The armored-transport vehicle rocked slightly as it struck an abandoned car on the edge of a massive ghetto called The Labyrinth; a dense, vertical wasteland of hollowed out factories, gang controlled apartment buildings, and miles of derelict subway lines. The armored-transport vehicle, more affectionately called a 'Turtle' by the UNABU soldiers inside, was something of a cross between a tank and a school bus, capable of moving an entire tactical squad and holding detained enemy operatives simultaneously.
The dark interior of the Turtle was illuminated by a three-dimensional holographic display outlining The Labyrinth and highlighting suspected hot zones. A woman walked through the display holding a tablet and making notes. She was a very attractive woman in her early thirties with a busty chest, narrow, waist, and pronounced buttocks; all of which was accentuated by her choice in skintight pencil-suits and formfitting skirts. Her long blonde hair was tied up in a tight bun, her steely blue eyes were covered by a sharp pair of glasses, and her puffy pink lips sparkled with the minimal quantity of lip-gloss she wore.
This woman, Vivienne Vanhorn, was a serious, stern, and professional woman, unaccustomed to smiling or joking around, despite also being an infamous 'office slut' back at HQ.
"First reports of rioting occurred last night," Vivienne told the four-member squad. "No reported fatalities but several hostages have been taken and two officers were injured when their vehicle was thrown into a building."
"'Thrown?'" asked one of the soldiers. "What do you mean it was 'thrown?'"
"I mean something 'threw' it," Vivienne repeated. "Something very, very strong."
"A prin," one of the soldiers remarked knowingly.
"Precisely," Vivienne agreed.
It had already been years since the technology had advanced to the point that 3D printers could manufacture biological organisms, or 'prins,' but the world had not yet adopted to this change. Now every major city in the world could fall into chaos at any time just because some loser decided to 'print' his own dragon, or a terrorist cell got enough materials to 'print' and army of monsters. Prins came in other varieties as well; house pets, props for films, cheap labor, or even sex-slaves. Anything and everything people imagined could be printed, but for some reason people imagined nightmares.
Vivienne highlighted one large building in the holographic-display. "This operation has three primary objectives. First, and most importantly, evacuate the hostages. Second, locate and destroy the rouge bio-printer producing the illegal prins. Third, exterminating all hostile prins in the vicinity. Any questions?"
"Just one, but I'd rather ask you in private," one of the soldiers said.
Vivienne nodded in agreement, but only because of who the soldier was. Normally Vivienne didn't take special requests from the grunts, unless it was something involving anal-lubricant. Vivienne strutted towards the back of the Turtle where another room was, her office. Her curvy ass swaggered with every step, something that came to her naturally, although it helped that she was wearing six-inch high-heels. She took a seat at a chair behind a desk and waited for the soldier's question.
The soldier who joined her was Master Sergeant Natalie Jenner, or 'Nat to her friends, not that she had many. Nat was a tall young woman in her mid twenties with a naturally attractive shape and lovely face, although her lack of makeup, black and blue hair, and tomboy attitude made her something of a rough'n'rumble beauty. Despite her age Nat was a veteran prin hunter, and one of the best field agents the United Nations Anti Biological Unit had currently operating in Western Europe. Nat was lightly dressed for a soldier, but UNABU operative of her rank were granted discretion to equip themselves. She wore a tight black tank-top over black sports-bra, but even both layers of clothing did nothing to hide the indentation her nipples made. Her tone, muscular stomach was left bare, and her black army fatigue pants hung rather low. Her only actual protective covering was on her forearms and shins. She preferred to stay mobile, trusting agility more than armor.
"Do we have a problem?" Vivienne asked, crossing her long, smooth legs.
"We're going to. Whose idea was it to put me on a team with three rookies?" Nat leaned over the desk, unintentionally giving Vivienne a nice view of her firm cleavage.
"It wasn't anyone's 'idea,' Master Sergeant. Half of the UNABU's forces are still in Japan putting down the mass printing of those pocket-monster things, and the other half is scattered across Russia rounding up prin sex-slaves. It's a miracle I managed to pull together a squad in London this quickly at all."
"It's a miracle those three greenhorns made Private at all," Nat said.
"Maybe so, Master Sergeant, but every veteran began as a rookie, and I'm counting on you to keep those girls alive. Now get your tight, perky ass out there and command your team. Oh, and try and be friendly for once."
"I don't do 'friendly,' not like you anyway," Nat said, leaving the mobile office after implying that Vivienne was a slut.
"Bitch," Vivienne said just under her breath, but loud enough for Nat to here.
#####
Nat inspected her team. There were three of them, all rookies, all Privates, and for one of them this was her virgin mission.
The virgin was Private Penny Andrews, and American no older than the fresh age of 19. An attractive girl, Penny was petite with short brown hair that hung over her big green eyes. She was a computer-wiz and an early graduate from a prestigious Tech-institute. She'd be the team's field technician and security officer, responsible for getting past inscriptions and locks in any computers they found. Because of this she was lightly armored and only carried a small sidearm, the rest of her equipment was for computers.
Next was Private Natasha Tsarina, a beautiful Russian woman with very long blonde hair. Natasha had once been a supermodel, but she had been attacked by a prin and severally injured when she was vacationing with her family near the Black Sea. She was the only member of her family to survive. Now half of her lovely face was scarred, and one of her eyes was missing, having been replaced with a telescopic lens. She hid her scars behind her long blond hair, but even her unscarred side was serious and grave. With the advantage of a telescopic robotic eye, she would be the team's sniper. Her clothing was a very skintight layer of black latex-like material, her every perfect curve totally visible, and her only equipment was a heavy anti-material rifle and small sidearm.
Last was Fatima Oshondo, a very tall, very strong black woman from somewhere in West Africa. Easily over seven feet tall, Fatima was a giantess, but her large frame didn't detract from her feminine beauty. Her long black hair was tightly woven into braids, and her very buxom body was covered in heavy layers of formfitting armor. She was the team's 'heavy,' who would be responsible for breaching and sweeping rooms. She was the most heavily armed of the four, carrying on her back a riot-shotgun, an assault rifle, and a small rocket-launcher.
Nat herself was the team's close combat specialist, which was why her weapons consisted of a Benelli M7 semi-automatic shotgun, two sidearms, and a large combat knife. It was going to be her responsibility to check all the hostages and make sure they weren't prins. Nat could always tell.
"Ready girls?" Nat asked, cocking her trusty shotgun.
Fatima nodded but seemed less-than-confident. Natasha smiled slightly, more with nihilistic self-hatred than confidence. Penny looked like she was about to piss her panties.
"Well butch up, bitches! It's go time!"
#####
The team left the safe darkness of the Turtle and ran into the bright, summer day. The Labyrinth was the most dirty, disgusting corner of London imaginable, and by the time Nat got to the front door of the building Vivienne suspected the bio-printer was in, she had already seen ten homeless transients, two gang members selling drugs, and one corpse.
Nat and Fatima flanked the door they were going to breach, while Penny stood a ways back. Nat tapped the communication device in her ear.
"Natasha, are you in position?"
"Da, setting up." the Russian's voice came through. Nat looked up to see a small, sexy figure atop the adjacent building. She was nailing the stand of her anti-material rifle into the concrete roof. Shots fired from that gun were so powerful the recoil would kill her otherwise.
Nat nodded to Fatima. Fatima kicked the door open and they silently charged into the building, shotguns raised at eye level. They came into a long, dark, dirty hallway with only a few tall, dirty, broken windows. The hallway was lined with cells like a prison, and from each barred room came the salty, pungent smell of sex.
"What the fuck," Fatima whispered, suddenly trembling with fear.
"Stay frosty, Private," Nat encouraged. She didn't want to see Fatima get herself killed, which was exactly what happened to soldiers when they panicked.
The two shotgun wielding babes came to the first cell. It was empty. A sex-stained cot filled up one corner of the room, and the floor was littered with pieces of torn clothing, especially panties.
Nat silently waved Fatima to the next cell. This one had a girl inside, maybe 18 or 19 years old. She was naked and lying on her back, her nubile chest and young face literally plastered with thick layers of semen. The lock on the door was electronic, so Nat waved Penny over. The pretty little nerd-girl was shivering with fear, so much so that she could barely plug her decryption-device into the lock. Nat did something she was not used to, she put her hand around Penny's waist, and whispered some encouraging things into her ear.
"You're doing great sweetie," Nat lied. "This mission is going to be a piece of cake, trust me."
The lie worked and Penny smiled, sniffling back a few tears. She plugged into the lock and within seconds she had hacked into it opening the cell. Nat got on her knees and inspected the sexually-obliterated girl. She was alive, but barely, and although her body had no traumatic injuries it looked like she had been worked to a point of near fatal exhaustion, almost as if someone had been trying to fuck her to death.
"Ma . . . ma . . . more," the girl moaned, barely conscious. She was gyrating her supple hips back and forth, her pink pussy-lips glistening with arousal. "Fu . . . fuck me."
