DROP SEVENTY
Hector worked hard the entire morning, and he was satisfied with his progress on fulfilling the orders. It wasn’t much, one was an alteration, the owner of the vest had simply gained a few kilos. The other was a typical bodyguard’s chest protection, the bare-minimum that insurance would cover. Hector hoped the poor guy wouldn’t run into anything serious. And the third order, still waiting to be made, was one of his armour-as-fashion-statement pieces.
He noticed that those were picking up steam in the market. He needed to do something about it. Jotting it down in his ever-expanding to-do list, he drank some coffee and went back to work.
As his hands performed their task, his mind wandered. He was now living with two women under the same roof. Imagine that. His thoughts turned to the recent events. This life was insane. He had witnessed first-hand plain abuse, sexual abuse and murder in the span of a couple of weeks. He wasn’t naive, he knew these things were happening out there. But, seeing it commercialised like that...
It was wrong.
Dionysos had created an entire industry that exploited people for entertainment. He couldn’t help but think about the Roman gladiators when thinking about the Cyberpink tournament, slaves who bled for the momentary joy of the masses. He pulled up a documentary on his veil and absent-mindedly listened to it as he worked. The documentary showed that the gladiators were in it to win it, getting sponsorships, peddling olive oil and other local manufacturers, enjoying the fleeting fame before they died a needless death in the ring, still hoping for that fleeting freedom even at the very end.
He snorted. This was exactly the same. Replace the gladiator match with jugger, and men with augmented women, and red blood with pink. Do all that, and you get the Cyberpink Tournament.
Nothing ever changes.
DROP SEVENTY-ONE
Hector heard a piercing scream. He dropped his tools, grabbed a hammer and ran upstairs, climbing the steps two-by-two. Once there, he heard a male grunt and found a very confused and dripping-wet Cherry with just a bath towel, cowering away from Tony.
“Fuck, she really is qwik! I didn’t even see it coming,” Tony winced in visible pain, clutching his balls.
Hector relaxed and put the hammer away.
“He-he just barged in here!” Cherry stuttered, pointing a finger at the overweight nerd.
“Yeah... Sorry about that. He’s actually a friend, and no, I wouldn’t say he’s harmless, so keep your guard up around him. Tony, say hi to the lovely lady.” Hector opened his palms up in the usual gesture of a host who’s introducing two people to each other. Cherry was indeed smoking hot. Young, with very juicy and perky tits that couldn’t possibly be contained by a mere towel. Long legs, cute face, great ass. Hector had actually seen the whole package back at that demented dodgeball game at the Pinups’ place. Yes, Cherry was a sexy girl, no denying that. He could understand Tony’s lust, but really, a man should be able to control himself.
“Hi! Cherry, of course. I know all about you,” Tony said like a rodent. “Measurements, hobbies, even that birthmark right there that looks like a pair of cherries on your thigh.
“What?” she exclaimed, covering up.
“Yeah, you might not wanna lead with that in the future,” Hector winced. He pulled the lewd man away and into the kitchen. “Go, dress up, Cherry. We’ll be in the kitchen.”
She did so, and Tony bit his lip. “Fuck, man. She’s even hotter in person. I lost my words, sorry. I couldn’t think.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know where the blood flow went.” Hector pushed him down on the chair and poured ouzo for the both of them. “Look, this is an actual HR issue. If we’re gonna be doing this right here with the Pies, you need to keep it together. I can’t have you lusting after every boob that shows up in the vicinity.”
Tony sniffed once and composed himself, straightening his back. “I can handle it,” he said, then gulped down the entire glass of ouzo.
Hector blinked at that. “O-kay... Now, back to work. What do you have for me? For Cherry, basically.”
On cue, she showed up, drying up her short hair with a towel, but dressed otherwise with casual sweatpants. Hector found the baggy clothes a wise choice on her behalf. “What about me?”
“As I was saying, Tony is a hacker. Today we won’t be needing those kinds of services, but I still need things like online presence, streaming, discoverability and all that jazz. I asked him to take up our entire online presence, he loves that shit, he’s already a big Cyberpink fan, and I trust him. At least with my bits and bytes.”
Cherry turned to him and presented a hand. “I’m sorry, you startled me earlier. I’m Caroline, but fans call me Cherry.”
He shook her hand, obviously delighted for the touch. “I know. Tony, me. Hacker.”
Cherry nodded, “Laconic. Nice.” She sat down away from Tony.
“Not really, he just has a condition where he bites his tongue in the presence of pretty ladies. Anyway, take it from here, man. Tell me what you’re planning for us.” Hector motioned him to carry on.
Tony completely shifted gears. “Yeah. So, I have the Pie site set up, you’re all registered with the tournament, missing the roster, of course. The streams are all set up and monetised, I even added a bit of peer-to-peer encryption so that sleazebags such as myself won’t be able to tap in without paying-”
“Yeah, yeah, sounds awesome. What else?”
“Well, announcements are automated, everybody knows Cherry joined up and are checking her out,” Tony said, glancing at her.
Cherry shifted in her spot uncomfortably.
“She’s quite popular with the boys, we’ll be having merchandising up and running in no time. That’s all after the Pies get through the qualifiers, of course.”
“Of course,” Hector nodded. “Did you migrate her social media?”
“All programmed in, I made a macro. I just need your owner’s confirmation.” Tony pulled up a command prompt on the veil and spun it towards Hector.
Taking a look at it, it just waited for a retro-style ‘Y/N?’ reply. Hector shrugged and typed in ‘y.’
Tony took over and spun the command prompt, watching the scrolling text. “Yup, doing it. Got every bit of data on Cherry, it’s now on our servers.”
Hector raised his ouzo and said to Cherry, “We have servers, you see. So pro.” He smiled and took a swig.
Cherry squinted at him and shook her head. “I know we do, I do know computers.”
“All right, sorry. I only understand like a fifth of the words Tony usually says.” Hector slapped the table. “Well, if we’re done here, Tony, get the fuck back to your house so I don’t have to worry about you, Cherry, take the day off and settle in, mi casa es su casa, and I need to go get more girls so that we can actually call this a team.”
DROP SEVENTY-TWO
“Are you serious about this?” Pickle asked, tilting her head to the side. He had called her up to discuss business.
“For the last time, yes! We’re halfway there right now, might as well go all-in.” Hector gestured the equivalent gambler’s motion on the table, pushing all his chips to the centre.
Pickle leaned back. “Okay. We obviously need to hire three more girls.”
“Agreed,” Hector nodded.
There was a long pause. “Well? Which ones?” Pickle asked, impatient.
Hector shrugged. “I don’t know! It’s your call, I trust your judgement.”
“That’s the thing, this is the owner’s job. You know, schmoozing around, drinking, trading girls as if they’re collectible cards. It’s a boy’s club.”
“Okay, you decide which girls to approach, and I’ll go... schmooze, or whatever.”
Pickle started. “Really? You’d let me decide?”
Hector chuckled and took a swig of ouzo. “Pickle, I don’t know anything about the sport. You took over a team of randos at the underground and kicked ass. Even I could tell it was an awesome play on your behalf. So, yeah, why is it that
hard to believe that I’m putting you in charge of the team?”
Pickle perked up. “Huh. It’s just that... I didn’t expect it, that’s all.”
“Pickle. Pickly-pickle. You’re the perfect tool for the job. Only an idiot would refuse to put you to good use.” He slashed the air with his palm. “Seriously, enough about this, it’s settled. Now, which ones can we get? The only ones I know of are from the Pinups. And I guess, from Hondros’ reserves.”
Pickle clicked her tongue. “Yeah... No. The Pinups suck, like really-really suck. It’s not just because I hated it there, they objectively suck. They’re just eye-candy. Unless you want actual, literal sucking, that, they excel at it.”
“Okay, no Pinups, I agree. Who else is there? Hondros’ girls?”
“Perhaps, but they’re expensive. And we’re not there yet, financially.”
“No, we’re definitely not. But it wouldn’t hurt to ask him.”
Pickle nodded, “Sure, he’ll definitely have connections.”
DROP SEVENTY-THREE
“He called me a tool!” Pickle said, delighted. She was in the passenger seat, and was turned back to chat with Cherry. Hector had gone back inside to grab something he forgot.
“Isn’t that usually a bad thing to call someone?” Cherry frowned.
“Not in this context!” Pickle replied.
Cherry snorted. “Sure, whatever, girlfriend.”
Hector came back, opened the door, and started the car.
Cherry rapped on the seat and popped her lips. “Hey, can we get ice cream on the way?”
Hector sighed. “Ugh, fine. I’m stopping at the periptero for five minutes, that’s it. No overthinking it. Just pick one and eat it. And don’t make a mess in the car.”
Cherry whispered at Pickle, “So bossy,” but it was still loud enough in the confines of the pickup truck.
“I can hear you, you know.”
“I know, boss.”
Hector mumbled some Greek curse words under his breath and drove off.
Hector burst in at Laimargia restaurant. It was posh, you could tell by the types of cars parked outside and the stuck up waiter in a penguin-like suit at the entrance. Hector felt real badass, crashing in uninvited, being escorted by two ladies like that, and he had to admit it was something he could really get used to.
The head waiter tried to stop him. Hector raised a palm at him. “Zip it, penguin. I almost got shot in here and filed no charges, so unless you want my lawyer’s number for a goddamn long conversation, piss off.”
“Ah, yes, the incident,” the waiter said, bowing out.
He hated this place. It was full of rich people, both fat and skinny, eating their hearts out and then purging them in the bathroom. It was excess, it was gluttony, and it was bloody disgusting.
Hector walked up to Hondros’ usual table and shook his head. “Really? Same table, same place? You don’t even make it hard for the ones trying to kill you.”
The fat man was tearing through a shit-ton of shrimps. At his side was Mamacita, and she looked awful. She had black bags under her eyes and even Hector could tell she hadn’t really nailed today’s makeup. “Hector! My boy, come, sit with us. Eat something. And you brought your team along, lovely.” He gestured for the waiters to accommodate the ladies, and they did so like a blur.
Sitting down, Hector turned to Mamacita. “Hello there. Everything all right?”
She sniffed and smiled. “Yes, of course, Hector. Nice to see you. I was distracted, reading something on the veil.”
“Glad to hear that.” Hector turned back to Hondros, and addressed him by his first name. “Yianni, I need athletes.”
The enormous man perked up and his jowls shook. “Why, of course! Which ones, I have a catalogue, let me send it to you.”
Hector raised his hand. “I’m sure they’re all lovely, but I’m also sure I can’t afford any of them. I came to you because you’re the only owner I know with so many contacts. I just need you to point me in the right direction, give me someone’s number? Perhaps an endorsement from you if you think it’s fair. You know, after saving your miserable life?”
“Hector, Hector... Of course I can help you out! Yes, my girls are a bit out of your price-range, agreed. But I do know a couple that might work for you. Which positions are you looking to fill?” He checked out the Pies.
“Qwik is filled,” Cherry said, eyeing him hard.
“Of course it is! And I assume an enforcer also, so you need at least two more and a Chain.” Hondros said, scrolling through his files in his veil. His sticky fingers wouldn’t have worked on any touchscreen, and he splashed around shrimp juice and various gooey bits as he gestured.
“One enforcer, one Chain,” Pickle corrected. “We have a third already.”
Hector glanced at her questioningly, and she nodded a silent assurance that she’d tell him later.
“Good, good!” Hondros said. “There, would those two be suitable?” he asked Hector, sending him the files.
Hector nodded sideways. “Send them to Pickle, she’ll go over their stats.”
Hondros squinted at him, and smiled. “Whatever pleases you, my friend...” He send the files over the veil.
Pickle indeed was already going through the athlete’s files, mumbling to herself.
“Thank you, Yianni. And who’s the owner?” Hector said, standing up. He couldn’t wait to get out of this disgusting place.
“Oh, I’ll handle the contract, if you don’t mind. I’ll receive my fair commission and everyone will be happy.”
“Right,” Hector snorted. The girls stood up as well. “Mamacita, nice seeing you. Yianni, my last offer for her still stands, if that’s what she wants.”
Hondros laughed hard at that. “Nine measly thousand?”
“Yup,” Hector said with an attitude as if he was offering up millions.
“My answer is still the same, dear friend,” he refused politely, his jowls jostling left and right as he shook his head.
DROP SEVENTY-FOUR
“Remind me again why I didn’t do this over the phone,” Hector said, driving back home.
“Because,” Pickle said from the passenger seat, “you need to start showing up. Half the deals are made simply because someone knows somebody.”
“Okay, I get it. I just hate that place, makes me wanna barf,” he gestured, making a face.
“That’s the whole point, isn’t it?” Cherry chuckled from the back seat.
“Ugh... I am gonna barf, let’s stop talking about it,” Hector said, making a left. “Pickle, what’s up? Are they good?”
She bobbed her head left and right, mincing her words. “Ungh... yeah... For now, I guess?”
“Show me.” He pulled up their stats.
Name
Consuela Briones
Alias
Cadena
Strength
1
Speed
2
Strategy
1
Sexiness
1
Cup Size
C
Augmentations
11%
Team
Unassigned
Position
Chain
Wins
1
Losses
13
Income
1500
Sponsorships
None
Name
Lorelai DeSilva
Alias
Dainty Feet
Strength
1
Speed
1
Strategy
1
Sexiness
2
Cup Size
D
Augmentations
5%
Team
Unassigned
Position
Enforcer
Wins
0
Losses
44
Income
2500
Sponsorships
None
“Hephaistos’ mighty hammer and balls, Pickle, even I can tell these two are below average,” Hector exclaimed, swerving to keep his focus on the road.
“I can... hammer them into shape,” Pickle hesitated.
“Awesome use of the pun there, Pickle. Your banter is getting better every day,” Cherry noted unhelpfully from the back.
“No, no, they suck. We’ll find someone else,” Hector said, shaking his head.
“What if we can’t find them in time?” Cherry said.
Pickle sucked air through her teeth. She thought about for a moment. “Well, if we can’t find anyone else, I’m sure I can train them to at least hold their ground,” she finally nodded.
“You sure?” Hector asked, ignoring her.
“Yes,” Pickle said, looking confident, chin lifted.
“Okay. If you say you can, I’m with you,” Hector said.
Pickle turned back to Cherry. “This means we’re gonna have to carry the entire team, you, me and Bobo.”
Cherry snorted in a very unladylike way. “What else is new?”
Hector looked through the mirror, Cherry looked very excited, smiling and practically brimming with energy. “Love the positive attitude. But seriously, who’s Bobo?”
Pickle slapped her forehead. “Oh, right, I’ve been meaning to fill you in. I have an athlete in mind, I think she’ll be perfect for us.”
“If you think so. When can we see her?” Hector asked.
“Um... There’s a match tomorrow afternoon. Can we go and check her out?” Pickle said, checking her veil.
Hector nodded, eyes on the road. “Sure, book us two tickets. Now, about us getting officially in the Cyberpink Tournament, how much time do we have?”
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