The Way to Hell

Chapter Seven: Incubus

Sweat glistens between her thighs, golden and thick like maple in the dimmed candlelit room. Keeping herself in the penumbra of light, her knees push together violently as her hand strokes between her legs. She tells herself she doesn't want it, but the need suppresses her resistance effortlessly.

Her mind continues to remind her of the cruel dream. Of August grinding heavy on top of her, his scent vivid in her memory, inching her into a sensation that's impossible to struggle with. The climax is so sweet, her entire body shivers at once as her cunt clenches around an empty void. Howling gasps leave her throat in a delicate, vulnerable voice.

It makes her feel like a sinner, self-loathing surges through her tendons just like the orgasm that ruptured between her lips. Trying to brush any reasoning of these thoughts, she rolls on her belly, wiping her fingers clean on her bare thigh and grabbing her laptop while still catching her rapid breath.

Covered by sweat and lying on her belly, she opens the screen and stares as the bright red loader appears on the screen. The dark web is Icarus' playground, just as much as it's "Lark's" and his apostles. All information and communication between agents stream through undetected, and information of agents, targets, last known locations, even dirty little lascivious sex videos can easily be found here.

It was the dark web that taught her of golden showers, something she regrets to this day.

Yet somehow, within this vast ocean of information, her efforts to find any information on "Lark" seems nearly impossible. As arrogant as August is, he is smarter than he looks.

The day before, she managed to find a server that she hopes to be related to him. Machiavelli's the prince. "It is better to be feared than loved, if you cannot be both." she cites, wondering if August would find both her intelligence and resourcefulness impressive, right before she'll put a bullet between his beautiful blue eyes.

Her request to join the room is yet to be approved. Impatiently she stares at the little notification box every few seconds, hoping to be added to the server. Luckily, she has more than just waiting to do.

Blondie Sydney, as dumb as she may be, gave her an idea on how she might track August.

Sydney mentioned August was trading all the time, but never mentioned what or who he did his bidding with. Ingvild's intuition tells her to examine the black market. If August is really intent on finishing his little apocalypse project, he would be scouring the market for plutonium.

'Oh, to reign in hell.'

The black market may not offer exact locations, but she won't need one anyway. The IP addresses were traceable. All she needs now is to find information about a buyer or a seller and she is set.

Her eyes skim through the list, ignoring the disturbing "quality" material being offered by insidious personas. Narrowing the search she manages to find three dealers and a broker. He calls himself Knight of Darkn3ss.

'Sounds like a cockstain.'

She rolls her eyes and mocks the name, shaking her head with disbelief of what she is forced to do. Yet she clicks his profile to examine the groups this person is a member of: government officials, leaked government lies, MILFs, sluts for hire.

'For fuck's sake.'

Just when she is close to losing her cool, she sees Machiavelli's the prince on the list. Her eyebrow crooks up. Might be something, might be nothing. At this point, she is willing to tear herself limb by limb to find even a piece of thread. She clicks the little direct message icon and writes him a private mail.