Chapter 2: The alliances.
(drunk n listening to this babes, tho I'm a DE favorer, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HJNz2QgSNsk
oh, it's a good influence on my story)
"RYAN GRATOS!" A police chaplain called out. He stepped up and held his arms forward with anticipation. 3 weeks ago, his brat gang was slaughtered by police that left him to bleed to death. Now here he was, having recuperated and completed training, working with police. Police that he had constant run- ins with. Police that believed in what they were doing and had their own ethical quandaries to deal with.
"I know we've had our differences, but I see you as an equal now." One who constantly seemed out to get him tried to remedy their differences.
"We will never be equals." Ryan spat, "I'm better than you. Simple." Now here he was a day later, getting a fucking laser gun. He dreamed about having one as a kid but now wondered why a fucking laser, and was it worth it? The nerds he taunted now teased him that he was actually fucked. He really didn't dislike them, he made sure his buddies went easy on the weaker ones who couldn't stand their shit. But he couldn't blame them for making him uneasy and wanted reassurance that it really was cool.
"No, it's got better range and that's all the good it does for you. The real advantage is it doesn't cost the people giving it to you shit to resupply. Bullets aren't so cheap." He had to admit it made sense, even if they were destroyed by grenades now and then and were pricier up front. Thinking back to the previous day's conversations, he holstered his rifle at his side and stepped back in line.
Sceia stood next to him, wondering if he had any idea she led him to his probable death and the loss of all his close friends. She twiddled the old man's wallet in her pocket, thinking back on him. Some stranger in a car, wrong place and wrong time, giving his last gift in the hopes it would help her. She needed to know about him, but it could wait. But not for this, she had better things to do than a stupid ceremony.
"HEY! WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU'RE GOING!" The chaplain yelled out.
"I have shit to do."
"Stand down, let her leave." A higher rank who had previously not said a word told the chaplain, who glared at her and then nodded.
She could smell the corpses that had been cleared out. How many had died in just minutes? The smell was unbearable, but one grim-yet-careless friend seemed unfazed. "Oh god." There was a little girl someone missed. Dead in the corner, just poking out from under a car. It reminded her of the girl she saved just 3 weeks ago, surrounded by charred corpses.
"Ehehg, ehghwaghrr..." Crying off in the distance. Sceia looked around, realizing she had been walking for some distance and stupidly unobservant of her surroundings. Luckily, it was a very stormy day and drones were unlikely to spot her, plus sentries were stationed to give warning and EU allies had finally arrived. But could this be a trap? Surely, the military coup could have sneaked Seals or Rangers past the Resistances' defenses.
It was a grown man. He didn't notice her and she stood still, wondering what he might do if she was spotted. Eventually she was and she reflectively pulled her newly issued laser-rifle and pointed at him, while he instantly scuttled to the corner and held his hands up, wide-eyed, yelling "NO PLEASE!" but she panicked and instinctively fired, though she flinched and missed. He sprinted from the wall to a door to her left/his right.
"Oh my god I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to! Who are you, I'm sorrr, really, I'm really sorry!"
"Please I don't want to hurt anyone, I'll do anything just don't kill me!" His voice was deep for someone shouting so rapidly, but very desperate.
"Please, I'm just a scared girl, I was given a gun and I'm scared like you." There was a pause filled with only their heavy breathing, "Please, come out with your hands on your head," She gulped, hating how she sounded like a damn cop- how she hated those damn pigs! "...and let's just talk. Please."
He stepped out from around the corner, looking down to the side, slowly raising his head and looking at her only in his peripheral vision.
"Why are you crying?"
"My family is dead." He pointed to the door, "I dragged their corpses there and put them all in a bed together." He sniffled and rubbed his nose, his left hand still holding his hair, "I'm going to join them."
P R O O M . . . They both ducked. "What was that?" Sceia asked.
"It sounded like an explosion far away. We're being shelled.
"AHHHHH AHHH AHH AH AH AHAHAHAH AHHHHAAAHGGHHHHhh... ow. ah"
Ryan's new friend was fine some seconds ago, but now was a charred corpse.
P B A M MM !! !
A couple of cars exploded nearby, shrapnel hitting his fellow soldiers in their limbs and torsos, and one was left grazed on his forehead, suddenly feeling a migraine worse than withdrawal he ever had.
"AHHOWWAww!!" Ryan looked at the nearest victim several dozen meters away. That could've been him, and probably would be some day soon. Bones were everywhere. Eyes flung from skulls that were flung from torsos flung from limbs. He almost stepped on an eye.
"FIRE! FOR FUCK'S SAKE MEN! FIRE!" At what?! Their commander was not directing them towards any target and there was nothing to shoot at, as far as their own eyes could tell. Firing randomly at the enemy, Ryan remembered another advantage to his laser; It wouldn't give his position away to the enemy. Not without special detection, his nerdier friends had told him.
He quickly realized a disadvantage when an enemy soldier became apparent and they all shot at him, but the birck wall he took cover behind, as well as his helmet and armor, left him impervious to infantry lasers. A sniper got him in the head, gushing blood everywhere around the headless corpse.
The old shivering man cowered behind Sceia.
"Oh my... no. no. NO!" The French sniper turned to the American with an assault rifle, "What? What am I looking at? Why are children in cages?"
"PLEASE LET US GO WE'LL DO ANYTHING!" A small girl cried. She was nude and hardly hitting puberty.
"This isn't your concern."
"I didn't know about this."
"You were a part of the deal, you knew what was up."
"I DIDN'T KNOW YOU MEANT RAPING CHILDREN!"
"IT WASN'T ME! WE NEEDED THEM OR IT WAS OUR ASSES IN A FIRE!"
"PLEASE BEFORE THE BAD WOMAN COMES BACK!"
"What bad woman?"
Sceia had trouble making out the voices, she could only see the silhouettes of the French sniper and an American with a more typical gun. She didn't yet know the man spoke French.
"I give her these girls to experiment on, and she gives us better weapons. The canisters I used, issued not by our generals, but some rich spoiled lady who liked her boy toys and girls." The Frenchman slapped him. He glared at him for a moment then power-punched him in the nose, "Eat frog legs, coward." The Frenchman kneed him in the face and they both grappled, their noses bleeding on each other.
"PLEASE STOP! WE WANT TO GO HOME!" The kids in cages cried as the other troops pulled the fighting men apart.
Suddenly the room was filled with a clanging sound and an instant later, the sound was replaced with thick smoke. Everyone was coughing but the French troops had gas masks they pulled over the faces as they took cover. They saw the Americans getting gunned down by well-armored mercenaries wearing no logos, just glistening black armor. Their native comrades were all dead in seconds and they returned fire, killing whatever mercenaries that weren't able to flee.
Sceia and the old man ran down some distance, far away. She saw Ryan and some others aiming their guns and looking around desperately. She hid in a dark, quiet room. She saw the smoke clear on the end she just came from heard French. Figuring her allies had won, she sneaked towards them and saw them shushing the smaller children as they freed them from cages.
"This is disgusting."
"No shit. This is war..."
"War isn't always like this. These are savages."
"Savages and we're on their side..."
"Quiet I say!"
"I'm not on their side, just against other barbari- oh god."
"Qui- what?" The French captain paused and looked at the tables covered in small skinless corpses. One writhed in unliving agony.
BAM BAM BAM BAMBAMBAM the room was alternating black and flashing bright. Sceia passed out.
"You stupid Americans." The Russian shoved one back, "You don't know what it takes." He laughed. "Trust the foolish British and Germans, they'll get you out of your mess."
"Shouldn't we-" a scrawny American wearing glasses pointed at the Russian's bleeding wounds, but stopped when the bleeding Russian took a cigar from an American next to him, bulkier than anyone else there, and put it out on his bullet wound. "But... the bullet."
"What? Do you want it?"
Admiral Hurker walked through his corridors, many women on display, facing the wall, their hands on their head, their bodies shaking, and their asses red. He grabbed one pretty redhead's fat rear and fingered her pussy. Maybe she would've enjoyed it if she didn't associate it only with a coming punishment. "Ehahkg!" She tried to hold in her sniffling but it burst out with snot. "OW! OW OW OWWW!" She jumped around 180 degrees but was held back in place by him holding her neck with his left hand as he spanked her and slapped her thighs, then spun her around and held her arms in the air above her head and smacked her bell as she begged for mercy "Please sir I'm sorry I'll be still!"
"Prove it." He kept slapping her body.
Meanwhile, a dozen miles away, General Crut looked down at the pussy and anus presented before him, a lovely ass raised in the air, hoisted over a wooden fence with nails in the top piercing her already smacked belly. A curly-haired brunette with a red ass and a paddled bottom, her feet and palms were held out to be slapped with rulers as his wife inserted needles into the young girl's anus and cunt. He continued to paddle the begging 18 year old who eventually could hardly gasp for breath. After his fun, he stepped back and sat in his makeshift throne, watching his minions drip calculated amounts of kerosene over her legs, particularly drenching her bottom, hands, and feet.
"No, no please sir please don't do this, I'll wash your dishes on time I swear! OHHhhhoohhhnooohhhho!"
"I suppose it could wait." He thought about the thin trail of fire down her legs, back, and arms, connecting the large swathes of flames on her giant ass to her flailing feet and hands.
"THANK YOU SO MUCH SIR!" Her needled cunt and anus twitched with anticipation and her entire body shook wildly, especially her giant vibrating butt that made such a tempting target.
"Mrs. Crut," He addressed his wife, "Please insert more needles, into her back and thighs."
"NO NO NO NONONONONONOOOO NO PLEASE MISS DON'T NO PLEASE! AH AHH AHHHHHHH AH OWWAHAHKKEEEEEEKAH AHOWWW!"
"Silent." His wife spanked her sharply, causing her to jut her butt up and spasm her anus, the needles gaining more of an effect, especially the ones between her anus and cheeks.
"More needles. Cover her."
"Oh god no!" The good Christian girl meant it towards her deity as a prayer.
"Taking the Lord's name in vain?!" Crut's pious nephew grabbed his bow and quiver, being well versed in archery, "May I, Uncle?"
"Please teach this naughty brat a lesson." The bare spanking he gave her as she did the dishes she had been slow to do hadn't been lesson enough but wasn't as lenient as she hoped for. His nephew launched several arrows into her bottom, then her thighs.
Her entire body- face, ass, legs, arms, back, belly- was all covered in needles, and her ass and thighs had arrows jutting out of them as well. The flammable liquid was running over her, and it was time to light it. After an hour or five. Midnight rolled around, and everyone was gathered.
She was burned exactly as he imagined, her needled and slapped limbs flailing in the smokey air above her. Her ass, previously the highest point of her body, was till raised above her head, anchored to the ground by a thick rope tied to heavy weights. She was a squirming X of bleeding fire and metal.
"Know that you will go to Hell, having died in rightful pain and disgrace, you incompetent, pathetic thing" His words were the last thing that stuck in her ears along with her own screaming, and she felt only pain, disgrace, and terror.
Both Admiral Hurker and General Crut knew it was their destiny to do even worse things to each other.