Morris / the Dangerous Jade

Morris Micklewhite and The Dangerous Jade

A Fanfiction

Based on the character Jade Dragon

created by Battlestrength

Part Four

by The Preve

The Author wishes to express his deepest thanks to Battlestrength for his permission in writing this story, and Destodes 777 for his edit.

Jade Dragon

Interludes can be fun or boring. It depends on the job. More often than not, you're holed up in a sleazy motel, watching porn to get by, 'til you're rested and ready, or your contact gets you the info to finish the gig.

If you're partnered and there's an attraction, you might have some fun. You keep your distance if not.

In my case, I spend the day shagging the living daylights out of Red. I like calling him Red. He has red hair and freckles, so there you go.

There was arranging transportation from my contact included, but that only took a few minutes.

I told him I needed a float plane. He said he had some Husky's available. I reserved one, paid the bill, and that was that.

With an untraceable account by the way.

The rest is basically eat, shower, and fuck.

And a very good day it is.

Well, there's nothing else to do.

Why watch porn when you can do it for real?

Plus, he needs more pointers. He has good instincts, reflexes, and stamina but needs a little seasoning.

Quite a bit of spice on your part. Speaking of stamina, you've been going at it awhile. I don't think I've seen you going this long. Certainly not with your marks. He grow on you or something?

Or something

I think.

I mean, I like him and all, not in that "in love" way. He's a good kid.

Far, far more than you can say about the others.

He has a good cock.

Nice and thick, right?

Hits all the right spots.

Damn straight.

I'm curious really. He seems to have more stamina than yesterday, and if I didn't know any better, I'd swear his reflexes are sharper.

I'm thinking this is where we look at each other with significant expressions, and the word "Achilles" flashes in neon between us.

I'm thinking that too.

You think he notices?

I don't think so. If it is Achilles, it's making him perform better in bed. How it'll work if someone decides to train him as a killer . . . I don't know if it'll happen, but it's going to be interesting.

An assassin who looks like a boy scout rather than James Bond. Hmmm.

The other reason is I want to test myself against him. Yes, he's still inexperienced but his stamina makes every fuck session a workout.

Not to say everything's about fucking. I took him to a local clothing store for new clothes: T-shirts, jeans, cargo shorts, and sneakers mostly, plus underwear, and a new duffle bag. Nothing happened while we shopped but I stayed alert just in case.

We ate at

Burdine's Waterfront

(delish! I love burgers!) and went back to the motel.

There are other mundane tasks, like washing clothes.

I check the Net and contacts just to make sure we're out of the frame. Nothing except for rumors the Doc might be offering an item for sale. I have a feeling the item is damaged.

We fill in the rest of the time with sex. Both of us don't wear much when we're in the room. Not much point when you're having too much fun.

I find out more about him, his family, and Harry.

"Harry Micklewhite. His real name is Harry Micklewhite. He sounds like an accountant."

"Uncle Harry said Coal was the maiden name of my great grandmother on my Mom's side."

We are sitting up on the bed, entwined, me grinding on his cock. I'm teaching him the art of conversation while fucking.

"I'm still getting over that you're his nephew. You look so different from him."

"Mmmfff."

"Try not to talk with my tit in your mouth, Red."

"Um, right. Uncle Harry got his looks from Grandma. She was half Greek, half Syrian. Mine came from Dad. He's half Scottish."

"What does your Dad do?" I ask because at some point I'm going to have to leave this kid. I'd rather know he has someplace to go.

"He's a big honcho, chief operating officer I think, in Plum Technologies."

I whistle. Not exactly CEO but close enough. I'm almost tempted to forgo birth control for another possible payday, but dismiss it immediately. He's a good kid, and it would be rude.

I lay him down on the bed and bounce on his cock.

"I'd say your family doesn't sound like a good one but I'm a foster kid. I've been with worse."

"Yeah, I guess there are worse families. It doesn't mean I have to put up with their shit though."

His stepsister sounds like a nasty piece of work.

Yeah, she does, but the part where she beats him at Call of Duty is funny.

So's the spa and nude catering.

"They did a good job. Your skin is really smooth. A hairless body can be an advantage sometimes."

"How?"

"Well," I run my hands over his body, "Some people don't like hair on others. It can itch sometimes. It also makes your body look a little more interesting. Hair distracts, and it makes you more slick, more difficult to grasp."

"Heh, maybe I should shave my head then."

"Nah, keep what you have. Look kid, here's a little advice. What you have now can be an asset. It makes you look a certain way. You look like a boy scout, really. That's not something to be shamed over. It means people will underestimate you. That's an advantage."

"I don't know about this . . . Life. I don't know if I want to get into it."

"It's just in case, Red. We need to find what Liz did to you first. You can figure it out then. You're either born into The Life, or you choose it, or it chooses you."

The rest of the story's a repeat of the conversation in the car.

"So you pretty much fell into this thing, didn't you?"

"I guess."

I was eased into it, in my case, and then it escalated, courtesy of Harry. I look at this kid, with his innocent face. I realize, in a way, I'm playing Harry's part. I was nowhere near this innocent when Harry found me. I feel a chill. I get a feeling this kid's journey is not going to end anytime soon. I'm curious what it's going to look like in the end.

Morris Micklewhite

I sort of wish my ex-classmates could see me now. I'd had few friends at school. I was too geeky for some, too short for others, too clean cut, too freckled, too nice. Stepbitch and her posse put a stake through what was left. Hanging with me meant drawing her attention; good for jocks, bad for nerds.

My experience with girls, up to my eighteenth year, went no further than holding hands with one, a peck on the cheek from another. Maybe a few would smile at me.

Sex went no further than self gratification or whatever I could sneak on a desktop. Fantasies about Stepmom and Stepbitch, who were hot, I grudgingly admit, didn't count. They were much too cruel to be worth it.

I had more sex in one hour with Jade than any of my classmates probably fucked in two years. One hour, of a two day marathon.

All my sex fantasies never included not only losing my virginity to a hardbodied, green-haired, professional assassin, but getting shagged for two days straight.

I was naked a lot too. Sure, I wore clothes when we went to the store, or a restaurant, but in the motel room, we fucked so much, wearing clothes seemed pointless.

We usually fucked in the shower, or on one of the beds, and rested for an hour or two. I'd lay and watch while she worked on her laptop. I never realized how fucking sexy a nude woman looks while working at a computer.

The rest periods were more about Jade than me. I never seemed to get tired, no matter how long we fucked.

Checkout was early the next day. We ate one of those continental breakfasts. I guess we left kind of a mess in the motel room. I straightened it up as best as I could, to Jade's amusement.

"I think the staff are used to these things," she said.

"Yeah, I guess but . . . it doesn't feel . . . polite."

"Good grief! You are a boy scout!" she laughed.

I know it sounds dumb, looking back. I was fresh to this kind of thing. I think she understood though.

We left in her Growler. Her kickass car is one of the things I love about her.

Now that I was wearing proper clothes, attracting attention was no longer a worry. Coupled with the two day marathon, I felt pretty relaxed during the car ride. The only differences from two days prior were details on objects I hadn't noticed before.

I don't know how to describe it. It's difficult. It's like everything was more colorful; like reds, blues, and greens were redder, bluer, and greener. It was as if I could count every strand of hair on Jade's head, for example; like I could identify each shade of green dye she used for each strand.

Imagine being on LSD, yet keeping your sanity at the same time.

Something told me this hyperawareness came from Liz's injection. I didn't want to talk about it yet. I focused on our next move.

"Where are we going?"

"I know a guy who rents out airplanes, no questions asked."

"You know how to fly a plane?"

"I know a lot of things, Red. We're going to another safe house. Liz told me. She sent her research about Achilles there. We'll find out what she did, and hole up 'til Harry sends his contact. We'll figure things out from there."

"I . . . thought Harry was dead."

"She lied. She didn't want Doc Hazard to know Harry was alive."

So Uncle Harry was out there somewhere. I didn't know what to think about that either.

"Um, what is this Syndicate Doc Hazard was talking about? Does Uncle Harry work for them?"

Jade was silent. I think she was going over whether to fill me in or not. Then she said, "Fuck it," and told me. I got a little education about how the world really works in that car.

The syndicate was the International Intelligence Syndicate, an outfit serving as a sort of clearing house for the world's intelligence agencies. They handle stuff no one else wants to touch. Some things are too extreme even for the CIA, FSB, MI 5 and 6, etc, so they turn to the IIS.

If the agencies want something really nasty done, so far off the books plausible deniability doesn't even come to thought, they turn to IIS' Special Activities Coalition.

"They call themselves the League of Assassins," Jade said. "Some of them are geeks in love with D&D. Sociopaths, but geeks."

Uncle Harry was one of SAC's case officers.

"Liz told me Harry warned her to take you and Achilles and run. He'd been ambushed at a meeting with IIS' regional director, but escaped. The safe house was compromised and the Syndicate couldn't be trusted."

"Was Doc Hazard part of the plot?"

"Not exactly, according to Liz. Harry thinks two separate parties with differing agendas are operating inside the Syndicate. One of them might have leaked the project to Hazard, or he caught wind of it from a different source."

"How did you get involved?"

"A reward offer for Liz popped up. I took the contract. I found you by following some skinheads the Doc employs sometimes. Technically it's a failed contract because I didn't officially rescue the target, but the target's changed. No one knows that, yet."

"I'm the target now."

"Yep, so keep your mouth shut. I'm going to have two stories running. The first story's you're Morris Micklewhite and your wealthy Dad hired me for an off-the-books rescue. The second is you witnessed Liz's abduction and I'm taking you to interrogation. We keep a low profile until this mess gets straightened out."

We didn't go to the airfield directly. We went to the Miami dockyards, to a large warehouse.

Inside was a large semi trailer, a tricked out semi, a cool looking motorcycle, and an SUV.

"Your place?"

"My home away from home. We're transferring rides. The SUV is less noticeable."

I wished I could have taken a look inside the trailer, but we weren't there long.

We drove to a small airfield on Watson Island. The title "Henny Higgins Air and Seaplane Rentals," sat at the entrance.

Henny Higgins was Jamaican by way of the Bahamas.

"He'll rent to anyone, no questions asked. He only gives two conditions: pay upfront in cash, and sanitize the plane before returning it. Only special customers are allowed to pay online, and they still have to clean the plane."

I think I knew what she meant: DNA and drugs.

"Hey! Hey! My lady Jade," he smiled. I liked him. His Caribbean lilt gave him a compelling voice. He was stocky and dark-skinned, and gave off a used car salesman vibe I didn't find too off-putting.

"I got a Husky floatplane all fueled and ready. Just sign here."

Jade signed.

"You can put your car in the garage. I'll keep it as collateral against the loss of the plane, et cetera and et cetera. You know the drill."

"Pretty much. How's things with Ceri?"

"Goin' fine. We're having our first in two months. It's a boy. Business is booming. A lot of action these days."

"That's great. Congratulations."

We stowed the car and walked to the plane.

"Do you trust him?"

"He has to be trustworthy, Red. His business relies on keeping his mouth shut. He can't be seen to be a snitch. The law looks the other way. He's as useful to them as to the others. Besides, I tapped that back in the day. Before Ceri."

She made her own checks, confirming Higgins' inspection. We put in our bags, climbed in; she started the engine. We took off.

I didn't know where we were going. I hoped it would be safe.

Jade Dragon

Our destination is Olive Cay, just off South Bimini. Liz had shown me her tattoo of Bimini, with Olive Cay highlighted, and two sets of numbers. One set was to get into the safe house. The second was to get into her files. We have to get to the island first.

I did research back at the motel. I wanted to know what's a safe house doing on a cay off Bimini?

It looks like a stringer. Rich fucks connected to The Life will sometimes rent out houses they rarely use to the Syndicate, CIA, British Intelligence, or some other clandestine crew as safe houses. We call 'em stringers.

They're safer than you think. So many of them are scattered around the world.

Yep, needle in a haystack. Even if the Doc were searching for us, he'd have to do a lot of sifting.

It takes forty-five minutes to fly from Miami to Bimini. I exchange a few words with air traffic control and then they ignore me. Private planes are like wasp swarms around this place.

The cay seems barely a dot at first glance; mostly beach and palms, with a bunch of boulders grouped in the middle.

I swoop closer and see the "boulders" are actually a group of domes laid out in a pentagonal pattern.

Round, smooth sides. Obviously hurricane proof.

You can't build a house here otherwise. It wouldn't last long.

Looks like a dock on the northwest corner.

Yep, I'm setting down.

The pier's small but sturdy. The supporting pillars are solid concrete. The boards look like wood at first. Red's gaping around. He kneels and touches the pier.

"This doesn't feel like wood. It's too smooth."

"It's not wood, Red. It's ceramic. Now get those ropes so we can secure the plane."

I can count the number of engineers and inventors who could build a pier like this.

On the fingers of one hand, and you wouldn't get far.

I make the connection instantly. I have a very strong feeling I know who owns this island.

Bloody well right. 'Splains why Liz picked this place as a back up safe house.

I show Red how to help me tie the plane to the pier. We take our gear and walk up to the house. A paved path, also high tech ceramic, leads to the structure.

A simple granite block sits in front of the house. Bronze letters are bolted to it. The letters read, "Macedon Experimental Living Facility."

Yeah, that confirms it. Liz keeps things close, doesn't she?

"What's Macedon?" Red asks.

"Macedon Industrial Group."

"Oh, MIG. I heard of them."

MIG has fingers in every kind of pie, mostly aerospace and supercomputers. It's Plum Tech's chief rival. Ironic, given who I'm currently bodyguarding.

The dwelling is made of five connected domes, enclosing, what looked like from the air, an inner courtyard.

Red and I touch the wall of the first dome. It's eggshell white, and made of the same ceramic as the pier.

"This is so sci-fi," Red says.

I can't disagree.

I can't see a door but the path led straight to the dome, so it's obviously there.

"Maybe we should speak 'Friend' and enter," Red smiles.

"It could be activated by touch." I put my hand on the wall directly in front. A number appears on the surface.

"Wow, cool," says Red.

I agree with the kid, Jade.

"I think I get how this works. Let's look at where the numbers are and wait a few minutes."

I find the numbers one through nine on a grid pattern, which only appears on touch.

"Why are we waiting?" Red asks.

"The system needs to reset; two minutes ought to do it."

After two minutes, I touch the pattern in the sequence from Liz's neck.

Better hope the owner didn't change the combo.

I doubt it. Liz would be pissed.

I touch the last number. The door slides soundlessly into the wall. Another, more conventional, door is behind it. A key hangs on a chain off the knob.

How Willy Wonka.

I unlock the door. Me and Red enter. It's dark at first. Then the lights blink on.

Well! The owner picked a good interior designer.

The floor's polished mahogany. A block of polished white marble sits in the middle as a coffee table. Plush white couches curve around the living room. Glass and marble sculptures are displayed throughout.

Good Feng Shui.

And then the voice, soft and calming, fills the room.

Me and Red look at each other, stunned. We know that voice.

"Greetings, welcome to the Macedon Experimental Living Facility, using the latest in cutting edge technology, engineering, architecture, and science to create a comfortable, and sustainable home in a time of climate change. I am Veta, your AI home monitor, security system, and virtual assistant. How may I serve you?"

"She has Liz's voice Jade. Why does she have Liz's voice?"

"Yelizaveta Slutskaya generously allowed the use of her voice pattern for this operating system. Do you have any other questions?"

"Liz had fingers in different pies kid," I say, "A lot of independent scientists do this kind of thing. I heard the Doc even does some voice work. It's about connections and funding."

"It sounds weird. She's not pissed or cursing."

"Profanity is not in my programming. I must inform you that without proper security codes authorizing your presence, you shall be considered trespassers. Lockdown of facility and notification of Bimini authorities and Macedon security will commence in two minutes."

"Jade?"

"Don't worry, Red," I fire off a name based on an anagram of Liz's full name (whispered in my ear by Liz).

"Authorization code accepted. This facility is at your disposal for the duration of your occupancy."

Well, that's fine. Let's settle in.

Yes, let's. "Alright Veta, what is the layout of this place?"

Veta gives us an introduction to the MELF:

This facility is designed to be resistant to hurricanes and storm surges. It's almost completely self-sustaining. The power is mostly solar, with superconducting ceramic built into the walls. Part of the energy is channeled into rechargeable batteries beneath the facility.