All characters depicted are above the age of 18 years or older. Maxwell Baez is a Texas Ranger in the not-too-distant future who has been enhanced with advanced biotechnology.
In the late twentieth century, Texas Rangers were more akin to highway patrol, performing a range of law enforcement functions. The chaos of the global economic collapse of '94, wars in Latin America and state secession pushed the Rangers to expand the scope of their operations. In the coming decades, Independent Texas faced many threats to its security. Mexican Cartels, Hostile Nomads (indigenous or otherwise), not to mention a revanchist Washington hell bent on re-incorporating the Free States back under federal rule. The leadership in College Station had to get creative. They invested millions of eurodollars into training, equipment and technology. The rangers of this era were one part Lawman, one part special forces and intelligence operative put together. Those men and women are the tip of the spear in defending the Republic against the coming threats of the 22nd century.
The Texas Bureau of Investigation (TBI for short) had developed an extensive intelligence network with a focus on traffic coming in from south of the border. A group of informants had been critical in the fight against Cartel smuggling. The agency had also developed discreet connections with foreign intelligence agents who, on occasion, shared sensitive information in exchange for favors or cash. In my time with the rangers, I had kept a list of trusted contacts. After some weeks of haggling with one corporate agent, I managed to obtain background information on a high-value target of my own.
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Fort-de-France, Martinique, In the
Caribbean Sea
September, 2093
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After several days of travel aboard an airship, I had arrived in Martinique. The view of the island from the window seat was incredible. Fort-de-France was a lovely, low-lying city enclosed by a massive sea wall constructed by MetaCorp. Brown and Associates, a law firm based in Texas, handled contracting for the island's leaders. Despite being an overseas territory of the French Republic, financial assistance from the mother country had been scarce or non-existent. Given the turmoil of the previous decades, France could ill afford to send precious currency to their territories abroad. Tourism dried up, poverty spread, and crime became endemic. What made matters worse was the fourth corporate war disrupting the sea lanes in the Caribbean. Many citizens went abroad to places like Venezuela, seeking employment in major construction projects and sent remittances back home. In recent years, the island has seen a steady growth due in large part to renewed tourism by airship, like the one I was lounging in.
Air travel was expensive for most, but it was worth it to find my target. The tallest building in Fort de France was retrofitted into a docking station for modern-day Zeppelins. The seas were not an option. During the last corporate war, one of the belligerents (the megacorp Arasaka) released self-replicating mines into the world's oceans. The AI operating the mines was tasked with blowing up the ships belonging to their enemies. However, the AI decided it would optimize the chances of success by blowing up almost all seaborne vessels. The Arasaka scientists tried to update the AI with a patch, but the software was rejected as a virus. Fucking morons!
Suddenly, I felt the floor shake, a voice chimed through comms system, "Passengers, the airship has docked on the platform. Since the aircraft is in place, our safety protocols have been disengaged. It is now safe to exit the aircraft. Please enjoy your stay in Martinique."
I drained the last of my coffee and made my way to the platform. Officially, I was on vacation. That was my cover, and that was mostly true. However, I was also there to confront a dangerous terrorist belonging to a group known as Le Collectiv. My cover ID was a well-to-do tourist named Michael Gibbons, just another "corpo" middle manager trying to get away from it all and relax on the beach. I dressed the part in cargo shorts, tropical short-sleeve shirt and straw hat. The passengers filed out of the airship and onto the circular platform. Some waited for the elevators, I took the stairs and enjoyed the view of the city. The beaches were filled with locals and tourists enjoying themselves in the last hot days of summer. Music was playing. Wealthy patrons were waited on in the restaurants while the security forces, dressed as civilians, kept a close eye on the patrons. While they were invisible to the rich and oblivious, I flagged them as lawmen with ease.
The lush vegetation and smell of the ocean were very refreshing. I made my way over to a bar not far from the sand and sun and sat down next to an older gentleman. The bartender asked me in English if I wanted anything.
"Two beers, one for me and my friend here." I replied, "Also, could you turn up the volume on the TV?"
"No problem, two beers coming up."
The older man turned to me, saying, "Thanks, you're a tourist?" He was suspicious. My contact had informed me that he was the head of security. I had to proceed carefully.
"Just got off the airship." The bartender gave us both our beers. "This land is beautiful. You are lucky you get to live here."
"Yes, yes, it is a lovely island. I have heard Texas has its charms, no?" he said with a smile.
"How did you know I was from Texas, Mrr..?"
"Flores, just call me Flores. Your accent gave it away."
We raised our beers, toasted to our good fortune and drank. The soccer match on TV was loud enough to keep eavesdroppers from making out our conversation. As you can tell, I wasn't there just to talk about football.
"I take it the criminal element in this town was warned to steer clear of the privileged and pampered?" I asked.
He raised an eyebrow. A group of three young women walked past us. Two Asians and one Latina, all of them were smoking hot. No doubt they were the heirs to some shipping magnate or banker hoarding more money than God would even think wise to keep on his own person. Flores waited until the group walked by out of earshot.
"You're no tourista. Who are you?" He asked.
"I'm looking for a woman in town," I paused, "Gabriel says 'hi' by the way." My contact had told me to drop his name. Flores was trustworthy.
"If you want a woman, talk to the local guides. They take you to the red light district."
"I'm looking for someone recently arrived from Puerto Rico. Greying blonde hair, around 5'6, mid 40s, Caucasia–"
"Look, my job is security, you know? Keeping drunk idiots out of trouble so that businesses here can make a few eddies (eurodollars)." He said, "I don't track people down, not even for money. I have responsibilities here."
"Understood, but people who work in security keep their ears to the ground. You talk to people or hear things, rumors perhaps. Information keeps us alive in this world." I said, he caught my meaning. The bartender was busy with another guest. Flores chose that moment to lean close to my ear.
"Puerto Rico is miles away. If your girl arrived recently, St. Luke's Church is where you'll want to start looking. Ask for Dimitri." He whispered.
"I get your point. I won't go sticking my nose where it doesn't belong." I said, hoping a little misdirection would confuse any eavesdroppers.
"I'll take my leave." I got up and pulled out my card. "Bartender, another beer for this fine gentleman."
With that, I walked toward the beach and spent hours soaking in the sun and enjoying the view of bikini-clad women on the beach. A couple of young guys set out on boats and surfed the waves, all the while Flores' men kept a discreet eye out for dangers. It didn't take eons of experience to figure out who was in charge amongst those men. After a while, I arranged for a tour of the NorrisCorp desalination plant. The Galveston-based company, through Brown & Associates, had been contracted to solve the water problem. Normal desalination was costly, so NorrisCorp bio-engineered an organism named Bacillus Cereus to desalinate seawater. The details were lost on me, but it was impressive what they were able to accomplish. More importantly, the location was fairly close to the church.
The few interested tourists were taken by bus up the hillside to the facility. Palms trees dotted the company grounds. The lush vegetation was so different from the barren plains of western Texas. The tour was uneventful. NorrisCorp staff guided us through the sleek laboratories. Scientists, dressed in lab gear, were going about their business behind a glass wall. The tour guide, a young man with jet-black hair and a winning smile, talked about the advancements they were making.
"As you can see, our quality control team tested the water to ensure it is safe for consumption." He said, gesturing toward the lab.
On the ground floor, there were massive pools of seawater going through the process of desalination. Technicians in corporate uniforms were hard at work doing something. Honestly, I wasn't paying attention. The crowd was enthralled with the size and scope of the facility. All I could think about was my own history with NorrisCorp and their more classified projects in development. Cybernetics had come a long way in development. Cyberlimbs, brain implants, and muscle boosters available to the public, humanity had become stronger and faster than ever. But that came with a price. Cyberpyschosis was a disease little understood, but many believe it was related to the overuse of combat implants. Too many soldiers had succumbed to the disease, often going on violent rampages at random. Leaders in Austin were desperate for an alternative programs for soldiers. NorrisCorp showed up with their latest product and sold Austin on advanced bioware. More on that later.
Once the tour was almost over, I slipped away from the group and made my way onto the streets of Fort-de-France. Tourists and locals alike were going about their business. Everything seemed calm. St. Luke's church was located up the hill, and from what I heard, the neighborhood was on the rough edge of town. Arms regulations for international travel were strict and unforgiving. However, I did manage to smuggle the components of a composite revolver and reassemble it for the occasion. The neon lights of the business plaza came into view as I walked down the street. Alleyways were filled with the homeless, the addicted and cyberpyschos on a knife's edge from losing their marbles completely. Martinique's police force was present at the scene of a crime. The area was roped off, and I steered clear, hoping not to arouse suspicion.
St. Luke's church towered over the plaza. The large building sported a bell tower with several multicolored stained windows. A portion of the church had been repurposed to set up a clinic. My target had to be there. Before going in, I stopped at a flower shop and purchased a floral arrangement with red roses and white lilies. The shopkeeper, a lovely black woman, looked me up and down.
"I'm jealous. Who is the lucky lady?" She asked me in French, partly just making conversation.
"Just a friend." I replied with a wink, "Thank you."
"Have a nice day."
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Entering St. Luke's, I paid my respects to the church with a donation and crossed myself. As sinful as it was to enter a house of God with a weapon, I wasn't taking any chances. The room was filled with medical gurneys separated by dividers, half of whom were occupied with patients. Volunteers cared for the injured while the ripperdocs made their rounds. No sign of the reverend. A guy ( I assumed he was a volunteer) approached me dressed in civilian clothes.
"You missed church service. You'll have to come back tomorrow." He was a tall, thin guy, a few years older than me, sporting tattoos on his right arm.
"I'm looking for Dimitri."
"The pastor is in his office, in the back." He pointed the way.
"Merci."
The office door was cracked open. I could hear some voices in the room. I entered the room. The pastor, dressed in a cleric's robes, was sitting behind a desk meeting with three others. Volunteers by the look of them, two women and a young man.
"Mr. Dimitri, sir?"
"Yes, who are you?" All of them looked in my direction, and that's when I spotted my target. Her eyes widened in recognition.
"Max?!" She was surprised.
"Ms. Bridgette. It's good to see you, too." I smiled. She reached out and hugged me. Bridgette was lovely as ever.
"What are you doing here?" She asked.
"Officially, I'm on vacation," I said with a sly and mischievous smile.
"Is this your boy, Bridgette?" One of the volunteers asked, "He's handsome." She was an Afro-Caribbean woman about the same height as Bridgette and just as curvy, wearing a black shirt and leggings.
"No, Abigail, this is Max. He's.." She hesitated for a second, "a friend of my eldest."
"Here, these are for you." I gave the flowers. I just hoped they weren't too suggestive.
"Oh, thank you, they're lovely."
Bridgette was clever. No one would believe an older woman and a younger man were 'just friends'. I shook Abigail's and the other guy's hands, extending my greetings to them. Come to find out, the guy was Abigail's nephew, Preval. The two of them often volunteered at the church together. The pastor adjourned the meeting till tomorrow. Bridgette and I walked out of the church. We talked as she led me back to her apartment.
The apartment complex was humble in size. From the outside, it looked shabby. It surprised me that she didn't stay in a fancier part of town. Her rental was cozy. The place smelled of cinnamon and nutmeg, emanating from the kitchen. She had a large couch with a modern TV in front of a large window that offered a decent view of the city. Bamboo plants were placed in certain corners of the room. A small library was situated upstairs, with a Catholic cross fixed above. Bridgette sighed and turned to face me.
"Max, what are you doing here?" She asked, a sense of worry in her voice.
"I'm here for the sand and sun. I told you I'm on vacation." I smiled. She wasn't amused.
"Officially, you're on vacation. And unofficially?" Her beautiful brown eyes search my face for the truth.
"Unofficially, I came to see you." It wasn't a total lie. "I wanted to see how you were doing. I tried to contact you, but I heard nothing back. I figured you needed time. A part of me was worried for you."
"Max, I... I can't–" She was nervous, not sure what to say.
In the corner of my eye, I spotted something move. It was a cat with orange fur. It approached me, and I bent down to pet it. The cat was very friendly.
"You got a cat?"
"Yes, his name is Caesar." She moved to the kitchen and put the flowers in a vase.
"He's adorable."
"Moving here was supposed to give my boys a fresh start. Things in St. Thomas had calmed down since you left, but we lost a lot."
"You could have reached out. I have some connections in Corpus Christi."
She was staring at the flowers in the sink, a torrent of emotions threatening to overwhelm her. I leaned against the kitchen wall.
"Max, you don't understand. I couldn't just leave." She straightened up and turned to face me. "You don't know about–"
Before she could finish, I reached out, grabbed her by the waist and brought her body close to mine.
"What are you doing! Max, we can–"
"Le Collectiv. Does that name sound familiar?" I smiled. Her eyes widened in shock. "I did a little digging, and wouldn't you know it. The woman held hostage by Los Trinitarios in St. Thomas was a member of an infamous terrorist organization."
Los Trinitarios was a Dominican cartel operating in Puerto Rico and St. Thomas. My ranger division was sent to St. Thomas to provide backup to the militia fighting them on the ground. I was sent into combat with them, and we liberated a nearby hotel they were using as a HQ. Unbeknownst to us, the morons had taken hostages for ransom. Among those captives was Ms. Bridgette.
"So are you going to tell me the real reason why they kidnapped you?" I asked.
"I'm sorry," she said as she suddenly reached back, grabbed a kitchen knife and swung the blade in my direction!
I dashed back out of the blade's path. "Bridgette, stop! I am not here to–" She swung again, the blade missed my neck by centimeters, "hurt you!"
The cat scattered out of the kitchen and hid underneath the sofa. I backed up into the living room as Bridgette tried to kill me. She got in close and tried to stab me when I caught her hand and twisted it behind her back, forcing her to drop the knife. I kicked the knife away and pushed her face down into the sofa. She cursed and tried to free herself, but I was far stronger than her. I just kept her pin there until she slowed to stop.
"Are you done now?" I asked she didn't respond. "Are you done!?" she nodded but I wasn't about to take any chances, so I zip tied her hands together. I lifted her up and brought her to the bedroom. She resisted, but it was in vain.
"Max, let me go!"
"No," I pushed her onto the bed and locked the door behind us, "you're going to answer my questions."
Although she was small, she had some fight in her. "Damn it!" she cursed.
I waited silently, staring daggers at her.
"Le Collectiv needed weapons, I was there to make sure the arms deals were honored, amongst other things." She said, I was getting somewhere now.
"That wasn't the only reason?" I said. She looked up at me, her eyes were running, and her cheeks reddened from exertion.
"My family we couldn't stay in France, not after the chaos. I wanted a future for my boys."
"So," I reached out, grabbed her wrists and undid the zip ties, "why did they take you hostage?"
"They wanted a better deal. They wanted leverage against Le Collectiv." She stood up and looked at me, frightened, "W-what happens now?"
That was a good question, honestly I couldn't think straight. The rush of combat had left me with a serious boner. At 5'6, Ms. Bridgette was plump in all the right places. She was gorgeous with full-luscious lips, a small button nose and greying blonde hair. The dark blue St. Luke's Volunteer shirt she was wearing couldn't hide those massive 34 DD breasts. Combined with those beige shorts showing off thick and toned legs, she was a knock-out even at her age.
"What...happens...now," I smiled. She seemed to catch on.
"No, Max, we can't. Not again." I grabbed her hips and brought her in close to me.
"Oh, I think we can." I leaned in and planted a kiss on her lips. I pulled back a bit, she placed a hand on my chest and kissed me back. We made out for some time while I held her close. Her hands explored my muscled chest and abs, then she went lower and massaged my hard cock through my shorts. I unbuttoned my shirt and tossed it aside along with my hat. Although nervous at first, she took off her shirt and shorts, revealing a matching set of sapphire blue bra and panties.
"You haven't aged a day," I said, admiring her figure.
She laughed, "If only that were true." I unzipped my cargo shorts and kicked them away. She seemed surprised all of a sudden. Her eyes were glued to my groin.
"M-Max, were you always this large?" She couldn't believe what she was seeing. The ten-inch monster between my legs was a byproduct of a new ranger program. Thanks to Norris & Company, rangers were outfitted using some of the latest bioware enhancements. The scientists had no idea that the treatment would enhance my manhood as well. It was a welcome surprise for me, at least.
"A secret program in the works, experimental." I winked.
"Geez, I hope you're not taking too many risks with your body, young man. I want you to stay healthy." She said with a mock sternness. We kissed.
I smiled and unhooked her bra, letting it drop to the floor, "I'll be careful, Ma'am." I then grabbed her by the waist and lifted her up. It gave me a chance to shove my head between her boobs. I proceeded to plant kisses on the base of her neck and shoulders.
"Ohh! Geez. If you drop me, I'll kill you." She smiled, and we made out in the moonlight. It was so reminiscent of the last time we fucked. After the fighting ended in St. Thomas, the two of us picked out a room in the war-torn hotel and knocked boots all night.
I let her down on the bed and fondled her massive teardrop tits, applying a decent amount of pressure. She moaned and writhed from my touch, combing her fingers through my hair. I took a moment to discard my underwear. Bridgette was enthralled by my enhanced rod.
"Good lord, it's so thick and veiny." She said in amazement as she felt the weight of it in her hand. She started stroking my dick.
"Thanks, I guess." She pushed me down on the bed and removed her panties. We ended up sixty-nining. As she struggled to stuff more of my cock in her mouth, I had my face in her crotch, eating her out. She gasped at the sensations before taking my balls in her mouth one at a time. Stimulating her clit caused her muscles to tense a bit as little moans of delight escaped her lips. It was adorable. I dug my fingers into the flesh of her round ass cheeks and jiggled them for effect. After several minutes, she managed to get a fair bit of my wand in her tight throat, which was impressive.
"Ah! Fuck, I can't wait anymore! I need this dick in me." She got up and assumed a cowgirl position, slowly inserting my cock into her pussy. After two or three tries, she finally got all ten inches inside her. There was still some discomfort written in her face. Nevertheless, she began pumping her hips up and down, trying to will her pussy to accommodate my size. Her bouncing tits were so mesmerizing, I reached out and massaged one of her orbs. She tried rotating her hips on my dick to find a more comfortable position, which seemed to help
We continued fucking like that, her eyes were filled with lust as she rode my cock like the thirsty milf she was. I let her continue riding me for several minutes before taking charge. Deftly, I swung her into the position I wanted, face-down-ass-up. She turned to look at me, surprised, before I slid my cock back in her needy pussy. She winced in slight discomfort.
"Max, just go slow plea–" She tried to say before I interrupted her.
"Nope." I smiled and proceeded to fuck her from behind with abandon. She whimpered a bit, still struggling to get used to my girth.
"Ah! Shit! Fuck! Max, shit! Just–" She wined. I grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled, just enough to be felt and kept pounding away.
Her breathing became more erratic, and her insides pulsed with each thrust as her own orgasm was building. I lifted my free hand and gave her ass a few hard smacks, leaving handprints on each cheek. She turned to look at me, her honey brown eyes shone with an intensity I hadn't seen before in a woman. I let go of her hair and held her hips firmly as I continued fucking her senseless. After some time, her body started to convulse and tense up. My balls were boiling when she begged me not to stop.
"AH! AH! AAHHH!" she cried as the pleasure overwhelmed her. I damn near drained half my soul filling her up with my sperm. Her words were unintelligible by the time I was spent. We both collapsed into a gasping, sweaty mess.
It was a crazy turn of events. First, Bridgette tried to kill me, and then we ended up in her bedroom, fucking like rabbits. Best vacation ever! But there was one piece of business I needed to get done.
"Max, we can't keep doing this." She said.
"Doing what?"
"Don't play dumb." She looked at me with all seriousness, "People will talk if you keep visiting like this. I don't want them to suspect anything."
"It's not any of their business what we do."
"I'm too old for you. Imagine what they would think."
"I think that Abigail would be jealous of you." I winked at her, "She might even want to join in."
She chuckled, "You are such a clown."
"Bridgette, do you still have contacts in Le Collectiv?" I asked.
"Why?" I could hear in her voice, she was uneasy about my question.
"There are people in Austin who would be interested in arranging deals with the organization. I didn't come here to hurt or arrest you. I was actually hoping we could set up a meeting."
"Le Collectiv isn't some nightclub, these are terrorists." She sat up on the edge of the bed. "There are just as likely to light Austin on fire then work with them."
I sat next to her. "You believed in these people once. Isn't there anyone you trust left in the group?"
She sighed, "I know of one person. She owes me a favor. I can arrange a meeting, but there is no guarantee they will entertain the idea."
I hugged her close to me and kissed her on the cheek. "Thank you. This means a lot."
"You're welcome. But we are going to have to stop fooling around."
"Jamais (never)!" I said in pigeon French, she snorted in laughter. It was music to my ears. We settled in for the night. My mission was accomplished for now. I could only hope this terrorist group was willing to play ball.
