A Motive with a Universal Adapter 01

"A, um, Malorian Arms prize package... And he advances to the next round. There's a ten-thousand euro grand prize for the champion."

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Kurabu take a cigarette from behind his ear and tuck it between his lips. He snapped his cybernetic fingers in my ear, and a small jet of flame sprang into existence on the end of his thumb.

"And what do I get if I crease her instead?" He lit his cigarette but didn't extinguish his thumb-lighter.

"Oh uh, well, see you're not actually the competitor," Abby winced. She was clearly flustered by the question, but she recovered quickly. "Rook has to make the kill to win."

Giving Kurabu an incentive to keep me alive was a clever play. She should have stopped talking right there though. Kurabu had bought it. I could feel him slump in disappointment.

"We might be able to get you a product placement deal though. Who makes your arm?"

"It's a Dynalar," Kurabu bragged, tugging up again, keeping me on tiptoe and unable to do much except struggle to breathe. "Customized, of course." He angled his flaming thumb back toward me. There was a crinkling sound like cellophane and then the acrid scent of burning hair and I could feel the flame singeing my scalp.

"Oh yeah? Dynalar, with the... quick-change..." Abby prompted him. Kurabu got the clue.

"With the quick-change mount for easy upgrades," he parrotted the Dynalar commercial tag-line.

Bless you Abby Rhoades. If I could just find the release, I could detach Kurabu's arm. Surreptitiously giving me that clue was pure genius. I nodded ever so slightly so she'd know the effort hadn't been wasted. But then she just had to keep talking.

"Okay, my producer's gonna try and get you a deal," she added. "He loves your energy, by the way. If you put on a good show, he'll probably recruit you to compete next season."

"You hear that, bitch? We're gonna put on a show for the people." He doused his thumb-lighter but I could hear the sadistic glee in his voice.

Grabbing my hair with his free hand, his cyber-arm loosened and his steel hand wrapped around my throat and for a second I was afraid he was going to rip my trachea out. But then I felt the familiar pinch of an air-hypo injector. He must have had it built into one of his fingers.

"What the hell did you dose me with!?" I gasped as he locked his elbow around my throat again.

"Nothing you won't enjoy." He reached behind my head and took his weapon back from its shoulder mount. I had maybe three-quarters of a second to act while the barrel wasn't pointed at me, but I couldn't get my feet in motion and I missed my opportunity.

"In another minute or two," he continued, pressing the barrel of his shotgun into my breast, "that pussy's gonna be so juicy for my cock. And I won't even have to rape you. Jezie's gonna have you so horny, your murderous cunt will be begging me for it."

Kurabu's words were measured and menacing, and worst of all true. The effects were already kicking in. I was incredibly aware of his dick swelling against my ass, and against my will I found myself grinding back on him.

"That's right," he purred, running the gun barrel down my chest and rubbing it between my thighs. "And after Rook and the others get back, we're gonna shoot you up with another dose of Jezie for every brother you killed tonight. Hell, I don't think that jack-slut there has ever been so primed up."

The cold steel against my hot cleft sent an unexpected shiver up my spine. But it was a spasm of euphoria rather than impotence. I suddenly realized that the shakes had stopped—the aphrodisiac in my system must have been counteracting the Lucidrine withdrawal.

"We'll all laugh while you beg and plead for our cocks, and we'll beat the shit out of you if you try to get off on your own. And once we think you've had enough—once you convince us you're really truly sorry for all the death and destruction you've caused here tonight—we're gonna pass you around like a two-euro joygirl."

His sadistic threats were turning him on. That throbbing output against my backside was actually getting to me too. As I rubbed my ass up and down the length of his dick, he pushed the shotgun barrel against the underside of my chin, loosed his grip around my throat, and dropped his steel hand down to paw my breasts.

"You're gonna be our whore for the night. Doesn't that sound like fun?"

"Yes!" I gasped and with the Jezie coursing through my veins, I'm ashamed to say I actually meant it. My nipples screwed out tight against his metallic palm. "Why don't you take these pants off and we can get started?"

"Don't be in such a hurry, whore," he admonished gently pushing his cybernetic fingers down into my waistband. Cold, mechanical chrome caressed the heat of my humanity.

"Because once we've all had our fill, and you're oozing Black Queen DNA from every orifice..." Kurabu suddenly grabbed my jaw roughly and turned my face toward the camera. His demeanor became livid "...we are gonna rip this cunt in half with a fucking jackhammer!" he roared.

Then, in a menacing hiss, he added "and with her dying breath, she's gonna be begging us for more!"

"And we're out," chirped Abby.

"Out!? What do you mean 'out'?" Kurabu snapped, whipping his weapon around at her, locking my neck back in a choke hold. The gun was off me, but I couldn't risk him shooting Abby either.

"We just cut to commercial," Abby explained in a soothing voice, her free hand spread in submissive supplication. "It's just a thirty second blip-vert, that's all. We're back in twenty—I'll count you in from five."

"Right, OK. Commercial," he acknowledged, exhaling and visibly relaxing. He let his meat arm relax and the shotgun dropped to his side.

I seized the opportunity.

Grabbing Kurabu's steel shoulder with one hand, I jabbed the other elbow into his gut, turned my hips out from his and back-stepped. Dropping my weight, I hoped to throw off his balance and force him to reflexively spread his arms. It also gave me a chance to reach my knife.

I felt his muscles contract. His arm tightened around my neck. He stepped forward into the void I'd left and his gun arm was in motion, trying to bring the weapon back to bear on me.

"God damned fucking bitch!" he snarled, as I reached for his sawed-off shotgun with my open hand. He jerked it out of my grasp, but not before my thumb found the magazine release and dropped the clip clattering to the floor. There might still have been a shell in the chamber though.

The knife in my other hand found the meat of his thigh and I thrust in deep and back out quick to keep the blade free for another strike.

With a scream of fury, Kurabu lurched back up to his full height, twisting his torso, dragging me along by my throat still locked in the crook of his elbow. My legs flailed wildly in the air as he whipped my feet off the ground. I tried to find some use for the momentum he'd given me, and my fingers scrambled along his steel arm seeking the quick-change release.

"You're too much fucking trouble," he seethed, and jammed the shotgun barrel into my ribs. "Screw Rook, I'll kill you myself!"

With a crack like thunder the shotgun went off and I thought for a second I was dead.

The steel arm relaxed and slid off my shoulders as Kurabu slumped to the ground behind me. I turned around and Abby stood over him. The tattered foam at the end of her camera's microphone boom had burst open like a bomb crater. A wisp of smoke wafted in front of the lens.

"...You had a weapon this whole time?" I wheezed, massaging my throat.

"It'd be stupid to come into the Combat Zone without one," Abby smirked, ejecting a ten guage shotgun shell from the cleverly disguised firearm and thumbing in a fresh round. "I thought he'd never give me a clear shot. Are we done here?"

Kurabu groaned. The gaping meat hole between his shoulder blades oozed blood and ichor. It was probably fatal, but I wasn't taking the chance. Hefting the Ronin, I tucked the stock into my armpit and squeezed off a burst into his skull.

The triple recoil set my breasts bouncing in the most delicious way. My eyes drooped and I moaned with delight. Firing a weapon had never felt like that before. One hand dropped to my crotch and caressed my sex through the heavy fabric of my pants.

"Yeah, we're done," Abby decided. She found the quick-release in Kurabu's armpit and freed his cyber-arm from its shoulder mount. "Think this will fit Owl?"

I was too distracted by the phallic shape of the chrome bicep to answer.

"C'mon Ritz, time to go."

I looked longingly toward the moans and cries and gasps of pleasure coming from the oblivious orgy in the middle of the room. Surely that lucky slut could spare one cock for me, I thought. But Abby turned me back toward the stairs and we started down.

"Wanna go to Chatsubo?" I asked. "I can kill Rook and then we can pick up some guys."

"Sure, Ritz," Abby humored me. "Sounds like a great plan."

The erotic cacaphony on the top floor faded away as we descended. But by the time we reached the second floor it was replaced by the high pitched whine of a powerful engine. Abby looked up curiously as the sound got louder.

It was a sound I knew well from Lithuania and Venezuela, and my eyes went wide with fear.

"Screamers in-bound!" I shouted instinctively, pushing Abby toward the last flight of stairs. "We have to go now!"

The roar of the AV engine didn't pass by and recede. Somehow, I knew it wouldn't. It reached a crescendo and held there, screaming outside the building.

"Owl says there's an Arasaka AV dropping troops outside," Abby shouted. I guess she really did have a radio implant after all.

"Fuck!"

Arasaka Security Corporation hired out the best trained, best equipped, most motivated private security forces in the world. I once sent them my resumé, but they didn't even give me an interview. Why was anyone going to the expense of sending them here?

Back on the ground floor, I picked up MetalGear's antique AK-47 just in case, and briefly wondered if we had time to get Abby into what was left of his armor. Then I got distracted—the thought of pulling his pants off got me wondering how big his dick was.

"Owl is out back in the alley!" Abby yelled, breaking the ill-timed reverie. Above us, the buzz of light autocannon fire erupted. It was drowned out by the crack of stone and wood and glass and metal perforated by seventy-five rounds per second. Abby panicked and ran for the back door.

"Rhoades wait!" I charged after her. The light pollution from outside framed her outline in the open doorway. She was almost there. I dropped the AK-47 and lunged for her knees, tackling her to the floor just as muzzles flashed outside and bees buzzed through the air we'd filled a moment before.

"One fire team around front, another around back, remember?" I shouted after we had rolled to cover. "Snipers! Air support! Arasaka can do this the right way!"

"So how do we get out?!" Abby cried, clearly terrified.

"I don't know," I admitted quietly and jacked the Ronin back into my processor. The electrical connection of the male jack slotting into the female port made me shiver in a way it never had before.

I shuddered in ecstasy as I fired a suppressive burst out the back door and watched for the response. Three muzzle flashes revealed three faint armored heat signatures, widely spread, all behind cover in the alley behind the house.

This was bad.

"We're pinned down at the back door!" Abby called. "We can't get out!"

I was momentarily annoyed at the restatement of the obvious until I realized she wasn't talking to me.

Outside, the growl of another approaching engine joined the scream of the AV. The heat signatures tried to scatter but there was nowhere to go. The Herkimer plowed backwards through the narrow alley at top speed with only centimeters to spare on either side. Arasaka goons splattered against the armor and popped beneath the wheels as it went.

"Move Rhoades! Go! Go! Go!"

She dashed out of the building and I covered her, watching our six in case the boys in black were already inside, watching our front in case Owl missed one.

The Herkimer had plunged most of the way down the alley before Owl had been able to skid it to a stop. The hatch on the rear was facing away from us. As Abby waited anxiously for Owl to bring the transport back up to us, I realized there wouldn't be time.

The pitch of the AV's engine had shifted.

"Screamers comin' 'round!" I shouted over the noise. "Find cover!"

"The hotrod!" Abby pointed. The up-armored muscle car was the best option available.

I'd planned to dive underneath it, but Abby produced a key from somewhere, unlocked the driver's door, and clambered in. The screamer hovered around the corner of the building filling the alley with its downdraft. Arasaka's logo was brightly illuminated on the underside, free advertising for the company's lethal efficiency.

Abby popped the passenger-side lock and I climbed in beside her.

"Grabbed the keys off a dead guy when I checked his face," she explained before I could ask. She plugged the key into the ignition and the engine roared to life sending a very stimulating rumble through the whole car.

"Oh god, I love this car," I gasped and slumped forward to press my ass tighter against the seat.

"Owl, choombata, can you clear us a path?" Abby asked, ignoring me. "We'll be right behind you."

The tires shrieked on the pavement as Abby threw the shifter into gear and backed the car into a tight turn just as the AV opened fire. The autocannon chewed up asphalt and masonry. Small arms fire pinged off the armor plating. Abby had one hand on the wheel, the other arm slung across the passenger seatback, and she peered intently through the steel mesh of the car's back window.

We charged through the dust cloud into the alley in reverse.

It wasn't a move the screamer pilot was expecting and it bought us a moment or two, but by the time we burst out onto the open street, Arasaka had recovered the initiative and the AV was back on our tail. The transmission shifted gears and the engine's rumble intensified. I threw my head back against the seat groaning in delight.

"Where did you learn to do that?" I asked, grinning in spite of myself.

"Andretti Driving chip," Abby answered, tapping her neural processor. "Deluxe Edition. Owl, what have you got that can knock that AV out of the sky?"

The muscle car was faster than the Herkimer, but with all the added weight, it wasn't much more maneuverable. Owl's ride had the advantage of being designed to smash through obstacles. So Abby followed Owl, swerving from side to side, braking and accelerating at random, turning down side streets at the last minute—generally making us a hard target for the pursuing AV.

I clung to the grab handle above the door to keep from being thrown around.

"What do you mean 'no weapons'?" Abby snapped over the prattle of bullets strafing our roof. "You're a fucking tank! ... Fine."

The AV's autocannon must have been loaded with anti-personnel rounds instead of anti-armor. Still every impact put a little more stress on the homemade armor plating and with as many rounds as they were unloading, it was only a matter of time before they got through.

But all I cared about at that moment was the powerful rumble of the engine.

Abby turned to me. "Ritz, sweetie, I know you're going through some shit right now, but could you maybe take your hand off your cooch and shoot at some fucking bad guys!?"

I hadn't even realized I'd been rubbing myself again.

"Yeah. Yeah, sorry. I'm on it," I blushed.

I tossed the Ronin into the back seat, climbed over myself, and kicked Owl's payment down to the floor boards. Lucky for us the Black Queens appreciated the strategic value of gun ports. The car's back window was sloped so that it was looking up more than back. The glass had been replaced with a heavy steel grate and a pair of three-centimeter openings had been cut out.

Unfortunately, they were intended for shooting at other things on the ground. The angle to aim at the AV was way too steep; Arasaka's pilot had the advantage of being able to shoot almost straight down.

Lying on my back didn't work. The back seat was too narrow. Even with my knees curled up, my shoulder was too far out of line with either gun port to shoot straight up.

I ended up sitting behind Abby turned sideways. With the muzzle protruding out the back window from the passenger-side gun port. The rifle was nearly vertical. It was an awkward firing position even with the smart gun link. It was hard to aim and it didn't have much of an effect.

"How much farther to the checkpoint?" I asked Abby. Once we were out of the Combat Zone, it would be massively illegal for Arasaka to pursue us.

Probably.

Actually, Arasaka lawyers might be able to swing a warrant contract retroactively. Still, getting to a checkpoint was our best bet.

"They keep cutting us off, forcing us down side streets," Abby grumbled in frustration. "We need to split up. They can only follow one of us."

"No, bad idea. Right now, each of us is only taking half their fire," I argued. "Whoever they follow gets their full attention."

"Yeah that's what Owl said."

I ejected the empty clip from the Ronin, held the stock steady between my thighs as Abby screeched around a tight corner, and slapped in my last armor piercing magazine. I had an idea, but it was weird—I wasn't sure if it was me or the Jezie doing the thinking.

Rolling over onto my back with my head bent forward against the back of the passenger seat, I braced both feet against the ceiling and nestled the Ronin's stock right up against my vag. This was not a shooting posture they taught you in the Army.

I could hear the screamer, but it was nowhere in my field of view.

"Where is he?" I called, trying like hell to avoid the temptation to grind my clit against the rifle butt.

"He's right overhead," Abby replied glancing over her shoulder. "Ritz, what the hell?"

"Just trust me and get me a clear shot."

Abby yanked the hand brake and pulled hard on the wheel, throwing the car into a controlled skid. I was pressed into the passenger side by the spin until Abby accelerated out and the AV appeared above the rear grate, a darker black shape against the night sky with Arasaka's logo glowing in the middle.

I meant to fire three long bursts, one at each engine and one at the cockpit. But once I imagined that trigger squeeze, my altered brain chemistry wouldn't let me stop. The percussive autofire smashed the rifle into my hungry cunt like god's own vibrator sending waves of pleasure up my arching spine.

"Ho-ho-ho-hol-ly-y-y-y Fu-u-u-ck!" I screamed in manic delight, trying desperately to keep the crosshairs over the outline of the AV's engine. I wanted that glorious, violent, pounding bliss to last forever but within seconds the ammo count dropped to zero. My lethal love toy fell silent and left me panting for more.

Above us, the AV's roar stuttered, then stuttered again.

I awkwardly shifted my legs out of my way and pulled myself upright to crane my neck and look upward. There was a glow of fire and oily black smoke billowing from the screamer's right turbofan. The pilot veered hard and broke off the pursuit.

"What happened?" Abby demanded trying to look back and up and watch the road all at the same time. "Where'd he go?"

"I think we scared him off," I smiled, climbing back into the front.

"Hey Owl, I think we're in the clear," Abby shared in the one side of the conversation I could hear. "Let's head back to the city ... Yeah, it's a nightclub called 'Chatsubo' in Charter Hill. Do you know it? ... Right, on Doncaster Street. ... OK, We'll see you there."

There was a smudge of grime on her pretty cheek and her make-up had started to run. Her flattering yet practical outfit was scuffed and stained. The dark hair she'd so carefully arranged was starting to become disheveled in a fetching kind of way.