Casanova: Dark Love Anthology, #1

Casanova

There is love after the pain

Gareth Mayers

GemMine Publishing

Contents

Prologue

1. Locker Room Talk

2. Momma’s Boy

3. Dumb Sluts and Whores

4. His Secret Admirer

5. The Hunt Begins

6. Turning

7. Revelations

8. Bad Blood

9. Milantra

10. The Hills

11. Suspicion

12. Azeddy

13. Date

14. Drop Them Drawers

15. The Talk

16. The Bitch

17. Wedding Bells

18. Underground

19. Battle Ready

20. Time To Get To Work

21. Mind Walker

22. Virgin

23. Deep Inside

24. Void

25. The Hunt Ends

26. Casanova

27. Back Again

28. Execution

29. Dead Man Walking

30. Dead or Alive

31. Armistice

32. Adieu

33. The Good Doctor

Epilogue

Thank you from Casanova

Rocketman (Preview)

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Prologue

Banished from Earth by beings beyond their understanding, humans are forced to colonise a new galaxy called the Hadean Galaxy. After thousands of years, they have spread throughout this galaxy setting up new governmental, economic and religious systems based on different ideologies and interest groups. It is not long before the galaxy is overrun with war and lawlessness. To bring stability to the many systems vying for power, the Galactic Coalition has created the Galactic Task Force: a group of genetically modified supersoldiers who keep order across the star systems. Since their inception there has been relative peace for countless years. But a new group of god-like world conquerors has appeared. They call themselves IDOL. Now the Galactic Coalition is scrambling to make new tools to meet this threat.

1

Locker Room Talk

After a long undercover stint collecting intelligence for the Galactic Task Force and an extensive debriefing, Casanova emerged from the showers at the GTF headquarters. With the towel draped around his waist, his muscles on display, he opened his locker. Still giving off light wisps of steam from the hot water, he looked over at his reflection in the mirror, smiling at the pleasing image before reaching for the deodorant he had neatly placed on the shelf. Everything in his locker was there by design; nothing was out of place. It even gave off a light lavender scent. After applying deodorant he picked out his favourite cologne and splashed it on. Then he grabbed a hair comb and a can of hairspray and began sweeping and spraying his Jheri curls. When he was done he couldn’t help but blow a kiss to himself and bite his lip as he looked at his physique.

As he stood there admiring himself some of the other officers trailed into the showers. Not seeing him at the back of the room, they continued to talk among themselves as they made their way in.

And did you hear what happened to Bernard? Teslam was saying.

That he ran off with some chick into the Void to live a happy life? Yeah, I heard it, Donavohn shrugged.

That’s what they’re saying, but word going around is, he was killed on an undercover mission and the higher-ups are keeping it hush-hush!

Please, and you believe that? Wasn’t he just supposed to be trailing the Forger? That job’s a cakewalk, all that guy ever does is run!

Yeah, remind me why we keep sending people after that guy? We’ll never catch him.

Maybe if they sent Mr 0 and 0, himself – Donavohn started.

No way! I’m telling you, no one can keep up with him, not even Malcom. He’ll just keep making fools of us.

I guess so. Anyway, now that I’m thinking about it, your Bernard conspiracy theory doesn’t make any sense. An intel agent getting caught and killed while undercover is unheard of. Do you not see the powers those guys have? No one could just kill them. Not only are we all enhanced, but remember Bernard has the power to make you see whatever he wants. He could be standing right here, right now and we would never know it. No normal criminal could ever kill him, come on.

Teslam put up a forefinger like he had just made a discovery, That’s just it man! Maybe we're not dealing with normal criminals anymore, maybe we're dealing with followers of, you know… them.

Really? Everyone’s just being paranoid. IDOL hasn’t made a move in hundreds of years, the peace between us is unbroken, and you’re saying they would disrupt that. For what, to kill a handful of simple agents like us? Get real.

Yeah I hear you, but don’t you at least find it sort of strange that they have all the intel agents spread out on these top secret missions all over the galaxy? All the time. I mean we barely ever see them anymore. Something’s up, man.

It’s not strange, they’re doing their jobs. It’s a small team so they need to split them up – nothing unusual about that. I find it way more believable that Bernard found some sweet piece of ass, got pussy-whipped and went halfway across the galaxy to get some alone time with her. That’s what all agents do when they begin to get burnt out. He’s been doing this job for nearly four hundred years, bound to get tired eventually, Donavohn said.

Yeah, I guess you’re right.

As they walked deeper into the room they caught sight of Casanova and quickly changed the subject, unsure if he had overheard them.

Look who's back, the pretty boy himself, Donavohn said.

Teslam jumped in. Decided to pay us a visit after all these years? I heard they sent you to the Venus sector. What in hell was that like?

Nothing special. I didn’t do much sightseeing really, just focused on the mission, Casanova said, pretending to have not heard anything they were saying previously.

As a group of agents began pouring into the room Teslam continued. As he spoke the other guys mustered around them, roughhousing a bit while they listened in.

I don’t even understand why we’re conducting operations over there. Why should we help those feminists? They think they’re so strong, why don’t they fight their own battles? They want their own government ’cause men are so evil, then at the first sign of trouble who do they call? The men. Dumbass bitches! If it were up to me I’d leave them, let them solve their own damn problems, he was waving his arms exasperatedly, Now us men got to go in and risk our lives for them. Man, we should have never given them any rights! I tell you, makes no sense...

Well they're still part of the Galactic Coalition so like it or not they still fall under our protection, and they pay the same taxes as all the other member worlds so it is what it is, Casanova replied.

I hear you, but that won’t stop me from answering their call for help just a little bit slower, know what I’m saying? Teslam chuckled, nudging him with his elbow, So anyway, what did they want?

"There was a terrorist attack on one of their illegal cloning facilities so they sent me to investigate. But the whole thing stinks. I mean the Rocketman was involved, plus one of their own agents seemed to be working with him. It was a mess, a real shit show. Even their own so-called government, the Fem-Council, was less than cooperative, kept trying to jerk me around. They made some crazy claims that there’s a link between the bombings and the Amazonians."

The Amazonians! They haven’t dealt with that problem yet? Donavohn scoffed.

No, and they can’t. Casanova said, Seems the Amazonians have a Prophet on their side.

Teslam looked at Donavohn giving him the old I told you so face. It seemed that the famed peace between the Galactic Coalition and IDOL was not so stable after all.

Donavohn rolled his eyes and tried to get more information, "You serious, man? So what, you think this could be a seventh member now? And why the hell is the Rocketman mixed up in this? I mean terrorist attacks on a cloning facility? That’s not his style at all."

Can’t say any more than that guys, the files are classified.

Teslam’s eyes had opened wide and he wore an excited grin on his face, Man, another Prophet! What the hell are they planning? I tell you these are scary times; wouldn’t like to get caught up in any of that bullshit.

Just then someone entered the shower and an awkward pause filled the room. It was Malcom. He was just as handsome as Casanova albeit a little more on the rugged good looks side. The air in the room filled with tension as he and Casanova locked eyes. These two had a complicated relationship, always trying to outdo one another, especially when it came to girls. If Casanova slept with ten women in five days Malcom had to sleep with twenty in three. It was like a game for them and no woman was off-limits, but unlike Casanova, playing against Malcom was a dangerous game. Once when Casanova stole one of his favourite girls back in the day, she suddenly went missing, and Malcom promised that Casanova would go missing too. That threat ended their friendly rivalry. Now they were bitter enemies embroiled in a never-ending war.

It was one of the reasons Casanova had been sent on a deep cover mission for several years. His seniors had hoped the distance and time would cover over the tension and fighting between them. But judging by the atmosphere within the shower, it seemed no amount of time would heal these wounds.

A guy named Charlemagne chimed in to break the tension.

Hey, I bet that was the one place you couldn’t get pussy. All those dykes, manginas, and man-hating feminists; a hot shot like you must have been like a fish out of water, huh?

Not at all. Are you kidding? Feminists are women that have lost their inhibitions, liberated from oppressive gender roles and norms, they’ve become free spirits able to experience love and channel sexual energies to multiple partners. That’s actually what one of them told me, so in other words, they’re all cheap sluts and whores.

They all broke out into laughter.

All except for Malcom, who said, Sure they weren’t the ones giving it to you with a huge strap-on?

Everyone shook their heads and sighed. They all knew where this was going. Those in-between them got out of the way and everyone just tried to pretend like they weren’t there, going about their business as if nothing was happening.

Oh, trying to say I’m a bitch? Well that’s cool but I’m not the one falling in love with these whores and getting into fights over them now am I?

What are you even talking about? Who’s falling for them? Malcom said, All women are nothing but sluts, ready to trade up for the bigger, better man the first chance they get; you should know that more than most. I don’t fight over no hoe, but it’s different when another dude tries to disrespect you. Besides which only a beta mangina goes around trying to wife up and lock down these hoes, and we all know who that really is.

Listen, let’s just face facts, the only reason you're mad is because me and half the men in here slept with Jennice.

He heard nervous coughs from a few of the guys still nearby.

Casanova continued, When you gonna learn hoes are like a doorknob, everybody gets a turn. It was just your turn man, but eventually she was gonna let everyone take a ride on her. So you don’t catch feelings like a pussy boy. I mean you’re the one trying to turn these hoes into housewives. Then when they do what comes naturally to them, you turn around and get angry, try to start a fight. You start beating the hoe thinking she’s gonna act right if she fears you. All that over what, a bucket? You need to get over that crap, and stop falling in love with these toilet girls. You need to learn the game. These hoes only want two things from us men, money and attention. Once you understand these women don’t love you but love what you do for them, that they’re really just cold calculating parasites, then you can disassociate your feelings for them.

Malcom was looking him over with a confused and aggravated expression. To him, Casanova was a novice. And here he wanted to lecture him about the opposite sex!

Man, just shut the hell up, Malcom barked, Talking to me like you know shit. I taught you everything you know. You ain’t nothing but my son – all of you are my sons – just remember that. I’m the teacher here.

He was pointing at the others in the room, when Casanova responded.

Yeah well, I guess the student has become the master.

Malcom’s eyes opened wide and he walked over to him. Casanova could feel the hot cloud of the other man’s breath, like the snort of an enraged bull, as he got in his face.

Malcom’s voice was calm and low as he spoke.

You could never be the master, boy. Did you forget I know you, the real you? I know that underneath it all, you’re just waiting and hoping that one day your own little princess will show up to sweep you off your feet – take you away from this cruel world to be her perfect knight in shining armour and renew your faith in love again. You know what you are deep down… he paused and let a smug grin travel across his face, Big, bitchass, beta male provider.

Casanova felt his temper flare, but he didn’t show it. Ever the cool player, he acted as though he was above it all.

Shrugging, he moved to turn away, saying, She said my dick was bigger though.

Malcom’s wicked grin didn’t budge but his left eyebrow twitched slightly. In the next second, he swung. Casanova expertly ducked out of the way and the fist sank into his locker, crumpling it like foil. Malcom spun to swing another, but as he did, he caught sight of Casanova's eyes which had turned from their usual hazel to a glowing blaze of red.

In an instant, Casanova bombarded Malcom's brain with strong mental suggestions to kill himself. Malcom reached to his side and grabbed his blaster from its holster, then began raising it to his face. As the gun neared his mouth all sorts of strange facial expressions splashed across his features as he struggled to resist the programming being placed on his mind. The shot sounded, and his body slumped.

A mere second later he roared up again and dashed forward to seize Casanova by the throat.

He hoisted him into the air, growling, You like using your little mind tricks don’t you? Make me shoot myself, huh? Well how about we put a hole in you and see how you like it?

Malcom aimed the gun at Casanova’s leg but before he could pull the trigger –

Attention!

Malcom dropped Casanova and all the agents hustled to line up, hands at their sides.

Gabriel, a captain, filled out the entrance. He let his glare travel over every man in the room until finally stopping on Casanova and Malcom.

I see all that time apart has not managed to stop you two lovebirds from squabbling like little kids... At ease, he said, and added Malcom, don’t you have a bounty to hunt?

Sir!

Clean yourself off and get on it then.

Malcom went to get his things together and wash off all the blood and brains he had blasted out of his head earlier. Before leaving he turned to Casanova and made a pistol with his hand, saying, We’ll pick up where we left off once I get back.

As he left, the captain shook his head and turned on Casanova.

As for you, you used deadly force against one of your own comrades.

Captain, come on, it’s Malcom. Trying to kill someone with the ability to adapt to everything isn’t that easy. Deadly force is what you have to start with just to slow him down.

No excuses, agent. You can take your vacation now while we contemplate what to do with you.

Are you serious? I just got back to HQ and you're sending me off again? Come on, that’s bullshit. My commander said –

Do we have a problem agent, or do I have to add insubordination to the list?

He breathed a long sigh, No Sir.

What was that?

NO SIR!

That’s more like it. There may be hope for you yet.

Casanova packed his things up and headed out. His destination was his home world, Midocen, in the Servanis System which was part of the Hilantation Sector. All the while he had a strange feeling in his gut.

Something seemed off.

He had just gotten back from his hundred and fifth mission which took him far off the beaten path, and from the moment he’d arrived back on base he’d already been suspended for something so minor. They usually turned a blind eye to agents roughhousing. It seemed as if they were sidelining him and getting ready to fire and replace him with someone new, some bigger better agent, which honestly, was not that unlikely. He felt like he was being targeted on the job and couldn’t help but think that his days of being an agent were coming to a close.

2

Momma’s Boy

After a wormhole and a few shuttle jumps, Casanova found himself back in his home system of Servanis. This system consisted of several colonised planets, but none like the world he called home. Midocen.

The entire planet of Midocen was one big ghetto, with only a sprinkling of well-guarded wealthier areas. Most of the rich had long moved off-world and anyone that somehow came into money did likewise. After many centuries of this, the whole planet had turned into a slum with variations only in the types and seriousness of crimes.

After exiting the space elevator from its corresponding station and hitting the surface, he boarded a tube transport that was headed toward his hometown, Kaitlin. He was on his way to the deepest part of the red light district there.

As he zoomed through the city and stared through the tube’s window, he noticed that nothing had changed. Different players, same old game; bums going through garbage, gangsters prowling dark alleys, and hookers on street corners. Amateur and wannabe artists still treated the city streets as their personal gallery, leaving their uninventive graffiti any and everywhere. The entire city looked like it needed to be power washed. Garbage was strewn about like a little boy’s dirty room, and even the air was a dim, dirty haze that blanketed the city. Just by the way it looked, you knew the city would carry that distinct scent of piss and desperation. The news on the train system did nothing but warn visitors of dangerous areas to steer clear of, as it highlighted the many muggings, stabbings, and murders happening up to the minute. To normal people, living here would seem impossible. But just like a person living next to a train station, or a garbage dump, most people living here had become desensitised. They’d forgotten that this life was far from normal and didn’t feel the natural fear that should come with being in a place like this.

But Casanova had nothing to fear anyway. He was an enhanced government agent with a license to kill. He slid a pack of cigarettes and a lighter out of his pocket and paused.

A young woman, standing nearby in the crowded transport, had begun whimpering loudly. There had to be at least twelve men surrounding her, all of them taking turns groping her. They even began lifting up her pleated mini skirt and taking pictures of her underwear as they toyed with her body. They had created a barricade around her, hiding her from the view of most of the other passengers. Still, anyone who could tell something was going on did not dare step in. Everyone kept to themselves; it just wasn’t worth it to intervene.

Casanova could easily come to her aid but seeing the length of her skirt and top, he really didn’t feel to put in the effort. His days of helping women or coming to their rescue were over. He had become apathetic towards the whole notion of being the so-called good guy, preferring to be respected than stick his neck out for, as he put it, some attention-seeking whore.

But her little whimpers of protest were grating on his nerves, so he stepped over and pulled her out from under them, positioning her in front of himself and out of their range. He stood over her like a protective mother hen, while the men sized him up, unsure of how to respond – each one looking to the other to build up their courage. Just as they made a move, Casanova glared over his shoulder at them. As he locked eyes on them, they froze, paralysed in place.