Teaser: This is a reworked repost for your enjoyment. It will tie together elements from my other stories like The Commonwealth, and a certain Detective mentioned. This is his story alone.
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The author of this story has read and accepted the rules for posting stories. They guarantee that the following story depicts none of the themes listed in the Forbidden Content section of the rules.
The following story is a work of fiction meant for entertainment purposes only. All sexual acts depicted in this story take place between consenting adults. Any similarities of the characters in the story to real people are purely coincidental.
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Index:
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Title: The Detective and the Peony
Author: Writers Bloque
Content Warnings: There will be Human Trafficking, Sexual Assault, and Sweet, Sweet Murder.
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This story was one of the longest I had written on KB. While some of the subject material was later deemed not kosher, the heart of the story is a love story between a now woman lost and alone in the universe and a grizzled detective who saved her. Relax and enjoy!
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The Detective and the Peony
Chapter 1: Of Hangovers and Handguns
The Gravtrain was normally quiet. But to the clearly hungover detective, it might have been the universe's epic percussion symphony. He let himself go out with his fellow detectives in his agency for a night at a hardcore classic concert. Bands being covered that have not even been remembered for over four thousand years, their songs were played very loud and slightly off key. Songs he enjoyed back in his basic training days were played badly and too loudly. He held his head as the train traveled between two stations.
Once they were at the station, those he worked with who lived elsewhere on the station hailed taxi's while the rest walked the short walk to the office. He entered after the others, waved at the security guard who looked up from his copy of "Anti-gravity Asses" to buzz them in to the lobby of the apartments above. He doesn't remember even entering, as he fell face first on his bed, and was out like a light after a shot of the sober up drug.
Noises outside had stirred him awake. A black hover limo was pursuing a barely dressed woman. He recognized the limo, as belonging to the station's biggest sleeze ball. His ocular implants scanning the woman, and she was a natural nineteen years old, had a flower tattoo on her shoulder, and looked very much like she was in trouble. The internal station environment was set to winter, and he did not need fancy gadgets to tell she was freezing her ass off as goons chased her between the buildings.
He was a detective, with high clearances with the Commonwealth Security Forces, who keep the peace on all stations, like a wide reaching police force, though they answer to the Military. He had a rank, despite being mothballed to a remote station where the worst crime was two older ladies bickering over ownership of a natural flower bed. Fun fact, the Commonwealth allows those beds to be maintained by citizens in good standing, but technically they are owned by the station. At any time they can and will clear the beds out if something is being grown that is illegal or does not fit the area's theme.
So he touches the plate on the wall, and a steaming cup of coffee, made to his specifications appears, and while its not the real stuff, it tastes the same. Then the machine notes his dehydration, and a rehydrating pack. He takes it with all the emotion of someone who is barely alive. He downs the cup of coffee, the medicine he taken was working to clear his system of the toxins making him feel like living shit, and he grabs his guns.
Now he had the permits to carry not so legal weapons, mostly one's he has to be careful of shooting inside the pressurized station. But he had a feeling he needed the stopping power and well nothing says "Fucker you better stop." than a military grade bolter. He used the fire escape, the door having been altered to allow him to smoke on the fire escape without triggering the fire alarm. Down the escape, and into the shadows, he chases the girl and the goons who exited the vehicle, as between buildings were a no hover zone, where the engines would be disabled, as only ground based trucks were allowed to go.
He caught up to the slower moving goons, the first was really surprised that a man came from the shadows to knock him the fuck out. He moved from man to man, and the last goon was a cyborg in a fancy suit, obviously a high ranking member of the well known "human collector." He pulled out his stun baton, as the cyborg drew a vibro-knife. Those were highly illegal, and much more deadlier than a normal knife, as it could literally cut through just about anything cleanly. He lunged, his coat catching the knife, and finding one of the things that the knife could not cut.
The leather was from a beast that every cell of its being vibrated faster than that knife could, so it did not get cut. It also stopped most bolter rounds, and some ballistics. He turned the baton to high and thrust in the opening made by the cyborg's thrust. In seconds the cyborg was lying twitching on the ground. The woman, who could not run away, her ankle painfully twisted.
"Please....don't....hurt....me..." She weakly said as she passed out from the exertion. He made a call to Station Security, and carried her to his apartment. He went through the box of clothes he keeps for clients who end up in rough situations, and end up bereft of clothes. Which happens way too often. It was an oversized shirt, but it was nicer than the rags she had on. He noticed the slaver device and frowned. Slavery was absolutely illegal, punishable by death. But it was a thriving business in the known universe. He spent time disabling the device so it could be safely removed. Once off, it shorted out and it leaked a green liquid from a hidden needle. He cleaned the mess up and tossed it into the trash, where it would be broken down to its base matter, to be used by the station.
He started a warm bath, and laid her in it. He took care to wash her thoroughly, so clean she squeaked. Then he dried her body and hair, then carried her to his bed, not that he could sleep anymore, he was amped, and wanted to solve this case that fell into his lap. He sat at his desk going through the contacts he had that had ties to this particularly nasty bit of business. What he learned was something truly horrific.
Humans were being abducted and altered to be toys for rich humans and aliens alike. But her information was suspiciously deleted from any records in the Commonwealth. He scanned her, and decided to call her 'Peony' after the tattoo on her shoulder. The sun rose, signalling morning on the station, and he used several credits to order breakfast delivery, and the smell of good food had roused her awake. He was setting the table, when she rose wearily, rubbing her eyes, wiping away sleep. "Morning" he said as he plated up the food, pulling a chair out for her. She sat, warm and happy and began to eat.
A Comm call would shift the aspect of this case....
End of chapter 1
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I normally do not ask for critique, but I would like some for this story. I know its a repost from elsewhere, but since I have to alter it to follow the rules, I would like to know how anyone reading it likes it. Thank you for reading and have a lovely day!
December's Story Contest is Holiday Gangbang. Time left to write: Timer Loading
The Detective and the Peony (Reforged)
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This forum is for publishing, reading and discussing rape fantasy (noncon) stories and consensual erotic fiction. Before you post your first story, please take five minutes to read the Quick Guide to Posting Stories and the Tag Guidelines.
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This forum is for publishing, reading and discussing rape fantasy (noncon) stories and consensual erotic fiction. Before you post your first story, please take five minutes to read the Quick Guide to Posting Stories and the Tag Guidelines.
If you are looking for a particular story, the story index might be helpful. It lists all stories alphabetically on one page. Please rate and comment on the stories you've read, thank you!
Story Filters
Language: English Stories | Deutsche Geschichten
Consent: Noncon | Consensual
Length: Flash | Short | Medium | Long
LGBT: Lesbian | Gay | Trans
Theme: Gang Rape | Female Rapist | SciFi | Fantasy
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Writers_Bloque
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The Detective and the Peony (Reforged)
Last edited by Writers_Bloque on Tue Nov 25, 2025 5:55 am, edited 10 times in total.
Tags:
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Writers_Bloque
- Pillar of the Community
- Junior
- Posts: 86
- Joined: Thu May 15, 2025 7:59 pm
Re: The Detective and the Peony (Reforged)
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Those who say it never hurts to help, never sat in a room where everyone was armed, and the weapons aimed at them. The right thing path is excruciating. It does hurt, only because when you reach the end, you feel better for the experience, if you live.
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Chapter 2: More Bodies, More Problems
You know its a bad day when twenty armed men have their weapons aimed at your head, as you sit in the plush office of a massively overweight fat fuck in gold and jewels. I am not talking tons of jewelry, but his opulent wealth literally sewn into his wardrobe. He dripped greed, and he made no effort at any form of humility. He was flanked by drugged out bimbos who barely knew what day it was, let alone the time. The detective sat with the deadly bravado of a man who knew he was holding all the right cards, and would call. fold, or could take the pot. The fat man behind the desk knew it. Even the hired goons knew it. The reason he was not dead yet was strapped to his chest was a micro-black hole bomb. One wrong move, and this section of the station would decide to stop existing. Everyone in the room remained frozen in place.
"Gimerbino, we really need to talk." The detective said with a smile that did not hide his intentions.
Let's back up quite a bit to the morning after Peony crashed into his life.
The doc-in-a-box was working on her ankle after breakfast, the machine was horrifically good at its job. Not that it replaced actual hospitals or real doctors, but generally could fix anything short of death, to ease the massive strain on the Commonwealth's health care system. If you wanted to cure death, it would require three appointments with your local Gene lab, and a ton of forms signed, and a pricey down payment. Die, and boom, its like it never happened. Side effects are missing time, a month long seclusion in the lab for morality classes and odd cravings for odder types of meat.
But while Peony cooed at the pain smoothly vanishing, he went downstairs to clock in. In his office he started with official channels, looking for any reports of abductions in the system. Nothing stood out as odd, save the occasional custody disputes and elopements. He entered her parameters and nothing. No one was missing a cute woman with a freckle on her shapely ass. But a strange alert kept popping up.
"Suspected Violations of Code 169.69 in Sector XX"
Holy shit.
Mankind had kind of shifted to mass adopting this code as a written in stone law. Well there are well over ten trillion give or take a few billion still not counted for, Humans in the known (76% known) Universe. The law stated that you must pass two screenings before attempting parenthood. One for psychological reasons, and the other for genetic compatibility. And you could only have up to four children. You can only have a child if you earn enough money to fully support it without relying on Assistance. If you barely could, you would be placed in a special training program which will identify the problems preventing you from earning the required level of pay to afford a home and child. Can't, then you are denied the basic human right of reproduction.
But how can it be enforced, you may ask? Simple. Scanners are literally everywhere. No one is spying on you in private. They tried it once, it did not end well. So all public spaces are now fitted with wide sweeping sensors and scanners that cover all blind spots. But while people are bought and sold in secret like vegetables in a holomart, another business was booming in the shadows. "Cabbage Patches." A colloquialism for baby farms. Mostly conducted under the Commonwealth's noses, in secret in nearly defunct cloning labs, they offer the complete package: A child, papers that barely passed inspection, and a free new life on a scummy back world barely under the thumb of the Commonwealth.
Not that the criminal scum who bought a child was pursued, the law understands, its the fact that it boils down to taxes and population counts. But raiding the labs have become harder over time, as the equipment was streamlined to now just need a space the size of a decent closet. It is a punishable offense to make a child outside of the law, and the act of buying one too, but the law stops short if there is a considerable time period between the crimes and the life of the child.
Lately, though the law is now being strictly enforced on both the provider and buyer. It has now become widely known that the farms do not have the ability to do what the legitimate labs can do, which is take DNA samples of both parents to create a child. That is the heavily restricted tech, with very few people outside of the labs knowing even the basic process. So these illegal farms are basically throwing what they can at the wall to see what sticks, and that is why the law steps in hard on this.
Psychosis, murder, rape, violence, all of these things can be regulated to safe levels by legit labs, not completely eliminated, as it will reduce the child's development in the coping stages. Bad thoughts are just those, and where the child matures from is the ability to know how to deal with them healthily and properly.
But Peony's situation was starting to make sense now. She could talk, eat, and even giggle when the box tickled her feet, but sitting with her, he felt something was off. Like someone who knew what they needed to know to get by but nothing much else. No records of her existing anywhere meant no records of an education, even at home learning pods had to be registered. A few minutes deep into my grunt work, the pool of detectives all gone on their own cases, and into my private office walks Peony not limping with a cheesy smile on her face. She bows to me, and slow but deliberately says to me the words that made my world crash to a halt.
"I'm Parke's now. Please use me as you see fit."
She still with that nervous, but cheesy smile, said as she removed the oversized shirt, revealing her very nice, fully nude body as a nano tattoo inked her neck, triggered by a device he did not find in his initial scans. Once finished, nothing could remove it. Regular needles and ink became passe as body modding stepped up several notches since the ancient and archaic times of combustion engines, and odd fascinations with who let the canines out. Nano tattoo's did more than just look cool, but in some cases can store information, and be used as an old multi-pass if one was without a wrist comm, a free device given, and implanted at the tender age of twelve to school kids as the first step of becoming a regular citizen.
His military service had left him without one, as he was given and implanted with one that was still considered top of the line, despite it being twenty years since he had gotten it. It felt like nothing at all, to this day. But his major concern was that Peony was now crawling to him across his desk, and it looked like she was not taking no for an answer.....
End of chapter 2
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Oh boy, folks! Seems like our detective friend is in some trouble that no one can save him from. How will he handle the hot minx Peony, escape from the fat perv, solve this case, and will he ever get a break long enough for a shot of pure Earth Scotch? I take all feedback, suggestions and notions and theories as to what is going on. You wont make me mad, but make me a better writer!
Those who say it never hurts to help, never sat in a room where everyone was armed, and the weapons aimed at them. The right thing path is excruciating. It does hurt, only because when you reach the end, you feel better for the experience, if you live.
-------------------------------------------------------------
Chapter 2: More Bodies, More Problems
You know its a bad day when twenty armed men have their weapons aimed at your head, as you sit in the plush office of a massively overweight fat fuck in gold and jewels. I am not talking tons of jewelry, but his opulent wealth literally sewn into his wardrobe. He dripped greed, and he made no effort at any form of humility. He was flanked by drugged out bimbos who barely knew what day it was, let alone the time. The detective sat with the deadly bravado of a man who knew he was holding all the right cards, and would call. fold, or could take the pot. The fat man behind the desk knew it. Even the hired goons knew it. The reason he was not dead yet was strapped to his chest was a micro-black hole bomb. One wrong move, and this section of the station would decide to stop existing. Everyone in the room remained frozen in place.
"Gimerbino, we really need to talk." The detective said with a smile that did not hide his intentions.
Let's back up quite a bit to the morning after Peony crashed into his life.
The doc-in-a-box was working on her ankle after breakfast, the machine was horrifically good at its job. Not that it replaced actual hospitals or real doctors, but generally could fix anything short of death, to ease the massive strain on the Commonwealth's health care system. If you wanted to cure death, it would require three appointments with your local Gene lab, and a ton of forms signed, and a pricey down payment. Die, and boom, its like it never happened. Side effects are missing time, a month long seclusion in the lab for morality classes and odd cravings for odder types of meat.
But while Peony cooed at the pain smoothly vanishing, he went downstairs to clock in. In his office he started with official channels, looking for any reports of abductions in the system. Nothing stood out as odd, save the occasional custody disputes and elopements. He entered her parameters and nothing. No one was missing a cute woman with a freckle on her shapely ass. But a strange alert kept popping up.
"Suspected Violations of Code 169.69 in Sector XX"
Holy shit.
Mankind had kind of shifted to mass adopting this code as a written in stone law. Well there are well over ten trillion give or take a few billion still not counted for, Humans in the known (76% known) Universe. The law stated that you must pass two screenings before attempting parenthood. One for psychological reasons, and the other for genetic compatibility. And you could only have up to four children. You can only have a child if you earn enough money to fully support it without relying on Assistance. If you barely could, you would be placed in a special training program which will identify the problems preventing you from earning the required level of pay to afford a home and child. Can't, then you are denied the basic human right of reproduction.
But how can it be enforced, you may ask? Simple. Scanners are literally everywhere. No one is spying on you in private. They tried it once, it did not end well. So all public spaces are now fitted with wide sweeping sensors and scanners that cover all blind spots. But while people are bought and sold in secret like vegetables in a holomart, another business was booming in the shadows. "Cabbage Patches." A colloquialism for baby farms. Mostly conducted under the Commonwealth's noses, in secret in nearly defunct cloning labs, they offer the complete package: A child, papers that barely passed inspection, and a free new life on a scummy back world barely under the thumb of the Commonwealth.
Not that the criminal scum who bought a child was pursued, the law understands, its the fact that it boils down to taxes and population counts. But raiding the labs have become harder over time, as the equipment was streamlined to now just need a space the size of a decent closet. It is a punishable offense to make a child outside of the law, and the act of buying one too, but the law stops short if there is a considerable time period between the crimes and the life of the child.
Lately, though the law is now being strictly enforced on both the provider and buyer. It has now become widely known that the farms do not have the ability to do what the legitimate labs can do, which is take DNA samples of both parents to create a child. That is the heavily restricted tech, with very few people outside of the labs knowing even the basic process. So these illegal farms are basically throwing what they can at the wall to see what sticks, and that is why the law steps in hard on this.
Psychosis, murder, rape, violence, all of these things can be regulated to safe levels by legit labs, not completely eliminated, as it will reduce the child's development in the coping stages. Bad thoughts are just those, and where the child matures from is the ability to know how to deal with them healthily and properly.
But Peony's situation was starting to make sense now. She could talk, eat, and even giggle when the box tickled her feet, but sitting with her, he felt something was off. Like someone who knew what they needed to know to get by but nothing much else. No records of her existing anywhere meant no records of an education, even at home learning pods had to be registered. A few minutes deep into my grunt work, the pool of detectives all gone on their own cases, and into my private office walks Peony not limping with a cheesy smile on her face. She bows to me, and slow but deliberately says to me the words that made my world crash to a halt.
"I'm Parke's now. Please use me as you see fit."
She still with that nervous, but cheesy smile, said as she removed the oversized shirt, revealing her very nice, fully nude body as a nano tattoo inked her neck, triggered by a device he did not find in his initial scans. Once finished, nothing could remove it. Regular needles and ink became passe as body modding stepped up several notches since the ancient and archaic times of combustion engines, and odd fascinations with who let the canines out. Nano tattoo's did more than just look cool, but in some cases can store information, and be used as an old multi-pass if one was without a wrist comm, a free device given, and implanted at the tender age of twelve to school kids as the first step of becoming a regular citizen.
His military service had left him without one, as he was given and implanted with one that was still considered top of the line, despite it being twenty years since he had gotten it. It felt like nothing at all, to this day. But his major concern was that Peony was now crawling to him across his desk, and it looked like she was not taking no for an answer.....
End of chapter 2
-------------------------------------------------------------
Oh boy, folks! Seems like our detective friend is in some trouble that no one can save him from. How will he handle the hot minx Peony, escape from the fat perv, solve this case, and will he ever get a break long enough for a shot of pure Earth Scotch? I take all feedback, suggestions and notions and theories as to what is going on. You wont make me mad, but make me a better writer!
-
Writers_Bloque
- Pillar of the Community
- Junior
- Posts: 86
- Joined: Thu May 15, 2025 7:59 pm
Re: The Detective and the Peony (Reforged)
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Sometimes all one needs is the post coitus clarity to see things through, maybe not to the end, but far enough that things work better than before.
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Sex, Lies, and More Trouble
After he spoke his threat the room felt heavier. Gone was the feeling of my lonely impending doom, replaced with the sickly warm and fuzzy feeling that he wont be heading to the afterlife alone. The fat man knew it. He was shaken to his core, ordering the remaining men in the room, the ones who were die hard loyal to him, to put the weapons away. The room felt emptier, since a few goons decided in vain to value their own lives and quietly escape.
"So now that you know that one wrong move will take you down with me, I need some information. In private."
he spoke, reaching onto the chair side table, to pour himself a very expensive stiff drink. He was giving him time to gather his wits, as he taken two Jotunian perma cold stones, and plinked them into what smelled like the very contraband liquor. Outlawed not because it was dangerous, but because the brewing and distilling method left very much to be desired. So much so that it is not even whispered about.
Once the room cleared, he leaned in and tossed a folder onto the greasy fat bastards desk. "I want names, and locations."
He cleared his throat and started to speak.....
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He isnot a young man anymore. He felt out of touch with the modern courtship rituals of today's youth. But even an old dog like him could tell that the only thing on Peony's mind was the one issue she was going to resolve against his will if need be. She crawled to him, forcing him to sit with a light push. She fumbled with his belt and slacks, then with hid boxers, until the much wanted cock sprang free. She unbuttoned his shirt and climbed into his lap. He felt the heat of her very ready pussy settle on his cock, not entering her yet. He wanted to give her an out, a chance to not toss her body at him thoughtlessly.
But logic lost out to the now ending dry spell he was having. Being in danger, mixed with being considered a jack boot thug boot licker kind of dries up the dating pool a bit. He gets his, sure. Nude solar skinny dipping with a couple of supermodels he rescued on a case once was a nice month long break, but even old dogs like him get the itch to settle down once in awhile. While he tried to ponder his social life, as Peony was grinding her slit along his shaft, the look in her eye said work will most likely be on hold until at least clock out time. he kissed her neck. He mean he wont say no to a woman who throws herself at him like that. Most women have installed on their sixteenth birthday a sort of anti-rape/anti false allegations system. It starts logging everything the moment a woman gets aroused and naked. Not exactly every intimate detail, but enough to prevent a woman who changed her mind about it later from ruining her partners life over it. Of course she will receive proper support, therapy and such, but it can in no way be left to chance.
But Peony was fully in it now. He lightly bit the nape of her neck, as he massaged her firm breasts. Tired of the foreplay, she reaches between them, and takes his cock, and goes for it in one fell swoop. She was so tight he even grunted. Something inside her kicked in, and her pussy started to grip his cock as if letting it go would kill her. She rocked her hips on his cock, doing all of the happy work she was willing to do, to get her, hers. He let her do her thing, not obstructing a horny woman on a single minded mission.
He wanted to be an active part of this, so he lifted her up and laid her on her back on his desk. She looked at him pleadingly. "Please fuck me, hurt me, abuse me, but just make me CUM!!!" he obliged, and started to thrust in that special way a man does, after many years of extreme practice. He started slowly, building a steady rhythm, then increased the strength of his thrusts, until her body was being shook with his thrusting, her eyes rolling up, and tongue hanging out. He was trying to drive her into his desk, to fuck her so fully and deeply that even if she wanted someone else, she would not even look at another man.
It was not that he wanted to own her fully, but her wanted her to remember him with every fiber of her being. His feelings, those he have yet to fully realize, would not allow any less. She came. Very, very hard. He followed seconds later, filling her with his hot love lotion.
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After she returned to his apartment on shaky legs, his comm screen blared to life. "Parke! Reports say that there is a shipment of questionable merchandise entering your sector soon. It is being guarded by two unknown vehicles, of unknown origin. Orders from above want it stopped, and the driver if possible, secured. Also retrieve any records in the vehicle and the black box." The officer under the head of station security barked at him. Welp, its time to earn that paycheck. he walked out of his office
with some gear he thought would help stop the truck. He set up the trap and waited for the files to wander in.
They came in fast, as they tried to lose the pursuing security drones, who are keeping tabs on their location at all times. But Parke stood in the middle of the street holding his large weapon as the truck and what looked like two blacked out hover A.P.C.s flanked it. Men from the two vehicles would shoot down a drone or two, but soon realized that the station can just send more, and have a small factory that can quickly replete the supply.
Parke lit his cigarette, took a drag as the two gunners in the turret seats of the guard vehicles swiveled to bear down on him. Bad move. Still out of the range of those deadly guns he calls a very rarely called number on his comm.
"MOMMA, I need my toys back."
"Confirmed."
Soon he shuddered a little. The call he made was to an unseen female officer in charge of handling the activation and deactivating limiter of his service gear. They could not safely remove all the tech they implanted in his body, so due to him working directly with the Commonwealth, he could once in a blue moon call the operator, who could turn off the limiter that restricted ninety percent of the tech in him. Now his vision had the good old HUD and targeting systems. His first shot was not to kill. It hit the quad barreled heavy bolter of each vehicle. Some pretty hardcore weapons for such an urban area. Both shots fried the guns to useless slag. His next shots ate through the armor protecting the engines on the side of the vehicles, causing the two to drop like lead weights.
Men. Lots of armed men filed out to confront their attacker as the truck sped forward until it could not anymore. Tractor nets grabbed the hover truck from the front killing all momentum, and the rear to prevent the truck from escaping. However living things were unaffected by the nets, so the small army was now forcing Parke to run and gun, despite his gear being activated fully, each shot from the goons weapons made clean holes in what it hit.
Really fancy fucking guns. Anti material Ion rifles, lower powered than the big sexy lady he used to snipe their vehicles. Her only drawback was she could not rapid fire. He launched smoke grenades to give himself a tactical chance. But a massive shadow, making metallic stepping noises from the rear of the truck as the men moved to better positions to kill him.
"Parke, it does not have to go down like this. Just walk the fuck away, and in the spirit of our once dear friendship, I will let you live for now."
From behind his grav-shielded hiding spot Parke recoiled at the voice.
"I don't make deals with dead men."
"Then my plan worked. I am sorry buddy, but there is so much on the line that I am sadly going to have to kill you and almost everyone on the station. Sorry, nothing personal, but credits are credits and my boss wants this station gone."
Then Parke's vision grew white as his once squad mate, now would be killer in a personal mech suit that looked like it could single handed ruin a battalions day, opened fire with its four shoulder mounted guns, wrecking the area around Parke's hiding spot, rapidly draining the shield's power.
End of chapter 3
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Damn, once friends become killers, getting a hot piece before dying sounds pretty good, not as good as not dying, but still nice. How will our guy get out of this?
I accept all feedback, and also would like to read any theories on what is going on, anyone close enough to the truth gets a huge shoutout and possible role in the story!
Sometimes all one needs is the post coitus clarity to see things through, maybe not to the end, but far enough that things work better than before.
-------------------------------------------------------------
Sex, Lies, and More Trouble
After he spoke his threat the room felt heavier. Gone was the feeling of my lonely impending doom, replaced with the sickly warm and fuzzy feeling that he wont be heading to the afterlife alone. The fat man knew it. He was shaken to his core, ordering the remaining men in the room, the ones who were die hard loyal to him, to put the weapons away. The room felt emptier, since a few goons decided in vain to value their own lives and quietly escape.
"So now that you know that one wrong move will take you down with me, I need some information. In private."
he spoke, reaching onto the chair side table, to pour himself a very expensive stiff drink. He was giving him time to gather his wits, as he taken two Jotunian perma cold stones, and plinked them into what smelled like the very contraband liquor. Outlawed not because it was dangerous, but because the brewing and distilling method left very much to be desired. So much so that it is not even whispered about.
Once the room cleared, he leaned in and tossed a folder onto the greasy fat bastards desk. "I want names, and locations."
He cleared his throat and started to speak.....
--------------------------------------------------------
He isnot a young man anymore. He felt out of touch with the modern courtship rituals of today's youth. But even an old dog like him could tell that the only thing on Peony's mind was the one issue she was going to resolve against his will if need be. She crawled to him, forcing him to sit with a light push. She fumbled with his belt and slacks, then with hid boxers, until the much wanted cock sprang free. She unbuttoned his shirt and climbed into his lap. He felt the heat of her very ready pussy settle on his cock, not entering her yet. He wanted to give her an out, a chance to not toss her body at him thoughtlessly.
But logic lost out to the now ending dry spell he was having. Being in danger, mixed with being considered a jack boot thug boot licker kind of dries up the dating pool a bit. He gets his, sure. Nude solar skinny dipping with a couple of supermodels he rescued on a case once was a nice month long break, but even old dogs like him get the itch to settle down once in awhile. While he tried to ponder his social life, as Peony was grinding her slit along his shaft, the look in her eye said work will most likely be on hold until at least clock out time. he kissed her neck. He mean he wont say no to a woman who throws herself at him like that. Most women have installed on their sixteenth birthday a sort of anti-rape/anti false allegations system. It starts logging everything the moment a woman gets aroused and naked. Not exactly every intimate detail, but enough to prevent a woman who changed her mind about it later from ruining her partners life over it. Of course she will receive proper support, therapy and such, but it can in no way be left to chance.
But Peony was fully in it now. He lightly bit the nape of her neck, as he massaged her firm breasts. Tired of the foreplay, she reaches between them, and takes his cock, and goes for it in one fell swoop. She was so tight he even grunted. Something inside her kicked in, and her pussy started to grip his cock as if letting it go would kill her. She rocked her hips on his cock, doing all of the happy work she was willing to do, to get her, hers. He let her do her thing, not obstructing a horny woman on a single minded mission.
He wanted to be an active part of this, so he lifted her up and laid her on her back on his desk. She looked at him pleadingly. "Please fuck me, hurt me, abuse me, but just make me CUM!!!" he obliged, and started to thrust in that special way a man does, after many years of extreme practice. He started slowly, building a steady rhythm, then increased the strength of his thrusts, until her body was being shook with his thrusting, her eyes rolling up, and tongue hanging out. He was trying to drive her into his desk, to fuck her so fully and deeply that even if she wanted someone else, she would not even look at another man.
It was not that he wanted to own her fully, but her wanted her to remember him with every fiber of her being. His feelings, those he have yet to fully realize, would not allow any less. She came. Very, very hard. He followed seconds later, filling her with his hot love lotion.
---------------
After she returned to his apartment on shaky legs, his comm screen blared to life. "Parke! Reports say that there is a shipment of questionable merchandise entering your sector soon. It is being guarded by two unknown vehicles, of unknown origin. Orders from above want it stopped, and the driver if possible, secured. Also retrieve any records in the vehicle and the black box." The officer under the head of station security barked at him. Welp, its time to earn that paycheck. he walked out of his office
with some gear he thought would help stop the truck. He set up the trap and waited for the files to wander in.
They came in fast, as they tried to lose the pursuing security drones, who are keeping tabs on their location at all times. But Parke stood in the middle of the street holding his large weapon as the truck and what looked like two blacked out hover A.P.C.s flanked it. Men from the two vehicles would shoot down a drone or two, but soon realized that the station can just send more, and have a small factory that can quickly replete the supply.
Parke lit his cigarette, took a drag as the two gunners in the turret seats of the guard vehicles swiveled to bear down on him. Bad move. Still out of the range of those deadly guns he calls a very rarely called number on his comm.
"MOMMA, I need my toys back."
"Confirmed."
Soon he shuddered a little. The call he made was to an unseen female officer in charge of handling the activation and deactivating limiter of his service gear. They could not safely remove all the tech they implanted in his body, so due to him working directly with the Commonwealth, he could once in a blue moon call the operator, who could turn off the limiter that restricted ninety percent of the tech in him. Now his vision had the good old HUD and targeting systems. His first shot was not to kill. It hit the quad barreled heavy bolter of each vehicle. Some pretty hardcore weapons for such an urban area. Both shots fried the guns to useless slag. His next shots ate through the armor protecting the engines on the side of the vehicles, causing the two to drop like lead weights.
Men. Lots of armed men filed out to confront their attacker as the truck sped forward until it could not anymore. Tractor nets grabbed the hover truck from the front killing all momentum, and the rear to prevent the truck from escaping. However living things were unaffected by the nets, so the small army was now forcing Parke to run and gun, despite his gear being activated fully, each shot from the goons weapons made clean holes in what it hit.
Really fancy fucking guns. Anti material Ion rifles, lower powered than the big sexy lady he used to snipe their vehicles. Her only drawback was she could not rapid fire. He launched smoke grenades to give himself a tactical chance. But a massive shadow, making metallic stepping noises from the rear of the truck as the men moved to better positions to kill him.
"Parke, it does not have to go down like this. Just walk the fuck away, and in the spirit of our once dear friendship, I will let you live for now."
From behind his grav-shielded hiding spot Parke recoiled at the voice.
"I don't make deals with dead men."
"Then my plan worked. I am sorry buddy, but there is so much on the line that I am sadly going to have to kill you and almost everyone on the station. Sorry, nothing personal, but credits are credits and my boss wants this station gone."
Then Parke's vision grew white as his once squad mate, now would be killer in a personal mech suit that looked like it could single handed ruin a battalions day, opened fire with its four shoulder mounted guns, wrecking the area around Parke's hiding spot, rapidly draining the shield's power.
End of chapter 3
-------------------------------------------------------------
Damn, once friends become killers, getting a hot piece before dying sounds pretty good, not as good as not dying, but still nice. How will our guy get out of this?
I accept all feedback, and also would like to read any theories on what is going on, anyone close enough to the truth gets a huge shoutout and possible role in the story!
-
Blue
- Moderator
- Graduate
- Posts: 400
- Joined: Sun Apr 06, 2025 9:01 am
Re: The Detective and the Peony (Reforged)
@Writers_Bloque
The story itself contains surprising twists and turns.
It's definitely worth at least 2 points.
The story itself contains surprising twists and turns.
It's definitely worth at least 2 points.
-
Writers_Bloque
- Pillar of the Community
- Junior
- Posts: 86
- Joined: Thu May 15, 2025 7:59 pm
Re: The Detective and the Peony (Reforged)
-------------------------------------------------------------
Just because you are safe, does not mean danger is not a heartbeat away...
-------------------------------------------------------------
The Wrong Touch. Chapter 4
_________________________________________
He left the now empty high rise. His arm felt like shit, being healed by the nano machines in his body. The fat man tried one last ditch effort to save face, but it killed him. Well his drugged up whores killed him. Then it became a titanic gunfight, and once he was outside, he finally lit a smoke, as a black armored vehicle picked him up. Apparently the main power players of the sector wanted to thank him for removing a thorn in their asses, as he sat in the vehicle, his wrist comm was being fed all kinds of information about this case. It seems that they too want it solved.
He was let out in front of his building with promises of keeping in touch, and the veiled threat of death if his case led to them. He hoped they did not cross paths again. But hope does not count for shit in the universe.
---------------------------------------------------------------
The blinding white light faded to show a very familiar, and very fine ass in a form fitting biomechanical augmented suit. He sighed. Not that he hated the sight, but thought he left the ass and her squad mates behind when he left the military. The woman, still young, was under his command, and she and her squad mates were the next generation of the program he was the flagship in. But they came with a HUGE flaw. They treated him like a prize to be won, instead of a commanding officer. His map showed their markers as the squad had taken defensive positions on the rooftops around the mini war zone.
"You still with us boss?"
The voice, belonging to the hot headed Bianca, code name: 0001. She normally was a front line fighter, but now was shielding him with a level ten barrier, one that could stop even a barrage of nukes.
"Yeah, just gotta get right."
He said, picking up the large gun again. His body ached as the whole team decided to begin raining down death from above, thinning the pack of merc's to just a handful of wounded men.
But the biggest problem, the large hulking killing machine would need more than what he had to deal with. But the ladies decided to go wolf pack on it, as I lined up the shot. It was like a few blurs of motion were ghosting the robotic killing machine, each pass, left damage on the machine. Close combat was their specialty, and being so close, the machine and my ex friend could not fight back without the risk of self damage. The gun in my hands purred as I lined up the shot, targeting the power source. One shot. And then nothing. The machine did not explode. It imploded.
What remained was something. A disgusting blend of flesh and metal. No final words. No heroic one liners, just silence and the groaning of wounded men. The alarms of the security forces drove them inside his building again. I did not want to explain anything. But before they arrived, he quickly ran to the truck, to find it full of stasis pods with women sleeping inside. Yeah, let station security deal with this.
Back inside, he stashed his weapons, as they were very far from legal, despite being military hardware, he was not exactly military anymore.
The squad took up space in his office, their suits vanishing, leaving them half naked. They lounged around without a care in the world.
"Before you ask, MOMMA sent us. She got word earlier about your case and sent us ahead to back you up." The black haired beauty, Mia said as she was flipping through one of his books on the couch. Her bare ass barely hidden. They took up space in his office as they used to, claiming the space as their personal haunt. This was a fundamental problem with the next generation of the program he once was part of. With men, it churned out ready to serve soldiers, but with women, it kind of went left as the first batch could do the job, but the emotional dampeners failed spectacularly.
Fortunately the problem would correct itself eventually, but as part of the program, to keep them in high functional status, their base programming was slightly altered.
Altered in a way that it was completely within the bounds of rules, reason and reality, that their immediate commanding officer (Him) was only harsh and mean to them because he loved and cared for all six of them, the prototype human women. And as a teasing joke, it was added that the best of them could in fact petition the Commonwealth Defense Force to allow the winner to marry him outright.
This lie is why these six women are considered the deadliest in their respective fields.
And now this lovely kettle of fish is lounging around, half naked, as not a single one of them even packed a stitch of clothing, came rushing to his aid.
It was not even a problem anymore.
He was over it as a pair of nice tits were resting on the clean surface of his desk, the owner watching him review the station security video feed of the scene clean up.
Something felt off about it all.
They send mercenaries to basically wipe out him and the station, but it all felt rushed and half assed.
This station was a trade hub for sure, but its like a tick on the ass of an Orachiodon (think elephant, but the size of a mountain, shitty attitude and sleeps for years, only to wake, eat, mate and rampage. The world they live on is a class 13 Deathworld, just because nothing could survive very long there.)
The closest garrison is in the next system over and removing this place would only get a shiny brand new station placed, long before the debris of the old station was cooled off.
Looking at the tanks as the station forces handled their extraction, he froze the video, on a face, partially hidden by condensation.
He zoomed in and sat staring at the face for a long time.
"HOLY SHIT!"
He slammed his fist onto his desk making everyone in the room to squeak in surprise.
He grabbed his long coat.
"Clothes will arrive shortly, dress and get an early dinner on me."
He shouted as he tossed a credit chip onto his desk. He grabbed the twin holsters, put them on and ran out to catch a transport heading to the Security center.
------------------------------------
The central security building was the only building on the station that made any fucking sense. In emergencies it can be garrisoned, and defended. It can be detached from the station, and made into a floating bunker if need be. It can even make planet fall, and everyone inside would survive, bruised but alive. It was a fortress, and imposing by design.
His security access allowed him entry to all but the core command center, because fuck him dicking around with the secondary station controls. He entered the forensics lab as the lab workers were trying to dismantle the meat metal puzzle of his late friend in a walking death machine.
"Hey, what are you doing here?"
A lab tech said as she was being handed pieces of metal coated with flesh.
"Scan the DNA."
"On who's orders?"
"Mine."
A tall, stern woman in uniform entered, flanked by her underlings, handing one a data pad.
"Parke, you visit unannounced. I did not have time to prepare the tea and cookies. What has you rushing through security like a madman?"
"Ma'am, this might be above our pay grades here but I noticed something peculiar."
He said sending the image he downloaded to the lab's main screen.
"UV light. I noticed it in the mech pilot's eyes, and the girl in the pod's eye. Clones. But not just the run of the mill dime a dozen clone. Military tech. Expensive, illegal, and extremely dangerous. And without the traditional safety system precautions, highly unstable."
He said, showing the glowing three dots in the picture around the pupil of the girl's eye. Extremely high grade work.
"Run a nano scan on the fleshy bits, and you will find the remains of onboard military hardware, probably knock off, as the tech is extremely regulated. But even the dollar store versions are lethal to a populace no matter what it does."
He grabbed the paper cup and held it under the coffee machine near by, watching as his boss in the Security forces and the lab techs go crazy over the vital clue bomb he just blew up. It was like an almost locked down state secret with him being gently escorted to the parking garage, where he stored his issued vehicle. Preferring to drive his own, he rarely used the hover vehicle provided, but he felt better with it now that he knew he clearly painted the biggest bulls eye on his back.
He had to follow up on his theory, so he needed to drop in on an old "friend" working as a repair guy in the Underside.
------------
The Underside was as it was named. Basically the slums for better words.
Not really for the poor, because everyone was housed above, with or without money. You worked, you were housed and fed, simple as that. No the Underside was the main black market trade route through the sector, a pit stop to parts unknown for goods and services so illegal, that even saying the name of it puts you on many watch lists.
But here, there was no real law or order, but on the other hand, violent crime was not reported, or really committed as there was a long standing unspoken shaky truce with the top.
"Don't fuck around, and make security have to deal with it, and you all get to keep breathing."
Yeah, the secondary station controls mentioned earlier, control the air and water supply in the Underside.
Not that anyone condoned crime down there, but it was easier to have it contained, than above becoming lawless.
So you had the dregs of society running their own outfits below, small time crime, fraud, theft, illegal trade, among other things, and as long as no bodies turn up, no one gave a shit. Threaten the station as a whole, and everyone below can test their breath holding limits, or see how long they can go without access to food or water.
Major crime players generally avoided it like the plague, only recruiting those they could trust, and keep eyes and tabs on the dealings.
He was not welcome down there.
Not in the least.
No one was openly hostile to him, but very few people were going to bend over backwards to help him either.
But there was a soft kindness for him down there.
The Tinkerers and Whores.
No one fucked with them, and lived long safely.
They did not like him like that, but if bad shit was passing through, he would know about it from them.
His first stop was a Tinkerer. A psych ward reject needing meds, but so skilled with his hands that he never went hungry.
The walk up the flight of stairs, past the junkies begging for credits for a fix, past the whores who started plying their trade until they seen his face, and backed off.
A whore, a regular of his friend, ran screaming down the stairs above. Then the screaming stopped.
A sound masked by the screams. The whine and little ding of a bolter finished charging.
He was shielded from her blood spray as the stairs blocked the gore.
He ran up, guns in hands, and at the top floor, the gruesome scene played out.
Blood and viscera everywhere. covering the cluttered roof. Broken heaps of scrap, and tools covered as if someone blew up drums of blood and gore.
A man turned around.
He was holding the severed head of his informant. Laughing like a lunatic.
Tossing the head over the side, the man in full combat gear gave a one finger salute and followed the head, laughing into the darkness below.
No one was coming to investigate. Nor to clean it up.
But his "friend" told him to always trust the good book.
Getting the reference, he searched the already trashed room, and found a bible of sorts. It was a Christian bible of course, worth a bit of money, to be fair.
But when he held it, his wrist comm was hijacked. It began downloading everything from the bible. Not the holy word, but EVERYTHING the tinkerer had his fingers in.
The data dumped, and he dared not let go of the bible, as a small beep let him know he needed to go, right out to catch the angry voices and boot steps of men coming up the stairs.......
End of chapter 4
-------------------------------------------------------------
Being a Detective isn't easy, eh? Thanks for reading so far!
Just because you are safe, does not mean danger is not a heartbeat away...
-------------------------------------------------------------
The Wrong Touch. Chapter 4
_________________________________________
He left the now empty high rise. His arm felt like shit, being healed by the nano machines in his body. The fat man tried one last ditch effort to save face, but it killed him. Well his drugged up whores killed him. Then it became a titanic gunfight, and once he was outside, he finally lit a smoke, as a black armored vehicle picked him up. Apparently the main power players of the sector wanted to thank him for removing a thorn in their asses, as he sat in the vehicle, his wrist comm was being fed all kinds of information about this case. It seems that they too want it solved.
He was let out in front of his building with promises of keeping in touch, and the veiled threat of death if his case led to them. He hoped they did not cross paths again. But hope does not count for shit in the universe.
---------------------------------------------------------------
The blinding white light faded to show a very familiar, and very fine ass in a form fitting biomechanical augmented suit. He sighed. Not that he hated the sight, but thought he left the ass and her squad mates behind when he left the military. The woman, still young, was under his command, and she and her squad mates were the next generation of the program he was the flagship in. But they came with a HUGE flaw. They treated him like a prize to be won, instead of a commanding officer. His map showed their markers as the squad had taken defensive positions on the rooftops around the mini war zone.
"You still with us boss?"
The voice, belonging to the hot headed Bianca, code name: 0001. She normally was a front line fighter, but now was shielding him with a level ten barrier, one that could stop even a barrage of nukes.
"Yeah, just gotta get right."
He said, picking up the large gun again. His body ached as the whole team decided to begin raining down death from above, thinning the pack of merc's to just a handful of wounded men.
But the biggest problem, the large hulking killing machine would need more than what he had to deal with. But the ladies decided to go wolf pack on it, as I lined up the shot. It was like a few blurs of motion were ghosting the robotic killing machine, each pass, left damage on the machine. Close combat was their specialty, and being so close, the machine and my ex friend could not fight back without the risk of self damage. The gun in my hands purred as I lined up the shot, targeting the power source. One shot. And then nothing. The machine did not explode. It imploded.
What remained was something. A disgusting blend of flesh and metal. No final words. No heroic one liners, just silence and the groaning of wounded men. The alarms of the security forces drove them inside his building again. I did not want to explain anything. But before they arrived, he quickly ran to the truck, to find it full of stasis pods with women sleeping inside. Yeah, let station security deal with this.
Back inside, he stashed his weapons, as they were very far from legal, despite being military hardware, he was not exactly military anymore.
The squad took up space in his office, their suits vanishing, leaving them half naked. They lounged around without a care in the world.
"Before you ask, MOMMA sent us. She got word earlier about your case and sent us ahead to back you up." The black haired beauty, Mia said as she was flipping through one of his books on the couch. Her bare ass barely hidden. They took up space in his office as they used to, claiming the space as their personal haunt. This was a fundamental problem with the next generation of the program he once was part of. With men, it churned out ready to serve soldiers, but with women, it kind of went left as the first batch could do the job, but the emotional dampeners failed spectacularly.
Fortunately the problem would correct itself eventually, but as part of the program, to keep them in high functional status, their base programming was slightly altered.
Altered in a way that it was completely within the bounds of rules, reason and reality, that their immediate commanding officer (Him) was only harsh and mean to them because he loved and cared for all six of them, the prototype human women. And as a teasing joke, it was added that the best of them could in fact petition the Commonwealth Defense Force to allow the winner to marry him outright.
This lie is why these six women are considered the deadliest in their respective fields.
And now this lovely kettle of fish is lounging around, half naked, as not a single one of them even packed a stitch of clothing, came rushing to his aid.
It was not even a problem anymore.
He was over it as a pair of nice tits were resting on the clean surface of his desk, the owner watching him review the station security video feed of the scene clean up.
Something felt off about it all.
They send mercenaries to basically wipe out him and the station, but it all felt rushed and half assed.
This station was a trade hub for sure, but its like a tick on the ass of an Orachiodon (think elephant, but the size of a mountain, shitty attitude and sleeps for years, only to wake, eat, mate and rampage. The world they live on is a class 13 Deathworld, just because nothing could survive very long there.)
The closest garrison is in the next system over and removing this place would only get a shiny brand new station placed, long before the debris of the old station was cooled off.
Looking at the tanks as the station forces handled their extraction, he froze the video, on a face, partially hidden by condensation.
He zoomed in and sat staring at the face for a long time.
"HOLY SHIT!"
He slammed his fist onto his desk making everyone in the room to squeak in surprise.
He grabbed his long coat.
"Clothes will arrive shortly, dress and get an early dinner on me."
He shouted as he tossed a credit chip onto his desk. He grabbed the twin holsters, put them on and ran out to catch a transport heading to the Security center.
------------------------------------
The central security building was the only building on the station that made any fucking sense. In emergencies it can be garrisoned, and defended. It can be detached from the station, and made into a floating bunker if need be. It can even make planet fall, and everyone inside would survive, bruised but alive. It was a fortress, and imposing by design.
His security access allowed him entry to all but the core command center, because fuck him dicking around with the secondary station controls. He entered the forensics lab as the lab workers were trying to dismantle the meat metal puzzle of his late friend in a walking death machine.
"Hey, what are you doing here?"
A lab tech said as she was being handed pieces of metal coated with flesh.
"Scan the DNA."
"On who's orders?"
"Mine."
A tall, stern woman in uniform entered, flanked by her underlings, handing one a data pad.
"Parke, you visit unannounced. I did not have time to prepare the tea and cookies. What has you rushing through security like a madman?"
"Ma'am, this might be above our pay grades here but I noticed something peculiar."
He said sending the image he downloaded to the lab's main screen.
"UV light. I noticed it in the mech pilot's eyes, and the girl in the pod's eye. Clones. But not just the run of the mill dime a dozen clone. Military tech. Expensive, illegal, and extremely dangerous. And without the traditional safety system precautions, highly unstable."
He said, showing the glowing three dots in the picture around the pupil of the girl's eye. Extremely high grade work.
"Run a nano scan on the fleshy bits, and you will find the remains of onboard military hardware, probably knock off, as the tech is extremely regulated. But even the dollar store versions are lethal to a populace no matter what it does."
He grabbed the paper cup and held it under the coffee machine near by, watching as his boss in the Security forces and the lab techs go crazy over the vital clue bomb he just blew up. It was like an almost locked down state secret with him being gently escorted to the parking garage, where he stored his issued vehicle. Preferring to drive his own, he rarely used the hover vehicle provided, but he felt better with it now that he knew he clearly painted the biggest bulls eye on his back.
He had to follow up on his theory, so he needed to drop in on an old "friend" working as a repair guy in the Underside.
------------
The Underside was as it was named. Basically the slums for better words.
Not really for the poor, because everyone was housed above, with or without money. You worked, you were housed and fed, simple as that. No the Underside was the main black market trade route through the sector, a pit stop to parts unknown for goods and services so illegal, that even saying the name of it puts you on many watch lists.
But here, there was no real law or order, but on the other hand, violent crime was not reported, or really committed as there was a long standing unspoken shaky truce with the top.
"Don't fuck around, and make security have to deal with it, and you all get to keep breathing."
Yeah, the secondary station controls mentioned earlier, control the air and water supply in the Underside.
Not that anyone condoned crime down there, but it was easier to have it contained, than above becoming lawless.
So you had the dregs of society running their own outfits below, small time crime, fraud, theft, illegal trade, among other things, and as long as no bodies turn up, no one gave a shit. Threaten the station as a whole, and everyone below can test their breath holding limits, or see how long they can go without access to food or water.
Major crime players generally avoided it like the plague, only recruiting those they could trust, and keep eyes and tabs on the dealings.
He was not welcome down there.
Not in the least.
No one was openly hostile to him, but very few people were going to bend over backwards to help him either.
But there was a soft kindness for him down there.
The Tinkerers and Whores.
No one fucked with them, and lived long safely.
They did not like him like that, but if bad shit was passing through, he would know about it from them.
His first stop was a Tinkerer. A psych ward reject needing meds, but so skilled with his hands that he never went hungry.
The walk up the flight of stairs, past the junkies begging for credits for a fix, past the whores who started plying their trade until they seen his face, and backed off.
A whore, a regular of his friend, ran screaming down the stairs above. Then the screaming stopped.
A sound masked by the screams. The whine and little ding of a bolter finished charging.
He was shielded from her blood spray as the stairs blocked the gore.
He ran up, guns in hands, and at the top floor, the gruesome scene played out.
Blood and viscera everywhere. covering the cluttered roof. Broken heaps of scrap, and tools covered as if someone blew up drums of blood and gore.
A man turned around.
He was holding the severed head of his informant. Laughing like a lunatic.
Tossing the head over the side, the man in full combat gear gave a one finger salute and followed the head, laughing into the darkness below.
No one was coming to investigate. Nor to clean it up.
But his "friend" told him to always trust the good book.
Getting the reference, he searched the already trashed room, and found a bible of sorts. It was a Christian bible of course, worth a bit of money, to be fair.
But when he held it, his wrist comm was hijacked. It began downloading everything from the bible. Not the holy word, but EVERYTHING the tinkerer had his fingers in.
The data dumped, and he dared not let go of the bible, as a small beep let him know he needed to go, right out to catch the angry voices and boot steps of men coming up the stairs.......
End of chapter 4
-------------------------------------------------------------
Being a Detective isn't easy, eh? Thanks for reading so far!