Council Hall – Private Soundproof Office
Seraphina Frostvale sat on the edge of the heavy oak desk, legs spread wide, skirt bunched at her hips.
No words.
She hooked one finger.
General Marcus Kane (45, built like a tank, the only man in the room who never flinched under her gaze) stepped forward, unzipped, and freed his thick length without ceremony.
She pulled her soaked lace panties to the side, revealing glistening pink.
He gripped her waist, lined up, and pushed in to the hilt in one slow, deliberate thrust.
No kissing.
No moaning.
Just raw, mechanical stress relief.
Her massive breasts bounced with every deep stroke, suit jacket straining, buttons threatening to surrender.
The room filled with nothing but wet slaps and heavy breathing.
Two apex predators blowing off steam the only way they knew how.
Meanwhile – 12,000 feet above the city
Black-ops helicopter, doors open, wind screaming.
Pilot handed Ethan a parachute.
Ethan didn't even glance at it.
"Parachutes are for children."
He stepped out into empty sky.
No chute.
No fear.
Just a perfect dive, body arrow-straight, arms tucked, cutting through clouds like a hunting eagle made of pure vengeance.
Red eyes locked on the distant prison complex.
Terminal velocity never looked so calm.
Orphanage rooftop – 0.3 seconds to impact
Ethan's body ignited mid-fall.
Black hellfire erupted around him like wings of pure wrath, slowing his descent just enough.
He hit the roof like a meteor.
BOOM.
Concrete exploded outward in a perfect circle.
Every terrorist on site turned to see a lone figure rise from the smoking crater, black flames licking his skin, red eyes glowing like twin suns.
No words.
He raised one hand.
Hellfire blossomed into a thousand flaming spears.
Then he snapped his fingers.
A thousand spears flew.
A thousand terrorists died instantly (chests pierced, bodies incinerated before they hit the ground).
Less than eight seconds.
The entire block was ash and silence.
Surviving children, huddled in the basement, peeked out to see their savior standing in a ring of fire, untouched.
The public watching via hacked drone feeds went insane.
Social media exploded:
#HellfireAngel
#EthanCole
#CrimsonDawnDeleted
Live cheers from every city square.
Inside Council Hall – exact same moment
Seraphina's back arched hard against the desk as Marcus drove deep one final time.
Both came together in perfect sync with the rooftop explosion on the monitor behind them.
Seraphina's ice-blue eyes rolled back, a rare moan escaping as relief flooded every tense muscle.
Marcus exhaled like a man who'd just lifted the world off his shoulders.
They stayed locked for a long second, breathing hard.
Then separated, fixed clothes, and walked back to the table like nothing happened.
Meanwhile – Maximum Security Black Site, Cell 001
The terrorist leader watched the orphanage feed on smuggled tablet.
Watched every single one of his men burn.
Watched the cheers.
His face twisted into pure rage.
He opened the darknet bounty board.
Typed with shaking fingers:
WANTED: ETHAN COLE
ALIVE PREFERRED
REWARD: 500 MILLION CREDITS + ONE KINGDOM
Posted.
Went viral on every underground channel within minutes.
The world celebrated a hero.
The underworld just declared war.
Capital Tower – 73rd floor, Press Office
Liana Voss, Seraphina's personal secretary and walking definition of "office goddess," had been at it for fourteen straight hours.
Black pencil skirt clinging to every curve from sweat.
White blouse half-unbuttoned, soaked through, bra visible and doing God's work holding everything in place.
Stockings torn at the thigh from frantic running between briefing rooms.
Heels long abandoned under the desk.
She typed another official statement, hit post, and collapsed forward, forehead on the keyboard.
Social media was finally calming.
Public outrage shifting from "government useless" to "Hellfire Angel saved us all."
She glanced at the massive TV wall.
Live footage: Ethan Cole walking away from the burning orphanage, black flames fading, children safe behind him.
Liana let out the longest, most relieved sigh of her life.
"Finally…"
She stood, wobbling on exhausted legs, blouse sticking to her like a second skin, and headed to deliver the good news to Madam Seraphina.
Reached the private office door.
Heard it before she saw it.
Wet slaps.
Rhythmic thuds against the desk.
Seraphina's ice-queen voice completely shattered:
"Yes—harder—right there—!"
Liana peeked through the crack (purely professional curiosity, of course).
Seraphina bent over her own desk, skirt around her waist, stockings shredded, getting absolutely ruined by General Kane in round two.
Breasts bouncing free with every thrust, nipples hard, face flushed in a way the public would never believe.
Liana's own thighs clenched involuntarily.
Another long, exhausted, slightly jealous sigh.
She closed the door softly.
Turned around, grabbed her heels, and muttered to the empty hallway:
"Guess the boss is… de-briefing."
Walked out, hips swaying, soaked blouse and all, heading home for the first shower and sleep in two days.
Tomorrow could wait.
Tonight, the city was safe
and her boss was very, very busy.
Evening streets, golden hour.
Liana Voss walked home alone, heels in hand, stockings torn, blouse still clinging from hours of stress-sweat.
The cool air felt like heaven on her skin.
People on every corner talked about the same thing:
"Hellfire Angel saved a thousand kids!"
"Did you see the video? One man, no parachute!"
She smiled faintly, letting the city noise wash over her.
Then she heard crying.
Three thugs cornering a girl (maybe 20–22) against a wall in an alley.
Liana's tired eyes sharpened.
She stepped in, voice gentle as silk.
"Gentlemen, please let her go."
Thug 1 laughed, reached for her ass.
Mistake.
Thirty seconds later:
Thug 1: both arms broken, screaming on the ground.
Thug 2: legs folded the wrong direction.
Thug 3: jaw wired shut by his own belt.
Liana didn't even break a sweat.
Just adjusted her glasses, brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, and turned to the shaking girl.
"Are you hurt, sweetheart?"
The girl stared at the human-shaped pretzels on the ground, then at Liana like she was a goddess.
"N-no… thank you…"
Liana softened completely.
"You look lost. Where's home?"
The girl's lip trembled.
"I… don't have one. My parents died last year. Supernatural gang war collateral…"
Liana's heart cracked.
She sighed, the same long, tired sigh she gave when Seraphina was in round three, but this time full of warmth.
"Come with me."
The girl hesitated.
Liana offered her hand, smiling softly, blouse still half-open enough to be lethal in any other situation.
"I've got a big empty apartment, plenty of food, and a shower that could cure depression.
You'll be safe."
The girl took her hand.
They walked side by side under the streetlights:
one exhausted, curvaceous secretary in ruined office wear,
one tiny homeless girl clinging to her new savior.
Liana's voice was gentle the whole way.
"What's your name, little star?"
"…Aria."
"Welcome home, Aria."
Liana brought the delicate, long-haired "girl" back to her high-rise apartment.
Stockings ripped, blouse half-open from the day's chaos, she kicked off her heels and smiled warmly.
"Come on, sweetheart, let's get you cleaned up. Shower's this way."
She led the tiny figure (Aria) into the luxurious marble bathroom, turned on the rain shower, steam filling the air.
"You can leave your clothes outside, I'll find something comfy for you to wear."
Aria hesitated, cheeks pink, then nodded and stepped behind the glass door.
Liana gathered fresh towels… and froze.
Through the fogged glass she saw it.
Broad shoulders.
Flat chest.
And definitely not a girl between the legs.
Liana blinked once.
Then twice.
A soft, embarrassed voice came from the shower:
"…I'm sorry. I get this a lot. I'm a boy. Name's still Aria, though."
Liana let out the longest, most exhausted-yet-amused sigh of the week.
Of course.
The prettiest "girl" she'd ever rescued was a beautiful shota-looking boy.
She leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed under her soaked blouse, smirking despite everything.
"Well, Aria… you're still getting the guest room, the food, and the safety.
Gender's just a detail."
A shy smile from behind the glass.
"Thank you… big sis."
Liana's heart did a little flip she wasn't expecting.
She turned to leave him some privacy, hips swaying, voice teasing over her shoulder:
"Take your time, pretty boy.
Dinner's in twenty… and we're burning those old clothes."
Door clicked shut.
Liana touched her lips, suddenly not as tired as before.
Tonight just got a lot more interesting.