Caution: This Action/Adventure Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, .
Desc: Action/Adventure Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Different groups of people work to shape the world as they see it. This is an account of how the shaping occurs. While this story is somewhat political, it is more of an adventure, than anything else. Relationships and sex are involved, but aren't the focus of the story.
June 11, 2008
Ethan Conway glanced at the time on his desktop nervously. There were only a few more minutes before he had to leave for the drop point in order to make it on time. He sighed. It had been a long few months for Ethan. For awhile, his future had seemed so bright. After he'd gotten his doctorate from Berkeley in optics, he'd gotten his dream job, with ITT Corp, in Roanoke, designing night vision systems for the US government. Having married his college sweetheart several years back, he'd been with ITT for five years, having had one child already, with the second on the way. Ethan's life seemed like the American dream, and his modest, but nice three bedroom house in Blue Ridge had come with a white picket fence. "Where did it all go wrong?" thought Ethan.
He knew of course. Ethan's weakness had always been the cards. Even in college, he'd been a sucker for a blackjack table, and with his high paying job as a senior researcher for ITT, he'd been able to raise the stakes quite a bit on his games. However, a run of bad luck had caught up with Ethan. His credit cards maxed out and all of his home equity gone, Ethan was desperate, and when he'd gotten the phone call, he'd been only too willing to arrange a meeting with the man on the phone, whose cultured, accented tones seemed to place his country of origin somewhere in the Middle East. A few thousand dollars for harmless information that could be acquired online seemed like a godsend to Ethan, but the situation had escalated, and Ethan found himself loading a stolen prototype of a complete night vision system into the trunk of his leased BMW 650ci. He'd already received five hundred thousand dollars up front, with three times that coming on the back end, once he delivered the system. Ethan knew this was wrong, but at this point he really had no choice. He was in too deep.
Ahmed Yasser glanced over at his companion, Mahmoud, and smirked. Mahmoud was reading a copy of People magazine with entirely too much interest. "What do you see in that infidel trash?" asked Ahmed.
"It passes the time," replied Mahmoud, without looking up from his magazine.
Ahmed snorted, and scanned the surroundings from the comfort of the Suburban. The industrial area seemed to be deserted. His thoughts drifted to the past. In his daydream, the village looked the same as it had in his childhood. Olive trees granted shade from the brilliant sun, and a brook ran through his father's plantation. Birds chirped and the delicious smell of roast mutton came from one of the outbuildings. He ran through the dusty path...
"He comes," said Mahmoud, bringing Ahmed from his reverie. The two got out of the car, as the BMW approached. "Good evening Ethan!" Ahmed boomed, as the researcher nervously got out of his BMW. He walked around the car and went to the trunk. Ahmed reached his hand behind his back and imperceptibly slipped the safety off of his P228. While Ethan had been a good source, once they had the complete system, they had no further need of him. Al Qaeda did not have the habit of paying millions to infidels. "Besides," Ahmed thought, "If the infidel would so readily betray his country, he'd certainly betray us."
Ethan reached into the trunk and extracted a long, heavy case, and walked over to the Suburban, putting the box on the open tailgate. Mahmoud and Ahmed stood, eagerly awaiting a look at what was inside. Ethan moved to open the case, then suddenly broke into a spasm of coughing. Ahmed knew from his file that the researcher was an asthmatic. "Weak fool," thought Ahmed, but appeared to be solicitous, putting a hand on Ethan's shoulder in apparent sympathy. Ethan reached into his jacket for his inhaler, and moved it into position. Ahmed tapped his foot impatiently, wanting to be done with the transaction. Suddenly, a mist hit Ahmed in the face. Before he could react, his nervous system started to shut down from the incapacitating dose of carafentanyl from Ethan's inhaler. Ethan spun and sprayed Mahmoud full in the face as well. In seconds, both men were down.
"Targets down," said Ethan into his earpiece. Three other men in urban pattern camouflage emerged from positions within feet, lowering their weapons.
"Rifle 1 standing down," heard Ethan through his earpiece, as the sniper providing cover packed his things up and descended a nearby fire escape from his perch 200 meters away. The men quickly loaded the unconscious Arabs into the Suburban and the convoy headed south.
June 19, 2008
Unknown Location, Virginia
Ahmed stirred. "Wake up," he heard, followed by a deluge of icy water. Each drop was a pinprick on his naked body, and he grunted.
"Shit," he thought. "Where am I?" was his second thought. He couldn't see anything, and as he tried to move his limbs, he realized he was blindfolded and tied down. The blindfold was roughly ripped from his face, and he blinked at the intense light shining directly into his eyes. On the periphery of the brilliant light, he could make out forms. "Americans," he thought. "Am I in Guantanamo Bay?" was his second thought. As the picture solidified, he noticed that none of his captors were wearing uniforms. Most of them were wearing nondescript black clothing, but one of them wore a lab coat.
"Ahmed," said one of his captors, a tall, powerfully built, middle-aged man with salt and pepper hair, cropped short. "We know you're with Al Qaeda. Tell us who you're working with,"
Ahmed tried to spit, but couldn't move his head. "I'm a Saudi businessman," he said. "My government will be furious when they find out I've been abducted," he said, with conviction.
Daniels shook his head, and nodded slightly, with no emotion. Ahmed saw motion out of the corner of his eye, but nothing could have prepared him for what happened next. He saw a flash of steel, then a 1/8" strip of flesh was ripped from his thumb by a razor sharp blade held by the man in white. His world went to red and he screamed. The pain intensified a hundredfold as nerves started to pass on the signal, and his body convulsed as he instinctly wanted to bring his hand in. However, the restraint didn't allow him to move his arm even a centimeter. He swiveled his head and saw blood dripping from his thumb, which moved spasomadically. His hand was secured, palm facing up with metal restraints. Ahmed waited for the pain to dull, but it did not.
"You're probably wondering why it still hurts," said Daniels. "We've injected you with chemicals that increase your sensitivity to pain, and prevent it from being dulled, or you going into shock. This is going to be a long night for you, if we don't get what we want,"
Ahmed screamed curses, and Daniels waited for him to quiet down. Finally, Ahmed's body had adjusted to the pain level, and he stared at Daniels, hate in his eyes. "Who are you working with?" asked Daniels again. Ahmed stubbornly remained silent, that is, until salt water was poured onto the open wound on his thumb. The pain intensified by another order of magnitude, and he screamed again, this time for several minutes.
"Faisal Abjdan," he finally muttered, barely audibly. Daniels looked amused.
"An obvious lie," he said. "Your friend Mahmoud said the same thing, but we know Abjdan isin't with Al Qaeda. He's with British Intelligence, actually."
Ahmed looked puzzled. He wondered why the American would tell him something so important. Also, while he'd heard stories about torture in Guantanamo Bay, he'd never heard of captives being cut with knives. It was a very Arab thing to do, and didn't seem American. Unless...
"Who are you?" screamed Ahmed. Daniels smiled.
"Let's just call us... concerned citizens," said Daniels. Ahmed blanched. If he wasn't being held by the American military...
"Just tell us who your cell leader was," said Daniels, "before this gets ugly."
"I don't know that," said Ahmed, "and even if I did know, I'd die before I told you," he spat.
"Oh, don't worry Ahmed," laughed Daniels. "You'll be in paradise soon, but how long it will take is entirely up to you," he smiled, and nodded. Ahmed didn't see it coming. The man in white poured a small vial over Ahmed's hand, and he screamed as liquid fire began to consume his flesh. Rogers had only poured half a milliliter of the hydrofluoric acid on the wound but the sickening smell of flesh being eaten away was apparent and everyone in the room could see the vapors rising off of Ahmed's hand as the liquid ate through his thumb. "Ready to talk?" asked Daniels amiably. Ahmed nodded vigorously, and began to speak.
Two hours later, it was all over. Most of the intelligence that Ahmed provided was corroborated by Mahmoud's confessions, as well as other sources that Daniels had. Some of it was quite useful and new, but much of it was garbage. Daniels knew Ahmed knew more. "You've been a pretty good boy, Ahmed, so I'm going to give you a gift. I'm going to let you talk to your family," said Daniels.
Ahmed blanched. "His wife and daughter lived in Cairo, but how the the Americans?" He looked up, and saw his wife and daughter on the viewscreen, along with men wearing black clothing in the background.
"You motherfuckers!" he screamed. Daniels just laughed, then stepped aside. A new figure emerged from the light. "Ethan?" said Ahmed, quizzically.
"Actually, no." said 'Ethan', whose real name was Eric Andrews, "But it's as good a name as any,"
"Ahmed, just tell us what we want to know, and we'll let your family go about their lives," said Ethan.
Ahmed screamed more curses, and then stayed silent. Ethan shrugged, and motioned to his subordinate. On the viewscreen, one of the men raised a pistol and fired a single shot. Ahmed's wife slumped to the ground, obviously dead. Ahmed screamed again in anguish. "Now, are you going to talk or do you want to watch your daughter die, as well?" Ahmed looked at the four year old girl on the viewscreen. He then knew what he had to do. Ahmed started talking.
After another hour, Ethan knew they had everything Ahmed was going to give. Most of it was valuable information, and it all checked out. "Thank you, Ahmed. Now, as I promised, your daughter will live," said Ethan. "I'll make sure she turns out well, in fact, I'll raise her myself,"
Ahmed screamed again. What was wrong with this infidel pig?
"Remember Nairobi?" said Ethan. Ahmed thought back. He had been one of the planners of the Ethiopian embassy attack, which had killed hundreds. Of the twelve Americans killed in the attack, a young woman and girl were among the dead.
"Your wife and daughter will serve me in Paradise, you infidel pig!" yelled Ahmed.
"You're absolutely right, Ahmed. I forgot about your date with Paradise," said Ethan. "Well, you better be on your way," Ethan motioned, and Ahmed was uncuffed from the chair. The man in the white coat poured a beaker over him and he braced himself for acid, but it was only sugary water. Ahmed again looked puzzled. "Good bye, Ahmed," said Ethan, giving Ahmed a quick push on the chest. Surprised, Ahmed fell backwards, through the trap door behind him, into a cellar. The fall knocked the wind out from him, and he glanced over, and saw Mahmoud. He was about to call out to him, when he realized that half of Mahmoud's face was gone. His brain had just began to wonder what happened when the first wild boar bit off half of his hand. He screamed, as he realized what was happening. Unfortunately that only attracted more wild pigs. It didn't take long for them to finish their work. Whether or not Ahmed was in Paradise, he had at least partially satisified the hunger of the wild pigs.