Supernatural-The Pale queens Mighty with Sorrow
I don't own Supernatural, though I wish I did. I own drug speak. Warning a bit of FxF action as well as non con group fun. Enjoy.
Armonda Greer wasn't very good-looking, not in her opinion, or the opinion of many others she interacted with on a daily basis. She was just trying to keep her head down and not call much attention to herself. Mostly she hated gaining even her Bosses' attention. Seven heavily devout Christian men, all bigoted and hypocritical. She wore no make up. She let herself get fat to distract from her appeal. And if she disagreed with some political insistence of anyone around her she just put another spoonful of what ever she was eating and swallowed it down. Armonda was saddled with bad luck. Which many would dismiss as an affliction of the superstitious. Again, Armonda would just swallow the bitterness of truth of the situation and avoid notice. All of her friends were surface friends, people who banter about the news, or the weather. People who make themselves available for car pool, and suggest pot luck dinners only to bring store bought potato salad full of food poisoning everyone would eat, and complain about later.
The factory she worked at making glasses was recently procured in a hostile take over by a big company called Romatech. The New CEO insisted on a new kind of testing for the workers. Armonda hadn't smoked weed in over 3 months, though she still owned a pricey oriental glass pipe which coated from a crystal white to a jet black when smoked from. She only drank when her pain pills didn't work and the most she ever took was an Aspirin with a warm milk chaser anyway.
The whistle blew to interrupt work and everyone stood in line making their own educated guesses about what the new test might be. Some thought a drug test, others thought it might me a kinetics test. Some still thought they might have a safety test and stood reviewing their Haz-Mat pamphlets.
Armonda just wanted to get back to work and finish her stack of trays. Swing shift had it's draw backs and one was a need for Coffee. Every one was given an odd piece of paper. It had a luminescent rainbow sheen to it, and a handful of pens were sent down the line. "What in the world is this made of?"
Her thoughts were interrupted. "This is bullshit, they want you to sing, It's some kind of competition. It's unamerican I'll see you in court Roman!"
Everyone began to become more confused, put their pamphlets down and started straightening out their clothes, slicking back their hair and doing quiet yodel practice, and meter practice in the hallway.
Armonda did nothing, but continued to look at the paper with the questions on it.
Name: Armonda Ana Greer-Singer Di Genovici
Date of Birth: April 30th 1982
Age: You cannot do math?
If you were a snail, What kind of snail would you be? The Conch Snail of Australia
If you were a Dynasty character, which one would it be? Claudia Blasdel
What is your favorite color? The mustard stain on my shirt from the hot dog I ate two days ago
Why are manhole covers round? if they were heart shaped we'd never know when valentines day was
What would I find in your refrigerator right now? I don't own one, I live out of an Igloo
How many gas stations would you say there are in the United States? Too many we should convert to hydrogen. Then people might be more careful
If Hollywood made a movie about your life, whom would you like to see play the lead role as you? Ellen Muth
If someone wrote an autobiography about you, who do you think the author should be? Me
What kind of supernatural entities do you dislike? I haven't met very many.
What's the most important part of the sandwich? People.
Armonda placed her sheet in the porclean stackable left on the office desk and got into the next line. The heavy set Mexican, five employees ahead was in the sound proof room where the meetings took place. Armonda figured it was sound proof since the Owner, the old owner was a Polish Mafia Don. There was a Strega sitting in the seat next to Dick Roman, as the man flailed his arms and opened his mouth wide as though performing show tunes. His eyes bulged, the vein on his neck pulsed. He stopped holding his hat and waiting for the critique. The Strega said something. Armonda wasn't very good with lip reading. Something with S's and O's in it. She only noticed because she took a Elocution reduction class when she first came to America so she wouldn't stick out like a foreigner. Though, not getting anything current but the news back in Romania didn't help much with her reebok pumps and the over sized Guess shirt with Lisa Frank everything else really didn't help. 'Damn you Full House, Damn you to infinity. May you die on Happy Mountain' she thought.
The Mexican employee shuffled his feet out the door, trying to huff back tears. "I work here for thirty years. I got 11 kids to feed."
"Oh, Martin." a few of the older ladies empathized.
Armonda felt something was most definitely off. She continued to look at the paperwork. And suddenly it occurred to her. The questions weren't looking for actual answers, it's why they were bull shit questions. So they were looking for something else.
Armonda glanced at the girl's paper right in front of her, the way she wrote was obviously different.
What's the most important part of a sandwich? The Tomatoes?
Then she glanced back at the little old man behind her's paper.
What would I find in your refrigerator right now? Fish, beer, and bread.
"Miss...Greer?" The assistant popped her head out.
"It's Singer." Armonda corrected.
"Right," The assistant scribbled on a piece of paper. "Right this way please."
"But I'm next." Said the girl in front of Armonda. The assistant eyed her coolly.
"If I were you I wouldn't be so put off."
The girl backed down and the assistant gave Armonda a warmer more pleasant welcome, placing her hand leading her by the small of her back, which, after a few hours of labor, happened to be quite chilly and moistened by sweat.
"What can I do for you, Sir?"
"I like that, Armonda," Dick said. "May I call you Armonda?"
"It's my name." She shrugged.
"Armonda, I'm so sorry for the formality here. I assure you this will only take a moment. Would you like some water?"
"No, Sir."
"Fine, I can see you like to get to the heart of the matter. This is my associate, Miss Vasilescu."
"Ma'am."
"Dear, if you would please. We'd like it if you sang for us."
"I am not a very good singer." Armonda said.
"You don't need to be good, we just need to hear you."
"Yes, Sir. What shall I sing for you?"
"Anything you want, dear."
The strega's eyes scanned over Armonda's answers on the sheet, While Armonda was singing.
(Queen B by Puscifer)
This lady got the thickness
Can I get a witness?
This lovely lady got the thickness
Can I get a "Hell, yeah"?
Grab them saddle bags and
Toss 'em over me, let's
Ride on
This lady got the thickness
Can I get a witness?
This lovely lady got the thickness
Can I get a "Hell, yeah"?
Booty better thick-a-licious
Shake it like she's fearless
This lovely lady got the thickness
Can I get a "Hell, yeah"?
This lady got the thickness
Can I get a witness?
This lovely lady got the thickness
Can I get a "Hell, yeah"?
Grab them saddle bags and
Toss 'em over me
This Betty booty got the thickness
Can I get a "Hell, yeah"?
Can I get a witness?
Can I get a "Hell, yeah"?
The Strega looked at Dick and nodded. Dick chuckled, which seemed like he hadn't done since he begun his interviews from where Armonda could see in the hall.
"Not that it's my business, Miss Singer, but what made you choose that one?"
"It was the song dedicated to me by my last romantic encounter before I punched him out of a strip club window, sir." Armonda admitted shamefully.
"Fantastic,come with me." Dick stood up and offered Armonda the door. Odd again since it seemed like this guy was a corporate loan shark. It wasn't very sharkly to allow someone to go on ahead, unless it was to stab them from behind.
Armonda went, but very guarded. "So Armonda, the tests we gave today show you have an over 120 IQ."
"Yes, Sir."
"You're a very smart girl. Just a few points away from genius I'd imagine."
"I wouldn't go that far Sir."
"You're not in a university., you're not working for some law firm or for a political campaign of your own, why is that?"
"I like my job. it gives me time to do what I like."
"And tell me Armonda what do you like to do with that time? Really, what do you do? No offense intended but you don't strike me as someone who has a lot of friends, more like frenemies."
"Friends bring drama and I am looking for a calm life, Sir."
"Handwriting like that, you draw?"
"Yes sir, I do it all."
"What is all?"
"Draw, write, paint, make jewelry, clothes, sculpt, cut hair, make perfume, make holistic medicines, and tonics. I research-"
"Hold on, there it is, that's what I was looking for." Dick said licking his lips. "I am setting up a new research facility right here. And I want you to manage it."
Armonda raised an eye brow. "Research what?"
Dick opened the ARC Room door. (Anti reflective coating) Where there used to be nearly a hundred containers of Ether. It was all removed and now six young nubile, strong men were placing big heavy old dictionary like books in their place. Not a single man there looked over 19, and no less than a mess of muscles.
"This is Walter, Riley, Grant, Austin, Tristan and Leif, they will be your assistants. "
"For?"
"Research."
"Yes you have said that but research what, Mr. Roman?"
"Confidential company files that circulate from out in the field. You'll be doing fact checking. Fixing typos, making additions. I'm looking for informative details added. I am a man who likes to know about the businesses he acquires. I like names birth dates, anything you would find on a facebook page, but more. The why what's and where's."
"Is that all?"
"Compile the data, and turn it into this drop box here. And that's it."
"So, do I need to sign anything? Or..."
"Ah yes good girl, already doing what we pay your salary for."
"I get paid $8.00 an hour sir."
"Not according to this." He held up a copy of legally binding documents. With the Wolf, Ram and Heart LLC.
"Wait, is this legit?" Armonda adjusted her Aiden Church glasses and saw on the dotted line her name just below a salary of $80,000 a quarter.
"Don't let the name throw you, I bought the place as a spoof coffee shop and turned it into an actual law firm to attract the late 20 somethings when they need legal help."
"Well that's clever." Armonda said flatly.
"I'll leave you to it." Dick smiled. "We're counting on you, Armonda. No pressure though."
"Right...No pressure." Armonda confirmed. She got to work. There was odd requests, like fragrances for Saks 5th avenue, designated by astrological sign. Or the husbandry of Caribou in Arizona to make them particularly appealing for a mainstream meat alternative. Nothing seemed to connect.
For weeks Armonda did well but her staff was certainly pushing the boundaries of acceptable behavior. Anytime one of her underlings got the opportunity they attempted to surreptitiously stroke her fingers, or present their most tantalizing traits before her in a manor that would have her exhausted and needing a handkerchief for all the nose bleeds. Their seemingly genuine questions of how she was feeling that day were more than a bit intrusive. Always one of the young men picking up something in feats of strength, or engaging her in conversations she'd previously read on Cracked earlier that day. Always with the intense eye contact, the flirting, buying her things. Cookies, chocolates, apples, on her birthday they even showed up with Bouquets of grape hyacinths.
It only made her more suspicious, but she was much too polite to address it. The last straw though was when they brought in another lady about her age. A plucky young thing who seemed to be screaming out "Look at me!" From her very Aura. A blue eyed beauty with long golden brown hair and a British, perhaps a light Australian accent.
"Miss Greer?"
"Yes, Hello." Armonda was nervous.
"Abigail Talbot, Nice to make your acquaintance."
"Pardon me Miss Talbot." Armonda moved passed her to get to her assignment."
"Loving the talent here." She commented.
"Talent?" Armonda didn't even glance over, her focus was on the job at hand. A secret ingredient in a pasta dish in Turkey seemed to be causing a side effect of desire to consume human flesh.
"You have Chippendales all over here, Yeah?" Abigail's eyes ran over the lot of muscles.
"Miss Talbot, I don't know what you are doing here but I'll kindly ask you not to oogle my staff." Armonda looked through the nutrition list. It was all in poorly written Czech, which Armonda would almost reassuringly have to hand transcribe all 72 pages into the Google Translator in order to get the information she was looking for. She glanced up to see the woman drape her trench coat over one of the chairs she had placed active research materials on. "I'll kindly ask you to hang your jacket on the hook and mind the $10,000 petrie dish you're about to knock over there."
"What?" Abigail asked bluntly, accidentally knocking the expensive materials on the floor. Armonda pinched the bridge of her slightly upturned nose.
"Miss Talbot, is there something that you need?" Armonda asked "Because if it's all the same to you. I really need to get back to my work."
"Dick Roman sent me here to assist you. He thought you-"
"I have 6 assistants here. Most of the time they are filing refiling or trying their damnedest to find busy work. Tell me, Miss Talbot. What can you possibly do for me, that I wouldn't have to baby sit you for as well?"
At which point Abigail took this innocuous question and perverted the answer. She quickly and smoothly approached, placed her hand between Armonda's rather pendulous breasts and pushed her back in the chair, with the other hand alleviating Armonda of her white cotton panties, removing them down to her knees and burying her face into Armonda's lap, and sweetly and expertly licking Armonda's velvety petals.
Armonda couldn't help but gasp. It caught the attention of two of her assistants. Any time she tried to regain her composure to push the stranger away, Abigail pushed her nose harder against her dew soaked clit. Austin and Tristan removed Armonda's Tye-dyed shirt with the pandas on it and fondled her breasts, licking, smiling and looking up with desire. But her eyes locked like magnets on Abigail. Those eyes glittered like sun off the ocean, and it felt like they were piercing her soul.
Walter and Riley joined as well, attending to Abigail the way Austin and Tristan were attending to Armonda. Armonda's head was dizzy, Her heart pounded in her head. It was just all so friggin hot, and so unreal. Did this kind of thing really happen? Any thoughts of reality were dashed away by Abigail's swirling tongue thumping against Armonda's sweetly honey laden whispering eye. Armonda couldn't help but cum hard, toes curling and body stiffening to the release. She was terrified she was going to make a hot mess of the pretty lady. But her moan was stifled by Grant's hot mouth, pressed against hers. A quick scan had all of her assistants ready, willing, and most well equiped to please and take this all to the next level.
A voice in her head sobered her up quickly before much else could happen. "Armonda, no!"
Armonda alligator rolled off the chair and hard onto the cement floor of her office. Against her body's instincts to want to continue this and have her brains fucked out into a beautiful heap on the cold floor, she struggled away, while Abigail took her place, as the focus of their attention. That's when she saw it. Demons. Demons with claws, huge throbbing cocks and red skin like slim jim meat. Abigail was human. She was human and she was being violated by those things.
At this point the release was so wracking that Armonda had trouble feeling her legs to scramble up and get to the fire extinguisher. Her lubrication making for the fluid ease of movement but the muscles betraying her wishes.
She sloppily made it, pulled the fire alarm and regained the motor control she was seeking. *clunk!*
"Ow! you Bitch!" She had hit the one demon hard enough to split his nose away from his face and it was left hanging there while blood gushed out. Abigail who was in ecstasy, was slightly confused as lust drunk, Armonda pulled her arm to separate them. *Crack* Armonda flailed the extinguisher back handed and hit another of the demons in the head, denting it in. Walter in demon form was stuck inside Abigail unable to part, like a couple dogs trying to mate but get stuck until the male comes or gets soft. Armonda was going to help with that.
She pulled the pin and sprayed down the coupled area with enough concentration to break it off. While Tristan tried to pull the offending red bludgeoning weapon away from the angry woman.
Armonda pulled Abigail to her feet. "Run girl, run, don't look back and-"
Abigail recovered way faster than Armonda did, and shot Grant, Riley, and Austin in rapid succession. Armonda took a quick note. 'Armed too? What the hell was this?' The two half naked, soiled women made it to the parking lot.
"Do you have a car?"
"No"
"We'll have to make do."
Abigail shot out the driver side window, brushed the glass off and popped the passenger side lock to a '98 Subaru Outback. The remaining three demons came surging out of the door, chasing after the women.
"Get them, Boss is gonna be pissed."
"This way." said another.
Abigail sped out of the parking lot at top speed. "Are you alright?"
"I was going to ask you-"
"Those were incubi, yeah?" Abigail was asking if Armonda understood.
"That's my guess."
"So Dick Roman sent you, for what?" Armonda asked looking back to make sure they weren't being followed.
"I wasn't exactly truthful y'know, Luv."
"So what, he hire a high priced prostitute to what? Distract me. Everything in there felt like distraction for weeks. Dunno to what end though."
"I'm a thief thank you very much." Abigail said putting the gun in Armonda's lap long enough to wipe the bit of cum off her mouth.
"Right, a naughty Bandit, tell me another one sister."
"No," Abigail said shaking her head." I'm a merc. I go in assess the situation, grab the goods and take off no one's the wiser. I was just going to flirt with you a bit, Yeah? Distract you enough with the baby blues so yu didn't see what the right hand was doing with the left. It was a straight recover job."
"So what you're like a spy?"
"Independent contractor."
"Oh lord this is like a bad Austin Powers flick"
"I don't follow."
"The spy that shagged me..." Armonda tried to get a chuckle but the joke was lost in translation. "And what ever you were doing with your hands, it was working."
"I hadn't accounted for there being Incubi in there. Just their existence is enough for mother superior to start dancing on tables and howling at the moon. I just got pulled in."
Armonda nodded. Abigail looked at her. "But you don't seem suprized."
"A little, it all makes sense now." Armonda admitted. She put her head back against the headrest of the seat. Remembering Abigail knuckle deep within the borderline and those eyes glittering at her. " What were you trying to steal?"
"There's a Pasta dish-"
"Say no more. I know all about it. What did you need it for?"
"Seems a Bistro in Iowa has stolen the recipe and there's something of a zombie epidemic raging in Manning."
"Mellifer honey."
"Huh?"
"It's Mellifer honey. To demons it's like honey dust powder, used for sex, and often times as a seasoning for their sacrifices. Used with a combination of vervain and Meadow sweet, ingested by humans it causes a chemical hunger for human flesh." Armonda said pushing her librarian glasses up her nose.
Current day South Dakota:
"Monde? Armonda wake up we're here."
"Hmm?" She barely glanced above the depressing arid rusty metal of the area.
"We're here"
"Smells out here." She wrinkled her nose a little. "Like bad milk and urine."
"Get used to it. It's your new base of ops." Garth told her. "Your hair is all monkey lookin' you might want to take a comb to it before your boyfriends arrive."
"They are not my boyfriends." Armonda rolled her eyes."Where are we anyway?"
Garth pointed down the lot to a sign that read "Singer Auto Self Service Salvage Yard"
"No I mean where are we, I fell asleep back in Colorado."
"Just outside Sioux Falls."
"Minnesota?"
"South Dakota."
"Podunk farm country huh..."
"That would be the Milk smell, and Urine. There's chicken ranches and Milking farms all over this area."
"Huh reminds me of Napa Cali. Wine country. Nice until a crop goes bad. So spill the beans. What am I doing here?" Armonda got up brushing her hair until it got poofy soft. "Jeeze, my fortune for some styling gel and freezing mist."
"Well, Dean's got the keys so he'll be giving you the grand tour. I'm waiting on a lead to get back to me so I'll be here until you get settled in."
"I still don't know what I'm supposed to do here. I don't know anything about scrap except the little bit of sautering I did in Jewelry class in college and failed miserably at by the way."
"What you can't put beads on string?"
"Wasn't that kind of class."
Sam and Dean came rolling up in a Chameleon painted Mazda r-8. Garth gasped in awe.
"Nice." Armonda smiled. A trail of dust wound up in the area, everyone shielded their eyes.
"C'mon in."
"So this was my Dad's place huh?" Armonda walked across the creaky floor boards. It was mainly a spartan place save from the mountains of piled books.
She looked up at the ceiling, glanced down at the front door.
"Oh yeah and we picked up some Biggersons too. Eat up, you'll need your strength." Dean said setting the head of the kitchen table. Armonda looked over at the place where the phone should be.
"Five phones? I get my dad was a hunter but what's all that now?"
"Your father wasn't just a hunter. He was a hub. He had contacts for jobs, leads, an entire network for hunters. We would have been caught so may times if your old man hadn't bailed us out with this set up."
"That's nice and all guys, and thanks for taking me here to meet my dad's ghost, but I got to get back to Macomb. SO, if you don't mind dropping me off at the bus station after dinner I'll be on my way." Armonda smiled politely, wiping her mouth with a napkin and excusing herself from her chair walking briskly back out to the car and waiting.
"What the hell?" Dean looked to Sam for answers, Sam shrugged, then he looked at Garth. "What's her problem?"
"Her mom was the hub back home. She was in line to be the hub at their camp. Back then, it was raising a bunch of pigish men, with no womens rights, long hours and no pay. And even less respect." Garth explained. "It was different times and she ran away from it. "
"So what she doesn't wanna be Susie home baker, no one's making her." Sam said.
"Are we supposed to just let her walk away?" Dean asked desperately.
"Can't make her stay." Sam shrugged.
"Sure we can, I vote going out there and tying her to a chair until she sees it our way, right guys?" Garth laughed. Sam and Dean got up. Garth swallowed hard "Guys, I was kidding..."
"Armonda?"
"What?" Armonda started getting upset. "You gonna stick me here all by myself, alone waiting for things that hunted my dad to hunt me? Or to pop out a ton of little hunters in training? Stir pots of laundry and the cooking while loading ammo with my feet? It's all impressive but it's too much, it's too much too soon and I never asked for any of this. I just wanna go back to St. Georges get my hands on that green ferret and move on to the next job."
"Hang on there a minute let me talk to my brother." Sam said softly pulling Dean's arm.
"Can you believe this?" Dean began to rant.
"Listen, I get it. Maybe we can negotiate with her. You know, she doesn't owe us anything. Until yesterday she was just some chick at some bar somewhere in the midwest. And she was nice enough to let us stay safe and dry in her hotel room because you forgot the keys. The very fact that she hasn't accused us of more unsavory things in the time we've gotten to know her-"
"Biblically" Dean added.
"It's all good in my book." He looked over. "We all got our demons and she's not obliged to let us know what they are or even to accept our help with them."
"What makes you the expert?"
"We had a chat."
"Hmmm." Dean thought a minute and decided to try something he hadn't in a long time. "Alright."
"I didn't need your permission." She snapped back at him.
"No, I mean...Sam's right, you don't owe us anything. We'll take you back to your job. Hell, we're between work right now as it is. But if it would be okay to ask, Please. After this job, could you please help us, temporarily, until we can get back up and running?" Dean asked with a teeth grinding irksomeness in his voice.
"You'll find someone else?" She asked.
"You're not giving us a choice." Sam muffled Dean's full answer.
"Yes. We'll...hold interviews, and research candidates or, Interns in the meantime. But it's pretty obvious, we're going to need a specialist to reform what Bobby's got here."
Armonda pulled out a cream flavored Black and Mild Cigar from her pocket, thought a moment, lit it with her Amy Brown Zippo, and took a deep inhale. She bit off a jagged piece of thumb nail, and paced a bit. Looking at them thoughtfully, thinking...eh, could be worse. "Alright, I'll do it...after that critter I catch get's to the proper authorities."
