Pie Box 1

by George Saoulidis

Pickle turned her eyes to look at the blonde. Gods, she could barely keep them open. “That’s not the issue. Look, I have something in mind for the Pies. A... general plan, how they’ll look, how it’ll be for the girls. You’re just not a good fit. You’ll finish your contract, hopefully with a few wins under your belt, and then we both go our separate ways. You know, like professionals. Go, screw your boyfriend in the bathroom, don’t let me ruin the night for you.”

  Pickle finished her beer and stood up. “Beer’s on that guy over there, he said he liked my rack and wanted to buy me one,” she said, pointing at the guy in the back.

  “Okay,” the barman said, then smiled at Cadena like a teenager in love.

  “Hrmpf,” Pickle scoffed at the couple and turned to leave

  “Pickle! Don’t kick me out of the Pies!” Cadena shouted after her.

  Pickle just left the titty bar.

  DROP ONE HUNDRED EIGHT

  Gorgon looked prettier than ever, dressed in a Lana Choo dress that cost as much as a small apartment in Athens, and dolled up with professional bridal make-up. Her spine was still crooked and she knew she still looked like a disfigured witch, but a pretty one at least.

  One of the girls brought her some champagne and she wolfed it down.

  It was time for her reward.

  The mansion was packed, more than twenty girls huddled together and spoke in whispers. Mostly about her. She could see their jealous glances and their spiteful twitches of their snouts.

  Leontarius finally walked in the room. All eyes went on him, hungry, feral eyes. His entire pride, all two teams and a couple of stragglers he kept around for fun. He too was in his finest suit, his mane flowing as he moved purposefully towards her.

  Gorgon’s knees felt like jell-o.

  He was finally coming for her.

  Leontarius stood next to her and put his hand on her shoulder, standing tall. “Gorgon has pleased me significantly,” he announced to the room. The girls were all silent, shuffling around them. The Beasties fell on all fours and started to snarl. Those who could, wagged their tails.

  Gorgon turned red from embarrassment. She knew she was worth the praise, but it still made her wanna giggle like a teenage girl. She chocked it down of course. Nothing could ruin this for her, and she’d definitely not allow her own lack of comfort get in the way.

  Leontarius roared and all the women fell on all fours. Gorgon went for it as well, but he held her up by the shoulder. “The new team has proven its worth in a friendly match,” he said presenting them with an open palm. The Snarlies grunted and shoved each other in excitement, still on the ground, pushing each other with their heads. “Gorgon led them to that victory. And I’m certain she will lead them again in the qualifiers.”

  All of the girls roared at that.

  “My pride has grown large. Large enough that it needs a second female in charge.” Everybody’s eyes turned to Echidna, then darted back at Gorgon. “No,” he raised his enormous paw, “there will be no in-fighting in my pride. I will not allow it. The Beasties are all under Echidna, and now the Snarlies will be under Gorgon’s command.”

  The Snarlies turned their heads to Gorgon and bowed all the way to floor, their butts raised high.

  “Is that clear?” Leontarius roared and turned around to face everyone.

  The girls whimpered in unison.

  “Good. Now, let’s proceed.” He turned back to Gorgon and with a single movement tore her entire dress in two, letting her naked from one second to another. The cool air hit her pussy and made her tits pointy, but she didn’t cover up with her hands. She wasn’t wearing anything underneath.

  Leontarius paced around her, inspecting her broken body. She felt like crap. Once, she had been beautiful. Now, she was a crooked girl. Gorgon searched in the crowd of females. She met eyes with Echidna, who was licking her lips in expectation of the show. Echidna nodded in approval.

  Gorgon felt good at that. It was like a weight lifted off her shoulders.

  Then Leontarius grunted in approval and licked her face, messing up her makeup in the process. He pushed her down on the floor and she fell on all fours, opening her legs wide and allowing easy access to her pussy. Her hands sank in the lush carpet.

  She could hear Leontarius breathing hard behind her, his belt buckle clicking around as he took it off. Then she heard his pants sliding down. Gorgon looked around the room, every single woman and girl had her eyes on them, and they all looked excited. On all-fours, they tilted their heads to the side, waggled their waists, and some even rubbed their thighs with one another, like a bunch of bitches in heat.

  Gorgon didn’t care what they did. This was her moment, she was the centre of attention. She gripped the fibres of the expensive carpet and readied herself. Leontarius, her glorious, magnificent lion threw his shirt on the ground and then stepped behind her, his hands grabbing her ass. Gorgon heard footsteps and saw one of the needy girls, that cunt Scylla, coming in close in an attempt to help get him hard.

  Gorgon snarled at the needy cunt and she ran backwards to the circle, practically stumbling all over the place. Scylla hid behind the others, and Gorgon kept eyeing her as if she was gonna rip her throat out with her teeth.

  Leontarius mounted her from behind. Ready or not, he didn’t seem to care. He pushed his cock inside her and she moaned in pleasure. She was a bit wet from all the anticipation but truth be told, she could use a bit more foreplay.

  Nevermind that.

  She wasn’t stupid like the newbies, to bitch and moan when Leontarius gave his seed to her. No, she appreciated it deeply. Especially now, where he had no use for her on the field, when she was broken and pathetic and ugly.

  Leontarius pushed her head down and her face pressed upon the carpet. She was panting now, her breathing making the carpet fibres move like grass on a windy day. He was pounding her pussy now, being fully hard inside her and taking her with animal ferocity, grunting, mounting her. It hurt, but she decided to like it. He was hammering her, taking his entire manhood out and slamming it back into her with each thrust, making their flesh slap together. Her crooked spine compressed with each thrust and it hurt, a lot. This position wasn’t the best with her injury, it was terribly uncomfortable for her, but she wasn’t gonna complain.

  And she definitely wasn’t gonna let any of the others finish him off tonight.

  Instead, she moaned, “Fuck me harder, Leontarius.”

  DROP ONE HUNDRED NINE

  “What sort of protection do you have around here?” Pickle asked, looking around, arms on her waist. They were down at the HPP store.

  “What do you mean? Everything in here is protection.” Hector said.

  She interrupted. “No, dummy. Guns. What do you have?”

  “I don’t own any guns,” he said simply.

  “Are you crazy? You’re a team owner and don’t own any guns? You live in the sleaziest part of town and you don’t own any guns? You have a shop and you don’t-”

  “Yeah, yeah, I got your argument. Again, no, I don’t own any guns.”

  “Have you ever used one?”

  “Well, I went hunting once with my cousin. Does that count?”

  “It would have, but I’m sure you didn’t stick with it.”

  “Not really, no.”

  “Okay, we need to get protection, like stat. I’d like a pistol for now.”

  “What will a pistol do? Everything in here can stop a pistol calibre. Heck, I’ve even made socks that can probably stop a bullet.”

  Pickle tsked. “Not everyone wears armour all the time. And marksmanship matters, to be honest. Anyway that’s what I need. I don’t trust you with a pistol since you don’t have the necessary training. How about a shotgun?”

  “I dunno.”

  “It’s perfect for you. You don’t even need to aim.”

  “Okay, but who will I be aiming at?”

  “Oh, sweetie...” she said with a nag, running her finger against the grain of his beard. “Nasty people, of c
ourse. The world is full of them.”

  The gun seller looked shocked to see them. “Hector? I didn’t expect to ever see you set foot in here again,” he said, and welcomed them in.

  Hector refused to shake his hand. Pickle tsked and shook the man’s hand warmly. “Hello, I’m...” She hesitated, then begrudgingly introduced herself. “Pickle Pie. Hector, no matter what he thinks, owns a Cyberpink team now.” She grabbed Hector by the elbow, he looked like he wanted to run away.

  The gun seller fixed his glasses. “Oh, really? I heard the rumours but I thought it was bollocks, really.”

  “You’re bollocks!” Hector snapped at him.

  Pickle rolled her eyes. “Seriously, now? What is it with you two?”

  “This piece of skata is selling guns to anyone who just waltzes in here! Do you know how many kids have died because of this asshole?”

  “Now, now, Hector. It’s just business. And, after all, what kind of work would you have if I wasn’t keeping up my own end of the deal?”

  “There’s no deal, you-” Hector pointed an angry finger at him.

  “Hey!” Pickle sliced the air between them with her hand. “Let’s do what we came here to do, and hope this handsome gentleman gives us a good price despite us yelling in his face.”

  “You should listen to your woman, Hector. She’s smart. Unlike you. Or, your pa.”

  Hector snapped at that and jumped over the bench. In an eye-blink, he was choking the life out of the gun-seller.

  Pickle froze for a second, trying to figure out what in Hades was happening. Then she grabbed Hector and pulled him away from the gun seller. “What the actual fuck, Hector? Outside, now!”

  Hector panted. “He...”

  “NOW!” She shouted and dragged him out of the gun store.

  She let him work out his frustration on a garbage bin for a while. He kicked it and it would definitely hurt afterwards, but she wasn’t feeling bad for him right this moment. He was acting so irrational. “Will you explain your behaviour back there?”

  “That British wanker...” Hector panted, propping himself up his knees, “is the reason why my father was killed.”

  Pickle’s anger evaporated. “Oh... I’m so sorry. You’ve never talked about that.”

  “Well, I prefer to drink away my pain. Ouzo helps.”

  “Oh, honey, it seriously does not. But, let’s not try to fix everything today. Why would you bring me here if you believe he’s the one responsible?”

  “Because he used to be best friends with my father. And he actually knows his thing. I just hate his guts and want to skullfuck the fucker, that’s all.”

  Pickle snorted and threw her arms in the air by the absurdity of the whole thing. “That’s all? Gee, why did I even worry in the first place?”

  “Well, I’m sorry.” Hector bobbed his head up and down, looking a bit calmer.

  Pickle shut her eyes. “Seriously, I’ve never seen you like this. Have you ever confronted him since your father’s death?”

  “No.”

  “That was my guess. Holy shit, this is heavy stuff. Okay. Can I go in and buy what we need, and you, I dunno, go...” She looked around. “Oh, nice. Go over there at that bar and have an ouzo or three. Okay? Can you release the funds?”

  Hector sighed. “Yeah, that’s better, I guess. How much do you need?”

  Pickle sucked in air through her teeth. “Hmm... About 1k?”

  “What the... Are guns that expensive?”

  “Well, yeah,” she shrugged. “Plus a hundred for ammo.”

  Hector opened up his veil and sent her 1500 euro. Then he took off without a word.

  Pickle stood there for a long moment, processing what had just happened. She had never imagined such an extreme reaction from Hector. If what he said was true, it was quite understandable. And she was certain the macho attitude he had of burying down emotions was just a volcanic explosion waiting to happen. Good thing she was here to help him avoid it, really.

  She went back inside with her most apologetic smile. “I’m so sorry, I had no idea this whole situation was so volatile.”

  The gun seller grunted and drank water. “I didn’t expect it either. We hadn’t seen each other in years, I never thought...” He rubbed his throat. “Nevermind. You said your name was Pickle?”

  “Yes,” she said, leaning to the side.

  “I’m Frank. Used to be mates with his pa. Raised the little twat on my lap, right here!” he pointed.

  Pickle really, really wanted to drop the issue. But she couldn’t, it was nagging her too much and this was a perfect opportunity. “And what happened? Hector never told me...”

  “Ah, it was... stupid and tragic. Do you really want to hear this sob story?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Huh. You really are good for him.” He checked her top to bottom. “He’d approve of you. Anyway, here it is: One night, a customer shows up in the middle of the night, bangs on the door, wants a special right then and there, you know. I open the security window, he tells me he wants a rifle that can shoot through the best of armours, right? I point him to a G36.”

  Pickle nodded. “AP rounds.”

  “You know your guns,” he said approvingly. “He throws cash my way, asks for a box of AP ammo, 100-mag each. What was I supposed to do? Things weren’t easy back then. I wasn’t going to suddenly grow a conscience and send a client away, was I? So, I sell him the rifle, and the mags.” His voice went quieter.

  “I’m so sorry,” Pickle said softly.

  Frank sniffled. “Next day, I hear about Troy’s place getting all shot up. I get the first pang in my chest, I swear it was like a heart attack, I could barely breathe but I soldier on, I run over there. I see the place torn up and I can tell, I can fucking tell from across the street, behind the police line, an officer pushing me back as I scream and try to get close, I can fucking tell they are 5.56 NATO rounds. I can just see it from the concrete holes.”

  Pickle teared up, closed her eyes. “I’m terribly sorry...”

  “And I realise, I’ve just killed my best mate. Might as well have pulled the trigger myself...”

  “No, no... It’s not your fault...” Pickle said, biting her lip and wiping her tears off.

  “Of course it is,” Frank said, frowning. He slapped his desk. “Now, what should I get you for protection, bird?”

  “I... uh, would like an M&P Shield,” she sniffled.

  “A bird that knows what she wants while shopping. That’s bloody rare,” Frank said and brought her the box with the brand new pistol.

  Pickle held it up, it was a stubby, large-grip pistol that had quite a punch. Smith & Wesson had done wonders with it, and Pickle had been itching for one for ages.

  “Yup, with your augmentation the large grip is better, good call, lady Pickle. And would you like it in green or red laser?”

  Pickle thought about it. Then she mentally slapped herself ‘cause it was never really a choice. “Green. Pickle green.”

  “A theme,” Frank mocked. “I love themes. They make people buy more custom stuff.”

  “You’re not really being a salesman here, Frank.”

  “Oh, shoo. You’re practically family now. Once Hector decides to start talking to me again without choking the life outta me.”

  Pickle’s eyes went wide. “Oh, no, we’re not together! I... Uh-”

  “Sure, sure. I believe you.” He winked theatrically. “And a box of 45 Auto ammo for you. Heck, I’m throwing in the extended grip mag, holds seven rounds instead of just six. On the house,” he said, grinning.

  “Thank you so much, Frank! As for Hector, I wanted to get him something too.”

  Frank winced. “Oh, no, he’s a terrible shot.”

  “I was thinking shotgun?” Pickle said, hesitating.

  “Hmm. Good call. Practically no aim required, and he wouldn’t shoot if you were in the line-of-fire. You know... You, being his woman and all.”

  She smiled but held firm. “Frank, I t
old you, I’m not.”

  “Okay, lady Pickle. Here’s a shotgun for you. It’s been refurbished by these weathered hands right ‘ere, it has a Frank guarantee. And shells, and it all comes up to 800 euro. Cool?”

  “Really? I was expecting more, to be honest.”

  Frank shrugged. “Family discount. And a thanks for using your superior lady strength to save my life back there. And for brightening up the place with your charm.”

  “You’re such a flirt!”

  “Only with birds that know how to handle themselves,” he winked at her.

  DROP ONE HUNDRED TEN

  Canvas showed up out of the blue and Hector had a mini heart-attack.

  He walked inside the shop, casually holding his high-tech rifle. He wore the armour Hector made for him, with patches of transparent material that attenuated his magnificent physique while still being able to stop large rounds.

  “Hey, Canvas!” Hector squeaked. “I didn’t expect to see you this soon!”

  “It’s been a month,” Canvas said simply. He leaned in into the display case, which squeaked under his weight.

  “Time flies. And with the new team, things have been crazy, you know? Expenses, things to take care of, forms to fill out, contracts, expenses, a ton of expenses. I’m tapped out, man,” he pleaded. Wincing, he braced for the inevitable tearing up of his shop.

  Canvas shrugged. “It’s okay,” he said solemnly. He was quiet, looking at his boots.

  “What’s wrong, man? Is Angelo okay?” Hector enquired about the man’s second lover.

  “He’s out of the ICU, but still recovering. Thank you for asking.”

  Okay, now Hector felt both weird and worried. “Canvas, I’ve never seen you like this. Is he in a bad shape?”

  Canvas’ mouth turned into a squiggly line. He gestured over his face. “He got some shrapnel in the face. Some nerves are shot, and the doctors say it will show, loss of expression. The scars can be covered up, but the nerve damage will definitely remain.” The giant mountain of muscle looked out the window, ready to cry.