“There’s no need-”
She shushed him and pressed his lips with a delicate finger. Then she leaned down and went for his zipper with her teeth.
Hector jumped up and pushed her away, gently, but firmly. “Oh, boy. Thanks, lady Suzanna, Suzy, whatever, I don’t want this. You don’t have to do this.”
Nicomedes tilted his head. “Doesn’t your veil profile say you’re straight?”
“Yes, but I don’t want it like this. You own her, she has no say. It’s wrong.”
Nicomedes raised his upper lip with disgust. “Oh. You’re one of those,” he drolled. He pulled a tablet in front of him and tried to look busy. “Well, the offer still stands. 80k in cash, right now. Once you walk out the door, the offer evaporates.”
Hector didn’t need to think it over. He just left.
He didn’t want to stay another minute in that crappy place. Thankfully, Patty was done quickly, and they met on the hallway.
“Don’t come back here, you ugly bitch!” a brunette yelled after her.
“That must be Pinup Clarissa, right? The one who had a fight with you?” Hector asked.
She just nodded and her eye pleaded to move on.
They stormed out of the place, him red with anger, her carrying a big backpack.
They just threw the thing in the back of the truck and left. The neon pinup flashed in his rear mirror, pissing him off even more. “What’d she do to you?”
“What’d he to do you?” she snapped back at him.
“Let’s just go home.”
They said nothing more all the way back.
DROP TWENTY-TWO
“I need to train and you don’t have a fucking gym,” she complained, hand resting on her waist. “Not even a couple of sissy weights.”
“Do some push-ups. Run around the block. Leave me the fuck alone,” Hector replied. “I’m threading a very tricky piece of liquid armour that could be completely ruined with the slightest error. And we certainly can’t afford that.”
He finished the delicate task and admired his handiwork. Nice. Then he remembered something was wrong. It was quiet. Patty.
He turned around, and she was gone.
Not that he was clingy, but he realised there was a serious problem with that. He tapped his phone and called Tony.
“Violator speaking.”
“Tony. Hey, I wanted to ask you, what happens if, supposedly, my investment runs off? I can only assume it happens to owners all the time. What do they do?”
“Oh, that’s not a problem. Since the debt bondage law has waived some of their basic rights, they’ve been implanted with a locator. You always have access to that, you just need to plug your owner’s hash into it. Here, sending it to you, it’s easy to use.”
Indeed, Hector got a plain input screen. He copied and pasted his owner’s hash alphanumeric code, it was impossible to remember an autogenerated thing like that, and a window popped up with her location. She was indeed running around the block, doing good time actually. And there were options available to him.
Alert authorities.
Stun.
Tase.
The Tase had a pain level slider.
Holy shit, this was slavery. Pure, high-tech slavery. Calling it paramone didn’t change the fact one bit. Hector felt queasy. At the touch of a button he could have the authorities snatch her up in case she escaped. They’d definitely charge an arm and a leg, but they’d protect his investment. And he could punish and reward her anytime he wanted to, like you’d do with a feral beast.
Hector retched, feeling literally sick. He had vomit in his mouth and ran up to the kitchen, cupped his palm and drank some water to get the vile taste away.
Did people know?
More importantly, did they even care?
DROP TWENTY-THREE
“And look to the left. And look to the right. Excellent,” the Mechdoc said with his practised voice, shining a flashlight in her eyes.
Hector was surprised to find out that he was really anxious for this. His room had been turned into an operating hall, plastic hanging from the ceiling, equipment beeping, surfaces sterilised with a spray of antibacterial nanobots. It had all been carried inside by the trusty robotic mule. “How is she, Doc?”
“Well, we fixed the arm with the replacement part, so that is good as new. The eye, I managed to salvage and so, the cost went down.” He pointed at the new eye, still in its plastic, next to the surgery tools. He took off his bloodied gloves.
“Nice!”
“Ah, don’t get too excited. It has all the functions, but it won’t survive a second blow. It will definitely need to be replaced, so I’ll keep it until we are able to replace it.”
“I understand. Doc, you’re very helpful in everything, I’m stunned, really.”
“I took the Hippocratic Oath. I help people, heal them, even if they’re stupid enough to play blood games. And in the end, I can make do with paying my rent by overcharging those corporate fucks instead of hard-working men like you.”
Hector raised an eyebrow, and a glass of ouzo to him. They clinked. “Cheers.”
“To her health.” He sucked air through his teeth. “Ah, I needed that drink. You’re a bad influence for an ageing man, Hector.”
“Nonsense. After all, what’s the point if you can’t go through life with a slight buzz?”
“Slight? Hah! I think you’ve developed a tolerance, my dear boy. Anyway, she’s all done. The new parts in the arm might need some greasing, but I assume she knows the drill. The diagnostic checks out. Her blood pressure is normal. Vitamin concentrations are a bit low, give her these supplements I wrote down. And good job on the bent panel, excellent work, I must say.”
“Thanks, Doc.” He smiled.
“Let her wake up on her own, the anaesthesia will wear off soon but she might just sleep it off.” He petted his robotic mule. “Come on, Trevor, lift your back.”
Trevor did so, and the Doc started loading his gear back. Hector helped him out a bit but Doc had a system and everything fit very snug, so he couldn’t do much.
After a while, he said goodbye and walked out, Trevor walking behind him, an entire foldable operating hall on its back.
DROP TWENTY-FOUR
“Ready?” Hector asked, parking the truck.
“Fuck, yeah!” Patty said. “I have to admit I can’t wait to get back there. I still can’t stand the Pinups, but if it’s the only way to get back in the game...” She shrugged.
“You can stop anytime. I don’t wanna force you back in there. We can find you some sort of work that will help pay off your debt in a few years.”
“Yeah,” she snorted. “A few hundred.” She turned in the seat towards him. “Look, I appreciate the offer, but, I’m good at this.”
Hector exhaled. “Okay. Let’s do this then.”
The stadium was packed once again. Gigantic holobanners showed Cyberpink athletes leaning down and teasing fans as they walked past, licking their fingers and hopping in place, making everything jiggle.
Hector snorted. It was ridiculous. So over-the-top. But his business-side couldn’t help but appreciate how big of an industry this was. He wasn’t the kind of man to see his clients as walking euro signs, but he could hear the cash register ring in his head.
Man swiping his wrist, paying for ‘Lick-Laura’ ice cream.
Ding.
Teen purchasing an ARO of Chimera’s likeness in 32 different skins, complete with Bouncy-Fysiks™.
Ding.
Woman ordering the entire catalogue of the sexy Pinup Girls’ fashion line.
Ding-ding-ding.
And that didn’t even take into account the behind-the-scenes streams, the original prop auctions, the black aftermarket, the tickets and their byproduct, the ticket scalping.
Patty punched him on the shoulder. “Hey. What’s up? You look angry.”
“It’s all this. They’re profiting on... on all of this. And it’s not your choice to make. Trust me, I
have no problem with this if it’s voluntary, I ain’t no saint.” They stopped under the double D buns of the athlete named Bunbun. “It’s supply and demand, I get it. But they’re being forced to do it, what’s the alternative? Lose Citizen status? Who wants that?”
Patty scowled at him and marched steady on, throwing her gear over the shoulder.
He followed after her. “What?”
She stopped and poked him with her finger. Hector felt its strength even under the concealed ballistic insert in his chest. “Hector, look. I’ve seen my share of do-gooders, guys who wanna ride in like a white-fucking-knight on a horse and save the poor little girls. It never works out. Someone always gets hurt, and if it’s only emotional hurt, then they’re real-fucking-lucky. So do me a favour, yeah? Don’t go filling the mind of a naïve young girl about swooping her off her feet and dragging her away to your castle, ‘cause I’ve seen your castle, and it smells like dirty socks. Got that?”
Bunbun giggled over them.
“Got it,” he said softly.
They walked away in silence, pushing their way through the masses.
DROP TWENTY-FIVE
The locker rooms were either Heaven, or a divine punishment like Tantalus had endured, depending on your view. The Pinup Girls were getting ready for the match/show, and they were perky and lovely.
Retro dresses, hats, skirts that were meant to fly up in a sudden gust of wind and tease you, lithe bodies and bright colours all the way. Hector noticed that very few of them had visible augmentations, and couldn’t keep his eyes from gazing at a particular pair of long legs that was getting a last-minute shave. The Pinups didn’t have time to play coy, the match was on in a few minutes.
Hector shut his eyes.
“Why is he doing that?” some girl asked.
“Oh, he’s like a big baby,” he heard Patty say.
He looked. Before him was a shorter girl, very athletic and young. She too had short hair, was ‘cropped’ the right term for it? No, he was sure, short was the right term for her, and cropped for Patty. The other Pinups had long hair, which Hector found more feminine. But a nice mane wasn’t actually a good thing in a sport like this one.
“Hello!” she perked up.
“Hector, this is Cherry. Cherry, this is my new owner, Hector. He looks mean, but he’s really just a big softie.”
“Nice to meet you, Cherry.” He shook her arm. “Um, don’t tell me, I’m new to this.” He clicked his fingers a couple of times. “You’re a qwik?”
“That I am, sir,” she said happily, beaming back at him.
Hector loaded up the veil and called for Cherry’s stats.
Name
Caroline Christou
Alias
Cherry
Strength
1
Speed
2
Strategy
1
Sexiness
2
Cup Size
A
Augmentations
1%
Team
Pinup Girls (Temporary Replacement)
Position
Qwik
Wins
11
Losses
8
Income
2500
Sponsorships
None
“Cherry is rather new, but she’s a very promising qwik,” Patty said with pride. “She’s a replacement for this match, you’ve seen what happened to the others.”
“Plenty of wins, I see, right Cherry? I’ll place a bet on you scoring well tonight,” Hector said, smiling.
“Then I’ll score for you, sir,” she giggled. She ran towards her locker and started putting on armour. And a helmet!
Hector placed his palm over his heart. “Ah. At last, some proper armour around here.”
Patty smiled next to him, pulling her boots up. “She’s a good girl,” she said softly. “Polite, naïve, wants to be a fashion designer.” She turned her face away. “They’ll eat her alive within the year,” she added bitterly.
DROP TWENTY-SIX
The match was nearly starting now. Hector could feel the buzzing in the air. He had to admit to himself that he was getting somewhat excited. Would the coach put Patty in? Probably. Would she perform at her best? He’d told her to take it easy, but she was stubborn. Would the Pinups win? Unlikely, but he sure hoped so.
He downloaded the betting app for his veil and placed a small amount on Cherry doing well, 5 skulls. He put just a small amount, 100 euro would do. It was enough to feel the thrill but not too much to break the bank. The bet was 5 to 1.
He got a message from Patty. It said, ‘Forgot to tell you, sorry. Go to the VIP area. It’s where all the owners hang out.’
Huh. Interesting.
He walked around a bit, the place was like a maze. He finally found it and got doorchecked by a security guy in a suit. He was comically top-heavy, like a cartoon. Buzz-cut, heavy jaw. Intelligent eyes, though.
“I’m an owner,” Hector said lamely. He regretted it as soon as he said it, VIPs don’t need to prove they are one. Well, whatever.
“Oh, yeah? New one, haven’t seen you around. I’m George,” the mountain of muscle said, presenting his hand.
Hector stared at it, not registering what had happened. He was expecting to get blocked, not a meet and greet. He shook the man’s hand, “Nice to meet you, I’m Hector-”
George pulled him close and patted his upper arm, then spun him around like a puppet and patted him all over. The difference in relative strength was so humiliating that Hector didn’t even try to resist. Then he scanned him with a device that looked like it could trigger a Geiger counter. “Vanilla, no augs. Just a concealed tactical vest? You don’t see that every day.”
Hector punched his chest. “Yeah, don’t leave home without it!” he said and sent the link to his shop through the veil.
“Hector’s Personal Protection. Can you do concealed Kevlar that goes under suits like these?” the mountain of muscle asked, pointing at his fancy threads.
“Of course. I’d need to take your measurements, do a custom fitting.”
“Might take you up on that, Hector. You needed to reserve your seat in advance, but you’re new, so I’ll let it slide this time. Go on in,” the security grunt said and opened the door behind him.
Music blared, and it was dark, hard to see, hazy with smoke. It was like walking into a club. Pretty women poured drinks, there was a bar with a fancy barista making cocktails with a flourish, and the best view in the house right at the front. It had soft, bulky seats, not like the toilet seat Hector sat on last time.
He took in the stadium. There was a level of separation up here, of overwatch. Looking down on people.
“Enjoying the view?” Nicomedes said with a smirk.
“Yes. But I fear that over time, it makes you think you’re better than others.”
Nicomedes showed his perfectly white teeth. He turned to the waitress, took a sip of the cocktail she brought. Then he threw it at her feet, smashing the glass and making a mess. “I told you, a touch of rum. A touch! Idiot.”
Hector leaned down and helped her pick up the broken glass. “Careful,” he smiled at her. “We don’t want you to cut yourself.”
“Thanks for the help, sir. I’ll clean it up.” She hurried to do just that.
Hector stood up and breathed in deep. “Too much rum, you said? We can’t allow that! We should throw her right in there,” he said sarcastically, pointing at the field.
Nicomedes eyed him hard. Then he burst out laughing, a sickening sound to Hector’s ears. The others with him laughed too. “You’re a weird one, Hector.”
Then he lit up a cigar and puffed smoke in his face.
Hector coughed, waving it away. He took a seat far away from him.
There was commotion behind him, and he couldn’t resist looking back. There was a man showing off an athlete. She was definitely on Cyberpink, she had extensive augmentations on her body,
complete right arm, the bottom two fingers and the wrist from the left, right-half side of her thigh. But she was damn sexy. Cropped hair like a pro, droopy eyes with severe eyeshadow, and a demeanour which made men look twice and women jealous thrice. Or, stare too if they were leaning that way. The owner was fat, going on round. He was showing her off to everyone around, and with a damn good reason.
Hector squinted, trying to listen in. Then he remembered. He could check her stats.
Name
Marianna López
Alias
Mamacita
Strength
2
Speed
1
Strategy
1
Sexiness
3
Cup Size
C
Augmentations
23%
Team
Unassigned Replacement
Position
Enforcer (Axe)
Wins
46
Losses
22
Income
14500
Sponsorships
Aphrodite Cosmetics
The app thing was so handy. Wait, fourteen thousand? Damn, that was good money.
The fat owner approached, sat down next to Hector and his seat squealed. “Hello, nice to see new faces around here! I’m Yianni Hondros.”
“Hector Troy, nice to meet you. New owner, as you see.”
“You don’t happen to own a team, do you? Nah, I’d know if you had. Single athlete then? That’s how I started out,” Hondros said, pointing at Mamacita.
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