Practical Joke, Practical Training

Sable shook her hair back and rolled out of bed.  Catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror she smiled with pleasure at the sight of the black silk pajamas.

"At least he chose the right color."

A faint sound outside her door made her smile.

“It's not going to be a huge snarling dog is it?" she said with a grin.

She turned toward the door as a faint sound came again. Shoving loose strands of hair behind one ear, she walked to the door and pulled it open. The corridor was pitch black, her brows knitted, forming a tiny crease between her lovely grey eyes. A movement gave a split second warning as a figure leaped out of the dark, light from her room glinting off the claws arcing toward her. She danced back expecting a rush but the figure vanished into the darkness.

Sable reached down quickly to her waist and cursed. Her hand found only a wisp of silk and warm bare flesh. Very close by she heard a deep rumble of mirth. Curious, and incautious, she stepped into the corridor, following the sound of laughter, again cursing herself for letting her guard down.

A figure leaped out of the dark, the glint of light warning her but this time the claws laid open the silk she wore before vanishing once more into the black. A soft gasp escaped her at the feel of rending talons so close to her skin. She flushed a sudden nervousness running through her. Slowly she eased forward, her eyes, now more accustom to the darkness, darting up and down the hallway. She paused, her ears almost twitching, as she strained to hear the slightest sound. It came to her, something she had never smelled in the Manor. Sable sniffed the air, goose bumps rising on her arms as the scent of a cigar reached her.

"Gonna spend all day in pajamas, frail?"

Sable took a quick step backward at the sudden voice, and peered deeper in the dark, trying to locate the source. A cherry red glow told her where he was. The figure stepped to the edge of the light. He was massive, seven feet tall at least, blond, shaggy, his eyes slitted like a cat's, between his teeth was clinched the cigar. She stepped back, looking up at the giant of a man.

"Who are you?" she said, her voice betraying nothing of the growing fear in her.

He drew on the cigar.

"Your death," he said "Did you think you could hide forever?"

Sable took another cautious step back, her eyes flicking quickly over the man, searching for his weapons.

"Well a girl can always hope," she said with a shrug, noting no weapon but the claws.

He drew on the cigar.

"I guess your hope just left, girl."

He tossed the cigar to the floor in a shower of sparks.

“Guess I better do you and get it over," he sounded vaguely reluctant.

Sable took another step backward, frantically trying to think of a way out of it.

"Who sent you?" She asked, stalling.

He stepped closer.

“Someone who’s paid a lot of money and has a reason to want you dead."

"That's a lot of people, you know."

Sable matched him step for step as he advanced.

"That's it, run for it," he growled softly. "I love to play chase and rip."

Sable didn't stop moving backward, her hands sliding along the corridor wall.

"I like the pajamas, gonna be fun tearing ‘em of ya," he seemed so nonchalant.

Silently, suddenly, he rushed her. Instantly she responded, quick stepping backward through the door to her room and slamming it behind her. She didn't pause but turned and ran to the window. Behind her the door splintered like balsa as he hit it like a freight train.  Sable glanced out the window to the inviting stretch of lawn and the distant forest. Fanatically her fingers searched for the window latch, the whole time her eyes
only for her stalker. Slowly a horrible realization touched her. There was no latch.  The window would not open. Her stalker stood now beside her rumpled bad and only the few feet of its width separated them. He was grinning, showing huge yellowed fangs.

"Good room to get trapped in, frail," he growled and bounded onto the middle of the bed.

"Would it help if I promised to sleep with you?" Sable asked with a small smile.

It stopped him. He looked her up and down, taking the curve of her hip and the swell of her breasts under the black silk.

"It might," he said, his voice husky with a new emotion. "Turn around, let's see
what you got."

Sable obliged, turning slowly, her eyes never leaving him.  Somewhere animal lust
began to stir within him. This tender girl might make an interesting diversion. So she was a little small in the ass, he could handle that.

"Okay, you take it off nice and slow," he said, his breath coming quicker. "Then get over here and if I like what you do, I might let you go.

Sable laughed softly, her hands drifting upwards slowly, her gaze fixed on the man.  He nodded.

"That's better," he said, his eyes hot on her.

She moved towards the bed, her eyes flicking quickly down to the floor as her fingers worked slowly on the top button. He backed off the bed, once more standing between her and the door. Sable stopped a couple feet away from the bed, her fingers slowly moving down the shirt, unbuttoning. She stood with one foot forward, her toes seeking the 9mm Beretta barely hidden under the bed skirt.

"Yeah . . ." The killer hissed, folding his arms across his broad chest. "Very nice."

Sable rested her fingers on the hem of her shirt, the silk normal and familiar against her skin.

“Come on, girl," the killer said with a tigerish grin. "I am getting bored."

Slowly she opened the shirt, the cool of the room, and the fear growing in her, making her nipples stand out. Gracefully, knowing his full attention was on her body, she dropped the silk pajama top to the floor. Between her toes she gripped the trigger guard of the Beretta and with a single fluid movement flipped the gun up and caught it deftly,
her finger finding the trigger. The killer scowled and snarled.

"Okay, you die slowly," he said.

Sable smiled.  "Talented aren't I?" she said.

“You think that is gonna slow me down?"

Sable motioned with the gun.

"Why don't you just move back buddy. Against the wall. . . "

The killer laughed.

"Or you'll what?"

"Hmm I haven't decided yet," Sable said, considering. "I could try your kneecaps, elbows. I know a gut shot hurts quite a bit."

"Never bothered me before."

She raised an eyebrow and said with sincere curiosity.

"How many times have you been shot in the stomach?"

"Hell girl," he replied. "More times then I remember."

He grinned.

"I been gutted by an expert and you expect me to cower when you wave a peashooter at me?"

"Well if you wait right here, I do have a machine gun close by," she said.

"I like you!"

"I'm so flattered," Sable said sarcastically.

"I think I’ll screw the hell out of you before I kill you."

"Could you move back against the wall please?" Sable asked politely.

The killer took a step closer.

“I don't think so," his eyes narrowed. "Come on, baby. . . show me what ya got."

Sable, almost at random aimed, shooting at his kneecap, her eyes showing pure curiosity about his reaction. To her astonishment, she missed.

"Ooo, very nice but it has more effect if you actually hit me."

The killer took two quick steps forward and grabbed the girl. Catching her around the waist he pulled her against his body holding her as if she weighted nothing.

"Good thing you didn't hit me," he said, his breath, smelling of cigar, hot
against her face. "That just pisses me off."

"Does that mean you're not pissed off now and will let me go out of the goodness of your heart?"

The man squeezed her. She gasped as her words where cut off. Sable wiggled against him, trying to bringing her knee up between their bodies to push herself away from him. The man chuckled evilly.

"I like it when you struggle."

"God," she sighed. "Men are all alike.”

"Your gonna scream for me, aren't you?"

Sable moved against him, trying to get her hands and the gun between their bodies.

"That's doubtful," she replied.

The killer traced her cheek with a claw then threw her on the bed.

“Maybe be I'll use a different weapon to make you scream."

Sable bounced and rolled up to the headboard, crouching, the gun still held in her grip. She laughed.

"I doubt it's as lethal as you think, buddy."

The killer spread his arms.

"Take the shot, girl," he said as he thumped his chest. "Heart's right here."

"Well, if you insist.”

Sable fired, pulling the trigger twice in succession.  The look on his face was shock as the two slugs hit home, nearly lifting him from his feet and knocking him over the dressing table and chair. He landed with a crash and lay unmoving, the scents of expensive perfumes filling the air. Sable climbed off the bed, her expression grim as she walked around the bed toward him. She stayed a few feet away from the body as she looks for signs of life. He lay in a heap, his hands clutching his chest.

"I am not like those horror movie chicks who go over to stand right on top of the body and peer down into it's face," she said, aiming at his head and puling the trigger twice more.

The two bullet struck his head and bounce off. Before she could react he opened his eyes and looked up at Sable with a grin.

"You didn't think it would be that easy did you?"

"Like I said, a girl can hope," she backed away as he climbed to his feet.

Sable turned on her heel and ran out the shattered door. Behind her the killer chuckled.

"Chase and rip time."

He bounded out the door after her.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are," he chanted.

Sable ducked into the nearest open door, her eyes quickly adjusting to the gloom.  Leaning against the wall just inside the room she whispered to herself.  "Calm down, just calm down."

Quickly she glanced around, trying to picture Everith's darkened quarters in her mind. She moved away from the door, wincing as she bumped into furniture, her eyes making out the shape of a large bed. Something scratched at the door.  Sable spun around, her heart in her throat as she watched it, horrified.

"I can smell you, girl."

She retreated a step, the back of her knees hitting the edge of the bed. Softly the killer knocked then tried the knob. Sable tucked the gun into the waistband of her pajama bottoms and turned away from the door. Her eyes quickly scanned for exits. The bathroom, a trap and . . . YES! Everith's window was larger then her own and open slightly. The chill of the mountain air raised goose bumps on her bare flesh. Elated, she followed the faint breath of air, sighing with relief as the window moved at her touch.

The door exploded behind her as the killer smashed it down with a single kick. Sable glanced over her shoulder quickly as she pushed the window open wide. The killer bounded over the bed, landing only a few feet from the girl.  With a small involuntary squeak of alarm, Sable climbed up into the sill, slipping feet first out into the cool air. The killer lunged, grabbing at her hair, coming away with only a few strands. She landed softly and coming around to face her hunter. He stood framed in the open window, teeth flashing in anger. As he gripped the sill to pull himself up Sable smiled slightly and turn, heading for the hedge maze in an all out dash.  The killer landed with a heavy thud beside the window and knelt, sniffing the ground like a dog.

The girl glanced over her shoulder, horrified to see him spring to his feet and lope after her. Why did Archer have to have such a large damn yard she thought to herself and she raced across the seemingly endless tracks of lawn. He was closing on her! She put her head down and tried to accelerate, her heart thumping madly in her chest.

"Lord, maybe I should just have sex with him," she muttered between clinched teeth.

She glanced over her shoulder just in time to see the killer vanish.

"Sable?"

She slowed down slightly at the sudden voice.

"Um . . . yeah?"

Her breath was coming in gasps.

”Sable, you have passed beyond the range of the hologram." The voice was that of Spock, the computer. "The Danger Room does not function that far from the Manor. If you would like to reset the program, please return to the Manor.”

Sable came to a abrupt stop.

"The Danger Room?! The Danger Room?! Who the hell set up the program?!"

"I took the liberty," Spock said. "I felt you were growing bored."

"Well you did a spectacular job of interesting me!" Sable shouted. "Goddamned computers."

"I am very glad to be of service," Spock replied.

"You can go soak your head!"

Sable plopped down onto the grass.

"Damn computer apparently wanted me to have a heart attack," she muttered.

"That was the Sabertooth program . . . was it challenging enough?"

"Yes, I'd say so," she said, laying back in the soft, damp grass and sighing in relief.

"Would you care for clothing?" The concerned Spock asked. "It is cold outside."

"No, I'm fine."

“Very good, rest well," the computer said.

Sable closed her eyes, shook her head cursing computers that take their own initiative.

In the darkness a match flared as Sabertooth lit a new cigar.

"Next time, frail."

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