Vosk!Night Runner (Anthro, action, unusual anatomy) CP1-3

Tight corridors of shelved crates lined the warehouse, bullets and danger alike zipped across them Vrost ducking only to fire back with his side arm and attempt to take cover. “Everything has gone to shit, kids.” He grunted into a comm channel with the rest of his team, they chattered back their own regrets. The whole mission was slipping out of their hands.

They’d been sent to this corporate holding facility to hack and retrieve files; it wasn’t a particularly dangerous or difficult sounding job from where Vrost stood accepting. It was almost embarrassing to think how wrong that initial appraisal of the job was from where he sat between two rows of storage, failed and top-secret tech lining them.

“Why are there so many agents here?” Vrost wondered, ducking his head, and firing several rounds down the lanes from his 603 Avalanche it fired off in quick bursts, pop-pop-pop, crackling toward their almost unseen targets, to a smaller man or woman the 603 would have taken both hands, but large and strong as Vrost stood he could heft it in a single hand. He hid between ends, bullets ricocheting off steel shelves, server bays, tech, barrels and otherwise, a splash of sparks danced through the hall obscuring his advance further up.

He heard a grunt, one of his bullets must have hit true, delivered to the chest of a corpo guard that had been waiting for them to arrive. “I’m not sure, but we better get out of here. Quick!” a member of the team agreed over the comms.

Vrost slid forward and took cover yet again, crackling electricity and steam filling his vision for a moment as an agent let off a series of small arms fire on his position. Bullets pinged off cover, riddled steel, but for now Vrost was safe, he thought.

--that is, until. . .

From above a canister marked with redacted paperworks and warning labels aplenty a green gaseous glow began to seep. A hail of bullets and destructive force blasted Vrost from under with such power he felt his body fold and take flighty, a concussive grenade detonating too close to him for anyone to expect his well being. . .

“Shit! Vrost is down!” was all he heard before the glowing green drum above smashed down next to him. His vision blurred and he fell limp on the ground as the green glow enveloped his otherwise annihilated body.

--

Waking up was never easy for Vrost, but he snapped to attention on a gurney back in the hideout, darkness surrounded him but he could still see in clear definition, he looked down at his thick, strong arms and found them. . . relatively unharmed, he grabbed his legs to ensure they were in tact too, pressing his fingers into his thighs and knee caps, he patted his stomach and while his clothing was tattered and his tactical gear damaged beyond repair. . .

“I’m fine. . . I’m Okay, y’ah.” He grimaced, the last memory he had was of a grenade crackling ordinance all around him, explosive energy, and shrapnel in every direction, he felt his entire body thrown with that violence. . . and yet, he hardly had a scratch on him as far as he could tell. He had no explanation for what had brought him back here, though he imagined his fellow runners must have extracted him after the blast. . ? That still didn’t quite explain what had happened.

The mission was supposed to be easy, there should not have been so much corporate paramilitary presence, what were they guarding? Vrost thought to himself, standing off the cot he’d sat up on, the room was cold and dark, nobody was watching him, it seemed nobody was even here. He wasn’t sure why they’d leave him. . . he wanted answers.

Surrounded by darkness, steel grates and ramshackle tech in an old, abandoned building, Vrost felt more exposed than he ever had in the hideout. Something had gone wrong, and he needed to know what, why, all the w’s.

He stood and padded across dirty, mismatched floor of the room to a polished steel mirror with a sink beneath, it was then he saw it, saw he was in fact left changed by the blast. . . by something. He had to double take at himself, covering his face in shock and looking away from the mirror, he could feel it though. He could feel the ridges of an awful scar up one side of his face, feel his eye, strained open and covered with an emerald, jagged surface “What the hell is this?!” He exclaimed, looking himself in the dirty, polished steel again.

. . . it was a horrid sight. He examined it as close as he could in the mirror, stifling a yelp, what had happened to him? It didn’t hurt but it looked like it should, it was the same offsetting green as the gaseous materials that surrounded him. . . it was not of his creation, this was something else, this was advanced technology. Vrost looked closer, examining himself one last time in the mirror, trying to make it make sense. Trying to piece together what had happened to him.

Thunk-thunk-thunk, his heavy footfalls clambered back out of the small room he’d woke in and into the mess hall of their hideout, hoping to find his companions, hoping maybe they’d be able to assist in putting the pieces back together for him.

Only for a sudden crash to ring out and with it a large red woman appeared.

“Eyes on target,” she said without skipping a beat. Between Vrost and the woman there was a sea of mess to defend himself with, tables and benches, the hall an old cafeteria they’d repurposed, crafting workshops and arrays of computer screens to one side of the spacious room; the body of seating, and an on the side closest to his assailant, there was the entrance way and serving counter that was all but abandoned, covered with dust and grime from years of disuse. The Big red woman with short snout and long, flowing hair barrelled over a serving table – the glass atop it crunches under her mass.

She was huge, almost as big as him, in fact, wrapped in muscle and sporting a long whippy tail that balanced her unpredictably fast charge toward him. In an attempt to defend himself before she reached him, Vrost upturned a table with impressive strength, the benches attached flying this way and that, he caught one in the tumultuous act, dusty air filling his vision, but he could still hear her coming, hear her closing the meters between them. He threw the bench at her with both hands, “Rauh!” trying to slow her down so he could find his 603!

Vraska cared not, she collected all her strength and as the steel bench flew toward her from Vrost’s hands she raised her armoured forearms and it crashed into her, wrapping around her body only to be tossed aside carelessly. It did slow her down, but not enough time was bought to ensure Vrost could arm himself otherwise.

Crashing over the tables and benches, one graceful yet brutish bound at a time, the red furred woman in an armoured one piece nearly reached him before he tossed yet another obstruction in her direction. Vrost launched himself backward and to the side, toward the back of the room, throwing benches and tables in the way every chance he could, turning over a shelving unit of plates and glassware even. “Hey! What do you want?” Vrost tried to reason with her before diving toward the crafting station where he might find something better to defend himself than a shelf!

“You’re in possession of my client’s property runner, and I’ve come to collect!”

Vrost could only think to the eye, the tech that had no doubt saved his life after the blast, but it still didn’t quite make sense, none of this did – dammit!

Or was she talking about the target? –he was unsure of the success or failure of the mission after all, for all he knew his partners were cashing in right now. . . or laying low somewhere else. Had he been double crossed?

One of the cat’s clawed hands rushed toward him just as he pulled a steel pipe from the wall and swung it in Vraska’s direction with all his might, there was no time to think now. She crumpled around the pipe with a gasp for breath only to crash into him off her balance.

The two careened into the ground, grappling with each other in violent reverse, more dust and junk flying in all directions from the fight. Fists flung and the two found themselves near evenly matched, each crushing blow met with an opposite, though slowly the large, red woman, started to catch his hands with her own, deflect and guard, the clenched struggled finally breaking.

Vrost scampered backwards on his tail, hands and legs, his lip bleeding from a strike, his knuckles bloodied, his body strained. Vraska looked no differently, a few welts, a tear across her one-piece suit where her breast nearly popped free – a drop of blood over her left eye. . .

Vraska knew if she didn’t keep on him, she’d never complete her mission, if she didn’t keep on him – he’d gain the upper hand, fighting against nanites was a losing battle! Vrost however was yet to understand the capabilities of his newfound friends, of his glowing green eye and the control centre it represented. He did however witness the first sign of evidence that began to tie the confusion together, to resolve his questions. He could hardly believe his eye.

RESTORING MINOR ABBRAISONS AND BRUISING. . . NANITE MASS 97%

The words flashed across his field of view clear as day, he could read them, without reading them, understand them without explanation, he felt them just as much as he saw them. . . but he did indeed see them too, see them stitching the wounds on his knuckles back together, they glowed green and knitted his flesh like fabric, no scars or pain left behind where there was once small, superficial damages.

“Shit!” Vraska gasped, witnessing the nanites at work, restoring his body like they had back at her client’s warehouse. She’d been there, she saw it all go down. Saw the barrel of nanites fall from above the hench sawfish and all but eat him alive – or that was how it looked. The nanites had filled his wounds and replaced his eye entirely, had rebuilt him from a shorn, destroyed body blown halfway down range from the grenade she threw.

This was her doing, Vrost was a monster she’d created.

before her and her unit could stop it though, Vrost’s team had extracted him. They couldn’t get close enough lest they too be exposed to the experimental tech, or the hail of covering fire that had protected their retreat. No side won that night. . . but how long had it been since? He wondered.

More questions climbed up the back of his mind as several were answered.

Vrost tried desperately to control, to act, to do SOMETHING with his newfound power, they couldn’t only be for regenerative powers, could they? “Do something!” He shouted as Vraska assaulted him once again, grunting and shouting commands, flexing her bulging muscles, her fists flying erratically at her adversary.

“I don’t want to hurt you!” She shouted, “I just want the tech back,” mostly true.

Far from agreeable to her terms, since she was already trying to hurt him, he defended himself, throwing back the odd fist while attempting to take charge of his nanites. To use them for something other than healing!

NANITE MASS: 95%
IMMEDIATE ACTION(S):
>RESTRAIN
>SUBDUE
>CONTROL
>DESTROY. . .

The information appearing before his eyes he, in panic blinked “Subdue!” and a sudden green flash overtook his vision. An alien green glow burst from his eye and scanned through the room, soon a gaseous cloud buzzed forth. . . or what he now knew to be, his nanites.

In a panic, the red woman tried to avoid the cloud buzzing toward her, turning face only to stop dead in her tracks as it overtook her! She fell out flat for a moment, twitching on the ground after the initial crash. He could only blink, her body glowing a little. . . green.

Had it worked?

NANITE MASS: 89%
TARGET SUBDUED, AWAITING FURTHER INSTRUCTIONS. . .

Vrost then knew it had, he slowly approached her and slid her over onto her back, Vraska looking up at him nearly paralyzed, though she could speak “I have to hand it to you, I thought you were just another shit stain runner. . . but you’re more than that, aren’t you?” Vraska grimaced. “You practically took down my team by your damn self, got away with the goods and your buddies are at large. . . now this.” Gulping, “Well, do your worst then, --finish me off.” It sounded like a demand just as much as a bitter end for her. She admired her enemy and he’d gotten the drop on her.

--there was some honour in this corpo’s head, though she was wrong. Vrost had no intentions of killing her. “What do you mean, my buddies?” not quite understanding, “At large?”

“They got away –you took the heat off them with the nanites after the blast. Stitchin’ yourself back together and mind-draining my men, the nanites must have gone haywire and put you in overdrive. . . anyway. That tech you were after is no joke! You’re in over your head here, Vrost.” More questions! More damn questions! He didn’t know how to parse her words even if he understood it made no sense.

Vrost approached Red and knelt over her subdued body, she was half-way nude, her one piece damaged, a round handful of a breast hanging out. . . he didn’t quite react to that.

“-moreover, the tech in your head. . . is no joke.” She interrupted Vrost’s clueless thoughts, trying to fight against the nanites seeping into her mind but she could already feel their side effects taking hole, feel herself becoming more and more agreeable, pliable. She didn’t want to hurt Vrost, she wanted to help him. . . she needed to, to help herself. . . if she didn’t get the tech back her men were lost for nothing and her contracts would be burned, her reputation meaningless. . . the corpo merc’s fate might very well have rested in Vrost’s ability to track down the people she believed crossed him from the fixer to his partners. “Let me help you Vrost, I can get you out of this mess!”

“You were just trying to kill me; I don’t even know your name. . .” Vrost complained, ready to strike if he needed to, if Vraska tried anything, he wasn’t sure she even could still subdued.

“Vraska, you can call me Red.” She looked up at him earnestly, almost too friendly for the circumstance.

Vrost reached down to her and offered his hand, offering to lift her up “Alright, but don’t try anything. . .” He says suspicious of her but willing to accept, they’re both in this together for now.

The connection came with no small response. A flash of green that he wasn’t sure of rippling over her skin. . . had he done this? Had he manipulated her into it? He didn’t quite mean to but, Vraska seemed different. From the moment his nanites had taken hold since he’d commanded them. He needed to learn more about them, about Vraska and more importantly about the tech his partners in crime had stolen. This was not a problem that he could solve by dispatching of Red and it was clear she felt the same. . .

--Vrost had spent the the better part of the afternoon cleaning up after their melee while Vraska quietly clicked away on computer terminals trying to sus out the location of their targets. . . people he thought were his friends, at least his partners.

They ate and spoke more, more about her client and their tech. . . about mind control.

There was an elephant in the room that Vraska didn’t seem to see at all that Vrost was starting to understand quite well. Vraska was under his control, to a degree. She was influenced by him, he knew this, he eyes flashed green when she opened her mouth to disagree, but always complicit words of encouragement came, she always agreed with him, to help him. . . by their second day together he was testing it at every turn, wondering just how far he could get away with. . . if he could bend Vraska without breaking her.

He wanted to know what he was capable of, the corpo client’s nanites were capable of more. But how much? Vraska was equal parts brutal as she was beautiful, she seemed kinder than her steel exterior let on, she seemed. . . lonely. Like years of corporate espionage and shadow ops had left her empty inside. A younger, less seasoned Vrost couldn’t relate but he felt like he wanted to help all the same, he felt like she could be more than this muscled husk, felt like she could be naturally warm, toward him and others.

They were getting along, in the hideout, and he knew she’d yet to cross him or more Corpos would be crawling around the place, her team would have come for him by now. . . she did however seem to be staring at him an awful lot, seem to express things just a tad bit differently than cold or the calculation of a corpo death dealer.

he's your type, isn’t he? A voice she didn’t quite recognize but also, felt familiar with came to mind. The Devil’s advocate, intrusive and idle. . . Do you think he’d be mad? -if you woke him. . . it continued, encouraging her in her bed, making her warm, making her wonder.

She shifted in the sheets, looking across the rows of cots they slept in. . . he was so close. Imagination running rampant, turning lustful where it wasn’t violent, she imagined them thrashing about on that small bunk. Just do it, what’s stopping you?
You know you’d like it; you know you want him. . .

Her hand made a curious journey, her other following, soon she was touching herself only to feel remarkably selfish, to feel even more lonesome, she growled lowly and made her mind up.

“Vrost. . .” he murmured something unintelligible from his slumber as the voice cracked through his closed eyes and tired mind. “Vrost. . !” It came again.

His eyes split and he looked over the side of his bed in the barracks where they slept while laying low, the hideout his and Red’s only safe home for now. She stood over the side of his bed, her eyes giving a small green flash before she settled down at its side. He noted her lack of clothing almost immediately, they’d repaired her armour – but it was hardly suitable for wearing casually. . . that said, they had found her clothes too.

“Hey,” He groaned up at her in confusion. “What’s up,”

“I jst. . . was thinking of you.” She admitted, “I can’t sleep.” Her eyes closing, she sat at the side of his cot, her hand on his thigh, they didn’t exactly have blankets in the safe house so he was dressed.

It was hard not to feel his bubble boiling with her large, rotund breasts hanging within reach on her barrel chest. He couldn’t quite make out her thighs in the low light but rather a small tuft of darker furr like her hair over her crotch. . . yes, indeed, she was not wearing any panties either.
NANITE MASS: 89%
IMMEDIATE ACTION(S):
>RELEASE
>CONTROL
>DESTROY. . .

No! – he thought, not wanting any of these options!

Vrost blinked, and suddenly the array of controls over his eye disappeared. He reached up for her to insist she didn’t need to do this, when their hands touched. . . a shock of green jolting out of him and into her, though she felt no pain, she felt no discouragement or even restraint, the hand on his thigh climbed to his groin. “Let me lay with you, Vrost. My bed is so lonely,” she all but begged him – he was in no position to turn her away either, feeling that boiling blood of his directed downward, feeling himself growing hard and erect in each of his hemipenes.

Like all the last few days it felt entirely out of his control. . . he felt it careening wildly toward uncontrollability for him, felt powerless to stop her from doing. . . doing something he wanted truly, just as much as her. He had some dubious amount of trouble admitting, Vraska had won a part of his desires as well. She was strong, capable, beautiful and “Ooaauh,” making him feel better, and better with every suggestive rub about his crotch. “Fuck it, -y’yah, lay with me Red.” He agreed, spreading his legs after pulling on his belt buckle and fly. . . he couldn’t undress fast enough for her, honestly.

His twin hemipenes sprung free, erect, and prepared for her enjoyment, for both of their enjoyment, gasped and bit on his lip as she “Omph,” sunk down on one with her open mouth and wrapped her hand around the other gently, but only so gentle. While she had never actually done this with a Sawfish one with similar anatomy, she seemed to know exactly what she was doing without. . . without knowing. “Slrpht, slp. . . slckt!” Wet sloppy noises of her ministrations echoing through the room.

It was all happening so fast he could hardly believe it but the signs were written on the wall, they’d been getting closer since they met, brushing hands, admiring one and other, not quite flirting but being more than kind. . . still, the skill with which Vraska worked him over was beyond impressive and the passion behind it was that of a lover’s not. . . whatever Vraska was. –a new companion? –A corpo assassin?

His webbed toes began to splay and curl, wriggling with excitement as he felt his pleasure mounting and his mind melting within it. He was forgetting all about the nanites and she apparently had long ago. It didn’t matter, she just wanted to please him, a feedback loop of pleasure between them starting to form, his desire to cum imparted into her desire to make him!

Suddenly he felt the first rope rush out and into Vraska’s mouth, a PVA-thick deluge of seed. “Glrkr-rggl-lrgpt!” She gagged and choked on the eruption, her eyes twitching slightly with surprise and bliss both as she attained the first goal in her attempts to please Vrost, to earn his trust and his side both, she wanted more from him and couldn’t help that, an unnamed, unseen voice in her mind reminding her, pulling her, encouraging her to act on her most base instincts, to act on Vrost’s erect manhood each.

She pulled back and another several ropes rushed out of his left penes, one across her chin and cheek, another over her collar and even splattering her breasts with his pent-up seed’s spray. She whined and released him on either side, panting heavily once she’d gulped down his handywork.

That, however, was simply not enough for her and he had one load left to shoot as far as she could tell. Licking her lips clean she climbed up over his body, straddling him, her mass making the bed wheeze and groan as she reached down between them and adjusted him. . . “Are you ready for this?” She asked him with a throaty, almost sultry voice, her cum-marked features lusting for him, he could tell she wanted nothing more than for him to bust inside.

The feline sunk down upon him once again, only this time it was not her hot, wet, mouth that enveloped him but rather her sopping pussy. She moaned low as his anatomy slowly urged up inside with her encouragement, Vrost taking charge of the situation just then. The larger man wrapped his arms around her and began to crunch, slow, but powerful thrusts inside.

“F-fuh, fuh’ssssth!” gasping and groaning, Red shook her head, laying atop Vrost with her legs up in the air and her pussy spread wide, gushing excitement with each laboured thrust the sawfish forced up into her body. “Y-you’re so big, Vrosssst! -auah-ha!” She cried out in unmistakeable bliss; he wanted her to want this truly but when she was fuck faced and airy voice? -crying out and shuddering with ecstasy? It was hard to imagine anything but earnest, honest, lust.

Reaching over body he roughly groped her chest, pinching one of her nubby nipples and nibbling on her shoulder with his sharp, rows of pearls. He roughly jabbed her, thrashing around in the bed like two quivering masses of pure pleasure till he could no more. Till his teeth sunk into her neck and shoulder in a silent plea for strength, a silent plea to hold out a little longer, a silent plea not to “Cummmm’ihn-hngggg!” She interrupted his thoughts, and he too arrived.

In harmonic partnership the two cried out their final sounds of orgasmic arrival, though Vrost was more of a growl and she, more of a whimper – they met in the middle letting each other know verbally and physically they had matched pace. “I-I came,” he admitted, though her pussy would soon be oozing with his seed, her belly a slight swollen from the load, she knew.

“Mee tooo’auh,” she groaned softly into his upturned face kissing up his neck and chin, rolling over onto him, her breasts squishing into his hard chest, her pussy leaking down his body as she curled over him like a lap cat, prowling over their master for a place to rest. . .

For several, breathless, dark moments the two lay there in silence, Vrost could hardly stop the post fuck smile from curling over his features and Vraska was purring like a kitten, sprawled out across him on the small, one person cot, he could have gotten used to this!

BOOM!!!
Their peace could only last so long, by the time Red was nearly asleep and Vrost sticky with drying cum came – a sudden tumult from outside the room bristled them both to attention, she rolled off and staggered up to her feet, he too stood from his cot and dared to look out of the door of the room and into the hall outside, smoke filling the space – several figures in the cloud made visible only in his green, crystal-like eye.

“We’re under attack Vraska. . .” They both knew this place was no longer safe for them, they both knew it was time to act, that there was only one way out.

“Ready?” She asked him with a determined expression, cracking her knuckles, apparently set to take on their intruders nude! Vrost gave her back a grim look of agreement and nodded.

“Let’s do this.”
NANITEMASS: 85%
IMMEDIATE ACTION(S):
>SUBDUE
>CONTROL
>DESTROY. . .

THE END.

Chapter 2:

Shots spattered across cinderblock walls and ramshackle steel, the hideout taking its second attack in as many days. Vrost and Red were torn apart to defend against it from their first, and fiery encounter. The two took cover between a set of doors, looking between each other, “Fuck, this is. . .”

“Not good!” Finishing each other’s sentences, not that it was hard – the neural pathways written in their minds were of the same author at this point; nanites seeing to that.

The two divided and conquered those who engaged, a infantry squad of agents from Red’s previous outfit, decked out in flak and wielding batons, small firearms and a single SMG that fired with a far deeper rattle. Vrost saw them each with a new understanding, a nanite would reach out and touch them and provide all the information he needed to crush, a weak spot, an in, a suggestion of violence and Vrost took hold; Vrost exerted and struck out.

His Avalanche even appreciated a new level of accuracy, green flashes along his retinae describing when and where he best fire, leading shots and firing through cover, the heavy calibre of his weapon seeing to it a shot would tear just wear it needed to too rifle deadly results.

Red seemed just as violent by nature, able to strike down foes with only a small grain of difficulty most thanks to her large stature and strapping arms, short, sharp claws seeing to her intentions. “Grauh!” She cried, breaking a man over her knee, lunging forward to grab yet another and toss him aside, onto her next target she went.

Vrost was impressed by his new bride, there was little time for flattery though.

The two proceeded to chase down the remnants of the squad, “Woah-hao-gaaauh!” A man cried, throwing aside a manhole lid, and climbing down, several followed a rattle of submachine gun fire attempting to provide cover, but Vrost and Red were quick on their heels, refusing to let them escape to tell the tale.

Lightly armoured men were no match for the two hench runners, they intended to run them down, through, and put this to a close. Red suggested the more they cost the corpo squads taking their contracts the less likely they were to pursue them. . . unless they caused some real shit, subduing a second team should have squared them off radars for at least a little, buy them some time to regroup.

A few days, maybe a week would be enough to figure out where they were going. They couldn’t run from corpo’s forever but they could make shit real uncomfortable and inconvenient in the mean time. -maybe they’d become more trouble than they were worth!

--besides, there was blood in the water and that needed an answer.
Beat after beat, the duo followed through sewage. A dark tunnel leading them forth, a spewing river of green, glowing waste between them. “Fuck, it stinks in here Vrost!” Red complained, though another tat-tat-tat of fire kept her quiet, bullets whizzing passed, attempts to dissuade them from their prize.

“Careful,” he barked back to her, still they pressed forth into the darkness, their path lit dim by the glowing waste though each seemed equipped to see just fine in the light low as it was.

Far beyond their field, gunfire echoed up the pipe. They looked between each other curiously, a scream as well. “The hell is going on down there?” they weigh their options, it seems apt to chase, Red explaining:

“We don’t need them reporting back they saw us, no news might be worse though. . . I – it’s your play big guy.” She knows this is her world but he’s in charge of it now, the squad may be corpo and she’s ex. . . he’s the boss though.

The service tunnel they found themselves trudging eventually broke off, hanging over a sublevel of city long forgotten, the intended route just beyond, hanging from the city streets above. Green sludge runs downward into the old, forgotten guts of what appears to be a shopping mall from an entirely different era. Vrost and Red have only heard stories about places like this.

They jump down a shaft and onto what used to be a rooftop, through a series of dank and dusty corridors and stair cases they find themselves back on the tracks of the squad only it seems they’re not the only ones hunting them down.

“Coding, CODING!” a voice echoed up the stair well they approached,

“What is this thing?”

“It’s everywhere!”

Gunshots accompany bloody cries, they hear them just beyond, quenching the curiosities of whether they’d seen the last of them. . . –it appears something beat them to the punch of dismantling their hunters.

--something hunted them.

“Waaaauh-hau-haaaauoh!” A feminine scream and a blood curdling crunch from the west told them they were not safe there. The two dart out the access hallway and into a small shop and start into he next, surrounded by steel and cloth, shelves lined with articles of different sized clothing caked with dust and grime.

With Vrost out of the store, launching himself in the direction of the sounds of violence, of eating, of a soldier crying their last, a steel shutter crashes down behind him, startling him and cutting off Red. . . They can see each other, but, “I’ll go around.” Red suggests.

Vrost can only nod, “There’s gotta be a way around from the back.” the clothing store and all others likely connected some how or another it seemed to her.

Nodding in agreement Vrost brandishes is hand cannon of a pistol, his avalanche, and continues forward, prepared for the worst. What started as chasing some troopers was becoming something out of a horror flick, though Vrost refused to let it get the best of his nerves. Stumbling upon a slashed up, gnawed on soldier did not agree with him however. “Eugh,” a grimace pulling his harrow lips downward. “Fuckin’ hell.” His boot getting a little gore under it.
–hardly ideal.

The store he found himself in was spartan, some sort of computer store, the precursor to the sorts of devices that were commonplace today, neural implants and BD’s the like. . . this was archaic, but they could still connect to the net and that meant they were all knowing.

--did they know who, or what was stalking them down here?

Bang! Bang-bang! Several shots rang out of his firearm as he blew holes in the wall, sparks skittering in all directions but no hit, the dark room briefly flashing with his muzzle flares only to return to darkness. He heard something! “Dammit.” No hit, the movement continuing quick and ominous, he wasn’t alone down here.

Just as he’d lit off the clip, another set of shots from his heavy pistol; a hard shelf of muscle rammed into him from the opposite direction, it took him off guard but not off his feet. A black beast with long claws and a many-toothed snout growled at him, wrestled him, its claws sheared into his gear and attacked his skin.

Vrost growled back at it, whatever it was. Some sort of mutated sewer beast the size of three men slapped together! He had no name for it, but it mattered little, he could only argue by force, could only attempt too anyway. The hench sawfish took hold, trying to fight it to the ground, trying to attack back. . . as wiry as it was compared to his musclebound broadness, it managed to get the best of him!

The beast was tall, stringy but strong, it had sharp features, a long swapy tail and many defensive spines. . . it looked like a predator, the peak

His hand cannon out of reach, Vrost made a final attempt, a ditch effort to take hold of the reigns and fight back. . . And then they came slicing down upon him, too quick to stop and too sharp to resist, blood sprayed from a grievous wound. The beast snarled as it’s right hand of long, bone daggers came down on his shoulder and cleaved into him. . . if not for his stature, if not for his sheer size a blow that would have cut him in two, or many.

Snarling with pain the man grabs his shoulder, blood and a thick, green ooze spewing forth. In a sudden rush, the green took shape, two equally violent reactions taking place with Vrost, with the nanites.

NANITE MASS 68%. . . HOST STATUS CRITICAL! ! !

it acted without his ability, without his consent or knowledge, the nanites kicked into overdrive.

First, they surrounded the attacker, the beast, blood dripping from its long jaunty claws. -next, it surrounded his wound, the green glow sewing his skin back in place where his clothing and gear were split, he dove for his weapon. The iron sites line up and angry, red eyes look back at him.

He takes her in, in earnest, tall, dangerous, deadly. She’s wrapped in muscle and short, dark brown fur. It had a long, tail that reduced to a point and curled horns that could gore as easily as its claws. . . he’d never seen anything quite like her.

Several shots ring off, one grazing its shoulder, tearing skin – blood sprays the wall and a wale lets Vrost know he hit. Snarling and howling into the night the beast retreats deeper into the undercity before Vrost could regain wits or make chase.

Red approached through a back door just in time to catch her tail through an exit across the way. . . “The fuck was that?” She asks, but more importantly –when she sees his state, she questions his well being, concern palpable in her voice and on her face “Are you Okay?!”

“I-I don’t know what it was, but it got me good,” a grimace painted across his features, clearly in pain but not wanting to let it get to him. “-Yeah, I’m fine. . . I will be.” Just a little shaken up.

“Let’s get you out of here Vrost.” They both agree, Red helping him up as the final glowing cells restructure and reach along the wound to pull it back together, his muscles knit and skin sewn. . . it was as if it hardly happened at all by the time they managed back to the surface.
. . .

“So. . . it appears to me, the nanites simply don’t restore themselves, Red.” Some concern conveyed in his voice – not so much to worry anyone but it was something they had to consider.

“Okay. . ?” Red unsure where his thoughts are leading, though she sits next to him to assist in sussing them out, her hand reaching unconsciously to his, fingers wiggling over the back of his, a remarkably intimate thing for having so little time together. Things were working well between them, it had been a day or so of recovery and hiding out, waiting for shit to blow over. No news was good news.

“Meaning, if I don’t get them back, I can’t use’em. . . that fuckin’, thing, got me for a good twenny’ somethin’ when she split up my shoulder. I need ‘em back.” Reasoning, a full charge was necessary to fight off any other surprises from their corpo friends.

Red squinted, unsure she liked the idea of returning to the undercity for a tango with the beastie. It was smart, it’d split them up and tried to navigate off’in Vrost before she could get back to him, she didn’t want to think what it was capable of, if given another moment or an off chance. . . well, it could have gotten grim. She grunted and looked off, “Sounds dangerous.” Taking her hand back and crossing it over her chest with the other arm, pensive.

“You in?” Vrost was a cold bastard, but that didn’t mean he was heartless. Red could back out. . . or at least, she had the option, taking it was up to her; she seemed reluctant.

Red squinted, “Can’t let you go it alone,” deciding for herself, like it or lump it: in.

A smile almost too pleasant for two killers crossed the lair as they agreed; an intimate moment shared, by way of lips grazing and hands gliding over one and other, a gentle squeeze even. Then they began to arrange for another run, to go back where they’d come from, back into the undercity where they’d chased the squad and been repaid for their act with nothing but trouble, more trouble.

--At least they were built for it.

They took the night, the barracks suspended in silence as they each waited, waited time to pass, there was nothing more for them to do. . . they’d repaired their armours, replenished ammunition, filled their bellies and steeled their minds with rest, all that was left was to launch their plan of attack – don’t get separated.

They returned down the very same manhole and later still the very same shorn open pipe works that lead into the undercity, into the shattered, dusty mall and surrounding shopping structure, a core of city long forgotten by time, the neon structures far above advanced generations or more beyond.

Vrost clicked his tongue, “Things have changed.” He was first to observe his eyes focusing on something passed refurbished, the mall had come to life. . .

Bright light bathed the city scape, illuminating the ceiling above, where the city had been built upon itself. machines whirred, generators buzzed. . . it was like they’d taken a step back in time, bright colours illustrating signages and bathing marble and other polished stone floor and walls, there was far less steel or neon than either would recognize, more natural tones and painted concrete, polished stone of course. . . “I’ve never seen anything like this. . .” Red admitted, though they both had – just dead and forgotten only the day before.

The mall itself was alight with energy and liveliness, music played from within and droned into the parking lot they entered through, the two were deadly calm, each prepared. . . “Don’t, get, separ-“

“AUGH!” and there it was, another crashing shutter of steel, a guard system meant to keep people out. . . only today, once again, it kept Vrost in.

“Dammit Red!” Vrost growled at his companion, the barrier separating them. Red slammed into it with her fists, gripped the slats and tried to pull them apart, tried with all her might to manipulate her way inside to no avail.

“. . . just stay there, I’ll, I’ll get in some how.” For a moment Vrost considered battering down the wall of steel shutters with his shoulder, lifting it with her help even, but neither were good – they settled on waiting.

“Traps, what is it with me and traps lately?!” He shouted, stamping his feet as her marched away from the sprung trap, he shook, and sheets of dust plumed around his tattered clothing to the ground, he’d need new duds if this sort of bullshit kept up on the regular. Blinking, the large man spied about this beast’s domain to find it different entirely, surprising yet not so much considering the outer layers of illumination. It was no longer simply a shopping mall, at least not this wing.

Terminals of all sorts stood piled up and collected in several arrangements, conduits running to them, whizzing, and playing a dozen different audio and visual feeds, scripts flew by at dizzying speeds across screens all over, music of different eras played from different speakers strewn about the area. Vrost failed to understand his eyes, he might be simpler than his surroundings. Someone had slapped together every operable television, computer and speaker in reach and wired them to make a learning super computer; his best guess.

Then that someone arrived, she who orchestrated this archaic tech madness.
Vrost had to double take, he knew this beast and yet – it, she had changed. Still tall, and lanky in stature, but breasts large and shapely and an angled, objectively kind to endure face, despite the snarling, despite the calculated anticipation in her eyes. It seemed fight or flight hadn’t quite taken into effect. . .

She’d been on the prowl, guarding. She had territory to protect, same as always a bass need even the nanites couldn’t rewrite in her mind, though neural pathways had fired in all capacities, she’d evolved.

The beast stalked him from across the room, brandishing bladed hands, less claw like but no less deadly for it. She stood prouder, more humanoid than before, shaped as such. She was less beast. . . closer to himself or Red really.

Something about her he regarded as intelligent, she must have been to turn the shopping centre into this laboratory like this, into a super-computer.

The nanites flared up across his retinas in their usual way, instilling their need to dominate her, his need. He was agreeable though she didn’t appear to be! The femme beast lashed forward, “Stop that!” she growled, covering her face and forehead with her clawed hand, feeling a sudden shift.

“You speak,” Vrost regarded her, stepping backward quickly enough to avoid the cut of claws as she lashed out again.

She glared at him, unwittingly, he’d given her this gift. The gift of free thought, of knowledge unbound, she’d taken it and ran, taken the nanite’s boon and her own shrewd, insatiable need to know and tapped into them, tapped into the wide web of information still attached through roadways beneath the sea of steel and concrete that separated old from new. She’d become intelligent and used that intelligence to create, to learn.

“I speak.” She finally said in cold confirmation, her breasts swaying from side to side as she lurked toward him. She was unsure how to proceed and he saw that on her, he too did not want to hurt her, but he needed back his charge, his nanites. . .

“I assume you’ve come to take back what you’ve given,” remarkable English, her tongue and maw long and not shaped but she still spoke, she managed to mimic the sounds she’d heard with precision.

Vrost confirmed, “You’re clever.” Grim as he was threatening.

she snarked, “You don’t know the half of it,”

Sizing each other up it’s only a matter of time before one of them break. Vrost charged forward, and crash, smashed through a console of ramshackle tech the beast had created. -She darted back, a cascade sparks and plume of smoke, the place soon smelling awful – burning wires and plastic.

Vrost knows a few well-placed shots would end this, but it seems wrong to hunt and kill such a creature at this point, an anomaly, one he was responsible for in a way. He felt the need to subdue, not slay.

The beast feels a similar ambivalence, Vrost in a way having created her.

They both held back, fighting but pulling punches as it were. The beast strikes out, slashing at Vrost with her claws but failing to hit. Vrost grapples her into yet another bay of computers but only sparks and crunched steel, no real damage to her strong hide. Either evenly matched or evenly reluctant.

Beginning to influence her reluctance further, the intelligent beast reasonws with herself, or more, a voice does, he created you, and this is your response?

A horizontal slash of claws tattered yet another jacket of Vrost’s, the sawfish growling with frustration, he lunged toward her but like her fell short, only managing to grapple with her for a matter of moments before she slipped the hold. “You fucker!” He growled, “Get back here.”

[REROUTING: MIND LOCKED. . .]

His nanites answering a call. The call to end this.

While he didn’t understand the prompt, he activated it all the same, she hesitated, a green glow flashing over her eyes and body. Vrost took the moment to charge, crashing to the ground with her.

He is a suitable mate. . .

They rolled across polished concrete, thick cables and trash. . . Vrost mounts the beast, wrapping a cable around her neck and twisting in an attempt to choke the fight out of her, maybe he can subdue her physically too, cloud her mind with asphyxiation.

How long have you been without one. . ?

“Ack!” She chokes, pulling at the cable with her claws, managing to slip them in and fray the cable. For a moment Vrost was sure he had her, sure she was done for. –then she bucked like a wild bull seen red. She kicked and thrashed till Vrost had no choice but to release her, gasping for air and growling with menace she returned to the fight.

Crack! Crash! Smash! The beast’s fist crashed into a concrete pillar, cleaved a steel sign and Zap! Jammed into a screen but missed Vrost three for three, it was like she was losing her nerve.

She was guarding her territory, that was what this had been from the start. . . wasn’t it? –and yet,

What is territory, without a mate?

Vrost tackled into the darker skinned terror, slamming her into the shattered console they’d been fighting over for minutes. It took all his strength not to bite into her neck, end it there -she felt similarly in that her claws were so very close to his tender throat!

[REROUTING: MIND WAVERING]

You’ve gained sentience, you deserve legacy. . !

The invasive voice in her mind growled over her fight, over her desire to make sure her territory be safe, be free of Vrost and Red both. –Red still out of the fight, working through back routes and alley ways, trying to find an entrance to the mall’s innards that wasn’t blocked by upturned cars and vending machines or otherwise impossible to enter through. It was all but impossible!

Red was in nightmare mode, she couldn’t help but be as she scampered from entrance to entrance, loud sounds of their fight echoing out into the parking structure, lights flickering as immense power was drawn into frayed conduits shooting sparks inside.

What if she was too late. . ?

[REROUTING: MIND OPEN]

The two struggled toward the floor, attacks pulled to more fitful throws between a bay of vending machines and confectionary stands. Wrappers fly in all deriections and pop cans roll out of a smashed open machine, several bursting and firing off sticky sweet cola in every direction. “Wraaaauogh!” A loud throaty whale and Vrost knows he’s getting closer, that victory is mere motions away.

He takes her back and wraps his elbow around her throat, the between her shoulder not penetrating his garb. He chokes her for all he’s worth, trying to put her asleep, trying to knock her lights out so he can renegotiate the motions when yet another change, far more noticeable than the others came.

The beast isn’t attacking, she’s rutting against him, grinding against him, Vrost understands what an open mind means quite quick. Whether by quirk, nature or intention the nanites have acted the same as they did on Red, different in delivery, but the results were quite the same.

“Hrffkg, rrrrgk, take me!” She growls up at him from below, covered in soot and wreckage but ultimately ready. Showers of sparks setting off a sprinkler above, water cascading around them, pouring over their battered bodies, dust and otherwise removed in sheets. They’re a mess, but no less heated, just cooled.

Vrost grins wild and dangerous, more than okay with the turn, not thinking about Red or the violence that brought them here he grips himself, his hemipenes in one hand and shimmies down his pants with the other, starting to growl and nip at her neck. The two are soon rolling about in lust, in the water pooling, still struggling as much as they are enjoying the acts.

Snips and bites, scratches and possessive grip, the two more than enjoy each other’s rough demure.

Nude as the day he found her but with much more inviting anatomy, Vrost manages to find purchase with not one but both of his shafts, grunting as she howls like a sow, no violence or aggression.

They roll between rows of whirring lights and machines, Vrost’s hips grinding into hers, she’s hot, she’s wet, she’s inviting as any cooze he’s ever had the pleasure of plowing. “Ooauhph, homph. . . fffssss,” she’s making noises of guilt and pleasure, noises that add to his!

There’s a certain amount of urgency, of violence and carnal, animal dominance to their exchange. Her dagger long claws threaten to rend into his smooth yet strong skin, though they only leave the lightest of scratches behind, they pin him obsessively, possessively to her frame as he ruts deeper inside but do not penetrate his skin as easily as they sure could.

The longer he persists inside, stirring her with his twin penes, the louder and more desperate her moans and wailing sounds become. Sparks fly and steel crunches as Vrost pins her against a console and demands all she’s worth with his sex. He takes her by the neck and continues to exact that brand of violent fuck she’s asked for “Oauh, yesss, yesss,” She mewls, wrapping her legs around his hips, steadying herself against the wall with her tail, enjoying thrust after deep seeking thrust.

“Oomph, fuuh-huph,” moments of bliss coupled with flashes of sex and smut she’s seen on the consoles come to mind. The beast howled and Vrost could feel her walls closing in around him, around his Penes. He’s not far behind, pleasure mounting in an undeniable torrent, a hot grip inside his belly.

His insides tighten and he feels his stomach harden with them. He feels his seed rush into her womb and a firing of nerves launch pleased lust and other spicy drugs into his mind with his cum in her.

Her teeth in his neck, causing a terrible fuss, nibbling, and kicking, groaning, and carrying on – the two rutted to completion against a smashed wall of tech, the beast feeling more than just the pleasure of a good orgasm but feeling the pleasure and security of a mating.

For the first time, Vrost looks down on her and she doesn’t look of death coming. -her eyes have softened, and her teeth are not barred, she’s not snarling or snapping at him but rather forcing something of a contented smile.

“Are you purring?” he asks just as a call from across the large corridor between shops comes from Red.

“Vrost?!” his other companion shrieks, small fires and fried electronics, smashed glass and shorn steel, their love making caused quite the disaster indeed. “Vrost! -Are you okay?” She calls out, unable to fully put together the scene before her till he’s doing up his pants and the defeated beast lays out, cum seeping from her bred snatch. . .
it’s sexy for full blown destruction. . . Maybe this is Vrost’s MO.

Some time later, in the food court, the three sprawl out across tables exchanging thought. Red unhappy she missed the show, unhappy she’d be sharing Vrost.

“Destra, --I like Destra.” The beast said, when Red suggested she pick herself a name.

“Well, first rule of the overworld is clothing, so. . . y’know, we don’t need you flashin’ tits everywhere we go if you’re joinin’ the cause.” Red complained jealously, Destra well endowed, two large, shapely jugs proud upon her chest.

“Destra it is,” Vrost agreed, happy to call her as such, chuckling from his gut at Red’s reluctance to accept her as openly, as warmly as he had.

“And we’re going to need to find somewhere new to go, somewhere to fight that cause from.”

The three agreed, though an option was quite clear to them from where they sat. The undercity offered a safe space and Destra appeared super charged when it came to retrofitting old tech, having lived down here, having seen it all, grown to understand it. With her help, they’d be a force to reckon with.

--with her help, they could go on the offensive.

They each shared a look of knowledge, of brief understanding and finally agreement. “We make base here,” Vrost said, the two women nodding in firm agreement. The mall was a defensible position, there were resources here, clothing, concrete and steel, forgotten tech.

It was perfect, though “It does get rather cold down here, Vrost.” Destra said, suggestively.

“I can keep him warm tonight.” Red growled back at her, her tail flicking once to punctuate the point.

Looking between the two, Vrost had a hint of an idea, he smirked “Ladies,” he said firmly but kind – the two turned to him, momentarily. Chuckling, a green hint of not envy but rather nanites doing their work flashed across his features and then their eyes, agreement the nanites doing their work without the strength of a rerouting, simple suggestion enough with their pathways otherwise rewired. . . agreeable.

Red’s glare toward Destra softened, Destra’s claws retracting into balled yet gentle fists, she’d no intention of throwing them in anger or violence.

The two deflated and let their shoulders sink in something close to defeat, or rather submission. throwing his thick arms over either of them, a long grin under his dangerous snout they all purred, the nanites complicit in their pact.

They all head toward a what Destra considered her den, a mattress store that had been ransacked, all the comforters and mattresses collected in the middle in one pile for them to mount comfortably. . . and mount they would.

“Each of you, will keep me warm tonight. . . -and I’ll keep each of you occupied.” They all but swooned in agreement, happy to oblige, almost as happy as he was to oblige them.

Red purred a hearty sound of aggressive attraction, Destra matched it with her own and Vrost smiled, his ladies agreeable and warm, ready for him.

Chapter 3:
“Chicks, dudes, and all those non-identifying!” A plucky voice rang through her mind, crackling with a little feedback. Her chipset was not quite the pinnacle of modern-day tech, let alone safety. “Welcome to tonight’s match; the B-T-L League is in full swing, and don’t you worry, we have plenty of action on the way!"

As the announcer boomed over their headsets and into the minds of thousands of those just toning into the match, Becks launched herself forward with one of her pillars of muscle, each of her arms dwarfing those of most body-building psychos. She’d spent every damn point she could and funnelled every credit into making her avatar as strong and top-heavy as the BTL league allowed. She was practically all arms, running on her fists just as gracefully as her feet the way she launched herself forward with them occasionally or would grab the ledge of a construct and throw herself forward like a bat out of hell.
The muscular woman was wrapped in green scales with lighter strips and a belly; her breasts were shapely and covered in a scant top like her lower half. She didn’t shoot or slash through the crowds of bots or PCs like others; Becks took a more brutal approach to the BTL combat league.

“Wah-auh-ha-ha!” She laughed freely as she crashed through a corridor of bots, shrugging off small arms fire and slamming her fists down on the ground with enough force that the floor rattled out from under them, and they lost footing. One would find an ankle and throw the bot attached to it out a window, another one-armed toss into a wall. She managed to tear one in half like a phonebook, gizmos and mechanical guts splaying out in all directions before it vaporized into lines of code at her fingertips. The method of Becks’ madness was like a dance of complete destruction, of dismantling, of damage, carnage – mayhem!

Putting down a few NPC’s was nothing though; that’s not what got Becks this far in the BTL League; she was a top contender for the prize, money that could change her entire existence. Outside of the game. She had fun, sure, but this was serious too. “Oh-ho! Not so fast!” A lightly armoured player trying to get the drop on her with a vibro-blade was repaid in kind with a closed fist to the helmet, ceramic and steely weaves shattering behind the supreme force of her punch.

She hardly felt a thing, and by the time she was laid out on her back, seeing stars along with the screen Becks refused to witness, GAME OVER! She wouldn’t lose her chance at this season’s pot; she was going to get it and only so many active players remained to challenge her.

Vrost looked over Destra’s shoulder at a small screen, reading out stats and promotional videos till it rolled over to the league and rolled over to the footage of a big, green beast of a woman beating others to a pulp in glorious displays of raw strength. He smirked. It was entertaining, to say the least. “This is the BTL league, isn’t it?” he asked his partner with tempered curiosity.

“It is,” Destra responded, “seems there’s more than just credits riding on this season. . . three top contenders have been found murdered in their homes, died diving, it looks like.” She was very interested in a morbid way; she’d considered completing it and considered herself an armchair expert on the sport (and all other things, really, sprawling as her interests were).
The anomaly of the BTL league growing so large that corporate executives, political scum, and other influential figures started betting on it like old-world blood sport was one thing, but murdering folks just playing a game? It was a lot to parse.
"The players?” Vrost continued to pick as the scene, saturated in chaos, played out before him.
“They’re being killed over the bets." He crossed his arms over his chest, and his snout pulled to a tempered look of concern. It wasn’t their problem though; he was concerned the same way he was concerned by people saying the sky would fall some day or litter would clog the waterways, that smoke would choke out mother nature, and the science of beast would not be able to stop the reckoning, which was kind of already here, but on life persisted, they kept going.

which was all to say: he really couldn’t have cared less, but it was polite to care about the loss of life, so he frowned and nodded to Destra, who seemed to have an emotional investment, “Someone should do something.” He followed her nod, and she nodded with a bit more effort, agreeing entirely.
Vrost took his turn and squeezed Destra’s shoulder with encouragement for her state. She was upset, and he could sympathize. He also wanted to crawl into the nest and not care about anything for a while, which won the day.

The longer she thought about it, the more she agreed; indeed, someone, had to do something about this. Vrost had said so himself; the fearless leader had practically given her an order at that point. It bothered her, truly. Knowing this poor individual, this innocent brute could be in the same position.

The match horn blew and closed, time dwindling down to 00:00, and the screen split to announcements and rosters, comments, and a rolling screen of text. The chat. Her favourite in the league is #1: Becks. While Vrost’s desire for a nap came first, her obsessive need to know came out swinging. Destra couldn’t help but dig, dig, and dig a bit deeper still. She couldn’t help but investigate the league's chances or the chances anyone might have at the payout she was sure to earn if she stayed in her top spot.

She couldn’t be the killer, not Becks.
“Rebecca? Rebecca!?” A gruff voice called from the darkness, and a small, rail-like girl with a near-flat bust and an inward-turned leg stirred from her bed.

“nnngf, yes?” The small, green thing called back to the voice, grimacing; it was always hard to jump out of a dive seamlessly for her. Her body ached. Though that was nothing new. Rebecca slid out of the sleeping slot and looked around her small unit. A computer, dresser, and some crutches she used on her poorer days She was everything Becks wasn't—or rather, Becks was everything she wished she could be. The opposite of the runty little lizard that strained to stand for more than a few minutes under her own strength, the runty little lizard always hurting, the runty little lizard who couldn’t stand up to a fly let alone defend herself from what was coming.

“Rebecca!” The voice repeated, “There’s people at the door for you, I said!” The voice called again: her aunt. Mom and Dad weren’t in the picture; they couldn’t take care of the daughter they brought into this world, not with their circumstances or hers.

“I’m coming!” She called back in a diminutive croak before slinking into a sweater and shorts.
Before she could make it to the door, though, a buzz took her aback—not her usual call tone but rather a strange bzrpt! -Buzzing noises and her screen were replaced with a dark face with long, dangerous teeth.

“Becks, Becks!” The stranger with fangs called to her from her computer screen, Destra, “You need to leave. Right now.”

Rebecca looked at the screen from under a red mop of hair, squinting. “And who might you be?” Nobody called her Becks IRL; she knew what it was about right away; she knew she was a target, but she didn’t want to believe it; she didn’t want to believe the target on her forehead or the danger on her doorstep.

“There’s no time for that. Listen, Becks, there’s a corpo death squad on your doorstep, and they’re not playing games. Someone put a bet out against you, and they want to win. Bad.” It was all Rebecca needed to know, but still, this would not be easy. She pulled her headset and a few necessities into a messenger bag and slung a crutch over her back. Things were about to get spicy.

Becks quickly ran down the apartment hall in the opposite direction of her aunt and the door. The fire escape did not offer a perfect getaway for the runty lizard, but she’d take it over the mysterious visitor at the door. “Uhg, hff... nnng.” Submachine gun fire that was rattling around the cage of the steel stairs and platforms took the place of grunts and grimaces as she attempted to descend. “Oh frig!” Rebecca cried, bullets whizzing past her and clattering about, and showers of sparks falling from the fire escaped beneath her feet. She rushed up, nowhere else to go, finding herself at the top of a superblock.

Whining, Rebecca wondered how she’d get out of this: “Quickly, across the rooftop, there’s a catwalk; it will get you to the other block of buildings from there."

“Who are you? Why are you helping me?"

“Does it matter now, Becks? I’m friendlier than the ones shooting at you. I’m going to get you out of this.” Destra assured her over the headset, Rebecca running as fast as her weak body could carry her, a constant thrum of pain in the back of her mind trying to hold her back!

“You’re right, across the rooftop to... I see it!" The catwalk. She managed to get there, quickly pulling herself across the walk to the next building, ducking as an unseen barrage of shots licked at the parapets and steel around her. She was lucky again, avoiding peril but not pain, not desperation. "I can’t do this. I’m not strong enough!” She complained, feeling her leg threaten to quit, feeling pain searing her muscles as acid pumped across them. She wasn’t built for this!

"Listen, Becks, you’re number 1 in the league; if you can’t do this, it’s over; they win. C'mon, pull it together, girl!"

“You don't,"

“I understand Rebecca; I know everything there is to know about you. I know it hurts, but I know you can do this too. Now pick it up; there’s a fire escape coming up on your right; use it!”
The chase led down the fire escape of a second city block and into packed, neon-bathing streets. Even a seasoned kill team would have trouble following the runt through them, not that they could go firing into a crowd if they wanted to! For the moment, she was close to be safe, but she had to keep a low profile.

“Try and find something to cover your face and get down into the sewers as fast as you can, Becks. We’re going to get you safe, OK?” Destra promised Rebecca, who still didn’t know if she could trust them, let alone who they were. The reality was that Rebecca didn’t know that she could survive on her own, and she wasn’t backing out of the games.

As she slipped into a gnarled sewer grate, pulling out of neon mazes and into far darker ones, she huffed, trying not to cry, trying not to sob., trying to channel her inner Becks. Becks wouldn’t cry; Becks would stay strong; Becks would stand and fight, dammit!—but in the absence of the ability to brawl, living another day seemed ideal. She couldn’t fight, but she could run.

Pain shot up her shin and throughout her body, from her knee upward and into her mind, picking at a piece of her she couldn’t ignore. Damned knee, damned body! Rebecca slammed her hand into the wall and continued into the mouth of the pipe, continuing into the belly of the underworld as she knew it. On a whim, no less—though the proof was in the bullet holes along her fire escape—the fanged woman had not led her astray, it seemed.

“Hey, you made it out.” The fanged woman spoke in her mind.

She nodded to herself but was reminded she wasn’t just playing some game; she had to answer too. "Yeah, I’m safe.” She murmured.

“Not yet.” Destra warned, “Keep moving; you got quite the hike ahead of you, Becks."

And she wasn’t kidding. The further she walked, the deeper she got, the more her muscles ached; they burned strong even though they were weak; even though they felt weak, There was a strong pain, a strong exhaustion! She had to keep pushing, though; she had to keep moving.

Over time, she slumped over herself; she’d pause only for Destra to remind her there was no time to waste; she wouldn’t be safe till she made it to the mall. the nest. Down a face-shattered concrete, not without Destra’s experienced navigation, she scaled. Slow but sure, hand under hand, foot under foot, down jagged stairs, and through gnarled steely walks, she managed till finally it was in sight. A giant steel and cement fortress, a refuge, a place she was sure she’d be safe!

They’d made something close to friendly over the time they talked, Destra and Rebecca. Destra felt a strange responsibility for the girl; she felt invested. Why else would she have brought her all this way? even if by verbal direction alone.

Destra hurried from her bay of computers through the long abandoned food courts and down a lane of shuttered shops to a set of double doors, also shuttered, and just as her diminutive friend arrived, she let her in, Rebecca hobbling, huffing and puffing, her legs so tired, her body it all burned. She couldn’t keep this up!

The poor thing practically collapsed into Destra, who in turn pulled her inside and quickly closed the fire door behind her, resetting the alarms. Destra was far from realizing the folly of her actions; she’d justify them up and down a wall to anyone, certainly to Vrost. But still, there was a certain amount of concern in her mind that he might not agree to housing a fugitive (at least until her league was done!).

This was something of a small obsession for Destra, Becks, Rebecca.

Back through the mall, they walked slowly, Destra explaining the lay of the land, how they ate, and where they slept. She spoke about Red, who was currently in her workshop, likely modifying heavy metal, or Vrost, whom she knew was in their nest. She’d love Vrost, and Vrost was sure to find her spirit impressive, if nothing else. Rebecca smiled a dopey grin.

It hadn’t yet dawned on her that she was walking into the den of a shadow runner, someone she’d soon regard as a hero.

They climbed up a flight of stairs, long since seized escalators in fact, to the bay of computers. Destra called her laboratory, and she began to regale Rebecca with the story of how they came together, of Red and Vrost’s first encounter, the nanites, everything. For someone as incredulously smart as Destra, if Rebecca was not to be trusted, well, suffice to say, Destra was naïve, as the dumbest intelligent person in the outfit. (thus far.)

The conversation eventually drew attention, with Red walking in from the direction of her shoppe, an old auto centre she was using for her purposes. She blinked, not finding a threat so much as a questionable sight, Rebecca. “Who’s the Gim-?" Destra clicked her tongue before she finished her question: “Girl?” correcting the slur she used to describe their new, limping friend.

“She’s a friend; we’ll be taking care of her for a moment.” Rebecca looked up at Red with wide eyes and expressive adoration. She wasn’t as big as Becks, but damned if this cat wasn’t many multiples of her size, she was sure her whole body could fit in one of her legs.

Rebecca could only smile and open her hand to shake Vraska's, who introduced herself and squeezed the young woman’s three-fingered hand, dwarfed by Destra’s.

Vrost was next; moments later, he walked in with a tired sigh, his hand on the back of his head, stretching. He almost missed Rebecca entirely before asking, “Who might this be?" and questioning her and the other two with a guffaw. “And what is she doing here?"

“My name is Rebecca. Becks. I’m Becks.”

“This is one of the chip league competitors I told you about.” Destra interjected, “She’s going to stay with us."

Vrost looked at her with a peculiar sort of glow; he wasn’t sure if he should be chiding her or not. Destra looked sorry already; she looked like she had only just realized she may have overstepped.

While he was many things, Vrost was not a babysitter, and he said, “I have a broad skillset, but... taking care of... wait a second.” It was starting to click in Vrost’s head. The three hadn’t quite come to the same conclusion, but they all paused in that second, leaving Rebecca to feel smaller than usual and at risk, like she may have run from one hostile environment to another. Did Destra have the right to bring her here?

Nervously, Rebecca started to laugh and make observations: “You’re so cool, a real bona fide Shadowrunner, aren’t you? a total badass! Woaaah!” She only played one on TV, so to speak. Vrost crossed his arms, appearing less than satisfied with the situation and unconvinced by her compliments. The green and gold lizard was circling aimlessly while attempting to avoid straining just by walking and appearing too frail to hang.
“What, Vrost? I couldn’t ju-“ Destra started to defend her choices and started to appeal to his empathy, but before she could, Vrost hushed her with a raised finger. Quiet.

“You brought a target... worth millions of credits from the highest bidder, to whomever has the guts to hunt. . . her, no offence,” pointing out anyone would hunt a runt like this: “here."

It wasn’t that she’d be no help; it wasn’t that she was a runt; it wasn’t that she was puny or sad; she was in danger. While Vrost was cool in the heat, inviting a firefight wasn’t really his style. He sighed as Destra assured him, “It’s fine; everything is fine!"

--BANG!!!

Everything was decidedly not fine. As if perfectly on cue, the entire world went to hell; red lights blared violently, and an explosion shook the ground. They’d put a hole in one of the shutters that covered an exit, or, in this case, an entrance.

Smoke canisters smashed through ceiling skylights long since blotted out by fallen asphalt dust and refuse, thick cascades of dust and otherwise falling with them, crashing and trilling with the cans as smoke belched out and the room was all but invisible. There was shouting, lights flashing through the smoke, and showers of sparks.

“Get a mask on her!” Vrost demanded raising his weapon and firing a few rounds into the smokey obstructions. One such item with a gas canister on the muzzle was just to Red’s side; she took it up and dove toward Destra and the young one. The two took a moment, tossing it from one to the next. With Destra’s claws managing it over Rebecca’s cute face and red mane,

Chaos unleashed, rounds fired off in all directions, zipping by the trio, energy blades crackled and whizzed toward Red only to be dismantled in melee, dropped by those who would wield the tools against her, Destra making short work of armoured troopers with her deathly claws and whiplashing tail. Vrost with his hand cannon weighing in, the dog barked shells out, bouncing on the tiled floor, singing as they spun with smokey discharge and sparked in the air.

While the trio engaged in mortal combat, the choice to defend their newest addition taken from them as those who would collect her bounty didn’t give them the opportunity. They shot first and didn’t ask questions; they smoked the room and attacked. Vrost refused to give them the chance to ask forgiveness and refused to give them a reply, but his own attack, his own brand of ‘get the fuck out!'

A familiar flash and buzzing sound came without process; he didn’t realize it in the moment, but he recognized it as a very specific sound—the sound of the nanites. Vrost looked over his shoulder just in time to note the mask morphing—their little one’s eyes spreading wide behind the glassy lenses of her mask. It was a sensation neither he nor she could describe—the nanites kicking in. It happened a bit differently for all of them, though, didn’t it?

They launched through the air cannister and breathing valves and though she closed her lips they seeped through, they seeped through and took hold, they squeezed through the cracks between her teeth and passed tingling she felt her entire body shift, Something more than just the attack settled into her tummy in a most unsettling way. It felt like she was breathing through thickness, like the air wasn’t air but chaff. her mind failing to comprehend it, failing to parse the gravity of her situation and indeed the sensation that arrived with her entire throat bulging ferociously like a column of something solid rushed down her throat, a bulb under her chin, veins and musculature, spine and otherwise with it!

Several ragged breaths hit her, and her mind raced into a fearful place. She wasn’t sure if it was the mask’s vents clogging or not filtering all the smoke, but she couldn’t breathe!

Vrost saw it, though. Vrost knew what was happening. The nanites were working their ways; they’d assessed the diminutive, little lizard lady and found her left wanting, or more like, needing. -Suddenly green flashes filled the smoke, nanites rushing from all directions and filtering through the mask’s vents. Vrost couldn’t so much as stop it—once it started, how could he even if he knew how?

How could he stop them from doing their prime directive? How could he stop them from...
“waaauh-hau-hooo’mphrig!!!” Rebecca cried out through the mask with a volume her legume-sized lungs couldn’t possibly have. Her ribs were first crackling; other parts of her were rearranging much the same. The woman’s throat was too spread and adjusted, bulging and spreading. She slammed a tiny fist down into the ground, only to spread out in muscular excellence.

First a bulged throat and chin, collar and chest, then her shoulders, her arms, her entire existence bulged!

She shrieked and cried, shaking; her skin rippled and shuddered. Her scales jutted out almost as if they were peeling off her, only to slam back down, larger and thicker! They looked like ancient dragon’s plates; they were so hardened in some places. The mask was starting to fray and come undone on her face; it fell aside, a lens shattering.

Her muscles grew swollen, rushing out from under her shoulders, re-wrapping her arms and legs and her abdomen again and again, rebuilding her. Her hair was long, red, luscious, and full of volume, whereas before it was flat and thin. Rebecca had changed; she was different, different in every sense of the word.

She was strong, wrapped in a coat of muscle that rivalled Red's, with arms thicker than even Vrost’s trunk legs. She was “Becks!” Destra exclaimed.

Becks looked down at her hands; she wasn’t herself, not any longer. She was who she wished to be. She was free of the chains, the bondage, and the pain. She was strong.

With a yip and a flex, the green, muscle-bound beauty launched forward and drove her fists into the ground, a seismic wave of energy knocking the remaining head-hunters off balance. Rebecca launched a rubble and drove her fists forward, laughing wildly and being excited the whole time. She was violence incarnate; she was grace; she was everything Becks could be, but Rebecca was cured!

Smoke cleared, shells rolled, shattered stone fell from pillars, and broken lights fed off their final sparks. Her captors dispatched Rebecca, who tossed a body away like a ragdoll, clapping the dust from her hands. “That was, wooah! Wild!” She cheered for the others, who looked like a combination of emotions.

Destra was unsurprised that her friend was so capable, her intellect putting together what happened instantly. Red managed to figure it out after some time and was rather impressed herself, Vrost crossing his arms over his chest with scruples to spare.

“Hmph. Alright, she stays.” So she did.

While this moment was the correct one, moments that were more appropriate did indeed arrive for Becks and, with her, for Vrost. The two found themselves thrust together by Destra’s need to smooth over her clear blunder; she wanted Becks to have a place, and indeed, so did Becks. It wasn’t enough to be a new hanger on; she wanted to be an accepted member of the crew, and she wanted to be a shadow runner too.
Most of all, she wanted to repay Vrost for it all, for saving her, not just from the attack but... the woman looked down at her giant, powerful hands, her thick biceps and beyond, her athletic legs no longer crippled or weak; she wasn’t withered or in pain. Vrost had given her a second chance at life, not just because she lived but because she wasn’t under the thumb of a cruel birth; she wasn’t the runt that ran and hid here; she was Becks now.

Maybe she did die, though; maybe Rebecca had.
“Hey. . ."

"Why, Hello, Becks?" Vrost approached his newest compatriot with a small smugness and a smirk. “So, you can fight."

Becks nodded, “That’s not all I do,” coming off a little saucy, a little tipped, maybe like she’d had more confidence, frankly like she’d been drinking.

Vrost could only chuckle and quirk his brow. “Right,"

Like the lusty maiden, she moved forward and flexed her chest. Large handfuls on either side perked over the pectoral muscles of her beautiful body, and Vrost did notice. How could he not? She was. . . a marvel. She was beyond gorgeous, from her strength to her undeniable grace; she didn’t carry herself with the lumber or condition of a true real live badass but rather an endearing sort of excitement, a need to prove she wasn’t just some. . . Well, Vrost didn’t know.

“Thank you, by the way," she hummed. “I mean, I took care of most of the bad guys—but, I couldn’t’uh without you.” Without his help. She wouldn’t be anything without his help—anything but a dead BTL diver with a bounty cashed in—if not for him and Destra. . . He owed them both, but Destra was just happy to have helped someone she admired.

Vrost deserved his own encouragement, his own agreement, and his own chance to feel like he was made whole.

. He deserved a good fuck, frankly and that was how this all worked, wasn’t it? She didn’t really know the way real Shadow Runners or how theoperated but she could only imagine based on books movies, and other media, based on the way they were portrayed. . . Well, the way her RPG dives told her. Flexing the green giant made a raised eyebrow and a look of fuck me eyes. “Are you alright? "Vrost gave her the benefit of the doubt; it was something more like a stroke than a pass.

Becks gulped and leaned forward, “Let me thank you, Vrost.” Insisting with her eyes and hand, she was almost taller than him, almost wider, almost more meat on her bones, but he didn’t much mind that; in fact, looking at the tall tail over time and time again, he only liked what he saw more.

“What are you saying? "Vrost played dumb, though he knew she was suggesting the same sort of interactions his other girls enjoyed with him. . . with each other. . .

"Sometime, with you—in the nest.” And indeed, the nest awaited. Vrost nearly suggested the other girls participate, but Becks took him by the wrist and led him along, not that there was far to go. There was something carnal, something raw and excited, something he regarded as above pleasant about being led by the new addition, by his companion.

. Vrost smiled and cast off his jacket, no armour occupying the space under just slacks and a tank, the woman making quick work of each. Vrost slowed her down, he started at her shoulder, his snout on her body, he kissed her neck, he touched her arms—he felt her. . . and she felt it. She felt him slowly graze his hands over her, felt his tough fingertips touch her every scale, felt him “Kiss me,” he did. She felt him kiss her.

Their lips met at a slow pace at first, but Becks didn’t seem to know how that worked. She urged him into a more heated B-movie kiss, the kind reserved for the silver screen, for action movies, for got-the-girl moments. Vrost insisted, though; he slowed her down, a hand on her pectoral, on her hard body. “Easy, there, says Becks, take it slow.” She tried to, too.

She eased down her heated lips; she slowly kissed Vrost, and he agreed—his whiskered snout pushed up to her hot mouth, every breath rippling between them. . . Becks was reminded she’d never kissed a man in real life, with Vrost slowly touching her, slowly reminding her of her body, of every scale and muscle, and of every inch of her formative frame. She was a new woman, not the small one he’d met, and while he held nothing against that runt—this muscle-bound goddess was entirely something else—she was a glorious example of what they could do. . . of the nanites, exacting his will upon the world around him. They recast her lot, and she was grateful to him for it. . . to them.

While she’d never kissed a man in real life, she’d acted in virtual ones many times, times enough to let her libido and desires steal the day. She eased her hand toward him, one large set of digits, and the mitt between them took hold of his twin spires and slowly stroked them each. Vrost could only gulp down surprise and pleasure, their eyes meeting only briefly as she grinned and continued.

He didn’t disagree, and Vrost was far from disappointed; indeed, he enjoyed each stroke, doting on the deliverer; she seemed practiced, at least enthusiastic if not. She seemed to enjoy touching him as much as he did her, and he rather did enjoy that.

Becks didn’t stop at stroking, though; she wanted him inside her mouth; she wanted to taste him, to see what a real man tasted like and what his sex did for her. . . She opened wide, squatting expertly and freely before him—with a grace and range of motion she’d never known before. She squatted and started to suck him off slowly, taking him in her mouth—one of them. His long, turgid members bubbling for her efforts, she too exited, felt herself like a brook, slowly leaking through her underpants, her grey boy shorts sporting a wet spot over her mound, over her meaty, pussy lips—swollen like the rest of her, inviting like the rest of her.

Vrost could only growl a sound of compliance as she held him still, holding him with honesty and possession, with a passion he would never argue with.

For some time Becks slipped around his hemi penes; she glided hand from base to tip; she took care to enjoy; hands on his hips when they weren’t on his sex; if she wasn’t providing pleasure, she was adjusting his position; sounds erupting from him only proving to her; time in the most lurid 18+ brain dives was paying off, sans chip.

The woman pulled back though; it was inevitable. She leaned on her back, her tail swishing between her legs. She pressed her breasts together, the darker nipples standing erect. “C’mere, big guy," she instructed him, begging him closer with suggestive eyes and licked lips. Vrost complied. Vrost pulled toward her and over her, settling on her upper body to thrust his dual lengths through her cleavage, cleavage slicked with sweat and her saliva, some from her spitting on him, some from sucking him, the rest from where she guided him into her mouth, her tail pressing into his back, encouraging him to keep going, encouraging him to fuck her tits and mouth, cum for her, her eyes said it all—said she wanted that.

--Vrost did indeed oblige. “Hngph! "Groaning as his load shot off, painting the roof of her mouth and the back of her throat, she didn’t seem to mind at all, swallowing it, though it was not the taste or consistency she expected. Truthfully, Becks didn’t know what to expect; she was left pleasantly surprised, even if, under any other circumstances, the consistency would be less pleasing, less grand. . . but this was cum, man cum, real live Shadow Runner Cum. . . She’d been kneading her crotch all along, but the thought of this brought her toward a need that could only be answered with touch—a call she picked up.

A large, grey hand covered hers. “Let me,” Vrost said, deciding it was time he gave her his own brand of affection; he’d please her next. A reward would be to bring this Amazonian to heel, to have her whimper and coo under his skilled tongue and fingers.

Between her legs, free of her trainers, a beautiful set of petals peeled open like a pink butterfly preparing to take flight. He kissed, kissed, and licked the sweet nectar from between the creamy coos that was Becks. “Mmph, does that feel nice, Becks? "He asked her through the work, the effort, the act of sucking on her lips, and then two fingers—two fingers that worked into a deceptively tight snatch. . . deceptively tight because she was so damn skilled.

Crying and cringing, her new body felt incredible; the nights she’d spent privately between her sheets, touching herself with the memory of brain dives to guide the act were nothing compared to this, compared to Vrost, Vrost between her legs, licking her out with the taste of his seed on her tongue.

She squeezed her breast and arched her back, grinding her pussy lips against Vrost’s long face, against his tongue and fingers, against his efforts—a quivering amount of pleasure growing in her gut, hanging on her tongue. “Oauh-ho. . . V-Vrost! "She called out time and time again, hoping his name would be familiar on her lips not just tonight but for many more to come. She called it again, because she couldn’t bear for it to be her last, and she called it as her walls closed and tightened.

Starbursts of heat, of pleasure, of spine tingling, muscle spasm worthy, mind-numbing cum-drunk, orgasmic tingles rippled across her body, and with them, she confessed to him, “I’m coming! "

“I know,” he smirked into her, into her lips as she finished on him, on his fingers and tongue. . .

A moment passed, a humid, sweltering sort—the sort that came with panting, with kisses, with fluids that nobody knew what to do with, wipe or lick, ignore or indulge. He smiled, and she too. “You won’t regret it, Vrost," she promised him.

“I know," he repeated.