When the elevator finally comes to halt and the doors slide open, I shove Pocahontas off of me, gather up my clothes, and hop out of the car.
Pocahontas waltzes out into the hallway with me, naked from the waist up.
Glancing at the doors lining the hallway, I whisper, “Quick, put your top on before somebody sees us.”
Pocahontas snorts. “All these rooms are empty except for mine in the back”
I cock an eyebrow and ask, “And why’s that?”
Pocahontas shrugs. “I like my privacy.”
I bet she does. Her father’s associates probably gave her this deserted hallway so they could control who has access to her. It’s probably what’s allowed her to remain in hiding for so long.
Pocahontas grips my wrist and drags me down the lengthy hallway, until we reach her room at the end. She touches the holographic keypad near the door handle with her fingertips, causing the sensor to beep and blink its little red light. A few seconds later the light turns green and the door swings open.
Pocahontas waltzes in like she owns the joint (which I guess she does) and throws her clothes on the floor before flipping on the lights.
“Welcome to my humble abode,” Pocahontas says as I walk in beside her.
My eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets at the sight of the glamorous room.
“Wow,” I say in a whisper.
Pocahontas laughs and wraps her arm around my shoulder. “I take it you like the room?”
“Like isn’t strong enough of a word,” I say, soaking in my surroundings as best I can. While the downstairs lobby certainly wowed me, this luxurious penthouse suite might have that beat.
Pocahontas’ suite is actually several massive rooms linked together. As I slowly walk into the living room, my feet sink into the softest, most comfortable carpet that’s probably ever been created. I kick off my high-heel shoes so my toes can experience the pleasurable softness. It’s like my feet have sunk into a giant slipper.
I glance around at all the priceless, gold-framed paintings adorning the walls. There are also several exquisitely detailed statues of animals, angels, and mythical creatures, like centaurs and winged lions. A luxurious-looking kitchen off to my right has marble counters with crystal glasses and pieces of fine china stacked on top of them. There’s also a fully-stocked mini-bar, with several half-empty bottles of liquor and wine sitting on the counter. (I take it Pocahontas likes to drink.)
Even more spectacularly, in the center of the sprawling living room is a small, sparkling pond filled with about a dozen exotic-looking goldfish. At the back of the pond is a small, gushing waterfall. Situated throughout the room are several realistic-looking fake trees, their branches covered in red, orange, and yellow leaves. The trees also glow and change colors, from green to blue to violet. The sound of the cascading water combined with the sights of the artificial fall foliage and the color-changing trees makes me feel like I’ve walked into a mystical forest full of magic.
I finally tear my eyes away from the trees and gaze up at the towering ceiling. Glittering crystal chandeliers dangle above my head. And a massive sky-light peers out into the Heavens, allowing me to stare up at the stars. I’m not sure how much this room costs, but whatever the price-tag, it’s absolutely worth it.
Pocahontas saunters up to me and wraps her arms around my waist, snapping me out of my reverie.
“You seem enchanted,” she purrs, her breath tickling my neck.
I smile at my prey and softly whisper back, “I am indeed.”
Pocahontas leads me to her bedroom. Along the way we pass a massive holographic TV screen broadcasting the news. The reporters are rambling on about the pending war with China. I can’t help but roll my eyes. Can’t they ever find anything else to talk about? Yeah, we know Armageddon is upon us, but you would think they would intersperse the dire news with some happy stories of long-lost puppies being reunited with their owners, or a young child miraculously surviving the latest outbreak of bird flu. But I digress.
When we enter the bedroom, our feet are bathed in a soft, phosphorus light emanating from the floorboards. That soft light is all the illumination we are granted, with the exception of the small sliver of moonlight that manages to penetrate the thick curtain hanging over the balcony window. Pocahontas leads me to a sprawling, king-sized bed in the back. The bed is adorned with dozens of plush, flower-emblazoned pillows and a wool comforter.
I turn toward Pocahontas and gulp at the sight of the lust in her eyes. She’s eager to get the party started. I, not so much.
I make a dramatic showing of wiping away imaginary sweat trickling down my forehead. “Whew, it’s hot in here. I’m going outside for a second.”
Before Pocahontas can protest, I make my way over to the balcony. I slip through the curtains, open the sliding-glass door, and step outside. A cool gust of wind slams into me, nearly knocking me back on my heels. The wind continues to gust, causing my hair to flap around behind me. I do my best to ignore the gale-force winds and gaze off toward the brightly-lit horizon. Being on the 40th floor allows me a birds-eye view of Sanctuary 41 in all its gaudy, eye-watering glory. Illuminated cloud-touching skyscrapers jut up toward the heavens, casting dark shadows on the crowded city-scape below. The skyscrapers go on for as far as the eye can see, stretching all the way back to the massive, 1,000-foot high concrete wall that surrounds the city. Floating outside the walls are an armada of heavily-armed flying cars, keeping an eye out for any outside threats. Since Sanctuary 41 is the richest city on the face of the Earth, home to some of the world’s most powerful and sickening wealthy individuals, it is also the most heavily fortified city on the planet, with the possible exception of Washington, D.C., and the Chinese Empress’ palatial estate. I always thought Sanctuary 7 was pretty secure, but our home city has nothing on this place. And with it being on the eastern outskirts of the Canadian Rockies, the Chinese would have no hope of bombing it. Sanctuary 41 is the most landlocked city in America, protected by thousands of miles of wilderness on all sides. If the Chinese ever invaded, Sanctuary 41 would be the last city to fall. Even Washington would collapse before Sanctuary 41 ever did.
“Sapphire, you okay?”
Pocahontas’ words jolt me out of my thoughts. I turn around and nearly collide into her as she steps out onto the balcony with me.
I put my hand around her slender waist and lead her back inside.
“Er, yes. Sorry, I just needed some air.”
Pocahontas grins and says, “That’s okay.”
She starts to close the balcony door, but I grab her wrist and say, “No, leave it open.”
Pocahontas cocks an eyebrow and inquires, “Why?”
I rub the back of my head and awkwardly reply, “Er, I’m just really hot. Sorry.”
Pocahontas shrugs. “Suit yourself. I think it’s chilly outside, but to each their own.”
Pocahontas plops down on the edge of her bed and starts rubbing her right hand over her breasts. “So, how about we get things started?”
I gulp and stammer, “S… sure.”
Pocahontas yanks me onto the bed, rolls on top of me, and tears off my blouse and bra. I’m now completely naked from the waist up, just like she is. Pocahontas leans toward me and presses her lips against my own. She then starts to passionately make out with me, running her hands up and down my body while sucking my face. A few times she even slips me the tongue. I’m initially repulsed by the make-out session, but I’m shocked when I gradually find myself growing accustomed to it. I must admit Pocahontas is a fantastic kisser. She’s definitely way better at it than Lance.
Pocahontas eventually starts to inch her way down my body. I instinctively shove her away and gasp, “Wait, not yet.”
Pocahontas lifts her head and frowns. “Am I going too fast again?”
I sit up and stammer, “No, I just… I was wondering…”
Throwing caution to the wind, I yank a pair of handcuffs out of my pocket and say, “I was just wondering
if you’re into bondage?”
Pocahontas flashes a huge smile. “So you like it rough, huh?”
I force a seductive smile of my own and reply, “You bet your sexy ass I do.”
Pocahontas reaches for my cuffs. I yank them away from her and blurt out, “Actually, I always fantasized about… you know, being the dominant one. I was hoping I could handcuff you.”
I know for a fact that I don’t sound too enthusiastic, but Pocahontas doesn’t seem to notice. Instead she laughs and says, “That sounds hot as fuck.”
Pocahontas lays down on her stomach and puts her arms behind her back. “Go ahead, cuff me!”
I don’t wait for a second invitation. I immediately slap the cuffs onto her slender wrists.
“Ouch, you pinched my skin,” Pocahontas moans.
“Sorry,” I say, flipping Pocahontas onto her back. “I guess I got a little over-excited.”
Pocahontas looks up at me and eagerly says, “So, go ahead. Do your worst.”
I look down at Pocahontas and sigh. “I’m really sorry about this, Pocahontas. I wish things didn’t have to end this way, but your father has left us no other choice.”
For the first time all evening, Pocahontas’ gorgeous face turns downright fearful.
“Wait, how do you know my name? And what do you mean about my father? Who… who are you?”
I pull out a small roll of duct tape and whisper back, “I’m the one who’s going to end this war… by any means necessary.”
Before Pocahontas can say another word, I tear off a piece of tape and slap it across her mouth. Pocahontas starts thrashing around and moaning through the gag. I sit on top of her and put some more tape over her lips.
By now Pocahontas is completely freaking out. She rolls back and forth, kicking her feet. Her violent, jerking movements take me by surprise and I fall off the bed. I jump back up and immediately get kicked in the mouth by Pocahontas’ flailing legs.
“Son of a bitch,” I curse, clutching my bleeding mouth with my right hand.
Pocahontas clambers to her feet and races toward the living room. I chase after her and tackle her from behind. We both crash to the floor and roll toward the mini pond, almost falling in.
Pocahontas continues moaning and kicking her feet, but with her hands cuffed behind her back, she’s no threat to me. I grab her by her long, black hair and drag her back into the bedroom.
“Please Pocahontas, stop struggling. You’re just making things harder on yourself.”
Pocahontas doesn’t take my advice. If anything she starts moaning even louder. So I do the only thing I can think of. I pull back my fist and slug Pocahontas square in the jaw. Pocahontas lets out a little cry and falls sideways onto the floor.
I shake my right wrist, doing my best to ignore the throbbing pain rippling up and down my arm. I hate punching people; it always seems to hurt me as much, if not more, than my opponents.
I grab my bra and blouse off the floor and put them back on. I do it just in the nick of time, too, because a few seconds later a flying Stratosphere XL 2151 floats up next to the open balcony. I hurry over and tear upon the curtains. Sitting in the driver’s seat of the insanely expensive aerial vehicle is my thick, sassy, African-American bounty hunting partner and legitimate best friend, Krystal. She’s wearing her trademark bullet-proof vest (which is currently riddled with bullet holes, a testament to how well it works) and a fully-loaded utility belt stocked with all sorts of lethal and non-lethal weapons, including daggers, tasers, flash grenades, smoke bombs, incendiary grenades, and pistols. And standing in the front passenger seat of the open-roof car, with his chiseled arms crossed upon his armored chest and a no-nonsense look plastered across his hardened face, is my on-again, off-again boyfriend, Lance.
Lance gruffly says, “About damn time. We’ve been waiting out here forever.”
“Ohh, I’m sooo sorry to have kept you waiting,” I snap as Lance hops off the car and lands in the balcony as gracefully as a stealthy cat. “I guess it’s hard for you to sit there and do absolutely nothing while I do all the dirty work, counting cards under the surveillance of casino pit bosses and getting groped by the lesbian heir to an underground criminal empire.”
“Wait, you got groped by a lesbian?!” Krystal hollers for all the world to hear as she puts the car into “hover” mode and hops onto the balcony next to Lance.
Lance and I both go, “Shhh!”
Krystal puts her hands on her pudgy hips and sticks out her lower lip. “Ah hell naw, you two bitches had better not be shushing me! We all know I do most of the work around here!”
“You mean you eat the most food,” Lance says, brushing past me as he checks out the hotel suite.
Krystal gives Lance the evil eye before turning to me and saying, “He ain’t ever gonna let me live that down, is he? I can’t help it I was going through my menstrual cycle that one night and momentarily lost my mind and ate all the food in the fridge. Maybe Lance’s scrawny ass wouldn’t be so damn judgmental if he had blood gushing out of his vagina once every 30 days.”
I nod in agreement so Krystal shuts the hell up. I would never say this to Krystal’s face (mostly because I don’t want her gouging out my eyes with her long-ass fake nails), but she has gotten considerably huskier since our mission in Alaska. All she ever does nowadays (when we’re not scouring the countryside for criminals) is eat and eat and eat some more. I think it’s a coping mechanism for her, a way for her to keep her sanity after all the shit we’ve been through. Still, I’m getting a bit concerned about her health. Krystal is only 5’6’’ and she has to be close to 300 pounds now. Not only is she starting to become a liability on our missions (after all, there’s no way in hell she can keep up with me and Lance when we’re forced to run away from mobs of thieves and bandits), but she’s also starting to have breathing problems. Perhaps once things calm down I can convince her to go on a diet. (I’ll work on that right after I convince pigs to grow wings out of their ass and fly.)
Krystal suddenly storms past me and heads into the living room. “I’m gonna see if there’s anything to eat in the fridge. I’m famished!”
Lance walks back into the bedroom and says, “How about you eat some vegetables this time?”
Krystal responds with a tsunami of profanity not fit for print.
Lance hovers over Pocahontas, who is still slouched over on the floor, moaning from my sucker-punch, and starts fidgeting with the syringe of truth serum we brought along. Lance isn’t even gazing at Pocahontas’ naked breasts like most guys would. He’s solely focused on our mission.
I shiver as a chilling gust of wind blows into the room, causing the curtains to flap around like crazy. Doing my best to ignore the cold, I say, “Are you sure this serum will work? I mean, we did buy it from a somewhat unreliable source.”
Without looking up, Lance grumbles, “Yeah, Jack has screwed us over a few times before, but he’s still the best guy to go to when we need any sort of potion or elixir. He didn’t become Sanctuary 7’s richest ‘witch doctor’ because he always fucks people over. Sometimes his stuff actually works.”
“I just can’t believe you gave him $50,000 for one little vial.”
Lance shrugs. “Desperate times call for desperate measures. I was more than willing to sneak in here and torture the information out of Pocahontas, but you nixed that idea.”
I glare at Lance furiously. The old Lance would have been joking, but something tells me this new Lance would have no qualms using torture to finagle information out of a target.
I hold up the giant wad of cash I won at the blackjack table. “At least this will replace what we spent on the serum.”
Lance looks up long enough to eye the wad of cash and flashes a rare smile. “Awesome job, Firecracker. That’ll buy us a shitload of new weapons.”
The smile quickly evaporates and Lance goes back to preparing the truth serum for injection.
I lean against the wall and stare at Lance while he measures the amount
of serum in the syringe. He has changed so much in just the past several months. Lance used to be so kind-hearted and caring. And really fun, too. But after what happened in Alaska… when he saw his girlfriend brutally murdered by President Klaxton… well, I suppose that would change anybody. But Lance’s transformation has been unsettling to say the least. He’s completely different now. Darker… sadder… meaner… and much more violent.
But I suppose I’ve changed a lot, too. After all, I also witnessed someone I loved fall at the hands of a genocidal monster. When Rasputin electrocuted Arrow before my very eyes, a part of me died. Still, Lance’s metamorphosis has been particularly jarring. He used to refrain from using lethal force on our bounty hunting missions. He would only kill if our lives were in jeopardy. But recently he’s been showing less restraint when it comes to taking down a target. And he’s been much more reluctant to show even the slightest hint of mercy. Beating our targets to a bloody pulp after they’ve surrendered… shooting people in the head even after they no longer pose a valid threat… electrocuting people with that stupid robotic glove he commandeered from Rasputin’s severed hand….
World War Forever (Highway To Armageddon Book 2) Page 2
