Seven Deadly Sins

Chapter One

Apocalypse, Chaos, and Death


Three girls, more like young women, the youngest at nineteen, the other two both hitting twenty-one, stood leaning against the doors of the elevator that led to the underground UAC facility in Nevada, waiting for the men they were supposed to be protecting. Slender, well-muscled, all with long hair in thick braids that fell to their asses, they wore all black and were dressed for bear. These were a few of the women of the Fury Unit.

Christine “Chaos” Mahonin sighed and leaned up against the elevator doors. She was very uneasy about the mission she, Death, and Apocalypse had been assigned, protecting the men of the RRTS squad on their mission, and wondered how Sarge would handle the news. He would definitely order them to leave, but he had no authority over them. They were of higher rank than Sarge, he being an NCO, and they all being Captains. Except Apocalypse. She was a law unto herself, since she wasn’t officially part of the military. Besides, they were the Furies, a totally independent unit. But that didn’t stop her from worrying about how he would react.

Chaos wore a tired expression on her battle weary face. Her dark amber eyes were slightly glazed from fatigue, as it had been over twenty-four hours since she’d last slept. She was already functioning on six cups of coffee and a caffeine pill. Her long, wine-red hair was mussed, wisps of it escaping to hang around her alabaster face. Her black cargo pants hugged her ass and lean thighs, hiding her pair of tattoos: the words Death by Ecstasy, Death by Pleasure. She hugged her machine gun to her chest and made sure it was loaded before glancing up at Apocalypse.

Callisto “Apocalypse” Hernandez-Kalligaris, the ex-prostitute turned assassin, the best in both trades in over forty-six countries, currently on retainer for the US government, the youngest of all of the Furies, also had her guns: twin black-plated Berettas, a hunting rifle, and a sawed-off shotgun, except she wasn’t holding on to them. The rifle and shotgun just hung there from the straps around her shoulders. Her semi-automatic pistols were stuck in two holsters on her lean outer thighs. On the inside of her left thigh, where her raggedy faux-silk pants bared her flesh, was a tattoo of a bunny decked out with twin AK-47s, and underneath were the words Death by Rabbit.

Chaos’s sister, Death, however, had a shotgun that she barely ever held in her hands. She liked to let it hang from the strap on her shoulders most of the time. Any other weapon found on her person was a dagger…lots of daggers, actually, a pistol in her belt, and a huge broadsword on her back.

“They here yet, Death?” Chaos called to her twin sister, who stood outside the elevator.

“Not yet,” Death replied. “About five more minutes.”

Chaos glanced at Apocalypse and bit her lower lip. “He’s not going to like it when he finds out,” she said.

Apocalypse stared at Chaos, examining her. Finally, she smirked. “He doesn’t have to.”

“I know,” replied Chaos, frowning. “I’m just uneasy about the whole ordeal. He’s going to try and kick us out. He always has.”

“But has he ever succeeded?” Apocalypse asked, smiling.

Chaos shook her head. “No.”

“Exactly.”

“He won’t like that you’re here, especially,” Chaos reminded her. “You always bring up your guys’ past.” The ex-whore grinned widely, replying, “Yeah, I know. Tell me about it. Ha!”

They were silent for a few minutes after that and the sound of a helicopter approaching drew their attention. Death was standing at her post without fear, waiting for the others to arrive. She had her gun shouldered protectively in case something happened. Chaos looked like she’d fallen asleep leaning against the doors, and Apocalypse kind of looked like she wanted to. She had a bizarre smile on her face, though.

“Is that little yuppie on that chopper?” Death demanded.

“My stud, you mean? Yeah, huh. I’m gonna get laid in the next six hours. Fuckin’ sweet, man. Anyway, he’s a good marksman. Leave him alone.”

“He better not fuck up.”

“Death, don’t make me call you the M word.”

“Don’t even.”

Eight marines got off the chopper and approached the elevator, all giving Death and the others a curious, extremely suspicious look. They all stopped as they neared and their Commanding Officer stepped up to Death, looking invariably pissed off.

“What are you doing here?” Sarge demanded.

“We were given orders to help,” Death replied firmly.

“Well, now you are being given orders to leave,” said Sarge. “I will not be responsible for your deaths.”

“I am death.”

“I’ve been hearing that since you were ten.”

“I earned the nickname, Sarge, remember? In San Salvadore. Don’t forget I saved your sorry ass at least twice down in that jungle hell hole. Back the fuck up out of my face,” Death whispered menacingly.

Behind her, Apocalypse and Chaos pushed themselves off the doors with their shoulders and strolled up to stand a few feet from Death and Sarge.

Sarge glanced past Death and saw the other two women and immediately grew irate. “Chaos? Apocalypse? What are you doing here?”

“I believe Death has already explained to you what we are doing,” said Chaos calmly.

“Hello, Asher, honey,” Apocalypse murmured, swaying her hips in their shiny, satin pants. Her thumbs were hooked in the waistband of her pants, her elbows cocked away from her torso. Sarge nearly had a heart attack. She wasn’t dressed like the others. She wore a cut up black T-shirt, and through the slices he could see her tattoos peaking at him.

Magdalene. Oh, hell…. He thought.

“Who the hell are you fucking bitches?” Portman cried. Apocalypse sashayed even closer, smiling like a cat with cream, or like a woman who could blow a man fuckin’ awesome because she was a professional and knew it, and instinctively Sarge’s eyes dropped to the tattooed, swirling vine of moonlit flowers just peeking out of her low cut T-shirt.

“I’m the fucking end of the fucking world, and I’m here for Sarge.”

“Don’t you even fucking lie to me.” Sarge swallowed audibly as he felt his dick get hard. Shit, he hated seeing her for just this reason! She still held such fucking power over him. The Magdalene…. “Get lost, Magda.”

“I missed you, Asher.” She said it mockingly, smiling. “I miss the way you used to make me talk.”

“And boy do you lie. You missed my dick.” Sarge told her.

“Missed that, too, I suppose. Not so long since I retired, you know. But you’re still mostly wrong about the dick bit. I only kind of miss it a teensy little bit. I’m an honest woman, now. Only one stud muffin for me, please. Got myself my own man from the tooth fairy. Had to trade in four wisdom teeth for the lucky bastard.”

“That why you’re fucking crazy?” Death asked, tapping her foot and blowing her hair out of her face. “That stud muffin is a fucking yuppie.”

“Nobody asked you, Mama.” Apocalypse snarled at Death. “Shut up. Anyway, sweet little Marine, little older than me. Would have curly hair, but he cut it. Awesome in the sack. Pounds me for hours, sometimes. Fuckin’ incredible.” Sarge noticed that for some reason, the Kid was turning bright red. “God, I could die happy now. Hey, Danny-Boy, let’s go to Maui and have sex on the beach!”

“Is she high?” Reaper muttered wearily. Death grinned and murmured, “Maybe on life. Or mind-blowingly orgasmic sex. Apocalypse, when was the last time you got laid?”

“I don’t remember. Today? Yesterday? Last week? I dunno. Why?”

“Will you both shut the hell up? I don’t care when the last time Apocalypse got laid was.” Sarge thundered, spit flying from his mouth. Death wiped the saliva from her face and Apocalypse smiled coquettishly and murmured, “You know you wanna know, Asher, honey.”

“I… I, uh….” Sarge’s cheeks began to flush. “Um… all right. That does it! You three will leave now!”

“We can’t do that,” said Death, placing her hand on Sarge’s arm. Her bright blue eyes locked onto his gaze. “We would be violating our orders if we left.”

“Whose orders?”

“The General’s orders.”

Sarge looked from Apocalypse and her ample chest, alluring smile, and poison green eyes, to Chaos and her bored, sleepy eyes the color of amber, the whip coiled around her waist, and then to Death. “Leave. All three of you. Now.”

“No.” Death stared Sarge in the eye, not willing to give in. “We stay, or you will receive punishment later for refusing our help.”

“I don’t-”

“Sarge,” said Reaper, staring over at him firmly. “You will never win this argument. Let them stay.”

Sarge glared at Reaper, then looked back at Death again. “Fine. But it will not be taken lightly. You three are responsible for your own hides.” It was strange the way he listened to Reaper about situations like this.

“Do you know any of my men besides Reaper?” Sarge demanded.

“Introductions in the elevator, but yeah, I know Stephen, and Chaos knows… that guy. With the cross. Whatever his call sign is.” Apocalypse gestured vaguely in Goat’s direction.

“Goat?”

“Yeah, him.”

“And our hides are already taken care of,” Chaos said. “Death, let them in.”

Death stepped out of the way and the eight men stepped into the elevator. Death cast a glance around before joining the others and the door closed behind her. She noticed Reaper was staring up at the sky and frowned.

“Are you alright?” inquired Death, pulling the strap on her shotgun over her head so she could hold it by the strap.

Reaper sighed and nodded. “Yeah. Guess you have to face your demons sometime.”

Death gazed around. “I have demons?”

“It’s a figure of speech, dumbass,” said Chaos irritably.

“Be nice to Mama, little Miss Ingénue.” Apocalypse was standing next to the Kid, and until that point had been smiling up at him fondly. “She’s nifty.”

“Only an ex-whore would use words like ‘nifty,’” Sarge snapped.

“And man, was I expensive,” she said blandly, uncaring in the face of his irritation.

“Cally, behave,” the Kid said, and Apocalypse ducked her head, murmuring, “As you wish… Farm Boy.”

“Hush up.” The Kid said, ignoring the stares of the others.

“Your mom in a box.”

“In your dreams.”

“You’re just pissed ‘cause you were supposed to get laid tonight,” Apocalypse retorted. The Kid tugged on a lock of her hair and sighed dramatically. “Are the wet dreams getting to be too much?”

“Cally!” Apocalypse laughed at his affronted tone.

“Okay!” Sarge suddenly roared. “What the fuck is the deal between you and the Kid, Apocalypse?”

“Sir, I-” The Kid began, but the Fury just replied, “He has known the bliss of the Magdalene.” Although no one except the Kid, the Furies, and Sarge knew what that meant, everyone else knew what it meant when the vein in Sarge’s temple began to throb and he narrowed his eyes. “Don’t even get pissy with me, bitch, or I will totally see you court marshaled.”

Sarge huffed, muttering, “I thought it was against the rules to get personal, Miss Fuck-and-Run.”

“Sarge, c’mon, man, leave the girl alone!” Duke exclaimed.

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It was silent from there on down. Death yawned a few times and stretched once. Reaper kept staring at her, a slight smile on his face.

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Goat had his arm around Chaos’ shoulders and he was whispering something into her ear. Her eyes slid closed, and a dreamy smile spread slowly across her face. When Goat chose to, he could really do some wicked, wicked things to her. Like right now. Right now, Chaos was so close to orgasm she could taste it, and all because of what Goat was whispering in her ear.

"My hands slid down your body, warm and gentle as I..." As he continued speaking, heat pooled wickedly low in the pit of her stomach. It wasn't just that he said it, though his voice was husky, rough with need as he spun out his sexual fantasy for her own pleasure. How he managed to keep from getting a noticeable hard-on, she had no idea. Right now, as his hand splayed across her back, the heat of it seeping through her clothes, she really could have cared less. All she cared about was he keep talking... and keep picturing all those very, very naughty things in his wide open mind.

"God, you two are dirty," Death moaned, cringing. Portman eyed her with marked interest.

"You can hear what they're saying?"

"And see it!"

Portman blinked, obviously confused.

"Never mind."

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Apocalypse and the Kid kept up their running commentary on whatever, smiling and laughing every so often at something one or the other had said.

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The others simply looked bored. They all wondered how the mission would go, if they would survive…or if they would die. Sarge was still upset about his argument with the women and would definitely hold it against them later. He never let go of a grudge when it came to the three of them.

“Stupid briefing,” Death whispered irritably. Everyone looked at her.

“What briefing?” Chaos inquired.

“I’m supposed to report to another briefing as soon as this is over with,” answered Death. “I really don’t want to go.”

“I’m sure it won’t take too long,” Reaper assured her, placing his arm on her shoulders and pulling her close to him.

Death scoffed and accidentally dropped her shotgun. It hit the ground with a loud clunk and everyone stared at her in apprehension. She scoffed again and bent to pick her gun up.

“What the hell?” Apocalypse said.

“It’s not loaded,” replied Death angrily.

“You’re almost as bad as me.”

“Witch in heaven burning bright.” Death smiled, and Sarge cried, “What?”

“Saint in hell without the light,” Apocalypse murmured.

“Neither worse off than the other,” Chaos recited.

“But both worse off than anyone else.” The three of them finished.

Death straightened up and noticed Portman was examining her with an intrigued look on his face. His shark teeth were bared in a grin, his eyes shining in the muted light of the elevator, and he was just a little too close for her comfort level. She could feel his breath on the side of her face, faint rum with an under taste of chocolate. She felt a strange heat in the pit of her stomach, like plunging off a lifeguard stand into the deep end of a swimming pool. That just made her even more uncomfortable. When he leaned in, grinning maniacally, she shoved him away and leaned against the wall.

It was obvious she didn’t want to be there, but she didn’t have a choice. Death was in enough trouble with the authorities as it was and she would be kicked out of the military if she refused to do as she was told. The words "dishonorable discharge" loomed in her near future, unless she followed her orders. Damn. Chaos had the same problems, just not as intense. Like, minus the discharge from the Marine Corp in disgrace.

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When the elevator finally reached the bottom, Death was the first out, followed by Reaper. He still had his arm around her shoulders in a comforting manner, but when Sarge shot him a foul look, he let it drop to his side. Goat led a sleepy looking, strangely flushed Chaos out of the elevator. Apocalypse happily skipped out after Sarge and Kid. Duke, Portman, Mac, and Destroyer were the last out.

“No… No, we don’t do teleports,” Death said uneasily when she saw the wormhole slowly appear and grow bigger. Obviously, she had a bad experience with teleportation and stuff like that, but then again so did Chaos and Apocalypse. Death had known her old friend, Pinky, when he went through and basically got ripped apart.

“You do now,” said Sarge, looking from Death to Chaos and then to Apocalypse.

“It seems… we have no choice. Ladies, let’s do it so I don’t die of a stroke.” Apocalypse replied.

“Fifteen seconds,” said an electronic female voice.

“Shit.” Death stepped up to the wormhole and waited for the countdown to finish before stepping into it. It was only a few seconds later that she was through and Reaper appeared right after her. Chaos, Goat, Kid, Apocalypse, Sarge, Duke, Destroyer, Mac, and Portman appeared in a matter of seconds, in that order. Kid was kneeling on the ground, retching.

“Why we gotta come all this way? Why can’t UAC rent-a-cops take care of this bullshit?” Portman complained after finishing his cookie-tossing.

“Is it always that rough?” Kid inquired, getting to his feet and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Apocalypse put a gentle hand on his back, concern in her dark green eyes. He gave her a weak smile. Sarge glared at both of them, and Apocalypse flipped him off with a hand behind her back.

“Oh believe me, it used to be so much rougher,” said Death. Her chest heaved violently and she walked over to the corner with her hand over her mouth. She began retching loudly.

“Death, I told you not to eat before we left,” cried Chaos. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Go fuck yourself, Chaos,” snarled Death between hurls. “Gross!” She finished vomiting and walked back over to the others.

“Wow, that was impressive,” Portman snarked at her. Death flipped him off, and suddenly Apocalypse turned white, moaned softly, and stumbled into Kid’s arms.

“Cally?”

“I’m just dizzy.” She put her hand to her stomach, sucked in a breath. “It’s better than it used to be. I used to barf like anyone else.”

“You barfed last time, actually,” Sarge reminded her.

“Oh, yeah. That was at least half a year ago, though. Anyway, shut up, I’m fine.”

“You done?” said Pinky, his voice startling Death.

“Where the hell did you come from?”

“I’ve been standing here since you came in. Now, if you don’t mind.” He turned and made his way around the monitoring station. He pressed a few buttons, and then announced, “Remote personal surveillance cameras are up.”

“Circle up,” ordered Sarge and the men obeyed quickly. “On my three. One… Two… Three.”

The men readied their guns and Death dropped her shotgun again while attempting to load it. Chaos and Apocalypse were just standing there, staring at the others. Death took a moment to realize the gun had not fired a shot before picking it back up and shouldering it. Pinky nodded at them and Sarge looked at the squad.

“Mac, stay here with Pinky. Don’t let anything through the Ark. Everyone else, this way.” Sarge led the squad through the large circular door and Mac closed it behind them. Death sighed and glanced back as the door closed behind them. Chaos said something but Death didn’t hear her and she had to smack Death upside the head to get her attention.

“What?” Death snarled, turning back around.

“Pay attention, idiot.”

“To what?”

“Something weird about Apocalypse, you think?”

“I dunno,” Death replied. “Why?”

“She seems like she’s about to be sick at times when she really shouldn’t, and then perfectly fine at times when she should be about to be really sick. And she’s been eating nothing but dry bread and flat soda for the last few days. She hates flat soda, and the jam jars have been untouched for days, even though she’s a freak about jam sandwiches. What’s up with that?”

“How the hell should I know? Her metabolism might be kicking it up. It might be a side effect of C-24. Either way, I’m sure she’s fine.”

The squad walked through the atrium and there they met Samantha. Death looked back and forth from Reaper to Sam, trying to figure something out. During all this, Portman walked over to a small group of girls, grinning wickedly.

“Ladies, we’re under a level five quarantine, so I’m just gonna have to strip search you girls,” said Portman, still grinning.

Chaos approached him and hit him in the back of the head with the butt of her gun.

The grin on his face faded as Death walked around him and stopped in front of him, glaring up at him. For a second, Portman had a sense of falling down a very, very deep whirlpool, and he almost fell over. Then, without warning, Death smacked him across the face.

“If you ever do that again, I’ll sucker punch you in the gut, you got it?” Death snarled. Her face felt hot, furious, and she had to ball her hands into fists to stop from hitting him. What was her problem? Why was she so pissed? She didn’t know, but she was still extremely annoyed.

Portman frowned at her. “What?”

Death rolled her eyes and seized the front of his suit so she could drag him along after her. The squad followed Sam over to the other end of the atrium and stopped at another door. Death stopped paying attention, Sarge inquired something of Sam and a man standing by the door hit a button on a small device and screams erupted from it. Chaos and Death immediately clamped their hands over their ears to block out the sound. Apocalypse turned faintly white, and put a hand to her stomach.

“Cally-Girl?” The Kid whispered.

“I’m okay, Danny-Boy.” He smiled. She was trying to reassure him.

“God damn it,” muttered Death when the man hit the button on the device, shutting it off. She and Chaos lowered their hands and glared at Sarge. Apocalypse let go of Stephen’s hand and pulled out her twin Berettas.

“Those babies got names?” Destroyer asked.

“Yeah, Fuck-with-Me and Die.”

“Nice.”

“My fists are named Betsy-Anne and the Five Avengers,” she added helpfully. The RRTS gave her a strange look. “Never mind.”

“Open the door,” ordered Sarge and Sam immediately turned around to punch in a code on the wall that opened the door. “Portman, Goat, lead on.”

Portman and Goat nodded, entering the small room as the door was slowly opened. “Magnesium, chromium, lead, it’s all normal,” Portman announced while consulting a small device.

“All clear,” Goat said. The others entered and Sam quickly closed the door.

Sarge walked over to the wall that had a black screen on it and said, “Pinky, give us the schematics.”

“Uploading it to you, now,” said Pinky over the comm. “Alright. The air lock is the only way in and out.”

“The most disturbances were heard in Genetics, right?” inquired Death suddenly, hugging her shotgun to her chest.

“Shut up,” snapped Chaos.

“Both of you stop talking, or I’ll kiss you both.” Apocalypse was inspecting her long, sharp fingernails.

“Why is that scary?” Sarge demanded.

“The last person I kissed who I wasn’t going out with, I bit off their tongue.”

“Shit,” Portman wheezed. “What happened to him?”

“I gave him to Julie, that’s Death to you, and she castrated him with a couple of bricks. Then Chaos cut of his ears and his nose. I think he went into shock and died at that point.”

“And you had no qualms about killing a man whose only crime was to try and kiss you?” Sarge asked incredulously.

“Actually,” Death said, “he tried to rape us. The kissing part just came first.”

Another moment passed by as Pinky updated Sarge on some things that had been happening and Death started to tap her foot impatiently. Reaper brushed some of the hair out of Death’s face and smiled at her. She seemed to relax because of his expression and she smiled back at him.

Chaos shook her head and leaned into Goat, who immediately began whispering in her ear again.

Apocalypse stared around the room at everyone, and settled back against the wall beside Kid, who kept glancing at her out of the corner of his eyes and smiling. She was such a babe.

I know. Kiss, kiss, Danny-Boy.

I totally deserve to get laid after this.

I’ll be happy to oblige you.

“Alright,” said Sarge when Pinky was done talking and he turned around to face the squad. “Portman, Goat, you check Genetics. Reaper, accompany Dr. Grimm on her salvage op. Kid, Destroyer, Carmack’s office where the mayday was sent from. Duke and I will take the weapon’s lab. Be safe. Portman, Goat, on you.”

“Death, go with Goat and Portman. Apocalypse, you head off with Reaper and Sam. I’ll be with Sarge and Duke,” Chaos ordered. Apocalypse looked as if she might argue, but then changed her mind, and they both nodded. “Head out.”

Portman, Goat, and Death were the first to enter the hallway. Portman checked the left and Goat checked the right to make sure it was clear. Death stood in the doorway, waiting for them to announce that it was safe.

“Clear left,” said Portman.

“Clear right,” replied Goat.

“Move out,” Sarge said and Death, Goat, and Portman headed off to the left, disappearing within moments. Everyone else dispersed quickly.

“Five bucks says this shit ain’t nothing but a disgruntled employee with a gun,” said Portman casually, checking the next hallway over.

Death glared at him. How the hell could he be like that? A letch she understood, because it might’ve been awhile since he’d been laid, but how could he be so callous about what killed those people?

“Five bucks says I’ll have kicked your ass when this is over with,” snapped Death, moving past him down the hallway.

“What the fuck’s your problem?” Portman retorted as he moved to catch up after Goat walked past him.

“You are.” Why can’t you be nicer about everything? Why do you have to be such a dick to everyone? I can take it… not everyone can, she thought.

“What?”

Death turned to scowl at Portman. Apparently he didn’t understand that she hated his piss-poor attitude just like everyone else. However, her expression seemed to help the information sink in.

She didn’t care about the fact that he had the earthy smell of sweat and Axe body spray clinging to him, that his dirty blond hair was slicked back in a way that reminded her of her first crush, Vinnie. She didn’t care for an instant about the way he said y’all, or about how cute that was. She didn’t give a rat’s fat ass that he looked good in a uniform carrying a gun, or that the sight of him with his gun at the ready made her stomach clench and her cheeks burn. You could be physically attracted to anyone you wanted, or even didn’t want, but that didn’t mean you liked them.

Still, she ended up staring at his mouth, wondering… wondering…. Portman frowned, stepped closer, backing her up towards the wall. She went easily, willingly, but when he leaned in, his eyes very bright even in the dark, she pulled out her pistol and put the barrel against his groin.

“Don’t,” she whispered. She could feel the gentle warmth of his breath on her skin, see his eyes shining in the dark. He was too close, the heat of him seeping into her. His mouth was maybe an inch away from hers, and he started tilting his head to the side. She pressed the gun into him harder, and he hesitated.

“You wouldn’t shoot my nuts off, lady.” He leaned into the gun, grinning at her in the gloom. The breath rushed out of her body, and she went very still.

“Don’t push me, Portman.”

“You wouldn’t wanna destroy the best thing that’ll ever happen to you.”

“Arrogant fucker.”

“Confident fucker. You’d love my dick.”

“Sounds tasty,” she whispered, and he leaned in to smell her neck. “But you’re not my type.”

“I could make me your type,” he breathed, blowing hot air against her skin. She shivered, and had to bite back a moan when his lips brushed over her pulse.

“Back up, Portman.”

“One little kiss.” She sighed and whispered, “It’s never just one kiss with a guy like you.”

“Come on, Death, I’m a great kiss-” Suddenly Goat appeared farther down the corridor, yelling, “Portman! Death! Move.” Portman stared at Goat for a moment, then leaned in and inhaled the scent of Death’s hair.

“Very sexy,” he nearly groaned, then pushed off the wall and left her there, breathless and just a tiny bit confused at both his and her own behavior.

The three of them continued down the hallways quietly.