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IV - LOVERBOY

TODAY'S THEME

Walls coated in thick, snaking cables humming with power connecting to large black monitors. Screens a downpour of red, scrolling code symbols, custom malware definitions and devious encryptions. Life feeds of CivSector pouring boundless information into a small apartment bloc room.

“Cozy."

The interior was dim, touched only by the eerie wash of scarlet lights dotting the room. Fetishes of biomechanical designs were accented by strange glyphs marked on some of the walls, a hint of incense in the air.

“Mm. Do you like it?"

Sarin glanced around Bloc 33B, the floor room below her apartment. This was, as of now, Kura's new home. Temporary, if the black wolfess decided to click out to somewhere else, but that was unlikely given her new position. Since Sarin preferred not having a rogue Witch wander around CivSector, especially under her employ, it made sense to get her set up with new digs here in the West Side. The psycho shortstack bun leaned on the wall, frowning.

“Hah. Don't think a mechhead will appreciate all your 'additions,' babe, but if it works for you. I see ya' have a thing for bones."

Kura was sitting on a makeshift bed in the room's corner, her large form and larger rump causing the cushion to whine in protest as her tail wagged. She wasn't in her attire from before, instead wearing what appeared to be a bright grey hodgepodge of bandages and braces. Her raven hair flowed over her torso like rivers of rich black, accenting the skeletal mold of her “face." Sarin wasn't used to that yet – it looked like a wolf skull melding into flesh, but it wasn't bone, more like a series of exo-frame plates that moved as seamlessly as a 'normal' face would. Normal for a wolf anthropoid, anyway.

“It gives me inspiration," said Kura in her husky, rough voice. The Xybrain she reacquired, her 'second mind,' sat neatly on a table connected to a set of other wires and monitors.

“Hah! For?"

Kura smirked, those neon, blood red eyes peering out at Sarin. “It's good to remember we're all still meat and marrow, augments aside. When I build my Familiars, I keep that in mind."

Sarin shrugged. “If it helps. Ya' feel at home, at least?"

“Closer to home. You're very generous."

Sarin winked. “I'll just put it on the tab. But, really, I'd rather have you within earshot. Just had to make sure you were getting settled and not, I dunno, going on a rampage."

Kura rumbled with laughs. “Not yet. I couldn't if I wanted to. You know this. Any execution of Black Code brings out CSC, or worse. A subtle profile suits me juuuust fine."

Sarin pushed off the wall and gestured at the monitors, curious and cautious. Black Code was Necrotech shit, and although Kura was adjacent to it, they had to be careful. “Is that what all that is?"

Kura shook her head. “Not exactly. Malware, simulations, homebrew. I have custom helix definitions and codes, makes it harder to parse."

Oho. Well that explained the random pentagrams and other demonic symbols sometimes appearing in Kura's code.

“It lets me do things like this."

Kura raised a hand, causing bright red neon symbols to appear in the room. They flickered. Coalescing into existence were a pair of replicated, electronic holograms of Kura, though they were figures of staticy, distorted red light. Holoclones, thick, busty, and naked, both winking at Sarin before leaning and wiggling their hips. In a flash, they were gone.

Sarin's long ears flagged and she tilted her head. “Ahaha, and what was that? You getting busy with holoclones of yourself? How vain!"

“Mm, they're useful for things. They provide visceral haptic feedback through electric stimuli. Good in a fight. Or a fuck."

“Good to know."

“Since I'm working for you now, I thought it best to be prepared in case you or your boyfriend have. . . need of me."

Sarin offered a wicked giggle. “Forward thinker! I like it. But don't sweat it, wolfy. You're a Hangman now. I'm not here to turn you out, I'm here to build an outfit proper. In fact, I'll need ya' to help me sift out some more bodies to onboard. Networking is everything, it's the currency of Middlemen. If we take control of that, we're in business."

Kura's ears flicked. “Yes? True. You have a job for me, then?"

Sarin paused, contemplating. As it turned out, there was one goal she needed to work toward. Approaching said goal would be challenging, however. She needed to clip Moth, get that twip off her back. He was a suspicious Middleman, as they all were, the one tugging Sarin's leash. His goals were not hers, and going freelance meant breaking the metaphorical chains.

Going about that, however, was vastly easier said than done. Even as a lower tier Middleman, Moth was still bathed in contacts, connections, and secrecy. Icin' him was out of the question, too, as it might result in a chain reaction that'd be bad for business. You send a message one Middleman isn't safe, the rest retreat into the shadows, bulk up security, even go dark completely. Getting rid of Moth required shirking off his arresting hands, or perhaps getting him into a lethal “accident."

“Yeah," Sarin said, wheels in her mind turning. “I might."

“First things first, wolfy. Like I mentioned, we need the hotties with the bodies. Find me dossiers, people that might work well with us. In the meantime, I've gotta' handle gigs and keep our numbers cash positive. But I don't intend to keep it this way forever. I want out, but first I gotta know where my Middleman is."

“Of course."

Kura tilted her head. “It's best you keep in touch with your Middleman. I imagine he pings you on encrypted channels, yes?"

Sarin nodded. No Middleman sent a direct message from their Nervnet to yours, that was stupid. It might get pinged through a proxy, then another encrypted proxy, so tracing it back to the source was generally impossible or too difficult to be practical. Doing so required someone with in-depth cybermancy experience. . . like Kura.

“You guessed right."

“Then send me those," said Kura. “The more I have, the better I can build a profile. The better I can. . . hunt."

Sarin liked the sound of that. But, until she had explicit knowledge of Moth's whereabouts, it was business as usual.

She left Kura to her devices, seeing as how the wolfess was comfortable in her den of bizarre Necrotech rituals. Moving forward meant operating as the usual part of merc-for-hire or potential playmate. Lately, Sarin's gigs were that typical mix of icing a target or playing callgirl for someone with cash.

In this world, the most valuable currency you had was yourself. Your body. If you wanted something beyond a simple civvy job, you needed to diesel up. Fuck or fight. Or both. Sex and violence pushed you to higher levels of living. Unless you had the backings or inherited wealth of an Executech, then baby, work that pole, or get used to putting holes in an unlucky twip's head. These mechanisms of victory Sarin learned early in her life, originally working with a runner gang called the Skull Bunnies until she achieved success as a chemical assassin. Your only other options were mundane office work or intense labor, both of which required a form of mod or cerebral enhancement anyway.

What else could you do when living as a glorified cog in the machine?

-*-

Evening.

A dark sky travelled across the mega structures of CivSector, the ghoulish buildings of blue-green steel spiking upward with their feral, unblinking lights of sickening neon. Glorious monoliths to the endless hunger of the Corp Colossi, wretched forests of sprawling greed demanding endless expansionism. Survive it, or be eaten by it.

Moth had decidedly pinged Sarin with a new gig for the night, one she expected to turn out like the ones previous: find a guy, fuck a guy, expect a bad end (probably). The pattern of his gigs grew repetitive lately, much to her agitation. Sure, she was still rebuilding rep, but damn, put her on something more interesting! If he opted to send her jobs playing the part of sweet street cunt, she might as well go back to the stage and throw it back for easy cash. It was just another reminder to keep building on her plan, continue bringing in prospects for her personal merc outfit.

<<There's a particularly desperate individual who emptied his savings for your company.>>

Message one. Sarin's Combitronics eye prickled to life as Moth net her a new contract job.

<<I'm not sure what he wants. I'm not sure that I care enough to know. But the money is there. Deliver your services for the contracted payout.>>

Ugh. Alright. Original, huh? Another loser on his last legs, hoping to blow his load in psycho bunny bitch pussy? Since the intentions were initially unclear, that's what Sarin assumed. She geared up for the job in her spiked kinetic-resistant flak jacket and wore a form-fitting bodysuit underneath. Enough she could do a job if things got “hairy," but also a satisfactory aesthetic if boyo just wanted to ram his dick between her tits, or something.

<<He's waiting at the coast side, industrial production node. Be there in a timely fashion.>>

Huh. So not exactly a ritzy affair. Indprod was where synthetic fuels, food, and hardware were made for a lot of CivSector. No suit and tie this time, dude in question was a junker. Probably a pudgy greaser from construction or something. Egh. Fine. So throating some hairy balls and moaning for a balding twip, most likely. She could do worse.

Sarin readied herself in the bloc apartment, Bug noting her attire.

“Oooh, pretty bun. Fun night ahead?" he chuckled.

She rolled her eye. “Don't you start, stud."

“You want backup?"

No. Well, yes, actually.

“Hmm. Only if you jack off where I can see you. Make my booty call a little easier."

She was running on the assumption this was another fuck gig, and while she wasn't particularly judgy about the bodies she banged, she had a very specific type. Beefy, muscular lizard mutant type.

The towering Mutant grinned. “I meant for the killy' part. Reivers like to hang out in that shithole part of the sector."

Sarin was entirely capable of handling herself against a gaggle of low tier runners, but they were definitely a headache. It also made gettin' busy much harder, because trying to bang your bunny dream girl wasn't easy if you had to worry about diseled-out psychos looking to run a saw from scrote to spine.

Sarin sighed, running a hand through her platinum grey hair. “Yeah. . . not a bad point, Bug. Ya' gonna' watch?" she grinned.

“Don't get all jealous now when I'm forced to be a screamer for this twip. Oh, oh, daddy, yes, fuck me with your big, giant dick! You're the best I've ever had!" she cackled, pantomiming her face in a faux display of orgasmic pleasure.

Obviously, no. Casual fornicating outside of their relationship was business. Or like, a snack. Hell, well before Sarin knew her Urakk, he had to put his time in as a man slut too. The world was hungry and ravenous for creatures like them and you couldn't pop a vein if your significant other had to casually bang a stranger to make ends meet. The machine did not care.

“Hargh!" chortled Bug. “I wanna' see that, now. You're a real pro, after all."

Alright, fine, so Bug would come with. Made the night bearable. They could scuttle off and get something to eat after the fact.

Clicking out to Indprod took about a half-hour, seeing as how the couple still lacked their respective vehicles. They were getting close, but since Sarin's last gig only net her the “reward" of Kura, they had to make use of the Transit systems. The Sector washed by in a nauseating blitz of wires and light, all but consuming the night sky. As they neared their destination, the bioseas of Theseus came into view, the eerie waves of black oceanic matter stretching far into the horizon, easily eclipsing the size of the established colony.

It was the only natural remaining component to the planet. CivSector and ExecuSector were artificial plates built on diamond-hard rock allowing for extraction of the planetoid's seas. It was a mind-numbing establishment of agreements and backroom deals. ICR, the International Colony Republic, provided a lease to bidding Corp Colossi. Kervesky Fuel Solutions came in first, providing the extraction, pumping, and shipping equipment. Asuka Aeronautics supplied the planet hopping vessels for offworld transportation, and beneath them were the numerous security contracts for the protection of special interests. Once they all dug their fingers into Theseus, the rest was history, resulting in a culturally obliterated slab of existence leading to jobs, well, like the one Sarin had taken on.

It was almost beautiful, the bioseas a strange tinge of bleak, dark water patterned with alien greens. Living, ebbing, frothing with potential and life. But then you noticed the ExecuSector in the far distance and remembered where the hell you were.

Finding her contact took a hot second. The coastal streets were freckled with worn down concrete and busy streets, the chuckling noise of laboring machines audible in the far distance. There was no fella with a shit-eating grin waiting for her, no fancy car or hands choking bottles of priceless Synthohol. Just the noise of the West Side coast.

Sarin and Bug exited the Transit and navigated the sidewalk overlooking the vast biosea. Bug was wearing his standard-issue suit, a network of physical peripherals and intimidating black leather. He didn't wear his mask – a four eyed rebreather with its long antennae (thus the nickname Bug) – seeing as how that'd be too ghoulish for an affair like this. He kept it simple, and preferred staying behind Sarin to keep a watchful quad-eye out for her. And to watch her big fat bunny ass bounce a little, hehe.

As for Sarin, her agitation grew. Jeeze. For a desperate fella, he sure made it hard to be found. What, did he not like the idea of Sarin riding him dry? Pfft. Maybe he was just shy?

The two scoured the sidewalks a while, Sarin's ears flicking in annoyance. The hell, where was this twip?

She crossed her arms, stopping. She leaned over the pipe railing overlooking the biosea, arms resting on the rusty bulk as her teardrop tail shook in agitated wiggles. Did the guy not know basic decorum? Don't keep a bitch waiting.

It had never dawned on her that her contracted point of interest was. . .

Right there.

Crumpled.

Not a foot away from her sat a figure, his frame a silhouette of defeat and exhaustion. His head was down, arms resting on knees, as noticeable as the forgettable puddles dotting the streets. He was as striking as the thoughtless cables running power from building to building, a faceless entity mixing with the teeming masses of other fatigued regs and civs. A cog loosened from the grip of the machine.

Sarin glanced at the figure, then away, thinking him a blown out junkie or worker getting off from a brutal fifteen-hour shift. Then she blinked, a spark of realization hitting her.

No way.

The bun scoured her Nervnet, retrieving details of the job. She found the name: Jake.

“Don't tell me that's you," she said in a sardonic, playful tone. Still running on the notion this was a call-girl job, she kept it 'fun.'

She also looked to her left, silently gesturing to Bug to 'go hide,' or at least make himself sparse. Better he do that anyway, people freaked the fuck out if they recognized a Mutant.

The figure in question shifted slightly, turning his head to observe Sarin. He said nothing.

“You gonna' sit there all night, Jakey boy?"

The figure moved, jerking in a frantic motion, as though a timid spike of life got injected into him. He stood, grunting in audible pain, his joints wheezing in protest, his body taxed beyond its limits.

“You're. . ."

He had a young, if not battered voice, the result of clear, life-extracting labor. Sarin leaned on the pipe fence, wiggling her fingers at the contact. She looked up at him, the young man about a foot-ish taller than her.

She got a good look at him. Not. . . a greasy tinman or plump construction worker. A young guy, in fact. A few years into his early twenties, actually. Lean boy. Tired, overwhelmed expression. Oh good gosh, he was cute.

“Sarin?"

He did not wear a smile. His visage looked pained, like he lost everything. Made sense, since he spilled his life savings into this gig.

“One and fuckin' only, baby."

She gave him a once over. “Oh honey, you look tired. Can see why ya' called on little ol' me to take gooood care of ya'."

She canted her hips, make a show of her curvy figure. But the young man didn't focus on her hips or tits or any of her assets, just her face. He blinked.

“You're gonna help me then?"

Sarin grinned. Well, alright. She could see her head bouncing between his legs. “Oh, you bet."

An ember of hope appeared in his calm, icy blue eyes. He raised his arms, looking at his palms, flexing his fingers.

“Thank god," he muttered. “Thank fucking god."

Huh?

“Oh Jakey, honey, don't thank them. I'm you're little angel tonight."

And it was here she got a glance at those arms. It was hard to see all of him, since he was draped in a large, red jacket. It had synthtape wrapped around it, bandages on aging tears, some sprawl of industry-standard fabric name plastered on the shoulder. But from what she could see, his fingers and arms were an intricate weave of AugTec enhancements. A Combitronics scan revealed they were designed for intense labor – heavy weights and fast, inhuman movements. He stared at them like they were a curse.

“I don't really know what to do," he continued, ignoring her remark.

Sarin blinked. Cutie was a little dense, huh? So, she opened up her jacket with a flick of a finger, a little 'pop', letting her bodysuit come into view and accentuate her plump, fat breasts. “Well stud, let me lead the way. Just whisper in my ear what you need, mm?"

Light touched his short, bright hair. It had this strange incandescent hint of blue to it, incredibly faint. Not the result of dyes or mods, however, it was a side effect of unchecked bodily enhancements. Pale and white, matching his fair skin.

“Oh," he said, lowering his arms. He looked around, as if they were in danger. “Am I supposed to be discrete?"

Okay, hang the fuck on. Was this guy not here for a pay and play? By now, Sarin was usually bent over or watching rough, uncaring hands smack her tits around.

She shifted her tone, intrigued, even tinged with concern. “You expectin' company?"

He shook his head. “I don't know. I don't think so. I'm just in trouble."

Curious.

“What. . . kind of trouble?"

Thanks Moth, really detailed notes ya' left. Couldn't have left Sarin more blind.

“My arms," Jake said at once. “I'm gonna' lose my arms and my life."

Eh? What now? Sarin straightened up, raising her hands. “Mm, okay honey, rewind for me. What's goin' on here? Why'd ya' blow your money load and drag me all the way out to this side of Wessec?"

His face fractured, closing his eyes, mouth clenching. It was as though for the first time in his life someone had bothered to ask what was wrong, and that fractured granule of illusory sympathy nearly caused him to buckle over, sob, give in to the world around him.

“Take it easy," Sarin said, tone softening. “Just gimme' the deets, okay? Can't help if ya don't tell me what this is about."

He took a long, collective breath, then stared out into the void of the biosea. Looking for an answer that refused to appear.

“My name is Jakob. I used to work for MASSFood. They. . . gave me these fucking arms so I could do my job. Told me I had a lease as long as I worked for them. But they fucking iced me from the gig, and now. . ."

He clenched his cursed fists. “I can't pay the lease. I won't be able to use them. I'm gonna die."

Bawuh? Sarin wore a perplexed expression. She shook her head. “No, hon, you're not gonna' die."

He looked back to her, angered. “I am!" he growled, defiant. “These mods are pumping me full of some sorta. . . I don't know! Corrosive gel shit! They need filters and maintenance and, I. . . I don't know. Once the rent goes dead I won't even be able to move them! I'll just sit around, waiting for it to fucking kill me from the inside out!"

Oh. Ohhh. Huh. Sarin put it together. Labor. MASSFood. MASSFood was a Corporate Colossus dealing with it – surprise – food production (or what could pass as such). So, Jakob was one of their turn-and-burn gears with a company supplied set of AugTec enhancements and arms, just to do his menial job. But once they kicked him off, he had nowhere to go. In sheer desperation, he turned to a Hangman.

He laughed, putting a hand to his forehead. “God."

This was a new one, Sarin had to admit. Her career was based on psychosex and violence. She didn't consider herself a good Samaritan, or even a good person at that. Based on Jakob's sitch, he had no idea what to do. He just shot a message in the darkness of the UltraNet, hoping for a hail mary.

Well, she could do this in a few ways. Give this poor bastard the best fucking sex of his life to ease the pain and help him. . . accept his fate. Or, provide him a safe, painless option to, ya' know, meet his end on his own terms. But, both of those were so bleak, and CivSector was a fucking awful place as is, why add another dreary chapter to its story?

Aw, fuck. She had a sore spot for strays. She thought back to Bug. She remembered yanking him out of his fate, remembered nursing his cuts and wounds. Remembered how Urakk was prepared to meet death, accepting no other option.

And, well, maybe. . . maybe. . .

Maybe Jakey here had potential.

So she said something very, very stupid.

“You're not gonna' die," Sarin repeated. “I promise."

Yeah. Great job girl. Now ya' have to get this twip outta' his mess, and then some.

But hey, the way he shot his eyes down at her, the way his face shifted into an expression of disbelieving hope, the way lines of tears streaked down his cheeks. Ugh. Fuckin' puppy eyes. She had given him the gift of indescribable mercy, that this wasn't the end at all.

“I'll help ya. Technically I have to, ya' paid me for it," she said with a wink and a smirk.

“You will?" he rasped.

“It's part of the job."

He nodded, wiping his eyes. “T-thank you so much."

“Mm, don't get all weepy on me just yet, cutie. This could go a lot of ways."

He braced himself, studying her. It was nice not bein' ogled for her thick ass n'bosom, for once, Sarin had to admit, and more so, it felt. . . good? Trying to help? Like, help.

“What do you mean?"

The bun yanked out her cynthsig and took a quick inhale, providing a cloud of sparkling pink vapor. “Well, did you even have a plan aside from hirin' a Hangman?"

He frowned. “Uh." Jakob rubbed the back of his head.

“I didn't, not really. Um. Since the money I had couldn't possibly pay for these goddamn arms, I don't know. I thought maybe I'd get the scratch some other way."

Some other way, huh?

Sarin smirked. “Suuuuch as?"

He shrugged, helpless. “Something dumb. Rob a place, I guess. Pay the loan off."

That was indeed a very dumb plan. Sarin's last gig resulted in one Lester at the mercy of Chaplain Security, and there was no way this twip could handle that kinda' scene. Unfortunately, his plan was dumb, but fun. How bad was the kid in for, anyway.

“Hum. Lemme' see those spine snappers, babe."

She reached up and parted his jacket, her soft hands causing him to stall, if not blush a little. She gently pulled it off to reveal his dieseled out arms, an impressive set of AugTec modules. Red plating complimented synthmuscle while Sarin took a cursory scan. Her Nervnet fizzled to life and revealed a matrix of information, such as the serial code, the provider, and the different manufacturers responsible for the artificial limbs.

Essentially, dumbed down military variants for civ use. They were stripped of weapon mods, but still maintained the strength and agility enhancements that were standard issue for modded soldiers. AugTec was the primary provider, with Specter 7 a secondary supplier for tune-ups. Bicep enhancers, adrenal stims, chemnukes for pain. Damn. Some serious steel for a general labor job. And expensive.

Shit. Betting an easy 10,000 creds for each, as a lowball estimate. No way in hell Sarin was knocking over a place of business just to get the newbie out of his doghouse. The job wasn't even paying that much. But that didn't mean she was gonna' leave him to his fate.

Alternatives?

“Is it bad?" he said.

“Oh I don't see anything bad here at all, Jakey boy," she cooed, running a hand over his chest with the lightest of touches.

“But, you'd be up shit creek in a few days, for sure. That diesel is gonna' pump poison into ya' without help. Looks like these arms have replaceable filters. S'posed to come along with the full package for soldiers, but they just jammed ya' with the Auglimbs and called it a day."

He grimaced. “Sounds right. We had maintenance come in every two weeks to fix our arms. I guess that's what they were doing."

Sarin thought back to her butcher. The Gigdoc was realistically the only person who could help Jakob stabilize his condition, and Eid had a breadth of experience working on all sorts of conditions. But Eid didn't work for free. So, what, was Sarin about to pay outta' pocket for the little twip?

Sarin stepped back, canting her hips. “Lemme ask ya' something, Jakob. What exactly are ya' willing to do to survive? You already let a corp take your arms just to makes ends meet, right?"

The question slapped Jakob across the face as he pulled his red jacket back over his shoulders. “I. . . I don't understand."

Sarin puffed her synthcig again. “Well, understand this. Me gettin' you outta' this mess is gonna' cost more than what you hired me to do. My butcher can probably keep you breathin' - probably fix your problem. But I can't be a charity, babe, doesn't matter how cute ya' are. What I'm lookin' at is a pair of blank slates and a kid who has a future ahead of him, but that kid has to be ready to be more than just a food slinger."

He was silent, the crashing waves of the biosea audible in the distance.

“The way I see it, me fixin' you puts ya' in a little debt. Not to MASSFood, but to yours truly. I promised I'd help you, sure. But I'm not tweakin' your mods just so you can go run home, jack off, and find another minwage job."

Jakob flexed his hands in nervous fashion. “W-what are you asking me to do here?"

Sarin gestured at herself and grinned. “Honey, I'm a Hangman. I'm a killer for hire. Or a good fuck. It's this, nice and simple: you get fixed, you become a Hangman. We tweak those fancy arms and make ya' a proper bruiser. Ya' work with me, take on the jobs I give you instead of some suit-and-tie biz. Whole different world, whole different game."

She paused. She might've been overestimating the kid. But just like with Kura, Sarin's goal of hosting a private merc outfit demanded resources, bodies, and those willing to fight for their future. Looking at Jakob was like staring at a fresh template – he had all the makings of a Hangman. He had the diesel for it, just needed the mindset. She didn't expect to make an admittedly impulse decision like this, offering Jakob a future with her, but she had to take what she could get.

Jakob pressed his hand back onto his head. “That. What? That's. . . a lot. . ."

“It's a lot you'll be a corpse in a few days. It's a lot you'll be picked up by the Cleaners or scavenged up by chemmed out Reivers who'll use ya' for spare parts. Bein a Hangman with a gal like me? You can at least fight for yourself this way."

She studied him closely. His expression went blank, parsing the words and considering the reality of her proposition. A Hangman, him? Really? He never killed anyone. But what options did he genuinely have at this point? Jakob sent his prayer, put in his tithe to the digital church of the UltraNet and this was the response. It was as good a deal as he was ever gonna' get. Either trust the busty bitchy bunny, or try his luck out in CivSector, and luck wasn't on his side.

But as he attempted to form a response, the pair was interrupted by a string of brutal words.

“Oh hohohoho, yes fuckin' MA'AM!"

This was Indprod, a playground for scum and villainy. Sarin switched her gaze to a trio of approaching figures, a nasty bunch of silhouettes sporting diesel from head to toe. They possessed pallid, sour skin, black, trashy mods sticking out from arms in legs like a spasm of black metal and visible wires. One thin, one big, another medium in stature. Stank of grease, unwashed flesh, and blood with freakish hairstyles.

The middle one spoke as they circled Sarin and Jakob in predatory fashion.

“When I told my boys we was gettin' lucky tonight, didn't know it'd be this shit!" he said, voice a repulsive mutation of electronic distortions and struggling vocal chords.

Jakob glanced, backing into the pipe railing. Reivers.

“Fat fuckin' ass and tits the size of my head!" the intruder continued. “The hell is a fine bomb ass bitch like you doin' with this zero?"

Ah, okay, they were doing this now.

Sarin blinked between Jakob and the trio. In this moment, a crucible formed, a test. Sarin wasn't alone, and she didn't mean Jakey boy.

She pinged Bug through her Nervnet.

<<Sorry I've been all quiet like, baby. Been feelin' out this new kid. But got some nasty new company.>>

A pause. <<How bad?>>

<<Mm, well. You keep nice and close. But why don't ya just watch for me. I need to test something.>>

<<Say the word then.>>

Sarin pressed her back into the railing and let her arms rest on the frame, making an obvious show of her curvy figure and ample chest. “Oh, we're just talking."

“Talking?" said the middle. He sauntered forward and got real close to the bun, showing off his grisly teeth of yellow steel.

“Well stop talkin', baby. I got a ragin' hardon and I need to FUCK. Is this loser your date?"

The bigger Reiver closed in too, chortling at Jakob and grabbing the kid by his jacket.

“Hey!" Jakob shouted. “Leggo!"

The big one guffawed, throwing Jakob to the side, who fell to the ground in a nasty splash of body-hitting-road.

“Is that little twerp your boyfriend?" said the big one.

Sarin kept a calm expression, watching Jakob fall to the ground. The kid groaned, pushing himself up, staring back at Sarin with a frightened, uncertain expression. She looked back at the kid, raising an eyebrow.

Well? Her face said.

“He might be," snickered Sarin. “Why?"

Third Reiver, a taller, leaner figure, cackled. “Why she says! I like this cunt! Hahah, it's easy baby, do the math! Three plus one equals a four-fuck-sesh! Ditch this twip and get with some reaaaal dick, yeah?"

Jee-zus, subtle as a sandpaper dildo these shitheads.

“Oh yes, my man Clang has got it allll figured out, he's a smart fella! I can see it now, all those pretty little holes stuffed! Getcha' back to our place and knock you up with some of the best goddamn chemdrugs ya' ever had! You'll be so fuckin' high you won't ever wanna' stop, mmhm!"

“Nah," said 'Clang'. “No way. I ain't waitin' that long. Right here and now. Get this delicious ass on all fours. Let 'boyfriend' watch how to really please a woman, yeah?"

The other two Reivers shot each other a look. Middle one spoke. “Damn, hell yeah! What can I say, Clang's a genius!"

He got real close, uncomfortable like. “What do youuuu say? God, drivin' me nuts. The ears, the face, you animal bitches are so fuggin' hot! Bunny bitch like you ain't from around here, I can tell, and you're waaaay outta' that loser's league. C'mon girl, don't leave a poor bastard waitin', let ol' Jank fuck that adorable face!"

Sarin frowned, chuckling. “What? Ew, no."

Like a switch, the three dropped their charming advance. The lead of the group, Jank, straightened, his expression one dawning one of rapacious rage.

“Oh. Hahah, no. You ain't getting' it. We weren't askin."

His arm flicked open and revealed an auto-gun, training it straight at Sarin's head. “You ain't leavin'. New toy, that's what you are. Gonna fuck you stupid and then put so many chems in your fancy little noggin' you won't know up from down."

“Dumb bitch," said Clang. “Whatever. I like it this way. It's fun when they scream."

Jakob watched the event unfold, his eyes widening with shock. Oh fuck, oh fuck! Fuckfuckfuck! They were gonna'. . . oh god! Oh fucking god. His mind flashed with horrifying visions, of what they were about to do to Sarin, of what they intended to do. Wasn't she gonna' fight back! Wasn't she a Hangman!?

“Oh, don't do that," mocked Sarin in a deadpan tone. “I'll be a good girl."

Jank smirked. “Huh? That right? Well, you're a smart bitch, comin' to your sense. You can make it up to me then. Tell ya' what, love machine, tear off them threads and we'll let your boyfriend over their live long enough to watch us fuck ya' dumb."

Once again, Sarin shot Jakob a look. The young man stood, a choice in front of him. Was he gonna' help or stand there, useless? Was he going to accept his face and wait to die, or fight for his right to live?

“Hey."

The big Reiver looked over to the standing Jakob.

“Get the fuck away from her."

Like a fool with nothing else to lose, Jakob charged. He launched himself towards the big Reiver with no certainty. He had no weapons, aside from himself. He had only his cursed arms. Both those arms were still dieseled out for high-impact movements and heavy labor. An audible whine screamed from his fists as the AugTec limbs screamed to life, Jakob commanding his Nervnet to use a full force protocol. The arms shook and quivered, flesh-melting steam erupting from their vent systems as he sent his fist right into the abdomen of the big Reiver, creating a mini shockwave from the impact.

“Gah."

The big one reeled back with an audible thumf, stumbling back a few steps whiles the others watched. But, just as Jakob launched his attack, he grimaced, doubling over in agony as the vent systems closed ands unfiltered cooling gel poured into his bloodstream.

“F-FUCK!" he yelped, a dribble of crimson escaping his mouth.

“What the shit? Ahahah!" Clang laughed. “Boyfriend's got some moxy. Damn, Spit, ya' really let that little turd do that to you?"

The trio turned on Jakob.

“Well shit, now I'm horny and angry," growled Jank. “Dumbass. Really messing me up. Making me a dark fucker. Now I'm thinkin' I'll fuck your girl and make ya watch. Then maybe I drag both of you back home, keep you alive so you can see this hottie get banged over and over. Dumbass! That was stupid! What, you wanna' play the hero!?"

Sarin watched in casual fashion. Poor Jakob. He could see his body contort in pain. Dumb kid. Dumb heroic kid.

But he stepped the fuck up, didn't he?

He put himself on the line. He put himself in critical danger, for her. That little stunt just put him closer to the reaper's grip, no doubt, and he didn't even accomplish much outside of distracting the Reivers for a few precious seconds. If this were any other situation, this would've been a bad fucking night.

Well, it was. But not for her, not for Jakob.

Good on you, kid. That was all Sarin needed from him.

She pinged Bug. <<You want dibs on this?>>

Jank spat at his comrades. “Keep that tight little cocksleeve right there, m'about to eat this kids goddamn ribs. . ."

As the trio of Reivers briefly collected themselves, a shadow fell upon them. A herculean body of terrifying lizard Mutant stomped out from the dark, steel-toed boots grinding the street with his approach. Bug didn't need to be told twice, and he was achin' for some action.

“Boys," Bug chuckled. “Hey, hello. I hear you like it rough."

Spit, Clang, and Jank turned to see the towering frame stare into them, a set four vicious eyes peering out from the hazy dark, wielding menace, a desire for violence. His domineering stature was not lost on the assaulting Reivers, enough they staggered, pausing.

“What the fuck this this!?" spat Clang, taking a step back. He looked at the kid, then the bungal, then the BIG fucker.

“Whaaat?" chimed Sarin. “You wanted a gangbang, handsome."

Clang shot his modified LED eyes back at Sarin, a dawning realization overtaking him. “Spit!" he screamed. “Ice this fuAAAUUCHFSH!"

Clang didn't get to finish his words, because a brutal hand swiped across and, essentially, slapped his skull clean off. The ugly backhand chewed through steel and flesh, creating a cloud of gory confetti, sending the body tumbling into the street in several unrepentant tharumpthumps as it ragdolled in useless fashion.

Urakk turned his attention to the big one, Spit, who stood in frozen disbelief. “You. . . a. . . Mutant. . ."

The lizard spread his arms out, grinning. “That's right baby! Come and get it!"

Clang, out of desperation, screamed and used a modified limb to produce a web of blades, jumping onto Bug's back and driving the blades into his leather-bound frame. Some of the knives pierced into the Mutant's flesh, producing a bizarre bright-blue blood. Bug chuckled.

“Mmf, that's right daddy, I like it fucking rough."

Like peeling off a tick, Bug reached back to rip off Clang from his back, gripping the Reiver's neck and swooping him over his shoulder, throwing him into the hard, lifeless concrete like a rag. A bloody rag. The force of impact knocked Clang's limbs loose and turned his spine into a sponge of crimson, a distorted death gurgle escaping him, now leaving only Spit.

Bug kept his grin, advancing his attention to the largest Reiver. “C'mere, hotty. I like em' big and beefy."

“SHIT! GET AWAY FROM ME!"

Spit screamed, raising his bulky arms, a pair of launcher cannons appearing over his hands as he aimed at Urakk. Said Mutant walked forward, clamped his hands around the weaponized arms, clenching palms over the open barrels.

In sheer panic, Spit fired off his mini-missile rounds. . . only for the explosion to reverberate back into his body. Spit screamed as his limbs vaporized in a greasy pillar of fire and smoke, leaving only his torso. The Reiver collapsed to his knees, unintelligible nonsense spewing from his mouth as he succumbed to the fatal injury.

Bug shook off the gore, a few of his fingers lost in the blast. Regenerating sinew and bone gurgled from the wounds, pools of cyan dripping onto the concrete.

At once, he shifted his gaze to Sarin, who had watched the event unfold with contemptuous glee.

“Bun? You okay?"

“Mmmmhm."

“They touch you?"

She pushed off from the railing. “For all that shit talk, funny, they didn't. I think they actually tried to flirt."

But her focus wasn't on the violence, it was Jakob. The kid was barely conscious, his breathing raspy and heavy. Possibly going into shock.

No. She made him a promise.

She went to him, touching his face, Combitronics doing a scan. His vitals were going south, fast.

“Please," he whined, staring at the bun who promised him salvation. “H-help."

Sarin smirked, touching his cheek in reassuring fashion. “Hey kid. You wanna' live forever?"

-*-

Murky, muddy colors. Dull sounds. Skull hurts. High-pitched ringing.

“Unfiltered coolant present in the major vascular system with type-three sustained lesions found in in the left and right lateral cutaneous nerves. Torn deltoid. Dislocation in lesser and greater humerus."

Words.

“Elevated heart rate. Risk of septic shock. Untreated infections."

In and out. Conscious. Fading. Eyes open sometimes. Can't make out shapes. Go back to sleep. Dead? Not dead.

“Showing signs of recovery, no longer critical. Vitals stabilized."

And. . .

Jakob peeled his eyelids open to face an unfamiliar environment. A small apartment bloc interior with a window overlooking the horizon of CivSector, dull lights painting the interior. Resting in a bed – no – a couch, white sheets over his body. A spring of panic overtook him. Where was he? What happened? Head was muddy, sore, as was his body. Memories rushed back in. . . tried to recall them.

Oh no. Three terrible figures, Reivers they were called? He tried attacking one, took everything he had, then pain throughout his whole body, collapsing into darkness. What happened to. . . shit.

“Sarin?" he croaked out.

He tried to move, but it was hard. What about his arms? Why wasn't he dead? He slowly glanced at his body, commanding his limbs to love. They responded in slow fashion, like trying to lift heavy pieces of steel. His arms? Still there.

Moments passed, until a curvy silhouette emerged from the corner of his eye. Short, white fur, platinum grey hair, wearing a casual black top and shorts.

“Ah-hah. He's back to the land of the living."

It was Sarin, sauntering over to his limp form.

Relief washed over Jakob. “You're alright."

She tilted her head, smirked, and laughed. “Me? Hah. How cute. First thought in that little head."

The shortstack psycho bun pulled up a chair and sat next to Jakob. “Worried about poor ol' bunny, mm? I pegged you for a good pick then, didn't I."

“What happened?" rasped Jakob, attempting to move.

Sarin raised a hand. “Easy, hot stuff. Settle down. Let's take this nice and slow."

She proceeded to explain the nights of the evening. The Reivers went down, as did Jakob. After the young fella' fell over like a useless lump, Sarin pinged her Gigdoc – Eid – for an emergency pickup. He stabilized Jakob and kept watch over him for about a day, before transporting Jakob to Sarin's place. He continued to monitor the kid's vitals until he recovered out of critical condition, while the bun kept Jakob at her place for what, about three days?

He rattled with a cough. “It's been almost a week?"

“Yup."

Sarin had her gold synthcig, taking a hit. “Don't sweat it, Jakey boy. I made a promise. You were in an out the past day or so, and Eid helped us replace the filters in your fancy arms. Had to detox that coolant shit out of your body, too."

“Eid?"

“My butcher."

God, so many questions. What now? What was Jakob going to do? He remembered Sarin making the offer, to be a Hangman, and he didn't exactly say yes. But Sarin also mentioned this whole affair wasn't a freebie.

“You were pretty brave, ya' know."

He turned to her, pale hair falling over his features. “I was?"

“Well, ya' stepped in with no guarantees. You thought I was in trouble, and ya' did the only thing you could. Takes serious nuts, kid. Mmm, my heeero, heh."

Jakob allowed himself a fragile chuckle. “I'm no hero."

“Beg to differ. Did you imagine it goin' better, cutie? Punch out the baddies and rescue the girl? Hold me in your arms and I give you a loooong, fawning look?"

He was too fatigued to give a response.

Stomping over, however, emerged a new figure, one of vast red musculature and overpowering size. Ghoulish eyes peered out from a reptilian head, all affixed on the new guy.

“Ogh, the new meat, it lives!"

Jakob's eyes widened and he recoiled at the sight of the beast. The creature's bare torso exposed numerous deep scars and slashed out markings and barcodes, tough, dull red scales running over his herculean frame. The goliath jammed some sort of hypersonic drill into his neck, a hissing sound emitting from the device as he looked Jakob over. A drool of unknown chems filled the beast's body, but to what the purpose was, Jakob didn't know.

“And how," said Sarin.

“Hawgh, this little runt tried to save you? Damn, kid! The steel bits on you!"

Jakob tried to get a clear picture of the brute, realization hitting him. That slab of seven feet was definitely a Mutant, something Jakob was told to avoid at all costs. And there it was, staring right down at him.

“He's harmless," reassured Sarin. “Sometimes."

Bug gave a rough, rumbling chuckle. “She's gonna' rock your little world for that one, kiddo."

“Sshhhuutup!" cackled Sarin. “Don't spoil the surprise, Bug. He can barely move."

Bug grinned, though Jakob didn't know what they meant. “Ya' hungry, kid?"

He could barely keep himself conscious, feeling the weight of sleep and fatigue call to him again. But, yes, he hadn't eaten in. . . days, maybe? So he gave a weak nod.

Darkness again.

-*-

Acclimation.

From death's door to this. But what was “this?"

The shift in gears was fast, a blur of life-events consolidated into two weeks' time. Jakob's call for help was met with an answer he never expected, and he had a choice to make. Tag-in with Sarin, or try his luck in the streets. Sarin had saved him, paid out of pocket for her butcher to fix Jakob up, and provided the ultimatum: become a Hangman or venture back into the darkness of CivSector.

Even with all the money he owed – because the savings Jakob lost did not cover the emergency meds – Sarin did not force Jakob to join her. She could've, easily. But she didn't.

He decided to live.

Delighted, Sarin gave Jakob the deets, helped him understand the choice he was making. A Hangman was a merc-for-hire, a cash-loyal executioner in service to Middleman gigs all across the voices of Theseus. Sometimes rogue jobs, too. Jakob had to be ready for violence, and soon, to kill. But, honestly, if he had to dispatch the kind of rapacious scum like those Reivers, the decision wasn't as hard as he thought. That said, he also needed diesel.

He met the others: Bug (or Urakk) and Kura. Both equally frightening, but friendly. Kura stripped off the digital serial IDs from his arms via homebrew cybermancy, creating two perfect blank templates he could mod at whim. He needed filters for them, and eventually, body implants to compensate for coolant, among things. The body was currency, what you spent dictated your survival. He was going to have to change, mentally and physically. Not all at once, though, not yet. Sarin would keep him under her wing, help train him, and ideally, put him as a number four in her merc outfit.

“Ya' give me a hundred percent and more," Sarin had told him. “And I will give you everything."

Yes ma'am.

It was actually exciting when Jakob got a clearer picture of what the future might hold. His potential, the kind of person he could become. Not just some reg slumming away at a dead end job, but a name striking fear into the worst of the worst. He replayed that night in his mind, over and over, wondering what he could do with serious diesel to those Reivers. Coulda' bashed em' in, coulda' impressed Sarin.

Yeah, hm. Sarin. Sarin and Kura. When the threat of death no longer stalked his every move, it freed up his mind for. . . other thoughts. And, yeah, they were hard to ignore. Busty and wide and thick in all the right places. . .

Granted, Kura was frightening in a pure scaroused kinda' way, and he hadn't really talked with her yet. Sarin was too, always sporting a subtle, lethal energy. Her history as a Hangman was lengthy – before one of her big gigs went tits up, she was an infamous “chemical assassin," often toting an arsenal of phosphoric compounds, hemotoxins, and toxic hollow-tip rounds to get the job done. It added a. . . dangerous attraction to her, and admittedly, Kura. The threat of death lurked behind their come-hither eyes and busty assets.

Sarin noticed, of course, not at all oblivious to his wandering eyes. She even made a show of herself around the apartment sometimes, sauntering about topless or leaning over to let her wide, plump bottom pop into view. After all he'd done and was willing to do? Of course she'd throw the poor dog a bone.

As Sarin and company worked on getting Jakob's living sitch figured out, one evening she placed a small, black Nervchip in an envelope and left it on the living room table. “Jakob," it read. When the kid found it, he eyed the suspicious device curiously. It came with an attached note:

for a real good time for a real good hero <3

No one was around, so his Nervnet pinged the data chip and accessed its contents.

It was like walking into a dream.

Working with Kura, Sarin had designed little Jakey a customized synthvid, one making use of every brain function and nerve in his body. In this little world, Jakob wandered into an artificial plane that felt and seemed as real as the world around him.

“Whoa. . . what. . ."

A delectable image of Sarin and Kura coalesced into the digital vision. “Hey kid," cooed Sarin. “Ya' ready for your big hero's reward?"

Jakob blinked, his body going hot. In the vision, he wasn't even clothed! Before he processed what was happening, he felt heaving, heavy breasts fall on his shoulders, sumptuous, plump mountains of oily black fur smacking against his cheeks. He flushed, feeling the presence of the immense wolfess behind him.

Oh. Oh. Ohhhh.

Jakob was still a young man, and ya' couldn't show him a vision of thick, curvaceous bitch beauties without it having an obvious effect. The synthetic Kura chuckled with rough laughter, wiggling her fat rack on his head, smooshing his face while the bun approached Jakob.

“Figured we'd give ya' a little personal playmate to take the edge off, mm?" said Sarin. “Ol' Kura whipped this little nugget up. Jack in, jack off, have fun."

If you told Jakob this was a digital simulation, he would never have known. The details to reality were astonishing, from the heavy clap of Kura's fat tits against his skull to the seductive voice of the psycho shortstack bun.

“You're welcome," chuckled Kura. “She insisted. But I don't mind."

“Really, how lucky are you?" added Sarin. “Big fat bunny ass and hot Witch pussy? You really hit the jackpot."

Sarin approached and put a soft hand on Jakob's bare chest, looking up at him with wide eyes. “Don't get shy on us now, we'll take gooood care of you."

Jakob's breath hitched, watching with astonishment.

“Nothin' gets a crew all good n'close like fuckin'. Heh. Course, hope we made the right call, Jakey boy. You want this, riiiight? Or. . . did ya' want someone like Bug, hmm? Get ya' a nice big beefy lizard daddy?"

Jakob's mind was going fuzzy, but he managed to shake his head. “N-no, this is okay, hahaha. . ."

No offense to the Mutant, of course, that guy was pretty hot, but not really Jakob's type. He was also sure such an encounter would actually kill him.

“Mm, good."

“He knows what he likes," added Kura. The wolfess leaned down, whispering hot words into his ear.

“Just think about what you want, pup."

Didn't need to tell him twice. It was also nice he didn't have to speak a command or desire. Life had beaten him down, his confidence to demand personal wants just didn't feel natural. At least not now.

Sharing a 'thought,' the girls shared a dark chuckle and proceeded to indulge the lucky Jakob. With skilled grace, Sarin was on all fours, her black lips wrapped around Jakob's twitching cock as she kept her eyes locked on his, slurping his head while her cheeks bulged, head dancing on his inches. He groaned, because every sensation was perfect. Not a single physical detail was left unattended, from her hot wet tongue to the sloppy sounds of her serving mouth.

A festive dance of actions and poses followed suit. They flicked and exchanged in immediate response to Jakob's wants, like hitting fast forward on a vid. For instance, Jakob wanted to be sandwiched between the girls, resting on Kura's torso while Sarin suffocated him with her ample rack. She'd bounce and run her black, pierced nips across his face, letting him squeeze and touch her. He felt every inch of them, soaking in their heat, softness, and fur.

He'd find himself on his back, watching the girls assault his length with their practiced tongues – one black and one blink – also pierced. He watched with lusty, dizzy eyes, in disbelief this was happening, that he had two private digital versions of the badass ladies at his beck and call.

But. . . he didn't want just a fuck. Well, yes he did, but for the longest of times, life left a painful void in his world.

Can I kiss you both?

The synthgirls looked at each other, gave a dark chuckle, and obliged. But these weren't hot, devouring kisses, they were soft, and warm, and sweet.

Just tell me I'm worth it. Just tell me I can do this.

Sarin paused, blinking. She studied him with curious eyes, then, pressed her bunny nose into his cheek. “Oh, Jakob, baby. Of course ya' are. Why the hell do ya' think I picked you out? Think I got Kura to whip this little custom fuckchip for nothing? You're worth it. You can do this. You can be one of us."

Was the vision lying to him? Maybe, but he needed the words. He needed them, sincere and real.

“Now stop fussin' and let us bounce on that big dick, babe."

So they did. Jakob was treated to delightful visions of the immense wolfess riding his shaft, her thick, fat cheeks slamming into his waist with loud, audible claps. Her head arch and tail wagged as her sin-black pussy choked and milked his needy loins, shuddering and begging as Jakob felt himself release into her.

Sarin did the same, riding him bungirl style. He grabbed one of her hands as she giggled, her perky busty front wobbling and bouncing in enticing rhythms as she rotated her hips in unbelievable perfect, expert fashion.

So amazing, so beautiful. Sure, maybe Sarin was down for a raunchy fuck, but right now, Jakob wanted a little intimacy, real or otherwise. Over and over positions switched, sometimes gently rocking his hips into Kura's plump pussy or sliding into Sarin with a mating press. It seemed to go on forever, until Jakob finally felt his energy leave him.

The vision flickered in hazes of electric red, Jakob snapping back to reality. He was draped in sweat, breath heaving, and his pants, uh, notably soaked. He borrowed Sarin's bathroom to clean up, retreating back to the living room after drying off. His digits fumbled with the Nervchip, wondering was strange possibilities lied within.

“Have fun, cutie?"

The real Sarin's voice caught him. He froze, giving a nervous chuckle.

“Uhhh. Heh."

“Relax. Take it from your laundry it was real fuckin' good, eh?"

Sarin sat on an opposite couch, wearing a smirk. And, wow, she was wearing non-suggestive day clothes this time!

“Yeah."

Sarin pulled out a gold cynthsig and produced sparkling teal vapor. “I'm glad. Ya' might think it weird, Jakey boy, but in my house we take care of each other. Everyone needs a nice fuck to take the edge off, ya' know? Feel wanted, feel needed. We're friends here."

Jakob scratched his pale, white hair. “Right, yeah. I guess that makes sense. Your uh, boyfriend doesn't mind?"

Sarin grinned. “That I fuck other dudes and gals? Pfftha, no baby, he's not worried about that. When ya' kill with your man, and he does what he does for you, me takin' some side dick or my boy finding himself a nice hole is the least of our worries. That includes you."

Oh. Well, okay, fair enough.

Her grin softened to a smile. “But that doesn't mean we all can't be sweet on each other, mm?"

It was pretty strange hearing these kind words from a girl like. . . Sarin.

“Yeah," Jakob brightened. “Yeah, that means a lot, actually, thanks."

He paused, thinking back to the psychosexual visions. “Hey Sarin. Can I ask you something?"

Jakob yearned for acknowledgment in the digital fantasy, but it was still just that, as far as he knew.

“Uh huh?"

“I'm. . . I'm worth it, right? I can. . . can I really do this?"

Sarin's expression sobered, and for the first time since he met her, she dawned a serious, cemented gaze.

“Jakob."

“. . .yeah?"

“You're strong, kid. Of course you can do this. You're a scrapper. It doesn't mean you're special, but it does mean you're worth it. Ya' don't need me to tell you that. You always were."

He provided a weak smile, looking down at the floor, flexing his virgin AugTec arms. “I guess. But it's nice to hear that, you know?"

Sarin took another puff and nodded. She wasn't really a therapist, but she understood. Jakob was different, and still young. Different because unlike most skegs and twips she had to deal with, he desired. . . intimacy. He yearned for CivSector to provide it, and that was a damn hard commodity to come by.

“You've made it this far," Sarin added. “So promise me you'll keep fighting."

Jakob felt a wellspring of newfound confidence rise in his chest. “Okay. Right. I will. I'll keep fighting."

Now, onto other matters. He glanced at the Nervchip, realizing what the little token could do. “What uh, what do I do with this?"

Sarin cackled. “Keep it, dork! I had Kura make it juuust for you. Can't have you gettin' a rager everytime you walk around my apartment. Use that thing and drain your nuts in me as much as ya' want."

He flushed, hiding a grin. “Riiiight."

“Oh don't worry, baby, we'll all sleep together some time, for realsies."

She winked. “But until the time is right, well, use that. Can't think about fighting if all ya' wanna do is fuck. Gotta keep you focused, clear. Nothin' wrong with getting' your needs met."

She wasn't wrong, post-nut clarity was. . . well, it helped. “It felt so real."

“I bet. That was Kura, actually. She's a fuckin' queen of cybermancy. She's able to trick the brain into creating perfect haptic feedback responses, it's crazy. Of course, we can' get ya' a VixHole, if ya want. I know, I know, synthetic, but trust me, you'll never know the difference. I've got a few VixDix models myself."

Awgh, jeeze. She was getting him riled up again, so he decided to shift the conversation.

“Heh. Maybe later. I think I gotta' focus up now. What should I be doing?"

Sarin set her synthcig down. “Preparing. You're not ready for fieldwork yet. You need to get on an exercise regimen. We're gonna' get you trained on weapons. And, eventually, diesel up. Get your playtime in now, Jakey, because you're gonna work. We're trusting you and investing in you. Can ya' do that?"

Right, yeah. Playtime was almost over. The fixed him, fed him, and took him in. This was the real deal and Jakob had to be ready. He'd try or die trying.

“I can do better," he asserted. “I promise you I'll be worth it."

Sarin smirked. “That's what I loooove to hear."

She shifted gears. “Now. . ."

At once, Sarin stood up, patting her hips. “Ya' wanna' get in a quickie, Jakey boy? Last chance to pump my pussy before we put you on a schedule. Not gonna' have time after the fact, heheh."

The words hit Jakob like a freight train. “Wait. H-huh?"

Sarin turned and leaned over, yanking down her tight black leathers to exposed her wide, fat bottom, gently wiggling it from side to side. Her teardrop tail shook in anticipation, head looking back while she propped up a hand on her chin.

“Jakey boy, if you manage to walk away from my fat ass right now, after alllll that, well, color me fuckin impressed."

Did. What? She? Really?

He had the Nervchip, but this was the real deal too. And she was HARD to ignore.

“C'mon, babe, get it all out. I need you focused. And, anyway, think of it like a little. . . rite of passage, mm?"

Well, damn. His life was about to change and she wasn't kidding about what the future held. He was lucky, better hang onto it.

“Heh," he said, standing. “Okay. Yes ma'am."

He fell behind her, gentle hands going across her soft rump, petting and squeezing the cheeks in timid fashion. Not hard or demanding, just small, pleasing strokes. He carefully parted her cheeks, taking care to pull down her panties, letting his flank sit between her rump.

“Mm, that's it."

He hardened, then pushed into her slick, wet lips. Not hard or demanding or without care, slow and cautious. He wanted to enjoy this, but, he wanted her to like it too.

Sarin closed her eyes, pushing on the couch edge for support. She felt the young man hump her haunches. But not like others. Not brutal, pussy punishing strokes. Just sweet, delightful grinds, honest and yearning.

Oooo, that was nice, actually. He curled an arm around her waist, with one hand on her shoulder, every touch done with a delicate, tender energy. He even leaned down, his lips pressing into her neck, Sarin leaning her head to the side when he smooched her neck, feeling his breath and soft kisses.

Ohohoh gooosh he was cute. He wasn't a fucker, he was a lover.

“Like this, Sarin?" he whispered, causing her tall bunny ears to flick.

She nodded, providing a soft, approving moan. “Juuust like that."

She wasn't wailing, or screaming, or begging aloud or yelling false proclamations of how “good" the other guy was, she was just. . . enjoying the ride. He wanted closeness, this kid. He wanted to press his body into someone else, feel wanted. So she obliged, tossing her thick ass back into him with dainty, teasing bounces. Not wall cracking, bed breaking motions, just enough to give him a little lovin' back.

When he finally peaked, it wasn't some womb flooding, belly bloating river of cum. It was. . . well, him, real, just Jakob. He was so terribly honest, CivSector didn't deserve him.

It was sweet.

Bug was also sweet, but that randy Mutant was a piledriver. Jakob, here, mm, he was like slipping into a comfortable bath. He was a giver. And ya' know, for once, Sarin kinda' liked not having her brains fucked stupid! She liked that, a lot. She purred, feeling Jakob soak her tunnel with his seed. Girl could get used to that.

When he finished, he didn't let go. His body relaxed, but he held her there, reaching down to carefully massage her clitoral nub. He waited so she could get off too, rather than dump her full of cum and toss her to the side. Sarin's breaths hastened, her moans climbing, and she gasped as she hit her own orgasm, a satisfying river of nectar splashing from her folds.

Nice, post-fuck afterglow followed. She could feel Jakob relax on her, embracing her form. What a cutie.

Slowly, though, he pulled free, admiring his work, taking a moment to gaze at Sarin's soaked cunt. The real deal was better than he could've imagined.

“Oooh. Oomf. Phew!" Sarin said, laughing, wiping sweat from her furred brow. “You're a real nice fit, Loverboy."

Jakob managed a weak chuckle, falling into the cushioned couch, smiling. “Heh. Wow."

Sarin proceeded to kick off her pants and panties. “Now I need a shower."

“Me too."

The shorstack bunny stood, looking at the half-naked Jakob. “Don't get spunk on my couch, Jakey boy, or you'll clean it up. Anyway. Get it out of your system?"

Jakob, with newfound meaning and confidence, started to laugh. “Maaaaybe."

Good, good, he was laughing now, finding some humor.

“Well, rub it out, babe. Fun's over! You're on a regiment now, you hear?"

He looked at her, grinning. “Yes ma'm."

She smiled too. But before Sarin retreated to her shower, she pecked a kiss on Jake's cheek and whispered in his hear. “That was nice. I really enjoyed that."

Oh. Well. Hearing someone like Sarin compliment you was a real ego boost, and, in that moment, Jakob felt like he could take on the whole of CivSector. He huffed, staring at the ceiling, dull ambiance of the leviathan city audible through the window.

Hmm. Loverboy, huh?