Denizens (LukeDeadwood & obieblu)

[obieblu]

Johnny Bliss

"I hope you all enjoyed a little taste of Bliss," Johnny purred cheerfully into his camera setup as he wiped off his glistening abs with a rag. Around him, shifting neon lights illuminated his naked muscular body which was reclining in a very comfortable, adjustable gaming chair. "Now, remember. Inbox me a legit video of dirty brownie cops doing something that will embarrass the department heads, and next time, this could be you," he held up the glistening clear dildo with blinking lights that he'd just used on himself, reminding his subscribers that he paid for their subversive content submissions with sexual favors. Johnny fancied himself a curator of news media, feeding his fans whatever would direct their ire towards whichever authoritative establishment he hated most that day. He flashed the camera one last charming smile and a wink, then his lips pursed as if to kiss, and an 8-bit heart formed over them and expanded to wipe the screen.

--[TRANSMISSION ENDED]--​

Johnny hopped out his chair, tossing the rag over his shoulder, not caring where it landed. His small apartment was messy, full of clothes and media devices, none of which were cheap. Between his online income, dancing, and 'dancing', Johnny did pretty well for himself. Though, he let that money slide through his fingers like water, not thinking much about his future. After 2 years, he was actually starting to feel a bit settled after being on the run for as long before. Thoughts of his 'siblings' shadowed his mind as he showered quickly. There'd been no communications left in their communal encrypted digital dropbox in months. That meant that either they were dead, captured, or.. completely fine. Johnny didn't miss that life, and he washed those thoughts away along with his bodywash lather.

Out of the shower, Johnny checked over his reflection. Impeccable as always. There was just something about designer genes that could make any state of dress or dishevelment look perfectly intentional. His light tattoos pulsed slowly along his arms and the pelvic grooves where his stomach met his thighs. They'd speed up when he wanted more attention. He slipped on a mesh tshirt, slicked some pommade through his light blond hair, then finished dressing with his sleeveless biker vest and vinyl pants. His usual look was a cross between biker and circuit boy with spots of glowing jewelry.

It was time to head into his night job at the club, and Johnny grabbed his Sport Eurasia backpack and double-checked his security systems before leaving. He was too conditioned to ever drop that habit. Once down to the street, his pack unfolded into a microbike. It wasn't tough looking, but it was slick and fast. As he sped along the darkening streets, the urban landscaped changed. Buildings darkened and neon lights illuminated, as if by his passing. Those who came out at night were doing so, those who were good doobies were headed home, and those who liked to play both sides were changing into their nighttime 'costumes'. Johnny liked this mood, fancying himself as one of the night denizens that the colorful moths were attracted to. He couldn't imagine being one of those day drones, but then he'd not grown up with parents or expectations of that sort of normalcy. Johnny didn't figure he'd be dancing forever. He'd look like this for longer than one might expect, but in the back of his mind he knew he'd need to do something else, eventually. But that day was far off, and he enjoyed his life as it was, now. Freedom was the most important thing. Well, freedom and sex. Freedom and sex and drugs.

Johnny pulled up outside Oracle, his night job, and flicked his bike to refold into a backpack, then slung it over his shoulder and sauntered in. The mundane employees were bustling around, preparing for the night crowd. Johnny smiled at a few, making sure to be personable. It was good to have the peons on his side. They could either funnel private customers his way or spill drinks on his wardrobe. He made his way back to the performers' dressing room, still not sure which jockstrap he was in the mood for, tonight. Something colorful. Obviously.

 

[LukeDeadwood]

Anemone

​

A yawn broke free from a set of pale lips, the remaining dregs of sleep still lingering from the nap that had been taken in the earlier hours of the evening. Anemone ran his fingers through his hair, merely double checking that he'd brushed through most -- if not all -- of the knots that had been there moments prior. But he didn't bother with fully combing his hair. He liked it that way, the way it made him appear in a near constant state of sex afterglow. And combined with his designated outfits? The robe that was slightly oversized, flowing around him and revealing his chest but tied just enough to keep if from fully falling? He found himself delightfully disheveled. And the looks of combined shock and hunger he received every night made him think most others thought so too.

‘And speaking of others...’ Anemone only gave himself one final glance at his reflection, gazing into the mirror that decorated the wall opposite of his grandiose bed to ensure his looks were still enticing before exiting his room. The door opened into his “office” of sorts, which looked less of an official office with the amount of lounge furniture that decorated it. The only thing befitting an office was the desk that was in the center of the room. But he bypassed that in favor of stepping out into the balcony that opened up in the front, overlooking the floors that built up Oracle — the club was large in its own right, and many would agree. ‘If only they knew what lay underneath.’ He thought with a chuckle before leaning over the railing. While he wasn’t able to hear much, he was capable of seeing nearly everything perfectly.

He could see the employees bustling around, making sure everything was cleaned and in its proper place. As it was, the majority were on the first floor, as that was where the main bar and the dance floor were located. Only a handful of extra rooms were there, not counting the essentials. Mostly just changing rooms for employees to get into their first outfit of the night, but there were a few...private rooms as well.

The main floor wasn’t as grand as the following floors, which were heavily decorated with many raised stages each. Stages for the entertainers of both the dancing kind and those giving sexual favors. Each stage had its own set-up, ranging from a simple pole to machines much more complex, and surrounding each stage were accompanying couches meant for an audience. They were just far enough away too prevent those that were too grabby from reaching out, but close enough so that nothing could be missed. And each floor had their own designated theme, ranging from the more “classy” to the more “filthy”, so to say; each with their own handful of private rooms as well. Anemone had a large crowd to please, after all...

And that led to the final floor: the VIP section. Now that was where the main fun happened for those with the right amount of money, for everything was private up there and each divided section and attached rooms were made to cater to anyone who enter.

It should be no surprise that it Anemone’s personal favorite floor, able to spend time with those who gained his attention. Well, it was his favorite second to his office and room, of course. But it took real special people for him to actively invite them up to his private quarters.

Shaking his head of that thought he focused back on watching his employees. Oracle looked plain now, for the normal lights were on so that everyone could work and do their part before opening time. Oh, how the club came to life once the atmosphere was turned on...he could hardly wait for it.

With a grin and a lust to be a part of the life Anemone peeled himself away from the balcony’s railing, making his way back through his office and down the adjoining hallway and set of stairs. With a practiced ease of stealth he slipped through the door that was cleverly tucked away in a corner, kept hidden unless one knew specifically where to spot it. He all but strutted across the floor like he owned the place — which, he did — and sidled up to the bar. He felt the barest a twinge of disappointment that his favorite bartender wasn’t present for the night, but greeted the person with a charming “cheers, love” all the same when his usual drink was served. His green eyes might as well have glittered as he took a sip of the concoction — fruity flavor, but alcohol content so high that the lightest of lightweights would be knocked on their asses in an instant — as he looked around the floor, watching as his employees worked while waiting for the performers of the night to file out of the changing rooms. ‘Let the night-life begin~’

 

[obieblu]

Half the other dancers had arrived, and others trickled into the changing room after Johnny. Some also doubled in the sex shows, but those started later in the night, so the strictly sex workers would arrive later. A variety of toned body types, colors and cybernetics milled around in various states of undress. Modesty was not a thing, besides their jobs undressing for strangers, most of these colleagues had hooked up on or off stage, anyways. Johnny got into his locker and started rooting through his plentiful wardrobe of scant clothes. It was just as messy as his apartment, and he sniffed each potential item before considering wearing it. He lifted up a mesh pouch and looked through it into an overhead light. No, it was too revealing for his first dance of the night. So was the anal jewel he found next. Finally, he picked out a sporty-looking baby blue and white striped jockstrap. He had a matching baseball hat with bands of LED lights on the seams. He'd give the patrons an athlete fantasy for the first round of dancing.

Johnny stripped and joked around with the other performers as he dressed. There was plenty of ass slapping, bulge tapping, and nipple tweaking along with the laughter, flirting, and boasting in the testosterone-thick air of the locker room. A variety of chemicals were also imbibed and shared, with Johnny taking a snort of someone's inhaler, not even asking what it was before headed out into the open club area. He headed up to the second floor to lounge at one of the smaller bars where the dancers usually waited until the performances started. He only got in one drink with a couple other dancers before the robotic-masked DJ slid into the sound booth. This floor wasn't packed yet, but there were enough customers milling around, and they knew when the shows would start.

Johnny hopped up onto the largest stage on this floor along with another dancer, a slightly broader black man with neon pink hair that matched his glowing pink eyes and pink thong. Johnny also matched his shiftertacts to a glowing electric blue to match his outfit. At 6'4", he was one of the tallest dancers, but his partner wasn't much shorter. Some patrons gave a reserved cheer as the dancers climbed up to their positions, not yet drunk or high enough to really go wild. The overhead colored lights highlighted their bodies perfectly as they began to sway to the music. Johnny was a healthy tone of pale, with all the right muscles from hard training that he now easily kept up with, hard rosy-pink nipples, and a substantial bulge in his the front of his jock. Multi-colored light tattoos strobed up along his arms, drawing attention to his handsome face while a second set formed a 'V' that disappeared into the elastic stretched around his hips. When he turned, there was a second wider 'V' on his lower back acting like an arrow down into the cleft between his meaty, dimpled asscheeks.

The blond's movements were overtly masculine, flexing and displaying his body while maintaining a mildly arrogant demeanor. He didn't appear unapproachable though, but just aloof enough to make a patron feel honored when he'd flash them a smile. Other smaller stages were occupied by single dancers, and Johnny and his partner for this set mostly stayed on their sides, but would occasionally move to the center to undulate their bodies in unison or take turns briefly grinding on each other. All in all, it was a routine night to start. As the night progressed, they'd strip while dancing. Then the sex shows would start. Johnny hadn't seen his manager yet to know if he was on deck for one of those, later. More than half his working nights would end up with a request for private company. Between this job and his streaming shows, Johnny was sexually well-sated with almost no effort on his part.

 

[LukeDeadwood]

Emex

​

At first, Anemone was content with his place at the bar, a gleeful expression on his face as the workers trickled to their respective floors while the crowd of customers on the first floor steadily grew. He took another sip of his drink, enjoying the taste once more before tossing his head back and downing the liquid with a practiced ease. The hit sent a faint tickle of a buzz to the back of his mind and he hummed, eyes shutting to simply feel as he set his glass down on the counter for a refill. “Thanks~” he purred to the bartender, letting another moment pass so the music could properly vibe through his body.

Once it passed his eyes opened and his gaze fell over the ever increasing guests. As it was just the start of the night, not many were full out partying. Yet, as it were. Some were alone, much like Anemone himself, simply enjoying themselves and biding their time until the time when their favorite events would start. Others had a dance partner or more already, having either arrived with them or having sought out an employee they’d had on their mind. He looked at every person he could lay his eyes on. Seeing if they were a regular or a newcomer, or even just silently appreciating the unique styles he saw. But his gaze never lingered for long, moving near restlessly until it finally landed on a figure standing near the entrance/exit of Oracle. Anemone tilted his head, his lips drifting upwards in an amused smile as the rigid stance they stood in. With his drink on hand he slid from his chair to approach the figure he easily wove his way through the crowd, stopping just shy of them so he could look them over. They wore a mesh shirt, meant to reveal their body but they had their arms crossed rocks cover their chest. ‘Talk about counterproductive...’ Anemone thought with a huff, his amusement only growing. “Emex, Love...would it really kill you to loosen up? Taking your job so seriously, why not try and have some fun?”

The uninterested snort and accompanying eye roll had been expected. “I’m good.” Emex’s reply was gruff and curt, the one-eyed(as the other eye was hidden by hair) glare and scowl being his usual expression as he turned his head from Anemone to instead look out over the crowd. The said pink-haired male clicked his tongue and shook his head, followed by taking this chance to look over the male. Lithe muscle and a tight, perfectly sculpted abdomen lie in view under the mesh, painted with pretty pale skin that went unblemished. The beginnings of the ‘V’ lines that led from his hips down were only just visible, the rest covered up and hidden by Emex’s outer cover. It forced any and all onlookers to use their imagination for what might just lay underneath, to imagine what those tight pants could be hiding and outlining in all the right ways. Anemone didn’t have to use his imagination as he already knew. Of course, he created Emex; poured his very heart and soul into making the person before him as perfect as he possibly could. He ought to know what the human was packing. Or Artificial Intelligence, as he should really say. Though nobody but their shared inner circle knew that and that’s the way it was going to stay. It was just a shame that this A.I in particular had turned out to be such a prude and incapable of having fun. Made up to be all pretty and admired, but letting it go to waste by keeping others from fully appreciating it.

But Anemone didn’t mind it. ‘To each their own,’ He thought, looking at Emex and meeting the full black eye with a smile like always — even if his creation was an absolute brat, he wasn’t any less proud. “Well, suit yourself then, love,” He started with a shrug, followed by letting his head tilt once again so he could listen in to the music, using that alone to determine what time it was. With a hum he turned, grinning over his shoulder at Emex. “I happen to have an appointment—” The wording made Emex scoff and he couldn’t help but giggle. “—that I have to catch. Toodles~.” Anemone waved with his free hand before making his way over to the stairs and scaling them to go to the second floor. He glanced around, his purr low and rumbling with a pleased tone as he caught sight of the very performer he’d wanted to see tonight. With a smirk he took a seat near the back — not completely out of sight of the stage performers but just out of the way of the customers — and brought his glass up to his lips, watching the show with apt interest.

 

[obieblu]

By the third song of this set, the dancers without implants to regulate such things were getting sweaty. It just added to the visuals of their neon-illuminated bodies gyrating and thrusting to the the hard synth. Johnny and his partner had a larger crowd around their dancing platform. Of course two dancers would draw more attention, but they'd also started doing some quasi-acrobatic displays, such as Johnny doing a handstand while facing the audience, then spreading his legs out into a split while the dark man behind him 'pretended' to lick Johnny's asscrack. Slowly. That got some cheers, as well as similar feats of strength and body control where Johnny simulated sensuous acts on the other man.

. . .

Calvin was hunting. He hadn't been working on his own long. He'd fulfilled his contractual obligations to a bounty-hunting agency months ago, but there were so many freelance jobs posted to boards on the net that he could pick up some gainful employment whenever he wanted. Which was usually, as he had so little else in his bleak life. Calvin's previous life had been erased, and he felt almost no desire to connect to it, whatsoever. He missed the stability of the indentured worker dorm and regular directives and check-ins, and the freedom he now had made him feel more lost than empowered. But, he was a well-tuned machine, and he continued operating as he ought. There was no rush to figure out what to do with himself.

Tonight, he'd tracked his quarry to some club. Calvin's top-of-the-line implants relayed the most minute evidence the man had left behind, and predictive processors informed him of his prey's likely movements based on that data. His target had sold a shipment of illegal arms to two local gangs, then ducked out during the shoot-out when both arrived to collect what they'd paid for. Both had taken out contracts to bring the shifty dealer in, but Calvin wisely only committed to one.

Looking young helped him fly under the radar of many people he tracked. He looked like some punk miscreant rather than a thug or corporate enforcer. His unconscious body had been styled this way with tattoos, piercings, and ruby red hair. After gaining his freedom, Calvin saw no reason to bother changing his look. If it wasn't broke, don't fix it.

He didn't like taking anyone into custody in public places, but this target had so many connections, he was proving more strenuous to track than usual. Calvin was growing impatient and didn't know when he'd next catch up with the man. He could do it in a club. If he was fast, it wouldn't get messy. To that end, he jogged across the street, avoiding some oncoming traffic and casually joined the line of customers waiting.

. . .

The first set finished, and all the dancers waved or indicated their appreciation for their crowds in their signature styles. The DJ announced they'd be back after a short break while the dancers hopped off their stages. Customers' hands caressed their bodies as they pass through, and most dancers laughed or briefly flirted back. Johnny and a few others headed towards the small side bar to grab a drink before heading down to the locker room to pick out even more revealing costumes for the next set in 15 minutes.

 

[LukeDeadwood]

It was with a budding pride that Anemone watched with show, a touch of greediness in his eyes as it went on. He enjoyed not only witnessing the performers’ dance for himself, but seeing the enjoyment of the customers and the dancers themselves as well. It was — albeit unnecessary — proof that all were having an excellent time. It always filled him with a special glow of glee, and that feeling alone made him thrive. ‘Just a little bit of fun: something everyone needs every once in a while.’ He thought with a pleased hum, watching as the show for this part of the night came to an end and the dancers were given their well earned and deserved praise for their hard work.

For only a handful of minutes did Anemone remain in his seat. With a slight tilt of his head he listened to the excited — and aroused — chatter of the club’s guests, his smile still gracing his lips as they eagerly for the next act to begin. The surface of the night had only just been scratched, but it was already a success. Just like with every night. And much like the rest of the crowd, Anemone found himself curious was to what the themes of the next costumes would be. However, unlike the customers, he could grant himself a preview. The perks of being the owner. What could he really say? He was a tad bit spoiled and selfish — alright, maybe more than just ‘a bit’ — and most everyone else who knew him would be bound to say the same thing about him. Naturally, he felt no shame in admitting it, gladly owning up to it with pride. ‘And it’s due time I spoil myself more before I lose my chance~.’

With a chuckle he took his stand, his robe swaying as he turned. Giving a courteous nod towards the scantily dressed servers that swiftly moved to tend to the customers and their drinks, he gave one such employee his now empty glass before making his way towards the employee’s dressing room. No knocking was necessary, obviously, and Anemone let himself into the room, purring lowly at all the breathtaking forms that filled the space. At this point the performers were all used to his presence; in fact, on more than one occasion, each one of them had experienced a more...hands on private show with him. Although the numbers of those encounters had slowly decreased in a show of professionalism — he was their boss after all, and he had to act like it despite how much he still wanted to give them all special treatment. Not to say they had come to a full stop, oh no, they very much so still happened. But they weren’t as often as they used to be.

Letting that sad thought drift away into nothingness Anemone shifted his attention back to the crowd of men in front of him. He leaned against the wall and crossed his arms, his eyes hungrily raking over every inch of skin on every body that he could see. From each exposed chest to briefly uncovered dick, to each bare back and firm ass, he took in every sight with great pleasure. And for the closest few to him who noticed him, Anemone gave them each an appreciative once-over and a playful wink, gladly showing his approval to those that were either mostly bare or adding more coverage that would be gone again in a few minutes time. ‘It never gets old,’ He mused, drinking in this little “preview” like the greedy bastard that he was.

 

[obieblu]

Johnny, as well as many of the dancers sort of put up a visual wall around themselves when working. Most anyone who wasn't a dancer became just part of an indistinguishable, many-handed crowd. It wasn't worth it to individualize them until there was a specific payout. For that reason, no one noticed the eyes of their employer, specifically, on them as they collected drinks and boisterously descended back down to their changing room. Along the way, two others insisted they share the larger stage for the next round. It was only fair. Johnny was at least professional with everyone he worked with, even the ones he didn't like. They kept their drama outside the club. Nothing could more easily ruin a jovial mood than bad energy from the go-go boys. And that would ruin their tips. And it would also likely go up to their bosses. It just wasn't worth it to be petty while on the job.

. . .

Calvin

Outside, Calvin was starting to get annoyed at the line he was in. He had no use for entertainment, fun, really other people at all except for who he needed to subdue and bring in to get paid. His red eye-coverings physically shielded him from the humanity around him and offered and overlay clinical statistics about each one which helped him keep a distance between himself and 'everything else'.

The bounty hunter considered waiting outside within view of the entrance, then decided against it. Again. As tedious as this was, he wouldn't put more distance between himself and his target now that he was the closest he'd been since taking the job.

Once he got up to door security, Calvin was prompted to lift his arms. He had more tech inside him than average. He knew better than to bring high-end weapons in, but he had plenty buried in his synthetic tissues, anyways. "Whew..." the doorman whistled at the quick scan. There was too much inside Calvin to casually parse out, but there were no obvious explosives or external weapons. The hunter very stiffly affected a toothy smile. The guard was unconvinced at Calvin's personality, but waved him in, "Go ahead. Next!"

. . .​

Johnny didn't know the Anemone had entered. For any performer, it would have been silly to have any pretense of modesty, anyways. The owner of the club at least was clothed for most of the evening, but there was no skin here that he didn't see regularly and hadn't touched, at least during each's interview process. The locker room scene was almost like a herd of zebras. A variety of skin colors, heights, and toned builds preened and dashing around that it required effort to focus on any one in particular. The dancers didn't coordinate perfectly as a whole, but they were decent about general themes, and stage partners usually matched or complimented each other.

He'd changed into a scant harness that was simply two black cuffs that hugged his arms tightly between the swell of his shoulder and the swell of his biceps with another strap connecting them across the middle of his chest and one across his upper back. Especially with red lights along the seems, it was far more mod than leather dungeon. Below that, Johnny was brilliantly naked. His light tattoos didn't strobe, but they still pointed downward to his dimpled, meaty ass as he took a bump of SynthCoke before putting the small vial back into his locker. Then, he snatched up something and spun around so fast that his impressive endowment slapped against his thigh. Like the rest of his body, Johnny's penis was the result of perfect, patented DNA. Every cell of his golden sculpted body was stolen corporate property. The red-headed piece of that property that dangled between his legs would expand to nearly 8", as Anemone would be very well aware of.

The dancer was holding up the black, widely-holed mesh pouch that he'd dismissed earlier in the night. It was only a thin black waistband with black net bag hanging in the front. "Is this too much?" he asked loudly before his eyes fell on his employer. "Oh, hey, boss," he said with a mild Russian accent as flashed a white-toothed smile. He'd turned his synth-contacts to a glowing red to match the accents on his harness, and they looked at the scant bit of netting he held up, then over that, back to Anemone. "I was thinking maybe also black," his other hand reached up to stroke through his almost platinum-blond hair. "What do you think?" As the others were, Johnny was utterly unphased by soliciting fashion approval from his boss while his dick was swinging freely. He wanted to dress quickly so he could try and get in two free drinks before he had to dance again. It was almost guaranteed that cleaning staff would find most of the clothes these men were currently putting on strewn around on the floor in the morning. There was a bin in the locker room where all the costumes got tossed after being laundered.

 

[LukeDeadwood]

It didn’t take the common genius to figure out Emex was, A, incredibly bored; B, annoyed with the jovial crowd; and C, someone to not mess with in general. His venomous glare was enough to keep even the stupidly drunk away, and his reputation promising both physical and verbal damage of the worst kind for anyone who tired anything. He simply didn’t care for these scenes. But unlike certain people he knew, he had a job to do and wasn’t about to underhand any of his duties just because he wasn’t feeling up to it.

His position by the door gave him free access to watch out over the crowd on the first floor as well as get in a second, covert scan on the guests who were entering Oracle. Though for most he hardly gave them a second glance. They posed so little of a threat that Emex instantly didn’t care about them. He didn’t bother with memorizing their faces, either. Whether they were regulars or newcomers meant nothing to him. He couldn’t stress how much he just. Didn’t. Care.

But when one specific male walked in, he glanced over just long enough to scan and looked forward once again. Only to instantly double-take and retake the scan, ensuring his eyes hadn’t fooled him and were needing to be recalibrated. The amount of tech that lit up his vision had him making a face, lip curling in a form of disgust — a look that, to be fair, he regarded most everyone with. The militaristic coding in his system — fucking Anemone, always so prepared — was doing everything to tell him the man was trouble, and despite his apparent boredom, Emex was not looking forward to dealing with trouble. Not tonight.

Snorting to himself he directed his gaze forward once more, somehow looking even more disgruntled and grouchy than he was a few moments ago. ‘It’s always something with this damn place.’ Came the bitter thought. It was foolish, he knew, knowing how small the probability it was. But he wanted the situation to be nothing more than some overreaction and that he didn’t actually have to lift a finger tonight. In fact, he was all too tempted to just leave things be and let it be future Emex’s problem.

Still, though, he reached up in an act that looked like he was scratching his ear, though was actually him going for the small com-piece tucked into his ear. He knew better than to let himself be fully complacent and irresponsible.

. . .
​

Anemone would be lying if he said his gaze didn’t briefly drop down to take a look at the perfect length of meat that was Johnny’s dick. He could remember getting a taste of it so clearly that it may as well have happened yesterday. But of course his gaze didn’t stay down there for long before drifting upwards when he was addressed, returning the blond’s toothy smile with one of his own. He loved not only getting noticed, but getting asked for his advice as well. It made him ecstatic whenever he was asked for his two cents on fashion. Which was a little funny, he supposed, given his well-known sense of style in his club. ‘I can only wonder how many people think I don’t know a lick about style.’ It probably shouldn’t have amused him as much as it did.

Shaking his head of that thought Anemone pushed off the wall to step closer to his employee, holding his hand out with a polite “May I?” so that he could examine and get a feel for the scant piece of mesh for himself. He hummed, looking over it for just a few moments. Personally, he had to admit, he was more of a mesh fan himself. He liked the way it was stretchy and breathable, with comfort thrown on top of it too. But he knew he couldn’t just think for himself; it was the crowd that mattered after all.

With a broad grin he looked back at Johnny and handed the undergarment back to the dancer. “It’ll drive the crowd wild,” he answered with confidence, stepping back so that Johnny could finish dressing. “And for black? You can never go wrong there.” With that he gave the dancer another once-over just for the sake of it before taking another step back, getting ready to turn and make his way out. Anemone decided it was about time that he took his leave for now and let the bustling employees get back to what they were doing so they could make the best use of their remaining free time.

“Well, I suppose I’ll let you get back to it for now,” He said with a hum before turning, then looked over his shoulder at Johnny with another grin. “I know that I don’t have to say this at this point, but have fun out there~.” He purred with a wink and a soft chuckle. “And if you need anything, you know where to find me.” Waving to a few other dancers as he passed them he made his way out of the room. Now he just had to decide on how many more drinks he wanted to get in his system before returning to his seat.

 

[obieblu]

A full replacement of a heart and lungs were the sort of things that only well-funded athletes or the older elite got. Definitely not the sort of thing one would expect in a random early-20-something wearing off the rack clothes. There was nothing inherently dangerous about it, either, but a paranoid type or a very diligent security type might take notice. And one had.

Calvin kept his facial recognition software running as he scanned the crowd at the entrance, not expecting his quarry to be positioned to easily. The club was big. He loaded up the memory of the synthetic scent profile made from a trace of his target's DNA that he was given a week ago. A week of not getting paid. He inhaled deeply, and a trace that barely registered was all he got. Mim was in the building, but not close. In the big crowded building. Calvin sighed, a leftover and unnecessary habit as his lungs constantly drew in air through his nostrils and processed it in a much more efficient manner.

Bill Mim

Calvin kept the protocols that his old employer, owner, had installed. Stalking around like a robotic hunter in a place like this wasn't subtle. One red eye covering snapped back into its socket to make the other appear more decorative and less like he was working. Next, he got in line to get a drink at the closest bar. Holding a drink worked both for having something to do while one was feeling awkward as well as while one was trying to pinpoint prey in a large herd.

. . .​

Johnny's drug of choice was attention. The reason he had no inclination to be an all-out prostitute was because he'd only be able to get attention from 1, or only a few, people at a time. No, dancing and camming were wonderful. The only better thing would be to be a legit celebrity, but it would be idiotic to be so public. Still, the lecherous glance from his boss inspired a tiny jolt of dopamine that went straight down to the dick he was looking at. Even after all that. And that. And that other time. And dancing naked in his club usually 4 nights a week, the man still took a peek. It's what Johnny lived for.

Lower body garments tended to circulate around via the laundry bin, and this pouch had been hanging around in Johnny's locker for a while. "Please do," and he gingerly handed it over. Johnny didn't even remember buying it. He really just wanted to make everyone imagine his cock filling it out is why he asked, but Anemone's approval sealed the deal. He took back the garment that could hardly be called clothing with a grin and immediately bent over, stepping into it and pulling it in one smooth motion. As he lifted his torso, he made a motion like slicking his hair back with both his hands, and it had turned black before he was in a fully upright posture. "Thanks for the advice, boss," his grin solicited approval as he'd done everything the other man had suggested in the last few moments while he reached down to stuff his junk tightly into the netting.

"Promise!" "Of course!" and other confirmations rang out from the men getting changed. It was a cheerful mood, tonight. "Sounds like an invitation," Johnny winked as he watched Anemone exit.

The rest of their break was uneventful, and Johnny and a few others headed up early to get their drink on. They got pawed even more walk moving through the club this time as they were wearing even less. As intended, they drew more customers up to the second floor, promising that they'd soon see even more.

. . .​

Bill Mim was not a regular at Oracle. The crowd ranged a bit young. And too clean. In fact, he was only here as all of his usual haunts were too hot with nearly a quarter of the city's actually dangerous criminal element looking for him. He'd hoped that a gang war would cover his tracks, but they'd had a moment of clarity too early and figured out that they'd both been duped. Getting out of the city was now a difficult proposition, but he'd arranged transportation. In two more days. It would be easy enough to set up shop in Buenos Aires. His tiny hotel room hideout was too boring, and he needed a drink and some flashing lights to get his mind off his predicament.

He'd settled on the second floor. There were enough dark corners where he could still sit close enough to one of the single stages. The last dancer had been alright, but the break had ended, and the new one climbing up was just.. magnificent. Black hair, red eyes, light perfect skin stretched over vanity muscles and.. a fairly unobstructed view of his sizable cock and balls. With Johnny's first spin, Bill decided he fell in love with his ass.

. . .​

Below, Calvin had his drink, "soda water with something colorful" he'd requested, and he was circulating. He made sure to bob his head and shoulders to the beat of the music just enough to not stand out in the writhing crowd. There was a little more of Bill's scent further in, but he wasn't on this floor. Calvin located the closest set of stairs up and headed there. He wasn't looking forward to a full search of the building if Mim happened to be on the top floor.

 

[LukeDeadwood]

Dexter

​

Deep underground, far below Oracle accessed only through special means known by a select group of people, was an area that could easily be considered a bunker of sorts. A vast network of rooms and floors that acted as it’s own maze to any outsider who might’ve been lucky enough to take a glance at the blueprints that were now long-since burned and “lost”. Yet as big as it was, only was person was present, located in room that highly resembled a security office of sorts mixed with a workshop. A large holographic screen took up a majority of the far wall, filled up with many smaller screens. Each smaller screen was from a camera that was attached to a drone of sorts, and each one had their own thing happening. Any average human would struggle with keeping track of of all of the different settings and goings-on. But Dexter was no ordinary human, and his brown eyes darted between each one with unbelievable ease.

Leaning forward in his chair he pressed a set of buttons and a handful of the screens grew in size. On one screen there was a small group of people, only one of which Dexter knew. He didn’t have to look closely to know the drug deal was going down, and smoothly from the lack of punches being thrown. On another screen there was a duo of men, patrolling around the district to make sure outside trouble as at a minimum. Things seemed okay on that end as well, if the playful pushes he was seeing were anything to go by. Not to mention the way one of the one of them took notice of the camera’s drone, flashing two thumbs up and a grin that had his artificial heart fluttering. The third camera mainly consisted of a POV shot, filled with nothing by the view of the city’s landscape zooming by at an incredible speed. Dexter would’ve had half a mind to think a bike accident was incoming if he hadn’t known who the driver was.

All in all, things seemed quiet and he leaned back in his chair with a sigh, pulling his beanie off to run a hand through his hair — which was a right mess at this point. Not so long ago, the quiet would’ve gotten to him. Badly. But now? Quiet was good, mainly because “quiet” meant nobody was getting shot, stabbed, or any other assortment of bad things that stressed him to no end.

“Seems like a good night...” he breathed out with relief. Setting his hat back over his head he stood from his chair and made his way over to the workbench that was to his left, cluttered with tools and the remains of a smashed drone that had seen better days. It had been laying there for about a week now, Dexter having full intentions on repairing the bot but just hadn’t gotten around to it due to the busy nights and certain...distractions during the day. Just thinking about it was making out to be a distraction and he shook his head, pushing the thought and the forming blush away he shook his head, grabbing at a part and a tool and getting to work. He couldn’t wait to get the poor thing up and running again, looking clean and new—

“Ghost.” — or not. While Dexter was used to a voice randomly speaking up on the coms, Emex’s was one he never expected — he tried to avoid the guy usually, not because he didn’t like him but because he was just always so angry. It was so out of the blue that he jumped with a yelp and fumbled what was in his hands; followed by an attempt to catch them that resulted in more things hitting the floor with very loud clatters. While no one was around to hear or witness his blunder he still hunched over the workbench with a groan, covering his face to hide the heat of embarrassment. Yeah, that pretty much summed up daily life for him. Of course he’d spoken too early.

Heading out a heavy sigh he pressed the piece in his ear. “Yeah. I’m here.” Dex only just got the words out of his mouth before Emex was hitting him with a brief description and an order. “Redhead. Punk. By the bar. Could be trouble. Keep an eye on him.” Then just like that the line went silent and Dexter was left standing there with a confused “huh?” He stood there for what was probably a solid two or three minutes before he snapped back into place.

With a low utter of “fuck” he quickly returned to his seat. With the press of a few buttons the screens that had been zoomed in shrank and the screens of Oracle took their place, forming a line for his convenience. Directing his attention to the one of the first floor Dex caught sight of a figure highlighted in red near the bar; Emex must’ve tagged him so he wouldn’t have to answer any “dumb questions” Dexter might’ve asked. With another sigh he leaned forward, watching with a frown as the figure in question moved away from the bar.

He wasn’t a fan of following targets in Oracle. He just plain felt uncomfortable, what with all the semi-naked to fully naked people that worked there. Even though it was explicitly for public entertainment, he still felt like he shouldn’t be watching — and he could only pray that he didn’t have to follow anybody in the rooms for private shows. But if Emex, of all people, pointed someone out, he knew better than to ignore it. “Let’s see what you’re up too...” Dexter mumbled to nobody but himself, eyes moving to the next screen as the figure made his way towards the stairs.

 

[obieblu]

Calvin had a spot of good luck. The scent he was tracking intensified as he climbed the illuminated stairs from one poundings song to another on the second floor. His eyes and sensors scanned the room, passing over customers, staff, and 8 nearly-naked dancers. Calvin was ambivalent to such things. Warm flesh and all the things one could do to it was an urge that he couldn't remember having. The dancers were simply targets or furniture as far as he was concerned.

Then, in a far corner, Calvin's scanner picked up Mim. He was sitting in a lounge chair, leaning forward and holding onto a drink with clenched fingers. The older, nearly-haggard looking arms dealer was fixated on the dancer on the small platform in front of him. Unfortunately, there were too many people around to take Mim like this. Calvin's business was usually a more delicate one. Shoot-outs with security, police, or bystandards was to be avoided.

Next, he scanned the architecture, forming a 3D map of this level and possible concealed locations and exits. This level was more open, purely for dancing and watching dancing. Calvin looked behind him at the rest of the club he could still see. There were more doors visible higher up. Maybe those could be useful. His first plan was to subdue Mim and carry him out like a drunk friend. It had worked before. But, he needed somewhere out of view for that.

. . .​

It was a pretty standard set. Johnny gyrated to the music, and his pecs, bare asscheeks, and mesh pouch bounced with his movements. He seemed to have acquired two intense fans. One was a slim younger, well-dressed guy who was nearly salivating with his eyes fixed on Johnny's crotch. The other, was about the opposite, a low-class-looking middle-aged guy with a ratty beard and old cyberware. The older one looked hungry for something else, constantly ducking his head to try and see up behind Johnny's jiggling balls to try and see what was behind.

That's what this job was really about, and Johnny wasn't bothered at all, even if the man looked not that great. He spilt his time between thrusting his hips at the younger customer and dropping low in the older one's direction, waiting for one or the other to ask him about private shows. Either way, the second song of this set was coming to a close, then the DJ would blare a siren, signaling the beginning of the strip show.

. . .​

Calvin had an idea. Mim was pretty obvious about his object of interest. The bounty hunter headed over to one of the bars with his almost-full drink in hand. He leaned his elbow on the bar top and caught the bartender's eye. "Do the dancers here do um... one-on-ones? It's my friend's birthday, and I think he sees something he likes," Calvin affected a sly grin. "I want to buy him a present, if they can do that sort of thing."

 

[LukeDeadwood]

Dexter's brows drew together in focus as he shifted in his chair. He was the farthest thing from a people person. So from sight alone, he couldn't tell if the guy he was watching was actually up to something or not. With a sigh he briefly let his gaze change to different screens. On the first floor Emex was still by the door -- not surprising. Guy hardly ever moved an inch from where he stood whenever he was in the club. He was more opposed to that type of crowd than Dex himself, and that was a very high level. On the third floor, he got a view of Anemone by the bar. That also was no surprise. That man liked to have a drink of some kind in his hand eleven times out of ten. He could drink almost anyone under the table at this point. Whether that was just from an incredibly high tolerance level or the work of implants, Dexter didn't really know. Wasn't really his business anyhow.

His attention returned back to the target when movement caught the corner of his eye. The man was walking up to a bar, which wasn't really that out of the ordinary even despite the mostly-full drink. Nor was it the act that made the wave of confusion wash over Dexter. "Axton? What the hell is he doing here?" Really, that shouldn't have concerned him so much. He knew Axton just like he knew Emex -- the only difference was that Axton scared him more. He was so...predictably unpredictable, and nothing was more worrisome than an A.I who had no reason to follow rules. Who knew why the guy was actually legitimately working instead of "working" like he'd said.

It took him a moment to snap out of his train of thought again, an idea lighting up in his head. "Oh shit-" He turned, quickly looking across the dashboard for the controller that strapped to his forearm. "Where'd I put it? Oh come on-" Mentally kicking himself for the constant clusterfuck that was his work room -- why did he have to be such a mess? -- he spun around in his chair, nearly tripping over his own feet as he scrambled towards the shelf once he caught sight of the silver and blue device. All but smacking the thing to his arm he scurried back to his seat, and with a press of a button a small, holographic keyboard lit up. "Alright, time to get personal..."

. . .

Axton

Axton was officially no better than a smug feline. It practically radiated off of him, his chest puffed with his sense of pride and stretching out his already tight shirt. The smirk tugging at his lips might as well be permanent alongside the remaining glint in his eyes that wasn't from the light reflecting off of his glasses -- was it murder? Mischief? The overwhelming sense of superiority that surged through him with almost every passing second? He couldn't tell. He wasn't sure what reading people would take from him, though, he could truthfully say he didn't care. If it wound up frightening someone, then so be it. It would merely be more amusement for his night.

'Though it's a shame Manoki was left with the clean-up.' Or not, really. Manoki should've been quicker to claim the right to leave the scene first. But alas, he was not, and so Oracle's bartender was present in place of the performer. And the rest were none the wiser, as far as he was concerned. Not like they needed to be privy of the carnage he'd left in his wake. They'd only give him those huffs and stern looks of disapproval that did absolutely nothing to stop him from doing what he did best. 'Oh, seems I've missed a spot.' A faint spot glinting red on his wrist caught his attention and he grabbed a glass cup, using the guise of washing it to rinse the pinch of red down the drain. 'And no traces left behind.'

The deep hum rumbled in his chest and he looked at the customer that approached him with the satisfaction that swelled within him. His sharp metallic claws clinked against the glass as he dried it, tilting his head in the slightest of nods in response to the redhead's question. "So long as the employee is willing, they can be used for anything." Came the verbal reply once he'd finished his unnecessary task and set the cup in it's proper space on the shelf behind him. "And with the right amount of money, they can be kept for however long you need."

It was when he was turning back that he'd caught the faintest of movement just out the corner of his eye. A motion to wipe down the counter was all he needed to discreetly glance down, looking at the metallic spider climbing up his side of the bar. It was small enough to fit in the center of his palm and he would've missed it if it hadn't been the faint blue light that flickered, seemingly blinking at him as it hunkered down against the door. 'Now, what's drawn the resident little Ghost out from his hole?' Curious, he settled his eyes on the customer before him, letting the scan take over his vision. 'Ah, so that's what's garnered his attention...' Axton's lips curled up, the lingering feeling of mischief sparking to life. Usually, he didn't care about those who approached his bar. If they wound up causing issues, well, it just simply wasn't his problem. But tonight? He was in a good mood.

'I'll suppose I'll play along with your game for now...' Even he wasn't sure if that thought should be for Dexter or the supposed customer in front of him. Leaning forward against the bar top he motioned with his head towards the floor, eyes shifting from dancer to dancer, taking in each gyration of hips and bouncing ass -- he could admit, most bodies looked like they would be fun to play with. "Which one was it that caught your friend's eye?" He asked with a side-glance back to the redhead, taking on the role of the ever diligent and responsible employee. "I may be able to tell you more about them, maybe get the word out that someone's looking to buy them if you need that favor."

 

[obieblu]

It was very routine at this point. It was also fun enough, but it was still routine. Johnny's hips gyrated as his shoulders hung back to feature his toned abs in the most aesthetic way for those sitting below his dancing platform. He mixed in some falling back onto one hand so he could sexually thrust up into the air, also. Right now, there was some older guy really trying to get a look at what was hidden by his muscular asscheeks squeezing together as he did so. Either the guy was poor or shy, and he didn't seem shy.

The robot-masked DJ started the usual escalation of music that would end in a siren and quickly flashing lights that the dancers affectionately called the 'dick alarm'. With relative coordination, all their skimpy jockstraps, thongs, and other immodest scraps of material would be snapped off to the delight of the crowd. That's usually when the requests for private rooms upstairs would start to roll in, once the customers got unimpeded views of the merchandise.

With a glance to the side at his earlier dancing partner, Johnny correctly anticipated that the darker man's Mr. Studd implant was already engaged, stretching the front of his thong to the point that really only the head of his growing erection was covered. The temporarily-black-haired dancer laughed and hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his own mesh pouch, teasing it down an inch.

. . .​

Calvin didn't have much of a reaction to Axton's appearance initially. There were so many ways in which size and appearance didn't matter. There were also many ways in which cyborgs and AIs flaunted their abilities shamelessly. Calvin didn't take anything at face value, preferring to consider everything a viable threat until his cyberwar could analyze it away. Axton's exposed claws were noteworthy, though. Interesting for a bartender. But his words were agreeable. "That's really great," Calvin tried to affect a friendly timbre in his voice. He knew his cyberpsychosis was off-putting to feely humans and some AIs could identify the typical symptoms. "Well, the time is up to my buddy. I don't think stamina is his strength, these days," he pulled the muscles around his lips in the appropriate way to look like a smirk.

The solo was geared up for focused hunting rather than general surveillance, and he didn't notice the small bot climbing on the bar behind him. Calvin's HUD was focused on Mims who was focused on a tall dancer with light tattoos, but his eyes were drifting between Axton and a general survey of the room in front of him. "That one. Black hair. Tramp stamp. My friend seems to be in love. However it works," he shrugged, then remembered to take a sip of his colored soda water. The overhead lights sped up to almost strobe speed and a pulsing siren prompted all the dancers to suddenly rip off or bend over to slide their remaining clothing off. Calvin seemed rather impassive to Johnny's backside, as all that had changed was a thin black line across his lower back was missing. "I just go up and talk to him while he wags his dick in my face? Or do I slide credits over to you or what?" the latter was preferable as he needed to avoid direct contact with his target.

 

[LukeDeadwood]

For a moment, Axton was almost fooled into believing that his current smirk would become a near permanent fixture upon his own face. 'Oh, this one is good. Better than most.' He thought, ‘But not the best.’ With that he looked over the punk to determine where he was looking and who he was looking at. The siren that blared overhead went ignored as did the clothes that went flying off the performers' bodies. He looked at the dancer that he knew as Johnny and the two patrons who were fixated on the man. 'Bad stamina...the old man, then.' The bartender nearly snorted to himself. While it wasn't much, he knew the old coot. Well, everyone who was a part of the "little clique" he was in had vague knowledge of most troublemakers. Just enough to recognize them as the said troublemakers they were. 'Mim' was all he knew -- or cared to know, really -- as he was aware of the contacts out for the old man. But Axton found himself wondering just who was pathetic enough to have to hire somebody else to hunt down someone like that. After all, if one wants something done right, then they should do it themselves.

Though, if he did know, he'd probably end up offing the clients and target alike. Just because of how sad it all was. He'd need something out of that scenario that was actually worth his time, as credits just wouldn't do.

This time he covered his snort with a chuckle, settling his attention back to the male in front of him. "Well, some dick-wagging is an option, I suppose. I know Johnny wouldn't mind having more company over there. Though I get the distinct feeling that's not exactly your type of scene." Axton could only imagine the disinterested look and disgust that would be on the punk's face. He bet it would look much like one of Emex's common expressions, and that thought amused him to almost no end. "But no. You don't have to do it yourself. You pass the credits my way, and I can send them over to the employee while you go off and have your own fun."

Or rather, Axton would have a server pass on the word while he highly suspected the punk would slink off to some obscure shadowed part of the club to watch his prey until he. It was just a guess of course, as that's usually how his own nights were spent whenever he was out on the prowl. Not that that mattered, either, so he continued with saying his piece.

“There’s no contact necessary between you and the employee. After all, it wouldn’t be much of an surprise if the exchange happened in front of your, ah...friend, was it?” This time it was a just a force of habit for Axton when he made a grab for another glass to wash, not bothering to hide his grin.

 

[obieblu]

Calvin had the last vestiges youthful attractiveness that were marred by his ashen pallor and cyber modifications. He chose smirking as a 'personality' merely because any other kind of smile would be too obviously disingenuous. It didn't alter at all as Axton offered his amiable observations and explanations. Indeed, neither dicks nor any other bits of flesh being wagged in front of his face had much interest for Calvin, but it was an appropriate time to snort lightly. "Not really, but it's not my birthday. Aight, very chill. Here," he slid a credit chip out from a tight pocket. It was a decently-sized amount, linked to an expense account. "I'd like Johnny to rock old Bill's world upstairs. It'll keep his drool off your floor. Thanks," he slapped the bartop, meaning to finalize the social interaction. Calvin didn't go far, though, just a few stools back and took a seat, letting his face return to its normal stoic blankness. There was no need to put effort into concealing himself as Mims didn't know him. The older man was also drunk and very thoroughly distracted by the naked statuesque body gyrating in front of him.

Johnny was splitting his attention between the two most-interested men watching. Bill was getting a bit less as he looked poorer and likely a smaller tipper than the younger more well-dressed man opposite him. To make it simpler, their hungry eyes each preferred opposite sides of his body. Johnny made his half-hard dick bounce for the younger customer while making his asscheeks bounce for Mims, never quite letting him see what was hiding between them. He would lock eyes with one, if possible, then twist his muscular torso to catch the other's attention, as the techno blared.

There hadn't yet been any word yet that he was up for a sex show after this set, so Johnny was trying to snag a private customer before this one ended. "Hey, stud," the much slimmer customer that was hypnotized by Johnny's swollen meat was anything but a stud, and he looked shocked out of his reverie by the sound of Johnny's voice. "You wanna taste?" Johnny stooped over him slightly and ran his hands up along his inner thighs. Seemingly unable to speak, the affluent customer's mouth just parted, hanging half-open dumbly as he gazed up at the form looming over him. Johnny spared a glance over his shoulder at Bill, who didn't seem to notice that he wasn't the first to receive that offer. His eyes were fixed on the shadow of Johnny's bouncing sack seen between his legs. The dancer would try him next if the one in front of him wasn't able to collect himself to offer some money.

 

[LukeDeadwood]

Axton gave no verbal response to Calvin's parting. Just a simple nod of his head was it and he watched the male move away just out of the corner of his eye. He smirked and glanced down at the little bot that was patiently sitting still. "Well, you must be in for a show tonight." He chuckled, picturing Dexter's long sigh and unenthusiastic expression as the little bot then scampered on off after Calvin. It was genuinely amazing the man was still so shy after all of this time. If Axton didn't respect Dex the way he did -- and if he didn't respect the man's lover on top of it -- he would milk that trait for every little thing that it was worth. Chuckling again he glanced down at the credit chip that was none-too-gently placed before him and took a moment to examine it. Axton had no doubt that it was more than enough to get Johnny's attention.

Taking the chip in hand Axton stepped away from his spot behind the bar, grabbing at the arm of a nearby server that was getting ready to make his some-teenth round on the floor. He was petite little thing, thin and pretty with short hair that curled closer towards the ends. He was clad in nothing more than a pair of short-shorts that hugged his curvaceous hips and ass, leaving very little to the imagination. He jumped at first before swiftly realizing just who had grabbed him and settled down, looking up at one of his technical bosses with a polite “What do you need, sir?” While Axton preferred resistance and the flair of a fight, he'd be lying if he said politeness wasn't a nice touch.

He took hold of the server's hand and turned it palm up, setting the chip into the male's delicate hand. "Let Johnny know the old man gets to have his attention." He dipped his head in the direction of the stage and smirked down at the server, relishing the little shiver. "Now go on, be a good be and scamper off back to work." He patted the male on his head and turned on his heel, making his way back to his designated station behind the bar where he could keep an eye on the interesting crowd that had showed itself tonight.

Doing well to follow his orders the server scurried off towards Johnny's stage. Waving his hands to get the dancer's attention he stepped up to the side of the stage, beckoning the male close so he could discreetly hand over the the credit chip. "You've been hired for the old man," The server took a side-glance at Mim -- if there was any disgust or disinterest, the male didn't show any. "Good luck!" He whispered before leaving, running off to catch up on those few minutes he'd lost.

 

[obieblu]

It was an odd little disturbance. Like a child trying to get an adult's attention. If the child was a twinkish cocktail waiter and the adult was naked and gyrating. Though, it wasn't too uncommon. There wasn't a sign on the wall saying how exactly to pay the dancers for more private attention, so it came in various forms. Johnny squatted down and snatched up the chip from the server's hand with a wink. "Thanks, babe," he smiled pleasantly like he wasn't wearing more than a leather chest harness, and he slid the chip between the muscle of his shoulder and the leather strap. There was no where else he could put it that wouldn't be storing other objects, later.

The 'old man' wouldn't have been his first choice, but he wasn't outright disgusting. Johnny's professional standards were lower than his personal standards when it came to customers. And he'd rewarded even dirty nomads for useful violent media. This would just be another night of the grind as far as he was concerned. To that end, Johnny focused his attention on Mim for the rest of the set while still spreading it around to everyone else watching just enough to not seem rude. As the last tones of the synth indicated an end to this set, Johnny bent forward and did a handstand on the edge of his tiny stage. He spread his legs wide, leaving nothing to the imagination of anyone who hadn't been craning their neck during his dancing, then curled his body backwards and dropped down to his feet just in front of Bill. "Hey, there," Johnny let his words flow like liquid through his smirking lips. The older man seemed surprised Johnny was talking to him. "A little birdie told me you'd like to go upstairs.."

Mim nearly choked, then recovered quickly, smoothing out the front of his shirt like it would make him look more respectable, especially considering the large tent in his pants below his shirt. Johnny had seen it all. 99% of men were exactly the same. Insecure lechers. Or at least the slice of humanity he'd experienced indicated such. "Yeah, let's do it," Bill replied curtly. He wasn't about to question this good thing. Maybe the dancer had a thing for scruffy dads.

Johnny noted the initial surprise on the man's face, but there could be any number of reasons for that. Maybe he hadn't thought his 'bid' would win. It probably wouldn't have if that younger rich guy had tried.. and Johnny gave that one a teasing look as he reached out to take Bill's hand before leading him towards the stairs up to the private rooms. "A man of few words. I hope that means your tongue's well-rested," Johnny joked, letting his Russian accent come out and drop his tone to an outright sultry level. Bill didn't see a reason to engage in pleasantries with whores. Instead, the charming gentleman wrapped his hand around one of Johnny's asscheeks as was lead up the stairs, squeezing it enough to see the small pink pucker he'd been trying to get a look at for the last 10 minutes. He didn't see the eyeroll Johnny made as he preceded the man up the stairs.

As soon as the duo hit the stairs, Calvin was up. He was well-practiced at not looking exactly like he was stalking. The hunter even looked around like he was searching for the bathroom or some other amenity. But his general direction was the stairs.

 

[LukeDeadwood]

As Axton peered out from the corner of his gaze the smirk he wore might as well have become a permanent fixture on his face. ‘And so the hunter goes off to chase after his prey,’ he mused. Although it had merely been a minor role, he still enjoyed and took pride in the part he had played. After all, what kind of bartender would he be if he didn’t act as the conduit for the events around him, both simple and chaotic — and everything else in between? A pathetic one, he’d answer if he was asked. He’d need more than just a diagnostic check and a tune-up if he failed at the simple actions of listening and conversing. ‘And the Heavens would riot before I let my systems fail like that,’ Axton thought with a snort as he reached a finger up to his earpiece.

“I hope you enjoy the show, dear Ghost.” He all but purred, grinning like the child that got away with sticking their hand in the cookie jar at the distinct “ugh” he received in response. Axton said he wouldn’t take advantage of the man. But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t tease him whenever the opportunity showed itself. “Well, what little of one you get to see.” With that correction he let his arm fall to his side, simply returning to his duties.

. . .
​

It was a shame that Axton couldn’t see his eye roll. Though, realistically speaking, Dexter knew that it wouldn’t have made any sort of difference. That’s just the kind of ass the bartender was. ‘Then again, the same can be said for some of the others...’ Sighing to himself Dexter scowled, grumbling under his skin. “Okay, less whining, and more focusing.” Or in other words, as Emex has tactfully put it once: stop being a little bitch.

He shifted in his chair, bringing his left leg up into the seat with him and wrapping his arm around it to sort of hug it close. Then he rested his chin on his knee, and once he was comfortable he promptly returned his focus to the matter at hand. In the few moments it had taken him to get situated he had fallen a little bit behind the male he was supposed to be following. But it wasn’t like Dexter didn’t know where he was supposed go; with practiced maneuverability he weaved through the crowd and caught up to the man near the stairs within seconds. All the while without getting his little spider-bot stepped on — not that getting stepped on would’ve caused much harm to the small mech. But still. Getting stomped on by a bunch of people wasn’t exactly very stealthy or smooth for a handler like him.

A faint scowl started to form as Dexter concentrated on the enlarged screen. He kept a careful eye on the man he was following, making sure to keep a decent distance between the as he crept up along the walls. Sticking to the shadows was a bit tricky with the camera view, but even so he did well enough. ‘Better camera view than up front and personal.’ He told himself. ‘Having mostly naked people to those fully nude dancing across my screens is bad enough.’ No disrespect was meant for those said dancers. But focus sometimes came by hard for someone as easily embarrassed as himself and he knew it. Dexter just hoped the suspicion on this guy was either hyped up, or whatever business he had would be done and over with in a quick manner.

 

[obieblu]

Johnny, stark naked except for the straps of his chest harness around his shoulders, upper back, and across his pecs just above his pink nipples, gave the patrons he passed a 'Don't you wish this was you?' look as he climbed up the stairs, leading the scruffy-looking older man by the hand. Mim looked mildly smug, not questioning his good fortune or paying much attention to anything other than the cleft between Johnny's muscular asscheeks and getting his fingers into it. Johnny had no shame left, and his generously-sized penis bounced at half mast with each step. He thought this customer seemed impatient, and maybe he could even pick up a second customer afterwards. Always working.

At about 30 feet behind, Calvin had only a flash of mild disgust for how his target was treating another person. He didn't know where those glimmers of his former opinions came from, but they were fading over time he'd noticed. It was good, he thought, as they didn't serve him in his new life at all. The bounty hunter wasn't expecting that anyone at a nightclub would notice, much less care what he was doing, or he'd have been surveilling his environment in a broader way. He looked casual enough as he slipped between patrons and followed the pair up the stairs. Getting away from all the bystander's' eyes was his only goal. Mim would go down easily, Calvin was confident.

Once they reached the top public floor, Johnny lead Mim to a room that he'd received a message was immediately booked for their encounter. "This way, daddy," he turned over his shoulder and flashed a grin to the older man, thinking Bill didn't seem the type to resent such a term of endearment. "You wanna give that a smack or two before you get to it?"

Bill wiggled his fingers against the Johnny's puckered opening that he'd been searching for and grunted before pulling them out and giving one of his meaty globes a hearty slap. "Whatever. You talk a lot," he huffed, neither offended for titillated by Johnny's teases.

As a response to that, Johnny opened the door to the private room and literally swung Mim in and onto the bed in one surprisingly strong motion. This customer wasn't a talker. His chances of pulling in double-income tonight was looking better and better. In his attempt at efficiency, Johnny dropped immediately to his knees between Mim's thighs while the man was still reconciling what had happened and fidgeted the front of his pants open. Bill opened his mouth to complain about the unexpected treatment, but the words left his tongue as he felt Johnny's tight warm mouth gobble up his excited shaft the moment it popped free.

Outside, Calvin waited on the stairs, just high enough to see which room Johnny had lead his quarry to. He'd give them a couple minutes to make sure Mim was thoroughly distracted, and hopefully separated from any weapons or tools that weren't embedded in his body, before pouncing. It was too easy.

 

[LukeDeadwood]

While Calvin had only mild disgust, Dexter’s face was scrunched up into a full on scowl. He didn’t want to see what was going on between the two males his target was following in any way, shape, or form. But he caught just enough of a glimpse while he was stealthily scaling the wall to have a single conclusion about the whole scenario and the customer that was involved before they disappeared behind the door: ‘What a pig.’ If it wasn’t for the fact Dexter was perfectly content to stay on the sidelines, he would have half a mind to go up there to sock it to the old man. Johnny seemed to not mind it, but still. Just because of how creepy and rude the old coot was made a good enough reason for him.

Now that got a snort out of him, feeling a little surprised at his own reaction. ‘Wow. Chace really has rubbed off on me...’ A shy smile twitched at his lips and he rubbed at his neck at the thought. One could’ve mistaken that somebody else was in the room for him to suddenly be so shy. ‘Chace wouldn’t have thought twice before marching up there...oh Fuck.’ He then shook his head, getting his mind back on track before he could get lost in making “goo-goo eyes” — as his boss once called it — at a man who wasn’t anywhere near the same building as him.

Clearing his throat of his own self-awkwardness he reached for the com-link in his ear. He couldn’t believe he almost forgot to reach out to Emex. He could hear the nagging already: “you had one job”. Well, it was more complicated than that. But still.

“Emex, the guy is on the upper levels. Stairwell to the private rooms-” He didn’t get the chance to finish when Axton’s voice cut him off.

“He’s after the old man. Rewind your screens to get a scan of that ugly mug and you’ll see why. You’re welcome for the reminder.”

‘Rude.’ Dexter frowned but did as suggested. Though, it really was something he should’ve done from the get-go once he’d heard the punk mention the old man. He truly was off of his game tonight. Within seconds there was a good angle on the man’s face and Dexter zoomed in, flicking his wrist and watching as his database instantly pulled up information — the police force wished they had the systems Dexter had. ‘Oh.’ He blinked as he read the words that flashed across his screen. Well. The facial scan really had been enlightening. With a huff he resent back to the link, making sure to send the image of Mim’s face to Emex. “Yeah. He’s after the old guy. He’s been directly involved with other gangs. The boss might wanna deal with Mim.”

. . .
​

Emex tsked, annoyance seeping our of him like fog from a leaky pipe. Of course. Nothing could ever be plain and simple. “Then get in touch with Zero and let him know.” He practically growled out the demand.

“Yeah yeah, I’m on it...” Emex could hear the sigh in Dexter’s voice before the line went dead.

With a huff that sounded borderline overdramatic but also incredibly aggravated at the same time, Emex did a quick once-over scan of the floor he was on. He made sure there was no trouble and that nobody was watching him before he moved. He stepped away from his designated station, sending a swift menacing glare towards the main entrance — and startling the unlucky soul that happened to walk in at that time, much to his satisfaction — before beginning to ascend the club.

 

[obieblu]

If it wasn't for pigs, Johnny wouldn't have had as nice an apartment and as expensive A/V equipment as he did. Pigs paid for a significant portion of his lifestyle. That's why he was fine gobbling down the not-freshest dick he'd ever tasted. Though Mim had been courteous enough to shower in the last 24 hours, if not just before going out clubbing while he was doing a horrible job of laying low. Nor would Johnny have cared much if he'd known about the extra surveillance. After live sex shows both at work and at home, it hardly mattered if there were cameras (likely) in the private rooms or extra spybots skittering up the walls behind him.

While Johnny bobbed his head professionally, Calvin worked his way slowly up the rest of the stairs. Once he reached the top floor, he shifted his systems into combat mode. Both his ocular implants slid over his eyes and glowed red, as he now kept a very sharp 'eye' on even the smallest stimuli in the immediate area. Retractrable metal claws slid out from his artificial fingertips, and his stun systems charged. Calvin was a fast assault solo, and he was specced up for quick takedowns.

The bounty hunter's enhanced hearing picked up the expected sounds of sucking and heavy breathing from the other side of the door, and it seemed like his target was distracted, or at least not waiting with a gun aimed at the door. Calvin took one last listen at the door before taking a step back and lifting his foot, readying himself for a stiff kick. With no apparent forthcoming interruption, he struck the door with his heavy boot and flung it wide open.

Mim's eyes were closed, but they shot open at the loud crack of the door hitting the wall. "SHIT!" he exclaimed futiley while laying back on his elbows with his pants around his ankles.

Despite his customer's shock, Johnny's training and superior reaction time kicked in immediately, and he executed a roll to the side, not even catching his teeth on the sensitive bit of Bill's body that now stood up wet and pointing at a young-looking punk that was entirely off the ground and had 10 claws pointed at Mim's chest. Even without cerebral cyberware, Johnny could think faster and quickly determined that the violence was likely not targeted at him. The angle of the redhead's pounce wasn't meant for someone kneeling in front of the other occupant of the room. While Johnny didn't want to look like a useless mewling bystander, he more didn't want to raise suspicion about how well he could have repelled the sudden attacker. For that reason alone, Johnny scuttled behind a chair and awaited Oracle's competent security staff.

 

[LukeDeadwood]

Emex had only just made it to the next floor when Dexter’s voice sounded back through the com. “And he’s broken down the door. Yeah, you might wanna hurry up.” The A.I cursed under his breath. The need to be discreet found itself getting thrown out of the window as he took off in a sprint, pushing people aside if they were in his way. One such person was an unlucky server, the platter and drinks hitting the floor. “Hey! Dick!” The shout and accompanying complaints and curses that were thrown in response to the clatter fell on deaf ears. Emex didn’t even so much as glance as he bolted up the stairs.

The commotion, however, did attract someone’s attention. Anemone had been seated nearby, a fresh drink in his hand. He lost count a long time ago to know what number he was on now; not that he was phased by alcohol anyway. The club owner heard the sounds and by the voice of the angry server. Curious he tore his attention away from the dancer he’d been watching, catching the tail end of Emex’s form disappearing, leaving the flustered server behind. “Oh dear...” Anemone hummed, taking a sip from his drink. “Seems there’s a different type of excitement abound now...” A smirk drifted across his lips then. As the owner, it was naturally his job to ensure the functionality of his establishment and ensure the safety of its occupants. “Time to investigate~” he all but purred, taking a stand to follow behind Emex.

Anemone made it to the stairs just in time to hear Emex show himself into the room — Emex could be quite loud, as action was louder than words. He hurried up the steps, even going as far as to skip a few of them so that he could catch a different kind of show.

Needless to say, with the rush he had put himself into, Emex would’ve kicked the door of the room down if Calvin hadn’t already busted it open, the useless thing slamming into the wall a second time. One quick scan around the room was all he needed for his militaristic programming to kick in: Johnny behind the chair, Mim exposed on the bed and the knowledge of the previous scan Emex had gotten of Calvin. His systems shifted, leaving standby mode and preparing to subdue the suped-up punk if necessary. “This shit is getting old.” He hissed. Whether it was on the streets or in the club, having to clean up messes was getting real old.

. . .
​

It was almost funny how Dexter’s side of things were far less tense and much more calm. Sitting behind a screen had its perks. But he still sat ready in case he needed to intervene when he was called. His spider-bots maybe small, but many made the mistake of doubting that they packed any real punch.

As he watched the minor bout of chaos Dexter opened a new link, his gaze drifting to the screen that had been previously showing a nightly bike ride now showed the faint visage of unconscious men littering the ground. ‘Huh. Seems those two found some fun of their own after all...’ he thought. “Hey boss. We found a guy in Oracle that’s got a hit out on him from two other gangs and had somebody tailing him. Stirred up some trouble. Codex is about to deal with them.” The reply was nearly instant.

“Understood. Keep a hold of them. We’ll be on our way back soon. I’ll figure something out when I get there and deal with them then. Zero out.” Just like that, the line went silent.

“Alrighty then,” Dexter hummed even though the person on the other end cut off the call. “I’ll pass on the message.”

 

[obieblu]

While a few customers and staff were irritated by the commotion, at least no one could say Oracle was boring. Physical confrontations weren't unheard of, but free drinks and coupons for other services usually smoothed over any lingering negative sentiments. Unfortunately for Mim, his first and last visit to the club wouldn't be memorable in a good way.

Emex found the ill-fated guest on his back on the bed with his whole body spasming. The red-headed punk had the claws of one hand dug into the older man's chest, sending pules of intense electricity through his body. Still, Mim managed to get a shaking hand around Calvin's wrist, indicating that the taser claws weren't enough to take him out. Emex's loud announcement of his arrival on the scene got the hunter to glance over his shoulder. He held up his other hand in gesture to halt the newcomer while his retractable titanium fangs snicked out. "I just need him. Then I'm gone," he announced flatly but assertively. While Calvin had hoped to get in an out without a commotion with security, he still calculated a chance that avoding an all-out fight would be more valuable to them than a violent commotion to protect someone who wasn't even a regular here.

Without waiting to see if Emex agreed not to escalate, Calvin dipped his head forward and sank his fangs into Mim's wrist, pumping a paralytic toxin into his veins. Instantly, Mim's strained groan shifted to a gurgle while his body continued to spasm uselessly.

 

[LukeDeadwood]

Anemone might as well have leaped over remaining steps, making his way to the room and raising himself on his toes to peer over Emex’s shoulder. It was almost like an excited child, with the way his head popped over the stoic male’s shoulder. Anemone’s grin and drastic differences with appearance didn’t help. But he didn’t mind. His excitement was still in place as he caught sight of Johnny tucked behind a chair and he raised a hand, beckoning the male forward before something could get ugly.

Emex tore his gaze from the pair on the bed to briefly scowl at Anemone. What was he, two? Grumbling under his breath the A.I turned back to the punk, watching him sink his fangs into Mim’s wrist, watching the old degenerate spasm and gurgle helplessly. ‘Interesting.’ While the toxin wouldn’t have much of an effect on him, Emex still made a mental note to avoid potential biting should a fight truly end up breaking out.

Though before he could get a word out to speak, Dexter’s voice cut through the coms again, this time for both Anemone and Emex. “Yeah. Boss wants to see them both.”

Emex cursed himself and his foresight, and cursed Anemone for building it into him. With his scowl deepening, he ignored Anemone’s soft and curious little “Oh?” behind him. “Sorry,” he wasn’t sorry. “But it seems I can’t let you leave. Apparently there’s someone who’d like to speak with you and your...’friend’.” Emex’s lip nearly twitched into a disgusted curl as his gaze drifted to Mim’s form. There were so many things in this life he could go without seeing.

 

[obieblu]

Despite appearances, Johnny was poised to spring into action if any of the ambient violence turned his way. Anemone's gesture was welcome and easily spotted as his enhanced senses kept tabs of every nuance inside the room and the newly-opened doorway. With no one else currently focused on him, Johnny slunk around the table further and scuttled to the doorway along the wall. It looked untrained enough to not raise any eyebrows. In a fluid motion that alluded to Johnny's talent as a dancer and his innate body control, he curled himself around the doorframe without coming in contact with the viewers. Once out, he stood up and pressed his back to the wall and looked to Anemone. "What the fuck?" he mouthed silently, as usual, unphased by his nudity considering the violent scene unfolding on the other side of the wall.

Mim's body was sagging as he lost conscious control of it. Comically, one particular organ didn't soften due to the involuntary relaxation of the muscles that would have caused it to. Calvin waited for his target's arm to droop, then released the wrist from his teeth. Mim's arm landed against the bed unceremoniously as Calvin snapped his head to look over his shoulder at whoever had interrupted him. He could have taken a couple hits if that's how it had worked out, but active assailants at front and back would have been problematic. Luckily, the club security hadn't attacked. Yet.

"I can talk. But the paralytic has an an expiration date," the hunter's tone was flat but civil. "I'm a licensed bounty hunter. I can transmit my credentials and the warrant, if that's the problem." He turned to face the two 'men' in the doorway better with his eye coverings glowing red as they analyzed the other two forms. "None of your employees or patrons have been hurt. I'm going to carry him out without incident," he announced how considerate he'd been as well as his intention, which he anticipated an AI would appreciate as much as it was able.