“How many do you have now?”
“Oh, over ten. Twelve, two recuperating. That’s where the money is,” Hondros leaned in. His breath was overly minty. Not bad per se, but it smelled like he’d been chewing on the mother of all breath mints. “Not owning a team, it’s too much fuss. The real profits lie in having the replacement at hand when they need one so you can charge them a lot,” he chuckled, his double chin following independently.
“You’d need the connections, naturally.”
“Naturally. And you don’t get any awards, or fame. But who cares? You avoid all the overhead in owning a team and reap all the benefits.”
Hector mulled it over. Actually, it wasn’t a bad idea. He could never imagine himself running a fancy team, with headquarters and logos and all that corporate crap. But he could easily imagine himself managing a couple of athletes. And from what he had seen from Patty, he had to admit there was some overlap in his line of work. Actually, it was weird that he hadn’t stumbled on this business a lot sooner. “Mr Hondros, I’d love to talk more at the ad break.”
“Please, call me Yianni. I’d love to. Oh, come on dear!” he called behind him, “the match is about to begin.”
Mamacita, the sexy goddess, moved towards them and sat down, crossing her legs. She wore a deep cut dress that dropped the entire leg out.
Wow. Just, wow.
She met his gaze. She blinked slowly and invited him in with her eyes. “Always making friends, Yianni?” Her voice was deep and full of honey.
“This is Hector, a promising new owner, a sharp mind from the little chat we’ve had so far.”
“Oh?” She raised an eyebrow. “Which athlete, if I may ask?”
“Patty Roo.”
She flinched at that, recovering quickly. “Excuse me, I need to freshen up.” She promptly left, drawing plenty of eyes on her as she went. It was as if every movement of hers needed to be done with a wide motion of the hips for maximum sex appeal.
“Women,” Yianni eyerolled, “but I don’t mind. She is, after all, my cash cow.”
Then the Cyberpink match began.
DROP TWENTY-SEVEN
Patty charged.
“Patty Roo on the offensive, back after weeks of recovering from her injuries. It was naaasty, ladies and gentlemen and variations thereof, let’s have a replay so we can remember what happened. Control, find the video for us, please. Never miss a moment with the Cyberpink app, only 14.99, available on your favourite app store.”
The Bunbuns had a hole in their formation, which Patty couldn’t wait to exploit. They had positioned the Chain in the middle, thinking she could reach wide. It’s a common misconception, that you can cover the entire circle of reach. But people only have eyes at the front.
She taunted an enforcer and dropped her immediately, disengaging as soon as she saw the Chain attacking one of the Pinups. The bimbo took the hit, of course, but Patty struck the Chain and kept her down. It was always best to keep the Chain down. Like in chess, she was a far-reaching knight.
Always dangerous. Take her out immediately.
But the idiots she hung out with didn’t take advantage of the opening. Two more were paralysed, and the Bunbun’s qwik scored.
Cherry looked sad, even behind the helmet.
“It’s okay, Cherry, they didn’t cover you. You got this.”
The youngster perked up, she could see her shoulders move up from the slouching position.
“A dynamic opening by the Bunbuns. Will they keep it up? It was perilous for a moment there, as the Pinups seemed to have a good advantage over them. But the tide turned. Never let your tide turn with Atmos predictive AI, a small price to pay for a large headache averted.”
Drum beats.
Patty shouted instructions to the blonde bimbo at her side. Look at her wielding that q-tip, it was ridiculous. Dainty fingers, weak grip.
She saw her take a hit and go down in an instant, a shower of pink droplets in the air.
If Patty had her shield, she could have covered her. But the coach said shields aren’t sexy. Motherfucking-
She dodged the chain, the woman really hated her now. It wasn’t good for your pride, getting pinned down so easily when you had the best reach in the game. The Chain, as in the woman spinning it, attacked again and again.
Patty had just her agility to avoid the blows with. But it wasn’t enough. She got hit, paralysed for several drum beats.
The Chain kept her down, perhaps recognising that she was the most experienced player.
Patty could do nothing but watch the ball coming towards her face, again and again as the match unfolded around her. The bitch was aiming for her head on purpose, she could have just tapped her on the leg somewhere, there was no need to spin so hard.
She spat out pink blood.
The ball came again. This time, a small pair of arms blocked it. Cherry had lost the skull and obviously decided to unpin the only player that was actually doing anything in this side of the field.
Patty got free and covered her qwik. Cherry dove under the legs of the opposing enforcer and Patty promptly struck her down, showering her new arm with pink blood.
Baptised.
They both ganged up on the Bunbun’s qwik and forced her to drop the skull. Cherry wasted no time, she grabbed the skull and made a beeline for the mount, scoring.
“An amazing recovery by the Pinup Girls!”
“Well, attentive fans will point out the girls dominating this side of the field are both replacements. Nonetheless, the game is good and the Pinups have managed a tie.”
“That reminds me of the clip-on ties by Plaid. Synthsilk ties that get you laid.”
Drum beats.
This time, they were ready. They took down Patty in an instant, ganging up on her three-on-one, leaving the Pinup Idiots to roam around the field like headless chickens. They pinned her down, one longsword resting on her, no mean blows to the face this time, and the rest went on to pierce through the defence and simply score a skull.
It went even more downhill after that. Patty could hear the softie’s voice in her mind, ‘take it slow, don’t injure yourself so soon.’ Was he protecting his investment, or actually worrying about her? He was hard to pin down, she pondered, while being pinned down herself and with nothing else to do.
She got sprayed with pink blood, losing her train of thought. Clarissa had gotten a nice cut that would require stitches and a plastic surgeon. Choke on that bill, snotty bitch.
Also, eww. Patty couldn’t wait to get free so she could wipe the blood off her. She could catch something. Clarissa might be a VIP whore but that still meant screwing around.
Somehow, even without a team behind her, Cherry managed to score five skulls. But then they made sure to hit her on the knee and she couldn’t swerve for a few minutes. Minutes in jugger meant practically half the match’s duration.
They lost, but had no knockouts. That was something, at least.
DROP TWENTY-EIGHT
Hector was excited. He had a few drinks, talked a bit. It was more fun than he expected. Hondros was very chatty, explained the game to him, the little nuances. He was starting to get a feeling for it, but it was so damn fast! Everything happened all at once, bouts took place in 10 to 30 seconds, players went down, the crowd roared, commentators described and even had time to plug in a sponsor.
It was dizzying.
“My friend, this ouzo is great, you were right. I think we’ve got a new fashion going on,” the fat owner said, his cheeks red.
Mamacita was oddly curious about him. She kept asking questions, where he worked, what he made. Someone would think she was hitting on him, but Hector was no idiot. No woman this hot would hit on him without something to gain.
But what could it be?
“Well, no knockouts, so we still only have work for one player.” Yanni pushed his enormous bulk up and left them, carrying on with networking.
Hector leaned close to Mamacita. Her aroma was intoxicating.
A bit thicker than it should be, but everything was over the top with her. She did nothing half-way. “Who does Yanni own down there? Is it Cherry?”
“Yes, she’s on a short-term contract,” Mamacita said, staring back. When she spoke her lips puckered like an invitation. She made sure no one was around and she whispered with a rapid urgency in her voice, “I need you to get me out of here.”
Hector was shocked. He stared like an idiot.
She looked up at him with her delightful, sexy eyes and pleaded with her eyelashes.
Then the urgency was gone and she was back to her luscious self. She stood up, pressing on the inside of his leg as she raised herself, a motion that was terribly seductive.
Hector waited as she left. He needed to sit for a while, because his cock would make things uncomfortable.
Readjusting, he noticed something on his seat. Looking around to see if anyone was watching, he put it in his pocket.
He stood up and chatted with a few people, it couldn’t hurt to make acquaintances as a businessman even if he sold off Patty in the end.
Finding a corner, he checked his pocket. It was just a small plastic bag, with a pink square inside.
Having no idea what it was, he put it back in his pocket and went for another drink.
“You gotta keep ‘em down,” Nicomedes said to his group of friends, slurring his worlds. “On a leash.”
“But you can alert Ares.”
“Yeah, but who wants to pay 50 thousand every time? That’s not good for business, only for the corps. There are cheaper solutions, having them coming back for more, if you know what I mean, yeah?” he said in a disgusting way, grabbing his crotch.
Hector moved away. He found George. “Is it always like that?”
George glanced inside. “Pretty much.”
“Is it dangerous? Does shit happen?”
The tower of muscle nodded slowly. “Oh, shit happens all right.”
“Come over tomorrow morning,” Hector said, winking. “I’ll have something in your size.”
“Are you calling me fat?” George said, pissed off.
“No! Man, I just meant-”
He snorted. “I’m just messing with you. You seem like a cool guy.”
Hector’s heart still beat fast.
“Should’a seen your face.”
Hector laughed. “At least, that got me sober.”
DROP TWENTY-NINE
Hector lost his way again, then kinda sorta found it. He followed the sounds of lovely voices to the gynaeconitis. This time, he stayed in the corridor and waited for Patty. The ladies inside showered, tended to their cuts and laughed with each other.
Both teams.
You couldn’t really tell that half an hour ago they were attempting to smash each other’s face with foam weapons, and succeeding at the task.
A Pinup left the locker room with only a towel on, and blew a kiss towards Hector as she walked by.
“Hi,” he said, lamely.
Gods, he was grinning like a teenager.
“Pickle?” he said loudly, trying to be heard over the ruckus.
“What?” her voice came from inside.
“How long?”
“Ten minutes. No, make that twenty.”
Okay, he could hang around for twenty more minutes. Oh, he could find Cherry! He loaded the app and searched for her. It didn’t give her whereabouts like when he owned a girl, but the fans were disgusting and posted photos of everything.
Everything.
Hector covered the display with his hand. Realising that that was stupid and pointless, since the ARO was projected into his eyeball, he swiped it away and set up parameters.
Now the app was somewhat useable. Oh, there was a lot of smut still, you couldn’t avoid it, but it was manageable.
He read a post about Cherry getting in chats with the Pinup Girls. Their boss.
He thought about it. Yeah, she was pretty enough to make the cut. Less armour, hair extensions, more makeup. Those would be Nicomedes’ terms, he was certain.
And that would end her athletic career, from stupid injuries that would pile up, until she would be sold off for nothing, trashed, unable to pay off her debt.
Hector felt a lump in his throat. He repeated Patty’s words to himself out loud in an effort to really drill them in. “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.”
Yeah. She was right. He could hardly keep his own business afloat, let alone start a charity for poor, sexy, slave girls.
“I wonder what’s down this corridor,” he said out loud and went exploring.
DROP THIRTY
In the VIP bathroom, which he was happy to discover he had access to, he heard sounds.
Intimate sounds.
Ready to just hold it in, step backwards and leave them to their carnal desires, he heard a voice.
“You want the contract, you tight little cunt? Then open your pretty mouth and suck it. And you better be good at it.”
That disgusting, annoying voice.
Hector shut his eyes tight, shook his head, balled his fists.
No. Slap on the ass, fine. Should have been a sexual harassment lawsuit, but what the hell. Being an asshole to the staff? Comes with the territory of being a rich asshole. But asking for this?
No.
Whimpering. A slap. Sniffling. Another slap. Muffled whining, and choking sounds. Male grunts.
He stepped inside the toilets, walking in deliberate strides. They were clean, modern, with fancy soap bars from places like Maldives and Peru.
“What the fuck are you doing here-”
He shoved the soap bars into Nicomedes’ mouth. Then he kicked him in the balls, which were exposed out in the open, anyway.
Cherry seemed shocked, covering her face, down on her knees. She wiped the edge of her mouth and yelped something incoherent.
Hector muffled the fucker’s face and kept it pressed on the expensive bathroom tile.
Nicomedes brought out a knife out of nowhere and stabbed him right on the lung. It didn’t penetrate.
Hector slapped it away, disarming him. It clanged on the floor. He turned to the crying Cherry, smiled softly, and said as if this was a casual evening encounter, “Are you sure you want this person to be your owner?”
DROP THIRTY-ONE
“I told you not to get involved!” Patty said, her hands in the ‘I can’t fucking believe you’ pose at each side of her head.
“You did.”
“I said just that! My exact words.”
Hector sniffed. “Yes.”
“And what did you do?”
“I got involved.”
“You got fucking involved! Genius.”
“Pickle, I-”
“Don’t call me that!”
“Why not? You’re bitter and edible.”
She raised an angry finger at him. “Not helping your case right now.”
They stopped their exchange, both thinking of the consequences. They were out at Poseidonos Avenue, resting on the side of the truck, watching the sea.
“He’s a powerful man, you know.”
“No powerful man throws his weight around on women.”
She eyed him hard, squinting.
“You know what I mean. Eat your fucking gyro. Is it good?”
“It’s amazing.”
“Gyro with pickles. Blergh!”
“Shuddup.”
“Mine is edible, at least.”
“Stop whining, it’s like being in the gynaeconitis again,” she said.
“I’m forgetting something.”
“Your sense of reason.”
He fished the pink square from his pocket, held the plastic bag up in the light. It was weird, a transparent pink square, bendy, with neat rows of tiny thorns on it from the same material. Smaller than the surface of his fingernail.
“Where the hell did you get that?”
“You know what it
is?”
“Yeah! It’s drugs.”
“A-ha!” He slapped the bag on his palm. “Why would Mamacita give me drugs?”
“Perhaps she’s a drug dealer,” Patty suggested, shrugging. She took another bite.
“No, it was... something more.”
“Oh, I know what you think it was-”
“Not that. For a moment, she seemed scared.”
“You’re a scary dude. You should shave off the beard,” she said, her lips dripping with sarcasm and pickle juice.
Hector tsked.
Patty munched on her pickle-gyro, grinning at him.
The waves crashed on the breakers.
DROP THIRTY-TWO
“Hi, I’m Violator, big fan of yours,” he said, giddy with excitement.
Patty raised an eyebrow.
“His name is Tony. He has trouble differentiating between the real world and the virtual one,” Hector explained, offering drinks for everyone.
“Allow me,” Patty said, touching Hector’s arm. “Always happy to meet a fan,” she smiled at the hacker.
“Good to see you’re awake. Um, not that I stared while you were passed out or anything.” Tony fumbled with his words. “It was just a quick selfie.”
“Oh, my gods, stop talking,” Hector said. He bounced the bag with the square thing across the table to him. “Tell me what this is.”
“Niiice!” Tony said and with a twist, he tore the bag and slapped the pink square on his neck.
Hector was shocked. “What the fuck are you doing? That could be anything, you idiot!”
Tony sniffed. “Nah, it’s the good stuff, top shelf. Goes right where it needs to through transdermal microneedles. Instant addiction.” He pointed at the patch on his neck.
“Stop doing drugs in my house,” Hector deadpanned.
“You gave them to me!” he complained. “Besides, it’s not just any drug, it’s endo.”
“Endo? Like what, endorphin?”
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