Our second tale in the Body Guards series about intrigue, espionage and, of course, a massive amount of muscle continues. Be warned that this story contains graphic man-to- man sex and violence. BODY GUARDS – HANDLER CELL – Chapter 2 By: JOHN Hanson arrived at the small Belize atoll before sunset on the same day that Dewey had been killed along with his handler and those for Black and White. Mark was gone. The four massive muscle soldiers met well into the night to review what little evidence they had as the three staggeringly endowed handlers waited outside serving as sentries. The one thing that was certain was that the Coven was alive, well and active once again. The business card left between Dewey’s pecs had been sent back to Washington for analysis. This printed proclamation in the form a calling card was a new level of bold arrogance by the Coven. Who, and especially where, the card came from would be of tremendous help. Obviously they had been interested in securing a handler. Apparently they had targeted Mark. Why was something that Hanson seemed pretty certain about. “Mark is a very special person.” Hanson began. “He is one of only three known men in the world with enough positive genetic triggers to be able to process M6 level Ryan cum. This is not something we wanted advertised. Hong Tu and his father, Dr. Singh of the Coven are the other two. Only a very few of us in the M-squadron have been privy to this information. I only found out recently from Pentagon General who oversees our operation. Major Weir never knew. Klein is gone and Wells is the only other person who knows.” “How could the Coven possibly know about this then?” Antonio asked anxiously. “And how come I was never told?” “I have no answer as to how they found out. It only seems logical to assume that they did.” Hanson answered. “For security purposes we felt it was best that not even you should know. Otherwise we might have two dead men here on the island now instead of just one. I felt compelled to let you men know now but not even the handlers are to be told.” “Who or what is this ‘INDIGO’?” White queried. “I’m afraid we don’t know that answer either.” Hanson admitted. “But he is obviously a person and appears to be very powerful, deadly and dangerous. He seems well trained in the calculating ways and brutality of the Coven.” “Where is Dr. Singh and how is he tied up in this?” Black cut in placing one huge M4 arm around the shoulder of his lover, White. They were an interesting pair indeed. Both had M4 level bodies as wonderful and brilliant as Antonio’s They were wearing standard issue fatigue pants that were specially made for M-squad men and, as always, opposing colored tee shirts that were made several sizes too small by the thunderous muscle of their upper bodies. Black was a very military looking man with almost ivory white skin that looked like fine silk stretched over pure, sinewy muscle and had a shirt matching his partner’s name painted onto his upper body. White was a deeply dark African-American with his pure white tee shirt boldly shadowed by the massive swells and lines of his ponderous pecs and chiseled abs. “Last we heard, Dr. Singh was somewhere in northeastern or southeastern Asia, maybe in Thailand or one of the Korea’s. But that information is not as reliable as we would like it to be.” Hanson admitted. “The Coven is well financed and has the support of many evil and well-placed and powerful men in the world. Dr. Singh could be just about anywhere and this operation could have originated from any of a number of places.” “Look, they managed to get a plane here, grab Mark, and were gone without our even being aware of it.” Hanson continued. “My guess is that they flew in very low and from not too far a distance – Cuba is my best guess.” “What do we do now!”? Antonio demanded. “They have Mark and I intend to get him back – safely!” “We wait, Antonio. We wait and we analyze the evidence we have been able to gather.” Hanson spoke calmly but directly. “And for tonight, we rest. We all need to get a good night’s sleep. God knows when we may get another one for a long time.” Antonio had wanted to argue for stronger, faster action but his respect for Hanson and his wisdom kept him quiet. Antonio knew that their commander was right. But sleep did not come easily to Antonio that night – or for Hanson either. He really and truly cared about his men and was not overly anxious to be taking on the Coven again. As Hanson tossed and turned through the night, he kept thinking about the power it must have taken to overwhelm Dewey and do the damage that had been done to his muscle-armored body. Hanson knew he would need more specialized help and he hoped that he would get the agreement to assist that he had to have. It seemed a long time before morning finally arrived. Hanson checked his secured e-mail line just as soon as he was up. The message he had hoped to find was there. He called Washington and spoke with the General. They laid out rough plan of action over the phone and Hanson called the men on the island together as quickly as he could. “The card was printed on paper made in southern West Africa.” He announced. “It comes from the area around Ghana, Togo and Cote d’Ivoire. I want Black, White and your handlers ready to go to Accra within 24 hours. Antonio, you and I have a visit to make in North Carolina.” Antonio wanted to leave immediately. He was anxious to find his lover and fearful that any wasted time might lead to deadly results. Hanson spent much of the morning calming down the handsome Italian. If there was one thing that Hanson didn’t like about his job, it was the amount of time he found himself spending as a counselor and consoler instead being active. Hanson’s M3 body was one of the best at that level. From his genetic charting, he knew it was as far as he would ever be able to go but, then again, there was nothing wrong with having a perfectly sculpted body with 450 pounds of shredded muscle capable of resisting the power of a small handgun fired directly at it. Hanson explained as rationally as he could how much he doubted that any group that had gone to such great lengths to take Mark would have done so to harm him. Obviously they needed Mark specifically for some greater purpose. Antonio argued that he knew the mindset of the Coven better than anyone else in the M-squad did but had to agree to the logic. They talked for some time and Antonio seemed much more relaxed by midday with Hanson’s pledge to find Mark and bring him back safely. After checking in with the Pentagon, there wasn’t much for Hanson to do that afternoon. Unlike most the men under his command, Hanson hadn’t taken any personal time in many months and, in spite of the renewed Coven situation, he decided to take the afternoon for his own enjoyment. The sun was warm and the breeze from the reef was refreshing. Hanson and his handler had a good working relationship and a trusted, close friendship. They set off on a small navy boat for an afternoon of snorkeling in the Caribbean. Half a world away, another massively muscled creature was involved in his own form of recreation. He still could feel the remnants of his last infusion of Coven-manufactured Ryan cum from the byproducts of leftover deposits gathered over a year ago. Dr. Singh was an amazing scientist whose work on cum modification ensured that the Coven could now create a continuous supply of muscle-enhancing cum to serve their global needs. The great doctor promised that he was now working on a new wave of even-better material that would be available in the near future. All they lacked, according to Dr. Singh, were enough stable ‘delivery vessels’ to feed hungry cells of the Coven’s muscle-god creatures. Right now, only Dr. Singh himself could feed the massive needs of the hulking figure waiting to carry out his latest orders from the Coven on a regular. There were other handlers that occasionally serviced him but he knew that they were doomed men whose bodies were too unstable to consume and process cum at the high level of protein concentration that bodies of his caliber required. Dr. Singh promised that the Coven was working hard to produce a way to adapt handler’s bodies and create the teams of feeders needed to help the Coven build an army of muscle warriors unlike anything the world had ever seen. For tonight, the waiting muscle behemoth knew this program had something to do with stem cell processing but that was not his affair. He was a soldier of the Coven and he was there to do their bidding. That was the way it was and had been for a year now. It was as if his life before that didn’t even exist and was not even a consideration. He knew his task and he was determined to be the biggest and best man the Coven had ever produced. There were only two other known men possessing his caliber of muscle in the entire world. There were no warm feelings between Indigo and him but the huge black man was a loyal and devoted Coven soldier; just like him. The other, a man named Wells, needed to be eliminated and he wanted the honor and privilege to be the one selected to do it. He knew that Indigo was training hard to be selected, too. For now, the lumbering figure sat patiently in the dimly lighted Singapore airport hotel gym and turned his immediate mind back to his task for today. Those he waited for would be here soon and he needed to take care of them so that he could move another step closer to getting the plum job he really wanted from the Coven. Black and White watched as Hanson’s boat sailed lazily toward the horizon of the green- blue Caribbean. They were both excited about their chance to finally see some real action starting tomorrow and even more excited that they were going to take on the Coven directly. They had worked for years to building their bodies to the M4 level and, with this assignment, the thoughts of the competition to be selected for the M5 level and the issues that had introduced into their lives could be put aside temporarily. Both men wanted to be the new M5 but they knew from the start that only one of them would be selected and had been silently fearful of how that would affect their relationship. Black and White had met almost nine years ago as new M1 recruits. White was from a poor farm area in Arkansas and saw the combination of bodybuilding and military as his way out and up. From the time he began to respond to the affects of puberty, White had known that his body was somehow special. Strength came almost without trying and every teenage workout in the poor quality high school gym added pounds and inches of muscle onto his body with seemingly little effort. White was never interested in other sports though he liked being a member of a team. He entered and won a small local teenage bodybuilding competition when he was a junior and blew away the competition in the process. The Little Rock daily paper had run a small article and a bad picture of him. Not long after that, two government agents approached him and his parents. He moved into the M-squadron compound only days after graduating from high school. Black was four years older than White and had come into the M-squad from ROTC at college in Wisconsin. His father’s German heritage made him massive. His mother’s Norwegian ancestry gave him his silky white skin and soft blond hair. He knew the military appealed to his macho desires but, until the M-squad came along, had struggled heavily with how to deal with his homosexuality and the army. Black had been honed and tutored a lot by Commander Weir and was both shocked and devastated by his traitorous turn to the Coven. He blamed the Coven and hated them for stealing and perverting Commander Weir. Now he was bound and determined to get even with them. Black and White had hit it off from the instant they met. The stark difference in their skin color and the irony of the situation had probably gotten them paired up as an unspoken joke. But the tables were turned when the two vastly different looking men became deeply dedicated lovers. They had started dressing in contrast to their names and skin colors as a counter joke but soon it just became part of who they were. Today, with their M4 level bodies, nobody joked about them – at least not to their faces. The hot noon sun felt good as Black and White returned to the hidden corner of the Belizian beach for one last afternoon of unabashed lovemaking. White gently stroked and traced the contours and shadow lines of Blacks amazing body created on his jet-black tee shirt. A deep, deep dark “v”-shaped hollow filled the plunging neckline where an enormous wealth of pectoral cleavage exploded out from the top of overwrought shirt. White dug a handful of fingers into the inviting opening as Black forced his pecs to turn into an endless array of ridged, striated meat. As White continued to force his groping hand deeper and deeper into the solidified volume of Black’s pearly-white canyoned pec muscle Black let his hands meander over the shifting boulders of White’s insanely broad shoulders. Even covered with the fiber- stressed fabric of the lily-white cotton shirt, the signature taper of White’s torso from the huge rounds of his yard-wide shoulders to his stunningly narrow waist was etched into place. White’s free arm hung over a foot from the trimness of his side and billowed ever outward as it moved toward his writhing shoulders past his 32” biceps. Black let his hands travel over White’s chiseled pecs and curvaceous abs until they had a strong hold on the lower fabric of the tee shirt. White pulled his searching hand from Black’s crushing man-tits long enough to permit his lover to force his tee shirt over his head. Line after perfect line of M4 meat spilled out from the relieved shirt. The bright sun reflected brilliant stars of stark white light from the many angles cut by the ultra-defined muscles of White’s richly dark skin. Black’s shirt was not nearly so lucky. White forced both hands into the deep neckline and, with one desirous pull, ripped the tormented fabric from Black’s body. Next to Antonio, Black possessed the most amazingly voluminous and gorgeously shaped muscle-breasts imaginable for an M4 man. Curving shadow line after curving shadow line cut powerfully through the silky whiteness of the constricted pectorals and Black continued to pump them to diamond hardness for his lusting lover. The confining fatigues soon followed revealing the true wonder of White’s miraculously small 28” waist the unspeakable glory of Black’s monumental 50” thighs and 32” calves. Two pairs of soothing and immeasurably strong hands coursed feverishly over each other’s staggering musculature as the two M-squad men playfully pushed their bodies to their ultimate level of muscle and erotic arousal. Black’s long, lean 3” wide cock sprung its full 16” white salute back at White’s monumental 4” wide by 18” long black flagpole of hardened man-meat. White knelt in front of Black’s precum-dripping organ and, extending his massive, outstretched arm, nestled the silky cock in the crook between his elbow and lower bicep. Black loved when White bicep-fucked him and White loved anything he got to do with his 32” of flexing upper arm meat. Shifting in toward one another as they had learned to do over years of practice, White slide the thick shaft of his inflexible cock into the diamond of space at Black’s knees below the massive teardrops of his quadriceps and the monstrous balls of his upper calf muscles. Once White’s cock shaft was well positioned in place, Black forced both of his feet as close together as his massive leg muscles would allow trapping the dark pole of man-meat between his rock-solid legs. Together the two staggering M4 muscle men began the mutual stimulation of their sex-powered cocks in an awesome display of muscle-defining motions. A similar event was about to take place in Singapore. The door to the small hotel gym swung open and two men entered and, as directed, locked the door behind them. Though covered with bulky sweat cloths, it was obvious that one of them was hugely muscled. The other carried a large gym bag and was a well-known personal trainer in the world of bodybuilding. They were here in Singapore for two reasons. First they needed the rest stop at the airport transient hotel. Maintaining a competition level body was difficult enough but to go from Western Africa to Bangkok for a major contest without a significant rest stop was insane. Second, they had a special delivery to make to their Coven contact and the fact that they could bypass several levels of security by meeting inside the Singapore International Airport made this a convenient place in which to transact business. They had arrived early that morning and had agreed to make the transfer here in the small gym late at night, just before their scheduled flight to Bangkok for the Grand Prix contest there. A few well-placed dollars and the fact that the bodybuilder was regarded as being among the best of the best in bodybuilding world kept the gym open for them at this late hour. Their shadowy contact was already waiting inside. Even seated on a far bench in the semi-darkness of the windowless room the man looked enormous. This was not their usual contact but they had been sent a message by Dr. Singh to expect this. His message had been tantalizing to say the least. They had been promised a workout the newest and best soldier of the Coven since Indigo. The dark figure rose as they entered. The two deliverymen gasped as the trainer dropped the bag he was carrying in reactive disbelief. The man was already naked and hard as a rock – all over. During some of the transfers in the jungles of Western Africa they had seen Indigo and this man was every bit as big, if not slightly bigger. The professional bodybuilder carried M2 level muscle on his beautifully sculpted body. As much muscle as his 360 pound body displayed, it seemed almost puny when in the presence of over 600 pounds of diamond-cut muscle plastered onto the figure of one single man. The bodybuilder had been both permitted and encouraged to pursue a public bodybuilding career by the Coven. No one needed to know that his body was actually the product of Coven work and enhancement. The processed Ryan cum was not a steroid or unnatural growth hormone so it wasn’t traceable or questionable. Plus, as an internationally recognized competitor, his travels to competitions or to the various global guest-posing arenas would not be questioned and it provided a convenient way to transport the needed flow of illegal diamonds from the mines of Senegal into the coffers of the Coven operations. Nobody would think to check the containers of muscle protein powder and other such sundry supplements in their bags needed by a professional body builder nor to look inside the hand weights that the man and his trainer carried in their luggage. This was, to them, just another regular diamond drop built into their trip from England to Bangkok via Africa. In exchange for their cooperation, the bodybuilder was able to bask in the benefits and admiration of being considered one of the best, if not the best, bodybuilder in the world. The muscle world of the Coven and the M-squad was a well-kept secret and it needed to stay that way. The bodybuilder was regularly featured in many magazines and had gathered some rather lucrative contracts from various supplement companies This notoriety had made his and his trainer’s traveling and ability to carry the diamonds and some occasional experimental cum-compounds very easy and convenient. The problem was that, as the team became more famous, they had also become bolder. The Coven knew that they had started to skim a share of the diamonds off for themselves and had even siphoned off some of the experimental cum products. It was presumed that they were probably doing this in the hopes that they would be able to use the money and natural chemicals someday to push their bodies further than the Coven permitted for them to stay in the eyes of the public. If, however, the bodybuilder suddenly got too big, people, knowledgeable people, would start to question just how the had been able to grow so big. These more recent activities had put the Coven in a potentially awkward or dangerous position – and that needed to be corrected. “Please, I know we don’t have much time.” The shadowy figure spoke. “I’ll take the bag so that we have the business out of the way. Now (looking directly at the anxious bodybuilder), get out of your sweats and let’s get started.” The professional bodybuilder was out of his sweat suit in no time. A chance to work out with a veritable muscle god was something that he did not want to lose a minute of. The giant Coven muscle-contact looked over the man as he finished disrobing. He had seen pictures of him in contest shape many times and truly approved of his smaller, but marvelous physiques. The bodybuilder was on the “small” side” for an M2 quality man at about 325 pounds, but it needed to be that way or the public might have too many questions. He also knew from the Coven files that the bodybuilder and trainer/handler were lovers. The personal trainer/handler was only rated to the M2 level – but that was all they would ever need. With his open invitation the bodybuilder and trainer moved to within touching distance of the gargantuan Coven muscle creation. The muscle-god was not especially handsome in face but neither was he anywhere near ugly. His facial features were stern, hard and lean. His body was pure perfection except for a small scar on the right side of his lower abs that looked as if he had undergone minor surgery for his appendix. The awed admirers knew all about Indigo’s measurements and proportions and this man was at least as big in every way. As with Indigo, his body was in a constant state of muscle-enriched pump. The stunningly huge man seemed more than willing to show off his colossal body for the drooling bodybuilders. First he shifted into a double biceps pose with each of the two hungering admirers setting sites on an opposing arm. A pair of multiply-split and fiber-perfect arms rocked up into stratospheric proportions. Inch upon inch of mountainously high biceps muscle climbed toward the ceiling of the gym as he flexed. Veins as thick as either groping man’s fingers netted the balling muscles as if tying it with their reinforcing cording. His shoulders rose along with his biceps until they formed head-sized rounds of chisel-cut rock and stood as if solidly forcing his Alp-like biceps peaks ever higher. Triceps as large as watermelons spilled from the underside of his quaking arms and turned into spring-loaded coils of winding muscle from elbow joint to impact with his truck-tire thick upper lats. Yet his biceps continued to climb as peak after delicious secondary peak split away from the main ball of muscle and announced its own stunning presence. A virtual basketball of biceps muscle soon stood invitingly atop each ultra-flexed arm. First the drooling bodybuilder and then the trainer cautiously reached out to explore the offered world-wonder of arm meat. It was as hot to the touch as it was hard. Almost boiling hot and seemingly diamond hard. The flexed god nodded for them to provoke the offered muscle mass. They did; the bodybuilder squeezed as hard as his own 325 pounds of competition quality muscle could. The trainer did his best but finally surrendered to simple enjoyment of the staggering muscles offered to him. Sweat broke out from the foreheads of the stunned men as they tried to create even the smallest of dimpling into the frozen masses of almost 40” of shredded biceps and triceps meat. Smiling toward the clutching bodybuilder, the gargantuan Coven muscle-machine singled to be let go. He eyed the waiting bodybuilder pleased that the man was in near-perfect contest shape. The lack of any signs of steroid-induced muscle development and a boyishly handsome Oriental face is what had made him particularly desirable in world of competitive bodybuilding today. The flow of his well-formed 325-pound body from his jet-black hair and highly muscled shoulders to his 62” chest tapering to his 32” plated waistline showed his attention to aesthetic detail. The bodybuilder had become just as famous for the choreographed beauty of his posing routines. His trainer/lover had worked long and hard with him so that every twist, every pose and every display of muscle showed the bodybuilder off to lust-producing perfection. Half a day and half a world away Black and White were completely engaged in their own pumping and grinding routine. Black and White pumped away at each other’s muscle- wrapped cocks. Well-practiced tensing and flexing worked to create just the right amount of pressure and friction between the constricting arm and leg muscles and the embedded cock shafts. Black pushed the full length of his rigid cock shaft between Whiles capturing legs while forcing his constricting bicep around White’s captured man-pole. Their bodies glimmered with sweat-shining muscle in the afternoon sunlight as the heat of the day mixed with the heat of their loving passion. Knowing signals surged through the beating cocks of the two M-squad lovers on the beach telling one another of the orgasmic progress they were making. Black and White pounded away using their free hands to massage the well-traveled flexing muscles of their respective partner. For them it was all about muscle and sex and pure, unrestricted muscle-sex. Their balls churned the buttery cum ready as they continued to draw signals from each other’s heated organ. Sweat rolled freely over their stiffly muscled bodies as they brought their levels of excitement together and both exploded with streams of fountaining cum simultaneously. They continued to pump their massive cock shafts through each other’s massive muscles until the last of the steaming white cum had been forced from their happy cocks. After this loving workout, they would sleep well tonight. It was well into the night in Singapore. The colossal Coven muscle-god moved over to the nearby bench and array of free weights and invited the trainer and bodybuilder to join him. Their hard cocks waved provocatively as they moved forward. The much-whispered about 12” cock and apple-sized testicles of the bodybuilder looked as full, rich and strong as the rest of his well-cut body. The handlers 16” shaft was rock-hard and. At 2” wide, looked somewhat disproportionate on his slight 150-pound body. The vision of the huge Coven muscle-soldier’s own 22” long by 5” wide ramrod cock caused the ready cock of both viewers to salivate with precum. The Coven muscle-master selected a pair of 100-pound dumbbells and began to show them just how they could use different angles of wrist twisting to maximize the affect on the biceps. After over 100 reps, the weight was still virtually meaningless for the gargantuan muscleman to handle. He hadn’t expected much to challenge his immeasurable strength in the small hotel gym. But the workout was not important any. To keep the bodybuilder and his trainer focused, instead of using weight as a muscle- ripping mass builder, he chose to concentrate on the value of repetitions. The two onlookers stood aghast as the humongous biceps in front of them formed into multiply- split spheres of living muscle-lava. As he worked his 40” of undaunted biceps meat, the massive Coven soldier made sure that the prominence of his pistoned cock-weapon was always present in the handsome faces of the hungering bodybuilder and his lover. After 500 simultaneous reps, he shifted to forearm twisting alternating sets of 100 reps each. While curling one bicep to increasingly gigantic proportions, the massive man began to stroke the inflexible power of his precum-spitting cock with his free hand and encouraged the viewers to feel his cantilevered organ as he did so. It wasn’t long before the onlookers had one hand busy on the majestic giant cock shaft and their other hand just as busy on their own twitching cocks as they watched. The curling giant flexed knowingly through rep after endless rep until, with mighty groans of release, the two hypnotically enthralled men spilled their cum onto his writhing biceps and forearms. Satisfied with his effect on the two viewers, he invited them to lick their hot cum from his dripping biceps. That was all the invitation they needed. Their heads moved in zealously over the monstrous mountains of diamond hard biceps meat and writhing forearms. The mixture of musty sweat and salty cum filled their tongues and mouths as they dove deeper and deeper into the canyoned cliffs of arm muscle. The Coven muscle god spread his arms wide to each side so that the sucking mouths and heads could get into the depths of massive muscle between his lower biceps and upper forearms. It was already midmorning of the second day when the private government plane carrying Antonio, Hanson and his handler rolled to a stop at the small airstrip on the Outer Banks of North Carolina. In Bangkok, a similar private plane belonging to the Coven had just been cleared for landing. It taxied to a private hanger where the colossal muscle god got off alone and was met by a waiting limousine. He had not had much sleep on the two-hour flight, but he did not feel very tired anyway. A good workout and a job well done were enough for him. Last night in Singapore seemed as far away in time as it was in miles. For Hanson and Antonio, a short ride down the windswept Carolina beach brought them to a rather desolate fenced off area with military warnings to “KEEP OUT” posted repeatedly along the fence in bold red letters. Hanson punched a code into the security box at the one gate and it swung open swiftly for them and closed just as rapidly. They drove past several brick buildings before pulling up directly in front of the door to one of them. Hanson signaled that this was their destination. Two men greeted them inside. One was a slight, smiling man of Oriental heritage. It had been a while since Antonio had seen him. Antonio and Hong Tu hugged. The other man was a wall of endless and godlike muscle. Wells looked bigger and more staggeringly perfect than ever. “We need you, Wells.” Hanson announced directly. “And you need us to need you.” “What’s this all about, Hanson?” Wells spoke sternly. “You know I don’t want to get back involved yet. I still need time.” “I understand.” Hanson assured. “But the Coven has no interest in giving you any more time.” “Me, what does this … and the Coven … have to do with me?” Wells seemed confused. “I thought this was about Mark and you guys can certainly handle that without me.” “It was until this morning.” Hanson continued. “Up until this morning I had intended to come and ask, or, if necessary, beg for your help. Now I’m afraid that you are very much a part of this whether you like it or not.” “Look,” Wells pleaded looking directly at Antonio. “I’m sorry about Mark and I have no love for the Coven. But I’m still not ready to go back up against them. What could be so different now to make you think I would change my mind?” “Because the Coven has changed it for you!” Hanson insisted walking over to a nearby computer and calling up a secure web site. “You need to look at this, Wells.” Wells drifted over to the computer. Hanson continued to type in codes until a newspaper picture came onto the screen. The date on the paper was this morning and the name announced it as a gossip-type paper from Singapore. Wells almost barfed on the spot when he saw the image of two obviously dead men. Only a “rag” newspaper would be bold enough to show this shocking image. One man was small and slight. Even before reading it in the headline Wells knew the body of the other as the famous current world- titled bodybuilder. Neither had recognizable faces. They were lying together in a pool of their own blood with bloodstained dumbbells nearby. “Was this the work of the Coven?” Wells choked out. Hanson nodded. “It’s awful but I still don’t see what it has to do with me?” “We believe that this was done to get our attention.” Hanson answered. “And to get your attention in particular.” “How’s that?” Wells asked. “Just like with Dewey, they left a card.” Hanson continued bringing a new image onto the screen. “Our contacts got to it before the papers arrived. They scanned in a copy of it and sent it to us in Washington.” The image was a picture of a blood-smudged business card. The front showed the same Coven name and marking as the card that “INDIGO” had left in Belize. The name on this card was "NIEL K". “How do you know that this was intended as an inducement for me?” Wells asked still staring at the image of the card. “Hit F2 and you’ll see what we found on the back.” Hanson answered. Hitting the key, Wells understood as the handwritten message flashed onto the computer screen. It was as simple and as the one on “INDIGO’S” card. It read: “ALL’S WELL THAT ENDS WELLS”.