Talon’s Claws : Epilogue
United Nations General Assembly
“The Chamber is secure, Sir”
With a look of world-weariness the aging South African diplomat stood and moved slowly to the podium.
Despite all their squabbles, backstabbing and intrigue, the collected diplomats hushed up almost instantly.
As a retired President, this speaker was by far the most senior diplomat present, universally respected by every faction, and having no over-riding national agenda, he was the one person that all of them could trust.
“Gentlemen. The Secretary General has asked me to address you on a matter most serious. There is no easy way to say this. The United Nations in its present form has ceased to exist. ”
There was a murmur of unease.
“You no longer represent the governments of your countries. The successor governments set up in the last few days have not seen fit to brief you or arrange for your replacement; where your previous leaders have not resigned...they are not talking to you either. In essence you have been frozen out.
Having reviewed the evidence I must regretfully conclude that I am the only remaining head of state unaffected by these events”
Several ambassadors nodded, the French ambassador looking especially uneasy.
“Fortunately the UN has for years cultivated its own resources for intelligence gathering. These sources have been shared with me and I in turn must now share them with you.”
“There has been a coup. A coup of truly global proportions. The weapon used was an advanced form of hypnosis utilizing a strong sexual compulsion toward homosexual behavior to subvert the populace. As far as we can tell the first strike was delivered primarily via the Internet, with secondary assaults launched by national TV and Radio once their operators were contaminated. By the time anyone in the first world countries knew enough to be alarmed it was already too late.
Within 24hours all of the more civilized regions had fallen, along with the capitols of many less advanced nations. In general only those regions too remote or primitive, along with a large portion of the world’s naval vessels have remained unaffected. New York and France are important exceptions to this state of affairs.”
The murmur had become louder, ‘request to speak’ lights popping up all around the room.
The old man bowed his head “Yes my friends, you have questions. And perhaps I have at least some of the answers.
“Who has done this? What are their aims? Why are we unaffected? Perhaps most importantly, why have they stopped?”
“Gentlemen, Your governments are now acting as the regional administrations for something called The Protectorate. We know that the Protectorate has its origin here in the USA although not within its previous government, we know that they have acted at this time due to a threat of a frankly incredible nature. Indeed some of you may find it beyond belief. " Explained the elderly president taking a sip of water before continuing.
“How do we know this? ....Yesterday We had a young volunteer ring through to the Oval Office offering to act as The Protectorate’s ambassador to us. If you will observe the view screen you will see what happened. Young Mr. Garnett will speak for himself afterwards. He has consented to our showing the following sequence as a sign of honest openness.
The room lights darkened to allow the screen to be seen
The view was from a typical CCTV camera set high in one corner of the office. It showed a smartly dressed young man with EEG sensors taped to his head and a phone with other monitoring devices attached to it.
“You understand that there is a definite risk that they will use this H-weapon on you David?” asked a scientist
“Yes Sir. However given the situation it’s vital that we open diplomatic relations.”
“Good luck Mr. Garnett,” said the old diplomat
“Thank you sir”
David Garnett picked up the phone and dialed the number.
“This is Avitus speaking through this device,” replied the easily recognized voice loudly. It was a well-known fact that President Avitus had a poor grasp of phone etiquette; this was definitely the right man.
“Good Morning Mr. President. My name is David Garnett; I work at the United Nations. The Secretary General has asked that I act as The Protectorate’s ambassador until such time as you appoint your own.”
“I see.” replied the United States’ youthful President. A long pause followed.
“We know what has happened, we know you are implicated. We just don’t understand why and what The Protectorate intends to do next. Frankly whether you are a threat or not” said David
“If you intend to represent us you must be of us. Are you willing to take that step?”
David gulped visibly, a bead of sweat appearing on his brow and glanced at the others in the room, finally making a decision.
“Yes.. On condition that I be able to tell my current masters the truth,” said David loosening his tie and discarding it.
“Welcome to The Protectorate David.” said the President
On the view screen the image split giving the Assembly a cut-away view of the EEG brain scan and the phone’s electrical and audio reception.
The phone remained silent, no sound no ultra-sound, nothing electrical. The other scanner, the one attached to the brain was gradually going haywire.
David had begun to sweat profusely, his brow glistening. He then undid his shirt and after moment took it off entirely, using it to wipe at his well defined torso.
Clearly the 25 year old had taken personal fitness seriously and now those muscles had the sheen of dew that only the ultimate workout gives.
He began to breathe short rapid breaths, one hand moving to a nipple the other slipping into his pants, totally ignoring the scientists around him as if they no longer existed or were irrelevant.
The rapid breathing became more intense his head lashing from side to side as if he were experiencing something vast and infinitely pleasurable, finally ending a huge intake of breath, as if David had encountered something truly wonderful. The camera panned down a bit to show a darkening stain on David’s crotch.
The intern removed his hand from his pants and licked it clean, completely un-selfconscious; a slow relaxed smile forming on his face.
He picked up the handset.
“I understand now Sir. Thank you for offering me this opportunity to serve.”
“Now that you are one of us, I am sure you will make a good representative.”
“I will do my best Sir.” replied David hanging up the phone and turning to speak to those in the room.
“You have nothing to fear from The Protectorate gentlemen. As the name implies we are here to protect you... And from what I have just learned you need our protection.
The Assembly.
David couldn’t help it. He was more nervous than he’d ever been in his life. It wasn’t the public speaking or the fact that these people were very senior diplomats. No, what scared him was the thought that he would not properly express how little they had to fear from his people and how important they were going to be in caring for the remnant Free-Will population.
His costume for this was carefully chosen, he’d had someone sent to Christopher Street to pick it up. It was important that these people understood what he was now, and what he represented.
He was wearing polished black riding boots so reflective you could see your face in them, matching arm bracers and a pair of very short lycra shorts, the sort with a zigzag of shoelace straps over the crotch and a handy zip at the back.
Aside from it’s impact today, the costume would be useful for pulling once he had a chance to visit the controlled zones.
He walked out in front of them, hearing at least one “Mon Du!” He waited for the Free-Will’s to calm down.
“Gentlemen. I am here to assure you, you have nothing to fear from us. We are here to protect you, that is our function. We exist because there is an alien threat to humanity’s existence; our primary task is to defeat that threat.
It is true that all those recruited by The Protectorate are now homosexual. I myself am now learning to enjoy my new orientation. I can assure you that I understand why this was necessary and fully support this part of Protectorate policy. Once the emergency is over, any that wish to, may revert to their original orientation.
You have concerns about our further expansion. We require no further recruits; our forces are now sufficient for the task. This of course leaves the problem of the un-recruited who are no longer represented by their Protectorate controlled governments.
We have decided that the United Nations is the appropriate body to act as a successor state for the un-recruited. It will be your task to form a government for those not serving The Protectorate.
At a later date a territory will be made available for relocation so that the un-recruited may live together as a nation, it will be your task to select an appropriate region based upon your total numbers.
You will also need to consider setting up a contingency plan for the administration of New York. The City is not currently under human control, it is unlikely that any of the creatures currently in authority will resume their duties...indeed, after the “riots” in Harlem and central park many have been removed permanently.
Details of our enemy can be found in the documents currently being distributed.
That pretty much raps it up, except for a personal comment. If any of you delegates are gay and feel like teaching me a few things, please don’t hesitate to call on me after”
With a unanimity rarely found there every single ‘request to speak’ sign came on.
“Monsieur Fontainebleau?”
“Exactly why has France been chosen for special humiliation?”
“The French nation has proudly agreed to evolve into a new species of humanity in order to aide in our fight. I expect you will be asked to evolve if you are to continue to represent them.”
“Heir Krupp?”
The questions continued for several hours.
New Orleans
Troy Masterson examined his hands; it felt good to be back in his own body, or a copy thereof. Hitchhiking around in other people’s brains wasn’t something he ever wanted to do again.
It was also good to be back in Sean’s loving arms. It wasn’t until he got back that he realized that Sean was the only slave who knew exactly every single thing guaranteed to make him shoot his load. Perhaps it was time the boy was given the title of First Partner..or something.
He gazed out of the window toward the foundations of the Right Boot. When it was finished the memorial to Silver would be the tallest building in the world. He’d wanted it to span the river Mississippi like a Colossus of Rhodes; unfortunately his architects reluctantly insisted that current building materials just wouldn’t do it.
His theoretical physicists told him that there was a good chance Silver had survived, arguing that the temporal vortex would have done Talon no good at all if it were purely lethal. He hoped they were right about that. As for telling him ‘When’ the boy might be, their most honest answer had come from a handsome young graduate who, flustered by his master’s presence, had replied ‘Fuck Knows’
“Master” said a nervous voice behind him.
They only used that tone when something had gone wrong, something they would have done anything not to tell him.
“Yes?”
“There’s a slave missing Master. Not seen since your..your assassination”
Troy sighed, why couldn’t they think for themselves more often?
“Have his family informed, arrange a visit tomorrow so that I can share their loss and comfort them”
“He had no family Master. He went only by the name ‘Slave’ so we’ve no idea who to contact, sorry Master.
Troy felt ice chill his spine. The submissive boy known only as Slave had once been a man called ‘The Master’, a Master as capable and ruthless in the use of technology as Talon had been in the fields of sorcery and biology.
“Start an investigation. I want Slave found and detained. The investigation is to remain open until he is found.”
“Yes Master”
Hoboken, Protectorate Border
Cameron, Taylor and Paul sat at table five grinning from ear to ear. This was their first time in a competition Snakedance. Over on table two Charles, Taylor’s mutated father, was eagerly servicing a stockbroker from table six, completely hypnotized by the last team’s dance and oblivious to everything except the man he serviced.
The Snakedancers scored points on how far and how quickly they could influence their human audience. Charles’ performance had rated the team 3.0, 4.2, 4.1
“They’ll have to do much better if they want to score any points off our table” smirked Cameron and Taylor in their duet voice.
“Yes much better” agreed their boyfriend.
It was Ss’mn and Ben up next, the two naga that had been with Silver in the Battle of The Lair.
Without ceremony the two snakeboys slid out onto the dance floor coiling themselves upright and dancing. Unlike the previous dance pair they didn’t slide up to a table and lap-dance it’s occupants into lusty trances, instead they danced on the stage, danced with eyes only on each other.
Hands caressing their torsos in the most erotic way each mirroring the other almost as if they had a mental connection in the way that Blue Static did.
The only break in the superb dance routine was when Ben looked straight at their table and ran his tongue over his top lip. Clearly inviting his friends for a blowjob later.
The next move involved running a finger from where the crotch would be on a human up between each pair of abdominals then in the crease between the firm slabs of pure pectoral beef.
They gasped. It felt as if that finger had brushed with feather lightness up each of their naked torsos. They were not alone. A lot of tables had joined in that gasp.
The next move repeated, the sensation rising until the finger turned left along the pec until it circled the left nipple.
The next was a duel move Ss’mn and Ben each moving a finger to the left nipple resulting in a sensation that the audience felt as a caress to both nipples at once.
A loud buzzer sounded and cheering could be heard. Cameron removed his mouth from around an unfamiliar uncut cock. Five tables away he could sense Taylor doing the same for a stranger’s circumcised wiener.
They noticed they were naked. Their dinner jackets appeared to have been tossed in a heap along with many others. They didn’t remember stripping.
On the stage Ss’mn and Ben were entwined their serpentine bodies wrapped together and above, the two were running hands over each other’s human torso. They seemed oblivious to their audience and to the bunches of flowers someone had thrown at where their lower coils rested.
Above them the Naga referees had rendered their decision 10.0, 10.0, 10.0.
Elsewhen
The black leather clad boy lay on the grass looking upward, not daring to move. The neatly trimmed grass was a rusty red colour, and there were two moons visible in the deep blue sky.