"Last night, between 0200 and 0400 hours, several hooded figures were seen gathered in a small rural village on an island west from here. This is a recon mission. You will investigate these sightings and evaluate the situation while remaining undetected. Eliminate all witnesses, civilian or otherwise." The long figure remains still, dimly lit the by large screens. Everything in there is so cold. The condensation in their breath dissipates languidly. The woman turns from the screens to face them, her eyes shining like marbles of blue and purple and the occasional red from the warning messages.
"Can't we just erase their memories?" He asks, half expecting silence as an answer.
The ventilation and machinery fill the awkward void for a moment, but surprisingly she grants him an answer. "During your training you have learned that heretics are trained to detect emission of memory manipulation. You are to remain undetected. Understood?"
"..." He and his partner remain silent. His eyes stare at those marbles in the cold, not in defiance, but in hopeful disbelief. His partner looks down, too versed in the process.
"Hound, I asked you a question." As always, her voice is an unbearable silence. It screams of formality, professionalism, stoicism. A cold that burns.
"Understood." His partner answers for him. Her voice carries the same formality, but behind it there's a different resolve. The way the word lingers, the subtle wavering in the monotone. Traces of emotion were forcefully erased, but the effort of containment left its own marks.
The figure turns back towards the screens, accessing contents that illustrate her words "You are going on foot and will carry an ex cordium." A small device appears on screen: a black bracelet crowned by instructions and information. It replaces the ex machina in recon missions since its test release early that year. "Both will be equipped for stealth and elimination. You deploy tomorrow at 1800 hours."
"Wake... Are you there? I'm back." The small feminine figure barely shows through the crack of the open door. With no response she carefully enters the room. Her body is covered neck down by a sleek black fabric which hugs the body in such a way it would be indistinguishable from paint if it weren't for the slight thickness that softens some details of her anatomy. It's the first layer of standard attire for elite hounds. Her hair reaches a little past the shoulders, the back cut much shorter than the front. She doesn't use the ribbon anymore, to appear more mature. Long bangs to the side complete the look she's aiming.
She sways softly through metallic shapes, her hands sliding over sharp lines and edges. The room is devoid of personality, populated only by the standard built in furniture and bear living necessities. In contrast with the physical emptiness, the room is filled with familiarity and a thick warmth that envelops her entire body and washes the stress off her muscles. She closes her eyes, forgetting the moment to delve in censorial ghosts of her partner. "He smells so good..."
"You always say that" his presence envelops her. Arms wrapped around her waist and chest, lips by her ear breathing softly. She lingers there, in that moment that should last forever. She suffers, it pains her this can't go on forever, it hurts that this is so good. So unbearably good.
"Well, you do..." she turns around, rubbing her body against him, hands sliding across his chest and shoulders, feeling every centimeter of skin on their way to his neck. They run across bare skin feeling tense muscles and soft hair, making his scalp burn with tingles that wave down followed by shivers. She smiles for what she does to him even while enthralled by what he does to her. They suffer. He runs a hand down her back, grabbing a handful of her cheek, and runs a hand up her back, holding her fast against his body. She shows her neck in request, he bites and kisses climbing from shoulder to ear. Her body is a cacophony of shivers, so much that she almost recoils. He stops as they are face to face, a moment to look at the stars in her eyes, then rubs his face against hers, feeling cold strands of her hair contrast with the feverish warmth of her skin.
She came here to tell him something. Tell him she was sorry for something she did or said. Maybe tell him it would be alright. She can't remember. It doesn't matter anymore. Nothing matters.
He pulls on her hips and she follows. Her body moves with his, not in passive subjugation, but with a passionate insistence to stay together, as much as possible. She wants him under her skin, past the divide that keeps their beings painfully apart. She wants him inside her.
They move as one towards the bed in a pulsating pace that makes them breathless. They kiss and fall. Light headed they sway and crawl over the sheets, every sense stimulated in a frantic mess.
"I love you" is said in a short breath, by no one in particular. Those words are repeated throughout the night. It lasts forever before it's over.
No external light ever reaches the lower levels of Gracia, in more ways than one. The staff has a nickname for the underground levels. They call it the catacombs. Officials are always trying to stamp out the use of the word, but it doesn't help that the facility was built on real catacombs under Gracia. The masonry here and there is covered with morbid depictions and sepulchral messages. As you delve deeper the architecture becomes an organic mix of archaic masonry and streamlined futuristic shapes. Level after level the masonry gradually vanishes and there's only black plates and cutting edges all around, but the morbid aspect never fades. There's almost no light or sound in the many corridors, to avoid emitting signals detectable by the outside. The entire facility shows a very conscientious effort to stay out of the public eye through all means necessary.
It takes a while, but most of the new staff eventually gets used to the darkness. The silence, on the other hand, is another beast entirely, affecting everyone from rookies to veterans. The results vary: to most people the silence forces them to deal with themselves, their own demons, something dismal for this line of work, but to a few the silence is contagious, it sips into their being, dims their light. It's not uncommon to hear about some guy who lost it at the cafeteria and tried to stab one of his teammates, or some girl who walks the corridors after curfew with empty eyes and aggressive reaction to disturbance. They call these two the shanky and the witch, respectively. There are cute names for every kind of psychotic breakdown, humor plays a big part in surviving in the catacombs.
The living quarters of the elite hounds is located much deeper than that of the regular staff. They only interact with other agents in the cafeteria and deployment areas during larger operations. They are paired with a partner and live in conjugated rooms. The coupled solitude together with the different life backgrounds makes each pair develop very distinct personalities.
Wake and Ellie have been living in the elite quarters for a month and two weeks now. The closest pair are the Doves. They are polite, but exude a cold hostility that can be unsettling at best. They haven't met other couples so far, but heard of them through hushed conversations. What they know so far is that each couple eventually receives a moniker, they aren't always a man and a woman, and while each pair is used for very specific operations, they all exceed in recon, intel and assassination. A recent information they picked up is that some couples are never used against heretics.
Ellie sleeps soundly as Wake slowly drifts back from the world of the dreaming. His real world is still very much surreal though, for so many reasons. Ellie lies beside him, bare, warm and peaceful. His imagination would never be able to conjure this dream, his greatest fantasies couldn't hold a candle to her. He watches her breathe over his chest. Now and then she moves around, holding him closer, smiling as she rubs her head against him. Her scent is everywhere. He holds her closer so he can feel more of her presence. Her eyes open ever so slightly, stars shining behind thick green eyelashes.
"Good morning" she smiles. Such a satisfied smile that he can't help but smile as well.
They draw closer, bathing in each other's warmth under the heavy blanket. In that very lazy morning, they linger insolent the world. Times like this make anything bearable, so they linger.
She wriggles and moans climbing the bed to come face to face, eyes half shut and a silly smile "last night, that thing you did with your tongue... it felt so good" her eyes close as if trying to relieve the memory and she blushes, biting her lip.
He runs his hands hands across her figure, the laziness being replaced by growing vigor "what thing?" he smiles, full of mischief.
"Don't make me say it, you bully" she blushes and buries her head in his chest. He voice is bashful, but honeyed. It's embarrassing to say it out loud, but the shyness is mixed with a growing arousal from last nights memories and the crescent awareness of each other's intimacy.
He brushes her hair, running his fingers across shiny strands of jade. She keeps her head down, let a cheek rest over his chest, content with life. Through caresses he pulls her closer, brings them face to face. She slides higher, legs straddling him for support. She lifts herself, letting her breast gently rub against his chest, neck, face. He is taken by the softness and the warmth. He can feel her nipples rubbing stiff against his skin, he kisses them as they get close, making her moan a bit. Her breasts are sensitive, but it's more about the sight of having him bask in her breasts that arouses her. The way he kisses and gently bites.
She lowers herself to kiss him. He takes her by force as she draws close. The laziness is all but gone as they sway faster. She shivers as his hands slide down her spine to her perked bottom. She can feel him growing harder under her. As they kiss she slowly slides up and down, rubbing his member between between their bellies. She grows bolder and faster with each kiss, and it slides down. She shivers in expectation, as it rubs tentatively against very sensitive skin. He starts rocking his own his, to put more pressure as it slides up and down. He reaches for the back of her neck and draws he for another kiss, in a mix of strength and gentleness. As they kiss he positions himself to finally enter. She holds her breath for a second, and he slides in. Inch by inch she lowers herself down, until it's completely in. She relaxes, releases her breath, and starts to go up again, then slowly down. Gradually they reach a smooth pace.
She lies on top of him, biting his neck while he embraces her tight against his body. They moan at each other's ears as the rhythm changes. "You're so warm inside" he whispers to her. The low whisper makes her whole body tingle.
"Keep... saying... keep... whispering" Her voice voice breaks as she urges him, her hips rocking faster and faster. They are breathing heavily and he knows she's nearing an orgasm.
He whispers sweet nothings while biting her ear, neck and shoulder. She's loosing control of herself, breathing heavier and faster. She rocks back and forth, not faster, but stronger, pushing against him, digging her nails on him. He holds her tight to help keep the rhythm. She's thrown completely out of pace as she finally peaks, her whole body still rocking intermittently, hips rubbing against him. He holds her lovingly, enjoying the sight of her completely taken by pleasure. With each sway and spasm her body softens under his embrace, slower and slower. She breaths deeply, he kisses her cheek and ear and brushes her messy hair away from her face.
"I... I..." She tries to say something between each breath. He continues his caress, enjoying her feverish beauty. Between moments of fervor and languid caress, they continue for a couple more hours.
The load-out area isn't very large. Their equipment is already there. They change from the standard issue skin to the recon skin, with small differences at first glance, but shock full of specific functions. To the naked eye it's slightly thicker, covered by small teeth like that of a shark's skin, and some exposed bones like the elbows, knees and collar bones are covered by articulated plates. The fibers of the suit resemble superficial muscle anatomy, and act as supplementary muscles. The suit has it's own circulatory system that integrates with the user's lymphatic and cardiovascular system to administer different drugs or clean the body of unwanted substances. The most amazing function though is it's adaptive reflective layer that makes the user invisible without magic. The suit is made so the recon unit never has to use any magic, it's a marvel of technology and ingenuity in an age where everything is solved by the arcane.
Wake watches as Ellie undresses from the standard skin and slides in the recon skin. Their eyes meet and she blushes a bit "don't you get tired of looking at me?" she says, smiling and facing down, taking a timid peek to see what he'll say.
"Nope" he answers in a heartbeat, smiling from ear to ear. "With that view, I'd be crazy not to sneak a peak whenever I could"
She blushes more, a bit shocked. Despite the time they spent together, she still has a hard time believing he likes her that much. It feels surreal. "Oh you pervert" she laughs it off and motions to throw some of her equipment at him, without any effort to hide her body. He chuckles and they continue to dress up, exchanging glances every now and then.
The mission is about to begin, and these last moments of leisure are precious, but as their commander enters the room they loose any last strand of joy they held to so far, no longer able to ignore the elephant in the room. That's their routine: live in blissful joy, ignoring the nature of their service until the last second, then when the time comes they do the job as best as they can and cope with it later.
They stand up straight and silent, final pieces of equipment laying in front of them. The commander walks closer, sided by an assistant.
"At precisely one hour from now you two will board the plane and head for the specified area. We received information that the enemy acquired anti-air magic, so you'll be equipped with wingsuits, dropped at a higher altitude, and from there you'll maneuver towards the island." His assistant hands them the wingsuits tightly packed "Proceed to the hangar when ready. That is all."
She leaves them alone again, the slide door closing with a hydraulic sound behind her. Ellie looks less than pleased with the idea of landing with a wingsuit.
"Well, can't say it won't be thrilling." He tries to cheer her up, dressing the last of the equipment and attaching the wings to the recon skin. He presses a button and it quivers for a second than integrates almost organically with the skin.
"Last time we had to do that we ended up with a mouthful of sand. I found sand in my hair for a week." she sounds displeased, but there's playfulness in her voice. Her tone and the memory makes him laugh, which in turn makes her chuckle as well. They finish dressing, pack their weapons and leave for the hangar.