Sweet Venom Arc

The dry air of the lower dock held a palpable tension as a gentle clunk vibrated through the walls and floor. A single corrupted Baron Slave stood in front of the airlock, his shaggy fur illuminated by flickering white lights, buzzing loudly above his twitching frame. The lower dock was sealed at all entrances, so that the only casualty would be the lone Baron in the event of a trap. This floor of The Renewal had not been renovated by Darkpaw and still stood in its ancient ways, untouched for the last god knows how many years - until now.

The airlock creaked open as the Baron pushed its hand onto the controls as commanded, and as commanded, the airlock wheezed open despite its whine of protest.

The hierclasty ran tense and the Baron shuddered under its control as the doors pulled back, half expecting a gout of flame to roast his flesh. Its ears flicked and twitched, listening for any digital bleeps or analogue ticking.

But the pod was silent.

Unnervingly so.

Inside looked precisely how someone might store twenty million dies within an unmanned pod; a single, short corridor, its walls lined with armoured deposit boxes, not dissimilar to a bank vault.

The Baron was ordered forward, stomping into the pod deliberately. His footsteps shook the floor, his frame barely able to squeeze into the space offered. But once again, there was no response from the pod. Nothing creaked, bleeped or triggered, but with each step, a tantalising jangle of wealth could be discerned from within the compartments.

It was as promised.

A drawer was chosen at random from the wall, each one had the same pull handle on its grey metal surface, unassuming and plain.

The Baron raked its claws against the metal and pulled, bracing itself once again.

But the drawer slid out effortlessly on well oiled rails, rattling with glittering, golden dies.

The Baron's gaze lingered on the dies for a moment before it shuttered the drawer and picked another two at random. Both were identical to the first.

Back on the main bridge, the Controllers stared at one-another, trying to figure out exactly what to do as additional teams were dispatched to count the dies and bring them on-board.

"S-So it's legit? No traps or anything, they literally just gave us twenty million dies for a meeting?!" Cherry stammered, shaking her head in disbelief.

The unknown caller was still connected to the ship but their audio was on hold, allowing the Controllers to speak in peace.

"We could just take it and go." Ink spoke lowly, her gaze fixed to the floor.

"Anyone who can just throw twenty million away for a meeting isn't someone you want to double-cross." Zhali replied cautiously.

"What do we do?" Plum asked, looking to Moltezz for an answer.

"We keep our word." Moltezz replied firmly. "They offered money for an hour of our time. They shall have it, providing they don't overstep. I reserve the right to eject them whenever I want."

The Mistress stood from her seat wearily, taking a long, slow breath in.

"Get yourselves ready. I want everyone here barr Ink in that meeting room."

Ink instantly snapped her snarling gaze to Moltezz, clearly hurt. But Moltezz just rolled her eyes, clearly too tired to be dealing with her shit.

"Half your limbs are missing and you're wrapped up in bandages. You may observe through the Nodes - we might even need you to intervene, so stay close to the meeting room. I just don't want their first impression of us to be the aesthetics of a first aid kit."

"Well, what about her?!" Ink snapped, pointing at Leech with two claws.

Moltezz turned briefly and looked Leech up and down, before smirking to herself.

"She looks better than you do, dear."

Ink audibly huffed and twisted away from everyone, leaning against the console behind her.

"Ugh. Don't be a drama queen, Ink. I'm only jesting." Moltezz sighed. "I still want you mentally present, you should be resting your body anyway. I am not excluding you, I am merely being selective over the image we represent and I need Leech in that room for her expertise."

Ink remained turned away from the group, with only a stifled scoff escaping her lips. Seemingly happy with that, Moltezz continued to address the room.

"Zhali, I want you to direct our guests to one of the exterior meeting rooms. Everyone else put something sexy or scary on, I don't care which. On a separate note - I'm going to be abstaining from the hierclasty for the next couple of days, I need to rest my mind and body. Therefore, I will need a way of subtly communicating to you all whether our guests are lying or not. I shall be drumming my claws on the table through-out the meeting. Should our guest offer a statement, I will tap on the table once if they are telling the truth, or I will tap them twice in quick succession if they are lying. Is everyone clear?" She illustrated her point by tapping on the console closest to her.

"That's clear, but that's gonna be really fucking irritating." Leech grinned, folding her arms.

"Nowhere near as irritating as you not bringing Diego back, I can assure you." Moltezz met her with a smoldering grin of her own, turning away before Leech could tell how serious she was. "Tell them to board in thirty minutes, Zhali. Please handle the logistics."

"Yes, Mistress. Leave it to me." Zhali nodded and ducked past the Controllers to the console, glancing around quickly at everyone before preparing a response to the mysterious hailer.

Right... Better make myself look pretty then. Leech thought, making to follow the Trio as they went to find something to wear. Or maybe scary?

*

Moltezz, Leech, the Trio and a selection of Nodes and Imprinted all stood behind seats on the one side of the table. Dressed in a full suite of strapped corsets, fishnets stocking, boots and flowing cloaks for the slightest part of modesty, they all looked as the Rewritten should.

Dangerous and beyond enticing.

Darkpaw had managed to restore some of the outer rooms on the dreadnought and this one happened to be perfect for this occasion; a decently sized port room with a view of the stars through triangular glass windows gave it a nice sense of space. It also had a single airlock door opposite the entrance, allowing external visiting pods to dock to the room directly.

A long, executive table took up the majority of the room, with a heavy glass top which had obviously just been cleaned for the occasion; the smell of polish and floaty specks of dust lingered in the air. It was obvious that even though basic functionality had been restored, the room was far from in its optimal condition. A dissatisfied scowl found its way to Moltezz's face as she noticed a thick layer of dust coating the metal window frame opposite her.

But they had little time to ponder the condition of the room, as the sound of clomping boots approached from behind the connecting door opposite them. The gossip between the Nodes and Imprinted quickly silenced as the door rolled back, and a squad of armed enforcers marched into the room, taking up positions against the wall and door. Each of them were dressed exactly the same, with thick dark silver, breastplates and faceless full helms, and surprisingly saturated orange combats and sleeves. Leech noticed immediately that each one of them was exactly the same height (approximately seven foot two, just breaching into strider classification), although their species remained unknown as their full helms did not feature any ears, nor did any tails protrude from their rears. Each one held a sleek-looking rifle in their hands, a smattering of purple lights twinkling from within the weapons' otherwise black metalling. But the guards appeared relaxed, despite their formal positioning.

Two more figures entered the room and took up positions at the table opposite the Rewritten, each carrying a significantly different aura to the guards.

The first was more a shell than a person. An exquisitely crafted hollow robotic body, closer to an art piece than anything else, made from finely weaved gold and shining glass. Leech could see the faint glimmer of circuitry that knitted the piece together, and yet, it moved oddly organically. A flowing crimson cape flowed from its neck and waved through the air in an almost hypnotic fashion, following its motions and gestures like a shadow. Its head was also hollow, with its shape being made of sharp, weaving metal. A single gold optic was placed in the very centre, presumably allowing it to see.

Next to it was a more solid synthetic woman, although still atypical by nomad standards. She had a black visor face that displayed a currently neutral, if cute, simple pink digital face. Her body had clearly been produced to be sexually attractive, featuring long legs, high-heels built into her feet and a curvaceous body, even if it was forged of metal rather than flesh. Her upper chassis was primarily black and rose gold, with some deep sea green touches here and there. A slither of synthetic gel cleavage was visible on her torso between moulded plates. Her thighs and calves were mainly rose gold but had a glowing hexagonal pattern stretched over them of the same sea green that dotted her upper body, almost like she was wearing neon fishnets. Despite her attractive and cute look, Leech immediately noticed the faint outlines of hidden weapons across her body, mostly on the wrists and shoulders.

"Greetings and a warm thank you for accepting my invitation on such short notice." The hollow body announced, the cadence of its voice also surprisingly organic for the synthetic tone it emitted. "I am Salem Kardinal, but please just call me Salem. This is my companion, Kay-Ex, she is here as a sign of good faith."

Stifling a sigh, Moltezz nodded and took a seat, gesturing towards the chairs by their two guests. The other members of the Rewritten quickly followed in Moltezz's wake and sat themselves down.

"Salem. As opposed to what, Mr Kardinal? Just take a seat and get on with it, please. I don't mean to be hostile, but you've picked one hell of a time to get in touch."

"Certainly." Salem responded, unphased as he sat at the opposite end of the table. "I appreciate the position you're in. I am one of the high table members of the Organisation - are you familiar with the ORG at all?"

On Leech's left, Moltezz merely shrugged and shook her head. On her other side however, the Trio shifted uncomfortably, and a wave of anxiety tingled across Leech's skin.

"We are the largest criminal organisation within the entire universe. We have cells and tendrils within almost every faction in existence. If it's possible to subvert them, we have done it." Salem continued confidently with a charismatic charm. "If someone wants something, they can get it from us. Be it illegal, exotic, dangerous or unique, we will provide, for a cost."

Moltezz tapped the table once with her claw, mixed in with a generic tapping as not to arouse suspicion.

Alright, he's telling the truth so far.

"My domain is the ORG's sex trade and synthetic commodities division within this quadrant of the universe. Anything that relates to the perverse or seduction of the senses? It's within my purview. I currently have around eighty million sex workers in my inventory along with a selection of curated pieces for rental, at my discretion. In this quadrant, my division produces over thirty three percent of the ORG's profit, which means I have serious pull at the table." Kay-Ex winked at Leech as Salem announced his area of expertise, pressing his fingers together and leaning over the table.

Tap

Leech felt a wave of excitement through the hierclasty then; the Nodes had finished counting the money. It was all there, twenty million dies, paid in full.

Fuck me, okay. Maybe this guy is the real deal.

"So, why are you here?" Moltezz asked, still unimpressed.

"Straight to business, I appreciate it." Salem chuckled lightly. "Two months ago, a video was uploaded onto the nightweb. It had one view for the first week. Eighty thousand views in the second week, and two million views in the third week."

Kay-Ex held one her hands up and a holo-screen projected from the palm of her hand. The grainy security footage showed the wrecked insides of a dank, unknown nightclub, a tall, muscular male figure was being man-handled by none other than Venom and Rio, who pinned him between their bodies and had their way with him. Their sexual assault was lit with neon signs and pulsing lights, with the man trying initially trying to fight back. But his futile struggle quickly melted away as Venom forced herself inside him from behind and within seconds, he was complicit, even enthusiastic in their act. They cycled through several different positions, easily lifting and moving him despite him being bigger than either of them. Despite the dark nature of the act, both Controllers moved with an obvious sense of grace, power and seduction that was enticing, even through the grainy footage.

Several slumped figures were strewn throughout the room, some of which were writhing around on the floor as the corruption twisted their bodies and took hold.

"The video now stands at eight billion unique views and plenty of repeat visitors. I have had high profile clients begging me for access to these girls and this kind of treatment, and they're willing to pay seven figures for a single night - which means I can charge eight at least. They do not want cheap imitations, they want the real deal."

Moltezz tapped once again on the table but also leaned slightly forward, Salem's words finally starting to take her interest. Kay-Ex withdrew her hand and the video ceased.

"However, it seems that these two are rather illusive and footage of them in action has been remarkably difficult to find, nevermind actually finding them."

"I don't see why this is particularly unique." Leech decided to speak up. "Its not like rape is hard to find on the nightweb. What's the draw? And what's your angle?"

"The video spans around four hours, with the gentleman in the middle taking most of it. People have watched every second of it and examined it in its entirety. It's not just the act, it's everything. My customers want to know who the two ladies are, what species they are, what the transformation entails, if it's reversible or optional, just about anything and everything about it. I've had clients describe their fantasies in detail with these 'glamorous alien babes,' from being their 'hungry fuck hole,' to others wanting to impose their own control over them - seeing them as a challenge they'd like to conquer - and everything inbetween. We could be here all day and talk about the desire of my clients, but that's not really what I want to focus on. The thing you should know is that people want more, which makes it valuable to me."

Moltezz tapped her claw once, again. "How did you find us?" She asked, her demeanour shifting from bored to coy as she stared down both Salem and Kay-Ex.

Salem pointed a single metallic finger at Kross, who was sitting just to the side of the Trio. Kross immediately flushed bright red and swallowed loudly, glancing up at the Controllers before quickly staring at the floor.

"That one. She's one of ours." Salem announced, almost proudly. Kay-Ex appeared to snicker before returning to neutral, as Kross fidgeted awkwardly on her chair.

A single, angry tap rattled the table as Moltezz slowly turned her head to face Kross, a not-so-subtle growl emanating from the base of her throat.

"Luckier than her ex-team of course, being the only Mark amongst them." Salem laughed, shaking his head. "Then again, outside the Guild, comradery is seldom seen. Friendship even less so."

"We were never close." Kross replied quietly, her gaze stuck firmly to the floor. "We rolled the dice together. They lost, I won. There is nothing more to it."

"Indeed, such is the way of life." Salem noted, turning his attention back to Moltezz. "You didn't really think a random nomad merc could crack the encryption on those DA servers you took, did you? But before I give you the wrong idea, Kross did not betray you, she was genuinely working for you this whole time. She is what we call a 'lead finder.' Her primary job is, or was, a mercenary. But she will sell leads to us for a price if she thinks it's worth our attention. In the past, Kross has been anything but enthusiastic about most leads she's sent our way, but with you... I dare say she was palpably excited. She's so interested in you that she completely gave up her merc work in order to work for you, full time. She reached out to us and informed us of a potential opportunity, whereby it made its way to me after weeks of my team trying to chase down the nightclub pair to no avail - "

A single clawed tap followed once again, still pissed but less so than before.

" - and I must say how absolutely glad I am that she did bring this to my attention. Should this meeting end favourably for both of us, we would be more than happy for you to keep Kross permanently. Consider her one of the first of many gifts we would like to offer you."

Kross shifted in her seat, casting quick glances up at the Controllers and Nodes to try and gauge their reaction, her heart thumping away in her chest like a little rabbit.

"I will see her personally after this." Moltezz growled with a glimmer of fang. "Her punishment will depend on what you can offer us. If this works out well for us, I don't see why that wouldn't be rewarded. After I've settled the matter of her disobedience, of course."

Despite the distinct threat in Moltezz's words, the Nodes and Imprinted all flushed with a wave of arousal. One-on-one time with the Mistress was deeply desired, particularly when she was feeling playful. Kross swallowed loudly and looked up at Salem, praying his next words would please her.

"Ahah. I love it. And entirely fair, no less, although I would ask that you inflict no permanent damage. Well, here is what I want. I want to bring you and your capabilities onboard my division, but allow you to remain a separate entity to the ORG. It would be an alliance of sorts. A deep, meaningful integration of your 'corruption' into my product line and should you see fit, a catalogue of Slaves and Nodes into my division - perhaps even, if I may be so bold, the offer of Controllers as a curated piece, at their discretion, of course. But my focus would be on uplifting you and bringing your unique capabilities to the forefront of the ORG. Are you aware of the bounty the DA has placed on your head, Mistress?" Salem asked Moltezz, tilting his head slightly.

"I am not." Moltezz replied coolly.

"Twenty million, dead or alive."

Moltezz appeared to be taken off-guard for a moment, shocked at the sheer amount, but then she snapped her fingers and grinned.

"That explains your introductory offer. I like it." Moltezz cackled, apparently unphased by the bounty. Salem's relaxed demeanour shifted however as he slipped in a much more serious deposition than they'd seen so far.

"I'm glad you're unphased by the bounty, but the truth is that mercenaries are already on their way to claim it. The DA will publish details regarding your vessel tomorrow morning which means it's only a matter of time before you're found. I have no idea what your combat or stealth capabilities are, but I do know for twenty million dies, you will attract some serious firepower. Do you know much about naval combat at this scale?" Salem asked genuinely.

Moltezz shrugged and turned her attention over to the rest of the Rewritten, with only Kaiden the black rat Imprinted raising his hand.

"For the sector we're in and what I know, I imagine we'll be subjected primarily to nuclear assault. Or potentially rail-cannons, but those might be too precise for a vessel of this magnitude. Should we bring over larger players, we'll have worse problems." He spoke quietly, his voice barely more than a whisper.