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April O'Neil- Search for the Trench-coat vigilante	By : Nickamano Category: +S through Z > Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles Views: 3014 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles or any related materials are not owned by me. This was created for entertainment purposes only, and I am not profiting financially from the creation of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Chapter 1.
- 2-Chapter 2.
- 1
- 2
Chapter 2.
Twenty-four hours later, and pretty much a thousand dollars better off, April found herself out on the street close to her own neighbourhood, halfway between terrified and exhilarated.
She was armed with an unobtrusive lapel-mounted digital camera with a fresh twelve-hour memory card plugged in. She also had an eight-inch-long stun gun in her jacket pocket. Her best friend Irma, once she realised that she wouldn’t be able to talk April out of this insanity, insisted April carry a pistol with her. But April was inexperienced with firearms and expressed a fear of a gun being taken from her and used against her. So, she settled for a stun gun, mostly to satisfy Irma, and bought for herself a Vipertek model that was pink in colour and doubled as a flashlight so it didn’t look like a weapon at all. Though it apparently packed a fifty-thousand-volt wallop.
She had tried to dress sensibly, at least from the point of view of comfort and potentially if she had to run anywhere. Though at the same time her plan was to put herself forward as bait. To hopefully bring out the Trench-coat vigilante by getting herself targeted by criminals. So, she wore comfortable running shoes, mat-black yoga pants, to show off her legs and ass while giving her the ability to run without getting snagged on anything. And a cropped bright yellow biker style jacket, with elasticated waist and an upturned collar which she zipped up halfway, revealing the jutting electric-blue coloured sports bra that featured an eye-catching white Nike ‘swoosh’ front and centre. She also carried a purse, an empty purse that she had slung loosely over one shoulder, that she hoped would prove tempting for an thieves or muggers.
She knew it was a huge risk she was taking and there was no guarantee that the Trench-coat vigilante would even be in the area, never mind witness and step in if and when she was attacked. But she needed this opportunity. It was her chance to finally kick start a stuck-in-a-rut career. And it felt like it was one of those all or nothing opportunities. It was the biggest opportunity to ever fall into her lap, a real-life larger than life exclusive and she knew that if she didn’t give it her all, she’d look back at this moment and always see it as perhaps her biggest failure. She had to go after it with both hands and let it lead her wherever it chose to. ‘Carpe diem’ and all that.
However, now that she was out here at night in what would politely be described as not the most upmarket part of town, with ineffectual street lights and long, deep shadows everywhere, April felt shivers of anxiety. And she was barely able to keep them from developing into full-on fear, by the thirteen-ounce weight of the flashlight stun gun in her small, pale hand.
April had relocated a block over from her apartment to where the closest subway station was. Though instead of going into the station she stayed up on the street, unsure of what exactly was the best way to go about attracting criminal and therefore vigilante attention.
To her left was a large hardware store, the subway entrance on the sidewalk at the store’s corner. She started walking, keeping the hardware store on her left and turning right down a narrower side street. This street had a small, family-run furniture store creating the left corner which backed onto a small wire-mesh fenced parking lot. Following the parking lot, still on the lest, was an alleyway that offered access to the backs of stores which fronted another street at right angles and at the far end of the street she was on.
Opposite the furniture store on her right, were the backs of other buildings, the rear of the main street the hardware store fronted. Further down was the rear and secondary entrance to a large shoe store. This long, low building featured a whole line of display windows filled with displays of assorted boots and shoes, high at the back to low at the front. They were mainly women’s but there was also a small selection of children’s and men’s shoes, boots and sneakers. At the far corner, rather than the continuation of the alleyway on the left side of the street, the shoe store backed onto a bail bondsman’s place, which took up the right side and front of the cross street. And a little along from the bail bond’s place was her bank, further down the cross street, with an alley separating it from whatever store flanked it.
There were only two working streetlights, near-side left and far-side right. And a meagre light adding a gritty pool of illumination into the parking lot. The Bail bonds place seemed to still have lights in the windows but everywhere else the lights were off and the shutters securely locked down. The street appeared to be deserted but little flickers of movement in her peripheral vision revealed people, who appeared to be keeping to the shadows.
There was at least one couple inside one of the parked cars in the lot. And human shaped shadows on the wall in the alley beyond the parking lot revealed multiple people down there too. April quickly started to wonder if she had stepped into a red-light district. She skirted the front of the wire mesh fence, looking at each of the three vehicles parked there. One of them was rocking. She got up to where the wire terminated, replaced on the right side with an old brick wall, maybe even the remnant of a demolished building that had given way for the parking lot. Maybe. It formed the left side of the alleyway, stretching the full depth of the lot, and was probably around eight feet in height. Where she paused was also the darkest point on the left side of the street, furthest away from its two light sources. She leaned against the bricks, keeping an ear out for people approaching her but her eyes were fixed on the vehicle while she watched the telling rhythmic motion.
By the way she was dressed, the girl in the car was either a hooker or fresh from a club. She was either Hispanic or dark tanned, it was hard to tell in the light. She had short, dyed pink hair, kind of punkish in style with gaudy bubble gum make-up, especially thick dark mascara and a thick Botox pout. She didn’t appear to be wearing much, an open cropped-length shirt in oversize black and white tartan, some kind of leather boob tube with lacings at the front barely covering large and probably fake breasts. And, as she got onto her knees in the passenger seat, leaning across the driver’s side, she showed off the incredibly snug black latex hotpants she was wearing. The light caressing her from the parking lot’s single point of illumination, showed off the attractive curves of her ass and even the swell of her vulva between them. The undercurves of her generous buttocks were visible, so was the alluring diamond of negative space between the tops of her inner thighs and the swell of her pussy.
The guy in the driver’s seat wore an open shirt showing off tattoos covering a tanned muscular chest. And oiled curls of black hair and dark glasses - even at night, along with a swaggering, whiter-than-white grin. Both his hands were down out of April’s view but he was obviously grabbing the top of the girl’s head and appeared to be pushing her vigorously up and down in his lap. Obviously sucking him off.
Even though she was supposed to be making herself visible, anxiety flared again and concerned about getting spotted, April slid around the other side of the wall into the mouth of the unlit alleyway and right into a full-on side view of another sexual extravaganza.
In the rear doorway of a store was a homeless person’s den, cardboard, a couple of plastic bags, a couple of blankets and a sleeping bag. The homeless person appeared to be a teenage runaway, or at least a young woman. And she had been discovered by a couple. A suavely dressed older man wearing an expensively tailored tuxedo already had the poor girl stripped from the waist down and was between her spread thighs screwing her rapidly while his equally glamourous female companion, in a fur-lined long coat, over a rucked up black cocktail dress, was squatting over the girl’s face with two fists in her dishevelled blonde hair. April watched for a couple of seconds, trying to work out if the apparently rich couple were raping the homeless girl or if maybe they had paid her money for some rough outdoor sex or something.
She wondered if she should call the cops but going by the speed and voracity they were both using on the girl, they would probably be finished and long gone before April even completed her report. And then the couple appeared to realise they were being watched and April abruptly found herself being stared at by three pairs of eyes. And the girl, possible-victim, looking at her over one of the rich looking woman’s naked thighs, didn’t appear to be in any distress. At least that was what April told herself as she hurried away to the opposite end of the street and into the reassuring lights of the bail-bondsman place.
Across the street was a small group of guys standing around a streetlight. They didn’t look like gangbangers, just young men, teens or early twenties. They seemed to simply be hanging out together; chatting and fooling around. Still… It made April feel uncomfortable and a potential target. Even though that was partially why she was out here at this time.
At the far end of the opposite side of this street was a bar. Maybe an ‘Irish pub’. April could hear the thrumming base beat of electronic rhythms along with the echoing, too loud palaver of drunk people chatting. There was a mixture, some laughter, some wolf whistles, some voices raised in argument. Most of the human noise was originating from the dozen or so people milling about on the corner outside the bar’s entrance.
Again, the streetlights seemed meagre and underpowered. Pools of dirty dull yellow, fighting back against the ever-encroaching, deepening shadows. April didn’t feel like she wanted to move away from the lights of the bail-bondsman place. She slipped into the shadows alongside a drainpipe that provided a separation line between the Bail bondsman place and whatever store was immediately next door, a Pawnshop by the look of the window display beyond its slatted metal shutters. Next to that was a sandwich shop, a cell phone supplies place and then the alleyway and then her bank.
She could see a small group of guys and girls emerge from the bar and cross the street, but they were heading away from her. Three other young women had also left the bar, had remained on the other side of the street but were approaching the small group of guys standing more or less opposite April. The girls were chatting and giggling to each other and the one in the middle appeared unsteady on her feet, clutching at the other two. This unsteady middle girl, had long straight brown hair and appeared to be of Latin descent. She was wearing a black minidress its floaty skirts pleated. then she had black heels, those six-inch stilettos being part of the reason she was so unsteady. Her outfit was finished off with and a black purse with a gold-chain strap and some gold bling. The girl to her right was white with short golden blonde hair and was much more ‘sporty’ in dress sense. Having on a crimson elasticated and cropped tank-top or sports-bra, which jutted like April’s did, and sky-blue yoga pants that showed off toned thighs and calves, though she also wore heels. The third girl was Asian, shorter than the other two with long black hair tied up in a bun, and was wearing denim hot pants and heeled boots, with knee socks and a loose, flowing white tank-top with spaghetti straps and a lace panel at her chest. They were in their own little bubble and didn’t seem to notice the group of five guys who had now acknowledged their approach and were currently spreading out across the sidewalk like a fishing net.
April watched and listened with heart-racing apprehension.
One of the guys approached the three girls, finally catching their attention. He stepped deliberately into their path, walking backwards as they tried to navigate around him and he kept pace and blocked their progress without ever quite getting physical. All too soon the other guys had slid forward as well forming a lewd, abrasive and obstinate wall in front of the annoyed and scowling girls. There was attempted flirtation and bravado coming from one direction and derision, anger and defensiveness from the other. And then one of the girls said something that rubbed one of the guys up the wrong way and he suddenly reached out and grabbed the shoulder of her black minidress angrily yanking at the strap and almost tugging the girl off her feet, she cursed and struggled against his grip, pulling herself out of his control but not before he had yanked hard enough that the neckline of her dress tore.
She screamed and shock and rage, spitting curses and then punched him in the shoulder and slapped him across the face. The punch he laughed off but the slap brought a different reaction and he swore at her and then punched her fiercely, square in the face. She dropped as though her strings had been cut. Luckily her Asian friend grabbed the girl as she collapsed so there was no ‘hitting her head on the sidewalk’ incident. The third girl, in the sporty gear, lost it and floored the guy who had attacked her friend. Screaming and cursing she shot forwards and booted him hard in the crotch and as he doubled over, she brought an elbow down hard on the back of his neck. He went down heavily and did appear to hit his head on the sidewalk. Three of the guy’s companions went after the sporty blonde, first shoving her hard and the following in with punches and kicks, she went down to the ground and their boots rained in after her. The Asian girl threw herself into them, a rushed shove that knocked two of them off balance and had the third tripping over his fallen friend.
The brunette in the black minidress was up again and trying to haul the sporty blonde up to her feet and the Asian girl immediately came to her other side to help pull her upright. The apparent leader of the guys shoved his way forward, pushing the brunette out of the way and then the sporty girl who was painfully getting to her feet and he grabbed the Asian girl by her inky black hair; pulling her, squealing, off balance. April noticed the guy had, at the same time, absently grabbed a fistful of the sporty girl’s bra-tank top and as he attacked the Asian girl, his fist jerked on the fabric and the sports-bra and it stretched away from her and then ripped. One of her large breasts tumbled out pale and lush in the harsh streetlight glow directly above her. She screamed and grabbed hold of her chest covering her partial nudity with a forearm. The sudden sexualisation of the fight seemed to excite the guys and their anger swung suddenly toward lustiness. The girls appeared to register this immediately and the three of them grabbed hold of each other and bolted.
The guys gave chase but one of them again tripped over his downed buddy and fell. On his way to the black-top, he reached for a buddy for support an accidentally took him down too. Two of their buddies avoided the collision and easily caught up with the girls, grabbing and tearing the Asian girl’s lacy tank-top. Squealing, she whipped herself sideways and managed to wriggle free of the guy’s grip. The other one got a hand onto the short blonde waves of the sporty girl’s hair and she was pulled screaming backward, half off her feet. While he had hold of her his free hand dipped and grabbed hold of her generous bust giving it a nasty squeeze. The girl whipped herself around, trying to shake free of him, and in doing so she found herself in a position to put her knee to his groin and she did so with a passion. He let out a breathless wheeze of cold agony at the impact, released her and slumped down to the street, curling up into a foetal ball. The girls ran again, up the street, the way they had come but on the opposite side.
That was when April realised the danger that she herself was now in. The lads were just feet from her, struggling up from the street. Some were obviously in pain; all were engulfed in a mean mashup of horny and angry and embarrassed. Of course, she was too noticeable, her jacket too brightly coloured, and frankly too attractive for them not to spot her and immediately turn their ire on her, as they realised the trio of girls they had started on were now out of reach. She saw her own imminent danger in their faces and bolted, following the same route as the three girls, even before the guys initiated their transfer of attention onto her.
April ran without looking back. Glad of her flat heeled, comfortable sneakers. She could feel the flashlight stun gun in her pocket and she tugged it free, gripping it in her white knuckled fist as though she was running a relay race. She could hear their echoing footfalls immediately behind her. The distinct shiver down her spine and the lifting of the hairs at the back of her neck, asserted that they must be right behind her. She could almost feel a hand closing on the collar of her jacket. Although already breathless, fear and desperation allowed her to find an extra burst of speed.
She didn’t know why but she spotted the alleyway alongside of her bank and April took the abrupt right hander, storming into the shadows. She regretted it immediately. The alley led nowhere. She came to a breathless halt, brick walls surrounding three out of four sides and the way back was blocked by advancing silhouettes of five angry and horny young men. They emerged into a pool of light over a fire door on the side wall of the bank. And she saw them, their misogyny, their lust, their aggression. All their eyes were locked on her, roving up and down her lusty curvaceous form, undressing her with their eyes, already raping her in their imaginations. One of them licked his lips obscenely, another reached down to caress the visible bulge in his nylon sweatpants and showing his teeth in a predatory grin.
With wide, tear-filled eyes and shaking visibly as she backed herself slowly into the corner of the alleyway, April brandished the flashlight. Switching it to stun gun mode, she activated it. The sudden electric cracking sounds deafening in the relative stillness of the shadow bathed alley. The blue-white arcs of electric current, dancing between the metal prongs, left aftereffects behind in her terror-filled eyes but the guys didn’t so much as slow their approach.
In fact, one of them produced a stun gun of his own, a black ergonomic block of a thing. He held it up for her to see and then mimicked her movements, her scared, shivery brandishing, his put-on facial expression a mockery of hers. Then he broke the last of April’s resolve by pressing the device to the bare skin of his bicep and switching it on. He held it in place for a full two seconds, his grin never fading, his approach never slowing. Then he pressed it to the bare shoulder of the guy closest to him who held her gaze while he nonchalantly took a prolonged jolt himself. April’s vestigial hope died and her only weapon slipped from her fingers to clatter to the filthy floor. The pink plastic housing cracked a triangular chunk, skipping off into the ether, one of the metal prongs falling away with it.
Tears flowed from April’s pretty brown eyes as the guys closed the distance between them. Flies were being unzipped; waistband-knotted gym pants unfastened in preparation for a prolonged gangrape. Something fun to do on a Friday night. A few hours of quality action to pass the time.
However, the guy on the farthest right of April was frowning, looking off at the rear door on the bank’s white stone wall which was to April’s right and few paces behind her. The guy nudged the companion to his right then angled his chin in the direction of whatever had caught his attention. The distraction from the fun April was offering fell away from the guys in a line from right to left, like an infection passing from one’s attention to the next, each one drawn away from the busty, auburn haired rape-meat toward something that arrested them, something over April’s right shoulder. There were a few exchanged looks, worried looks, a bit of nudging and jerking of heads back toward the street and then the guys all turned as one and hurried away.
April, her heart hammering in her chest, fear-spiked adrenaline giving her the shakes, slowly turned around. An image filled her imagination, of her saviour, the strange man in the fedora and oversize trench-coat emerging from the shadows, maybe gripping drum-magazine Thompson Submachine guns in each mittened hand. Maybe smoking a stogie, all cast in shadow other than the glowing red tip and a swirling finger of tobacco smoke.
What she did see was another fire door, this one wedged open, robust steel and coated in all-weather navy-blue paint. And the door was wedged open by a man, lying there slumped over in the reinforced steel doorframe. At first, she assumed it was a homeless man taking advantage of additional protection from the elements that the unlocked door promised. But then the details started to coalesce in her slowly calming mind, her reporter instincts and eye for detail reasserting themselves as the terror of being the victim of a protracted, violent gangrape dissipated.
The first detail she noticed was the clothing. Shirt and trousers and peaked cap and utility belt. Not quite cop. A security guard’s uniform. The bank’s security guard.
There were two other details that stood out to April’s investigative mind. The first was that, rather embarrassingly, the security guard’s fly was gaping open and his wilted cock was exposed, limp and hanging there like a discarded wiener. It glistened wetly and there was a tell-tale patch of darkness on the crotch of his opened uniform trousers. The second was the individual’s familiarity. April found herself carefully approaching the man and as she turned her head to bring his face parallel in her view, she realised that it was the same security guard who had appeared to have been chatting, even flirting, with that teenage boy while she had been making her withdrawal the previous morning.
Then a shifting shadow on the interior side of the half open door snatched her attention and reasserted the palpitating pangs of anxiety. Backing slowly away from the door, April shuffled backward, trying to make her way out of the alley while she fumbled for her cell phone and shakily managed to dial 911. She got halfway along the alley’s length while she attempted to alert the authorities, her voice quivering in fear and forced into a hissing whisper - “There’s a possible break-in at the bank on East fifth and…” - but that was as far as she got.
Something snatched the phone clear out of her hand. Her lizard brain screamed at her to run and she did jerk back as the phone was snatched from her grip and skittered across the floor of the alley. But her confusion and shock forced her attention to follow the trajectory of the phone so really only her head made any attempt at movement. It took an additional second for her eyes to take in the information the floored phone provided and even more time for her brain to make sense of it.
There was a large metal star embedded in the shattered though still illuminated screen of her phone. It was a flat disc of polished metal with little triangular spikes or blades edging. Something she had seen before, though the design was a little different. It took a minute for her to bring up its name, from the last time she had come across one on the subway car and had looked it up when she had returned home, among a number of Asian weapons. Death-star. Throwing-star. Ninja-star.
Even as she stared mutely at her ruined phone, April felt a presence behind her, aware that it was also the position of that open fire door and the assumedly dead security guard. There was a whisper of cloth, the tiny squeak of rubber, and quick excited breathing. She turned around and found herself staring into pitch blackness… and within it a pair of eyes. It took her a further second to understand what she was looking at, but the black cloth was darker than the shadows intending to conceal it, so she recognised that it was a person and that they were clad head to foot in black.
Later on, she would research the traditional clothing of the Ninja and find out all the terms and pieces that went into the costume but in the moment, she saw baggy trousers that had been secured tight to the lower legs. Soft shoes, like pumps or boat shoes, though they had the big toes separated from the rest. The upper garment was like a karate-gi but in black. And again, the forearms were wrapped up tight and snug gloves covered the hands. The head was covered in a hood and a cloth mask covered the face from the eyes down. There was even something like goggles over the eyes, a pair of egg-shaped coverings of wire mesh, painted matt-black and sewn onto a cloth that was worn like a Lone Ranger mask. The mesh eggs obscured any view of the eyes underneath while she assumed allowing the wearer essentially clear vision. There were no visible details, no other colours, nothing distinguishable other than pleats and folds and knots and the vague shape of the human body beneath.
In the split second she had to analyse what stood in the shadows in front of her, she came to the realisation that it wasn’t the only one. For the second time in only the last few minutes, she felt a strong and horrifying sense that someone was standing behind her. Even as she felt herself turning to look behind her, April spotted another one stepping out of the bank’s shadowy interior into the doorway, staring at her.
She was half right about there being another one behind her, there were in fact two. Two behind, one in front and a fourth to her left. And nowhere for her to go. The one from the doorway came forward to stand next to the first one. They exchanged looks.
“Get a load of this.”
April thought she caught a hint of an accent, maybe Hispanic, though she couldn’t be sure.
“I know right!”
“fucking jackpot.”
“Guys, we’re here for the bank, remember. Master Tatsu said…”
That voice was softer and higher, possibly female?
“I’m Chunin, you’re Genin! We’re here for what I say we’re here for. If you don’t want to join in, go and bag up the cash.”
“…Yes Chunin.”
“And don’t ever try to remind me of Tastsu’s orders. Remember your place.”
“Stop being an asshole. Chunin.”
<><><>
Lily Chow had been part of a small gang of foster system runaways that master Tatsu had discovered on the streets and taken under his wing and his protection. Actually, he had first discovered two of them trying to break into his van, had forced them to take him back to their makeshift little den in the rafters of a disused warehouse on the southside, where he gathered up the others.
To begin with they were terrified of master Tatsu, quickly learning he was not someone to be messed with. Though once he revealed his friendly and good-natured side, he befriended the little six-strong group and began the grooming process. He gave them a safe place to stay, food and clothes and then gave them discipline by teaching them martial arts and fitness and stimina training. The teachings developed into a number of useful and wide-ranging subjects including: how to listen to three conversations at once, how to remember things they heard and recall them word for word. How to move without making a sound, though that was taking them a while to master. How to pick pockets, how to walk around unnoticed in a crowd.
And then came the formal introductions to the clan. It was like a gang affiliation but somehow more noble and Lily took to it with a passion. The sense of belonging, the excitement, the hard work that gave forth its own rewards, and skills that were actually useful in a thousand different scenarios. There was a graduation and a party and everything. At the graduation they were made aware of ‘The Foot’. That they were now Genin. They learned of the clan’s ancient origins that began halfway around the world. They learned its mantra -
"We do the foot work. We are the boots on the ground. We are everywhere. We are the Foot clan."
It sounded to Lily like it had been made up on the spot. Maybe it had been, just for their personal benefit. Though, maybe something had been lost in translation.
They learned that they were a family, that everyone had everyone else’s back. And they learned that they had a mission. They even learned that master Tatsu had a master of his own. Though no one knew anything about this mystery individual, just that the brand each of them had to voluntarily subject themselves to was his mark - a foot inside a circle. It showed they belonged to him. They were family and he, whoever he was, was their patriarch. They jokingly called him the Godfather. Though never within earshot of master Tatsu. And other than that one time at graduation, master Tatsu never spoke of his master at all.
When Lily heard master Tatsu was introducing trials to rank up certain promising members of the clan, she threw herself into that promise; seeing the possibility of possessing a little bit of power for the first time in her life. They were known as the Chunin, middle management, essentially. And Lily wanted that prestige. She put her all into it, into her studies, her training, practice and sparring. And then to hedge her bets she even went so far as to try and bribe master Tatsu with sexual favours. Whatever he wanted.
She assumed that last tactic had insulted his honour when she learned that she had been passed over in favour of Arturo, one of the group of friends she had joined with.
It was only a couple of months after that disappointment that master Tatsu had secured her a job interview at the bank. He had organised some of the computer savvy guys in the clan to insert a false resumé and references that secured her the interview and then he had come to Lily and told her what his plan was, both for her and for the contents of the bank’s vault. Her mission was to secure that job at all costs.
Lily knew how attractive she was and she knew her best chance of getting an older man, such as a bank manager to give her what she wanted was to give him what he wanted. And she had enough experience to recognise that the bank manager wanted her when she sat across from him. She worked her attractive suit, the semi-transparent blouse under the fitted navy jacket and the short navy skirt, that showed off stockings and suspenders when she crossed her legs in front of him. She unfasted her jacket and hung it on the back of her chair while he quizzed her on her resumé which, using her clan skills, she had memorised, even creating a few minor though convincing anecdotes to assure believability.
Of course, the deal had been all but sealed when he had looked up from his iPad and saw her without her jacket, and that her semi-transparent blouse revealed that fact she weas bra-less. He stared and Lily stared straight back, performing the ‘young impressionable girl’ who was as innocent as she was naturally seductive, the look could have been naïve or brazen, it was designed to play on the feelings of the receiver. She watched his responses and judged his mood and the kind of person he was, embarrassed and cautious but also turned on and very much interested. His approach became playfully flirtatious but walking a fine line that could be brushed off as a young girl misinterpreting what he was saying. But it was there.
So, Lily flirted back, becoming increasingly brazen until there were no misunderstandings to be had. She had started subtly and used the taught techniques to gauge his responses and guide him into accepting that what he wanted was on the cards, without being too slutty or open.
She had judged through the interview that he was a closet dominant but it was subdued, as though he was a submissive in his marriage but wasn’t happy with that arrangement. So, Lily offered herself through suggestion and empowering behaviour, she proposed to provide for him the role he really wanted - to be in control sexually. Once it was done and she was sitting on his lap with his tongue in her mouth and his hands inside her open blouse and under her skirt, she lit the candle on his birthday cake.
“I suppose you’ll do whatever you want to me, won’t you Mister Langley?”
She had said it in a wide eyed, anxious way, diminishing herself and her power while heightening his own and feeding that long-crushed desire to dominate and control.
“Of course, I will Lily. And you’ll take it. If you want the job, that is.”
“I need this job, sir... So, I’ll do whatever you tell me. Anything you tell me, sir.”
“Damn right you will.”
Of course, Lily had a small digital camera concealed within her purse and had the whole experience on video to be used as potential blackmail, if he decided to screw her over after screwing her. If she didn’t procure the job through one illicit means, she had a back-up means ready and available.
Fortunately, following the surprisingly vigorous and energetic screw, Langley kept his word and she had started a week later. Even more surprisingly was that he didn’t insist on repeat performances, which Lily had been fully expecting and prepared for. Her impression had been one of guilt - that the manager had been so guilty of cheating on his wife, or maybe even over the bruises and painful welts he had left the poor girl’s porcelain skin, that he didn’t dare approach her again. Which was fine by her, of course.
Her job in the bank entailed working on the counter, serving customers, and that was fine with Lily and nothing she couldn’t manage. Her real job, for master Tastsu, was reconnaissance and information retrieval. She memorised codes, procedures, the timing of locks and how the cameras worked. She even took impressions of keys, old style - with a make-up compact filled with modelling clay. She observed and wrote up profiles of the staff members, from the manager down to the security guards. And she even uploaded software handed to her by the clan’s computer geeks so they could do whatever it was they did to the bank’s computer systems and security stuff, all that hacking shit. She’d be interested in learning how they do that. Maybe she’d fuck a couple of them and get them to revealed their secrets.
Once she had got everything on the list master Tatsu had given her it was a waiting game. And then a week ago they had been given the go ahead. It would be Arturo as team leader of course, being their Chunin. Then Travis, Eric and herself as the Genin, literal foot-soldiers. They boys came in that morning, partially to familiarise themselves with the layout, using their own skills to gather information for themselves. Eric the artist, sketching the layout. Arturo playing the little kid and innocently capturing tons of video capture on his phone, including how many cameras and their positions. Travis had been given the important duty of getting easy access to the bank by seducing the lonely security guard. He got the older guy to promise to meet him at the backdoor down the alleyway after closing where they could have a little fun. Based around Lily’s background of him being lonely and either closet gay or just privately so, and working out Travis was the closest in their cell to the guard’s ‘type’, Travis would have the best chance of getting that back door open so they could gain access.
Love, sex and loneliness was the easiest manipulator there was. Lily knew it through her own experiences and now Travis was learning it too. They let him go on ahead and enjoy his ‘date’ while the rest of them got onto the roof of the building opposite. They slipped into their clan gear, used grappling ropes to cross onto the bank’s roof, and then scaled down the outer wall into the shadows of the alley. And all while Travis was busy sucking security guard cock in the ajar doorway of the bank’s rear entrance.
The guard didn’t know what hit him. A blowgun dart dipped in homemade potassium cyanide. Though in the few minutes it took for him to actually collapse and die, Eric being the biggest and strongest of the three boys broke the man’s neck, using the opportunity to practice a technique they had been shown by master Tatsu. Travis had kept the alley door open while they dealt with the man, and they decided to use his body to temporarily wedge the door, securing their main escape route.
Lily led Arturo and Eric through the interior of the bank, and once they were in the vault they bagged up as much cash as they could into a half dozen plain black sports bags. At the same time Travis switched into his own clan gear and then set up the pully system to take the bags from the alley to the roof. However, as they were dragging the heavy bags from the vault to the back door - down the corridor and through that staff kitchen - Travis had alerted them to the newcomers down the alley, using their earpieces and tapping a predetermined signal that came through like morse-code static. By the time the four of them had rushed back to the wedged open door there was just the lone woman still present.
Annoying, but not particularly surprising, the three hormonally horny teenage boys lost their minds when they saw her; beautiful, eye-wateringly curvaceous and completely alone. She stood at the end of an alleyway that no-one in their right minds would think to venture down in the middle of the night, staring at the open door. Snatching out her cell phone, she started to call the cops. Lily smashed it with a well-aimed shaken.
The boys immediately surrounded the woman, their dicks obviously having taken them over completely. Lily was ordered by Arturo to finish off transporting the bagged cash while the boys had their fun. She couldn’t believe her ears. Or her good fortune. This was the perfect opportunity to prove to master Tatsu that he had made a mistake promoting Arturo to Chunin rather than herself.
Let them gangrape the woman while she hoisted the bags onto the roof. She would report them all to master Tatsu and then she would be Chunin, and they would all get their asses kicked and demoted. If they were lucky.
Lily watched the guys encircle the woman in a tight triangle, stopping her from going anywhere. Arturo was the ring leader obviously, but the other two were far from complacent or subservient to him. She tried to dodge past them but she had no chance. Before she really knew it, Travis stripped a length of cloth from one of his forearms and blindfolded the woman with it. At the same time Eric pinned her arms behind her back, putting her into a simple armlock. Arturo meanwhile reached immediately for her jacket, yanked the zipper down and then yanked it open, dragging it down off her shoulders and exposing the over-full bulging sports-bra beneath. Lily, small and slender and sporting little more than an A-cup chest, wondered how it felt to carry around all that. It certainly had the stereotypical effect on the guys. There were sharp inhales, the clan training falling away and leaving room for ‘hormonal teenager’ to come screaming and rampant to the fore, multiplied by three. With her safely blindfolded, they boys tugged down the masks exposing their faces and their hungry lips.
Eric, having a hand free, reached around and cupped one of those big boobs. Travis, standing to the woman’s left, slid both hands over them from the upper slopes down. Arturo grinned, going for the middle, stroking the tips of his fingers in little circles where her nipples were more than likely found.
He relinquished control after only a couple of seconds, letting the other two go for their lives at her barely contained over-generous bosom while he grabbed the blindfolded woman on both sides of her face, palms against her jaw and turned her face to his. He drew her toward him, leaning in for a kiss, the romantic fool. Until he opened his mouth wide like a feeding whale shark and led with his tongue. The woman, shivering uncontrollably, appeared to give up all attempts to struggle free, apparently deciding to accommodate her captors, to capitulate. Lily assumed she had guessed Arturo’s intent as she halfway pursed her lips to blindly accept his kiss, only to be assaulted by his thick slobbering tongue immediately parting her lips to give him access.
Lily watched for an extra second as Eric and Travis together reached under the woman’s boobs to pull up her sports bra, baring her immense bosom while she accepted Arturo’s thick tongue, uncertainly suckling on the member as it probed the inside of her mouth. Lily wondered if she was smart enough to control the urge to bite down. She wasn’t sure she would have been if she had found herself in the woman’s position. Though, she would never have wandered down a dark alley in the middle of the night in the first place.
Leaving them to it, Lily dragged the guard back inside the corridor, using his cap to keep the door from automatically locking shut, and then she dragged the first of the sports bags of cash into the alley. She hitched two of the bags by their handles via a climbing carabiner onto the rope and then working the rope hand over hand using the pulley system, she hauled them up to the rooftop. There was supposed to be someone on the roof to unclip each bag and then lower the rope for more bags and so on. However, the boys were all busy. Lily glanced over to confirm.
They had pulled the woman to the filthy ground, flat on her back, and they were all over her like a pack of hungry dogs. Arturo still had her head vice-clamped in his hands. The rest of her was pinned by their combined weight, knees pressing on her splayed arms, hands on her thighs.
The Chunin was still forcing kisses on her and she was whole heartedly reciprocating, no doubt hoping cooperation would ensure survival, opening her mouth to accept his delving tongue and suckling on it. Lily assumed the woman believed there were no other options open to her, and with their clan training she wasn't mistaken. Of course, the other two appeared to be obsessed with her big naked boobs and were slobbering all over the two huge, strawberry-topped blancmanges.
The woman was breathing heavily, tears already staining the blindfold but she lay there shivering and docile as she was held down and assaulted. Arturo had one hand on her throat, firm but not choking and the other fisted in her hair, fingers entwined in her russet waves, keeping her head steady for his lips and tongue. As Lily watched, Arturo released the woman’s throat and reached down to his umanori hakama, trying to free his dick from the traditional pants.
She obviously wasn’t going to get any help from the guys anytime soon. So, sighing in exasperation, Lily grabbed her own abseil rope and, using her clan training, quickly scaled the alley wall to the roof and completed the procedure herself. Before abseiling back down to hook up the next two bags of loot. This was going to utterly exhaust her if she had to do all six bags herself and climb up and down the wall as well. She looked back at the gang, hoping for the best yet expecting the worst.
Eric and Travis both had one hand each down the front of the woman’s yoga pants, her legs spread apart, they had both stepped over her spread legs, one tabi-clad foot inside the ‘v’ of her thighs to keep them apart. Their hands resembled two silhouetted writhing bulges at her crotch. She was still choking on Arturo’s tongue but he had managed to secure one of her breasts for himself and was pulling and twisting the firmed nipple, squeezing the hefty, soft looking orb with his palm and remaining fingers. He also had his dick exposed. It was jutting awkwardly from his loosened clan trousers. And the woman’s hand, Arturo manually controlling her wrist, was wrapped around the shaft and tugging awkwardly at his circumcised erection.
Eric and Travis seemed to have simultaneously come to the same decision of pushing the fun onwards and had grabbed her yoga pants and were trying to tug them down her thighs. Half of the pale crescent of her thong adorned butt was already unveiled but she wasn’t lifting her hips to help, which was a little surprising. And Lily could hear her muffled wet moans of protest around the Chunin’s deep probing tongue.
As the Foot clan kunoichi turned to get back to her duty, something odd abruptly caught Lily’s attention. Something to the very rear of the alleyway in its deepest shadows. She couldn’t understand what it was she was seeing. She frowned, peering into the pitch-black gloom, trying to force her eyes to work better. Then she realised there was a disc of blackness that was an even deeper shade of jet than everything around it. But what did that mean? Then it came to her. There was a manhole over there which had been covered and was now inexplicably open.
<><><>
April was trying her best to cooperate with these ninja-boys but it was getting harder and harder to control her rising panic the further they pushed their assaults. She told herself, once she accepted the fact that escape was impossible, that they were just after her body and once they had enjoyed themselves, they’d let her go. They wouldn’t kill her, unless she pissed them off. So, it seemed paramount that she didn’t piss them off.
However, feeling their firm, hurtful hands on her breasts, and then the guy stuffing his tongue down her throat, pulling her hair and almost choking her; she found it hard to still the incessant urge to struggle, pull away, lash out or run. And when she felt them gather her bra up onto her chest and the cold night air wash over her exposed tits, she really struggled to keep still and fight down the fight-or-flight urge. Once she was dragged to the floor and pinned painfully by their knees and their powerful hands, it was almost too much for her. And feeling two of them pulling at her pants with her legs already forced apart, reality bit deep. She was about to be gangraped and these guys, though they seemed little more than boys. They were strong and powerful and she felt like they would really know how to hurt her. But the panic took her over and she squealed and struggled under them, bucking and trying to fight free of their collective grasp. But it was to no avail. All she had done was piss them off and probably given them an excuse to hurt her, to make it even harder for her.
She momentarily flashbacked to those eighties rejects in the subway car and how she had been forced to accommodate their lusts, first two of them spit roasting her and then that anal obsessive prick who had brutally fucked her in the ass. That had been moments before the Trench-coat vigilante had appeared and saved her. But that seemed like such a long time ago and the chances of him reappearing to repeat the same scene specifically for her felt like one in a billion now.
She managed to pull one arm free but scraping it against the rough concrete of the ground painfully lacerated the bare skin of her upper arm, as well as tore the fabric of her jacket. She imagined bits of gravel and detritus, possibly even glass fragments digging into her sleeve and her flesh.
She hurriedly grasped the waistband of her pants at one side and pull them partially back up over her ass. But then her wrist was snatched back, pinned and kneeled on even more firmly, and April squealed around muffling rapist tongue. Her tits were pulled and slapped as punishment as the two hands started dragging down her pants again. The cock in her other fist was hot and she could feel the solid muscles bulging and hardening as she jerked it as well as she could, the veins pulsing against her palm and encircling fingers.
And then they weren’t there at all.
There was a momentary rush and flurry and something big and heavy whipped across her and the next instant April was no longer being held down on the ground by three guys dressed like ninjas.
She tugged the blindfold off, momentary dazzled by the light above the bank’s fire door. Blinking through the glare, she recognised three onyx shapes, darker than the shadows around them. Slowly, awkwardly they pulled themselves up off the ground. At least one of them was groaning. One of them drawled out a wheezing curse. April didn’t know Japanese, but she knew enough Spanish to recognise Hispanic cursing. These particular Ninjas definitely weren’t from Japan.
She pulled herself to her feet, hiking the yoga pants up around her waist, dragging her bra down over her tits and shouldering the jacket back into position. But then she saw the fourth ninja, the slender shorter one with a definite femininity to her movements, step across between April and the mouth of the alley.
The female Ninja reached behind her and pulled out what looked like an overlarge folding knife. There was a black handle, a simple cylindrical shaft maybe eighteen inches long with a limb of flat curved metal folded in against the handle. The female Ninja expertly wheeled the shaft around her hand, showing off. And as she did, the limb of matte-finished metal flicked out taking on the shape of a long, curved talon which locked into place at right angles to the shaft at its head. The woman gripped the opposite end of the weapon and drew it into a fighting posture. It was a sickle, to all intents and purposes.
April took a fearful step backward, the curved blade of the weapon making her heart hammer against her chest.
“Don’t… It wasn’t… I didn’t…”
A rough inhuman snarl somewhere to April’s right made her jump.
“The Sewer. Behind you. Run!”
It was like whoever had spoken had been chewing on gravel. She ran. Spinning on her heel, glad of the grip of the sneakers that helped her control her movement. Seeing the open manhole and throwing all her focus and desperation into that disc of light-consuming blackness. A blackhole of hope.
Lowering herself into that blackness, April had to spin herself around and then feel downward with the toes of her sneakers to find the rusted metal rungs of the ladder. Though, once under her feet and then her hands, she hurried her descent into the rank, stinking darkness beneath.
She muttered to herself over and over, that whatever was down in the stinking sewers of Manhattan was infinitely superior to being subjected to a protracted gangrape on the floor of an equally filthy alleyway on the surface.
Hitting the cold splash at the bottom of the gloom the gut-wrenching smell instantly washed over her. After a second’s uncontrollable gagging, April blinked the tears from her eyes, quickly realising that it was no longer quite so utterly dark down here. Either her eyes had adjusted, or there was a source of light somewhere down these sewers. There was a wetness on the century-old brickwork, it glistened, giving her enough of a sense of how far apart the walls were and that they stretched away to her left and right, a straight shot into a formless id in both directions.
A hurried sniff in both ways suggested one being slightly less aromatic. So, trying to ignore the cold wetness enveloping her feet, ankles and soaking up halfway to her shins, April took off in that direction.
<><><>
The Foot didn’t know what had happened, and looking around the dim alleyway they couldn’t see what had attacked them but their blood was up and their instinct to hunt aflame, even Lily. Within seconds the guys were giving chase, leaping into the air and dropping smoothly down the manhole.
Travis was the furthest away but he got to the manhole first, launching ahead and parkouring his way straight down the manhole. Eric was right on his heels. Arturo had to take an extra second to lever his erection back into his hakama so he used that extra second to have another look around for whatever it was had knocked them away from the woman. He hadn’t seen what it had been either, just a blur of fabric with something hard, solid and powerful beneath it. Powerful enough to slam all three of them off the woman and apparently accurate enough not to touch her.
He saw nothing. Except Lily, standing there like the dumb bitch she was and staring up at the shadows halfway up the right angle of the bank’s wall and the rear wall of the alley. He snarled at her.
“Hey, Genin! Get your ass in gear and get after that cunt!”
“Wait, I think there’s something…”
“Shut up, follow your Chunin’s orders, for fuck’s sake!”
“Shouldn’t I get the bags and…?”
“Move!”
“Jesus…” She muttered, following him as he leaped down into the sewer.

The four of them caught up to the woman at a raised intersection with five other tunnels to take, like spokes off a wheel hub. Lily assumed the woman had taken too long deciding which one of those spokes to take which gave them the chance to catch up. Their clan training, youthful energy and, even more for the boys, the promise of a super-hot piece of ass gave the team the speed and energy to hunt her down, trap her and take her.
The four black-clad clan members drew up to a halt behind the woman, the three guys spreading themselves around the shadowy, brickwork circumference of the intersection, essentially cutting of the woman’s escape routes. Unless she had their reactions and speed, which she almost certainly didn’t. She tried to escape all the same. Lily stood in the mouth of the tunnel entrance which all of them had taken to reach the intersection, watching the excited boys and their terrified prey.
The woman, eyes bulging in horror, tried her best. She feigned left and then broke right but Travis was too close and too fast on his feet and he blocked her passage toward her chosen duct. She backed away but the other two advanced as one, tightening the noose around her. She tried to dart between them but their gloved hands shot out, snaring her like barbs, catching her upper arms, fisting around fabric and muscle alike. She screamed loud and long but down here they didn’t care.
“Please don’t… Please… Don’t…”
They didn’t care about her pleas either. Gripped tight and encircled until the four of them were just a single clump in the gloom. The guys wasted no time. The woman’s jacket was dragged down again, yanked straight off her limp arms until it was little more than a belt, caught around her slender waist. She screamed at the sudden aggression. This time the zipper, drawn up as far as her midriff, was ripped savagely apart. A score of tiny metal teeth scattered, the tab and slider too. Then her jacket was idly cast aside.
The woman instinctively recoiled, bending forward, her arms coming up across her chest. Eric slid around behind her, grabbed her upper arms and dragged her up and back, straightening her spine and pulling her arms away from her chest.
This time Arturo and Travis went in for her sports bra, though this time it was fully removed, Eric helping by forcing her arms up over her head. They repeated the previous foreplay, only the positions had switched, Travis and Arturo latched onto her huge breasts with both hands and mouths, one huge boob apiece. And she had more than enough to go around. While Eric, still holding her arms over her head, one hand encircling her wrists, used his other hand to pinch her jawline and turn her tear-streaked face toward him. He held her big, gleaming brown eyes with his narrow grey ones for a moment before pressing his lips onto hers.
<><><>
Again, April forced herself to embrace unquestioning obedience. No other alternative came to mind. There would be no one to help her down here after all. She was at their mercy and they had already killed one man. So, she opened her mouth for, she assumed, the leader’s tongue. Then she kissed him back, trying to force heat and eroticism into their plied lips and pursuing tongues, even though it was the last thing she felt. She made it animated and voracious, forcing herself to push onward. Betting on the theory that if she made them happy with her, they might just let her live.
The other two were fierce. Firmly squeezing and pulling on her breasts; harsh, hot chewing at her nipples, accompanied with sharp, raw suction as they sucked as hard as they could. It was almost vampiric. Though at the same time, it was far from unexpected, a treatment she had experienced countless times before today. It seemed to be a staple of horny men; rash, aggressive uncomfortable and all too often pain-inflicting.
It had been the case with Dave, with Carson James, with Mister Thompson, Her landlord. Dave’s boss, who she’d had to fuck to secure the promotion for Dave. That had been an uncomfortable night. She had wanted nothing more than to sit in her apartment alone and think up her strategy of how to use her interaction with the Trench-coat vigilante to further her career. There was a story there. A big story, and she was the only one who had the opportunity to develop it. However, instead she had been coerced into getting a cab over to that man’s chosen hotel room to entertain his passions.
She hadn’t eaten but he didn’t offer to take her out for a meal or anything just opened the door, practically salivating and already utterly naked and erect. He dragged her inside and started pulling at her clothes without so much as a “nice to make your acquaintance”. She asked him for something to drink while he was struggling with her boots but all he would offer her were the lines of cocaine already laid out on the table opposite the bed. April had politely refused and nipped to the mini-fridge for a small bottle of water while the guy did yet another couple of lines. Then before she knew it, she had been tossed onto the bed, pinned under his weight and slobbered over. Afterwards her breasts especially were raw, sore and tender. Her ass hadn’t fared any better, he’d whipped her and spanked her with both his hand and a leather riding crop, after having stuffed a ball gag into her mouth and manacled her wrists to the bedstead with cheap fur-lined handcuffs. He had been quick to climax. The multiple hits of cocaine and the Viagra he had been popping like they were going out of date had given him resurgent erections and he had fucked her numerous times well into the early hours. Fortunately for April, each climax had proved less than the previous and his weak stamina had illuminated his inability to stand up, compared to his ever-hard cock. He had fallen asleep, erection still jutting obscenely. April had dutifully sucked away on it all the same, either trying to wake him up again or to get his cock to cum and deflate, but eventually she had to give it up as a bad job.
She had left him snoring the roof off the place and got a cab home, hoping she had satisfied him.
She was glad that it was only a one-night-stand, in order to repay the favour from Dave, and that she never had to see him again. The next day her breasts had been covered with welts and bruises, evidence of both love bites and real bites. Still having to wear her official yellow jumpsuit to work with her ubiquitous on-display cleavage, had asserted the need for concealer and lots of it to hide the marks that would take over a week to eventually fade. She had only just regained her plush, creamy, unblemished skin in time for the meeting with Carson James, and now this was the outcome.
At best she’d end up gangraped and mottled by more bruising and soreness. And with nothing to show for it. If this was what it was going to be like, putting herself in danger night after night just to hopefully interact with the Trench-coat vigilante, then it absolutely wouldn’t be worth it. But right now, all she could do was focus on doing whatever she could to ensure her own survival.
They had their hands down her yoga pants now, all three of them, her elastic waistband shoved halfway down her thighs and her thong along with it. Someone shoved a foot between her sneakers and kicked her legs wider so they had easier access to her shaved pussy and clenched anus.
Someone was pinching cruelly at her clit, pressing and rolling the tender flesh of the surrounding hood against her little sensitive button. As she hissed with discomfort, her groin churning and jolting in response to the insensitive manhandling of her most sensitive nerve cluster, April found herself wondering if men actually thought that such savage attention directly on a woman’s most sensitive points was in anyway pleasurable. Did they actually think this would get her wet?
Then multiple digits pressed against her other warm and tender areas. Her anus was penetrated, first by one finger then two, then three. Her rectal muscles clenched involuntarily and her anus cramped painfully around the invaders, making her whimper and groan around the tongue still assaulting her mouth. And then the action was repeated at her pussy. Her tender labia were spread apart by questing fingers, fingertips momentarily teasing and stroking her tight little vaginal mouth, before they pushed their way inside, firmly, invasive. They drove in until the knuckles mashed against her soft vulva. April moaned in pointless protest, feeling overfull. Inexplicably, in her mind the fingers took on the feel of tentacles, wriggling around in her private parts, making her feel like a hentai victim, from one of those mid-nineties’ anime Dave used to make her watch.
They carried on for an indeterminate time, April’s spread legs shaking, feet aching, breasts throbbing from both the cold and the hot rampant energies of the guys attacking her, while her stretched and overloaded ass and pussy throbbed with their own hot protests. And so far, there wasn’t even a penis in sight.
“Spoke too soon.” April thought to herself. She felt her wrists suddenly released from above her head, pulled down to her sides then away from her body. The next second stiff spongy shafts of hot phallus were pressed into both her limp palms. Erect cocks, the weapons she was no doubt about to be assailed with, pulsed insistently within her fists as she gripped both and started working on them blindly, apparently a little first-course before the main event initiated.
The acceleration to the main event ramped up very suddenly, taking April by surprise. First of all, the guy nastily assaulting her left breast relinquished his possession, handing it over to the other one who took over, easily maintaining the same degree of pain inducing molestation while the first guy dropped down into a crouch by her left foot and hurriedly dragged her yoga pants and panties down to her ankles.
The third guy abruptly took it a step further. He pulled his tongue out of April’s mouth and took a step back, laying a sudden slap across the face ‘playfully’, before disappearing into the gloom. He reappeared a split-second later with April’s jacket which he dumped onto the mould-speckled bare bricks of the intersection floor and then lay down on it on his back. He craned his neck to look back at the trio.
“C’mon, fetch her over here. We can take her all together.” He said, the air of command clear in his voice.
“Oh yeah, like we did to that girl in that 7-Eleven last month?”
“Man, she was cute as hell. Shame she ain’t never been back there since.”
“Shame, ‘cause you wanted another go in her?”
“I’ll take the fifth.”
Their easy laughter made April feel momentarily sick. Whatever happened to the caring New York spirit, where everyone looks out for everyone? Had it ever actually existed?
“Cute, sure. But she’s nothing next to this piece.” The guy lying down snapped. “So, hurry up. Cunt’s mine, you two can fight over the other holes.”
“No fight there, bud. I love me some tight little ass.” The tallest said, his words thick with amusement.
Then the same tall black-clad rapist slid around behind April, hooked his forearms under hers and then hoisted her easily off her feet. She let out a gasp, as though winded. She felt intimately aware of her nakedness as the crouching guy slid her pants and panties over her sneakered feet and tossed them, before he slid himself out of the path of the guy carrying April. This tall powerfully built individual manhandled her over to the guy lying down. She was lowered casually over the bared hips of the lying down guy, his muscular arms making sure her legs were spread out on either side of his hips as she descended toward his waiting erection. So, this was it, she was about to be triple penetrated. ‘Made airtight’ as the kids these days said… Though in actual fact she had probably learned the term from Dave.
<><><>
Again, Lily didn’t see anything coming. She leaned disgruntled and impatient, against the slimy sewer wall, trying to block out the smells and the imaginings of all the horrible things that might be down here. She casually watched the three idiot so-called clan members crowd in around the captive woman. Watched her being made to slide her pussy down onto Arturo’s pencil dick while Eric crouched behind her, aiming his thick warhead at her ass and Travis pulled her head up by a hand under her chin while his other hand fished out his handsome though average length meat. Eric leaned in, pressing the swollen circumcised crown of his dick against the woman’s ass hole and started to push. She almost immediately unleashed a pained urgent moan. However, Eric didn’t quite manage to get his dick into the woman’s ass. Something interrupted him.
Lily wasn’t sure what had happened. There was no sound or even anything to see other than a split-second glint of light caught in mid travel. But Eric’s sudden reaction was shocking and deafening.
Lily felt herself unconsciously pushing off the wall into a taijutsu fire stance, Kama already in her off hand, casual wrist-flick bringing the blade out and locking it in place. But with no enemy in sight, she didn’t know what to do. Looking for understanding, she turned her attention to her clan members, watching Eric turn around her way. Even in the gloom she could see there was something long, straight and thin sticking out of his right eye socket.
He staggered back, screaming, utterly freaked out, hands clawing the air around his ruined eye though apparently unwilling to grasp the actual object. A large dull blur burst from the shadows, nothing more than a grey-green shape with a glint of metal. And then Lily watched in mute disbelief and horror as Eric was bisected on the spot. Hip to shoulder. The upper half whipped through the air, corona-ed by a great burst of arterial spray, most of it spurting out of the careening upper half of the severed torso. While the lower half, exposed innards welling and overflowing with blood like an overfull sink, seemed to stagger for a second before overbalancing and hitting the bricks; intestines and organs blubbing clear of the opened end to splurge forth.
Lily gaped unable to understand what she was seeing. The horror movie gore made hyperreal by additional senses of smell and taste, the metallic stink of hot blood suddenly thick in the already putrid air.
The upper half flopped on its back on the bricks, spinning a little until friction stilled it. The cloth covered head lolled. Lily finally recognising that the thing sticking out of his eye was a makeshift bo shuriken. A, no doubt sharpened, chopstick. She could even see royal blue Chinese calligraphy of the thicker end, spattered with blood. She had trained in the use of shuriken darts herself and knew it was extremely hard with get them to stick into a target, let alone with any depth. That one, given the average length of a chopstick, must be buried a good four inches inside Eric’s skull. That must have taken some power.
Travis, whose cock had already been pushed balls deep down the woman’s throat when the attack had come, had staggered back reacting to the blur of whatever had attacked them, Lily couldn’t fail to notice the glistening ruddy shaft still sticking blatantly out of his loosened hakama. His disappearance was vertical. Upward.
Still frozen in horror and disbelief, Lily saw Arturo sitting up, aggressively shoving the naked woman off him onto the floor. She slipped in a coil of Eric’s intestine as she flopped over. Arturo snapped to his feet, one hand holding his own loosened hakama, his pencil dick already going limp as fear replaced lust. He reached behind him for the matt-black aikuchi knife she knew he was carrying, recently stolen from a martial arts equipment retailer.
When he brought his hand back, not only did he not have hold of the sword but he was missing his hand, nothing but a blood-pumping neatly severed stump present. That was the moment Travis was captured by a rope noose around the neck and yanked into the pitch blackness of the intersection’s ceiling. There were a couple of breathless yells that descended into wheezing groans along with a series of ‘whumping’ noises, the kind you hear when using a punching bag. A couple of loud, dry cracks followed, leading to silence. Well, silence other than Arturo’s shocked screams.
He sat there gripping his bleeding stump, his upper body curling over it, rocking on the spot. His screams taken down a notch to incessant desperate, wheezing moans. A shape emerged from the shadows, stepping into the meagre gloom. Metal swished and Arturo’s neck gaped, slit ear to ear. For a moment his torso became a roaring waterfall of steaming maroon blood. Before he slumped onto his side, twitching grotesquely. Though the blade slashed again laying open his stomach and like Eric, his under-pressure guts slithered out of his body like a torn open over-filled garbage bag.
As Arturo’s guts slithered to a halt across the bricks, Travis dropped from the lightless ceiling. His battered body, a miscoloured swollen mess. Just as dead as the other two. Though, for once, in one piece and not revealing evidence of blade use.
If Lily had been paying more attention, she would have compared Travis’ body to someone who had fallen to his death from the top of a skyscraper. However, in that same moment she was fighting for her breath and sheer terror was close to causing an infarction of her over-racing heart. It was because a hugely muscular pair of arms had her in a triangular chokehold from behind, cutting off her carotid flow and her windpipe; while something hugely broad and muscular, and altogether monstrous and inhuman stood before her and aggressively tugged open her clan gi, baring her cropped black sports bra. A blade whipped out, blurring quick and slivered through the cinching elastic, her meagre breasts tumbling out into the cold putrid air.
Shivering in terror, Lily caught a single word before she spaced out, consciousness pilfered by an inhuman grapple.
“Fee-mayill… Grate.”
<><><>
Lying there naked, bathed in her own sweat, and then others’ blood, April had watched the five-second-long massacre in mute, wide-eyed horror. First there was nothing to see but the aftermath of sickening torture-porn gore, though her other senses had vaguely detected a couple of insubstantial blurs of motion within the edges of the gloom combined with little breaths of exertion that hardly sounded human at all. And the screams of despair and tears of the dying before they were finished off.
However, once that five seconds had passed, the Trench-coat vigilante appeared from the shadows on the far side of the intersection, emerging out of the ether like some kind of phantasm. He came close this time, closer than he had ever been and she was intimately aware of just how monstrous he appeared to be. Visually he was just a human shape in a hat, coat and scarf but there was something about his that screamed other. April had often wondered if being in the company of a psychopath or sociopath would conjure the same feeling - that they were different to everyone else somehow, that there was something inherently wrong, even dangerous about them. She had never been in the presence of either psychopath or sociopath as far as she knew, but this felt just like the way she would expect that to feel.
The Trench-coat vigilante remained a good five yards away from her, a grey smudge, showing substance yet devoid of detail. He moved in a humanistic manner, swinging an arm back and then forward and from that gloom her yoga pants sailed through the air to land on her legs. April noted that her thong panties weren’t present. She tried to smile at the smudge but anxiety wouldn’t allow her lips to curl, she nodded instead. And that all-concealing hat and scarf reflected the gesture. April tugged on her pants, grateful for the warmth and modesty.
She got unsteadily to her feet and forced her eyes off the Trench-coat vigilante for a second to search out her jacket. It was beside the leader’s corpse, one sleeve caught under his hip though thankfully his ejected blood had pooled away from her garment. She had little doubt that in proper light it would prove to be filthy and almost certainly splashed with blood, but here and now she was grateful to pull it on over her nakedness. Of course, the zipper was still busted.
A movement to her right caught her eye and she looked over in time to see a second grey-green smudge, equally human looking but somehow odd. It was shifting out of sight down a passageway off the intersection. The smudge was carrying something large and dark over its broad, arched shoulder, a shoulder that almost appeared to be semi-circular and too wide. The object slung over that wrongly shaped shoulder coalesced in April’s understanding as the fourth ninja. The female one.
She was momentarily and unappreciatively dragged to a movie she had once watched. She couldn’t remember what it had been called, but it had been British and about a group of women who got caught exploring a cave and attacked by some kind of monsters. She shuddered. The smudge and fourth ninja had already vanished out of sight down the tunnel.
She turned back to the Trench-coat vigilante. But he was no longer standing there. Two others were but they weren’t wearing trench-coats. In fact, they didn’t appear to be wearing anything. They were further back still, barely more than dun shadows, sketchy shapes in the gloom. She saw mottled dull grey-green skin, humanoid limbs with muscles Schwarzenegger would be proud of. There was torso musculature that didn’t look right. But it was the faces were the most unusual, deep gleaming black eyes, hairless skulls, a strangely shaped mouth. She could make out little more than a suggestion of any of it but they certainly appeared deformed. They both had the bearing of hunchbacks too. Or possibly had something attached to their backs. Their nudity went all the way down and April saw stout semi-erect phalluses nested over hefty looking scrotums that appeared to be mostly human but over-average in dimension. Those pale skinned monsters from that British movie flashed into her mind again and she wondered if she was going to be eaten. Or raped after all… Had they saved her from those guys in order to take her for themselves?
One of them snapped something unintelligible, simultaneously reaching for his engorged genitals with a mutated, three fingered hand. But a guttural throaty bark, that could have been a word or just a sound, responded gruffly, making April jump. It came from right beside her, and she whipped around to find the Trench-coat vigilante standing right next to her. His hugely muscular arm literally six inches from hers. The vigilante made some gesture in the direction of the tunnel, that female ninja had been carried off down and the two smudges gave kind of shrugs and then abruptly vanished, moving too quickly for her to adequately follow with her eyes. April heard little wet smacks like flippers on wet ground, the sound fading rapidly though she saw nothing. And there was an echo of laughter accompanying their audible departure.
“Lisssen, Aye-prul.”
The fedora’s brim kept the Trench-coat Vigilante’s eyes in full shadow and the scarf covering his lower face muffled his attempt to enunciate. Did he have hair-lip maybe? Some other speech impediment?
“Who are you?” She interrupted. “Do you live down here? Were they your family? How many of you are there down here? Are you… Human…?”
The last question sounded silly, childish and not representative of the mind of a professional investigative reporter. In truth, April was barely gripping hold of the reporter task, trying to cling to it to keep her sanity, to keep a little self-control. But it was hard going.
An alien location, maybe an alien thing in a disguise… The thought slipped into her attention unbidden but once there it solidified and opened new possibilities. Terrifying possibilities. Her mind suddenly raced through all the stories she had heard of alien abductions and visitations, Grey’s and Flying Saucers and Human-Alien hybrids and all kinds of weird genetic experiments.
The vigilante gave a kind of guttural grunt, a rapid repetition, that could have been laughter, or him gargling on crunched human bones. She looked at the blackness beneath that brim of that hat and the upturned lapels, seeing nothing, her imagination running amok. The fedora brim dipped and she was sure he was staring at the inner curves of her naked breasts, framed by the open front of her rescued jacket. She blushed but couldn’t move or even think of what she should do.
His hands, covered in three-fingered gloves partly duct-taped together, slowly came up. Gently taking hold of the front of her jacket he opened it up and stared at her large, age defyingly perky breasts, letting out a little groan.
“Grate… tiiits.” He said, apparently staring.
It was a sharp and guttural, gravel-like sound, a dog impersonating a snake. And it broke in the middle, from heavy dark gravel to light pale grains. April just stood there momentarily numbed into mindlessness. He finally, gently, pulled the front of her jacket closed again and then produced a handful of partially rusted diaper-pins, and used them to secure the front of her jacket across her vast, gelatinous bosom.
She blushed, a delayed response to the wholly inappropriate compliment. Even so, she felt an inexplicable urge to say “thank you” naturally developing on her plump lips and had to force it away, shaking her head at her own instincts.
April’s Aunt Aggie had always said her instincts tended to get her into trouble. Which, she supposed, was the reason that she followed her sudden and inexplicable urge to reach up, knock the hat off the vigilante’s head and pull the scarf down from his face. She instantly experienced her very own Phantom of the Opera moment in that thoughtless second.
The face beneath the mask was like a Hollywood creature-effect made real. April took it all in in the split-second he was exposed. She stared into a very alien-like reptilian-esque face. Gleaming, bottomless black eyes, heavily lidded and angled to give it a natural semblance of cruelty and suspicion. A hard, bony beak took the place of an upper lip and was topped with a pair of wide nostrils not unlike a dog's nose. A multitude of hard slab-like plates covered his visible skin, reminding her of crazy paving, or sun-parched clay. However, it was the blackness of those reflective eyes that terrified April the most and, as she started to feel faint and queasy, another movie scene slid into her mind - Quint’s line from Jaws.
“You know a thing about a shark, he's got lifeless eyes, black eyes, like a doll's eyes. When he comes at ya, doesn't seem to be livin'.”

She didn’t remember if she had actually fainted or not, but the next thing April knew was that she was once again walking along a near pitch-black sewer tunnel. She had an old transparent plastic Bic lighter in one hand, the tiny flame casting just enough light to see by. She didn’t know where she had got it but was glad of the meagre illumination and even more the meagre heat it afforded her. As well as her own ruined sneakers, mulching their way through the ankle-deep water and probable sewage, she could also hear a tiny rhythmic squelching behind her too.
Glancing back, her heart racing, saw the Trench-coat vigilante following her, though keeping good ten yards distance.
“What are you?” She breathed.
She wasn’t even sure her question would be heard, or that she wanted to know the answer. The Trench-coat vigilante had covered himself again, but this time the lighter flame caught in the inky pools of his animalistic white-less eyes, though that was the only visible detail of his self beneath the clothing. He either didn’t hear her or didn’t reply and April couldn’t bring herself to ask a second time.
They walked for a while in silence. April shivered in fear, focussing on putting one foot in front of the other and not letting the terrifying images and thoughts filling her head get the better of her. Eventually the vigilante broke the silence.
“Du not.. cum-down heer, Aye-prul. Is dane-geruus. An du not.. luk for mme… For usss. Is dane-geruus. An du not luk for thee Foot clan. Theeyy dane-geruus.”
She couldn’t think of a reply, taken in as she was by the timbre and alien-ness of his speech pattern. She remembered the letter he had left for her with her purse. It had been normal and even a little playful, or at least showed a degree of humanity. It, in no way, married up to the way this person was speaking, understandable yet heavily accented. She supposed the ability to write words didn’t relate to the ability to voice them.
“Go tha’ waay, doun the rite forr-kk. Then rite a-gen."
She followed his instructions, still barely able to see anything in the almost pitch dark, even with the lighter. Though whenever she slipped or stumbled on the slippery ground, a three fingered mutated hand would shoot from the shadows and keep her securely on her feet.
The Trench-coat vigilante escorted her out of the sewers. Refusing to answer any questions she braved asking and he wouldn’t walk alongside or ahead of her either, remaining behind her and telling her the when’s and which way’s until she climbed a ladder and emerged from a manhole in an alley that was more or less directly opposite her apartment.
“Yew, hav… grate… asss.”
There was actually recognisable warmth in his tone, maybe even amusement. It took April by surprise, put her on the back foot. But then she pictured her climb up the rusted ladder rungs to the surface from the vigilante’s perspective. Her yoga pants-clad buttocks front and centre, filling his attention.
“Er, thanks. I guess?” She blushed. “Hey, why did you take that ninja? The female one?”
She asked the question even while acutely afraid of the answer. This time he provided one, maybe it was because it wasn’t about him directly. Even though his answer said a lot.
“Wee hav… neeedss.”
“Oh…”
She fell into silence, imagined images mixing with memories of the cute goth-styled gang girl on the subway the last time she had seen the Vigilante.
“What will happen to her?”
He just looked at her, through onyx-black eyes, faintly edged by a distant streetlight. She remembered what the letter had said - pussy full of spunk from a stranger and a bit of a headache. Implying it was nothing she wouldn’t have experienced before, knowing her lifestyle? Maybe? She wondered if the same would be said for the ninja girl. Yet somehow, she didn’t think so.
The others they had murdered with a cold clinical brutality, almost sadistically. Maybe they saw the female ninja as like a spoil of war. Would she be treated with a sexual version of that same clinical, sadistic brutality? And April thought she had seen four distinct examples of this… whatever he was. Male was about the only thing she could be certain of. ‘Some kind of mutation’ kept pecking at her but she tried her best to dismiss it. It took her too close to 70’s exploitation horror, The Hills Have Eyes, and numerous cannibal movies she had been subjected to when far too young.
“Go nao... F’get awl yew sor. It dane-geruus, fer yu.”
He gave her a gentle, though firm push on one shoulder toward her apartment, and then he was gone.
<><><>
Inside the safety of her apartment, after triple locking her door and checking her windows, April drew the blinds. She stripped off her clothes, fully intent on trashing them. Her sneakers she had already abandoned, heeling them off outside in the alley and leaving them next to a dumpster. Cautiously treading barefoot across the street and into her apartment building.
She stood under the shower, hot as she could stand it, for half an hour trying to calm her mind and process all that had happened. She felt wired and exhilarated but also bone-tired and lucky to be alive, and just short of being brutally gangraped on two occasions.
Then she suddenly remembered the little lapel-mounted video camera attached to her jacket and started to think about all that footage, what might it have captured? What evidence might she have in her possession? Fuck myths about alligators in the sewers, what about fucking humanoid mutants?
Homicidal, martial-arts expert, humanoid-mutants!
She ran out of the shower, naked and dripping and snatched up her jacket. And she stared incredulous at the little digital camera still attached to her lapel. However, there was a throwing star embedded in it, practically bisecting the gadget. She unclipped the camera and carefully examined it. The starshaped flat piece of steel looked handmade, its edges razor-sharp. But she managed to work it loose without cutting herself. Then she examined the camera, which promptly fell apart in her palms, the housing in two jagged edged halves, the small lens smashed, the internal memory and the plug-in SD stick shattered as well, the thin golden metallic fingers severed, perforated, mangled and utterly useless. Though she was no expert April was certain that there was no possibility of any footage being rescued from that.
She dropped the ruined pieces of camera into her wastepaper basket and headed back for the steaming hot shower, picking up a long untouched bottle of Bourbon on the way. It had been brought and left behind by Dave, at some point. April didn’t like Bourbon but, why not? It was all she had left. She might as well make something of this night.
The End.
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April O'Neil- Search for the Trench-coat vigilante