Helion

The gate guard had little to say. The automated town car carrying Melody and the escort had departed at the time established by the video feed; however, they did note that the escort seemed a bit under the weather. It wasn't uncommon for whitebois to fall ill; their weak bodies and feeble constitutions made it harder for them to fend off disease and injury, especially because they were typically less well cared for than their superiors. Eve asked the guard if it had noticed any sign of drug use. In reply, it simply shrugged. “I figured they caught a stomach bug or something; I can’t see how they’d manage to smuggle anything onto the property with the scanners.”

Eve was feeling much better after the tracking package from Mason had arrived. A quick jab to the leg and her pain quickly faded into numb bliss. The small drone packed in the case came with several methods of tracking a target; pheromone, visual field, and voice recognition were all built into the one foot by one foot flying robot. After feeding it the data on Melody and presenting a few articles of dirty clothing, it took off on its journey. It would spend the next 5 days airborne, constantly scanning the city for any sign of the girl. Hopefully it helped to make things easy for Eve, but she didn’t hold her breath. Dismissing the gate guard, she turned her attention back to the car.

Typical scum, it was highly trained and still managed to fuck up. Eve should have expected this level of incompetence from a simple white loser, but to be left in charge of guarding the property... “Alright, you stupid bitch, send a text to Mrs. Dellenworth to have this faggot executed on its next end-of-shift. Offer her a lineup of Hunter-recommended Black freelancers to take the position; they're unfit for the role and may have prevented Melody's disappearance if the escort had been thoroughly questioned properly.”

The car scoffed in a mock display of offense. “I'll have you know I'm one of the smartest people you know, and not only that, but I've been nothing but kind to you. How dare you insult me like this!?”

Eve rolled her eyes. “Whatever, cunt, you like it even if you won't admit it. You think like I think, so at the very least you've taken it as a compliment; don't fuck with me. Now let's get going.”

“Uuughhhhh, can we please, please, please get a body for me?! I promise I'll be good. I swear, I'll at least ask before I fuck you, please?”

Eve chuckled as the AI begged, "That's what I thought. Listen, if it'll shut you up, then I guess I'll consider it, BUT! On the condition that I have a killswitch for you at all times."

The AI groaned. "Uggghhhhhh, you're such a buzzkill; you do realize that I was genetically paired with you when you first handled me, right? I literally can't harm you, even if I desperately needed to in order to preserve myself or anyone else. You're the one person I couldn't hurt, even if God himself descended from heaven and waved his big Black dick in my face as a reward for doing so.”

Eve grimaced; she had hoped this conversation would go smoother. "Yeaaaahhhhhh, but that doesn't include pleasuring me, and we both know I'd be waking up with your head crammed between my legs anytime you finally let those dark little urges of yours take over.”

The AI countered, and Eve knew she was rapidly running out of excuses. "Yeahhhhhhh, but you spend your mornings cumming your brains out to porn anyway, so why would you complain about sexy ol’ me helping you along? Plus, I could be useful to you in... other ways.”

Eve sighed. All the partners she'd had in her time as a hunter had either sold her out for easy money, stabbed her in the back (sometimes literally), or died. She'd spent some time searching for a suitable wingwoman, but most of the new recruits were too busy working as glorified prostitutes for the guild to join her on real missions.

The few newbies dedicated to solving the city's problems simply didn't have the kind of experience for Eve to properly mentor or bring along with her. She had to admit that even with most of her nights being spent under a black king, she was starting to get lonely.

“Fine, whatever, no killswitch, but if I warn you three times about something I don't like you doing, then you're getting put back in the Percheron, got it?!”

"Does that mean I can start shopping for my body? You'll let me pick which body I get, right?"

Eve hummed as the car rolled down the drive towards the main road. "I guess that depends on the kind of body you want to get? Can't say I've seen what's available on the market for house staff bots. I suppose as long as it isn't outrageously expensive, then I don't particularly care."

The car giggled mischievously and replied, "Oh, it's not going to be anything too crazy."

This response didn't encourage Eve. In fact, her suspicions only deepened that the AI knew something more than it was letting on. She ultimately decided to leave the topic for another time, instead grumbling under her breath, "I've got enough shit on my plate already..."

"So, where are we headed? Are we going to visit that homeless camp?"

Eve thought about it for a moment before shaking her head. "As much as I wouldn't mind relieving those beautiful gentlemen of their pent-up stress, I think the priority here has to be the club. The king's living out of the alley haven't committed any crimes, and questioning them isn't as big a concern as some feral white filth daring to bring a woman around their disgusting little fag-den. We'll see who's present at the club, and if any of the losers involved with the girl are there, we'll question them."

The car acknowledged the request and set its course. If the girl from the club had anything to do with Melody's disappearance, it would be good to track her down as well, and the dickheads who'd seen her last were a good place to start. Eve rattled her cigarette case and realized she was starting to get low. "We're taking a detour to the Cabo shop on 9th and booster."

Eve could hear the smirk in the car's response. "You know? I think Ronnie might really try to knock you up this time."

Ronnie, or "Two Bones" Ronnie, as he was known in the slums, was the owner and operator of a smoke shop that Eve had started frequenting. His moniker had been picked up when rumors started going around that he had literally slapped a hooker unconscious with his cock. Apparently, if the stories were to be believed, at the time he had a severely broken arm and couldn't properly slap the bitch. Famously, he was being quoted as having said: "The other bone's broke, so I used the one closest to her head."

Eve liked Ronnie; he was strong but calm, had his finger on the pulse of the neighborhood, cared for his community, and, above all, really knew how to work her throat. "I told you, it's not like that between us. He just sees me as a convenient throat hole to jerk himself off with. He hasn't once shown any interest in my ass or pussy. Why do you keep saying he's going to knock me up?"

The car was silent for a moment before giving the non-verbal equivalent of a shrug. "I figure one of them will manage to nail your eggs eventually; honestly, it's a miracle you haven't gotten pregnant yet."

The car had a point; contraceptives of any kind were incredibly rare among the kings and queens of Helion City. They were flat-out illegal for whites to use when engaging in sexual activity with the superior race. Denying, or even speaking about denying, a Black baby's right to life was a punishable offense. Whites were... not so protected.

"Well, you're technically right; I'd have been pregnant about seven times over in just the two weeks I've had you, but I'm... I can't... get pregnant." The words stung Eve as she spoke them. She could feel the syllables burning the back of her throat as she expelled them into the silent vehicle. "It's rare these days, but... it's a side effect of the Hunter Trial. Something about the last round of chemical cocktails... I knew there was a risk going into it, and at the time, protecting Helion City outweighed any thoughts I had of starting a ****** of my own. I just... you know... if I could go back, knowing what I know now..."

The silence drew out; recognizing this as a sore subject, the car started to apologize. "Oh gosh, Eve, I'm so sorry-"

Eve just shook her head. "No, it's ok. I chose my path. And while it hurts that I can't help bolster the superior race with my own womb, I know that everything I do here in Helion City helps to push the white race further and further into complete servitude. I'm proud of my work, proud of the good I've done, and proud to serve in any way I can. I don't regret it; I just don't think I'd do it all over, you know?"

"It sounds like you need a fucking vacation, is what it sounds like. When was the last time you had any time off, and nooooo, slutting out your pussy to fat black men does not count as a hobby. We both know that's a duty, and while it might be an incredibly rewarding one, I'm not counting it as time off."

Eve stopped to think about that; she'd taken a trip to Emreth City three years ago but wound up dismantling an illegal white breeding farm while she was there, so maybe that wasn't much of a vacation either. In all honesty, pretty much every moment she didn't spend working was spent spreading her legs for the deserving citizens of Helion.

"Maybe you're right; maybe once this job is done, you and I can take some actual time off. Find a beach somewhere and just drink until my liver fails."

The car wooped. "Yeahhhhhhh, now we're talking! The southern cities are always popular this time of year, and property values have been dropping."

There was a suggestive swirl at the end of the sentence, and Eve shook her head. "Yeah, yeah, not happening. Helion is my home; it's my city; it's my ******. I've poured as much of myself into this city as it's poured into me, and I'm never straying from it. I'll die here."

—----------------------------------------

The car rolled to a stop across the street from the Cabo Shop; Eve still wasn't too sure what the name meant; anytime she had asked Ronnie, he'd simply told her to shut the fuck up and keep sucking. Maybe today would be different. Propping her collar up and lightly jogging across the empty street, she entered the store. Smooth jazz piped in from various overhead speakers, and the smell of Slix mixed with earthy smoke set her nose to tingling. She'd never much cared for it, even before her induction into the Hunters, but after their battery of chemical alterations, she'd been rendered immune to its effects. She'd casually smoke it if any of the Black men she was sleeping with instructed her to do so, but it did absolutely nothing for her.

She often wondered what, specifically, they'd actually done to her body during the trials. She'd spent the majority of it unconscious and only got the barest whispers of information about the process. Beyond the commtag and ocular implants, there were numerous other surgeries to strengthen bones, shield organs, and boost the immune system. When she'd awoken in the recovery ward of the Hunter garrison, she was surprised to learn that six months had passed. Her metabolism had slowed to the point where she only felt hungry once a month, if that often. She had found that, for the most part, she could live quite happily on a diet of Black cum, piss, and cigarettes.

While her work and frequent sex had her exercising regularly, she knew that alone wouldn't account for how easily she managed to retain her well-honed muscles. She never got sick; bullet wounds healed in days, and she could hold her breath for hours. Ronnie was incredibly pleased to discover that he couldn't choke her to death with his cock. While her slender figure would normally only tip the scale to 170-180lbs tops, she now weighed close to 50lbs heavier. The only explanation she could think of was implanted armor as well as denser bones and muscles.

Ronnie sat behind the counter at the far end of the shop; his massive body made it difficult for him to get out of the custom chair he sat in. At nearly 600 pounds of fat and muscle, he was just about the largest man she'd ever met. Obesity had been conquered generations ago; dietary habits and education had melded with medical and chemical technologies to produce effective, cheap solutions to weight gain. But Ronnie had thrown all of that out the window and decided to live his life as decadently as possible. Eve admired his hulking body, the rolls of his cheeks, and the smooth, soft folds of his gut and chest. A part of her wanted to climb on top of him and sleep there forever.

Then she noticed the small twink desperately bouncing on Ronnie's broad lap. The bitchboi had to be dangerously close to the age of majority; its small, effeminate frame jerked spasmodically as the Slix coaxed it into sliding deeper and deeper down Ronnie's prodigious shaft. Ronnie was stuffing handfuls of rice chips into his mouth as he watched a death race on a small monitor on the counter. He glanced up as Eve approached and smiled widely, brushing off a food-dust-covered hand.

"Weehheeellllll shiiiitttt if it ain't the Devil herself. What can ol' Ronnie get for little Miss Murder tonight? Mo' cherry Tellmins?"

The twink barely registered Eve's presence. The sweat dripping from the end of its nose indicated that the poor slut had been working Ronnie's shaft for a good while.

"Evenin’ Ronnie, how old's the whelp?"

Ronnie looked down, almost surprised to see the whiteboi feverishly riding his cock. He clicked his tongue. "Woman, this lil' shit is old enough to take my damn loads, keep yo nose out my fuckin' business, and gimme yo damn money, shiiiiiit, can't even fuck a bitch without you breathin' down my damn neck... almost enough to make a nigga think you jus’ a jealous-ass hoe."

Eve winced at the use of that slur. The n-word had been phased out of use well before her time. Many had fought tooth and nail to keep it relevant as a cultural flag, but with the evolution of society such things naturally fell by the wayside. Much like with his dietary habits, Ronnie had flatly rejected modernity and continued to use the old phrase as it pleased him, as was his right.

"You know I gotta ask Ronnie; it may be white, but the law is still the law. I ain't gonna to bust your balls over it, but if it ain't as old as you say it is, then I don't want to catch it on your lap next time I come in, alright?"

One of the few things that had remained from the old world were the laws surrounding children. While minor modifications had been made to the laws to broaden Black freedoms, there were still limits on how children could be treated. Sex with minors was illegal across the board, and while the punishment was far, far lighter for the Black race, they would still be punished for using a child inappropriately.

"Bitch, this lil' piece of ass is 22, so fuckin’ drop it. Now, tell me what you want; I'm try’na watch this race."

Eve clenched her fist; this hadn't gone at all the way she'd hoped. First, that snotty little brat was taking up her rightful spot, and now Ronnie was annoyed with her. Then an idea occurred to her.

"Sorry Ronnie, still in work mode; you know how it is, baby. I'll make it up to you; when was the last time your ass was cleaned?"

Ronnie paused his hand before dumping a load of chips into his mouth, a grin spreading across his broad lips. "Aw shit darlin', now you speakin’ right. I ain't been cleaned back there since yesterday morning, an' I know you're just the bitch for the job. You rim me good and proper, and I'll throw in an extra pack of Tellmin’s on the house, howsat?"

Eve's mouth began to water as she strutted around the counter. Lifting herself onto the tips of her feet, she cooed into Ronnie's ear. "You just relax and enjoy your race, baby; I'll make sure you're as clean as you can get."

She slid down his bulbous side and scooted under the seat to find the opening through which Ronnie would shit. His ass was spread wide and absolutely reeked of piss and shit. The small curly hairs looked to have been recently trimmed, so there wasn't too much filth collected there. Eve moaned as she began to work her swollen clit; tounge-washing Black Asshole was one of her favorite ways to spend her time.

20 minutes and seven orgasms later, Eve resurfaced from beneath Ronnie's chair. The twink had long since passed out, but Ronnie was still using its hole like a fleshlight. God, he was so fucking manly. She swept back around the counter to find her packs of cigarettes neatly stacked, ready for her to take.

"All clean, baby, how much do I owe you?"

Ronnie swiveled his head slightly away from the screen. "Bitch, you still here? Gimme whatever you got in your wallet and fuck off; don't need no dumb white bitch yappin' at me while the race is on."

Eve smiled, Ronnie knew exactly what to say. "Yes, sir. Sorry for distracting you, sir. I'm sorry I didn't have more money for you." She placed the wad of cash on the counter and collected her cigarettes.

"Uh huh, if you so sorry, then don't come in here like some broke bitch, and thanks for cleaning my shithole; this little slut puked all over my damn floor six times yesterday trying to get it done. Now get the fuck out before I pop one in that pretty little skull of yours."

With flushed cheeks, Eve crossed the street and got back into her waiting car, to which it flatly remarked. "Well, that was quick..."

Eve tossed a pack into the small refrigerated compartment next to the command seat before peeling open the other to fish out another cigarette. "It couldn't be helped; Ronnie needed a hand getting cleaned up."

The car simply fired back with: "uh huh." Before pulling back out into the street. Eve lit her cigarette and let the smoke curl back up into her nose as she inhaled deeply.

"What's our ETA to... the fuck is that place called?"

The car replied with a slight tone of disgust. "Ugh… It's called... The Bunny Bar. fucking gag me with a rake."

Eve wasn't sure if it had been named to try to capitalize on the popularity of snowbunny culture, but it was patently disrespectful to associate bunny iconography with whiteboi debauchery. The bunny was something of a sacred symbol for white women, going hand in hand with the spade to establish something of a pseudo-religion. While Eve wasn't terribly religious, she did bristle at the blasphemy being committed by this particular club against her personal ethos. Yet another instance of wimpy white shitsacks getting too big for their tiny little pond.

"How hasn't this place been shut down already? I can't imagine the City Guard or Hunter Guild having simply overlooked it. Any info on who the owner is?"

The car was silent for a few seconds before it burst out laughing. "Oh my fuck, Eve, you're not going to fucking believe this. The "owner" of the club is only ever referred to using their initials in all the correspondence I've been able to dig up. It's such a half-assed attempt to hide their involvement. I'm honestly just sad for them now. Cucked and fucked by one of the biggest fish in Helion, then absolutely trashes its attempt to hide its involvement with this disgusting little clitoral club. Who can you think of that we know with the initials F.D.?"

Eve drew heavily on her cigarette and then smiled through the billowing pink cloud. "That fucking faggot! Francisco fucking Dellenworth. There's no way that’s just a coincidence, right? A girl is spotted being led out of the club around Melody's age; Melody was MIA around the time the sighting was made, and the place that sighting took place was a club owned by her piece of shit bio-father. Either someone is working really, really hard to frame that gayboi, or they’re just so incompetent that they honestly thought they'd manage to get away with this."

The car cheered happily. "I fucking kneeeeewwwwww, they were bad news. I just want it to be on record that I fucking called this shit! That loser is go-."

The AI was abruptly cut off by the black utility van that careened out of a back alley and into the car's passenger side. Thanks to the AI's light-speed reaction time, the van merely clipped the rear passenger quarter panel instead of a full broad-side shot. Even still, the vehicle was flung into a wild spin that ultimately turned into a series of rolls as it contacted the curb and was sent up on its side. Eve was thrown from her chair and then proceeded to pinball around the inside of the car as it rolled to a stop, luckily landing back onto the wheels.

"Eve! Eve!! Wake the fuck up, Eve! They're coming, and they're packing. Get your ass up, Hunter, come on, come on, come on, get up, get up!"

Eve could hear that the AI was pressuring her to right herself but couldn't focus on any one thought long enough to coordinate her body. A diagnostic screen flared to life in her peripheral vision. "Status assessment underway. Physical screening initiated, scanning... scann- anomaly detected, ribs: TH2 to TH6 fractured, left ulna: fractured, right ankle: sprained, left elbow: hyperextended, nose: broken, recovery protocol is authorized, please refrain from further injury.

Eve hauled herself back into the command chair, wincing and gasping as the pain flooded her thoroughly confused nerves.

"E-Eve… is that… Is that your elbow? How is it doing that? Hold on, I need to get you to a hospital just si-."

Eve waved off the AI's concern before using her good arm to snag her lit cigarette from the floor and take a long pull from it. She then inspected the bloodied filter as she pulled it away from her blood-soaked face. "Just... g-give it a sec... second"

A loud 'crack' shot through the cab as Eve's nose set back into place seemingly on its own. She gritted her teeth and snarled as another fresh wave of pain threatened to knock her out.

"EVE?! WHAT THE FUCK?! What's happening to you?!" The AI was both bewildered and panicking, trying to understand what was happening to Eve and also trying to decide if it was safe to start driving away without further harming its sole occupant.

"I'm good; this happens when—*crrrraaaaack* FUCK—when my body doesn't like the way things get. It hates getting bent out of shape."

Eve's arm snapped back into its proper angle and she groaned, just barely holding on to her sanity. Dimly, she could see a group of five heavily armed figures approaching the car. The front end of their van was practically missing.

"How'd you miss them coming up on us like that? I thought you would have detected the van before they had a chance to shoot out of that alley like a wrecking ball." Eve put her cigarette up to her mouth and pulled a deep lungful as she reached for the door holster for the second time that night.

"There's something on the van interfering with its electrical signal, or rather, there isn't one? I'm not detecting any energy output from it at all."

The AI sounded utterly perplexed by this, but Eve recognized what that meant. In modern warfare, every bit of information could be used to turn the tide of a battle, and with the pervasiveness of electronic components, it was rare to find anything that couldn't be traced in one way or another. But there were methods to propel a vehicle other than electric motors and ways to steer it without digital assistance. Every electrical component had been stripped from that van in order to make it invisible.

"Well, shit, it looks like someone doesn't enjoy our snooping."

The AI sputtered, "YA THINK?! Is that a fucking death squad?!"

Eve squinted out the window at the figure leading the approach; a ceramic skull mask obscured their features along with those of all the other members. "Yep, my little Deckland isn't getting through that milspec armor. Pop the floor; mama needs to upgrade."

Wordlessly the AI complied, and a small hatch slid open beside the seat Eve was bleeding into. She reached down and felt her fingers wrap around the grip of a far larger gun.