The bar was located in an industrial part of town. Denise would have stood out like a sore thumb in her business suit, but at two in the morning the streets were totally empty. That made her find the activity in the place all the more off-putting, after walking from her car through a tiny alley, and down the steps to the basement level establishment. It wasn't packed, but the crowd was lively, the music was loud, and the smells of different types of smoke were thick in the sweaty air. She had a seat and took a look at the patrons.
Most of the girls were wearing t-shirts and jeans, and many of them had bulging crotches. More than a few were leaning aggressively into flirtation with the young men, a number of whom were wearing dresses. Only three or four of the boys wore masculine clothing. No matter how they were attired it seemed they were all at various stages of being felt up and pawed by the females.
The bartender walked over to Denise, wiping his hands on a dirty rag.
"What'll it be?"
"Scorpion and a Lowenbrau," she recited. The heavy man became still, and then leaned slightly to the right to look at the hallway that led to the bathrooms. The lightbulb dangling from its ceiling went out. He turned to Denise.
"Through there," he said, and went to the janitor's closet. She got up and walked in the direction he'd indicated, a bullet camera on the wall tracking her every movement.
She paused to watch three girls surrounding a young man who was bent over the jukebox. One of them had her strapped-on dick in him with her hands on his waist, and was thrusting slowly in ecstasy with her head raised. She froze and her mouth opened.
"Oh-hoho, fuck!" she yelled, and her friends laughed. The liquid pouring from his loaded ass to the floor was tinted green, and appeared gelatinous. The girl staggered backward, freeing her long latex member from his body, and his unplugged butt dumped a half gallon more of the substance onto the floor. Smiling at the first girl, another lowered her zipper and moved into position behind the male. A latex dick slid out of her vagina and through the fly. She took a tight hold of his hips with both hands and he groaned in agony as her massive cock filled him. The bartender wheeled a mop and bucket over to them, and Denise continued down the small passage.
At the end of the corridor was the office. She opened the door and entered.
"Lock it," said the girl sitting behind the desk. "Sit down. You're being covered." A downward glance confirmed the girl's dildo was out under the middle drawer, and pointed squarely at Denise. She obeyed the orders she'd been given.
"You're the Manticore." In reply the girl struck a wooden match on the chair arm and lit the cigar stub in her mouth. She had a shaven head but wore a thick knitted cap, and over her blue bra was a white sleeveless hoody. Under her tattered jean shorts were black spandex shorts, and she had on calf-high biker boots.
"The one and only," she said, discarding the match.
"So there really are none left, beside you?" The girl leaned forward. Physically she wasn't imposing, with the spare build of a lightly muscled boy. Her tan skin looked soft, and her breasts and thighs were invitingly supple.
"How many do you need?" the mercenary asked, with a devilish smile. Denise laughed.
"You'll do," she said, and lit a cigarette of her own. "What do you know about alchemy?" The Manticore sat back again.
"Just what they teach in twelfth grade math."
"There was an attempt made last month to create the Philosopher's Stone. Contrary to popular belief, the goal is not to turn base lead into gold. It's a psychologically transformative process enacted upon a subject whose eligibility is confirmed through divination. At certain astrologically determined hours, a male is taken by a witch wearing a strap-on, and every time she has him she wears a different mask, each mask corresponding to one of the ten spheres of the Tree of Life."
"That's the diagram of the universe composed of orbs of light."
"Correct. Each of the orbs has its own respective symbol, and taken together they represent every level of Creation. The first sphere is called Crown. In honor of that one, the witch wears the mask of a crowned king when she penetrates the man. The second sphere is the embodiment of Wisdom. When she channels that power, she wears the face of a crone. There are others; Intelligence, Justice, Mercy, and so on. The whole process is based on another alchemical idea, that the microcosm and macrocosm are reflections of each other. They're also called microprosopus and macroprosopus, the small and great faces. By channeling divine energies with the masks, the practitioner hopes to tune the subject's body to certain psychic frequencies. The desired outcome is that his seed will become the Elixir of Immortality."
The Manticore drew on her cigar.
"From what I've heard, it's extremely risky to try controlling forces of that magnitude. Some people have wound up vegetables doing it. Others have tried to chew off their own faces." Denise's eyes darkened.
"We're living in dangerous times."
"You're talking about the new management at the Golden Lotus Order?"
"Perhaps more than that. It's no secret that witches all over the world have been having disturbed dreams. Something important is happening, or going to happen. Ambient magical energy has increased dramatically over the last year. Just a few minutes ago I watched a girl come inside a man. Her dildo wasn't shooting some artificial semen. It was producing actual ectoplasm."
"It plays hell with the linoleum," the Manticore said, and blew a smoke ring.
"You can understand why some people view our situation as a sorcerous arms race. Since your army was crushed by the Order..."
"Let's leave off of that."
"Of course. Excuse me." Denise shifted her weight. "To resume, last month's attempt to create the Stone was interrupted. Before the final sphere could be imprinted on the test body, he was abducted. It appears the women who have him are Renegades."
"You want me to get him back; preferably before the stars stop being right, and all the effort made so far proves to be a waste."
"Yes."
