God Complex (F/F)

Hey all!

This is my latest creation and probably my largest tickle themed story to date. For those who are not aware, C.A.B's Spring Break Me contest is going on currently and I thought I would do a sequel to my submission last year. If you don't know what that is, check it here: http://www.ticklingforum.com/showthread.php?262372-Checkmate

Anyway, I hope you enjoy! If not... Well... I hope the rest of your day is better at least, XD.

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Bright and blue was the day, a delightful symptom of spring arriving in full force to the not so exotic town of Wheelock, West Virginia. Warm but not hot, breezy but not blustery… It was a day perfectly suited to spend a leisurely lunch out in the season’s delightful embrace. At least, that was what Sadista believed as she sat down with her guest at one of the metal wire tables that dotted the deck of Marceline’s Coffeeshop. Considered by most that passed by to be nothing more than a “hole in the wall” cafe, to the pink haired woman there was no finer place in all the state to get a cup of coffee. The fact that it was a few miles away from the non-descript building that Aqua International called home just happened to be the cherry on top. Clad in a flowing pink sarong and black halter top, Sadista deeply inhaled the scent of the finely brewed beverage as it mixed with the natural floral fragrance indicative to the season.

“As someone who is familiar with a very wide range of pleasurable activities, I must admit I would be hard pressed to dispute the high rank that enjoying a cup of well made espresso on a bright and warm spring afternoon holds within them. Wouldn’t you agree Arches?”

The silver haired woman that sat across from the statuesque figure of Sadista said nothing in return, simply waving her hand over the delicate cup that rested before her. While always an international woman of mystery no matter where she went, Silke Arches had forsaken her iconic black spy outfit for a more “plain clothes” manner of dress to suit the tantalizing beauty of the day. Though in actuality the expression seemed an oxymoron, for even the beige halter top and skinny denim jeans worn by the Aqua International operative did not diminish her stunning physique or eye-catching presence. She stared at Sadista until a small beep drew her attention to her phone, at which point she took the cup and slowly sipped the strong rich liquid.

“I do indeed, especially when I know you haven’t slipped anything into it,” Silke finally said, a careful smile crossing her lips.

A small chuckle escaped Sadista’s mouth, before being replaced by an all too condescending smirk. “Fancy little spy toy you have there my dear, but I promise that I have no intention whatsoever of drugging you. That wasn’t the reason I asked you out to coffee.”

“Why did you then?”

“Business,” Sadista said simply as she reached into the bag that sat against her chair and pulled forth a manila folder. She placed it on the table and resumed drinking, allowing Silke Arches a chance to review the contents held within. A few moments passed in silence as Silke stared at the images contained within the folder, her eyes wide with surprise.

“Is that…”

“Marta Aslakhanov? Yes it is,” Sadista finished as she put down her now empty cup. “It would seem the Black Court’s Executioner has a new target… Me.”

********

The boat had to have a long prow. It was the only condition that Marta would not budge on when it came to buying a ship for the journey. It was preferred that the vessel would not break down halfway out of the seedy little Colombian port she and her men had called home for the past week of course, but the biggest issue was most certainly the prow. She had caught some pirate movie on TV in the dive that called itself a hotel where they stayed, and ever since she had loved the idea of sailing in something that even had the slightest whiff of the 17th century about it.

“Arr! Nothing like the open sea to rouse the ol’ sense o’ adventure, eh my bonny little masthead?” Marta asked the woman beneath her, whose entire body was currently tied to the front of the ship.

The woman, whose name Marta didn’t bother to learn, said nothing in return. Haggard and bound, the captive whose sun burnt skin and worn features spoke of a lifetime of hard work and even harder toil, did not reply simply because she could not understand her captor’s words. She did manage to find the strength after a few moments, however, to wearily beg in Spanish for the 100th time to be freed and allowed to return home.

Marta, who all too well knew what pleading sounded like no matter what language was being spoken, merely smiled a cruel little smile in response. Under the orders of the staggering 6’ 4’’ tank know by her men as Marta the Executioner, the fisherwoman had been tied to the prow of the boat, her feet pointing upwards while the rest of her body dangled and faced the ocean below. Reaching from the bow over to her captive’s soles, the Russian woman whose coarse brown hair and battle scarred face told of a legacy of violence began to lightly tickle the wiggling feet that rested before her.

“GGEHEHEHEHEHEH! NO! POR FAVOR NO ME COSQUILLAS DE NUEVO!” POHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAR FAAHAHAHAHAHHAAHVOHHOHOHOHOHHOHOHOHOR!”

Unmoved by her cries, the malicious tormentor began to hum along to the hysterical fisherwoman’s laughter.

“HHEHEHEHEHAAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHA HEHEHEHE AHAHA NO! NO! NO! HAHAHAHEHEH EHEHEHE AHAAHAHA HEHE EAHA AHHE EHA HAHAHA HEHEEHEHEH!”

She continued to roar with laughter as the terrible fingers that viciously tickled her soles began to increase in speed, matching her tormentor’s quickening tune. Thrash and thrash as she might, she could not be free of the ropes that held her fast. For even if she could loosen the bonds, they had traveled so far out into the South Pacific that breaking loose would almost certainly spell death for the ticklish captive.

“HAHAHAHAHA HEHEHEHEEH AHAHAH AHEHEEHEH HEHEE EHE HE HEHEEHEHEHEHHA AHAHAAHAH HHHEGAHAHAAHAHA AHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEH HAAHAHAH A HAHEHEEHEHEHEHE HOHOHOHOH HEHEHEH HIHIHIHIH HAHAHAHA HEHEHEEHEH AHAHAHAAH HIHIHIHIH HAHAHAHAHAAHAH HEHEEHEHE AHAHAHAHAHAAH EHHEHE AHAHAHAHH HOOOHOHHOHOHOH NHOHOHOHOOHOHO!”

He would be pleased at her progress, Marta thought to herself as she allowed the poor woman a small rest from the torment. She thought back to when she first met him. How silly a notion it was, that such a thing as tickling could “convince” could anyone to do anything, save for maybe hanging over a TV remote.

A little light shone in her eyes for a moment. He had proved her wrong that November night, in more ways than one. That beautifully evil masked man…

A moment of sadness passed in Marta’s heart, only to be replaced by cool rage.

Sadista would die. The Black Court demanded it, of course. But this was also a personal affair. That’s why she had sent her target those photos and left a trail of breadcrumbs a mile long, tempting her to follow. Blowing up one of her favorite Italian restaurants and sending those little tabloid reporter’s to her Venice door had just been a fun little fuck you.

A call soon went out from one of her men and broke Marta from her revere. The island had just pulled into sight on the horizon.

The smile returned to Marta’s mouth as she resumed tickling the fisherwoman’s feet. Once on the island she would carry out her primary mission, and then prepare for the arrival of the pink haired bitch that killed Hikoki the Advisor. She would do this her way… Effectively and brutal. With any luck she would be returning to the court by next week with two objects in hand: Sadista’s head and whatever this new rogue element was.

********

“Well well well… I must admit your car is most impressive Arches. In fact, I would be lying if I didn’t admit that I wasn’t just a tad bit envious of this sexy little piece of machinery,” Sadista purred as she slowly stepped onto the sandy shores of their island destination. Despite being marked for death, Sadista’s outfit was only a pair of delightfully snug tan Capri’s, a pair of strap sandals that did little to conceal her tattoos, a pink camisole, and a delicate pink and blue floral shawl.

“What can I say? Being a company woman does have its perks from time to time,” Silke replied, joining her pink haired “partner” on the warm and white tropical beach that stood before the two. She had opted to be a tad more prudent, switching to her standard operations outfit. Behind them rested Silke’s Amoritz Thorium GT Custom, the silky sleek mechanical marvel currently resting between the beach and the waves in its “submersible” mode. An all too familiar “beep beep” sound occurred soon after the two women exited the car, indicating that it was now “locked down”. Sadista simply chuckled at the novelty, before turning her attention inland.

“Alright Aunt Martha, we’ve arrived at our destination. Give us the lowdown on this place,” Silke Arches said into her phone as she stretched out her tired limbs.

Amidst the initial crackle of static and hiss of white noise, a voice soon emerged to respond to the silver haired beauty’s request.

“Manners *bzzt* Arches. A please wouldn’t kill you now would it?” The electronic voice of “Aunt Martha” dryly reprimanded.

“Please Aunt Martha?”

“Very well. No records currently exist *bzzt* regarding this island.”

Silke rolled her eyes. “There’s absolutely nothing about this place?”

“Island seems to essentially be undiscovered Agent Arches, at least according to written records. Telemetry data is therefore non-existent. Only through both of your *bzzt* reconnaissance efforts back at the mainland was a course able to be calculated. I believe a “good job” is in order agent.”

The temptation to throw her phone directly into the ocean was strong for Silke Arches. She would have to discuss the updates to Martha’s personality when she got back. She was about to try speaking to her “Aunite” again, until a light tap on the shoulder diverted her attention. She looked up to see Sadista, her eyes narrowed in fierce examination.

“I think we have some company Arches.”

The blue tinged bombshell followed her compatriot’s gaze and found the source of her concern. A group of people, men and women both, were slowly approaching them. The two women readied themselves for action. Yet as the strangers drew forward, they found themselves taken aback by their bizarre appearance. For adorning the tall, mocha skinned people were… CDs? Yes, layers of CDs strung together like medieval chainmail were worn by the approaching party. Blue jeans, well worn and patched with what seemed to be bandanas covered their legs while a few of them wore headdresses comprised of feathers and bottle caps. They bore spears of flint and shields crafted out of leather belts.

“Aunt Martha… What are we seeing exactly?”

“Scanning… *bzzt*… Island remoteness in congruence to native appearance seems to indicate these individuals may be a part of the phenomenon known as a “cargo cult”. Language Spoken: Unknown. Hostile level: Doesn’t look promising.”

Silke and Sadista watched the odd group’s approach carefully, but within a dozen paces they suddenly stopped. For a few tense moments watched for any sign of attack, when the most elaborately adorned member of the group stepped forward and began to speak in flawless English.

“Hail Far-Landers! I am Baum. Welcome to our home.”

********

“As given to us by the All-Maker, we have duty. We are the sacred guardians. We are the watchers of the Orb. This, as always, has been the honor of our people.”

The high-priestess intoned these words as she had time and time again. She recited them the way her mother had shown her, and her mother’s mother had shown her. She spoke the ancient credo with the familiarity of an old, old friend.

“And we are blessed, bestowed to us by the mercy of the great sea. One of our oldest teachers, it has never ceased to share its knowledge with us. After every storm it has delivered unto us gifts from the far-lands. For is not each storm a trial brothers and sisters? And do not our trials eventually end, rewarding us with the wisdom gleaned from them?”
The High-Priestess’s servant shifted slightly in hope of keeping her legs from falling asleep. Though she understood its need and was honored to assist her master, it was no secret that the stockades of discipline could tend to get a bit uncomfortable from time to time.

“You maidens have entered your 18th season. I know this, for I watched all of you be born and have anointed upon your head the blessings of sea and duty. Today it has come for you to understand and prepare yourselves for the third blessings to be bestowed upon you: The blessing of discipline.”

The group of young women giggled and tittered to one another, knowing full well the whispered tales of the ritual of discipline. Each of them felt the same mixture of anticipation and dread upon viewing the bound servant.

“GAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAH!”

The hands of the old woman moved without being seen, descending upon the helpless stomach of her loyal charge. This too, she had practiced to perfection. Like the sea-breeze on a calm day, her fingers drifted over the poor girl’s abdomen, eliciting unrestrained peals of laughter.

“GHAHAHAHAHAHA HEHEEHEHEHEH HAHAHAHA EHEHEHHEHEHEHE HOOHOHOHOHOHO HEEHEHHEE HEAHHAHAHAHAAHAHA HEHEHEHEHEHEHOHOHOHOHOOHO HIHIIHIHIHIHIHI HEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE AHAHAHAHOHO HHOHOEHEH EHHAAHAHAHAH HEHEHE HIHIHIIH I EHEHEEHEHH AAHHAHA EHEHEHEHEH!”

The servant girl thrashed against the wooden contraption that held her fast, and yet not once did she utter a word of protest. After a few moments, the High-Priestess ceased her ticklish ministrations and turned back toward the group.

“All you step forward and take a place around my servant. You may tickle her to your hearts’ content. If you can force her to utter a single word of pleading or cause her to beg once before the sand runs out of this vessel, you will find yourself exempt from the trial of discipline,” the old woman intoned, reaching over and uncorking a gourd that hung above a nearby bowl. Slowly a stream of sand began to descend from it.

“Begin.”

The maidens spared not a single moment turning their nails upon the servant girl. They tickled her feet, which received each stroke and scratch as hungrily as the dry earth drinks the summer rains. They tickled her belly, honing in on the spots a few of them saw the priestess target during her demonstration. They tickled her armpits and her knees, her neck and her thighs… Every square inch that could be reached by these frantic maidens was teased and tickled to the best of their abilities. The result was obvious.

“HHAHAHAAHAHAH EHHEHEEHEH HAHAHAA AHHHHEEHEHEHEHEEH AHAHAHAHA HEHEHE AHAHAH HOHOHOHOHOHOH HIH IHIHIHIH HIHIHI HI H HEHEHEEHEH AHAHAAH HEHEH EHE HOHOHOHOH H IIHIHIHIHIHIH EHHEHEHEHEHE HAHAAHAH HAHHIHIHIH HEEHEHEHEHE EHOHOHOHOHOH HOOHHOAHAHAHAHAHAHA HEHEHEHEH AHAHAHAHAH HEEHEHEHA AHAHAHAHAHA HOHOHOOHOHHOH HEHEHEHEHHEHEEHEHEHEHEHHEH!”

It seemed for ages that this went on. The young servant never ceased and never relented in her frenzied laughter as the crowd tormented her from head to toe. On and on the tickling continued, until even servant’s voice could not sustain the intensity of the unbridled mirth. Silence and ragged breaths were the only things that passed from her lips, while hot tears descended down her eyes like the great waterfall.

And yet she never begged once.

The sand eventually ran its course and the High-Priestess, a devious smile upon her lips, in turn shoed the young maiden’s away.

“It seems you ladies have failed, and that you will be learning the discipline of your age firsthand. For now though, return home. I will see each of you at the crack of dawn to begin your first lesson.”

Each of the young women left, heads hung low in contemplation of what would be their fate over the next few months. The wise woman merely chuckled to herself as she began unlocking the stockade. It was then a cry echoed from outside the abode of the High-Priestess, causing her to pause in a moment of surprise.

It seemed that the village had visitors.

********

“So, have there been many other… Far-Landers… that have visited your island?” Silke asked as she followed Baum, her steps cautious as the group she found herself following traversed the thick jungle brush. Her eyes darted back and forth from Sadista to each of the warriors. Yet much to her surprise, that seemed unconcerned that Silke was in step right behind their emerald eyed leader.

“Not since my father’s time have we seen any that come from the lands beyond. I’m glad that you agreed to return to our village with us to meet our High-Priestess. She may be able to better answer your questions and divine when the one you seek should arrive. I also look forward to having the opportunity to spar with you Silver One. That is, if you would not mind challenge,” Baum said, a tremble of excitement creeping into his voice.

“Spar? Why on earth do you want to spar with me?”

“Because you are a warrior, woman of silk. As plain as your chilled misty hair, you wear the trappings of the battle-wise in your very demeanor. Your essence whispers what you are,” he replied. “Besides, I am curious to see what a warrior of the Far Lands is capable of. I wish to test my mettle against yours.”

“Not bad,” Silke said, slightly impressed at Baum’s observation. “So tell me then Baum, what do you think of my companion? What does her essence whisper?”

“The Pink One? Like you it is easy to tell. She is a Queen.”

Sadista smiled wide and long at both Baum’s comment and the glowering look that grew on Silke Arches’ face.

Suddenly, the procession stopped. Baum turned his nose up into the air, puzzling over something. Suddenly the two women noticed it as well, for riding upon the wind was an all too familiar acrid stench.

Smoke.

“The village!” Baum cried out before running ahead, his warriors in tow. Silke and Sadista followed after as best they could, catching the terrible sight of several large pillars of black smoke steadily crawling into the air as they ran.

It was not long before they entered the outskirts of the village, the cries of anguish and despair welcoming to the scene of destruction before them. Several small shacks were currently engulfed in flames, while the much larger structures had just begun to catch. Baum and his warriors descended onto the scene, looking for either an enemy to fight or people to help. From their elevated position, however, the two women noticed the silhouette of large figure standing in the midst of one of the larger wildfires. Gouts of flame spewed from the unknown assailant, consuming one of Baum’s men.

Sadista and Silke Arches were silent for a moment at the brutality of the action. Suddenly, the blue tinged spy pulled out her phone and screamed into it with cold, hard command.

“Aunt Martha, activate remote protocol FFL-09 and bring the car to my location!”

********

“So who wants barbeque when we get back to base?” Marta asked quizzically as she walked up the mountain path. Some of her troops were silent, having only recently been assigned to the Executioner and as such were not quite used to her sense of humor. As for the rest, if they did chuckle, it was drowned out by the frantic laughter of the young woman currently slung over Marta’s left shoulder.

“GHAHAHAAHAH NHOHOHOHOHOHOOHHO! PLHEHEHEHEASEHEEHEHEHE STOOHOHOHOHOHOHOP!” The young woman from the village screamed as Marta’s fingers danced over the back of her thighs. Yet struggle as she might, she could not escape the grip of her captor nor free herself from the strange plastic rope that held her limbs fast.

“You’re not bad,” the High-Priestess said calmly as she continued to walk ahead of the group of strangers that had attacked her village. “Though I question why you continue to tickle the poor woman after I already agreed to lead you to the shrine.”

“To remind you of course little babushka that I not only have you, but a hostage as well. Call me old fashioned, but I’ve pilfered enough ancient temples and ruined civilizations to know there is always some sort of trap. Isn’t that right girlie?” Marta said, before spidering the fingers of right hand up the thighs and onto the rump of her bound captive. The result was as expected, a new torrent of laughter and begging issuing forth with reckless abandon.

The High-Priestess shook her head, still maintaining her slow stride.

“I must warn you again death-bringer. Depart from this place. You don’t not understand the power…”

“Yeah yeah, untold power and its inherent danger. I heard the same from a guru in India while I was retrieving another little mystical trinket. That was before I beat him to death with his own arm.”

“Not surprising given what you’ve done to my village.”

“That was to convince you to help me. I had only smidgens of info about what this rogue element would be. When you mentioned something about an orb to us… Well, I knew we had a winner. And for being so helpful, I did let your people leave their homes before setting them on fire remember?” Marta replied. Her torment of the maiden, despite occurring in not so ideal conditions, still proved effective as a new round of laughter poured from her. Unable to free herself, she simply took to wiggling her rear as hard as possible in an attempt to drown out the torturous sensations that were occurring upon her rump.

“Small mercies, eh Far-Lander?”

While they talked, one of Marta’s men bringing up the rear stared hard through his goggles at the captive woman slung up on his boss’s shoulder. He had been ordered not to touch the maiden, but the Russian was certainly distracted enough so that he could catch a quick whiff of the maiden’s hair. What harm could it do?

His answer came as soon as he laid a hand on her, for in that split second Marta wheeled around and unloaded a single shot from her magnum into her soldier’s skull. The other soldiers did not pause or question, but continued following fearfully as their leader resumed her leisurely walk up the mountain.

“But still mercies nonetheless,” Marta replied.

********

He is Baum, eldest and strongest of the great warrior Bault. He is Baum, who in the trials of his people snatched the eagle’s feather in midflight, leaping between the two great trees of the old mountain. He is Baum, inheritor of a legacy of warriors greater in number than the years he had been alive. He wears the armor of Cher and Celine Dion upon his breast and Gucci upon his shield. He is Baum… and he is afraid.

Three of his men had already been consumed by the wicked flames of the demon that stood before him. Its blackened hide laughed as their spears rained down upon it. The hellfire in which it bathed rose up and swatted their weapons aside like the errant cinders of a bonfire. And yet despite the raging, obscuring fire, Baum could clearly see the two voids of the creature staring at him. They were empty hollows that laughed with a coldness he had never encountered in all his life. It chilled him, despite the gouts of flame that burst around him.

And yet with armor partially melted and scorched, he stood defiant with bow and arrow, staring it down. Ready to die, he whispered to himself the prayer of the sea and prepared his last shot.

Suddenly, a flash of light burst through the flames and struck the creature. The flames erupted even greater than before, and yet now it was the creature that screamed in pain. Baum, shielding his face from the kiss of the newly fueled fiery torrent, saw the Silver One dancing with the terrible creature. No, not dancing… Fighting. Each blow she struck, terrible yet graceful, collided against the beast with the force of the breaking waves. Strike after strike, blow after blow... Baum watched with bow and arrow still drawn, locked in utter fascination.

A great earthquake soon forced Baum from his trance. He looked to the ridge that overlooked his village and saw the Far Lander’s strange ship fly into the midst of the sweeping fire that consumed his home. It brought a storm with it; strange mist and water in great amounts to quell the flames that tore at his village. When all was done, the only embers remained of the demon’s blaze. The demon itself had turned into a man, one that was currently at the mercy of one of the finest warriors he had ever seen. No, not a warrior… A god.

********

“But High-Priestess, why are you leaving them with the orb? That woman is a monster made flesh!” The young maiden frantically asked as she followed the old woman down the mountain path.

“Do not fear young maiden. The season of understanding is not upon you yet, for there is good reason we are only caretakers of the orb and not protectors. We have issued our warning to her. Now we must return to the village and let things unfold as they were meant too,” the High-Priestess replied.

********

“You hear me you bastard? I want answers! Why are you here? Where is Marta?” Silke shouted angrily, once again punching the mercenary square in his jaw.

The man’s only reply was a wide smile and a cold chuckle as he spat out blood.

Silke raised her hand again, only to have it stopped by Sadista. Silke whirled around, ready to lash out at the pink haired woman, only to find her companion’s composure more ridged than she had ever seen before. The pink-haired woman was pointing to the nearby tree line, or more specifically the people who were now emerging from it.

“Help the villagers Arches. You have the ability to do so with all your gadgets and what not. Leave it to me to make him talk,” Sadista said coolly. The Aqua International agent paused for a moment, before relenting.

The man smirked confidently at the pink haired woman, before suddenly letting out a loud gasping gargle as a leather cord wrapped tightly around his neck. A whip was now in the hand of Sadista, with her face like stone and her eyes ablaze.

“Now… Let’s start with the easy questions.”

********

Her men were in position, which of course was no surprise to Marta. They had already been reminded what the price for failing to obey orders was. Everything was almost in place. She stared at her weapon almost lovingly, the thoughts of what she was planning to do to Sadista swimming across her mind excitedly. She began to hum “The Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy”, swaying her hips and her gun in time with the melody. Soon it would be her showdown with the bitch… Only one little detail remained. She turned her gaze towards the shrine.

It was old… very old. Long ago there had once been steps and pillars surrounding a glorious stone alter, a testament to the regard this “Orb” had once been held in. Now there was only a worn stone pedestal which limply held the strange glass sphere, the gleaming dressings that once stood having long since turned to dust. Oh, and the bones. Marta couldn’t forget about the bones.

She held a black box in both hands as she walked over the piles of skeletons that lined the cave floor and walls, regarding their dress almost as a historian would. Roman Centurions with rusted shields, Vikings clutching rotted axes… The list went on and on from Victorian adventurers to pegged-legged sailors. Marta herself was filled with a sort of obscene national pride as she crushed the skull of what was a S.S. trooper under her boot. Each set of remains had one thing in common, however: They all showed signs of battle.

She stood before the pedestal, opening the box with care. It was one of the Black Court’s little inventions. Lead-lined, heavily reinforced, and adorned with enough locks to give Houdini a run for his money, it was meant for transportation of rouge elements no bigger than a foot in diameter. She stared at her mission objective while her gloved hands checked for any “precautions” left by the natives for a sixth time.

“Such a small thing,” she said aloud at the slightly glowing orb. “Yet worth killing for, no? You dead fuckers are proof of that. All reaching for the same treasure, failing when you’ve gotten so close…”

The orb was now glowing brighter. A crackle of arcane power arced from shinning surface to Martha’s gloved hand. It felt…good.

“Ah… lovely. Such power! It is no surprise to me though, you lazy bones. I’ve gathered a dozen of these strange little trinkets for the Black Court, each one in equal part terrifying and awesome. The strength and the potential… Mmm. Yes. Yes, I think I quite like this idea. The things I would have done to Sadista before were just going to be horrendous. But with this… Well, let’s just see….Yes… Only the strong survive… And no one is stronger than me…”

Marta grabbed the orb.

********

There are two names which those who ply the seas for their livelihood and know of the island’s existence call it by. The first is “La Isla Errante” or “The Wandering Isle”. The reason for this is due to the island’s propensity to “move around” as sea folk put it. Everyone who has seen its bright sandy shores knows how to return to it fairly easily, yet no two people can seem to do it in the exact same way. It’s a common joke that if a hundred sailors set sail at the break of dawn, they would find the shore by evening, and loose everyone on the way. If you’d paid attention though, you’d probably find the response to that joke to be more nervous laughter than anything else.

It was the second name of the island, however, that gave the Colombian fisherwoman comfort as she fell beneath the waves. The Russian had cut her down at the sight of land, but not before cutting her throat. In her last few moments as her blood mixed with the sea, something that might have been a chuckle burbled from her lips. The name of the island all the sailors knew better than the first: “El lugar que nadie regresa de”.

“The place no one returns from”.

********

Silke Arches and Sadista had made excellent time up the worn stone path that had been tread by Marta and her men barely an hour before, though proceeded with caution at what they knew lay ahead. They had already been informed of everything ranging from the number of men the Russian had at her disposal to the ordinance they were carrying thanks to the flame totting madman. Even the little details such as what shampoo they all used, which ones smoked, and who even had a rabbit’s foot attached to their belt loop.

“I do good work,” was all Sadista could say as the flicker of a grin danced around the corners of her mouth.

The old woman had filled them in on the rest of the details. She told the two how to reach the shrine where the orb was held, as well as explained the tribe’s “treasured duty” as watchmen over it. Though when asked what exactly the orb was, the answer they got was far more cryptic.

“Whatever you want it to be.”

Now, neither Sadista nor Silke Arches were strangers to cryptic messages and the general ominous tone they tend to carry, but even by their standards the High-Priestess’s words seemed to carry a heavy weight to them. The two thanked the old woman for the same warning that she gave Marta, but explained it was their duty to see her stopped.

“May the All-Maker protect you then.”

They recalled the old woman’s words as they quietly approached the mouth of the cave, looking for any sign of the ambush they knew had to be around. Though the High-Priestess was dodgy on the details of why the orb was dangerous exactly, repeating the same kind of unclear wisdom that was expected from wizened crones, Silke Arches and Sadista had seen enough of the strange and the unusual in their lives to have learned the valuable lesson of being ready for anything.

The terrified screams that echoed from the mouth of the cave indicated that it was indeed time for anything.

They quickly hid in the jungle brush, waiting for the sounds of a struggle to grow still. Utterly calm, they knew better than to jump into an unknown situation with potentially a great deal of armed men and/or mysterious “orbs”. It was only when the silence remained unbroken after fifteen minutes that they slowly moved toward the entrance before them. It was the, with each step forward they took, that they noticed the glow.

It could be seen emanating from deep within the cave, dispelling the shadows that clung to its walls with an eerie pink light. The two carefully flanked either side of the cavern’s mouth, peering in as cautiously as possible. The sight of Marta’s men greeted them, each one scattered around the floor and sides of the illuminated passage. Their bodies were broken and scatted amongst the bleached bones that resided there, all of them bathed in the growing pink light. The two stared at the source of this eldritch light, glimpsing what looked to be a figure outlined in the midst of it. An all too familiar tingle crawled up Silke’s spine as she stared at the strange sight. Not since the “Blood Carnal” affair had she felt it, but there was no mistaking the touch of the supernatural was making the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

“You ready?” Silke whispered, looking to her ad-hoc partner.

Sadista nodded, her gaze focused on the strange glow. The two approached the shining figure, ready for attack.

And then the lights dimmed.

And then there was Marta kneeling. The orb cradled in her hands while two trails of smoke rose from her burned out, eyeless sockets. The Executioner of the Black Court was dead, wearing the largest smile her face had ever seen.

And then there was a strange man in a white suit standing behind her.

“Hello,” he said cheerfully, grabbing the orb from Marta’s still warm hands.

“Hands where I can see them! Drop the orb!” Silke shouted at the strange newcomer, her gun in hand and spy ensemble at the ready.

Sadista squeezed tightly on her whip, staring hard at the sandy haired man holding the orb.

“Who are you? Another one of the Shadow Court’s lackeys?” Silke Arches asked. While she was indeed armed, she remained reluctant to move forward against this man. Something about him set her teeth on edge more than the orb and its weird pink glow.

“Who am I? Well, that’s a particularly prickly question that comes packed with some perilous portents. If you don’t mind, I think I’ll skip that one for now,” the stranger said, now rolling the orb around in his hand. “As for your second question, I’m not affiliated with that little band of ne’er-do-wells. I’m sort of an independent party.”

“Good to know. Now, put the orb down!” Silke Arches barked, scooting closer toward him little by little.

“Put it down? But I’m having so much fun with it!” The stranger whined, passing the orb between both hands. Slowly his motions became more elaborate, the slightly glowing sphere dancing an elegant waltz across his hands. It spun and twirled, coiling around itself like a snake. It was almost soothing… Watching the gentle motions.

“What is that orb?” Sadista asked, her eyes trained on the strange sphere. If she was quick enough, she might be able to snatch it from his hands.

The man stopped his routine suddenly and looked at Sadista with a large, toothy smile.

“Why it’s your heart’s desire and your greatest wish mixed with your fondest dream, all wrapped up into one handy-dandy glass doohickey. It’s the apple of your eye that never goes bad,” The man said in a way that seemed almost reminiscent of a used car salesman. “Dear old Marta didn’t quite have what it took to handle this little gem I’m afraid though. She took one little look at this bauble and caught a glimpse of what it can really do, and it blew the poor thing’s mind! Killed all her men before she absolutely lost control.”

“Oh yeah? And what can it exactly do?” Silke sarcastically quipped, gun still drawn.

“Anything,” he said, gesturing toward them with the orb. “The shores of infinity wrapped around the mind of d’jinn, all distilled in a nice little snow globe. Poor Marta… She thought she could handle it just like all these little sad sacks before her. But it turns out she was no stronger than the rest, just another murderer thinking they’re special. Pride can be such a terrible thing eh?”

“Well it couldn’t have happened to a nicer lady. Now, drop that thing and put your hands on your God damn head!” Silke said, taking a few cautious steps toward the white suited man.

“Language Ms. Arches. Anyway, I can’t do that quite yet.”

“Oh yeah? Why not?”

“Mainly this,” he said, tossing the orb to Sadista.

The object landed in her hands as she caught it. It seemed to fit… Perfectly, like it had always meant to be there. She couldn’t help noticing how lovely it looked before… But now it was divine. Slowly the glow began to return, growing in a pinkish hue. It felt warm in Sadista’s hands, like the supple breast of a willing slave. It was absolutely ecstatic.

Silke stared in horror as the orb began to grow more and more luminescent. Slowly the glow began to shift and change as blurry images began to dance from the light. Exotic and extravagant scenes that mimicked the grand desires of the dominatrix shone across the cave walls.

“Sadista! Drop the orb!”

She did not reply. Why would she? This beautiful trinket… Warm and delightful…

“Sadista! Remember the November Incident! Whatever this thing is can’t be good!”

November… So many Novembers had passed. More than a handful to say the least and her hands were so big. The world could fit in them. Maybe even the stars.

“Sadista!” Silke cried, moving toward her enthralled companion. Before she could even take a single step, however, she felt something grab her ankle. She looked down to see a skeletal hand firmly grasping it.

“Now now, don’t be rude. You’ll have to wait your turn like everyone else. Until then though, I’m sure these not so fine folks would happy to keep you entertained,” the man in the white suit said, snapping his fingers. The deceased that lined the cave began to rise up and make their way over to the silver haired spy.

Silke in return fought with the tenacity of a caged lion, but the flood of undead washed over her like the furious waves of a tsunami. Marta’s corpse held down as the rest of the dead began to claw at Silke. Unlike their flesh hungry film counterparts, however, these seemed focused on one thing: Tickling.

“GAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAAH HAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHA!” She laughed as dozens of bony fingers removed her shoes and began tickling her soles.

“HAHAHAH HIHIHIHIH HAHAHAAHAHAH AHIHHHA AFUAHAHAHAHCK!” She screamed as her iconic cat suit was torn to shreds, revealing her tightly toned body to her laughter hungry assailants. Her breasts, her nipples, her legs, her sides… Hundreds of fingers honed in on dozens of sensitive spots on lithe body of Silke Arches.

“HAHAHAHAHAAHAHA EHEHEHEH AHAHA A HEHEHEHEHEHEHEH AHA AHAHA EHEHEHEHEHE AHA AHAHA EHE HEEHEH EHA AH AHAHAH EHEHEHEHEEH HEHEH AHAH AHEEHEH SADISTAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!” She desperately wailed, until laughter was the only sound she could make.

********

There is…

So much… I can…

That sound… Familiar…

A heart. My heart? An offer of the heart.

“The world is your oyster my dear.”

Yes. Anything I want… That’s right.

Kings and Gods kneeling before me…

Bacchanalia feasts dedicated to me…

The human race kissing my feet of iron and clay. Yes. I…

I…

Remember. I remember…

The place with the pines. The smell of fresh mulch and white carnations.

And…

And…

You.

“Everything will be okay.”

I… I could make it so that it never happened. I could stop it from ever…

You…

You could…

“No matter what happens, know that I love you sweetheart.”

********

There was a small part of Silke’s mind that wondered if time had just decided to stop in order to spite her. Given the propensity for fate to throw her into at times increasingly ridiculous scenarios that involved being tickled half to death, she would not be surprised if she had somewhere along her many adventures she inadvertently had been cursed to live between the ticks of a second and experience the worst possible moments in slow motion.

The rest of Ms. Arches mind, however, was mostly just dealing with the horrific tickling being inflicted upon her.

“FHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAUCK YOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHU BAHAAHAHAAHAHAHAHSTAAHAHAAHAHHAHAAHAHAHARDS! HAHAAHAHAHA HEHEEHEHE AHAHAHAHAH AHEHEHE EHHIHIHIHIHIHIHHIHI HOHOHOHOHOHOOH HEHEHEHEHEHE! HAHAHAAH HEHEHEHEHEHE EHEHEEHEHE HHIHIHIHIH HOHOHOOHOH HAHAHAHAH HOHOHH HEHEHE HAHAHAHAAHAHAHA AHHHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! GAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHHAHAHWD NOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHHOOHHO!”

Thousands of fingers skirted over her tender flesh now, driven on by whatever power the white suited man possessed. They seemed to act autonomously, however, with some of the appendages not even clinging to hands. A thousand little pokes and prods, delivered again and again until it felt like her entire body was tingling with ticklish agony. She wished with all her might that it would stop.

“HAHAHHA EHEHEHE EHEAHAHAHAHAH EHEHEHEHEH AHAHAHAHAHA EHEHEH HHIHIHIHIHI HHOOHOHOHOHOHOHOH OEHEHEHEEHEHEHEHE EHIHIHIH HIHIHIHIH HHEHEHEHEEHEHHA HAHAAHAHAH AAHAHAHA NOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO HOHOHOHOHOHOH MOHOHOHOHOHOOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHRE!

And surprisingly, it did.

“S…Sa..dis..ta?” Silke eventually choked out, still pinned to the ground by her undead assailants.

“One moment dear, I’ll be right with you,” the unmistakable mixture of command and elegance that could only have been the pink haired mistress replied.

“Well well well… You said no. You looked at the power of infinity, the ability to do anything and you shrugged it off. That’s definitely a first,” The white suited man purred. “Now for the big question of course: Why?”

“Because we both know it’s a lie, don’t we? This thing shows you your deepest desires and teases you with the notion that they can be yours. But nothing is ever that easy. No sacrifice, all reward? That’s a hollow promise with the subtlety of a rigged game that you think you can win. This thing doesn’t grant wishes,” Sadista replied in a matter of fact tone. “It just tempts you with the idea there’s an easy way to get what you want.”

“And kills you! Don’t forget about that part,” The man in the white suit said. “But you’re not wrong. I guess I did technically lie about that little orb, but big surprise there. Lying is kind of my thing though. Sue me.”

“That’s to be expected, given who you are.”

“Gold star Sadista. But even for you denying the temptation of the orb must have been like tearing your own skin off right? Even the slightest hope that you could…”

Before he could say another word, Sadista threw the orb directly at him as hard as she could. He casually caught it in response, a snaky grin passing over his lips.

“Touched a nerve did I?”

“Take your little orb and get out of here.”

“Sorry to say the orb is not mine. There is a bit of camaraderie between us you might say though. It stays here under my watch and plays by my rules,” he said, placing the orb back on the pedestal. “That’s why that little group is outside though, in order to even things out. They give people the chance to turn back. Gift of tongues and all that jazz from the “All-Maker” let them do their whole “Danger Will Robinson” routine.”

“How quant. Now let my compatriot go.”

“All business with you eh? Alright, alight. She’ll be free once I leave,” he said, turning his back to Sadista. In a slow, steady pace he walked toward the shadows at the end of the cave. “Just a heads up though, I’ll be keeping a close eye on you two. I’m willing to bet there’s going to be a lot more fun between you guys and the Black Court, and I want front row seats.”

“I can’t say I particularly enjoy the attention. Don’t forget that even you have boundaries. Take care, lest the details of our affairs wind up crossing them. ”

The white suited man let out a long, cruel laugh before disappearing.

“Honey, you should already know that I live in the details.”

********

PROGRAM INITILIZED.

LOADING UPLINK SECURITY PROTOCOL.

PROTOCOL ENGAGED.

ACCESSING FILE: Martha/20160425/Mission_Report/AdditionalDetails.doc

FILE_CORRUPTION_CHECK:

“Agent Arches additional notes:

This is the second occurrence of an item possessing what seem to be “supernatural” properties appearing while dealing with the organization known as the “Black Court”. We still don’t know where these things are coming from, but you can bet my sweet ass there’s going to be more of them. We’ve already seen the potential danger they yield, so it’s my suggestion we start categorizing these things as more than just “oddities” in the black files. The people who are after these things call them “Rogue Elements”, and honestly that designation makes sense. Furthermore, we need to upgrade the rating for the “Black Court”. They aren’t just a “Criminal Organization”, at least not anymore.”

FILE_CORRUPTION_CHECK: COMPLETE.

ENGAGING HANDLER PROGRAM(MARTHA).

UPLOADING FILE…

UPLOAD COMPLETE.

********

There had been a good deal of silence in the car ride so far between the two women.

The trip back to the village had gone well. Silke managed to find something to replace her shredded cat suit all the while Sadista salaciously taunted her. They returned to the village and were greeted with applause and reverence from its denizens. The High-Priestess congratulated Sadista for her triumph in a way that seemed the old woman knew it was going to happen, while Baum praised Silke Arches as a warrior goddess.

They wound up sparing all night long.

Yet as they traveled back to the mainland, neither had said a word to each other. The two weren’t exactly friends, but even when they were at their throats there was liveliness to their antagonistic rapport. This silence was tinged by what the orb showed Sadista and the fact Silke had caught a glimpse of it.

“Hey… Back in the cave…”

Sadista said nothing as she turned to look at the silver haired agent. Her eyes were as cold as her stony expression. Those who knew Sadista knew this was a look that indicated the dominatrix was at the very precipice of her patience.

“Look… Not many people become a spy because they had the easiest go of things in their lives. For Aqua International operatives that goes double at the very least.”

“And you point is?”

“Not a damn thing. You stared into the maw of the thing you wanted most, however, and tasted what it was like to have it. Despite all that, you still said no. Even when caught up in that orb, you saw its promises for the lies they were, no matter how sweet. Not many could have done what you did there Sadista. Maybe nobody else in the world. That’s something.”

A moment of silence passed between the two.

“Yeah, I suppose it is,” Sadista finally said, her iconic smile playing over her lips.

As they made their way back to the mainland, the sun slowly descended over the horizon, painting the sky in a majesty of pink and blue.

********

A robbed figure sits alone in a dark, dark room, the only light coming from six twinkling candles.

Two others rest among the wax spires, their wicks have long gone cold, though one casts a trail of smoke.

“People are dying, things are changing,” The figure says aloud, holding a single metal nail. It rises from the floor and approaches the candelabrum which holds fast the weak light.

Suddenly the shadows part for a moment and a man appears in their absence.

“So it’s true then? Marta really is dead,” the newcomer says to the robbed one, staring at the candles. “What do we do now?”

The robbed figure pauses for a moment, the shadows collecting around its feet.

“Some things we’re just not meant to have, my Musician. That orb of temptation will remain where it is. Other rogue elements will appear, and we’ll seek those out in turn as it suits our needs. For now, let us focus on our day to day operations.”

“And what about the troublemakers? Aqua International and its blasted Silke Arches? The private one known as Sadista?”

It paused again, the shadows embracing the figure like an old friend.

“I think it may be time for you to unveil your latest work my Musician.”

The man smiled wide with perfect teeth. “You mean?”

“Yes. Let the Midnight Concerto commence.”