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' Imbalance Beam'
Osetnik, Poland (0330 hours):
"First mission, Private. No pressure, Private. Don't disappoint, Private. Бог Всемогущий, спасибо госпожа (Bog Vsemogushii, spahciba gahspazha [God Almighty, thank you ma'am])..." To say the young woman was just a slight nervous was a gross understatement. Under the moonless night she skulked about and made her way into the small installation. The navy blue suit worked to her advantage against just about anything at this time of night. Two women coursed along the outer walls as she lay in wait. When they split and were out of earshot, she made a dash for the wall with a grappler clutched firmly in her right hand. The fence line was an easy vault without the use of hands and the second line, a larger concrete wall that she kicked up against and used the grappler to swing herself over in less than three seconds.
"Ha! Still got skills!" Boasting to herself, she had to freeze momentarily to make sure the sounds she made didn't attract attention. A few guards stood along the corners of the roof but she managed to stay out of their eyesight. To her fortune, an old ventilation grate was by her foot. Despite the rusty screws, it didn't make much noise as she opened it, crawling inside where she found herself led to an open hallway of faded, cracking walls, floors that gave way to large swathes of grass, and leaky pipes running every which way above her.
She watched them from above, the two Danes who were already griping about their situation in this ramshackle installation where there wasn't even paved ground in some of the rooms. This was her first mission, a remote COEM outpost along the Polish coast, trying to get a bead on weapons smuggling from Russia through Eastern Europe and out the Baltic Sea. The outpost itself was the remnant of a Soviet coast guard station complete with cheap plaster walls and worn propaganda posters of an age when her parents were still teenagers. It was a remnant of an older age where she represented the new class of women of Russia.
And Ефре́йтор (Yefretor [Private First Class]) Natasha "Tasha" Zaytseva had to impress. Plucked out of the Russian Army by LT Ekaterina "Frosty" Volkova, the young Russian knew that as a Lioness recruit the whole crew would be watching and seeing if she was up to snuff. Resisting urges to make cracks on the Russian Navy as a VDV herself, she was at least thankful to be given this opportunity as she felt her designation as a Russian paratrooper the greatest she could earn at that time. Now she was a Cub, a Lioness trainee, on her path to be an Agent. Getting into the base was easy, moving along the shadows and without having to take out any sentries yet.
Unfortunately these two women wouldn't move. She had spent minutes perched atop a darkened ledge listening in to useless banter and she had to get across. Only a lone steel beam high above the women would get her from Point A to Point B where she knew there'd be better intel. It looked unstable but Tasha was confident. After all, she spent years as a gymnastics ace in the schools back in St. Petersburg. This would be "cake piece" as she'd like to quip.
Slowly gripping with the hands, she let her body shift to her back turning on the heads of the Danes. They kept talking and she kept sliding by, little by little. This was child's play to her. She was light enough to have the beam support her the whole way through. Her legs locked around it, shimmying herself inch by inch.
"It's in bag...these idiots don't even see you, Tasha!" She smugly said to herself, "And to think people said all those hot dogs would cost me!"
Suddenly the rustiness of the beam revealed the true weakness. Right as Tasha got to the middle it started to buckle. Cursing to herself, she desperately tried to get across but to no avail. Without warning it snapped, both Lioness and beam crashing down hard with only the yelps of surprised pain coming from the Danish COEM.
"Ugh...my head..." Tasha groaned. Her arm felt rest on a softer surface. There wasn't a peep out of the COEM. It seemed, when she could see, that the beam conked them both on the head and did her job for her. One lay prostrate and the other on her side. They didn't move an inch and judging by no other footsteps, no alarm sounded.
Unfortunately for Tasha, relief didn't wash away shame. She knew if the LT found out, she'd be on the track for hours on end which was going to be far more painful than the landing she just took.
"О нет. (Oh no)" She grimaced, "LT will make me diet..."
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Cub Meets Coem
The women said nothing.
"Well, ow..." she grimaced still holding her head and side in pain, "at least company does not share opinion. Ugh...now I get bruises."
She unclipped her holster and readied her silenced pistol to take out anything that moved, even the neighborhood squirrel. Nothing moved save for the occasional twitching of the unconscious Danes.
"Good. Coast clear...and no one saw or heard fall," putting her pistol back in the holster, she quickly got a read on the women she so "slickly" knocked out. The Danish was obvious but they were actually older than they looked, the IDs reading them as six and seven years older than her twenty-one, respectively. She didn't really care about the names. They didn't register on any black lists that Task Force Lioness gave her prior to the mission. But that didn't mean they didn't have potential worth on them. She was instructed by Sergeant Victoria McCullough on the proper intel search with Colour Sergeant Michelle Durneve closely watching. She could tell the latter was a prim, proper, by the book Agent that had no tolerance for fooling around. Maybe she was good friends with the LT?
She started to get to work on the more full-bodied Dane, the brunette, and when the sweater was lifted up she was taken aback.
"Боже мой! (Bozhe moye! [Oh my God!])" Blue eyes widened to almost cartoon-levels when the COEM's bra was undone in her frantic search for intel, "They are like peaks of Urals!" When the woman felt the freedom of her breasts, the slightest touch caused a slight moan, surprising the Russian. The chest heaved with a heavy sigh and forced a bead of sweat to run from Tasha's forehead. Her face started to turn a very subtle red, hands shaking all the while.
"Steady...you have to get all off for intel. Remember training lesson..." She could see the woman's body move as her hands kept shaking, "Remember what Agents told you..."
"Slide 'em off like a pair of gloves, smooth and leathery, and then ask yourself how many licks will it take to get to the center!" A brash, hyperactive voice rang in her mind that threatened to break her discipline. She knew exactly who it was but she dare not speak the name. Doing that would get her further distracted.
"Focus, Tasha! You need to search the pockets...search everything!" She rifled through the woman's shoes and socks, discarding them casually to grab the waistline of the COEM's pants but not before noticing the cute star tattoo on her foot. The woman whimpered a bit like she was protesting the sudden stripping but she only got a scoff in reply, the pants sliding off one leg at a time and leaving the brunette only with her COEM-issued panties.
"Hmm...nothing it seems, not even bra..." her hand searched the woman's back and the cargo pockets one more time before dumping them and shifting her body to the blonde.
Unbeknownst to her, the errant left hand had pressed itself on something soft with a perky little outcropping. It elicited a moan that had Tasha jerk her head back and nervously bite her lip. It seemed her hand was instead rifling on the woman's left breast, pressing down like it was a massage. She quickly removed the hand but not before the woman groaned again like it was enjoyable.
"Ah! Shhhh...it's okay..." she sighed while looking away at the imposing "assets" of the Dane, "I-I will get to you b-but first I must handle friend, yes?"
As she slid to the other unconscious Dane, something started to give her a tingle. It was likely first mission jitters and was promptly dismissed with a figurative hand waive. Then again, getting a feel of a woman like that was quite something, and the gently bit lip turned from apprehension to playful curiosity. Perhaps there was more Lioness Cub to her than met the eye.
"Okay...like protocol said. I go shirt first then pants. Yes, it is breast way...I mean best way to handle!" She propped the blonde up and managed to unclip her bra from outside the sweater. It wasn't like she hadn't done that herself in the past. The easy part was done. While not as full-bodied, she could tell the blonde COEM was very fit and she personally remarked that she liked her hairstyle, thinking about adopting it if she cut her hair shorter. Her mouth agape, the COEM only groaned lightly as Natasha kept rifling through to try to gather intel. There was nothing on the shirt or in the holsters save for the guns she already unloaded and rendered inoperable. With the blonde upright, she slowly removed the shirt and watched her bare breasts slowly slip out, another sigh leaving the COEM as her nipples brushed against the sweater. Tasha had to take a few deep breaths, bottom lip again bit in anticipation. She reached a point where the enemy's hands were over her head and sweater covering her eyes, only her nose and open mouth exposed.
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"I...I know you like...but, um...I just..." she impulsively but slowly reached in for a kiss with a nervous grip on her own hair and face flushed, but right as she felt the woman's soft breath on her trembling lips, she pulled back before her head exploded from the sensation of the exhaled air on her skin, "Um, нет...нет...(no...no...) this I cannot do now. I, um, have to finish search," the shirt was finally removed and she had to hold the woman's bare back to keep her from plopping backwards, neck arched and breasts right in Tasha's face while the COEM groaned slightly. She instinctively turned her head and closed her eyes until she could lower her properly.
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Getting the blonde onto her side, she lifted the arm up again to look for any markings. There was only the COEM tattoo on the left side of her body but perhaps there was something else. Seeing that there wasn't, like with the brunette she got the shoes and socks off and unbuckled the belt. But right as she was about to turn the woman over, Tasha heard yet another groan. Her face turned bright red, looking at the half-naked body while the sound came out. She suddenly became overwhelmed with blood rushing to her and her mind wandering all over.
"Get grip, Natasha. You still have search to conduct," The paratrooper hissed as softly as she could in a vain attempt to cover her huffing and puffing, hands scrambling to conceal the overwhelmed face.
"Deep breaths, Tasha. You are not t-t-timid deer. Y-you are Lioness. You...are Lioness over timid d-deer. She is prey."
The Dane's face also blushed, aware only by sense of the presence of the Russian over her and in a manner that seemed strangely welcoming. This exacerbated Tasha's plight.
"Okay...ask self...what would Lioness do?"
Deep in her mind, the mantra from a familiar voice hummed out in smooth monotone, "Go for the glory...and go for the score. Go for it...Connect Four."
"Черт возьми! Тупой американский коммерческий! (Chyert vozmi! Tupoi Americanskii kommercheskii! [Devil take! or God damn it! Stupid American commercial!]" Palm pressed further into the face, she knew damn well it wasn't the commercial voice singing the jingle but one of her fellow Agents that would go unnamed for the time being. This was not going to be the culmination of her experience in the United States as a Lioness, commercial jingles and hot dogs.
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Rubbing Rainbow
She finally managed to turn the blonde on her back, the COEM's mouth still agape as she lay prostrate and pants only removed by an inch or two revealing white COEM panty strings. That did nothing to help her shyness around these stripped enemies. Her gut urged her to pull away from the blonde and continue her search but something itched at her to remain. Before she knew it, she had straddled the woman, thighs restraining hips and the woman grunting a bit from the weight. That kiss she withdrew from bit at her mercilessly...so she decided to make up for it. An enthused smile soon faded to bemusement, as if everything she thought suddenly went away.
"Before you diet, Natasha," she sighed with fatalistic assurance, "you Danish."
"Ok...what I do to start..." She whispered to herself. The Dane kept breathing in a manner that had her bare chest heave up and down. For a good ten seconds, Tasha just stared at it blankly and eyes brightened like an archetypal light bulb over the head, "Ah! Yes...smooth and round! So um...oh what did they tell me again?" Her fingers slowly lowered to the nipples but only scant inches from them, "Oh jeez...um...I think they said...this?" She finally placed them on the Dane for tip to tip contact. Immediately the Blonde's body jerked and forced Tasha to pull back like a surprised kitten. Slowly, she reapplied and began to swirl in controlled, clockwise motions. Remembering bits of her tutelage, she switched up to go counterclockwise.
The blonde let out a light moan.
