HOTEL INFERNO
Members of the Inferno started to drop like flies. With Scythe dead, Ein dead, a rogue Phantom and his personal vendetta against The Inferno had nothing to lose, only to gain. Some high in power hid away in fear because of The Phantom. Others took the opportunity to appoint themselves as leaders while claiming the Inferno title. Big mistake. His skills long perceived him. With no identity he could never be targeted. With no identity he might as well have been a ghost.
President Otsuka, Shinjuku City's greatest crime Lord, yet another alleged Inferno member, was celebrating his thirty five birthday at one of his many five star hotels tonight. The fact that he lived to be thirty five was only because his money hired one of Tokyo's best secret agents around; Agent Lada, an ex-Navy Seal with metals, in lamer terms, of tortured victims, who sold out their own children to free themselves from her inhumane tactics, to many assassinations of her own; dishonorably discharged for quite some time. She played dirty. Broke every rule; every law. She didn't use her badge. She used her wits. To catch a criminal you had to be a criminal. That was her philosophy. As President Otsuka's lackey, substantiated near impossibility for Phantom to kill. Special agent Lada had to be taken out first. How president Otsuka managed to rejoice in his thirty fifth birthday, Phantom underestimated the agent and with every birth year commemorated, was proving more difficult. They were becoming to know one another far too well.
President Otsuka had been a bachelor for so long and by choice of course. Handsome, smart and powerful. Men wanted to be him and women wanted to be with him. Those oblivious to president Otsuka's true involvement over the city saw only an eligible man with a gorgeous woman. With all that the world offered why would he have ever felt the need to settle? Maybe it was because of his age, but there was no place president Otsuka went without the beautiful Spaniard Miss Lada by his side. Her luscious dark, silky, long, brown hair complimented the honey of her skin and curvaceous body. Her smile was breath taking and her laughter caused men's hearts to stop. Women were jealous yes, watching her steal the heart of yet another with the chime of her laugh; her sultry voice, entrapment, even as she hung from president Otsuka's arm, sipping her glass of champagne. Jealous, but not hated for president Otsuka knew how to keep the peace; Women can be so catty. Always remembering his people; Retaining the ladies. Miss Lada never seemed to mind either, when he left her with the wolves to play wit h a herd of unattended sheep. The women expected their feelings to be exploited, especially when each knew whom Daitōryō Otsuka would be going home to every night, but his advancements, always accepted. A piece of him was satisfying enough.
The hotel ballroom was filled beyond capacity. The hall so loud amidst random conversations and music, hardly enough open space to stand and strenuous to make out anything other than what was in front of you; A perfect assassination attempt. With Miss Lada's expertise, her hues of hazel beheld the masked ghost lurking from afar. Stepping a little to her right, passed the heads of those who stood before her, to confirm what she witnessed, The Phantom phased out of view. He was here.
She placed her empty glass upon a tray of silver as a well dressed waiter walked by and happily excused herself. Her eyes set forward, skillfully using her peripheral view for any abnormality, she sauntered with grace through the crowd as if it were rehearsed, never bumping into a single soul. Unseen hair prickled along her left arm. The hallway to her left, she moved in its direction.
Closed off to the guests, the secluded hall was dark and produced a gloomy scene. The heels of her stilettos echoed with each step, unexpectedly interfered by a soft, yet maniacal crackle. In her short dress of red she reached into the slit, across her thigh. Between her legs she retrieved a Five-Seven. "Aw, how cute do you look? Island Barbie accessorized with a pistol. Think you can catch me in those heels?" His voice, muffled behind his mask, yet sliced the air like a blade. She looked about, trying to find the location in which the sound was more dominant. With a smile unforeseen, perhaps, she answered, "And you continue to misconstrue." He shared her humor with a chuckle and than a shot was fired.
The bullet pierced the air, passed her and into the column behind her. She quickly took refuge against a wall and into the shadows. "Your guard is down Miss Lada. I almost got you."
"Where's the fun in it, if I don't allow you to think you almost had me?"
"Mm. Such a masochist."
Hinges to a large door creaked as it was pulled wide open, revealing The Phantom's last post. As soon as it shut, on her toes she sprinted towards the emergency exit and followed pursuit. Up or down as she entered the stairwell, the path was chosen as The Phantom called out, "I'm up here." She raised her head and pointed the muzzle upwards. A second door opened and slammed closed. She raced up the stairs that lead to the roof. With a swing open another shot ignited. She instantly rolled along the pebbled ground, scraping her shins and knees as she took coverage along a large ventilation unit. Her petite frame allowed her to use the unit to her advantage, crouching underneath with little discomfort. "This game of cat and mouse is not fun either when it's one sided."
"You talk too much," her intonation, just a murmur along the cartilage of his ear. The masked Phantom barely had the chance to turn and meet his assailant head on before she pistol whipped him. The bottom half of his mask broke and nicked the corner of his mouth. The pistol whipping was followed by a swift side kick to his abdomen. He sheered back, but caught his barring as his hand scuffed the ground. Jet black hair at a disarray, bangs fell over his mask. His gunned hand to his stomach, through the hollow of his mask his eyes took on a soulless shade until he caught sight of his attacker, quickly returning to their natural brown. The woman approached with haste aiming with a second kick to his wrist to knock him off balance, but he caught her foot and hurl her body into the ventilating system. Her body caved along with the metal plating that bent with her form. Accustomed to the new era where women wanted to be treated as equals a closed hand fist met the side of her jaw. Her head thrashed to the side like a rag doll before he repeated the sequence and gave the other side of her cheek the same treatment. His body pressed into hers, his knee constrain into her crotch. She had little to move of her own as she tried to regain composure, than froze in all movements as the barrel of his colt, hot, was applied to her forehead. Before he even thought of pulling the trigger, at such close proximity she used her palm and plunged upward into his nose. "AHHHH!" He fell back raising his hand to face as heat and pain clouded his judgment. So close to the edge of the roof she charged onward only to find her else in a empty place as The Phantom phased out leaving her to curse the air. Phantom's supreme talent, she wish she knew how they did it?
Rocks crunched beneath his dress shoes. She stirred at the sound with her Five-Seven ready to engage. He took the time to adjust his tie, strengthen out his black blazer and picked at the cuffs with gloved hands stained of gun powder. No use in fighting when you can't look good doing it. He did not immediately sort her out; Anticipation killing agent Lada. Than everything stop. There was no sound other the loud whipping of the a/c unit. "There's no magic behind it," he whispered into her ear. Her eyes widen in shock, her only reaction, now finding herself confided in his grasp with a rope around her neck, and his forearm wrapped tightly over breast, clueless to how he managed to subjugate her without her knowledge. "It is fear that causes our minds to play tricks on us. See things that are not really there." He slightly pushed her forward, just enough that her back was off his chest. The noose tightened around her neck; Immediately scratching her way into the rope to get her fingers in-between, refusing to drop her gun. "I like you Tra," her first name no secret to him. His voice and her name elicited an unknown yearn from her ear down to her core, "So I'm going to do you a favor by permitting you to keep your title as transcendent, a Phantom, no match for you." He sighed and she shivered at the warmth of his breath, "But the pressure, it's just too much and it was time that you ended it all." He pushed her over the ledge. Still holding onto the rope in his gloved hands, her plummeting downwards pulled him as well. He stopped as he pushed his feet into the edge and threw his weight back battling gravity.
Her neck never snapped, though the ropes moved in his grip, he knew she was struggling. Her hands burned and bleed as she held on firmly and pulled it away from her neck to keep from suffocating. She needed to think promptly. She could've shot at the rope that would directly liberate her, but cause her to fall to her death. A window! She kicked at the wall with all the vigor she could muster and crashed into the hotel room!
Before he even had an inkling to what was taking place The phantom was hauled off of the roof. His body passed the broken window. A hand shot out and he was quickly grasped, colliding into the concrete wall with an "OOF!" Leaning over the broken glass, shards piercing the undertone flesh of her arm, she looked down at The Phantom. "Reiji," Tra called him by his birth name. He looked up to find her straining to hold him. She was using one arm. Without the other, meant she was injured. "Crazy bitch," he muttered while grabbing hold of her wrist and forearm with both hands just as he freed it by tucking his gun into the waist of his pants. He pulled himself up as she drew back, both falling inside the hotel room.
Across from The Phantom he found a woman, her face bruised and battered from his assault, but still beautiful. Not to be taken as a foul. She was as innocent as she pretended to be. The only ounce of guilt he felt was that he couldn't kiss it and make it all better. "Hm," he discovered, maybe there could be some truth behind that idea.
He noticed how tight she held her left arm to her chest, her hand trembling, fingers crippling and her shoulder oddly out of place. Her arm was dislocated. He wasted no time advancing her and she kicked up with her heel knocking the rest of his mask completely off. A trail of blood streamed down the corner of his mouth as he lowered his head. In that short time she flipped over, finding her gun, but before she could reach it, his hand grasped her disjointed shoulder. He clenched her arm and she wailed as he dragged her towards him. Shoving her onto her back, he straddled her breast. One hand wrapped around her forearm, the palm of his right hand jostled between her lips. He yanked her dislocated arm without warning. She bit into the meat of his palm as the surge of electricity coursed throughout her body. He snapped the bone back into it's socket.
As soon as she was repaired she kneed the small of his back. White haze obstructed his view as the pain radiated. He fell frontward than onto his side. Turning, she pushed off the ground and stood. At his disadvantage she kicked him in the gut yet again and with such strength he propelled a good foot away from her. From fetal position, he moved onto his hands and knees just as the urge of his insides in a desperate need to spew out, disrupted his panting and released stomach acid mixed with his blood onto the carpet. Her gun, in arms length ,he launched and twisted. Falling onto his side he shot three rounds in her direction. She dived over the queen sized bed and crashed into the nightstand, it's lamp trampling over.
The bulb blew. In the darkness neither challenged the notion to move. The Phantom wobbled to a stance, gun still in hand.
BLAM!
The crack of his colt deafened the room and the wall behind him exploded into a confetti of plaster. He ducked from instinct. Holy Shit! She almost got him! He found her shadow, exposed by the light of the moon as it peeked through broken glass, using the dresser to pull herself up. He used his inhuman speed before she could react and hoisted her onto the dresser. His waist settled between her legs, hiking up her dress to reveal the skimpy, lacey black panty. Did she wear that for Mr. President? The thought somehow further pissed him off and gripped her by the top of hair, smashing the back of head into the mirror. It shattered on contact. She groaned in pain and attained his hand that aggressively seized and clutched the hair from the back of her head, ignoring the shards of glass from her scalp and hair that cut into his palm. He forced her to look at him and as their eyes met, emotions of anger, pain, fear and lust… he mashed his lips against hers. His tongue lashed out in an anxious effort to pry her mouth open. She struggled in his hold, unintentionally creating friction. He hissed at the feel of her womanhood rubbing against his groin. In that moment of weakness he'd given her enough room to pull her head back and ram her forehead into the bridge of his nose. "BITCH!" He yelled as he staggered away, like a drunk. How many more fucking times could she get him at that disposition?! He was lucky those moves hadn't killed him instantly. Nearing insensibility he fell onto the bed, hands over his face, blood visible as it debacle through his fingers. He snapped it back into place that caused another series of curse words.
Agent Lada hopped off the dresser. She approached The Phantom at his bedside and bestride him as he laid there, with little mind to what she was doing. All of his efforts strained to regain focus. She could've killed him, easily.
On her knees she tilted ahead, to some extent, fingers hooked in the underside of her panty, she pulled it off, one leg at a time. Repositioning herself, her womanhood, damped from their earlier encounter, rested over his groin. Again, no recollection to what was happening, he soon figured out as she used her panty to wipe the blood from his face, nose and mouth. He couldn't enjoy the smell of her arousal, but flicked his tongue as the crotch of her panty passed his lips, for a tease. He growled with desire. Cupping the sides of her head he forced her down into another kiss, only this time she complied, spreading her lips and allowing his tongue to roam the inside of her mouth. They both moaned into the kiss, tongues fighting for dominance. Her hands trailed up his arms, fingers intertwined. She grind him once to reprieve tension and his hips met hers on cue. Lips parted as a prolonged, low inarticulate sound was uttered from them both.
Wanting him to let her go she twisted his wrists. Turned at the waist, she proceeded to climb off and crawl away, but he rapidly clasped her ankle. Snatched towards him he held her waist captive over his head. His tongue darted and licked the sweetness that sheen hairless folds. No longer could she fight it she whimpered in surrender and sat up, gyrating her mound along the heat of his mouth. Like a few missed meals he hungrily stroked, sucked and nipped her walls that popped as they left his lips, sloshed as more moisture was created from his saliva to her arousal. She cried in pleasure as his tongue intruded in replacement to where his dick should've been, but too lost in ecstasy to make any sudden changes. He made her buck at his ministrations and the pleasurable sounds she orchestrated, he could not stop. Her hips undulated with each thrust of his tongue, her breaths falling more and more erratic as she came close to. So desperate, so irrational, frantically she undid the button of his pants and zipped down; his cock free from its confinement. She did not tease or play as he did, quickly encasing his dick with her mouth. In the heat of passion, she took him all in and gagged. Her eyes stung and a tear fell, yet her onslaught did not cease. She sucked hard and fast from base to his head. She devoured him and it was all he could stand for he couldn't hold out much longer. His grunts vibrated against her clit that sent her overboard. She orgasm into his mouth, her cries stifled. He pulled out his tongue, granting her juices to flow. His adam's apple bobbed back and forth as he drank her essence; intoxicating he absolved into her mouth as well.
She drank his cum as it pumped into the back of her throat. Not able to predict the amount, she sat up and coughed as she choked. Still as the rest of his cum spilled over the head of his dick, she made good on licking him clean. Was it a dream or did this really happen? It was his last thought before he drifted blissfully into unconsciousness.
No hospitals he had said and so she left him to his own demise. She retraced his and her steps; cleaned up their mess. This night had never happened and president Otsuka may be well off into celebrating his thirty sixth birthday.
Every year it was proving more difficult. They were becoming to know one another far too well.