In a small office deep in a concrete bunker, a phone begins to ring. A man sits there, filing paperwork. He glances over at the phone -- it’s an old thing from a bygone area. The bottom row of the phone is filled with tall, clear plastic buttons. One blinks insistently as the ringer dings at him again. The man stabs the button with a large pudgy finger, silencing it as he picks up the phone.
“Your appointment is here,” a female voice says on the other end.
“Send him in,” replies the man. He sets down the receiver and sits up a bit, tossing away his slouching posture for something more commanding. He scoots his old, metal wheeled chair closer to the desk and folds his hands on his desk, waiting. A moment later his appointment walks in. The man is young, bearded, and clearly of an Arabian background. His white robes swirl around him as he steps in, turns, and shuts the door behind him. He moves with purpose and grace, taking the wooden chair in front of the desk. “General,” he says. “A pleasure to finally meet you.”
The General on the other side of the desk waves his hand dismissively as if he was swatting an invisible, irritating fly. “Let’s dispense with the pleasantries if you don’t mind. I’m on a bit of a timetable,” the General says gruffly. “I presume that you brought it?”
The Arabian nods. “It’s waiting in three trucks, already inside your gates. I assume that you have my payment?”
The General nods sternly. “Of course. Your payment is awaiting you in a building nearby. I’ll call for it after I’ve verified that you’ve given me what I’m paying for.”
The Arabian stiffened silently. Then he spoke, his voice was somewhat elevated and angry. “You don’t trust us? After all of this time, I’m personally offended! I would think…”
“Hush, Nasir,” said the General, holding up his hands. “I trust YOU and your people just fine. It’s your chemists that I don’t trust. Do you know how fragile Sarin is, in practice? My people tell me that it only has a shelf life of a few weeks. A few months if the chemicals are pure, if it’s been mixed well, and if it’s been stored properly. Now, I’m sure you have some fine chemical manufacturing capabilities in your country, but I don’t want to buy something that isn’t going to work.”
Nasir leaned back, and then he smiled. “I was anticipating this. Do you have a warehouse where we can drive the trucks to? I have brought everything needed to allay your concerns. I am prepared to demonstrate to you that what we bring to you is not only viable, but of the highest quality.”
The General waits for a moment, and then picks up the phone. He stabs another plastic button on it and waits for a moment. “Hey. This is General Tarasenko. Can you have the quartermaster direct our guest trucks into warehouse 5? Excellent. I’ll be there with our guest in a few minutes. Have the men unload the trucks and then take the drivers to the officers bar to wait, OK?”
The General looks up and notices that Nasir is waving his hands about, trying to get the General’s attention. The General then speaks into the phone “Hold on one sec, ok?” He places a hand firmly over the receiver, sealing off all sound.
“There will be a bald gentleman with the drivers. He’ll have some equipment with them, and a young girl. Can you have the men tell him to set up a demonstration?” Nasir waited for a reaction from the General. The General nodded, trying to contain his excitement.
“Sorry ‘bout that Roman. There’s a bald guy and a girl in one of the trucks. Tell the bald guy that we need a demonstration. Be discreet about it, ok? I don’t want our guys to know about the girl. No, you can’t stay to watch. Sorry. I’ll make it up to you next time. Thanks Roman.” The General hangs up the receiver with a dull thud. He takes a moment to stand. It’s a slow, deliberate motion. “Shall we Nasir?”
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Warehouse 5 was only a short jeep ride from the concrete command bunker. The air was particularly cool and crisp as the fall season approached. Low slung clouds blanketed the sky, little strips of blue peeking through, like sun from through a torn cloth. The jeep bounced up the hill to a squat set of buildings. Two jeeps thundered past them, heading downhill, kicking up dust.The General waved at them as they went by. Roman saluted with one hand and drove with the other as the jeeps that had escorted the truck convoy drivers sped to the officers club below. Soon the warehouse loomed ahead of them. Heavy metal clad doors loomed before them as the jeep slowed and pulled to a stop, a white stenciled ‘5’ twenty feet tall painted on the outside.
Nasir and the General got out of the jeep. The General looked over at Nasir expectantly. “Half an hour,” said Nasir. The General looked at the driver to make sure that he heard. “See you in 40 minutes General,” said the driver before speeding off back down the hill. The General motioned towards Nasir the heavy metal doors. He took a hand and pushed it aside, just enough for them to both slip through. They both entered the warehouse before the General spun and pushed the door closed.
The warehouse was large, cavernous, and cold. Bits of light streamed in from the top where the walls met the ceiling, a narrow slat of three or four feet was open to the outside to let air circulate in and out of the massive building. It was cooler inside than out, their breath fogging in front of their faces. The General and Nasir strode forward toward the trucks. The back of each truck was facing them in a small semicircle, their contents unloaded. At the back of each truck stood thirty identical pressure tanks. Each one was about 6 feet tall and stainless steel. Each one had NFPA 704 sticker on it, bearing a blue 4, a red 1, and a yellow 0. In the center of the semicircle of tanks stood a bald man holding a young girl and an upright glass case.
The bald man nodded and bowed slightly as the General and Nasir entered the building. His right arm flexed, holding the girl steadily and authoritatively. His bald head shone despite the dim lighting of the warehouse. He was dressed in standard, military green, but there was something about his eyes that were too bright and too keen to be a grunt. Still, it was clear that he belonged.
The girl however was a different matter. She was barely dressed and shivering in the cold. Her eyes were nervous, tracking the men with a fear as she shook there. She was maybe 11, or twelve maybe, her long black hair quivered in the dim light as her eyes stared at the approaching men. She withdrew and shrank, trying to hide a bit behind the man who was her captor.
“Is everything ready Dmitry?” asked Nasir as he approached. Dmitri smiled. “Yes, everything is ready, including the girl. Come General, see for yourself.” Dmitri beckoned the General to approach the girl. Dmitry watched as the General came close to the confused, scared girl. The general reached out and grabbed the girl by the chin, staring into her dark brown eyes. His eyes scanned her body lasciviously and slowly, going up and down. He saw the budding breasts under the shirt, rounded, with puffy areolas. His gaze descended, seeing her hips just starting to form and then her legs, short, somewhat thick for her age. He wondered whether she would grow tall and thin, or if she always be on the pudgy side. His mind then thought to himself that she wouldn’t grow at all if the demonstration went according to plan.
Dmitry cleared his throat. “The girl we picked up in the Philippines. She was sold to us to be a domestic worker in Manila, but we had other…plans for her. Her name is ‘Malaya’. She’s twelve years old and in excellent health. She hasn’t experienced menarche yet, but it’s expected to be very soon. Her pubic hair is just coming in. No, she doesn’t speak much English. She understands some basic commands but that’s about it.” Dmitry turned now toward the glass case.
The case itself was 6 feet tall and maybe two feet deep and a few feet wide, about the size of a coffin but slightly less deep. It was leaning at 55 degree angle and propped up by a thick frame of wood. The back of the case was solid welded stainless steel, while the front had a single pane of thick glass. A set of hinges were on one long side with a corresponding set of three latches on the other. Surrounding the case was a thick layer of rubber insulation. On the top of the case was a standard quick-release pneumatic fitting and a sealed, insulated wiring port.
Dmitri waited for the General to take it in. “As you can see General we have brought special equipment to demonstrate the efficacy of the gas you are going to purchase. The demonstration is straightforward enough. We’ll place the girl in the case and seal it. The glass is so you can witness her death. In case you doubt your eyes or you think we’re merely putting her to sleep, we’ll also attach a few medical monitors to her so that you can be assured that she is quite dead. Naturally, we want to protect ourselves so the case is quite airproof. It would not do well to poison ourselves in the process. Shall we begin?”
The General said nothing as his eyes turned back toward the girl. His thoughts started getting the better of him as his mind thought about what the girl was thinking. Did she know what was going to happen? His eyes looked over her budding body again and he felt a stirring in his loins and an erection growing there. It seemed like several moments passed. “General?” prodded Dmitry.
The General swallowed. “I’m sorry, yes, please continue. I was just distracted by…”
“No need to apologize General,” said Dmitry. “I had a similar...urge when I got to test this on a young Ukrainian girl a few weeks ago. I will tell you what -- Why don’t you help me prep her and then I’ll wait outside when the time comes. I’ve had my show, and Nasir had his a few days ago when he didn’t believe me that this worked.” Dmitry rolled his eyes at Nasir jokingly and smiled. “Isn’t that right Nasir?”
Nasir nodded. “Tis true I’m afraid. Say, listen guys, I’m going to wait outside in the sun where it’s warm. It’s too cold in here for my Arabian ass in here. Dmitry, don’t let him forget to pick.” Nasir wheeled around on one foot, causing his robes to billow around him as he quickly fled the cool air of the warehouse and back outside into the warm sun.
Dmitry turned toward the General. “General, in order for this to be a test that conirms our confidence in our manufacturing process, I’d like you to select a Sarin cylinder at random among the ones standing here. That way you know that this is a real demonstration. Any one will do.”
The General walked away for a moment as Dmitry turned and began talking in tones to the girl. Was it Tagalog? The General didn’t know as he began to walk among the rows and rows of canisters nearby. He pondered what lay inside. How much death was in each canister? How many people would he need to kill in order to maintain his grip on power? If it meant using every single one, he decided, he would. But that was in the future. First he had to kill just one girl. The General finally settled on a canister in the center of a cluster of others. Tilting it sideways, he then used the bottom edge of the cannister like a wheel and slowly rolled it back to where the glass case was leaning. Dmitry had managed to get the girl lying in the glass case. She was clad in a simple white top and had taken off her pants, leaving her in her white panties, barely covering her mound. She was still shivering in cold, her eyes nervous, but she was still complying with Dmitry’s instructions. There was already instruments plugged into the top of the case as well as the hose which was laying on the floor like a sleeping snake. Dmitry returned holding a couple of pairs of leads, some scissors, what looked like a white plastic clip and a small roll of medical tape. Dmitry handed the clip and the tape to the General.
“Here. This is an oxygen saturation sensor. Put it on her left middle finger, like this,” he says, demonstrating how the end of the clip fit around the end of the her finger pad and nail bed. “You can see here that this isn’t faked. If you look over there, that’s my reading.” The General looked over at the simple red led display, which registered a bright red 99 percent. “Take the tape and wrap it around the sensor and her finger so that it won’t fall off when she struggles. Don’t tape it too tight, we don’t want to cut off the blood circulation to her finger.” Dmitry then held up two small leads. On each end was a circle backed with some tape. “These two things are heart rate monitors. I won’t demonstrate these to you since I need the tape to stick, but it’ll be clear that these work in a moment.” Dmitry turned back toward the girl. “Here, you do the finger sensor while I prep her heart monitors.”
The General turned and walked up to the girl in the case. He smiled and reached in taking her left hand. It was warm and soft. Gently he took the oxygen sensor and clamped it over her left middle finger. Then holding the tape, he quickly unspooled a large length of it and began to wrap it around the sensor and her finger, not too tightly as he was instructed. The girl looked at this nervously for a moment, then was distracted by the scissors approaching her top. Dmitry said something to her and she relaxed a bit. Dmitry grabbed the bottom of her shirt, cutting up the length of it easily. A final snip and he was through the neckline. Dmitry pushed the white fabric to each side, revealing her budding breasts. The girl shivered when exposed to the cold. The General found it hard not to stare at her nipples which were slowly becoming erect in the cool air. He watched as Dmitry placed the leads carefully and with purpose on the girls body. One on each shoulder, one in the direct center of her chest on the sternum, and then another one just below her left budding breast. Dmitry took all of the leads, including the one from the oxygen sensor on her left hand plugged them into ports at the top of the glass case.
The General stepped back, looking at the girl. She was clearly scared as her eyes flicked back and forth. She shivered again as she swallowed a couple of times in nervousness. Dmitry was stepping over to the side, grabbing the hose and connecting it to the tank the General had brought over. There was an audible snap as the connection was made. Dmitry then turned to a nearby table. He set both the heart monitor and oxygen sensor on it. Already the General could see that both were producing data. The oxygen monitor read a solid ‘99’ while the heart monitor flipped between 95 and 100, the lines jumping with every contraction of her heart. “It’s a little high,” said Dmitry. “But she is scared, poor thing.”
Dmitry stood next to the General. “We’re ready. All you need to do is shut the door, close the latches, then turn on the gas. The valve is pretty easy to turn. Just one rotation to the left, count to ten, then turn it off. Then you can watch.” Dmitry paused making sure that sunk in. “More than 10 seconds and you’re wasting gas. Less than 10 seconds and she’ll suffer. And you don’t want that. There’s one last thing I need to ask you. You do know what Sarin does to a person, don’t you?”
The General stood in front of the girl who was at this moment, a breathing, living person. He stared at her, trying to etch into his mind how she looked in this instant. The subtle curve of her hips. The way her nipples stood erect. The way she moved, even in her fear, how controlled it was. The soft rise and fall of her breasts. The way her lips trembled in nervousness. How attentive her eyes were as she stared at the two men conversing in front of her. The General tried to record everything and that moment.
“Yes,” whispered the General. His penis was erect and straining uncomfortably in his underwear. “Yes, I know. It won’t be pretty. It’ll be...messy.”
Dmitry took a breath, then patted him on the shoulder. “Then she’s all yours my friend. Nasir and I will be waiting outside. We won’t come in until you tell us to. Whether we make this deal or not, the box is yours to keep, along with the medical equipment.” Dmitry paused. “I’ll be outside.” The General said nothing, his eyes not leaving the girl as he heard Dmitry leave the warehouse and shut the door behind him.
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The General approached the girl now as she trembled in the box. His voice was soft and gentle. “What did he tell you little girl, to make you so willing?” he spoke softly. He realized that the girl couldn’t understand anything he was saying, so he kept his tone non-threatening and supportive. The General reached out with his hand and stroked the side of her cheek while his other hand grasped the glass door. “Shhh, it’s okay Malaya,” he near whispered. The girl looked at him quizzically at the sound of her name, even as he brought the glass door over the top of her. He set it down gently so that it wouldn’t slam down and startle her as he saw the rubber insulation deform slightly from the weight of the glass. He then kneeled down, latching the first latch closed, then the second and finally the one nearest her head. He watched her breathing in the box, her breath briefly fogging the glass in front of her face. She lifted up her hands and pressed against the front of the box. He watched as her palms briefly turned white as she pressed the blood out of the capillaries in her skin, flattening them. There was a gasp as she pushed, then she put her hands down again. He could see the girl squirming in the case. She made a voiced sob, clearly scared, her eyes tracking his every move. He then stepped over to one side to be near the pressure vessel. He lifted up his hand and placed it on the small, cold metal knob at the top of the tank.
The General hesitated. It wasn’t too late to stop. He could go outside and tell Nasir and Dmitry that he changed his mind, that he trusted them completely and there was no need to do this. Had this all been an elaborate trick to fleece him of his money? Was this the plot of the Americans, to force him into a moral choice and to take inferior Sarin? The options weighed through his mind. They wouldn’t let him choose the cannister if these were all duds. What could they do instead? They could give him weak Sarin. Expired Sarin. He would launch it and it wouldn’t kill enough. It would only maim and then he would be weak enough for the rebels to take everything that he had. There was one way to be sure.
The General opened the valve one full turn. There was an immediate hiss from the tank as death was exhaled from the tank. He saw the hose jump as pressure filled it and fed into the top of the case, letting the odorless, tasteless gas seep into the chamber. He began to count. One-one-thousand. He wondered if she would feel anything. Two-one-thousand. She would of course, if what Nasir and Dmitry were peddling was true. Three-one-thousand. Which is why he had to be sure of the potency and strength. Isn’t this why he was doing this? Four-one-thousand. How much gas had come through the line? Enough to kill her? Enough to kill a full grown man, 10 men? 100? Five-one-thousand. What if it worked? He would watch her die. He imagined what it might be like to rain missiles down on his enemies. Would he be comfortable killing children? Six-one-thousand. Yes, if it meant he could stay in power. Seven-one-thousand. The General waited a half beat and then twisted the knob completely to the right, shutting it closed. 7.5 seconds. In a few minutes, he would either have what he needed to smash the rebels or he would have to kill the two gentleman standing outside.
The General moved to the front of the case. He stole one quick glance toward the warehouse doors which were still closed. Nasir and Dmitry were still outside. He smelled a vague scent of cigarette smoke wafting through the doors. He turned back, satisfied they would keep their word. Idly, he began rub himself. Just a few rubs of his palm against the front of his pants. He felt the hard metal zipper pressing against his cock and it felt good as he came closer to the glass. His eyes scanned the rubber seals around the edge which were still pressed tight and closed. He then came even closer, only a foot away as he watched the girl in the case.
Malaya’s face stared back at him, her face a mask of panic. Her eyes were wide open and her palms were pressed against the front of the glass, the flesh skeletal white as she pressed her skin with all of her might against the nearly invisible barrier. The hissing she had heard moments ago had stopped, but she knew something was terribly wrong with the air. She couldn’t taste or smell it but somehow she knew, even as her budding chest took in another lungful of air and death. The General heard her cry out, then her palms slapped the glass again. The General was thankful that he had taped the oxygen sensor to her finger as her open palms slapped again, causing an odd metallic echoing, her chest heaving as she frantically beat at transparent pane, trying to escape. Her hands balled into fists, beating at the surface with whatever power and leverage her small body could muster. The General glanced at the small table, watching the girl’s heart rate climb. 110. 120. 130. She was scared and fighting for her life, not knowing that if what Nasir and Dimitry said was true, her life was already over.
The General approached even closer to the glass. The girl was now inches away from his face as she leaned forward and pressed her nose flat. His eyes opened wide as he watched her breath fog the inside surface of the box, her desperate cries echoed inside of the chamber as her heart rate climbs to 140, her fists pounding in a staccato rhythm as she feels an odd tightening across her chest, spreading like a burning, tingling wildfire as her body begins to cramp and lock up. The General can only watch as her body takes deep draughts of air, reflexively trying to breathe, fogging the glass as the girl’s nose and forehead are pressed tightly against the surface. There’s a cry that comes from the girl as the fists in her hands start to tremble, opening up and slapping crudely as she feels every muscle in her body starts to spasm and tense up, cramping and not letting go.
The General mouths a quiet “ohmygawd” as he watches. The girl takes another deep lungful of poison, shrouding the space between them with her breath, then slamming her face against the glass, smearing the inside surface before falling back into the stainless steel backing of the chamber. There is a voiced grunt, then another as her hands slap at the front of the case. The General is barely aware of his hands moving down to his pants, undoing his belt and unbuttoning the top of his pants. It’s only after his cock has been sprung free into the cool air of the warehouse that he realizes what he’s doing. He feels a pang of awareness, then realizes that he doesn’t care as he shuffles closer, trying to not trip on the double loop of pants wrapped around his ankles.
The girl has already begun to convulse. With each deep gasp of air, she drew in yet more poison into her lungs which are already constricting and spasming in her chest, the muscles around each bronchial tube clenching, leaking fluid into her air sacs. The girl coughs, then coughs again as the heaving of her chest gets shallower as all the muscles in her torso and stomach tighten and refuse to unlock. It’s the General’s turn to press his nose and body against the glass, straining to get a closer look at he watches the girl’s pupils turn into mere pinpoints, her body shuddering as tears start to stream down her face as her mouth opens and closes, a wet gurgling coming from her throat as she coughs. A gout of thick sour flem comes out of her mouth as her empty stomach begins to wretch, dry heaving as every nerve in her body switches on and stays on, unable to relax. A moment later the girl begins to drool heavily. It comes out of her mouth and runs down across her shuddering chest as she undulates in the confines of the small container. Her arms lash out and bump against the metal sides of the case, causing an odd low resonating metallic ‘thump’ as her body becomes racked with uncontrollable twitching and convulsing.
The General can only watch as he presses his balls against the cold glass. He begins to slide his cock on the outside, using the smooth surface. His eyes glance to the side to the monitors. The girls heart rate is almost 200 as her brain dumps the chemicals of flight and panic into her bloodstream. The oxygenation numbers were beginning to slowly drop. 99. 98. 97. 96. The General wondered if she could feel her life ending or if she was in too much pain to notice.
There was an extremely loud thump followed by a couple of long, strangled gasps, drawing the General’s attention back to the dying girl inches away from him. He watched as her tan skin, beaded with sweat was shuddering and convulsing. He watched in fascination as her little budding breasts jiggled. He moaned as her hands slapped against the glass and she made a strangled half-grunt. His eyes went downward toward her still clothed sex. The white underwear had hitched up slightly, revealing what would have been an embarrassing cameltoe had she the ability to care, the crotch of it was damp with sweat. The General moaned again. He was watching her die.
Without warning she suddenly stiffened, her entire body going rigid, as if a bolt of current were coursing through her. There was a long strangled gurgle as he watched the crotch of her panties turn yellow, dampening as the contents of her dying bladder began to empty. She continued to twitch, straight as a board as her anus opened, the round gentle curve of her underwear that had clung to her firm buttocks becoming contorted and mis-shapen, sagging, holding what could only be her shit. The General was suddenly thankful for the airtight case, sealing the stench inside.
He glanced over at the monitors which were now declining, the numbers decreasing moment by moment as her major organs began to fail. The girl gurgled softly as she relaxed, slumping downward in the case, her body gentle twitching as her head rolled slightly to one side, resting against her shoulder as her eyes looked slightly downward, her chest not moving, her nipples that were so rigid, stiff and erect starting to melt back into her budding chest as the oxygen sensor continued to decline. 85. 80. 75. He wondered how much consciousness remained in the girl. He took a hand and slapped the front of the glass, as if she were a fish in a tank. The General watched as the girls head jerked slightly in the direction of the noise, but it was the eyes that told him everything. She was still there and suffering. In pain. Her eyes begged for it to all stop as her cramping heart slowed down in her burning chest and her lips began to lose their redness, changing color to a washed out pink. Her eyes begged for a few more moments, then there was a shudder of her face, a sagging of her eyelids, then her eyes returned to their normal position, looking empty and homeless as the oxygen monitor dipped below 75.
The General slapped the front of the glass again. For a few moments her eyelids opened wider, then sagged again. He watched silently and reverently as the girl sagged even further, like a broken doll, watching as her heart monitor barely blipped. The girl was heaving again, agonally twitching as her brain stem began to die as the oxygen monitor plunged below 50, falling. He began to rub his naked penis against the glass, wishing he could touch her … fuck her as everything that she was silently unraveled behind her expressionless, slack, and sweaty face.
The General continued to hump the surface of the glass as he watched her agonal breathing subside as the last of the oxygen in her body was used up and she went still. Moaning and grunting loudly, his cock began to spit waves of pleasure, streaking the glass with white sperm and seminal fluid, sounding vaguely like rain as it flew up and obscured his view of her now blue lips, empty eyes and slack face. He panted heavily as one last spurt of his cock landed on the glass. He stepped back, shaking his cock with his hand, forcing the last of his ejaculate to fall onto the ground before pulling up his pants, closing his fly and tightening his belt. He strode over to the monitors, turning them off. He noticed a cloth rag behind the equipment, folded in a military triangle. He grabbed it, shook it and then walked to the front of case, wiping his cum off of the front as best he could. He then dropped the rag to the ground and began taking slow strides to the front of the warehouse.
He would be keeping the box. And the Sarin. And his power.