Cursed Angels

“I repeat. What the fuck is going on?” I’m in front of the woman in a few striding steps. She doesn’t move, doesn’t flinch. Dr. Monroe has passed out from where it seems she was having her womb ripped from her body. The gaping hole and bloodied mess protruding from it suggests the woman with the knife had very nearly completed her task. I bring my hands up to her throat and wrap them around the slender column. I apply gentle pressure, and she drops the knife onto the floor.

“Archer,” she whispers.

It’s my turn to freeze. How does she know my name?

“Who are you?” I snarl.

She doesn’t reply. I can see her searching for words with the way her lips quiver, but none come to her. Do I know her? I squeeze a little harder at her throat. She has most probably killed Dr. Monroe, and I suspect, is responsible for the death of another doctor whose body I found carved up this morning. The modus operandi is exactly the same.

“Answer me.” I shake her svelte body. She’s like a rag doll to my strength.

“You don’t remember me?” Her voice is like a velvet tourniquet wrapping itself around my brain. There’s something I should know, but I can’t figure it out.

“Who are you? Why are you killing the doctors?” I’m pushing her away from Dr. Monroe and against the wall beside the bed. She’s not fighting me. She’s apparently a trained killer, but it’s like she’s lost all her abilities.

“What have they done to you?” she asks.

“Who?” I keep one hand around her neck and use the other to search down her body. It trails along the line of her breast, and she whimpers under my touch. That sound — it’s so familiar. I lean in closer to her face. “I know you,” I state, and she gasps.

“Yes.”

I look at her lips when she involuntarily licks them. My dick stirs. What the fuck?

“I’ve tasted you.” I don’t know where that statement comes from, but it falls from my mouth with the weight of a hundred elephants. I’m reeling, and my concentration is faltering.

“You left me for them.” Her blue eyes well with tears.

“Left you? I don’t know who you are or why you are so familiar, but you will tell me what is going on here. We can do this the easy, or the hard way. I’m good with either.” I try to get my focus back, but her cherry-red lips are drawing me in. They are the only thing I can see at the moment. I’ve kissed them before. They are sweet, the best taste of any woman I’ve ever had. I lean in. I have to savor them again.

“Fuck,” I shout when I feel a kick to my back.

“No,” the woman shouts, but it fades into the background when I drop her to the floor and turn around to find the guy she was with ready for his next beating.

“Ready for round two already.” I laugh.

“It’ll be you that ends up on the floor this time,” he sneers back and lunges for me. Did the idiot not learn last time? I easily side-step him, but he rounds back and catches me from behind. Ok, so maybe he did learn a little something. Won’t matter though. He’s not a soldier. He’s perhaps a good fighter, but he’s nothing compared to me.

“The only floor action I will see is when I’ve pinned your little bitch to it. I can think of a couple of ways that I can get information out of her on why she feels the need to kill my doctors. All of them involve her flat on her back, or on her knees, or doing the splits on top of my cock. I’m not fussy, and she seems to know me.”

“You won’t ever touch her again.” He seems confident in his statement, but I see the momentary flicker of doubt in his eyes.

Soon, we are trading blows, each inflicting pain on the other’s body. I can see he is hurting, but I feel nothing. I’m a machine designed for this. Blood drips from both our noses. I think I have a cut above my eye from a blow that involved the signet ring he wears on his right hand.

“You’re a monster, just like the rest of them. Taking children and doing what you do,” he jeers.

“So, The Factory is the reason for this? The bitch has had a stay here then,” I laugh. He steps forward and balls a fist directly into my hard abs. I clench so that it ricochets over and the force reverberates down his bruised knuckles rather than through my body “You’re not a good enough a fighter to have been here.” I’ve always been an arrogant asshole when fighting. Make your opponent so angry that they lose their head.