“Eliminators?” Jenny asked as the man let go.
He groaned and with a quick wipe of his bald head said something under his breath. He then pulled out a pistol from a grungy bag that was slung over his shoulder. It looked like junk, cobbled together from parts collected around the wastelands.
“We don’t have time for this,” he said, shoving the gun’s grip at her. “Eliminators are raiders that trail behind a main attack group. Lucky for us there aren’t normally many of them. Their sole purpose is to eliminate any survivors that remain. Hence the name… got it?”
She nodded, raiders apparently quite a succinct culture. Taking the scrap pistol, she found it heavier than she was used to.
“You’re going to have to compensate for the heavier weight when you fire. Recoil on that one’s a pain, too,” the man said. “Now I saw that you can bust a knee wide open, but do you know how to kill? Because if you don’t, you’re going to have to learn really fast out there.”
“Of course I do,” she said defensively.
“Done it before then?”
“Y-yes,” she stammered. “Could take you out if I wanted to.”
The raider shook his head.
“Shit, city women are hardly killers, unless it’s over the latest handbag.”
Jenny’s mouth dropped at the insult, but then quickly snapped shut. She had a focused look in her eye as she raised the gun up, pointed in his direction, and fired.
BANG!
“Damn it woman!” he shouted. “Give me that back!”
“Believe me now?” she asked, holding the pistol out of his reach.
“What in the hell are you talking…” he replied, cut off by a loud thud.
Turning, he saw the body of an Eliminator on the ground. His face was hidden behind a crude metal helmet with a white snake painted on the side. In the center of his chest was bullet hole, torn clean through the thin leather armor.
“That would have hurt,” he said thankfully, spying a spiked mallet laid in the dirt just out of reach. “Guess I wasn’t completely insane trusting you. Nice shot.”
“That’s yet to be seen, but thank you.”
“Come on then,” he said, looking around before standing. He was tall, about ten centimeters more than she was. His broad shoulders were noticeable even in the coat.
“Why are you helping me?” she asked suspiciously, staying on the ground for the time being.
“No reason in particular,” he replied, still surveying the surroundings. The area looked clear, the Vipers obviously thinking they were good enough to only need one Eliminator. “But consider yourself a lucky damsel in distress that was saved because I was in the right place at the right time.”
“I happened to be doing fine.”
“Obviously, especially that moment you were about to run out into the blunt end of an Eliminator’s weapon while you were saving yourself.”
“I did get rid of the problem….” she drawled, hinging on each word for a name.
“You talk too much, woman, anyone ever tell you that?” he asked, lifting her to her feet. “Now let’s go.”
“People tell me that all the time, it’s just that I need to call you something… other than stranger,” she said during a quick dust-off. “And my name is Jenny, not ‘woman.’”
“Fine!” he shouted, already marching westward. He pulled a shotgun out of a scabbard on his back. “I go by Aftershock.”
“That’s your name? Why would anyone call themselves –”
“Enough!” he growled, slamming the barrel of the weapon into his palm.
Jenny smiled, but knew she better give it a rest before she pissed Aftershock off.
Even though it was her way of handling the situation, nearing a point of nervous laughter, she didn’t know if it was the best decision to head out into the wilds with this mysterious raider.
Trudging forward, something tugged at her, saying that she should try it alone. Another part forced her to carry on walking. Before long, the latter feeling won. Stowing her worries, she fell in behind Aftershock without a word, both disappearing into the dark and dangerous night.
THE SUN HAD fallen beyond the horizon for day to break across the Great Ocean that spanned the other side of the world, yet the sky above Diablo was still warmly ablaze from the city lights below.
Frost laid across his massive bed, wide awake as orange light from the windows danced across his eyes. Trying to get an early night’s sleep, that alone would have been enough of an annoyance, had his mind not already had him tossing and turning for the last hour. Still racing, his brain was mulling over every detail of things that had happened since morning. Those thoughts weren’t fueled by the guilt of hundreds of people losing their jobs – Frost had none – it was more about that damnable Winthrope and his ability to be a wrench in everyone’s plans but his own.
There must be a way of getting one up on you, Frost thought endlessly. Anything to get you out of my sight, permanently.
He devised many creative ways that it could be done…
However, each solution carried hefty legal ramifications…
Not that those ever stopped him from acting before…
It’s just that Winthrope was a well-known adversary…
Any actions would likely bankrupt him to cover up…
Unless…
“Damn you, Jesse!” Frost yelled, the onslaught of thoughts overwhelming.
Kicking off the comforter he sat upright. Cursing more, his chest heaved, slick with streaks of restless sweat. Winthrope aside, all he wanted to do was sleep, but listening to the sounds of light rain worked up an urge to piss, in turn forcing him out of bed. His large, grumbling, and naked body lumbered past a murky field of flamboyant decor and drizzling glass into the bathroom.
After a few relieving minutes, Frost reemerged. Placing a forearm on the glass, he looked out at the evening cityscape, breath fogging the view.
Bathed in light, the aesthetic strength of his body was displayed and he felt though Winthrope was a good man, he was a great one amongst the common men below. Powerful legs like tree trunks supported him, rising to a formidable torso that was capped by his square chest. Flaring outward, his back and broad shoulders were like wings while his arms symbolized authority with their sheer size.
Frost was also tattooed, a fact hidden from most everyone beneath the flamboyant fashions society dictated. He always thought it hypocritical that clothing was made to enchant the senses and engage wearer and onlooker alike, whereas tattoos – designed to do the same – were frowned upon with the same level of aversion as a leper. The designs adorning Frost were unique, splitting his body from the neck down with swirls of green, red, and blue. It was a perfect reflection of his soul, divided in conflict between nobleman and raider.
Admiring himself for a moment, Frost reflected on his visits to the crooked ‘gun town’ of Bala. He and his cronies went there often to trade in weapons and powders, but also spent time getting tattooed in secret by a former ravager from the Devil Dogs. Paying a hefty price to keep the artist’s mouth shut, the intricate work continued for months. The day it was completed, the tattooist vanished, never to be seen again.
Frost smirked at the thought of the missing artist, passing a hand down the middle of his torso.
Some in the city would think him no better than a criminal despite his accomplishments, simply because of his marked skin. Those people were dealt with swiftly and the cultural taboo was kept at bay through sheer ruthlessness.
Frost’s hand passed his belly button on a mission, continuing down along a sweeping line on his waist.
“Those people down there need better leadership,” he muttered. “Someone to command peace and usher it in across this wretched city and beyond.”
By now, Frost’s ego and more had swelled, the latter needing some tending to.
“Aero!” Frost shouted without a second thought. “I need a drink, now!”
“Yes, Master,” Aero answered and wit
hin a few seconds had appeared in the doorway, carrying a small glass of clear liquid with a hint of yellow. The bot was wearing a pair of briefs, dark and form fitting, that hugged his well-crafted curves.
Frost took the glass, passed it beneath his nose, and inhaled. There was a hint of sweetness tucked in amongst the floral notes.
“What is this?” Frost asked, taking a commanding sip.
“The wine?” Aero asked. “Highland Rambutan, as always, sir.”
“No,” said Frost seriously. “Not the wine. What is this?”
A finger hooked Aero’s briefs at the waist, tugging them nearly to the point of ripping. Frost’s eyes fell into the gap, looking at what the fabric had been covering.
“These were amongst the collection of attire that arrived with me from the factory,” Aero said. He was trying to hide the caution in his voice. “Do you not like them? I thought that I…”
“Did I tell you to wear them?”
Frost released his finger and there was a loud snap.
“No, but since they were…”
“Take them off.”
Aero hesitated, then started to turn around.
“Facing me,” Frost insisted.
Aero looked away; if he weren’t a machine one might think with embarrassment.
“Take… them… off,” Frost said with another drink.
Aero slid his hands beneath the fabric and began to pull the briefs down his thighs, the front straining and shifting until, heavily swinging, its contents were freed.
“Is this better?” Aero asked rather innocently, though his body was made for anything but.
Frost stepped up to him, took his glass of wine, and poured a good portion of it at the base of Aero’s neck. It pooled before running over and down the bot’s smooth chest; something similar happening below Frost’s own waist.
Lucas stopped the wine with his tongue, cleaning his mess in one, long pass. He didn’t stop there, continuing up Aero’s neck all the way to his lips.
“Does that answer your question?” Lucas asked.
Aero nodded.
“Good. Now, you know the price of making me unhappy, don’t you Aaron?”
“Yes,” Aero replied, visibly perturbed by that moniker.
Frost certainly noticed and it maddened him.
Recently, things had become worse and Frost started to regret the decision to make Aero so autonomously aware. At first he thought it would be a good idea, adding to his previous connection with his former lover. Instead, the avatar grew more dissociated from the name, preposterously considering itself a ‘unique individual.’ Even for Frost – the epitome of social renegade – that sort of thing was unacceptable. A programming downgrade was on the horizon, Frost keeping that a well-kept secret.
“In that case, bend over,” Frost said. His eyes narrowed, unforgiving in their gaze.
Aero did as he was told. Facing the window, he leaned over and placed his hands on the sill.
Frost came up behind, sliding himself between Aero’s buttocks. He smacked them a couple times before grabbing hold, grinding the entire time.
“There we go, Aaron,” he moaned, pulling back to get a full view. His heart beat heavy between breaths as he said, “Your body… so flawless… so mine.”
Finishing what was left of the wine, Frost threw the empty glass on the bed. It bounced a few times then rolled off the other side, ending with a shatter. Unbothered, he swallowed, then lubed up his fingers with spit. Circling Aero’s perfect hole, two fingers teased before slipping inside, working the area until it was slick and Lucas was rigid.
“So tight,” Lucas muttered, grabbing both of Aero’s hips. “I’m not going to make this easy on you, even if you do everything I want.”
Positioning himself tip to luscious brink, Lucas, unyielding, pushed forward. Warmth enrobed his head, inching toward the base until he could go no further. There he paused, fully enveloped, as Aero countered with his own skills.
Gentle waves began to roll down Lucas’ shaft, sending his eyes for a second to the back of his head. He wanted to stay put – Aero’s kneading felt impossibly fantastic – but the urge to pull back overcame him, the combination of pleasure, heat, and motion blissfully unbearable as Aero worked to keep him locked inside.
Lucas finally drew his way out, throbbing and wet. He looked out across the city then down to his swollen self as Aero turned around, his immaculate torso gleaming, along with a piercing blue stare beneath his tufts of light hair. A hand came and latched on to Lucas, twisting and vibrating as only a bot could to milk more intense pleasure out of his rod.
“D-dammit!” Lucas bellowed, legs buckling as a tremble traversed his spine.
He wasn’t about to succumb.
Grabbing hold of Aero’s thighs, he plunged back in, mercilessly pounding until the bot released his hold.
“Thought you’d get me?” Lucas asked through gritted teeth, letting out a beastly growl.
He grabbed hold of Aero’s hair with one hand, the other rubbing against his hard abs before gripping Aero’s shaft. Using the added leverage, Lucas plowed him until a storm of sweat was flying from his hair and down his back. It was such a turn on: Aero there, unable to move; not only impaled but held firm.
Lucas was getting close to climax; he loved control, reveling in it like the deviant acts he performed behind closed doors. Taking a long look back out the window, the lights glinted in his golden eye and he was unable to hold back any longer.
Spilling into Aero, the floor became white with the overflow, yet Frost continued to churn, whipped into a feverish frenzy that would only stop when he was ready and that would be once he had what he wanted.
Aero was already his, a toy and a slave to his desires. Soon, Diablo would be too.
JENNY CHECKED THE time, her pocket watch indicating it was coming up on ten o’clock. That meant she was only an hour and a half into this ill-advised trek with Aftershock across the wastes. With aching feet and mounting regret she looked out at the surrounding vista. Lit by the cold moon, the plains were an endless and uninviting sea of soil, except for an area of eerie orange that glowed like a warm fire burning in a distant hearth.
“The Gulch?” Jenny asked, trying to regain her bearings.
“Yes,” Aftershock said bluntly. He didn’t even look, having seen many sights like it before. “If you knew anyone there, you best pray they met a swift end. But there’s no sense in dwelling on that right now. We still have a way to go, so come on, this way.”
Jenny had no idea where Aftershock was taking her, but nevertheless after wiping a stray tear from her cheek, she turned away from the past and continued toward an uncertain future.
The duo carried on, turning slightly north. They passed oddly shaped cacti that seemed to move on their own and stunted bushes that studded the landscape along the way, creatures watching intently from within their tangled branches. Eventually the soil hardened and cracks formed in what was once a shallow lake. The walk became less uncomfortable, for a little while at least.
Aftershock marched on through the shifting terrain, confident though Jenny was utterly lost. He doubled back a couple of times as a precaution, feeling like probing eyes were on them from the dark, but thankfully everything remained serene.
Hours later the land rose steadily, peaking with another stretch of pathless wasteland. This area differed from that near the Gulch, the barren soil now patched with tussock grasses and leafy bushes between large rock formations. In the distance, Jenny could make out what looked like the crests of hills, gentle and rolling like a soft pillow beneath the broad smattering of stars. Her mind was drifting, set upon sleep no matter how restless it would be out in the wilds.
“That’s our destination,” Aftershock said, pointing toward the dim ripples on the horizon. “We should reach it in a couple more hours.”
“Finally,” Jenny said aloud, but meaning to keep the sentiment to herself she quickly looked over to Aftershock, expecting some chastising words
.
He paid her no mind, assessing what lied in store before hiking once more with purpose toward the landmark. His estimate was not far off and after a little less than two hours of ground plodding by underfoot, they had reached the base of the dark hills.
They rose taller than Jenny expected and were far less rocky, lined with naked trees whose bark glowed in part under the pallid light. There was also a narrow path hugging the hillside, easily missed. Aftershock followed it, winding upwards in a curving, narrow channel until it widened into a flat area at the crest of a northern peak. To their left was the entrance to a small cave, hewn into the rock by tools if the scalloped edges were any indication. In front of the hollow was a circular ring of rocks, riddled with pieces of ashen wood while far ahead, to the right, and behind, the hill crest afforded a wide view of the surrounding lands. It was obscured only to the south, where more hills and rocks created a defensive barrier.
“We’ll make camp here,” Aftershock said, inelegantly fishing out a few small supplies from his bag before shoving his gas mask inside.
Walking over to the hollow, he took off his jacket and tossed it on the ground, rolling a large rock that was against the back wall out of the way. Behind it was a hidden recess where a few more items had been stowed.
“Do you need any help?” Jenny asked wearily.
Aftershock shook his head.
“No I should be all right,” he said. “You’re exhausted and I’ve done this so many times it’s second nature, even with a new moon.”
Not wasting the chance for rest, Jenny yawned and found a stony spot to sit down. Her feet throbbed and for some reason her shoulder did, too. Removing her head gear, she set it off to the side and shook out her frizzy hair, betting she looked frightful.
Aftershock was too busy to notice, having set out an array of things for camp. Before starting any work though, he walked over to her, holding out a beat-up canteen.
“There’s not much left in this one, but it should quench your thirst for the time being. If you need more, I have a waterskin back in the cave.”
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