A/N: Hello! Thanks for clicking on my story! Just a note before you start reading, this fic is rated M-there will be adult themes in here. You've been warned!
Anywho, enjoy and make sure to review!
This city is as close to hell as someone can get without blowing their own brains out. Of course, that's putting it delicately. I mean, it's not called 'Insane City' for nothing. This is the place where the worst of the worst crawl to so they can play god for a while, at least until some other scumbag puts a bullet between their eyes and takes their throne. The people that run the show, these crime lords, are the kinds that go shoot up a school before sitting down to breakfast and rape a couple of helpless women before they cozy up in bed that night. They don't give a fuck about who lives or who dies, so long as they get their cash and keep their power.
Insane City has a lot of crazies, but there's one whose the most fucked up of all. He goes by the name 'Red'. He's a monster and he's been running Insane City for nearly a decade. No other freak has been able to take Red down and his influence is spreading beyond Insane City's boarders. He's been in leagues with multiple Cartels, the Mafia, even the Yakuza over in Japan. He's been linked to drug rings, murders, assassinations, you name it and Red's finger prints are all over it. It's rumored that if Red can be taken down, the other crooks in Insane City will fall and that town might have a fighting chance at freedom.
That's why the US government has gotten the CIA involved in all of this, and why I, Piers Nivans, am being sent in. My orders are to infiltrate Red's ranks and assassinate the prick. It's not going to be easy. Once I'm in, the CIA thinks it'll be too hot for the possibility of extraction, meaning once I've made contact, I'm stuck until I kill him or he kills me; whichever ends up coming first. This isn't going to be easy…
Status Report 1: En Route
The bus to Insane is surprisingly full, considering it's the last place on earth anyone except violent sociopaths would want to be. As it turns out, I'm stuck standing, hands clinging to the rail above me for support.
I've been riding for two hours in the dusty deserts of Arizona, the sun nearly ready to set, and the heat is really starting to get to me. I thought it was bad when the sun was high in the sky but its worse now that the heat had stagnated and settled on the dry land. Standing between a bunch of sweaty bodies doesn't help either. If the shitty bus is running any kind of air conditioner, I'm not feeling it. I need to get my mind on something other than the heat. Pulling out the passport in my jean pocket, I fold open the forged papers and looked at my fake name again. 'Cole Jaden' is printed beside a picture of me. It's probably one of the better photos I've taken for these things. All of my information is spelled out under it, my eye color, hair color, even weight and height. It looks legit, just like its supposed to. The government has given me a completely new identity to use while undercover for this mission, which is titled operation: tyrant, like something out of a James Bond movie. I'd spent my entire flight to Arizona studying the ins and outs of Cole Jaden's fictional life, learning everything I needed to know to keep my story straight. Looking over the passport brings back those tedious hours of memorization.
A voice from the speakers makes me tuck the booklet into my back pocket. "Stopping at Cleargate, stopping at Cleargate." That's one stop away from Insane City. I seriously can't wait to get off of this sweaty, steamy bus. Shortly after the announcement, the vehicle sputters to a halt, several people getting off and a few more getting on. I decide to remain standing, letting some of the more exhausted looking people take a seat. One woman even gives me a small smile of gratitude when I motion for her to take the seat near me. She sits down, pulling her young son, no older than five, onto her lap. He looks like he's just about to fall asleep and so does she, but she keeps herself alert as she gazes out the dirty window of the bus. She's probably use to this ride, probably works in Cleargate and lives in Insane City.
I can see the driver, a balding and obese man, standing and stretching outside the bus's cramped space. I guess it's been a long day for everyone.
There's a tugging at the hem of my t-shirt, so I look down to see the boy. His sleepy demeanor is still very much present, but he's tugging none the less. I give him a soft smile, bowing my head and speaking quietly. "Hey, what is it, little guy?" This got the mother's attention, one arm wrapping around her son tightly as the other works to move the dark bangs from her eyes. Throwing her a non-threatening smile, I say, "He's quiet the handsome little devil, isn't he. Long day?" His hand is still securely wrapped up in my shirt, and I still have no idea why.
"He comes to work with me." Its then that she notices her son's grip and gently she takes his hand and works it free. "I'm sorry. He usually has a blanket with him but I forgot it today."
So I'm a blanket now? I just smile, shaking my head, "No, it's okay. He didn't bother me."
The woman gives me another small smile and that's when I feel like something's wrong. We should have been moving by now. In fact, the doors to the bus haven't even closed yet. Turning my head towards the front, the first thing I notice is the obese driver is gone. That's never a good sign. Just then, men dressed in black fatigues and ski masks come marching on board, the front erupting into screams, grabbing everyone else's attention. The men are holding semi-automatic guns, ones you can only buy on the black market. Just like everyone else, I raise my arms above my head.
Fuck, my gun's not even on me, it's in my bag. I throw my eyes up, catching sight of my bag sitting on the mesh nets along with many other types of luggage. There's no way in hell I can reach it without them noticing. It looks like I'm stuck until I think of another plan. The tallest masked man speaks first, his tenor voice filling the hushed air, "Everybody stand up and keep your arms where we can see them. You're going to follow us outside." Doing as we're instructed, we leave in an orderly fashion, the whimpers of men and women alike filling my ears. There's got to be a way out of this.
The men have us line up along the side of the bus, everyone standing with their backs against the hot steal. The inside is raided, belongings being spilled onto the ground as empty bags are discarded like trash. It's not long before they find my gun and their damn curious about who owns it too. I can see them discussing it from the corner of my eye as I continue to face forward. I hear the young boy hiccup a sob as his mother urges him to be quiet. Everyone's on pins and needles as the men finish up their business inside, carrying out several wallets and pieces of jewelry out.
The tallest one walks in front of us, and speaks up like he's really important, "You've all been very good hostages so far. If nobody plays hero, you may be walking out of here alive." He uses the nose of his gun to point towards us, sweeping it across every last person, "Now, you all get to listen to me because I'm the one with the gun. If you don't, you'll end up like the driver." He motioned towards the front of the bus, everyone turning their heads. I can barely see what's left of the fat man, his body so cut up and dismembered, it's hard to recognize as human. Sobbing begins all around me and the woman tells her son not to look over there. He asks her why, but she simply tells him not to. I can't blame her. I can't even think up a way of telling a five year old what lies not twenty feet away from him.
"So, now that we've come to an understanding," I can tell even through the ski mask that he's grinning. Things are about to get ugly. "Let's have some fun, shall we?" Using his gun once again, he points towards the middle of the group, in my direction. "You, little lady with the kid." I can see her tense up at being singled out, her body shaking violently. "Come here." He motions towards himself, those two simple words laced with sadistic pleasure. He's getting a fix off watching everyone cower. What a sick bastard.
She takes a wobbly step forward, her son attempting to follow. She takes another and another, the boy tugging on her dress, "Mommy, where are you going?" Dropping down, she pushes her boy back, her face on the verge of tears. She doesn't say anything but throws me a begging glance.
Reaching down, I take a hold of the small child's shoulders, gently holding him back as his mother turns and continues forward. "Momma, where are you going? Mommy!" I can see it in the way her body takes each jerking step, that separating from her child is more painful than just getting shot by this prick. My blood boils as I watch the masked man's eyes twinkle with delight at the boy's screams for his mother.
Shushing him, I keep my eyes trained on the man, glaring daggers at him.
When the woman finally reaches him, she's become several shades lighter. He shifts from one leg to the other, a sadistic tone in his voice, "Well, you're quite the beauty. I bet you sell those looks of yours to the highest bidder, huh?" She doesn't say anything. "Get down on your knees and suck me off, whore."
If the people around me could get any quieter, they did in that moment. The way her body trembled as she shakily lowered herself to her knees and placed a hand upon his large belt buckle was enough to make me explode. Standing quickly and pushing the boy behind me, I speak up, "Have me do it instead."
She freezes, the man lifting his gaze from her to look at me. "What did you just say?"
"You heard me. Have me do it instead."
He breaks into a fit of laughter, his men doing the same. "Why would I do that?"
"Because it's more humiliating to have a straight man suck you off than to have a straight woman. She probably does that to her husband all the time, hell, she's probably done it to her husband's friends. It's not degrading to her." I can tell I've peeked his interest with that statement. Now I just need to get him to bite, "Wouldn't it be more fun to break me than to abuse the mouth of a whore?
He tilts his head sideways, pondering my statement. My nerves are on fire but I keep a cool and collected demeanor, just waiting for an answer. Finally, he gives a loud laugh and grabs the woman by her hair, throwing her aside. "I like your spunk. Get over here." I watched her get up, scrambling back to the side of the bus where she scoops her child into her arms, hugging him tightly. She gives me a look, one that reminds me why I'm doing this to myself in the first place. Giving a small, reassuring smile to her, I glance back towards the man and walk forward. I assess the situation with every step. There has to be a way out of all of this. I do my best to keep my eyes locked, looking up and down his body. He's muscular and well-armed, so engaging him without some kind of weapon would be suicide. I take into account the semi-automatic resting between both of his hands. These mercenary types usually carry more than one gun, just in case it gets lost in a scramble. Glancing at his ankles, I realized there's a bulge there.
Maybe there's a way out after all.
I reach him, standing as tall as I can. I raise my arms up slowly as he steps towards me, holding his gun in his right hand and using his left to rummage through my pockets. He pulled out the thin booklet, opening it up to the front page and reading aloud, "Cole Jaden, hazel eyes, brown hair…well, Cole, you certainly have bitten off more than you can chew. You should have minded your own business. Now I'm going to make this little experience one you'll never forget." Pointing the business end of his gun at me, he says one simple word, "Strip."
I move slowly, taking the hem of my t-shirt and pulling it up and over my head. I drop it to the ground, not watching it fall. He's staring at me intently, enjoying having this kind of control over me as I reached down and removed my boots and socks. Tossing them haphazardly to the side, my hands went to work unbuttoning and unzipping my jeans, my fingers looping around the rim of my pants and the top of my boxers. Hesitating for a second, I pull down and step out of the legs. Dropping them in front of me, I kicked them aside.
Never, not once, did I look away from his face. I'm putting on the tough guy act, the guy these kinds of bastards love to tear apart. I can see the disgusting ideas forming in his head, too, as he imagines several ways to make me regret my decision to help the woman out. He dropped his gaze, checking me out, making me feel slightly self-conscious. "Well, Cole, I think you know the drill. Get sucking."
Lowering myself onto my knees, I can feel my pulse in every vein. I know I can make my move here, attempt to turn the tables.
My hands wander cautiously to the belt buckle, undoing it and pulling it loose. I unhook his pants, dropping the zipper. Yanking down the cover of his boxers, I reveal his rather large member. I can feel my stomach drop as I work it free of his pants and into the open air. The masked man twisted his fingers into my hair, pushing me closer to it. Reminding myself of why I'm here, I wrap a hand around it and guided it into my mouth.
He gives off a hiss of satisfaction as I swirl my tongue around the tip, sucking lightly. Disgust washes over me in waves as his hand pushed me further along its length, forcing me to take more than I'd care too. While my mouth's busy distracting him, my free hand quickly travels over to the pant leg in question. If I'm right about what's there, I catch him with his pants down. Literally. Fluidly, I sweep my hand to his ankle, pushing his pant leg out of the way. My hand wraps around what I was hoping it'd find, a gun. Pulling it out of its holster, I point the business end at the base of what my mouth is working over.
His hand freezes and I take that moment to remove the disgusting thing from my mouth, practically spitting it out. I speak, catching my breath along the way, "You're gonna want to put your arms up nice and slow, or else your dick's gonna be a lot smaller." As if to make my point, I press the barrel harder against the base of his partially erect member. He complies, lifting both arms up. His men are confused, asking him questions that I direct him not to answer.
Keeping my gun trained, I stand up and look at him, our eyes locking. "Now hand me that pretty semi-automatic." He does so quickly, giving the weapon over too me. I place it on the ground, shoving it aside with my foot. "Tell your men to stand down."
The masked man wastes no time in speaking, "Men, drop your weapons." I'm actually surprised at how obedient they are, each of them lowering their guns and placing them on the ground in front of them. The hostages began to notice something's going on now, many of them murmuring to each other.
"Now, if you want to keep your dick intact, let the hostages get on the bus and go."
He's glaring at me and I return the stare. He speaks, never dropping his gaze from mine, "Hostages, you're free to go. Get out of my sight."
They stand there for a second, unsure of what to do. "Go," I say loudly and they start moving. Everyone scrambled to get on board, someone grabbing the keys from the dead driver and revving the engine to life.
From behind, I hear the voice of the woman, "What about you?"
"I'll be fine. Just take your son and go."
Her uncertainty is evident but I'm grateful when she doesn't linger, "Thank you, Cole," she says before boarding that vehicle. I wish I could tell her my real name, but I'm really not in that kind of situation. It isn't long before I hear the doors of the vehicle close and the sound of wheels churning the sand. The noise of that shitty bus disappears quickly and I can't blame them for wanting to get away as fast as they can.
I can hear the smile in the masked man's words as he speaks up, "So, did you have a step 2 or is this as far as your plan goes?" In that instant, I'm kneed in the stomach, knocking the air out of my lungs. The man's right hand grabs ahold of my hair, pulling my head back painfully hard. He drives his knee into me again and before I can pull the trigger, his men grab me and the gun, ripping it from my hands. They force me to my knees, one twisting his hand threw my hair and jerking my head up.
Glaring up at the tall man as he finishes making himself decent, he pulls the mask off and smirks at me. "What's the matter, Cole? Wasn't expecting that?" As I look over his face, my stomach turns to ice. It's a face I've seen several times while prepping for this mission; it's been projected on screens and printed in files hundreds of times. Standing right in front of me is my target, Red.
He runs a gloved hand threw his short brown locks, the sweat causing them to stick in several different directions. "I've gotta say, Cole, you actually surprised me. No one's ever been that ballsy with me before. Of course, looking at your pair, I should have guessed you'd try something." I growl at him as my arms are wrenched behind my back, pulled farther than arms should go. Red only smirks at me, grabbing the handgun that was taken from my hand. He muses over it, dark blue eyes examining it as he talks, "I'm guessing the handgun we found belongs to you, then? No one else would have been that confident with one in their hands. You weren't even shaking."
Dropping it to his side, he turns his gaze on me, a cold seriousness present there, "Tell me, you think you're a good shot?"
I only glare at Red, breathing heavily as I struggle with the men keeping me at bay. Raising the gun up, he slams it across my face and pain erupts through my entire skull. "Are you a good shot?"
I throw an angry glance his way but refuse to answer. His left hand travels to the back of my head, the other man removing his hand as Red takes hold of my hair. He jerks my head back violently, the force threatening to take my scalp off. He leans in real close, his cold eyes staring passively into my hazel ones. "Answer me, Cole, are you a good shot." I only stare at him, seething anger emitting from my face. I wince when his grip tightens, "I'm not a patient man, Cole." He raises the gun, shoving it under my chin and digging it into the soft flesh there. "Answer."
My glare never leaves him and my mouth stays shut. After several seconds of tense silence, he backs up, removing the gun from under my chin. He gives me a sickening grin as he lets go of my hair, "Well, well, well, you are ballsy. I like that." Putting the gun back in its holster, Red turns and picks up his semi-automatic, looking over his men, "We're taking him with us. He might be useful." The men didn't wait to pull me to my feet, keeping their gloved hands wrapped around my arms and shoulders as they shove me forward, a few breaking off to grab the goods they got from raiding the bus. As we walk, the dusty sand feeling like sandpaper against my bare feet and I'm reminded of how naked I am. We reach a dilapidated building; a warehouse of some kind, abandoned years ago by the looks of it and there are a few covered jeeps waiting inside. It doesn't surprise me that Red can get this close to Cleargate. After all, he has a lot of power and influence. For all the CIA knows, he probably has complete control over nearby cities like Cleargate.
I watch as the men pack their score away and load up in the jeeps. Red oversees the process before walking over to me. He grabs ahold of me, shoving the nose of his semi-automatic into my side. "Let's play nice, ok?" I'm released from the grip of the other men, whom quickly load themselves into the jeeps. Red guides me to the farthest vehicle, opening the door and shoving me inside. Following after, he kicks me to the other side of the seats, which have been ripped out and replaced with genuine leather. I sit, the surface warm, and cross my arms over my chest. He's probably getting some sort of sick pleasure from doing all of this, dragging me around naked and taking me to his base.
On the upside, I have managed to infiltrate his ranks, even if it wasn't at all how I'd planned.
"Hey sis, you think we can get this shit going?" Sis? There's never been any intel saying Red has a sister. I look towards the front, which is separated by bullet proof, tinted glass. The middle window lowers in typical limo fashion, and a redheaded girl looks back.
She gives him a wink, "You score today, Chris?"
Chris? Red's name is Chris? I glance over at him. No, he doesn't seem like a 'Chris' to me.
"Got the loot and a little bitch, too." She glances my way and smirks at me.
"He's kind of cute sitting there all naked and stuff. You want me to roll up the windows and crank the tunes, bro?" My stomach churns at the implication. She can't be serious, can she?
He gives off a laugh, "You're a mind reader, sis." With that, the window rolls up and I can hear her hard rock music crank to full volume. It's loud and the look in Red's eyes tells me I'm going to regret what's about to come.