This story is a bit wordy and fairly long, so if you are looking for immediate gratification, you might want to look elsewhere.
The following story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance between these character and events and any real person or events is strictly coincidental . . . and pretty darn impressive seeing as it is a science fiction story. Do not reproduce or copy this story without the consent of the author.
In my magical, mixed-up world, characters don't worry about STDs or unwanted pregnancies except occasionally as a plot device. The author encourages the practice of safe (and hopefully satisfying) sex.
While this is a science-fiction story, it may at different points contain sexual behavior that might fall into other categories. You can rest assured however that there will be NO depictions of Non-Consent, Mind Control, or Incest for any purpose other than as plot devices, and certainly not for sexual arousal. Anything else is fair game.
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"Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery."
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The King of Swords scanned the fourteenth floor of the Bank of Coca Cola building for the hundredth time that night with his multi-spectral analysis scope. Annoyingly, the building had failed to change. It just stood there, mocking him with its reflective, armor-plated windows complete with low-level SigInt blockers. That familiar, dreaded red and white logo lit up half the building, staring back at him and his men like an evil eye.
*King of Swords, what is your status?*
He hated that voice. It sounded like the wind in the Southwestern deserts, all that remained of New Mexico, Old Mexico, and Arizona. He had been there once, and it, along with that voice, are things he really would not mind never experiencing again. He touched the comms unit on his ear.
"Snafu sir. Whoever it was that was supposed to power down the SigInt blockers didn't come through. My scope isn't penetrating anything, so --"
*Understood. We are implementing the contingency plan. Have your troops hold, and coordinate with the King of Coins. We are sending in the Major Arcana to retrieve the data.*
"Sir, isn't that a bit . . . overkill? Sir?" Normally the King of Swords would never question The Fool, but the Major Arcana on hand were not normally used for anything so trivial as a hit like this. Besides, the Major Arcana were kind of scary. Even for Nightwalkers.
*You have your orders. Keep the high ground and watch for security reinforcements. Fool out.*
'Yes sir,' the King thought, then jumped twenty feet through the air, grabbed the edge of walkway surrounding the next level. Sometimes, the Nightwalker mods were pretty handy. He had initially thought that the Department of Defense was whacked out of its collective mind for implementing the program, but so far it had been a success. The corporations that had slowly taken over the entire world over the last four centuries had found that the last Free Government, namely that of the United States, still had teeth.
That thought made him extend his fangs, allowing him to run his tongue over them. The sensation had given him a sick sense of pleasure ever since he joined the program six years earlier. But his teeth would not taste blood tonight. Oh no, that sensation was reserved for more dangerous predators than he.
Elsewhere, four figures stood in the shadow of the Home Depot Hotel and Casino, waiting instructions. Two of them were chatting softly but amiably, while the other two sat in grave silence on a decorative half-wall surrounding the truck entrance. They did not move. They did not make a sound. They simply waited. All of them were dressed from head to toe in black neo-plastic body armor, complete with shock-absorbing gel backing and short range personalized reflect shields. They were all also armed for bear, as each had a rifle, two side arms, a belt of grenades, and some kind of hand to hand weapon strapped to their belts. Each also had a helmet complete with force-field face-guards that allowed them to see out, but no one could see in.
*Empress, Death, Strength, Tower . . . we are going with plan B. The Swords and the Coins will provide support. Retrieve the transaction files, terminate the bank manager, then rendezvous back with the Minor Arcana at the TACCP. Fool out.*
"This is kind of a small mission for so many cards, isn't it?" Strength asked. True to his namesake, Strength was a monster of a man, clearing six and a half feet with shoulders like an ox. The man he had been talking to, Tower, was just as imposing, standing at just under seven feet tall. He was not as ripped as his shorter companion, but he had more overall mass.
"I think we've got reviews coming up," Tower replied gruffly. He stopped and stared at the two quiet members of the group, waiting for instructions.
One of the figures on the wall was another man, and he was thinner than either of his more vocal counterparts. He also was tall, at six and a half feet, but his leaner physique gave the impression of him being gaunt, but anyone who knew Death knew not to underestimate him. All of the Major Arcana had special skills that had caught the attention of the DOD and got them brought into the program. Death had been an assassin, and he had been good at his job.
But as scary as Death was, it was the Empress that they were waiting on. She was an athletically built woman, and she carried herself with authority despite being the shortest of the group at just under six feet. She was known for being tenacious to a fault, to the point that she had been given the unofficial title of "The Suicide Queen." Of course, no one said this to her face. The Empress did not stop until she got what she was after, and that tended to mean that someone was going home in a body bag. After a moment of silence, the Empress got to her feet.
"You all know your tasks," she said, her voice as friendly as a glacier and twice as cold. "Reconvene at the TACCP in twenty minutes from my mark . . . four of them moved towards the reinforced plaz-glass doors that surrounded the first floor of the building, giving the impression of being open while those very windows could in fact withstand a shot from an RPG. Tower and Strength pulled off and circled the building. Their job was to close up the bolt holes in case the quarry got past Death and the Empress. In other words, their job was to sit on their thumbs unless Coca Cola security showed up.
Death reached the glass first, then fixed a small device to the smooth surface. The plaz-glass had tons of fibers running through it that set off an alarm if breached by a cutting tool, but the Nightwalker's device would use those same conduits to carry an EMP through the entire systems, causing an instant shut-down. A few seconds later, the entire building lost power. There was going to be hell to pay for whoever had failed to break security earlier, because these EMP bypass-bombs were hard to come by.
Empress used a laser mounted onto her forearm armor to burn a circle in the glass, then pulled it out of the wall and laid it on ground. She and Death stepped into the building. He started up one staircase, she started up the other. They only had a few minutes before auxiliary power came on and the defenses rearmed.
Empress started her heart beating faster, sending blood coursing through her body and giving her the energy she needed. At a pace that would only appear as a blur to any cameras that might come back on, she hurried up the stairs. Sometimes she saved some time by simply jumping up through the center of the spiraling structure to the next level, but she disliked how vulnerable that made her.
When she reached the fortieth floor, she made her way into the main work area. There were cubicles everywhere, with offices ringing the outside of the floor. She made her way across the floor towards the target area, her infrared and ultraviolet vision allowing her to navigate the otherwise total darkness with ease. She heard another door open somewhere and she stopped, then got three beeps in her comms unit. It was Death's signal that he was in place. She returned with three beeps of her own, then continued.
She was almost to the door when the emergency power finally came on.
'This is unfortunate,' she thought. 'They must have installed those new generators ahead of schedule. I may have to have a word with our HumInt folks about their sources.' Regardless, it was far too late. Right about now, security would know there was a breach. In 30 seconds, they would detect that the stairwell doors had been opened on this floor. In 45 seconds security guards would be dispatched. Local guards would be able to get her in about five minutes, while external guards would arrive in fifteen. All in all, they would be too late.
Empress kicked in the door to find the quarry frantically pacing the room. He looked up and saw a dark figure approaching him through the bright red of the emergency lights.
"Who the fuck are you and what --" He was cut off as she moved across the room faster than his eyes could follow and grabbed him by the throat. With her free hand, the empress removed her mask.
It was said amongst the member of the Major Arcana that if the Empress acted as your executioner, at least you got to see an angel before you died. Empress's face was one that sculptors and painters throughout the ages would have sold their souls to capture. Pale blond hair fell in a short bob around her elvish face, her lips had a natural and decadent fullness to them, and her pale blue eyes stared out at the world like cool, clear water.
"Who are you?" the man gasped.
"Mr. Richard Chaney, you have been found guilty of diverting funds and financial information from this institution to that of a foreign company which has shown itself to be hostile to the American Chamber of Commerce and the Government of the United States. Furthermore, you did so knowingly and with the intent to weaken the previously mentioned bodies. Your actions put not only the economies of this nation and its protected companies at risk, and your actions have also funded those who would do us harm."
"What?" the man stammered, "No! No I didn't . . . you have no proof. Let me go or you're in big trouble --"
Empress was not even paying attention at that point. She had made the point that she had felt necessary. She yanked the target's head to the side, extended her fangs, and sank them into the man's neck. Thankfully, the screaming stopped quickly as the cocktail of chemicals that ran through her fangs stopped his movement, his voice, and his heart. She drew in some of his blood, filtering oxygen and nutrients and giving her that familiar rush that the Nightwalkers got when feeding. Then, she threw the hapless man through the window.
Without even looking, she knew that Death had come into the room.
"I'll get the data card," he said, quickly opening up the man's work station. Much to his credit, he had the hardware retrieved before the Empress's victim hit the ground. Eventually, the fang marks would be identified and the word would go out. Vampires had struck again.
