Pie Box 1

by George Saoulidis

  “Fine,” she sat upright. “What do you wish to know?”

  “Where are you from?”

  “I’m from Patmos.”

  “Oh, nice island. I’ve been there, ages ago.”

  “It is. But I hated it there. I wanted to be a journalist. Not much in the way of news in a small island like that.”

  “Journalist, eh? And did you? I mean, become one?”

  “I... I tried to. I came to the city, young and stupid and full of dreams. Went to a private school, learnt all about journalism, or so I thought. Then I graduated and tried to get a job.”

  “Sounds normal so far. Something go wrong?”

  She bit her lips. Hector liked it when she did that. “I had all the necessary skills. But I lacked... guile.”

  “I could have told you that!” Hector chuckled.

  She eyed him angrily. Then she sagged. “Yeah... it’s true.”

  “And what happened?”

  “I should have realised the pattern sooner, but I was only twenty years old. I studied while others around me got apprenticeships by sleeping with teachers and prominent journalists, men and women alike. By the time I was ready to work, they had already gotten every available slot. I wasn’t like this back then, I was very young and could turn a few heads. But I foolishly thought that the job was axiocratic.”

  “I see. It’s okay, there’s no shame in wanting to be appreciated for your skills and your brain.”

  She turned to him, mouth open. After an entire minute, she said, “You actually mean that, don’t you?”

  “Of course I do.”

  They drove the rest of the way to Tony’s house in silence.

  Hector texted him, and they waited. He looked at Patty. “I appreciate you opening up to me. Yes, you girls have no privacy and yes, I could read it all online, but I wanted you to feel comfortable enough to tell me all that.”

  She raised her chin. “I was. I mean, I am.”

  Tony burst inside the truck, carrying his laptop bag. He slammed the door shut and rapped the headrest rapidly. “Come on, already! We’ve got illegal matches to get to!”

  DROP FORTY-ONE

  The Underground had the same feeling as the official Cyberpink stadium. Tons of fans, though more of the nightlife variety, drinks, music, junk food. Everything was the same, the buzz, the pre-game excitement.

  There was one major thing that was different, though. Where the Cyberpink matches were family friendly by an extreme stretch of the term, these were downright explicit.

  Holos of athletes performing sex acts on each other threatened to blind and emotionally scar him. Official merchandise, definitely stolen, Hector thought, was sold next to bootleg sex toys and teledildonics molded after your favourite athlete. Porn AROs were sold left and right, and people were casually standing there, checking them out and buying them as if they were groceries.

  Tony, of course, looked like a kid in a candy store. He ran off and bought a couple of soft drinks for himself, after offering to get some for them as well. Then he went on a shopping spree.

  “Okay, talk me through this. What do we do?”

  Patty raised a shoulder. “It’s simple really. Whereas Cyberpink has rules and regulations, here, there are none. No limits on bets, no limits on technological, chemical or gene doping, game is streamed in pirate sites around the world. They also accept girls with over 30% augmentations, so the competition is fierce.”

  Hector frowned at that. “What’s that exactly?”

  She presented herself with a flourish. “I’m 21% augmented. Cyberpink, as you well have seen, is brutal. If I were to get injured further and need over 30% augmentations, I would be disqualified permanently from the official tournament. The debt is still there of course, without any of the perks. So I’d have to earn money somewhere else.”

  Hector pointed around. “Earn them here. Got it. What kind of money are we talking about?”

  “There are three things you can do. Well, four, if you count whoring me out.” She searched into his eyes.

  “Never. Three things, go on.”

  “One is betting. Pretty much what you’ve seen, but there are no limits. You’d have to establish a reputation of course to bet something like a million.”

  “Good thing we don’t have a million, then. What’s two?”

  “Two is to rent me out as a player for tonight. It’s a 5-hour contract that invalidates nothing of my standing ones. That man over there is who you need to talk to, Phobos.”

  Hector went pale. “Pickle, that’s Ares’ second in command!”

  “Exactly. When he’s not out in the world raiding villages or upturning dictatorships, he runs the Underground. It’s the next best thing to war for him, he likes having fun that way.”

  Hector tsked. “Charming. How much does that pay?”

  “Two thousand.”

  “Per match? Win or lose?”

  “Either, doesn’t matter. Phobos believes you should have bet on your athlete anyway, so that’s your bonus for winning.”

  “That’s actually good advice for troop morale. 2k sounds nice. And what’s the third?”

  “Ah. The third is what I wanna do tonight.”

  “Lay it on me.”

  “I want you to rent out an entire team.”

  Hector chuckled. “Yeah, right, as if that’s gonna happen.”

  Patty tapped her foot and crossed her arms, insisting on the course of action she laid out.

  Hector frowned. “It is?”

  DROP FORTY-TWO

  Phobos was half-cyborg. A powerful mesh of augmentations and armour, all in a deep shade of red. A smartrifle was on his back, even in the middle of a city full of civilians. Who’d even dare give him trouble for it?

  “I approve of the plating,” Hector said, shaking the man’s hand.

  The war veteran, and probably war criminal as well, shook his hand and catalogued him as not a threat. His expression, whatever little he could actually move, gave it away. “Blacksmith,” he wheezed.

  “You could call me that, yeah. Let’s get down to business, shall we? I don’t wanna waste your time.”

  “Wise.”

  “My lovely athlete here, Patty Roo, says that I can rent out an entire team and play the next match. I have one enforcer only, so four more athletes per 2k each means I just send you 8k right now in cryptocoins and we’re in business.”

  The war veteran stared down at him, his eyes darting in his veil. Weirdly, it wasn’t shared, because otherwise Hector would be able to see it. Hector mentally slapped himself. Well, duh. He was on a combat veil, a separate Augmented Reality network for Ares’ soldiers alone.

  Now that he thought about it, he’d never seen Canvas’ veil too. But it was easy to miss as every time he met the man he was anxious to save his skin.

  The general finally replied, “Approved.”

  “Great!” Hector clapped his hands. “Do we sign a contract?”

  “No contract. Deal like men. Break deal, I kill you,” the war criminal shrugged as if it would be a terrible inconvenience for him.

  “Ah. Okay then.”

  The general eyed him.

  “Right, sending them now. Done.” Hector his pockets extremely light. It was stupid, since the money was digital, but he had no more cash on him.

  They left Phobos and walked down to the locker room. Tony was giddy about it, walking right behind them. It was dirty everywhere, dirty corridors, dirty floors, dirty lockers. The Cyberpink tournament was well used and smelled of sweat and blood, but at least it was taken care of. This place would make a pig hold its nose.

  “I hope you know what you’re doing,” he sighed towards Patty.

  She walked beside him, carrying her gear. “I can win this match and get the pot. Twenty thousand in one night, all our troubles gone. “

  “Yeah, at the risk of you getting hurt. And don’t lie to me that there isn’t a risk in here.”

  “Of course there is,” she sighed and stopped. “Lo
ok, those bimbos at the Pinup Girls wouldn’t know strategy if it hit them on the head. Don’t judge my skills from those matches, the entire team was out of sync. No training at all.”

  “I agree. I actually saw you doing a lovely dance with Cherry for a moment, before it all went to shit.”

  “Why, thank you!” she beamed at him. “Exactly. Well, these girls don’t mess around. They’re like me.”

  A group of four athletes walked inside the locker room. They were all heavily augmented, well armoured, carrying helmets and Jugger weapons, and they all had variations on the short-hair motif. Most were quite hot, if you were into the whole cyberlimb thing, which Hector didn’t mind and had to admit he was totally into.

  “Now this is what I’m talking about!” he said excited and inspected the troops. He leaned in close and checked out their gear. “Metasteel weaving, auxetic metamaterials, ceramic impact zones. Gods, you’re so hot,” he told to the first one, a blonde.

  She looked puzzled, but then smiled wide at him. “Wow, you should smile more often, gorgeous. I’m Hector, I’ll be renting you lovely athletes for tonight. For tonight’s match,” he corrected with a chuckle. “As I personally don’t know shit about Jugger, your coach will be Patty over here. I call her Pickle. Come on over, Pickle.”

  She stepped on his foot with her augmented leg. He suppressed a scream, biting down on his thumb. If he hadn’t been wearing boots, he’d be missing a toe right now. “Don’t call me that,” she angrywhispered at him.

  She took charge, and the four girls turned towards her. “We’ll be doing a standard 1-3-1, then switch to a...”

  He let her manage the whole deal. She was much better at it, anyway. Hector grabbed Tony and got him outside to place a bet. He got a text from her, while at the same time coaching her team for the night.

  ‘Trust me,’ it said.

  ‘I trust you,’ he texted back.

  DROP FORTY-THREE

  Five minutes before the match, Patty was sweating hard.

  They had bet everything on this outcome. So much could go sideways. She stood there, holding her greaves in her hand by the straps. She banged her forehead on the locker, it made a hollow thud every time.

  “That’s not how you put them on,” Hector said, showing up. He winked at her.

  “What? Oh, right,” she forced a laugh. Even she didn’t believe it.

  “Let me do this for you.” Hector knelt down.

  “No, I-”

  “Shhh. I’m the expert on this, remember? I dress you up, you kick ass on the field. Deal?”

  She rolled her eyes.

  Hector dressed her with her greaves, his movements precise, calculated. He tied everything as much as needed, not too tight.

  Then he stood up and added the breast padding over her exoskeleton. He reached around her waist and she blushed immediately, feeling the heat of her blood rise up by the proximity of their bodies. His fingers locked the padding in place on her torso.

  Then he reached for the longsword.

  “No,” she interrupted. “I’m going with sword and shield. It’s the best tactical equipment for me.”

  “Okay.” Hector picked up the sword instead and clipped it into her belt. It was padded and plastic, had no blade. There was no need for a sheath.

  Then, he picked up her shield. He tied it around her shoulder and over her back, in a way so she could reach around and bring it forward.

  Then he picked up her helmet. He met her eyes and pushed her hair behind. She leaned her head down and he placed her helmet on. He reached out to fix a stray tuft of hair out of her eyes.

  “Ready.” He said proudly.

  Patty felt great after all this. All worry had lifted from her shoulders, all stress squeezed into the blunt tip of her sword. She swallowed, then said, “Thank you, Hector.” She dashed out of the locker room.

  “Go, kick their asses, Pickle!” he yelled behind her.

  “Idiot,” she mumbled but she couldn’t help but smile.

  DROP FORTY-FOUR

  The drum started beating. The match was on.

  Patty’s team charged as they were told to, screaming at their opponents. Within seconds, they had two girls pinned down, the qwik had the skull and the chain was protecting her, rushing forward.

  Score.

  “Woohoo!” a man cheered from the audience, loud enough to be heard over the ruckus that ensued.

  Patty looked up. It was Hector. She bit her lips but they turned into a smile.

  Reset.

  Drum beating.

  “2-1-2,” she said and the girls complied. She shield-bashed the first enforcer in her way, dumping her behind completely. Red blood sprayed the field.

  Patty pressed on, charging the chain. She was spinning her ball around her in wide arcs, already hitting one of her enforcers, going for another hit.

  She brought the shield up and protected her enforcer, and the drum beat cycled her paralysis. Free to move, they both attacked the chain both from on high and low, striking her on the floor and pinning her down. Patty’s enforcer held her sword on the opponent chain and nodded away. “Go!”

  Patty spun, avoided a blow from a q-tip, then blocked another with her shield. She bashed forward and got another opponent down, blood splattering on her. She kept hitting and made sure she was down.

  The ref wouldn’t even whistle at her, but she wasn’t an animal. She stopped when the girl got knocked out.

  Her qwik butted heads with the opponent’s same and Patty was too far away to help. So she pinned down the nearest enforcer and trusted her experienced team to get through it.

  They did, and made an opening for the little blondie to weasel through and score another skull.

  The fans clamoured, shook the place down. They were ecstatic.

  Patty’s heart beat fast.

  She loved this shit.

  DROP FORTY-FIVE

  “What the hell was that?” Hector came up to her in the corridors, jumping from excitement.

  “Are you pleased, my owner?” she teased, pulling off her helmet.

  “Pleased? That was the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen!”

  Tony stepped forward. “Can I please take a selfie with you, Patty? I’m gonna be telling about this match to my buddies and they won’t believe me.”

  Patty turned to Hector.

  Hector raised his palms. “Your call.”

  “Oh, why the hell not? Come here, you disgusting little man,” she said, and they took a selfie, kissing him on the cheek.

  “He’s in shock. Yeah, he’s out. He’ll recover, leave him for now. Patty, are we seriously collecting cash right now?”

  “Yeah.”

  Phobos seemed angry. Or, maybe that was his normal face, just a scowl with scars.

  “So? Could you send me the earnings?” Hector said, wincing.

  Phobos raised a red finger towards Patty on the back. “Good strategist.”

  “Yeah, she is.”

  “Pay 100k for her, right now.”

  Hector looked back. Patty was getting swarmed by fans, clearly not used to all this attention. She was blushing, smiling wide, posing awkwardly for pictures. “Uh, respectfully, I have to decline. She’s not for sale.”

  Phobos grunted. He then raised his wrist, and Hector honestly thought he was gonna get bitch-slapped. Flinching, he braced himself.

  A payment arrived in his cryptowallet. 11k.

  Pushing his luck, Hector dared to make another question. “Mr Phobos, General, sir, wasn’t it supposed to be 20k?”

  “It is. 8k payment athletes. 1k commission,” he grunted.

  “Right! Of course. Nice doing business with you. Keep the place running, the ambiance is magnificent.”

  “It is,” the war criminal grunted.

  Hector walked out of there as if his pants were on fire.

  DROP FORTY-SIX

  Canvas showed up at his store. Like every other time, he left his men outside and went inside with just two of them.
r />   “Where’s your better third?” Hector asked, looking for the familiar face of Angelo.

  “He’s injured,” Canvas said through his teeth. “Ten thousand,” he said, bringing his face over Hector’s. Then he stepped in the middle of the store and started undressing, pulling his vest and his t-shirt off.

  Hector flinched and covered his head. “Whoa, Canvas, I’ve got the money, you don’t need to-”

  The man showed his rippling muscles. Large patches of purple dirtied his otherwise smooth and waxed body.

  Hector winced. “Ow, that’s gotta hurt.”

  “All those are 50 calibre, direct hits.”

  “Ouch.”

  “Exactly. I would’a been a goner if it hadn’t been for the armour you made me.” He pointed at Hector’s chest with a strong finger.

  “So... you are completely satisfied?”

  The big, scary man stared down at him. Then he hugged him tight, squeezing Hector in his pecks.

  “Love you too, buddy,” Hector said out of breath, slapping his arm.

  “And by protecting me, you saved even more lives, civilians. I want you to repair mine and make more for my boys.”

  Hector choked. “Y-Yes. Of course.”

  “Take Michael’s measurements for now, and we’ll come back with Angelo when he’s up and about.” Canvas opened his veil and sent him twelve thousand euro.

  Hector blinked at the notification. Then he composed himself and clapped his hands together. “Nice. Let’s take your measurements, shall we? Follow me, please.”

  DROP FORTY-SEVEN

  Patty looked around the house, looking for Hector. She found him down in his man cave.

  Naturally.

  She liked watching him work. His intensity was inspiring, and she had to admit his armours were a work of art.

  “Is that a shield,” she asked interrupting him with a snack. Fresh fruit and some cheese.