A Clockwork Green Ch. 03

"Look at how pretty they are when they sleep," he says. ''Oh we're going to have soooo much fun!!"

Heimdahl shuffles from the door to a table in the corner. Levers are pulled, dials twisted, and the chairs hiss and buck as they slide across the floor. Charlotte murmurs as her chair comes to a less than gentle stop. He ambles over to her first, unstrapping one of her legs and lifting her foot.

"Soo lovely," he murmurs, as he wraps his lips around her big toe. He moans gleefully, slurps loudly, as he opens wider and caresses all five toes with his tongue. "Sooo lovely." With a look pregnant with expectation and impending bliss, he finishes unstrapping her and lifts her limp frame over his shoulder. A wheelchair waits nearby, and he gently sets her down in it.

"Soo lovely," he says, as he carts her out of the room.

***

He returns 15 minutes later with the wheelchair empty. He hums a happy little tune as he unstraps one arm and wrist, and then the other. He unstraps one leg and ankle, and then pauses. Come on, asshole. I just need one opening...

He lifts my left arm up, and lets go. It drops back down beside me like a stone. Feels like a stone too. Gods, I'm exhausted. He picks it back up, cradling it at the wrist. One of his hands shoots up and he snaps his fingers twice an inch from my face. Even if I had the spare energy to flinch, I wouldn't have fallen for that.

"Maybe just a peek..." He tugs at my wrist, and I can feel the suppression glove slide away. Here it is... the opening I need... time to do...something!! "Ooooh, look at these," he says. Oh gods, is he gonna...

Yup. They're in his mouth. Oh gods, he's... Augh! ...come on, Mack! This is it! This is your shot!!

I've got less than nothing...

Get it together, Mack!! He's gonna do unspeakable things to you! To your mind! To your body!!

...

To Charlotte!!

I yank my hand out of his mouth. I can barely get one eye open to see him. He desperately grabs for my wrist, but it's slippery and wet. Slippery keeps my hand free, but it also stops me from being able to snap! Slip... Come on! Slip... Come on!

Snap!

Two tiny but exceedingly bright sparks ignite mils in front of Heimdahl's eyes, and he shrieks in pain and rage.

"My eyes!!" His hands belatedly cover his ruined sockets. "What have you done?". It's the weakest ability I have, and I've gotta be really close to do it, but he's almost certainly blind. It took just about everything I had left... "You bitch! You stupid, stupid bitch!!" His hands roam down his body, fumbling through his coat pockets. What could he...

That fucking remote!!

I try to swat his hands, but he's just out of reach! I nearly tumble over before i remember one of my legs is still bound!! I claw at the leg restraint, one hand still in a suppression glove, but it's hopeless... I slide off the chair, leg twisted but still strapped in, just as he gets the remote out of his pocket, but it's upside down and backwards. I swat once, twice, three times, whiffing it by inches. His fingers fumble awkwardly without the power of sight, and when he leans over to put it uselessly closer to his face, he inadvertently brings it closer to me. I rear back and put everything I have into one final swing and...

Smack!!

The remote crashes down and clatters noisily across the floor.

"You bitch!!"" Heimdahl spins to try to follow the noise, and then gives up to try to come back after me, but he gets turned around and wanders into the middle of the room. "Where are you?!?!"

It only takes me a few seconds to remove my other suppression glove, and I set it down on the chair. I nearly slip trying to reach over to my leg, still comically strapped in while I straddle the rest of the apparatus.

"I hear you, Bitch!!" Somehow, when I wasn't looking, he'd found a length of pipe and is scraping it back and forth across the floor. He shouldn't be able to hear anything over the noise the pipe is making, but... He's scanning the floor for the remote! I'm out of the chair, but I don't believe that fucking things usefulness is restricted to a couple pieces of furniture. He smacks the remote with his pipe, sending it skittering again, but now he has a bead on it. I chance a few loud steps, dive for it...

...and crush the hell out of it with an outstretched fist! There's a quick blowback of wind and a puff of smoke. Fucking thing was running on air magic! Heimdahl hears the sound, and his face screws with rage. He brings the pipe down inches from my head as I roll away. He slams it down thunderously again and again, but I've slipped back up to my feet and padded away. Part of me wants to leave him like this; impotent, lost, and taking chips out of the marble flooring. Part of me wants to kill him.

I struggle in silence to summon the strength for even the weakest kill shot, but I nearly collapse in a dizzy spell from the effort. After a minute catching my breath and listening to him rant at me, I settle for breaking his nose and laying him out. I may not be much for hand to hand, but an elderly blind man is a target even I can't miss.

I practically fall pushing open the door as I step out into the hall. The cool rush of air reminds me that I'm naked. My prick bounces back and forth from thigh to thigh as I walk. Fuck, that thing is heavy- ...a noise down the hallway puts my heart in my throat. I don't want to duck right back in where I came from, so I slip inside the next door.

Chest high countertops run a loop around a rectangular room, with two islands running in parallel down the middle. Several glass vials and beakers hover over open flames, and the fluids within them smoke and steam. I lean against a counter behind the door and listen for the noise I heard, but it's passed.

My muscles are telling me I'm spent. I haven't felt this tired since I went Holy Fire on my father's forge. I flop down on a stool and look around.

Lots of crazy science is going on around me, that's for sure. Fluids of every color roil and boil and swirl through elaborate glass piping. My eyes wander up, following tubes coming through the wall. I spin around, trying to picture what would have been on the other side of this... this room contains at least some of the machinery we were hooked up to. My eyes travel down the wall, following the pipes, to a separate counter where five glass and steel containers about the length of my forearm stand.

No way. All five are filled with a dense white fluid. There's a mirror next to me, and I stare at my reflection for a moment. "When you tell Charlotte how you saved her," I say out loud, "leave this part out." My reflection nods with me. Cum is like... half protein, right? I grab one of the bottles labeled with a large capital C (as opposed to a capital M) close my eyes, and drink.

I can't believe she filled three of these things while I only filled two. Technically, I filled her ass once while we were on assignment. "Not this much," I hear. My reflection grins wickedly at me, and I grin right back as I go for another long swig. I love the taste of her spunk. It's soooooo thick. Way thicker than mine. Like a malt. I swear she eats vanilla-flavored foods because she knows the flavor carries through.

I slug back the dregs of the bottle and fall back against a counter, dazed... and high? I've never heard of being cum-drunk, but if that is a real thing, then I am it right now. The room tilts crazily in anticipation of the leanings of my head. "Sweet foockin shite," my reflection says. Since when is my reflection from Juteland?

The room explodes with color. The infinite gradations between red and pink are not only perceptible, but are so easily apparent that I can't see how I never noticed them before. The walls pulse with vibrations. The lights in the ceiling cast such precise shadows... so impossibly precise!

I sit/fall down, depending on who you ask, onto the stool and close my eyes for a 5 count. I try to peek one open again. 10 count. Better. 15 count.

"Get on with it, Mack! Charlotte is waiting!" I glare at my reflection, but it glares right back. Eventually I relent, and it nods apologetically.

I head back into the room with the chairs with an itch to finish him off, but Heimdahl's gone. There's only one door I can see; the one I used. I'd have heard him if he stumbled out after me... which means... secret passage? Great... If this is the kind of place that hides doorknobs in bookshelves and candelabras, I'm in for a long night.

Naked, unfulfilled, and a little worried that he got away, I slip back into the hallway. The ceiling is a dizzying mess of tubes and pipes that run up, down, across, and all of the above. Some look hydraulic, or for water, but I'm thinking most are pneumatic. I take 5 steps into the hall, and another one of his crappy-ass MX-12 drones whirs out of a hole in the wall near the top. I spin and hit it in stride with a Bolt. The not-insignificant sound of it crashing to the floor gives me pause, but nothing else happens immediately. Some kind of magical trap then? Tied to the on switch for his drones? Which means they're probably set to attack whatever they find... fucking great. At least I don't hear any alarms going off, which means his traps are isolated and unconnected. Thank the gods he's cheap.

I hadn't realized how expansive Heimdahl's complex is. The creepy, quasi-religious tone of the decor puts visions of a vampire book that Charlotte... I tuck that thought away for a while and focus. Creepy, yes. Quasi-religious, yes. Somewhat shabby, yes. Despite all of that, the pipes have good seals and the machinery I can identify is running quietly. Quiet means well maintained. Quiet means deadly. At least, that's what I always told The Cap'n when he complained that my parts didn't make enough noise.

I set off a few more motion sensors as I explore, but I also waltz right past some much larger and heavier duty emplacements. Large caliber, multi-gun emplacements. They must be tied to an alarm... an alarm he can't trigger because I killed his stupid remote. Ha! Best news I sorted out for myself that I've heard all day!

I wander down at least a dozen long corridors and hallways, all empty except for the occasional defense drone. His MX-12 drones take so long to spin up that they're hardly a threat. The slightly macabre atmosphere, on the other hand, is oppressive and claustro...phobing? I long for my reflection. At least then I didn't feel so alone. After what feels like an hour, I pass two disturbingly familiar doors. The room with the chairs is still empty, but the echoes in there fill me with dread. I can't back out quick enough.

I spin around, examining the walls, and spot an elevator door ten feet from where I began that's not so much hidden as it is built into the shape of the wall in such a way as to not be obtrusive. The elevator only has one destination. I can hear voices as the door opens, but the door action is mercifully silent, so I hide inside the elevator car for a few moments.

"-shoulda seen her in action. Took out five guys from our last crew, just like that, " a man's voice says, punctuating his claim with a snap of his finger. "I managed to hold her off for a while, but then the ginger bitch finished off the drones. I was just about to start a fighting retreat when the boss got his sonic death ray or whatever going, and they dropped like the bitches they are."

"She don't look like much," replies another man, although this one speaks much slower, and with a much deeper voice. I peek around the corner. If I'm not mistaken, the first one is the guy who ran away. What a fuckin' liar. There's three more of them with him now.

"Oh, then by all means! Wake her up and let her out. I watched her cut a man from lip to dick with a flick of her wrist. See how long you last..." Everyone but the braggart, who has more product in his hair than I've used cumulatively in my entire life, takes a step back. "I didn't think so," he sneers. He looks so... so foppish, with his wavy blond hair. What is he doing in this business?

I think... yes. I want one of them alive to answer a few questions. The other three are clearly new hires, but the fancy one... he potentially knows something. I step out into the room and pad towards them. Don't turn around, don't turn around, don't turn around...

I raise my hands, index fingers extended, and snap down my thumbs. One Boomstick goes off right in between two of them, and the second takes down a third guard who'd been off by himself. The fancy one spins as his friends crumple to the ground, facing towards me just in time to turn into a blow to his stomach that knocks the wind out of him. Veins on his neck and face pop as he gasps and falls. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Charlotte stir as I kill off the ones I don't need.

"Mmm...Mmmmmackenzie?"

"I'm here, Char." She's slow getting up on her hands and knees. "Are you ok?" She groans and peeks one eye open.

"Mackenzie! Did you kill all of those men?!"

"No," I say, as I kick the fancy one. He groans lightly, still lacking the air to do much more. "Left one alive."

"And Heimdahl?"

"He got away. I think I blinded him, and I killed his stupid remote, but he's not dead." I start looking at the door to her cell as she sits up.

"Oh dear... my head is spinning. How are you even moving right now?"

"Just, uh, must've gotten some real rest after I zonked out is all." The lock looks solid, but the hinges...

She puts a hand to her head as she gets up on her knees. "Oh my! Mackenzie, you're... AAAAEEEEIIIII!" She scrambles about for a moment trying to cover herself. One of the hinges shifts from a deep red to a bright orange, and I snap it free from the door frame. "We're naked!!"

"That's a good thing, Cherry. Anyone else we come up on is gonna be dumbstruck. No time to react to two escaped prisoners if all they can focus on is the fact that we're hot."

"I am not walking around naked out there, Mackenzie. We have to find my clothes."

I kick off the lower hinge, and the door to Charlotte's cell falls. It takes some finagling to work it out of the door frame, but it makes a satisfying crash. The fancy one is still hunched over, gasping for air. I grab the hair on the back of his head and yank up. "Where. Is. Our. Shit."

He begins frantically pointing to a door in the corner before I finish, and I drop him back down. He lands with a heavy thud.

I kick the door down, but the room was empty. Charlottes quasi-uniform is folded neatly on a desk. Her sword is right beside it, but...

"Son of a bitch!"

"What is it?"

"Aww, these sons of bitches disassembled your gun to see how the reloading mechanism works. It's in a dozen pieces..."

"Well, I think the first thing to do, Mackenzie my sweet, is for you to bring me my clothes."

***

"And you are sure you can fix it?" Charlotte stared sadly down into the makeshift sack containing her disassembled shotgun.

"Yeah, all the parts are there. I've just gotta put it back together." I stare down at our bound and gagged prisoner and frown. "How are we gonna get him outta here?"

Charlotte draws herself up to her full height and comes to stand next to me. "Actually, I have an idea about that."

***

The Fop, as I've taken to calling in my head, screams as I give him a shove. The wheelchair zooms down the hallway, past an intersection with another hallway. I fused the front wheels so they don't turn, and he barrels straight away, squealing like a little girl. Well, almost straight.

As he passes the corner, I hear one of those larger gun emplacements spin up. Gods, they're like small cannons, chewing up the wall behind him. I peek my head out, and draw a bead on the biggest one. I summon a little Kite and let it fly. It zips down the hall, arcing up and into the barrel of the largest gun before I detonate it. It doesn't seem to do anything, but a half second later when it tries to fire again, the shell explodes before firing, and that starts a magnificent chain reaction I can't help but stare at.

The Fop is crying when I come up behind him. "Don't worry, asshole. Only 3 more of those to disarm, and then we're home free!"

***

"Actually," Charlotte says as we toss our first-ever prisoner into the sidecar of my motorcycle, "I think I might have something in storage that would help with him."

"I keep forgetting you used to live here."

"It's been a few years, but it should still be there. I'll swing by and pick up a few things, and I'll meet you back at the shop."

"Be careful, " I say, nervous to let her out of my sight again. She kisses me lightly on the cheek, and jumps into the little prototype car I built for her. The fancy one stirs in his seat, and I smack him once more on principle before heading back. Today sucked. It's time to start cashing in on all that bad karma...

***

I rip the cloth off his head as Charlotte walks him into our basement storage room. He whips his head back and forth, shaking his luxurious blond hair back into perfect shape too quickly. I'm so glad we grabbed the fancy looking one. That's gonna make this soooo much more fun. The glint in his eye says he found his confidence again. That's gonna make it even better!!

"Unhand me, bitch," he says, spitting furiously at her, but Charlotte deftly dodges it. She brings her knee in hard behind his, and our foppish prisoner falls forward. Her hand on his shoulder is the only thing that keeps him from falling farther. He struggles again, but she grabs a fistful of his hair and yanks his head back. Her face never betrays even the slightest frustration, just cool professionalism. Watching her manhandle him is such a joy. I walk around in front of him, just at the edge of the halo the lamp above us has lit in the middle of the room

"The carrot or the stick," I say.

"The stick," he sneers defiantly. Too quickly.

I look up at Charlotte and give her a consolatory smile. "I was gonna let you go first, but..."

She gasps and puts her free hand up over her mouth. "You can be so crude, Mackenzie!"

I grin impishly. "Put him in the spreader."

"I can't wait to see-" SMACK!!

"You will speak only when spoken to," Charlotte says coolly, no trace of her earlier shock remaining. Just dutifulness. I walk off into one of the darker corners and begin stripping down while watching her quickly and masterfully apply the leg shackles. Once his ankles are firmly bound and the bar is latched to the floor, she reaches up through his legs and yanks down on his wrist manacles, toppling him to the floor face first. He grunts and fights weakly, clearly saving his strength for a moment later when he thinks he might finally get the upper hand, but he'd been screwed for a while now.

Once his wrists are bound next to his ankles, spreading his legs low and wide, she withdraws her knife and begins cutting at his clothes. He lifts his head from the ground and begins to protest loudly again, and receives another backhanded cuffing. Charlotte seems no more ruffled by his outburst than if a fly had passed her harmlessly, and she goes back to shredding his shirt, jacket, pants, and undergarments. With a few quick tugs, she relieves him of his coverings, leaving him naked and quivering with his ass in the air in the middle of the halo.

"My name is Mack," I say as I walk into the edge of the halo fully nude, fingers tweaking my nipples, "but you will call me Mistress." He tries to arch his head up to look at me, but he can barely raise his eyes above my waist. I doubt he'd look higher if he could, though, judging by the way he locks on to my bulbous prick. His lips work soundlessly for a moment, and his eyes betray real fear for the first time. Charlotte is knelt next to him, prepared to reprimand him again if necessary, but he makes no noise. He does, however, finally start struggling against his bonds with his full strength.