A Tight Pussies Perspective
Squeezy had her name for a reason. A mean one. She was making her way in the anarchic parts of the sprawl right in the shadow of a few high risers and pretty much next to the old rail way station that lost its original use and turned into a slum with a constantly changing chaos of barracks, tents and boxes that gave shelter to those that failed with coping with the constant drug levels of the society after the downfall.
The name came from her implant that combined with elite force level training turned her into an assassin of very special kind. She had her vagina upgraded to another level beyond believe. She was part of the blood squad to the prostitutes that got independent from men by making use of a Sten Gun version and cheap ammo that flooded the streets during the downfall.
The construction was simple and based on a very old design, but upgraded with a 3D printed pistol grip, loaded from the bottom instead of sideways and came with or without a laser pointer or basic optic. That was some time ago and the guns were still around, but she made her way further up. She was born when these guns had their peak in use and the women of the trade took independence by force against their old pimps and especially the police forces everyone ripped into pieces anyway, in these years known as the downfall when society crashed hard.
They owned a few streets in between the secured high risers and the old railway station. It was also the party centre for the anarchic parts of the sprawl full of synth drug dealers that had to give them their share and bars, clubs and restaurants serving the shadows.
She was not part of the ladies security squad that still used the Sten Gun version, but had a rooftop appartement with her wife and another couple of the same status and trade.
They dealed in information and secured those few streets against the ConMen that too often were tempted to pay their bills brute force instead of as agreed.
Someone managed to do the impossible and ripped the shooting star of financial entrepreneurs that just recently made it onto the most important manager magazine front page into minced meat creating a few dozen clients for the psychologic and mental health doctors of about a dozen companies. Someone got way too loud for his own good. Someone that was already shit scary known as the Black Striker. Someone that no one would have believed to be capable of such an sophisticated operation. Someone nobody knew more about than that he was riding a black prehistoric fuel based motorcycle, in an all black bullet proof combat suit on military level that never spoke, but indicated yes or no with his head only and would always create a mess, a real mess when terminating a target charging the highest rates and collecting them.
Someone that killed some years ago an entire slave owner village deeper in the woods north west and left a message for the ConMen that took advantage of the slaves on pretty ugly synth drugs. He crucified the three leaders and burned the crosses live streaming all of it onto the video screens of the bars down in Squeezies streets on a Saturday night peak when the ConMen freaked out in the VIP lounges of these few streets and those with cash from the anarchic parts blew it all over the place freaking out even more.
There was no more freaking out any more this evening. It costed them a little fortune.
Nobody knew where the dozen slaves went to and why this guy even left a pretty nasty puzzle of effective booby traps.
Actually, nobody knew for real that it was Black Striker, but Squeezy was in the information business and the Con Squad leader that was sent to check if any of their managers survived loosing almost all of his men was a reliable customer addicted to her pussy and that very special performance enhancing cocktail they would offer along with her special services to shoot them away from this earth and reality into a space of sexual high only gods were able to enter. That’s what the flyer said.
He also did not directly mention it, but all of this happened after Black Striker was hired for a job to take out a ConMen that started to miss the appropriate doses of a very different synth drug than the ladies cocktail and considered his secretary an appropriate object to turn his sadistic desires into reality right within the HR office he was head of.
She died a painful death. He than went on the run and managed to get out of the safe zone into the old railway station. Black Striker was hired to make a point and to restore confidence within the lower ranks of the office staff. Those that did the actual work.
The thing with Black Striker was that he always kept waving his hand in the pub he entered if a direct meeting with the client was needed and the dark net conference room did not suite him for any reason to get more information. The ConMen hiring Striker gave Striker a full picture and even mentioned the village, which he actually should not have done, especially he was a regular their, too.
First, Striker killed the ConMen on the run who was hiding in the upper floors of the old railway station in a former fast food restaurant and along with him the gang that until then run the railway stations synth drug supply using military grade hand grenades, a few rockets and finally, as always, about a thousand rounds in a heavy rain of bullets to wipe out the gang he actually had a meeting with to talk about the ConMens head price. They should have known that Striker was not the chatty type of person upfront. Unfortunately, they also used their own product, like everyone.
Striker rose prices afterwards, quite successfully.
He than caused, but also finished the most violent and shortest, but a rather small gang war in the sprawl. After the second synth drug gang he took out using a flame thrower before emptying the full auto gun the others decided to stop hiring him and sorted their disputes out in person directly from now on.
So, he was back being a ConMen exclusive again for everyone in and outside the safe zone afterwards, while inititally actually a ConMen had hired him to take out one of the gangs and this beast of a crazy freak also had their biggest rivals pay him, beside stripping the gang from all their valuable assets. Gold and Silver coins where the preferred pay for their cooks and a hacker stripped their dark net accounts while the flame thrower burned down their place.
The second gang was that biggest rival that thought they could ambush Striker on payday. They lost their pub underestimating his combat suit that easily withstand their 9mills. A suite that was developed for elite military units shortly before the downfall, that was not available anywhere and Squeezy was looking for - for ever, ever. He just reloaded two drums and walked out five minutes after he had beaten the president dead by breaking his skull under his combat boot.
It must be him. Another time pushing his price up and with this impressive showcase of his extraordinary capabilities someone to save some digital and gold coins for to acquire his services in the near future.
If he dared to take out an entire board of a Con. A board known for opposing sexual pleasures being a constant pain in the arse to the ladies, yet powerful and influential.
Mmh. Let’s wait and see if he managed to survive the councils retaliation attempts. And what his price would be afterwards....
