Finished Canon/Conventional Couple Fics. These stories pick up from events in the show. All complete stories from the main Canon/CC board will eventually be moved here.
<center> The Assassination Game
One Part Only </center>
He watched them as they walked up to the apartment building. They were his charges, or so the former regime had been led to believe. In reality, they were his enemy, his prey on this world. He drew his lips back into a thin smile as he thought of the pleasure he would have in ending their lives. He would be rewarded ten fold for this act, one of the top aides in dominion over this world, next to Nicholas himself.
He had watched them for months, photographed their every move, both physically and mentally. He was now biding his time waiting for the command to kill. A command that would came in the weary hours of the morning, a command to start the killings, to start his playtime.
Nasedo did not just like to kill with one stroke that was to easy. He wanted to employ the art of torture first he enjoyed that. The screams of pain were music to his ears, his nostrils would inhale deeply the sweet smell of blood. He licked his lips in anticipation. He would take such pleasure in this death. He had always hated the commander, defeating his chosen god in battle, that was, until the last battle. Could the bastard not remain dead?
He sighed as he waited. He had to make sure he was alone to commit the acts, to pleasure himself. His cock jumped at that thought. What acts of brutality he would inflict upon the commander, he would make the warrior scream out, as he raped him first, as to mentally and morally degrade him. Forcing him to commit sexual acts of depravity. Well, what was depraved for some, were fetishes for Nasedo.
Then once he tired of the commander’s body, when he found his alien sexual appetite fulfilled, when that human body no longer excited him, he would take his time, as he slowly disassembled the commander stripping him of the mortal earthly flesh.
Hours passed as he sat there envisioning the event. The need to fulfill his desires was taking over; he needed to release the tension, to take his anger and hatred out on the commander’s body.
Finally he saw the two exit the rundown building. He kept his bleary eyes on them, drinking in their essence, for that was as close as he could come - he was not to touch them.
Vilandra was Ki’var’s chosen mistress and she was to be his again, off limits even for play. Playtime with the royal princess would have been fun: tied up, unable to move, Nasedo could think of a few things he could do to her body. Maybe he should save those ideas for the King’s chosen one - that human -he could pleasure himself there. “No one would care,” Nasedo snorted, “what fools these humans are, thinking they are so powerful, so righteous.”
Nasedo watched the King get into the jeep, and shook his head at what jester he was. Even on Antar he was a failure, a weak ass that could not control anything, it was so simple for their kind to take power. That night, the night of the coup, he remembered the parties as the four laid dead in the square. People would spit upon their bodies, the air was exuberant with joy, a new regime was born, and a new god to them all was crowned.
Nesado took a deep breath, he would love to kill him, the former royal monarch. But no, the King had not yet done his duty, he was being kept alive for only one purpose: to impregnate the Queen. Once that foul deed was done, he could be dispensed of, but that pleasure was to be Ki’var’s also.
Once the King was returned to Antar, Ki’var would make a public spectacle of Zan’s execution, using an ancient sword, which had belonged to Zan’s father. Ki’var himself would do the honor of beheading Zan in the square while all those royal supporters looked on in horror as their last hope died. Ki’var planned to have the head stuffed and mounted on an fine wooden base gracing the walls of the royal bedchamber, where his mistress could see her brother as Ki’var forced himself on her over and over.
Nasedo sighed again as he watched the King drive away. He slowly got out of his car and walked towards the apartment. It would be simple, he knew this human form called Michael inside and out. He paled in comparison to the real commander, the Rath of Antar, who was a fierce warrior in battle, master strategist. This humanoid creature, an abomination of the Antarian sprit and soul, was no match for himself.
His shoes sounded against the asphalt, the night was calm, the moon shown bright. It was a good night to die, a good night to take a life. Nasedo was bred to this life, he was trained by the Royal Antarian Army to be one of the finest in the art of assassination. But somewhere down the line he lost his loyalty to the royal family, he was able to override the DNA coding in his genetic makeup and defy the orders.
Lost in thought Nasedo suddenly found himself knocking on Michael’s door. At first nothing happened as silence ensued and so he knocked harder. Then, as he heard the sound of footsteps approaching, Nasedo smiled, as he could not wait to see the commander’s face, for he very much doubted Rath would remember. The true crux in this whole ironic situation was the fact that Commander Rath on Antar decorated Nasedo himself, for the brilliant assassination of the ruler of a nearby planet.
The door opened as Michael stood there, arms crossed with that superior smug attitude, “Yeah?”
Nasedo had formed his present appearance well as the perfect mouse geek, an older man with balding head, pasty skin tone. He looked like a mild manner pushover, nothing for anyone to fear. “Um, I am sorry to bother you,” Nasedo expertly stammered out, “But my car broke down outside, over there,” he pointed to his car like the well rehearsed geek he was portraying, “and I was wondering if I could use the phone?”
For a fleeting moment Nasedo felt fear, it was as if the commander was sizing him up for dinner. He gulped hard, but there was no way Rath could remember. Their memories had not been activated, the mental conditioning codes were only given to Nasedo and he chose to leave the royal trio in the dark.
“Sure, come in.” Michael stepped back and pointed to the phone. “It is right over there.”
Nasedo was elated he had passed the test, the commander had no idea who he was. Now all he had to do was to knock this Michael out and take the body to a mining shaft in the desert, where the screams would only be heard by the ghosts of the past.
“Hey thanks,” Nasedo forced a smile as he picked up the receiver. He waited for a second, and turned to Michael. “Excuse me but there is no dial tone.”
“What? I paid that freaking bill.” Michael snarled, ”Let me see.”
The world suddenly went to blackness, a deep India ink black.
The trip out to the car was difficult, he had to wait until the apartment house was silent and he felt no humans stirring. He slung the male frame up over his shoulder and lugged it down the stairs, ignoring the swinging head that hit ever so often against the handrail bruising the cheeks and forehead.
He threw the body into the trunk and drove out into the desert. He smiled all the way, it felt good to be alive, to be in control, to kill again. That was one thing he had missed while on earth. He took a deep breath, the air was crisp, clean. It reminded him of Antar, and what it was like before their kind took over.
Once at the mineshaft, he threw the body out of the trunk, and the face struck a rock, breaking the nose. He then proceeded to drag the limp form down into the mine, taking special care to make sure that the shoulders and back of the head sustained considerable damage from the sharp rocks that laid scattered about.
Now came the fun part, the part he always enjoyed and excelled at. He stripped the body, leaving it in the naked human form. Cold, open to the world. Noting a hook in a large cross beam, he bound the wrists securely together. Then he hoisted the body up onto that hook, while the ankles he tied to adjacent posts. He stepped back and admired his work, he had his enemy in a semi-spread eagle; already first blood was his. He would now wait till his victim came around, it was no fun stripping the flesh off or ripping him inside out when he was unconscious.
The shaft was chilling, causing the body to shake and shudder as it regained consciousness. He shivered in the cold dampness, his lower body felt as if it was being pulled in half while his arms ached, burning from holding his own body weight. Blood had closed an eye and his nose was broken making it difficult to breathe.
“Ah, you’re awake!” He threw the bag of goodies, which had been concealed in the trunk, down as the shining silver contents spilled onto the ground, “Just in time for the show. I promise you will be entertained.”
The defenseless creature looked at the contents as his eyes opened wide in fear. He knew what to expect as he started to struggle against the ropes, yelling for help.
“You think you are special, one of those who rule.” He took the knife blade and twirled it lovingly in his fingers, “If you only knew what true power is, what those who rule can do.”
The torturer smiled, he could feel the essence pour off this one. This one knew what was coming and that fear was ripe to fill him with power.
“Did you know your kind is nothing?” he came upon to the side of the damned soul, whispering in his ear. “Did you know I’ve watched you for weeks? I followed you, did you not feel me in the shadows.”
The prey shook his head vehemently, “No, I am in control, it is our kind that should rule”.
“No, your kind is dead and this time you will all die.”
“Remember this?” He picked up a toy from his bag of macabre devices, “You used to use it on Antar. Takes on a whole new meaning here on earth, anal probe.”
The figure began to really twist and struggle, he knew what hell was to come. He came to the back of his prey, parting the ass checks. Then, came the screams. The walls vibrated with those echoing screams, as the thick metal rod embedded with small fish-like hooks was shoved past protesting sphincter muscles. Blood began to trickle down the back of his ivory cream thighs, dripping gently onto the floor.
“Ah! Perfect fit. Comfortable?” A crazed smile flashed as he spun the rod around causing the internal flesh to be ripped. The torture was cruel, demonic pleasure that never failed to make the enemy reveal their secrets. He spun the rod again, ripping more flesh, forcing more blood out. His abdomen was filling with blood inside, the vast majority being kept inside by the girth of the rod.
“Now tell me all the secrets you have.”
“No!” the word escaped in a harsh howl. “Never!”
“Oh, I wish you did not say never.”
The screams were insurmountable; the rod was shoved in deeper, the torture mounted with alien ability caused the rod to glow red, burning the insides.
“You can make this easy on yourself. I will withdraw the probe and kill you mercifully,” He stroked his victim’s face, “so tell me or suffer, it makes no difference to me”
The cold alien eyes showed no remorse for what he was doing to the body before him.
Hours would pass, the screams slowly died off as the body went in and out of life. The victim was strong, he refused to give up the secrets he held inside. He was a martyr for his cause.
Soon, there was only scraps of him left alive. What was left of him was nothing more than a shadow, barely breathing, blinded, skinned alive. The smell of burnt flesh to stop additional bleeding permeated the shaft with its sickening order. He was a true professional, a master in his craft. He now came to the last best part, the mutilation of the genitals. The corpse like body jolted as the knife began to slice through.
“Tell me!” He whispered into the hole where his ear had been located. “Tell me who.”
A faint whine of an answer escaped the bloody slit once called a mouth.
“Good, you may die now.” His hand shined with an eerily whitest glow as he extinguished the life, reducing him to a pile of ashes.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
He returned to town to his life as it had been, but he was changed. No longer did he think or act as he once did, for another had taken control. He now had a purpose: to kill those who were his enemies.
He now knew about Ki’var and the skins and their secrets. He knew all Nasedo told him before he died. He knew they would kill Zan and he could not have that, he would kill first, things would change.
“Michael, hey are you okay?”
“Sure Max, why do you ask?”
Max looked deeply into Michael’s eyes, they appeared darker, colder than ever before. As Max stared at Michael, it triggered something deep inside himself, it was something from the past, only Max could not remember.
“Oh nothing, you have just been distant.”
“Tired Max. You know work, school, crap life.”
Max again looked deeply into Michael. He could not feel that spark of humanity, it was as if Michael had vanished and something replaced him, something cold, evil, nefarious.
“See ya, Max.”
Max watched Michael as he walked away, even his gait was different. Michael was not longer Michael, he had become Rath, the warrior from Antar, the name that drew fear in his enemies’ hearts.
Last edited by suicide_eagle_rath on Mon Mar 19, 2007 10:30 am, edited 1 time in total.
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