Morgan hung from the ceiling trapped within her thoughts. The soldiers had enjoyed themselves immensely as they had pinched and rough-handled her body searching for anymore of her precious gadgets. She could swear her ass was as red and blistered as a Palladin slave’s. As she hung motionless in the dark hold, she tried to contact her men. Each time she tried to connect to one of them a tiny jolt would bounce through her. Damn, that stings! What is that? she pondered. There could only be two things that explained this interference: the Sprytens were using a neuro-scrambler to block transmissions or, Cenzo’s chore boy, Aries, lied and her crew was dead, leaving her to go this mission alone. After an hour or so of trying, she switched her tactics and began scanning for Nginza, who was no doubt trailing somewhere in the woods.
Ginza, she called out. Ginza!
Silence greeted her. Not a very reassuring sign.
She opened her eyes to peer blankly into the ebon of the hold. Another moment passed before her eyes began to glow with a fierce molten light. Her breathing deepened as if she were reaching for an eternal sleep, but staying ever-conscious. She focused her mind on the extremities of the barge, as if she wanted to bore a large hole into it. Soon, Morgan could feel her soul detach from her body and seep through the walls of the barge, making out the darkened outline of the forest.
It was a trick that only the Imperial Elite were capable doing. The celestial movement required complete focus of one’s being to be able to project their soul’s image as well as maintain conscious thought. For Morgan, she could do it in her sleep, having inherited her mother’s power and training. It pained her to remember the long and grueling hours suffered trying to flawlessly achieve the trick and many others, for that matter. Blaze McGuiness, her dutiful taskmaster, had nearly gotten her stuck between the realms on many occasions, but she had mastered the celestial move so well she would never fall between them ever.
As her soul body fully emerged from the barge side, she peered deep into the woods to see if she could make out a trace signature from Ginza. A brief blip caught her attention and she was immediately drawn to it. She returned the blip with her own – another trick involving harnessing ones life-energy to project one’s aura light. Soon, she noted quick skulking movements dashing through the trees. With the stealth of the slickest snake, Ginza sidled up to the barge; careful to avoid the sides, just in case, it had been alarmed.
Bout time you showed yourself, Morgan scolded.
Sorry, there’re too many barges to track, she explained. What have we learned?
They’re taking me and the men to the palace, Morgan explained. I had a run in with an old friend.
Ah, Werner came to exact his vengeance, I take it, Ginza confirmed.
Stupid bastard assumed that he could get his rocks off by using his brother’s death as a cry for revenge, Morgan chuckled then issued her true concern, Do you know anything about the others?
I tried getting a signal and nothing, she replied with a tinge of her own concern. Kept getting fuckin’ jolted every time.
Same here, Morgan confirmed. See what info the base has and meet back here within the hour for a report.
You got it, Ginza said, examining the hull for any alarm trips then placing a tracker just under it. Morgan watched as she returned to the cover of the forest. She glanced about and could make out nothing in the vast overgrowth. This was definitely Spryten country – all jungle, right down to the hanging vines. Unlike the Messian territory, with its bright lights and paved streets, the Spryten land was one of the last places on Earth to have rich vegetation. However, this was a land stolen from the people, so it truly didn’t belong to the Sprytens solely. Ancient Messians were run out of the land long ago and was one of the many reasons to two Empires fought now.
Morgan was seeping back into her body, when she sensed she wasn’t alone. The hold door had opened to reveal a large frame. One she was beginning to recognize more and more. Cenzo stood still in the frame of the hold as if he was torn between drawing nearer or retreating. Morgan decided to play possum to see what the Spryten had a mind to do. She couldn’t get a sense of what his business was, but confusion surrounded his thoughts.
Cenzo approached her slowly. Standing before Morgan’s body, he studied her intently as he had done before. After their last encounter, he had gone back to his quarters to go over reports from the battle and the prisoner stats, but he was hard-pressed to concentrate on them. His mind kept wondering back to Morgan and that damn kiss. He could still taste her, which vexed him sorely. Logically, he knew she was a prisoner, but for split seconds at a time he kept wishing she wasn’t. This was too strong an attraction to have for someone he just met not twelve hours ago.
He examined her from head to toe for any bruising from the fight. To his surprise, he found not one. Odd. He recalled getting in a few solid jabs on her that should’ve left something, but her skin showed nothing. She was still topless – a fact that he was sure his soldiers must’ve enjoyed when they searched her for more weapons. A thought that still did not sit well with him, their hands searching this taut frame, instead of him, sent a wave of possession down his spine that stiffened his core. He chastised himself for the very thought with a heavy sigh.
Morgan appeared to be in the most peaceful slumber, but she had deceived him the once before. Her eyes were closed and her chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm befitting the waves of the sleep, but that could all be a ruse. He drew closer to her, hoping to test the theory. He lifted his lengthy fingers and nestled them just under one of her ample breasts, gently lifting it. It was firm to the touch, yet soft and supple. He could just make out the muscle beneath it. He carefully splayed his fingers over the breast taking in the fullness with the span of his large hand. He was tempted to squeeze it, but he had already violated the capture boundaries by merely touching her in this manner. When no immediate reaction came, he sighed again to himself, withdrawing his hand reluctantly from her.
“Couldn’t resist could you?” Morgan purred.
Cenzo’s eyes flashed up at hers in brief surprise then just as quickly recovered. “So, you are awake.”
“Kind of hard not to be when someone’s fondling you,” she replied staring deep into his eyes pointedly.
“I apologize for that,” he said, chastising himself for his politeness toward this enemy. “Your new identity takes a lot to…”
Morgan smirked, “Handle?”
Cenzo glared at her, flustered. “I guess you could say that.”
An awkward silence fell between them.
“So, what brings the general to check on the prisoner this time of night?” she asked.
“I was writing up reports when I realized we have not had a proper interrogation,” he replied, thankful for the distraction.
“A proper interrogation?” Morgan repeated. “If it’s anything like the search you had your men do, I’d like to pass.”
It was Cenzo’s turn to smirk. “I can assure you it will not be that… thorough.”
Morgan shrugged as much as she could hanging from a ceiling and waited for the first barrage of questions. She watched as Cenzo walked over to the table to take the seat there. He propped his feet up and rested his hands behind his head.
“I notice your shirt has not been returned to you,” he remarked. “I’ll have the men get on that right away.”
“Does it bother you that I’m topless?” she threw at him.
Cenzo stared at her and grinned, “Not in the least. I just assumed you were not comfortable.”
“You forget I’m not one of your Spryten whores who play the coy, modest role,” she replied. “A body is a body in our world, whether a man, woman or transgender. It’s all the same to us.”
“There’s something to be said about modesty,” Cenzo defended.
“And what’s that?” Morgan asked intrigued.
“The mystery is far more interesting than the reveal,” he said. “It makes the chase more sweeter.”
“I take it my reveal is no longer interesting,” she inquired.
“No, no, your reveal is still very interesting,” he assured her as he rose from the chair to approach. “It’s opened up another labyrinth of mysteries we would like to explore.”
“Such as?”
“How can such a woman lead a death squadron like the Blackstorm-12?” he drilled.
“Is that what you call us?” she guffawed. “Fates, how did you all come up with that?”
Cenzo was thrown back by her amusement. He actually had been more taken aback by her brilliant smile. Shining pearls laughed merrily at her personal musing over the Spryten code name for her troops.
“And what do you call yourselves?” he wondered.
“We don’t. The Council calls us the Imperial Elite,” she replied. “We are the right-hand guards to the royal family.”
“A little far from your duties, aren’t you?” he said, smugly.
“Not really,” she replied, shrugging. “You can say the Empress has sent us on a mission on her behest.”
“And just what is your mission?” he demanded, finding the chink he needed.
Morgan’s grin widened into a pearly smile. “Now, do you really expect me to make it that easy? I prefer to wait awhile before I reveal my nation’s secrets.”
Cenzo did not enjoy her sarcasm, but understood that he had taken for granted her willingness in this interrogation. He decided to dig a little more around the perimeter. “But you are heralded as the General of the Messian army,” he said turning away from her.
“I am,” she affirmed. “The Council looks to my guidance in terms of strategy, but I am in no way indispensable. Like you Sprytens, we have a council of generals we defer to on many parts of this war.”
“But you are the head,” he pressed.
“And the Empress is the neck and the brain,” she countered. “Where she moves, we go. Hers is the final decision.”
Cenzo chewed on that for a moment then he redirected the questions back to the mission. “Why were you and your men in Spryten territory?”
Morgan shrugged. “Can’t a group of friends, army buddies, go for an afternoon drive without making a battle of it?”
Cenzo found himself actually chuckling at her response, but sobered enough to counter, “Not when you’re the Blac- I mean – Imperial Elite.”
“Did we pose a threat? Did we fire on you first?”
Cenzo ran a hand through his dreadlocks. “You have been known to attack without much provocation. It had been assumed you were looking for a fight.”
“Funny how it happened that we were fired upon first, when we were merely driving through,” Morgan cornered.
“Yes, even funnier, how you were just driving through hostile territory?”
She shrugged casually. “What can I say? Shortcuts are a bitch sometime.”
They sat in silence for a moment. Cenzo was not satisfied with the answers he was getting and Morgan was growing increasingly bored with the conversation. Looking to provoke some excitement, her eyes glinted with mischief.
“Now, are those the questions you really wanted to ask?” she tempted. “Did nothing else pique your curiosity enough?”
Cenzo turned to look at her as if she had made an outrageous accusation. Despite his restlessness since the kiss and the exact reason for his being in the hold now, he was damned to let her know it had affected him enough to seek her out. He approached her slowly, placing his hands on her hips to draw her closer so they were eye to eye.
“And what should have piqued my curiosity?” he countered.
Morgan’s smirk deepened her stare dueling with his for dominance. “The same thing that piqued it in the hall. Tell me, does the taste still linger?”
Cenzo, having been provoked enough for one night, pushed her away, turned on his heels and left, but not before saying the last word, “Remember, general, your answers determine what happens to you. You said so yourself. I suggest you get to securing your safety the next time we meet.”
With that, the hold door clang shut and Morgan hung there, swinging gently with a chuckle. “I guess he didn’t want to play.”
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