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The Phoenix Initiative – Chapter 2

Written by papayoya1 :: [Friday, 02 November 2018 19:36] Last updated by :: [Friday, 02 November 2018 21:08]

Considerably improved thanks to Conceptfan

Chapter 2

Nicole was finishing her twenty-third cheeseburger by the time Lindbergh concluded his speech on TV.

“You forgot to mention me, you stuck-up bastard,” she muttered as the door to her comfortable accommodations opened. She wasn’t spooked by it, merely curious about the identity of the person visiting her.

“Andrey,” she said in a soft tone.

“Keeping a healthy diet, I see” the man replied, looking at the empty wrappers from a well-known fast food joint. He was in his forties and had a strong West Coast accent which differentiated him from the first two generations of the Petrenko family. Or at least, from the part of the Petrenko family that had left Ukraine, established itself in Santa Isabel and made itself popular in its underworld.

“A girl has to work hard to keep this figure,” Nicole replied, slapping her ultra-hard body. “Or not. I don’t know, really.”

“You don’t mind showing it, though,” Andrey observed, pointing out her very obvious nudity.

“I wasn’t expecting company. Besides, don’t you like what you see?”

“Mind if I take a seat?” Petrenko asked, changing topic.

“Sure. It’s your house, anyway.”

Andrey Petrenko walked past Nicole and sat in an armchair that was as far away from the couch where she was lying as possible in the spacious room.

“Still scared of me?” Nicole asked with a sensuous smile.

“Hell yeah. You give me the creeps!” the man said casually.

Nicole was feeling playful and stood up from the couch, walking casually to the armchair, enjoying his unease as she did so. Then, she bent, resting her hands in the arms of Petrenko’s seat and bringing her massive breasts closer to his face. Her breath was hot and humid in his face as she whispered:

“Don’t worry, Andrey. I need you.”

“And once you don’t?” Andrey asked.

Nicole then lifted the armchair a foot off the ground, in a casual display of her vast strength.

“I’m a woman of my word,” she said, setting the armchair down again and moving back to the couch. As soon as she was lazily sitting on it again, she asked: “You didn’t come all the way here to tell me that I scare you, did you?”

Andrey pointed at the TV, which was still replaying scenes of the newly-named Phoenix team moving around Santa Isabel, using their extraordinary strength to help those affected by the earthquake.

“So, those are your famous friends?” Andrey finally asked.

“Of course. Who else?” Nicole replied.

The TV was showing the scene in which Jennifer had lifted the school bus, saving it from a certain fall though the gap in Lowell Bridge. Nicole had been glued to the screen ever since the report had started and it was clear that this had become one of the favorite clips for every news producer.

“Can you do that?” Andrey said, pointing at the television.

“Wasn’t my demonstration the day I came convincing enough?” Nicole asked.

“It was. You’re here, aren’t you? But still, seeing it in the real world feels different,” the mobster said.

“To answer your question… yes, easily. A bus is what, fifteen, twenty tons? That’s peanuts!” Nicole said.

“So, you could do the same things they did?” Andrey kept asking.

“I can do better. I consistently bested the other girls in all the tests. Well, to be fair, I have to admit that the blonde bimbo always managed to do a bit better than me in raw strength. But when it came to the rest, I always ended up on top. I also was the only one smart enough to leave.”

Andrey Petrenko remained silent for a few moments, thinking. Then, he said:

“So, your friends went public,”

Nicole looked at him and arched an eyebrow.

“It’s not time, yet,” Nicole replied.

“You’ve been here for three weeks already. No one knows where to find you. I’m keeping my end of the deal,” the Ukrainian said.

“And believe me, this is going to be the best deal you’ve ever made, Andrey. But it’s not time to go public yet.”

“Your friends have.”

“Sure, but when I do I won’t be helping elderly women to cross the street or rescuing cats from trees,” Nicole said. “Soon,” she then promised.

“When is soon?” Andrey insisted. “My father has been locked up in that shithole for six months now!”

“Days,” Nicole replied.

When there was no answer, Nicole added:

“I promise you, when the moment comes, you won’t regret it”

There was some more silence, and then Andrey said:

“Can you come with me? Maybe you can help with something else.”

“Do I need to get dressed?” Nicole asked.

“No need, unless you’ve suddenly became bashful.”

Nicole followed Andrey out of the chambers that had been conditioned for her and along a long stretch of corridor, in silence. Behind her and Andrey there were four of his men, clearly carrying weapons. Of course, it made no difference, but Nicole knew that this made people like Andrey feel safer.

They got outside and followed a path in the vast Petrenko estate, still in silence. They finally reached a small warehouse area, a black van parked in the front. Andrey pointed at a long and narrow window. Nicole bent to look through it. The space was completely empty, except for a bench and a few scattered chairs. There were three men sitting together on the bench. A fourth was standing in one corner.

When Nicole stood back up, Andrey offered an explanation.

“Chinese,” he started saying, as if that explained everything. “Hong Kong Triads. They’ve been trying to get into Santa Isabel for some time. They got bolder after my father was caught.”

“So, the drugs market’s getting tougher?” Nicole asked.

“Very.  You could say that their business tactics are aggressive,” Andrey said.


“Killing the competition, basically. These four guys here, are hitmen. They blew up one of our warehouses in the harbor last week. Sasha tracked them.”

“Why are they still alive, then?” Nicole asked, surprised.

“I need information. That attack was just one of many. They’re hitting secondary targets so far, but they’re getting braver. I can’t hit them back. The Triads have sent someone to take care of the operation in Santa Isabel, but no one knows where he or she is. The farthest we can get are cells like this. They operated out of an electronics store. So, for a change, I decided to capture them rather than killing them,” Andrey said.

“You wanna know where the guy in charge is.”

Andrey nodded.

“They’re not talking, though. Claim not to speak English. You don’t speak Chinese by any chance?”

“I’m not Chinese, for God’s sake!” Nicole protested. “My parents were Hawaiian. Not all Asian-looking people are Chinese, you know?”

Andrey’s lips curled in a smile. Then, he added:

“Can you think of any other ways you might be of assistance, then? I’ll give you a clue: The boss is the one that’s standing apart from the rest, and we’re pretty sure he speaks English.”

“What do you want me to do?” Nicole asked. It was better to get clear instructions to prevent misunderstandings, she thought.

“I need information. I don’t need them. I hope that’s clear enough.”

Nicole understood. Something felt a little weird, though.

“I can’t believe you’d never tortured people for information before I came into your employment,” she said.

“Sure. But after seeing your friends on TV, I’ve developed an appetite for seeing you in action.”

Nicole understood. She had demonstrated her strength to Andrey often enough, but up until now, she had not been especially helpful. She was truthful when she said that she intended to make up for that, but the man seemed to be starting to lose either his patience or his faith. Perhaps he was beginning to suspect that she might have the strength but not the will to use it. That was nonsense, of course, but she could see how the mobster might have formed that impression.

Whatever the reason, it worked well enough for her. She certainly had no issues with killing, and the set up was as private as it would get. She was no professional interrogator, but she had resources available that every torturer in the world would love.

“I hope you have a good cleaning crew,” she said, sounding confident.

Petrenko’s men opened the heavy door, startling the four Chinese inside. Nicole had to crouch to walk through it and enter the warehouse, wearing a wide smile on her face and nothing else as she faced the hitmen.

The door closed behind her.

“I asked the boys for some alone time with you,” she said as she observed the men. It was clear that their leader had understood, and she was quite certain that at least one of the other men had got it too.

Nicole placed her hands on her hips and bent a little in a pose that would make her magnificent chest look even more prominent. Making an effort to use her figure to look sexy despite her menacing size, Nicole smiled again and said:

“So, who wants to be first?”

There was no answer, but she had not been expecting any. Straightening back up, she started strutting towards the men on the bench as she said:

“I’ll choose myself, then.”

She could see that the men were very puzzled. Her size and build were definitely making them uneasy, but she could also see that the fact that she was naked and unarmed confused them.

The men stood up and scattered as she approached, but Nicole just kept going, easily cornering the one she had already chosen like a cat stalking her prey. The man grew visibly more nervous when she was merely a pace away from him. He looked up at her, as if realizing for the first time just how tall she was. His initial reaction was typical. Then, acting on impulse, he tried to shove Nicole out of the way.

She did not move an inch. She did not move her hands from her hips either. This must have frustrated the man, since the next thing he did was punch her. Nicole could have sworn that he had not pulled his punch at all. She reached that conclusion from the man’s look of effort. She never felt it, though. The man’s fist hit her rock hard stomach and was not able to even make her skin yield a millimeter. There was a crunching sound, but it was clear that it was not coming from Nicole’s body. Which left no other option than the crunch having happened in the man’s fist.

Nicole had been hit plenty of times back at the facility. She had been tested in a myriad of ways, and one of them included simulated blows with different levels of intensity, many of them several orders of magnitude higher than the man’s effort. She had never been hit by a real person, though, the main reason being that no one was really interested in hurting themselves. It was exhilarating. It was not that she had not felt the punch. She would have probably described it as a light tap. Of course, it was not even annoying. The truly uplifting part had been feeling the knuckles of the man breaking as they hit her rock-hard stomach.

She moaned first, giggled later.

This must have made the man mad, since he hit her again with his healthy hand. The results were identical, the crunching sound obvious to Nicole and everyone else in the warehouse. Then, he kicked her, her thigh unmoving as the man’s foot twisted at an awkward angle.

Nicole could feel the shock in the remaining three men. The one in front of her was past that. A quick look at him told her that the man’s usefulness had already expired. Time to up the ante.

Crouching, she grabbed him around the throat with her oversized hand and rose back up, lifting him with ease. This again stunned the remaining three hitmen, even if it was the oldest trick in the book for her.

“I don’t know why you keep insisting on breaking yourself against me, when I could do a much better job myself,” she said softly, not knowing if the man had actually understood her.

It did not matter, though. She just turned and walked to the center of the warehouse, shaking the man as if he were a balloon.

She raised her voice just a bit, trying to instill fear in the other three men.

“I want to know who sent you. I want to know where to find him. And I want to know now. Tell me, and you won’t end up like your friend.”

Nicole then brought her free hand to the man’s groin and used this new hold to reposition her other hand from his throat to his armpit. Holding him almost horizontal, she then started to pull in opposite directions.

The screams of unbearable pain came an instant later. She smiled, enjoying them. And kept pulling, feeling the man’s body stretch to its limit despite the fact that she was barely applying a fraction of her strength. The screams intensified and Nicole felt her nipples swelling and her shaved cunt starting to get wet. She moaned, to let the other men know how she was feeling.

She applied a fraction more strength and the first things started breaking. There was a tearing sound, much like that of over-stretched clothes, and the screams died. The man had passed out. He was not dead, yet.

There were other screams other than his, though. The remaining three hitmen, who had remained mostly silent until now, were yelling at each other in indistinguishable Chinese gibberish.

With everyone in the desired state of panic and the gangster in her hands unconscious, there was nothing more to do other than complete the job and rip the man in two. Blood splattered all around as she did so, most of it ending on her nude tanned body. She held the two halves of her vitim for a few seconds, moaning in delight as she offered them to his terrified comrades.

Then, she tossed them to either side of the vast room and looked at the rest of men. To say that they were shocked would have been an understatement.

“You cannot imagine how horny this makes me!” she said. Covered in gore, she now appeared to the survivors as a blood-thirsty demoness rather than an attractive, yet oversized, woman. “You guys are seriously fucked!”

The three men scattered to opposite sides of the warehouse as she took a first step towards them. This, of course, was not a problem. Mentally choosing her next victim, Nicole hopped and soared fifty feet, only to land with a loud thud right in the path of the man she had selected. Unable to stop, the man hit her and fell onto his back, his nose broken.

Nicole took advantage of that to take a step forwards and push her foot onto the man’s chest. He immediately brought both hands to her sole, trying to push it away. It was as effective as if he had been trying to push a mountain, the humongous foot not yielding even a fraction of an inch.

Nicole knew that the effect she had sought was already obtained. She also knew that the man under her foot was not relevant when it came to getting information. She did not care. She was too aroused already.

She first toyed with him, feinting to crush his ribcage a couple of times, only to stop just before his bones shattered.

Just then, the third man, the one who wasn’t the boss, but who Nicole suspected could speak English, did something she was not expecting. He had been trying to stay as far away from her as possible, but now that his colleague was in pain under her foot, he ran towards her. First, he tried to push her and later to pull her leg away from his colleague. Nicole guessed that the two men may have a family relationship or a friendship, since otherwise, his actions were incomprehensible.

She did not care about friendships, though, so she just shoved the man away with a casual backhand, sending him flying across the room and hitting the back wall, hurt but alive. It had required her to strike a very fine balance, but she had not wanted to kill him so quickly.

Free to focus on the man under her foot once more, Nicole played with his fear of her crushing him a couple of times and finally moved the foot away, letting him breathe.

She then crouched and closed the long and powerful fingers of her right had around the man’s face, dragging him upwards as she stood up again. Soon, the man’s feet were dangling a couple of feet off the ground as she held him with at the end of her extended arm without any apparent effort.

The man’s skull gave a bit with just a tiny bit of pressure from her fingertips. His screams of agony filled the warehouse even though her palm muffled them a bit.

“Wait!” a scream from the other side of the room interrupted her. Nicole raised her eyes to see the man Petrenko had identified as the leader looking at her with a mix of fear and anger.

“So, you do speak English, after all.” announced Nicole, in a mocking tone.

“Let him go and I’ll tell you where to find Zhao,” the man said. His Chinese accent was noticeable, but his English was quite good.

Nicole smiled back at him and said:

“I have a counter-offer.”

She then closed her fingers, crushing the man’s skull with a sickening sound. She was still holding the gory remainders when she said:

“You tell me what I want to know, and you won’t end up like him.”

There were yells, now in Chinese. Nicole did not understand a word, but she understood that the basic content expressed anger and threats. She could not have been less concerned. She dropped the deformed corpse to the ground and shook her hand in the air to get rid of some of the gore.

“God, interrogation is a messy business,” she said, taunting.

The man she had swatted away was starting to recover, but Nicole was not interested in him. His boss had now become a much more appealing target. He was as jumpy as anyone she’d ever seen when she started to walk slowly towards him. The thought that she could cause this type of reaction in a man that made a living by killing other people made her feel strangely proud.

It was clear that the thug did not know too well how to react. He tried to get away from her at first, but it was easy for Nicole to change direction so that she slowly but inexorably cornered him. She did not rush, though. She had all the time in the world.

The man finally gave up, either because he was exhausted or because he realized that there was nowhere to run. He was soon standing between Nicole and the wall.

“What are you?” he asked, almost spitting the words.

Nicole crouched and grabbed a fistful of his T-shirt, lifting him up like a doll and bringing his face to hers.

“Just a girl that works out!”


“You kill with a gun. I don’t need one,” Nicole said. To prove her point, she used her free hand to pinch the man’s right thumb between two of her own fingers. A quick grinding movement turned every bone in it to powder, making the man shriek.

Nicole gave him a few seconds to recover.

“Now, what can you tell me about that Zhao guy?”

It took a bit more persuasion, but the man had essentially been broken, so he spat everything out with certain ease.

Zhao had been sent by the Triads to establish their operations in Santa Isabel, as a beachhead to their future expansion along the West Coast. His mission was simple: build enough infrastructure to be able to take over a relevant chunk of the distribution business, then win market share. The Triads were not patient, so their preferred method to do that was to get rid of the main players and take their place. Zhao had been sent by his bosses once his predecessor had built a vast distribution network with no one noticing too much, and had the right profile for the second phase of their “hostile takeover”. Their attacks so far had merely been tests of the strength of Petrenko’s organization, but things were going to escalate soon. And they would have the full support of the vast resources of their parent organization.

Nicole also learned that the reason the Hong Kong mafia had not been detected until recently was that the person who had been sent first to establish the initial operation had been very thorough with his choice of location and his tactics. They did not hold any infrastructure in the harbor, which would have been the obvious choice. Instead, he operated from the small airfield in Vanderbilt, which was ideal both for private jets to land quietly and for speedboats navigating through the canals. The Chinese never dealt with final distribution directly, either.  Instead, they operated through a front of Colombians and Puerto Ricans.

Zhao himself had taken advantage of that to go unnoticed while he set things up. And now he was massing a small private army in the Vanderbilt that he would soon unleash.

Nicole was satisfied with the explanations, so she just tucked the man under her arm and walked towards the door, stopping on the way to take hold of the remaining thug, who, remarkably, had recovered.

Petrenko’s men hurried to open the doors, standing out of her way as Nicole ducked once more and exited the bloodied warehouse with two men in her possession. She set the boss in the ground first; he was quickly rounded by Petrenko’s men and immobilized.

“I guess you got everything didn’t you?” she asked.

Andrey nodded.

“Can you keep him for me? If what he said turns out not to be true, I’ll want to have a chat with him.”

“Sure,” Andrey replied. He gestured to his men, who brought him back into the warehouse, his yells in Chinese probably pointing out the fact that sleeping with the torn remainders of two of his colleagues was not a very welcome proposition.

“Would you be so kind as to send some of your men to check if the little fucker’s story holds? You won’t want to engage them directly if what he said is true.”

“Of course.”

“Good. I think it’s time I started repaying your generosity.”

“What about him?” Andrey asked, pointing at the squirming man she was still holding under her left arm.

“Do you know how terribly lonely I’ve been these last three weeks? I’m all fired up after this little exercise. There’s no way I can go straight to bed.”

Andrey swallowed hard.

“Will you need my men to keep him too, once you’re done?” he asked, trying to sound as cold as possible.

“Oh, I don’t expect there’s going to be much left of him by the time I’m done,” Nicole said, chuckling. At the same time, the man’s kicks became stronger. It made no difference, the possibility of breaking free from her hold remaining non-existent.

Nicole was about to leave, when Andrey caught her attention.



“You remember I said before that you gave me the creeps?”

“Sure,” she replied with a devious smile.

“It was an understatement. You scare me shitless.”

She laughed and turned, walking to her room with a wriggling man under her arm.




General Lindbergh was in his office, going through the press coverage of the day. There was a constant smile on his lips, something that the very few who knew him well had learned was almost impossible to achieve.

He had never needed to sleep much, which was a trait that was exacerbating as he got older. As a matter of fact, he was still wearing his elegant suit as he switched from the AV pieces to the first preliminary reports his staff had prepared on social network impact.

The call surprised him but did not startle him. There was no caller ID, but that was hardly exceptional amongst his counterparts. He donned the earpiece, reclined in his chair, put his feet on the expensive mahogany desk and picked up the call.

“Lindbergh,” he said, almost barking it.

“Good evening, Owen,” the voice on the other end of the line sounded milder. General Lindbergh recognized it immediately.

“Mr. Secretary. I was expecting your call earlier,” the General said, his tone becoming much softer.

“I was at a fundraiser I couldn’t escape from. You know, the election is in four months. And it’s not as if I’d been given any prior notice that Phoenix was going to be in the spotlight so I could free up my diary.”

“We had to take the chance. The earthquake was too good an opportunity to let pass,” Lindbergh defended himself.

“I’m not criticizing you, Owen. You played it well. You played it very well. You could hardly have found any better context to bring the girls into society. I’ve had so many messages of congratulation that my iPhone is almost blocked. I put you in there because you get the job done, and that’s what you did today.”

“Thanks Mr. Secretary.”

“What’s the plan for the coming days? We need to take advantage of the overwhelmingly hospitable mood of the nation right now,” the Secretary of Defense said.

“The girls will continue helping with the relief effort. That’ll take a few days. Today was a bit chaotic, even if it worked well. But the PR team is already working to make sure that we make the most of them starting tomorrow,” Lindbergh replied methodically.

“And then?”

“We’re working on getting some interviews scheduled. Watson, mostly. She’s the safest bet.”

“God! I love her! People love her! She’s more American than the flag! It was great to have her being the one that saved the kids. I can’t stop watching that video!” the Secretary said.

“It was coincidental. We got very lucky,” Lindbergh admitted. “We have her helping with schools and hospitals tomorrow. She should get most of the screen time.”

“And the others?”

“Baptiste will mostly help in the less favored neighborhoods. We thought it would help to convey the diversity message. We’ll keep Simpson out of the spotlight as much as we can; enough footage so that people remember that she’s there, but not enough that they will care about her.”

“That girl unsettles me,” the Secretary acknowledged.

“Well, she’s not the type of girl you’d want to go for a beer with,” Lindbergh admitted.

“She won’t be any trouble, will she?” the Secretary asked.

“Nah. As long as we keep her away enough from the cameras, she’ll be alright. And she’s a hard worker. Despite being the least credited of the girls today, she was the one freeing more people from the rubble.”

“I was not referring to that type of trouble,” the Secretary said.

Lindbergh noticed the change in tone and straightened in his chair, moving his feet back to the floor. So, this was not going to be just a commending conversation, after all.

“Look, Charles,” he started, using the Secretary of Defense’s first name for the first time. “She’s a teenager. Before all this happened, the girl was a weirdo. She could count her friends on the fingers of one hand, and all of them are dead because of the Flare. We’re talking about a girl with zero social skills and no self-esteem who has suddenly become something she still doesn’t understand which has suddenly made her the center of attention. Do I like her? Of course I don’t. She’s the type of girl you and I bullied when we were back in College. Is she dangerous? Not as long as no one gets to know her beyond the cute and shy redhead girl who moves really large chunks of rubble out of the way. The one thing we don’t need is that the public gets to know her better as a girl that’s totally unlikable and has that kind of strength.”

There was a pause, but the breathing indicated both men that the line was still open.

“Look, Owen. I agree with you. But any error in judgment in this area is very costly. We cannot afford another Keilani situation,” Charles Dunbar, the Secretary of Defense, said.

“We took the necessary measures. And Nicole Keilani won’t be at large for long. She was always the smartest of the four, so she’s managed to keep a low profile much more effectively than we expected. But Beck is on her trail, and he’s getting closer. There aren’t that many places a woman like her can hide.”

“Sure. I’m not sure if I’m totally comfortable with the possibility of her being found, though,” the Secretary said.

“We’ve talked about this, Charles. We have it under control,” Lindbergh said.

There was another pause that made General Lindbergh’s hair stand on end.

“Look, Owen. I’ve had thousands of very enthusiastic messages today. But I also got some other calls. Right now, the public’s all excited with the girls, and they’re right to be. But I had some people calling me to check if we had them under tight control and if we had a back up plan in case it was needed. Not everyone in D.C. is totally relaxed about having women with such freakish strength at large, you know.”

“Our contingency plans remain ready,” Lindbergh replied in self-justification.

“I know. But we have a problem. We’ve had them checked. And not everyone believes they’re good enough.”

So, this was the bomb. General Owen Lindbergh had to make an effort so that his voice would not convey the irritation that the words had caused. He had been running Phoenix flawlessly for over nine months, delivering success after success! He had just served Dunbar the biggest PR ever, on the dawn of the campaign. If he played his cards right, this would grant him a spot on the ticket next to the President! And now he was being told that they had been monitoring his operation and engaging non-authorized personnel in evaluating his decisions?

He breathed in hard. If he said what he wanted to say, he would be out of a job by the morning. It had to be the Keilani affair, of course. He knew how nervous everyone was despite the fact that the woman had not caused any damage in the three weeks she had been out. He had to find her, and he had to find her soon. But he refused to take all the blame for Nicole’s escape.

After all, he had had to work with whoever fate had chosen, not his own picks. And he was certain that he would not have selected a teenage nerd without a social life, an idealist do-gooder nurse, a stereotypical cheerleader with an addiction to popularity and a nosey, ambitious and ill-tempered young lawyer with a remarkable liking for dominance. They made for lousy soldiers, they were not great test subjects either and he lacked the means to enforce effective discipline, since the only methods that would have worked would have been too obvious.

“I see,” was all that Owen Lindbergh managed to reply.

The condescending tone from the Secretary of Defense as he came back almost made him lose it.

“I know it’s not your fault. You have too much on your plate. You’re managing the three girls who are still at Phoenix masterfully. The PR is excellent. And the promise of Dr. Sully’s research is fascinating.”

Lindbergh did not reply and just waited for what Dunbar had to say.

“We’re sending someone to help, to focus on the contingency plans. He’ll report to you.”

“I see,” Lindbergh repeated, knowing perfectly well that whatever formal line of reporting was established would be bullshit under these circumstances. Whoever was coming would be calling Secretary Dunbar every day. And he would not be reporting solely on his progress.

“Do you know Dr. Roark?” Dunbar asked.

“From DARPA?” Lindbergh replied. The joke seemed to have no end.

“Yes. She used to manage the Special Projects unit,” Secretary Dunbar said.

Yeah, used to manage it until she had to resign after getting caught running extremely unethical practices. Which, when one directed the Special Projects Unit at DARPA, was a remarkable achievement.

“Yeah, I know her,” was all Lindbergh said.

“Great. She’s starting tomorrow. She has some ideas she’s going to share with you.”

Which meant that she had been one of the “experts” that had checked Lindbergh’s contingency plans and told the SecDef and his staff that they were bullshit and let it be known that they could do a much better job there.

“Great. I’ll fill her in when she comes, then,” was all Lindbergh said.

“Fantastic. Good night, Owen. And congratulations again. You had a big day today!”

“Thanks Charles!” the General replied, even managing a cheerful tone, just before he hung up.

He was not in the mood to review any more press coverage of the day. Feeling considerably more upset than before the call, the last thing Owen Lindbergh did before standing up to head to his bedroom was write a short note for Colonel Beck. It said:

“Urgent you find Keilani. Use any means necessary”




Nicole stepped out of the shower, grabbing an extra-large and fluffy cotton towel to dry her sculptural body. Petrenko’s men had done their utmost to adapt the guest rooms in the east wing of the estate’s main house to her special needs. The chambers had already been luxurious enough, but there had been considerable work involved in making the spacious shower tall enough to fit her comfortably or to change the bed, sofa and armchairs for oversized, robust and still comfortable options.

She had taken her time under the hot water, removing human remains from her bronze skin and massaging her muscles with the only fingers that were able to make an impression on them: her own.

She was still a bit moist by the time she hung the towel to dry and stepped out of the bathroom and into the main bedroom. She smiled at the little man as he noticed her coming back, anticipating what was about to happen. The action at the warehouse had stirred her libido, and it was time to indulge a little.

Nicole scanned the room to find some toppled furniture and several broken heavy objects. It confirmed what she had thought when hearing the noises from the shower.

“You didn’t try to leave, did you?”

Of course, he had. And of course, he had not been successful. The door was armored, and the windows were bullet proof. She had the key, so she would have been the only one able to get in or out of that room.

The man then yelled something in Chinese and raised a knife. It made Nicole chuckle.

“I see you found the fruit platter.”

The man shouted some other gibberish; she just took a step forward.

“Stop!” the man then said in strong accented English. He was wielding the knife in a way that threatened what would happen if she did not obey.

Nicole went on. The man, who had been very jumpy to start with, was getting incredibly nervous now. He stepped back, but he soon met the wall. Nicole kept ambling casually across the room, cutting the distance very quickly. One step, two steps, three steps… and she was already on top of him.

And then, the man screeched in a mix of fear and rage and stabbed her with all his might. He must have put quite some force into the move, since the tip of the knife bent, and Nicole knew that it was good quality steel.

She could not help but laugh, driving the man into a second and a third attempt, which were as unsuccessful as the first. Nicole’s abs did not even dimple as the incredibly sharp tip of the knife pushed against her with all the strength of the thug’s arm behind it.

The man was getting ready for a fourth strike, but Nicole prevented it, anticipating his move and grabbing his knife-wielding hand with her delicate but considerably larger one. The hitman pulled away with all his force for a while, and then used his free hand to try prying Nicole’s fingers open. It was to no avail.

“It’s not nice to stab people. If it hadn’t been me, you could’ve hurt someone,” the amazon said with certain mockery in her voice.

And then, she tightened her fist with the strength of a hydraulic press, feeling countless bones break at the same time.  The man let out a shriek that made her womanhood even more moist than the shower had left it.

Nicole opened her fingers gracefully to see what remained of the man’s hand. It barely qualified as one in its current state.

“I think you’ll need some help opening ketchup bottles in future,” she mocked as she lifted the gangster casually from the ground with a hand under his armpit.

Crossing the room to the ample bed, Nicole tossed the still screaming man into its soft surface and then climbed on sensually herself. She wanted this to last a bit, so she lay on her back and reached for him, placing his quite smaller form on top of herself. Using only a single hand to guide him now, she placed his face right on top of her massive left tit.

“Suck!” she commanded.

When the man refused to comply, she pushed his head just a tiny amount, compressing it between a granite breast and the unstoppable force of her hand. He got the message when his skull started to groan and moved his tongue out to lick her swollen nipple. Nicole rewarded him by releasing the pressure.

She soon started to moan. It was not due to the man’s efforts, of course, since they were quite pathetic. The fingers of her free left hand, working down at her pussy, were the responsible party.

“You know, I can barely feel you. But at an intellectual level, it’s exciting,” she said.

The man could not reply. He just went on, urged by the hand at the back of his head.

When Nicole felt that her clit was excited enough, she decided to give the man a chance, so she removed her fingers and used her other hand to turn him like a rag doll, placing his face on her wet cunt.

“You get the idea, I hope,” she urged, as she waited for the fireworks.

They never came. She should have expected it, of course. The man’s tongue was way too weak to be able to push her lower lips apart. She removed him as soon as it became evident that he was as good as useless and brought him back up. Sitting down, she looked at his defeated expression and considered bringing him back to her nipple. She discarded the idea, since it was not as if it was going to make a difference.

“You’re kind of useless, you know?”

Then, her eyes shone, and she said:

“I have an idea!”

Placing his head next to her left breast, Nicole measured the distance and then turned her torso in the man’s direction. Her tit, which was comparable in size, hit the man’s face with a loud thud. Nicole chuckled when he screamed, and then moved his head back to see how his right cheek was beginning to swell and blacken noticeably.

“That was cool!” Nicole said. She had resolved that if the man could not please her, she might as well use him in the other way he might be sexually stimulating: hurting him.

There was a deep terror in the man’s eyes as Nicole moved him around and placed his head next to her other tit. She repeated the operation with identical results, laughing as the man sobbed in intense pain.

Nicole’s left hand was back at her cunt, her fingers working as she pondered what to do with her lover. He was quite badly beaten, so she didn’t think he’d last for long. She resolved to bring him up to her face. He understood what she had in mind when she pushed her lips out and tried to fight it. He was as unsuccessful as in all his previous attempts.

Nicole pushed her lips into the man’s and then sealed them in an unbreakable kiss. This alone was painful enough. It became much worse when her tongue led the charge. There was nothing her conquest could do to prevent it other than closing his teeth. Nicole’s tongue broke through them as if they had been made of wet tissue. He would have screamed if his mouth had not been completely useless by then. Meanwhile, she kept exploring, tasting his salty blood as she did.

The difference in their heights also accounted for a difference in the sizes of their tongues, so Nicole soon found out that she could get anywhere in the man’s mouth with it. Excited by what had just happened with his teeth, she got rougher, enjoying the feeling of stuff breaking as she went.

Nicole’s fingers kept stroking, which together with the damage she was causing with such an apparently harmless part of her body like her tongue, made her arousal raise exponentially.

She was so excited that it took her some time to realize that the man was barely putting a fight anymore. He might have learned that it was useless by now, but it was way more likely that he was half gone.

Without taking her fingers from her womanhood, Nicole moved the man’s head away from her face and looked at his. He looked much worse than she had expected, his entire face dark and swollen by now, only his left eye half open and looking at her like some sort of animal asking to be sacrificed.

She pushed him against her chest without a second thought, his skull bursting like a ripe melon and covering her with gore once more. She managed to bring herself to climax right then, her scream so loud that it broke a couple of the vases the thug had left standing.

Nicole panted for a long while. Then she realized that she needed to take another shower.  Before removing the man’s remains from herself, she decided to switch the TV on first.  The screen was partially shattered, a consequence of her outburst when reaching her pleasure peak, but the image could still be seen more or less well enough.

She was about to switch it off when she saw the same canned images of the girls doing their stuff in the city. Then, she noticed the interesting information scrolling across the lower third of the display. Jennifer would be working on a few hospitals in the morning, Nathalie would visit Northwood and Susan would be helping clear the Subway to get it back to work as soon as possible.

Nicole smiled and looked at the time on the alarm clock by her bed. She still had time for a shower and to grab a couple hours of sleep. She would be stretching her legs in the morning.

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