The Sound of Music: Plagas orchestra
folder
+M through R › Resident Evil
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
12
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Category:
+M through R › Resident Evil
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
12
Views:
11,386
Reviews:
146
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Resident Evil, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
A clone's pitiful fuck and Leon's Encounter with the Big Chief.
DISCLAIMER: DO NOT OWN BUT LOVE THE GAMES.
First half of chapter: F/M/M
2nd half: ;)
Warning: Rape - F/M/M Clone Ada/Ganados
A Clone's Pitiful Cry for Help
Earlier, before Leon’s private masturbation in the castle, he was saved by the Carbon copy of Ada Wong. She was beforehand – disoriented. She woke up with a raging headache and would have slept on like a baby; however, a call from the Organization made her get up finally. Her tired senses dragged her down and all she wanted to do was die. She was told to go to another part of the village, by this abandoned looking two story building, and there she would find more information to acquire. Wanting to tattle about to the Organization about the naughty plagas was on the verge of her shuddering lips, until they cut off the transmission.
Left bereft and alone again..... She shivered as if from cold, reaching around hugging herself to keep warm, her frightened eyes looked around before she set off to do what she was supposed to do. It didn’t make her feel any better when her legs gave out from under her. She fell helplessly to the floor, wondering why her legs broke like that – but it wasn’t just her legs, it was her pussy: it trembled and quaked from the previous encounter and she was so tired, so very tired. Tears fell helplessly from her eyes as she scrambled up to get going.
When she finally found the broken down two story building after what seemed like hours, limping around like an old lady, she saw a big bald man in an 18th century overcoat with a strange looking eye. The fake Ada was scared. She didn’t want to go further, knowing that everyone inside that place was going to either kill her or fuck her. Whichever it was, she wanted no part of it and was going to back away; conversely, she saw another man. It was a familiar face: Leon S. Kennedy.
For some reason, instincts honed deep inside her made her stand still; her eyes went wide as her mouth widened with a shocked expression. She saw him somewhere, and her memory banks which were filled up by the original Ada was soon replaced with romantic notions of being whisked away with that man. Her heart beat faster and there was another thing that replaced romance: it was sibling affection. She wanted to help this nice looking young man who appeared like a hero amongst stink-filled Ganados, short pale blue-blooded midgets, large horny blond soldiers, and mean-looking unsavoury bald men.
The appearance of Leon S. Kennedy looked beautiful to her; he appeared like a saint among devils; a white halo surrounded him, a protective shell of beauty filled his body like beacon in a raging storm. Then the music surrounded him, and filled her senses with renewed happiness; a happy feeling that she had never felt before: he was her saviour and she would be his – she knew it deep in her copied DNA.
The plaga sang inside her: it was beautiful – sounding like harps and choruses of a million tiny choirs in tune, filling her with wondrous feelings of supreme healing.
But…Kennedy was being choked: The bald big guy had clasped his large hand around the Agent’s neck; clone Ada gasped at the sight, filled with dread if she didn’t do anything and she must save this hero from the clutches of evil doers! She must! Her plaga was singing to her, telling her to go there, rescue him and then if she was lucky, he’d fuck her, show her that fucking wasn’t so bad at all. Her legs moved as fast as she could, and she was already on the rooftop as the grapple gun came in handy.
Being on top of the roof, she nearly slipped off, but managed to precariously hold on despite the cold wind on her porcelain cheeks. She was going to do this! She must! She must!
For Leon, being on the wrong end of the choke hold wasn’t fun – and by all means, Leon could barely breathe, much less try and push the offending large hand that wrapped itself around his neck. It was impossible to breathe; his air passages were being closed off; the need for air was crucial. This only managed to make the angry and dispassionate Mendez grip harder.
From the outside, a lone woman was shaking like a leaf, hanging on to the ledge of the roof. Her now faded scarlet dress was partly ripped, revealing red panties and her personal PDA lost from her clumsy clutches, fallen down into a dramatic clunk on top of a ganado. It managed to knock out the offending cattle version of humanity: flat on his back. Though she knew it was only a matter of time before he woke up to warn the others of her presence.
She shook because the wind was cold and there wasn’t a damn coat or jacket to use in this entire place; her organization nor Wesker had provided such means. Wesker wanted her to dress for the best, looking sharp, but it was her who wanted to dress brightly; her real copy had the intuitive passion to want the passionate colors of the sunset, securing the warmth of the heat. Clone Ada was disheartened to see that the Agent Kennedy was being held in such a strong hold and here she was, trying to hold on to the roof with her grapple gun.
How in the hell she thought with a shiver - was she going to save Leon? Her orders from the Organization was to save the U.S. agent by any means and to protect the President’s daughter.
And so, as she dangled there in the air with barely a hold on her body to keep dangling, she aimed – her one eye was shut, keeping the other try-as-she-might professionally narrowed on the huge object in front of her. That big honcho dude was so big that it wasn’t difficult to shoot at. Thank gods for that - she uttered with a prayer.
As the bullet whizzed out of the chamber, leaving trails of whispering wispy grey smoke, it crashed through the window without damaging the entire glass; this left behind a miniscule hole with faint cracks around it. The noise wasn’t too loud as she had that blacktail that didn’t make too much of a noise – another silent prayer ran through her cowardly mind – hoping that the other walking plaga infested hosts wouldn’t come running after her.
The bullet hit its target but only managed to cause a pesky intrusion on the big chief of the village. Bitores Mendez turned, letting go of Leon just in the nick of time as the body went down with a loud thud on the wooden floor. He was not happy. The expression on his face, as usual was as menacing as ever and the fake Ada was again crying.
A gasp came out of her pretty full lips as she saw that the bald man was about to jump out of the window to catch her. “OH NO! NO! NO!” She whined out loud; she knew her voice was perhaps louder than shooting the big guy, even so far as allowing Leon to hear her. All she could concentrate on was how to get out of the situation before the heavy built man with dark circles under his eyes with that equally grim mouth came crashing – CRASH!
Mendez went through the window with much aggression, grabbing for her as she struggled to pull on the damned grappling hook to take her away from him. The contraption was making things difficult for her and it didn’t help matters much when she acted like a cowardly yellow bellied chick. Ada clone couldn’t and would not blame it on the cold all the time. Right now she was crying with tears hot and flowing running down her willowy cheeks; her face was an expression of horror, pain and misery. She could feel the man’s large hands; they wrapped itself around her waist and both of them went spiraling down the ground with Ada’s scream muffled by his fierce hold.
Luckily for her they landed on the rusty brown-red bin on the side of the building underneath the window. Unfortunately with gravity, they bounced off. This caused Ada to take the upper case position on Mendez as they rolled. And because it was even luckier that the positions had changed during that course of hitting, rolling and sliding violently off the metal slanted bin, Mendez fell butt first on the ground with the fake Ada on top. She swore she heard a bone crack. Her eyes were wide with fright and gasped from the impact. Although he took the bulk of the fall, Mendez appeared unscratched; he didn’t even flinch; however, she did hear the slight “OOOF”, as if the wind was knocked out of him from the fall or because she fell heavily on him.
Ada took this as another opportunity to thank her lucky astrological stars. She started to pummel her tiny fists into the man’s broad chest, pulling out her blacktail right after to shoot him in the chest. He grunted disapprovingly, reaching for her. Clone Ada felt his hands pull her up against him; secured within his embrace, Ada was in a panic. Grabbing hold of her grapple gun, she realized it was lost up in the rooftops somewhere, still dangling. Then the blow came as fast as their fall; Mendez hit her so hard she slammed against the metal bin with a bang.
The violent act nearly took her breath away and for a moment there, there was a slight residue of the original Ada coming into her personality as she lazily opened one eye, trying vainly to ignore the intensity of her pain. She glared at him with a glassy grey eye, gritting her teeth and snarled with spittle coming out of her mouth. Managing those barely comprehensive words: “Way to treat a lady, big chief. I think I love you.”
Then she slumped out of consciousness.
The large man lifted his body up, looming over the female’s body and shrouding it away from the glare of the overcast weather. His shadow enfolded Ada-clone’s body for a moment before hastily hefting her body up over his shoulder. He wondered if this was the other intruder that his most revered leader was talking about: the 3rd party that was causing such a ruckus. If so, he was surprised at the woman’s intrusion, managing to cloak herself away from the sniffed hounds that lumbered around the small communities and farms.
She was dumped ceremoniously on a big rock that looked like a ritual place for sacrifices. Mendez grunted at his followers to do a small prayer before killing the unconscious woman. They all nodded silently. The big chief walked away, thoughts of finding Kennedy alone on his mind.
When he was gone, the ganados with weapons down - mumbled ritual prayers. Clone Ada woke with a start, just in time to avoid the nick that caught her very sexy exposed thigh. The villagers or the walking plaga men with their glazed yellow eyes had just barely missed her, causing a slanted cut. The blood dripped and Ada nearly screamed as she saw with her big grey eyes that these dirty grubby men were still intent on killing her. She didn’t know how she woke, or how she managed to snap herself out of that unconscious state; however, these enemies were going to corner her with their axes and scythes.
Copied Ada backed away so fast, blubbering excuses for them to stop: “Please! Go away! Or…or I’ll shoot!” She fumbled for her gun and they must have taken it away; the blacktail was not on her thigh and all was left was her PDA. She didn’t have to think twice to know that her grappling hook was still at that rooftop. Looking around frantically for a weapon, she spotted large gem in a treasured box that opened as soon as she backed into it. It was a large piece of Cat’s green eye. With it, she threw the stone hard into the first advancing man. The stone hit the man’s forehead severely causing him to stumble back.
She whimpered out a prayer, mumbling incoherent “In the name of Jesus Christ, please deliver me from evil,” chants but the men kept slowly advancing. Closing her eyes shut, tears started to stream down her face again and she was so afraid that she scrambled out of the first blow when she opened her eyes again, ducking just in time. The man fell over her with the heavy weapon slung down heavily as she ducked on all fours. Then she crawled with super speed as the next villager decided to plant his axe into her backside. Clone Ada was so scared she dashed in between the enemy’s legs. The 2nd attacker hit the ground with a loud chunk as the axe found hard dirt mixed with asphalt.
“Oh boy, oh boy!” The fake Ada shivered and mumbled, her attackers grumbled out: Te jodiste!
Because she was trained to understand Spanish, clone Ada’s face expressed fear. Even those with the impressions that normally would be over the heads of tourists with a translation book, fake Ada only crumbled in defeat. “NOOO!! Don’t screw me! I’ve been raped too many times already!”
She was being hauled up as she tried to scramble away again, feeling dirty farm hands on her butt, grabbing her body towards them. “Don’t fuck my hole, please! It’s not that tight anymore!” Ada clone was whining, remembering how that brute Krauser had raped her twice, but a throbbing between her legs defied all that she whimpered about.
Now because the ganados hadn’t considered the fact that the female intruder was to be fucked with sexually, it actually never occurred to their wee brains to fuck her….only after she mentioned it. The men paused in their quest to attack with scythes and axes; their arms still suspended, glancing at each other with grunts. They felt their lower regions insistently tugging.
Their grimy hands let go of the weapons, dropped them with loud thunks; the smelly men ambushed her and began to pry her legs open. She screamed and started to pummel them with her fists but to no avail. “I told you! I’m not tight anymore!”
A wayward kick sent one ganado back as the end of her heeled shoe slammed into one eyeball: that left the ganado with a bleeding left eye. The walking parasite began to stumble back and moan, hands up to cover it momentarily. Then as the plaga-infested man realized a little too late, knowing that he’d be last in line to get into that red dressed stylish woman’s loosely moist hole, he couldn’t feel any pain. That was it: the longer a ganado has the plaga inside, especially with the ones that have hatched, the pain subsides and pain becomes a factor no more. This was happy news to the pea-brained husk of a man, leaving the plaga to roll its wormy eyes, glad to be of some service.
A series of unintelligible words spilled out of the last ganado; he beat his chest as he grunted like a cross between a stuck pig and Tarzan. The engorged dirty cock stood out of his bloodied pants. There the pre-cum precariously dripped out of that small hole where he could piss and spew semen.
The limp woman was actually trying to fight back, but only because she was flailing all over the place. The action left her with a ripped dress revealing one round breast; a greedy bald and chubby but thickly muscled ganado clamped his hot mouth over the exposed mound. Ada shuddered inwardly, as mouths and hands pushed her down on the ground, ripping her already ripped red dress into practically nothing. What she had underneath was a discarded bullet proof shoddy vest, albeit worn out with some bullet holes, but nevertheless, it was pulled down with the attentive greasy hands around her.
She barely could move as two ganados were scrambling their way to get on top, each trying to dominate her and the 3rd ganado between her spread legs. This 3rd ganado’s eyes were greedily feasting on the ripped panties; the smell of her womanly scent permeated the ogre’s dulled senses. He muttered happily: “Senorita, bonita senorita……”
“Uh! Stop! Stop!” Was all she could utter as she felt the fat one suckle with a greedy suction at her breast, pulling the pink and brown nipple to a standing erection. The other had pulled his pants down, giving her a showy view of his pointed cock in her direction, full of dirt, just like his hands. She was so disgusted she nearly fainted and would have if not for the attentive ministrations she richly received.
Despite all her efforts, she was being mauled and hauled up like a broken toy; the first eager ganado shoved his cock into her wet pussy, slamming into her so hard that she was sent back against the other ganado who was behind her. Then the ramming proceeded; the hard cock felt like steel inside Clone Ada as she was being plummeted to and fro: she was, despite herself, moaning and groaning: Ada was being fucked hard. Other chapped lips clasped around both her erect nipples; tongues splayed and played around, swirling the hard nipple around like a piece of gummy candy.
The sad woman didn’t know what day or time it was by the time the 2nd Ganado shoved his cock inside her. The clone’s eyes rolled up so that the whites showed; she groaned, opening her mouth wide just enough that she hadn’t expected the large sausage-like dick which shoved and plugged her orifice. That shut her up.
Her eyes burned from all the fucking and sucking, abused from all the mauling and shoving; being manhandled severely made her wince and cry out. Tears fell like rivers down those white cheeks as another cock found its way inside her loose hole. It felt to her, as her arms were being pinned around her back, that the next cock felt bigger – as if each ganado’s meatened penis grew bigger just to torture her wet hole – stretching it as if she were giving birth to a ten pound baby.
They all spoke unintelligible Spanish, muttering happily as they sprayed their semen all over her naked body; the smell of it made the fake Ada want to hurl something awful, but she was still being pumped full of cum from a meaty ganado as his own juice went down her throat.
When it was all over, the men gave choruses of satisfied grunts; wide split grins on their faces, showing off an unclean mouth with bad breath; yellow eyes flashed on their dirt-smeared faces as the plaga began to sing a slow tune, bringing everyone’s climax to a fruitful end. They adjusted their pants, zipped them up slowly. Suddenly, the sound of bells dropped a panoramic cloak around them: they stopped.
Clone Ada lay there, broken, abused, fucked and severely sucked out of her mind, barely heard the sound of church bells ringing loudly from afar. Her naked body filled with semen inside, clumped with sticky fluid out.
The bells kept ringing until all the ganados walked like slow moving zombies towards it. They were still mumbling to themselves as they shuffled their feet on the dirty ground, kicking up little clouds of dust and disappearing through doors. The bells stopped.
Ada’s copy tried to open her eyes, but they were smeared with semen so bad that she had to reach up with trembling fingers to wipe them away. Then the crying started. She bawled so hard into her cum-filled hands, and balled up into a baby-fetus position. She didn’t like being fucked at all and wondered what in god’s name why any one in their right mind would want it? The vision of Ashley enjoying Krauser’s big thick dick came to mind and Ada sniffled like a baby.
She would have liked to die there, lay there all day and night but the Organization was beeping her; they bothered her constantly when all she wanted to do was curl up into a ball and die. Why oh why she whined pitifully – why are they torturing me like this? With a shaky hand, she reached down to pick up her PDA. They wanted her on the move again. Looking down at her attire, she didn’t know how she was going to get around with a torn dress showing off bruised nipples and a body with imprinted dirty hands all over her like a piece of modern art.
Back at the two story house, Leon had slumped into his own unconscious state after being choked to death. He woke up groggy and disoriented just like poor cloned Ada.
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________
LEON'S ENCOUNTER WITH THE BIG CHIEF
Leon decided to hightail out of the castle to find the merchant. Something told him that Ashley wasn’t here, at least not close by.
It was strange that although the parasite inside him liked to sing sexy lullabys to him, making him horny and randy, he couldn’t shake the feeling that it wanted to delay events and change them to its whim. Why and how? That’s the question that ran through his tired mind.
Venturing out of the castle, he found himself in the cover of night with the moon so close he could touch it. At least, he managed a smile – he could see quite well. The clouds that threatened earlier disappeared miraculously. It was strange. Leon wondered if the plagas had somehow managed this? Shaking his head, the severe stupidity of the thought made him seriously question the lack of blood in his brain. He took a deep breath: Steady now, steady….there’s no music right now. He had an idea, and the idea came to him in a flash – hoping the plaga didn’t read his mind. That would royally suck.
If he went back to the church, there was something that could plug up these bastards control on him. Perhaps those bells he heard earlier could stop these fiends from making his libido go haywire.
These fuckers communicated through sounds and music, and what if -? Soon, he was being targeted – as an axe went whizzing through the air, somersaulting and cutting the thick atmosphere. Leon managed to get barely out of the way, finding the axe chink loudly into the dirt and disappear. He turned around and threw a grenade at the approaching ganados. There were so many of them! This group was a small handful, but still, they seemed to come out of no where.
When the blast destroyed most of them, all but one – a lone ganado’s head burst into long stems of hardened muscle, flesh and blades. It was a disgusting sight, and Leon remembered them, taking out another flash grenade in his hidden supply. They exploded as soon as the flash bang hit, causing a piercing scream.
After scoping out the perimeter, he searched for his map and found that he had lost it somewhere in the castle. He didn’t want to go back – there wasn’t any time. Pretty good with directional skills, he recalled the route to the church, and there was an underground area that he had to get to. That was where he would find his way back to the village. His communication beeped, perhaps Hunnigan was trying to get a hold of him; yet, as Leon tried to open the receiver – a smallish man with grey-pale skin came on.
The small shrimp was laughing; high pitched and annoying to Leon’s ear: “Ah, mister Kennedy, you are a resilient man, I see. Let me introduce myself. I am the owner of the castle you just vacated moments ago. My name is Ramon Salazar, the eighth castellan, very much responsible for the Las Plagas.”
Leon narrowed his eyes, “Ah, so you’re the teacher who taught your plagas to sing?”
Ramon laughed before answering. “I’m afraid my plagas are a bit high strung; they enjoy the benefits of humanity’s music- and what better way than to cause such an uproar through one’s own precious sex drive.”
The U.S. agent snorted. “Right. Probably to ensure your bloodline.”
“Don’t insult me, Mr. Kennedy. I don’t like being insulted. It makes me angry. And you don’t want me to get angry. I might just turn up the music and have your seeds all over the place.” Ramon laughed again, sniggering happily..
It occurred to Leon that he might have been spied upon earlier when he was doing his business. Irritation splayed over his features over that disgusting thought. What else has this wrinkled Castellan seen? His little escapade with Ashley?
“What the hell do you want?” Leon gritted his teeth, annoyed that this little man knew his name and was privy to very little of what was going on.
“It’s not a matter of what I want, Mr. Kennedy, but rather, what you want.”
“Oh yeah? Seems to me everyone knows what I want but me.”
“There are two women running around my grounds: a blonde little thing, that I might want a taste of her myself.” Salazar sniggered again, egging Leon and was pleased to see the anger in his eyes with the mention of Ashley.
“If you touch her…I swear I’ll…” Leon spat out, his hand gripped the receiver a little harder; the muscles along his arms tensed.
“Or what?” the Castellan cut him off, “Or I’ll get killed by you?” he snickered. “You’re full of insults, Mr. Kennedy, are all Americans so rude?”
“This conversation is over.” Leon was about to turn off the communication until Salazar screamed out: – “ Wait! I know where your Ashley Graham is!”
“Talk.”
“First, I have a job for you and if you fulfill it, I shall reward you.” Salazar knew he would take the bait; it was essential to the Agent that retrieving Miss Graham was number one priority.
“Surprise, surprise, but I don’t want shit from you. Tell me where Ashley is.”
“Arrogant American, you think I’d tell you without something in return?”
Leon realized that the small fry mentioned another woman. “ What other woman besides Ashley you mentioned…” The woman he had seen earlier with a slip of a red dress, just before he fell in a state of unconsciousness. She reminded him of someone….but he wasn’t sure. Probably a foreigner, or a spanish woman vent on revenge on Mendez. If so, things were looking up.
Salazar was quick to see the interest in the Agent’s face. “So then, you are concerned about her? She is a nuisance. Get rid of her, and you shall have Ashley naked and waiting for you.” He laughed, a high pitched giggle of glee.
“You sick son of bitch.” Leon’s disgusted face made Salazar laugh even more.
“You’ll find the woman in a barn somewhere, I think. Go to the sky lift. Hop on there and find yourself at the bottom of another route. I’ll keep in touch, Mr. Kennedy. Pleasure doing business with you.”
Salazar cut off the communication, satisfied to know that it was he, not Leon who snipped off the line first. He hated to be shunned and ignored.
Leon just stared at the empty small screen. A muscle ticked at his jaw. “Fucking hell.” Running a heavy hand over his dark blond locks, he breathed deeply, wondering how the heck was he going to find the lift? But Salazar had known this for sure, because as the Agent had thought these mundane things, a series of chellos and fluted music started to flow out of him.
“No. Not right now.” He shook his head; a tinge of frustration marred his youthful features; angry at the thought of another hand job or worse. But the song that flowed out wasn’t out to make him horny – it was actually pushing him into the direction where the sky lift was at. His legs moved, not realizing that the direction he was taking was sending them up a path where his foot falls left noisy stamps on metal stairs.
He realized with this new revelation, the plaga was at the whim of Salazar’s instructions. This did not bode well for him. There had to be a cure somewhere and getting to the church wasn’t going to be in the near future as of now.
When Leon finally arrived at the station’s sky lift, there to his surprise, was a working open lift that went downward to another station below. Jumping onto the moving platform, he set back to relax and enjoy the ride. Until another approaching sky lift headed his way: a chock full of ganados armed with weapons flying at him sent his rigid body to action. Fumbling for his own weapon, one of the weapons thrown at him made a hit!
“Aw fuck!” Leon yelled out as an axe slammed into his head, damaging him with perhaps a huge noggin. Another one would leave him in the red zone or worse – dead. And what would that get him? No where. In another situation, an axe to the head would kill a human being or put them out of commission. Not Kennedy, not in this realm – it would take a few more axes to get through his thick skull.
The plaga sang: la, la, la, la I love you -Just think, Mr. Kennedy, la la la - when my eggs hatched, how la la la, you’d be – invincible!
Leon ignored the small interruption of song, took his meager blacktail, shooting several rounds at the crowded platform of men. A couple of shots sent them screaming to the depths below.
The moving lift closed in to its destination. Leon hopped out immediately, his shotgun in his arms. Making his way down the metal stairs, he couldn’t believe what the plaga was singing – it sounded very similar to Salazar. And what is this about eggs hatching? That brought an involuntary cringe. “God,’ he muttered, “I wouldn’t last.” The way the plaga made him feel when it wanted to sing the powerful music of seduction, the way it urged his system to just tap into the sexual part of him, making him crave sex so much…..it was going to kill him.
As he stepped on dirt ground away from the metal stairs, the agent in him could feel someone was there and when he turned, there was: the merchant hidden up a small flight of steps, wearing the same sort of trenchcoat, heavily armed. Leon sighed a relief, glad to know he wouldn’t have to backtrack to the church too soon. Lifting up an arm to say hello, the merchant just stared at him with no acknowledgement.
“Hey, I’ve got…” Leon started.
“WELCOME!” the black clad man bellowed. “What’re you buying?” Opening up to reveal an array of ammunition and guns taped to the side of his coat.
Leon blew through his lips, sending his bangs away from his eyes. “Alright, I’ve got a few things here I want to dump on you.”
The merchant nodded, and if Leon could see, there was a smile there. The traveling salesman offered him money in return, showing off some new weapons for sale as well.
“Say…” he wanted to ask the merchant something. “Do you…um, happen to have that plaga inside you as well?”
No answer.
“Mmmmmokay, guess not.”
However, the salesman was showing off the missile launcher. His eyes shifted towards the direction of huge double doors up the hill. “You’ll need these.”
“Is that so? Hmm.” Leon raised a quizzical brow. “I’ll take it.”
“NOT ENOUGH CASH, STRANGAH.”
“Shit.” Feeling a little pissed off, the determined buyer pulled out some gems he found. “How about it?”
“Ahhhhh I’ll buy it at a HIGH PRICE!”
So he ended up buying a missile launcher that left him penniless. As he packed up the launcher, the entrance or exit in which the salesman eyed earlier brought curiousity in him. Before walking away, the merchant mumbled something about ‘ keeping an eye out’ and nodding towards the double closed doors. Undaunted, Leon walked that direction only to find the doors locked tight. And there was a piece of something – wait, he pondered at the gaping empty hole. Something was needed to put in there.
“Well, I can’t go through there just yet….so….” Leon looked around, finding another way. There weren’t many trees out, but where his boots took him found him along a shady path where there were more trees than the church and cemetary area. A barn below was the end of the road. Salazar mentioned this barn and a woman – perhaps that lady in the red dress?
An eerie feeling crept up him.Shaking it off, he slammed the shot gun in his hand, bringing the chamber full.
He felt that there was something missing to this piece of puzzle. Turning right, left, and forward, he looked straight at the double doors of the barn. Leon checked his pockets, happy to know that he had enough ammunition to blow up this building if anything came at him. There was a this incredible cloud of dread that hung over his head and the still of the night crept like a night crawler; a group of slow moving clouds followed him, inching up as fast as his shadow that now covered the entrance. The barn looked good in the cover of the night -- black clouds moved along hurriedly and seemed to stop on top of the decayed building.
A loud grunt greeted Leon and he turned around, but too late. Mendez violently shoved him down on the floor. The menacing chief of the village loomed over him like a black cloaked death-eater from a well known book. Except this time, he wore a beard, twisted at the bottom or at least Leon thought, squinting an eye at him: Mendez braided it? This gave the leader of the villagers a kind of non-serious air; however, still morbid and dark, Bitores remains a powerful black-hearted host for the lust-filled plaga.
Leon scooted back, his booted feet dug into the dirt to get away; yet, this action gave the larger man ample time to show off his strength as the metal bar that was the door handle came off easily out of its place. It twisted like a piece of black licorice in his hands. With that, Mendez paused. Realized his mistake and straightened it out again to angrily push it through the two handles of the barn door. Then he twisted it to secure it in place.
Narrowing his eyes, a brief ponder crossed his mind: why hadn’t the big chief just twist it while it was still in attached to the door? It didn’t matter-- it was probably Mendez’s way of showing off. Kennedy wasn’t impressed: Guys like Mendez were only pawns in the game orchestrated by the plagas. Did the chief know that these plaga’s were singing out hits porno style? Probably not. Big guy looked too stupid. Leon should not underestimate looks, figuring that if the plaga fucked around with his libido, it would soon play its seductive tune to the big shouldered enemy. The thought didn’t please the government’s favourite Agent. He had to kill Mendez and fast! The red eye that Bitores owned was important, and would take him further to the next step – most importantly to Ashley.
The Agent then eyed the gasoline barrel and kicked it: it rolled towards the big honcho, emptying out liquids of flammable fluid, pooling around the enemy. Pulling out his gun, Leon aimed and took a shot – fired one bullet, saying with confident suaveness: “Hasta Luego.”
The perimeter around Mendez shot up into flames; heat surged the barn as the fire created a gate around Leon’s enemy. A sudden howl could be heard from behind the blockade of flames. Bitores rushed out of the circle of fire. With flickering flames around his coat, he rammed himself towards Leon. The government’s only hope managed to roll out of the way, albeit not far enough as Mendez reached for him, grabbing on to a boot.
Leon growled out while he tried to kick his opponent away; anger surged through his body as the heat of the flames rose up around them.
That’s when that blasted music started.
The plagas could feel the intensified heat beneath human flesh; their ecstatic sense of sound managing to go at the same beat as their host’s heart. The drum beating thumpity-thump- thump- thump
And then the orchestra started: Waves of red-hot sound waves, invisibly speaking to the men in the most suspended harmonious sound. It rose high, so high that their ear drums could explode from the sheer intensity of it. They both reached for their ears, covering it up to shut out the sound, knowing deep down that they would encounter something quite drastic in their change of plans: To fuck instead of fighting.
And that, to Leon was an abomination.
To Bitores, it was a mere annoyance. He knew Salazar was up to something – it was his type of music and this irked him. He’ll deal with this BS later, but now, now he had to quench his lust. Taking control of his own emotions, albeit very difficult, a rush of blood surged in his groin and the hardening member wanted to be set free. The sing-song of the plaga’s lust rose higher in his ear, but this time his hands were away from them, ready to face the music.
A satisfied look crossed the village chief’s features, hearing his victim backing away. Bitores turned his head slowly to where the agent was scrambling towards. Giving him that ‘effect’ on people, especially on this one, one who was not yet a full pledged ‘ ganado’ , but would soon be when the eggs hatch. Perhaps, Bitores thought with a grin, this one would prove to be much more worthy than the pathetic farmers and rival those of Saddler’s followers. They had the more powerful plaga; obedient and willing; nonetheless, they possessed a more powerful agenda inside their blood system. And if Bitores was right – this U.S. pesky agent was along the same line. He would play with the little boy all grown up. This gave him sadistic pleasure. His red eye darted to and fro, finally securing on the hapless younger man.
A loud crash interrupted them. The music stopped.
They both turned to see what it was. To Leon, it was the spanish man he saved earlier and who hightailed out of his sight when they were about to be clobbered by an axe wielding ganado.
To Bitores, it was that annoying Researcher Luis Sera.
The large hole Luis created from his weapon was enough to get a body through. Luis motioned over to Leon. “Hey, amigo, time to get the hell out don’t you think?”
Leon was still on the ground, trying to get up, but Bitores was already on him, slamming a heavy boot down on his leg to secure him.
“Uunnnhhhh, OW!” The U.S. agent grumbled, choking out: “As you can see. I’m having a bit of difficulty. Care to help out?”
“What?” Luis scoffed. “He’s not so bad. All you gotta do is….this.” And he pulled out a similar missile launcher, pointing it towards Bitores. “Just a little something for you…”
As the missile went flying out of its chamber, Bitores was already out of the way; the blow to the side of the barn caused another explosive fire, giving ample time for the chief to grab hold of Luis’s neck.
“Ah man!” Luis choked, as his neck was held in a vise grip. “Waitaminute, waitaminute, let’s talk this over ….unnnggghhhh..” His body was easily hauled up.
________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Authors notes: Again, it's almost 7,000 words: it's so evil of me, but I *had* to cut it off. Cliffhanger I hope? I'll post the next chapter for the threesome set up/ yaoi/soon okay? I'm trying to make up for all lost time for being very ill and absent.
Thank you for reading!
--written by SecretsOfPandora
First half of chapter: F/M/M
2nd half: ;)
Warning: Rape - F/M/M Clone Ada/Ganados
Earlier, before Leon’s private masturbation in the castle, he was saved by the Carbon copy of Ada Wong. She was beforehand – disoriented. She woke up with a raging headache and would have slept on like a baby; however, a call from the Organization made her get up finally. Her tired senses dragged her down and all she wanted to do was die. She was told to go to another part of the village, by this abandoned looking two story building, and there she would find more information to acquire. Wanting to tattle about to the Organization about the naughty plagas was on the verge of her shuddering lips, until they cut off the transmission.
Left bereft and alone again..... She shivered as if from cold, reaching around hugging herself to keep warm, her frightened eyes looked around before she set off to do what she was supposed to do. It didn’t make her feel any better when her legs gave out from under her. She fell helplessly to the floor, wondering why her legs broke like that – but it wasn’t just her legs, it was her pussy: it trembled and quaked from the previous encounter and she was so tired, so very tired. Tears fell helplessly from her eyes as she scrambled up to get going.
When she finally found the broken down two story building after what seemed like hours, limping around like an old lady, she saw a big bald man in an 18th century overcoat with a strange looking eye. The fake Ada was scared. She didn’t want to go further, knowing that everyone inside that place was going to either kill her or fuck her. Whichever it was, she wanted no part of it and was going to back away; conversely, she saw another man. It was a familiar face: Leon S. Kennedy.
For some reason, instincts honed deep inside her made her stand still; her eyes went wide as her mouth widened with a shocked expression. She saw him somewhere, and her memory banks which were filled up by the original Ada was soon replaced with romantic notions of being whisked away with that man. Her heart beat faster and there was another thing that replaced romance: it was sibling affection. She wanted to help this nice looking young man who appeared like a hero amongst stink-filled Ganados, short pale blue-blooded midgets, large horny blond soldiers, and mean-looking unsavoury bald men.
The appearance of Leon S. Kennedy looked beautiful to her; he appeared like a saint among devils; a white halo surrounded him, a protective shell of beauty filled his body like beacon in a raging storm. Then the music surrounded him, and filled her senses with renewed happiness; a happy feeling that she had never felt before: he was her saviour and she would be his – she knew it deep in her copied DNA.
The plaga sang inside her: it was beautiful – sounding like harps and choruses of a million tiny choirs in tune, filling her with wondrous feelings of supreme healing.
But…Kennedy was being choked: The bald big guy had clasped his large hand around the Agent’s neck; clone Ada gasped at the sight, filled with dread if she didn’t do anything and she must save this hero from the clutches of evil doers! She must! Her plaga was singing to her, telling her to go there, rescue him and then if she was lucky, he’d fuck her, show her that fucking wasn’t so bad at all. Her legs moved as fast as she could, and she was already on the rooftop as the grapple gun came in handy.
Being on top of the roof, she nearly slipped off, but managed to precariously hold on despite the cold wind on her porcelain cheeks. She was going to do this! She must! She must!
For Leon, being on the wrong end of the choke hold wasn’t fun – and by all means, Leon could barely breathe, much less try and push the offending large hand that wrapped itself around his neck. It was impossible to breathe; his air passages were being closed off; the need for air was crucial. This only managed to make the angry and dispassionate Mendez grip harder.
From the outside, a lone woman was shaking like a leaf, hanging on to the ledge of the roof. Her now faded scarlet dress was partly ripped, revealing red panties and her personal PDA lost from her clumsy clutches, fallen down into a dramatic clunk on top of a ganado. It managed to knock out the offending cattle version of humanity: flat on his back. Though she knew it was only a matter of time before he woke up to warn the others of her presence.
She shook because the wind was cold and there wasn’t a damn coat or jacket to use in this entire place; her organization nor Wesker had provided such means. Wesker wanted her to dress for the best, looking sharp, but it was her who wanted to dress brightly; her real copy had the intuitive passion to want the passionate colors of the sunset, securing the warmth of the heat. Clone Ada was disheartened to see that the Agent Kennedy was being held in such a strong hold and here she was, trying to hold on to the roof with her grapple gun.
How in the hell she thought with a shiver - was she going to save Leon? Her orders from the Organization was to save the U.S. agent by any means and to protect the President’s daughter.
And so, as she dangled there in the air with barely a hold on her body to keep dangling, she aimed – her one eye was shut, keeping the other try-as-she-might professionally narrowed on the huge object in front of her. That big honcho dude was so big that it wasn’t difficult to shoot at. Thank gods for that - she uttered with a prayer.
As the bullet whizzed out of the chamber, leaving trails of whispering wispy grey smoke, it crashed through the window without damaging the entire glass; this left behind a miniscule hole with faint cracks around it. The noise wasn’t too loud as she had that blacktail that didn’t make too much of a noise – another silent prayer ran through her cowardly mind – hoping that the other walking plaga infested hosts wouldn’t come running after her.
The bullet hit its target but only managed to cause a pesky intrusion on the big chief of the village. Bitores Mendez turned, letting go of Leon just in the nick of time as the body went down with a loud thud on the wooden floor. He was not happy. The expression on his face, as usual was as menacing as ever and the fake Ada was again crying.
A gasp came out of her pretty full lips as she saw that the bald man was about to jump out of the window to catch her. “OH NO! NO! NO!” She whined out loud; she knew her voice was perhaps louder than shooting the big guy, even so far as allowing Leon to hear her. All she could concentrate on was how to get out of the situation before the heavy built man with dark circles under his eyes with that equally grim mouth came crashing – CRASH!
Mendez went through the window with much aggression, grabbing for her as she struggled to pull on the damned grappling hook to take her away from him. The contraption was making things difficult for her and it didn’t help matters much when she acted like a cowardly yellow bellied chick. Ada clone couldn’t and would not blame it on the cold all the time. Right now she was crying with tears hot and flowing running down her willowy cheeks; her face was an expression of horror, pain and misery. She could feel the man’s large hands; they wrapped itself around her waist and both of them went spiraling down the ground with Ada’s scream muffled by his fierce hold.
Luckily for her they landed on the rusty brown-red bin on the side of the building underneath the window. Unfortunately with gravity, they bounced off. This caused Ada to take the upper case position on Mendez as they rolled. And because it was even luckier that the positions had changed during that course of hitting, rolling and sliding violently off the metal slanted bin, Mendez fell butt first on the ground with the fake Ada on top. She swore she heard a bone crack. Her eyes were wide with fright and gasped from the impact. Although he took the bulk of the fall, Mendez appeared unscratched; he didn’t even flinch; however, she did hear the slight “OOOF”, as if the wind was knocked out of him from the fall or because she fell heavily on him.
Ada took this as another opportunity to thank her lucky astrological stars. She started to pummel her tiny fists into the man’s broad chest, pulling out her blacktail right after to shoot him in the chest. He grunted disapprovingly, reaching for her. Clone Ada felt his hands pull her up against him; secured within his embrace, Ada was in a panic. Grabbing hold of her grapple gun, she realized it was lost up in the rooftops somewhere, still dangling. Then the blow came as fast as their fall; Mendez hit her so hard she slammed against the metal bin with a bang.
The violent act nearly took her breath away and for a moment there, there was a slight residue of the original Ada coming into her personality as she lazily opened one eye, trying vainly to ignore the intensity of her pain. She glared at him with a glassy grey eye, gritting her teeth and snarled with spittle coming out of her mouth. Managing those barely comprehensive words: “Way to treat a lady, big chief. I think I love you.”
Then she slumped out of consciousness.
The large man lifted his body up, looming over the female’s body and shrouding it away from the glare of the overcast weather. His shadow enfolded Ada-clone’s body for a moment before hastily hefting her body up over his shoulder. He wondered if this was the other intruder that his most revered leader was talking about: the 3rd party that was causing such a ruckus. If so, he was surprised at the woman’s intrusion, managing to cloak herself away from the sniffed hounds that lumbered around the small communities and farms.
She was dumped ceremoniously on a big rock that looked like a ritual place for sacrifices. Mendez grunted at his followers to do a small prayer before killing the unconscious woman. They all nodded silently. The big chief walked away, thoughts of finding Kennedy alone on his mind.
When he was gone, the ganados with weapons down - mumbled ritual prayers. Clone Ada woke with a start, just in time to avoid the nick that caught her very sexy exposed thigh. The villagers or the walking plaga men with their glazed yellow eyes had just barely missed her, causing a slanted cut. The blood dripped and Ada nearly screamed as she saw with her big grey eyes that these dirty grubby men were still intent on killing her. She didn’t know how she woke, or how she managed to snap herself out of that unconscious state; however, these enemies were going to corner her with their axes and scythes.
Copied Ada backed away so fast, blubbering excuses for them to stop: “Please! Go away! Or…or I’ll shoot!” She fumbled for her gun and they must have taken it away; the blacktail was not on her thigh and all was left was her PDA. She didn’t have to think twice to know that her grappling hook was still at that rooftop. Looking around frantically for a weapon, she spotted large gem in a treasured box that opened as soon as she backed into it. It was a large piece of Cat’s green eye. With it, she threw the stone hard into the first advancing man. The stone hit the man’s forehead severely causing him to stumble back.
She whimpered out a prayer, mumbling incoherent “In the name of Jesus Christ, please deliver me from evil,” chants but the men kept slowly advancing. Closing her eyes shut, tears started to stream down her face again and she was so afraid that she scrambled out of the first blow when she opened her eyes again, ducking just in time. The man fell over her with the heavy weapon slung down heavily as she ducked on all fours. Then she crawled with super speed as the next villager decided to plant his axe into her backside. Clone Ada was so scared she dashed in between the enemy’s legs. The 2nd attacker hit the ground with a loud chunk as the axe found hard dirt mixed with asphalt.
“Oh boy, oh boy!” The fake Ada shivered and mumbled, her attackers grumbled out: Te jodiste!
Because she was trained to understand Spanish, clone Ada’s face expressed fear. Even those with the impressions that normally would be over the heads of tourists with a translation book, fake Ada only crumbled in defeat. “NOOO!! Don’t screw me! I’ve been raped too many times already!”
She was being hauled up as she tried to scramble away again, feeling dirty farm hands on her butt, grabbing her body towards them. “Don’t fuck my hole, please! It’s not that tight anymore!” Ada clone was whining, remembering how that brute Krauser had raped her twice, but a throbbing between her legs defied all that she whimpered about.
Now because the ganados hadn’t considered the fact that the female intruder was to be fucked with sexually, it actually never occurred to their wee brains to fuck her….only after she mentioned it. The men paused in their quest to attack with scythes and axes; their arms still suspended, glancing at each other with grunts. They felt their lower regions insistently tugging.
Their grimy hands let go of the weapons, dropped them with loud thunks; the smelly men ambushed her and began to pry her legs open. She screamed and started to pummel them with her fists but to no avail. “I told you! I’m not tight anymore!”
A wayward kick sent one ganado back as the end of her heeled shoe slammed into one eyeball: that left the ganado with a bleeding left eye. The walking parasite began to stumble back and moan, hands up to cover it momentarily. Then as the plaga-infested man realized a little too late, knowing that he’d be last in line to get into that red dressed stylish woman’s loosely moist hole, he couldn’t feel any pain. That was it: the longer a ganado has the plaga inside, especially with the ones that have hatched, the pain subsides and pain becomes a factor no more. This was happy news to the pea-brained husk of a man, leaving the plaga to roll its wormy eyes, glad to be of some service.
A series of unintelligible words spilled out of the last ganado; he beat his chest as he grunted like a cross between a stuck pig and Tarzan. The engorged dirty cock stood out of his bloodied pants. There the pre-cum precariously dripped out of that small hole where he could piss and spew semen.
The limp woman was actually trying to fight back, but only because she was flailing all over the place. The action left her with a ripped dress revealing one round breast; a greedy bald and chubby but thickly muscled ganado clamped his hot mouth over the exposed mound. Ada shuddered inwardly, as mouths and hands pushed her down on the ground, ripping her already ripped red dress into practically nothing. What she had underneath was a discarded bullet proof shoddy vest, albeit worn out with some bullet holes, but nevertheless, it was pulled down with the attentive greasy hands around her.
She barely could move as two ganados were scrambling their way to get on top, each trying to dominate her and the 3rd ganado between her spread legs. This 3rd ganado’s eyes were greedily feasting on the ripped panties; the smell of her womanly scent permeated the ogre’s dulled senses. He muttered happily: “Senorita, bonita senorita……”
“Uh! Stop! Stop!” Was all she could utter as she felt the fat one suckle with a greedy suction at her breast, pulling the pink and brown nipple to a standing erection. The other had pulled his pants down, giving her a showy view of his pointed cock in her direction, full of dirt, just like his hands. She was so disgusted she nearly fainted and would have if not for the attentive ministrations she richly received.
Despite all her efforts, she was being mauled and hauled up like a broken toy; the first eager ganado shoved his cock into her wet pussy, slamming into her so hard that she was sent back against the other ganado who was behind her. Then the ramming proceeded; the hard cock felt like steel inside Clone Ada as she was being plummeted to and fro: she was, despite herself, moaning and groaning: Ada was being fucked hard. Other chapped lips clasped around both her erect nipples; tongues splayed and played around, swirling the hard nipple around like a piece of gummy candy.
The sad woman didn’t know what day or time it was by the time the 2nd Ganado shoved his cock inside her. The clone’s eyes rolled up so that the whites showed; she groaned, opening her mouth wide just enough that she hadn’t expected the large sausage-like dick which shoved and plugged her orifice. That shut her up.
Her eyes burned from all the fucking and sucking, abused from all the mauling and shoving; being manhandled severely made her wince and cry out. Tears fell like rivers down those white cheeks as another cock found its way inside her loose hole. It felt to her, as her arms were being pinned around her back, that the next cock felt bigger – as if each ganado’s meatened penis grew bigger just to torture her wet hole – stretching it as if she were giving birth to a ten pound baby.
They all spoke unintelligible Spanish, muttering happily as they sprayed their semen all over her naked body; the smell of it made the fake Ada want to hurl something awful, but she was still being pumped full of cum from a meaty ganado as his own juice went down her throat.
When it was all over, the men gave choruses of satisfied grunts; wide split grins on their faces, showing off an unclean mouth with bad breath; yellow eyes flashed on their dirt-smeared faces as the plaga began to sing a slow tune, bringing everyone’s climax to a fruitful end. They adjusted their pants, zipped them up slowly. Suddenly, the sound of bells dropped a panoramic cloak around them: they stopped.
Clone Ada lay there, broken, abused, fucked and severely sucked out of her mind, barely heard the sound of church bells ringing loudly from afar. Her naked body filled with semen inside, clumped with sticky fluid out.
The bells kept ringing until all the ganados walked like slow moving zombies towards it. They were still mumbling to themselves as they shuffled their feet on the dirty ground, kicking up little clouds of dust and disappearing through doors. The bells stopped.
Ada’s copy tried to open her eyes, but they were smeared with semen so bad that she had to reach up with trembling fingers to wipe them away. Then the crying started. She bawled so hard into her cum-filled hands, and balled up into a baby-fetus position. She didn’t like being fucked at all and wondered what in god’s name why any one in their right mind would want it? The vision of Ashley enjoying Krauser’s big thick dick came to mind and Ada sniffled like a baby.
She would have liked to die there, lay there all day and night but the Organization was beeping her; they bothered her constantly when all she wanted to do was curl up into a ball and die. Why oh why she whined pitifully – why are they torturing me like this? With a shaky hand, she reached down to pick up her PDA. They wanted her on the move again. Looking down at her attire, she didn’t know how she was going to get around with a torn dress showing off bruised nipples and a body with imprinted dirty hands all over her like a piece of modern art.
Back at the two story house, Leon had slumped into his own unconscious state after being choked to death. He woke up groggy and disoriented just like poor cloned Ada.
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________
Leon decided to hightail out of the castle to find the merchant. Something told him that Ashley wasn’t here, at least not close by.
It was strange that although the parasite inside him liked to sing sexy lullabys to him, making him horny and randy, he couldn’t shake the feeling that it wanted to delay events and change them to its whim. Why and how? That’s the question that ran through his tired mind.
Venturing out of the castle, he found himself in the cover of night with the moon so close he could touch it. At least, he managed a smile – he could see quite well. The clouds that threatened earlier disappeared miraculously. It was strange. Leon wondered if the plagas had somehow managed this? Shaking his head, the severe stupidity of the thought made him seriously question the lack of blood in his brain. He took a deep breath: Steady now, steady….there’s no music right now. He had an idea, and the idea came to him in a flash – hoping the plaga didn’t read his mind. That would royally suck.
If he went back to the church, there was something that could plug up these bastards control on him. Perhaps those bells he heard earlier could stop these fiends from making his libido go haywire.
These fuckers communicated through sounds and music, and what if -? Soon, he was being targeted – as an axe went whizzing through the air, somersaulting and cutting the thick atmosphere. Leon managed to get barely out of the way, finding the axe chink loudly into the dirt and disappear. He turned around and threw a grenade at the approaching ganados. There were so many of them! This group was a small handful, but still, they seemed to come out of no where.
When the blast destroyed most of them, all but one – a lone ganado’s head burst into long stems of hardened muscle, flesh and blades. It was a disgusting sight, and Leon remembered them, taking out another flash grenade in his hidden supply. They exploded as soon as the flash bang hit, causing a piercing scream.
After scoping out the perimeter, he searched for his map and found that he had lost it somewhere in the castle. He didn’t want to go back – there wasn’t any time. Pretty good with directional skills, he recalled the route to the church, and there was an underground area that he had to get to. That was where he would find his way back to the village. His communication beeped, perhaps Hunnigan was trying to get a hold of him; yet, as Leon tried to open the receiver – a smallish man with grey-pale skin came on.
The small shrimp was laughing; high pitched and annoying to Leon’s ear: “Ah, mister Kennedy, you are a resilient man, I see. Let me introduce myself. I am the owner of the castle you just vacated moments ago. My name is Ramon Salazar, the eighth castellan, very much responsible for the Las Plagas.”
Leon narrowed his eyes, “Ah, so you’re the teacher who taught your plagas to sing?”
Ramon laughed before answering. “I’m afraid my plagas are a bit high strung; they enjoy the benefits of humanity’s music- and what better way than to cause such an uproar through one’s own precious sex drive.”
The U.S. agent snorted. “Right. Probably to ensure your bloodline.”
“Don’t insult me, Mr. Kennedy. I don’t like being insulted. It makes me angry. And you don’t want me to get angry. I might just turn up the music and have your seeds all over the place.” Ramon laughed again, sniggering happily..
It occurred to Leon that he might have been spied upon earlier when he was doing his business. Irritation splayed over his features over that disgusting thought. What else has this wrinkled Castellan seen? His little escapade with Ashley?
“What the hell do you want?” Leon gritted his teeth, annoyed that this little man knew his name and was privy to very little of what was going on.
“It’s not a matter of what I want, Mr. Kennedy, but rather, what you want.”
“Oh yeah? Seems to me everyone knows what I want but me.”
“There are two women running around my grounds: a blonde little thing, that I might want a taste of her myself.” Salazar sniggered again, egging Leon and was pleased to see the anger in his eyes with the mention of Ashley.
“If you touch her…I swear I’ll…” Leon spat out, his hand gripped the receiver a little harder; the muscles along his arms tensed.
“Or what?” the Castellan cut him off, “Or I’ll get killed by you?” he snickered. “You’re full of insults, Mr. Kennedy, are all Americans so rude?”
“This conversation is over.” Leon was about to turn off the communication until Salazar screamed out: – “ Wait! I know where your Ashley Graham is!”
“Talk.”
“First, I have a job for you and if you fulfill it, I shall reward you.” Salazar knew he would take the bait; it was essential to the Agent that retrieving Miss Graham was number one priority.
“Surprise, surprise, but I don’t want shit from you. Tell me where Ashley is.”
“Arrogant American, you think I’d tell you without something in return?”
Leon realized that the small fry mentioned another woman. “ What other woman besides Ashley you mentioned…” The woman he had seen earlier with a slip of a red dress, just before he fell in a state of unconsciousness. She reminded him of someone….but he wasn’t sure. Probably a foreigner, or a spanish woman vent on revenge on Mendez. If so, things were looking up.
Salazar was quick to see the interest in the Agent’s face. “So then, you are concerned about her? She is a nuisance. Get rid of her, and you shall have Ashley naked and waiting for you.” He laughed, a high pitched giggle of glee.
“You sick son of bitch.” Leon’s disgusted face made Salazar laugh even more.
“You’ll find the woman in a barn somewhere, I think. Go to the sky lift. Hop on there and find yourself at the bottom of another route. I’ll keep in touch, Mr. Kennedy. Pleasure doing business with you.”
Salazar cut off the communication, satisfied to know that it was he, not Leon who snipped off the line first. He hated to be shunned and ignored.
Leon just stared at the empty small screen. A muscle ticked at his jaw. “Fucking hell.” Running a heavy hand over his dark blond locks, he breathed deeply, wondering how the heck was he going to find the lift? But Salazar had known this for sure, because as the Agent had thought these mundane things, a series of chellos and fluted music started to flow out of him.
“No. Not right now.” He shook his head; a tinge of frustration marred his youthful features; angry at the thought of another hand job or worse. But the song that flowed out wasn’t out to make him horny – it was actually pushing him into the direction where the sky lift was at. His legs moved, not realizing that the direction he was taking was sending them up a path where his foot falls left noisy stamps on metal stairs.
He realized with this new revelation, the plaga was at the whim of Salazar’s instructions. This did not bode well for him. There had to be a cure somewhere and getting to the church wasn’t going to be in the near future as of now.
When Leon finally arrived at the station’s sky lift, there to his surprise, was a working open lift that went downward to another station below. Jumping onto the moving platform, he set back to relax and enjoy the ride. Until another approaching sky lift headed his way: a chock full of ganados armed with weapons flying at him sent his rigid body to action. Fumbling for his own weapon, one of the weapons thrown at him made a hit!
“Aw fuck!” Leon yelled out as an axe slammed into his head, damaging him with perhaps a huge noggin. Another one would leave him in the red zone or worse – dead. And what would that get him? No where. In another situation, an axe to the head would kill a human being or put them out of commission. Not Kennedy, not in this realm – it would take a few more axes to get through his thick skull.
The plaga sang: la, la, la, la I love you -Just think, Mr. Kennedy, la la la - when my eggs hatched, how la la la, you’d be – invincible!
Leon ignored the small interruption of song, took his meager blacktail, shooting several rounds at the crowded platform of men. A couple of shots sent them screaming to the depths below.
The moving lift closed in to its destination. Leon hopped out immediately, his shotgun in his arms. Making his way down the metal stairs, he couldn’t believe what the plaga was singing – it sounded very similar to Salazar. And what is this about eggs hatching? That brought an involuntary cringe. “God,’ he muttered, “I wouldn’t last.” The way the plaga made him feel when it wanted to sing the powerful music of seduction, the way it urged his system to just tap into the sexual part of him, making him crave sex so much…..it was going to kill him.
As he stepped on dirt ground away from the metal stairs, the agent in him could feel someone was there and when he turned, there was: the merchant hidden up a small flight of steps, wearing the same sort of trenchcoat, heavily armed. Leon sighed a relief, glad to know he wouldn’t have to backtrack to the church too soon. Lifting up an arm to say hello, the merchant just stared at him with no acknowledgement.
“Hey, I’ve got…” Leon started.
“WELCOME!” the black clad man bellowed. “What’re you buying?” Opening up to reveal an array of ammunition and guns taped to the side of his coat.
Leon blew through his lips, sending his bangs away from his eyes. “Alright, I’ve got a few things here I want to dump on you.”
The merchant nodded, and if Leon could see, there was a smile there. The traveling salesman offered him money in return, showing off some new weapons for sale as well.
“Say…” he wanted to ask the merchant something. “Do you…um, happen to have that plaga inside you as well?”
No answer.
“Mmmmmokay, guess not.”
However, the salesman was showing off the missile launcher. His eyes shifted towards the direction of huge double doors up the hill. “You’ll need these.”
“Is that so? Hmm.” Leon raised a quizzical brow. “I’ll take it.”
“NOT ENOUGH CASH, STRANGAH.”
“Shit.” Feeling a little pissed off, the determined buyer pulled out some gems he found. “How about it?”
“Ahhhhh I’ll buy it at a HIGH PRICE!”
So he ended up buying a missile launcher that left him penniless. As he packed up the launcher, the entrance or exit in which the salesman eyed earlier brought curiousity in him. Before walking away, the merchant mumbled something about ‘ keeping an eye out’ and nodding towards the double closed doors. Undaunted, Leon walked that direction only to find the doors locked tight. And there was a piece of something – wait, he pondered at the gaping empty hole. Something was needed to put in there.
“Well, I can’t go through there just yet….so….” Leon looked around, finding another way. There weren’t many trees out, but where his boots took him found him along a shady path where there were more trees than the church and cemetary area. A barn below was the end of the road. Salazar mentioned this barn and a woman – perhaps that lady in the red dress?
An eerie feeling crept up him.Shaking it off, he slammed the shot gun in his hand, bringing the chamber full.
He felt that there was something missing to this piece of puzzle. Turning right, left, and forward, he looked straight at the double doors of the barn. Leon checked his pockets, happy to know that he had enough ammunition to blow up this building if anything came at him. There was a this incredible cloud of dread that hung over his head and the still of the night crept like a night crawler; a group of slow moving clouds followed him, inching up as fast as his shadow that now covered the entrance. The barn looked good in the cover of the night -- black clouds moved along hurriedly and seemed to stop on top of the decayed building.
A loud grunt greeted Leon and he turned around, but too late. Mendez violently shoved him down on the floor. The menacing chief of the village loomed over him like a black cloaked death-eater from a well known book. Except this time, he wore a beard, twisted at the bottom or at least Leon thought, squinting an eye at him: Mendez braided it? This gave the leader of the villagers a kind of non-serious air; however, still morbid and dark, Bitores remains a powerful black-hearted host for the lust-filled plaga.
Leon scooted back, his booted feet dug into the dirt to get away; yet, this action gave the larger man ample time to show off his strength as the metal bar that was the door handle came off easily out of its place. It twisted like a piece of black licorice in his hands. With that, Mendez paused. Realized his mistake and straightened it out again to angrily push it through the two handles of the barn door. Then he twisted it to secure it in place.
Narrowing his eyes, a brief ponder crossed his mind: why hadn’t the big chief just twist it while it was still in attached to the door? It didn’t matter-- it was probably Mendez’s way of showing off. Kennedy wasn’t impressed: Guys like Mendez were only pawns in the game orchestrated by the plagas. Did the chief know that these plaga’s were singing out hits porno style? Probably not. Big guy looked too stupid. Leon should not underestimate looks, figuring that if the plaga fucked around with his libido, it would soon play its seductive tune to the big shouldered enemy. The thought didn’t please the government’s favourite Agent. He had to kill Mendez and fast! The red eye that Bitores owned was important, and would take him further to the next step – most importantly to Ashley.
The Agent then eyed the gasoline barrel and kicked it: it rolled towards the big honcho, emptying out liquids of flammable fluid, pooling around the enemy. Pulling out his gun, Leon aimed and took a shot – fired one bullet, saying with confident suaveness: “Hasta Luego.”
The perimeter around Mendez shot up into flames; heat surged the barn as the fire created a gate around Leon’s enemy. A sudden howl could be heard from behind the blockade of flames. Bitores rushed out of the circle of fire. With flickering flames around his coat, he rammed himself towards Leon. The government’s only hope managed to roll out of the way, albeit not far enough as Mendez reached for him, grabbing on to a boot.
Leon growled out while he tried to kick his opponent away; anger surged through his body as the heat of the flames rose up around them.
That’s when that blasted music started.
The plagas could feel the intensified heat beneath human flesh; their ecstatic sense of sound managing to go at the same beat as their host’s heart. The drum beating thumpity-thump- thump- thump
And then the orchestra started: Waves of red-hot sound waves, invisibly speaking to the men in the most suspended harmonious sound. It rose high, so high that their ear drums could explode from the sheer intensity of it. They both reached for their ears, covering it up to shut out the sound, knowing deep down that they would encounter something quite drastic in their change of plans: To fuck instead of fighting.
And that, to Leon was an abomination.
To Bitores, it was a mere annoyance. He knew Salazar was up to something – it was his type of music and this irked him. He’ll deal with this BS later, but now, now he had to quench his lust. Taking control of his own emotions, albeit very difficult, a rush of blood surged in his groin and the hardening member wanted to be set free. The sing-song of the plaga’s lust rose higher in his ear, but this time his hands were away from them, ready to face the music.
A satisfied look crossed the village chief’s features, hearing his victim backing away. Bitores turned his head slowly to where the agent was scrambling towards. Giving him that ‘effect’ on people, especially on this one, one who was not yet a full pledged ‘ ganado’ , but would soon be when the eggs hatch. Perhaps, Bitores thought with a grin, this one would prove to be much more worthy than the pathetic farmers and rival those of Saddler’s followers. They had the more powerful plaga; obedient and willing; nonetheless, they possessed a more powerful agenda inside their blood system. And if Bitores was right – this U.S. pesky agent was along the same line. He would play with the little boy all grown up. This gave him sadistic pleasure. His red eye darted to and fro, finally securing on the hapless younger man.
A loud crash interrupted them. The music stopped.
They both turned to see what it was. To Leon, it was the spanish man he saved earlier and who hightailed out of his sight when they were about to be clobbered by an axe wielding ganado.
To Bitores, it was that annoying Researcher Luis Sera.
The large hole Luis created from his weapon was enough to get a body through. Luis motioned over to Leon. “Hey, amigo, time to get the hell out don’t you think?”
Leon was still on the ground, trying to get up, but Bitores was already on him, slamming a heavy boot down on his leg to secure him.
“Uunnnhhhh, OW!” The U.S. agent grumbled, choking out: “As you can see. I’m having a bit of difficulty. Care to help out?”
“What?” Luis scoffed. “He’s not so bad. All you gotta do is….this.” And he pulled out a similar missile launcher, pointing it towards Bitores. “Just a little something for you…”
As the missile went flying out of its chamber, Bitores was already out of the way; the blow to the side of the barn caused another explosive fire, giving ample time for the chief to grab hold of Luis’s neck.
“Ah man!” Luis choked, as his neck was held in a vise grip. “Waitaminute, waitaminute, let’s talk this over ….unnnggghhhh..” His body was easily hauled up.
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Authors notes: Again, it's almost 7,000 words: it's so evil of me, but I *had* to cut it off. Cliffhanger I hope? I'll post the next chapter for the threesome set up/ yaoi/soon okay? I'm trying to make up for all lost time for being very ill and absent.
Thank you for reading!
--written by SecretsOfPandora