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Black Widow : Assignment Colombia [DeRe & Celebstars]

DeRe

Supernova
Joined
Mar 19, 2013
ATTN: Natasha Romanoff
CODENAME : Black Widow
FROM : Nick Fury / SHIELD

Black Op Assignment

YOUR TARGET : Andres Astardo
Formerly Colombian Army colonel. Went rogue and established independent base in the Highlands. Known as LA BESTIA, or The Beast, due to his cruelty. 6' 3", former boxer, scarred in attempted assassination. Charismatic sociopath.

Compound is luxurious villa surrounded by dense jungle and steep mountains. Inaccessible by road or foot, all travel and supply is done by helicopter. Security and staff number about 30.

Target can only be killed onsite.

OPTION ONE : HALO jump into area. Infiltrate compound and eliminate target. Escape in captured helicopter.

OPTION TWO : Approach target when he visits casino in nearby city. Escort him back to compound and enter that way. Eliminate and escape.

Good luck Nat. This is a tough op so I saved it for my best. I wouldn't insult you by sending along support. Nail this creep and I'll see you at the debrief - NICK
 
RE: Black Widow : Assignment Colombia

"Cant a girl catch a break?" She said to herself, popping her phone back in to her pocket and giving the dummy in front of her a last flying kick to the head. It split open, ripping off with the follow through before rolling in to the corner of the room. A smirk came over her face as she held her fists up in the air still in combat mode. Working up a sweat, Natasha then grabbed a towel before making her way upstairs. Patting her face with the piece of material, she wiped away the sweat and proceeded up to her bedroom where the shower was. Getting undressed, she turned the shower on felt the hot water sting her body as it trickled down her. Hissing in a little pain, she liked these conditions, it made her tough and not easily beat. The woman had a few scars on her body through all the combat, reminders that she was human and could easily be caught if not careful and quick. These markings were all when she was young though, Natasha took pride in not being physically scared in the last five years. No one ever got that close now, she wouldn't let them.

Once out and quickly dried, she slipped on an outfit which she was most famous for. The tight fitting costume or uniform that made her the Black Widow. She was sure she was stronger in this outfit, although it could never be proven. Putting on the finishing touches, like leather gloves and her boots, she walked down to her basement again and to a wall which seemed rather bare. Moving to the left hand corner she pushed against the surface and the wall swivelled around until she ended up in a room behind it.

A vast amount of weapons were now available to her. Shotguns, Pistols, Grenades and Sniper Rifles. She took her favourite, the two pistols and placed them on either thigh in each holster. But they weren't ideal for her and the mission, they were just an insurance policy in case things went wrong. The Widow needed something more silent and stealthy. Then she saw a bow, and thought it would be rather cool to give it a try on a mission. Placing it over her head, she carried the string against her chest and put a quiver on her back to carry nearly a hundred arrows. Collecting a few more gadgets she put them on her belt and left the room, calling for a chopper to come and pick her up.

Meeting the pilot on top of her roof on her helipad, the Black Widow was on her way.
 
RE: Black Widow : Assignment Colombia

A crisp freshness hung thick in the rarefied air of the Colombian mountains. The cruel glare of the sun's baleful face was tempered by the cooling moistness, with a pleasing balance that was more than livable. After years in this soothing climate, there was nowhere Andres Astardo would rather live. He found it a welcome change from years of sweating in less agreeable parts of his homeland. Standing on his immaculately maintained grounds as the sun set, he savored a potent cigar and admired the vibrant peach-coloured sunset. A colony of bats, heading home for the night, made an eerie cacophony of squeaks as they passed in the distance. Astardo smiled in smug satisfaction, feeling every inch the patrón of his hacienda.

He turned to admire a row of carefully maintained rosebushes. Standing among them, like some kind of ghastly garden ornament, was a steel spike adorned with a freshly severed head. Astardo drew languidly on his habana, the pungent blue smoke making an uneasy blend with the fragrant flowers and decaying remains. He admired the head as if it were an artwork of great wealth, his granite face and reptilian eyes as impassive as ever. Flies buzzed urgently about, and he dispelled them with a handwave as he straightened the glossy black hair that hung down from the grisly trophy, still showing signs of careful maintenance days after the head that bore it had been savagely separated from its owner.

"Take a look at that sunset, Carolina!" he said with a drawl. "You always did like a nice spring sunset. Such a shame you were so partial to some other guy's cock as well, eh?" He drew deep on the cigar again, fighting down his easily ignited rage with a long exhale. "Well, he made good sport for the dogs. I know you didn't like that much, but it was better than what we did to you, eh?" His callous laugh, like a gurgling cackle, sounded out in the encroaching darkness. "I always said you gave good head - look at you now!" Utterly amused at his own joke, he laughed so hard it provoked a coughing fit which took him a moment to recover.

He was still laughing softly to himself as he entered his villa. "You are in good humor, patrón!" grinned his portly butler Lupez, brandishing a tray of aguardiente. Astardo knocked back a bolt of the stomach-burning aniseed liqueur with experienced ease. "Just making sure my bitch of an ex-mistress got the point!". He filled his glass and took another shot. "Sadly, this leaves me alone for the evening. I'm in no mood for town, I think I'll head up to my office and do a little work before an early night. Have Freda make something light and bring it up, will you? Oh, and the bottle too." He replaced the glass on the silver tray with a clatter, before heading up the massive staircase to his wood-laden colonial study. Two of his bodyguards, bristling with weapons, saluted crisply and threw open the double doors that led into the heart of the villa. The thick oak doors shut tight with a thud behind him, and he sat down in his leather throne like a cocaine king.
 
"Tell Nick I want a pay rise" Natasha said, speaking through the microphone as she sat in the back of the chopper. Looking down below, she could see the hundreds and thousands of trees below with the faint look of clouds above them. "Here will do. I don't want them to catch even a sniff of me being here. I will find my own way." Undoing her belt, she slid over to the side and stood up near the open entrance. "Black Widow out!" Throwing her earphones and microphone on to the seat, she jumped like an Olympic diver and soared through the air with elegance and beauty like a bird. Brushing past clouds she hit the chord and felt the harness tighten it's grip on her body as the parachute sprung out and carried her weight. Two other chords fell down her side which she would use to direct her placement on the ground below. Pulling the left one, she made a sharp turn and headed towards what looked like a mansion. Upon getting nearer, she realised that it was in the middle of a large complex and the task would be a lot harder than she originally thought. Not only did she have to sneak in to a mansion and kill the boss, she had to infiltrate the large compound it was situated in and kiss possibly hundreds of guards.

Pulling on the left chord again, she did a U-turn to give herself enough distance not to be detected. The sky was dark now by the time she had arrived. She would not of been spotted anyway, but she couldn't take any chances. Finding a clearing amongst the trees, she headed straight for it and landed firmly on her feet with the parachute falling behind her. Unstrapping the harness, she left the equipment behind and started to make her way through the jungle. Even at night, it was still rather hot and humid although the casual breeze through her hair was a nice comfort. Lifting her leg up, she stepped over a large branch and heard the hissing of a snake. Her boot clamped down on it's head and squashed it down in to the mud with a real depth of anger. "Messed with the wrong bitch" she said before moving on with the snake clearly dazed and suffering.

Seeing some fencing up ahead, it was quite easily more than twenty feet high. Clearly designed to stop people climbing over it, or even trying to attempt it. Given it's material, even if the woman wanted to climb it the noise and shaking would cause guards to come and investigate. The bottom was fixed against blocks of concrete to, so you couldn't even cut your way through. Clearly these guys knew what they were doing.

Staying low, she circled the fence amongst the trees as to not be seen. Surprisingly, she hadn't seen any guards yet. No one seemed to be patrolling this area which baffled her. Climbing up on to a tree, she gained some height and saw nothing. There was no cabins, no guards, not even any trees. It was just dirt. Sitting on a branch, with her legs hanging down, what she saw next really got to her and made her test her own discipline. Four men came running out of nowhere and towards the fence. They obviously couldn't climb it and turned around to see four guards spray them with bullets.

The girl in the tree bit her lip and clenched one hand in a fist. Closing her eyes, she hated that innocent people were killed, and even more so in the way in which it was made to be a sport. She knew where she was now, it was some kind of arena for slaughtering. There was nothing she could do, she would avenge their deaths but not now, she was to carry on with her mission. Watching the guards, she jumped on to another tree and followed them with her eyes towards a cabin.
 
In the silence of his antique-paneled office Astardo could find some solace from his distractions. He had set no limit on the time and money expended to decorate the private space. The wooden paneling was from a former mansion in Medellin, while the impressive variety of Spanish colonial art had been assembled by fair acquisition and open thievery. He had taken the chair from the office of a High Court judge who had shown for come after him. The judge now laid entombed in concrete beneath a local swimming pool, while his extremely comfortable chair now warmed Astardo's haunches. One way or another, he was a man who always got what he wanted.

A neat pile of folders lay carefully stacked on the table's green felt surface. Despite the powerful computer that side by one side, Astardo was staunchly old-school that insisted and everything was done by hand. He reviewed the files, noting with satisfaction how they recorded the steady growth of his enterprises. The bookkeeping was immaculate and studiously honest, and Astardo smiling wryly at the thought his accountant was more loyal than his mistress. His short attention span expired quickly when looking over figures, and once assured of his profits he stashed the folders in a desk drawer with disinterest.

He felt unsettled, an unusual and unwelcome experience for the normally unshakeable druglord. Carolina's betrayal had hit him harder than had expected. It was hardly the first time he had dispatched a mistress in a brutal fashion, but on this occasion he felt the slight worse than usual. He reflected on the fact he was perhaps beginning to soften in his middle-age. Something was needed to revitalize him, he thought. A bolt of excitement to drive off the melancholy fug which descended on him like the morning mists in the valley below. But what this tonic would be exactly, he could not decide.

As Lupez entered the room with the tray, the distant and muffled report of gunshots rang out. The elegant butler laid out a selection of crisp fried empanadas and the bottle of aguardiente. As he poured out a glass the sharp rattle of machinegun fire continued for a few moments then died away. Astardo picked up a glass, surveying it meditatively as he swirled the clear liqueur about. Neither man spoke but both knew what the sound portended. A group of laborers had been caught earlier that day preparing for an escape; after being interrogated to learn the extent of the conspiracy they had been summarily shot. It was a clear message to the staff of the entire compound.

Astardo pushed the plate away and stood up. "Apologies to Freda, I'm not in the mood for her excellent empanadas right now." Lupez nodded, taking up the tray with the fried snack but leaving the bottle. With velvet silence he quickly left the room again, knowing his master's mood was taking a turn for the worse. Astardo himself took several slugs of the aguardiente, then drew out a golden case from one of his drawers. It contained his personal stash, an exceptional batch of genetically engineered coke. He poured out and snorted a hefty line, letting the explosive dazzle of the drug clarify and sharpen his thoughts.
 
Climbing from tree to tree, she was moving around the large fencing and managed to pass the cabin the men had wondered in to. The jungle was alive with sounds, birds were singing as well as monkey's chanting. Even a small insect such as a cricket could be heard as Black Widow found an entrance to the camp. The trees had been stripped to make way for a road. Counting her luck, she saw two bright headlights coming up towards the complex and thankfully it was a massive truck which must of been carrying supplies. Jumping from the tree, her footsteps brushed against the grass and twigs as she ran towards the vehicle while staying out of sight. Jumping in to the back of it, she saw a guard gaze at her with a puzzled look. Lifting her hands to a bar on the underside of the roof, she jumped and let the momentum carry her feet to the man's masked face. He fell down on to his back and Natasha quickly went over to him, grabbing his head in to a headlock before snapping his neck. Carrying the body, or rather dragging it, she hid with it behind a crate and felt the truck move on, driving in to the complex.

Not knowing where she was being taken, she would sit there on top of the dead body behind the crate until the journey's end. The back of the truck, which was the only source of light from the outside suddenly went dark as she entered some kind of warehouse. The truck stopped and the engine was killed off. Staying behind the crate, she didn't hear any footsteps but rather some words.

"Leave it until the morning. There isn't any rush for it now" said one man, his voice rather deep. Natasha moved slowly towards the back of the truck and looked out of it to see two men walking away from the vehicle. Peering outwards on either side she saw men up on metal staircases and balconies. She clearly liked to challenge herself.

Climbing out of the truck she moved to the side of it towards the front. Hiding behind another large crate behind a set of stairs, she had to think about what she was going to do.
 
Astardo felt his mood lift swiftly as the potent cocaine took effect. For a few moments the room swam in a sea of sparkling diamonds. All gloomy thoughts of betrayal were gone, and instead he found his mind wandering to the question of a new mistress. Obviously a trip to the casino would be in order, perhaps as soon as tomorrow night. It would be a pleasant enough task, he thought with satisfaction. Hopefully there would be a blonde there; he hadn't had a blond gringa since his men caught that CIA agent nearly a year ago. The memory of her brutal dispatch brought a smile to his face and he was lost for a moment recalling what was done to her.

Suddenly snapping out of his reverie, he tried to focus on some paperwork laid out on the tabletop. But in his addled, distracted state the words on the page seemed to twist and intertwine like barbed wire. With a sigh of disgust he got up and turned to stare out the window into the endless gloom of the jungle night. The sudden drop of the valley just beyond the end of the compound seemed like the edge of the world. Somewhere in the grounds he heard to rattle of the a truck engine, its distant headlights faintly illuminating the inky black of the sky. Then it went silent, and Astardo knew everything was now locked down for the night. Somewhere, like faint headache, he felt a nagging concern that something was wrong. His hardened instincts were trying to warn him of something. But he ignored the concerns, attributing them to coke paranoia. Instead he drained his glass and left the study, heading down to his bedroom.

His suite was larger than most small houses; indeed, the nearby villagers could never have imagined such opulence. It continued the Spanish colonial motif. Astardo removed his leather shoes and lay out on the day with an irritated sigh. He was restless now, and unhappy about it. Grabbing the nearby remote he flicked on the huge flat-screen TV that was in front of him, flipping through the channels.
 
Looking around in the dimly lit warehouse, she tried to figure out how many men were inside and what their patterns were. For at least five minutes she stayed behind the crate under the stairs and viewed the two men who got out of the truck. They made their way out of the warehouse which made things a little easier for Natasha. Creeping away, she went to the headlights of the truck and peeked around the corner to see one guard on the top balcony and another on a ladder climbing down. Looking back up, she saw the one on top turning around to look at the view through the roof window. It gave her a quick second to draw her arrow and place it in her bow. As the guard left the ladder a clear shot presented itself to which she took. The arrow flew through the air and hit the man in the head, pushing his body with force underneath and out of sight. The noise of his corpse falling drew the attention of the other guard up above.

"Hey you didn't fall did ya?" His English very broken and sounding more Hispanic. Another teasing of her bow string caused another arrow to shoot up and pierce the metal roof of the warehouse. Of course given her aim, the man's head was attached to it. His corpse just stood there, held up by the bow between his eyes. Given the room was dark, people would think he was standing and doing his job.

Circling around the room, the girl stayed under the metal balconies, keeping herself in the dark until she came around to the first casualty. She took back her arrow and then searched the man. He had a radio on him, something which would come in handy she thought. Suddenly, two men came in, the ones who brought the truck in. Not wasting any time she quickly moved over to them. Given her agility she did three backward somersaults and on the last kicked the first in the chest before swinging her leg around and catching her boot in the other's face. Both were knocked to the ground and Natasha snapped one of their necks before the other got up.
 
About a year before, Julio had been a teenager working on his father's farm, dreaming of nothing but girls and futbal. That seemed a lifetime ago to him now. One day, he had decided to follow his cousin Cristofer to a job up in the hills with a powerful patron. His mother wept and begged him not to leave, but he told her he'd earn enough to send plenty back and wouldn't be gone for more than six months. That was before he'd become a soldier of Astardo, and done things he thought no human was capable of. Turning to the freely available mountains of cocaine for support, he rapidly became a raging addict and twitchy paranoiac. Unbeknown to the drug-addled boy, he was being watched by his peers with an eye to “retirement” - via a bullet in the head and a shallow grave in the jungle.

On this night, like many others, he had taken to hiding among the empty diesel drums behind the main storage warehouse, and snorting himself into giggling oblivion. It was better than trying to sleep with the memory of all the tortures he had been forced to commit. The stars danced about in the velvet black sky, making pleasing patterns and turning into giant celestial fish floating through a stellar aquarium. All was utterly still, until he suddenly heard a very soft but definitely odd noise from inside the warehouse. With his nervous edge sharpened to a paranoid watchfulness, he leaped to his feet and cocked his AK-74. Hunching over instinctively, he crept around the side of the warehouse, ears straining hard to hear more anomalous sounds. Kneeling down just by the door and raising the assault rifle to his shoulder, he quickly peered around the corner.

His whole world seemed to freeze for a moment when he saw a stunning redhead in skintight black leather brutally dispatching Miguel and Pablo on the warehouse floor. For a moment he wondered if it was a drug-induced hallucination, but the shocking violence was all too real. She snapped the neck for the former then crushed her boot into the broken face of the latter. Both were dead before Julio had even drawn a breath. Every nerve in his body sung with a burning electricity as he leveled his AK at her and screamed “¡Alto!
 
Once the two men were dead, she looked around and said "Four" counting the number of people she had killed thus far. Quickly remembering the guy in the back of the truck, she held a finger up in the air and corrected herself. "Five" a grin appeared on her face until she heard a voice. Spinning around, she saw the man with an AK pointing at her. Putting her hands in the air, she slowly lifted the bow off her back and placed it on to the floor. Now standing up straight, she started to unzip her leather suit to reveal her cleavage. Widow knew she had plenty of weapons on her or even back home, but her breasts would almost certainly save her life more times than a bullet could, given the circumstances. Nipples started to slide out by the side of the zipper until they became open and fully hung out. Judging by the man's face who was staring at her pale milky breasts she had him hooked on the bait.

Peering in to his eyes she was walking closer to him, her steps careful and discreet, she couldn't have him break from the trance she was putting him in. The zipper now fell down to her stomach, her flat smooth toned belly before she arrived at his feet and placed her head against the barrel of the gun. "You wouldn't want to hurt these would you?" Natasha wasn't sure if he would understand her, but she cupped both of her breasts and lifted them up to his chin. With her head against the gun, she could feel it start to fall and that was when she pushed it sideways and kneed him in the groin. Thankfully the gun didn't go off as he fell to the floor.

Punching his face she knocked him out before snapping his neck, she didn't want to take any chances on being alerted to. Zipping her suit back up she smiled and patted them like they had done a good job. Going to her bow she placed it on to her back with the arrows and set off out of the warehouse. Of course before all that she hid all of the bodies.
 
For the final minute of this life Julio was already in heaven. Half-delirious from tension and the coke, the sight of this stunning vamp appearing like something out of a dream was simply more than his malformed mind could take. What dulled instincts he had screamed at him to shoot, it was already far too late for that, as he was trapped like a fly in a web. Disarmed in every sense by what he had seen before him, he was barely even aware of the sudden movement that killed him.

Just inside the entrance hall of the villa, a gaunt man with a cruel face was getting very angry. Normally, the scarfaced psycho (called Moro but known as El Maquillador or "The Makeup Artist" because of his habit of disfiguring prostitutes) was already boiling with rage. But on this occasion, the lateness of the last delivery was pushing his temper to dangerous levels. Staring at the security monitors in the front office, he could see the truck was parked up safely and still unloaded. So where were the fucking guards, he thought with irritation.

Snarling into his radio, he summoned his posse of six personal guardsmen from their nearby ready room. The best equipped troopers in Astardo's force, Moro used them as private bodyguard and mercenary death squad. They were a cut above the tired, scared and unmotivated guards they were drawn from. "Something is fucking wrong around here. You, you-" he nodded at the first two- "Out there first, over to the truck. The rest, down and sit tight." Sitting on a part of nightvision goggles, Moro peered hard through the gloom as he scanned the compound.
 
Natasha was unaware that people were starting to get frustrated over the truck. It would cause more awareness from the guards now, their concentration levels rising by the minute. As she left the warehouse she came around the side and saw a large tower with a sniper walking in circles at the top. In the darkness she jogged over to it and climbed on the outside of it, her hands grabbing on to each both whilst her feet pushed her up further until she arrived at the top. Fingers clung on to the edge as she peeked her head over to see the back of the guard. Dipping one hand in to her belt, she pulled out a small knife and threw it at the back of his neck which resulted in the man falling.

Pulling herself over the edge she picked up his sniper rifle and looked through the lens. It had different settings and allowed her to see through the night. Curiously, she pointed it at the villa and saw two men coming her way. There was another man who was using binoculars and it made her aware that something was up.

Dropping the gun, she jumped over the edge and climbed down until she was midway. Opposite her was a medium sized building and she jumped up on to the roof from the tower. Kneeling on to one knee, she saw the two men come around the corner towards the warehouse. Making sure they were in far enough and away from the view of the man with binoculars Natasha shot both down with her arrows before moving on.
 
The agonizing moments of silence that followed after Moro dispatched his men told him everything. The compound was definitely under attack, and by an extremely dangerous enemy too. Snatching his radio he rasped "Boss! Boss!" in a hard whisper, urgently trying to raise Astardo. The other guards glanced about nervously, suspicious and suddenly fearful of death striking them in the dark. Nothing like this had really happened before, and the chaotic situation was enough to even disturb a professional like Moro. "Boss!" He hissed once more.

Astardo was still seated in his office, but with his back to the table. He was staring out of his huge arch window at the star-strewn night sky, which seemed like a thick velvet rug laid out before him. Steady jolts of giddy elation pulsed through him as the potent coke powered him on. The rasping of the radio brought him urgently to his feet, and he grasped it firmly as Moro's voice sounded through. "Astardo here," he croaked, then swallowed hard. "Is something wrong, Moro? Why are you calling me?" Peering hard into the night gloom, the druglord suddenly wondered if he saw a flicker in the shadows.

"Boss, we're under attack. Probably a special forces squad, eight members. A bunch of our guys are missing and I'm sure they're heading right at us."

Adrenalin exploded in Astardo's head. "Fall back on the top floor here. Men in ever room. Every passage covered. Everything that isn't one of ours get riddled with bullets." Pacing over to a gun cabinet in a corner of the room, he pulled out a jet black Colt Python revolver. "Call me if anything happens," he said before dropping the radio on his desk and loading the revolver. Finally, he thought with a baleful grin, some action tonight!
 
On her way down, collecting the arrow she has shot at the men, Natasha picked up the radio to hear some distress calls. She smiled and grinned at the thought of grown men whimpering in fear. Hearing the voice of the man she was to kill, her eyes lit up with a sparkle. The gorgeous woman wanted to say something, she wanted to be confident and arrogant but her professionalism didn't allow her to. Instead, she realised that the villa would be well protected now, making the job a whole lot harder. Natasha shouldn't of killed anyone, it should off been nothing but stealth, sticking to the shadows. She knew she had messed up now and was determined to do better than ever.

Approaching the villa, it was surrounded by a concrete wall with black gates. Part of her wanted to just burst them down and start shooting everyone but she was determined to keep her cool. The humidity didn't help, she was sweating in that tight leather suit, even with nothing on underneath it. Walking around the wall, she deliberately went to the highest point, the most hardest part to climb. They wouldn't be suspecting that. With no trees around this part, she made a running start and scaled the wall, kicking herself up on to the top where she would peek over. The front courtyard was empty, not a man in sight. There wouldn't be after everyone was recalled to the top level. Natasha wondered how many there was going to be, she hoped a lot.

Climbing up on to the wall, she seemed to be in a blind spot, and took out her pistols. Looking at all the cameras, she picked every one off with a gun in each hand. If they were watching the security, they were now blind.
 
Astardo paced like a panther through the halls of his villa, an urgent force of energy suddenly unleashed. He wondered how an attack could get so close without being detected, and wondered ruefully for a moment if the whole thing was not just Moro overreacting. The missing guards could easily be just dodging their duties. But the chance that someone really was in the compound and coming to kill him, thrilled Astardo immensely. It wouldn't be the first time he had fought off assassins, and the urge to kill his enemies was more intoxicating than any drug.

Moro and his men took their places strategically around the winding passages of the villa upper floor. It was dimly lit and easily defended. They were nervous and twitchy, unsure and afraid of what was going on. Naturally inclined to superstition and paranoia, they gossiped in urgent whispers among themselves about being attacked by some kind of spirit. Only a few hard clouts from a patrolling Moro shut them up. "Sit tight and stay silent!" he said in a sibilant voice. "You see anything move, blow it to hell!"

As Astardo finished check the guard's redeployment he headed back into his office. Despite feeling like he was ready to run amok, he had a sharper strategic mind which prevailed in this case. Knowing that the assassins were coming right for him, he just had to wait for them it walk into the loaded trap. Once the shooting started he would have them fixed in place. He sat back down in the shadows, feeling like an electric surge of excitement was pulsing through him.
 
Arriving at the villa door after walking up a few steps, Natasha made sure everything was fully loaded. Turning the door knob very slowly, she peeked the door open and took a look around. No one, still deserted she thought as she admired the beauty with in the place. "I should get a villa" she told herself, walking with an elegance as she started to climb the stairs. Their was an overhang from the upper floor, allowing the guards to look down and gain an advantage. Before taking another step, she took out her lip gloss and mirror, making sure she looked perfect. Smudging her lips together, she tossed the gloss on to the set of stairs as she put her mirror back in her pocket.

An instant noise came flying from above as bullets sprayed the lip gloss, shattering it in to tiny pieces. Now Natasha knew that it was being monitored and also found the guards to be on edge. Taking out two silver objects shaped like pebbles, she rolled on to the stairs and threw them up. Landing near the guard's feet he was instantly shocked by electricity as was the second guard behind him. The array of bullets couldn't catch up with her as they sprayed in to the wall behind her leaving a trail. When both were down she took cover behind a wall, quickly poking her head out to see loads of men aiming their guns at her. Sliding backwards she dodged the bullets and took another item away from her belt. Throwing a flash grenade the corridor lit up in a bright light causing the guards to become blind. Rolling on to the floor, Natasha would be safe on the ground from their firing weapons. Drawing her pistols out she caused serious harm and killed seven out of eight. The last one was rolling on the floor in pain as the space fell silent. Walking up to him, she pressed the gun to his head and blew his brains out on to the carpet below.
 
The crashing explosion of gunfire was like the burst of a tropical thunderstorm on a gray summer's day. Everything appeared to disintegrate in a cloud of wood splinters and sulfuric smoke. The hapless guards, dazed and disorientated by the sudden attack, barely had time to know what hit them. The few who did fire managed only to tear up the walls or shoot each other. Only Moro, remaining back by Astardo's office, was still standing when the madness ended. He heard the final gunshot, and knew whoever was attacking had just shot right through his men without missing a beat. For the first time in a long while, he was worried.

Carefully he backed towards and into Astardo's office, only to suddenly find the druglord's hefty revolver pressing against the back of his neck. "Easy now, comprade," Astardo whispered in a barely audible hiss. "I need you to go back out there and see if you can find our little friends for us." As much as he esteemed the efficacy of his henchman, Astardo had no problem getting him killed if it saved his own life. "I'm not paying you to run away, si?"

Moro swallowed hard and took a cautious step forward. He squinted hard through the grey-blue cordite smoke. Dust and shards of yellow light hung everywhere. Dropping to a crouch, he cocked his submachinegun under his arm and headed towards the original source of the gunfire. Astardo, meanwhile, hunkered down in his office with a piece of broken mirror, watching from around the corner. The second the attacker open fire, he would have them. He knew the remainder of the compound guards would be here in minutes - and his would-be assassin was trapped. All that remained was to get them in his sights.
 
There didn't seem to be to many guards she thought. Only eight of them, there must have been more coming at some point. She would have to deal with them later on though, she was so close to Astardo's office she could smell the fear. Walking towards the office in a cloud of smoke, she looked down at Moro who was crouched with his machine gun. He would of seen a dark shadowy figure amongst the smoke growing larger by the second. "Don't" she said, seeing a figure herself holding a gun. Neither one would of seen each other's face, but her voice indicated she was a woman.

It all happened in slow motion to her. Seeing a burst of light flash from his gun, he had fired at her. Jumping up on to a pipe above, she swung herself towards him, her feet kicking his face before he fell to the ground. Jumping to the ground, Natasha kicked the gun away and sat on top of Moro with her groin against his. She punched him over and over again, making a bloody mess of her outfit and even her face. His nose was broken and jaw dislocated as she stood up and gave him one last kick which knocked him out. "Fucking pig" she said, leaving him and going to the office. It closed immediately, even a lock was heard as she approached it. Natasha didn't know if he had seen her or not yet, she couldn't really care. Holding her pistol out after reloading it, she shot the lock and swung the door open before hiding against a wall.

Raising her eyebrows, she rolled her eyes with a smile as bullets sprayed in the door opening. Taking her mirror out, she checked her hair and makeup as she waited for his ammo to run out. "Ugh" she gasped, seeing the blood all over her face in a splatter. "I'm such a messy girl" she teased herself, her palm patting the end of her hairdo. Turning her head to face the doorway, she was still amazed he was firing, he must of picked up a heavy machine gun. The area to which he was firing created a large hole in the wall and even shredded a door in half.

Suddenly, Natasha heard footsteps coming towards her. It seemed Astardo's plan was to time waste until more men arrived. Running towards them, she saw another group of men who raised their guns once she caught their eye. Rolling on the floor she kicked the first one in the groin and then punched another in the same area. Picking up the AK-47 which they carried she shot the rest in the neck and head areas before turning towards the two who wouldn't be having any children later on in life. Breaking one of their necks, she held the gun to the other and shot him between the eyes.

"Your testing my fucking patience!" She shouted, holding another flash grenade and throwing it in to his office. It burned brightly before ending sharply. Walking in, she saw the distressed Astardo on the floor holding his eyes. Kicking his guns away, she then started to give him a serious beating. Kicks to the chest, punches to the face was his treatment before he would die. "I'm going to make you suffer" she said before a click of a gun from behind her was heard. Gulping, it must of been the one person who she hadn't killed like a fool.....Moro.
 
It was the sound of a woman's voice - raspy, seductive and authoritative - that threw Moro off for a crucial second. His momentary lapse resulted in his world exploding as a succession of vicious, hard blows landed down upon his face. Although the scarred mercenary has endured many bashings in this life, this was far more powerful and painful than any previous ones. The bitter iron taste of blood in his mouth was a feeling he was long since unused too. For a few seconds his vision fragmented and everything turned white, then he slumped in a half-crouch against the wall as as unconsciousness briefly descended.

For his part, Astardo felt his famous iron confidence begin to shake, like the walls of the villa shuddering with ricochets. As he heard the perimeter guards surge into the house there was a brief burst of encouragement, but it was cut short by a pandemonium of screams and gunshots. Madre de dios, he thought, as his blood ran like ice. Who were these demons tearing the villa apart? Never had he experienced violence quite like this.

Suddenly he heard the female voice, angrily barking at him through the smoke. Like his henchman he was stunned by the incongruity, having instead expected a stream of Spanish expletives. Barely he taken a moment to register this than the flashbang exploded, and with a sharp cry of pain he was both blinded and deafened. The heavy wooden desk has absorbed most of the blast, leaving him not entirely incapacitated, but he was helpless to protect himself from the vicious punches and kicks that ran down on him. Through his haze of pain and confusion, the worst bite he felt was being so humiliated by a woman. I'll going to die at the hands of some stupid gringa puta, he thought, with a bitter irony.

In the bullet-torn, blood-splattered corridor Moro pulled himself to his feet. Through the haze of cordite and red mist he could see almost his entire complement of guards dead or dying. Fuelled by a searing acid rage, he blocked out the pain and followed after his attack. He could see her now, almost disbelieving the sight of a short redhead woman in tight black leather moving like a practiced killer through the chaos. He inched after her as she approached Astardo's room, and even through all his distractions he couldn't help noticing her exceptional toned ass.

Just as Astardo expected the final bullet to come, he heard Moro cocking his gun and cursing. Although his eyesight was still scorched he could now begin to make out the figure of the assassin - and what a figure it was, straining against her tight costume. The utter hatred in her baleful deep green eyes shone out from a beautiful bloodsmeared face, framed with a ginger crown. Her zip was halfway down her suit, exposing a generous portion of breast.

"Puta!" Astardo spat, kneeing Natasha viciously in the pussy. "Puta!" he screamed again, pistol-whipping her so hard with the Python she was knocked unconscious with a single hard whack. Both men stood over her, raw and panting and utterly enraged. The men argued vociferously for a few minutes, each venting their frustrations on each other. When they were finally spent, Astardo looked down and growled "No bitch, you is the one who will suffer."

They carried her through the carnage - Astardo appalled and angered even further by the casualties - down in the villa's cold damp basement. What used to be a huge steam engine that powered the house lay along one aside, like a dead and rusting dragon. A gigantic wheel that once turned the pulley had now been converted in a torture device, to which a victim could be strapped spreadeagled, spun quickly around, and suspended upside down. Natasha was lashed to the wheel, and Moro slapped her face hard several times to bring her around.

"Wake up, you fucking puta! We wanna talk to you, si?"

Astardo slowly unzipped her suit, all the way down to her crotch. He grinned broadly at her, enjoying the obvious fury and shame burning in her eyes. Chuckling to himself he slipped his callused hands into the leather suit, cupping her breasts and pulling them out. Pinching and twisting her bright pink nipples between his fingers, he said in a cold reptile voice "So what's the pretty girl's name, eh? Does she kiss on the first date?"
 
Waking up from her slumber, Natasha felt blows against her face as he slapped her continuously until she awoke. Shaking her head, she head a mighty headache after being whacked with the pistol across the head earlier on. Looking at Astardo she pulled her arms but found her wrists bound to a wheel just as her ankles were. Watching him unzip her leather outfit down to her groin she felt his hands work at her breasts, squeezing and groping them. Clenching her teeth, she pressed her head forward and head butted his nose, breaking it in the process. As he moaned in pain she tried getting herself free, pulling on the restraints but they wouldn't budge.

She knew she should of just put a bullet in his skull, then she would of done the same to Moro and she would be on her way home by now. "Let me go now and I promise I won't make you suffer when I kill you" she said, still yanking on the ties. Looking down, she realised her belt had been stripped off at her waist, meaning she had no gadgets available to her.

Looking around the room she couldn't see anything which would help her escape. Looking down at her feet, she tried pulling them upwards and out of the leather bound but it was secured very tightly.
 
Astardo reeled back as Natasha cracked him hard in the face. The humiliation of the cheap shot hurt far more than the pain. Seething in rage he repeatedly slapped Natasha's face and breasts, leaving them stinging bright red. Finally he landed a short, sharp punch right onto her own nose, grunting with pleasure as he heard it break, a red stream smearing down over her luscious lips and pale chin. "Like that, puta?" he growled. "That nothing, you see? You be begging us to kill you before we finished." His face burned black, a bloodied mask of pure hatred

"Moro, get some knives and get the bitch's clothes off, now." The surly Moro had been somewhat amused by Natasha hurting his arrogant boss. But we was more than willing to get his revenge on her. Pulling out his combat knife he cut off Natasha's costume, slicing it away from her firm body as if he was skinning an animal. The beautiful assassin was now naked before her captors, her perfect figure completely displayed and utterly helpless. Sweat was dappled on her toned stomach, just above a neatly trimmed little scarlet bush.

"Now then", Astardo snarled. He spun the giant wheel around so that Natasha was now upside down. Taking up a short, fat waxen candle from a pile on a nearby table, it inserted it slowly and painfully into Natasha's pussy, leaving a few centimeters protruding. Pulling out his zippo he then lit the wick, the little flame dancing just above her clit, reflecting its orange light off her porcelain-white thighs.

Standing back with a wicked smile, Astardo and Moro looked over the helpless Natasha. "In a few minutes puta, you feel the wax, yes? Now you ask us to fuck you, fuck you like whore, if you want it taken out. It will burn your pussy right off, yes? When you want it to stop, you ask us to fuck. You beg, like whore." He grabbed the little toe on one of her feet, snapping it like a delicate little twig. As she shook in shock it splashed molten wax across her pussylips and sent it running down her chest to burn on the bottom of her breasts. The pain was exquisite and inescapable, growing in intensity every second.

"Whenever you say, puta! Tell use you want it in ass. We gonna fuck you like no man before."
 
Her training was like no other, not only did it teach her how to fight, or to defend herself, it also taught Natasha about pain endurance. His slaps and punches to her face hurt, but not as much as they would another person. Her large firm breasts were stinging red, the colour of the blood that was streaming out of her nose after he had broke it. "Hopefully I have a beauty scar to show everyone at work" she said in a cheeky tone. Natasha always liked being the smart ass.

Watching Moro and with his knife, he delicately skinned her costume from her, much to her disapproval. "That cost a lot of money, I hope you are going to reimburse me" her head slowly moving to the side as she felt dazed from the punch earlier. A chill came over her naked body with everything on show, given the reputation of the man, he was going to have his way with her now. Moving her head back to the front to look at him, she could feel the blood from her nose constantly dripping to her chest and down to her breasts.

"You sure you and your boyfriend will manage to get up for me? You seem more interested in fucking each other than a woman." Spitting at the floor in the corner, she then felt herself be turned upside down before a candle was inserted in to her pussy. When it was lit, Natasha stayed calm and cool until he broke one of her toes, making her scream and jerk, therefore making the wax drip on to her lips. "Agghhhh!" She cried, even more so when it fell on to the underside of her breasts.

"Ok....Fuck me! Fuck me ass, fuck me anywhere!!!!" She screamed, wanting him to take it out.
 
Both men cackled with delight at Natasha's urgent pleas of compliance. They each took up a pair of pliers, and systemically broke her remaining nine toes one after another, leaving them twisted like twigs. The sharp crack of snapping bone echoed off the stone walls. "We have to make sure our ballerina can not dance, si?" Astardo sneered, as he broke another one between the steel teeth of the pliers. "Although it sound like she an opera singer now!" Both men laughed raucously as they unstrapped her writhing body from the wheel, throwing out the candle and allowing her to collapse in agony on the floor.

Her relief was short lived as they hauled her up again. Moro held Natasha in place as Astardo pulled down two lengths of chain from the ceiling, tying them around her wiry wrists. Once she was firmly dangling in place - the rusty, cold steel biting deep into her skin - they wrapped another length of chain around her ankles. This weighed her down further, keeping her body taunt in bondage, as well as crushing her already throbbing feet. The brutal torsion held her firmly in place.

Astardo's wicked grin dropped as he studied the suffering Natasha. "Wassamatter you fucking whore, you got no more smart words"? He paced around behind her, undoing his belt at the same time. Meanwhile, Moro took up a long bamboo rod from the wall and began to lash her breasts with a steady severity. Dropping his pants, Astardo doubled over his belt and lay a few sharp slaps on her ass, but could contain himself no longer. Seizing her powerful hips he plunged into her ass from behind, forcing his way in as painfully as possible.
 
The breaking of each toe severely tested her pain barrier as she clenched her teeth as the steel pliers broke the bone in to two pieces. When they let her go, Natasha's naked form fell to the ground, her hands keeping her upright with her breasts hanging off her chest. She could try to stand on her feet, at least the sole but they wouldn't even let her try. As they carried her to the centre of the room, her toes dragging along the floor in the process, she moaned in plain before her wrists were tied together with two chains.

Another chain, even more rusty that the two above tied her ankles and feet together, further crushing her toes. With her arms above her head, they were soon feeling numb as the blood rushed downwards, leaving them feeling rather cold. When Moro arrived back at the scene with a bamboo stick, Natasha pretended to look upset as he whipped her across her breasts. To make things worse, behind Astardo was slashing her ass cheeks with his belt.

Without hesitation, she felt his cock poke up in to her rear and start to fuck it with intensity and power. Biting her bottom lip, she moaned and gasped, her body shaking whilst Moro was attacking her breasts still. Natasha started to laugh, something she was sure would confuse them.

"I'm a fucking Masochist!" She shouted, telling Moro to hit her harder.
 
Astardo and Moro stared at each other in surprise and bemusement at Natasha's apparent pleasure. But her amateur dramatics did little to impress the veteran torturers. Indeed the fact a woman could be so incredibly arrogant appalled them both beyond measure. Suddenly halting his assault on her, Astardo turned to his crony with a solemn expression and said "Go get the Devils, all three. Let's see this bitch take them on." Moro's scar-riven face cracked with a death's head grin, and he vaulted up the stairs and out of the room. "The camera, too!" Astardo shouted after him.

Slowly the druglord wandered over to a nearby bench. He collected a thick black blindfold and a rubber "O" gag, and fitted both roughly onto Natasha. The gag held her pink little mouth fixed open, unable to bite down or stop a steady stream of drool over her chin, while the thick velvet mask of the blindfold plunged her world into blackness. Once he was sure she was properly secured, like a rack of meat in a slaughterhouse, Astardo loosened the chain suspending Natasha from the ceiling until she was half kneeling, half-crouching before him, as if in prayer. His rigid, angry cock bounced before her face Holding her head firmly in his grip, Astardo slid his raging raperod into Natasha's wet, cool mouth. It was still smeared with the sticky mess of her sex, but she could do nothing other than choke on his bulbous purple dick, each gag just swallowing it further down her throat.

The sound of barking suddenly appeared, growing louder and louder until it began descending the stairs. Moro reappeared, almost being dragged down into the basement by three giant black bull mastiffs. Astardo had reared them from pups as personal attack dogs, and employed them many times in the past as torture devices. They were rape dogs, specifically trained to violate a woman in the most degrading way possible. Each was almost the size of a full-grown person and their sheer bulk and ferocity could literally bring down a bull in personal combat - a grisly battle sometimes played down by Astardo for the amusement of his now-deceased retinue.

As he watched the dogs arrive, Astardo chuckled to himself and slid out of Natasha's mouth. He quickly began to dress as Moro tied off a pair of the beasts to the wall, while keeping the third in his grip. They were frothing mad in anticipation of what was coming - they could smell it in the air. Having quickly clothed, Astardo produced a small bottle of honey which he proceeded to smear across Natasha's pussy. "Shit boss, the bastard is going to break the chain!" hissed Moro in exertion. "Over here!" rasped Astardo. Allowing the dog forward a few more feet, it began to urgently lick at the sweet honey covering Natasha's vulnerable cunt. She was completely unable to escape the giant, wet tongue was it invaded every intimate part of her pussy. Both men roared with laughter as her body betrayed her, and the mastiff's firm tongue brought the beautiful assassin to a painful involuntary orgasm.

"Now Lucifer, mount her!" barked Astardo in a tone almost as loud as the dogs. The creature seemed to need little bidding. Pulling the chain down so that Natasha's ass was in the air, he held his boot down firmly on her head and fixed in place against the cold concrete. With a pounding thump the mastiff leaped upon her muscular tan body with a series of delighted yelps. Its slim, long, bright pink penis was hammered into her by a brutal machine-like rhythm.

Moro grabbed the digital camera from the bag he'd brought down, and began chronicling the event. Licking his lips like a starving man attending a feast, the sadistic mercenary recorded every little minute of Natasha's nightmare.
 
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