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DARKSIDE: The United States of Anarchy; "A little Power..."
[Version Control : Original.]
[Disclaimer: This text is intended for adult audiences, if you are
not of age to view it, be somewhere else. This series of
explores the darker aspects of the human experience, if that might
offend you, then you were warned, and it isn't my problem. -- KTM]
Anything can happen in the Multiverse. Even a world that
is much like ours, but which somehow... isn't. A world that is a
magnet for the blackness in the dreams and souls of humankind. A
world known as: The Darkside.
The World's economic system depends on a delicate
interlocking system of mutual trust and financial debt. When
those bonds shattered, the governments and monetary institutions
crumbled. Even the most idealistic civil servants left their jobs
when their families were gripped with hunger. The Survivors of
the Chaos would come to call their nation the United States of
Anarchy.
Chapter 9. "A little Power is a Dangerous Thing." -- by KTM.
Rebecca waited in Robert's comfortable study, wrestling
with her confusion. Liz hadn't been added to his bevy of
brain-dead love slaves in his so-called 'harem'. And when she and
Liz had talked this morning, the pretty scientist hasn't acted as
if she had been raped, as Rebecca had in her first 'encounter'
with the Dark man. Had the Devil changed his tune? It seemed so,
but it was too late for her.
One of the orphans that lived in the Palace, acting as an
Imperial Page, and given Rebecca a black rose, and a politely
phrased request for her to join him in his study at noon. She'd
gotten there at 15 minutes before the hour, to find the usually
sealed door wide open, and the room empty.
There were two chairs arranged by the fireplace, and she
sat on the marginally smaller blue one, leaving the massive black
leather monstrosity for Robert. A minute before noon he strode
into the room. His punctuality would have been more impressive if
she hadn't have felt him teleport from somewhere else to just
outside the room in the hallway.
"Good afternoon, Rebecca," he said to her. She was still
holding the dark rose. He was wearing a white rose in the lapel
of his black Italian silk suit.
"Hello, Robert," she said. "What is it you wanted to meet
me for?"
"This isn't easy for me to say," he said, his tone
betraying a faint tension. "I'm asking you to do what you do
best, and read between the lines."
"I will try, Robert," she said neutrally.
"I have never said that I know everything," he said,
gazing away from her. "And it is... possible, that I have made a
mistake concerning you. At times my thinking can be simplistic.
I assumed if I dominated you physically, and sexually, that
mentally you would be mine as well. I can accept that might not
be true. Is it?"
"No, Robert," Rebecca said. "I may do what you say to
avoid having a... 'session' with you, but I rarely find myself
agreeing with you."
He turned back to her, "It has occurred to me, that I need
to respect the people who's intellectual contributions are
important to me and my empire. Liz is one of them, and I found
that respect can be difficult, but not impossible for me. You are
another, and I'm afraid there is already to much 'history' between
us for you to ever fully support me."
His control slipped for a moment, and his face took on a
haunted mein, reflecting the tension that he lived with every day.
"The truth is, Rebecca, that I need you besides me. I need your
will to oppose mine. Your input makes me a better leader.
Because of this, I'm asking you to put aside our differences when
you work with me."
"And in return?" Rebecca said, pushing him.
"And in return..." he said, slowly, "I'll try to respect
your individuality, and to remember that you might not like to be
sexually used, or even casually groped."
"To use someone, and to respect them, are often
contradictory," Rebecca pointed out.
Annoyance flashed over his face, followed by a faint
smile. "I know. And that's what I meant, you can make me mad so
easily, but you always make me think. Give me your hands," he
said. "Please," he added.
She set the rose down, and held out her slender hands to
him. Robert took them in his big square hands, looking at the
contrast between them. He smiled at her, and touched the black
bracelets of her bondage, and dissolved them. He looked at her
collar, but left it on her. He wasn't sure he trusted her that
much, yet.
"I don't need to bind you, anymore," he said. "But you
are still my adversary. You understand."
"I understand that you are threatened by me," she said
fearlessly. "But not why you must humiliate me with a sign of
slavery."
His jaw worked as he fought down an impulse to snap at
her. "Ok. How about this." He touched it, and it softened,
turning into a linked serpentine necklace of glossy black metal.
There was an odd loop on it, that she knew was the connector to
the chain. He had altered the form, but not the function.
"It doesn't help," she said. "I'm still your prisoner."
"But you won't be humiliated anymore, right?" he said.
"Only if you *never* put me in a public scene without my
consent, as you did with Kitten," she said. "Promise me that, on
your empire, and I'll accept what you're trying to say for now.
But I will wait for the day that you will apologize to me and
truly mean it."
"Lotsa luck on that one, babe," he retorted. "But as for
the public scenes, I can see your point. On my Empire, and my
love of it, I swear never to involve you in a 'scene' in public
without first asking for, and receiving your explicit consent. Is
that what you wanted?"
"That will do fine, Robert, for now," she said. "But
don't think that I'm done working on you."
"Nor I, you, sweety," he said with a grin. "Or haven't
you noticed that you can now contemplate sexual acts that before
you met me would have put your lily white heart into a flutter.
The society you represent is dead and gone, and I mean to drag
it's descendants away from the guilt and obsession over sex."
"And you go too far," she said. "The only society you
represent would have fit in with the rightly infamous Court of
Caligula. Is that what you want for your empire?"
"Perhaps there's a happy medium there," he allowed. "But
it will probably be awhile before we find it."
"Probably," she agreed. "Is that all?"
"Yes," he said. "You can go." She nodded and left the
study, leaving behind the black rose. He pulled the white rose
from his lapel, and studied it's clean perfection. He didn't know
what he wanted to see in it, but he felt that symbolized something
he was missing.
A few day later, on a day when Robert wasn't holding
court, Rebecca was called to meet his first power team. He'd said
they were an interesting group of people, and she had to agree.
Rebecca had already seen two of the nine members, the big
bruiser named Titan, and the speedster Jerry both of whom
were waiting at the throne room conference table. There were
three other men, and four women ready to be introduced.
Robert stood, "For the record, I'm Robert Black. This is
my advisor, Rebecca White. Seated are Hank Dodds, known as Titan,
and Jerry Conners, known as Blur. I'd like you to introduce
yourself, and take your seat. Alphabetical is ok?" He sat, and
scarcely waited for a response. "Al-Raji," Robert said.
A blue haired about Jerry's age stepped forward.
He was of Middle Eastern decent, and wore neat clothes. "My name
is Luke," he said good, but faintly accented English. "I'm a
naturalized citizen, my folks moved here when I was a baby. He
touched his azure hair, "I just got this not long ago, when I
gained the ability to throw around blue energy bolts, and to fly.
I think I would like to be called 'Sapphire'. 'Saf'-'fire', get
it?" he grinned and sat.
Robert rolled his eyes. "Uh-huh, I get it. Barrett,
you're next."
"My name is Joane," said the red-head with green eyes.
Her voice was low and husky, and her chest was quite prominent in
comparison to her waist. Her clothes were well made, of subdued
colors. "My talent can telepathically link a small group of
minds, and for that I am called Lady Web," she sat down as she
said this. "It also tells me if others are telling the truth.
For instance, 'Sapphire' lied about his real name."
"Mr. Al-Raji?" Robert said, his manner questioning.
"I just turned 18," the said defensively. "I
hadn't had a chance to change it yet before the courts closed.
I just like 'Luke' better than 'Ali'."
Joane Barrett nodded at his response. "Truth; that you
intended to change your name. Half-truth; that you like the name
better than the one you were born with."
"Alright," Ali said, sounding harassed. "Truth is, I
don't really care, but Americans respond to me better when I use
Luke."
"That may have been important in your last position, Ali,"
Robert said. "But here you are among supporters. Please feel
free to be yourself." The nodded.
"Fisher," Robert said. "You're next."
"My name is Karen, and I'm an Iroquois Native American."
She was young, and very muscular for her slender build. Her brown
complexion and raven black hair framed a delicate face that was
set off by a severe expression. "My powers make me strong and
tough. I also have a set of 'shadow' wings I control when I fly,
that I'm told aren't really there. I chose the name Osprey." She
sat down.
"Thank you, Karen. Your turn, Miss Jones." Robert said.
"My name is Charity," said the light chocolate colored
woman. She was short, but nicely rounded. She spoke in a soft,
slow Southern accent. "I won't use a fancy name. All I can do is
feel what other people are feeling. I can't tell if a cold person
is lying, but most folks get edgy and nervous when they lie, so I
can mostly tell when they do. Besides that, I'm not really sure
what I'm doing here."
"You'll do fine, Charity, take your seat," Robert said.
"Melaui?"
"My name is Tim," the Polynesian in the loud tropical
shirt said. "My folks came from Fiji originally, but I'm a native
born American. I have the power to teleport short distance in my
line of sight. Luckily I can carry my clothes and anything I have
on me." He smiled. "I wanted to be called 'Prodigal Sorcerer',
but Mr. Black wouldn't allow it. He calls me Warp." He sat down.
Robert smiled. "I don't care for your 'Poke' jokes. I
thought you needed a short name easy to yell. Frequently. Mr.
Peters, if you please?"
"My name is Zechiel," the quiet spoken said,
"but everyone calls me Zeke. I couldn't come up with a hero name.
But Mr. Black noted that another term for what I do, telekinesis,
is Teke. That's what we decided on, since it sounds like with my
name." He shrugged and rubbed a hand over his bald head. "He
said my power makes me valuable to him." He took a seat, and
looked as if he wasn't going to say anything more.
"Thank you, Zeke," Robert said. "Mrs. Simmons, you're the
last. Introduce yourself, please."
"Hello," said the graying in a French-
influenced accent. "My name is Paris, after my favorite
city. I have the power to see what is going on elsewhere. Our
employer calls me Seeker." The focus of her eyes turned away,
gazing at nothing. "You asked me to see what the children are
doing in the courtyard, sir. They are playing flag football. The
Blue team is winning." She took her seat.
"I have discussed your options with all of you," Robert
said. "This group has decided to join my Special Forces team.
Ultimately, you report to me, through the team Captain I will
appoint. He will direct your actions, under my orders."
He looked at the big man, "Titan, you've been acting as a
sort of Sergeant of Arms for me. I know you have experience both
in the military and as a mercenary. You understand that not all
of them are combatants?" Henry Dodds nodded. "Will you take
command of the team, Hank?"
"Yes, sir!" Titan said, and saluted crisply.
"Alright, here are your room assignments, and list of
duties. There's also a suggested schedule of drills, but the
final form of that is up to your Captain," Robert said. "If you
have any problems, bring them to Hank. It's his job to bring your
problems to me."
Rebecca shot him a startled look, and then frowned in
concern.
"Ok, people," Titan brayed. "Let's get a move on.
C'mon,"
The Zeke, gave him and a cool stare, and walked
to their quarters without an appearance of hurry. The others
didn't make eye contact with the big man.
Rebecca watched them leave, then turned to Robert.
"What? Obviously you have a problem," Robert said. "So,
out with it."
"Have you ever heard of the Open Door Policy?" she asked
him. Robert nodded, in response. "It's a way for a subordinate
to step around his immediate superior if someone in his chain of
command is corrupt. You basically shut that door. If Titan does
something they don't like, they can't come to you about it without
getting into trouble."
"I don't need them whining to me for every petty
grievance," he said, dismissing her concerns.
"What about major grievances?" she said. "There is
nothing worse than being trapped into a corrupt chain of command."
She fingered her black necklace. "I should know."
Robert smiled, "Hey, corruption is the name of the game,
babe. Who ever can get away with doing something, gets it his
way."
"You may find, Robert, that some corruption is even more
than you can stand," she said. "There are already limits that
you've imposed on yourself. Lines you will not cross. So what
will you do if you encounter someone who violates those rules?"
"I'll decide that when I get there, Rebecca. And now it's
time for my lunch." He walked away from the table, trying to
ignore the words she spoke after him.
"I think you'll get there sooner than you wish..."
Titan returned to the Power quarters later that evening.
"Im-fucking-pressive!" he said coming in, ignoring Paris's
disapproving frown at his language. "He's been beefing up his
army big time. It looks like he's stripped the armories of his
whole territories, and drafting the power to carry them."
He strutted a little. "We're going to have to learn to
use our powers well and work as a team, and soon. The Boss has
made it clear that I'll suffer if the team isn't up to snuff, and
that means you will suffer if you don't perform to my
standards. I'm not gonna let him down, so you better not let ME
down!"
He stared at them all in turn, daring them to contradict
him. None of them challenged them. He nodded and went on.
"We'll get started in drills first thing in the morning. So hit
your bunks and get some sleep, people!" With little hesitation,
the varied group of powers went quietly to their rooms.
The only one that paused was Charity, and that was because
Titan was leaning on her door, and he wasn't moving. The Southern
woman stood in front of him, suddenly feeling a chill. "Yes,
Titan?"
"Not you sweety," he said. "You're coming to MY room."
She could feel his rising lust, and her chill spiked to
pure fear. He took her arm in his huge hand, and pulled her
relentlessly to his room. Soon the door to his quarters closed
firmly, cutting off the faint sounds of her tears from the
hallway.
Titan pulled her to the bed, and looked down into her
frightened eyes. "I'm scheduling some extra "empathy" work for
you, Charity," he said with a mocking tone. "You can feel what I
want from you, can't ya pretty girl?" She nodded, terrified of
him.
His hamlike hands touched her cheek, stroking the mocha
colored skin, down, past her chin, her neck, and collar
bone, to dip into her blouse's cleavage. He slipped his whole
hand inside her blouse top, grabbing the fabric and tearing it off
her. His tongue wet his lips, as he stared hungrily at her chest.
Her bra was a soft, front-catch variety, and he unhooked
it brusquely, shoving the cups aside to palm the round globes of
her ample breasts. She gasped in shock as he grabbed her chest,
squeezing her firmly. She had to fight the urge to try to
step back or to push away his hands. Her feelings told her he
would punish her if she did, and Charity didn't like pain.
He pulled up on them, forcing her on her tiptoes to ease
the strand he was putting on her flesh. He ducked his head and
slathered his hot wet tongue over her dusky nipples. His mouth
roamed over her tits; kissing, sucking, and licking. She wasn't
sure what was worse, his tight hands, his insistent mouth, or his
grey beard stubble.
He pulled away a fraction, "Rub me!" he growled, and then
lunged at her left nipple, teeth bared. She cried out as she felt
his hard teeth nip at her sensitive nipple. Her hand trembling,
she reached to the front of his pants, and rubbed over the rigid
bulge that she found there. He grunted and thrust against her
hand. He met her eyes again under lowered brows, and didn't even
have to tell her to open his pants. Her hands fumbled to answer
his unspoken demands.
His pole was impressive when she freed it. Like him, it
was big, and nearly bigger around than it was long. Her fingers
lightly brushed the feverish male flesh, before grasping it
tightly. He raised his face, and kissed her brutally. He thrust
his broad tongue deep into her mouth, sliding it wildly inside.
Titan stepped back and said, "Strip!" while quickly taking
off his own black uniform. Her whole body shook as she disrobed,
her eyes like those of a frightened doe, when facing the ravenous
wolf.
He pushed her down on his bed, grabbing her legs, and
dragging bottom to the very edge of the bed. He spat on his
hands, rubbed it on his cock, and stepped between her splayed
thighs to thrust his meat between her lips. The big man's
hands reached down and grabbed her ass, forcing himself to ever
deeper penetration. Brutally, he pulled her tight down on
his pole.
She squealed in fierce pain at the burning that
she felt inside. He growled and grunted in a bestial fashion,
leaning his whole weight on her slight form. He was intent on
nothing but to sink his all the way in her, single
mindedly pushing for his goal.
Feverishly he plowed into her, ignoring her cries of pain,
disgust, and muted outrage. His hands worked her ass, twisting
and grinding to get his meat sunk to the hilt. Once he hit bottom
in her, his hands when to her back, pulling her against him,
lifting her, so he could throw their joined bodies more fully on
the bed. He laid on her heavily, and growled at her, "Lock your
legs behind me, cunt, I need my hands free."
Trembling, she complied. His hands clamped down on her
tits, and started mauling and squeezing. He rutted his sex in her
body, puffing like a freight train from the effort of his thrusts,
as hard as hammer blows. Charity tried to block out his mind-
numbing lust, knowing that he only wanted to use her body. If she
let herself emotively participate in his arousal, she would let him
think that she enjoyed his vicious assault.
As she suffered through his pummeling from her what she
would freely given for the asking, she tried to think. One of her
abilities was to project intense feelings. She ached to lash out
with her emotive matrix of fear/pain/rage/humiliation mixed with
betrayal and hopelessness in for his assault.
But more than she wanted that vengeance, she feared his
violent response. If those feelings poured into him, he might
simply crush the life of the cause of his discomfort. So she
leashed her terrors, and tried to be stoic about his endless
sweaty invasion of her body.
He became more vocal, and more violent, as he neared his
completion. "Yeah, pretty cunt! Oh, whimper for me, bitch, I
like into hurt. God! I like fucking your unwilling so hard.
I get off on rape more than anything. Can't wait to fuck the
other babes, too!" His hands squeezed her harder, creamy
flesh turning white between his splayed fingers. "Fuck me
bitch! Squeeze your on me, whore, or I'll rip 'em off!"
Through her pouring tears, Charity deliberately contracted
her muscles around him, as he came for what seemed like
forever inside her. Despite her pain, she began to vicariously
participate in his release with her empathy. He abruptly pulled
out of her and raised to his knees, to finish cumming on her body.
He sprayed his jets of sperm on her belly, giving a barking
laugh while subjecting her to this final indignity. He pulled her
leg out of his way, and sat heavily, as his meat became flaccid.
"Get out of my bed, cunt, and hurry up."
Charity tried to move, with little success. Her pelvis
ached, and her insides felt raw. "I said get off, bitch!" A long
brawny arm reached out and shoved her unceremoniously to the
floor. He laid back on the bed, and wriggled to a comfortable
position. "Now get to your own room, I need my sleep."
She struggled to rise, and managed to start crawling on
her hands and knees towards his door.
"Oh for the love of... Goddamit, you're making a mess." He
lurched up, grabbed her by the waist, and lifting her to her feet.
He opened the door and shoved her into the dark hallway. Then he
slammed his door shut.
Charity stood shakily, leaning hard against the wall,
nude. She was dripping with his and decorated with his
bruises. She slowly turned to her room, and slid along the wall,
trying not to fall down. She cringed when she heard a door open.
The only thing worse than him coming back after her, was one of
the others seeing her like this.
A fair slender arm slipped around her, and she felt
supported. Together, she and her helper got her to her bathroom,
where a careful and gentle toweling cleaned up the worst traces of
her disgrace. Charity didn't have the strength to shower, so that
would have to do for tonight. The shivering woman curled up
in her bed in a ball, and looked up miserably at the pale blue
eyes of the woman.
"Thanks," she whispered.
"Glad to help," said Paris Simmons as she left the room.
'But it's not over yet', she thought to herself.
The next day, a cheerful Titan walked down the hall,
pounding on the doors of his team, shouting for them to wake up.
Charity groaned and slowly washed her self and got dressed. Her
breasts and pelvis ached with pain, and her hips felt unsteady,
but dressed she looked alright. He hadn't touched her face, neck,
or hands. By the time he pounded again on her door, raising his
voice in anger at her tardiness, she was as ready as she was going
to be.
The bat was staring at him with a disapproving
expression. He glared back at her, unsure of what she might know
or would say, but trying to intimidate her with his stare. She
didn't budge. When he turned around, Zeke was holding Charity by
the arm and looking concerned as she stumbled. Titan strode over
and slapped away the black man's arm.
"Don't coddle the girl," he said curtly. A flare of hot
anger shone in Zeke's eyes, and Titan took it as a challenge. He
balled his fists and leaned his bulk towards the smaller man. "If
you're feeling froggy, Nigger, then why don't you jump!" The eyes
of the bald turned stone cold, and he would not turn them
away. Titan raised his fist, while power crackled around the
Psionicist.
"No!" Charity pleaded, not daring to touch either man, but
interposing herself between them. "I'll be alright, Zeke," she
said quickly, swallowing hard. "Titan is right." While keeping
her eyes on Titans steely grey eyes, she reached out with her
power, and let a sliver of her terror intersect Zeke's aura. He
jumped in shocked surprise.
"Good girl," the big said, oblivious to the power she
had used. His smile was half a leer at her, and half a sneer for
the cowardice he perceived in the Telekinetic. "You heard the
girl, *BOY*, so back off. Let's remember the chain of command and
try to look professional here."
For the rest of the training period, he rode them hard. He
spent the time watching them, while standing aloof. He also was
watching the bodies of the two younger women. Karen avoided him,
and even cool Joanne tended to lean away from the big when he
got near.
During dinner, he seemed relaxed and happy. Charity
shuddered at something underneath his pleasant facade that none of
the others could see. Titan addressed the team afterwards.
"Based on your performances, I'm restricting some of you to
quarters tonight. You in the exercises and drills, and
obviously need your rest. But don't worry, I'll whip you all into
shape, in time." He smiled wickedly.
"Charity, you need to take care of yourself better.
Paris, you're letting yourself go to pot, lady. Tim, you're gonna
lose some of that baby fat! If I see any of you out of your rooms
before morning, you'll be subject to discipline. And I'm allowed
a bit of leeway in administering that discipline." He smiled
again, and none of them liked it this time. "Dismissed!"
At Joanne's door that night, there was a knock. The
haired woman opened the door, and saw Titan standing there.
"Miss Barrett? I know that it's late, but there's something I
need you to see in my quarters..."
In the weeks that followed, the Power team had the
occasional day off from their oppression. Paris Simmons, Seeker,
sat patiently awaiting a chance to see Robert during one of the
days he held open court. Her name was one of the last, and the
Steward warned her that Robert sometimes cut off the last few
interviews. However, if the those petitioners turned up for the
next session, they had priority.
She waited anyway, and finally walked into the great room
with her cane, to stand leaning of the polished wood and the
golden point.
"Paris!" Robert said. "Come over to the table," he
invited. He waved at the Steward to end the day's interviews.
"How are you?" he inquired.
"A little tired, sir. Titan emphasizes the physical
training a bit much for my tastes." She smiled wryly, "Though I'm
able to do more sit-ups and push-ups than I have for years."
"I've underlined readiness with him," Robert said, "but he
also has to work within your contracts. Your contract specifies
that you are not a combat operative, and though I can't blame him
for wanting you all physically fit, he shouldn't push anyone too
hard."
"That's what I wanted to tell you, sir," Paris insisted.
"The team is in serious trouble, and it's only going to get worse!
A single disruptive member is being abusive, destroying our
morale."
"Surely Titan can deal with..." Robert began, with a
faintly bored tone.
"It *IS* Titan, sir!" she interrupted with a note of
desperation. "You have no idea what he's doing to us."
"It can't be all that bad," Robert said. "I'll have a
talk with him, if you like."
"No!" she pleaded. "If you talk to him about this, he'll
just take it out on us. I'm asking you for a meeting with all of
us, where we can tell you what's been happening."
Robert sighed. "The whole reason I appointed a captain,
was so I wouldn't have to hear all the petty bickering. Can't you
just give him your concerns?"
"The last person to do that," she said stiffly, "was
slapped in the face, and required four stitches. I'm told the
official report said that he had 'suffered a fall'. I was there
and I saw the slap, and the blood. We really do need this meeting
with you."
"I saw the report on Zeke," Robert said with concern.
"Alright. I'll schedule that meeting when I have time. The local
U.S. Military is getting aggressive, and I'm having to keep an eye
on the situations."
"Thank you sir," she said, wearily getting to her feet
with the aid of her cane. She mummered softly as she left, "I
only hope that you're in time."
To be Continued...
September, 1997 -- Darkside: United States of Anarchy, Part 9/20.
Series Continues after #20 in Darkside: Imperial States of America.
Archived @ "ftp://ftp.asstr.org/pub/Authors/World_of_the_Darkside";
Or www.asstr.org/~World_of_the_Darkside & www.greyarchive.com.