AUTHOR’S NOTE: I'm a big fan of Trent Wolf’s Dominoe character and the ABC series “Alias”, so it seemed only natural to write a crossover story featuring Dominoe and SydneyBristow. And here it is. This story takes place after the events in "Sharp Detour" but before "Rock Solid" by Jonathan Darksong.
“Alias”, SydneyBristow, and all related characters are produced by ABC in association with Touchstone Television. All rights reserved. The characters of Dominoe, Rook, and Bishop are the property of Trent Wolf. This story is purely for personal entertainment purpose only. No financial gain or copyright infringement is intended.
WARNING: This story contains content of an adult nature and is intended for matures readers.
C.A.T.T. Agent Diamond Jack slammed down the shot of whiskey in one gulp. The cheap liquor burned his throat, but he didn’t care. The effect it produced was worth it. It was his fourth shot and he was beginning to feel the effects. He was suddenly hot and lightheaded. That was accompanied by a soothing buzz. Recently, he had come to rely on booze to improve his mood.
So fucking what?
Twenty years of being a secret agent had cost him two marriages, three relationships, and any hope of a normal life. And for what? His missions were all covert. The world would never know about them. He didn’t even exist. Christ! He was a grown man, and yet everyone he knew addressed him as Diamond Jack. He should have done twenty years in the special forces where he started. Instead, he chose to take down terrorists and criminals for a secret spy organization. He had made a hell of a career choice.
He slammed down his fifth shot of whiskey. What else was he supposed to do in this dump? He scanned the sleazy bar. The cheap blue paint on the walls had long since faded and was peeling. The furniture was old, grimy, and squeaky. Worst of all was the smell. It was a cross between urine and filth. He was sure this fucking no account place was the worst Belize City had to offer.
At least the place wasn’t crawling with tourists. He counted at least ten nationalities in the sun-bleached streets of Belize City. Whether they were Americans, Germans, French, or Italians it didn’t matter. They were all annoying. The world revolved around them. They were utterly oblivious to the misery and despair around them. It was too much.
What was he doing here? This type of work was for the young and motivated. He was forty-six years old and burned out. He didn’t need a birthday cake to remind him of his age--not that he recalled the last time he had a birthday cake. Weight had started accumulating around his middle. His thick hair was thinning. His lower back was now plagued by frequent pain. He knew it was time to go. This would be his last mission.
He glanced at his watch. Where was the girl? She was late. He once again scanned the bar. It was empty except for a tired bartender and two native drunks sitting at the counter. He was tempted to activate the tracking device on his watch, but changed his mind. He would give her five more minutes.
He poured himself another drink from the bottle. That’s when the girl walked into the bar. Miranda Borgetti resembled a model. She was tall and attractive. Her Argentinian descent was clearly present in her large brown eyes, long dark hair, and delicate facial features.
His looks might have been fading, but Diamond Jack had little trouble seducing the girl. She played right into his plans. She was fed up with her present life as the girlfriend of a drug lord. She wanted something better in life. She wanted a future. Diamond Jack had promised her that and more. He had even broken a cardinal rule and revealed his true intentions to the girl. It was a dangerous move, but he was sure he could trust her. He had a natural gift for reading women. Besides, how else was he supposed to convince her to get him what he wanted?
Miranda Borgetti spotted Diamond Jack sitting at the table. She made her way to him. She was dressed in a form fitting dress, sandals, and a straw hat. She carried a canvass handbag that she clutched tightly. Her eyes shifted nervously as she strolled across the bar. The tired bartender gave her a curious gaze, awe struck that someone this beautiful had entered his bar.
She sat across from Diamond Jack. “I got it,” she whispered.
Diamond Jack regarded her briefly, giving her his patent look that most women, including Miranda Borgetti, found irresistible. “I never doubted you.”
She reached inside the bag. A paperback book appeared. She placed it on the table and slid it discreetly toward Diamond Jack. He pulled the book toward him, noticing the title: Steel Courage. He suppressed a smile. He certainly wasn’t planning on reading the damned thing.
“It’s in there,” Miranda said softly. “I don’t think he suspects anything.”
Diamond Jack reached out and touched the girl’s soft hand. He made eye contact with her. “I’m proud of you, Miranda. You did the right thing.”
“Now we go away?”
Diamond Jack nodded. “That’s what I promised you.”
At that instant, two men armed with assault rifles stormed into the bar. They located Diamond Jack and Miranda Borgetti. The C.A.T.T. Agent looked past the girl, making eye contact with the two men. It was an ambush!
The two men unleashed a fierce volley of deadly gunfire. Miranda Borgetti never knew what hit her. She took three bullets in the back and slumped forward, landing face down on the table.
Diamond Jack dived for the floor. Though he was aging, his reflexes were still sharp. He reached inside the breast pocket of his sport jacket. He drew his trusty Barreta as bullets zipped past him.
The bartender and two drunks at the bar fled, taking refuge behind counter.
Diamond Jack rolled along the floor, avoiding the deadly swarm of gunfire. He landed on his stomach, took aim at the two hit-men, and fired. His special forces training made him a marksman with any weapon. A bullet struck one of the men in the abdomen. He staggered back, his face contorting in pain and shock. The second hit-man took two shots in the chest. He fell back, hitting the floor before his mortally wounded companion--who soon followed him.
Diamond Jack staggered to his feet. He was running on pure adrenaline and failed to notice the wound on his left side. Blood soaked his jacket, forming a dark patch on the fabric. There was no time for pain. He darted to the table where Miranda Borgetti slumped. A pool of blood had collected underneath her. She was finally away from this place.
He pressed a special button on his watch and raised his wrist toward his mouth. “This is Diamond Jack. I’m coming in hot!”
He picked up the paperback book and fled from the bar.
Diamond Jack staggered through the streets of Belize City, swerving past startled natives and tourists. The bullet wound on his side hampered his breathing and made walking difficult. There was no sign of his pick-up.
He stepped into the path of a taxi cab. The driver slammed the brakes, missing Diamond Jack by mere inches. A honking followed. Diamond Jack continued his labored walk, leaving behind the driver’s angry curses.
He leaned against the wall of a shop. His breathing was sharp and erratic. The pain on his side was unbearable. He coughed, gazing down the street. Where was his fucking pick-up? He wasn’t going to make it. It was the first time in his life he had those thoughts. He wasn’t sure what he feared most: dying or failing? If he didn’t keep moving, he would experience both.
He continued walking along the cracked and uneven pavement. Bystanders gave him curious looks, which turned to fear when they spotted the blood on his side. He was wheezing now. He couldn’t breathe! Still, he held onto the paperback book, which was now smeared with his own blood.
He took a few more steps and stopped. His legs would not move anymore. Two well-dressed CATT agents approached from down the street. Diamond Jack was thankful he didn’t have to walk anymore, not that he could. The two men closed in on the wounded agent. Thirty meters. Twenty. Ten. . .
Diamond Jack’s face went pale and empty. He knew he was a dead man, but he had completed his mission. Like a zombie, he offered the two men the paperback book. He smiled to himself. No regrets. He was finally going to retire.
One of the men took the book.
The other man caught the lifeless body of Diamond Jack.
Back at the bar, three men entered. One of the men, a strong Latin type, stepped forward as the two men behind him kept him covered, ready for anything or anyone. The Latin man glanced down at the two dead hitmen--compliments of Diamond Jack. He shook his head with disgust and paid the two men no more attention.
He then shifted his attention to the body of Miranda Borgetti, slumped over the table. He approached the dead girl as the two bodyguards waited near the entrance of the bar. The man stood over Miranda, staring at her without a trace of emotion. He zeroed in on her hand, noticing the the gold ring on her index finger.
He casually reached inside the breast pocket of his jacket and pulled out a switchblade. He flicked it open, revealing the menacing blade. He casually grabbed the bloody hand of Miranda Borgetti and proceeded to sever the finger containing the ring.
Dominoe stared at Rook and Bishop as they sat on each side of the table. She sat at the end, waiting for their reaction. She hoped they made the best of it. It was going to be a long while before she had them over for dinner again. Actually, the real reason they were here was because she needed test subjects for her new hobby: cooking.
Suspecting nothing, her two fellow C.A.T.T. agents dug into the appetizing lasagna dinner. Bishop stopped chewing after the first bite. Rook uttered several stifled and mouthful coughs. Reluctantly, Bishop resumed chewing and glanced at Dominoe.
“Well?” Dominoe asked. It sounded more like a demand than a question.
Bishop smiled politely. He stole a quick glance at Rook, who was still suffering with his first bite. Bishop finally swallowed his bite in one merciful gulp. His lips quivered and his eyes welled up with tears. “It has an... interesting taste,” said Bishop. “What kind of meat did you use?”
“Squid,” replied Dominoe.
“Squid,” Bishop repeated, glancing at Rook across the table. “That’s very original, Dom. Don’t you think so, Rook?”
Rook finally swallowed his bite. He nodded in agreement. “Yeah. Why make boring lasagna when you can use... squid? I specially like the burning spiciness. It's like the Fourth of July in my mouth.”
“Gives it flare,” Dominoe said flatly. “Don’t you think?”
The two male agents nodded, grunting affirmatively. They knew better than to disagree with C.A.T.T.’s most deadly secret agent.
“When did you decide to take up cooking, Dom?” Rook asked.
“Yesterday.”
“Yesterday,” Bishop repeated, surprised. Dominoe shot him a piercing look. Bishop's self preservation skills took over. “That’s amazing. Dom. You’re really a fast learner. A quick study. Don’t you think so, Rook?”
Rook nodded. “It’s a shame my mother didn’t have any... squid to put in her lasagna.”
“A chef is like an artist,” Dominoe said. “He or she should experiment with ingredients like a painter experiments with style and color.”
Bishop cleared his burning throat. “That’s an interesting philosophy, Dom. But do you think it applies to lasagna?”
Dominoe’s eyes narrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
A sudden tension filled the air. Bishop stared at Rook, hoping for help. Rook said nothing, choosing to concentrate on his lasagna instead. Bishop was in trouble and he knew it.
A ringing interrupted the awkward silence. It was the phone in the living room. Dominoe allowed the phone to ring three times before disengaging her eyes from Bishop.
“Excuse me,” said Dominoe, rising from her chair.
As soon as Dominoe left the kitchen, Rook and Bishop reached for any liquid on the table. Rook drank a full glass of wine while Bishop guzzled an entire glass of water in a span of a few seconds.
Bishop exhaled, sticking his burning tongue out. "Holy crap! That's the worst thing I've ever put in my mouth!"
Rook shook his head, grimacing. “Why couldn’t she take up painting or belly dancing?”
Dominoe glanced at the name displayed on her caller I.D. She picked up the phone immediately. "Yes?”
“Davis here,” said the familiar voice of the Easter Division Boss. “I’m sorry to bother you at home, Dominoe, but this can’t wait.”
“What is it, Chief?”
Davis sighed. “I know I promised you a few days to rest while intelligence gathers information on the next Savan virus mission, but something else demands our immediate attention.”
“Say no more, Chief. When do you want me to come in?”
“Tomorrow morning.”
Dominoe and Davis exchanged goodbyes. She placed the phone down and turned toward the dinning room. Before she did anything else, she was going to make Rook and especially Bishop, eat every bite of the lasagna.
The fifty-four-inch flat screen on the wall of the conference room displayed the image of a thin-faced unimpressive young man. Next to his image was some basic profile information.
Easter Division Chief Davis repeated the information. “Roger Eugene Baldwin, thirty-three. Former employee of Webber Tech. An award winning chemist. He’s also a pioneer in the software field.”
“Very impressive,” said Dominoe, staring at the image of Baldwin.
The sexy C.A.T.T. agent sat crossed-legged behind the conference table. Rook and Bishop sat on each side of her. They didn’t look physically well or pleased to be in the conference room.
“We can add murder and drug-trafficking to his credits,” Davis said. “And that’s only the half of it. Baldwin has somehow developed a special serum that--when injected into the body--makes a person susceptible to outside suggestions. Perhaps by using a computer terminal, or maybe even a simple device like a phone or radio.” Davis picked up a blood stained paperback book before him. “We have a sample of this drug. It was collected by one of our agents: Diamond Jack. It cost him his life.”
A moment of silence followed. The image of Baldwin was replaced with another face. This man was older and more sinister looking. His handsome Latin features were intense. His eyes cold.
“This is Juan Miguel Galvan ,” Davis continued. “He’s a drug king. Head of the Galvan Cartel. They bring in about forty-percent of the cocaine from Mexico into the United States. He’s unstable and short tempered. He’s been linked to two dozen murders of judges, policemen, and politicians. You don’t want to cross this scumbag.”
“How are these men linked together?” Rook asked impatiently, holding his stomach as he grimaced.
Davis glanced at Rook. “As I was saying, Galvan has funded Baldwin’s research into developing this mind drug. Diamond Jack was able to... seduce Galvan’s girlfriend. A woman named Miranda Borgetti. Apparently, Galvan found out about it and set up an ambush. Maybe she had something to do with it. We don’t really know what happened to her.”
“Where do I come in?” Dominoe asked. “We already have a sample of the mind drug.”
Davis nodded. “That’s the good news. Unfortunately, it will take C.A.T.T. scientists months, perhaps even longer, to study the serum and develop an antidote. That maybe too late. In the meantime, Baldwin and Galvan can create havoc. No telling what they plan to use the substance for. We can only assume that they will use it to enhance their drug-trafficking business and any other crimes they choose to commit. We must prevent that--at all costs.”
“What are you asking?” asked Dominoe. “Do you want me to take out Galvan and Baldwin?”
Davis stared at the serious face of the beautiful agent. “To be blunt, yes.” His attention switched to the screen on the wall. The image of a spacious and palatial compound appeared on the screen. It was nestled among palm trees and appeared massive. “Baldwin and Galvan have taken up residence here, outside of Belize City.”
“Looks like the Playboy mansion,” said Rook.
His remark fell flat. As usual, Davis disregarded Rook’s comment. “We also have this.” Davis held up a silver wrist watch. “It belonged to Diamond Jack. Inside is a tracking device. He installed a tiny transmitter in a ring Miranda Borgetti had. If she’s still alive, then she must be near Galvan. It’s worth a try.”
Dominoe knew the mission procedure and anticipated what was next. “What’s my cover?”
Davis hesitated. He appeared to be searching for the right words. “You and... Bishop will pose as a married couple... on your honeymoon. Rook will be your backup.”
Bishop’s mood improved upon hearing that. Rook shot him a jealous gaze. Dominoe remained impassive. She was a professional and didn’t see the opportunity to exploit the situation like her fellow agent. Not that she ever wanted to in the first place. It was simply part of the service.
Dominoe and Bishop checked into the posh beach-side hotel just outside Belize City. It wasn’t just another resort hotel. This particular hotel was partly owned by Juan Miguel Galvan. It was the most logical place to begin the mission.
They checked in as Mr. and Mrs. Celestine and requested the honeymoon suite. Bishop played up the couple angle by taking every opportunity to caress and touch Dominoe. She played it cool, responding to his advances with mock reproach between fits of laughter.
Bishop stood near the large widow overlooking the courtyard of the hotel. The spacious pool area teemed with tourists clad in swimsuits and basking in the Belize sun. He focused on a particular young woman in a black bikini, lounging near the pool bar. “What a sight.” He turned to Dominoe and rubbed his hands. “How about we consummate our marriage?”
Dominoe was unpacking on the large bed. She paused briefly and stared at her fellow CATT agent decked out in a loud print shirt and tan shorts. “How about an ass kicking instead?”
"Oooh, rough sex!" said Bishop, raising his eyebrows.
Dominoe let it go and glanced at her wrist. The transmitter that had been used by Diamond Jack had been reinstalled inside her own watch. “Let’s see if we can get a signal.”
She pressed a button on the watch. The numbers disappeared, replaced by a radar image. A green blip appeared. It was accompanied by a low beeping as well as a series of numbers indicating the distance and location of the target.
“I’ll be damned,” said Bishop.
“Whoever has the ring is in the hotel,” Dominoe said. “In fact, he or she is somewhere in the courtyard.”
The two agents stepped to the window, scanning the pool area.
“Miranda Borgetti?” Bishop ventured.
“Only one way to find out.”
Dominoe strolled through the pool area of the resort. She wore a blue string bikini and turned every male head--along with some female heads as well. Bishop had stayed behind in “their” room. He was settling in and would join her later.
The CATT agent took a lounge chair near the pool. A pair of sunglasses allowed her to scan the area without being too obvious. She activated her tracking device discreetly. Her gaze stopped on the shapely form of a fair-skinned and toned woman sitting at the pool side bar. She had her back to Dominoe and she was unable to see her face clearly. She was sure of one thing: The woman had the transmitter ring.
Dominoe stood and made her way to the bar. “Is this seat taken?” she asked the woman, motioning to the empty chair.
The woman turned and shook her head. “Please.”
Dominoe sat next to the woman--who was actually younger than she expected. She noticed the ring on her finger. Then she noticed the striking face of the girl. Straight brown hair framed a creamy and clear complexion. Expressive brown eyes reflected a wildness within her. Her most prominent feature was her sensuous mouth. Her lips were full and tight, begging for attention. She radiated an appealing innocence, but Dominoe knew better than to be swayed by physical appearances.
A bartender stood before Dominoe. “Drink, senorita?”
Dominoe glanced at the red concoction in front of the girl. “I’ll have what she’s having?”
The bartender nodded and turned away. Dominoe decided to play the part of the sappy tourist. “I can’t believe I’m like in Belize... on my honeymoon.”
This got the girl’s attention. She flashed a perfect smile “Congratulations.”
“Thank you,” said Dominoe. She looked around the pool area, feigning annoyance. “Now where is that husband of my mine? He’s on call from his job, even on our honeymoon. That’s where he is now. Can you believe that? I hope it doesn’t turn into a regular thing. He promised me it was really important, that it would only take a few minutes, but that was half an hour ago.”
The girl shrugged politely. “What can you do?” She spoke in a rich, soothing voice. The kind of voice that could persuade or convince anyone of anything.
Dominoe nodded. “You’re so right.” She accepted the red drink from the bartender. “So what brings you to Belize City, Miss... ”
“Conner,” finished the girl. “Vanessa Conner.”
“Christina Celestine,” said Dominoe, offering the girl her hand.
The girl shook her hand. “Pleased to meet you.”
“Likewise. Business or pleasure?”
The girl stirred her drink with a straw. “Pleasure.”
Dominoe smiled. “Why else would anyone come to Belize City?”
“Exactly.” The girl noticed the watch on Dominoe’s wrist. “Do you have the time?”
Dominoe glanced at her watch. “One forty-five.”
The young woman reacted with surprise. “I’m sorry but I must be off. I have an engagement. Nice meeting you. Sorry I missed meeting your husband.”
Dominoe waved her hand casually. “Perhaps later. Have a great time.”
It took Bishop about ten minutes to hack into the resort main computer, using the computer located in the hotel room. Dominoe and Bishop were able to discover Vanessa Connor’s room number, along with some basic profile information. She was twenty four years old, single, and listed her occupation as a part time substitute teacher currently enrolled in graduate school. Besides the room number, Dominoe gave the information little credence.
Dominoe swiped the all-access key card on Vanessa Connor’s hotel room door. It was the latest device from CATT. It was almost too easy. Bishop had watched Vanessa leave fifteen minutes before and informed Dominoe. The CATT agent was determined to find out who this girl really was and why she had the ring equipped with the transmitter.
Dominoe closed the door behind her and scanned the silent room. It was located on the top floor and much nicer than Dominoe’s own suite. The luxurious room was spacious with abnormally high ceilings, giving the place a soothing grandeur. The Mayan and African art throughout the suite looked authentic. Graduate student my behind, thought Dominoe. She took a few steps into the room, contemplating where to begin her search.
“Funny, I don’t recall ordering room service,” a familiar voice said.
Dominoe spun toward the voice. She came face to face with Vanessa Conner, who stood before a large window. She had been hiding behind the drapes all along. She was dressed entirely in black and her slender form contrasted with the beige curtains. She eyed Dominoe with a determined expression.
Instinctively, the two women jumped into a ready stance.
“Who are you?” asked Dominoe.
“You first.”
“One way or another you're going to tell me who you really are,” said Dominoe. “It’s up to you if you want to make it easy or hard.”
Vanessa Connor suppressed a smile. “Let’s make a deal. The loser tells the truth.”
“I like your style,” the CATT agent said evenly. “Let’s tango.”
The two women stepped toward each other, meeting in the center of the spacious room. They circled each other, sizing each other up like two gladiators about to engage in mortal combat.
Vanessa Conner made the first move. She leapt through the air, attempting to kick Dominoe’s face. The CATT agent sidestepped the attack. She countered with a roundhouse kick, but Vanessa ducked the sweeping leg.
The girl swept her leg across Dominoe’s ankles. Dominoe vaulted backwards, executing a perfect black flip as she avoided the leg whip. Vanessa pivoted toward Dominoe and attacked again, unleashing a series of lightning quick forearms and punches. Dominoe bobbed, swerved, and blocked every blow. She retaliated with a spinning kick to Vanessa’s middle, sending her staggering back.
Vanessa retreated, stopping next to a coffee table. Her breathing matched the intensity in her eyes. This time it was Dominoe who initiated the attack. She darted toward Vanessa. Dominoe flew through the air, attempting to connect with a spinning kick. Vanessa dodged Dominoe’s foot. She then jumped back, landing on top of he coffee table.
Dominoe spun toward her opponent, just in time to receive a vicious kick to her chin. The CATT agent’s head snapped to the side, scrambling her bearings momentarily. Vanessa jumped down from the coffee table and followed up with a spinning kick, striking Dominoe’s chest. The CATT agent went flying, knocking over a lamp. She landed with a loud thud several meters away. Vanessa sensed victory. She dashed toward her fallen counterpart, determined to finish her off.
The CATT agent was far from done. She rocked back and launched herself to a standing position, ready to resume the fight. The two determined women clashed again. They moved throughout the living room, exchanging kicks and punches. It was a fierce give and take exchange with neither woman backing down. Furniture was overturned and artifacts were smashed.
The fighting continued into the master bedroom of the suite. Dominoe managed to grab Vanessa’s arm, holding her still as she planted two sharp kicks to her face. She then flung her against the wall, sending Vanessa crashing into a full-length body mirror, cracking the glass. Vanessa gasped, grunting with pain. She recovered quickly. She noticed Dominoe's foot in the mirror and stepped aside. The CATT agent's foot missed Vanessa but connected with the glass, shattering the cracked mirror.
Vanessa spun and struck with a sharp kick to Dominoe’s cheek. The CATT agent backtracked and hesitated, panting and gasping. Vanessa did not look any better. Loose strands of hair fell across her angular face, but her eyes did not waver from their original intensity.
“You’re very good,” Vanessa gasped. “But I'm much better.”
She charged again, chasing Dominoe out of the master bedroom and accross the living room with a combination of spinning kicks and accurate punches. Dominoe managed to avoid and block almost every blow. She suddenly lowered her shoulder and plowed into Vanessa. The two combatants fell over the couch, rolling to the floor. Arms and legs kicked and bucked wildly as they fought for any advantage.
Dominoe rolled on top of Vanessa, straddling her around her abdomen, pinning her arms against her torso. Vanessa executed a sit-up, head-butting Dominoe in the forehead. The blow left the CATT agent dazed long enough for Vanessa to land a solid punch to Dominoe’s face. Vanessa rolled on top of Dominoe, straddling her around the chest. Now she had the advantage. She prepared to finish off the CATT agent with another punch.
Vanessa failed to notice the looming figure of Bishop behind her. Bishop delivered a hard chop to the back of Vanessa Connor’s neck. She uttered a painful grunt and collapsed over Dominoe.
Dominoe looked up at Bishop with the limp body of Vanessa Connor draped over her. “What took you so fucking long?” she gasped.
Vanessa Connor awoke, only to find herself retrained. Actually, she was tied up on the floor of the bedroom of the hotel suite. She sat against the base of the bed, arms and elbows tied behind her with a soft but strong material. She glanced down at her body. Her ankles and knees were tied with strips of cloth, probably bed sheets.
Dominoe and Bishop stood over the bound girl. Dominoe was still recovering from the fight. She was more than impressed with the girl’s fighting skills. Had it not been for Bishop, she might be the one on the floor tied up right now. While Vanessa was unconscious, Bishop had injected her with CATT’s truth serum. Dominoe had also taken the opportunity to clean up the trashed suite. The disorder of the place was more than she could bear. Now it was time to get some answers.
“What is your real name?” Dominoe asked.
Vanessa glared at Dominoe. “Little Red Riding Hood.”
Dominoe tried again. “What is your real name?”
Vanessa was about to offer another bogus response but suddenly winced in discomfort. She closed her eyes and gasped. “Sydney... Bristow,” she blurted. She was startled by her honest answer.
“Whom do you work for?” asked Dominoe.
Sydney exhaled deeply as if attempting to resist the truth drug. "I’m... a double agent for the CIA. I also work for a sub-organization within the CIA called SD-6.”
“SD-6?” said Dominoe. “What’s SD-6?”
“A rouge CIA group located throughout the wrold. They deal in weapons, drugs, and intelligence. They use covert means to undermine government agencies in pursuit of their ultimate goal."
"Which is what?" asked Dominoe.
Sydney gasped. "World domination. They tricked me into thinking they were CIA.” Sydney’s face filled with a pain that went beyond the effects of the truth drug. “They killed my fiancé when I told him about SD-6.”
“Then why do you work for them?” asked Bishop.
Sydney shook her head, as if trying to clear her mind. “I’m trying to take them down. They don’t know I work for the real CIA. If they did, they would probably torture and execute me.”
Dominoe knew the truth drug would not last long, especially in strong willed subjects. “What are you doing in Belize?”
“Infiltrating the Galvan Drug Cartel,” replied Sydney. “It’s rumored they have developed a mind control drug. I’m here to verify that and collect a sample for SD-6.”
“You’re going to give this... SD-6 the drug?” asked Bishop, confused. “I thought you said... ”
“I’m going to give them a false sample.” Sydney closed her eyes and gasped. The internal battle raged within her. “The CIA will get the real sample.” She hung her head, breathing deeply.
“Where did you get that ring?” asked Dominoe.
Sydney did not raise her head. “It's a gift from Juan Galvan. I’m... posing as his mistress. He set me up here... in his personal suite.”
“That explains that,” Bishop said flatly. “Drug lords get all the women.”
Dominoe ignored her partner’s remark. “Do you know who Miranda Borgetti is?”
Sydney shook her head. “Never heard of her.” She suddenly opened her eyes and looked up at Dominoe, making eye contact with the CATT agent. “What... what did you give me?” she asked sharply.
Dominoe realized the effects of the drug had expired. She couldn’t help but feel guilty. From personal experience, she did not like to use mind-altering drugs. Still, it was the most effective way of obtaining information without resorting to the threat of physical harm. That threat would probably not work on this... Sydney Bristow.
“My name’s Dominoe,” the CATT agent suddenly said. “This is my partner, Bishop. We’re from a secret government organization called C.A.T.T. Covert Anti-Terrorist Taskforce.”
Bishop turned to Dominoe, taken aback by his partner's words. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Dominoe and Bishop?” Sydney said, unconvinced. “From CATT? Never heard of it.”
“Nor should you have,” Dominoe said. “All of our missions are covert. No one knows we exist. I’m here to take down Juan Galvan and a man named Roger Baldwin. He’s the one who’s developed the mind drug. It’s no rumor.”
A look of disbelief was etched on Bishop’s face. “Dom, what are you doing? Shouldn’t we clear this with CATT first?”
Dominoe ignored Bishop’s suggestion. “We already have a sample of this drug. If you agree to help me take down Galvan and Baldwin, we’ll give you part of the sample.”
“The hell we are!” Bishop exclaimed. “Dom, are you out of your mind?”
Sydney regarded Dominoe. “Why should I trust you?”
“I’m going to take down Galvan with or without you,” said Dominoe. “It’s up to you if you want to help me. If not, I advise you to stay out of my way.”
“Where is this... sample?” Sydney asked.
“CATT headquarters.”
“Dom, this is not--.”
“Shut it, Bishop!”
Sydney’s eyes shifted back and forth from the two bickering CATT agents. She focused on Dominoe. “I’ll help you, if you give me the sample first.”
“Deal,” said Dominoe.
Bishop sighed with disbelief.
Bishop finished releasing Sydney Bristow from her bindings. She stood and stared at him as she rubbed the back of her neck. “You hit me?”
Bishop shrugged. “Sorry.”
With blinding speed Sydney buried a solid punch into Bishop’s stomach. He doubled over, groaning with pain, his eyes bulging.
“Don’t worry about it.”
Dominoe looked on, amused and impressed.
Sydney scanned the suite, suprised that it was back to it's original order. She eyed Dominoe curiously but didn't pursue the matter further.
“Where is Juan Galvan?” asked Dominoe.
“In his compound outside Belize City.” Sydney replied. “He’s having a very exclusive party tomorrow evening.” She gave Dominoe a quick look-over. “He has a weakness for beautiful women. All of his drug dealer friends will be there. They all have this weakness.”
“How am I going to get into this exclusive party?” said Dominoe.
“You’ll be my friend from college,” Sydney explained. “My less than smart friend from college. Galvan is a typical man. He’ll be pleased. If you play your part right. Can you handle it?”
Dominoe smirked at Sydney. “I’ll do my best.”
Sydney nodded. “One more thing. How do you know about me?”
Dominoe motioned to Sidney's hand. “The ring on your finger belonged to Galvan's former girlfriend. It has a transmitter in it."
Sydney raised her hand, staring at the ring. “You people are good.”
“The best,” said Dominoe.
After the suite was restored to its proper order, Dominoe and Bishop departed. Sydney Bristow waited a few minutes. She made a quick phone call and then left the hotel. She took a taxi to a nearby restaurant.
A middle-age black man, Marcus Dixon, waited for her inside the restaurant. Dixon was Sydney’s SD-6 loyal partner and her confidant. He knew nothing of her counter activities or the nefarious actions of SD-6. It bothered her each time she spoke to him about their missions. She was lying to him, concealing her true intentions. Dixon was a good man and deserved better.
Sydney took a seat across the table from Dixon. She hadn’t told him about Dominoe or CATT over the phone, but her partner immediately sensed something was wrong. She spent the next few minutes revealing her encounter with Dominoe and Bishop. As usual, Dixon listened, showing little emotion. He even managed to remain stoic when Sydney explained her intention of teaming up with this Dominoe in exchange for a sample of the mind control drug.
Dixon finally spoke. “Do you trust this... Dominoe? After what they did to you? We have no idea who these people are or what they really want.”
“They know about me and our mission,” said Sidney. “It’s best I stay with them and monitor their activities.”
“Do they know about me?”
Sydney shook her head. “I didn’t tell them anything about you during my interrogation. They didn’t ask.” She glanced at her hand, which no longer had the ring on her finger. “Let’s keep it that way.”
“I still think it’s risky,” Dixon said. “We work alone. Involving anyone else only complicates things.”
Sydney sighed. “It’s not like I have a choice.”
Sydney and Dominoe were picked up by a car outside the hotel at six o’clock sharp. They were driven through the streets of Belize City, toward Juan Galvan’s compound. Sydney had informed Galvan about her friend, Elizabeth. He had been surprisingly accommodating about Sydney’s unexpected friend. He seemed eager to meet this girl. Perhaps because Sydney had dropped subtle hints about how attractive her friend was.
Sydney glanced at Dominoe, sitting next to her in the back seat. She had certainly told Galvan the truth about the CATT agent’s physical charms. She sported a skin tight mesh dress that was low cut and short. The mesh pattern widened around the midriff and upper thighs, enhancing the peekaboo effect. Spiked heels completed the daring outfit. Her hair was up and loose strands dangled around her sooth, sensuous neck. Sydney was actually... envious of her counterpart.
Sydney was no slouch herself. She had gone all out in choosing her outfit, which consisted of a short black leather skirt, vest, and matching blazer. Knee high boots complimented her long shapely legs perfectly. She had curled her hair and applied a light base of make-up, showcasing her prominent lips. A choker, which contained a secret transmitter, was tied around her neck. Compliments of Marshall Flinkman, SD-6's awkward gadget guru.
Dominoe had kept her word regarding the drug control serum. The sample arrived early that morning, delivered by two humorless CATT agents. Sydney had no idea of the red tape and trouble Dominoe had gone through in convincing Chief Davis to surrender part of the sample to a mysterious woman. Dominoe and Davis shared a special bond and she was able to penetrate the chief’s usually stalwart position.
The car left Belize City and traveled along a paved coastal road. It was late evening and a golden sunset covered the western sky. Dominoe looked out the window, mesmerized by the view... and Sydney Bristow. She was intrigued by the girl, from what little she knew about her. Dominoe detected a sadness in her. She had mentioned that SD-6 had killed her fiancé. Sydney Bristow seemed to have a checkered past that Dominoe would probably never understand. . . or envy.
Galvan’s mansion came into view through the front windshield. The spacious estate was surrounded by a wooden fence covered with ivy. Though not a sports fan, it reminded Dominoe of Wrigley Field in Chicago. The effect was soothing and pleasing to the eye. She reminded herself that pleasant appearances usually belied sinister interiors.
The driver suddenly veered off the main road, making a detour along a dirt road leading into a wooded area. Sydney and Dominoe stared at each other, exchanging confused expressions.
Sydney leaned forward. “Excuse me. Where are you going?”
“You are special guests of Mr. Galvan,” the driver replied, glancing in the rear view mirror. “I have my orders from him.”
“You didn’t answer the question,” said Dominoe, sensing danger.
The driver pressed a button next to the CD player. The doors in the back of the car locked automatically. At the same time, a thick sheet of plexiglass went up between the front and back seats.
Dominoe darted toward the driver but the glass barrier stopped her attack. She and Sydney were now trapped in the backseat. Dominoe pounded on the thick glass, cursing and yelling at the driver. Sydney tried the door handle but of course it was useless.
The driver glanced in the rearview mirror, amused by the sight of the two furious although beautiful women. He could watch them curse and rant all night but he had his orders. She pressed a second button on the panel. Almost immediately the back of the car filled with a thick gas.
Sydney and Dominoe coughed and gasped as the mysterious gas attacked their noses and mouths. Still, they continued attempting to find a way out of the car. Sydney laid back on the seat and kicked at the window on her side. The blows had no effect whatsoever. The window was made of the same material as the barrier that separated them from the driver.
The driver shook his head, amused as he watched the two desperate women. He casually pressed the PLAY button on the CD player. The entire car filled with Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony. He continued his drive, thoroughly engrossed in the beautiful movement of the classical piece.
In the back seat Dominoe and Sydney were near exhaustion. Their futile attempts at escaping, along with the choking gas, had almost incapacitated them. They could do nothing but gasp and fight the drowsiness that slowly but surely descended upon them.
Sydney gave out a final gasp as she slumped down on the seat, out cold. Dominoe was able to fight off the effect of the gas for a few seconds later but eventually succumbed to the gas. She collapsed on the seat next to Sydney Bristow. The last thing she heard was the blaring classical music.
The raucous roar of a cheering crowd, along with a fast talking announcer, snapped Dominoe from the comfortable darkness. She moaned and opened her eyes as she lifted her head. A posh room came into focus. Details followed. A huge television screen displayed the image of a football game. A lone man stood the behind a bar, transfixed by the sound and furry of the game. His back was to Dominoe and he failed to notice that she had come to.
Dominoe immediately tasted something hard and bitter in her mouth. A ball gag. It was cinched tightly under her chin and behind her head, forcing her mouth uncomfortably apart. Thus far, it was not a good start.
She regained her full senses and found herself in a bind--literally. She stood against a smooth wall in a spread-eagle position, forming a perfect X. Her wrists and ankles were secured to the wall with metal manacles that had no slack at all. Here we go again, the CATT agent thought.
She strained her head to the left and spotted Sydney Bristow next to her. She was bound exactly like Dominoe, except that Sydney was still out. Her head hung limply from her shoulders and a long strand of drool dangled from her ball gag. Dominoe sighed with relief when she realized that they were both still dressed as when they had left the hotel and fallen into this trap. Though their respective skirts were raised higher than normal, stretching to accommodate their spread legs.
Dominoe looked away from Sydney and focused on the football-watching-man. Something had gone wrong. They had been made. It seemed they had underestimated Galvan. Dominoe watched the huge TV screen in front of the man. She finally identified the football game as Super Bowl XX, the classic blowout featuring the Chicago Bears and New England Patriots.
The Bears scored. The man whooped and hollered as if he was watching the action live. He picked up a bottle of beer on the bar next to a laptop computer and took a long swig. He suddenly turned and noticed Dominoe staring at him. Their eyes locked for a moment and he smiled. Dominoe found sports nuts disturbing, and this guy seemed to fit that mold.
She immediately recognized the man as Roger Baldwin. He hardly looked the part of a hardened criminal. He was shorter than she expected and looked younger than his thirty-three years. His wardrobe did not help matters. He was dressed in loose jeans and a white T-shirt that had the words: Girl Hunter written in black letters across the chest. A single word flashed in Dominoe’s mind: dork.
Baldwin picked up a remote control and turned the volume down on the football game. “Hi,” he said enthusiastically. “Dominoe, is it?”
Dominoe gave him an icy look. There’s a huge ball in my mouth, idiot.
At that moment, Sydney Bristow regained consciousness. She gasped as she took in the situation. She was less successful at concealing her distress than Dominoe and Baldwin seemed to enjoy the fear in her face. Dominoe had a sinking feeling that Sydney Bristow had never found herself bound and gagged before. Sydney gave Dominoe a questioning look and then turned to Baldwin.
“Hello, Sydney.” Baldwin walked out from behind the bar. “I’m Roger Baldwin, a.k.a. mind-bender. Juan Galvan is having a party downstairs and asked me to keep you company.” He studied the two bound agents. “I’m glad he did. So. . . you two are here to... take me out?”
Dominoe’s eyes narrowed. There was no denying the taunting tone in Baldwin’s voice. There was only one explanation. Sydney Bristow's hotel room was bugged. That’s how Baldwin and Galvan knew everything. The simplicity of that fact infuriated Dominoe. She should have known better.
Baldwin’s eyes swept over the bodies of his two captives. “You chicks really have a great sense of style. Naughty yet nice. I’m glad I talked Galvan out of killing you.” He rubbed his hands. "Now that you're both awake we can begin."
Baldwin turned and walked toward the bar. Sydney and Dominoe glanced at each other, expressing mutual frustration at being utterly helpless. Baldwin picked up a strange gun from the counter. It looked like a dart gun and had a long, narrow barrel.
“You’re going to love my invention,” said Baldwin, stepping away from the counter. He stood across the room from Dominoe and Sydney. He held the gun at his side, poised and ready, like an old west gunslinger. “Like Dirty Harry once said, ‘Nothing wrong with shooting, as long as the right people get shot.’”
Baldwin raised the dart gun and fired. A single dart struck Sydney Bristow in the stomach. She flinched and uttered a muffled grunt. Dominoe braced herself, expecting a second dart to strike her. Baldwin lowered the gun, staring at Sydney proudly.
“Congratulations, Miss Bristow,” Baldwin announced. “I’ve just injected you with my very special and amazing invention. Within a few minutes your mind will be mine.” He addressed Dominoe. “You can be the control subject. Besides, I like to show off.”
Dominoe turned toward Sydney. The CIA agent closed her eyes and trembled, gasping erratically through her ball-gagged mouth. She groaned and bucked against her restraints.
“UUMMPPHHH!” Sydney screamed, clearly in the peak of her discomfort. She squirmed and thrashed as if possessed by an inner force. “MMMPHHHM! URRMMPPPHHH!”
Baldwin watched Sydney writhing, enthralled by her violent struggling. His face reflected a perverse pleasure. Dominoe glared at Baldwin. The CATT agent fumed when she realized that Baldwin was getting off from Sydney’s pain. Great, she thought. A sports loving sadist.
After a few more seconds of intense squirming, Sydney’s lithe body slackened as if all the energy had suddenly abandoned her. Her restraints prevented her from collapsing. She was still conscious and moaned softly. Her breathing steadied and she raised her head.
Baldwin stood before the laptop computer. His fingers danced across the keyboard. “I’ve created a way to... connect a computer program into the brain of any subject injected with my special serum. Pure genius. In short, I can make Sydney here do anything I want.” He suddenly looked up from the computer screen, making eye contact with Dominoe. “Watch and learn, baby.”
Baldwin picked up the television remote control from the bar counter. He pointed it at Sydney and pressed a special button. The manacles around Sydney’s wrists and ankles suddenly parted. She was free but did nothing. She simply stood at attention with a blank expression.
Baldwin rubbed his hands together, eyeing Sydney like a wolf about to devour a helpless lamb. “Come here, Sydney,” he ordered.
Sydney Bristow walked toward Baldwin. She seemed to be aware of her surroundings but her free will was obviously gone. She stood before him, awaiting further instructions. The ball-gag was still stuffed in her mouth, but she seemed not to notice.
“Remove your gag,” Baldwin said, stressing the words for phony emphasis.
Sydney reached up and unbuckled the straps under her chin and behind her neck. She pulled the ball from her mouth, taking a long strand of drool with it. She dropped the ball-gag on the floor.
“Much better,” said Baldwin. He circled Sydney, studying her shapely body carefully. He suddenly stopped before her. “From now on, Sydney, I’m your daddy.” Baldwin stared at Dominoe. “I love this part.”
Dominoe shot Baldwin an icy look. She flinched in her restraints, pulling uselessly against the wrist manacles. She could only imagine what was coming next.
Baldwin shifted his attention back to Sidney. “Who’s your daddy, Sydney?”
“You are,” replied Sydney.
“Who?”
“You are.”
“Say it.”
“You’re my daddy.”
Baldwin stepped behind Sydney. “Damn right I am.” He swatted her shapely behind sharply. The leather skirt amplified the smacking sound, producing a loud popping.
Baldwin stood behind Sydney and crossed his arms. “Take your clothes off, Sydney. . . slowly.”
Without any hesitation whatsoever, Sydney Bristow began to strip... slowly. She removed her leather blazer, dropping it at her feet. Her sleeveless leather vest followed. She slipped it past her arms, dropping it on the floor along with her jacket. She wasn’t wearing a bra and her small but firm breasts protruded from her upper torso, like two ice cream scoops side by side, ready to be licked and enjoyed.
Baldwin raised his eyebrows, impressed by the sight of the topless CIA agent. Sydney reached behind her, unzipped the leather skirt, and tugged it past her hips. She bent forward, sliding the skirt down her shapely legs. It hissed as it brushed her silky smooth skin. She stepped out of the skirt and stood before Baldwin clad only in her leather boots, black G-string panties and choker.
“Stop,” Baldwin ordered, stepping in front of Sydney. He took in the sight of Sydney Bristow’s seminude body. “I like to leave a little to the imagination.” He turned and winked at Dominoe.
Dominoe continued watching, her heart pounding away, her anger rising. If only she could get free. Adding to her humiliation was the fact that she had started drooling. A long strand of glistening spit hung from the bottom of her ball-gag. She shook her head in a futile attempt to sever the drool strand but it only rocked sideways and stretched further.
Baldwin continued degrading Sydney Bristow. “Get on your knees and suck my cock, Sidney. Give me the greatest blow job you’ve ever given in your life. Understand?”
“I understand,” Sydney said enthusiastically.
Sydney Bristow, chaste but deadly CIA double agent, had no idea what was happening to her as she knelt before Baldwin. She felt herself drifting. Not her body, but her mind. Nothing else mattered but the compelling voice of her Master. And yet she did not mind. She didn’t care. Her mind was receptive to infinite suggestions that she was only too willing to fulfill.
At this moment, her mission was to suck her Master’s cock. She stood on her knees before him and unbuttoned his jeans eagerly. She pulled his zipper down and plunged her hand inside his fly, searching for his member. She pulled the limp cock from his pants and quickly went to work on it. She stroked the shaft and caressed his balls. In a matter of seconds the cock was rock hard and ready. Sydney couldn’t help but feeling a surge of excitement as she handled the cock. She loved giving head. What woman didn’t like the feel of man’s organ inside her mouth?
She attacked the erect penis, licking the balls and smothering the shaft with her moist full lips. After bathing the entire penis with saliva she turned her head parallel to the stiff member and pretended to bite it, being extra careful with her teeth. She ran her mouth back and forth along the glorious instrument, teasing her Master. He gasped and twitched excitedly at her gentle touch.
She suddenly reached up and took the base of the cock in her left hand. She flicked her tongue at the top, barely making contact with it. Her left hand stroked and squeezed her Master’s balls ever so gently. He was shuddering and breathing deeply. His excitement was contagious and Sydney’s arousal increased with each passing second. Her nipples hardened and her cunt ached sweetly.
She took the head of the cock in her mouth, sucking and licking enthusiastically. She found the opening at the tip of the cock and gave it extra attention with her expert tongue. Her Master responded with a series of groans and sharp gasps. This only motivated Sydney to further enhance his pleasure. Her ultimate goal was to please.
Her mouth advanced gradually, enveloping the cock slowly. She took the shaft in a centimeter at a time. As she enveloped the cock she pulled back, sucking hard while her tongue caressed the bottom of the prick. She would then plunge her mouth further down the shaft, advancing a centimeter more than before. Her Master was squirming and moaning over her, running his hands through her hair. Sydney continued taking his cock insider her until she had no more room for him. She then worked her mouth back and forth furiously.
Dominoe couldn’t watch any longer. She turned her head and everted her eyes. She wished she could cover her ears and block out the sounds of Sydney’s ravenous mouth on Baldwin’s cock. Part of her was utterly disgusted by the spectacle while deep down inside there was a more primal feeling fighting its way to the surface: arousal.
Dominoe had always been aroused by the thought of wild sex. There was nothing more erotic than watching and listening to two people engaged in a “forbidden” sexual encounter. The fact that Baldwin was in total command of Sydney’s actions did not dampen the mood. It merely injected a certain air of... cheapness to the act. Watching a sex act was much more exciting when there was an element of depravity in the equation. This certainly fit that mold.
Dominoe’s cunt throbbed, sending a wonderful tingling sweeping throughout her helpless body. She closed her eyes and exhaled. If only she wasn’t restrained. Then she could reach down between her legs and...
What was she thinking? Baldwin was actually raping Sydney. She should have felt anger and disgust at his actions, but her quivering body had other... feelings. Dominoe had long since accepted that when it came to sex, the desires of body far outweighed the objections of the mind.
Sydney sucked Baldwin’s cock halfway into her mouth. She paused briefly, allowing her Master to enjoy the sensation of her mouth on his member. He was panting wildly, nearing his climax. Sydney’s twirling tongue and persistent mouth had almost driven him mad, but he had somehow held out. She took it as a challenge to make him come.
Sydney continued taking more of the cock into her mouth-slowly. She took a deep breath through her nose and held it. She suddenly gripped Baldwin’s buttocks and slid her entire mouth over his cock, tilting her head back slightly. The cock slid smoothly down her throat until it disappeared completely inside her. Sydney’s face was now buried in Baldwin’s bush and her chin grazed his balls.
She moaned deeply, further aroused by having her Master’s entire cock in her mouth and throat. Baldwin proceeded to throat-fuck her, sliding his shaft in and out of her with a steady rhythm. Each time the cock reached her throat she held it there briefly, thrilled by the notion of being able to engulf him fully. Her cunt was streaming and she trembled with excitement.
As Baldwin’s throat-fucking continued, Sydney gave his cock extra pleasure by caressing the bottom with her tongue. Baldwin interlocked his hands behind her head and drove her back and forth on his cock. It seemed like he was attempting to ram his prick down into her stomach and out through her cunt. Sydney’s discomfort was overshadowed by sheer pleasure. She was completely determined to give her Master the greatest blow job she had ever given in her life. The intense throat fucking continued.
Dominoe squirmed and grunted through the ball gag. She couldn’t help but steal quick glances at what Sydney Bristow was doing to Baldwin’s cock. The sight of Sydney’s face in his groin along with the smacking and sucking noises all combined to drive the C.A.T.T. agent toward a hurried climax. For a split second she actually wished she was in Sydney’s position. She wished someone would relieve her by touching her down there.
She twisted, jerked, and bucked in her restraints. The metal manacles actually enhanced her arousal. It was like having a blindfold during foreplay, only much better. She continued to suffer while Sydney Bristow continued to have her throat ravished by Baldwin's pumping cock.
After an intense session of furious throat fucking, Sydney finally pushed Baldwin over the edge. She felt his cock pulse and twitch in her mouth. He uttered a loud grunt and shot his initial load down her throat and toward her stomach. Instinctively, Sydney pushed his hips away, pulling his cock from her throat. Baldwin shot another load of cum in her mouth. She swallowed it eagerly and held the cock there, allowing him to finish. Baldwin panted and shuddered as he descended from his orgasm. He kept his cock in Sydney’s warm mouth until it softened.
“MMMMMMPHHHH,” Dominoe moaned, in the throes full arousal. Her eyes were closed and she was shaking her head while she slithered, her bindings preventing her from doing anything about her aching body. Her breath came in short spurts and she was now drooling profusely through the ball-gag. She was wet and sticky. She needed to be touched, stimulated, and thoroughly fucked.
Baldwin finally withdrew his cock from Sidney’s mouth. He patted her head. “Well done, Sydney, but you can do better.”
Sydney looked disappointed at not pleasing her Master entirely. “I can do better,” she said flatly. Her tone suddenly brightened. “Can I please try again? I promise it will better.”
Baldwin tucked his penis inside his pants. “Not now. Daddy’s recharging. You may stand.”
Sydney rose to her feet, awaiting further orders.
Baldwin approached Dominoe. He was still basking in the afterglow of the incredible blow job he had recieved from Sydney Bristow. The CATT agent was still breathing hard, still aching for sexual release. She looked up at Baldwin, angry at him for humiliating her like this. She would worry about Baldwin later. At this moment her only objective was to finger fuck herself till her body was content. She continued writhing in her tight bonds.
Baldwin smiled thinly. “You naughty girl,” he taunted. “You enjoyed the show, didn’t you? Since you’ve been a great audience, I’m going to reward you.” He turned to Sydney Bristow, who was still clad in her panties, knee high boots, and choker. “Sydney, give your hot friend here some pleasure.”
Sydney said nothing as she approached Dominoe with a determined expression. Dominoe stared into Sydney’s eyes. Even under the influence of the mind drug there was still a hint of raw emotion within CIA agent’s countenance: lust. Sydney proceeded to unbuckle Dominoe’s ball-gag. She pulled the rubber ball from her mouth and discarded the gag, her eyes never wondering from Dominoe’s face.
Dominoe took a deep breath and exhaled, relieved to be free of the rubber ball. Her hungry gulps of air were cut short when Sydney’s mouth connected with her lips. The CATT agent’s eyes widened and a startled grunt escaped her lips as Sydney Bristow plunged her tongue deep inside her mouth. She was gentle at first, but her kissing soon intensified.
Dominoe welcomed Sydney’s wonderful mouth. She slipped her tongue between Sidney’s teeth. Tasting her. Savoring her. Sydney had a delicious freshness and Dominoe couldn’t get enough. Their passionate tongue wrestling went on. . . and on. . . and on. . .
Sydney pressed her body against Dominoe. Her hands slipped discreetly down the CATT agent’s sides, stopping at her thighs. She slipped her hands under the hem of Dominoe’s mesh skirt and pulled it up. Dominoe’s mind was still enthralled by Sydney’s kissing and she failed to notice that her skirt was now up around her waist.
Sydney pulled away from Dominoe’s mouth, leaving the CATT agent breathless and hungry for more. Her mouth soon found Dominoe’s ears, cheeks, and neck. She kissed and licked every part of her face. Dominoe gasped, panting softly. Sydney’s touch was nothing short of bliss and she wanted stimulation between her burning thighs.
It was as if Sydney had read her mind. She plunged her right hand inside the front of Dominoe’s panties. The CATT agent’s body tensed with anticipation. Sydney inserted one finger... then two inside Dominoe’s throbbing cunt. She fingered her expertly, twirling and penetrating her opening with just the right amount of manual stimulation.
Sydney’s left hand pulled at the neckline of Dominoe’s low cut dress. It took her a couple of rough jerks to yank the neck of the mesh dress down past Dominoe’s breasts, exposing her black lace bra. Sydney pulled the bra up and over Dominoe’s breasts, revealing her perfect mounds completely. The CATT agent shut her eyes and moaned, feeling Sydney’s fingers on her cunt. Then she felt Sydney’s mouth on her breasts, licking and sucking gently, trapping her hard nipple buds between her full lips.
The foreplay was almost too much for Dominoe. Her restrained body arched forward as it received wave after wave of constant pleasure. She trembled violently with unabashed excitement. Her breathing was sharp and erratic. Her moans intensified as Sydney Bristow slowly but surely drove her toward the edge of desire.
Sydney withdrew her mouth from Dominoe’s breasts. She pulled her hand away from the CATT agent’s moist pussy and brought her fingers up to her lips. Sydney licked and sucked the juice from her fingers as if she had just finished enjoying a delicious albeit messy food.
Sydney went down to her knees, kneeling before Dominoe as her hands journeyed down the CATT agent’s squirming body. Her hands moved up Dominoe’s smooth thighs. She hooked her fingers inside the waistband of her panties and pulled them down around her upper thighs. She gripped Dominoe’s taut buttocks with both hands and drew her crotch toward her mouth.
Sydney’s lips brushed against Dominoe’s mound, forcing the CATT agent to twitch with anticipation. Sydney licked and probed the area around Dominoe’s pussy, teasing her into a frenzy. Dominoe bucked against her manacles, chaffing her wrists and ankles. She didn’t care. The only thing that mattered was satisfying her sexual urge.
Sydney’s thumbs found Dominoe’s labia. She ran them along the lips, tracing long and slow deliberate strokes along the length as she parted them apart. She stretched Dominoe’s cunt lips open, exposing her pink sweetness.
Sydney buried her mouth inside the opening. She concentrated on Dominoe’s engorged clit, sucking it gently. Each time she pulled her mouth back she would flick the clit with the tip of her tongue, sending waves of blissfulness pulsating though Dominoe’s body.
Dominoe moaned, gasping loudly as she arched her body. She clenched her fists as the intense stimulation that originated from Sydney’s tongue threatened to overwhelm her. Sydney pulled Dominoe’s cunt further apart, almost painfully. She pressed her lips against Dominoe’s pussy, taking it entirely in her mouth. Her tongue continued working, twisting and drilling inside Dominoe’s wet cunt without mercy. Every so often she would return to her clit.
Dominoe could not hold back any longer. “OOOOOHHHHHHHH!” she exclaimed between gasps. “OHHHH MY GODDDDD! YESSSSS! YEEEEESSSS! SO GOOOOOOD!”
Dominoe’s cries of pleasure only fueled Sydney’s desire to please. She stepped up her oral assault. She fucked Sydney’s cunt with urgency as the CATT agent shrieked and moaned over her. She flicked, licked, and sucked every inch of the pussy. Dominoe shuddered, lost in the mind numbing pleasure.
Still, Sydney Bristow did not let up. She continued eating out Dominoe’s pussy with incredible resolve and stamina. Each time she brought Dominoe near orgasm she would relax and allow her to descend from her incredible pleasure. It was like a game to her, and Dominoe was nearing exhaustion. She couldn’t take much more teasing. She needed to come!
Baldwin stood behind Sydney, smiling sadistically as he watched. He knew exactly what was happening and took special pleasure in watching Dominoe squirm as she begged for sexual release. “Stop, Sydney,” Baldwin suddenly ordered.
Sydney Bristow immediately ceased pleasuring Dominoe. She withdrew her tongue from the CATT agent’s pussy and stood on her knees before her gasping counterpart. Dominoe groaned in agony. She had been so close to a shattering climax and just as quickly she had been denied. It wasn't fair! She pulled on her wrist and ankle bonds with utter frustration, twisting furiously. She gasped and groaned, her breasts heaving.
“Step away from your friend, Sydney,” said Baldwin, making his way to the bar counter.
Sydney obeyed the command. She stood and backed away from Dominoe. Anything for her Master.
“Please,” Dominoe begged, gasping. “Let me... finish. Please!”
Baldwin stared at the trembling CATT agent. “Don’t worry. You will get plenty of satisfaction later... but for now...”
Baldwin picked up the dart-gun from the bar, aimed it at Dominoe, and fired a single shot. A dart struck Dominoe in the abdomen. She uttered a startled gasp and tensed.
Inside a parked van, in a wooded area near Galvan’s property, Marcus Dixon listened in stunned silence as his partner, Sydney Bristow, did things he never imagined her doing. His initial reaction was to tear the earphones off his head, but a morbid fascination had compelled him to listen. He wished he hadn’t because he now felt sleazy and guilty.
His heart pounded wildly and he trembled with anger. Sydney was his partner and it was up to him to watch her back. He had done a poor job thus far. He had failed to find the bug in Sydney’s hotel room and now he could do nothing but sit and listen to this pervert have his way with Sydney.
He had reported Sidney’s capture to SD-6 headquarters, but had been ordered to stand by. Damn that Sloane! Dixon knew it was the SD-6 director's orders. They had no idea of the serious trouble Sydney was in. So for the past two hours, Marcus Dixon sat in the back of the van and listened in horror as his partner engaged in sordid sexual escapades. He never felt so helpless in his life.
Ro class="first"ok and Bishop moved through the thick woods that surrounded Galvan’s estate. Dominoe had failed to check in as planned. Something had gone wrong and it was up to them to locate their fellow agent. They donned camouflaged uniforms and were armed with assault rifles, handguns, and knives. They were treating this as a rescue mission until they knew otherwise.
They stopped in their tracks when they spotted the dark van parked on the side of the dirt road at the edge of the woods. They stared at each other, not sure what to make of it. Bishop motioned for Rook to hold his position.
Bishop emerged from the woods and approached the van cautiously, his weapon locked and ready. He noticed that the front seat was empty. He moved along the side of the van, stopping before the sliding door. He gripped the door handle with his left hand.
Bishop pushed the sliding door open. He gripped his weapon with both hands, searching for a target. Aside from some monitors and keyboards, the van was empty, or at least it gave the appearance...
CRACK!
Bishop felt a vicious kick to his chin as an outstretched leg from inside the van made contact with his face. The blow stunned him and sent him staggering. He recovered in time to see a black man jump out of the van and charge at him.
The black man followed up with a solid punch to Bishop’s stomach. The CATT agent doubled over in pain. The man then delivered a knee to Bishop’s face. Bishop dropped his assault rifle and fell back, groaning. The black man spotted the weapon on the ground and made a move toward it.
“Hold it!”
Dixon froze. He looked up and spotted a second man in camouflaged fatigues, aiming an assault rifle at him. For a split second, Dixon contemplated playing the odds and reaching for the rifle. He was a smart man and reason won out.
Rook studied Dixon. “Who are you?”
“A black guy inside a van in the middle of nowhere,” Dixon replied. There was nothing in his voice to indicate sarcasm. “Who are you?”
Bishop rose to his hands and knees. He glared at Dixon. “I’m the guy who’s gonna kick your ass!” He shot to his feet and made a move toward Dixon.
“Bishop!” Rook warned.
For some unexplained reason, Bishop ceased his attack.
Dixon’s eyes narrowed when he heard the name. “You’re Bishop?”
Bishop grabbed his nose, wincing with pain. “You know me?”
Dixon knew the longer he engaged in this banter, the worse it got for Sidney. “I’m Sydney Bristow’s partner.”
“She didn’t say anything about having a partner,” Bishop countered.
“You didn’t ask her.”
“All right, cut the bullshit,” said Rook. “Do you know where Dominoe and your partner are?”
“In Galvan’s estate,” Dixon replied. "Some guy named Baldwin. . . has them. Sydney has a secret transmitter. I’ve been listening in.”
“Are they all right?” asked Bishop.
“For now.”
Rook lowered his weapon and relaxed. “Looks like we’re in the same boat.”
“Three’s better than two,” Bishop added grudgingly.
Rook peered inside the van. “Got anything in there for a rescue mission?”
Dixon remained impassive. “Maybe.”
Roger Baldwin circled Dominoe and Sidney. He wore dark slacks and a black and white striped referee shirt. A whistle hanged around his neck. The two agents stood at attention, under his control, and wearing nothing but thong bikini bottoms. Behind them was a circular ring that resembled a child’s swimming pool. It was eight meters in diameter and covered with a layer of scented oil.
A group of sharply dressed but rugged looking men stood around the room, forming a circle around Baldwin and the two women. Their intense eyes were clearly focused on the two seminude young women. Juan Galvan stood inside the circle of men, his arms crossed, watching impatiently.
Baldwin paced around Sydney and Dominoe, like a ring master explaining an upcoming show. “As you can see, gentlemen, these two lovely specimens are under my command. They will do anything I say. Even fight to the death. Using my computer terminal, I can program them to do anything.”
“How long does this control last?” came a question from one of the men.
Baldwin stopped pacing. “I have yet to test the limits of my mind control serum, but I can assure you that there is no way the control can be broken. You see, the brain--.”
“Explain your plan,” Galvan interrupted.
Baldwin turned to Dominoe and Sidney. “It’s very simple. We will use one of these hot babes to undertake a very special mission on our behalf. They will. . . fight for the honor to be chosen for this mission. The loser will. . .” Baldwin regarded the circle of hardened criminals. “Let’s just say one of you will be very lucky, if the price is right.”
This produced an excited murmuring from the collection of men.
Baldwin clapped his hands together. “Now for the moment you’ve all been waiting for.” He addressed Sydney and Dominoe. “Please get in the ring.”
Dominoe and Sydney stepped over the border of the plastic ring and faced each other, waiting for further instructions.
Baldwin turned to the men. “Just to make the match more interesting, please feel free to place your bets.”
“Get on with it,” Galvan muttered.
Baldwin shrugged. “Cool.” He turned to the two agents, making a sweeping gesture with his hands. “Okay, ladies, show time!”
Part Two
“On your knees, ladies,” Baldwin commanded.
Dominoe and Sydney obeyed. The two women knelt before each other in the middle of the slick plastic ring. They eyed each other with determined expressions. Though clearly under Baldwin’s control, their competitive nature was still present.
Baldwin knelt outside the ring. “Here are the rules: No biting, kicking or punching. First one to pin the other on the matt for three seconds is the winner.” A grin spread across Baldwin’s lips. “If you are thrown out of the ring or step out on your own you will be punished... by me. All right, girls, let’s get it on!”
Baldwin blew the whistle hanging from his neck.
Dominoe and Sydney lunged at each other. They grappled for control as they slipped and slid across the surface of the oil-covered ring. Dominoe slipped behind Sydney, wrapping her arms around the CIA agent’s waist. Sydney squirmed and struggled, but Dominoe pushed her down on the ring. Sydney landed on her stomach with Dominoe on top of her.
Sydney twisted and writhed under Dominoe. She managed to roll on her back and bucked, lifting her lower body off the matt, throwing Dominoe off her. Before Dominoe could recover, Sydney rolled on top of the CATT agent. She pounced on Dominoe, attempting to pin her to the matt. Dominoe was too strong and easily threw Sydney off her.
The two women recovered with lightning quickness. Before they could even catch their breath, they were on each other. A fierce wrestling session followed as the two oil-covered thong wearing secret agents fought for any advantage. They rolled around the ring, locked in close combat as they shrieked and grunted. Just when one woman seemed to have an edge, the other one countered with a spirited effort.
Baldwin and the men surrounding the ring couldn’t get enough. They cheered and laughed as the two seminude young women rolled around the ring, engaged in all-out wrestling that bordered on actual fighting.
Dominoe fought her way on top of Sydney. She straddled the CIA agent at the waist. Sydney bucked and arched, but only succeeded in giving Dominoe a wild ride on her middle. In a final act of desperation, Sydney grabbed two handfuls of Dominoe’s hair and pulled. Dominoe let out a painful grunt. At that moment, Sydney bucked with all her might.
Dominoe tumbled along the oil-covered surface of the mat. The CATT agent recovered quickly and shot to her knees. Sydney anticipated her opponent’s action and plowed into Dominoe, using her as a tackling dummy. The impact sent Dominoe reeling. She tripped over the edge of the ring and spilled out onto the hardwood floor.
The men cheered with approval.
Baldwin blew his whistle. “Stop!” he shouted. “You’re out of the ring. That’s a penalty.” He stood over the panting and baby oil-covered form of Dominoe. “Stand up.”
Dominoe obeyed and stood before Baldwin.
“Grab your ankles,” Baldwin ordered.
Dominoe did as she was told. She couldn’t understand why she was doing it, but soon found herself bent over with her hands on her ankles. She was flexible enough and did not have to bend her knees. Her position exposed her thong-covered backside to the crowd of leering men.
Baldwin stepped behind Dominoe. He studied the perfect ass propped up in the air before him and smiled. He measured Dominoe’s rear with his hand, took a practice swing, and then...
SMACK!
Dominoe closed her eyes and gasped as she felt the hard slap on her buttocks.
CRACK!
A second blow stung her shapely ass. The burning pain engulfed her entire backside but she dared not move or protest.
SMACK!
The third blow was almost unbearable, but Dominoe bit her lip and took the pain. She braced herself for another slap but Baldwin did not deliver the blow.
Baldwin stepped next to Dominoe. “Next time you leave the ring it will be six. Understand?”
Dominoe nodded, rubbing her burning ass. She suddenly shot Sydney a piercing look. The CIA agent stood on her knees in the middle of the ring with a determined expression, her oil-covered body glistening erotically. Dominoe was determined to make Sydney pay for her spanking.
"Get back in the ring," Baldwin ordered.
Dominoe did not take her eyes off Sydney as she stepped back into the ring. She joined Sydney on her knees in the middle of the plastic mat.
“Resume!” Baldwin shouted, blowing his whistle.
Dominoe and Sydney were once again locked in close combat, wrestling for control. They tumbled along the baby oil-covered surface of the ring. Entangled arms and legs blurred as the wrestling intensified. They rolled around the ring, taking turns being on top. Their wild grunting and squealing were drowned out by the cheering men around them. Most of the spectators waved money and made hasty bets as they watched the match unfold.
Dominoe fought her way to her knees but Sydney used her quickness to dart behind the CATT agent. She wrapped her arms around Dominoe’s torso and cupped the CATT agent’s prominent breasts. Dominoe gasped when Sydney squeezed her firm mounds, mauling her flesh viciously. Dominoe squirmed and struggled for all she was worth, but Sydney had the advantage. The CIA agent suddenly pulled on her opponent’s prominent nipples, inflicting an excruciating discomfort on Dominoe.
Dominoe let out a painful grunt. She reached behind her, grabbed Sydney’s head and flipped the CIA agent over her shoulder. It was a remarkable feat considering Dominoe was on her knees. Sydney slammed into the matt, landing on her back before Dominoe.
Some men cheered while others groaned with disappointment.
Dominoe prepared to finish off Sydney with a punch, but remembered Baldwin’s admonition about not throwing punches. Her hesitation cost her. Sydney suddenly bent her legs over her body and clamped them around Dominoe’s head. The move caught the CATT agent off guard. Sydney pulled Dominoe over her, smashing her head into the mat. The plastic ring offered little protection and the impact of the blow stunned Dominoe, rendering her temporarily unconscious.
The men cheered even louder, impressed by Sydney’s resourcefulness.
Sydney rolled onto her stomach. She zeroed in on the fallen body of her opponent and dived on top of Dominoe. She landed sprawled out across Dominoe’s stomach, knocking the wind out of the CATT agent.
Baldwin jumped into the ring. He stood over the two women and proceeded to count like a boxing referee. “One... two... three! You're out!”
Half the men around the ring cheered while the other half groaned and handed over their cash.
Baldwin reached down and grabbled Sydney’s arm, lifting her to a standing position. He raised her hand in victory. “Here’s your winner! Sydney ‘Deep Throat’ Bristow!”
The sleazy men went wild. Juan Galvan watched silently, staring at Dominoe as she stirred in the middle of the ring. He stepped toward Baldwin and whispered something in his ear. Baldwin shot Galvan a knowing look and smiled.
Baldwin spoke again. “I hope you all enjoyed the show. Sydney here is the winner and will undertake that special mission in our behalf.”
“And what mission is that?” one of the men asked.
Galvan took over. He waited until he had the full attention of the men before speaking. “The assassination of the most powerful man in the world... to begin with.”
His revelation drew stunned silence from the collection of criminals around him. All the men knew he was referring to the leader of the United States. Had it been anyone else who said that, it would have been received as a joke. Juan Galvan did not joke. Several of the men stared at each other blankly, not knowing what to say or do.
“I can think of no other way to demonstrate my power and influence on a world level.” Galvan explained. “This will be the ultimate statement.”
One of the men, an older criminal, was bold enough to speak first. “If you assassinate him, the heat will be tremendous. Have you thought about the implications?”
“The gringos will be angry, but it will pass,” Galvan said. “They will realize that nothing can touch us. Right now we have more money and influence than anyone. This will consolidate our power.”
The men murmured among themselves.
Baldwin stepped forward. “We will explain the plan in thorough detail tomorrow morning.”
“You will all spend the night here as my guests.” Galvan said “Please make yourselves comfortable. I have fifteen rooms at your disposal. Buenas noches,” Galvan walked past the circle of men and left the room.
Dominoe entered Juan Galvan’s bedroom. She carried a silver tray loaded with a champagne bottle and several food items. She was dressed in a fetish French maid’s outfit complete with a white lace apron. The skirt fell above her thighs, exposing the black lace stocking tops. Abnormally high-heeled shoes showcased her long shapely legs.
Galvan sat inside a round bathtub that had been built into the hard wood floor of the bedroom. He smiled when Dominoe entered the room. Galvan had no respect for Baldwin, but he definitely had a great imagination. It was too bad Baldwin had to be killed. Now that Galvan had the mind serum, he had no more use for Baldwin.
Galvan studied the stunning woman dressed in the kinky outfit. She was a work of perfection. “Well, who do we have here?”
“I am Marie,” Dominoe replied in a thick French accent. “What would you like to do first, monsieur? Eat... or fuck?”
“Why don’t you join me,” Galvan said.
Dominoe placed the tray on the bed. She focused on Galvan and proceeded to strip off the maid outfit, dropping it around her feet. She stood before Galvan wearing only her heels, stockings, and thong panties.
Dominoe posed for Galvan, giving him a view from different angles. “Do you like what you see, monsieur?”
“Oh, yes.”
“Would you like to see me pleasure myself?”
“Why not?” Galvan gestured with his hand. “Proceed.”
Dominoe stepped toward the edge of the bathtub. She stood before Galvan and plunged her right hand inside the front of her panties. She inserted one finger, then two inside her slit. She proceeded to finger fuck herself, pumping frantically in and out of her opening. Before long she was fist fucking herself silly. Her panties were now down around her thighs, straining drastically as she bumped and grinded her hips in response to the incredible sensations that gripped her shuddering body.
Her thumb found her throbbing clit and she rubbed it gently, further enhancing her pleasure. Her wild panting intertwined with intense moaning and shrieking as she lifted herself toward a shattering release. Her left hand was suddenly kneading and squeezing her breasts as her right hand continued assaulting her now wet cunt without mercy.
Her controlled mind interpreted her self stimulation as the most intense and erotic music she had ever heard in her life. The harder she stroked herself, the more the music pulsated through her being. It struck every fiber and nerve with nothing short of ecstasy. She was utterly lost in the act and couldn’t get enough of this music. She intensified her efforts.
Dominoe was suddenly on the hardwood floor, her legs spread apart, her back arching as she pumped away between her legs. Her breathing was erratic and hard. Her eyes were closed and her face contorted, straining with her efforts. Beads of sweat covered her forehead, rolling down her sides. Her left hand suddenly went to her mouth and she was biting her fingers, licking and sucking them passionately. Her right hand never left her pussy and her thumb was now rubbing against her engorged clitoris. Each rub brought her closer the brink of release. She suddenly came.
Dominoe lifted her entire body off the floor, supporting herself on her toes and head. She announced her self inflicted orgasm with a tremendous grunt. “AAAAAGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH!”
The high-pitched grunt lanced the silence of the room. Juan Galvan watched from the bathtub. His eyes were wild with lust and his jaw dropped with disbelief. He suddenly stood. His cock was hard and erect as he advanced toward Dominoe.
Sydney Bristow strutted down the corridor of the mansion. She was unusually dressed in a long trench coat and high heeled shoes. She walked into the spacious recreation room where the eleven drug traffickers had gathered after Galvan left.
The men were still debating Juan Galvan’s stunning announcement. Their arguing ended abruptly when Sydney entered the room. All eyes shifted toward the CIA agent.
“Good evening, gentlemen,” Sydney said. “I am here to provide you with some entertainment. Compliments of Mr. Baldwin.”
The gangsters looked on with puzzled looks on their rugged faces.
Sydney threw open her trench coat. She was naked underneath except for her choker and spiked heels. She also held a pair of Uzi sub-machine guns in each hand.
The men froze with shock. Sydney raised the twin Uzis and opened fire. A hail of bullets cut down four of the men where they stood. Others attempted to flee for cover, but Sydney mowed them down with well-aimed bursts from her weapons. She moved about the room stalking and finishing off the remaining gangsters. Her beautiful face betrayed no emotion whatsoever. She was nothing more than a killing machine.
She lowered the smoking Uzis and scanned the room. All eleven men lay dead on the floor. A tight smile finally appeared on Sydney’s prominent lips. She had completed her mission and looked forward to being rewarded by her Master. Perhaps he would allow her to suck his cock again. Sydney shivered excitedly at that thought, which was the only thing on her mind. The fact that she had gunned down eleven men in cold blood did not elicit any response at all.
Roger Baldwin sat behind the desk of his room, staring at one of the four monitors that had been set up in the wall behind the desk. His face reflected cunning, perhaps even perverse pleasure. He had just witnessed Sydney launch phase one of his plan and he had a raging hard on. Controlling people, especially beautiful women, was the ultimate rush. In a way, it was even better than sex. He was playing God. How could anything top that?
He swiveled in his chair and faced the computer on the desk. It was time to launch phase two. His fingers danced across the keyboard. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. It’s a good thing he had worn loose pants. Sydney Bristow would soon nurse his boner. He had instilled that thought in her mind and couldn’t wait to have her sucking him off. He hit the ENTER key and laid back in his chair with a satisfied smug.
“The best laid plans of men are laid to rest,” he muttered to himself.
Bishop, Rook, and their new ally, Marcus Dixon, reached the ivy-covered fence surrounding Juan Galvan’s compound. They darted to the fence, plastering themselves against the ten-foot wall.
“Now what?” Dixon asked.
“Over the wall,” said Bishop. “I'll go first.”
“Why don't I go first," Dixon shot back. "Give me a boost."
Bishop glared at Dixon. “Listen, pal, this is our show. You’re lucky to be here at all. I'm going first.”
Dixon returned Bishop’s glare. “Say’s who?”
Bishop and Dixon stood toe to toe, ready for anything.
“Knock it off!” Rook whispered sharply. He rolled his eyes and exhaled. “I’ll go first.”
Rook slung his automatic rifle over his shoulder. Using Bishop’s back as a step latter, he peered over the fence. After making sure it was clear, Rook scaled the wall. He landed inside the compound and scanned the area. The huge mansion stood about two-hundred meters away. He was surprised by the size of the landscape but there was no sign of anyone.
Dixon and Bishop scaled the fence, joining Rook in the backyard of the compound. It actually resembled a golf course with clusters of trees and shrubs scattered throughout the immaculate lawn. The three heavily armed men stalked their way toward the mansion. Thus, far, it was easy. Bishop suddenly stopped and hit the ground. Dixon and Rook joined him.
“What is it?” Rook asked softly.
Bishop removed a pair of night vision binoculars. He trained them on a patio next to the house. He spotted two men standing next to a kidney shaped swimming pool. “Two targets. About a hundred meters.”
Rook reached into a holster strapped to his belt. “I’ll take care of this.” He pulled out a gun with a silencer attached to the barrel. He crawled on his belly toward the patio where the two men stood.
One of the men on the patio pulled out a cigarette and lit up. He suddenly glanced toward the distance. The chirping crickets suddenly stopped. He thought he saw movement.
THUMP!
A single muffled gunshot shattered his forehead. He fell to his knees with a stunned expression. His companion reached for his weapon inside his jacket. A second muffled gunshot struck his heart. He was dead before he hit the ground.
The crickets resumed chirping.
TWENTY MINUTES BEFORE...
“AAAAAAAUUUUUGGGGGHHHHHH!”
Dominoe’s screams of pleasure filled Galvan’s bedroom, echoing beyond the confines of the walls. Galvan lay flat on his back on the hardwood floor of the room. Dominoe straddled his middle, clad only in her high heels and thigh high stockings. She rode him passionately, leaning forward, her back arched as she rocked on his cock.
The action stimulated her clitoris, sending waves of pleasure rippling through her glistening body. Even under the influence of Baldwin’s mind serum, Dominoe’s expertise in sex surfaced. It was something ingrained into her psyche and could not be suppressed. She slammed against Galvan’s pelvis with a steady rhythm. She was completely in charge and guided him toward her most intense pleasure area.
After a controlled session of bumping and grinding, Dominoe changed her technique. She suddenly leaned back, supported her weight on her hands, and bounced up and down on the stiff cock that was buried inside her. She disregarded any semblance of a rhythm and fucked Galvan wildly. He gripped her firm buttocks and mauled them viciously.
Galvan grunted and panted erratically as the CATT agent squeezed his cock inside her pussy. Their combined cries of mutual pleasure charged the air around them, fueling Dominoe’s efforts. Dominoe fucked Galvan harder and harder, her body lurching back and forth. He pushed his middle against her, pounding her deeper with each spirited thrust as he palmed her breasts.
Dominoe’s cries of passion intensified, signaling her approach to a shattering climax. She knew her body well and knew it was time. She also knew how to finish men off. She once again leaned forward, supported herself on Galvan’s solid chest, and humped him harder than ever. Her all-out assault triggered a devastating wave of sexual energy that overtook her like a tidal wave. She threw her head back, shuddered violently, and screamed.
“AAAAAAAAAUUUUUUGGGGHHHHHH!”
Dominoe continued screaming, reaping the blistering pleasure that detonated throughout her body. Her pumping subsided as she felt Galvan spasm inside her, filling her with cum. He grunted with satisfaction, panting sharply. Dominoe had literally worn him out and the devastating climax left him totally spent.
Dominoe collapsed over Galvan, gasping for breath. She regained enough of her strength and rolled off him, laying on the floor next to him until she recovered. When her breathing finally steadied, she rose to her knees. Without saying a word, she stood and made her way to the base of the bed where she had left the tray loaded with champagne.
Galvan supported himself on his forearms, still breathing hard. “What are you doing?”
Dominoe did not reply. She had her back to Galvan and pulled out something from under a dom covered plate. She gripped the .45 automatic with both hands and turned to Galvan.
Galvan’s face filled with shock when Dominoe trained the weapon at him. “What the... ”
“I have a message from Roger Baldwin,” Dominoe said, her voice free of the cheesy French accent. “‘Hope you enjoyed the ride and thank you for all your help. This is where we part ways. Have a nice trip.’”
Galvan’s eyes burned with rage. “Hijo de la chingada!” He lunged at Dominoe.
BAM!
Dominoe pulled the trigger. A single shot struck Galvan in the chest. He fell back into the bathtub, splashing some of the soapy water on the floor. Dominoe lowered the smoking gun slowly. She stared blankly at the body of Galvan, floating face down inside the bathtub. The water turned a shade of red.
The sound of nearby automatic gunfire pierced the silence. Dominoe didn’t hear it. Her programmed mind blocked out all and any distractions. At this moment she was thinking about eating out Sydney Bristow’s sweet pussy. She could almost taste it.
Her thoughts about licking Sydney’s pussy were suddenly replaced by a more violent impulse. There was no mistaking the overwhelming order in her head: kill your friends. Dominoe suddenly snapped out of her trance. She was now alert and aware of her surroundings. Now she had to find and kill her friends.
Rook, Bishop, and Dixon had entered Galvan’s mansion through the patio door. They paused briefly after hearing the booming shot from somewhere down the hall. They scanned the maze of corridors and doorways, ready for anything.
“That sounded close,” Bishop whispered. “Something’s going down.”
“I say we split up,” Rook added. “We can cover more ground.”
“Agreed,” Dixon chimed in. He pointed in the direction of the gunfire and addressed Bishop. “You take that way.”
Bishop gave the SD-6 operative a hard look. “Screw you. You go that way.”
Rook bit his lip. “I’ll take that way. Bishop, go upstairs.” He turned to Dixon. “Stay here and cover our ass. We may have to came back in a big hurry.”
“Don’t go anywhere,” Bishop warned Dixon. “I might get carried away and shoot you. You never know.”
Dixon frowned. “Same goes for you.”
Bishop shot Dixon a final annoyed look and darted toward the living room. Rook made his way along the corridor where they had heard the single shot.
Baldwin watched Rook and Bishop disappear from the surveillance monitor. He had observed them as they entered the mansion and he had a special surprise waiting for them.
But just to be on the safe side, he prepared to depart from Galvan’s mansion. He had collected his laptop computer, a briefcase, and armed himself with a 9-millimeter pistol. Now he had to reach his car parked in the garage next to the mansion. Dominoe would buy him enough time to make his escape.
Dominoe stalked her way down a long, narrow corridor. Her determined face indicated she was a woman on a mission and nothing would stand in her way. That’s when she encountered Rook as he turned the corner at the end of the hallway. Her fellow CATT agent froze upon seeing her.
“Dom, what... ”
Dominoe raised her weapon and fired three shots at Rook. He darted behind the corner of the corridor as the bullets whined past him. He gripped his automatic rifle, his trigger finger itching, but there was no way he was going to return fire.
“Dom, it’s me!” Rook shouted, holding his position behind the corner. “We’re here to rescue you and Sydney Bristow.”
There was no answer from Dominoe.
“Dom?”
Rook braved a look around the corner. There was no sign of Dominoe. He realized Dominoe was not herself. She was probably under the influence of Baldwin’s mind drug. That only increased his apprehension. Dominoe's expertise in human disposal meant she would probably make quick work of him.
What the hell, Rook thought. If I’m gonna be killed by anyone, it might as well be Dominoe. He took a deep breath and jumped from behind the corner. He charged down the corridor, zigzagging along the way. He reached the end of the corridor where Dominoe had been, but there was no sign of her.
He scanned the spacious mansion, noting the modern architecture of sharp angles and clean lines. The entranceways to other rooms and areas were oval shaped and offered plenty of hiding places. Tentatively, he began his search for Dominoe.
Bishop stared at the bodies of the twelve gangsters scattered throughout the recreation room. Someone had done a number on them all right. His initial reaction of surprise had given way to relief. He was glad Dominoe was not among the dead. Maybe she was responsible for this.
As Bishop prepared to move out, he heard the sound of distant gunfire. He guessed it originated from the bottom floor. He gripped his automatic rifle with both hands and dashed from the room.
He emerged in the long corridor outside the room and froze in his tracks. Standing before him was Sydney Bristow. She wore on opened trench coat, heels, and nothing underneath. Bishop’s eyes swept over the perfect body of the CIA agent.
His natural male instinct cost him. Sydney swept her shapely leg across Bishop’s face, striking him on the side of the head. The stunning blow sent him staggering. Sydney did not allow him to recover. She followed up with a vicious forearm to Bishop’s face, knocking him flat on his back. He dropped his weapon and stared up at Sydney with a dazed look on his face.
Sydney scooped up the automatic rifle from the floor. She prepared to finish off the CATT operative with a deadly burst from his own weapon. She was half a second from pulling the trigger when another thought entered her mind. She received the order to proceed to the garage next to the mansion. She forgot about killing Bishop and walked past him.
Rook entered a huge living room in time to see Dominoe disappear behind a circular couch. He took cover behind the wall leading in the room and peered inside. A life size sculpture of an armless woman stood on a platform in the middle of the room. It was a tacky object but it provided some cover.
“Hey, Dom, let’s talk about this!” Rook shouted. “It’s me! Your favorite co-worker. Remember?”
Dominoe jumped up from behind the couch and fired two consecutive shots from the .45. The bullets struck the wall, missing Rook by mere inches. He retreated further down the corridor. He noticed that Dominoe's aim was improving.
Rook concluded that Dominoe was not heavily armed, or else she wouldn’t be using a single handgun. She probably did not carry a large supply of ammunition. He had the firepower advantage and decided to use it.
He took a deep breath and charged into the living room, laying down a steady flow of cover fire from his automatic rifle. He didn’t take any chances and his aim was deliberately high. The bullets sailed over the couch were Dominoe hid and struck the wall at the end of the room. He took cover behind the nude female sculpture. He noted that the torso had abnormally large breasts.
Two bullets struck the sculpture, breaking Rook’s concentration from the thrusting clay breasts. The figure absorbed the gunfire quite well but he wasn’t taking any chances. He dropped behind the three-foot high circular platform and fired another round of inaccurate fire from his rifle. He was goading Dominoe into exhausting her ammo supply and hoped she wouldn’t pick up on that.
“Why don’t we settle this with a conversation?” Rook offered.
He raised his head over the platform, just in time to see Dominoe leap over the couch and dart in his direction. She was nothing more than a blur as she somersaulted through the air and landed before Rook. He noticed her serious expression, then he spotted the gun in her hand.
“Oh shit,” Rook muttered. He was a dead man.
Dominoe raised the gun and fired. Her aim was altered when a figure crashed into her from behind. The stray bullet hit Rook on the upper right arm and he winced with pain.
Dominoe and Dixon crashed to the floor, entangled in each other’s arms. Dixon wrapped his arms around Dominoe, pinning her arms to her sides. Dominoe threw her head back, striking Dixon in the forehead with her skull. That relaxed his hold.
She rolled away from Dixon’s grasp but ran into Rook, who stood on his knees over her. Dominoe’s quickness was too much. She rolled on her back and kicked out with her legs, striking her fellow wounded agent in the chest, sending him back onto the floor. Rook groaned, holding his arm.
Rook’s failed attack bought Dixon enough time to recover. He dug into his pocket and produced a small spray bottle. Dominoe grabbed Rook’s discarded weapon and turned toward Dixon. He sprayed a burst of mist from the bottle. The substance struck Dominoe in the face. She closed her eyes and collapsed to the floor in short order.
Rook sat up on the floor, grimacing. His immediate concern was Dominoe. His eyes shifted from her prone body to Dixon “What the hell did you do?”
Dixon caught his breath. “It’s all right. She’s just out.” He noticed Rook holding his wounded arm. “You hit?”
Rook gave his arm casual attention. “Just a stratch.”
The two men suddenly turned in the direction of approaching footsteps. Someone was approaching quickly. Dixon dashed behind the wall of the corridor leading into the living room. He listened to the heavy footsteps, timing the exact moment the person would enter the living room. He suddenly struck out in his outstretched arm from behind the wall.
His calculation was precise. Bishop ran directly into Dixon’s arm, clothes-lining himself on the powerful limb. The effect was spectacular. Bishop flew back, uttering a strangled grunt. He landed flat on his back with a loud thud, stunned. Dixon stepped from behind the wall and stood over Bishop. He realized his mistake and frowned. Bishop looked up at Dixon with rising anger.
“What the fuck is your problem?” Bishop demanded, rubbing his throat.
Dixon merely shrugged. “Sorry. Thought you were someone else.”
Bishop staggered to his feet. “Bullshit!” He got in Dixon’s face. “You’re really pushing it, pal.”
“Hey!” Rook shouted.
The two men turned toward Rook. He stood over Dominoe, holding his arm.
Bishop forgot about Dixon and approached Rook. “What the hell happened?”
“Friendly fire from Dom, but we subdued her.”
Bishop stared at the unconscious body of his fellow agent. “Is she all right?”
Rook nodded. “She’s under the influence of Baldwin’s mind drug. I don’t want to be anywhere near her when she wakes up.”
Bishop turned toward Dixon. “I ran into her partner.”
“Where?”
“Upstairs. There’s a bunch of dead men up there.”
“Where’s Sydney?” Dixon asked urgently.
Bishop shrugged. “I don’t know. She... got past me. She tried to kill me."
"She's under the influence of the mind drug.” Bishop said.
“I have to find her,” Dixon muttered.
He exited the living room, leaving Dixon and Rook alone with the unconscious Dominoe.
"Yeah. You do that." Bishop sighed. "Let’s gather up Dominoe and call a CATT pick-up team. We’re out of here.”
“What about this Sydney Bristow?”
“Not our problem.”
“What about Galvan and Baldwin?”
“I found Galvan’s body,” Bishop said. “Someone did us the favor of putting a bullet in his chest. That leaves Baldwin.”
“Which means he has this Sydney Bristow with him.”
“And the mind drug.”
Bishop frowned. “Damn it!” He exhaled, gesturing down the corridor. “I’m gonna go give him a hand.”
Rook nodded. “Yeah. You do that. You might need this.”
Rook tossed Bishop his automatic rifle. Bishop caught the weapon and ran from the living room. Sometimes he cared too much.
Baldwin met Sydney halfway to the parking garage. He had to admit she looked hot, clad in the trench coat and holding the automatic rifle. They stood in the dining room of the mansion and Baldwin was uneasy. He stole a look toward the entrance of the dinning room.
Marcus Dixon peered inside the dinning room, spotting Baldwin and Sydney as they disappeared into the kitchen. He took cover around the entrance way, careful not to reveal his presence.
“Did you find them?”
Dixon snapped his head toward Bishop. “Shut up!” He dashed into the living room and went after Baldwin and Sydney.
Bishop tagged along.
Baldwin and Sydney exited the house through a kitchen door. Ground lights illuminated the darkness of the night. He led Sydney along a walkway, through a flower garden, and toward a garage.
Dixon emerged from the house a few seconds later. He had to make his move before it was too late. He ran through the garden. “Baldwin!” he shouted.
Baldwin and Sydney stopped. They turned toward Dixon.
“Kill him!” Baldwin ordered.
Sydney raised the automatic rifle and fired a burst at Dixon. He dived out of the way, landing behind a cluster of shrubs. Bishop, who trailed behind him, felt the heat of the bullets zip past him. He hit the ground next to Dixon. Another spray of bullets sailed past them, missing the two men by centimeters.
“Brilliant plan!” Bishop scoffed.
Dixon ignored the snide remark. All was quiet. A car engine came to life.
“Shit!” Dixon exclaimed, getting to his feet.
At that moment, the sound of screeching tires disrupted the tranquility of the night. A sports car burst through one of the garage openings, speeding away from the house. Dixon and Bishop could only watch helplessly as the car raced down the long paved driveway toward the fence surrounding the grounds. A metal gate parted, allowing the car to leave the grounds through the opening.
Bishop raised his weapon, taking aim at the fleeing car. Dixon shoved the barrel of the rifle upward, disrupting his aim. Bishop fired a stray volley of bullets into the air.
Bishop turned to Dixon. “What the hell are you doing?”
“You might hit Sydney.”
“I was aiming for the tires.”
“Yeah. I’ll bet.”
Bishop sighed, staring into the dark night. There was no sign of Baldwin’s car. “I’ll call it in. Maybe our backup team can intercept them.”
The CATT team failed to intercept Baldwin and Sydney. Baldwin was smart enough to switch cars several miles away, leaving his sports car on the side of the road. He disappeared into Belize City, taking Sydney Bristow with him.
Bishop, Rook, and Dominoe were picked up by the CATT team twenty minutes later. Dixon went along with them. He had a better chance of finding Sydney if he aligned himself with these strangers. Though he didn’t trust them.
Dominoe lay in the back of the van, bound hand and foot with manacles. The CATT agents were not taking any chances when Dominoe regained consciousness. A pleasant looking female agent treated Rook’s arm with a nanotech injection to repair the wound.
Dominoe’s eyes fluttered open. She scanned her surroundings but remained still. After regaining some of her bearings she tugged at her bindings, checking their effectiveness. With her hands secured behind her back, she realized she was utterly helpless. But she had not completed her mission, and her Master must not be disappointed.
She rolled on her back and scooted to a sitting position, leaning against the back of the moving van. She found herself staring at a black man, along with her two targets: Bishop and Rook. A third woman was dressing a wound on Rook’s arm. His wound reminded her of her failure.
Rook tried reasoning with Dominoe again. “Dom, it’s us. Remember?”
Dominoe responded by struggling in her bondage, squirming and twisting frantically. She soon realized the hopelessness of her situation and could only seethe with anger. Her piercing eyes reflected an unbridled hatred that could only have been ingrained in her.
SAN DIEGO, CALIFORNIA
Baldwin stood before a chalkboard that had been set up in the living room of his apartment. At this moment he was holding court over a class of one. Sydney Bristow sat on the coach, paying rapt attention as Baldwin scribbled on the portable chalkboard with a piece of white chalk.
She was dressed in a kinky school girl outfit consisting of a short plaid skirt, white tank-top, white bobby socks and black high heel shoes. Her hair was made up in a ponytail and her personality had been re-programmed to reflect that of a ditzy teen-age school girl.
“All right, Sydney,” Baldwin began. “Here’s the plan. We are going to fix the fucking Super Bowl.”
Sydney stared at Baldwin with mock reproach. She waived a taunting finger at him. “You used the F word.”
“I’m the teacher. I can do that. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”
Sydney giggled, stomping her feet.
"All right, come on. Pay attention," said Baldwin, tapping the chalkboard with the chalk.
Sydney stopped giggling and focused on the name Baldwin had written on the chalkboard. “Who’s Byron Taylor?”
“He’s your next assignment.” Baldwin replied. “I want you to seduce him. Suck his cock. Fuck him if you have to, but I want you to inject him with this.” Baldwin raised a syringe filled with his special mind control serum.
Sydney giggled. “Okay! That sounds like fun. Can I do both?”
“What?”
“Can I suck his cock and fuck him?” Sydney’s face became that of an endearing puppy. “Please.”
Baldwin shrugged. “Fine. Whatever. He can fuck you in the ass for all I care. Just make sure you inject him with this.” Baldwin raised the syringe again. “You got it?”
Sydney nodded eagerly. “What does he look like?”
“I just happen to have a picture right here.” Baldwin picked up a Sports Illustrated magazine from the coffee table. He opened it to a marked page and showed it to Sydney.
Sydney stared at the picture of a young muscular black man. He stood in a locker room setting, clad in his football pants, shoulder pads and no shirt. He held his helmet under his arm and had a determined expression on his chiseled face. Tattoos adorned both his bulging biceps.
Sydney’s face lit up. “He’s cute. Look at all those muscles.”
Baldwin nodded. “Yes.”
“When do I do it?”
“Tomorrow night. You’ll pay a visit to his hotel room.”
“Tomorrow night?” Sydney said with disappointment. “I have to wait until tomorrow?”
Baldwin shrugged. “I’m here. You can practice on me?” He spread his arms out, offering himself to Sydney.
Sydney’s mood improved immediately. “Okay!”
She stood from the couch and jumped on Baldwin. She embraced him tightly and wrapped her legs around him. Her hungry mouth found his lips. She kissed him hard, inserting her tongue between his teeth.
Baldwin supported Sydney by her firm buttocks. He pushed the plaid skirt up around her waist, fondling her tight ass. He carried her toward the bedroom, bumping into the walls of the corridor along the way. They burst through the door of the bedroom and fell on the bed, locked in a passionate kiss.
CATT HEADQUARTERS
Dominoe curled up in a corner of the cell that had served as her prison for the past two days. She trembled like a frightened child. CATT scientists had failed to find a way to counter the effects of Baldwin’s mind serum. They could not imagine the devastating state Dominoe’s mind was in.
Her connection to Baldwin’s computer terminal had been severed by the distance that now separated them. This left Dominoe in a state of limbo. She had no identity or recollection of anything. Her mind was a dark void with no past or future. Her jumbled thoughts were like an oil slick, shifting in every conceivable direction. A sluggish mess devoid of any meaning. Her mental prison pushed her to the brink of madness with every passing hour.
She didn’t even acknowledge the strangers who injected her with drugs and attempted to give her food. She would lose consciousness, then awaken to the same mental torture as before. Her only response was to cry out in pain and weep with utter frustration. At first, she had slammed her head against the hard wall, but she was moved to a padded room. She had also been strapped in a straight jacket, pinning her crossed arms in front of her.
Adding to her frustration, were the flashes of things and events that flickered in her chaotic mind. Just when she attempted to key on the recollections, they would be snuffed out of existence by her unstable mind. This only enhanced her discomfort, filling her with a sense of worthlessness.
Chief Davis, Rook, and Bishop watched their fellow agent suffer on a monitor outside the cell. Looks of concern were etched on their faces. They all winced when Dominoe kicked out violently, screaming in horror. It was the first time they had heard her scream in that way and it struck terror in their hearts.
Bishop finally broke the silence. “Maybe they should sedate her?”
Davis shook his head. “There’s only so many sedatives her body can take before going into a coma.” He sighed with exasperation “Be thankful she’s a strong woman. With all the drugs she’s been given... ”
In her cell, Dominoe continued screaming. She didn’t stop for five straight minutes.
Rook finally had enough. “We have to do something. She’s going crazy.”
Davis was about to call for the doctor when Dominoe suddenly stopped screaming. He watched the panting heap that was his most valuable agent. He could only imagine the amount of danger and dire situations Dominoe had found herself in during her missions, but this time it was different. This time, he had to watch. He now understood what a father felt like when he had to watch his child suffer. It was almost more than he could take.
Back in her cell, Dominoe controlled her breathing. She still trembled but it was because she was cold. I’m cold! She actually cared that she was cold! Almost immediately, people and places flashed in her mind. This time, they didn’t disappear out of existence but remained in her head, long enough for her to recognize them. She actually remembered them!
She lifted her head slowly. Her tangled locks cascaded past forehead, concealing her beautiful face. This prevented the three men who watched her in the monitor from observing the emotion that now filled her face. Places and events filled her mind. Slowly but surely they took order.
Dominoe leaned back against the padded wall of the cell. She used the wall as leverage as she rose to her feet. She shook her head, throwing some of her hair away from her eyes. She looked about the bare room, focusing on the small camera perched in a corner of the cell. She walked toward the camera, noting that it followed her movement.
She stopped five meters from the camera. In a strong and deliberate tone she spoke to whoever was watching her. “Dominoe here. Let me out right now, or I’m going to be very upset.”
In the next room, Davis, Rook, and Bishop stared at each other with hope.
Rook pumped his fist. “Yes! Welcome back, Dom!” He suddenly wrapped his arm around Chief Davis, pulling him against his body, laughing with triumph. “I knew she could it!”
Davis stared at Rook, noticing his tight grip.
Rook cleared his throat and released his superior. “Sorry, Chief.”
Davis concentrated on the monitor displaying the image of Dominoe. “Let’s not get too excited. This could all be a trick by Baldwin.”
Dominoe spoke again. “One more thing: I’m going to kick Baldwin’s ass!”
Bishop laughed. “Ha! So much for that theory!”
Davis shot Bishop a look of contempt.
“Sorry, Chief,” Bishop said sheepishly.
Davis focused on Dominoe again. He almost smiled. “Welcome back, Dominoe.”
Just to be on the safe side, a team of doctors thoroughly examined Dominoe for the next few hours. As expected, she passed every examination, mental and physical. She recalled every action while under the influence of Baldwin’s serum. She explained it as her body having a mind of its own.
It was theorized that Dominoe’s body had suppressed the mind serum because she had somehow built up tolerance in response to mind drugs. She certainly had her fair share of experience with them. In short, her mind had developed a type of immunity to brainwashing. This didn’t mean that she could resist future mind control, but it did make it more difficult for the drug to be effective. Of course that all depended on the drug. All that was behind her. She was ready to go after Baldwin, but right now she was hungry.
Dominoe, Chief Davis, Rook, and Bishop sat in the CATT headquarters cafeteria. The men declined any food and watched as Dominoe feasted on cold cuts.
“Sorry about the arm,” Dominoe said to Rook.
Rook glanced at his bandaged upper arm. “Don’t worry about it. If someone’s gonna shoot me, it might as well be you, Dom.”
“That’s sweet,” said Dominoe, her mouth full. “I’ll remember that.”
Rook had no idea what that meant, and was afraid to ask.
Their chit-chat was interrupted by approaching footsteps. They turned and watched Marcus Dixon walking toward their table. He was accompanied by a heavyset young man carrying a portable CD player.
Dixon was a guest of CATT and had spent the day assisting CATT technicians in tracking down Sydney Bristow and Roger Baldwin. Sydney still had the choker with the secret radio transmitter and it was only a matter of tapping into the right frequency.
Davis acknowledged his guest. He then addressed the heavyset young man. “What do you have, Harry?”
Harry placed the CD player on the table next to Dominoe’s food. He couldn’t help but stare at the tempting cold cuts.
“How about a bite, Harry?” Dominoe asked.
Harry shook his head. “No thanks. I’m on a diet.”
She smiled at him. “Good for you. You’re looking better.”
Harry almost blushed. He wasn’t used to receiving compliments from beautiful women. “Anyway, uh. . . thanks to Mr. Dixon I was able to tap into his partner’s secret transmitter. It’s a very weak signal but I used this really cool audio enhancement software to clean it up.” Harry noticed the impatience begin to spread across Chief Davis’ face. He pressed play on the CD player.
They listened as Baldwin and Sydney played their kinky game of teacher-student while Baldwin expressed his plan to rig the Super Bowl. Marcus Dixon shifted uncomfortably when Sydney and Baldwin began their tryst.
Davis noticed the look of discomfort on Dixon’s face. “All right, Harry, that’s enough,” the chief said.
“That bastard!” Rook exclaimed. “Where does that clown get off messing with the Super Bowl? What the hell is that?”
“And using Big T,” Bishop added.
Davis stared at Bishop. “Who's Big T?”
“Byron Taylor. But they call him Big T," Bishop explained. “He’s a stand up guy. Not to mention that he’s a hell of a running back. The guy is twenty-five years old and sighed a fifty million-dollar contract last year. With a ten million dollar signing bonus. That is some serious cash.”
Dominoe frowned at her fellow agents. “Our main concern is finding Sydney Bristow.”
“Exactly,” said Davis. “Where is this Super Bowl being held?”
Rook refrained from showing disbelief. “San Diego,” he said.
“How are we going to play this?” Dixon asked Davis.
Davis stroked his two-day stubble. He had a habit not shaving when he worried. “We are going to rescue Miss Bristow and prevent this Baldwin character from fixing this Super Bowl. In that order.”
“Right on Chief,” said Bishop. “But we don’t have much time. The Super Bowl is Sunday. That leaves us only two days. There's no way I'm missing the Super Bowl.”
Dominoe glared at Bishop.
Bishop shrugged innocently. "What?"
Dominoe turned to Davis. "Where do we start?"
Davis thought for a moment. "You'll retrieve Sydney. Bishop, Rook, and Mr. Dixon will handle Baldwin.”
Roger Baldwin stared out the living room window, enchanted by the sprawling city of San Diego. Beyond the graceful buildings lay the ocean, a seemingly endless deep blue body. This place was truly magnificent. He recalled a famous line uttered by one Tony Montana in the movie Scarface: “This town is like a big pussy, waiting to get fucked.”
Come Sunday, he would not only fuck the town but the world. And he would start by rigging the Super Bowl. When he was a kid, his father had taken him down to New Orleans for Super Bowl XX. He loved the atmosphere. Being there live was a thousand times better than watching it on television. The Super Dome was so grand and breathtaking. He was literally in heaven.
That day, his father was the greatest man in the world. The next day, the bastard went and killed himself. The son of a bitch had squandered the family savings, including their house, on gambling. He was also a depressed drug addict. His only way out was suicide. Good riddance.
Strangely enough, that January day in New Orleans had spawned his lifetime dream. He vowed to one day play in a Super Bowl. The fact that he was too small and slow never entered his mind. Minor details. His football career ended a few weeks into his sophomore year in high school, upon the request of his overbearing mother. Playing football meant too much time away from studying. His mother was preparing him for a lifetime of academe and sports had no place in her plan. Absolutely not.
He had locked himself in his room and cursed his mother, calling her every name in the book. Then he had secretly asked for forgiveness. He also vowed to make his dream come true. One way or another, he would have a say on who won or in this case, lost the Super Bowl.
Of course he had bigger plans for his mind serum. This was the first thing on his checklist. But he wasn’t a fucking madman like Juan Galvan. Killing the most powerful man in the United States in order to make some stupid show of power was downright insane. Galvan and his friends got what they deserved. In a way, the world owed him one.
He turned away from the window and headed toward the bedroom. He had some unfinished business to care off. He got into character and pushed the bedroom door open. He stepped into the room, closing the door behind him.
His eyes played over Sydney Bristow, sprawled out on the bed. Actually, Sydney was tied to the bed. She was dressed in a Wonder Woman outfit, down to the red heeled boots. The only modification on the classic superheroine costume was that the backside of the star studded bottom was cut in a thong style.
Wonder Woman lay on her back, her hands gathered together above her head, tied at the wrists and secured to the headset of the bed with "her golden lasso", a strong cord painted yellow. Her legs were spread apart, tied at the ankles to the bedposts. Her mouth was stuffed with a generous amount of cloth packing, held in place by several layers of duct tape.
Sydney squirmed frantically and pulled at her taut bindings to no avail. Baldwin watched her, mesmerized by her wild determination to free herself. She squealed and grunted through the packing in her mouth as she cursed at Baldwin.
Her struggling was in earnest. Baldwin had programmed Sydney to dress up as Wonder Woman. After tying her up, he left her alone and went into the living room. He opened his notebook computer and with a touch of the keyboard, Sydney Bristow had all her original memories back. She was herself again.
Sydney ceased her struggling and looked on as Baldwin approached the bed. He stood at the base of the bed between her spread legs. She had no idea where she was or how she had gotten into this predicament. Her last recollection was of her and Dominoe in Belize City, at the hands of the man who now leered at her from the foot of the bed. And now here she was, bound and gagged to a bed, dressed as Wonder Woman. Her initial feelings of humiliation had now turned to anger, but there was nothing she could do about it.
“Well, Wonder Slut,” Baldwin said with relish. “I see you haven’t gotten yourself out of this jam, have you? So much for your super strength.”
Sydney could only glare at the sick bastard that was Roger Baldwin. He was dressed in jeans and a white T-shirt with the word Villain written across the front. He was nothing special, but he had the upper hand.
Baldwin suddenly broke character. “Actually, I’m a huge fan of the old Wonder Woman TV show. You’re not Lynda Carter, but you make a great Wonder Woman. Now, let’s have some fun.”
Baldwin exited the room with a skip in his step. Sydney did not even want to guess what he was going to do next, but knew it wasn’t going to be pleasant. The tugged at her wrist bindings, cursing through the packing in her mouth. She quickly conceded that she was well tied and no amount of struggling would change that. She only succeeded in working up a sweat. Beads of perspiration collected on the generous amount of cleavage that the Wonder Woman outfit exposed.
Baldwin entered the room again. He carried a paper grocery bag and placed it down on the dresser. He approached Sydney and stood at the edge of the bed. She did not look at him as he examined her bound body.
“So, you thought you could stop The Grocer, did you?” he said in a cheesy evil voice.
He suddenly bent over the bed and inserted his fingers inside the waistband of her Wonder Woman panties. Sydney gasped and squirmed as Baldwin tugged the thong style panties down past her hips and around her upper thighs, exposing her well-trimmed pussy. The material strained against Sydney’s spread thighs but did not break.
She then watched in horror as Baldwin went back to the dresser and returned with the grocery bag. Her heart thumped excitedly and she swallowed hard. The packing in her mouth was completely drenched and crept dangerously toward her throat.
Baldwin emptied the contents of the grocery bag on the bed between her spread legs. Sydney strained her head, looking down at the various fresh fruits and vegetables that spilled on the mattress below her. Her heart sank with dread.
Baldwin picked up a carrot and bit into it. “Now you will know why they call me The Grocer.” He suddenly tossed the carrot away and reached for a zucchini. He held it out for Sydney. “Think you can handle this?”
Sydney tensed, staring wide-eyed at the green vegetable.
Baldwin studied the zucchini. “Naw. I think you like them bigger.” He tossed the zucchini away and picked up a large cucumber. It was about eighteen inches long and as wide as his forearm. “I think this is more to your liking.”
Sydney glared at Baldwin with disbelief. He wouldn’t dare shove that thing in her...
Baldwin traced the cucumber along the edge of Sydney’s pussy. She flinched involuntarily as the cold cucumber made contact with her warm skin. She shook her head furiously, begging him not to stick that thing inside her.
Baldwin ignored her pleas. “You’re lucky they didn’t have any watermelon." With that he shoved the cucumber inside Sydney’s pussy.
Sydney tensed, arched her body, and screamed a muffled cry of indignation. “HHHMMMPPHHHHHH!”
Byron Taylor, or Big T as he was better known, was twenty five years old and at the top of the world. Like most professional football players, Byron Taylor had grown up poor and with nothing. Now he had it all; including a following of money hungry friends. Along with the money also came the women.
It was Friday night, two days before the Super Bowl, and his $2,500 a night suite was the sight of a wild out of control party. A motley crew of men and women danced and strutted to hardcore hip pop music. Others seemed content to indulge on the endless supply of cocaine and booze.
Taylor sat in a posh chair across the living room, engrossed in his thoughts, bombed out of his skull, and toying with a .357 Magnum revolver. There was only one bullet in the gun. He would spin the chamber and wait for it to stop. He would then put the barrel to his temple and pull the trigger. No one tried to stop him. This was his unusual way of preparing for a big game. Thus, far, his luck had yet to run out.
Taylor pulled the trigger three times each time he engaged in his ritual. On the third time he stopped. He cocked his head, staring at a stunning vision across the room. An attractive young woman dressed in a cheerleader outfit danced, shaking her perfect ass in sync with the beat of the heart-stomping rap music. What caught his attention was the fact that the girl was white.
He forgot all about the revolver and watched the girl as she moved with style and grace. Her hair was made up in pigtails, which made her appear like a teenager. He secretly hoped she was at least eighteen. Then again, what the fuck? The younger the better. She sported a skin tight tank top that revealed every detail of her pert breasts. The pleaded cheerleader skirt fell around her upper thighs. As she moved and danced the skirt flew up around her waist, revealing a pair of skimpy spandex shorts that exposed most of her firm buttocks.
Taylor liked his women a little fuller in the ass, but this chick had it going all right. The girl noticed him watching and made eye contact with him. She was dancing with two other guys but her attention was clearly on him. Her full lips were magnificent. The girl gave him an inviting grin. Taylor suddenly had the urge of having those great lips wrapped around his cock.
Sydney Bristow had broken into the hotel by posing as a maid. Once inside she had discarded her disguise and emerged as a cheerleader. She knocked on the door of Taylor’s suite, armed with a dose of Baldwin’s mind serum tucked inside her bobby sock. She made quite an impression on the bodyguard guarding the entrance to the suite and he allowed her in.
Taylor stood from his chair and made his way toward Sydney, bullying himself through the dancing crowd. They didn’t mind his rudeness. They were actually honored to be cast aside by the Oakland Raider star running back. He received several good-natured shoulder pats along the way.
Taylor approached Sydney and swept her off her feet with a single powerful arm. He carried her under his arm, like a caveman who had just found his mate. The crowd cheered and laughed. He slung Sydney over his broad shoulder and carried her down a narrow corridor, away from the action of the party.
He stood outside the nearest door and kicked it open. He stepped into a large bathroom and kicked the door closed, all the while caressing and slapping Sydney’s shapely backside. He placed her down on the tiled floor of the lavish bathroom. Before Sydney could steady herself, he pushed toward the marble counter of the sink and bent her over in front of a large mirror.
Sydney spotted her reflection in the mirror and watched as Taylor pushed her pleaded skirt up around her waist, exposing her skimpy spandex shorts. He tugged the shorts down around her thighs and unbuckled his pants with urgency.
She panted excitedly. The mere thought of being taken from behind by this muscular black man made her flesh ache with desire. Of course, this had been planted in her mind by Baldwin’s mind program. She gripped the sides of the marble counter and braced herself. Taylor pulled out his swollen cock. He was very proud of his twelve-inch member and paused briefly to simply admire it.
“Hurry!” Sydney gasped. “Fuck me. Fuck me hard!”
Taylor gripped Sydney’s sides. “Shut up, bitch!”
He pressed his cock against Sydney’s slit and penetrated her with a single, violent thrust.
“OOOOOHHHHHHH!” Sydney moaned, feeling him inside her.
Taylor buried his massive cock inside Sydney, making sure she felt every inch of him. He then pounded her brutally, fucking her with a furious pace. Sydney closed her eyes and moaned. Each powerful thrust from Taylor slammed her hard against the edge of the marble counter. Her head bounced up and down and she gasped for breath as the huge cock drilled her, unleashing wave after wave of sexual energy through her body.
Dominoe slid down the side of the hotel building on the climbing rope. She stopped at a particular window when she spotted the activity inside. It was Byron Taylor’s suite and he was having a party. This complicated matters, but there was no turning back now. She rocked toward the building and landed on the window ledge. She was dressed in a single piece black outfit and thus far no one inside the suite had spotted her.
She could have found a more conventional way into the room, but she was pressed for time. She had let herself into the office building next to the hotel, climbed to the roof, shot a wire across the two buildings, and now here she was. All under twenty minutes.
Dominoe slid the tainted window open and jumped from the ledge onto the soft carpet of the suite. A young black man spotted the lithe form of the CATT gent standing in the room. His eyes widened and his jaw dropped.
“What the fuck?” the young man exclaimed.
Activity ceased and all eyes were trained on Dominoe. The rap music continued in the background but the talking had petered out completely.
Dominoe stepped into the room, ready to defend herself if necessary. “Where’s Byron Taylor?” she asked, almost shouting to be heard over the rap music.
The burly guard standing guard at the door of the suite noticed the commotion. He plowed through the crowd and stared at Dominoe. “Who the fuck are you? How did you get in here?”
“Where is Byron Taylor?” Dominoe asked again.
The burly guard stepped toward Dominoe. “You’re outta here, baby.”
The man attempted to grab Dominoe’s arm, but she was ready for him. She gripped his wrist, twisting it violently. He was unprepared for Dominoe’s hold and yelped as he leaned forward. With blinding speed, Dominoe slipped behind the man. She twisted his arm, pinning it against his back. She delivered a stunning chop to the man’s neck with her right hand. The burly man gasped and crumbled to the floor, out cold.
Her skillful display of power discouraged others from approaching her. “Where is Byron Taylor?” Dominoe demanded.
A young black woman pointed down a corridor. “In the bathroom. First door on your right.”
Without saying another word, Dominoe stomped toward the corridor as the crowd parted out of her way.
Inside the bathroom, Sydney was down on her knees before Taylor, working her lovely mouth back and forth on his glistening cock. Taylor panted and groaned, enjoying the incredible sensations pulsing through him as he gripped Sydney by her pigtails.
Sydney suddenly pulled out of his member and took his balls in her mouth. Her hands were above her, ravishing Taylor’s sides and prominent abdominal muscles. She discreetly slipped one hand toward her ankle where she had tucked away the dart laced with Baldwin’s mind serum. Once she injected him with the serum, Baldwin would “order” him to give his other teammates the mind drug in their food or supplements. Baldwin would then have control over most of the team.
The bathroom door suddenly flew open.
Taylor snapped his head toward the entrance of the bathroom. He spotted a shapely young woman dressed in a skin tight black outfit with a serious expression on her striking face.
“Hey, what the fuck is your problem?” Taylor stammered through heavy breathing. “Can’t you see I’m busy?”
Dominoe held her position. “Step away from her!”
By this point, Sydney had ceased her oral activity and stared at Dominoe. She had no idea who Dominoe was, but she was interfering with her mission. This was unacceptable. Sydney rose to her feet, never taking her eyes off Dominoe.
Taylor tucked his penis inside his pants. “Hey, what is this shit?”
The two women glared at each other in silence.
Taylor’s annoyance disappeared and a smile crept across his lips. “Oh, I get it. You both want a piece of Big T, don’t you?” Taylor looked on proudly. “Don’t worry, ladies, there’s plenty of me to go around for both of you.” He turned to Dominoe. “I’ll be right with you, baby. Take a number and chill.”
Dominoe did not move.
Taylor sighed and stepped toward the CATT agent, prepared to throw her out of the bathroom. Dominoe drew a small spray bottle and sprayed a burst of clear mist into his face. Taylor froze. His eyes rolled toward the back of his head and he collapsed on the bathroom floor, out cold. It was a knockout gas used by SD-6 and Marcus Dixon had given it to her to subdue Sydney.
Sydney was not about to go down that easy. She charged at Dominoe, jumping over the unconscious body of Byron Taylor. She plowed into the CATT agent like a cannon ball. The two women reeled out of the bathroom and crashed into the wall of the corridor outside the bathroom. The violent impact knocked a painting from the wall.
The two agents recovered from the impact and the fight was on. Dominoe delivered a sweeping forearm to Sydney’s face, knocking the CIA agent back. Before Sydney could recover, Dominoe delivered a swift kick to her stomach. Dominoe then lunged toward Sydney, attempting to finish her off with a punch to her face. Sydney was too quick and dodged the blow.
Sydney responded by taking a swing at Dominoe. The CATT agent caught Sydney’s clenched fist inches from her face. She then elbowed Sydney in the stomach, doubling her over. Dominoe placed Sydney in a headlock and smashed her head against the wall off the corridor. She attempted to bash Sydney’s head into the wall for a second time, but Sydney was ready for her.
Sydney lifted her legs up against the wall, preventing Dominoe from going any further. The CIA agent then pushed off with her legs, propelling herself back into Dominoe. The momentum carried them against the opposite wall and Sydney slipped out of Dominoe’s headlock.
The two women grabbed each other, interlocking their arms in a stalemate hold. They “danced” their way down the corridor, toward the living room of the suite. Dominoe broke the stalemate by head-butting Sydney on the forehead. Sydney released her hold on the CATT agent and the two women staggered into the living room. The party crowd gathered around them, watching in awe as the two beautiful women engaged in hand to hand combat.
Dominoe switched into another gear. She unleashed a furious assault of lightning quick punches to Sydney’s face. The CIA agent blocked most of the blows, but Dominoe connected with several more. She finished her attack with a roundhouse kick to Sydney’s chest, sending her flying. Sydney landed on her back, dazed and gasping for breath.
Dominoe leaped toward her fallen opponent. Sydney rolled away from Dominoe and shot to her feet, ready to resume the fight. Dominoe chased Sydney around the living room with a continuous volley of spinning kicks. The CIA agent swerved and bobbed her head, dodging the CATT agent’s attack. Several partygoers scattered out of the way. Sydney used the living room furniture as a protective barrier. She gathered herself and went on the offensive.
Sydney attacked with a flurry of punches. Dominoe blocked every single punch without moving from her stance. The CATT agent countered with a swift kick to Sydney’s chin, snapping her head back. The blow left Sydney temporarily stunned and Dominoe seized the opportunity. She hooked her foot around Sydney’s ankle and leg whipped the CIA agent. Sydney fell back, hitting the floor on her back with a loud grunt.
Sydney attempted to sweep her leg across Dominoe’s ankles but the CATT agent jumped and Sydney whiffed. Dominoe had enough of the physical activity and decided to end it. Sydney rocked back and launched herself to a standing position. With the skills of a world class gymnast, Dominoe catapulted through the air, executing a perfect back-flip. She landed behind Sydney. The CIA agent spun toward Dominoe. At that precise moment, Dominoe unleashed a dose from the spray bottle into Sydney’s face. Sydney ceased her attack and collapsed to the floor, out like a light.
The crowd watched in utter amazement as Dominoe gathered the limp body of Sydney Bristow and draped her over her shoulder. They allowed Dominoe to walk toward the door of the suite without saying a word. They were still in shock.
Once Dominoe cleared the faces of the crowd, a tight smile spread across her lips. She walked out of the suite and made her way down the hallway, carrying an unconscious cheerleader on her shoulder. It was all part of the service.
Roger Baldwin sat back in the living room couch of his apartment, engrossed in his thoughts. His notebook computer was on the coffee table before him but his attention was on the huge joint he held in his hand. It was some good shit all right. He had gotten it from Juan Galvan’s stash. It was his last joint and there wouldn’t be anymore. It was a small price to pay for doing away with scum like Galvan.
Ridding the world of drug lords sounded like a solid plan. He had to put that on his check list. He dragged on his joint and inhaled deeply. He felt good and ballsy. If only that cunt Sydney was here to suck his cock. No one could suck cock like that bitch. He had also planned to get a taste of that Dominoe bitch but her fucking friends had shown up. It was her loss.
There was a knock at the door.
The knocking did not register in his dazed mind. He was too busy noticing that the curtains on the balcony window were racing away from the room at a hundred miles per hour. Curtains didn't move that fast, or did they?
The knocking continued. Louder.
Baldwin finally shifted his attention to the front door. His face lit up. Sydney had returned and would soon have her beautiful lips around his cock! He stood from the couch and strolled toward the door. He didn’t actually feel his feet touching the floor, but felt himself floating. Cool!
Bishop, Rook, and Marcus Dixon stood in the narrow corridor outside the door of Baldwin’s apartment. Dominoe had confirmed that she had recovered Sydney Bristow and now it was up to them to finish the job. The secret transmitter in Sydney’s choker was barely functioning and the signal had led them here. For someone so bright, Baldwin had failed to know that he was bugged.
Rook stood before the door, posing as a pizza delivery man. He held a large pizza pie box, but underneath the box he concealed a 9-millimeter pistol. Dixon and Bishop stood on each side of the door, flat against the wall. Rook knocked again.
“Who is it?” Baldwin called from behind the door.
“Pizza man,” Rook replied. “Got a large double cheese and pepperoni here.”
“Wrong address, dude.” Baldwin said. “Didn’t order any fucking pizza.”
“Compliments of Dominoe!”
Rook nodded at Dixon and Bishop as he backed away from the door. Dixon and Bishop stepped back, lowered their shoulders, and slammed against the door. Their combined effort shattered the bolts on the wooden door, throwing it open. The three men darted inside the room.
Baldwin staggered back into the apartment, completely surprised at the sudden invasion. He offered little resistance as Dixon and Bishop ceased him by the arms and quickly immobilized him. Rook dropped the pizza box and drew his pistol. He closed the damaged door and turned to Baldwin.
Baldwin was surprisingly calm. “All right, I'll take the fucking pizza.”
Bishop tightened his grip on Baldwin’s arm. “Shut up.”
Baldwin grimaced and turned to Bishop. “Fuck you!” He punctuated his insult by shooting a projectile of saliva in Bishop’s face.
Bishop delivered a punch to Baldwin’s stomach. Baldwin gasped for air and doubled over, groaning in pain.
Rook took control of the situation. “Everybody relax.” He approached Baldwin. “Your mind control days are over. I want you to release Sydney Bristow from whatever it is you did to her.”
Baldwin looked up at Rook, still recovering from the stomach blow. “Sydney Bristow? Don’t know the bitch.”
Rook spotted the burning marijuana joint on the floor and stomped it out with his foot. “You mean you don’t remember her? I know what you mean. You smoke too much shit and things get a little hazy. Right?”
Baldwin nodded. “Right on, dude.”
Rook and Baldwin shared a laugh. “Maybe I can jog your memory.” Rook lowered his gun and jammed it against Baldwin’s crotch, positioning the barrel under his balls.
Baldwin tensed but remained defiant.
“Does that help?” Rook asked.
A trace of fear appeared on Baldwin’s face. “You mean Sydney ‘Deep Throat’ Bristow?”
Rook nodded. “I think we’re in the ballpark.”
“Release her from your control.” Dixon said..
Baldwin chuckled. He gave Dixon a cold sardonic gaze. “You work with her, don’t you?”
Dixon’s expression confirmed Baldwin’s question.
“She ever suck your dick?” Baldwin asked Dixon. “If not, you don’t know what’re missing. Why don't you give her a taste of the dark meat.”
Rook shoved the gun against Baldwin’s scrotum, making him gasp with pain. “Knock it off, asshole. We’re not going to you ask again.”
“Hold him,” Dixon told Bishop.
Dixon waited for Bishop to secure his hold on Baldwin. The SD-6 agent sat on the couch before the opened notebook computer. “Maybe I can hack into he system and do it myself.”
“I wouldn’t hold my breath.” Baldwin scoffed.
The three men ignored Baldwin’s remark. Dixon activated the computer, but his efforts to obtain any relevant information were met with failure. Baldwin’s program files were password protected.
Dixon shook his head and looked up Rook. “Need the password.”
“Password!” Bishop said to Baldwin. “Let’s have it.”
Baldwin glared at Bishop. “Go stick your dick in your mother's cunt!”
Bishop remained calm. He looked Baldwin up and down with cool appraisal. “You’re a good-looking guy, Baldwin. It would be a real shame to deprive all those women of ever having the honor of pleasuring you. Can you imagine going through life like that? Having urges you can’t satisfy. All those women with long legs, tight asses, firm breasts, and smelling soooo good.” He shook his head. “Hell, you probably won’t even be able to jerk off. But it’s your call. I’m gonna count to three, and then it’s goodbye Mr Happy.”
Baldwin swallowed. His defiant expression softened as he pondered Bishop’s words.
“One... ” Bishop began.
Baldwin finally cracked. “Deep Throat! The password is Deep Throat.”
Bishop pulled the gun away from Baldwin’s crotch. “See. Was that so hard?”
Dixon immediately went to work on accessing Baldwin’s program files. The system was simple and he had little trouble figuring out the software. In a matter of minutes he found Sydney’s mind control code and disabled it. The screen suddenly went black. The following message appeared: SELF DESTRUCT ACTIVATED. KISS YOUR ASS GOODBYE.
Dixon looked up from the monitor with a grave expression.
“What?” Bishoped asked.
Baldwin noticed the screen. “Perhaps I should have mentioned that my keyboard is fingerprint sensitive. Anyone else who opens the files besides me automatically activates a bomb within the computer. Nice going. We have less than ten seconds to live.”
Bishop released his hold on Baldwin.
Dixon stood from the couch.
Rook backed away from the notebook computer.
The three men suddenly made a mad dash toward the apartment door.
Rook swung the door open, running outside into the corridor. Bishop and Dixon reached the entrance of apartment. Baldwin did not move from his position. He spread his arms out, tilted his head toward the ceiling, and closed his eyes.
A deafening explosion shook the building. The expanding fireball engulfed Baldwin, blowing him to pieces where he stood. The force of the explosion propelled Dixon and Bishop through the air. They struck the wall of the corridor across the apartment door. Windows shattered. The walls heaved. There was a crackling sound, and then entire area filled with thick black smoke. Then all was silent.
The explosion did not seriously injure any of the three men, though Bishop did receive some minor burns on his back. All three also suffered from smoke inhalation but that was the extent of their injuries. They raced out of the building, climbed aboard a car, and fled into the night.
Dixon had succeeded in freeing Sydney from her mind control and she was back to her old self. Unlike Dominoe, she did not remember most of her actions while under the influence of Baldwin’s drug. In some respect, she was actually grateful for this.
Dixon, Bishop, and Rook met Sydney and Dominoe at the airport where a private CATT jet awaited. This is where Sydney and Dominoe would part ways. The two female agents asked to be left alone to talk. Since Sydney did not have any of her regular clothes with her, Dominoe gave her one of her form-fitting black pantsuits. The two women were now dressed similarly, which added to the awkwardness of the moment.
Sydney brushed away a loose strand of her brown hair. “Thanks for... rescuing me. And for everything else.”
Dominoe nodded. "Anytime. You can really kick some ass.”
Sydney flashed a weak smile, which accented the prominent dimples on her attractive face. “I think I’ve met my match.”
“Don’t sell yourself short.”
Sydney gave Dixon a side glance as he stood several meters away with Rook and Bishop. “Did anyone tell Dixon about SD-6?”
Dominoe shook her head. “I don’t think so.”
Sydney sighed with relief. “Thanks.”
Dominoe nodded. A short pause followed as neither woman knew what to say next. There was much to be said, but they mutually decided to leave it at that.
“I guess this is it then,” Sydney finally said.
“Yeah. It’s been a blast.” Dominoe said flatly. “No pun intended.”
“Do you think it’s wise if we... kept in touch?”
Dominoe contemplated the question for a moment. “I don’t think so. Some day we might end up on opposite sides. I wouldn’t feel comfortable with that.”
Sydney nodded in agreement. “Good luck then.” She exhaled and brushed away another strand of stray hair from her face. “Just remember that there’s more to life than taking down criminals and bad men. Take time out for yourself.”
Dominoe nodded. “I’ll remember that. I hope you find the peace you’re looking for.”
Sydney gave Dominoe a puzzled look. "What do you mean?"
Dominoe stared into Sydney's eyes. "You're in pain. I can see it in your face."
The two women exchanged a look of admiration. They had a new found respect for each other. Dominoe turned and walked away from the CIA double agent. “We’ll always have Belize,” she whispered.
EPILOGUE
Rook and Bishop sat on the living room couch before a fifty-two-inch big screen TV in Rook’s living room. Empty beer bottles and bags of potato chips littered the coffee table in front of them. The big screen TV was tuned to the Super Bowl, which had turned into a blowout with the Oakland Raiders on the short end. The Raiders gave up another touchdown.
Rook groaned. “I can’t believe how bad the Raiders are playing. There goes fifty bucks.”
“What’s up with Big T?” Bishop asked. “He’s got ten rushing yards. What the hell did he do? Party all week?”
The doorbell rang.
Rook stood and answered the door. He wasn’t expecting anyone and was completely surprised to find Dominoe standing outside his door. She was dressed in a pair of sexy cut off shorts and a tank top T-shirt with the Tampa Bay Buccaneer logo in the front. She carried an aluminum tray covered with foil paper.
“Hi, Rook,” Dominoe said. “Am I too late for the game?”
It took a moment for Rook to actually believe that Dominoe was standing outside his door, dressed in shorts and a football tank top. “Uh... no. Come in.”
Dominoe stepped into the living room.
Bishop sat up on the couch. “Dom, what are you doing here?”
Dominoe shrugged. “I just thought I join you guys for the Super Bowl.”
“That’s great,” Bishop said, still not buying it. “You’re wearing the winning colors there. Nice call.”
Rook motioned to the tray Dominoe held. “What do you have there?”
“Hope you boys are hungry. I brought some lasagna.”
Rook and Bishop tensed.
Dominoe noticed their expressions and smiled. “I picked it up on the way here at Taste of Italy.”
Rook and Bishop relaxed.
“Oh, okay.” Bishop said, exhaling. “Have a seat, Dom.”
Dominoe sat on the couch between the two men. She made a mental note to straighten up the coffee table as she placed the lasagna down among the beer bottles. She focused on the game. “The Raiders are getting killed.”
Bishop suddenly had a brilliant idea. It was amazing the things that popped into his head after six beers. “Since it’s a boring game let’s make it interesting,” Bishop said. “Every time the Buccaneers score, Dominoe takes off an article of clothing. If the Raiders score, then Rook and I take off something. Shoes don’t count. Deal?”
Dominoe stared at Bishop, giving him a daring smile. “Deal.”
Bishop’s heart skipped a beat. “Huh?”
“Sounds like fun,” said Dominoe. “We’re all adults here, right?” She wasn’t kidding.
“Right.” Rook said, dizzy with shock.
The three friends proceeded to watch the Super Bowl, extremely interested in the game now. Dominoe had taken Sydney’s advice about taking time off for herself. Right now she wanted to share it with Rook and Bishop. They had done a great job in Belize and San Diego, and they deserved a reward.
It was all part of the service.
THE END
AUTHOR’S NOTE: Thanks to Trent Wolf for allowing me to use his great characters in my story. I’m just a player on his stage.