Chapter 7: Seduction and Scouting
The salt-rot stench of Pier 17 clung thick in the humid air, mixing with the oily tang of the nearby harbor and the distant drone of city traffic. Jan crouched behind a massive, rust-streaked shipping container marked with faded Cyrillic lettering, her freckles stark against skin gone pale with tension. Beside her, Bethany peered through a gap between crates, her charcoal suit seeming to absorb the warehouse district's gloom. Godfrey pressed against Jan’s leg, a silent, warm mountain, his intelligent eyes scanning the shadows.
"Target," Bethany murmured, her voice low and clipped, all Agent Pendragon. She pointed with a sharp chin. "Warehouse Gamma-Seven. Just like Inez said."
Jan squinted. The warehouse looked like any other in this decaying labyrinth: corrugated metal walls streaked with rust and pigeon shit, high windows boarded over. Unremarkable, except for the two figures flanking a reinforced steel door. They stood unnaturally still, encased head-to-toe in sleek, matte-grey armor that molded to their forms without revealing a single inch of skin or identifying feature. Helmets covered their heads entirely, featureless black visors reflecting the weak afternoon light.
"It’s creepy," Katie whispered, shifting uncomfortably in her black lace dress. She squatted next to Jan, fiddling with a silver ring adorned with a tiny, volatile-looking crystal. "Like mannequins. How do they even breathe in that crap? Just… faceless cans."
"Faceless cans guarding the door to my mom," Jan growled. The power inside her, still volatile after the encounter with Inez, pulsed restlessly. Hold it together, Red. Shiv needs you sharp. Godfrey whuffed softly against her thigh, a grounding presence.
"Too damn close to the Market entrance," Bethany muttered, her gaze flicking towards the maze of containers that shielded the hidden entrance to the Dark Market, barely a block away. "If this goes loud, the whole damn supernatural underground gets spooked."
A low rumble cut through the harbor sounds. A large, unmarked panel van, the same utilitarian grey as the guards' armor, pulled up abruptly behind a stack of rotting pallets further down the alley. Jan tensed, hand drifting unconsciously towards the small of her back where a concealed wand holster lay flat under her jacket. Godfrey’s head snapped towards the van, a low growl building in his chest.
The van doors slid open. Aaron Sweeney hopped out first, his usual market-trader vest replaced by practical dark trousers and a reinforced jacket. He scanned the area with sharp, assessing eyes. Behind him, Vivian Chace practically floated out, her stunning red hair a blazing contrast to the drab surroundings. She looked ethereal and slightly nervous, twisting her hands together. Lady Eleanor followed, her translucent form shimmering even in the dim light, her Victorian gown seeming perpetually ruffled by an unseen breeze. Then came Rainbor.
The orc had to duck significantly to exit the van. Standing at his full height, he dwarfed the vehicle, his green-grey skin looking almost metallic in the gloom, thick tusks protruding from his lower jaw. He adjusted the massive, wickedly sharp battle axe slung across his broad back, the weapon seeming like a natural extension of his formidable frame.
Aaron spotted Jan’s group and gave a quick wave. They converged behind the larger shipping container.
"Jan," Aaron greeted, his voice calm despite the circumstances. "Thought you could use the heavy artillery." He jerked a thumb towards Rainbor. "And Rainbor knows the Market folk are vulnerable if this place goes critical."
Rainbor nodded, his deep voice a gravelly rumble. "Jan. Non-humans hiding nearby. Innocents. Consortium messes with them, messes with me." He patted his axe handle meaningfully. "Also, you bring excitement. Good stories."
Jan managed a strained smile. "Appreciate it, guys. Seriously." She gestured towards the silent guards. "Problem one: Faceless Cans. We need past them, quiet-like. Ideas?"
Katie cracked her knuckles, small sparks dancing briefly on her fingertips. "I could make a distraction? Small boom? Draw 'em away?"
"Too risky," Bethany countered immediately. "We don't know their comms setup. Could trigger lockdown. Or bring reinforcements."
Aaron rubbed his chin. "Could try bargaining? But I doubt they’re authorized to deal."
Vivian cleared her throat softly. Everyone turned. She was staring at the ground, her cheeks flushed a deep crimson. "I, um…" she stammered. "I might… help? If it’s okay? I’m… a bit peckish." She glanced nervously at Lady Eleanor. "After healing Eleanor earlier… it takes a lot. Sorry."
Lady Eleanor waved a dismissive, semi-transparent hand. "Nonsense, dear girl! Perfectly natural consequence! Think nothing of it! Besides, those armored louts look dreadfully tense. Could use some… loosening up." She winked, a spectral twinkle in her eye.
Vivian took a shaky breath. The transformation was subtle but profound. Her nervous hunch vanished, replaced by an impossible, magnetic posture. Her shoulders went back, her chin lifted, and her eyes, when she looked towards the guards, seemed to deepen, pulling in the light. A faint, intoxicating scent, like jasmine and something far more primal, began to emanate from her, cutting through the harbor stench. Her usual timid beauty sharpened into something predatory, alluring, and deeply dangerous. She was suddenly, undeniably vamp.
"Right," she breathed, her voice dropping to a husky purr that seemed to vibrate in the air itself. "Be back in a jiff."
She stepped out from behind the container, moving with a liquid grace that made the grimy asphalt seem like a catwalk. She didn't approach the guards directly but leaned against a nearby stack of pallets, deliberately within their line of sight. Then she projected.
It wasn't visible magic, not like Jan's crimson aura or Katie's sparks. It was a wave of pure, focused need. Jan felt the edge of it, a sudden, unwelcome heat coiling low in her belly. Bethany sucked in a sharp breath, her hand clenching. Even Rainbor blinked, shifting his weight uneasily. Godfrey just yawned, resting his chin on Jan's boot.
The effect on the guards was instantaneous. Their rigid postures slackened. The male guard’s helmeted head snapped towards Vivian. The female guard twitched, her hand drifting towards her hip, not for a weapon, but seemingly without conscious thought. They were suddenly statues imbued with a single, overwhelming directive: Want Her.
Vivian crooked a finger. She didn't speak. She didn't need to.
The guards moved as one, abandoning their posts without hesitation, drawn like iron filings to a magnet. They stumbled slightly in their armor, their movements clumsy with sudden, desperate urgency. They reached her pallet stage.
"What... what are you?" the male guard rasped through his helmet's vocal modulator, his voice thick with confusion and lust.
Vivian smiled, slow and devastating. "Hungry." She reached out, her fingers brushing the chest plate of the male guard. The touch, even through the armor, made him shudder violently. "Let's play." Her gaze slid to the female guard. "Both of you."
The female guard let out a choked gasp. "Sir, protocol... we..."
Vivian’s other hand found the female guard's arm. "Protocol is boring." The succubus power surged again, a deeper pulse this time.
The guards collapsed against each other and the pallets. Hands, encased in stiff gauntlets, fumbled clumsily at armor seals. Latches hissed open. Chest plates clattered to the grimy ground. Underneath, they wore simple grey jumpsuits. The male guard tore at his own crotch panel, revealing thick fabric straining over an obvious, massive erection. The female guard groaned, her hands scrabbling at her own jumpsuit zipper, pulling it down to expose simple black panties already soaked through.
Vivian didn't waste time. She dropped gracefully to her knees between them. Her hands worked with inhuman speed and precision. She yanked the male guard’s cock free – thick, flushed, and already leaking. "Mmm, eager," she purred, and without preamble, took him deep into her mouth, her head bobbing rapidly. Her throat worked, swallowing him whole on each downstroke, the obscene, wet gluck-gluck-gluck echoing unnervingly in the alley.
The male guard threw his head back with a strangled cry, his hands fisting in her fiery hair. "Fuck! Oh god! Your mouth! Suck it! Suck my fucking dick!"
Simultaneously, Vivian's other hand snaked into the female guard’s open jumpsuit, tearing the flimsy panties aside. Her fingers plunged deep into the woman's dripping cunt, immediately finding a punishing rhythm. Two fingers, then three, pistoning in and out, curling upwards to scrape that sweet spot inside with expert brutality.
"AH! YES! FUCK ME!" the female guard screamed, her voice distorted and raw through the modulator she still wore. Her hips bucked wildly, grinding against Vivian's invading hand. "Harder! Finger-fuck my wet pussy! Oh god, I'm gonna...!"
Vivian intensified both assaults. She deep-throated the guard’s cock relentlessly, her nose buried in the coarse hair at its base, gagging slightly on each powerful thrust upwards. Her fingers in the woman’s cunt scissored, stretching, fucking her with jackhammer speed, her thumb grinding rough circles on the exposed, swollen clit. The sounds were a filthy symphony: sucking, slapping wetness, choked cries, the clatter of armor pieces knocked loose.
"Gonna cum! Gonna cum down your throat, you fucking slut!" the male guard roared, his thighs trembling violently.
"Fill me! Fuck my cunt with your fingers! Make me squirt, you demon bitch!" the female guard shrieked, her body bowing off the pallets.
Vivian gave a muffled hum of approval around the cock filling her mouth. She sucked harder, faster. Her fingers inside the woman fucked deeper, harder. The dual orgasms hit them like detonations. The male guard bellowed, his cock jerking violently as thick ropes of cum spurted down Vivian's throat. She swallowed convulsively, milking him dry. The female guard screamed, a high-pitched, electronic wail, as her body convulsed, gushing clear fluid over Vivian's hand and wrist, soaking her jumpsuit.
As the ecstasy crested, a visible shimmer of pale pink energy flowed from both guards into Vivian. She drank it in, a slight flush warming her own skin. Then, as abruptly as they came, the guards went limp. Their eyes rolled back behind their visors, bodies slumping bonelessly against the pallets and each other, unconscious. Cum glistened on the male guard’s softening cock. The female guard’s cunt pulsed, dripping onto the asphalt. Vivian withdrew her fingers slowly, licking them clean with a slow, deliberate swipe of her tongue, the vampish edge fading back into shyness as she stood, smoothing her skirt.
She turned back to the hidden group, her cheeks flushed a deep, embarrassed pink now. "Um," she stammered, avoiding their eyes. "They’ll… they’ll be okay? Probably? In an hour or so? Just… very tired." She wrung her hands. "Did I… did I do alright?"
Jan blinked, shaking off the lingering echo of Vivian’s power. "You… yeah, Viv. That was… effective." She glanced at the slumped, half-armored guards. "Very quiet."
Bethany just stared, a complex mix of professional appraisal and personal shock on her face. Katie grinned, giving Vivian a thumbs-up. Rainbor grunted, looking mildly impressed. Aaron simply nodded, pragmatic.
"Right," Jan said, refocusing. "Guards are down. But we still need eyes inside. No clue what we're walking into."
"Allow me, my dear!" Lady Eleanor trilled, stepping forward. Her spectral form shimmered intensely. Her ruffled Victorian gown dissolved into swirling ectoplasm, reforming instantly into a perfect replica of the Consortium armor – matte grey, seamless, imposing. She solidified further, becoming corporeal enough to pass. "One guard reporting for duty! Or rather, reconnaissance!" She struck a mock salute, her ghostly form now fully encased in the illusionary armor.
"Eleanor, your feet," Bethany hissed, pointing.
The armor was perfect, head to toe… except where the boots should have met the ground. Lady Eleanor floated a clear six inches above the grimy asphalt.
"Oh, bother!" Eleanor exclaimed, looking down. "Always forget the grounding effect. Mortals are so… earthy. Never mind! Just… avert your eyes if anyone looks down!"
Before anyone could protest further, she floated confidently towards the reinforced steel door. She mimed pressing a code on the keypad beside it, then simply… phased through the solid metal, disappearing into the warehouse interior.
Bethany buried her face in her hands, muttering, "Please, please, let no one inside be looking at the floor."
The group huddled back behind the container, a tense silence descending, broken only by the faint, wet snores of the unconscious guards and the distant cry of gulls. Jan clenched her fists, the image of her mother held somewhere within that cold, grey building burning behind her eyes. The wait began.
The silence stretched, thick as the harbor fog rolling in off the water. Jan’s knuckles were white where she gripped the rusted edge of the shipping container. Every creak of metal, every distant shout from the docks, felt amplified, a potential alarm. Beside her, Bethany’s breathing was unnervingly controlled, her Agent Pendragon mask firmly back in place, though her knuckles were similarly pale on her concealed wand. Katie chewed her lower lip raw, tiny sparks fizzing and dying on her rings. Rainbor shifted his massive weight, the leather harness of his axe creaking softly. Vivian wrung her hands, avoiding everyone’s gaze, the scent of jasmine and spent lust clinging faintly to her. Aaron scanned the warehouse door, his trader’s mind calculating angles, risks. Godfrey pressed his warm flank against Jan’s leg, a silent, grounding anchor.
Tick. Tock. Jan pictured her mother’s face – Shiv’s fierce red hair, her exasperated sighs, her relentless worry about Jan’s ‘unsettled’ life. Trapped somewhere inside that cold, grey monolith. Strapped to a chair? Interrogated? The unstable magic coiled inside Jan pulsed in time with her hammering heart, a dangerous echo of the power she’d unleashed on Inez. Hold it together, Red. For Shiv.
Deep within Warehouse Gamma-Seven, in a sterile sub-basement lit by harsh fluorescents, Shiv O’Connor shifted uncomfortably against the unforgiving metal bands securing her wrists and ankles to a cold steel chair. Two Consortium guards stood rigidly by the heavy vault door, their featureless helmets giving nothing away. Dr. Victoria Pressman, her short dark hair severe, her white lab coat pristine, stepped forward, a tablet clutched in her hand. Her expression was one of detached curiosity, like Shiv was a particularly stubborn lab specimen.
"What do you know about your daughter, Jan?" Pressman’s voice was clipped, devoid of inflection. "Her activities? Her… associations?"
Shiv’s eyes, sharp as flint despite the situation, locked onto Pressman’s. "Jan?" she echoed, her Dublin brogue thickening slightly. "Ah, my Jan. Always a handful, that one. Even as a wee thing, she had a way about her. Charmed life, you might say. Always got what she wanted, somehow." She sighed, a sound heavy with maternal exasperation. "All I ever wanted was for her to find someone steady, settle down. Stop gallivanting about! A mother worries, you know? Worries herself sick about her middle child’s future."
Pressman’s brow furrowed slightly. "Her siblings?"
"Oh, Johnny!" Shiv’s face softened momentarily. "My eldest. Bit of a space cadet, flits in and out like a hummingbird. But he’s a good boy. Visits me in Florida often enough, always stays for a meal. Never misses." Her expression shifted to fierce pride. "And Brigid! My youngest, sailing through her pre-med classes. Sharp as a tack, that one. She’ll make a brilliant doctor someday. Nothing but pride there."
Pressman tapped impatiently on her tablet. "Mrs. O’Connor, this is irrelevant. What do you know about Jan’s magic?"
Shiv’s stream of maternal chatter stopped abruptly. She grew utterly still, her gaze sweeping slowly, deliberately, from Pressman’s face to the impassive helmets of the two guards and back. The silence in the sterile room deepened, charged with something unspoken. Finally, Shiv spoke, her voice low and measured. "I know plenty." She paused, letting the words hang. "But I can also tell… not everyone knows." A faint, knowing glint entered her eyes. "So I like to keep it that way." She leaned forward slightly, the metal bands creaking. "I know sweet Rebecca Franklin doesn’t know magic’s real. Bless her heart. Mike and Casey? They know alright. But those two have their own problems brewing." Shiv’s gaze settled squarely on Pressman again. "And Jan? Well, she got the gift from someone, didn’t she?" Another pause. "My Marty, God rest him, was a good man. Solid. But not a lick of magic in him." Shiv tilted her head, a ghost of a smile touching her lips. "Sure, I know that. Just like I know… it’s getting awfully hot in here, Doctor. Isn’t it?"
Pressman blinked. A flush crept up her neck, sudden and intense. She frowned, touching her own cheek. It felt feverish. The sterile air suddenly felt stiflingly thick, pressing in. She tugged unconsciously at the collar of her lab coat. The flush deepened, spreading down her chest. A bead of sweat trickled down her temple. It wasn't just the room temperature. It was a heat blooming deep inside her core, a sudden, insistent throb between her legs that made her gasp. Her detached curiosity evaporated, replaced by a raw, overwhelming urgency. Her breath hitched.
"What…?" Pressman whispered, staring at her own trembling hands. The tablet clattered forgotten to the floor. The heat intensified, a furnace igniting in her belly, radiating outwards. Her skin felt hypersensitive, the fabric of her blouse and slacks suddenly abrasive torture. Her nipples hardened painfully against her bra. The need was immediate, undeniable, a primal scream drowning out rational thought. With a ragged cry that was half-confusion, half-desperation, her hands flew to her clothes. Buttons popped off her blouse as she ripped it open. Her bra clasp snapped. She tore the garments off, flinging them aside, her breasts bouncing free, nipples hard and dark. She kicked off her sensible flats, yanked down her slacks and underwear in one frantic motion, stumbling naked onto the cold concrete floor. Her skin gleamed with sweat.
She turned, panting, her eyes wild with lust, towards the two guards. Their helmets had snapped towards her the moment she tore her blouse. Now, behind the dark visors, their attention was rapt, unwavering. A low, hungry sound escaped Pressman’s throat. "You," she rasped, her voice thick with need, pointing a trembling finger. "Both of you. Prove it. Prove who wants me more." Her hand slid down her sweat-slicked belly, fingers plunging into her own dripping cunt with a wet slap. "Fuck me. Now."
The guards moved with startling speed, abandoning their rigid posts. They fumbled clumsily with their own armor seals, their movements jerky, driven by the same overwhelming compulsion that had seized Pressman. Latches hissed. Chest plates clattered loudly on the concrete. Grey jumpsuits were revealed beneath. The male guard tore at his crotch panel, freeing a thick, already-leaking cock. The female guard ripped her jumpsuit open down the front, exposing small breasts and dark curls glistening with wetness.
They stumbled towards Pressman, tripping over discarded armor pieces in their haste. She met them halfway, grabbing the male guard’s cock roughly, guiding it towards her mouth while simultaneously reaching back to pull the female guard’s face towards her dripping slit. "Suck me!" Pressman moaned around the cock filling her mouth. "Fuck my mouth! Eat my cunt!"
The male guard groaned, thrusting deep into Pressman’s throat, his hands gripping her head. The female guard dropped to her knees, burying her face between Pressman’s thighs, her tongue lashing furiously at the swollen clit. Pressman bucked against the mouth on her pussy, gagging rhythmically on the cock in her throat. "Yes! Harder! Deeper! Make me cum!" she screamed, the words muffled.
The male guard pulled his cock from her mouth, slick with spit. "Turn around," he growled, his voice distorted but thick with lust. "Bend over. I want that ass."
Pressman obeyed instantly, scrambling onto her hands and knees, presenting her dripping cunt and asshole to him. The female guard repositioned herself, pressing her face back into Pressman’s pussy from behind. The male guard spat onto his hand, rubbed it over his cock, then pressed the thick head against Pressman’s tight asshole. He shoved forward brutally.
Pressman screamed, a sound of pure ecstasy mixed with pain, as he breached her ass. He gripped her hips, pulling her back onto his cock, fucking her asshole with hard, deep strokes. "Fuck! Yes! Stretch my ass!" Pressman wailed, grinding back against him. The female guard’s tongue worked frantically on her clit, fingers plunging into her cunt alongside the cock pistoning her ass. "Finger-fuck my pussy! Oh god! I’m gonna…!"
The male guard pounded her ass relentlessly, the slap of flesh on flesh echoing in the sterile room. The female guard sucked Pressman’s clit into her mouth, humming. Pressman’s body locked, shuddering violently. "CUMING!" she shrieked, her voice raw. A gush of fluid soaked the female guard’s face as Pressman convulsed in a violent orgasm. The male guard roared, slamming deep into her ass as his own climax hit, pumping hot jets of cum inside her. The female guard moaned, grinding her own hips against the floor, finding her own release against the cold concrete.
They collapsed into a sweaty, panting heap on the floor, limbs tangled, fluids mixing. Utterly spent. Oblivious.
Shiv watched the frantic, sweaty tangle of limbs, the grunts and moans echoing off the sterile walls, the raw smell of sex thick in the air. She sighed, a long-suffering sound that cut through the post-coital panting. Her expression was one of profound exasperation mixed with weary resignation. "Honestly," she muttered aloud, though none of the three figures on the floor were listening, lost in their stupor. "How do I always end up in the middle of these ridiculous messes?" She shifted slightly in the uncomfortable metal chair, the bands chafing her wrists. Her gaze drifted from the naked, unconscious scientist and the half-armored, equally unconscious guards back towards the vault door. A flicker of maternal worry crossed her face, quickly masked by her usual pragmatic sternness. She shook her head slowly. "I knew she had some magic in her," Shiv continued quietly, her voice barely above a whisper now, laced with a familiar, deep-seated frustration. "But why, in the name of all that's holy, did my Jan have to go and join the Order of the fecking Green Moon?"