by H. C. Brown
“Market value on weight.” The shopkeeper held out his hand.
Fane slipped the armband off and dropped the heavy gold circle into the shopkeeper’s palm. In this time, they rarely used gold for jewelry. Its use as a super conductor made each ounce priceless. He watched the man test the gold and then weigh it.
“I gather this is a family relic?” He looked up at Fane. “I haven’t seen gold this pure in many years.”
“Yes, we both have armbands. They’ve been handed down for generations.” Jace smiled warmly. “It’s a shame we have to sell even one of them, but we were robbed on the way into town and lost everything except these.” He leaned against the counter. “I’m sure proof of ownership is in our records.”
“Yes, it will be.” The man nodded thoughtfully. “Did they take your Intellic Cards? You should have them deactivated at once.”
Fane frowned. “They took everything, and yes, we had them deactivated. We need to sell this, replace our Intellic Cards, and find a place to stay. We came here looking for work.”
“If what you say checks out, I can supply cards.” He pushed a thumb scanner across the counter. “This comes out at five hundred thousand credits. This is one hell of a load of credits. The transaction is too big for me to cover. I’ll have to get this payment approved by Sci Tech. I’m guessing you’ll want this credit split between both cards?”
“Yes, we both need credits.” Heart pounding, Fane pressed his thumb on the scanner and watched his fake life flash up on the vid-screen. Oh boy, Jace was good. He was feeding information into the matrix on the fly.
“Well, you check out.” The shopkeeper nodded and pushed the device toward Jace. “Your turn.”
Ten minutes later, they stepped out onto the sidewalk clutching their cards. The streets were clean. All the buildings were similar: tall skyscrapers, all constructed from metal and glass. They walked through the crowded streets, blending in with the locals. Many women stared up at them, some even smiled, but the males kept their distance. Men of Fane and Jace’s size intimidated people. Fane’s AI accessed a map of the area and led the way to the Strand Hotel. Shelter and a meal were on the top of his agenda. Then they would hit the bars looking for sex.
A glass door with gold lettering swished open to reveal the hotel foyer. They walked through a body scanner and toward the front desk. An avatar of a bellhop Fane recognized from a game set in the 1940s grinned at them from a vid-screen. Fane leaned causally on the desk. It was strange speaking to an animation. “We plan to stay a while.”
“Yes sir, if you’ll swipe your cards. I’ll see what we have available.” The screen went to a welcome page.
They swiped their cards. Fane waited for the animation to return. “Do you have a suite with two separate bedrooms available?”
“Sure.” The face on the screen became serious. “I must say how sorry we are to hear about the robbery. The police are looking into your case. We have a problem with rival gangs; they usually cause trouble in town.”
So even the restaurants are attached to the mainframe. Interesting. “They didn’t get much.” Jace pushed his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Do you have a bar here? A place to eat? Female entertainment?”
“Yes, Mr. Brand. The restaurant is to your left and the bar through the glass doors opposite. We can arrange escorts.”
Two cards popped out of slits in the desk. The bellhop waved a hand toward them and smiled brightly. “Room 999. Have a nice stay.”
Fane slipped the card into his jacket and frowned. “What is the tariff?”
“Two hundred credits a night or one thousand per week. Do you wish me to withdraw half from each account?” The bellhop smiled.
“Yeah.” Jace grinned. “We’ll put everything on the account, including the escorts.”
“As you wish.” The bellhop looked at Fane. “If you require any further information, please access the menu on the vid-screen in your rooms.”
Jace’s voice rumbled in his head. “We should buy this place and turn it into a BDSM dungeon. It would save a lot of embarrassment, for our clients, to be able to book in with a computer generated concierge.”
“Yeah. This place would be perfect.”
With a chuckle, Fane turned toward the restaurant. The cyborg part of him could run for an eternity without sustenance, but his human body needed food and his beverage of choice, beer—yeah, a lot of beer. Sex could wait another hour or so. The atmosphere in the restaurant reminded Fane of a church. People sat around eating or talking in muted tones. Classical music drifted through speakers set high in the ceiling. The concierge cast a disparaging glance over them and gave a sniff of disapproval. Fane smiled and met the man’s gaze full on.
“A table for two, please.” He glanced at Jace. “I’d like to see him on his knees before a Dominatrix.”
“Yeah, slave number one.” Jace chuckled.
The concierge consulted his book and then led them to a table, walking as if he had a stick shoved up his ass.
Fane dropped into a chair. He grinned at Jace. “You know it’s good to be able to speak without worrying about Gryd listening in, but you have to admit, M.S. has its advantages, even in this time.”
“I don’t think we should discuss anything of importance without Mind Speak. We have some details of this time, but the phrase ‘Big Brother is watching’ you keeps coming up. They have government surveillance. One slip and they find out we have a neural network, and we’ll be in a laboratory with our brains in slices.” Jace pointed to a vid-screen in the center of the table displaying a menu. “I’m betting they monitor dinner conversations… things slip in relaxed atmospheres.”
“I’ll watch what I say, but why are you worrying? Worst case scenario, you hack the mainframe and remove anything they have on us.”
Fane glanced at the selection on menu and grinned. Each had the fat and energy content plus the nutritional benefits. Hell, the genetic enhancements from their time eliminated their need to worry about anything except enjoying food. He could eat whatever he wanted with no adverse side effects. So could Jace. Fane ran a finger down the menu and spoke to the vid screen. “Two steaks, bloody, fries, and salad. Beer, keep it coming until I say stop. Chocolate cake—two servings.”
“Give me the same.” Jace leaned forward, placing his elbows on the table. “But I want my steak burnt.”
Their meals arrived about half an hour later. They ate slowly, savoring every bite. Fane’s belly filled and his mind turned to sex. He met Jace’s gaze across the table. “I wonder where we can find some women.”
The screen in the center of the table flickered, and the bellhop appeared. “Our bar has a selection of escorts guaranteed to satisfy the most particular client. You will find them in the red section.”
“Fuck.” Jace shot Fane a gaze. “I told you they listen in.”
“So I’ll be careful. Act normal and no one will worry about us.” Fane turned to the screen. “Thanks.” He slid his chair back and got to his feet. “Coming?”
“Sure.” Jace frowned. “This is worse than Gryd. I think I’m gonna need a bit of time to make sure we’re off their observation grid.”
“Tomorrow. Right now, I need pussy.”
* * * * *
The bar hummed with conversation, and up-tempo music belted from a wall panel surrounded with brightly colored lights. Jace followed Fane’s broad back to the section of the bar with the red carpet. He scanned the area. His need for a sweet boy-toy to suck his cock would have to wait. Women, their expressions glazed and expectant, and wearing short skirts and low-cut tops, lazed on sofas. In truth, he liked big tits, and after all, any female could take both cocks at the same time. Somewhere in this town there would be a BDSM club to satisfy his more carnal desires.
The prostitutes had painted their faces, making their eyes and lips appear huge and out of proportion with the rest of their features. Jace gazed at a pair of tits so big they made his knees tremble. The raven-haired female arched her back
to press dark, erect nipples against the flimsy, pink fabric of her top. She gave him a sultry smile and got slowly to her feet.
Jace held out his hand. “I want you all night. I have a room.”
“Fresh out of prison, honey?” The escort took his hand. “I’m Trixie.”
Jace led her from the bar and into the hotel foyer. “Nah, I’m just horny.”
He turned his head to see Fane practically dragging a redhead from the bar. He grinned and waited for him. “How do we get to our room?”
“This way.” Trixie moved toward the elevator. She smiled at Fane. “You want to share us?”
“You’ll get your turn tomorrow… maybe.” Fane slid his arm around his escort. “Laverne, here, is all I need for tonight.”
* * * * *
The suite, with a separate sitting room, two bedrooms—each with a bathroom—was large and well equipped. Fane led Lavern inside the first bedroom and closed the door. He removed his jacket and threw it on a chair. The hooker gave him a sweet smile and sat on the bed, kicking off her red stilettos.
“No, put them back on and stand up.”
Fane undressed, watching her expression. She smiled nervously and drew in a long breath the moment she set eyes on his cock. He grinned. Yeah, it’s big. Just like the rest of me, baby. He pulled out a chair from a small, writing desk and set it in the middle of the room. Rubbing his hands together, he sat down and looked at Laverne. “Take off your panties, shirt and bra, but leave your skirt on and those shoes.”
He loved to watch women undress. His cock grew hard the second her pale breasts bounced free of her bra. The bright pink nipples looked like cherries on ice cream. She stood before him, the heavy scent of her perfume masking her own feminine allure. He rolled her nipples, and she bent to allow him to suckle. She tasted faintly of soap, and the rose perfume lingered on her skin.
Lifting his head, he met her gaze. “Show me your pussy.”
Disappointment flooded over him. The soft down that covered her sex was light brown, not the fiery red he had craved every damn night for the past few months. “Lay across my knees. I’m going to spank you.”
With her body draped across his thighs, Fane stroked her back, and then lifted her skirt. His palm cupped her bottom, the flesh cool against his skin. He ran his thumb down the cleft of her ass cheeks, dipped in her damp pussy, and then circled her anal star. He pressed his thumb against the tight muscle, testing the resistance. “You like ass fucking?”
“I will do anything that pleases you.” Laverne wriggled her ass.
I’m supposed to please you. You’re a sex slave, just like I was. Fuck. This was just sex, not a Dom scene… . Fuck this; all he wanted was sex with a woman of his choosing. Desire deserted him, leaving him hungry for something so much more than a prostitute could offer. Fane slapped her once, and then helped her to her feet. “I’m not in the mood.”
“You still have to pay, asshole.” Laverne dragged on her shirt, and then pushed down her skirt. “I’m charging you for all night.” She collected her underwear and headed for the exit.
The door slammed shut. Fane shrugged and moved into the bathroom. He took a long, cold shower. What was happening? His balls ached, and he had just thrown out a female—was he going insane? A warning flashed from his AI; his testosterone levels were dangerously high. He stepped from the freezing shower and dried off. All thought of sex deserted him. He needed to walk. Computer, dress me in black. Leather boots, jeans and a cotton shirt with buttons. Connect me to Jace, Mind Speak. “Jace, I’m sorry to interrupt your hot, monkey sex. I’m going for a long walk. Laverne didn’t work out.”
“Right. I’m not enjoying this either; I might ditch this bitch and go look for some ass. There must be a gay bar in this town. Unless, you wanna fuck me raw.”
“Maybe later, I need some space… okay?”
Fane shrugged into his leather jacket and left the suite. Inside the elevator, the music reminded him of a funeral. He stepped out on the ground floor and headed for the exit. Outside, cool air hit his skin with just a hint of rain. The sound of thunder rumbled in the distance, and the inky sky lit up with a flash of lightning. Accessing his AI for the map of the area, he headed toward the middle of town. Shop fronts spilled light onto the sidewalk, and flashing signs advertised a variety of clubs and bars. He shook his head. One thing his history omitted was that everything here stayed open twenty-four hours. People milled about. Couples gazed in shop windows, holding hands, groups of kids on hover boards flashed in and around between the pedestrians. The roads were busy with traffic. This place was not that much different from his own future Earth.
At the end of the retail area, the long line of shops gave way to high-rise apartment buildings, hotels and professional offices, medical clinics and the like. Farther along the road, Fane came to the seedier side of town. Here, only the occasional person walked by, eyes front and in a hurry. Fane paused to check his map. Perhaps he would find a bar. A strip club, Bare All for You, caught his attention. Yeah, he could record a few memories and play them back later. Crossing the street, he noticed a group of men tugging at something, or dragging a large bundle of rags between them. Shit. Not rags—a female.
Without a second thought, he ran down the alley. “What the fuck are you doing?”
Fane saw the flash of metal. A youth with a red bandanna tied around his mouth aimed and fired. The bullet burned through Fane’s shoulder. Red bandanna began to scream to his friends. One of the youths hit the female across the back of the head. She sank to the ground, burgundy hair spilling across the pavement like blood. Her shirt hung in threads over a lacy bra, and her short, black skirt had hitched up to show a length of golden thigh. She looked up at him, her big, green eyes pleading for his help. Fane rushed into the melee, fists flying. Without doubt, he’d inflicted a great deal of damage, but not enough. Blood splattered the sidewalk from smashed noses, and then the woman screamed a warning—too late. Pain shot into his head, and his AI blinked out a second before the street lights faded to nothingness.
Chapter Four
Dr. Tamara Bright pushed her hair out of her eyes and stared down at the man at her feet. Heaven’s above, her knight in shining armor was a big one—no, big was an understatement. The man had the physique of a professional wrestler and then some. He was so darn heavy. She could not lift his shoulders, let alone drag him into her clinic. She glanced self-consciously at her lacy, black bra. Hell, the man would have bled to death if she hadn’t used her shirt to make a pressure bandage. She knelt beside him and touched his face. His vital signs were stable as far as she could estimate. With a shiver, she glanced around. The gang had fled, and the streets empty. The man moaned. She had to get him inside for medical attention. She traced the jagged scar under his left eye with her fingertips. “Can you hear me?”
“Aaarh.” Fane rolled onto his side. “Yeah, I can hear you. Damage report… broken right clavicle with minimal muscle damage… engaging nanobots… AI rebooted and okay.”
Moving back, Tamara blinked. Was this man having a morbid joke at her expense? She placed a hand on his cheek, turning his head to look into his eyes. Such incredibly blue eyes—he must be wearing tinted lenses.
“Can you stand up? I’m Dr. Tamara Bright. My clinic is over there.” She inclined her head toward the heavy, metal, security door.
* * * * *
Fane gazed into the face of his dreams. Fuck, his AI must have sustained damage, and he was stuck in a dreamscape. He rolled onto his knees. The road moved in and out of focus, he staggered to his feet. Hot, burning pain ripped through his chest. This isn’t a dream. Had he become delusional? He moaned and clutched at his shoulder. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
“Look, I know you’re in pain. You have a gunshot wound. Let me help you.” Tamara reached for his arm. “Come with me.”
Turning slowly, Fane gazed down at her upturned face. Dirt smudged her pallid features. Railroad tracks of tears streaked her cheeks. God, she was real. He wanted t
o pull her into his embrace and hold her trembling body against him. Slow down. Take it nice and slow. Don’t frighten her. Computer, release pheromones.
The woman drew in a long, shuddering breath. Fear filled her magnificent, jade eyes. Fane touched her cheek. He expected her to move away, but she stood there, looking up at him. This had to be good, right? What had happened? The jackhammer in his head prevented coherent thought. His AI replayed the fight—six to one. He did not stand a chance once the bastard shot him. The blow to his head had come from behind and knocked him flat on his face. He smiled to reassure the woman. The AI supplied him with her name—at least that part of him was working. “More to the point, are you okay, Tamara?”
“Yes, thanks to you, Mr. . .?”
He allowed her to lead him toward a door farther down the alley. “Fane Jacobs.”
Tamara wiped her delicate hands on her skirt, and then pressed her palm on the scanner beside the door. The heavy, metal door clicked open. Fane followed her inside, his bionic eyes seeing clearly in the gloomy passageway.
“Lights on.” Tamara shut the door and led Fane into a small surgery room. “Sit on the table, and let me take a look at your shoulder.”
The nanobots inside Fane’s blood would repair any damage in a few hours. He glanced around suspiciously. “Don’t worry. I just need to rest up for an hour or so.”
“No way.” Tamara pushed him toward the bench. “You’ve lost a lot of blood. That wound needs cleaning, and you have a bone sticking out of your chest. You were correct when you said you had broken your clavicle. Do you have medical knowledge?”
Fane shrugged. “Some. Well, let’s say I know enough to fix myself. You don’t have to worry, babe.” He sat on the bench and met her gaze. “I think you need to check that nasty graze on your shoulder first.”
“It’s nothing.” Tamara moved closer and began to remove Fane’s jacket. “Please lie down.”
Fane forced his AI to work out a way to get out of this mess. Perhaps if he kept her talking, he’d be able to recover enough to slip away. “Why did they attack you?”
