Becoming Honey

Whatever was contained within the margarine tub was vile smelling stuff, but Amber did as Ryan suggested and lathered a good, thick coating over her hand. Despite the fact that it had been kept in the fridge, it was incredibly warm and she found that if she kept her hand behind her back the stench was not quite so bad but even so, she felt as though she was constantly fighting the urge to violently throw up.

It was quite difficult, as you might expect, for her to keep her hand behind her back for two hours, but she convinced herself that the discomfort would be worth it, assuming it worked as advertised, of course.

Amber would not have admitted it to Ryan, but she had her doubts as to the effectiveness of the goo; but as she ran her coated hand beneath the tap in the bathroom and rinsed it clean, she was amazed to see that there was no evidence at all that the hand had ever been injured in the first place.

“Well I’ll be...” she muttered as she flexed her fingers, clenching and opening her fist, marvelling at the fact that there was no pain whatsoever.

Before heading out she decided to shower, if only in an attempt to rid herself of the rank stench that seemed insistent on loitering about her person. She flicked the shower to the “on” position and reached through the torrent to adjust the temperature. She liked it hot, so she turned the knob to its highest setting. Then she stripped out of the catsuit and her underwear and hopped into the shower.

She stood beneath the hot, gushing water for a long time, contemplating exactly what she had got herself into. Even though she was slightly apprehensive about what fate lay in store for her, potentially around every corner, she could not help but feel a thrill, a satisfaction that she was a part of something much, much larger than herself, that the actions she carried out in a given situation could make or break the world.

The thought got her blood pumping and her heart rate increased. Without realising until it was too late to do anything about it, not that she wanted to, her hands were all over her body, caressing her breasts and stroking her torso, her hands growing ever closer to her trimmed pubic region. The back of her hand brushed against her most sensitive of parts and a quiver of excitement ran through her entire body. Without thinking about it for another second, she removed the shower head from its holster and gripped it between her thighs, squirming as the jets of water offered yet more pleasure.

Several moments later it was a sated, satisfied Amber who turned the water off and stepped out of the tub. With what might have been described as a dopey grin spread across her face she towelled herself down thoroughly.

With the towel wrapped around her body and another around her head, she made her way through to the bedroom that she was beginning to think of as ‘hers,’ and opened the wardrobe. She selected a pair of jeans, black knee-high boots and a T-shirt that declared her to be a ‘Bad Mother Fracker,’ before slipping into an incredibly comfortable pair of knickers and matching bra.

Once dressed, she towel-dried her hair and ran a brush through it, then made her way downstairs.

“Looking good,” said Ryan with a nod, glancing up from the laptop he had set on the kitchen table. “You off out to the village?”

“Yeah, you said you wanted a few things picking up?”

“The list’s at the end of the table,” he said, pointing to a scrap of blue paper. “Be careful of the TVR. She’s got a nasty bite in the lower gears.”

Amber nodded and headed outside to find the TVR parked out on the gravel with the keys in the ignition, something that she was coming to expect. Once inside, she admired the simplicity of the interior. The car was of British design and built with little excess. Everything there was, from the speedometer to the handle with which one wound down the window, was deliberately and purposefully placed.

As she pulled off the gravel and onto the bridleway, Amber quickly discovered just how nasty a bite the TVR possessed. She was hardly touching the accelerator pedal in second gear and the car shot forwards like an out of control stallion. It did not take her too long to rein the vehicle in though, and work out just how little pressure the accelerator pedal required.

Once she was off the bridleway though, the car was a different animal all together. With solid tarmac beneath her wheels, she handled perfectly and at the top end, acceleration was as smooth as a bar of Galaxy chocolate.

Amber found a pair of aviator sunglasses hooked onto the Sun visor and put them on. It was a bright day, after all.

Armed with the knowledge that the first village in her path did not have so much as a post office, Amber skipped that particular turning and instead, took the turning for the next village. Within moments she found herself stuck behind a large tractor as its driver picked their way slowly down the narrow lane, brushing against the hedgerows on both sides of the road.

Amber hoped that there was nothing coming the other way, not that she was in any particular rush but the last thing she wanted to be forced to do was reverse back down the lane, back towards the slightly wider, busier lane off which she had turned. That was a sure way to all but guarantee an accident, and Amber had already written one car off that day; she certainly did not want to make it a two for one special.

She need not have worried though, for a few moments later, the tractor turned right into one of the many fields on the other side of the hedgerow. Relieved that she had not had to risk going backwards, Amber kept the TVR well beneath the sixty miles per hour speed limit. Even so, it was not at all long before she reached her destination. She parked the vehicle alongside a triangle of grass a hundred yards or so away from the village store, having decided that a short walk in the sunshine would not do her any harm at all, and clambered from the car.

It was a glorious, late-August afternoon. Those people who had nothing better to do with their time were enjoying the day, either topping up their tans on the village green, kicking a ball or throwing a frisbee around or simply walking around the village, either with or without canine company.

She pushed open the door to the village store and the bell hanging above jingled merrily. Amber smiled and glanced at Smithie’s list. It consisted primarily of fresh fruit and vegetables, with tea bags and whisky thrown in for good measure.

Amber helped herself to a basket from the pile beside the door and proceeded to shop, testing the wares for ripeness before placing them into the basket.

The shop was not a particularly large one and once she was satisfied with the fresh goods she had selected, she had no trouble locating the requested tea bags and carefully placed the box beside what was already in there, lest she bruise any of the fresh items.

A glance towards the counter told her that the alcoholic beverages were kept upon a series of shelves beside the tobacco section so she stepped around an elderly woman who was accompanying a Jack Russell terrier, and reached the counter.

“Afternoon,” she said, cheerily.

“Aye, it is at that,” the man behind the counter replied. “Lovely one, too. That’ll be twelve pounds, anything else?”

“Yeah, a single malt,” she replied as she scanned the shelves. “Glen Moray.”

“Takes you to thirty quid,” he said. Accepting the proffered credit card he slotted it into the machine, keyed in the amount handed it to Amber. “Amount, PIN, you know the drill.”

Amber did indeed know the drill and this time, she had the four digits in her head well in advance. Handing the machine back to the cashier, she waited for the payment to go through and for him to hand the card to her. Once that was safely tucked away in her bag, she took the carrier bag of shopping from the counter.

“Have a nice day, love,” the man said as she turned to leave.

“Thanks, you too,” she replied, and headed back out into the delicious warmth of the day.

As she was in no particular hurry, Amber sauntered back towards the TVR. She went to the passenger side first and once she had opened the door, she placed the bag of shopping upon the seat and closed the door gently.

What made her do so she had no idea; perhaps she had heard someone approach and attempt to hit the back of her head with something heavy, or perhaps taking on the role of a Honey had given her a greater sense of the world around her. Whatever the reason, she was incredibly glad that she side-stepped when she did, as something heavy and wooden crashed into the roof of the car.

She whirled around to get a look at her would-be assailant and was only a little bit surprised to find herself staring at a blonde, built like a house side and fully six-feet in height with breasts that made Amber’s double D’s look like a modest B cup.

“So you’re the new Honey on the block,” the blonde growled as she swung a punch at Amber’s head. She instinctively blocked the blow, raising her left arm up and outwards before delivering a trio of quick, staccato jabs to the blonde’s abdomen.

Her attacker recoiled in surprise. Clearly she had not been expecting her prey to be at all versed in hand to hand combat. Amber was in the same boat, to be fair, and she could not help but wonder where on Earth all of that had come from. She did not have much time to deliberate, however, for seconds later the blonde came back at her with all four extremities.

Much to her surprise, Amber found that she was able to block each and every blow and even if she did not manage to land blows of her own every time, she certainly did more damage to the blonde than she took herself.

Agitated, the blonde came at her with her teeth, latching them onto Amber’s neck. The latter struggled in vain for a moment before with the flat of her palms, she hit the blonde simultaneously about both her ears and she staggered back, momentarily stunned.

“That’s for fucking biting me!” Amber spat and raising her leg high she booted the blonde between her enormous breasts, sending her to the dusty ground upon her back. “You’d better not have given me rabies, you rancid slag!”

As the winded blonde scrabbled backwards, using her hands and feet as she attempted to return to a position more suited to fisticuffs, Amber stooped to pick up the heavy wooden item – a cricket bat, of all things – that the blonde had dropped.

She rushed forwards until her legs were on either side of the blonde’s torso, her boots holding the blonde’s arms to her side thus preventing Amber’s feet being swept from beneath her.

“I’m gonna’ hit you for fucking six!” And Amber did just that. She took an enormous swing and whacked the stricken blonde about the side of her head.

She flung the cricket bat to the ground beside her unconscious attacker and strode back to the TVR, taking a moment to shake her head at the rather large, cricket bat shaped dent in the roof as she ignored the shocked glances of everyone and anyone who had just watched the best and most brutally destructive cat-fight they were every likely to witness. Had it been aired on television, it would most definitely have amassed incredibly large viewing figures.

Once in the TVR, Amber accelerated quickly to forty then yanked up on the hand-brake, pulling a quick one-eighty outside the village store and then sped off with screeching tyres and more burning rubber than was absolutely necessary.

Amber lit a cigarette as she sped along. She was completely and totally wired. That was the first fight she had ever been in in her entire life and she had kicked absolute arse. Half way down the lane she had to pull over, for not only were her hands shaking as she gripped the steering wheel but her entire body was, too. It felt as though she had overdosed by a seriously massive amount on caffeine.

Slowly but surely she began to calm a little, and then she remembered the trash talking that had come out of her mouth. Where on Earth had language like that come from? Sure, Amber had never had an issue with swearing, it was all a part of the English language as far as she was concerned and was there to be used when required, but the venom with which she had spoken scared her a little. She was certain she had been in total control but even so... It was definitely something she needed to talk through with Smithie. Well to be fair, her entire trip to the village probably warranted some semblance of an explanation on his part.

Amber took it easy for the rest of the drive back to the farmhouse and all the time, she felt herself getting calmer and calmer. By the time she pulled the TVR to a halt upon the gravel, the adrenaline that had been fuelling her had all but dispersed leaving her with a happy, satisfied sense of serenity.

“I’d just like to say,” she began, placing the plastic carrier bag of shopping to the table top as she did so, “that I am a total fucking badass.”

“Care to explain?” Ryan asked with a smile, glancing over the top of his computer.

“Well I’d just put the shopping into the car and I don’t know but I think I sensed a presence behind me. A woman, tall and blonde with tits that were completely out of proportion if you ask me, attacked me.”

“You were attacked?” He more than glanced this time, paying Amber his full and undivided attention. “My God, Amber! Are you OK?”

“I’m fine,” she replied, serenely. “Better than fine, in fact. I kicked that bitch’s arse. In fact I quite literally hit her for six... I think I even told her that.”

“You literally hit her for... Wait...” Ryan was unable to prevent the smile as it spread across his face. “You hit her around her head with a cricket bat, didn’t you?”

“I did,” Amber replied, proudly.

“All right,” Ryan said, pausing to laugh quite loudly. “Awful cricket pun aside, there is something serious we need to discuss here.”

“Like what? I was careful, I didn’t kill her.”

“I rather wish you had, to be honest,” he replied. “She’s an Amazon. They’re to evil what Honeys are to good, Amber.”

“There’s more of them then?” she asked, tilting her eyebrow. “I say bring them on. I took one out, I can sure as shit take out the rest.”

“You fought one Amazon, Amber, and came out on top,” said Ryan, lighting a cigarette as he spoke. “Unless I’ve completely missed my guess, they weren’t expecting you to be able to fight let alone defeat one of their own. It’s highly likely that the Amazon they sent after you was not their best agent and I can guarantee she wasn’t the Amazon Queen.”

“Let me guess; the Queen is to Amazons what Hardcore is to Honeys?”

“Ten points to you,” he replied with a nod. “That’s exactly right and I’ll tell you this for free, no matter how good you might be – and I don’t know, I hadn’t got around to that part of your training yet – you’re most definitely not good enough to present anything resembling a challenge to the Queen in hand to hand combat, let alone defeat her.”

“Fair enough, I get it. The Amazon Queen is a bigger badass than I am,” she said, shrugging. “So hurry up and train me already.”

“In time, Amber. Training you to fight effectively is not something I can do over night.”

“Well apparently I already have the instincts. The bitch didn’t even lay a hand on me.”

“If that’s the case then I’d say you’re damn lucky.”

Amber nodded. If she was completely honest with herself, she had to admit that it was likely luck played quite a large role in the afternoon’s victory.

“Are the Amazons behind the attacks and all the Honey deaths?”

“They’re probably not pulling the strings, but they’re definitely involved on some level,” Ryan replied. “The fact that an Amazon attacked you this afternoon stands as a clear testament to that.”

“Tomorrow then, you start training me to fight,” she said. “I bet they’ll try again and if what you say is true, it might be a little trickier to achieve a victory next time.”

“Agreed,” said Smithie with a nod. “Tomorrow then but for now, how about you see about getting that dent out of my damn TVR?”

“She appears much more confident,” said the female voice from the shadows once Amber had made her way outside. “It seems that breaking the post by any means necessary was exactly the kick up the arse that she needed.”

“Confidence is good, overconfidence is not,” replied Ryan, quietly. “I need to see her fight. Tomorrow you need to make yourself known to her. Hide yourself from me all you want but she needs the guidance of a true Hardcore Honey.”

“Agreed,” the voice replied. “Make yourself scarce first thing in the morning and do not return until dusk. Those are my terms.”

***

She rose late the next morning and rushed downstairs expecting to find two rounds of bacon sandwiches waiting for her upon the table, but instead Amber found an empty kitchen. With a slight shrug she headed outside to see if Ryan was there waiting for her, tapping his foot in an irritated fashion. There was no sign of him anywhere though. He was not out the front of the house, nor was he out in the back garden. She was hungry though, so she decided to go back inside, cook herself some breakfast, and hope that Smithie showed up at some point in the near future.

“Do not turn around.” Amber paused with her hand grasping the door knob. The voice was female and possessed an unwavering air of authority, so she thought it best to obey the command, for the time being at least. “You need not be afraid, Amber.”

“You’re talking to the wrong girl if you think a voice at my back is going to shit me up,” she said, gripping the door knob more tightly. Already she could feel adrenaline as it coursed through her veins.

“And that is why you will die, not by my hand I might add, but to live without fear is to live irresponsibly.”

“Is that right?” Amber asked, trying to get a look behind her in the reflection in the glass of the door, but her attempts were to no avail. “The way I see it, one on one I kind of fancy my chances.”

“You think I am alone?” the woman asked, chuckling. “Dear, sweet Amber. My child, I am never alone.”

“I’ve had just about enough of this talking bullshit,” Amber muttered. Placing her boot at waist height upon the wall beside the door she pushed off, launching herself in the direction she assumed the voice to be coming from. Much to her surprise she caught nothing but air, and landed in a roll that brought her up to her feet.

“You are strong, Amber.” The voice was behind her again and Amber whipped her head around but saw no one there. “You will be one of the strongest I have seen for a very long time, but you are not there yet.”

Again the voice was behind her, and Amber spun around on the spot angrily, to find that once again the woman was not where Amber knew for a fact she was supposed to be.

“You’re really beginning to piss me off!” Amber yelled at the world in general. “Show your damned self!”

“As you wish but before I do, take into consideration the fact that I could kill you if I saw fit to do so.”

“Duly noted,” Amber replied through gritted teeth and seconds later, a woman stepped forwards from the shadow cast by the farmhouse. “What the..?”

Her skin was a dull, mouldy green; her hair matted where she had any and her flesh was puffy everywhere except around her eyes. It was nothing but skin on bone there, and her eyes were so deeply sunken that Amber could barely see them.

“What are you?”

“I am Honey,” she replied. “The Honey, to be precise. The first of the line and as it is written, I am cursed to walk the Earth until that line is extinct.”

“That’s gotta’ suck,” said Amber, all traces of anger gone in an instant. She felt sorrow for the woman. More than that; she felt her pain, and that is how she knew for a fact that what she said was the truth. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Honey replied. “As I said, I am never alone. Within me is the spirit of every Honey taken from the mortal plane. It’s quite nice, really. We keep each other company whilst keeping a watch over the Honeys who still live.”

“So that’s why you’re here?”

“You are the last Honey, Amber,” said Honey, softly. “Or at least, you are the last for now. Even though you did not come to us in the traditional manner, you were chosen by the recently deceased Hardcore Honey. That, my dear, is the way we used to do things.”

“But Ryan...”

“Ryan Smith is a good man, a very good man. The Alfred to your Bruce Wayne.” Amber cocked her eyebrow at the reference to popular culture. “My apologies, apparently one of those Honeys within me used to be quite the comic book buff. That is how it works. Their memories attach themselves to my own. Sometimes I find it quite difficult to tell what is real for me, and what are their memories.”

“I should imagine so,” Amber replied with a smile. “Hey, do you fancy a cuppa?”

“Thank you, child, but no,” Honey replied. “I cannot stay out of the shadows for long, in fact I have only a few minutes before I will be dragged back inside and believe me when I say, that really is not something you want to witness.”

“Fair enough.”

“Now listen closely, child. Ryan Smith will be out of the house until dusk as he believes I am training you in hand to hand combat. You see he has never laid his eyes upon me so therefore he has no reason to question that.”

“What are you going to do, if not train me?”

“A gift, child,” Honey replied with an incredibly ugly yet well-meaning smile. “I am going to give you a gift.”

“But it’s not even my birthday,” Amber replied with a chuckle.

“Come closer, child.” Amber did as Honey bade her, closer and closer until she could touch her. “Now, kneel.”

“You’re not going to knight me, are you?”

“Even better than that,” said Honey, touching the tips of her fingers to Amber’s forehead. She felt an instant, localised warmth, followed by several seconds of intense cold. It was an odd feeling, one that put Amber in mind of the Swedish baths she had visited when her travels around Europe had taken her to Scandinavia.

“It is done, child,” said Honey, weakly. “I dub thee, Hardcore Honey.”

Amber raised her head to look at Honey but she was gone, dragged back to the shadows whilst she was not looking, Amber suspected.

I wonder what she meant by that last part, she thought.