Across Eternity: Book 4 - Chapter 7 free porn video

Deeper and deeper, Noah delved into the sea of his memories, losing all sense of identity and time. Random moments from his experience in the multiverse flashed across his mind’s eye with crystal clarity, hypnotizing his senses with experiences of thousands of years in the past. Pleasure, pain, laughter, tears, exhilaration, fear, intoxication, love, loss, they washed over him, with moments stretching across centuries and lifetimes passing by in the blink of an eye. With what shred of awareness he retained, he searched for solutions to solve the elven epidemic and dug ever further into the past, reaching for his origin and the truth of his existence.



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“Incoming!”

Explosions blanketed the landscape, further leveling the city that was once Philadelphia. Debris was hurled into the air to mix with the smoke of burning flesh. Noah ducked down to avoid the raining rubble, feeling every piece of concrete and metal bouncing off his helmet. Neither they nor the explosions could drown out the radio chatter in his ear.

“Hernandez is down!” one man squawked, followed by swears from several different voices.

“Well someone get his ass back up, he still owes me 500 credits,” Noah said.

Looking across the field of devastation, his helmet detected movement before his eyes even saw it. One of his enemies stepped out from behind a junked car, a slade. Taller than a human, the slade’s armored body moved on three legs and had three double-jointed arms, operating in any direction with a 360º view. It spotted Noah and aimed with the small missile launcher in one of its hands.

Noah was slightly faster, shouldering his rifle, while a glowing set of crosshairs appeared on his helmet’s visor. He planted four glowing rounds in the invader’s chest, disintegrating its armor with liquid flames. Regular bullets just bounced off slade metal, so plasma rounds were developed that could burn through. The alien shrieked in agony and collapsed, but Noah shot it in the brain to be sure.

Behind him, he heard the gnarled warbling of the slade’s alien language and sensed another two moving into his blind spot. He bolted to the side, dodging twin laser beams that sliced through metal and stone, and disappeared in the ruins of a destroyed building. It offered some small cover, allowing him to counterattack. Noah managed to blow the head off one, but the second wasn’t making it easy. It launched several missiles, forcing him to run before a line of explosions knocked him off his feet.

He hit the ground rolling and got back up, locking onto the slade with his helmet. He fired a missile from his rifle’s sub-barrel launcher, and as it flew, the small rocket-propelled dart adjusted its trajectory per his helmet’s tracking system. It missed the slade, but distracted it long enough for Noah to end its life with a burst of gunfire. He didn’t bother waiting around and continued through the rubble-strewn streets.

Up ahead, he saw a group of his comrades, each soldier wearing the black BDUs of the rebellion. “Sgt. Rothel, this is Cpl. Tiller. I’m two hundred meters north of your position.” John Tiller, that was Noah’s name at the time, just another to add to the long list. He had no true name, only what was given to him in each life.

The sergeant in command spotted him and signaled him over with hand gestures. Noah moved quickly and quietly over to the group. “Cpl. Tiller, where is the rest of your squad?” the sergeant asked.

“We got split up when our transport went down up north. The slades were on us immediately, and we couldn’t regroup. I counted five guys dead on arrival, saw another three wounded, and the rest were in the wind.”

“No one is where their supposed to be! We’re totally fucked!” one soldier cursed.

“Shut it, Smith,” the sergeant barked. “Long-range communication is down, so we can’t get air support or reinforcements.”

“We’re not out of luck just yet,” said Noah. “I saw a downed primer drone a klick to the west. If we can retrieve its power cell and a GALV missile, I can maybe rig up an EMP to take out one of their towers. That’ll be our way through their defenses.”

“I sure would like to see at least one of them go down today, Sgt.,” said a soldier.

“All right. Lead the way, Tiller.”

With Noah taking point, they navigated the ruined streets, gunning down slades as they appeared. This was the fifth alien invasion Noah had lived through, and it was pretty entertaining. Though their enemies were more powerful and technologically advanced, the war had stretched out long enough for the human resistance to acclimate to the threat and begin to turn the tide.

They arrived at the drone, a combination of human and stolen slade technology capable of flying remotely or with a human pilot. Though downed by a slade rocket, it was still relatively intact. As Noah went to work removing the power cell, the rest of the squad kept their eyes peeled and weapons raised.

An inhuman scream was heard from the wreckage of a nearby building, with a slade revealing itself and laying down a storm of automatic fire. One of the soldiers was ripped to shreds by the alien rounds, turning his blood purple. Then, more slades appeared from all directions, slicing through the soldiers’ cover with their lasers and bombarding them with missiles that produced green explosions. Noah succeeded in retrieving the power cell and then went to work cutting off one of the drone’s wings, with a missile still attached.

“Cpl. Tiller, haul ass!”

“I got it! Let’s move!”

Five soldiers slung their rifles and hoisted the wing onto their shoulders, cursing in pain and exertion. While they carried it, Noah and the rest of the squad covered their escape, gunning down the slades with reckless abandon. They left the area and ducked into a smashed parking garage, where Noah could work freely.

Following his instructions, a few soldiers helped remove the missile’s casing and replace the exploding warhead with the drone’s power cell. While they worked with shaky hands, he rewrote the missile’s coding with a small computer on his wrist. Neither the missile nor the power cell was designed for this kind of use, but this was a theory that Noah wanted to test.

“That should just about do it.”

“Just in time, too!” a soldier shouted. “Incoming siege tower at 4:00!”

All the soldiers looked up at the craft approaching the parking garage. These metal siege towers, nicknamed after their medieval counterparts, floated over the battlefield while raining death from above from various artillery turrets. Their primary weapon was a laser cannon at the bottom, able to wipe out entire city blocks.

“Point the wing at the tower and draw its fire.”

They hoisted the heavy slab of metal atop two blocks of concrete, aiming the missile with its exposed components at the approaching tower. The soldiers scattered while shooting the alien craft with everything they had. Explosions and bursts of plasma erupted across its surface, but its armor was far more powerful than what the slades wore. Regardless, it returned the volley ten-fold, raining deadly artillery that leveled ruins and shredded bodies.

With his wrist computer, Noah fired the missile, producing a roaring jet of flame that propelled it across the sky. The exploding soldiers managed to draw the tower’s full attention, and the missile struck the side. There was no flash of light or explosion, but a mechanical groan bellowed as the onboard mechanics fried, and the tower fell out of the sky. Unfortunately, it was falling right toward Noah.

“Damn, this would earned me my promotion,” he muttered.

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The bell rang with painful intensity, signaling the end of class. Students filled the hallways, heading off to their next destination like livestock. Noah was leaving history class on his way to lunch. One of his acquaintances in a matching letterman jacket followed him, complaining, as usual, that his brain wasn’t made for studying.

“I swear, man, every time I have to remember another date or some ancient fag’s name, I want to blow my fucking brains out.”

He was expecting a response, so Noah got into character. “I know, dude. Seriously, who cares about this bullshit? It’s all on the internet, so what’s the point?”

Up ahead, he spotted a few other members of the football team gathered around a locker, talking and joking. Seeing him, one of the guys threw up his arms. “Yo, Scott! That last throw you did at the game blew my mind!”

“What can I say, I was in the zone! Man, you should have seen Julie after the game. She gave me a hummer the whole ride home.”

The guys grunted and laughed, exchanging their sophomoric high-fives. Noah, or ‘Scott,’ as he was called, was the school quarterback, best in state history. In this life, he had decided playing in the NFL would be interesting and thought he’d use it as an opportunity to live out every cliché and stereotype of the high school jock lifestyle. It was just another crafted persona.

Though these lowbrows thought of him as their friend, to Noah, they were like chimps in the wild, and he had spent years earning their trust so he could observe the intricacies of their hierarchy and culture. He even got bad grades to blend in, but had a football scholarship that would take him to whatever school he wanted.

Slender arms wrapped around Noah’s neck, and he felt a kiss on the back of his ear. “You aren’t talking about me, are you?” a sultry brunette asked.

Julie was his cheerleader girlfriend. She was gorgeous and popular, the prom queen every boy dreamed of dancing with. She was also as shallow as a puddle and had the personality of a lottery ticket, but she completed the ensemble, and he had her trained in the bedroom to his liking, so he’d keep her around until graduation, same with his “friends.”

“Nah, babe, you know I’d never do that,” he said as he reached around and grabbed her ass.

As one guy started talking about a kegger planned for next weekend, another groaned from hunger. “Fuck, I’m starving. What are they serving today?” He was Travis, a guy whom Noah was sure had date-raped a girl at a previous party.

“You don’t want to know,” another said. “Come on, let’s bail and go get some real food.”

Everyone agreed, and they went out to the parking lot. He said “bail” instead of “sneak out” because there was no shortage of audacity as they left. The school wouldn't interrupt their fun if they kept filling in seats at games. Noah hopped into his car, an expensive convertible his parents bought him. His father was a wealthy lawyer who loved football, making him easy to manipulate. He was one of the main reasons why Noah decided to focus this lifetime on football.

He peeled out of the parking lot with a screech, making Julie squeal in delight. His was a reckless, stupid life, but within 30 years, he was one of the most famous football players in the country and retired with more trophies and Super Bowl rings than he knew what to do with. As for what happened to Julie and the others, he didn’t know or care.

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Endless tears poured down countless cheeks, the listeners hypnotized within their seats as the music washed over them. Here in Carnegie Hall, in the expansive gold-colored performance room, tickets had been sold out for months, with the most dedicated lovers of music coming to hear the masterful keystrokes of Michael Welbrin, regarded as one of the greatest piano players ever known.

He first graced this stage as a child, immediately regarded as a genius of the generation. Now, fifty years later, he still drew in crowds that few modern bands and singers could match. His music, be they covers or originals, played with people’s emotions like puppets on strings, with zealot fans of all ages.

Strangers believed that his obsession with playing and fanatical practice schedule resulted from mental illness, even going so far as to assume him an idiot savant. Those who met him were shocked and even intimidated by how intelligent and well-socialized he was. No one, not even his family, was aware that much of his unparalleled talent resulted from over a thousand years of life experience and accumulated hand-eye coordination. They didn’t know that his devotion to the piano was not a life calling, more like an item on a to-do list.

Michael Welbrin was just one of Noah’s lives focused entirely on the mastery of one instrument. In his previous life, it was the guitar, and in his next life, he planned to focus on the violin. This lifestyle had affected his body, changing the shape of his hands to improve dexterity and strengthening his wrists to withstand even the most severe carpal tunnel syndrome. Unfortunately, it came at a price, leaving him with tinnitus, back problems, and heart issues. His doctors warned him of the danger of his obsession, but these alterations just stirred his interest.

He was driven not by love, but by curiosity as to what the absolute pinnacle of piano mastery would be like, and how close musical talent could bring him to deification. He swore off friendship, hobbies, and anything else that might interfere with his ascension.

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The water around Noah was clear, letting him see the labyrinth of tree roots trying to colonize the river bottom. A turtle swam past him, first taking a moment to bite his goggles. Noah kept swimming, following the tails of the pink river dolphins. Here in the Amazon Rainforest, they swam through channels and flooded sections of forest, continuously searching for food and stimulation.

At first, they were wary of Noah and stayed out of his reach, but with patience and persistence, he continued his pursuit until curiosity overcame them. They doubled back and began swimming laps around him, crackling and squealing in excitement. Though not as social as their bottlenose cousins, they were far less fearful. Noah mimicked their movements, joining along in their games as they played with rocks and sticks. Their bodies, greater than his in size and weight, had exceptional flexibility and maneuverability, and their pink skin gleamed from the sunlight.

Looking up, Noah spotted a branch with a low-hanging fruit over the water. He surfaced and plucked it, sinking his teeth into it with relish. It wasn’t fully ripe, but there was nothing fresher. As he ate, the dolphins swam up to him, curious about what he was eating.

He tossed the core to them, and they began knocking it back and forth with their noses. Noah was cold, wrinkled as a prune, covered in fish and bug bites, smelled like a muddy dog, and was beginning to think something had slithered up his urethra, but swimming with the dolphins of the Amazon River was an experience that made it all worth it.

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The techno music of the club echoed out into the alley, with Noah matching his thrusts to the beat. He was in St. Petersburg, balls-deep in some girl he had picked up from inside. She was bent over a trashcan, drunkenly moaning as she was caught between the pain of his rough indifference and the pleasure of his skill. When her voice dropped, a smack on the ass would get her going again. The night sky was overcast, drizzling onto the two of them with rain running off her tramp stamp.

“Come on, throw that ass back a little. Don’t make me do all the damn work,” he said in Russian, with an American accent.

He eventually pulled out, with his full condom loosely hanging off. As he removed it, he pulled her head back, with her mouth open like a gasping fish. She didn’t object as he poured its foamy white contents onto her tongue, just picked up her half-empty vodka bottle and washed it down. Still not done, Noah pulled on another condom and resumed fucking her, even harder and faster than before. He paid no attention to her complaints.

Nearby, a homeless man lay in a cardboard box with a syringe sticking out of his arm. Though he was looking straight at them, it was hard to tell if he was actually watching. He gazed with dead eyes as he mumbled a song from his childhood in the countryside.

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The line of cars and trucks surged down the desert road, kicking up dust clouds, none of which seemed to deter the pursuing marauders. Here, in this land scorched by nuclear fire, the remains of mankind tried to make a living from the blood, sand, and metal. That’s all that was left, after all. The convoy in front was full of refugees searching for a better life. Their cars had been retrofitted to handle the rough terrain and the broken roads, with only the most resilient vehicles surviving the chaos.

Behind them, a screaming horde on their war machines. Every car, truck, and vehicular amalgam was painted with flames and blood and decorated with spikes, skulls, and anything else that might invoke terror in their prey. The ravagers’ similarly adorned their bodies with tattoos, piercings, and war paint. Their teeth were filed down to points, all the easier to tear into human flesh. Rapists, cannibals, blood-drunk killers; they were the scum of the earth, and Noah was staring them down from atop an oil tanker. Here in the wasteland, his mission was to oppose these people, while in another lifetime, he had led them.

The gap between the two groups was closing, the last car in the convoy dangling in front of the marauders like a piece of meat. Behind it, a firetruck remade into a killing machine. Its ladder was reaching out, carrying several combatants armed with weapons forged in the fires of the apocalypse. Their target wasn’t the car in the very back; no, that little sedan was flipped off the road by the cowcatcher installed on the firetruck. Their real target was the flatbed truck loaded with supplies.

Noah ran down the convoy, jumping from car to car. He approached the end of the line as the first marauder inched over the end of the ladder. Before he could drop down, Noah raised his weapon, a semi-auto shotgun with an extended magazine tube. The trigger's pull launched the first shell, blasting the attacker’s heart out through his back. His corpse flopped down onto the road and was mashed into a bloody paste.

The next man on the ladder aimed a pistol, forcing Noah to duck down behind a spare parts crate. The fool wasted all his ammo, and Noah got back to his feet and ripped his head off with a deer slug. He then turned his aim to the firetruck driver, but a steel grate protected the windshield.

Noah leaned over the edge of the flatbed with the dusty wind blowing through his hair, all to get a good shot at the front-left tire. The shell ripped through the frayed rubber, and the firetruck went out of control. The driver tried to keep it straight, but he swerved off the road and flipped the truck over, killing all the other marauders onboard.

With the firetruck out of the way, other cars and trucks tried to close the gap while motorcycles rode up alongside the convoy. Noah took aim at one rider on a motorcycle and fired, splattering his corpse across the desert sands and sending his bike skipping across the ground. Next, he turned to a pickup truck pulling ahead off-road, and a shotgun blast ended the driver’s life and sprayed the inside of the cab with his brains.

The flatbed began to swerve before Noah could take care of the next car. The driver had been shot through the neck with a crossbow bolt, and he would be dead in seconds. Among the crates and mountains of supplies, there was a dirt bike. Noah slung his shotgun, hopped on, and kicked it to life, riding off the truck before it veered off the road.

He sped away from the road, giving himself enough time to put some more rounds in his weapon, then slipped into the center of the horde. Using the handlebars to level his shotgun, he moved back and forth through dust clouds, blasting tires and sending cars smashing into each other.

A bullet then winged Noah’s shoulder, and he looked back to see the rest of the marauders closing in. Noah pulled a grenade out of his pocket, removed the pin, and threw it with just the right timing. It bounced under a bus full of reinforcements, where it detonated right next to the gas tank. The resulting explosion lifted the bus off the ground and filled the interior with flames, burning the marauders alive and darkening the windows with smoke and bloody handprints. Still, the two-legged beasts kept coming, and Noah kept putting them down.

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“Sgt. Buchannan, you have quite the impressive record here,” said the general sitting across from Noah. “You graduated top of your class from basic training, breaking several records in the process, you’ve had tours of duty in Yagistan, Belmara, Fenrin, various ops in several other hot zones, and your VIG rifle has also tagged over fifty confirmed kills. What do you have to say to yourself?”

Though a desk separated the two men, this room was not the general’s office. If anything, it looked like an interrogation room, with bare walls and a two-way mirror. Behind it, men in suits were watching the conversation unfold. On the table sat an ashtray, already dirtied with one cigarette, with a second sitting between the general’s fingers. The general had a shaved head and wrinkled face, prematurely aged by a career full of secrets.

“I would say that I take pride in my work, sir,” Noah replied.

“Indeed you do. I believe it is time you moved up to the big leagues. Omega Force has an opening, and you would be a perfect fit.”

“If I may ask, sir, how much action would I be seeing in Omega Force?”

“You can’t know until you’re already in, but most people who ask questions like that are either afraid of combat or love it, and both of those options are troublesome. Omega Force isn’t a place for cowards or adrenaline junkies.”

“It’s not a matter of love, sir.”

“What is it then?”

“You’ve spoken of broken records and confirmed kills, well that’s all I want. I want to have more confirmed kills than any soldier in history. I want to raise the bar so high that not even super soldiers will be able to pass it. In fifty years, I want troops to tell ghost stories about me. I want my name to send chills down people’s spines.”

“Though I applaud your passion, you’re supposed to be a soldier, not a serial killer.”

“I’m a serial killer on government payroll. Whatever mission you have for me, no matter how dark or unethical it is, I’m in. I’ll blow up any building, assassinate any target, arrange any coverup you want, whether it be foreign or domestic, with absolutely zero moral objection. Use me however you see fit. All I want in return is a chance to become a legend, even if the public never knows what I did. This is the sole reason I enlisted in the first place.”

“Of all the reasons to serve your country, you want the highest kill count? Why?”

“Curiosity. I want to climb to the peak and enjoy the view, and if I’m to leave a mark on history, why not this one?” There was a knock from behind the two-way mirror. “Well now, I take it that I’ve gotten the job.”

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It was dinner time, and Noah had just sat down at the head of the table. Meatloaf and buttered noodles lay steaming before him, the perfect reward after a long day at work. His youngest child, Mark, was at his left, talking about his new favorite show. It had something to do with robotic ninjas fighting evil dinosaurs. He was eight years old, talking so fast that the words were getting all mashed together. His mouth couldn’t get all the thoughts out fast enough.

“Jane, no phone at the table,” his wife said, speaking to his 12-year-old daughter, sitting to his right.

“But mom!” she said, dragging out each letter.

“Whatever you and Mary are talking about, it can wait until after dinner,” his wife said. Laura, a lovely woman with blonde hair, sat across the table from him. Mark had inherited her hair color, but Jane took more after Noah. He met her in college and decided he enjoyed her company, so they married.

In this timeline, Noah was a contractor, yet another profession that he devoted himself to, along with being a certified plumber and electrician. He could build a house alone in almost half the time it took his competition. For Noah, a blue-collar job and a comfortable life in the suburbs were like sailing in the calmest waters. Not every life was adventures and amazing experiences. Every now and then, he liked to rest and play the guise of an Average Joe.

His home was filled with the mementos and knick-knacks found with any average family. There was old art his kids made on the fridge, pictures on the walls of family get-togethers and vacations, a TV in the living room with a mix of adult dramas and lowbrow comedies favorited, two cars in the garage, a nice green lawn outside, and a dog lying under the table, waiting for something to fall off someone’s plate. It was a simple, boring, and comfortable life.

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The sun's rays were overpowering in intensity, and the humid air pulled sweat from Noah’s skin like wringing out a sponge. Here in India, the heat was a constant threat. Fortunately, he was shaded by the tree overhead, and a gentle breeze blew through the glade, making his long, white beard flutter. His elderly body, emaciated through fasting and prayer, was utterly still, locked in the full lotus position he had maintained for over a day. He came to this Buddhist monastery sixty years ago to find Nirvana, to walk the path to enlightenment.

He had purged himself of all desire and accepted the truth of the world, the impermanence of all things, and the nonexistence of the self. All this work, patience, and sacrifice were for the goal at the end of the path: freedom from the Samsara, the endless cycle of death and rebirth. This was the fourth consecutive lifetime he focused on the Buddha, engaging in meditation for more than a century.

Yet despite his devotion to the path and understanding of the Buddha's ideals, he could not entirely rid himself of frustration. He had achieved enlightenment multiple times, or he thought he had, but with each death, he still found himself bound to the hell of opening his eyes and being reborn, forced to endure the suffering that was existence.

He understood the impermanence of everything better than everyone, having seen and experienced it firsthand through countless realities and timelines, so why, why couldn’t he finally reach Nirvana and end this? Was it because he knew the truth that others only believed? Or was it simply because the idea of Samsara and enlightenment was nonsense, and his curse was not something that could be broken by a state of mind?

Noah didn’t have the answer, no matter how desperately he wished to. All he could do was continue to meditate and hope it would come to him.

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The smell was beyond de***********ion, the combined breath and fluids of a hundred naked bodies grinding on each other in sexual madness. Noah was at a club in Germany, positioned in the center of a massive orgy. The only clothes found were bondage uniforms or furry outfits, and any food available had to be eaten or licked off someone’s naked body. Minus the flashing club lights, the room was dark, and the DJ continued to play techno remixes, though he didn’t bother trying to drown out the grunting and moaning of the participants, who varied in age and race.

This was just another stop on Noah’s world tour of debauchery. In this reality, he had decided to explore the furthest regions of drugs and sex, focusing all the years of his life on reaching endlessly higher levels of perversion and euphoria. At the moment, he was tripping on three different drugs, but wanted more. A bar was on the other side of the room, and a drink would really hit the spot. However, he couldn’t simply walk over there. He had to fuck his way across the room.

He started when a woman came over and wordlessly started sucking him off, not caring whose cock stuffed her throat. Though dedicated, her efforts weren't enough. Noah grabbed her head and began viciously skull-fucking her. She didn’t resist, staring at him with glazed-over eyes as he used her like a toy. Over and over again, his cock struck her uvula and tickled her gag reflex, not stopping until she retched onto his lap with a foamy mess of semen, half-digested drugs, and liquor pouring down her chest.

Noah moved to the next woman, lying on her back in a pool of filth and gasping for air after getting thoroughly fucked. Noah didn’t say anything; he just got on top of her and started pounding her snatch. He didn’t stop until he shot his load, and his semen met the samples of a dozen other men in her womb.

After pulling out, Noah tried to move closer to the bar, but the floor was slick with lube and various other substances. He slipped and fell on a fat girl with nipple piercings, serving as the perfect cushion. Before he could get up, a man appeared behind him and buried all eight inches in his back door, but at this point in his life, Noah could keister a fire extinguisher and swallow a baseball bat.

Though his memories and personality experienced little change every time he reincarnated, his physiology was more variable. Things like his sexual preference depended on whatever brain his soul inhabited, and this body and its pansexual brain chemistry were perfect for hedonism. Sex, age, species, Noah didn’t care who he fucked or who fucked him as long as he got to finish. Humans were objects that existed simply to provide him with pleasure, and the only difference between these people and a room full of blow-up dolls was that blow-up dolls couldn’t satiate his need for debauchery.

As the man started thrusting, Noah worked his cock between the legs of the woman underneath him and began fucking her. After a trio of shared orgasms, Noah moved on and proceeded to go down on a cute Asian chick who’d just had a train run on her, yet another act performed to experience the next level of taboo.

Time passed, with Noah fucking, sucking, kissing, and licking everyone who crossed his path. By the time he reached the bar, he had two dildos in his ass and was wearing multiple cock rings, and he was too drugged up to remember where they came from. That didn’t stop him from snorting a fat line of coke and ordering a drink. Once he had quenched his thirst, it was back into the flesh pit.

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The rain poured ceaselessly, graying the light passing through Noah’s window. At the moment, he had nothing to do but watch the storm while sipping his bourbon alone in his office. Without a case, he had nothing but time. As a private investigator, his schedule was determined by the phone. Until someone called, he was stuck in limbo. Of all the lifetimes he could have chosen to pursue this career, he didn’t know if it was the best choice, or the worst.

Half of his cases were boring and monotonous, jealous spouses wanting him to check up on their better halves. The rest often made the frequent rain in this bleak city a blessing. It helped wash away the blood and tears of endless victims. It was amazing how quickly a simple missing person’s case could go so far south. Murders, suicides, rapes, dead babies in the trash, it was like they were served up to him on a silver platter, and they had all left their scars on his body and soul. The severed bonds, bad endings, and lives cut short hung in the breeze like broken spiderwebs.

His door opened, and Noah realized that the rain outside wasn’t ambiance, but an omen. It was a reminder that unlike ol' Sparky under the rosebushes, the past isn’t so easy to bury. Instead, it rises up, as if awoken by the trumpets of Armageddon, and before him stood a demon of the Good Book, with a shade of crimson hair that had once lured him in like a siren’s song, with similar results.

“I need your help, Jack,” she said.

“You need a lot of help, we both do.”

“It wasn’t easy for me to come here. I’m here because I’m desperate, and you’re the only man I can trust. Please, hear me out.”

“But I can’t trust you. I learned that painful lesson more than once. Whatever it is you need, go somewhere else. Find some other poor schmuck to be your pawn.”

“That’s not an option for me. None of those schmucks do what you do, do it so well. This isn’t a job I can leave to a less-competent man.” She walked over and placed a picture on his desk. “My husband, Tim Pallen.”

Noah laughed and leaned back in his chair, putting his feet up on his desk. “Speaking of less-competent men….”

“He’s been missing for three days.”

“I’m sure he’s hanging upside-down in your nest, drained of blood, along with all your other victims.”

“Please, take this seriously.”

“Are you sure he didn’t just run off with someone else, like you did?”

“In the days before he vanished, he was fearful, always looking over his shoulder, and not for me. I think someone was after him, maybe he stumbled upon something he wasn’t supposed to.”

“Check the bottom of the river.”

“He’s alive. I know deep in my heart that he’s alive, and I know that you’re the only man who can find him.”

“And why should I find him? Maybe I should just let you spin your wheels, let you suffer in uncertainty.”

She sat on the corner of his desk. “Would you say that to any other client?”

“You’re not just another client.”

“And you’re not just another private eye. It’s true, you can just ignore me, you can make me suffer, you have that power over me. I’m giving you that power because even if you can’t trust me, I trust you. You also have the power to give me happiness, to return the man I love to me, and finally forgive me.”

“Why should I forgive you?”

“Because then you can finally close to the book on us and forget me. You won’t ever have to think about me again. Maybe I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but you deserve peace, and if I walk out that door with you cursing my name, you’ll never have it. You’ll carry that grudge with you forever. I hurt you, and I’m sorry, but that doesn’t mean I ever stopped caring about you, that I didn’t want you to find the happiness I couldn’t give you.”

She leaned down and kissed him on the cheek, then stood up and walked out of his office. Noah watched her go, her long red hair swaying with each step. That color, like rose petals floating on a pool of virgin blood, it was his bane, his weakness, and it always would be. After finishing his drink, he finally released a sigh. “Fuck.”

He tucked Tim’s picture away, put on his coat, and set out into the rain.

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The heat in the room was cranked up, just one cause of the puddle of sweat on the floor. It came from Noah, 37 hours into his workout routine, stopping only to eat and use the bathroom. This routine combined yoga, tai chi, cardio, weight training, and various other forms mastered over numerous lifetimes.

The body that Noah now occupied bore the fruit of that knowledge, shaped for the ultimate combination of health and power. His muscles had been honed to perfection, giving him strength that people would call inhuman. His organs had received lush nutritional pampering, as well as harsh training, all to augment their endurance and functions. He could drink sea water and be completely fine, but he still arranged his diet to supply him with precisely what he needed for top performance in meticulously precise measurements.

His house was designed specifically around his pursuit of ever-higher levels of bodily perfection. His kitchen had the most advanced technology in the field of molecular gastronomy, his bed and bath were designed to maximize the healing of torn muscle threads, and expensive, experimental equipment filled his private gym. Like many of his other pursuits in the multiverse, he had sacrificed everything to reach the pinnacle of humanity.

However, even if he did reach the peak of health and strength, this body was a rough draft, just another step towards his real goal. The experience of this life was just one component, waiting to combine with knowledge from lifetimes spent mastering the killing arts, gene manipulation, and other forms of physical and mental enhancement.

He devoted these lives to finding out how to craft the truly perfect body, the absolute highest level of being the human race could possibly reach. More than the ultimate human, he would be the ultimate killer; the deadliest, most powerful man imaginable. Just a few centuries later, he achieved his goal, to the horror and death of many.

----------

The windows were open, filling the room with a soft breeze and the aroma of French pastries from the bakeries outside. It helped distract from the smell of hospital disinfectant and IV plastic, an unceasing reminder of the inevitability of death. Though the sunlight shined on the lone bed, it wasn't Noah lying within the white sheets, but his wife, Anna, with his hand wrapped around hers.

For as long as he’d known her, she’d loved Paris, sometimes joking that she loved the city more than him. The Eifel Tower in the distance now looked so small compared to the figurines he remembered seeing in her high school locker and around her bedroom. They came here for their honeymoon and several anniversaries, and now, she was going to die here, just as she’d always wished.

“I thought we would have more time,” she whispered.

Years of fighting her illness had weakened her voice, and her hair, once vibrant goldenrod, was now prematurely gray as if being bled of color with each drip bringing her closer to the end. Her hand felt so fragile in Noah’s palm, the muscles withering around her brittle bones, with her skin now as delicate as tissue paper.

“It would never have been enough, not a hundred years, nor even a thousand. All we can do is be grateful for the time we did have, and what little time we have now,” Noah replied.

“I remember that ski trip we took, when I broke my leg, and you held my hand just like this while we waited for help to come.”

He gave a small, mournful chuckle. “I’ve held your hand like this since long before that. When you clung to me while we watched scary movies, under our desks during math class, on the beach when we spread your dog’s ashes… Our palms have kissed more than our lips.”

“Maybe there is still time to change that,” she said, barely able to speak now.

“Maybe there is.”

Noah leaned forward, caressing her cheek as his lips approached hers, but before they could, he heard the sound he’d heard so many times before, the long continuous beep of a heart monitor. He sat back and sighed. Her eyes were still open, but she was gone, and once again, Noah was alone.

----------

Noah stared down the barrel of the machine gun aimed at him. He could only look with one eye, as blood from a head wound covered the other. Behind him, his flipped-over car, now burning and riddled with bullets. Around him, the slain bodies of a dozen mercenaries. These were professionals with military gear, now poked full of holes from his M1911, not typically carried by most researchers.

Despite his skill in putting down assailants, blood flowed freely from the hole in his shoulder, sapping his strength and making it hard to stand. His gun was out of ammo, unlike the hitman standing before him. The ambush went off in a tunnel, with both ends blocked and the police unlikely to be saving the day.

“You put up a surprisingly good fight, but it’s over,” the hitman said.

“Do you even know why you’ve been hired to kill me?”

“It’s not good to ask questions like that. It makes clients nervous.”

“Your client is Sagan Brand Pharma, and they want me taken out because I’ve created a cure for cancer, all cancer. Imagine it, a cheap, immediate cure, not drawn-out treatment. Once it’s on the market, their cash cow disappears.”

The hitman paused, his trigger finger paralyzed by one of his last few shreds of humanity. “Bullshit.”

“It’s true. Why do you think I was so prepared? I knew from the beginning that they would come for me eventually. I’ve refused every buyout, overcame every legal juncture that they could throw, and now their only option left is to kill me.”

“If you knew it would put a target on your back, why make the cure?”

“I’m just trying to buy my way into Heaven. If finding the cure for cancer doesn’t earn me my wings, what will?”

“Well it doesn’t matter. A job’s a job.”

“Think for a moment. Do you really want to be the guy who destroyed the cure for cancer? If there was ever a job to quit on, this is it.”

“All right, let’s make this interesting.” While keeping his gun aimed at Noah, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a quarter. “Heads: I walk away and you get to save mankind. Tails: I kill you, become rich, and drown my guilt in Mai Tais on a beach in Hawaii.”

Noah smiled. “I like those odds. Go ahead, flip. We’ll let fate decide.”

The hitman flipped the coin high into the air, and as it fell, a lone gunshot rang out, followed by a crystal-clear chime. The coin was knocked off-course and hit the ground, bent out of shape from the impact of the bullet, which had found its place in the center of Noah’s chest. With blood streaming from his mouth, he gave a haggard laugh.

“I’m not even mad, that’s just downright impressive. I gotta remember to use that trick sometime.” He slowly slumped down to the ground, with the last of his life leaving him. “I guess I’ll just cure cancer in my next life. Enjoy your Mai Tais, I hope they taste good.” Then he fell on his side and released his dying breath.

----------

It was Christmas morning, and while the air outside was full of falling snow, the air inside was full of the smell of tea, cookies, and pine needles. Currently a young boy, Noah was running through the house in his Power Rangers pajamas, whooping and hollering in excitement. “It’s Christmas!” he screamed jovially.

But, of course, this was merely a well-honed act to make his family think he was just a normal child. Much of it involved pretending to be stupid at a great volume. It wasn’t like he didn’t enjoy Christmas; the issue was his parents, Phil and Linda, a reoccurring parental template. There were many parents he had been born to more than once, and while these two were fairly loving, they were also small-minded and paranoid.

When we tried being more faithful to his genuine personality in his previous life, his calmness during special events made them think he was mentally ill or possessed by a demon. So as not to avoid spending another childhood receiving exorcisms or getting doped up, he had to pretend to be a hyperactive little idiot. It was nothing he wasn’t used to. He had learned a long time ago how to put on the guise of an average child. The older he got, the more of his genuine personality he could reveal, but he could never be his true self.

He entered the living room, where his little sister, Susie, was already opening presents. In the life before this one, while Noah joined Doctors Without Borders and won the Nobel Prize for his humanitarian efforts, Susie grew up to have three kids from three different fathers before dropping out of community college.

He had learned to let her open her presents first to keep her distracted while he opened his, as no matter what he got, she would throw a temper tantrum and say that his gifts were better than hers and that he had to share. And, of course, he would have to argue with her to avoid suspicion.

This year he got some action figures, an RC car, a board game, and various other toys. He didn’t really “play” with toys so much as fidget with them when he was bored. Still, he would freak out and scream how it was just what he wanted. Finally, the last gift came, a big box, and Noah knew what it was. He stripped away the wrapping paper, revealing the ‘Z-System’ logo.

“Oh my God! A Z-System!” he screamed convincingly.

It was the most popular video game setup at the time, and one of the few gifts Noah was actually grateful for. He enjoyed video games for the same reason everyone else did: they served as a good distraction and helped kill time. As an eternal being, anything that could keep him from thinking about the infinite years ahead, devoid of meaning, was a good thing. Then, of course, Susie started screaming that it wasn’t fair that only HIS name was on the gift and not both of theirs.

----------

Gunshots could be heard outside the steel doors, followed by a moment of silence, the beeping of a keypad being typed, and finally, the whirring of the unlocking mechanism. The doors opened and a young man limped inside, bleeding from several open wounds and carrying a rifle with hands shaking from exhaustion.

“I’m finally here, you fucking son of a bitch,” he hissed, glaring at Noah, who was sitting at the end of the room behind a desk.

Juxtaposed to the tenacious warrior, Noah’s suit was unwrinkled and pristine, his gray hair was combed back, and he had a smile on his face. Behind him, a vast window showed a breathtaking view of the earth from this lunar base. Explosions had ravaged the base, brought on by the battle that had tested the mettle of the young man before Noah.

“Jacob Hawkins, welcome. I must admit, I’ve been watching your progress with great intrigue. Every time you struggled, I cheered you on, and every time you prevailed, I applauded your success. You’ve killed so many of my subordinates, fought so hard to try and foil my plans, and now you stand before me. Enjoy this moment, bask in the heights you’ve reached.”

“Yeah, I’m here, and now I’m going to stop you! For Allison, for Fred, and all the other people you’ve killed!” He raised his gun and emptied the mag, but the bullets never reached Noah, instead being deflected by a forcefield and ricocheting through the office.

“It’s a real shame, I thought you were the one who would be able to stop me. You had the means, the motivation, the heart. Destiny itself could not have laid out a better path to your victory, but unfortunately, you’re too late. The missiles are already flying.”

Jacob pulled out a handgun and fired several rounds at Noah, but they failed to get past the forcefield. “Tell me how to stop it, you son of a bitch!”

“You can’t, and neither can I. At this point now, nothing but divine intervention can save mankind. Oh, look, the first bombs are going off.”

Noah turned to the window, watching with a smirk as mushroom clouds began blossoming across the earth’s surface. One became two, two became four, four became eight, and before long, the entire atmosphere was turning red from smoke and nuclear fire. The combined explosions were boiling the sea and corrupting the weather, creating massive hurricanes that cleansed the landmass with flames and radiation. The entire planet was being sterilized.

Jacob howled in fury and charged, beating on the forcefield with the butt of his rifle, his fists, and even his head, while blood and tears trickled onto the floor. However, nothing he did could break through the light barrier. On the other side, Noah continued watching the bombs go off.

“Look at it, Jacob. Isn’t it beautiful? Deep down, haven’t you ever wondered what it would look like? What it would feel like? To completely hold the fate of the world in your hand, and to cast it into oblivion? Instead of hating me, you should be envying me. No one in history has ever gotten to feel this much power.”

“Why? Why would you do this? All those people! What could possibly be worth destroying the world?!” Jacob screamed.

“To force God’s hand. Rigging the election, the pope’s assassination, the terrorist attack in London, the viral outbreak in Moscow, it was all to raise me to this position of power, the power to do something so terrible that God Himself would have to step in and stop me.

I’ve spent centuries trying to get God’s attention, searching for the sin or crime that not even He could ignore, but all of my attempts have met with failure, and now it’s clear that if a nuclear holocaust isn’t enough to trigger a miracle, then He either doesn’t exist, or His existence has no power, merit, or value. I wondered if you might be the instrument of His will, but you failed, and now I know… I am alone.”

Noah then reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a handgun. The press of a button deactivated the forcefield, and before Jacob could react, Noah shot him in the chest. As the young man’s life drained away, Noah turned back to the window and continued to watch the apocalypse unfold as per his plans.

“I am become Death, the Destroyer of Worlds.”

----------

Noah’s eyes bolted open, and he gasped in shock, finding himself lying on a couch in the queen’s chamber. It was still night out, and he was staring up at the underside of Queen Elisandra’s divine breasts, his head resting on her lap. She looked down at him from over the edge, smiling tenderly as she brushed his hair with her fingers.

“My Lady,” he panted.

“You did it,” she murmured. “No human has ever survived drinking the memory tea.”

“I can see why. That was quite the experience.”

“Don’t try to move yet. Your body has been through quite the ordeal.”

“I’m in no hurry. I could spend all eternity lying here with you like this.”

She giggled. “Consider it a reward for your courage, and all your hard work.” She then rested her hand on the center of his chest, feeling his heart’s steady beat. “You really are who you say you are.”

“As much as I wish I wasn’t.”

“Well I’m glad for it. Only you could make immortality feel so small, and make me look to the horizon with new eyes and curiosity.” She looked up at the night sky and took a deep breath. “Once you’ve solved this epidemic and found Valon, know that there will always be a place for you here, with me.”

Noah then sat up and turned to her. “Is that an offer….” He leaned in, the two gazing into each other’s eyes. “Or a request?” Elisandra didn’t respond, her heart and breath fluttering. “Either way, consider this my answer.”

Their lips met like the setting sun kissing the horizon, separated only by gasps of happiness. Elisandra didn’t bother hesitating or pretending she was unsure of her feelings. Instead, she returned the kiss with greater passion, the two speaking their lust and anticipation with silent words. Noah opened her gown and exposed her breasts, only to conceal them with his greedy mouth.

Elisandra moaned as he pulled on her nipples with his lips and massaged deep into her flesh with his fingers. She didn’t know how he did it, how his tongue could stimulate every nerve ending in her areolas so perfectly. He switched back and forth, claiming her breasts for his enjoyment as if planting a flag, with his skill unraveling her like a ball of yarn.

‘Oh God, it’s just like before! It’s just like—!’

She didn’t finish that thought, as her mind was swept clean by a tidal wave of pleasure and an orgasmic moan slipped free. She held Noah close, needing something to cling to as her climax shook her to her core. When she finally released him, he removed her gown, letting her lie naked on the couch. The moonlight accentuated the curves of her perfect body and made her hair shine like strands of gold.

“Gorgeous,” he whispered.

He resumed his oral exploration, running his lips and tongue across her skin, tinged red from her aroused blush. Every inch he crossed made her shiver in bliss. To be touched so intimately by another was a form of happiness she used to wonder if she would ever feel again. As he moved farther south, she spread her legs, eager to do whatever would bring more pleasure.

Noah went down on her with skill and power she didn’t think possible, his lips and tongue massaging her intimate flesh like he was trying to sculpt her into something new. He savored the taste of her womanly nectar and swirled his tongue around inside her, searching for more to lap up. Her body was no longer her own, her movements now controlled by Noah’s skillful stimulation. She was like a puppet, with the strings all leading to his tongue.

“Oh God, Noah! You have no idea how long it’s been! How much I’ve needed this!”

A wave of climaxes washed over her, and as soon as she caught her breath, she pushed Noah down and got on top of him, ripping his clothes off. Now it was her turn to devour him. She kissed him passionately, trying to send her tongue as far into her mouth as she could. Her eyes were wild, gleaming with a woman’s desire. Then, just as he had, she began to move down, using her mouth to measure the firmness of his muscles.

The taste of a man overwhelmed her like a sweet drug, making her shiver as her most primal, carnal desires came to a boil within her. She licked him greedily like candy, and when she reached his erect member, she didn’t even pause. She dirtied her mouth with sin as she worked to pleasure Noah, running her tongue up the rigid shaft and massaging the head with the inside of her cheek. She drowned it in saliva and licked it off, encouraged by every groan and huff of satisfaction Noah made. Driven by lust and instinct, she took it deep in her throat, curious to feel how far it could go and loving every inch.

“Elisandra… I’m gonna…”

Noah grabbed her head and held her still as he ejaculated, filling her mouth with his hot semen and pouring it down her throat. Finally, he let her go, and she sat up, gasping for air with cum running down her chin and her tongue submerged under a white pool. She closed her mouth and swallowed every last drop. The consistency and flavor should have made her grimace, but lust had stolen her sanity, and at the moment, she wanted more of his seed to pour down her throat as though drinking it from a beer stein.

She reached down and grasped his member, stroking it back to full attention. “Time for you to pleasure your queen,” she purred.

The next moment, Elisandra woke up with a frightful gasp. Noah was in front of her, but unlike before, they both had their clothes on. Elisandra was sitting on the couch in the same position as before, with a blanket draped over her.

“Your Majesty,” he said, kneeling beside her.

“What? What? What happened?” she mumbled, still trying to distinguish her dream from reality.

“You watched over me while I had my vision, but must have fallen asleep towards the end. I came to just a little while ago, and wasn’t sure if I or the guards should disturb you. I decided to wait until you woke up on your own.”

The palace was filling with light as the sky began to brighten, and Elisandra gazed at Noah with a smile. “You are a good man, Sir Noah. Can I trust you not to have done anything inappropriate with me while I was vulnerable?”

He gave a small laugh. “I’ll admit, you were temptation incarnate, even to an old soul like myself, but I resisted. Can you say the same?”

It was her turn to laugh. “I came close to braiding your hair.”

“Ah, now that would be a true privilege. I can’t thank you enough, Your Majesty. You watched over me while I fell head over heels into the abyss.”

“I can’t accept your gratitude, not after falling asleep.”

“I’m alive now because you took care of me. You got me through the worst of it. That’s more than enough. Thank you for indulging my recklessness.”

“Do you have what you need to cure everyone?”

“I believe so. You can leave everything to me.”

“Then go, Sir Noah. Go and do whatever it is you do.”

“Yes, My Lady. First, I need to wash all this pollen off my face before I go into a sneezing fit.”

Elisandra watched him depart and shook her head, trying to disperse the last lingering remnants of her dream, but she didn’t want him to go. She’d spent the night with his head resting on her lap and wanted to feel that weight again, feel that presence. Her cheeks reddened when she imagined what he must have thought when he woke up in that position, but deep down, she hoped he felt the same comfort she had. Her offer of letting him stay, did she say that because it was a dream or what she truly wanted?

Please comment! Tell me your thoughts!

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