A Murder Inc.: Volume 3 Read online

  a murder,inc.

  Volume 3

  by Stella Purple

  warning!

  The following content you are about to read is extremely graphic and violent, involving a lot of murder, death, torture, and basically any disturbing activities involving the world of hitman can cover. Readers under the age of 18 (eighteen) are advised to not read the content of this book. the author is not responsible for any neglectance of this message.

  You have been warned….

  Contents

  Enemy Land, II

  Night Club

  Submit

  Exotic

  Trio

  Takeover

  Innocence lost

  Menage A Trois

  After

  Character Bible

  Coming Soon

  Enemy Land, II

  01:43 pm

  St. Magoc, Seattle

  The door to the principal’s office is suddenly open, revealing Vira with gun silencers in each hand. Ileong follows close behind with a rifle, immediately backing her up. Both aim their weapons at Xenos, ready to fire.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” The man can barely contain his anger when they bust in. This is outrageous. No one has ever openly attempt to attack him ever since he bought the school. How dare they trespass and barge in here.

  “I don’t like playing cat and mouse, so let’s just jump right in, shall we? We’re Aramis?”

  Night Club

  00:54 am

  Martyr Night Club, New York

  The members of Murder, Inc. are hanging out in Martyr, a night club which Vira owned after, well, murdering the previous owner. He was a cult worshiper. The club was way too gothic to her liking, so she destroyed and rebuilt it completely. Now, standing by metals, glasses and all the modern design, Martyr is one of New York’s hottest it place.

  “I like what you’ve done with the place,” Ileong comments through the mini microphone attached underneath his signature neon pink shirt. Dirty Bass by Far East Movement feat Tyga is booming through the speakers, but she can hear her just well.

  From across the room, Vira in tight red dress is the center of the attention. Not that it is personally to her liking, but since she is acting as the bait this time, there is nothing much she can change with the situation. She is not dancing yet. Not until their target arrives.

  “I’m sorry that you had to miss the opening night,” Vira replies through her necklace. Her earrings act as headset, while her necklace is the microphone. His family was celebrating Ileong’s cousin birthday. “I would’ve offered your cousin to throw her party here, if she were thirteen years older.” The little girl is only five this year.

  Aramis replaces the bartender tonight. Turns out juggling bottles are just as easy as throwing knives for him. And while the males keep staring at her, the girls are fawning over the man. Ileong himself is too eccentric for people to not glance curiously.

  “Should have seen her. You have no idea what kind of crazy stunts she pulls whenever she feel like it,” Aramis chips in. As if she is not insane enough on daily basis. Schlin and Hecate’s ‘disappearance’ is proof of that.

  “Really? What did she do?” the Korean asks, his tone inquisitive.

  “Oh you know: pole dancing, strip teasing, and basically tempting every male in the room, me included,” Aramis sums up the story as he takes in a new order. “And that was only after fifty shots of anything from the bar,” he later adds.

  “Naui hananim!” asserts Ileong. My God!

  “Please. Most teens these days do much further than that. Compared to the majority, I’m not even close to being mild,” Vira snorts.

  More guests are coming in. As they scan the faces one by one, their target surfaces in the dimness.

  The man wears an expensive grey suit. He moves up to the second floor, where the VIP seats. None of the three covers that area. That does not mean they have to move, though. They only need him to come to the bait.

  Vira climbs down of her stool and makes her way to the dance floor. The music ends and a new one plays: Carry Out by Justin Timberlake feat Timbaland. Moving her hips in erotic pace, she gains even more attention that she had before.

  “He’s leaning in from the railing. Intrigued, but not moving down,” Ileong becomes her eye when she cannot look up without being too obvious.

  Time to step up the game. Putting in some moves from her pole dancing class into the mix, she has them going hard for her.

  A little bit too much, perhaps. Because some men are staring to move up to her. Feeling concerned, Vira struggles to gain some space while still dancing. She moves back, before feeling her back colliding with a firm chest.

  She turns around automatically, finding a tall man with light beard in semi-formal brown leather jacket and jeans. His shirt clings to this chest firmly, displaying a lot amount of muscles underneath. His hair is short and blonde. His sapphire eyes alone smile to her, let alone his pink lips. The way he smiles reminds her a lot of someone she knows.

  “‘lright there?” He extents his hand in order to help balance her out.

  “Yeah,” she replies coldly, before turning away. Distracting, she comments internally with a frown. A hand grabs her wrist before she can take a second step, though. “Hands off,” she hisses as she turns around, but the man only smile wider. Like she is telling a joke to him or something.

  “Wow, hold it, Vir. It’s me,” he says, his eyes twinkling in an all-too-happily manner. “Ivan. Ivan Mussel, the Medic? I hope you haven’t forget about me?”

  The Ivan Mussel that she knows is that scrawny boy with glasses and goofy smile, not this I-work-out-everyday muscle guy. But she knows that smile. Despite how charming it looks now, she still remember the way his lips curves and how his eyes shines underneath those glasses

  Before she can control herself, she blurts out, “Dang. Puberty did good on you.” Which, of course, only causes him to smile even wider.

  “Target’s closing in,” Ileong’s voice vibrates into her ears. “Who’s that?” he asks when I do not move from position. “Morel is ten steps away now.”

  Purely on instinct, Vira stabs the end of her heel on Ivan’s feet, causing him to winch in pain. “I said hands off!” she shouts, making sure that it is loud enough for a few heads to turn her way. From the corner of her eyes, she can see Turfman, her club manager, heading towards them.

  “Excuse me,” the voice low and collective. Michael Morel moves in into her line of sight, and her silver eyes meet pale blue ones. They are cold and distant, as expected of a mercenary. “Is this man giving you troubles?” And though Ivan is now much buffer and a few inches taller than him, he does not know any kind of inferiority.

  Ivan looks at me, confused and hurt, but I return by eyeing him with displease. “Don’t bother. I’ve taken care of it. Though I can’t say much about my ruined mood.” She exits the dance floor, steps fast paced and angry. Finding herself rather thirsty, Vira heads to the bar.

  “Sex on the beach, please,” she orders to the bartender. Aramis smirks at her.

  “Not ‘sex in the bathroom’?” he mouths, causing her thoughts to turn perverted. She recalls the feeling of his cock sliding in and out against her inner walls, and it makes her wet and horny.

  “Put it in my tab,” Morel calls in from behind her, leaning against the counter beside her. Aramis simply nods and proceeds in making the drink.

  “Haven’t seen you much around here.”

  “I don’t come here often. Not as often as I like, at least.”

  “I’m Michael. And you are?”

  Vira sneers at him. “I don’t give my name up easily. Thanks for the drink, though.”

  Unconcerned
, he asks bluntly, “You don’t find me attractive?”

  Smiling, she replies, “You’re too old for me.”

  “Oh yeah? And how old exactly are you?” If he cannot get her name, he can at least get her age. From the look of it, she can’t be any older than the early twenties.

  “Just the right age. Though, if you are looking for someone to have sex with, I don’t think I’m your type. My taste is very,” Vira trails off purposefully, “specific, you see.”

  Mosel allows himself to drop his eyes. He glances at her ivory skin, shapely long legs, her tight red dress that emphasis her cleavage, before moving up to her neck and face. Those lips, painted in red. He wonders how they will feel wrapped around his hardness.

  “What kind? I might find myself willing to play along,” he offers.

  An image from Discovery Channel crosses her mind. This situation has just dropped to a lion pouncing a deer.

  Smiling sinisterly seductive, Vira grabs his hand and leads him up the stairs, towards the third floor. She cannot believe how easy luring him is. Drink long forgotten, she brings him to one of her club’s private rooms.

  Submit

  01:54 am

  Red Room, Martyr Night Club

  The room is bright and decorated with black and red. At one side of the wall lies the king-sized bed, while a shelf of sex toys are displayed across it.

  “I hope you don’t mind,” she locks the door behind her. “Can’t have interruptions now, can we?” She moves towards her left, turning of most of the lights. Then she proceeds to walk up to him. Whispering in his ear, she says, “I like ‘em panting and withering under me. I hope you like bondage, Michael, especially being submissive. You will find that my torment will be very,” she trails off on purpose once again, “rewarding.”

  His breathe rages as she talks him up. Placing both palms against his chest, Vira leads him to the bed and pushes him down. Already having ropes in hand, she pushes him against the headboard and ties his wrists against it, before moving on to this legs. Making complicated knots, she proceeds into unbuttoning his already lose shirt.

  “So tell me, Mr. Morel,” she says huskily, “Where is God’s Game located?”

  At first he does not say anything, too high in lust to pay much attention to what she is saying. But then he snaps out from the trance and looks at her sharply, angrily. She has trapped him, have him tied up and regressed.

  “Where did you hear that name?” He also cannot remember ever telling her his last name.

  “Research,” is her simple respond. “Now, you can either chose to answer me directly or,” Vira climbs off of him and heads towards the shelf. She grabs a leather whip and tests it, the sound slicing through the air. “I will use this on you. Wether you will enjoy it or not will depend solely on my mood, as well as your answers as we go along.”

  When Morel does not reply, she process on removing his pants, allowing it to wrap around his ankles. “This suit must be expensive. It’ll be such a waste to let it stain with blood. Then again, this might just be worthwhile.” Pulling up a pair of silk gloves, Vira traces the whip on his skin.

  “Screw you,” he curses carelessly.

  “Highly unlikely, but we’ll see,” is her automatic reply, “And since you’re refusing to answer.” Pulling back, Vira snaps the while forward, inflicting the first whip.

  Pain erupts when the leather equipment leaves long red mark cross his stomach, and Morel lets out a scream. It should be loud enough for the people outside to hear, if the room itself were not soundproof.

  “God’s Game is a very sick, sick syndicate that force their victims to play their very sick, sick games until they’re dead.” Whip. Scream! “Their victims are mostly kidnaped from their homes and fall under the category of teenagers.” Whip! Scream! “Obviously you already know all of these things, considering that you’re working for them.” WHIP! SCREAM! “Did I do my homework right, Mr. Morel?”

  “Yes! God damn it, yes!” he lets out a scream. “Now let me out of this—” Whip!

  “Answer the question!” she screams back.

  “It’s in Russia, you sick bitch!”

  Whip! “Russia where? I need details!”

  He practically blurs out the address. His tone is so low, it is pathetic to watch him. Within less than 15 minutes, the man has succumbed under my whip. Is it too fast? Maybe he is only telling lies.

  Pulling back her arm, Vira ready to give him another whipping. But before she does, she notices that he already has his head tilted down and his eyes closed. The bastard passes out. The nerve of him. She is not done yet.

  No matter. We already have an address. She will release him after planting a tracking device underneath his flesh. Ivan is here, and he knows a pretty neat trick to make scars disappear completely.

  The guy will not notice a thing. He will just think that he has a crazy night previously and let it go. He will not see me again, unless he tells a lie.

  “Did you get that?” Vira asks to her necklace/microphone as she places the whip down on a table. Her staffs will clean it later on.

  “Yup. Searching through it right now,” Ileong replies, “Ivan almost got himself kicked out of your club, by the way. Good thing I stop your manager before something ugly happens.”

  “Is he with you right now?” He replies with a mumbled, “Yes.” “Good. Send him in. Prepare a tracking device as well. We need to do a plantation.”

  “Copy that.”

  Exotic

  02:39 am

  Vira’s Office, Martyr Night Club

  The location of God’s Game, as it turns out, is hidden underneath a sex club. Though it is not completely confirmed, but it does makes sense when it city itself has the highest criminal records in the whole country.

  When Morel wakes up, Vira has taken her time in interrogating him some more. He does not know any of the God’s Game members, but he has a suspicion that some of the members from Annarque, the sex club, are also members of the deadly games.

  “This is useless,” Vira mutters frustratedly when she goes overboard and causes Morel to pass out the second time. His tights are covered with red strikes so much that blood begins to pole under his legs.

  “What do you expect from a syndicate no one barely knows,” Aramis reminds her. “Besides, the guys only a kidnapper. Merely a lapdog to the entire organization.”

  She knows what this means. “If we go undercover, I volunteer as a staff. The lot of you can figure out whatever you want,” she points at Aramis and Ivan, who immediately discuss their roles.

  The girl surely is not planning to have sex with strangers. A bunch of perverts, they all are. The mere though of having their grabby sweaty hands all over her is disgusting enough for her to throw up. And being an exhibits is not her style, unless public murder suddenly becomes legal.

  “Question: what’s with this room?” Ileong asks out of context. The place can put the Red Room to shame.

  “I told my manager that he can do whatever he wants with it while I’m not present, except having sex in here. This is what I got,” she explains.

  “Did you somehow give out an impression as a nymphomaniac?”

  “No. I dress as I usually do when I met him.” Which includes formal suits or dresses. “He just assumed too much.”

  “Maybe it’s just the air around you. Or the way you look. Anyway, I think you’ll do better as a member.” This causes the other two to glance her way.

  “Out of the questions. Not gonna have strangers touching me or me touching them, unless it’s meant to kill ‘em.”

  “It doesn’t have to be strangers,” Ivan chirps in. “We can come in separately, so that no one will know that we know each other. Then we can pretend to…. you know.”

  “No fair. If you two are having sex, then I want to join in, too,” Aramis says.

  That does not make sense. “How does one even pretend to have sex with someone else?” Vira asks. Forget threesome. They have a bigger problem. “It’s n
ot like we’ll do it while wearing clothes.” This causes them erupt with laughter. “What’s so funny?”

  “I think you’re gonna need this,” Ileong pulls a small bottle out from his pocket. She reads the tagline. It says birth control pills.

  No. They don’t mean….

  She is not even going to ask why he has that in his pocket.

  Trio

  09:14 pm

  Annarque, Moscow

  The club is a mansion, decorated so enchantedly with gold and black. At first the building looks like any other property belonging to the rich. But once you step inside, you are greeted by half-masked men and women in exotic positions, their skins showing more than you need to see everywhere.

  They are doing it in the living room, by the fireplace, by the couch, by the kitchen. These are the exhibits Vira expects to see. Naked and dancing in seductive movements. They are consuming and be consumed. While some might find amusement in these scenes, Vira only glance with cold eyes.

  Sub. Dom. Bondage. Consuming. Consume you.

  The second floor is not better. They are some tied while getting fucked, some being fucked more than by one partner. Gender is no difference here. Even a few of the women wears fictitious cocks around their waists. And though they are those types of greasy, fat perverts occasionally here and there, Vira discovers that they are every type of perverts in the place.

  Heading further from the explicit festivity, she finds herself in a hallway that leads to the bedrooms. Some doors are closed, where she can hear screams of pleasure erupting from the other sides, while some are open. Intentionally or not, she see everything, which is more than she needs to.

  So far there is no out of the ordinary activities that she can spot from what one can predicted from a lifestyle club. She wonders how the team are doing now. Ileong is lying relaxly in a hotel room they preciously checked in, that is for sure, but how about Ivan and Aramis?

  Upon heading back to a more crowded area, a hand grabs her waist from behind, pulling her against him. She knows that it is in fact a ‘him’ judging by the lean muscles rippling against her back. If that is not convincing enough, perhaps the hardness poking against her tight can.