Brothers vacation
- 1 year ago
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The SmithChapter 16: Vacation free porn video
“Master?” asked an uneasy teen.
“Yes?”
“Rachel. I’m not sure I understand why she was included in my torment.”
“It seems Rachel is similar to you in some aspects of behavior. Her grandmother wanted to send a message that got out of hand with Moria’s inclusion.
“Rachel was really worried about her job.”
“You can tell her that she has nothing to worry about. Moria never mixes business with pleasure. She will treat her as she always had. But will take note if something unexpected happens good or bad.”
“I don’t think I want to relay that last part. She would freak every time Moria walked past.”
“Do what you think’s best.”
“Master?”
“Yes, Pet?”
“You didn’t give those Images to Moria did you?”
“Would you like me to?”
“NO.”
“Would you like to see them?”
“Can I?”
“They are still in the Imager, load them in the table after dinner. Mind you. You are still forbidden from deleting any recorded Image.”
“Jerk. Thanks.” ‘I know that.’ She cleaned up and returned to her studies while I spent even more time in the workshop.
...
“Master, the seats, steering wheel, inner door covers and radios arrived.”
“Good, unwrap the seats and install them.”
“YES!”
On the 19th, Cat and I met Rachel at her hairdresser’s where both girls received a Christmas clip and color. After a late lunch, we caravanned back to our place where her father waited for us in the driveway. Cat’s friend was going to be the first of the Kresge’s to receive a KWQ treatment. A special courier arrived a week ago with the spunky girl’s DNA sample. The three of us went to the calibration Device while Robert browsed in my library.
I thought that Rachel trusted me because Cat had not been harmed by the process. Robert was there at his wife’s and his own insistence in case a problem arose. The three of us closed ourselves in the den to lessen the distractions. Cat holding Rachel’s hand after helping the slightly nervous elder teen don the equipment. She was less apprehensive than my student over the use of a ring gag, probably because she knew of the immediate side effect of KWQ.
Written Mandarin was her choice since there was no sound component nor would it be of any use if there was one. For some unknown reason, sounds destroyed the effectiveness of KWQ and its learning process.
The lesson passed smoothly, Robert verified her sanity and returned to his chair with obvious relief. Two hours later, after Rachel had crashed in the guest bedroom, the pleased father returned home with his troublesome sleeping child late that evening.
...
“Just stay home today. I have two appointments hours apart and won’t have time for anything else.” My student understood my reasoning, but still took every opportunity to get out of the house when she could.
“Don’t you dare scratch my paint.”
Sigh, I had already lost another shuttle even before it was registered.
At the DMV, I received a VIN after proving, unnecessarily, the safe assembly of the experimental vehicle. The older manager admitted that it was his second hovercar, the first being two years ago by Gallant. His glee at being taken for a ride around the test yard had him acting and looking younger than his sixty years. The fallen, retired Hero had refused to let the DMV supervisor get more than a peek inside of his vehicle.
As with all non-stock vehicles, I had to place a 50k bond and provide proof of self-insurance, since I was unwilling to go through the hoops of regular auto insurance. The whole system was a complete scam.
At the FAA testing grounds, the instructors all stopped asking how they could get one when I mentioned the price tag of two billion. Everyone except for one middle aged veteran, that was. He placed a call. Someone in Washington was dinged, I guessed.
“What’s the top speed of this thing and have you given it a name? The instructor asked filling out a form.
“Shuttle2. As for top speed five hundred miles per hour is the theoretical limit.”
Five hundred miles per hour, for a twenty-two foot long, seven foot wide, four passenger, two door, two ‘trunk’, glass and metal, futuristic looking, white with blue pinstripes, flying ‘Car’.
The instructor who was filling out the registration form drooled. I could see that he amused himself, thinking about the lack of naming capabilities of the inventor. Luckily for him, that thought remained unspoken.
“Fuel source?”
“Non-nuclear.” Not telling.
“Range?” He asked hopefully, deviating from the official form.
“Seventeen to twenty. Haven’t tested that out yet.” he thought I meant hundreds not tens of thousands of miles.
“Any weapons installed?”
“None.” Truth. I hadn’t had time.
“And one last question, location of hanger?” finalized the bewildered official.
“My garage.”
“You have a hanger on your property?”
“Shuttle2 is also registered as an automobile.” I answered a dozen more questions of my choice before taking it out for a few touch and goes.
...
“Well” Cat asked nervously as I parked Shuttle2 in front of the garage.
“All legal.”
“Are you packed?”
“Yes, do I have to take ‘every’ one?”
“Of course. There will be a large warm ocean outside your door, unless you plan on not wearing anything...”
“Jerk.” ‘When can I drive it?’
“Pilots license first when you are eighteen. Did your log book arrive?”
“Yesterday. I took the online flight school exams while you were gone.” Chuckling at her enthusiasm, I went inside while the eager genius sat in the driver’s seat and got used to the controls very slowly ‘zooming’ around the estate just above tree level.
...
“MALVDIVES!”
“You have been hanging around Rachel too much. My poor ears. Put your headset on and ask for clearance from Central City control.”
“Alright who’s the joker?”
“What did they do this time Mary?”
“Someone filed a flight plan for seventy thousand feet with a near vertical ascension and a route to Maldives off India.”
“The older supervisor chuckled grimly. That must be Strife’s Shuttle.”
“Um sir? Strife left for Monaco earlier this morning in her ‘Shuttle1’,” reminded a younger controller on a break talking to a friend with a cup of coffee in hand.
“There is a girl on the squawk for SCTS2 in route to Maldives.”
“I’ll handle it. Go back to work.”
“Ident please?”
“I’m Catherine Larkin. In Shuttle2. Permission to take off.” It was obvious to the aged supervisor, that the girl was being coached in the background.
“Miss Larkin, your flight plan says a cruising altitude of seventy thousand feet with a destination of Maldives International Airport.”
“Correct, Sir.”
“Miss Larkin. How do you propose to obtain an altitude of seventy thousand feet?”
“Shuttel2,” “Can I tell him?” Though muffled, was clearly heard across the speakers of Air control command. By now, everyone was listening since the head controller’s aide put the conversation on local speaker. “Gravity induction for propulsion, Sir.”
“Gravity induction, gravity induction ... Hey isn’t Strife’s Shuttle powered by ionic propulsion. I remember reading that in Popular Science.”
“Yes, Sir. Moria’s Shuttle is an older version.” Normally the large open control room had a low, constant murmur. It silenced immediately at the compound insanity of that last statement.
“Miss, did Lady Strife have something to do with your ‘Shuttle’?”
“I’m not sure, but I think Master and her did trade a blueprint of something for it. I wasn’t involved in that. Besides Rachel delivered the chip and we got distracted.”
Eyes were watering and planes were in holding patterns waiting for the collective stupefaction of the ATC personnel to start issuing orders again.
“Miss, who did you say you were again and who is your ‘master’?”
“I’m Catherine Larkin. Master is Smith.”
“Anyone know who the hell Catherine Larkin and Smith are?” He knew how to mute his end unlike the girl at the other end. “Standby, please.” Joseph Pino said for form’s sake for the millionth time to the teen on the other end of the mic.
“Joe, she is the new wonderkid, the one that sold a Device to SI for 80 mil a couple months ago. She’s been on the cover of Justice ... The twenty-something fan boy started to go off at length.
“Miss Larkin. May I speak with the pilot?”
“Hang on.” “How do I transfer this to you?” The room had a few palms to the forehead accompanying their repressed laughter.
“I’ll handle the rest. Don’t forget to say thank you.”
“Thanks. Master will ... is on the line now.” Scattering laughter filled the room.
“Smith in SCTS2, license number XX-XXX-XXX requesting clearance, the flight plan submitted three days ago is correct, traveling at 500 knots until international waters.”
A quick search and a thumbs up from Mary who was still nominally in charge of the flight, verified the license ID.
“Private aircraft SCTS2 cleared for takeoff, wind at ten knots to the south, no traffic above 55,000 feet.” Ever... “Have a safe flight.” Fifty pair of eyes watched a green dot on the main screen change into a red one as the numbers rapidly increased in altitude without significantly changing the X or Y components. Passing fifty thousand the Z acceleration slowed while the X and Y’s increased dramatically. In seconds a flight speed of 500 knots was reached heading west across the continental U.S.
A single dropped cup of coffee woke the room out of its daze.
A woman in a knee length, emerald dressy yet casual mid length dress was in the process of laughing her head off, listening to the conversation happening thousands of miles away piped in from the controller room feed.
‘That girl is going to start wars eventually. YES! I soo can’t wait.’ The giggling subsided slowly as her security looked on. Moria O’Shannan didn’t share her source of amusement with her accompanied security, this time.
...
“One thing great about private air travel. No lines at customs.” The vacationing CEO strode through the terminal with her four Powered Armored guardians trailing behind. Not their usual arrangement, but she didn’t ‘give a fuck’.
A tattooed Russe with his daughter in a skimpy silver dress preceded them through the turnstiles to Monaco customs. The young man, probably Mafia or a wannabee, went first and spoke broken English to the agent.
The girl turned suddenly, glaring at Strife. “Why do you smell of that Ugly Cripple? What do you have to do with my husband?” The woman, for she was not a girl, but an extraordinarily beautiful 4’10” tall woman, demanded of Lady Strife. Her hate filled speech was loud enough for all to hear for hundreds of feet.
“Husband? Cripple? I have no idea who you’re talking about.” Still in a good mood from Cat disrupting the whole of Central City’s ATC which had been replayed at every single Air traffic control location worldwide, with her hidden, yet laughing assistance, Moria hadn’t intended to take offense at the deranged woman.
“WHORE, you smell of that Disgusting Cripple.”
“Whore...” While her security powered up, Moria savored the word. They shivered from the tone in their boss’s single word utterance.
“I haven’t had a good dick in over four months. Roul, not his real name, isn’t married. Who are you and what do you want?” Moria rejoined in perfect Greek.
“I am Forger’s Wife, Deformed piece of trash that he is.”
“Do you have a name, midget? Or are you just someone escaped from the circus?” Moria decided to have fun with the doomed soul before destroying her.
“I. AM. Beauty. Incarnate.”
“Maybe for clown cars or Lolita lovers. Wait to you grow up some more, little girl.”
“YOU Dare call Aphrodite a Clown! You lover of Filth and Forge.”
... NO WAY... “So, after all this time of not fucking him you still have the audacity of calling yourself a wife.” Moria’s real, yet not quite superpower, was her brain and adaptability. “You, midget, are the greatest whore, making the woman from Babylon look like a spinster. You calling me a whore is a great joke.” HE is so dead for hiding this. The former Smith’s student’s grin increased further.
“If you aren’t the Cripple’s lover, then you must be his new priestess. What is the name you go by Brimstone Swallower?”
“Strife, Lady Strife.” Aaanddddd the crowd goes silent♪. The Russe man pushed the customs agent behind him hoping that he only had to outrun the slowest.
The verbal assaults between the two escalated for thirty-seven more minutes, Very public, Very loud. Very little could be repeated to anyone under the age of 21, or to fisherman’s wives, truck drivers, drill instructors or goats. Don’t ask why goats were mentioned in that list, it wasn’t humane...
The madder the diminutive woman got the bigger the smile, which never quite reached the deep green eyes of the taller woman, became. Twelve brave security guards in full riot gear were waiting for a chance to intervene but were intercepted by two women in Black powered armor who suggested that letting them play it out might keep this section of the airport intact.
And with the briefest of lulls ... the contest heated back up.
“ ... it’s really too bad that all of your so-called beauty is superficial. Otherwise, you would not be wasting away. My Master has a gloriously beautiful mind and soul. Something you would never dream of recognizing in your pettiness.”
“HA! That goat fornicator was only good for making weapons of war for his betters. His Ugly Broken features were never worthy of me or any GOD.”
“If you think that, then why still refer to Him as Husband, you have no say nor call to do so. Since you whored yourself out to everything with a dick.”
... an off they went for ten more minutes.
“I shall have my lover come and destroy him and all he loves.”
“I doubt that, you two were the only ones that never received his gifts weren’t you. The Arrow, the Helmet, the Shield, the Chariot, the Flask ... Ares never received one of Master’s works nor did you, you fossilized, shrinking, slut, who was only good for flaunting your assets and face planting on the dicks of every man you weren’t married to.”
“WE never needed artificial help from that Crippled Forger. Unlike you mortals, Our Beauty is never ending and eternal. You are but a flicker of a candle.”
“Oh? Then why are you shrinking? Unless all the literature was wrong and you were always a shrimp.”
A blast of Black light flared from Aphrodite’s outstretched hand and shimmered against the body hugging shields of Lady Strife. “How Dare you, Commoner filth. Hephaestus’s weapons were only meant for Gods to use.”
“He loves me. Unlike a piece of scum like you, who’s only use is her body. I earned his love and respect. His Devices are Marvels of the mind, of which you lack.”
“Arrogant blasphemer.” A rainbow hued beam was adsorbed by Lady Strife’s shield that time.
“It was fun playing with you. But I need to check into my hotel.” Pulling out a Device, Lady Strife threw the item threw the foot of the fallen goddess, pinning her target’s foot to the ground, with only centimeters of the pen like object sticking out from the expensive pumps. Lady Strife’s follow-up backhand knocked the irate goddess to the ground.
“Lilly, send Jackson to Athens. Locate the temple of Aphrodite, buy it without restrictions and the surrounding land. If the temple is raised in ninety days, I will donate a billion dollars to the Greek parliament for use in any manner that they choose.
“Yes, Lady.”
Stepping over her newest adversary Moria walked to the ‘X’ and stood waiting at the check in. Seeing no one moving, her hand imperiously pointed at the agent who fled earlier. With a simple crook of her finger the customs agent drew unexpectedly closer as if on a string.
That Aphrodite was still screaming in pain behind them was not important to the most powerful woman in the world. The former goddess did not understand the aims of the Priestess of her husband. Nor would she believe that they would be ever achieved. That the wretch caused Her pain was unforgivable and the only thing that mattered was vengeance.
“Yes, Lady?” The multilingual man had a prime job. The few private wealthy passengers never made any trouble and those that did were all put in their place if they wanted to spend time in Monaco. SHE was different though.
“Please clear me for customs now that your break seems to be over, Mr. Givonni.” Reading the name from the man’s badge.
“Can I see your passport please?” Moria handed it over. “Reason to visit Monaco?”
“Vacation. I haven’t had any fun in ages. Though I think I might have some soon.”
“How long do you plan on staying?”
“Two weeks off and on.”
“And Lily, send Kill teams 1 and 9 to Greece.” Moria O’Shannan called out over her comm. “I seem to have discovered a dislike for a particular type of Greek statuary.” The customs agent, who understood every word of the fight between the two women and the more recent order to demolish all of Aphrodite’s statues in Greece, paled even further.
“Yes, Lady.”
Stamp. “Enjoy your stay in Morocco.” He sweated and did the same for the four guards without having them remove their helmets.
Two police officers approached the woman once cleared of customs.
“Ma’am you will have to come with us.” ‘I’m too young to die’. The young officer assigned to airport security, thought at the time.
“Here is my lawyers’ card. Unless your prince doesn’t want me to spend a few hundred million dollars in his good city?”
“Where can we find you if needed, Ma’am?” the older airport officer asked very politely.
“I’m booked at the Hermitage.”
“Do you mind if we escort you there?”
“Not at all.”
“What a wonderful start of a Vacation. Might be the best ever...” The smile plastered on Moria O’Shannan’s face couldn’t be removed with Hammerman’s Sledge. Or Hephaestus’s forge.
He is so, so, dead...
“Young, you speak Greek correct?”
“Yes, Mr. Weathers.”
“Go with team 1, you will be the go between. Do whatever you need to assist them. A car is waiting for you at the lobby. Kresge will be your liaison at home office.”
“Phil; team 9. Chin; Britannia and the Royal Museum. Kloss; Louvre. More will be added when discovered. Lancy; Smithsonian. Faulk; DIA they have a hidden extensive collection; do what you can. Lewis; Royal Kanadian Museum. Same. Kresge; find out everything there is to know about that woman. Get Information Services moving then report back. You will be the in-house liaison, expect overtime. Petrovich; get me a full transcript. Deal with the press. GO.”
“I was nice and quiet on my vacation. But you just had to make extra work for me while you were gone, didn’t you?” Darrin moaned bitterly into his coffee.
Once his office was cleared and the door was shut, *Click. “Alpha-9-7-3-5-Indigo-Zebra-8 ... I need information on one Aphrodite...”
“What do you mean you can’t get it out? Call a fireman and see if they have a way to extract her foot from the ‘pen’.”
“Fireman, sir?”
“Yes, none of the Doctors here are worth a damn, firemen or paramedics will do what is needed and damn the consequences. Why am I explaining? Just get one.”
Whatever that woman used literally nailed this poor woman’s foot to the ground. The head of security for Monaco international airport shook his head in disbelief. No one could stand being around the abusive woman for more than five minutes as her personality kept changing and her demands increasing. He didn’t even want to think of the interviews he would have to witness of the suspects later. Both women were clearly aggressively insane.
“Is that an F-15? They are cool looking. Are they following or escorting us?”
“Both, we will clear US airspace in five minutes.”
“What do they want?”
“You to wave at them, of course. Who wouldn’t want a pretty girl to wave at them at 70,000 feet?”
“You don’t always have to be a Jerk.”
“Don’t believe me? Dim the screen and wave at the one out your window. See if he reacts.”
Not believing that I wasn’t playing a trick at her expense, Cat gave a tentative wave. “Bigger. A little movement is hard to see. And smile.” She did. The pilot rocked his wings back and forth in reply.
“THAT was cool,” Cat gushed.
“Make sure your harness is secure. We are about to speed up.”
“Aren’t you the one that keeps harping on safety? Nothing has even been tested yet?”
“San Diego Control. We will be leaving US airspace in 5.4.3.2.1.
“Testing Mach capability.”
“Gopher, What the hell?”
“I was hit by the wash too ... Look at the size of that ring. It must be like flying a brick ... understood ... Tower; Target is pulling away; second ring, third ring, fourth ring, fifth ring. He exceeded Mach five. At 70,000 ... I am unable to keep up ... No Ma’am. Betsy and I don’t swim well at Mach three ... We will be swimming if we try, Ma’am ... No, Ma’am. I am not ‘sassing’. My little bird is only rated at 2.75 times the speed of sound. Not six ... yes Ma’am, still following...”
“Tide?”
“Yeah, Gopher?”
“Do you think that Miss Larkin is hiring a chauffeur?”
“Put a good word in for me if she is.”
“You still owe me from last week’s game...” The two pilots continued bantering on their isolated channel in amazement while recording the ‘Shuttle’ rapidly disappearing above the clouds. Thoughts of the Lt. Colonel and the ass chewing upon return to base, were far from their minds.
“I think Colleen is mad at me. And Rachel’s reply was strange.”
“Oh?”
“Lindsay wants me to frame it in a four by six for her wall”
“Professor McCraken replied ... I don’t think it can be repeated.”
“Who else? Oh, I know. I will post an ‘I am here’.”
KittyCat.Fan received its most famous picture to date. A picture of Earth from the cockpit of Shuttle2 at 70,000 feet with a super-imposed picture of Earth and a tiny red dot in the background indicating where the image was taken from, altitude and corresponding longitude, latitude and airspeed.
Whereas Lady Strife began her vacation with thousands of words in obvious glee and selfish pleasure. Catherine Larkin used three to share hers with the world.
Unbeknownst to the teen who was enjoying the ride of her life, every single first and second world governing body’s military, well the warlike ones at least, went on yellow alert. If a certain CEO had known about the posting, she would have gladly smashed the tablet used to create the image over the grinning teen’s head.
“Colonel, we will start with you.”
“Since you won’t allow me to pretend that Shuttle2 doesn’t exist,” At the collective scowls from the higher ranks, the soon to be retiring Air Force officer grimaced and continued with her briefing, “what we thought was a heat signature from the engines of Shuttle 2, wasn’t. General, if you can hold off, I will explain. If you look at this satellite image taken over California. The heat readings are clearly taken from the front of the craft. It’s similar to SI’s Shuttle. This is an image of Strife the same morning. A steady Ion stream is emitted but recognizable. This image here, you can clearly see a similar effect to Smith’s shuttle. This point on both emit radiation from the ions in the atmosphere striking against the front shields.”
“Where they differ is that Strife’s larger craft emits ionic radiation from the two engines exhaust from the rear of her craft. We have long suspected that they were Ion driven, against common understanding of Ionic propulsion, but still something recognizable.”
“Smith’s Craft has no radiation signature. He does not use a known chemical source for acceleration. The two F-15s that escorted Smith and Larkin are F15-Q3s subservience craft. The full spectrum analysis came up empty.”
“What does that mean?” interrupted the distinguished guest.
“I’m not done yet, sir, please hold your questions.” Freaking politicians.
“As you see on this next profile, Strife has a parabolic acceleration profile, while the Smith’s is linear.
“What does this mean you might ask?” she continued.
“If you put a corvette engine in a kid’s go-cart where the mass is negligible compared to the torque or thrust in this case, you can go from 0-60 real fast ... If you have no need for a clutch or shifting gears, there wouldn’t be a plateauing and hence a linear acceleration until you decide crashing or going too fast would be bad.” She began using small words to shut up the incompetent suit.
“So that isn’t his top speed?”
“Only idiots would stress out their new toy on the first run. But that isn’t the important part. NO energy signatures. None, Nil, Nada, Neyt. None. Smith is not using any form of propulsion that is found on the rest of our little blue marble.
“Can he be using some sort of magnetic thrust?” asked the Admiral.
“No, Sir. Ever since Magnetron decided to wreak havoc a few years ago, those too were added to the suites on the F-15. Besides. Magnetic waves are still energy waves and would react with the atmospheric ions. We can rule those out.”
“Is it possible that he discovered a way of dispersing the radiation so that it’s undetectable?”
“Good question. No. the F-15s were close enough to get accurate readings.”
“What is your group’s speculation Colonel?” queried an older General.
“70% gravity waves, 25% dark energy, 5% holy prayers. Sir, we are all guessing. Honestly, which method of propulsion Smith uses, matters little.”
“Why would you say that? If it is Gravity or Dark Energy, it could be an enormous achievement.”
“One: Smith never shares. Two: Even if he did, maybe one person on Earth would understand it. Three: Ometron.”
“Who or what is this Ometron?” the VIP asked.
“A dead S-Rank Villain. Five years back, he and his army of thousands of Killer Attack Robots assaulted Smith’s estate outside Central City. The battle lasted less than twelve minutes. We know this because that was the amount of time it took for the satellites to reboot. Oh, and all that was left of the killer attack robot goon squad was 108 robots as useful as a room full of lawyers. No trace of any others was ever discovered. As for Ometron himself, he was never seen again.” The VIP was a lawyer. She and the few in the country that actually read the biographies and stances of politicians before voting knew that.
“Friends, family anything we can use as leverage?”
“I’m not a two-faced, baby kisser. Ask your spook squad.”
“That will be all, Colonel,” reprimanded her superior.
“I return to the fact, that we cannot make another like it. Only Smith can. And he won’t. He never shared the Smithsonian technology. And that is child’s play compared to this. At least we have an inkling on how his forcefields and wards work.” The Q&A session continued with no new understanding.
The Colonel was dismissed along with another verbal reprimand, her twentieth in the last three years. Politics and service infighting had long ago stifled any chance of further promotion and she had already given her notice of escaping the service at the end of the current tour. Being a woman never helped in that area either.
“What was that about Janie?” Her superior, General Jackson asked over coffee an hour later.
“That moron wants to try and control a modern day Oppenhimer-Edison-Nobel-Da Vinci rolled into one. Can you say ‘kiss your sorry ass goodbye’? Smith likes to stay at home and tinker with his toys. Before Larkin, he gets maybe, twenty visitors a year, if you exclude his informants posing as housekeepers. The man is not a threat if left alone. Even on the ‘sixty-seven incident’ the day after Halloween, no one died from his actions. Besides asking nicely, and hoping he cooperates, we have no means of forcing him, nor should we try.”
“What is his destination?”
“Maldives. Two to three weeks with Catherine Larkin. Sun, surf and beach. Nice life they have.”
“When they come back, pay them a visit. Let me know what you find out.”
“Sir?” she questioned General Jackson’s intent.
“When is your discharge?”
“The first as you know, you signed my papers.”
“I’m extending it three weeks.” As much as the 42-year-old colonel wanted to protest, she knew damn well that there wasn’t any means to do so. Anything less than 60 days had become so common that it had become the norm in her office.
“Maldives. This is Shuttle2 SCTS2 we will be dropping below radar for testing. Out.”
“Keep at fifty feet and below 200 knots. Keep an eye on the GPS. We are still thirty minutes out but there might be pleasure crafts. Keep an eye on the radar. This thing wants to go faster. Keep an eye on your speed.”
Marisol
- 09.05.2020
- 27
- 0
