Metal Gear Wayne: Shadow of the Bat

Chapter Three: Wayne and David

Disclaimer: I do not own Batman or Metal Gear. They are awesome but not mine.


Ten hours before Joker's escape

When Lucius Fox walked into the fifty sixth floor of Wayne Tower, he did not expect the place to be utterly torn to pieces. It was like walking onto the set of a Paul Verhoven but with live ammunition instead of blood squibs.

Lucius looked around at the office with a look of total disbelief. Some of the bullet holes in the walls were still smoking. The President of Wayne Enterprises simply could not suspend his disbelief at all this destruction.

Before he could get onto his cell phone and call for security, two such guards strode briskly past him with a dangerous criminal in handcuffs. In the rear, the janitorial staff was already hard at work cleaning up the debris and putting out any fires that had started.

Lucius couldn't specifically place where he'd seen that man in a red jumpsuit before but the getup was familiar to him.

A new thought then entered Lucius's mind as he watched the two security guards, each one a former mixed martial artist, haul away the unconscious villain. Lucius has no idea how he was going to explain this to Mr Wayne.

Bruce could be a bit dense at times, but he wasn't just going to take it very well when he found out that part of his precious tower was destroyed. Last year when Bane went on a rampage here, Bruce nearly wept for the destruction of the really cool fountain on the first floor.

Lucius realized he was being foolish. Bruce was a very easy going guy; there was no danger from him.

With that, the second in command of Wayne Enterprises dialled the phone number of Gotham's favourite son.

A few rings later and none other than the good Master Bruce picked up the phone. "Hello," came the billionaire's cheerful, bubbly voice.

"Bruce," Lucius said, "we've got trouble on the fifty-sixth floor."

"Trouble," echoed Bruce, "I hope it's nothing too serious up there."

"Unfortunately, Mr. Wayne, we have a major problem up where English Petroleum rent their offices from us. The entire floor looks like a warzone."

"Really? Well, that does sound like a problem."

Lucius was glad that Bruce couldn't see this. This wasn't the way that he'd like for his boss to start his day. "Actually Bruce, I'm fairly confident that I can get a repair crew here and have this place ready to work again before lunchtime."

Bruce paused for a moment on the other end of the line before resuming. "Are you sure of that? It doesn't look so bad to me. I think we could go for before lunch time if we hurry."

This confused Lucius for a moment. "Sorry, where are you right now, Mr. Wayne?"

"I'm on this floor, you can't miss me." On cue, Bruce Wayne appeared from behind a group of janitors, waving happily at Lucius while holding his phone to his ear.

Lucius merely shook his head a bit. Sometimes Bruce was like a child; but in a good way. Him being around sort of brightened people's day with his smile and his tendency to buy strangers expensive electronics. Seeing how his boss was actually present, he decided to hang up the line and talk to the man face to face.

Bruce Wayne was a large man; long gone was the awkward teenager with a skinny body and large head. Now he was an awkward, spaced out grown man who just had stopped caring about what people thought of him a long time ago. Everywhere he went, he just walked around like he was sleepwalking.

Bruce was a fit man; big enough to be strong and lean enough to be fast. The billionaire was muscular, but not in the inhuman way that Johnny Bravo and Gaston were. He possessed broad shoulders, thick pillar like legs and small waist. He still had a big head but the rest of his body had caught up.

Those powerful muscles now threatened to burst the spandex workout shirt he was wearing. Bruce was dripping sweat, had a towel around his neck and was being escorted by a very physically attractive looking female fitness trainer.

"Morning Lucius," Bruce chirped in his bubbly voice. "I hope your morning hasn't been spoiled by this little thing."

"Not at all, Bruce," replied the second in command at Wayne Enterprises. He then ventured forth with a little question. "Do you have any idea what happened here this morning?"

Bruce thought for a moment, the small frown he wore seemed foreign to his face. "Well, I had a hard time sleeping last night so I decided that I might as well go to work early."

"That so?" commented Mr. Fox.

Lucius's boss nodded. "That's right Lucius. So I got to work but it was early. Nobody was here except me; which wasn't totally a bad thing."

Lucius nodded and waited for his boss to continue.

"So I was there alone at the office at three in the morning with nothing to do. I just did what anybody else would do; I went up to the top floor and started to break dance on the roof."

The business leader blinked owlishly. He wasn't sure exactly of what he'd heard from the man in front of him. "I'm sorry. Did you say break dancing?"

"Oh absolutely, Lucius," Bruce gushed, holding up his hands for emphasis; he passed his water bottle to the sexy fitness trainer. "Ever since I took up break dancing two years ago, my life has totally changed. It's like all of a sudden I have more energy and less stress."

At times like these it was just best to go along with whatever insane thing Bruce Wayne said or did. "I see, Mr. Wayne. So what did you do after break dancing on the roof?" Just saying the phrase made Lucius feel strange.

Bruce went on with his story. "Well, you see after that I started to get tired from all that break dancing and the gravel on the roof was very uncomfortable to dance on; especially when I had to do rolls and such moves like that."

The sexy fitness trainer hung by Bruce's side and ran a hand through his long, gorgeous black hair. It seemed as if she was used to Bruce's outlandish behaviour.

"Well, after all that dancing I needed a snack so I went to find a vending machine."

Lucius checked his watch. He hoped that Bruce was going to wrap this up soon.

"Well, I went to the vending machine but I didn't find any healthy snacks. That's my first priority today. Then I went to another vending machine but it ate my money. I am a billionaire, but I sort of lost my temper; it's the principle of the thing. Anyway, I sort of ended up knocking over the vending machine and I had to put it back up again so—

"Pardon me, Mr. Wayne, but I think you're getting off topic."

Bruce stopped himself, slightly embarrassed. "Sorry Lucius"

The fitness trainer then spoke up; speaking in what was a fake Russian accent. "Oh Bruce, you are like child, da?"

Bruce hugged the not-Russian fitness trainer to him. "Ah yes, that's my Tatyana. Lucius, have you met Tatyana. She's my new fitness trainer."

The black man extended a hand to the "fitness trainer." Actually, Lucius thought that she was a prostitute, but he kept that thought to himself. "A pleasure to meet you, miss."

Tatyana took Lucius's hand with a surprisingly strong grip. She was strong, no two ways about it. She may not be a prostitute after all. Also her hands were strangely calloused for some reason; most unlike a sex trade worker.

Tatyana spoke to Lucius in her faux accent. "Pleasure to meet you, Meester Fox." She sounded exactly like a villain from a James Bond movie.

"Now that you two have met, perhaps you'd like to hear the rest of how I found my building in ruins," Bruce popped out again.

Lucius had no objections and neither did Tatyana.

"Well, after finding no snacks, I started to hear noises. And what should I find in the almost deserted floor was none other than the Batman. Can you believe that?"

"Anyway, Batman was interrogating some poor sap. He was so scary that he was making me want to turn tail and run."

"Then all of the sudden, this fellow with guns appears and starts fighting Batman."

Lucius inquired. "What happened then?"

"I ran like hell," laughed Bruce. "I'm a lover, not a fighter. As soon as guns are involved I'm gone; done like dinner."

Realizing that he'd wasted enough time, Bruce said to his right hand man. "Well, I'm going to take a nap. Too much caffeine last night. Push all my scheduled appointments an hour ahead, will you?"

"Naturally, Mr. Wayne."

"Good," Bruce flashed another winning smile. "And while you're at it, kick out English Petroleum from my building. They make me feel icky."

"Right away, Mr. Wayne."

Without further ceremony, Bruce turned away from Lucius and took the "fitness trainer" with him. "Bye Lucius," he called over his shoulder.

When they'd gone a sufficient distance away from Lucius and any potential eaves droppers, Bruce's girl dropped the false Russian accent. "Wow Bruce, you really do need me to keep you from looking gay." She was referring to how high pitched his secret identity voice was compared to his Batman voice.

Bruce's childish expression changed to an annoyed scowl. "Shut up, Selina. That was a terrible accent you used. You obviously haven't been using the language tapes I sent you."

Selina Kyle, a.k.a. the Catwoman just smirked at Bruce and hugged him tight as they walked towards his office. "No, I haven't. I just watched a Red October a lot of times."

"That's a horrible book," Bruce kept scowling, "utterly full of inaccuracy."

Selina couldn't help but be amused by how stiff her boyfriend was. "I was talking about the movie, dummy."

"I can never trust adaptations of books; they never work out."

"Do you even watch movies, Bruce?" Selina inquired.

Bruce shook his head as he punched the button on the elevator. A little flashing light indicated that the elevator would soon come for the two. "No actually," Bruce confessed. "But I do enjoying watching the short films of the Brothers Quay."

"Figures," Selina muttered as the ornate elevator doors opened and they stepped in. "Only screw head films would be good for a screw head like you, Bruce."

"Says the woman who wears a leather cat suit at night and beats bikers within an inch of their lives."

Selina glowered at Bruce, taking in the barely noticeable smirk that had formed on his usually stern features. "Don't knock my hobbies, Bruce; given the fact that you also wear leather at night and used to hang out with a young boy all the time."

Bruce ignored the jab and was forgiven of forming a comeback as the golden elevator doors opened.

The office of Bruce Wayne was lavish yet strangely default by appearance. The hardwood floors and solid oak desk must have cost a fortune and the walls were painted with some rare paint that had to be exported from a small factory in Kazakhstan; but this could have been the office of any CEO or business man. Absolutely nothing in this office spoke of any interests or personality traits of Bruce Wayne.

It was the office of a generic rich playboy.

Getting behind the desk, Bruce addressed his voluptuous girlfriend. "I'm going to need you to leave Selina. I have work that has to stay secret ever from you."

"Not even a 'please?" Salina's voice was playful, but there was no mistaking that she was partly pissed off by Bruce's request.

"Yes," said Bruce as he began unfolding his personal computer. "I'm working on a government contract that requires higher than top secret security."

"Sure Bruce, I'll go." Selina turned away from Bruce. She was more than a little pissed now.

As her hand touched the golden doorknob, Bruce's voice met her ears.

"Selina," his voice had a pleading quality to it. Slowly, the lady who was Catwoman turned around. This wasn't his stern "do as I say or die" Batman voice. It was much closer to the soft, musical voice of the billionaire playboy he pretended to be.

Slowly, the dark haired woman turned to the man that was Gotham's protector. In those eyes, she could still see bits of the lost child he once was.

"Please Selina," he begged, "hug me."

Selina thought about it, making sure to trick Bruce into thinking that she wasn't going to hug him. And just when he was about to beg again, even more pitifully, she jumped at him and wrapped her arms around his muscular form.

In return, Bruce hugged her tight, feeling the whiplash lean muscle on her.

Bruce loved Selina; she was the only woman in the world as screwed up as he was. "Maybe I'll see you tonight," Bruce whispered.

"Maybe I won't sleep with another guy tonight."

That just burst Bruce's bubble. His eyes snapped open like somebody jabbed him in the ass with a needle.

Selina laughed and broke the huge, running a delicate finger down his built chest. "Bruce, I know how you feel about me. As the Batman you can have no personal relationships or human contact in any way."

By now, Bruce's face was frozen into a mask of pissed off-ness worthy of its own emoticon.

"I respect the fact that commitment scares you Bruce, but you're going to be that way you also have to respect my lack of commitment."

Bruce's right eye was twitching. He looked like he'd just eaten a habanera pepper without being ready for it.

Selina began to strut it out of the room, shaking her ass for Bruce's benefit. "See you 'round Bruce!" She laughed as she left the room.

Bruce was gritting his teeth as the last of her left the room. And when he was sure nobody could see him, he turned around and punched a hole in the wall.

Master Wayne threw himself into his spin chair, hoping that the spinning would take him mind off of how mad that lady made him.

Good old Bruce knew for a long time that Selina slept around. He protested every time that his enemies would use their relationship against them, but Selina would hear none of it. She didn't take orders from anybody, not even the goddamn Batman.

Like Bruce, Selina was a bizarre animal person, living outside of society and on the edge of sanity. The world had been unfair to Bruce and Selina and so in each their own way, they were now showing the world the mother of all unfair takedowns.

Like it or not, Bruce knew that Selina was the only person that could get away with saying and doing these things to him. It was like he despised the chaos she brought to his life and welcomed it at the same time.

First impressions are almost always wrong. Batman's first impression of Catwoman was that she was a fucking bitch.

His first impression turned out to be quite correct but he'd never guessed that the cat burglar in a sexy leather suit would become his main squeeze.

After a couple of minutes of spinning in his chair like a top, Bruce's anger had gone away enough that he could now contact Solid Snake about the mission.

One bittersweet consolation for Bruce as he searched for Snake's frequency on the Codec was that when Selina slept with another guy tonight (if she did) she'd probably scream the name "Bruce" as she made love.

And god help the poor sucker she slept with if Batman got his hands on the bastard's address.


Solid Snake stood on the camoflaged airfield of the hidden military base which was now the property of Wayne Enterprises and the headquarters of the anti-Metal Gear group Philanthropy.

Bruce Wayne had purchased this military base from the government back in nineteen ninety-five; the same year that a rookie named Solid Snake made a name for himself by taking down Big Boss.

During the time that had elapsed, Bruce Wayne has used this bunker as a place to store all kinds of confidential Wayne Tech devices and house his most secure research facilities; the very same facilities which produced many of the gadgets that formed the arsenal of the Batman.

It was here in fact that the technology behind Solid Snake`s sneaking suit was developed; which was later improved and formed the basis for what was now Batman`s armoured costume.

Snake was currently preparing to depart for Gotham with Otacon. The pair of them would be departing very soon in a decommissioned C-17 transport airplane that would haul all the gear that they would possibly need to safeguard the Metal Gear before it would be transported to the Cheyenne Mountain Facility in Colorado for final testing.

This would be a crucial mission since Wayne was a machine of such technical sophistication and perfection that it made Metal Gear Ray look like a beaten up old Stanley Streamer from the early days of motor transport.

Potentially, Wayne was a Metal Gear designed to spell the end of the nuclear era much as barbed wire and the machine gun had ended the era of cavalry.

Unlike other machines of war, the design of Metal Gear Wayne had received great input from low level military personal and the handful who had actually fought against Metal Gears; the kind of lowly grunts that most enlightened military engineers would sooner spit on than shake hands with.

It was hoped that with the advice of the people who lived and breathed practicality, that the theory behind the new war machine could be more in connect with reality than theory usually tended to be.

Currently, Snake and Otacon were loading up the last of their equipment. Up the loading ramp and into the belly of their airplane, Hal Emmerich drove a fork lift loaded with a massive crate of automatic weapons of several varieties.

Normally there would be crews to assist the men with such activities, but their needs were meagre and most of the important gear never left the plane; Otacon`s computer and communication machinery and the like.

They`d already loaded the ammo and other miscellaneous tools for the mission, all that they'd need would be a refuelling of their plane and the all clear from Mr. Wayne.

Reaching for a cigarette and his lighter, Snake's smoke was delayed as the distinctive beep of his codec went off.

Snake grunted with annoyance and activated the ultra secure communication system designed by Naomi Hunter.

Aux

Call

Select

Snake: Identify yourself?

Bruce Wayne: Snake, how are you? Did you get that box of Cuban cigars I sent you?

Snake: Bruce Wayne?

Bruce Wayne: Yes, it's me Snake. Were the cigars good? They're Commissioner Gordon's favourite brand.

Snake: Yeah, those were good cigars.

Bruce Wayne: Oh, that's good. It's always so hard picking out cigars when you're a non-smoker. Speaking of which, you really should quit, Snake. It's very unhealthy.

Snake: Uh, Mr. Wayne, about the mission . . .

Bruce Wayne: Oh yes! The mission that I'm giving to you.

Snake: We're all set to go. I just need to hear how you're going to get me and Otacon into Wayne Enterprises without being ID'd.

Bruce Wayne: Well Snake, just call me "genius" because I've thought of everything.

Snake: Genius.

Bruce Wayne: Yup. My plan is for you to land your airplane at an airfield which is owned by me personally.

Snake: A private airfield?

Bruce Wayne: That's right, Snake; I'll send you the coordinates once you're in the air. After you land you'll be able to make use of the disguises that I've ordered packed along with your regular equipment. As a spy worthy of James Bond, I'm sure that you're no stranger to disguises.

Snake: I know a thing or two about it.

Bruce Wayne: Good. Because the majority of my employees don't know that you work for me and fewer still know that you're alive.

Snake: I'm aware of that, Mr. Wayne.

Bruce Wayne: There's a Goth convention going on at Wayne Tower the day you're scheduled to arrive. You and Otacon could disguise yourselves as a couple of Goths.

Snake: No. Just—no.

Bruce Wayne: Sorry; it was just a suggestion.

Snake: Just leave things to me, Mr. Wayne.

Bruce Wayne: Well then, Snake, you have my permission to start. Remember that if you want to contact me, you just have to hit the "review" button.

Snake: Review button?

Bruce Wayne: Of course; it's the little button on the bottom of the page. You review and I'll reply to that review. I enjoy constructive criticism but I don't like flames.

Snake: Flames?

Selina Kyle: Who's your friend with the sexy voice, Brucie?

Bruce Wayne: Selina, get the fuck off this thing!

Selina Kyle: Or what, Bruce; are you going to spank me?

Snake: Who is this?

Selina Kyle: I'm his girlfriend.

Bruce Wayne: She's not my girlfriend!

Selina Kyle: So what are we, Bruce; friends with benefits?

Bruce Wayne: Selina, don't bring this shit up now. I thought I told you to leave!

Selina Kyle: Come on Bruce, nothing is sexier to me than seeing you all hot and bothered like this.

Snake: I think I'd better go now.

Bruce Wayne: Yes, that's probably a good idea. See you in Gotham, Snake.

Salina Kyle: Maybe we can have a three way with your buddy, Snake; if you're not too uptight about that kind of shit.

Bruce Wayne: Selina, I love you but if I never see you again it'll add ten years to my life.

Selina Kyle: Meow.

Snake ended the Codec call. That fucking Bruce Wayne; the man should have been included in the cast of the movie Dumb and Dumber. Everything about that man was all about dames or having fun.

Luckily the world had men like Solid Snake in it so that men like Bruce Wayne could sleep at night.

"Otacon," Snake called to his good buddy

"Yeah, Snake?"

"Get into the pilot's seat. I'll get the rest of the gear. We move out in five."

Otacon jumped off the fork lift and called out to his friend. "Snake, don't forget my box of anime."

"Sure Otacon," Snake grunted, "I'll get your weird cartoons."

"It's anime, not cartoons!"

Snake shrugged his shoulders at Hal's outburst. He was never one for this weird Japanese shit. For him, the only cartoon worth a damn was Bugs Bunny.


The girl was young and the house was lavish. Lavish wasn't the term she'd use to describe the house because she'd spent her whole life there.

Adleta Voronov had spent her entire life in this one house. Never once in all her fifteen years had she ever gone outside as far as the front yard.

The girl was young and this house for all intents and purposes was her universe. When she was sick, her father tended to her. When she inevitably required education, it was her father who homeschooled her.

In fact, her father never ceased to stress just how difficult it was to raise a child and how lucky she was to have a daddy who cared like he did. The man acted like he deserved a medal.

Materially he had always provided for his daughter. Emotionally their relationship wasn't so solid.

Love wasn't exactly what young Adleta felt for her father. Their relationship was similar to that of the farmer and the rain. The farmer needed the rain to water his crops, but the rain might just as easily come at the wrong time and utterly cause his crops to rot in storage; rendering the whole growing season to pot.

Currently, Adleta was sifting through a Russian language book of military history. This book was about the events known as Peacewalker; the codename for the world's first true taste of the terror of nuclear walking tanks.

Exhaling with boredom, Adleta gently put aside her book along with the rest. Books were never something in short supply around here. Virtually all of her education came from the books that her father brought for her.

An entire wall of her room was taken up a by a bookshelf. The books themselves were in both English and Russian, which Adleta was fluent in both languages, as well as a few other tongues.

Appearance wise, Adleta Voronov was rather pretty. Her head was full of dark brown hair which seemed to turn red when it caught the light a certain way.

Her skin was pale and nearly translucent; her complexion made her feel like the Frankenstein monster. Fifteen years living in the same house with all the windows bricked up and all the doors made to withstand bombs never really leaves much opportunity to get a tan.

The girl's lips were full but extremely pale. Adelta thought her lips looked like a pair of sickly worms pressed together. When she disappointed him, her father never hesitated to exploit her insecurity about her lips.

The girl looked around her room. It was a large room, lavishly and tastefully furnished; it was impossible to say that she didn't love the four poster bed she slept on.

The house was originally designed to have large windows. A massive five foot by five foot window was supposed to be right by her bed so that she ought to be woken by the sun every morning.

Given that all the windows were bricked up, Adleta did what she could. The bricked windows were normally covered by curtains but she liked to take some of the art materials her father supplied and paint exotic vistas on them.

Today, Adleta had painted a lovely Alaskan sunset using only chalk. Normally she took great pleasure in painting the bricks without her father knowing, but today it just served to make her even more depressed.

Behaving like a tired old woman instead of a fifteen year old girl, Adleta sighed again. The reason for her greater than usual melancholy was that today of all days would be the time of her escape.

While her father was out on his latest scheme to serve the will of Big Boss, she would be finally breaking her way into the free world.

Snapping out of her funk, Adleta reached for a homemade backpack. She'd never left this house so there was never a need for anything to carry books in.

Like the drawings on the bricks, this backpack was created without her father's consent. If he found out about either thing, he'd be furious

The first to go into the bag was a small revolver. In this house they were as common as cutlery; daddy dearest absolutely insisted that his little girl learn the warlike arts.

Soon into the bag was a box of ammunition for the revolver. Following that was a change of clothes.

Before dear Adleta could finish packing for her grand journey into life, the house phone rang.

Adelta immediately dropped everything and went to answer the telephone. Her father was most anal about the phone being answered right away.

She didn't have to wonder if it was her father. The phones were specifically programmed to only dial his cell phone. His rationale was that he didn't want his little bundle of joy being chased by boys.

"Hello, fathew," Adleta spoke in her father's native language. It was after all the language of this particularly screwed up household.

"Hello, katusha" came the rough vociferation of Adamska Voronov, better known as Revolver Ocelot. Next to his gravelly intonation, Adleta's voice sounded like a kitten mewling.

Like any good father, Ocelot inquired after the important things. "Did you finish the homework I gave you?"

Adleta spoke again, fighting and failing to suppress the speech impediment of hers that prevented her from properly saying an "r" sound. "Yes I did, fathew."

On the other end, Ocelot chuckled. "Good girl of mine. I'm sorry that I couldn't be there with you right now."

Adleta remained motionless where she stood. "Yes, fathew. I did finish all my wok."

Ocelot paused to suck in a bit of breath. "Right now I have to deal with that mu'dak Lex Luthor. After my mission I will return home. But just because I'm gone doesn't mean that you can slack off like a little suka."

Adleta flinched at Ocelot's use of swear words to describe her but said nothing. Her complaints would only fall on deaf ears.

"Adleta, that means I'm going to be sending you homework and lessons via your e-mail. If I find you using your computer for free time then you'll be in big trouble. I'll slap you hard enough that your dead mother will feel it."

The girl was young and she was shaking. Her body and mind were in flux and the seeds of hatred her father planted in her were starting to sprout. Now of all times it was hardest not to swear at the pompous old coot and insult him and his precious Big Boss. Piz'da

All she said was the affirmative. "Da, atyets."

Ocelot chuckled at his daughter's subservience. "When I get back, you can even listen to some pop music; but only if you're a good girl."

"Yes, papa."

Excellent, said the revolver wielding gunman. "I'll see you later, Adelta. Dasvy Danya."

"Dasvy Danya, fathew."

Ocelot hung up.

By now, his daughter was free to express her anger. Squeezing the phone in her hand, Adleta just wanted to crush it in her hand.

She wanted to throw the thing against the wall, but she realized that would do nothing. Like a wimp, she put the phone on the tabletop and went to finish packing.

She was young and today of all days Revolver Ocelot would no longer control daughter Ocelot.


Thank you all, sorry for the lack of updates :D But thanks for your patience. I had a shitload of fun writing this chapter. I needed it after the stress of midterms. Adleta is totally an OC and I will do my damndest to make her not a Sue. You have my word.

As for translations, Da is yes. Atyets is father. Piz'da is pussy or cunt. Dasvy Danya is goodbye. Mu'dak is asshole (which Lex is.) Suka is bitch.

For those looking for action, fear not; in the next chapter the attack on Gotham starts. We'll meet the Joker and his army of psychos. Riddler will activate the bomb that will render Gotham Helpless and there will be more of Snake and Batman.

Here's a little preview.

"And for the love of God Gaston," Ocelot yelled, "Don't let Johnny Bravo near any TV cameras or we'll be the laughingstock of the nation!"

Gaston nodded, "Yes Sir,"

It was easier said than done.

Gaston looked to see Johnny trying to woo a whore.

"Howdy Street Walking Mamma," said Johnny in his dulcet tones. He flexed his muscles for emphasis. "Doesn't a bod this pretty deserve a discount for your fine services?"

"Hit the road Jack," said the whore.

Ta

Master of the Boot

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