Its his concept for the characters, the peril and the outcome and I've just put his ideas into a framework for the story. (or as I like to think of it, he came up with all the sex scenarios
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![Oh my god :ohmg:](./images/smilies/ohmy.gif)
![Yawn :yawn:](./images/smilies/yawn.gif)
![Wink ;)](./images/smilies/wink.gif)
It's a short story and will only be three posts, a couple of weeks apart.
This WG is based on Cassie Sandsmark (NOT Drusilla from the TV show)
This first one is mostly my contribution, just setting things up for the good stuff to come (which is where Wheelie comes into his own
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If you like it or wish to contribute an idea for the sex and violence please pm or post a comment, equally if you don't like it please tell us why.(That way we can ignore you and stick pins in an effigy of you- hey welcome to the Dungeon
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Enjoy!
BERSERKER
Part 1
“Hey Silvio. What ya got?” Sterns asked, curious about the large number of cops, medical personnel and ambulances already on the scene. His partner by contrast was nowhere in sight.
“Fucking nightmares after looking in there…” answered the patrolman.
“Seriously? That bad?” the detective asked as he ducked under the police tape, swearing to himself as his coffee splashed hot against his hand. The uniformed policeman just nodded. He was ashen faced and a puddle of still steaming vomit a few feet away spoke volumes. Even at this ungodly hour the sirens and multiple ambulances had caused a large crowd to start to form. News crews were just arriving. ‘Well that’s just dandy’ thought Sterns.
“You seen Mick? He here yet?” Sterns asked after his missing partner.
“What kind of detective can’t find his own partner?”
“He was already out when we got the call, smart ass, he said he’d meet me here.”
“He’s been puking up in the John in the lobby since he got here.”
“Mick? Shit…” Sterns said shocked.
“I ain’t seen anything like this Dan…its BAD.” Patrolman Silvio Esca answered in a low whisper.
Detective Sterns stopped and looked at him seriously.”Really?”
“There’s just…bits of guys everywhere…arms… guts…a head. One guy is fucking impaled for Christsakes! I dunno how many are dead…there’s at least 4 in the entrance hall, but it’s hard to be sure.” He was clearly shocked.”Dunno who the fuck is who. Tasker and Munro from Robbery are inside - they’re the ones who called in Homicide, but you didn’t need to be no fucking detective to make that call. They think maybe the gang had a fallin’ out or got jumped by rival pros…but no one knows. Yet.”
Sterns took a swallow of his coffee. It was still too hot to drink but he felt he needed it. “What they get away with?”
“Nothin’. Its all still stacked and ready to go in a delivery van in the loading bay out back.”
“What, they got interrupted?”
“No. They got sliced ‘n’ diced.” The cop shook his head. “It’s like a wild animal broke loose.”
“Who was first on scene?”
“Twomey and Michaels, they’re round back securing the haul. You’d best get the chief. Hell, you’d best get everybody. It’s like Gettysberg in there.”
“Anyone alive?”
“The four guards got chloro’d - they’re on their way to a state hospital to get checked out , gonna be ok but didn’t see shit. They said they just heard the screams.”
A little while later Sterns came back out into the cold, early morning air, breathing heavily. His face was white. After a few deep breaths he swallowed hard and rang his Captain on his cell.
“Sir? Yes sorry to wake you Cap…yes I know it ain’t 5 a.m. yet. Its Sterns sir, we got a bad situation at the Metro Museum…failed robbery, we think…but we got bodies all over…in pieces…it’s like some of them got ripped apart…just bled out…others…there’s at least one decapitated, sir…we’re not even sure how many yet, …Cap…I got at least 9 dead-
“We’ve found another one!” interrupted a medical examiner shouting from inside the building.
“Make that ten dead…”
“My mistake, another 3 “ the examiner corrected himself.
“Sorry, TWELVE DEAD - it’s a god-damned charnel house in there. There are bodies all over – ain’t even searched all the rooms yet, could be more, …judging by the bits left over, there will be more. It’s like a butcher’s yard… I got 22 years in sir, I ain’t seen anything like it. There’s blood everywhere… Bits of people…It’s like some nut job just went berserk…”
Four hours earlier…
Dixon looked at his watch. 4 minutes,15 seconds. Bang on schedule. Alarms off. Cameras down. Recordings wiped. Guards taken care of. Everyone inside. Nothing to stop them now. They could literally help themselves. He stood in the foyer of the Metropolitan Museum with the stop watch running and a shopping list. He looked out from under his balaclava mask as his crew went about their tasks. Twenty men, twenty items. Stolen to order, around $38 million dollars worth of (almost) priceless works of art, porcelain, antiques, antiquities, jewellery and artifacts. That was on the open market of course. The buyers were paying around $10 million, two of which were his. They were happy, he was happy. And after they’d filled the list, his men could take what they wished, hiding the specifics of the theft in a mass of other stolen items. Some they’d arrange to be recovered later on, leading the investigation away from the real culprits, others they would pass on through reliable outlets and each man could make a little for himself besides his cut. He had a reputation for looking after his boys. That was why he could cherry pick his men. In most cases they were the same, year in, year out, unless someone did something stupid like get arrested. Each man was tasked with getting a single item on the list, but for some it required two men or more and in such instances each helped with the other’s specific artifact. Some of the larger paintings needed two men to strip them safely out of the frame for example. But they knew each other and worked well together. Never any trouble, a job every 18 months or so. This time though Dixon had one item that he was taking purely for himself, a small indulgence after 22 years as a professional thief. It wasn’t worth millions, just around $16,000 in fact. It was a Persian flintlock pistol, with black enamel between silver filigree on a dark ebony handle. He had first seen it 14 years ago and …well he just liked it.
“We’re done, Dix.” Said Charlie, his number two, as the others gathered around him. “Apart from Newmeyer and Bill. They’re getting that big Seurat painting on the second floor. Everything else is already in the truck.”
11 minutes, 42 seconds. Fantastic work!
“Ok guys help yourselves, quick as you can, meet back up in the Hall of Warfare when you got your lucky charms. Percer, Tony ,Noyes and Ricardo, you double up.” He said pointing out the four chosen men.
“Aw, crap, me again?” said Noyes. Doubling up was taking several other items each, that would be recovered later to throw the cops off the scent, besides their own piece for profit.
“Your own fault, you’re so good at choosing ‘em.” Dixon said with a smile.
“I ain’t Ricardo, Dix, I’m Phil” said the last man in the ski mask he had pointed to. They were all dressed alike in black boiler suits, dark army type jackets, gloves and masks. He grinned. “But I’ll double up anyway.”
“Remember, so-“
“I know I know, something unique to the museum that identifies the theft, I ain’t fresh off the boat, Dix… already picked ‘em out from the Museum guide book.”
Dixon smiled as he headed towards the Hall of Warfare, and his crew spread out in all directions.
“Manny and Eddie go help Bill and Newmeyer-“
There was a loud crash as something smashed through the skylight dome over the foyer and landed kneeling, supported on her palm behind the group of men. Dixon and the others spun around in surprise, his first reaction that some idiot had smashed something priceless.
“What the fuck?” he said as he turned around to be confronted by an athletic looking young woman, crouched in the semi darkness of the entrance hall.
A sly smile spread across her face, the corner of her mouth curled up on one side as she raised her head slowly. She flicked a seasoned gaze around the ring of men about her, assessing the threat. Though heavily outnumbered she was not unduly worried. She was, after all, trained in the ways of the Amazon warriors of old. She stood slowly, straightening up and uncurling the thin golden rope at her hip as she turned at the waist, first left, then right, taking in the men behind her.
“You should’ve brought more guys.” She declared simply as she started to run the rope through one hand as she held one end in the other, staring back at the leader with clear blue-green eyes.
“Ohhhh, I think we’ll do just fine…” Dixon said as he recovered his composure. One woman against the whole outfit? This bitch had clearly bitten off more than she could chew. Then he noticed the thin golden strip at her forehead, a red star at its centre.
“Oh, shi-“ Dixon never got any further as some of his gang directly behind her recovered from their initial shock and made a move towards her.
In an instant she had dropped onto one bent knee, braced by her free hand, the other leg straight as she swiveled around , her hand holding the rope raised before flashing down in an instant as it cracked out along the line of five men behind her like a whip, slashing at head height across the masked faces of the men approaching her.
They reeled back, yelling in surprise, two clutching cut cheeks, blood seeping through gashes in the ski masks, as they all stepped back in shock – literally as the lasso had delivered a small but intense stab of electrical pain on contact.
Dixon saw the bright red, strapped sleeveless crop top with the gold eagle splayed over the modest but still appealing breasts. There was gold trim around the low cut neckline and the base of the top above her well-toned abs. She wore very tight jeans with a silver and gold eagle belt buckle, with red stars at each thigh. Long silver bracelets with a red star at their centre covered her forearms.
“But…you’re a blonde! You ain’t Wonder Woman! “ Noyes said, confused.
“No, she ain’t. But it don’t matter who she is… Listen lady this don’t need to go bad, just get lost an’ leave us to it , huh?” said Dixon.
“Wish I could fellas. But I can’t.” she said icily as she rolled to her left, coming up on one knee, twirling the rope viciously, raking another seven men across the face and chest. She stood and jumped back to her right somersaulting sideways in mid-air to land roughly where she had stood originally. But Dixon’s gang had closed in on that side slightly and a further crack of her rope-whip slashed at them, again inflicting minor injuries.
“We don’t want no trouble…” Dixon said placatingly, palms raised.
“Don’t worry. You aren’t giving me any. But it’s way too late for that speech...” she smiled, coldly.
“Okay, fuck it , take her down!” Dixon ordered.
She smiled in anticipation.
The rope flicked out effortlessly again as the first thief took a half step towards her, wrapping around his throat as she deftly avoided his arm raised in defence. He started to spasm and twitch as the electric charge shocked him. She gave a slight tug but such was her strength the man, Thomas, was yanked suddenly off his feet into the two men next to him to his right. The rope was released from his neck, with a subtle ripple of her wrist to add the slack, as his body was still in mid-air. By the time the three of them had hit the ground she had spun and lashed six men off to her left, this time with much more force than before, two of them knocked to the floor as the others reeled screaming. The lasso flashed out again but this time it was blocked and caught. Though as the charge coursed through him, the thug clearly regretted it. Yet she never hesitated, using the held lasso as an anchor she ran at lightning speed straight into two of the thugs, body checking them out of the way, looping the lasso around Hennessey, the man who held it and two of his companions. As they froze beneath the power of the lasso she lashed out with a ferocious backhanded fist that slammed into two of them, knocking them out, before returning her hand as a straight jab to the wind pipe that caused the last man to collapse gasping, before passing out.
As he sank to the floor she flicked the rope clear and gripped his shoulder as she swung her body up, perpendicular to the floor, landing a vicious double kick to the nearest two unfortunate thieves. One fell unconscious as the other grabbed his broken nose, screaming. At least four were out of the fight permanently with another five or six in different stages of recovery. The remaining ten or twelve guys still standing stayed back, uncertainly. She flashed her lasso out low this time, whipping around the ankles of one attacker and sending him crashing to the floor where she yanked him around using both her hands on the lasso to pull him into three of his companions, sending them tumbling. Even as she did so, she jumped and lashed out with a sturdy boot to the face of the nearest assailant. As she landed, she grabbed the dazed felon and hurled him into two of his companions, then turned and struck a fourth man crisply on the jaw, who dropped like a stone. She ducked a punch from Noyes, landing two answering blows to his gut that caused him to sink to his knees. As he dropped, she kneed him in the temple as a backhanded blow struck Edison off to her left sending him down onto the hard marble floor with a shocked groan. Again she swung her rope around in a complete circle, forcing the surviving attackers back, slashing at a few, then delivering a finishing punch to Edison that put him out like a light.
Almost half his men were permanently down and no one had laid a glove on her. Dixon was starting to panic. And he never panicked. He was a thief not a prize fighter. He’d lasted this long through planning, not brawling. He was totally at a loss as to what to do to stop her. He just stepped back and stared, dazed as his men went down one after the other.
The girl leaped up to head height, her slender thighs flicking her legs out with lightning speed, first one then the other in a fearsome double kick that cracked one man’s jaw with an audible report and sent the second man, Roecastle, flying back four feet into his companions.
As she landed, one of the men behind her finally closed pinning her arms to her chest in a bearhug. It lasted for less than a second and a half as she deftly flicked her head back to split his nose in a shower of blood that covered the back of her head in sticky spray.
As his arms released her and he staggered back, clutching his nose, she spun, kicking him in the groin and then landing a double fist of laced fingers down on the back of his neck, knocking him down to the floor. She then flipped back onto her palms and kept going, doing a succession of backward hand-stands that resulted in more felons being kicked and barged out of her way.
As she finally landed upright she flashed her lasso around the throat of one of the 6 men still standing yanking him off his feet to collide and smash heads with the nearest fellow thief.
She launched herself straight into two nearby, with a forearm smash to the windpipe of one and a left hook to the jaw of the other. Both hit the floor clutching the point of impact. One of the last survivors pulled a .45 but her rope snaked out and struck his hand causing him to drop it with a scream before he had even brought it to bear. She closed, grabbing him by the lapel and belt and lifted him above her head before hurling him into his last two companions. One managed to dodge the flying body but the other was struck full in the face and both hit the marble floor hard and lay still. The guy who had dodged came up shooting, three wild shots that missed her, before she finally had to deflect two with her bracelets. She leaped forward landing a swift one-two to the one called Eddy who was unconscious before he hit the ground. She turned and sauntered casually over towards Dixon, literally the last man standing, who was backing away, hands up pushing the air between them as if to stop her advance.
“I didn’t know about the guns, I swear, I’m a thief not a murderer.”
“Why don’t we let my Lasso of Justice decide that, huh?” said the young woman as she stopped before him. She grabbed him by the lapels and lifted him slightly.
“W-who the fuck are you anyways?” he stammered.
“Some people call me ‘Wonder Girl’…” she said.
“’Wonder Girl?’” said Dixon.
She head-butted him with a lightning strike to his nose, breaking it in a fountain of blood that sprayed all over her face and her tiara.
“BUT I hate it when they call me that.” She finished.
She dropped him to the floor where he lay moaning, re-gathered her lasso into coils and re-attached it to her belt. She then stood, hands on hips, twisting her upper body slightly as she cast a glance over first one shoulder, then the other, a sly smile of satisfaction on her face, that spread into a beaming smile as she acknowledged the 19 men lying about her. She rose up on the balls of her feet and bobbed up and down contentedly. She’d got a bit messy – her head was covered in their blood, but on the whole, a job well done.
Damn, she was good and getting better, she thought to herself. If only her sister Diana had been here to se---
“AAAARRRRRRGGGGGGHHHHHHH!” she screamed as the twin barbs of the taser struck her in the back of her left shoulder, her body spasming and twitching with the shock, but she was a demigoddess and as such could just about take the blow. But not a second one. The second taser strike hit her square between the shoulder blades a moment behind the first, causing her whole body to shudder as the current hit home and she rose up on her tip-toes, her back arching, the current sending her firm young breasts oscillating beneath the tight red fabric of her top, the blood rushing to fill her nipples as they hardened involuntarily beneath the golden eagle wings. The floor of her pelvis clenched as all strength left her legs and her knees buckled as she sank slowly to the floor, her pretty features contorted in a grimace of disbelief and agony.
She hadn’t realized that two of the gang were still upstairs when she attacked. It was a naïve mistake that she would pay a terrible price for. Newmeyer and Bill came down the stairs, Bill handing his taser to his colleague as he rushed forwards, pulling a chloroformed cloth from his pocket, the same one he had used on the museum guards. As he neared her, Newmeyer finally yanked the taser prongs free. But Cassie barely had a seconds respite before Bill’s arm came around her throat from behind, his hand clamping cruelly over her left breast as he squeezed and kneaded her tit with his right hand, as his left held the debilitating cloth over her nose and mouth.
“MMMppppphhhhhhh!!!!” was the only sound she could utter, the taser shocks preventing her from even bringing up her arms to pry the hands loose, as her body still struggled to cope with the shock and recover some degree of movement.
Tears of shame and despair pricked at her eyes as she found herself completely helpless, powerless to do anything but breathe in the nauseous vapours. She could feel his breath hot against her neck, then her cheek and her ear as he moved his head alongside hers, careful to avoid the blood covering the back of her head and her forehead where she had butted his co-villains. She felt herself starved of oxygen, each desperate breath making her more drowsy, blurring her vision. As her green-blue eyes fluttered and closed one pitiful thought formed in her mind…
‘Oh, sister….please…help me….’ The tiny red star at the centre of her circlet/tiara glowed briefly.
Lying in bed asleep, in another part of the capital, Diana Prince awoke with a start.