Disclaimer: This is the chapter that gives this story the Mature rating. It is thus rated for violent and some might say perverse content, and some occasional swearing. I hope that my readers who have made it this far will indulge me in accepting the context with which I have employed each of these elements. I hope you enjoy.

Part 6

Buchheim Residence

East Dome #3

Now

"Angel?" George asked, astonished, looking the masked assassin straight in her blue eyes. The eyes were ice. No kindness lay there, and yet no malice either, just purposeful indifference. Though her face was obscured by pink rubber, George could tell that she was a different woman than she was four days prior.

Angel said nothing in response to his query, but stepped back four paces, again leveling the gun at his head.

"Raise your hands very slowly and place them on your head." Angel commanded in a soft tone carrying a slightly stern edge. George complied hesitantly, still struggling with the unreality of the current situation.

"Why are you doing this?" he asked on the verge of hysterics. Again Angel said nothing, but reapproached from behind and pushed the silencer of her gun into the back of George's head

so he knew it was there, then pulled on his suit jacket's collar, wrenching his arms downward and ripping a few seams. The coat however came off and was immediately tossed into the corner. Angel's right hand automatically shot to George's throat and her crooked middle and index fingers caught his tie, yanked down, loosened it, tore it off his head, and tossed it beside the jacket. Next her nimble gloved fingers worked the buttons of his shirt with astounding speed and the shirt flew open only to be torn off and tossed likewise in the corner.

Angel resumed her close proximity to George, pressing her body close up behind him, as if spooning whilst standing and repositioned her pistol to his temple. Her hand grasped his left pectoral under which she could feel his heart racing and followed his chest downward until she came to his waist where she unbuttoned his pants.

"You should be well aware of why I am doing this, " she said sweetly, now with a hint of pleasure in her voice, "Surely you realize that eventually Paradigm would catch up to you. On your stomach, ankles apart, hands on your head."

George complied again with his captor's instructions, the cleverness of Paradigm stinging his every thought. They had caught him with his pants down, and he felt he should be shot for his ignorance and stupidity. He very well was going to be.

"Listen Angel, do whatever you want to me, but spare my wife and daughters, please. I am begging you by all you hold dear. They have nothing to do with this. Leave them out of it." George was pleading red faced.

"I am afraid that I can't do that. They have everything to do with this, because you brought them into it. If you had only not written the story or had complied with Mr. Rosewater's generous severance agreement you'd be unemployed, but your family would be safe. Obstinance only leads to more trouble." As Angel lectured she pulled off George's shoes and then his trousers. George was left in his black dress socks, his blue and white stripped shorts, and a white wife-beater.

"Get up and sit down." Angel said, motioning with her gun to the empty chair beside his wife. He got up and did as he was told. As he sat down his arms were wrenched together behind the chair's back and bound with what he knew from prior observation to be white nylon rope. His legs were bound to the chair's legs next. After this Angel reappeared in front of George with a many tentacled pink rubber ball in her hand.

"Open up," she said pointing the gun between his eyes.

"Angel, please don't do this. Please I am beg . . ." Before he could finish his sentence she had shoved the ball into his opened jaw as hard as she could to lodge it, and set about hooking up the straps before he could muster the strength to spit it out.

George waited for her to blindfold him as she had for the rest of his family. She however did not do this, but instead walked over to the chair Martha was sitting in at his right, her platform heels clicking as she strode, and patted Martha gingerly on the cheek with her warm gloved hand, and removed her blindfold.

Angel then turned and walked across the room to the children's side, her well shaped but moving sultrily side to side with each emphasized stride. George's eyes, in spite of his distress, followed that ass that he had violated with preditorial acuteness. Somehow he still hoped that by the oddness of fate this was a twisted joke and he could once again enjoy the pleasures of four days ago. But these thoughts were cut short by the realization that the pains he felt throughout his body were real, his story was real, the strife of his family was real, and they would suffer for his weakness.

As Angel crossed the room she went to stand between the two girls' chairs and knelt down facing Patricia. She deftly untied the girl's blindfold , revealing the terrified, tear swollen eyes of the nine year old. Tricia's eyes immediately turned to the masked woman's and she looked mutely into the blue eyes for a few moments. Angle let her and did nothing to break eye contact. Unlike her father, Tricia saw kindness in the woman's eyes, though it did nothing to stop fresh tears from pooling down her face. Angel placed a hand on the girl's cheek and wiped the tears from both eyes with her insulted thumb. She bent over to Tricia's ear and whispered something in it. Whatever it was, it was involved, taking three minutes to relate. Also it calmed the terror from Tricia's face and left her upset but not scared.

Angel then turned to little Evy and whispered something in her ear, probably the same message, as the effect upon her was the same as her sister. Angel, however, left her blindfolded. Angel stroked Evy's arm reassuringly and then got up and walked over to the corner of the room in which she had laid in wait for George's return home. She retrieved a many compartmented black bag, and carried it to the right of where Patricia was seated.

As Angel approached the girl's again with the gun in hand, Mrs. Buchheim began to fight her restraints and become red in the face from screaming mutely through her pink gag. Angel heard this and turned to her.

"I made a promise, Mrs. Buchheim," she said holding up the gun, then clicking on the safety and tucking it into her loose red belt haphazardly, "and I am a woman of my word."

As George looked at her and his wife, confused, Angel scoffed at her foolishness.

"Before you arrived, Mr. Buchheim, when I was securing your wife, I made a promise not to shoot your daughters; a promise I will keep."

Whatever her plan, it was almost ready, but before she would commence, Angel went to each girl, bent over in front of them with her back to their parents, shielded from their view, and kissed each on the forehead, and Patricia on her salty eyes. Then there was nothign left to do, but proceed.

Angel knelt down over her bag and unzipped the second main compartment of the bag and rustled around with the contents. Three pairs of eyes were on her as she did so. She extracted what George recognized as a Military Police Riot Squad issue gas mask, painted pink, from the bag and fitted it onto her face and tightened the straps. The gas mask covered all of Angel's already masked face. Most of the mask was a clear plastic visor that revealed a mouth piece that encircled Angel's nose and mouth. There was a metal vent on the outside in front of where her mouth would be and directly between the two empty regulator ports. Next Angel removed a drab green cannister from the bag, unscrewed the top making a hissing noise as the hermetically sealed filter was opened, and screwed it into her left port, then repeated the process, placing one in the right port. As this last step was finished her breathing became audible as she sucked air through the filters and exhaled through them.

"You two can look away if you wish," she warned them. Her voice issued loudly from the metal vent, now revealed as a speaker, but muffled sounding.

Lastly from the bag, Angel took what looked like an odd pistol made from winding bent pipes. On top of the gun was a light blue liquid in an upside down glass phial and directly underneath that Angel fastened in a CO2 propellant cartridge.

Thusly armed, Angel strode up to Patricia and grasped her face firmly with her left hand and placed the muzzle of the gun an inch from the little girl's nose. As she depressed the trigger a misty, vaguely opaque whit e smoke wafted around the two's faces. Almost instantly little Tricia began to shake violently in her chair and scream, though barely audible because of the gag.

Angel held tight to the girl's face, kept her eys locked upon the girl's, and kept pumping the gas in her face for almost a minute. Then she released her to feel the gas's effects. Patricia fell limp, twitching here and there. Her parents were aghast. Neither could watch as Angel repeated the process on their youngest. They closed their eyes and counted to one hundred, and even then debated as to whether to open their eyes. As they both did, at different times, they saw Evy seated like her sister, unblindfolded, with her eyes rolled up into her head, with a blank expression on her face, twitching occasionally.

Looking on, both parents expressed their horror in different ways. George's eyes stared in fixed disbelief. This wasn't happening, was all he thought. His wife's devastation was quite apparent. She erupted into tears and a fit of fidgeting at her bonds. Angel disregarded this for the time and gingerly replaced the gas gun into the bag with the utmost care. Then after waving her arms about to disperse the deadly fog, she removed her gas mask and replaced it in the bag as well. As Angel got up she looked at her two remaining victims to assess the affect of her work.

"You needn't worry," she said, addressing Mrs. Buchheim, the most shaken looking, "They didn't suffer for more than twelve seconds. The nerve gas will have killed their consciousness almost immediately, as it is even now working its way through their peripheral nervous system. Also," she said, kindly, "You must realize that you are going to be killed next and are only seconds away from being reunited on the other side."

Casually, Angel reached down, grabbed her gun, raised it up not too fast, took careful aim, and fired a round off. Tweerp. It hit Mrs. Buchheim between the eyes, and knocked the chair onto it's back with a spray of red. Angel took two paces forward and did a double tap to Martha's chest. Tweerp. Tweerp.

George could not stand it any longer. Small blessing that he couldn't turn his head at an angle to see what Angel had done to his wife, even if he'd wanted to, but the pooling of her blood on the floor did reach his eyes, and he had to fight back a wave a nausea. The blood had made it real somehow. It had jarred him out of his bubble of incongruity. Tears reached his eyes and he wept silently.

Angel undid his gag and tore it out of his mouth.

"Why? Why did you do that!" George yelled, his voice breaking two octaves.

"I told you before." Angel said with her arms crossed, in a condescending almost parental tone, "This is punishment. To think that you, a mere mortal, could titans such as us and slay us, let alone exit unscathed was very arrogant of you. Whether or not you worked away from your family and adopted a new persona is inconsequential; they are still an exploitable liability. Fighting an institution is a 'no man's' game. You must hold nothing dear but your cause, and have no home or place of respite. So you forfeit humanity and become nothing but a specter haunting the many levels of your target. Your family is, or should I say, was the anchor that held you back from achieving your aim. Now whether you live or die is arbitrary. I have you."

George was disgusted by the callousness of her words. What's more the truthfulness of them stung deeper. He had been a fool. He had made the number one mistake of war: underestimate your foe and you leave yourself open for a knife in the dark. He most certainly had been stabbed as deep as a man of his station could be. He felt helpless now and powerless to rectify the mistakes he had made. He felt foolish seated in his underwear, tied up and held prisoner by a masked woman who's tight pink costume, though showing no skin, aroused him when he should be immune to it. His family was dead. This was real.

"But they were a harmless woman and children . . ." George said morosely, devoid now of the energy to be angry at her entirely.

"I am a soldier pledged to my cause and my land. In defense of them I would murder as many men, women, and children as it would take. Secondly, I am a woman and feel no guilt taking another woman's life. Unlike a man, the playing field is even."

"Is that what Alex Rosewater has led you to believe, that this rotten City and the self serving ideals upon which the Paradigm Group founded it are worth innocent lives?" George asked pointedly. Angel laughed, placing her hands on her sleek pink hips.

"You silly man. While yes, I am here on the orders of Alex Rosewater, he's not, nor is his company, where my loyalties lie. Paradigm wasn't the only culprit implicated in your piece."

George's eyes grew wide. This woman was full of surprises.

"You mean, you . . . you're . . ."

"A foreigner? Yes. I am Union Operative 340 of the Foreign Union. Had you complied with Rosewater's severance terms tonight, I still would have come and paid your family a visit, but I wouldn't have killed them. I would have tied them up and lined them up on their knees with a gun to one of their heads, demanding the document and departed into the night, leaving you to quickly reproduce it before Rosewater did send me to kill you. You wouldn't have ever known it was me and we could have carried on our little affair. I will admit you were amusing, and you still might have been of some use to the Union. As it is, I will keep that document and say that you destroyed it before I could procure it. It will then be used by the Union in our campaign against Paradigm. However, with me having said all this, I will have to kill you now."

"Any last requests before you join your family?" she asked mock sweetly, "Yes, I know hat you want. Even while I was gassing your daughters you couldn't take your eyes off me. I tore everything that is dear to you away, and still you want me," she ran her crimson gloved hands over her sheathed breasts, stomach, hips, and ass. Her left hand then went to her neck and found the large, circular zipper and pulled it down slowly, revealing the creamy flesh of her neck, then the valley between her breasts, her trim stomach, and finally the freshly shaved, pink mons. George could feel himself swelling beneath his shorts.

Angel walked up to him, moving her body as she had all night in such a way as to arouse him. Her hips moved side to side and her breast heaved in and out. She swung herself onto his rigid lap and wrapped her legs around his waist. Reaching her hand between her legs she fumbled with the slit of George's shorts and released the beast from its cage, and roughly lowered herself onto him, her body sheathing his weapon. Angel then leaned her masked face down to his and put her soft, glossy lips to his and kissed him s roughly as she was grinding against his lap. His mouth was pried apart by her tongue, which darted around inside like a landed fish. One thing that could be said for her technique was that she, although rough, could tease a man's climax, fucking him for close on twelve minutes.

After a long hard fucking, Angel felt George spurt deep inside her. She got up, took a few teasing steps backwards, and zipped her suit back up. She pulled out her gun and cocked the action. George could feel mortality nipping at his every particle, and though he wished it, he still felt ties to the living.

"Why didn't you take off your mask?" he asked weakly.

"I am an assassin, a faceless killer who ends life. To be a true assassin you must appear inhuman to your victims. It is for that reason that I unblindfolded each of you as I killed you. I enjoy looking into the eyes of my victims as I take their lives from them." This last thought she concluded with a chuckle.

"Your time is up, Georgie-Porgykin." angel said, holding up the gun, "I'll let you choose how I do it. Through the eye ( she pressed the silencer into his right eye), in the mouth ( she shoved it into his mouth), to the side of the head ( she pressed it to his temple), or throughthe heart?"

George nodded. Angel smiled at the symbolism of his choice.

"It won't be the first time, will it, my love?" she asked, placing the gun a little to the right of his sternum and pulled the trigger. Tweerp. The bullet was off, as Angel had planed, nicking the aortic arch and giving him a few seconds of life to toy with.

"I told your wife about us, Georgie. She knew before she died." Angel teased: one last insult. George had no time to react this time, having passed out shortly after hearing this from the massive blood loss he had incurred with each heart beat. Angel shot him again between the eyes with cold accuracy to end it.

With the Buchheims dead Angel proceeded to her primary objective, the item designated in her briefing of the 'Genesis 19 Contingency' as the 'Buchheim Document'. Owing to her stealth, she didn't have to look for it. George had dropped it as he had entered the room. Angel picked it up and extracted the document form the portfolio, replacing it with another doctored document given her by the Union Propaganda Division. The false document had been treated with kerosene, so when Angel lit it, the paper became engulfed in flames. She dropped it to the ground and stamped out the flames with her pink high heeled boot after the fire had obscured enough of the text to hide the bogusness of the words. She picked up the charred fragments and placed them in the portfolio case, which she loaded up into the black bag.

Finally she took a cannister of petrol and doused each of the bodies and the furniture, then poured a trail out to the front door. At the door she took out her field radio sized portable phone. Flipping down the receiver and pulling out the antenna with her teeth, she dialed her employer.

"'Operation Genesis 19' accomplished., Mr. Rosewater. The reporter and his family have been terminated . . . . . . . Yes, he knew the full genius of your ingenuity before he was eliminated . . . . . . . . I understand, sir, but I am afraid to report that in one way he was too clever for us. The 'Buchheim Document' was treated with flammable agents. He set fire to it. I did my best to salvage what was left. Buchheim suffered for his impudence . . . . . . Thank you sir for your understanding. I shall report for debriefing within the hour."

Angel hung up and dialed another number.

"Agent 12, this is Agent 340. The operation has been completed. Item designation "Buchheim Document" is safely in Union hands . . . . . . . Yes, Alex Rosewater appears satisfied with the subterfuge I have employed, but further observations will be taken at my debriefing . . . .

Yes. I shall report to you with the document tomorrow evening . . . . . . . No, it does not appear that Agent 135 disclosed the significance of the JFK-Mark operation to Buchheim, nor does it appear that he informed anyone else of the information he did procure about us . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Understood. So Agent 271 has dispatched Agent 135. I am indeed satisfied. Thank you Agent 12. Viva la Union."

Angel hung up the phone and pushed in the antenna. Quickly she loaded up the equipment into the trunk of her little pink convertible. Angel took a medium sized rock from the Buchheim's landscaping, wrapped a oily rag around it, lit it and skillfully tossed it right through the front door. The house immediately erupted into an inferno. Angel stood erect in front of the house's walkway, back straight, heels together, and blew a kiss to those burning inside. Then turned with a hop in her gait and entered her car and departed the scene.

Fin

Endnote: This concludes the story as I had conceived it when I started. I hope you liked it. If you did please give me some feed back on what you did like and what you may not have liked. If I get enough reviews I will post two bonus chapters I thought up while writing this. If not, just email me and I'll try and get those chapters to you by email. But please do let me know how you liked this.