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By Whatever Means Necessary

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Her steel toe boots clank against ground below, sound imitating a horse trotting as she continues towards her destination. Within minutes she's strolling past the ornately decorated, wooden doors that contain the President of the Republic…her uncle Miles Matheson. He doesn't look up from his stack of papers, sprawled out on the desk before him as she enters. Bringing her arms behind her back, she holds her chin high, looking directly in front of her. "You sent for me President Matheson?"

"At ease cadet, it's only us present."

Instantly her body relaxes, arms dropping to hang loosely by her side as she exhales a captive breath. She's never really nervous when it pertains to seeing her uncle, but the President requesting her presences puts her on edge. This is the first time he's ever sent for her since she joined ranks and became a cadet.

He motions her forward with his hand. "Come sit down, want a drink?"

If she were off duty she wouldn't hesitate. Instead she shakes her head, "no thank you, Sir."

He doesn't even listen to her, fixing two glasses of dark, amber ale. "Drop the formalities Charlie, I get enough of ass kissing from everyone else."

She snorts as her hand closes around the tumbler when he offers it to her. "I'm not sure whether your complaining or boasting."

He gruffly laughs. "Little bit of both I guess. How's everything, are the lieutenants treating you?"

"Everything's fine, no problems to report at the current moment. The lieutenants are fine."

That's the truth, for the most part. There are a few of them she doesn't care for, scratch that, she hates them, but personality matters very little when it comes to obeying commands.

"Really? Cause a little birdie told me there have been some...altercations recently, one involving you?"

Damnit. She curses under her breath, only fueling Miles' laughter. She knows exactly who that 'little birdie' is, and Jeremy's ass was grass after this meeting. Words sinking in, she pans her eyes back up to meet his, slightly widening in alarm.

Miles catches the look, shaking his head. "You're not here because you're in trouble. Quite the opposite actually. I have a job for you." He looks at her for a few minutes before sighing. "Aren't you going to ask what it is?"

Charlie's shakes her head with a smile. "Nope," her lips smack together. "Why would I when I know you're gonna tell me regardless?"

Miles fake pouts, "you're no fun anymore."

Charlie cheekily grins, swallowing the last remaining portion of her bourbon before placing the glass on the table.

"I need you to go and find someone for me. I have a general idea of where he was last spotted, so you'll start there first."

"Why can't you do it?" She interrupts, not thinking twice about the question. It's something she would never do if she were on duty, but she isn't at the moment. She's just speaking with her uncle, not the President or General.

He sighs loudly, rubbing at his throbbing temples, headache brewing beneath. "Bass and I, we didn't end things on good terms. Bit of a difference of opinion between the two of us about how things should be done. He doesn't agree with the effective way I choose to lead."

"So what makes you think he's changed since you last saw him?"

He shakes his head, tossing his drink back. "Not a damn thing, I'm not even remotely stupid enough to think he's going to willingly agree to dive back in, but with enough motivation, I'm positive he'll at least think twice."

"What's the motivation?"

"That's what I'm working on now, but in the meantime, I need to get him here. That's where you come in."

She takes a few breaths, mind turning, trying to follow his logic. "Why me? Aren't there more experienced cadets, or even lieutenants you'd have more confidence in?"

Adamantly he shakes his head. "There's no one else I trust more than you." Big surprise there, Miles doesn't trust anyone, that's only gotten worse since becoming President. The word paranoid is most often thrown around. "You're a good tracker, and a damn good cadet who takes orders. There's no doubt in my mind that you'll succeed in bringing him back, but just in case, I'm authorizing that you bring him back by whatever means necessary." He was advised against going to fetch Bass himself, but that doesn’t mean he couldn’t send another Matheson. He was hoping Bass would cooperate and, go quietly for lack of a better phrase, if Charlie was the one to go. If she decides against revealing her identity to him from the start, Miles knows Bass won’t be able to resist a pretty, young thing like Charlie. Either way she’s the perfect person for the job.

Gulping, she absentmindedly nods, understanding the implication of his words. It's presented as an offer, but she knows there isn't really a reason to she doesn't. "When do I leave?"

Miles beams, grin sliding into place on his aged, but still attractive face. "I've made all the arrangements for you to leave tomorrow. You'll be escorted by a group of lieutenants, along with Captain Baker." He catches a glimpse of Charlie's furrowed brows. "I know Bass better than anyone else, he'll likely resist once he catches on, and he's not to be underestimated. I need you to get him to lower his guard, make him vulnerable so he doesn't expect an attack."

Once again she nods, standing up from her seat as she walks towards the door. There's a lot of preparing she needs to do before tomorrow's journey. She pauses, hearing her uncle's voice float into her ears. Turning around, she kinks up on eyebrow in question.

"Remember Cadet, by any means necessary." Lowering his voice, his eyes bore straight into hers.

The word cadet alerts Charlie of the shift in their dynamic, going back to professional. She snaps her heels together, bringing her chin up as she holds her head high. "Yes Sir, you can count on me."

"I know I can. You're dismissed."

Once the door closes behind her, she exhales, strolling back to her quarters, nodding in acknowledgment to people as she passes them.

It's only hours later when a lieutenant Charlie isn't fond of taps on her door. He comes bearing information about this 'Bass' person and where he was last seen. Following procedure, she thanks the lieutenant before digging into the information in front of her, so much so that she barely gets any sleep.

Morning comes before she knows it, and long before she's prepared to travel. She barely even acknowledges any one else’s presence, choosing to stick close to Jeremy’s side along the trip. It’s a good thing it far from a long journey, otherwise she would’ve been bored out of her skull.

She has no idea how long she's been traveling, but she's definitely getting tired of riding. Baker offered to change spots with her many times, letting her take the wagon, but each time she refuses. Rank triumphs comfort, she didn't want any type of special treatment, though Baker didn't treat her differently because of her relation to Miles. Charlie took comfort in knowing that they would stop eventually, making camp for the night. That’s the only thing that kept her going throughout the duration of the trip, that and Baker’s reassuring presence.

Baker was asked by Miles to accompany Charlie, though he would’ve gladly volunteered. He was close with Bass before the fallout, and he and Miles both knew where Bass was likely to be holed up. Plus, Jeremy was the only other person who knew Miles kept tabs on Bass.

They have to be getting close, Charlie can tell because of Jeremy’s fleeting gazes, taking in their surroundings like it was from a memory. Those words form in her mind at the same time as Jeremy leads them off the path, halting the horses.

Extending his hand, she follows the direction of where his finger is pointing. “Last we heard Bass was somewhere in this general vicinity. If you don’t spot him immediately, go snoop around, under the radar and see what you can find.”

Charlie nods her head, dismounting from her horse as she pulls her knapsack over her shoulder. “Got it, if I don’t come back before nightfall it means I’ve found him, so be prepared to come in guns a blazin’.”

Jeremy’s voice stops her in her tracks. “I know Miles said to do whatever it takes, but be careful Charlie.”

“You want me to go against the President of the Republic?” She coolly questions.

“I want you to be careful.”

“Aren’t I always?”

He doesn’t miss a beat, “no.”

A stoic expression works its way onto Charlie’s face. “I wasn’t sent here to be careful Captain Baker. I was sent to get the job done; whatever that means will be up to me. Your concern is unnecessary. Remember, if I don’t come back before nighttime be ready for when I come to collect.”

Strutting away, she choose to ignore his mumbling about her attitude, knowing he won’t say anything to Miles about her behavior because it would only get him into trouble as well. She makes sure to keep her head down while bearing in mind the copious amount of information she had read about him. She remembered Miles mentioning to her the morning before she left something about bars. It wasn’t hard to guess that any connection of Miles’ would be easily found in a bar somewhere.

Her eyes immediately zero in on a local bar, feet making a beeline for the entryway, deciding to check it out first as advised by Miles. Strolling past the door, further into the bar, she can’t help but release a relieved sigh as she spots Bass almost instantly. She could pinpoint those unruly curls anywhere, and she should, she spent enough time studying the picture Miles gave her, although a picture does not do him justice. He's aged significantly since the picture was taken, but he was like fine wine, only got better with age. This was going to be a lot easier than trying to hunt and track him down, not that she doesn’t love a good chase.

At first he doesn't notice her presence, drying the glasses as he places them onto a shelf. It's only when her boots smack loudly against the floor that the sound forces his eyes over towards her. He doesn't say anything at first, distracted by her plain beauty.

She ditched the dull, itchy uniform just before arriving, switching into more appropriate attire instead. Attire that consists of tight, denim jeans and a loose flowing purple tank top, hanging dangerously low, exposing the tops of her breasts.

Regaining his senses, he was finally able to clear his head enough to form coherent sentences. "Sorry kid, I think you're a little too young to be in here."

She shrugs, "guess it all depends on what I'm in here for." The corner of her mouth twitches up into a smirk as she plops down onto an empty barstool. From the minute he opens his mouth, boyish grin plastered on his face, Charlie knows the innocent act isn't going to cut it.

"Yeah, I guess so," he chuckles. "I'll let it slide this one time, seeing as how I'm positive you aren't 21, hell I'd be surprised if you were over 18."

"I didn't think rules mattered much anymore."

"Touché. What can I get ya?"

If innocence isn't going to cut it, then shameless flirting it is, she was instructed to do whatever it took. Licking her lips in appreciation, she openly eyes him up and down. "Hmm…what if I said I wanted you."

Bass chuckles, wavering under her intense, lustful gaze. "Kid, I'm not nearly drunk enough to throw away my inhibitions and morals, laws enforced or not."

Placing her elbows on the table, she interlocks her fingers, resting her chin atop them. "That can be arranged." After a few minutes she speaks again, startling him. "Surprise me," she nods to the collection of alcohol behind him. "Make an executive decision based on your gut instinct about me."

A challenge, Bass could get on board with this idea, he loves a good challenge. Trailing his eyes up and down her seated frame, he starts to make a mental list, crossing off all the weak cocktail drinks from the get go. She hardly looks like the type of person who enjoys more sugar than alcohol. Turning his back on the young, dark blonde haired beauty, his hand searches for a specific bottle, one he doesn't share with many people. Pouring three finger widths worth of the murky brown ale, he sits it down in front of her, nodding with his chin for her to take a drink.

Her eyes never leave his as she swirls the content around in the glass. Bringing it up to her lips, she takes a generous sip, letting it linger at the back of her mouth before swallowing. "Bourbon. Good choice." Clearly he and Miles have similar taste, that's always what he offered Charlie.

He gawks for a second, jaw drooping a few seconds before he closes his mouth, clearly impressed. He hasn't seen anyone knock back a glass of bourbon like that in awhile. "Good sense of taste, most people can't tell the difference between whiskey and bourbon. Even gets me sometimes."

"I do have an excellent palate and taste buds." Her words are laced with a hidden, sexual lining that Bass picks up on immediately.

He chooses to brush over the subject, refilling her glass before capping the bottle, sitting it underneath the bar. "That's on the house, any more and you'll have to start paying. You're cute kid, but not enough to drain my bar dry."

"Your bar is the last thing on my mind when it comes to draining, but I'd be more than happy to pay."

He laughs, "Careful, I might take you up on that offer."

"Let's hope so," she tosses a wink his way.

"What's your name?"


Bass shrugs one shoulder. "Fine, don't tell me, I like mystery."

With those parting words he focuses his attention back on the other customers, most of the men hungrily gazing at the new girl, but she never notices.

Charlie's eyes stay glued on Bass, appreciatively eyeing his taunt, muscular back as it contracts with every movement.

He can feel her penetrating gaze as he struggles to go about his business. He's not used to bold, outspoken women who know what they want and aren't afraid to make flirty comments. He's used to putting on a dazzling smile, laying the charm on thick. This girl wanted the opposite.

She watches as people trickle in and out of the bar, different mix of ages, but primarily men. Each and every one of them does a double take at Charlie's relaxed form, leaning against the counter. They must be regulars who aren't used to seeing new people.

It never fails. After a few minutes of sitting there, she sees a body out of the corner of her eye, slowly strutting towards where she's trying to enjoy her liquor in peace.

"What's a pretty little thing like you doing by yourself?"

"Well, I was enjoying the silence and solitude, but now, unfortunately, I'm not by myself."

"You got a little bit of bite to you."

"Much more than a little bite," she rolls her eyes at his pathetic excuse at picking her up. "Get too close and you could wind up losing more than a finger." A sickeningly sweet smile spreads across her face.

That only encourages the guy to encroach her personal space. "Small price to pay for a moment of your company."

Swiveling on her seat, she positions her lips by his ear, whispering low in his ear as her hand roughly squeezes his dick. She grins when he lets out a muffled yelp of pain, propelling her to twist harder. "No. I don't think you understand. I'm not interested. And if you continue to piss me off, I won't hesitate to chop your dick off. Are we clear?"

He vehemently nods his head, exhaling loudly when she lets go. He all but runs off, tail between his legs back to his table.

She isn't really concerned with who saw the whole interaction, but she does notice that Bass' eyes are blatantly peering into her very soul. She can visibly see the lust pooling behind his eyes as he breaks their connection, throwing himself back into work.

He's beyond baffled at this girl. She's an enigma. One that he can’t get out of his fucking head, and he only just met the girl. Fuck, woman, she definitely was not a girl.

When the bar finally closes, and Bass kicks everyone else out, Charlie disregards his last call, making herself comfortable at the bar as everyone else throws money down to leave. She catches the tail end of a few confused looks, but she knows Bass is well aware that she isn’t going anywhere. And he doesn’t seem to mind.

With his back turned to her, locking up the door, Charlie decides now is the time to make her move. Sitting her glass down on the table, she takes long, quick strides across the room until she’s standing right behind him. She barely lets him fully turn around before crushing her mouth to his in a searing kiss.

The force of the kiss causes him to collide with the door, loud sound exploding around them in the empty bar. Bass attempts to lead her upstairs to his room, but the only make it as far as the stool where she was previously sitting. He could tell she was getting impatient, which causes a chuckle to escape from his mouth. “Where’s the fire?” He mutters through their locked lips.

Tearing her mouth away, she places rough kisses down his neck. “Mmm,” she guides his hand to her pulsating center where she’s sure he can feel the wetness seeping out. “In between my thighs.”

She wastes no time ridding him of his pants, forcing his underwear down along with the denim, exposing his delicious length to her. In haste, she leaves his shirt on, not giving a damn about it. Sinking to her knees, her tongues snakes out of her mouth, lapping at the drops of pre-cum like a newborn, baby kitten. Going from 0 to 20, the kitten turns into a hellion wildcat as she sucks his entire length into her mouth in one swift motion. He fits perfectly inside the hollow canal of her throat, leaving just enough space for Charlie’s hand to grip the base of his dick as she bobs her head up and down.

She was never one for doing anything soft and slow. Giving head was no different. Ardently, she moves her mouth up and down, lips gliding along his shaft as her eyes shift upwards. She watches the way his own lips part open, breath laboring before his eyes roll backwards.

“Fuck,” he cries out. He should’ve known there was nothing innocent about this woman, but he didn’t expect her to put on such an impressive show. Once he regains his composure, he’s able to draw his attention back to her sultry eyes, never once blinking as she holds his gaze. For a while he’s able to make his eyes stay open, until her teeth graze his shaft, lightly nipping at his tip before she engulfs his cock once again.

Bracing his elbows on the countertop, his fingers delve into her long locks, gently massaging as he lets out a chorus of moans. “Tell me—tell me your name,” his breath catches on the last word.

Charlie smirks around his cock before looking back up to see his chest erratically expanding. She could tell him her name, because at this point what could it hurt? As soon as she fucks him into oblivion, it’ll all be over with. Instead, she wants to make him suffer, drag out the mystery as long as possible. She tosses a wink in his direction, tongue coating him in her saliva as one hand cups his balls, roughly squeezing them.

It’s the pain mixed with pleasure that has Bass spilling his seed down her throat rapidly without warning. Charlie takes every bit of it into her mouth, never once gagging or letting any morsel go to waste as she gulps around his length.

Releasing him with a plopping sound, she smacks her lips together before her tongue swipes at her chin, greedily gorging on every last drop of cum.

He’s barely able to stand, black dots swirling in his vision as he props his chest against the bar for support. A sated feeling washes over his body as he hums in bliss.

Charlie has never been more sexually frustrated than she is right now, but orders triumph over pleasure. She has a duty to bring him back to Miles; she can’t forget the reason she’s here, though that was easy to do. The aching pain between her legs was making concentrating almost unbearable. This was the perfect opportunity though; he was too thoroughly fucked to pay attention.

Quickly, she grabs a barstool in between her fingers, bringing it over her head before knocking him against the head, hard enough to cause him to plummet towards the floor. She doesn’t bat an eyelash when he lands with a hard thump, head colliding with the ground. She waits for a few seconds to make sure he’s down, checking his pulse to feel it barely throbbing.

Pulling the rope from her knapsack, she binds his arms before moving to his ankles. She’s almost positive he won’t wake up before she gets back with the others, but just in case she drags his body towards a metal pipe, cuffing one of his bound hands to the pole. To save herself from listening to Jeremy bitch and complain, she slaps his underwear back on, tucking his limp dick inside. She was sure Jeremy was still going to question her, but at least now it looks less suspicious.

Grabbing her knapsack, she shifts it higher up onto one shoulder as she glances around the room one more time. She unlocks the door, shutting it behind her, darkness outside concealing her as she continues her plight back to the others.

The first face she sees is Jeremy's. "Everything go alright? Took you a little while."

Tersely she nods, not offering an explanation for her time spent. "Everything’s secure. Didn’t get the chance to tell him who I was. I had a feeling he wasn’t going to come willingly.” Oh, but he definitely did cum willingly. Scolding herself for allowing those thoughts to creep in, she shook her head, trailing behind the group of men.

There's noise and commotion, but all Bass can focus on is the persistent pounding in his head. The last thing he remembers is getting one helluva blowjob from the mystery woman before total blackness. It’s been awhile since he’s gotten head that was that good, but he highly doubted it caused him to blackout, which means it was her.

As soon as he opens his eyes he feels his heart stop. Speak of the devil she stands before him, only instead of jean clad thighs and flowing tank top, she's rigidly standing sporting a Militia uniform. That's when he realizes he's up shit creek without a paddle. His hands are bound and cuffed, as well as his ankles in hopes of thwarting any prison break escape. He mentally curses himself. He was never usually this distracted, nothing ever caught him off guard, but she was last person he would've suspected. How could he have been so stupid?

"Good, you're awake." All innocence is replaced by a cold, firm voice, still laced with lust. She glances down at the paper in her hands, "Sebastian Monroe," her eyes roam upwards. "I'm Cadet Charlie Matheson. I've been instructed to bring you back with us. President Matheson would like to have a word with you."

Matheson. Still to this day that name twists the ever-present knife lingering in his heart, reminding him of the pain of the past. "I doubt he just wants 'a word.'" He mockingly murmurs under his breath, but Charlie’s keen sense of hearing picks up on it.

"What President Matheson has planned is none of my business, I'm just doing as I was told."

"Should be someone's business, Miles is off the rails—"

"Enough," she suddenly snaps, cutting him off. She motions to the men at her side, all above her in rank, but none of them correct her. They may rank higher, but the fury in her voice and fire in her eyes squashes any future protest from coming out of their mouths.

Uncuffing him from the pole, they lift him to his feet; one man on either side shoves him forward, forcing him to comply with their unspoken demand.

"I can't go on our little voyage dressed like this. So you're either gonna have to untie me, or dress me one."

She sees what he's doing, challenging her, but this is her game, and she makes the rules. Searching for his discarded pants, she ignores Jeremy’s questioning look as she struts forward. She keeps her gaze locked on him as she helps him step into the holes of his pants, pulling it up his legs. When it’s time to button the jeans, she makes sure to brush her fingertips against his awakening cock, but all that does is torment her.

Bass takes notice of the way her mouth slightly twitches, contorting into a painful expression, thighs rubbing together. He can smell a strong scent of arousal in the air. “Untie me and let me go, and we’ll call it even. I’ll even repay you for earlier,” the husky words ooze from his lips.

Charlie however isn’t that easy to persuade, no matter how tempting the offer, and it’s fucking enticing at the moment. “I thought you’d like a challenge…what do you need your hands for?”

Once she spins around, walking towards the door, the men once again flank on either side of him. They're shoving and kicking his heels, all the while tugging on his arms before he rips them away and growls.

"Call off the hounds," he barks. "I don't need a fucking handler."

Out of instinct, they look to Baker, who in turn looks to Charlie. It startles her for a moment, to have so many eyes upon her at once, but eventually she snaps out of it. Nodding her head, she agrees with his request. "Very well, just stay along side of a precaution."

"Why?" His taunting voice draws her back in. "Afraid I'm gonna get the jump on you?"

She could see his darting eyes, assessing the situation, mentally calculating his chance at escaping. "I really hope you cooperate and don't put up a struggle. I'd hate to have to physically restrain you anymore than necessary."

“Something tells me you wouldn’t hate that at all.”

Charlie can only grin at the head of the line, exiting the bar first. She couldn’t deny he was right, she wouldn’t hate that. If anything, she’d enjoy it.