The man in the black suit opened the door and Hunter appeared, wearing his cowboy hat as always.
"Thank you, sir," Hunter said. "What a gentleman." The man didn't smile. He only closed the door behind Hunter. In the room was White on one side of a table and sitting directly across from White was Tracker. "Sorry, I'm late-"
"It's very interesting," White interrupted. "You gentlemen always arrive around the same time. You two have a lot in common, you and Tracker." Hunter raised a brow as he sat and Tracker snorted. After all, the two had little in common, if anything.
Tracker was not a "people" person. He kept mostly to himself and would have trouble getting laid if it weren't for the prostitutes he frequented and his rape victims. He had no respect for the female sex and showed this through his sadistic sexual tendencies. Yes, Tracker was the complete opposite of Hunter. The only thing these two shared was their job description.
"I've got a girl in Los Angeles," began White. "Redhead. Twenty-seven. Real quality crop."
"Aw, White, you shouldn't have! I do love a good redhead. What about the other one?"
"Not for you. This one is Tracker's." White tossed a manila folder over to Tracker, who opened it and scanned redhead's bio and pictures. "She likes to go to the Hollywood hills to think and be alone. A little spot in front of the Angeles Forest." Tracker's lips curled in a timid smile. "I thought you'd like that." White turned to Hunter. "Hunter. You, of course, have your pick of two Louisville girls."
"Even better."
"Yes. Well, you can't take both, as the girls are both local and related somehow- cousins, I think. That doesn't matter to me, of course, but those are the orders. Anyway, do your thing and bring one of them." White handed Hunter the file and paused before speaking again. "You know, Hunter... we can't keep giving you options like this."
"I know," Hunter answered, shifting uncomfortably.
"One day we're only going to have one girl for you to obtain, and you won't get to choose. You two are the very best and I don't want to have to hire some lesser guy just because he plays ball. You read me?" The men voiced their assent and White let them go. Hunter and Tracker made small talk as they were escorted back to the main lobby. Tracker glanced at Hunter once more before they went to their separate limousines. Hunter had really gone downhill, forgetting what this business was all about. The cocky bastard had no professionalism at all.
In Los Angeles, there was little to do. His target, Lenina Briggs, lived alone and kept to herself. Her home, possessions, and job would be taken care of by the men at the Dungeon. Tracker's only preparatory task was to plant a small remote-activated explosive in her car, just in case she tried to escape. The rest of capture would be just using the right tools at the right time.
Tracker watched her visit her secluded spot in front of the woods just once. She stayed for about an hour, staring over the cliff at the city from the roof of her car the whole time, except for a bathroom break. It was a well-picked spot as no one drove down the secluded road the whole time she was there. This isolation would prove to be an unfavorable feature of her thinking place.
A few nights later (her need to clear her mind was quite random), she drove up to her place and sat on the hood of her car, looking out at the city lights. Tracker stared at the beauty longingly. With shimmering red hair and well-shaped derriere (not that her breasts were less than extraordinary), it would seem she would have nothing in life to worry about. She certainly had everything she needed in the physical department. Regardless, she sat solemnly for half an hour and then walked across the road, away from her car, to pee. Tracker gave her a few moments to finish up, slowly walking towards her from his hiding place in the bushes.
Lenina was not finished but, hearing someone approach, pulled up her pants anyway. Tracker stood directly in front of her and said nothing. Nervously, she spoke.
"Oh, hi. Didn't realize anyone was up here." She then tried to walk around him, but he stepped in her way, blocking her path to her car.
Tracker was not an ugly man, but he was unkempt. He didn't worry much about his appearance (as society's reaction to him had seemed not to change when he did) and so although he didn't look homeless or necessarily insane, he had a menacing air, especially to strangers whom believed themselves to be alone. Thus Tracker's presence upset Lenina. Her uneasiness became fear as Tracker pulled a knife out of his coat pocket. Taking the cue, she ran back into the forest. Tracker beamed. He wouldn't need to sabotage her car after all. He followed her.
The park trees started out sparse, but became thick and she soon became lost, cut from branches and unsure of the location of her assailant. The dim moonlight filtering in through the trees proved to be an insufficient light source. Her task of running and hiding would have been easier than Tracker's task of finding her in the dark, but he was skilled at finding his prey, and he had a small flashlight to assist him. He tracked her through the woods before she could realize he was behind her and grabbed her suddenly. She finally got the idea of screaming.
"Help! Help!"
"Shh, pretty girl," Tracker whispered, pulling out a syringe. She knocked his arm away, causing him to drop the syringe. While he searched for it, she got up and ran again. He found the syringe and saw that the needle was broken. It was a good thing he brought a backup.
Lenina stumbled through the woods, trying to regain her bearings as Tracker trailed close behind. When he couldn't see her, he relied on the sound of her footsteps or the smell of her fragrant perfume. Lenina stepped in something that felt disgustingly moist. She looked down to see if she could tell what it was and at that moment she felt a sharp prick in her side. She screamed. Tracker withdrew the needle after fully depressing the plunger and let her run again.
How Tracker loved the hunt. Unlike Hunter, Tracker was willing to take any reasonably safe case that he was given, but he did prefer to have his way. And his way was the chase.
He casually strolled through the wood now, checking his compass to make sure his sense of direction was on, steadily gaining on Lenina despite how hard she was trying to run her fastest. When her legs seemed too heavy to move and she dropped, Tracker was right behind her.
"What I've given you is a drug that will knock you out," Tracker said as he kneeled beside her, "but not for twenty or thirty minutes. In the meantime, only your motor functions will work. Oh, and Lenina?" Her eyes grew wide as she heard him say her name, but she could not turn her head. "This is nothing personal."
Tracker pulled her pants and panties down as she lied on the ground, motionless. It gave him great joy to know that she could feel and see him, but do nothing to prevent him from taking what he wanted. Tracker freed his hard dick from his pants and inserted it into his captive's sex.
He humped her from behind quietly for a few minutes, enjoying her chemically ensured compliance. He ran his fingers through her hair and leaned close to smell it, partially because her scent was erotic, partially because he knew it would make her feel uneasy. He grew aroused just thinking how hard she was probably trying to move her arms to push him off. Or she might have been trying to scream, finding her vocal cords as useless as her immobile hands. As he approached orgasm, he checked her face. Seeing that her eyes were still open, he turned her over and covered her open eyes with his hand as he came on her face. Most likely, she hadn't lost her vision yet, and wouldn't for a few minutes more. He smiled, enjoying his moment of dominance over this pretty cum-covered slut. Her red-pubed pussy had been nicer than most. A small bit of his cum landed on his hand and he wiped it on her sweater.
Tracker hurried in getting back to her house, where he was to drop off the car before taking her back to his place. He hoped to arrive at her house quickly enough to fuck her once more while she was still awake. He swooped into her garage, cut the engine and raced to open her trunk while the garage door was still closing. Her eyes were still open. Tracker tittered with glee.
Lenina was definitely blind at this point and her hearing was probably gone too, but she could still feel. Oh yes, she can still feel! Tracker reflected blissfully as he set her on her stomach on the carpet of her living room.
He immediately pulled her loose pants down again, rubbed his soft dick against the lips of her pussy until it hardened and slipped inside once more.
"Mmmm," Tracker moaned. He gripped onto her rotund pasty buttocks and shoved himself inside over and over. He leaned over and turned her head to see if she was blinking at all. Tracker stopped fucking her when he saw that her eyes were closed and she had passed out.
"Dammit," he scowled. He shook her. She was gone. He angrily slapped her lifeless body. "Wake up, bitch! Wake up!" Tracker gave in with a sigh and continued fucking her. It wasn't the first time he'd fucked an unconscious woman. He rode her hard, grabbing her haunches tightly and digging his nails into her. He jammed his middle finger up her rectum and used it to massage his dick internally. Tracker came in her cunt, thinking of how she'd hurt when she woke.