Exterminating Angels

Mass-Execution, Teens, Military, Guns, Shooting, Urination, No Sex

The Federal Liberation Army under Commander Burton Wheeler and Commander Ian Montgomery converged on Alston City, formerly Boise, Idaho. Almost nine decades since the Great Plague decimated North America’s population and collapsed the government, the last, and worst, major warlord was defeated: Alston Knight. The entirety of the Kingdom of Aura, covering what was once the Northwest United States, was fanatically devoted to its’ leader, and fought nearly to the last man, woman, and child. When the conflict had ended, the region’s population was reduced less than a tenth. The FLA itself suffered some six million casualties; more than all of the prior conflicts fought in North America combined.

FLA Special Forces were airdropped near the Heaven Palace prior to the Battle of Alston, insuring the capture of the Kingdom’s so-called divine leader. His Elite Force, the Angels of Death, fell, but not without heavy casualties for the FLA. Alston Knight was found in his quarters, with a maid riding his cock. A barrage from a dozen assault rifles shredded the nineteen-year-old perky breasts, before the soldiers apprehended Alston. Six Angels of Death, along with thirteen members of his all-female staff, were also imprisoned.

When the armies under Wheeler and Montgomery reached the Palace, the prisoners were escorted to the courtyard. The Angels, a band of girls, most of whom were not even seventeen, were clad only in short leather skirt, with patches of leather just covering their nipples, held by a thin strand around their necks; yet these girls hardly registered the icy winter air as they stepped outside. The maids, wearing dresses that, while leaving most of their legs and bosom exposed, provided a little more coverage, were shivering the moment they stepped outside. A maid with long black stopped the moment she stepped outside, and tried to push her way back in. The soldier shoved her back out.

“Please, sir. It’s so cold.”

“Keep going.”

Tears flowed from her eyes. “Please. I want to go someplace warm.”

Commander Montgomery pushed his way past the soldier and withdrew his sidearm. Before the maid had time to react, he shoved the barrel of the gun into her cleavage and pulled the trigger three times. Spurts of blood erupted from her back, and she crumpled to the ground.

“If any of you ladies would like to go someplace warm, just let me know so I can send you straight to Hell.”

He stepped over the maid’s twitching body, while the prisoners continued to file out into the courtyard. None of the maids protested beyond shivering and rubbing their arms.

Wheeler emerged from the building, and followed Montgomery to a tall pine tree. A rope of barbed wire hung from the high branches, to a figure wrapped in a velvet curtain. The Angels of Death, who maintained stoic composers since their capture, gasped as two soldiers removed the curtain. The body was badly mutilated, and his skin was caked with blood, but the teens recognized the corpse of their beloved leader. Many of them trembled, and tears streamed down their eyes. Their adolescent brains struggled to understand how the man they were raised was the Second Son of God, who they dedicated their lives to serving, and for whom they committed numerous atrocities, could be killed.

“No!” Screamed one of the Angels. She was the youngest of their order, probably just turned fourteen, with pale skin. Her hair was a sheet of white which flowed to her hips, and some of the FLA troops might have mistaken her for an angel ten years ago. She dropped to her knees and started bawling, while screaming at the top of her lungs. “Our God will strike all of you dead, Alston shall rise again! This I swear! You disgusting heathens will writhe in Hell while the Holy Kingdom is brought to every corner of–”

Wheeler shoved his gun into her mouth and pulled the trigger, blowing her brains out through the top of her head. The Angel fell into Wheeler’s arms, who shoved her to the ground as piss streamed down her legs.

“Line up these murdering whores!”

The troops forced the remaining Angels into a line in front of their dead leader.

“You may fire at will.”

One of the Angels, a sixteen-year-old with short black hair, spoke up as the soldiers aimed.. “May Lord Alston reign for ten thousand years!”

A barrage of gunfire erupted. Within seconds, each Angel’s chest exploded as a barrage of automatic weapons ruined their teenage breasts. The soldiers were careful to avoid their hearts, eager to draw out their suffering as long as possible. They hit the ground, writhing as a pond of blood stained the snow red, gasping for air and spitting blood. A dozen soldiers approached, and aimed their guns on their bare backs. Another barrage shredded their midriffs. Three of the girls stopped moving when the gunfire ceased. The black haired girl and a redhead continued twitching for nearly thirty seconds.

The maids mostly stood silently, with only two sobbing as their former colleagues were gunned down.

“What should we do about the servants?” Montgomery asked.

Wheeler felt a twinge in his throat. He and his fellow soldiers felt no sympathy for the Angels of Death; Wheeler, a man of African descent, enjoyed snuffing them out. The Angels ran the concentration camps where millions of people were exterminated on the basis of their ethnicity or religion. The young maids were simply here on threat of torture and execution. Wheeler was sure they could be rehabilitated, but the higher ups ordered the extermination of everyone close to Alston Knight, lest his cult is given a chance to survive and infect future generation.

“We follow through with our orders.”

Montgomery sighed. “Alright. Line up the women!”

The maids started sobbing as the soldiers forced then into a line against the wall. “Line up and face the wall. Don’t make this any harder than it needs to be.”

One of the girls broke off and started running towards the far end of the courtyard. The redhead didn’t make it two meters before six bullets ripped through her back, sending her sprawling.

“Leave her,” Wheeler told a soldier who approached the writhing teen with his gun raised. “Do not struggled and you will get a quick death.”

The maids sobbed and screamed, one even threw up, but they faced the wall as instructed. Twelve soldiers lined up behind them, one soldier per girl, and aimed their rifles at the back of their heads. Eight of them started pissing themselves. The soldiers fired in unison, splattering the wall with blood and brain tissue. The young women collapsed against the wall and slid to the ground, leaving a crimson smear.

Commander Montgomery approached the redheaded maid who tried to run. He grabbed a handful of her bushy hair and forced her to look up at him. She groaned and spat up a mouthful of blood. The Commander placed his gun against her forehead and pulled the trigger. With a crack of thunder, a shade of crimson coated the fiery orange of her hair, as another fountain of blood and brain matter splashed across the snow.

The FLA converted the Palace into a base of operations, and sealed off all entrances to the courtyard. The Angels and their leader were left to rot, as their resting place was forever sealed.