"So boooring," Mike said to himself, as he wandered down the chocolate aisle. That was the problem with working night-shift at a re-fuelling station in the middle of the suburbs.
The road outside had been devoid of any traffic for at least an hour, and he'd not had a customer for at least two.
"Booring," he repeated. Then. "Hello." A car had just pulled up outside. A large, black, expensive SUV. Not your run of the mill vehicle.
He scampered back behind the counter and waited, curious to see who the driver was.
After about two minutes he frowned. The doors remained firmly closed, and it hadn't moved. He was considering going out to see if they realised the station was self service when, finally, someone stepped out.
Mike's jaw dropped.
The woman, and she was all woman, who exited the vehicle was drop dead, smoking super-model hot. She was wearing a long black coat, cut off at the arms. As she walked, it blew open slightly. He wasn't totally sure, but it really looked like she wasn't wearing anything underneath.
The doorbell rang as the goddess pushed the door open.
"Hel..." Mike's voice cracked. "Hello there," he managed to finally get out. "How can I service... be of service to you today... tonight."
The woman just smiled and played with her long blonde hair as she strode closer, her black, high heeled boots clicking on the tiles of the shop. Mike swallowed.
Finally she stood before him on the other side of the counter. Slowly, and with the smile of the devil herself, she leaned forward, giving Mike a gobsmacking view down her top.
She wasn't wearing anything underneath.
"Hello," she said. Her voice was like the purr of a cat.
"H...h...hi," he managed to get out in reply.
"Would you do me a favour?" she asked.
"Open the register and give me all the money." She smiled widely.
"I... I'm sorry miss, I can't..." he stopped. The woman had pulled an enormous gun from somewhere and was now pressing the barrel against his forehead.
"Please?" she asked again.
"S...sure." Mike, to his everlasting shame, pissed himself.
"Go on then," she said, pushing his head back with the gun.
Urine leaking down his leg, Mike, hands trembling, moved over to the register. He was just about to open it when he became aware of the reflection of a flashing blue light coming from outside.
"Oh cunt." His customer snarled as she saw the cop car screech to a halt outside, disgorging police as it did so. She whirled back to Mike. "I didn't tell you to stop!"
Mike gulped and pressed the button to open the till.
"You, in the shop!" The male voice shouted through a megaphone. "Come out with..."
What she should come out with was left unknown, as the woman opened fire, blasting away and shattering the glass at the front of the store. The coppers outside dived for cover, just as another two cars and a van pulled up. Mike ducked down behind the counter and started to scuttle away, only for his progress to stop abruptly as something grabbed his leg.
"You! Where are you going?"
Mike rolled over onto his back and looked up. The woman's eyes were, terrifyingly, glowing a dull red, and her arms seem to have swelled, showing muscles a body builder would be proud of. The coat was struggling to contain her.
"Put down the gun and come out!" came another megaphoned warning from outside.
"Come and get me copper" she shouted back, loosing off another volley of shots. At the same time she pulled Mike along the floor, apparently with no effort.
"Last chan..." the police officers' message was cut short by another fusillade. The gun had to be some kind of automatic weapon.
This time a barrage of shots replied, blowing chunks out of the counter and the rear of the shop. Mike covered his face with his arms and screamed like a bitch, but the woman, if that's what she was, simply threw back her head with maniacal laughter.
"Is that the best you've got pigs?" she screamed, as bullets slammed into the wall all around her. "Here, try one of these!" She pulled something out of her pocket, did something with it and threw it towards the massed police.
There was a short lull in shooting, followed by a massive explosion. Mike, having already emptied his bladder, now voided his bowels as his place of employment turned into a fiery scene from hell.
The woman howled with laughter again, barely audible now against the backdrop of explosions and screams from outside, and loosed off even more shots before stepping over to the till, which had been blown open in the exchange. She scooped up a handful of bills and turned her attention to Mike. Reaching down, she pulled him upright with one burly hand.
Her face was now more demonic than beautiful. Eyes glowed red, her hair was now black, and seemed to move around in a snake-like manner of its own accord. As she opened her mouth, he saw her teeth had become sharpened spikes.
"Mummy!" he exclaimed as he was pulled closer.
"You," she hissed, "you are cute." An impossibly long, narrow tongue slipped out of her mouth and, slowly, licked his face from chin to hairline.
As another giant explosion shook the ground beneath them, she smiled. "I've enjoyed our date. I think you'll be seeing me again."
So saying she leaned forward and kissed Mike. Despite everything, the kiss literally took his breath away. A feeling of nirvana swept through his body. His legs, already weak, gave way, and he would have collapsed had she not held him up.
Their encounter was interrupted by the arrival of more police.
"Later lover." Suddenly she was the super hot babe from before again.
Then Mike was on the floor, paralysed despite the glow of flames getting closer.
When he recovered enough to move, the woman was gone.
"She didn't even tell me her name," he croaked, and passed out.
Parts I - IV
Mike woke up trembling. This wasn't new to him of course. It had been a week now, and people were only just beginning to leave him alone. The cops, having lost the woman, had followed their standard protocol and arrested anyone nearby, regardless of evidence and circumstance. Of course, that had meant Mike in this case, as he was the only available body available.
He'd been dragged, beaten, partly burned and bloody as he was, in handcuffs, to the station and subject to a barrage of questions from a series of angry coppers.
Possibly because he was still stunned from the whole incident he'd simply refused to answer any questions at all, much to their growing anger. If his brief hadn't turned up when she did, it was likely he'd have 'fallen down some stairs'. As it was, he'd been advised to shut up, not a problem, whilst she had stern words with the authorities.
A short time later he'd been unceremoniously ejected from the station and allowed to wander home, a period of history he couldn't remember. The ordeal wasn't over though. The whole thing had been caught on the stores' CCTV, which was leaked online, and it had become an overnight sensation. The woman was now number one on the wanted list of just about everyone, from the law to news stations to every single person on social media.
Despite all the infamy, the woman remained at large. The same couldn't be said for Mike though, and he'd had buy a new phone and crash at a friends', currently unused, bachelor pad. He'd very quickly given up going online.
Of course, the police had interviewed him several more times. He'd stuck to his story, which was the truth, now backed up by the CCTV footage, and they'd eventually left him alone, though not before a series of very specific threats.
Several reporters had tracked him down as well, but he'd managed, with some difficulty to avoid them.
So now he lay on his bed and quivered. Finally alone.
And despite everything, all he could think about was her.
She'd destroyed his life, and his workplace, caused him a great deal of pain and suffering, and yet all he could think about was the kiss! He had to see her again! It was crazy he knew, but she was like a drug, and he was addicted, and addicted hard.
He made a decision. Pulling himself up, he swung his legs over the side of the bed. He would see her again. He didn't know how, considering she'd vanished off the face of the earth - the cops had run into a dead end - no fingerprints, no trace from the weapons, nothing from the public - but he knew he would see her again.
But where to start looking?
Slightly unsteadily, it had been a day or two since he'd eaten, Mike climbed to his feet and padded, barefoot, over to his laptop. Turning it on he studiously avoided checking his email, or any of his social media accounts.
In fact, he stopped typing as a thought struck. In fact, why go on the regular web at all? He wasn't much of a techy, but some months previously a friend of his had installed a browser, a window he'd called it, to the dark web.
Mike had looked, as had everyone else, all over the internet for the girl and had drawn a blank. Maybe he would have better luck on the supposedly seedier side of the interwebs.
Digging out the 'readme' file his friend had set up for him, he followed the instructions within, and soon found himself on a bulletin board, which looked rather similar to the boards he'd been on previously, except this one had sections for drugs and, well, other things.
He scrolled down, browsing around for a while, until he found a thread started by someone called Mr. Fixit. Apparently Mr. Fixit could arrange any number of things, from hard to get substances to even harder to get human merchandise and, most importantly from Mike's point of view: information.
He followed the instructions at the top of the thread and sent a brief message to Mr. Fixit, telling him he wanted to find the Gas Station Killer Babe, as some people were calling her.
The task done, he leaned back, wondering if he should eat something. No doubt it would be a day or so...
The screen pinged, and a request for a chat box popped up. It was from Mr. Fixit.
Mike hesitated only a moment. He'd dug himself in this far after all. He clicked on 'accept'.
"Hello' he typed.
"I've seen your request. Why do you want to find her?' came the reply.
Mike paused, slightly concerned about giving his identity away, but then everyone knew of him anyway, so it wasn't like this was really an issue.
"I'm the," he paused, then sighed and carried on typing. "Gas Station Chicken Bitch," he finished. He also had several other nicknames now, and this was probably the best of the bunch.
"Let's video chat then, if that's true. You could be someone just saying that."
Again, Mike paused only a moment. In for a penny...
He clicked accept again on the new box that popped up. This time it was a video stream, although Mr. Fixit could only be seen as a silhouette. Understandable enough.
"Well, it really is you!" Even his voice was disguised, coming across the net as a rough, dalek sound.
"So you want to find your girlfriend then."
"Yes, can you do anything?"
"Why haven't you tried a regular PI?" Fixit asked.
"I figured, with the reward, they would have already looked. I thought, perhaps, you might be different."
"Hahaha," The laughter, through the synth, came out as flat and dead. "I may be on the dark side, but I'm still just a person," came the reply.
"So you can't help?" Mike slumped.
"Hold on, hold on, I didn't say that did I?"
"I don't know who she is, for sure, but I have been digging. It seems that this isn't the first sighting of this woman, though it's certainly the highest profile."
"What? How come no one else knows of this?" Mike asked.
"Some people, the cops and so on, do, I know for sure they do. However, they don't go around sharing things like this."
"Tell me!" Mike sat up straight in his chair, becoming animated for the first time in days.
"Well hold on now there fellah, this information isn't free."
"Oh, yes. How much?"
There was a pause, and Mike was about to say something when Mr. Fixit finally replied.
"For you, because it is you, I'll do a deal. Five hundred, but you tell me what you find. There's something really weird going on, and it's attracted my curiosity, I will admit."
"How do I pay you?"
"Here. Go to this website, fill in the boxes."
"Is that it?" Mike raised an eyebrow.
"Hey, it's the modern age. What did you expect, a drop in the city square at midnight?"
"Very well." Mike clicked on the link that appeared at the bottom of the chat screen."
"Excellent, I'll email you the details when I get the cash." The screen flicked out.
"But you don't know... my email address," Mike trailed off.
With some trepidation, he opened the link and followed the instructions for payment. This may be crazy, but he needed to do something, and he had a feeling...
Payment sent, he say in front of the screen and crossed his hands, waiting.
He sat there for half an hour, and was wondering if he'd been stupid, when there was a ping from his email.
He opened it up, and then opened up the attached files.
There wasn't much there, but what there was was new to him. It seemed there had been minor disturbances involving a young woman, who very closely matched the description of his woman, for four or five months previous to his incident. They had started small, from shoplifting, up to, a week before Mike's encounter, assault. Three men had apparently decided to 'have a bit of fun' with the woman after having some beers, and had, somehow, come away with fairly serious injuries, including broken bones.
Mike raised an eyebrow.
There was more, this time with speculation and conjecture included with information taken from police files, and there were also witness statements Each time the woman disappeared without a trace.
Finally there were some notes that seem to have been pulled together by Mr. Fixit. He'd had information from some other source, unidentified in the documents, which had given him a rough location of where, for reasons he didn't go into, he though the woman could be actually found.
Mike's heart started to race, and he clicked on the map.
The location, marked with a red X was a large building barely five miles from Mike's former place of employment, in the centre of a medium sized, sleepy, fairly well off suburb.
Eyes wide, Mike clicked the print key, and ran over pull the map off. He started to pull on his shoes when he stopped short, catching his reflection on the mirror. A dirty, bedraggled image stared back at him. This wouldn't do! He couldn't meet Her like this.
Dragging his clothes off he made his way to the bathroom, where he spent a frantic half hour on some much needed personal grooming.
An hour later he was ready. Dressed in some decent, clean, clothes stolen from his mate's wardrobe, he stepped out into the daylight. Blinking in the sun, he unlocked his friend's bike and began pedalling.
"Oh, this can't be right."
It was some time later, and Mike had arrived at his destination. Panting slightly, he double checked the map. Nope, this was it. And it explained why it was a large building.
He was standing in front of 'The Holy Mother Synthia's Puritanical Boarding School for Young Girls, (aged eight to sixteen).'
"What the hell?" Mike said. He looked left and right. The street he was in was one of those wide, new ones, with trees and landscaping designed to let you know that only expensive people should tarry there, unless you were one of the people who cleaned up. There was no one else in sight.
Lacking inspiration from the surroundings, Mike looked the school fence over once more. The gate, which was a large black iron one, and wouldn't have looked out of place at the entrance to hell, was closed. A camera, speaker box and push button was situated at a convenient height next to it.
Mike made up his mind. He was close now to Her, he somehow knew that, and an iron gate wasn't going to stop him. Pushing his borrowed bike away, he secreted it behind a convenient bush. Then, glad he'd stopped to dress up before he left, he smoothed down his jacket and walked back to the gate.
Mother Superior Overseer Mary Strikt was busy praying when her secretary knocked on the door.
"What is it child?" she asked, resisting the urge to take stronger action. She had been going through assistants rather quickly lately, and this one showed at least a modicum of promise. "I am in prayer, you know - I don't wish to be disturbed at this time."
"For give me Oh Mother Overseer," said the young woman, pulling at her habit. "There's a young man here, he says he is a wealthy investor, and would like to look around."
"Who?" Mary stood up and put her whip to one side.
"He says he is Micheal Strobowsky, he owns some social media company, and he is interested in enrolling his daughter."
"Is he now?" Mary nodded. Social media was the invention of the devil, and as such, this man could be useful to her school. She took her seat behind her desk and nodded. "Send him in."
Mike stepped into the large office somewhat nervously. He had never been comfortable around religion, assuming that any deity worth their salt would be mostly disapproving of most of his life so far. This school though, was more unnerving than he'd expected. The corridors had echoed, and the only noise he'd heard, other than his and the nun's footsteps, had been strange chanting from the classrooms.
This office was even more unnerving. It was a large, plain, room. The floor was some kind of dark polished wood, and the walls were plain white, with the sole exception of some kind of, rather creepy, symbol painted in deep red on the back wall. He didn't know what it was, except it certainly wasn't a Christian cross.
Slap bang in the centre of the room, behind an enormous wooden desk, sitting in something that was more throne than chair, was a thin, stern looking woman. She was dressed in a slightly fancier habit than the single nun who had escorted him into the school, once he'd managed to blag himself past the gate.
Her outfit was made of a finely cut black leather, studded with small stones that could not be diamonds.
The nun, the head of the school he'd been told, stood up in one smooth motion and smiled, an expression that looked like she was trying on for the fist time.
"Please, Mr. Strobowsky, have a seat." She pointed at another chair, sitting in lonely isolation on Mike's side of the desk.
"Ahem, well, thank you." Mike lowered himself onto the chair. The sister looked on, and then sat herself.
"Now, how may The Holy Mother Synthia's Puritanical Boarding School for Young Girls, (aged eight to sixteen) help you?" she asked.
"Well, ahem, I have a young daughter, and I, er, heard this school, I mean, a frien... acquaintance of mine, recommended this place. I was wondering if I could take a tour. I didn't mean to take up your time of course. Maybe your assistant?" He gestured behind him. The other nun, from what he could tell beneath the robes, had seemed quite young and friendly.
"Oh, every parent deserves my full attention I can assure you Mr. Strobowsky," she replied.
"Please, call me Mike," Mike said. He'd made up the name on the spot, and was rather regretting it, and was even more scared someone would ask him to spell it.
"May I ask who your acquaintance was... Mike?" she asked, cocking her head to one side. Mike felt as if she was looking into his soul.
"Ah... I would rather not."
"Very well." She paused. "It's just, well, this school is extremely... selective on the girls it takes. Background checks are required, and other restrictions also apply."
Mike waved a hand dismissively. "Oh yes, I know, my friend told me all about it."
"Did he?" An eyebrow was raised.
Mike felt as if he'd just failed a test.
"Well," he said, "in strictest confidence of course. As a potential patron too," he added for good measure. Throwing the lure of money into the equation.
"And what of your daughter? How old is she?"
"Oh, er, yes, Alice is, er, ten now. Yes, ten."
"She is a little old for entrance to our establishment at ten," the nun said. "However, it isn't unheard of. Assuming she's strong enough."
Strong enough? Mike resisted the urge to frown. Time to go on the offensive. He leaned forward and put his hands together. "I can assure you, Alice is up to the challenge. As am I. Now, how about that tour? Or is everything I've heard here a lie?"
The Mother Superior raised her eyebrow again, but then nodded. "Very well," she said. "Though you will have to sign an NDA before you leave. I hope you understand."
"I would expect nothing less," Mike said, outwardly calm. Inside he was screaming.
"Very well. This way." The woman stood up abruptly. Mike was startled to see she had acquired a long, coiled, black whip from somewhere.
Standing, he followed her out into the hallway. Her footsteps clacked sharply on the floor, and, looking down, he thought he saw tall black stilettos underneath the robe. He frowned. Surely nuns didn't...?
She stopped at a large wooden door and turned to face him. "What is behind here is confidential, I'm sure you understand."
Trying to appear at ease, despite his increasing alarm, Mike nodded. "Of course."
Reaching into her robes, Mother Mary pulled out a metal chain, not unlike what you would expect on a prison officer. At the end was a large ring, jangling with iron keys of medieval design. Selecting one, she inserted it into the lock and turned, then pushed the door open and stepped through.
Behind was a large hall. Overhead chandeliers straight from ancient times, laden with candles, illuminated a scene that he would usually assume was the result of smoking something illegal.
Groups of girls were gathered in different areas, listening to nuns or participating in actions that were alien to Mike's experience.
He looked to the right.
A group of students, they had to be no more than nine, were dressed in short leather outfits. A nun was pointing, with a long barbed stick he noted, at a picture of a naked man on the wall. She seemed to be highlighting tender areas to assault. The girls were taking notes on tablets and laptops.
To his left four older girls, well into their teens, were standing around an intricate design chalked on the floor. They were chanting in a language Mike didn't know.
"Keep up please." His attention was drawn back to his guide.
"Ah, yes. Of course." He stumbled on.
"This is our general hall," Mother Mary pointed out. "Usually of course these lessons would be in their own classrooms, but whilst the renovations are being carried out we are slumming it. Ah, here we go."
They had arrived at a large archway. Beyond it, by some strange optical illusion, he could only see dark.
"After you please," Mother Mary said, gesturing.
"Of course." Pulling at his jacket, Mike stepped through.
He was in a torture chamber. A literal torture chamber, with rack, iron maiden and all of the traditional pieces of equipment. A group of year twelves were gathered around a restrained naked man who was in the process of having his belly slit open by one of them. Again, notes were being taken.
"Here of course, is where we get to the nitty gritty," said Mother Mary, stepping in behind him. At the same time, two nuns, very large and burly nuns, stepped forth and glared at him.
He looked at the Mother Superior. "What's going on?" he asked.
"Mr. Strobowsky," she replied. "What are you doing here?"
"I told you, call me Mike," Mike said. He went weak at the knees.
Part V - Hot Girls, Cold Dungeon.
"I'm not at all certain that you are who you say you are," Mother Superior said, unwrapping her whip slowly, and glaring at him.
Glancing at the two, alarmingly muscled, sisters who were glaring at him, and then back at Mother Superior and her glistening whip, Mike decided the only way he was going to get out of here was to go on the offensive.
Taking a deep breath, he shook his head.
"I am..." he said, "outraged." He jabbed a finger at Mother Superior. "Outraged I say! I come here, in good faith, hoping my daughter would learn all about 'The Arts'," he made the air quotes, "and maybe help along a local academic establishment at the same time, and I am met with... I am met with..." he took another deep breath and shook his head. "THIS!" He pointed at the rack, and the poor victim, now bleeding profusely from a long gash in his abdomen."
"Look at this!" he said, pushing roughly past one of the burly nuns, who took a step back at his outrage. "It's a rack! A rack for fuck's sake! What century are we living in, excuse me dear." The last to a teenaged girl in a ridiculously short leather skirt who had been wielding the knife.
He made a point of taking in the scene, glaring at the apparatus and the man, whos spasms were slowly subsiding as his life leaked out of him.
"It's positively archaic!" he said. "Archaic!" he repeated, enjoying a word that people don't usually get to say. "I mean, where's the tech? Where are the wires? Where's the nerve stimulation? I am sure my company could do better than this with a high end phone, a VR set and a few optical fibres! I. Am. Outraged. Is this all you've got?"
Rant over, he crossed his arms, glared at Mother Superior, and tried not to shit himself.
Mother Superior Overseer Mary Strikt looked at him for a moment, her whip still by her side. She glanced at the students, who were all looking at Mike with awe. He shifted uncomfortably, trying his best not to get a hard on, surrounded by teenage girls in revealing leather outfits.
"Uh?" Mike tore his gaze away from one of the students and back at Mother Superior.
"Very well. I understand." Mother Superior gestured at the surroundings. "Our Great Lord is... traditional. But I understand your concerns. We have to move with the times." She nodded at the two Bouncer nuns, who withdrew back into the shadows.
"Follow me please." She turned and walked towards another door, which Mike hadn't noticed before.
Mike glanced around at the students, one of whom blew a kiss at him, and then followed the senior nun, surreptitiously adjusting the front of his pants.
Mother Superior was waiting for him at the door, which was a solid wooden affair, and looked about five hundred years old.
Nodding at him as he approached, she turned and, carefully selecting a key from her chair, slid it into the lock and turned it.
"You are correct of course," she said, turning the handle. "We need to keep up with modern times. As such, we've been using our R and D facilities to find more... unusual methods of spreading the Word. This is our latest experiment. I didn't think you would be interested, but now, well, maybe. We are always after more funding. Finding young girls who people won't miss is never cheap."
Resisting the urge to comment, Mike simply stepped through into the room beyond the door. It was a simple room, unlike the others in that it was plain concrete. Standing against the walls to the left and right were two more nuns. These were obviously no normal nuns though.
Their habits were leather, more armour than habits in fact. and from their wide belts hung wicked looking spiked clubs. That wasn't enough. They were both huge! They would have put any WWF wrestler to shame. Both glared at Mike.
Mother Superior ignored both of them, striding across the room to the other door. This one was eve n more solid than the last, though it had some sort of hatch lower down, and a barred window at head height. Everything about it screamed 'cell'.
Mother Superior reached the door and turned to look at him.
"Here is our latest experiment. I want you to go in there and... see for yourself what strides in technology we are making." She held her key up, as if a dare.
Mike pulled himself up to his full height. "Carry on my good woman," he said.
Nodding, Mother Superior unlocked the door and pushed it open. She didn't enter, but looked at him instead.
Taking a deep breath, Mike nodded back, and strode as confidently as he could through the door.
Which slammed behind him.
The lock turned.
He was locked in. Had he been more than usually stupid? Probably.
"Oh, it's you!"
Mike turned and surveyed his surroundings.
As he'd surmised, it was a cell, straight out of medieval times. It was small, with a covered wooden bucket in one corner, a tiny barred window high up in the wall, and a narrow cot.
On this cot was a young girl, probably no more than twelve years old. She was extremely pretty, with long tousled long hair, and wearing only a thin slip.
"You've come for me!" she said, and threw herself at him, kissing him passionately.
"Whoaa!" Mike said, untangling himself from her embrace with some difficulty. Still, that kiss... familiar?
"What?" the girl pouted. "Don't you remember me?"
"I... I..." Mike gulped. This girl was still a child, and yet...
"Oh, I know!" she said brightly. "I don't look the same. Hold on."
So saying, she smiled at him in a way that no twelve year old should ever do, and stepped back.
For a moment, nothing happened, and then there was a... disturbance in the fabric of the universe.
Mike peered through eyelids he didn't realise were closed. And his mouth dropped open.
Standing there, discarding the remnants of a shift too small for her, was... HER.
"Hi there," she said, and her grin this time instantly gave Mike the hardest erection he had ever had. "Have you come to break me out?"
Mike messed himself.
Oh ohh! Disguistingness! Well, I'm full of beer, so, whatever.
What's the plan now? Is Mike going to help her? If so, how??
"Wh... wh... who..." Mike gave up as She wound herself around him, hands moving over areas of his anatomy like the a supercharged mars rover on a particularly interesting rock outcrop.
"I've been waiting for you Mike," she purred in his ear, licking in first.
"You have?" Mikes voice rose several octaves as the mars rover arrived at the Main Event and sent out probes.
"I knew you would come you see," she went on. "I knew you would save me from... here."
"B... bu... bu... but why are you... oh god," Mike, with a willpower he didn't know he possesed, pushed her back. "Why are you here?"
"They don't want me to have a life, or any fun." She pouted, and Mike groaned. "Will you help me?"
"What do I have to do?" Any remaining resistance crumbled as a tear slid down her cheek.
"Oh baby, you have to get me out of course!"
"But how? Those nuns outside..."
"You don't need to get this body out, as such," she said. "Just, do a few specific tasks, and you can summon me anywhere. At the moment I'm trapped here, but if you do what I want, we can be together. You want that don't you?" She rubbed herself against him again.
"Tell me what to do," he said.
Okay, shortest chapter ever, but need ideas! What is the ritual needed? Help!
Okay then, polling!!
She pouted, and put a finger to her lips.
"Oh god, please don't do that," Mike said. "J... Just tell me what I need to do."
"You're a good boy," She said, stroking his face. "I knew you were special the first time I saw you mess your pants." She fondled his lower regions and he whimpered.
"These so called 'nuns'," she went on, "have summoned me forth, but now they have, they keep me imprisoned here. Isn't that so cruel?" A tiny kiss on his cheek. "Mike?"
"Ohhhh, yes. Yes. Yes!" Mike replied, quivering.
"So, I just need a little favour from you, and then we can be together. Will you help me?"
"Of course!" he said.
She smiled, and Mike's world turned golden.
Mike wiped his brow as he typed. He'd searched the local area, but there was nothing. He had to go wider.
Glancing to one side, he took in the pile of, for want of a better word, he'd called ingredients. They'd mostly been easy to get. Black candles featured heavily, as had, surprisingly, chocolate. The untanned cow hide had been a bit harder, but a visit to a local abattoir had sorted that out, and what he'd been assured was goat's blood too. He was a bit concerned about that, as he could only see cow parts in the abattoir. Still, there was nothing to do about it now, and surely blood was blood?
Now he was searching on online, looking for an abandoned church. One seemed harder to find than he would have thought, given the number of churches in the country.
It took another half an hour before he found one that looked like it would suit, and most of the next day hiring a car and travelling there, and scouting the location out.
It really was abandoned, and not within direct line of sight to any dwelling, which was a definite plus.
Eventually Mike wiped his brow and stood back, taking the whole building in from the slight rise in the road where he'd parked the car.
"This will do," he said.
The church, Saint Andrew's it had been called, was just outside of a small village with the unlikely sounding name of Old Marzipan. There was no clue as to where 'New Marzipan' was. The building itself had been boarded up for about ten years, and was suitably Gothic and old-style spooky. If looks could contribute to demonic worship, this was the place indeed.
Mike nodded to himself as he pushed his way through the hedge carrying his supplies. Apparently the ritual had to be done at midnight. As a dedicated coward, Mike was not looking forward to that part.
Still, he scuttled through the graveyard (graveyard!!) and made his way to the side door that he'd forced open earlier with the crowbar he'd, with impressive foresight, brought along.
The main hall - there was probably a name for it, but as a dedicated Atheist Mike didn't know what that was - was gloomy even whilst there was still daylight, and he shivered.
"Better get on with it," he muttered to himself.
This was his last trip ferrying in supplies, and he dropped the bag next to the rest of the stuff. He'd already drawn the pentagram, most carefully, in the chalk mixed with the (hopefully) goat's blood, and placed the black candles at the points required.
He pulled the cow skin out of his bag and unrolled it on the floor, smoothing it out, and then sat back.
Now it was just a case of waiting.
He woke with a jerk at eleven forty five as his alarm went off. The portable lamps he'd brought and turned on earlier lit the church around him, somehow making the darkness beyond even more terrifying.
"Concentrate on the task at hand," he chided himself, thinking of Her.
Taking out the lighter he'd bought at the local shop, he carefully made his way around the pentagram, lighting the candles. Their flickering glow just added to the spooky atmosphere.
Task done, Mike kneeled on the cow skin and took a deep breath. "This will be worth it!' he told himself.
He opened the notebook with the words that She'd given him, that day in the school. It seemed so long ago now, and the whole thing had a dream-like quality to it, but it had only been a few days ago. Still, it had propelled him forward, driven by a force that he didn't entirely understand, and yet...
Shaking his head, he looked at his watch.
Mike took a deep breath, and spoke the seven words. Nothing. This was, apparently, to be expected.
He paused and then repeated them.
Was that a breeze?
He repeated them once more, and this time there was certainly a response.
The candles flared. A dull, red, some would say demonic glow appeared in the centre of his pentagram.
He stood up, stepped back and watched. The glow became stronger, brighter, until he had to shield his eyes and look away.
There was a low hum, building up to a crescendo until, at what was probably exactly midnight he worked out later, a large, dull explosion, and a flash of red light.
Mike lowered his hand from his eyes and looked at his work.
There was a man in the centre of the pentagram. He was tall, muscular and dressed in the coolest long black cloak.
The man looked at him with eyes that seemed to glow. He was clean shaven and totally bald, though he was wearing what appeared to be dark red makeup around his eyes, it was difficult to see in the low light.
"So, you're Mike I take it?" the stranger said.
"Who the fuck are you?" Mike replied.
"I'm Azerus." The newcomer smiled. "You're cute."
"Oh fuck," Mike said.
So, how the hell is this 'person' going to help Mike get 'Her'? Any ideas? 'cos I'm all out.
But WTF, at least I wrote something right? And I'm only a bit drunk.
Edited slightly 02/02/20
"Azerus," the new fellow said, looking around at his surroundings with interest. "Why, who were you expecting?"
"I... it... it wasn't actually..." Mike faltered. This wasn't part of the plan.
"Oh!" Azerus, as he'd styled himself raised his eyebrows. "You were expecting someone... hotter? Yes? More curves? Blonde?"
"Well..." Mike looked down.
"Did you use goat's blood?" Azerus asked.
"Well," repeated Mike.
"Ahh." His new friend smiled. "Don't worry, it's an easy mistake to make, happens all the time. I wouldn't be summoned at all, hardly, otherwise. I mean, blood looks like blood right?"
"So, who... what are you?" Mike ventured.
"Me?" The man(?) smiled and raised an eyebrow, in an innocent looking expression. "Oh, you know, just your average demon. Nothing to be concerned about, generally speaking."
"Unless you've summoned me for no purpose of course." He cocked his head. "You do have a reason for summoning me, don't you?" he asked.
"Oh... of course," Mike said.
"And you're willing to pay the price?"
In for a penny... Mike thought. "Who, where is she?" he asked. "How can I make her mine?"
Azerus smiled again. A calm, relaxed smile, like a fisherman who, after a hard battle, finally realises that the fish is hooked, and it's just a matter of reeling it in.
"She," he said, stepping slowly and deliberately out of the pentagram, "is one of a kind. She's not quite a succubus, not quite a demon, not quite a... well, she's just her."
"I don't really have a good answer for you, to be honest," Azerus said.
"This is not what I wanted!" Mike lost his temper. He stamped his foot. "My life has been destroyed! I've done... things! Tell me what I want to know, or it will go badly for you!"
Azerus smiled at him, an infuriatingly white, toothpaste advertisement smile. "Well, maybe you have some spirit after all," he said.
Mike pulled out a piece of carefully shaped wood. It had actually been the hardest thing to make in the whole list he'd been given.
Striding forward, he pushed it against surprised Azerus's face. The summoned being screamed and writhed in agony as Mike stepped forward.
"You will do what I command," he snarled, pulling aggression he didn't know he had to the fore.
"Y... Yes master!" Azerus wailed, falling to his knees. "You are in charge! I swear!"
Mike held the wood where it was a moment longer, before taking a deep breath and stepping back. "Very well," he said. "Remember that."
"Yes master," Azerus repeated, gasping and standing back up.
"Good." Mike looked around. "So, slave. Where do we begin?"
The demon looked about, as if seeing his surroundings for the first time. "Well," he said eventually. "Do you wish to take her in her current form or summon her afresh?" he asked.
"I..." Mike hesitated. "What's the difference?"
"Well, if you want to get her current body, then all you need to do is rescue her," Azerus took a seat on a wooden pew, which began to smoke. "But if you wish to summon her, there are certain... rituals that will need to be performed." He smiled again, and Mike scowled.
"You're a demon," he said, "If I order you to break in and rescue her, can't you do that?"
"Oh, I have power of course, "Azerus said, waving a hand in royal fashion. "But it's never
that easy is it? Do you know where she is now?"
"Er, yes." Mike made a face as he considered the medieval dungeon he'd visited.
"I can't just teleport there you know," the demon said. "We'd have to fight our way in. There would be..." he licked his lips. "Casualties. I believe there would be young girls involved." To Mike's horror, the demon appeared to have a large erection.
"I... I..." he said, in manly fashion. "Wait, we could summon her!"
"Of course. I assume you have access to a virgin?"
"A..." Mike slumped back. "This isn't going to be easy is it?"
Azerus gave him a wide grin. "Nothing is," he said.
The pew he was sitting on burst into flames.
So amigos. What's it to be? Rescue or summoning? And any ideas about either would be welcome!
"Tell me this is going to work," Mike said.
Azerus took a deep breath, or what appeared to be a deep breath, Mike wasn't sure that the demon really needed to breathe.
"Yes, no, maybe, I don't know!" he said. "Listen, there's still time to call this off, we could go somewhere, have a few drinks and then, well, who knows where the night could lead?" He licked his lips with a ridiculously long, pointed, tongue.
"I told you before, that's just not me." Mike shook his head and peered out through the bushes again.
"She's really done a job on you hasn't she?" Azerus shook his head sadly.
The pair were currently stationed... stationed seemed the right sort of word... stationed about thirty metres away from the main gates of The Holy Mother Synthia's Puritanical Boarding School for Young Girls, (aged eight to sixteen).
Mike was half buried in a large and very scratchy bush, whilst Azerus appeared to be sitting on a block of nothing, swilling a glass of something that he'd conjured from nowhere. He may as well have been in a lounge at some gentlemen's club.
"You're making this too complicated," the demon complained, taking a sip of whatever was in his glass. "I told you, I'm allowed to get us a few kick-ass weapons. We storm the place, mow down anyone who gets in the way, take the target, and we're gone. Easy peasy."
"I'm not comfortable with machine-gunning ten year old girls," Mike scowled back. "And I want to do this quietly."
"Oh my demon!" Azerus threw his arms wide, somehow without spilling any of his drink. "Ten year old girls are the easiest to mow down, trust me. Why go looking for trouble?"
Mike shook his head and didn't deign to reply. He'd quickly discovered, as if it was a surprise, that demons had pretty much zero in the way of morality and compassion. Some of Azerus' ideas had horrified him. He'd had to threaten the underworld being with the Rune again before he'd managed to get a sensible plan out of him. It. Whatever.
"Where is this bloody pizza delivery anyway," he complained. He pushed himself back out of the bush, deciding it was a fairly pointless hiding place anyway. There was no-one around at this time of the evening, in the dusk, in a non-residential area.
"It will be along in about a minute," Azerus replied. "So I suppose I'd better get ready then." He stood up.
Mike watched the demon stride confidently into the road, and stop in the middle. And suddenly there wasn't a tall, handsome demon, but a slightly chubby, bewildered looking Indian lad in a red shirt.
Even as this change occurred, a light appeared travelling towards him on the road, followed in short order by the buzz of a two-stroke engine.
The light morphed into a rather battered moped with a large box attached to the rear.
As the bike approached the new-look Azerus it slowed, and then came to a rather abrupt stop.
Mike soon saw why. The rider was the spitting image of the form the demon now occupied.
"Hello Rajesh," he heard Azerus say, as he walked up to the puzzled pizza delivery person. "How you doing?"
"What the fu..."
Rajesh's profanity was cut short as Azerus skewered him with a long black blade that hadn't been there a second before.
"Sorry, need your pizza. And bike. Nothing personal. You understand." The demon calmly pulled the sword from the body of the unfortunate Rajesh, and then stood back as the other slid off his ride and landed with a dull thump on the road. Azerus caught hold of the moped handle to stop it falling over.
"Got it," he called back, over his shoulder.
Mike was still stunned at this sudden act of first degree murder. He'd become hardened a little bit of late, but this was something else.
Recovering himself, he strode up angrily to the being, who was standing by the bike with a faint smile on his face, and waved a finger angrily.
"I told you no murdering people!" he hissed, looking around to make sure that no one had witnessed the homicide.
"I don't think you did actually," Azerus replied, taking another sip from his glass, which had re-appeared. "There was a general aversion stated for killing little girls as I remember." He waggled his eyebrows. "Of course, I can understand that, there are plenty of other uses you can put little girls to."
"Oh for..." Mike shook his head, and then took the moped handle. "Get rid of the body at least."
"Ndeo bwanna," said Azerus, mockingly. He made a gesture, and the body of poor Rajesh dragged itself off the road, onto the pavement, and into the bushes, leaving a gruesome bloody streak behind it. Azerus shrugged when he saw Mike looking. "Don't worry, this street is cleaned daily."
"Wasn't my main concern," Mike muttered, but gestured at the bike.
Scowling slightly, Azerus climbed on board the vehicle. "Meet you at the gates," he said.
Before Mike could respond, he revved the engine, which sounded a lot more meaty than it had moments before, and screeched off.
Gritting his teeth, Mike jogged after it, wondering if he should be a little more stealthy.
It turned out, not. Before he was near, there were shouts from the main gate, followed very quickly by screams, followed by nothing, which was somehow even more worrying.
"No problem at all boss," Azerus said cheerfully, as Mike staggered up to the now open gates, panting hard. Azerus took a bite out of a slice of pizza, presumably taken from the unfortunate Rajesh's delivery.
"Oh, no," Mike breathed, taking in the bloody bodies of two men dressed in security guard uniforms.
"It's okay boss, they didn't suffer. Stealth remember." He winked, and slid through the gate.
"Why did we even need the pizza guy?" Mike asked himself, as he followed him, walking by the moped, now on its side, and stepping over the corpses, being careful not to get blood on his shoes.
"Wonderful," Azerus said, rubbing his hands, "Now all we need is... Oh shit."
"What?" Mike asked, looking wildly about.
"Er, I think I may have triggered some wards," the demon replied.
"What? Wards? What are you talking about?"
"Well, they're kind of magical alarms that can be tuned to certain things, like, say, demonic presence."
"Oh," said Mike.
"Yes," replied Azerus, "and now..."
"They know we're here," Mike finished.
"Even worse, there's no doubt some kind of defence system that's been activated. One designed to work against demons."
"Why didn't you think of this?" Mike snarled at him.
The demon shrugged. "Probably distracted by the thought of all those young girls," he said.
Right then. Any ideas what form this defence will take? All ideas welcome!
As usual, I'm a bit drunkn now, so I'll go over this later and fix spelling etc,
I've been reading this, but not caught up so far. Will let you know.
However, enjoying it so far. :)
Ha! Great stuff!
It's tough to think of what's coming though. How about... Another demon? One that Azerul knows and is an enemy of.
This other demon, I get a vision of what he looks like for some reason. He's wearing ludicrously baggy black and white stripped pantaloons, and some kind of clashing top. Also, he wears a mask. Oh! Or maybe the mask is part of his face.
As Azerul can't beat him, maybe it's up to Mike? Maybe he has to grab his mask off him, but in the meantime he's attacked by lots of school girls and nuns. haha. Could make for entertaining reading. ;D
Enough of a suggestion? Need more? I can think of loads of ideas for other people's stories, just not my own. :(
That has to be the most detailed suggestion I've ever had! Lol.
Great stuff though Poi! It gives me plenty of meat to chew on for sure. I thank you!
Mike looked around nervously. They were in a large open, paved area. In front of them the school squatted ominously, the main entrance a dark mouth that suddenly seemed a long way away.
"Come on," he said. "Let's stay on mission."
"Aye aye sir," Azerus replied, suddenly back to his old form, although he was now clad in a black para-military outfit, complete with sidearm and machine gun, which he cradled in his arms.
"Er," Mike said, looking left and right. "Any chance of getting me a gun?"
"Thought you'd never ask," Azerus said. Suddenly Mike was holding a large weapon, much like he'd seen on TV.
"It's the latest model," Azerus informed him casually, as they strode forward. "Although you won't have to reload. Demonic ammo," he winked. "Oh, be careful though, there's no safety."
"What the hell am I doing here?" Mike moaned to himself. He didn't stop walking though, as he adjusted the weapon to a more comfortable position.
"Oh, here we go," Azerus said, suddenly stopping. "Oh no, it can't be."
"Can't be what?" Mike asked.
Azerus ignored him, looking in a direction Mike couldn't even fathom. It didn't matter. Several seconds later there was a dull explosion and a cloud of smoke, which quickly cleared to reveal a new player in the game.
"Hello Jelly," Azerus said.
"Azerus," the new form replied, in an apparently cheerful fashion. "It's been eons! How's tricks old demon?"
"I was doing alright until now."
Mike just gawped. The new demon looked like something out of a particularly twisted Batman movie.
It was in human shape, albeit a very tall and muscular one, wearing ludicrously baggy pantaloons, striped black and white vertically. In complete and utter contrast, as if challenging fashion to find the item of clothing that clashed the most with these, he was wearing a lilac shirt which had more lace and frills than a nine year old girl's bedroom. Over this he wore a chequer-board patterned waistcoat of the most putrid pink and green that one could possibly imagine. One foot was clad in a boot that was black and came to his knee, the other was orange, and came up his calf.
To top this off, he was wearing a mask. Or at least Mike assumed it was a mask. He was demon after all, it could have been his face. In any case, it was pure white, and looked like it had been taken from the emblem for the Thespian guild, except it had glowing red eyes and a nose that was like a fly's proboscis. If it was taken from the Thespian guild, the demon had chosen the 'crazed grin' side of it.
"Nice outfit," Azerus commented.
"Thanks," Jelly replied. "Shall we?" He pulled out an enormous two handed, black sword from nowhere at all.
"Why not?" Azerus said, drawing his own weapon from the same nowhere.
There was a moment of silence, and then the two ran together and started hammering away at each other with their blades.
Mike wasted several moments watching, as both demons attacked each other with a ferocity that he'd never seen before. Whoever this Jelly was, it was no friend of Azerus's.
Still, taking advantage of the distraction, he ran hunched over, past the two underworld beings, and towards the main doors.
Only to be brought up short as a group of, what he assumed were students, filed out and took up position in front of them.
He suddenly found himself facing several dozen pre-teen and teenage girls, dressed in school uniforms that came complete with inappropriately short leather skirts and fishnet stockings.
"Now ladies," he said. "You should stand aside. I don't want to hurt anyone here."
"That's a shame," one of the older girls stepped forward. She was wearing a white blouse that was bursting at the seams around her extremely well endowed chestal area. "Because we like it rough, don't we girls?"
There was a general murmur of acceptance from her classmates.
"Oh bloody hell," Mike said, as the group pulled out an array of knives.
"So you should just fuck off," the ringleader. Never taking her eyes off Mike, she slowly licked the blade of her shiny silver dagger.
Mike wasn't sure if he should be crapping his pants or creaming them. Probably both, he concluded. He shook his head, took a deep breath and Grew a Pair.
"You bitches better stand aside," he said, bringing his newly aquired demonic gun to bear.
"Oooh, we're so scared of the big man's gun," his adversary said, in a mocking tone. "Compensating much" Her tone changed to a more hostile one. "Come on then motherfucker! Try us!"
With that, the group attacked.
Later on, Mike told himself that it must have been the malign influence of the demonic gun that made him do it. He couldn't possible imagine that he would have fired otherwise.
Whatever the reason, he did though. "Come on then bitches!" he cried, and opened up with his big, black, long weapon.
There were shrieks as the lead girls went down in a hail of bullets, blood splattering everywhere.
Still, like the native Australians in that Zulu film, they kept coming.
Mike, overwhelmed by emotion, screamed as he mowed down thirteen-year old girls with his machine gun. Spent cartridges pinged on the ground like a Rambo movie, and the body count mounted.
Still they came though in an apparently never-ending stream, and eventually their numbers began to tell. One girl, probably no more than eleven, sliced his arm with her knife. He kicked her backwards, knocking her over, and put her down with a blast to her face.
But there was another, and another, and he was forced back, fending off knife attacks as best he could, using his gun as a club as much as firing it.
Young girls fell in as he retreated, mercilessly gunned down.
Mike heard Azerus shout out, just as his assault started to peter out.
He finally stopped firing as the girls suddenly lost heart. At some unseen signal they started to fall back, dragging their wounded with them.
Panting hard, he leaned against a tree, the machine gun smoking in his hands. Ahead of him, the entrance hall was littered with dead in leather-skirted school uniforms. It could have been somewhere in the United States it was so bad. Blood was spreading out under the bodies in a horrific dark pool.
"It's a trick!" Azerus' voice managed to penetrate his horror. "They're an illusio..." he was cut off.
Mike frowned, and look over at his demonic accomplice. He was still fighting, but the once proud clothes were now tattered and torn, and he was bleeding from several places. Meanwhile his opponent appeared to be barely scratched.
"Don't just bloody stand there," Azerus shouted, noticing him watching as he desperately fended off another sword swing. "Do something!"
So then, I can still, just about, see straight, yay. Drunk? me? Well ,yeah. Anyway, what's Mike's next move FFS? Please tell me, 'cos... well, too much whisky here. LoL.
Action packed episode Ren!
Well, two ideas present themselves to me. One, maybe too obvious, is that if Mike rips the mask of Jelly (good name by the way), then he will render him vulnerable.
Or, possibly more intersting, Mike has to destroy the beast's 'heart crystal', which is in the Reverend holy mother blah blah's office, guarded, of course, but the RM herself!
Cheers Poi! And thanks for reading. I shall mull on your ideas.