Pie Box 1

by George Saoulidis

  “Nicomedes will claim it was a training accident. Nobody will say otherwise,” Patty said.

  “Well, fuck that! I will.”

  “As much as it pains me to say it, there’s nothing you can do for that particular girl anymore,” Patty said bitterly.

  Hector fumed and watched the disgusting owners going away with their sports cars. “Just save one,” he mumbled.

  “Um, Hector?” Tony said, hesitating.

  “What?” he snapped at him.

  “During the hack I saw Nicomedes’ finances. He went all out on this party, and he wasn’t rolling in it to begin with. Sure, he was rolling in pussy, but not in cash.”

  Hector turned to him and stared, eyes wide. “Tony, you sick fuck, for the first time in your life, your filthy mouth has uttered something useful.”

  The hacker shrugged. “Ugh... Thanks? I guess? Does that mean you’ll you call me Violator now?”

  Hector shook his head. “Never.”

  DROP SIXTY-THREE

  Upstairs, the mess had died down. George had shot the shit out of the machine of death that spat out ball-bearings, and he was now politely ushering owners out.

  Nicomedes stood in the mess of it all with his ridiculous pimp-suit.

  “Did you do this?” he hissed at Hector, pointing at the destroyed machine behind him.

  Hector acted shocked. “Me? I can’t even change my alarm clock’s music.”

  Nicomedes looked like a dog that just needed something to bite on. Hard. “I’ll find out who, and I’ll rip their dicks off with my bare hands!”

  “That’s, a) very disgusting, and b) very gay of you.” Hector tried to keep his expression flat.

  George snickered at that but he choked it down in an instant, and he carried on with his duties.

  “Shut the fuck up,” Nicomedes spat and kicked the remains of a table away.

  Mamacita loitered around, teasing the owners, having four of them following her around by an invisible leash. Hector could tell that she was keeping her head cool, distracting them from the mess and salvaging the remainder of the evening.

  Hector picked up the bottom of a broken glass. He let the silence wash the place away, and then said, “I bet you lost a lot of money tonight.”

  Nicomedes’ stare could bore holes in concrete. Like the ones from the ball bearings all around them.

  Hector just wanted to sock him in the face again. He thought about what just happened minutes ago, and steeled himself.

  He turned his gaze at the dead girl on the training floor. He wanted to do anything else, be anywhere else. He gulped and forced himself to look. Her pretty arms and legs splayed on the training mat, naked in a pool of her own blood. Her skull caved in for entertainment. He pulled his owner’s app:

  Name

  Ella Beinopoulos

  Alias

  Bella

  Strength

  1

  Speed

  1

  Strategy

  1

  Sexiness

  2

  Cup Size

  B

  Augmentations

  1%

  Team

  Pinup Girls (Trial Period)

  Position

  Qwik

  Wins

  0

  Losses

  2

  Income

  1500

  Sponsorships

  None

  She was cheap. That’s what the Fates had decided for her. Hector could follow the corporate thought processes that had placed this poor girl in this place, ending up dead on the floor, with nobody bothering to even deal with her body.

  Hector grabbed a fallen tablecloth from the ruined buffet and covered her up.

  Giving her a moment of silence, he prayed to Hephaistos.

  Then he went for the fucker responsible.

  Nicomedes was on the phone, trying to sort out the mess. Mamacita had escorted her gentlemen out and was orbiting around them. Hector could only notice her attention because he was looking for it.

  “Get off the phone, unless you’re calling the police and reporting this in.”

  Nicomedes covered the mic. “What the hell are you talking about? Are you nuts?” he whispered in anger.

  “I can speak louder, if you can’t hear me. There is a dead girl-”

  Nicomedes hung up and stopped him. “Stop. What do you want? Get out of here, party’s over.”

  “Oh, I can see that. My point exactly. I bet you had plenty of contracts lined up for tonight. Sponsorships, private dates with your girls, all that jazz.”

  “Indeed.”

  “So you must be strapped for cash, since you need to reschedule and salvage each and every one of the deals in the following days. This place can’t be cheap to maintain,” Hector said, looking around the joint.

  “Came to rub it in?”

  “On the contrary. I have 5k in cash right now. I want the paramone contracts for three of your girls. You need money. Seems like a deal to me. Or, I go straight to the police and contradict everything you fuckers claimed happened here tonight.” Hector said his piece and went silent. Silence was the best negotiating tactic.

  Nicomedes showed his teeth. They were sickly white, nothing natural about them. He then grunted and fumbled with his pockets. “I dunno... Three? For a measly 5k? Nah... You get one. An ugly one.” He turned to one of his men. “Hey, bring Kitty over here, right now. We’ve got an interested owner.” The man complied instantly and headed towards the gynaeconitis.

  “No, I want Cherry.”

  Nicomedes grinned. “Well, tough luck. You’re not getting her.”

  Mamacita approached and touched the man’s arm, pressing her breasts on his elbow. She drolled, “Nico, dear, I couldn’t help but overhead. You know I can’t stand her. Cherry’s so annoying, and her breasts are severely lacking.” She traced the curve of her own breast with her prosthetic finger.

  Nicomedes looked down at her bosom, mesmerised.

  She pressed on. “Why cover the inevitable cost of plastic surgery anyway? I’m not staying if she stays. Kick her out,” she scoffed, pulling away like a princess.

  Nicomedes looked like someone had taken away his action figure. “Urgh. Fine, you can have her. Five grand, right now.”

  Hector looked at Mamacita. She winked at him. He shook the man’s hand. “Deal.”

  Nicomedes grinned. “Pleasure doing business with you, Hector.” He didn’t mean it.

  DROP SIXTY-FOUR

  Tony came over, carrying his soft drinks and a laptop.

  “I knew you wouldn’t have any proper drinks in the house so I brought my own,” he apologised to Patty who opened the door for him.

  She shrugged. “Come on in, set up on the table.”

  “This is gonna be monumental!” Tony said, excited. He downed a soft drink in one go and burped.

  Hector leaned back on his chair. “Why? We’re just signing a blockchain contract.”

  “Are you kidding me? My buddy, my personal friend, suddenly ending up with not one, but two Cyberpink girls? That-is-awesome!” he squealed, fists held high.

  Patty pushed him on the chair. It was just a poke, but he sat right away. “Tony, let’s get this over with. The faster Cherry can be rid of that disgusting bastard, the better.”

  “Right, Patty Roo, got it.” He chuckled. “Ha! Me and Patty Roo on a first name basis? Who would’a thunk it?”

  “Tony!”

  “Okay!” Tony cracked his fingers. “Hector, give me the ownership hash, if you please...”

  Hector did so. This was indeed quite important, despite his attempts to play it cool. He drank some ouzo and waited, tapping his foot.

  “Right... Contract sent, let’s wait for confirmations. Two, five, eleven confirmations. Escrow activated, your money goes poof. All done!” the pudgy hacker said, clapping his hands once.

  Patty visibly exhaled and sagged on the sofa. It was positioned facing away, so she couldn’t be seen from the
ir angle. Armadillo ran up to her and claimed his place on the sofa as well.

  “That’s it?” Hector asked.

  “That’s it. You are now the proud owner of not one, but two Cyberpink athletes. Fucking whoa, man! High-five!”

  Hector shook his head, but then said, “What the hell,” and high-fived, pushing back a grin.

  “There’s one last thing, though.” Tony flattened his lips.

  Hector leaned forward. “I don’t like this. What is it?”

  Tony spun the laptop towards him. “You gotta name your team!”

  Hector shook his head. “I don’t have a team.”

  “Doesn’t matter, the system requires a team name with ownership of two or more athletes. Doesn’t have to be an actual team on the roster and everything. Just name the team. Come on. This is big. Name the team.” He rubbed his hands together, his eyes glinting.

  Hector leaned back again and drank more ouzo. A team. A name. He hadn’t thought of that. Patty Roo, Cherry. He could just name them HPP and be done with it. But even he could see that the Cyberpink tournament was all about pizazz. Marketing. He needed something catchy.

  He scratched his chin. He needed a shave.

  “Can I change Patty’s name too?”

  She perked up at that, head popping into view. “My name? Why?”

  Tony pfted. “Sure. You’re the owner, you can do anything.”

  Hector held up the ouzo and pointed with the same index finger. “Okay, let’s try this: Rename Patty Roo to Pickle...”

  “Pickle? Why would you name me that?”

  “’Cause you’re sour and an acquired taste. But I like you.”

  She scoffed at that, mouth open.

  He turned back to Tony, “And name my team the Pies. That way, she’ll be known as Pickle Pie.” Hector presented the imaginary letters in the air with his hands.

  “Pies?” Patty spat out, climbing atop the sofa. “Pies?” Armadillo jumped next to her, looking around to see what all the fuss was about.

  “Yeah,” Hector shrugged and took another swig of ouzo. “That way we can attract food sponsors.”

  Patty looked like she was gonna blow a gasket. And in her case, that might literally happen, cyborg girl that she was. Her face went through a few expressions, settling on a wincing display of her teeth. She squealed, spitting out every syllable, “That’s... the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard!”

  End of Book 1

  Cherry Pie

  Ver 2.1.2

  George Saoulidis

  DROP SIXTY-FIVE

  Cherry pulled her travel bag behind her and stood across the street of her new home. It said ‘HPP’ and it was just a storefront, with an attached apartment on top. She scrunched up her nose, thought about if for a second, then sat on her travel bag. She pulled out her drawing tablet and started sketching up the view.

  The armour store was in the middle, flanked by another business that custom-fitted armoured cars. On the right side it was a boot store. Nothing else, just boots. Kinky boots, leather boots, pleather boots in vibrant colours. Cherry drew it all: The customers walking past, chatting amongst themselves or with someone on the veil, checking out the stores’ windows. The owners’ silhouettes inside, barely visible from the glaring sun. The cars parked on the street, the streetlamps, the graffiti on the walls.

  This wasn’t a nice part of town. Just a couple of streets over Syggrou Avenue, the dead-end street where dreams go to die. Still, it felt nice for Cherry.

  Anything would feel nice compared to what she had before.

  Done with the establishing shot, she saved it and swiped the tablet clean, starting again on a detail. Hector was on his storefront, putting on armour on one of his mannequins. He hadn’t noticed her, and he was focused on his work, adept hands putting the various bits on the inanimate person and tightening them as they should be.

  Cherry drew it all. His focused expression, his dark hair, his eyes.

  Somebody called him from the back and he yelled something in reply. Cherry swiftly copied the sketch and switched to another panel, drawing his annoyed expression as he tilted his head back, his eyes still on his task.

  Patty appeared, and Cherry copied and switched to a new panel to include her in a double-shot. She drew her quickly from memory, strong, augmented, bossy. Hector waved his hand away, seeming annoyed. She corrected him about something, leaning in to fix the armour so that it would get more light. He said something back, she raised her eyebrows. He nodded, apparently agreeing with her, begrudgingly so. Patty walked away, saying something Cherry couldn’t hear. Hector scowled and went on to dress his other mannequins.

  Cherry captured the entire exchange in an impromptu comic. She went through the entire thing, fixing a couple of rough edges, putting in slight finishing touches here and there, adding a bit of detail in the hands where it was needed. The hands were the most difficult things to draw, she had practised a lot, but it seemed it would never be enough.

  Satisfied with her comic, she took a look one more time. She imagined what the speech bubbles would say, and added them in. She knew Patty, but she hardly knew Hector, so she put her imagination to use. Rubbing her head and thinking about it for a minute, she took a mental step back. Well, their exchange was that of a long-time married couple. So, she had them speak as such.

  “Didn’t I tell you to place them under the light? How will the customers see them? Buy them?”

  “Don’t tell me what to do with my shop!”

  “I wouldn’t, if anybody ever came in here to buy anything.”

  “Grumble, grumble.”

  “What did you say?”

  “Nothing, Patty.”

  “Good. Well, now it looks okay. I’ll be doing the carpets upstairs.”

  Giggling all alone by herself, Cherry looked up. Hector was at the far back and she couldn’t see him anymore, not from this angle.

  How was she supposed to just walk in there? “Hi, I’m Cherry, I live here now, I guess?” And then she’d drop her bag in a corner?

  So stupid.

  This whole thing was stupid. This passerby was stupid. Yes, you, leave her alone. She thought she’d be out there fulfilling her dream by now, sketching along with the greats. Or, at least she’d have her own webcomic. But the training schedule for Cyberpink was insane, and injuries didn’t let her draw as much as she wanted to. Sure, she was quick, but blocking with your forearms meant your hands could barely function afterwards, let alone sketch.

  She pulled up the veil data for HPP. It was the same sort of business, renamed when Hector took over from his father. The same thing for like fifty years. Fifty years. Cherry couldn’t even imagine a length of time that long. Might as well be a century.

  Hector walked around the shop, searching for something in the various shelves. Hector, her new owner. The man who for all intents and purposes had power of life and death over her. He could track her, he could Tase her, he could dip into her salary, he could sell her off.

  But, he didn’t seem too keen to do any of that.

  Any other owner would have tracked her the minute after he purchased her, probably tasing her once just to get her to hurry up. Hector just called ahead and invited her over. Invited. Politely.

  Who, the fuck, was this guy?

  And Patty? She adored him. She’d never, ever, not ever admit it to him, but it was sooo obvious. She wouldn’t shut up about him when they talked with her. Hector does this, and Hector does that.

  Cherry stood up and huffed inside her hand, checking her breath. She needed a mint or something. Why was she nervous like this? It wasn’t like she hadn’t met the guy already, and she also had a friend there. No, it wasn’t worry. She just didn’t want to get her hopes up. She was certain that as soon as she got behind those doors, they would lock up behind her and the monster would emerge. The beast creeping inside every person that holds power over others.

  She knew it. It would happen. She was certain of it. It might be okay for a few days, heck, ev
en for a few months. But, the beast would emerge. Patty was wrong. No man was immune to it.

  Bracing herself for the worst, he pulled her travel bag behind her and walked towards her new home.

  Then she chickened out, stopped, and turned away.

  DROP SIXTY-SIX

  It was getting late. The doorbell rang, and Hector went to answer it.

  “Is it Cherry? Tell her I’ve been waiting for ages,” Pickle said, shouting across the rooms.

  Hector came back carrying a box. It was a cooler box from a local soft-drink brand, Lοux. “Nope, wasn’t her. A courier dropped this off, and...” he read the attached ARO object. “Oh, it’s for you, actually.” He slid it across the table towards her.

  Pickle perked up. “Me? Ooh! What is it?” She opened the cooler and found treasure inside. “Oh, by Athena’s tits, this is so awesome!” She popped one shaker open and held it up.

  Hector leaned in over the cooler, making a face. “What is it?”

  “It’s Pickle Juice Slushies! I had never even thought of that! It’s ingenious. Here, try it!” she pointed the straw towards him.

  He raised his palm. “Eww, no thanks. You can have my share.”

  Then she noticed the colour. “Ugh, I have a bad feeling about it.”

  “What?”

  “It’s yellow-green.”

  “So? It’s artificial colouring anyway.”

  “No, no, see, it’s far too diluted a colour to match up with a proper pickle brine.”

  Hector seemed amused and resigned. “What is the proper pickle brine?”

  She shrugged, eyes to the side. “Hm, something like a rich forest green. You know, pickle-like.”

  Hector didn’t seem impressed. He spoke with his tongue on the top of his mouth. “Uh-huh. Whatever. Are you gonna try it?”