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There's a finite amount of hours in a day, sometimes it feels like the 24 hours were just 24 minutes.
Time flies quickly, as the old saying went. The sentiment could be keenly felt by anyone pouring themselves into their work, nothing could be more true for the kind of work Eros did. Her latest client paid good money to spend the whole afternoon with her, with Eros charging extra for her service to the man's more deviant tastes. The fine establishment she represented offered nothing but the best, Eros took pride in her accomplishments and it showed in her performance.
In all her time in the Oasis, she'd dealt with all manner of perversions, though availing herself only to those that didn't result in any permanent damage to her person.
Anal. Why did it have to be anal?
She'd done it before, it hurt and not in the good way. Still, this job was the only way she knew how to pay the bills. Eros spent the next half hour preparing herself for the painful ride, reminding herself to set aside any self-worth so she'd feel less humiliated when it was all done. It hurt less that way, and she'd last longer in the business.
Other girls in the brothel took to the comforts of booze or chems just to get through it all, but not Eros. What little pride she had, she used it to keep herself from falling down that pit. Drink and drugs were expensive, a hole in the purse for lack of a better term.
The thing slipped up her ass like a hot branding iron, jarring her free from her thoughts. "You've lubed up for me? Nice!"
Eros tensed up and grasped the sheets, biting her lip to keep herself from crying out. She knew what would happen if she showed any hint of suffering, most guys mistook it for pleasure and fucked harder. She couldn't moan either, it would just result in the same way. Her client, another merc, was huge and quite well-endowed.
Problem was that he had no idea how to use it properly, and wound up hurting her instead. This was the part she hated about her job. And yet, she knew what she was getting into the day she signed up at the Oasis.
Not everyone was Dex. If he was the one on top of her then, he'd never hurt her.
It was hard to tune out the world while she had a cock buried in her ass, but tune it out she did. The client pulled out and flipped her onto her back into a mating press, clumsily slicking up her cunt before roughly shoving himself inside her.
Eros let her mind wander off, let herself imagine someone else was doing the deed. Back to her happy place, back to Dex.
After what felt like an eternity had passed, she smelled the sweet smell of Psyren, a popular psychedelic drug that's been in circulation in the Gypsy Mile. Her client, feeling winded after having difficulty getting his rocks off, fished the inhaler from his trousers pocket and slapped in the capsule filled with a caramel colored fluid. He took a shot of the substance, filling his mouth with a thick white smoke that sent him collapsing back into the bed.
The drug dulled his perception of the world around, blotting out everything but the sensations on his erect member and enhancing them tenfold. His eyes rolled back into his head as he started jerking off, leaving Eros to see to her sore backside.
She entered the bathroom, taking comfort in the serenity of the clean, cool-aired, white tiled chamber. The medicine cabinet was just above the sink, and Eros searched the many bottles and boxes inside for some topical anesthetics. The ointment worked almost immediately, calming the throbbing pain in her anus.
Later, she peeked out of the bathroom to look at her client. He was still high on the Psyren, and probably would be for the next few hours.
Time to make herself scarce.
Eros gathered up her things, dressed herself, and took her credit chips from the counter. 1500 credits, well worth the pain in her ass. She paused to look at her reflection in the mirror and fix herself up so no one would recognize her at first glance.
The woman that stared back at her wasn't Eros anymore. Not the pretty working-girl with the name of some faded Old World mythical figure, posing as some goddess in the desert that, for the most generous of offerings, would perform beautiful things to mortal men.
The woman that stared back at her was Rose, just a tired whore who was just about at the end of her rope.
She slipped out of the Oasis just as it was getting dark, heading for the humble apartment building a few blocks away. The building was older than she was, having been repurposed from the ruins of old Carlon some 20 years ago. Rose ascended the stairs and fished for her keys in her purse and unlocked the door to her flat.
Rose flipped the switch and sighed at the bleak picture that came into view.
Gray walls, with gray furniture. An old gray television with gray floors.
"One day, I gotta paint this dump something or it'll drive me crazy." The tired woman said to herself, plopping down on the couch and kicking her shoes off.
She reached for the remote on the endtable sitting in the middle of the floor next to the TV and switched it to her favorite channel. If there was one free thing Elysion offered the Wasteland, it was free shows with a number of channels to select. Most of them were tools for Dominion propaganda, but people like Rose didn't care as they had plenty of other things to worry about. They helped her escape from her hard life, even if it was for a few moments. The best part was that they actually made the effort to make the propaganda entertaining.
Before long, Rose had forgotten her troubles with the Oasis and was laughing her heart out to the misadventures of I Love Nancy.
Then, there was a loud thumping on her door.
Rose was too lazy to get up and answer, so she lowered the volume on the TV and yelled. "Go away!"
The thumping stopped for a few minutes. Some muffled voices could be heard from behind the door, and soon after someone kicked it open. Three burly men dressed in ragged leather armor, the signature look of mercenaries, burst into Rose' flat. They were onto her in seconds, violently throwing her to the floor as she kicked and screamed.
A hard boot slammed into her stomach, knocking the air out of her. Strong hands pinned her down on the floor, and Rose found herself staring up into the ugly face of the bounty hunter known as Jimmy "Carver" Mannix. He got the name for his nasty habit of carving his initials on the corpses of his kills.
Carver loomed over Rose and drew out his favorite switchblade Smiler.
The blade gleamed in the light of the single bulb that hung from the ceiling, and Rose held her breath in fear as the switchblade descended. It hooked against the edge of her shirt and lifted the fabric over her breasts, exposing her nakedness for his lecherous eyes to feast on.
"Don't fight, don't scream." Carver said menacingly as he stuck the blade onto the floor. He moved to tug at her pants, "Or I'll cut up that pretty face real good." Rose knew what was going to happen next. She knew, and all she could do was brace herself for the pain.
A single tear slid down her cheek as she looked away, choosing to drown herself into the false serenity playing on the television screen.
Dex thought long and hard about his sister's words, feeling rather annoyed that her visit upset what should have been a great day.
Still, he couldn't help but feel grateful for the attention. Of all the people in his life, especially in the family, Hope was the one who never gave up on him. Dex glanced down at the bar code tattoo on his wrist. His thoughts turned to the distant past, when he was still living within the walls of Elysion.
Compared to Carlon, Elysion was very much the average wastelander's dream of paradise.
That is, if all they wished to have were high walls, miles and miles of green and gold, and the wonders of technology that could never be seen anywhere else. The sky was blue here, not the faded blue or yellowish white that loomed over the Texan Wasteland. There was rain too, good clean rain that brought life to the crops of tomorrow.
Elysion was the heart of the Dominion empire, the seat of its government and testament to its quest for order in a world of chaos.
Dex had been born in the cold confines of Vault 115 and grew to see the city rise. His family name was highly respected there, with his father and mother being two of the best engineers the vault could offer. He grew up feeding on the nationalistic propaganda being fed from the simplest radio channel to the posters that covered most walls, to even the toys that his mother bought for him.
He loved being a child of the Dominion, and if he was honest with himself, that love never fully left him.
It was only because of that one time, that one instance that became the turning point in his life, that got him into the mess of a life he had today.
Every child was given an aptitude test to predetermine their roles in Dominion society, and those that had certain potential were brought into the training centers to seed their first skills that would shape them into becoming useful citizens to the order. It was the best, and equally worst, days of his early life.
Upon reaching adulthood, and against the recommendations of his betters, Dex applied for admittance into the Dominion military-school.
He never got far. There was a fine line between pursuing excellence in a cadet's performance and outright abuse. Sadly, in Dex's case, the latter proved true for many of his teachers. There was no progress there, only regression. Even by military standards, the abusive instructors often went too far, in some cases resulting in the death of one or two cadets in training. Repercussions against the culprits were slow, but the matter was resolved in the end, resulting in the change or addition of many policies to protect future cadets and limit similar incidents.
This was the first time Dex saw that under the mask of perfection the Dominion wore, there lay many flaws. No government was perfect, he was taught all his life, but the Dominion was the closest to one.
It was enough to dissuade him from continuing in his career as a soldier. One thing led to another, and Dex found himself working as a mercenary outside Elysion's walls.
He loved doing that kind of work, however. He served the Dominion in his own way.
Dex leaned back on his chair and closed his eyes, still wondering if he should take Hope up on her offer. It was, after all, the best opportunity for him to try and reconnect with his sister. The arguments they had before should be left in the past, he told himself, and what could he lose by joining that expedition of hers?
6000 credits. He could live for years on that pay.
The Dominion put a lot of resources in its expedition teams, as it was never one to miss out on the chance of expanding its reach. Out south, to the windswept dunes of the unknown.
Dex was just about to get himself a drink when a faint knock on his door made him turn his heel and walk to the front. His hand was on his weapon as he moved to answer the door, "Who is it?"
"Dex." A woman's voice, weak and shaky, called out. "It's me...please open the door."
It was Eros!
Dex's fingers quickly unlocked the door and he yanked it open to see a haggard, bruised and bleeding woman barely holding herself up on his doorstep. He immediately pulled her inside, shutting the door behind them. Eros was bleeding from a wound in her shoulder, and was hobbling on a leg that looked like it had been grazed. Someone had roughed her up and shot her.
"What happened? Who did this to you?" Dex asked as he helped her sit on his chair.
As he moved to get something from the aid kit, the woman's words caused him to stop dead in his tracks. "Carver and his boys paid me a visit tonight."
"What?!" His blood started to pound in his head as his anger surged up like an active volcano, but his concern for his lover was stronger than his rage. He focused on helping her with her wounds before piecing together the details of the incident.
When he was sure he had calmed down enough to ask her again, he ground out the question through gritted teeth. "What have they done to you?"
Eros wiped the red dripping from her mouth, tasting Carver's blood on her lips. "They came to my apartment to try and have their way with me. I bit Carver's ear off and got away. His boys shot at me in the dark while I ran." She pressed a bloody palm against her eyes to keep the tears from falling, succeeding only halfway as her shoulders shook with fresh sobs. "I didn't know who or where to turn to, so I came here."
"Hey." Dex injected her with a stimpak to close the wound in her shoulder and stop the bleeding. He wrapped some bandages over the scabs, "You did the right thing coming here. You're safe now."
"No I'm not, Dex." Eros sniffed, "Carver came to me to get to you."
"And he'll get his, real soon." Dex promised her, looking out into the dim sunlight of early dusk. "The night's still young."
He got up to walk towards a nearby footlocker that contained his Reckoner rifle. Eros' eyes widened at the sight of him preparing for his impending confrontation with her would-be rapists. "No, please! Dex, they'll kill you!"
"Stay here, baby." He told the woman, ignoring her protests as he headed for the door.
"Dex! Stop!" Eros grabbed his arm, "Please don't do this!"
"I have to." Dex replied, "If it's not today, it will have to be done another day. You nicked Carver, now he'll never stop coming after you, and especially me. Best get him now while he's trying to patch himself up."
Eros stuttered as she tried to find something, some way to convince her lover not to throw himself away on her account.
"Stay here, keep the door locked and the lights out." Dex instructed her before shutting the door behind him. "I'll be back for you, baby. I promise."
Judge Benjamin Greene boldly strode through the empty streets of the Stitch Strip, the local name for the district filled with tattoo parlors, slum infirmaries and crude cybernetic augmentation centers. His peacekeeper entourage was not far behind as he continued the night patrol, careful to analyze everything that happened around him before moving from block to block.
Nothing, so far, seemed out of the ordinary.
Then, Greene saw three men stumble their way into a patch-shop where they paid a guy to stitch up their friend. The block had no other buildings close by, and the only light source that illuminated the street was a single lamppost with a faulty bulb. Curious, the judge approached the front window, taking care not to let himself be seen as he investigated the commotion. The biggest waster was the loudest, as he seemed to be suffering the loss of one ear.
"Are you fucking blind? How could you fucking miss? The bitch was like three feet away from you!"
"Relax boss, Diamondback got knocked off on his ass! It's pretty hard to shoot at something from that position, lemme tell ya."
"Shut the fuck up, Slitter!" The guy screamed, "Doc! Get over here and fix me! I swear Imma carve her up and dump the pieces on Dex's doorstep!"
The judge listened intently, then glanced back at the street. He'd just heard the mercs confess to an attempted murder. "Hmm, interesting."
The shadows from the street moved. Someone was coming.
Coming to the light, the judge could make out the face of the newcomer. He recognized Dex, another bounty-hunter and a notorious troublemaker. The merc saw Greene too, but there was something different about the look on his face. Where Greene had grown accustomed to see disdain on Dex's face, all he could see was a grim, determined expression. He'd seen that look on other people's faces before, the kind that usually led to someone getting killed.
The rifle he carried spoke volumes on what he planned to do that night.
So Judge Greene pushed himself off to walk in the merc's direction, to block his path. He wasn't about to let anyone do any killing, not while he could do something about it. The judge unholstered his pistol and folded his hands in front of him, waiting for the merc to take the hint.
Dex saw him, slowed down, but didn't stop.
Just as Greene thought he'd have to step in on the account of the three men inside, the thugs stepped out of the patch-shop and right between the judge and the merc.
"Son of a bitch!" The leader of the gang shouted upon seeing his hated enemy, drawing out his gun suddenly and shooting Dex.
The merc snarled as the bullet hit him in the chest, where his body armor caught it. He doubled over, and in the same instant, Greene raised his weapon. The judge took aim and shot the leader in the back.
His friends, in the confusion of the sudden turn of events, just stood there with their hands raised in shock. Dex would have none of it, and shot both of them where they stood. Before Greene could stop him, he walked over to the dying one-eared leader and filled his face with holes.
"Hey! Drop your weapon!" The judge yelled.
Dex quickly complied, "Easy there, judge. He had it coming."
"I'll be the judge of that." Greene retorted, "Get on your knees and prepare for sentencing."
Dex did as he was told and put his hands behind his head, "Oh come on, he shot me first!"
"Shut up and answer only when I ask you!" The judge growled, calling for his peacekeepers to assist him in the sentencing. One of them brought a camera to record the trial. "State your name for the record, please."
"I'm not-"
"Trust me, merc, cooperation is the only way to clear up this mess you've made for yourself. Now please, state your fucking name for the record!"
Dex sighed, "Dexter Weiss."
"Dexter Weiss, you stand before us caught in the act of vigilantism, resulting in the deaths of three..." Greene stopped to look at the corpses lying next to them, "...wasters. Since you are a citizen of Elysion, and of the Dominion, you have the right to act as your own advocate. Under pain of death, do you swear to be truthful in this court?"
"Yes, I swear it."
"Good. Will the defendant have anything to say in his defense?"
"Yeah, as I said, he shot first."
"I did witness that, Mr. Weiss, but I also witnessed you gun down two other victims alongside your first. Explaining that as self-defense would be quite the exaggeration."
"With respect, judge, cut the bullshit. You know they were armed and would've gone for their guns the moment they snapped out of their trance."
"Noted, defendant." Greene replied, "I cannot help but think this was no random act of violence, but a premeditated attempt. Anything you'd like to disclose to the court?"
"Yeah, Carver and his buddies attacked a...a friend of mine. They tried to rape her, then shot at her when she escaped. I confess to the court, I wanted revenge."
"I see." Greene holstered his pistol, preparing himself for a long night of investigation. Rape was a serious crime, but so was vigilantism. The former needed a full investigation, and if the truth won out, the latter could be forgiven. That is, assuming that the witness was even real. "This witness of yours, can we count on her statement to help you in your case?"
"You most certainly can, judge."
"I hope so, for your sake." Greene had the peacekeepers cuff the mercenary and confiscate his weapons.
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