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- Joined
- Jan 4, 2015
At sixty years of age, six foot three, and two hundred and fifty pounds, Arlan Rosin MD, could easily be considered a handsome, if older gentleman. His body was athletic, with his corded muscles well defined which gave him a confident stride as he approached a darkened alleyway in Southern Moscow.
He was clad in a silk handmade three piece suit, and a long leather trench coat, that flowed in the cool breeze from the North. His salt and pepper hair was cut short, and combed straight back. His clean shaven face was calm. Most people might be afraid of the darkened alleys. Such was not the case with
the Doctor. Most things in the dark tended to shy away from a man who's body made subtle mechanical noises, and who's eyes glowed a brilliant blue in the cold, night air.
As dark as it was, Arlan could see everything, from the body heat of a homeless wretch to his left, slumped against a damp plascrete wall, clutching a half empty bottle of cheap booze, to the pack of rats skittering around a few hundred feet away at the end of the alley.
His mechanical irises and lenses whirred away an minute motors and actuators hidden behind his black sclera, as his softly blue glowing Irises appeared to hover and shift above the street in the gloom.
High above his head, a largely obsolete but still functioning quad copter security drone whirred and hovered, keeping a modest watch on the area. Arlan had hacked into the security feed earlier of the derelict area, and had a constant feed and display from the drones cameras on his retinal heads up display.
The immediate area was empty, safe for the front entrance to the otherwise nondescript building, which had people of quality driving up, exiting their vehicles into the darkened alleyway, tossing their keys to the many young valets hiding in the shadows. Arlan was not worried about them in the slightest. They were not why he was here.
Moscow was not without its shadier areas, and just like anywhere else, one could buy anything they wanted, provided the price was right. One could buy recreational substances, a companion for the night, illegal military hardware, or even human and metahuman slaves.
Arlan had many hobbies, developing advanced cybernetics being high on his list. He just needed an assistant, a test bed of sorts to see if his creations were viable. He knew damn well that they already were perfect, as he had designed them himself. He was however a consummate professional, and that meant testing.
Perhaps his future assistant could be found inside of this building. Even more desirable, perhaps they would scream for him deliciously as he cut into their flesh, replacing it with bleeding edge hardware worthy of an elite special forces operative. The corner of his mouth turned upwards a little at the thought.
The scientist adjusted the lapel of his trench coat, as his scarf flapped in the cold breeze. He descended down a half flight of stairs to a doorway set in the back of the old brick structure he wanted. The door was tall and wide, with paint flaking away from is surface, and rusted in splotchy patches here and there. A lone sodium vapor lamp overhead bathed the area in a brilliant orange glow.
Both of the orks were large and muscular, even by their standards. They were dressed in expensive hand tailored formal attire. One of them stepped forward and held out his hand. "I'm sorry sir." He grumbled in a deep, intimidating tone, one that would make most men halt in their tracks, possibly wetting themselves. "...This is a restricted area."
Doctor rosin raised his head, as his mechanical eyes focused upon the burly ork, feeding his brain a vast amount of data about the individual. Chiefly was his heart rate, breathing, and body temperature. All of which proved that the ork was confident, and relaxed. The doctor made a motion to reach inside of his jacket, and both orks instinctively reached inside of their jackets as well. Their heart rates jumped a little according to his data feed.
Arlan arched his eyebrow in annoyance at them, and very slowly withdrew a piece of folded paper. He presented it to the nearest ork, who was easily three foot taller than his modest human height.
The orks visibly relaxed. The nearest took the parchment from Arlan, opened it up, his menacing eyes scanning its contents. He nodded once, and then nodded to his companion.
" My apologies Doctor Rosin..." The orc began in a much more polite tone than before. Arlan just stood there, watching the ork for a long while as he fumbled for something to say. The doctor stood, watching, saying nothing. After a few moments, the huge ork started to shrink away from the man, as if he had just turned into something much scarier.
He moved aside, averting his eyes, and opened the rusted metal door, Holding it open, and gesturing inside.
"Thank you..." Arlan said in a deep, menacing, synthesized voice, as his cybernetic lungs and larynx made themselves known.
His eye actuators could be heard adjusting as they shifted from the orks to the open entry way. He leisurely entered the building, as the burly ork security guards closed the door behind him, breathing shallow sighs of relief.
Front doors were never a favorite of Arlan. They were often watched heavily, polished, and highly decorated facades, IE an elaborate lie to show to the customers. He made his way through the crowded, fully stocked kitchen, as cooks, chefs, and assistants scurried around him, frantically preparing four star plates that looked like something off of the food channel.
One such individual, a tall and heavily muscled human with short cut hair and rectangular glasses spoke to him in Russian, in a tone of voice that expressed extreme anger, and a desire for the master surgeon to leave his area immediately. He looked at Arlan incredulously when her turned to face the chef.
Arlan pursed his lips for a second, as his blue irises fell to the countertop, lined with many artistic looking slate rocks, covered with delicious looking bites of carefully arranged food. The kitchen then fell silent. Arlan's eyes looked back to the athletic chef, and held his gaze. "...These look good. Though I'll have a touch more lemon juice on mine, when you bring it to my table." He murmured back to the head chef, in perfectly articulated Russian. He then turned and walked along the isles of the immaculately cleaned kitchen, and up a flight of stairs, where bass heavy music could be heard.
View: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=POHscfRZty8&t=3s
Color changing lights flooded the area as he entered the main showroom, dark and dimly lit, with many well dressed patrons walking this way and that, to view the various merchandises available.
A woman clad in a very revealing latex dress slowly sauntered past him, her seductive eyes meeting his, as her wet lips smiled a delicious smile. Following behind her on their hands and knees, were two naked, beautiful elven girls, on leather leashes, studded with long metal spikes, with tags dangling from their left ears.
Slave auctions like these were not commonplace, but not unheard of. The various booths had every manner of humanoid creature available, for the right price of course.
Arlan's tastes however were a bit more , specific. He was not after a perfect little fuck toy who would do everything he said with a smile on her lovely face. He walked right past a well furnished show area displaying the pristine male and female bodies, untouched, and wearing various chastity devices.
Arlan Scoffed. He knew damn well that not one of these poor wretches were virginal. The slavers would get theirs first, and then have their captives have surgical, realistic hymens put into place, and then toss a chastity belt on them to up their value. His blue eyes scanned the cavernous room, and saw something that looked promising.
He took off his long leather coat, and draped it over one of his shoulders.
Off in one corner, was a swarthy looking dwarf, with unkempt hair, that looked very much out of place with the rest of the crowd. Next to him was a rusty metal frame on wheels, with several straps suspending a whitish torso, that would occasionally try to move, but ultimately gave up. Arlan's eyelids narrowed, and he approached the dwarf, and whatever was next to him for a closer look.
The Dwarf looked really uncomfortable, looking this way and that, as if he was ready to leave, and quickly. He was dressed in a cheap looking suit that was too small for him around his chest, with his sleeves being to long for his stocky arms. The unfortunate wretch suspended in the frame however looked to have been through hell, and then some.
Upon closer examination, Arlan was able to tell that the alabaster skinned, one armed torso was in actuality a horribly mutilated elven woman with heavily bruised alabaster skin. One of her legs was missing entirely, with a knotted scar puckering barely healed flesh at her hip socket. Her other leg had been cut off at the knee, and was stitched up, red, and swollen. Her right arm was severed mid humerus, but looked old and healed. her left arm was largely intact, but her hand was missing a few fingers, with the ones that remained bent at impossible angles, and twitched ever so often. Her rib cage was bruised in several places, as her midsection heaved in painful breaths.
Her face was where the real abuse could be seen. Her jaw was held open with a slightly rusted spider gag, with a thin trickle of blood flowing down her chin from her red, bloody gums, looking as if her teeth had just been plucked with a pair of pliers. Her one remaining rood eye was a lovely rose color, if a little bloodshot, as it stared up at the ceiling in pure agony and resignation. Her other eye socket was swollen, and sewn shut.
Arlan seethed inside, but kept his composure. Her face, while marred, looked like it had once held great beauty. Perhaps it would again. She didn't know it yet, but this was her lucky day beyond belief.
He pursed his lips like he always did when he was thinking, and then looked down to the dwarf, who was looking back up at him hopefully, with a lurid mouth full of yellow teeth.
Arlan spoke first, his synthesized voice dark, and foreboding. "I take it you are the owner of this..." The surgeon then looked away from the dwarf, and back to the remains of what had once been a beautiful albino elven woman. "...fine specimen?" He finished, in a tone dripping with sarcasm.
"Aye sir..." The dwarf said back, with a heavy Scottish accent. "...She may not look like much, but her pierced tongue gets the job done, that I can assure you." He said excitedly. "I just pulled her teeth out yesterday, making it that much more comfortable. For only two thousand rubles, she can be yours. " He finished eagerly.
Arlan eyed the elven girl again, and then looked back down to the dwarf. He said nothing, and just held the dwarf's gaze, never blinking, as the eerie blue cybernetic retinas studied him. The Dwarf visibly shark back away from him, and quickly reconsidered his offer. "...Uh, one." The dwarf stammered. "...one thousand Rubles."
Arlan looked back to the hanged girl, and then reached inside of his suit jacket, withdrawing a slender credstick, appearing unmarked and untraceable. His gloved hand tapped upon its surface, as it beeped repeatedly.
"...Such and effective negotiator." Arlan murmured, as he tossed the credstick into the shaking dwarfs waiting hands. "...You've sold me. Two thousand it is."
The red haired dwarf looked to Arlan in shock, and then down to the credstick in his hands. He then nodded his thanks, and walked away from the elven girl in the frame, disappearing into the crowd.
Arlan tapped his finger upon the frame folding her, and whispered, as his glowing blue eyes took her in. She was in misery. Just a little longer perhaps. "Shhhh..." He said to her. "....It will be fine."
He was clad in a silk handmade three piece suit, and a long leather trench coat, that flowed in the cool breeze from the North. His salt and pepper hair was cut short, and combed straight back. His clean shaven face was calm. Most people might be afraid of the darkened alleys. Such was not the case with
the Doctor. Most things in the dark tended to shy away from a man who's body made subtle mechanical noises, and who's eyes glowed a brilliant blue in the cold, night air.
As dark as it was, Arlan could see everything, from the body heat of a homeless wretch to his left, slumped against a damp plascrete wall, clutching a half empty bottle of cheap booze, to the pack of rats skittering around a few hundred feet away at the end of the alley.
His mechanical irises and lenses whirred away an minute motors and actuators hidden behind his black sclera, as his softly blue glowing Irises appeared to hover and shift above the street in the gloom.
High above his head, a largely obsolete but still functioning quad copter security drone whirred and hovered, keeping a modest watch on the area. Arlan had hacked into the security feed earlier of the derelict area, and had a constant feed and display from the drones cameras on his retinal heads up display.
The immediate area was empty, safe for the front entrance to the otherwise nondescript building, which had people of quality driving up, exiting their vehicles into the darkened alleyway, tossing their keys to the many young valets hiding in the shadows. Arlan was not worried about them in the slightest. They were not why he was here.
Moscow was not without its shadier areas, and just like anywhere else, one could buy anything they wanted, provided the price was right. One could buy recreational substances, a companion for the night, illegal military hardware, or even human and metahuman slaves.
Arlan had many hobbies, developing advanced cybernetics being high on his list. He just needed an assistant, a test bed of sorts to see if his creations were viable. He knew damn well that they already were perfect, as he had designed them himself. He was however a consummate professional, and that meant testing.
Perhaps his future assistant could be found inside of this building. Even more desirable, perhaps they would scream for him deliciously as he cut into their flesh, replacing it with bleeding edge hardware worthy of an elite special forces operative. The corner of his mouth turned upwards a little at the thought.
The scientist adjusted the lapel of his trench coat, as his scarf flapped in the cold breeze. He descended down a half flight of stairs to a doorway set in the back of the old brick structure he wanted. The door was tall and wide, with paint flaking away from is surface, and rusted in splotchy patches here and there. A lone sodium vapor lamp overhead bathed the area in a brilliant orange glow.
Both of the orks were large and muscular, even by their standards. They were dressed in expensive hand tailored formal attire. One of them stepped forward and held out his hand. "I'm sorry sir." He grumbled in a deep, intimidating tone, one that would make most men halt in their tracks, possibly wetting themselves. "...This is a restricted area."
Doctor rosin raised his head, as his mechanical eyes focused upon the burly ork, feeding his brain a vast amount of data about the individual. Chiefly was his heart rate, breathing, and body temperature. All of which proved that the ork was confident, and relaxed. The doctor made a motion to reach inside of his jacket, and both orks instinctively reached inside of their jackets as well. Their heart rates jumped a little according to his data feed.
Arlan arched his eyebrow in annoyance at them, and very slowly withdrew a piece of folded paper. He presented it to the nearest ork, who was easily three foot taller than his modest human height.
The orks visibly relaxed. The nearest took the parchment from Arlan, opened it up, his menacing eyes scanning its contents. He nodded once, and then nodded to his companion.
" My apologies Doctor Rosin..." The orc began in a much more polite tone than before. Arlan just stood there, watching the ork for a long while as he fumbled for something to say. The doctor stood, watching, saying nothing. After a few moments, the huge ork started to shrink away from the man, as if he had just turned into something much scarier.
He moved aside, averting his eyes, and opened the rusted metal door, Holding it open, and gesturing inside.
"Thank you..." Arlan said in a deep, menacing, synthesized voice, as his cybernetic lungs and larynx made themselves known.
His eye actuators could be heard adjusting as they shifted from the orks to the open entry way. He leisurely entered the building, as the burly ork security guards closed the door behind him, breathing shallow sighs of relief.
Front doors were never a favorite of Arlan. They were often watched heavily, polished, and highly decorated facades, IE an elaborate lie to show to the customers. He made his way through the crowded, fully stocked kitchen, as cooks, chefs, and assistants scurried around him, frantically preparing four star plates that looked like something off of the food channel.
One such individual, a tall and heavily muscled human with short cut hair and rectangular glasses spoke to him in Russian, in a tone of voice that expressed extreme anger, and a desire for the master surgeon to leave his area immediately. He looked at Arlan incredulously when her turned to face the chef.
Arlan pursed his lips for a second, as his blue irises fell to the countertop, lined with many artistic looking slate rocks, covered with delicious looking bites of carefully arranged food. The kitchen then fell silent. Arlan's eyes looked back to the athletic chef, and held his gaze. "...These look good. Though I'll have a touch more lemon juice on mine, when you bring it to my table." He murmured back to the head chef, in perfectly articulated Russian. He then turned and walked along the isles of the immaculately cleaned kitchen, and up a flight of stairs, where bass heavy music could be heard.
View: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=POHscfRZty8&t=3s
Color changing lights flooded the area as he entered the main showroom, dark and dimly lit, with many well dressed patrons walking this way and that, to view the various merchandises available.
A woman clad in a very revealing latex dress slowly sauntered past him, her seductive eyes meeting his, as her wet lips smiled a delicious smile. Following behind her on their hands and knees, were two naked, beautiful elven girls, on leather leashes, studded with long metal spikes, with tags dangling from their left ears.
Slave auctions like these were not commonplace, but not unheard of. The various booths had every manner of humanoid creature available, for the right price of course.
Arlan's tastes however were a bit more , specific. He was not after a perfect little fuck toy who would do everything he said with a smile on her lovely face. He walked right past a well furnished show area displaying the pristine male and female bodies, untouched, and wearing various chastity devices.
Arlan Scoffed. He knew damn well that not one of these poor wretches were virginal. The slavers would get theirs first, and then have their captives have surgical, realistic hymens put into place, and then toss a chastity belt on them to up their value. His blue eyes scanned the cavernous room, and saw something that looked promising.
He took off his long leather coat, and draped it over one of his shoulders.
Off in one corner, was a swarthy looking dwarf, with unkempt hair, that looked very much out of place with the rest of the crowd. Next to him was a rusty metal frame on wheels, with several straps suspending a whitish torso, that would occasionally try to move, but ultimately gave up. Arlan's eyelids narrowed, and he approached the dwarf, and whatever was next to him for a closer look.
The Dwarf looked really uncomfortable, looking this way and that, as if he was ready to leave, and quickly. He was dressed in a cheap looking suit that was too small for him around his chest, with his sleeves being to long for his stocky arms. The unfortunate wretch suspended in the frame however looked to have been through hell, and then some.
Upon closer examination, Arlan was able to tell that the alabaster skinned, one armed torso was in actuality a horribly mutilated elven woman with heavily bruised alabaster skin. One of her legs was missing entirely, with a knotted scar puckering barely healed flesh at her hip socket. Her other leg had been cut off at the knee, and was stitched up, red, and swollen. Her right arm was severed mid humerus, but looked old and healed. her left arm was largely intact, but her hand was missing a few fingers, with the ones that remained bent at impossible angles, and twitched ever so often. Her rib cage was bruised in several places, as her midsection heaved in painful breaths.
Her face was where the real abuse could be seen. Her jaw was held open with a slightly rusted spider gag, with a thin trickle of blood flowing down her chin from her red, bloody gums, looking as if her teeth had just been plucked with a pair of pliers. Her one remaining rood eye was a lovely rose color, if a little bloodshot, as it stared up at the ceiling in pure agony and resignation. Her other eye socket was swollen, and sewn shut.
Arlan seethed inside, but kept his composure. Her face, while marred, looked like it had once held great beauty. Perhaps it would again. She didn't know it yet, but this was her lucky day beyond belief.
He pursed his lips like he always did when he was thinking, and then looked down to the dwarf, who was looking back up at him hopefully, with a lurid mouth full of yellow teeth.
Arlan spoke first, his synthesized voice dark, and foreboding. "I take it you are the owner of this..." The surgeon then looked away from the dwarf, and back to the remains of what had once been a beautiful albino elven woman. "...fine specimen?" He finished, in a tone dripping with sarcasm.
"Aye sir..." The dwarf said back, with a heavy Scottish accent. "...She may not look like much, but her pierced tongue gets the job done, that I can assure you." He said excitedly. "I just pulled her teeth out yesterday, making it that much more comfortable. For only two thousand rubles, she can be yours. " He finished eagerly.
Arlan eyed the elven girl again, and then looked back down to the dwarf. He said nothing, and just held the dwarf's gaze, never blinking, as the eerie blue cybernetic retinas studied him. The Dwarf visibly shark back away from him, and quickly reconsidered his offer. "...Uh, one." The dwarf stammered. "...one thousand Rubles."
Arlan looked back to the hanged girl, and then reached inside of his suit jacket, withdrawing a slender credstick, appearing unmarked and untraceable. His gloved hand tapped upon its surface, as it beeped repeatedly.
"...Such and effective negotiator." Arlan murmured, as he tossed the credstick into the shaking dwarfs waiting hands. "...You've sold me. Two thousand it is."
The red haired dwarf looked to Arlan in shock, and then down to the credstick in his hands. He then nodded his thanks, and walked away from the elven girl in the frame, disappearing into the crowd.
Arlan tapped his finger upon the frame folding her, and whispered, as his glowing blue eyes took her in. She was in misery. Just a little longer perhaps. "Shhhh..." He said to her. "....It will be fine."
