*puff* *cough* *cough*

Sunlight on my face feels warm in the brisk dawn air.  When was the last time I smoked a cigarette?  Got into cigars on Ipra for a couple of decades but “cigarettes” did not exist in that world.  Tastes… menthol?

(So, this is really healthy?)

[Confirmation… There is nothing you call carcinogens in these cigarettes.]

(I’m not so sure about that.  Does this world not have surgeon general warn-)

“Nng…”

Noise from the bed interrupts my mental chat with Nina.  Looking to the right shows a very pink and, now, very stained bed.  On top of it, partially covered with a sheet, is a lewd goddess.  Every part of her large rack, thin waist, and wide hips, is soft and oh so damn squeezable.

Charmin with T&A.

Once dark grey skin now looks like honey.  Straight silver-white hair became copper and curly.  Shining purple eyes turned electric green.  Even those oh so sensitive pointed ears are gone and her face has switched back to the cute side of sexy.  But the way she talks?  Walks?  Fucks?

All Frankie.  Even her astral “smell” feels like home.

So maybe it's no surprise that I believed her “followed me” claim.  And that Angel Tits sent her to help.  She hasn’t gone into much detail yet though.  Granted we have been, uh, “busy.”

There are other differences comparing cyber world and medieval land Frankies.  The high priestess of my cult, yeah I still call it that, has traded in her staff for an assault rifle.  Clearing those metal mutts last night proved she has the skills to use it too.

We’ve been together for decades and suddenly it's like she’s had a whole other life I know nothing about.  Not sure how to feel about that.  Seriously though.  Not going to put up with any betrayal captain tin can shit from her this time.

*puff* *puff* *cough*

(If these are supposed to be healthy then why the hell do I keep coughing?)

[Adapting…  “Rejuvanette” brand cigarettes recover stamina and ease mental fatigue.  Unfortunately, that cigarette has passed its expiration date.  Causing the medicines to stale and irritate your lungs.]

(Isn’t that, bad?)

[Not significantly.  The irritation is slight and-]

*vroom*

Seven stories down one of the parked trucks I saw yesterday starts up.  Either it's a diesel or in serious need of repair.  Each vehicle is crawling with folks checking things and loading stuff.

(Guess it's time for them to go.)

[Correct.  With the nanogod defeated and horde dispersed.  Those who took shelter here will leave as quickly as possible to avoid demands for more tribute.]

Fort Tinpan’s “courtyard” empties as a steady stream of “campers,” a.k.a. homeless, pack up and roll out the gate with their packs, carts, and whatchamacallits.

That does not mean it's staying empty though.

(Damn, what a reek.)

Replacing the burn barrels, campfires, bedrolls, and tents, are corpses.  Lots and lots of corpses divided into two groups.  The tribe’s dead.  Somewhat neatly laid out and being sobbed over by, I’m guessing, family members and friends.

And monsters.  Piles and piles of monsters.  Mostly gundogs.  Big piles which are rapidly turning into smaller piles as the tribals chop them up.  They’ve been hauling overgrown canine corpses out the bottom floor for a while now.

The butchers are doing quick work.  First they separate the flesh from the metal.  Then breaking them down into edible and inedible.  Useable and unusable.  Half expecting to see teepees and buffalo appear.  Are those tanners over there?

Hehe.  Merchant looking type is arguing with a butcher.  Trading goods and cash for parts and pieces that quickly disappear into his truck.  Mostly the metal bits.  Resold as scrap metal maybe?

(Wow.  He doesn’t look happy.)

[Correction… The merchant’s irate behavior is just posturing.  Even gundogs will retreat once they are overwhelmed enough.  You and the Hunters retook the building so efficiently that none of them had an opportunity to escape.  Making today’s harvest larger, and more profitable, than normal.]

The merchant starts waving his arms and stamping his foot.  Hehe… Reminds of miss merc last night.

---

“You’re leaving to fuck?!”

She sounds, upset.

It took hours to work our way down to the first floor.  Must have killed a hundred plus punk puppies.  By now?  We are all covered in doggy blood and guts.

The mongrels got kind of desperate near the end.  Guess they didn’t like being cornered.  Though, kamikaze charges usually don’t work well against automatic weapons.

“Yep.  We’re done.  Time to Wash & Fuk.”  Patent pending.

Like, duh.

My harem figured out that some of my best was given after a long fight.  When added to my “trust issues” and lack of “people skills?”  Those who wanted to remain in the harem?  Learned to stay as close to me as they could.  Even on campaign.

Outa sight?  Outa mind.  And maybe?  Out of a job.

Only a few ever managed to find a way into my heart.

?“Do you want to join us?”?

Leave it to Frankie to know, and sing, the important questions.

“Wh-wha?!”

Seeing a chick in full body armor, covered in gore, acting flustered, waving her arms, and stomping her feet?  Seriously.  That’s some funny shit.

“Tuedi.  Let it go.”

No squawkie talkie now that the fight is done.

“But da-, I mean, sir!”  Don’t go crying to daddy.  “He must learn his place!”

Daddy merc’s helmet shakes from side to side.

“With no working chip?  How’re you gonna make him mind?”

That brings miss merc’s protests to an abrupt stop.  Can almost hear the brakes screech.

“Fi-fine!  Go rutt like gobbos.  But!  Y-you better be ready when we l-leave at dawn!”

---

Hehe…  What an excitable girl.

The merchant down there finally settles as his truck fills with monster parts.  Loads up with his crew and starts driving towards the gate.

Hear the pitter patter of eurotic feet before naked hotness squishes itself into me.  I’m sans apparel, nekids, too so I feel every inch of her squeezing me.

(Time for round two.)

*knock* *knock*

Through the door comes a muffled, “Jax?”

Sigh.

Frankie and I sigh in stereo but then her expression brightens and she quick claps.

“Hooray master.  She came!”

Sense a buildup from Frankie of some sort of, energy?  Then the bubble pops, energy disappears, and I witness the locks unlock.  Followed by the door swinging open.

[Clairvoyance and telekinesis?  Impressive.  Excellent micro control too.]

Huh?

Standing in the doorway is an alive, and fidgeting, girl with ivory skin, long ebony hair reaching way down her back, and sapphire eyes.  She’s dressed in loose overalls that still fail to hide all her curves.  

Especially her tits.

Smaller than Frankie’s but still bigger than most I’ve seen here.  Her whole body looks, well, younger and tighter than my lusty ex-princess.  And considering her, uh, profession?  Probably quite the achievement.

I’m not jealous or nothing but that is one lucky fucking t-shirt.  I’ll burn it later.

“Jax?  Can we… talk?”

Cleaned up and not, you know, dying.  Sally looks pretty hot and tempting.  Nice blend of vulnerable and vulgar.  Bet the misters love it.

Frankie has the most innocent smile on her face as she looks at me and nods encouragingly.

Here we go again?

---

“Hyah!”

*clang* *crunch*

Many miles from the tribal compound, lies an underground arena.  Around the size of a basketball court it is buried deep within a monastery-like complex.  A hard packed dirt floor is ringed by columns and several rows of seats.

Dim lighting is provided only by burning pots attached to the columns.  The place looks primitive, even barbaric.

On the floor two men in cut robes and baggy slacks duel.  Their sleeveless arms wield polearms.  Strike.  Counter.  Parry.  Sandaled feet maneuver across the floor.  Attack.  Defend.  Feint.

The gallery is lightly populated.  Long benches left empty in the dark stands.

The exception has several seated old men dressed in long dark colored robes with sharp corners.  They observe the contest taking place beneath them with a critical eye.  Comments can be heard.

“Oh ho.  Feng has clearly reached Gow Chushi.  Does Zedin have another prodigy?”

In reply another shakes his head.

“Hardly.  Pamut is still more skilled.  I hear he’s on the cusp of mastering the initial Psyblade technique.”

Another is surprised.

“A Zhenshi technique while still a Chushi?  Again the demonic arts show their superiority.”

Further up and behind them a young master clicks his tongue and rolls his eyes.  He mumbles quietly enough that only the butler looking fellow next to him can hear.

“Fools.  All this to curry favor with Zedon?  Even donating a fresh incubator for his prize pupils to fight for?  What a waste of time and resources.”

The butler standing in shadow bows before replying.

“It is as the young master’s eye sees.  However, as long as Grand Mistress Duan permits?  Young master’s time may be better spent elsewhere.”

Another click of the tongue.

“Tch.  What is that woman thinking?”

After looking left and right, the butler speaks again.

“Young master.  This humble servant has heard an interesting tale.  Would you like this lowly one to share?”

The younger man attired in fine robes leans to one side and looks back at his attendant.

“Then speak.  Your ears hear the most interesting things.”

“Umera-”

The leaning man’s eyes turn sharp as he interrupts the servant.

“What did you say?”

The butler remains unfazed and continues as calmly as before.

“The city archives received, and fulfilled, a data request regarding the former Umera Orphanage.”

Silence lingers between the two until the lordling finally replies.

“How long ago?”

“Two weeks.”

“Who requested it?”

Only the briefest smile could be noticed on the butler’s face.

“An anonymous third party through a data broker.  However, this particular broker specializes in knowledge needed by Hunters.”

All of the young lord’s attention becomes focused on the butler.

“Why come to me with this?  Mother would have paid you more.”

The butler’s lips twitch ever so slightly.

“This humble one disagrees young master.  A young dragon can grow more than an old one, from the same meal.”

A chuckle from the lounging master.

“Hehe…  Very well.  Find why this request was made.”  A pause.  “No.  Go further.  Put your ears and eyes on the fall of Umera as well.  It always felt suspicious to me.”

The butler’s form begins to blur and fade.  Before vanishing into the shadows completely, he whispers.

“As you wish, young master.”

The lordling’s eyes turn back to the dirt below where the martial contest continues.  Pamut is dominating the match now.  Feng bleeding from several wounds.  But the young master doesn’t notice.  His thoughts, elsewhere.

Noise from the floor below and now cheering from the instructors, drowns out the lounging lord’s pondering.

“What are you hiding, mother.”