9:06 AM, next morning. Something pricked the large woman awake, smacking her lips and rolling over from her stomach. The attractive blond thirtysomething man was still snoring beside her, the bedcovers thrown haphazardly over him and nude as she was. Stacy sat up and took in his well-muscled form...he was quite a romp last night. It was at that moment the door to the hotel room flew open, several people entering, all armed. "What the--," muttered the man as he was jolted awake. Then his mouth dropped open.
The leader seemed to be a hulking blonde with an equally big gun in her hands. Stepping forward, she snapped "Stacy Driftwood? You're coming with us."
"I don't think so," commented Stacy as she slid out of bed unashamedly. A couple of the intruders pointed their weapons at her companion; the redhead was informed that they'd shoot her friend. She shrugged. "I don't know him, I just met him yesterday, smart guys. Do want ye want."
He stared at her disbelievingly. "You can't--"
"Shut up," both parties demanded.
"Guess we'll have to take her forcibly," the blonde spoke, motioning to the other cultists. Stacy merely stood there until they got within arm's reach, then her metal arm shot out and broke one of the group's cheekbone, the force sending them to their rear end on the floor. Another attempted to bash her with his gun but she ducked aside and nailed his shin with her bionic foot, the bones satisfyingly giving away. Screams soon added to the sounds of the scuffle, then suddenly Stacy felt a little sting in her left breast. Glancing down she found a small dart hanging from her chest; she yanked it out. She immediately felt the effects, staggering back a pace. Still she managed to break another All follower's hand before she dropped heavily to the floor unconscious. The man she'd picked up last night was soon left alone sitting up in bed and blinking like an owl in the sunlight.
"She's a freakin' maniac, that one," complained Omar, dark eyes surly as he started up the engine of the SUV.
"She's gorgeous," sighed another of the Children, even though she'd broken his hand. Stacy was laying on her side motionless in the plush back seat, a long trenchcoat buttoned hastily around her and hands handcuffed behind her back. Wavy reddish hair covered her face partially, revealing an arched eyebrow and half a set of full lips.
Electra chuckled. "She's older than your mother, Jason--and crazier than a fox. She gave birth to the demonspawn we hunt, never forget that."
The young man ceased gazing at the inert woman and murmured his acquiescence. They began driving. A yellow eye fluttered open and focused, then closed again.
They think they have me, do they? These freaks and that damned Bureau, they think they both got me. I told my son I'd do this but I didn't say what I'd do after I led BPI to em.
And little did the All know that in Stacy's bionic arm was a tracking device that would lead BPI straight to them.
"They're moving," exclaimed a Bureau detective.
"Let's go," commanded Anne, coordinating the tracking.
A white head snapped up, one belonging to a gangly figure sitting in a corner with knees drawn up to his chest. He wasn't even quite sure of what he was capable of psychically but he'd had treatments for many years. He'd also pushed his talents as much as possible over the years for just such an occasion as this. Heh. Mental shielding by the g-men, ineed. He'd felt his wife for a split second then the filter was back, but he'd felt it. He blinked his bloodshot eyes and flexed his hands, considering his next move. He knew his body chemistry was extremely unstable as the Bureau now knew from the tests; he could live relatively unchanged another 50 years or drop dead tomorrow. He'd worked hard to keep it from Stacy, and that was fuckin' difficult since she shared both body and mind with him. He dearly loved his wife and his love was given rarely.
God, he missed Baby too.
He hit upon a lovely idea when guards came to check on him. Grabbing one by the throat with his metal hand he told the others he'd crush his windpipe. "Get the Greek," he told them, standing behind the hapless guard. Within moments the short supervisor was there, looking nonplussed.
"What can I help you with, Driftwood? I'd hate to have you terminated, seeing how Ryan feels about you. I don't like killing, either."
"Gimme that gun," he indicated one of the agents' weapons. It was handed over to his normal hand. Fast as lightning he released the guard and latched onto Santos, holding the automatic weapon to his head. "Move away," he barked, making his way out into the hall, bionic hand grasping Santos' neck in a vise grip. The BPI supervisor could sense the power in his wiry arms, accustomed to hard labor and the brutal murdering of his fellow man. Bell had some of his troops moving in behind them but Santos had him call them off. He didn't know if any of them could get the drop on this psychobilly and didn't want to chance it.
"What IS this place," asked Ryan, meaning the huge building they had pulled up in front of. It appeared to be an abandoned factory--hundreds of All crazies could be waiting for them inside. The young man took a deep breath and readied himself for the endeavor. As the BPI agents fanned out, a figure emerged from the structure with submachine gun in hand. "Mom," he called, wondering what she'd been up to. The auburn-headed mother of his wore a surprised expression on her face--she'd been planning on making a clean getaway.
"Tommy," she spoke with genuine concern. "I guess I was a bit too much for them to handle."
"Get your ass back in there," Anne motioned with her gun. She wasn't going to let her out of her sight.
"All right, Miss Thang," sniffed Stacy. When her captors brought her to this place she continued laying motionless while they bundled her into a holding room, where she'd lain until her jailors let their guard down. She struck like a merciless storm, killing indiscriminately. Bullets pinged off her bionic arm and a couple hit her but she seemed to hardly feel it in her rage and excitement, along with the fact that like Otis her body's makeup had been altered.
"Drive," intoned the pale snake, finally releasing his grip on the dark-haired gentleman but keeping the lowered gun trained on him. The Bureau automobile took off, driving toward the ultimate confrontation. Otis breathed deeper in seeming relief, when Santos informed him they would be followed by the whole US government. They continued driving for a few silent minutes.
"Then I oughta pop yer skull like a ripe melon right here," rumbled the gangly madman. His finger began tightening on the trigger.
"You would definately seal your fate then, Otis. You'd be pursued and surrounded by everything we could muster."
"So what, then, Hotshot," he said bemusedly.
His captive glanced over with his big dark eyes. "Let me go, and I will let you go. There will be no pursuit."
"What, yer just gonna let me go," Otis said incredulously. "You know what I can do, Apollo."
I know you just want to be with your son and your wife, Tim. A noble desire--and I am well aware she keeps you out of trouble. I also think of Ryan as a son. Otis's faded eyes widened. That's what she called you, wasn't it? That girl you had a crush on when your were thirteen. She liked the name Tim. Then she found another to give her affection to, and you killed her. Otis realized what a powerful telepath Santos was, and found himself perhaps a little in awe of the dimunitive Greek. Arthur pulled the car over to the side of the road and put it in park; his 'abductor' lowered his weapon.
"If I hear word of any mayhem perpetrated by you, I can have you killed so very easily."
"Huh. We'll have to see on that one. Now get off my bus!"
Electra had been waiting on the Bureau and led a group of members in an ambush which sent Ryan and the others scrambling for cover. Stacy was still clad only in the trenchcoat which left little to the imagination and he was trying not not look at her. Suddenly she perked up. "Otis is on his way," she squealed happily, eyes sparkling.
"What," exclaimed Ryan and Anne together. Bullets whizzed past as the All pelted them.
"This bitch is seriously pissing me off," growled the redhead. She broke and rushed toward them oblivious of the shots being fired her way, tackling the blonde and sending them both to the floor. Her gun clattered to the floor and her fellow Children watched, unable to get a clean shot as the women struggled. "Thought you'd caught me, didn't ya," hissed Stacy and punched the Amazon in the face with her robot hand. It was a blow that would've sent any other woman to la-la land but she took it with only a grunt and rolled Stacy off of her. Electra immediately went to work on Stacy but it hardly fazed her. Finally the cultists came in at Stacy who slipped out of their grip as Ryan and his backup attacked.
Electra and her fellow members faded into the shadows without a sound as well leaving their dead. Anne Dobbs swore at the loss of Stacy, who was who-knows-where at this point. "We can't allow her to get away!"
"We'll have to deal with that later," Ryan told her drily as he reloaded his gun.
"What could she possibly be after," the older woman wondered.
"Her husband." God help us all, but they do belong together. He was partly right, for his mother was also after her clothes and effects which she knew the church had in their posession.
Otis eyed the building as he pulled to a stop, reaching for his gun. On a whim he opened the glovebox to check for anything of interest, and saw his huge razor-sharp Bowie knife, sitting pretty as you please. He knew! Somehow, Santos knew what would happen. Grinning nonetheless the albino tucked it in his boot and exited the automobile. He met some resistance as he slithered inside which he dispatched nonchalantly, trying to hone in on his wife.
His son meanwhile had found his way to a small room, probably a former office, with a few of the agents who were left. Logan and two of his most powerful followers, a man and a woman, turned to face them with blank faces. Eric was dressed in a long tunic and loose trousers and seemed to have been expecting him. "You've come to fulfill your destiny, I see," he spoke calmly.
"I'm harder to kill than that."
"I wasn't talking of that. I foresaw my death last night, you see--and you are the catalyst. So I've taken precautions." He stood unmoving as the agents moved in to surround them.
"What do you mean," asked the young man with a sinking heart, golden eyes narrowed to slits.
"I passed much of my strength and purpose to the one you let get away," he chuckled in the face of his own destruction. "The Good Deity will have his will one way or another."
Oh Jesus, Electra was still out there, along with his parents and here he was jabbering with this old lunatic! But if he allowed Eric to live and go free then he'd simply set up house somewhere else and be a thorn in his side. Aw, fuck it. The welll-built man aimed his firearm at the cult leader.
"You don't think I'd let you have it the easy way, do you," said Logan, raising his hands and pushing them with telekinetic force. Time seemed to slow to a crawl.
"So, the demon comes forth," the blonde lady said while cocking her gun. The familiar warehouse now held untold danger and it unsettled her. The tall, muscular woman peered from behind a group of barrels, squinting, and found nothing. She could hear him moving but couldn't determine from what direction. She was thankful she had learned to shield herself from telepathic prying for she knew he was probably more powerful than Ryan, his son.
"Oh I've come to do the Devil's work ya nutty bitch," came the high-toned voice from behind her. Whirling she ducked just in time as Otis let loose a hail of bullets from his handgun. "I can't believe you people, havin my ass dragged from my comfortable home! I had peace an' quiet and my wife!"
Electra scrambled toward a stack of boxes, yelling "We didn't drag your ass anywhere, Nightwalker. That agency your son works for did that, we only wanted Ryan, Tommy, whatever you wanna call him."
"I'm gonna kill that boy," Otis growled, rubbing his sensitive eyes. "After I kill this Jesus-bitch." He was behind a large pile of junked machinery and breathing heavy--his blood was up. Only the blood of the big woman would suffice to quell it. They both exchanged fire until his gun was empty. Shit, out of ammo. Pulling out his Bowie knife he rushed her, favoring one leg but moving at some speed nonetheless. Electra continued firing at him but suddenly he was on her, seeking an opening to stab her. She blocked with her gun but soon lost her footing and fell backwards, the smaller man wildeyed and thrusting with his weapon. Ohh, how he wanted to bleed her, have his way with her blue-lipped corpse. She sent a silent prayer to the Maker as the blade sliced her forearm, then pierced her upper arm as she fought desperately.
She struck at his face but her large fist bounced off his metal jaw, and she noticed she had gotten him--there was a bullethole in his shoulder which leaked something that didn't look like normal blood. What was he? What had he done to himself all these years? True fear now engulfed the cult lieutenant as Otis cackled and tried to stab her; by the All his strength was incredible for someone his age! Suddenly his head snapped around. He must've sensed something for he rolled to the side of her after his knife had entered her side, making her double up with pain. More members of the Church of the All had come to assist Electra, their leader's second in command and adopted daughter. Still behind the boxes, Electra started to call to them but a bionic metal hand clamped down over her mouth. Grinning his disarming, charming smile he took his regular hand and dipped it in the blood on her forearm and smeared it on the button-up blouse she was wearing, tracing around her breasts and up her long, smooth neck. To be close to seventy he radiated enormous virility and energy, and she noticed the bullet wound she'd given him had already almost closed. She whimpered involuntarily and he bent closer to lick her earlobe and bloody jaw. Electra nearly retched.
She wondered how the beautiful, accomplished Stacy Robins could love such a creature, when someone shouted "Otis! Where are you?"
He groaned. "That crazy woman o' mine," he muttered. Right on cue gunfire started up. However, Stacy hadn't survived all these years by being soft and stupid, and she wouldn't have captured and kept Otis's interest either. He heard the screams of men losing their lives and smiled his shark's smile. "Over here, darlin," he called to her sweetly.
Stacy, resplendent in her baby t-shirt and skirt, picked off the cultists with her crossbow. She too had a metal arm and a bionic lower leg, as well. Otis's experimenting had made them both an amalgam of flesh and steel, also bestowing prolonged life and psychic abilities in varying degrees. "You got that Amazon," she yelled.
"Oh, yeah," he replied, kneading a full breast as Electra moaned in disgust. Otis hadn't had a woman fight him this hard since...well, Stacy. He'd like to fuck this one before he killed her.
Wind whipped at the Bureau agents and they attempted with their own powers to quell it. At the same time Logan was trying to find his way past their defenses to crush their minds and began trembling with the effort. Ryan couldn't seem to squeeze the trigger all the way and put an end to the crazed priest no matter how hard he strained.
Anne had been sidelined by Omar who'd gotten the drop on her, effectively disarming the veteran investigator. Suddenly he twitched and his dark eyes boggled; he slumped forward lifeless. A familiar figure was behind him, smiling her lopsided grin. "Gina," Anne exclaimed, glad to see the scar-faced lady. The brunette tucked away the knife she'd stuck Omar with in a flash, retrieving the elder woman's weapon and handing it to her. "And you thought Ryan training me was a bad idea," Gina said good-naturedly.
"You're still trouble," snorted the blonde in jest.
The double entity known as Gina giggled--the young woman carried within her a several-thousand-year-old Celtic war goddess known as Badb. When she could be controlled Gina harnessed great powers, but keeping her subjugated was a challenge at times.
Christ, she's tight, Otis thought as he used Electra. Holy hell he was almost ready to orgasm already--of course he'd been separated from Stacy for a while. He'd pulled her skirt up and cut her panties off her in a cloud of lust. She tried to bear it in silence but let out a squeal occasionally when fresh pain tore at her: she was a virgin, or at least had been. The only men she'd been around were Logan, Omar and a very few others. She'd feel humiliated later, right now all she felt was pain and a building rage as he continued thrusting in and out of her. A few moments later he shuddered in climax, slumping on her completely spent. He was surprisingly light even for a wiry guy like him. He was breathing heavily on her shoulder and Electra wondered if she'd be able to move even if she tried.
"Feel better," came a sarcastic voice. Otis got to his feet, buttoning his pants back on. He turned to Stacy who was observing with arms folded across her chest. Electra gasped for air, still sprawled on the ground as Otis left her.
"I certainly do, sweetie," came the reply. "Don't eeeeeven start with me. I smell another man on you from here."
"Too bad you spent all those lil Otis's on the tough broad, I'm feelin a lil frisky mahself." He gave her a look which read, give me a little time, baby. Just then a roar echoed throughout the whole factory, followed by a rumble. Was the whole place going to go down? What the hell?
