The pink-haired bitch stared at Jones for a moment with her mouth open, then she snapped it shut. “Pay… uhm. Yeah. How much…” “We haven’t got a cap between the lot of us, Chippy”, Shrapnel fell in, his voice dripping with acid. “What did you expect? These guys are slavers, not a charity.” “Fuck you!” “Payment?” Jones fell in again and eyed Chippy with unmasked displeasure. She, in turn, straightened up and thrust out her breasts. “Well, I could offer payment in kind”, she purred. Jones took a step forward and tore her shirt apart. After eyeing her tits for a moment he copped as much of a feel as he could, then nodded. “It’s a start. On your knees then and show me your arse, chick, so I can fuck you like the bitch you are.” Chippy was about to throw another insult at him, but thought better of it. Ignoring Shrapnel’s feisty snicker, she did as she was told and let Jones fuck her in front of her gang and all slavers who happened to be present. She even seemed to enjoy it. Flak was more disgusted than ever.
“It’s a start”, Jones said again as he was standing up and buttoning up his pants. “What else?” Still breathing hard and with her cheeks flushed, the pink-haired bitch stood up as well, pulled up her pants and jerked her chin at Shrapnel. “You can keep him.” “WHAT?” Shrapnel jumped to his feet and instantly winced as the movement tore at his just about healed wound in his leg. “I’ll skin you alive you fucking…” “Deal”, Jones said coldly. “And now get the fuck out of here before I change my mind and have the fucking lot of you collared.” “The fuck you will…” Shrapnel began, but Forty, always ready to inflict a little pain, elbowed him squarely in the kidneys. The raider doubled over with a strained wheeze that made Flak flinch. He was just about to open his mouth to say something to Jones, even if he had no clear idea what, when another one, Jenkins, came over and snapped a collar around Shrapnel’s neck. The raider jerked upright again with a roar of fury, but now it was too late. Jenkins hit a button on the controller he had in his hands, and with a yelp, Shrapnel fell onto his knees, gasping heavily as the pain from the jolt the collar had given him subsided. “I’ll get your fucking hide for this, you bitch, I swear…”
None of the other raiders made a move or said a word to aid their former comrade. They followed the snickering bitch out through the gates in silence, passing Shrapnel with shrugs or apologetic grins. There was no loyalty among these people, and no kind of honour. Not that slavers had much loyalty or honour, but Flak felt sickened at their indifference to their former comrade’s fate. Maybe they were just afraid they’d join him if they said anything, and with good reason.
And he himself… he simply didn’t dare open his mouth any more. Nothing he said would change Jones’ mind, and the only thing he would do was drag Shrapnel further into the shit he already was in. If he wanted to help him, he needed a plan, and remain inconspicuous to do so. It felt like a knife in his belly to watch Forty and Jenkins delighting in beating seven kinds of shit out of the former raider, but he couldn’t do a fucking thing.
They stopped when Shrapnel started spitting blood, and through a haze of excruciating pain Shrapnel dimly realised that they began cutting his clothes off his body, then forced him up onto his knees. The doc, used to that kind of procedure, had hovered nearby and now crouched down beside him and unceremoniously jabbed a few stimpacks into him. As soon as he was able to keep himself upright when the two slavers let go of his shoulders, Forty dragged his arms behind his back, holding him down while Jenkins equipped himself with a piece of equipment that he first recognised as a clipper when it touched his scalp.
Friends will be Friends 2b/8
“We haven’t got a cap between the lot of us, Chippy”, Shrapnel fell in, his voice dripping with acid. “What did you expect? These guys are slavers, not a charity.”
“Fuck you!”
“Payment?” Jones fell in again and eyed Chippy with unmasked displeasure. She, in turn, straightened up and thrust out her breasts. “Well, I could offer payment in kind”, she purred.
Jones took a step forward and tore her shirt apart. After eyeing her tits for a moment he copped as much of a feel as he could, then nodded. “It’s a start. On your knees then and show me your arse, chick, so I can fuck you like the bitch you are.”
Chippy was about to throw another insult at him, but thought better of it. Ignoring Shrapnel’s feisty snicker, she did as she was told and let Jones fuck her in front of her gang and all slavers who happened to be present. She even seemed to enjoy it. Flak was more disgusted than ever.
“It’s a start”, Jones said again as he was standing up and buttoning up his pants. “What else?”
Still breathing hard and with her cheeks flushed, the pink-haired bitch stood up as well, pulled up her pants and jerked her chin at Shrapnel. “You can keep him.”
“WHAT?” Shrapnel jumped to his feet and instantly winced as the movement tore at his just about healed wound in his leg. “I’ll skin you alive you fucking…”
“Deal”, Jones said coldly. “And now get the fuck out of here before I change my mind and have the fucking lot of you collared.”
“The fuck you will…” Shrapnel began, but Forty, always ready to inflict a little pain, elbowed him squarely in the kidneys. The raider doubled over with a strained wheeze that made Flak flinch. He was just about to open his mouth to say something to Jones, even if he had no clear idea what, when another one, Jenkins, came over and snapped a collar around Shrapnel’s neck.
The raider jerked upright again with a roar of fury, but now it was too late. Jenkins hit a button on the controller he had in his hands, and with a yelp, Shrapnel fell onto his knees, gasping heavily as the pain from the jolt the collar had given him subsided. “I’ll get your fucking hide for this, you bitch, I swear…”
None of the other raiders made a move or said a word to aid their former comrade. They followed the snickering bitch out through the gates in silence, passing Shrapnel with shrugs or apologetic grins. There was no loyalty among these people, and no kind of honour. Not that slavers had much loyalty or honour, but Flak felt sickened at their indifference to their former comrade’s fate. Maybe they were just afraid they’d join him if they said anything, and with good reason.
And he himself… he simply didn’t dare open his mouth any more. Nothing he said would change Jones’ mind, and the only thing he would do was drag Shrapnel further into the shit he already was in. If he wanted to help him, he needed a plan, and remain inconspicuous to do so. It felt like a knife in his belly to watch Forty and Jenkins delighting in beating seven kinds of shit out of the former raider, but he couldn’t do a fucking thing.
They stopped when Shrapnel started spitting blood, and through a haze of excruciating pain Shrapnel dimly realised that they began cutting his clothes off his body, then forced him up onto his knees. The doc, used to that kind of procedure, had hovered nearby and now crouched down beside him and unceremoniously jabbed a few stimpacks into him. As soon as he was able to keep himself upright when the two slavers let go of his shoulders, Forty dragged his arms behind his back, holding him down while Jenkins equipped himself with a piece of equipment that he first recognised as a clipper when it touched his scalp.