Mulier Apparatus (Broomhandle45 x Karameida)

[Broomhandle45]

Fuck.

He was so fucked. He was so fucking fucked that he couldn't begin to fucking fuck. It was here. He knew it was here, there was no other place it could actually be! The job was supposed to be so simple! Nobody even knew what was in the suitcase except for who it was being delivered to, and him.

Samuel felt a cold sweat break out across his neck, his eyes widening as the horrible realization shook his core and never let go. He had a chance to be free, and to be fucking alive, something like this...you cut your losses and accepted someone was going to steal it. He'd probably be beaten to an inch of his life, but he'd be alive.

But his hiding spot, stuffed between two buildings on a service hatch that hadn't gotten any service in decades, had been planned for months. It was just supposed to be a quick few minutes, then he'd head back to get it...but he had underestimated him. He was a fucking idiot now.

"Well," A smooth, cultured voice said behind him as Samuel glanced back to see a middle aged man, looking like a handsome forty-something in a finely dressed suit, followed by a quartet of equally well-dressed and imposing men and one woman. "This seems to be a problem, doesn't it, Samuel?"

"I know it looks bad," Samuel cautioned. "But...but I can find it, Hollow, I swear."

Joshua Hollow, probably the person you didn't want to fuck with in Vicar Colony, he had his hands in everything and nobody knew if that was actually his real name or not, but what Samuel knew is that he was offered an obnoxious amount of money to secure Hollow's latest prize: An Iratzarrian woman that had been freshly reconditioned for whatever he wished, Samuel didn't know why someone wanted it, but it wasn't his concern when he money was so good.

"No no," Joshua smiled, his handsome face creased into an easy grin. His blue eyes belied his actual anger, however. "Let me get this straight, Samuel...you stole something from me, and I was gracious enough to let you get it back and you could keep your fucking terrible, pissy little life of being a scumsucking fuck and everything would be fine, and you it got stolen! Stolen from a thief! There's poetic justice in that somewhere, Samuel...maybe you're not cut out to be a Fixer."

"I can find it," Samuel said faintly as Joshua rolled his eyes and tilted his head to the woman, who stepped forward with a flex of her hands and followed by the largest man. "Fuck, Hollow! I can find it! I swear! Give me a few hours, man!"

"You're a piece of shit, you know that?" Joshua said. "Queen, Rook...take out this garbage."

"Wait-" Too late, Queen's fist crashed against Samuel's jaw, the implants in her knuckles slammed into the bone and Samuel felt his jaw shift with a horrifying crack as he hit the ground with a miserable groan, eyes wide in terror.

He tried to crawl away, but Rook grabbed his ankles and slid him back with a faint grunt as Queen's heel slammed so hard into his back that his spine snapped as he let out an inhuman howl of pain, his legs going limp.

"You know, I don't get thieves," Hollow murmured as Rook withdrew a pistol, and put a round through his kidney as the activity around them, that had long since stopped soon backed away and watched in silence. "Fixers, am I right? They just fuckin' stick their noses in where it doesn't belong."

Samuel's shuddered in pain, blood pooling against his side as he twitched miserably.

"Ace, keep an eye on him," Hollow muttered in disdain. "Anyone so much as shows fucking sympathy for this fucking bitch gets put on the list, we clear?"

"Sir," Ace murmured faintly as Hollow glanced at the rest of them.

"I want every single fucking video feed from yesterday to now, I don't give a shit if it's some stupid hooker blowing some fat old man, I want to know everything." It was probably a fucking longshot at this point, but Hollow didn't care. He had spent so much goddamn money on that fucking bitch that he was getting what he paid for, one way or another.
--
In retrospect, it was probably a bad idea that he had taken a suitcase jammed into a service hatch, but it wasn't...really well hidden, to be honest. But then again, he had taken something that wasn't his, and in a world like this...he didn't really know what he was thinking. It was a huge fucking suitcase, and it was heavy. But nobody had batted an eye at him because if there was one thing that Hayden Barrett had learned about being at the bottom of the chain, it was acting like he knew how to blend in.

Which was funny, because he was a fucking poor ass pile of shit at the south end of the space colony who tried for so long to keep his nose clean and do only the fixer jobs that seemed legal, what that got him was a single room apartment and most of his money going to rent and ammo.

Hayden was handsome, according to most of the women he knew. A face that looked minorly of a high school jock that got hit with the reality of life and a five o'clock shadow with bright green eyes and lush brown hair. His problem was that he was broke, and he was broke because he wanted to stay clean.

So this was his big rebellious phase, stealing a giant suitcase with what appeared to be a keypad lock and some kind of...keyhole? No, he wasn't sure what it was, but he still wasn't sure if he felt okay with actually taking this or not, but now he was here...on his bed with a giant suitcase in front of him. On further inspection of the top of the suitcase, it looked like a fingerprint scanner?

Curiously, he pressed his finger against the pad. It hummed against his finger, and Hayden suddenly recoiled in pain with a shrill hiss, shaking his finger. What the hell!? It stabbed him!

The keypad pressed down on it's own in some automated routine as Hayden watched with confused eyes, the locks clicking open as the massive suitcase finally started to hiss open. What he saw felt his blood run cold, his face heat up and his lunch about to come up on him from the horrible realization.

She was a beautiful, pink haired woman, curled up in the fetal position. The plugs on the base of her of her neck gave her away immediately: An Iratzarrian woman. Oh no.

He had just activated an Iratzarrian woman.

 

[Karameida]

Kyrrah Ul-Imei ​

Something fluttered at the back of the womans darkened mind. It slowly stirred her, waking her mind after a seemingly long period of hibernation. It started as a trickle that quickly changed into a rush as more and more of her began to activate, triggered by a small amount of blood that she would never remember receiving.

Her mind seemed blank, no substantial memories or information floating through it. "Bonding completed." a distant and unfamiliar mechanical voice said. "Thank you for your purchase." The voice said again before dying off.

The moments ticked by in silence but she did not move. Questions swam through her mind chaotically, making it hard to focus on any one. Amid the turmoil she saw a name and latched onto it. "Kyrrah Ul-Imei." she thought a small breath leaving her body as she remembered it "I am Kyrrah Ul-Imei." Slowly she opened her eyes and stared unseeingly in front of her, her vision blurry and unfocused. When she could see clearly again she raised herself up and looked around at her surroundings, her gaze eventually falling upon a male.

She eyed him speculatively, she did not have a name for him but something about him felt familiar. "I feel as if I know you but ...." she said trailing off and furrowing her brows "I can locate no name." she finished staring at him intently as if studying him. "What name do you go by?" she added in after a short pause. Something told her she should be alarmed or at the very least wary but she felt as if she'd known him from long ago. He elicited feelings of protection and respect but she couldn't figure out why. Did she have amnesia? It felt like key parts of her memory were missing; some of them she couldn't be sure about, it just felt as if something should have been there. Something was off but no matter how she searched she could find nothing awry, outside of the missing memories. "Did I hit my head....?" she murmured rubbing her head, looking for bumps.

 

[Broomhandle45]

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

Fuck. Dammit. Shit. Fuck.

Fuck.

"...Hayden," he murmured, his eyes taking in every curve and look of her complexion. It was unfair, it was like staring at something that he knew he'd be damned forever for, and he didn't care. There was a tiny part of his logical brain that was drinking in her nudity like he was a parched man in a desert. She was flawless, every inch of her was trying to tease him into doing something he shouldn't. He had never met a 'Zarrian personally because they were things for the rich and the influential...some poor loser like him having one would be complicated to explain. And yet, like an idiot, he had given her his name...and their bond had already been completed.

So, a paradise for a few days until hell rained on him? He could live with that. She had been mindwiped, completely clean. The moralistic side of him warred with the side of a lonely, poor bastard who had nothing of note besides being considered a solid worker from low-rent dives and bars that needed someone who knew how to deal with thugs. The most expensive thing he had was his gun, but now he had some gorgeous woman in his dumpy little apartment.

He shifted forward a little, fingers resting against her cheeks. It was unreal just how long it had been. "You don't remember?" he said curiously. "We're partners, you and I...we run a Fixer service, we've been together for a year or two." he smiled. If he was going to die, at least he'd die with a pretty face...that was the dream when you lived a life like this, right? "We've been in a relationship for about...three or four months, I think?"