd been overwhelmed by N's hordes and offered up as sacrifice to the prince instead of destroyed right then and there. Oddly enough, instead of shoving his hand up her asshole to rip her entrails out to feed on them while she still breathed, he offered her safety within the colony limits if she would provide him with a steady supply of blood.

It was that, or having her colon still-attached served up on the evening chowline as sushi. The setup gave her almost unlimited freedom and protection to complete her task. A task she had still not been able to complete in the two months she'd been here. Her intel had been a joke.

The sun sneered its disgust at her and passed over to bring the day to another fruitless close. Another day wasted.

"It's here! It's got to be!" she screeched at a pair of mud-sharking mutants, sticky in their radiation-burn love juices and raw skins. They hissed at her. Frustrated, she pulled her gun, ready to vaporize their heads, when the last of the sun touched the horizon in a diamond moment of clarity mere seconds long. She could hardly believe her eyes..

Scrambling over the pair, she dashed down the remnants of a holo-hidden concrete staircase before it is gone again. "Twilight Cloaking," she whispered excitedly to no one. "Of course."

Brushing away the dust of age and death, she pressed her left thumb into her right wrist until the embedded data there illuminated itself, confirming the coded signs around the bottom of the door. Satisfied, Ana's laughter pealed away, ricocheting through the ruins of the once heavily populated colony like a crazed pinball, without concern for whom or what it might attract.

Shoving a colored marker up her urethra, she lifted her leg and marked the door, allowing her to find the stairwell again without having to wait for dawn. Her desire to excavate the door was rabid, but there was no time to do it properly, let alone explore the labyrinth waiting for her behind it.

And she needed to return to N; he would be waiting for her, waiting to drink once more from her red river of life.

***

"This is as far as I go." Something had the pygmy frightened. Something he wasn't telling Flower about. With liars and cheaters, one knows where one stands, but those who held back information were a whole breed apart from dangerous. The stench of their mental exertions to hide the truth was like piss soaked into the filter of a breather mask.

She turned to the naked little man, his little pecker dangling like a wrinkly sausage and smiled, stroking the fuzz atop his head, "Yes. You have that much correct."

Reaching over, she gave his penis a little tickle. He smiled and it stirred. She licked the tip of her fingers and worked him with a stroking technique taught exclusively by the Sisters of the Holy Fuck. He was well within threshold limits of orgasm when Flower paralyzed his vocal chords with a prick to his prick from a delivery system extended from her index fingernail.

She gave him a wane smile and reassured him it was for the best, "You understand. It's the only way I can be sure you're not lying."

Wrapping a nanowire garrote around the top of his skull, she tugged slowly until she felt the slightest pop. She removed the bone and skin with a slurp to reveal an ovoid of grey matter.

She plucked the biochips from his brain, licked off the stray cells, dipped them in a sweet 'n' sour sauce and crunched them down. His eyes bulged and mouth worked in a pantomime of pain and shock. It was mildly entertaining, and if she hadn't been in such a rush to kill Ana, she might have sat and enjoyed the show.

The involuntary jerking of his pint-sized body stopped sometime after she had neatly sliced herself a fifth piece of his brain. He was definitely dead, and definitely telling the truth. She recognized none of the tell-tale, bitter-aftertaste signs of lies that coagulated in the brain like cold pork fat.

Satisfied, she put her gear away. She hadn't discovered what he'd been hiding, but it didn't matter. He hadn't been lying—that was the point. Everything else was just adventure. Flower wanted Ana, and Ana was inside somewhere. Possibly even waiting for her.

Towering above her on acid-slicked poles, oozing over in kill-anticipation, were Sentinel Turrets—set to keep peeps inside the perimeter. So she wasn't out of the woods yet. She still needed to get to the nearest structure within the city without dying.

It looked to be a good 800-meter run to safety. And even that, the partial remains of a crumbling shack, looked as if it might not protect her for long, especially since it was nearing the end of the month. A.I. lasers had their quotas too.

Grasping the limp-dick body of the pygmy by an arm and a leg, she spun herself up and hurled the carcass as far as she could. He made it a good two meters before the laser turrets flash-charbroiled his body. Not an altogether unpleasant odor, kinda like good bacon.

Flower hacked the nearest Turret with a holovirus that would decay over the next seventy-two hours if she was lucky, seventy-two seconds if the code-monkey she'd bought it from was shit on the keys.

Finished, she punctuated the still air with a sharp, barking fart. Somewhere within the bush, it echoed at a slightly higher pitch in way of reply. Satisfied her backup was ready, Flower steeled her resolve with a nod, and ran like fuck into the centuries dead colony-city.

***

A disturbance in the room awakened Ana like a wetmare come true. No. Not the room. The city. She sat up. N had fallen into his comatose state of non-consciousness between her legs. She gently rolled him over and slipped into something practical and out of the room. Time to go back to work.

At the entrance to N's lair, a lone ghoul stood apart from the others. It was the same one from last night. Pissed about the facial golden shower she'd given it, it swayed back and forth, an anxious animal unable to keep itself still, growling and gronking. It eyeballed her, inseminating her with its hard-on hatred.

Ignoring it, she started to sidestep it when, with lightening speed, it put its gnarled hand through the wall where her head had been just a moment before. Only quicker reflexes had vaulted her into the air above the impertinent fuck, where she launched a reprisal of acid-tipped nipple darts that ripped through its skull, melting it into a gooey stew on the floor.

Too stupid to understand they were dead before they jumped at her, several others attacked only to fall prey to the lethal blades sheathed in the sides of her hands. Blindingly, she whirled, a mad dervish in a room of deer-in-headlight pedestrians. And when it was over the room stank of ghoul puree.

A disturbing, flesh-crawling, low giggle permeated her mind.

N.

She hustled off at a brisk pace. It was important for her to put as much distance between her and N now that his intent was unknown. His disdain for the sun's harsh rays would normally keep him at bay, hiding in his lair like the cockroach he was. Yet she didn't trust he would stay once the sun went down. And who was to say he might not come out after all? He needn't fear the light. It wasn't destructive to his being, but it did sap his energy, weakening him.

His laughter followed her, setting off her assassin's sensibilities again and again like a sensitive spring-set trap; snapping at her mind with sharp teeth. She stumbled several times before she was completely out of range of his telepathic abilities.

A chilled, half-assed rain began its assault on the city an hour later, and the chill of the disturbance she'd felt earlier returned. She was being sought, but by more agents than just N's.

Who in God's name had followed her out to this ghost city?

You know who you stupid bitch, echoed guiltily in her brainpan.

Ana had always known Flower would catch on after a time, but just exactly how much did she know about her affair with N, the ghoul boy with the golden eyes... and even if Flower was aware of the betrayal... even if she was aware her lover had joined the icy ranks of the undead... why confront her now? It had been months since she'd left their love-loft... why not leave Ana to her fate, get on with life?

Gruesome thoughts on the subject put hustle in her perfectly imperfect ass. There was no time to waste in retrieving the item and getting out of the colony. Not that she thought she could get away clean. That was an impossibility. Eventually her lover—former or current—would catch her and there would be explanations to be given, but not before more torture than the average Joe Blowjob on the street could handle. Yes, there would definitely be torture. Ana expected nothing less for her acts of betrayal. Ana was counting on Flower being her benefactor, thus the trick would be in convincing Flower that the entire episode had been misunderstanding. In fact, to Flower's benefit!

Had it been though? She had once thought so, but in the time she'd been gone, she began to question her own motives. And then there was N. Not an incompletely disagreeable ghoul at all. A master ghoul at that. She could rule nightmares across the known galaxy...

First things first, she needed the item. It was waiting for her deep in the chambers below the city. Unable to give her anything more than its general whereabouts since it last contacted her.

Leaping down the concealed stairwell, she nearly tumbled over a particularly gruesome walking corpse shambling aimlessly, bumping around the door like a tin robotoy. It must have fallen down into the area and not been able to extract itself. Something vaguely yellow leaked out of the thing's left ear. It mumbled something unintelligible and honked goose-like as if warning her away from the entrance.

Ana tried to sidle passed it, but the snarky motherfucker snapped at her with vicious teeth. Growing aggressively, it planted itself in front of the door. Ana's eyes narrowed. It was not possible it knew why she was here, and yet, it had made a perfect nuisance of itself.

Setting her jaw she approached the thing with a soothing tone and her hands in front of her. "I seem to have stumbled into your little space here."

It bark-honked.

"I only want passed you. Through the door. If you'll allow me, I'll make it worth your while."

Its glassy eyes glowed momentarily. It honked in question.

Ana stepped in closely, her voice silk over a pus-filled, infected wound. "It's okay, I know exactly what you want."

-

After Ana had finished with it, the zombie was content to rub itself up and down her leg purring. Time well spent. It would sit and keep guard. Effectively trapped by accident, it couldn't leave if it wanted to. And few would be willing to drop down to pay it a visit.

The elevator that had greeted her at the end of the hall on the other side of the door dropped her thirty levels and opened unto a veritable labyrinth of corridors, offices, computer labs and living facilities—an underground paramilitary bunker from the last war. In need of a good cleaning. The air was stale but, miraculously enough, the emergency lighting butler proceeded her every step. She had searched a third of the likely areas her intel had provided before she was prompted by voice-initiated systems—another lucky break—for her destination. It made the rounds with her to every mainframe in the complex with a pleasantness reserved for suborbital hotels.

The antiquity of the mainframes allowed her to dive through their server cores like a pea-sized meteorite through the hull of an unprotected extraterrestrial starship. The orgasmic color of her grin lit the silicon chip domains like a holocaustic Christmas when she found her mark. Deteriorated into fragments of scrambled 1s and 0s, Ana would need to reassemble it before download.