Commission: Clara Wraps Up Her Story (FINAL)

Summary: Clara, a shapeshifting assassin with a body like clay, pursues the legendary contract killer, Dean Constantine. But she may be in for more than she bargained for. Commissioned by Moneris.

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[Story Listing]

[FIRST PART]

[PREVIOUS PART]

---

There wasn't much time to come up with a plan as Clara and Dean hurried onto the rooftop. The night air was cool on Clara's skin; with a wince, her skin rippled, smoothing out as her body shapeshifted, energy tingling throughout her form as she adopted a quick, simple latex one-piece.

"Did I buy us enough time?" Dean asked, glancing to the door they absconded through. He slammed it shut, and then slid a bench in front of it, for all the good that was going to do against an amorphous, persistent liquid assassin.

"Yeah. Just enough." Clara's heels clicked as she stopped at the ledge, overlooking the cityscape below. She swallowed back a pang of anxiety...

She lashed out one of her arms, tugging Dean forcefully by the shoulder until their bodies were pressing together; she could feel the warmth of his body transferring to her malleable form, and she could feel her body yield slightly underneath the contact. She filed away further horny thoughts as she focused towards her core, allowing her torso to elongate with an elastic creaking sensation. Her slim belly lengthed, growing upwards, and arcing in loops to wrap around Dean until they were snug, tied together; her body was tight, and every movement she made produced an emphatic squeaking noise.

She flexed her arms towards the far railings, tugged them taught, and began to pull backwards, biting her lip as her limbs grew tighter, stretching more taut, her body squeezing possessively against Dean's sculpted form.

"Y'sure about this...?" Dean glanced over the railing. "I see a fire escape stairwell right over-"

"No time!" She cut him off curtly. "Just trust me on this!"

With a fwing, she kicked back her feet, launching herself through the air with Dean secured snugly against her. Her arms, flailing rope-like tendrils, shot towards the ledges of far buildings, signal towers, and electrical signs, latching on like a grapple hook and swinging through the air in wide arcs.

Dean scanned the intertwining networks of roads beneath them, shifting slighting in Clara's tight grip. Though he was snugly tied up, he dared not move in case a knot came undone or something.

"I can't say I ever had to Tarzan my way out of a

building..." He murmured incredulously. "Though maybe this is more of a Spider-Man thing-"

"Duck your head, Dean!" She hollered as she arced upwards, unlatching as it looked like she was making a direct course towards a bright neon billboard for a gaudy casino up the road. Dean swallowed and, for the limited movement he could manage, did as she said...

It was a close shave; she somehow arced parallel to the bottom of the sign, squeezing through a crack between the sign and its supporting structure that couldn't have been much bigger than the two of them combined.

"Hah! Nailed it!" She exclaimed gleefully, eyes blazing with pride. It took her a moment to remember herself. "I-I mean, of course I pulled it off. I'm the best at what I do~"

"Hey, that Dr. Weathers chick stopped chasing us." He cocked his head to the side as if to gesture. Clara glanced behind her, meeting the gaze of her distant, aqueous pursuer coming to a halt, supported by coiling, flailing water tendrils that wrapped around the railings below.

Her semi-translucent figure grew more and more distant as Clara continued to speed away. Clara watched as the scientist slipped between the buildings... seemingly to look for an alternate route.

"She's planning to ambush us later." Clara murmured, turning forward again to focus on swinging between buildings, arcing over a water tower.

"So we lost her?" Dean asked.

"She's persistent. And she has a tracker on me." Clara grimaced. "Those were part of the terms for my work with that lab..."

Her arm lashed forward onto the rafters of a building and her body swung to the side, her shoulder colliding with a fwump. She rappelled down the building, hopping down onto a viewing platform. Clara's arms flailed as they retracted rapidly to a more typical length. She motioned for the both of them to disappear inside.

Dean took a mental building of the note they were retreating into: it was among the tallest commercial buildings in the city, a veritable towering monument to the big players of capitalism. The viewing platform they landed on had a couple coin-operated binoculars looking out across the cityscape.

"We should make our way to the top," Dean thought, glancing at the far buildings. "She's a water mutant, yes?"

"Or some cellular compound that can mimic its properties closely." Clara pressed her hand against a door, slowly opening it. "She couldn't have been in her new body for more than 24 hours, and that's a generous estimate; she likely doesn't have a handle on mimicry yet; that skill takes years to perfect and perform seamlessly."

"Right, well, the further she is from a random body of water the better." Dean eyed the stairwell. "We can keep her from the city's water infrastructure somewhat."

"What's this about 'we'?" Clara turned to Dean.

"...I don't understand." Dean blinked slowly.

"What I mean is, you're taking the stairs down. To the ground floor." Clara gestured to the stairwell. "I'm giving you an escape route."

"...And what will you do?" Dean studied Clara carefully.

"I'm heading to the top to meet her." Clara turned to look at Dean over her shoulder. "She's my problem to deal with, not yours."

"...I thought your plan was to kill me at some point." Dean's eyebrows furrowed. "What's with this misplaced act of mercy, Clara?"

"You don't want to get involved with her, Dean." Clara sighed. "Trust me. She's insane. She'll eat you alive. Quite literally at that. It's all she's thought about for a while..."

"..." Dean grimaced silently as Clara described her superior. "And you think you can take her alone?"

"It doesn't matter if I win or not," Clara lowered her head pensively. "I'll just... buy you some time. Getting entangled with you was a mistake, a job I should never have taken on, and yet-"

"Tch. You have a short memory, Clara." Dean scoffed. "Was all that noise about 'killing me on your own terms' so much hot air?"

Dean's curt response was surprising; she paused, staring at him with slightly widening eyes. "Dr. Weathers is different, she's-"

"She's another shapeshifting assassin sent to kill me. And if she's the latest model, you probably can't take her alone."

"I-I can take her!" Clara stammered. "I'm the apex of human achievement, I can-"

"It's all in your body language." Dean folded his arms. "You're scared. Facing your own mortality... for the first time?"

Clara puffed her cheeks indignantly as Dean called her out on her frayed emotions. Still, she couldn't correct him on that; being practically indestructible, she never really feared for her own life in any of her missions. It leant her a sort of easy-going, braggart attitude with all of her assignments so that she could let loose and properly enjoy herself.

"...I don't want to die..." She admitted quietly. "But I need to stop her."

"I've spent a long time running from people trying to kill me." Dean said, lowering his head. "This roundabout chasing has ruined every opportunity at grabbing for a normal life. If I ditched you here, I'll probably end up with her right on my ass too, just like how they sent you."

He sighed, turning around to look over the night-time cityscape. "A peaceful life was never in the cards, huh..."

Clara studied his forlorn expression. That's all he really wanted, to escape his past and retire someplace quiet. And she had, in her own way, ruined that for him. A pang of regret struck her; she wished things hadn't happened the way they did.

"...So you're staying here." Clara sighed.

"I'm tired of running from all these shady organizations, and I'm sure not letting a lady get herself killed on my account," Dean turned to Clara. "Whatever happens after that, well..."

Clara remembered the promise she made. That she would let no one else decide Dean's fate, let no one take his life on any terms but her own. It was a possessive, showy statement, but one that suited her unwavering confidence. She paused to consider, and then nodded.

"A change of scenery would be good for the both of us. I've... grown tired of the laboratory." Clara lowered her head thoughtfully. "But... even if we survive this, they'll probably still-"

"They'll send more goons after us?" Dean shrugged. "What's one more agency on my tail?"

"...I see." Clara paused, looking over Dean with a vulnerable, studying look, before pacing towards the stairwell.

"If we're doing this, then we should get started. Dr. Weathers will expect a welcome party."

---

While Clara and Dean had escaped her through the sky, Dr. Weathers wasn't far behind. She knew exactly where Clara was at all times. And she knew she had retreated to one of the tallest buildings in the city.

She lurched through the plumbing that climbed up through the building's infrastructure, fanning out like metal vines. She cooed as she emerged from a faucet head, her translucent hair flowing behind her as her compressed figure pressed out slowly, wet burbling sounds punctuating her movements.

Tendrils sprouted from her liquid form, coiling around the door leading out of the bathroom and, with a crunch, wresting it from its hinges. Her form splashed across the floor, wrapping around stairwell hand railings; rising like a geyser, she surged towards the final floor...

SMASH! Another door at the top gave way to her power. She sneered across the rooftop, her icy cold eyes narrowing towards a single figure at the top of the building.

"Clara..." Dr. Weathers hissed, placing a hand on her pronounced, translucent hip. "You hardly made me work for this."

"Dr. Weathers." Clara turned to her. "You didn't waste any time getting here..."

"A simple task. I know exactly where you are at all times, Clara." Dr. Weathers sneered, her legs reforming and shaping into six-inch high heels that clicked with every step, leaving frost in her wake. "There's only the matter of your... infantile flirtation with that shadowy assassin."

"'Flirtation'?" Clara furrowed her eyebrows, standing her ground.

"Ohhh, your biometric data betrays your poker face, dear~" Dr. Weathers chuckled heartily. "The way your pulse races in his presence, at the thought of him, in the presence of him... your body's a double-edged sword, as weapons go."

Clara said nothing, though the faint accent of red brushing her cheeks betrayed her feelings. She stood her ground as the doctor continued to make slow, measured steps towards her.

"Where is your murderous fling, anyway?" Dr. Weathers cocked her head with an inviting, albeit menacing grin. "Is he the sort that would bed a woman and then run away the very same night? How cruel~"

"Gone. He fled. To get away from you." Clara said, her fists tightening. "But I don't have the same luxury. So I stayed."

"To buy him time then? How sweet, how endearing~" Dr. Weathers giggled, covering her mouth. "Just as well; I don't have any particular quarrel with him, and I will certainly have to pick up where you left off... but I must deal with your curious case of insubordination."

Clara didn't tremble even as the distance between herself and Dr. Weathers closed to a narrow gap, the amorphous woman looming over her. 6'7, with a shapely, busty figure that rippled in the moonlight.

The doctor couldn't hide her excitement, having Clara so close. She practically loomed over her. Dr. Weathers' body elongated on its own, her midriff extending to coil around Clara. Her jawline made for a disturbingly wide, anticipatory grin.

"Our organization has a need to... liquidate our assets, you understand." Dr. Weathers hissed into her ear. "We can't let billion dollar projects run off on their own—our leash with you is stretched to its limit.."

Clara said nothing, glancing down towards the hand outstretched towards her buxom, fingers stretching and bonelessly spreading across the curvature of her ample breasts. She gasped sharply as Dr. Weathers squeezed tight, her fingers wrapping around her breasts, brushing over her nipples; Clara's breast gave way, as one was squishing a water balloon.

"Ahhh, but I can't stay mad at you..." Dr. Weathers cooed. "You were our greatest success story. I'm sure, once broken down to your raw material, you can reintegrate with my division wholly. Wouldn't that be a privilege?"

Dr. Weathers pulled sharply at Clara's breast, eliciting a sharp, lusty groan from Clara as her breast stretched a foot from her body. Her body trembled as narrow strands connected the fleshy orb to her chest, ripping, tearing, until it was wrested free from her form with a snap! Dr. Weathers' hand held the sphere aloft, its form oozing as if it were mud.

"Y-you bitch..." Clara moaned, her eyes casting an icy glare. "I'm not your personal property to, to use and discard-"

"Oh, is that a fact?" Dr. Weathers tilted her head; a pair of lips rippled forward from the palm of her hand and sucked at Clara's separated breast, kissing at her nipple; the contact was torturous, her body freezing at the liquid woman's cold touch.. "You were born from nothing, and you will return to nothing just the same."

Clara's breath caught in her throat as her skin trembled, her freckles smoothing out at Dr. Weather's touch. The remainder of her latex bodice melted away; not that it had ever been anything but an extension of Clara's abilities. The subtle tingling sensations that coursed all through her body accelerated as Dr. Weathers pressed her body closer, enveloping her against her watery form. Tendrils sprouted from her body, caressing Clara's lips, labia, and around her anus, probing for a myriad entryways. Clara felt Dr. Weathers' pulsating body, her eyes widening as their amorphous pulsations began to synchronize ever so subtly...

"A lab rat like you doesn't deserve the privilege of being in my body!" Dr. Weathers moaned with a cruel cackle. "But I am an accommodating woman! This will take some time, but it'll be painless... maybe even pleasurable for your sex-addled mind!~"

Clara understood Dr. Weathers' choice of words. Liquidation. She was being liquidated. Her mind would be erased, replaced with an extension of the mad doctor's twisted machinations. She tried to struggle, but her body wasn't reacting to her commands.

"Any last words, dearest Clara?" Dr. Weathers smiled, lowering a hand to raise Clara's chin. Clara's eyes focused off in the distance.

"It... it's on the tip of my tongue..." Clara moaned again, her tongue lolling.

Dr. Weathers squinted. There was a strange marble tucked under her tongue. She frowned disapprovingly.

"What's that?" She muttered quizzically." "Is that some sort of piercing-"

KABOOM!!

An explosion rocked the two of them, splattering their forms towards opposition directions as a powerful explosion rippled squarely between the two of them. Clay and slime plastered across the walls, somewhat mixed together but separate enough, as globules were sent over the sides of the roof.

Dr. Weathers growled as her eyelids fluttered, looking over herself. She was little better than a second coat of pain for the metal wall, her form flat, her assets compromised! She winced as her eyes narrowed towards a fleshier, softer, splattered version of Clara, gunked up and across from her.

Dr. Weathers slowly began to peel herself from the wall. "That's a rotten little trick, you disgusting little-"

ZZZZZZZZZT!!

"G-GYAAUGH!!!" Dr. Weathers screamed shrilly, the stench of oxide filling her senses as high voltage electricity coursed through her entire being, her sight and sound wholly occupied by the crackling of energy agitating her cells. Her eyes rolled back as her body pinned itself to the wall, looking to see the culprit.

It was Dean Constantine, two sparkling cable connectors in hand, gripped in a pair of safety gloves. They were connected to the machine that Dr. Weathers had collided with, that had been damaged by the explosion, and the capacitors had gone haywire. It was with dawning dread that Dr. Weathers realized she had collided with a power conductor for the electronic billboards that lined the building.

"You..." She hissed, her entire body writhing.

"The very model of perfection, huh?" Dean shouted, swooping down with the connections in hand. With a single fluid motion, he clamped the jaw-like metal ends to Dr. Weathers' protruding breasts, sending the electricity through the center of her body, radiating outwards! She was steaming, smoking, warbling as her voice reached a pained crescendo...

"AA,,, AGGH... AIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIEEE!!"

Her body was rapidly inflating, her skin a thin membrane trapping the swelling steam and smoke that her disintegrating body was experiencing. And when she resembled a hot air balloon, her body creaked, strained...

POW!

And finally ruptured in a shower of sparks and steam. Dean didn't so much as flinch at the impressive display of fireworks.

"Looks like you still had some kinks to work out." Dean scoffed. He glanced over to Clara, her body formless, oozing back into a pile at the foot of her wall.

She moaned, her voice echoing non distinctly as her form lurched forward. Dean jogged forward, kneeling down to get a better look.

"Jeez, you look like shit." He grimaced. "You okay? That explosion was pretty-"

His words were cut off as two tendrils lashed out, wrapping around his shoulders. The pile of flesh-hued ooze sprang up from the ground, thrusting into his chest, and pushing him to the ground. The ooze rode atop his chest and stomach, legs reforming and pressed against his. She leaned closer, her breath hot and excited as her hair streamed down her face in mad tangles. Her chest practically inflated between the two of them, pressing her lewd, naked form against his.

"Back to where we left off," She purred, her body rubbing against his, tendrils sprouting from her hips to undo the belt in his pants. She eyed him hungrily as her body rubbed against him, her hands clinging possessively to his chest.

"I meant what I said, Dean," She grinned hungrily. "You're mine, and no one will get between us ever again."

Dean paused, considering her words. He reciprocated that smirk.

"Wouldn't have it any other way, Clara."

They kissed one another, embracing each other so totally, her body so desperate for attention that she practically melted overtop of him, adhering to the ground, wrapping him up like a cocoon. Their moans and sexual energy radiated atop the tallest building in the city.

They could finally be themselves. They were finally free.