The Technomancer’s Playground
Under The Skin
As ever, a big thank you to everyone who helped me get this story written and polished. Special mentions to Jo (Flibinite) and penny (Bad Penny), for casting their eyes over the roughest of drafts and for inspiring me to push myself that little bit further. To, Kim (The Once And Future Kim) for getting me thinking about paint, and last but very much not least, to Alei, just for being there, whenever I needed. * * * The last time she had come to Hong Kong, the plane had landed at Kai Tak, swooping low over the skyscrapers and stopping just before it plunged into Victoria Harbour. Back then, they hadn’t even started building Chek Lap Kok Airport, and the island was still a crown colony. Belatedly, she realised how much she was showing her age. Susan Cheung certainly wore the years well, and she drew more than a few appreciative glances, as she squeezed her slender frame into the crowded MTR carriage. After giving thanks that she had been forced to travel light, Susan tried to find a position where she could escape the relentless press of bodies. She hadn’t intended to leave Japan so precipitously, but she had managed to draw some particularly unwanted attention. She always seemed to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, but she had compounded her problems by asking a lot of indiscrete questions. In the end, Susan had been glad to see the back of the place. Unconsciously she rubbed the back of her wrist, tracing the fine lines of her latest tattoo. They really hadn’t liked her body decorations in Kyoto. On a westerner the adornment might have been tolerated, but with her almond eyes and porcelain features, they branded her a gangster. She suddenly realised what she was doing, and jerked her hand away swiftly, almost fearfully. Nihon had been a complete waste of time anyway. All that she had learnt, was that the person she sought was here, in Hong Kong. She was coming back home, and that is where the story would end, one way or another. * * * Looking back, Susan couldn’t remember a time when she hadn’t been searching for something. Her grandmother used to say that she had itchy feet, but there was more to it than that. The world was such a wonderful place, filled as it was with nearly limitless possibilities. It was impossible to stay in one place for any length of time, because wherever she might be, there was so much more to see, elsewhere. But that all changed when Gillian went missing. Her sense of wonder just ended, and overnight, she became the driven thing that had scoured the globe, looking for her sister. Sweet, clever Gillian, who had always been there to ground her when she most needed it. Yang to her yin, they were complementary forces and both needed the other in order to exist. It had taken Susan almost a year to piece together what had happened. The zaibatsu for which Gillian had worked, greeted every request for information with a polite but impenetrable silence. She plumbed every back channel, spent money like water and used all the tricks in her not inconsiderable arsenal. Getting blood from a stone would have been easier, but in the end, her dogged determination won through. A competitor’s agents had kidnapped her sister, presumably because she had information that they thought would be useful. There was talk of a deal being made, but in the end something went wrong. Susan still didn’t know all the details, but whatever had happened, the kidnappers decided to hold onto Gillian, rather than release her as agreed. Susan had followed the trail across South East Asia, always just a few steps behind. Her sister was an elusive quarry, but if the periodic sightings did nothing else, then at least they proved that she was still alive. This was the beginning of the endgame, every fibre of her being told her as much. The sense of lost was suddenly acutely painful. Her chest burnt, and, unconsciously, she reached up and tried to stroke away the hurt. Skin shifted under her touch, soothing and gentle. Susan sighed, letting her fingers linger for a moment longer. Through the soft material of her blouse, she could almost feel the tattoo. She had acquired the dark Yin symbol almost as soon as Gillian had gone missing. It served as a mute reminder of her incompleteness. * * * Despite her expectations, Hong Kong hadn’t really changed since the handover. There were differences, but they seemed cosmetic at best. The people who thought they were in charge might have changed, but the Island carried on regardless. Susan climbed stiffly up the concrete stairs, out of the underground station, and into the garish neon night. A strangely familiar hum settled somewhere deep in her belly, as the city spoke to her, as if for the first time. The distant wail of the night market competed with the dull rumble of passing Mercedes. Tiny girls in Suzie Wong outfits teetered past, leaving a miasma of cheap perfume and stale sweat in their wakes. She was back in the ‘Wanch’ and in an instant of absolute clarity, she realised that it felt like home. The residents had always regarded Wan Chai with a sense of embarrassed pride. It still couldn’t shift its seedy image, and the area was still pretty much synonymous with prostitution. But, it had another side, especially since the Convention and Exhibition Centre had been completed. The ‘Wanch’ had become one of the Island’s busiest commercial areas. But that wasn’t why Susan had come. She wanted to touch the Island’s darker side, because that was the only way to find her sister. It was time for her to be as indiscrete as possible, and start making some waves. After all, when you were hunting, it was often far better to let the prey come to you, rather than tire yourself out by chasing it down. After a brief stopover, to burn some joss sticks at Hung Shing Temple, Susan walked casually into Joe Tamale’s. The place was a dive, and the years had not been kind to the dilapidated building. A crowd of young men surrounded the foot of the staircase, and it was obvious that they had no intention of letting her pass. She bit down on her frustration, and gradually felt the urge to lash out begin to still. Susan looked out across the bar, and was relieved when she finally caught sight of a familiar face. Vladimir Krusyekov was a bear of a man, and one of her father’s oldest friends. She hadn’t seen him since Seoul, but he hadn’t changed. Maybe there were a couple more grey hairs, but nothing more than that. He’d tried to talk her out of this, and she remembered the hours they had spent, arguing long into the night. But, in the end, however dangerous her plan might be, neither of them could find an alternative. “As I live and breathe!” he bellowed, and the boys scattered, “If it isn’t little Sue.” She blushed, as she always did. There was something about his uncomplicated manner that never failed to affect her. He stepped closer, looking her up and down, before giving a nod of vague approval. “You’re looking good,” he smiled, before engulfing her in his arms. He let her go after a long moment, during which it felt as if her ribs were about to crack. She massaged her side gently, and followed the large Russian back to his table. He peered at her intently, worry etched into his furrowed brow. She knew him well enough to know that he had something to say, but that he couldn’t quite figure out how to make her listen. “So,” she grinned nervously, “Are you going to spit it out, or do you want to dance around whatever you have to tell me, for a little bit longer?” “Don’t do this,” he said after a moment, “They know you’re coming, Sue. The only way that Gillian could have been seen, is if they’d allowed it. It’s a trap, pure and simple. She’s just bait, and I owe it to your old man to tell you that.” Susan stared into his worn features, suddenly recognising how tired he looked. She shook her head slowly, and sadness tugged at the corners of her mouth. She reached out gently, taking his large calloused hand in hers. “You’ve been trying to protect me,” she whispered softly, tears sparkling in the corners of her eyes, “But this is something that I have to do, for myself, and by myself.” Vlad shook his head very slowly, and then, almost tenderly, he pulled his hand free. She watched his shoulders slump, and felt the great rush of air, as he breathed out an enormous sigh of resignation. He wouldn’t make eye contact; instead he lifted a bottle from the table, and took a long draw from it. “Where is she?” Susan asked quietly. “They’ve got a place on the Peak,” the Russian admitted, before pushing a second beer bottle towards her, “You can still stop, Sue, you can still just walk away.” “Oh,” Susan smiled, taking a mouthful of foamy beer, “I think we both know that’s not true.” “Damn it!” Vlad shouted and slammed his hand down on the table, making most of the room jerk in surprise, “You’re as stubborn as your father. Okay, have it your way. Just don’t say that I didn’t warn you.” Susan saluted him ironically with the bottle, and drained the remainder of its contents. The beer tasted metallic and had a chemical bite to it, but it was cold and wet and at the moment that was good enough. She stared into Vlad’s face, watching as the beads of sweat began to prickle the large man’s forehead. “It’s okay,” she told him, as the room began to darken, “I do understand, remember?” Her vision swam. Colours swam deliriously into one and other, before catching her in a wave of vertigo. Her ears were filled with white noise, while her heart beat out a complex counterpoint. She stared down at her hands, watching the briar tattoo twitch and ripple. “And … I forgive you,” she breathed, almost to herself, before collapsing heavily onto the Formica tabletop. * * * The world lurched into motion again, gripping her mind and hurling it into a flat spin. The drug had left her mouth painfully dry, and its fading metabolites dulled her perceptions into a foggy blur. Susan tried to work her jaw, but the muscles didn’t seem to be working. Someone turned the sound back on, and reality returned at an almost deafening volume. Colours swirled again, and darkness resolved into a cloudless sky. It took her brain several seconds to catch up, and then she saw what she had been looking at. A vast panoramic view of the city, picked out in bright spots of light and shade. So, Vlad had been as good as his word. Here she was, Victoria Peak. All Susan had to do now, was find her sister. She sensed movement behind her, and fought to turn her head. A soft, well-manicured hand rested lightly on her shoulder, and suddenly her nostrils were filled with his cologne. “You’re far too trusting,” an oily, almost obsequious voice told her, “But not to worry, this is the last mistake that you’re ever going to make.” Susan felt herself relax just a little, despite her apparent helplessness. Whoever this was, they obviously weren’t in charge. She could feel her thoughts becoming increasingly less sluggish, but still her body refused to cooperate. The man’s hand stroked, inexpertly, over the side of her neck. “You are almost as beautiful as your sister,” he told her, running his damp fingers through her hair, “And you’ll get to meet her very soon, once we’ve had the chance to get properly acquainted. My name is Dr Johnson, and I am one of Lord Xiao’s tamers. Actually, I am his most trusted tamer, and so, this really is quite an honour … for you I mean.” She willed herself to move, eager to escape his slimy, fumbling touch. Her fingers twitched weakly, but fortunately he didn’t seem to notice. Moment by moment, she was becoming more alert. But unfortunately, that meant that she felt exactly what was happened, as he began to cut her out of her clothing. “You see,” he continued, as the thin blade sheared through her blouse, “I am an artist, but my canvas is the human mind.” He spent a moment tracing his fingers over her arm, following the spiralling path of the tattooed vine. Then, he leaned even closer. His breath was foetid and his proximity made her flesh crawl. She felt, rather than saw his pale tongue, as it licked excitedly over his lips. “You are already painted,” he whispered, and the knife flickered again, “And soon we will take the first steps on the path that I shall lay out for you. Changing your thoughts, as easily as you have altered the pigments on your skin.” He took his time, and Susan was relieved that his knife strokes were so much more deft and certain than his touch. Even when he could have simply slipped the garments from her unresisting body, the doctor instead chose to cut them apart. It was humiliating, but there seemed nothing that she could do. Susan could feel the cold leather against her skin. Despite being slick with sweat, it still clung to her, and she fought to squirm free both from its cold embrace, and the doctor’s increasingly intimate touches. Her body managed a soft shudder, as he began to catalogue her tattoos, seemingly delighted with the body art. He lovingly stroked the pale angel that rested against her shoulder blade. The winged woman was curled in a snug ball and wrapped in delicate chains, a memento of Osaka that she would just as soon forget. Thin fingers cupped her breast, while dirty nails sketched the dark teardrop that seemed livid against the pale flesh. Finally, he discovered the bloody heart, hidden from sight on her inner thigh. He bent to her, and let his slippery tongue touch it, licking in the most profoundly disgusting manner. She gasped, repulsed beyond words, as she shivered at this violation. It took her a moment to recognise that the paralysis was breaking. The doctor continued, tracking a foul trail of saliva towards the delta of Susan’s sex. She shivered again, tasting the heady rush of desire that seeped like sweat from his pores. But in the background, there was another flavour, deliciously rich and velvety. She inhaled sharply, scenting his fear and relishing it. “The forbidden fruit,” she groaned, her lips fighting to form the words, “How much do you risk, by simply tasting it?” He recoiled, staring at her slack face, his face flushed and angry. But she had seen through his bravado, and recognised the shock and fear that lurked beneath. She gave him a crooked smile, and saw his eyes become narrow and spiteful. “By the time I’m finished with you,” he hissed, unable to keep the tremor from his voice, “The only memories you’ll have, will be those I choose to give you.” Susan held his gaze, breathing in his anxiety, and let bitter laughter fill her words. “Ah, but can you be sure?” she asked sardonically. He swept past her, and she could hear the clatter of metal from behind. When he returned, the doctor was brandishing a large hypodermic needle. He made sure that she got a good look at it, and its oily contents, before brutally stabbing it into her arm. “Back to sleep, bitch!” he spat in her face, making her flinch away. Susan could feel the drug as it entered her system. She could taste it on her tongue and recognised the sense of disconnection that began to descend. Her muscles shuddered in protest and she couldn’t keep from giving a long drawn out moan. “Enjoy your last act of defiance,” he told her angrily, “I’m going to have you fixed, and after that, you’re going to want to thank me with every fibre of your being.” The drug seeped into her mind, wrapping her thoughts in a chemical straitjacket. Everything seemed to blur and slow, stuttering to a halt, as the world faded into sepia stillness. Her eyes lost their focus, becoming glassy and blank. With one last, futile heave, she slumped back into the chair. The air escaped her slack lips, in one final moan of despair, and everything stopped. * * * Susan couldn’t remember whether she was awake or dreaming. Time had no meaning, maybe seconds had passed, or perhaps days. Her entire world had collapsed, contracting into a flickering nimbus of limitless pain and unimaginable pleasure. Drugs flowed through her veins, lighting her nerve endings into delicious waves of burning agony. Tight metal teeth bit into her flesh. The clamps stung her nipples, sending shockwaves rippling into the heavy flesh of her breasts. An impossibly large dildo filled her, throbbing angrily, the pulses out of phase with its smaller twin that had been thoroughly lubed before impaling her tight arsehole. Another clamp had been closed around her clit, and her every movement made her pussy twinge, muscles spasming as she juiced and moaned. A broad mask covered the woman’s face, curving back around her ears. A large bore rubber tube emerged from the centre of it, feeding her a potent mixture of gas and air. Words and images constantly flashed before her eyes, burning onto her retinas, even when she remembered to keep them closed. She had been bound tightly in a cocoon of rubber straps, and a series of powerful motors continuously adjusted their tension. Susan struggled again, and the response was instantaneous. The motors whined angrily, pulling her bonds to excruciating tightness. At the same instant, a valve snapped shut inside the breathing tube. The fight immediately went out of her, and, after giving her a moment for reflection, the bonds relaxed, and she was allowed to breath once more. The flickering images changed, encouraging her obedience, and the constant background hiss resolved into discernable words, which held the same message. The cocktail of drugs changed subtly, and the dual vibes cycled up into high gear. Even in her weakened condition, the message was unmistakable. Obey and you will be rewarded, disobedience will be met with consequences. Susan cried out in frustration, hurling her defiance at her unseen tormentor and predictably, the motors came alive once more. She howled, until lack of oxygen forced her to stop. Then, as the reward cycle started anew, she screamed in denial, finally forcing the machine to choke her back into merciful unconsciousness. * * * One hundred and twenty cycles later, Susan hung limply in the straps. She couldn’t break free, and although she knew that it wasn’t safe to relax, at least this way she could preserve her strength. The vibes hummed gently. The sensation of constant reward was somehow soothing. More images flickered unseen at the limits of her perception, reinforcing her compliance. Susan could sense that something was changing. New drugs entered her system, buzzing into her brain, leaving it dazed and confused. Then, without warning, her eyes and ears were bombarded with one simple concept. She whimpered, fighting to ignore the thought that threatened to overload her senses. “Obey!” hammered into her mind, and it was all the she could do to keep it from taking root. “Never!” she screamed, her voice muffled and then drowned out completely as the motors whined their angry rebuttal. The web crushed in on her, and blue fire crackled through the clamps. With a loud snap, the valve closed, and she was instantly struggling to breathe. Still the same message flooded her consciousness, while hidden whispers reminded how she had already succumbed and what little chance she had of resisting. Susan ignored it all, eagerly seeking the promised oblivion. But the machine seemed determined to confound her, and after a moment, the valve snapped back open. She took a long gasping breath, realising her error a moment too late. Pure gas filled her lungs, and what little oxygen remained in her bloodstream, simply flowed down the concentration gradient. Darkness claimed her once more, sucking her down into velvet numbness. The lights danced in her head, silent imperatives that slipped unnoticed between her thoughts. They tangled and knotted, binding themselves to her feelings of impotent rage. Even unconscious, Susan rebelled against it, fighting against the viral ideas, right up to the point when the vibrators hit their highest setting. * * * Confused déjà vu coloured her perceptions, as Susan woke once more. How many times had she danced this dance with the machine? The hissing shifted, binaural messages each targeting a different hemisphere. She could only gasp, as the world receded. Every ounce of effort that she put into fighting merely served to remind her how hopeless her position was. Susan recognised that she was beaten, but pride wouldn’t allow her to just give up. She was going to make the bastards work for their prize, even if the outcome was inevitable. The captive woman probably would have recognised that she had just accepted her defeat, had the machine not chosen that moment to enter the reward cycle. “Obedience is its own reward,” the machine told her, crushing her will into another helpless climax. “No!” she cried impotently, unable to do anything except receive her reward. Susan flinched, expecting the motors to respond. But instead the vibes simply stopped their gentle massage. After a moment, the message also changed, and she could only sob out her feeble denials. “Disobedience brings only punishment,” the words buzzed into her brain. She didn’t want to accept anything that the machine told her. But, try as she might, she couldn’t find a hole in either argument. When she did what she was told, the machine rewarded her, and when she didn’t, there was only punishment. Her cunt ached, in fact, her whole body shivered in sudden need. “Obedience is its own reward,” the machine told her again. “No,” she whispered, hating herself for the lack of conviction in that simple word. “Disobedience brings only punishment,” it responded, and the ache began to gnaw at her. Her voice cracked, dissolving into incoherent mewling. She tried to shake her head, unable to find any other way to deny the truth that in her heart, she already knew. Part of her was still able to resist. But, that part was growing weaker with each passing moment, and soon, she knew that it would disappear completely. “Obedience is its own reward,” the machine softly prompted, and only the thought of Gillian kept her from accepting. * * * Susan kneeled quietly, letting herself be cushioned by the overwhelming feeling of calm. There was something that she was supposed to do, but the feeling was so indistinct that it seemed impossible to remember. Her thoughts fought to rebel, but the effort merely filled her with that same familiar emptiness. “How do you like you new tattoo, Slave?” the doctor asked, his voice filled with condescension. Susan’s eyes were irresistibly drawn to the fresh ink, which decorated her now-shaven mound. The skin was still red and sore, but the mark tingled delightfully and the meaning behind it almost took her breath away. It was Lord Xiao’s mark, his brand. “Obedience is its own reward,” she breathed happily. “Yes, quite,” the doctor smiled wickedly, “Now, do you remember what I told you when we last spoke?” She tried to remember, knowing that it was important. But, the memory faded even as she reached for it. The ache returned, pushing her to try even harder. Susan knew that her purpose was to bring pleasure, and that she could only achieve that through obedience. But she was trying, and yet it still wasn’t working. Tears filled her eyes, at the thought of the punishment she so richly deserved. “That’s okay,” he told her after a few minutes, while he watched her suffer, “You have no memories, save those I have chosen to give you. That reminds me, I have one last task for you, one last test, before you will be worthy to meet your new Master.” The doctor clapped his hands, and Susan could not stop herself from jumping in response to the sudden noise. As she was once again blanketed with the wonderful sense of peace that only obedience could grant her, she heard the unmistakable sound of bare feet stepping carefully across the wooden floor. Susan’s head remained bowed, but a soft perfume wafted around her. It was strangely familiar, but as before, when she reached for the memory, it just seemed to melt away. She shook her head in irritation, the movement pitifully weak. But her resistance was only short lived, and a moment later the calm cocooned her once more. “Look who has come to see you,” the doctor laughed, “I am, after all, a man of my word.” She looked up, as instructed, seeing the slender woman who stood before her. Familiarity tugged at her, trying to break through the layers of conditioning. But it was no use. The more she fought, the stronger the mental chains became. It had taken weeks, but in the end she had broken. Everyone broke, all it took, was time. The woman was beautiful, breathtaking in fact. Susan accepted her nakedness as quite normal, as was the collar that adorned the younger woman’s slender throat. Something sparked in her brain, and a sense of joy filled her, as she released that the time of her own collaring must be close at hand. Her eyes glanced lower, admiring the woman’s perfect body, and lingering longingly over her Master’s mark. “Slave,” he barked, making them both jerk to attention. The doctor moved closer to the newcomer, and whispered quietly in her ear. He rested one hand on her shoulder, while the other cupped her buttock. It was a testament to the power of her conditioning that she didn’t try to pull away from his obscenely familiar touch. “Yes, doctor,” the woman breathed, accepting his commands and shivering with the thrill of her reward. She walked proudly to where Susan still knelt, and let her knees brush against the kneeling woman’s body, leaning lightly against her. Susan’s could feel the warmth of her skin where they touched. Her face was perfectly positioned, and she gazed at the mark, licking her lips in moist anticipation. The scent of arousal filled her, but she couldn’t tell whose. “Slave,” he breathed softly, and she knew that his words were only for her, “You will pleasure this slave, and you will enjoy it.” A sense of wrongness briefly touched her, only to be washed away on a tide of blank calm. She whispered her assent, gasping at the strength of her response, and did as she had been instructed. Tentatively at first, as if unsure of what she was doing, but growing in confidence with each passing second, Susan buried her face in her sister, and revelled in the thrill of obedience. Gillian just stood there with her head held high. She kept her legs slightly apart, opening herself to her sister’s attentions, and somehow, that passivity just served to make her even more arousing. Susan’s tongue stroked slowly, leaving a wet trail of saliva. She painted her sister’s body, circling the dark stain of her tattoo, and then dipping lower. She let its tip roll smoothly along the edges of Gillian’s slit and was rewarded with the softest of sighs. Then she retraced the same path, barely touching and yet still feeling the skin tremble under her. Gillian let her eyes close, as she shifted her weight slightly. Small hands gripped her sister’s shoulders, helping her to keep her balance, and allowing her to present herself more fully. She answered the next touch with a hiss of excitement, fighting the urge to press herself into the other slave’s face. The doctor had been very specific, and even the thought of disobedience seemed impossible to her now. Her sister’s taste hit her with such a force that Susan almost came. It was delicious, exotic and somehow so familiar. She let her tongue lick more fiercely, pushing against the slick folds, which parted easily, and filled her mouth with that rich nectar. Juice dribbled around her mouth, running is slow languid trails down onto her small breasts. Susan moaned into her sister’s snatch, letting the heat of that enflamed sex bathe her face. Gillian shuddered, clutching at her with fingers that had suddenly become claws. Susan pushed closer, letting her tongue find that sensitive nub of flesh. Round and round it swept, each circle catching the tip of Gillian’s clit. Every contact forced the other woman to arch and tense. Sensing how close she was now, Susan brought her teeth to bear. Almost cruelly, she bit into her sister’s most sensitive skin. For an instant, she caught Gillian’s engorged clit between her teeth, pining it in place, and squeezing tightly. Her sister yelped, sinking her nails into Susan’s skin and letting her feel the echo of that delicious pain. Then, relentlessly, Susan’s tongue went to work. It flickered against Gillian’s clit, faster and faster. Her sister began to stiffen. Her breathing deepened and each gasp ended in a quiet whimper. Susan pushed on, following her instructions, and feeling her pussy clench at the thought of how good that made her feel. For a moment, everything stilled. The only sound was the wet slither of Susan’s tongue. Time slowed and Gillian held her breath, as her muscles tensed in anticipation. Then, it happened. Gillian threw back her head, grinding her cunt into her sister’s face and screaming out the ecstasy of her release. Susan kept going, as she was anointed with her sister’s cum. Juices trickled over her chin, running down to mix with the puddle of her own submission, in which she knelt. Finally spent, Gillian collapsed against her sister, letting Susan hold her and support her weight. They stayed like that for a long moment, while their breathing stilled, and their hearts slowed. Unconsciously, Susan wrapped her arms around her sister. It was a spontaneous and protective gesture, and it had nothing to do with her conditioning. The doctor stared at the two women, and felt concern begin to nag at him. Neither of them should have been capable of independent action, and even though this was such a small thing, it did suggest that the control was not as perfect as it should have been. Perhaps he should postpone her collaring? It was, after all, better to be safe than sorry, and a few more hours in the machine weren’t going to hurt, were they? “An impressive demonstration,” a sharp voice suddenly announced. The doctor turned to his patron and smiled in gratitude. He had not heard his Lord arrive, but through long practice was able to hide his discomfort. All thoughts of postponement disappeared. Now that Lord Xiao was here, the process would need to continue regardless. “Now,” Susan said flatly, her voice an eerie monotone, “Everyone’s here, who’s supposed to be here.” As she spoke the pre-programmed invocation, power flared around the kneeling woman. The anchored magic surged forth and white light burnt brilliantly into her breast, forcing the doctor and his master to shield their eyes. As it cleared, a second teardrop had joined the first, completing the symbol. The two shapes were wrapped together, much as she and her sister now were. Yin and yang, united once more. She had spent so long preparing for this day, honing her skills with only one purpose in mind, to free her sister. The dark symbol had become her talisman. It had soaked in her essence, gradually absorbing some of her nature, and then, held it in trust, until the day that two conditions were finally met. That time had come. Susan shared a room with both Gillian and the man responsible for her kidnapping. Unleashed, the magic burnt at the chains that bound her thoughts, melting them away in an instant of perfect bliss. Susan eased herself upright, struggling to bear her sister’s weight. Her legs were unsteady, and her muscles trembled with the effort. The doctor stared, his earlier doubts suddenly given concrete form. Realising that he needed to do something to militate against his failure, he snatched up another hypodermic, and rushed over to where his captive was still trying to stand. He couldn’t understand how she could have resisted, but in just a few seconds it wouldn’t matter. She was obviously still too weak to put up any kind of fight and once she had taken her medicine, he could put her back in the machine for another month. He was not going to be beaten, not by this slip of a girl. The doctor grabbed hold of Susan’s arm, wrapping it in his long greasy fingers and forcing her to groan, as he pressed into the nail marks that her sister had left. He raised the needle, wanting to make sure that knew what was coming, before he sent her back to sleep. “Too bad,” he said with a rictus grin, “You lose!” She pinned him with her dark eyes, and smiled back at him. Very slowly she shook her head, before looking down at his hand. “Oh,” she said coldly, “I really don’t think so.” The doctor knew that he should just jab her and be done with it. But, something about her manner was so unsettling that it forced him to look. He followed her gaze, but couldn’t understand what he was seeing. “What?” he gasped. She knew that his shock would last for only a moment, but it was important to get her sister out of harm’s way. Very gently, she released her grip, and let Gillian slip to the floor. Then, she turned her attention back to the doctor, her face filled with sudden malevolence. Susan reached out, taking hold of his wrist with one hand and pressing the other palm into the centre of his chest. He tried to pull away, still staring in horror at his hand, and what was happening to it. His fingers were melting into Susan’s skin, and as she touched him, so the process seemed to accelerate. He felt no pain, just a strangely comfortable draining sensation, as if something was pouring out of him. New colour bled into Susan’s flesh, staining as it went. She took his face in her hands, and held him there. They stared into each other’s eyes, as the doctor’s mouth worked silently, and then, he was gone. She shivered, feeling the skin ripple as a new tattoo joined the others. The pale grey imp moved and twisted for a moment, brandishing its oversized syringe, and then it was still. Susan rubbed her arm, wincing slightly, and then turned her attention to the other man. Lord Xiao was normally an imposing figure, but now his features showed only an expression of mute horror. He looked small, and pitiful, even in his expensive suit. The long mandarin moustache was somehow ridiculous, and she struggled not to laugh. “You took my sister,” she hissed angrily, feeling a surge of excitement as he cowered, “And I am exactly the wrong person to piss off.” She took a step closer, feeling its warm reassuring touch as the whip slid into her hand. The tattoo uncoiled, its ink sliding out of her and regaining its form. That was enough for Lord Xiao. He turned and fled, his feet pounding on the wooden boards. Susan flicked her wrist, nonchalantly, letting the thorn-covered vine find its own path. It whipped around his throat, and jerked him to a halt. Dark crimson beads formed around the needle sharp thorns, and he could only gasp. “I could just take you into me,” she told him, keeping the tension in the whip, “But I’m vindictive, and you’re stupid.” He could only gurgle, and she had to tug sharply on the vine to deter him from reaching up and trying to loosen its grip. The movement spun him back around and left them facing each other. She could still see the defiance in his eyes, but it was all but drowned in the sea of fear. Susan tugged again, just because she could. It made him stagger and almost fall. “You mark your property,” she whispered angrily, stroking one hand over the tattoo, “and in your arrogance, you use your own name to do so.” Her skin trembled, and she pulled away suddenly ink-stained fingers. Susan carefully closed her free hand around the stem of her whip, hissing as the thorns pierced her skin. Then, black seeped into the green, a shadow that flowed silently towards the panicking man. “But knowing the name of something,” she smiled, “Gives you power over it, if you know how to exercise it.” Lord Xiao groaned as the darkness poured into him. He didn’t know what was happening, but something was changing and he knew that he had to fight it. Then, Susan touched her bloody fingers to her sister’s mark, and drew that into her as well. Gillian moaned as the ink left her, fear almost instantly replacing the look of blank acceptance. Another wave of darkness rushed along the whip and he knew that it was all over. “Now,” Susan told him, as his pupils expanded, leaving his eyes dim and blank, “It is your turn to kneel.” He dropped heavily onto his knees, gazing up at her, his face slack. She rested one hand on the top of his head, and inhaled sharply. Lord Xiao’s clothes fell to the floor, all that remained of the proud man who had worn them. Susan felt her whole body convulse, as the demon moved into place, opposite her angel. She practically ran to her sister, drawing Gillian up into her arms and holding her close. The other woman could only sob, clinging tightly to her saviour. Susan stroked her fingers through that long hair, muttering quiet reassurances. Everything was okay now. The horror had ended. * * * The discarded clothing was enough to get them out of the building, and across town to the safe house. Gillian was in shock, but her memories were still mercifully vague. Susan had to guide her through the bustling streets, but thanks to a little metaphysical assistance, nobody gave the scanty-clad pair a second glance. Uncle Vlad’s face lit up when he saw them, and without speaking, he swept his arms around them both and lifted them into a crushing embrace. They stayed like that for some time, each relishing the contact and comfortable feeling of family. When he finally released them, the old Russian’s face was streaked with tears. “I’m sorry,” he sighed to Susan. “I know,” she smiled, before kissing him lightly on the cheek, “And I told you, I have already forgiven you. Besides, I asked you to betray me, remember?” “Yes,” he nodded sadly, unwilling to make eye contact, “And you are both here, that is the important thing.” “You old fraud,” Susan laughed, her eyes twinkling, “You’re just worried that I haven’t kept my side of the bargain.” Gillian had retreated into herself, and the expression on her face spoke nothing of understanding. Susan could only hope that she would recover, and that she would find some happiness from simply being back with the people who cared about her. In Gillian’s eyes, Susan knew that she had always been different, but it was only now that she was beginning to understand just how different her sister truly might be. Susan stretched, exerting her power and letting the tingle of magic play over her body. It had been painful at first, but that had passed, over long years of practice. The pigments stirred beneath her skin, sliding away, as she willed the change to happen. “There,” Susan announced, gesturing at the very confused and extremely naked doctor who had suddenly appeared in the centre of the room, “As requested, one top notch ‘tamer’.” Vlad took the syringe from the man’s unresisting fingers and jabbed in roughly into the side of his neck. The doctor groaned something unintelligible, and then collapsed gracelessly to the floor. “Thank you, I never doubted you for a second,” he smiled, then gestured at Susan’s exposed back, “But, tell me, what’s going to happen to Lord Xiao?” Susan seemed to consider that, letting her eyes flick between Vlad and her sister. Then she gave a long sigh and shrugged her shoulders. The skin over her back crawled briefly before becoming still once again. “Well,” she began, “I’ve got a lot of spite that I still need to work out. And then, I’ll probably give him to Gillian. She’s always wanted a pet.” </body> </html>