Date: Tue, 2 Apr 2024 15:25:40 +0000 (UTC) From: Abra Cadabra Subject: Remnant of Heaven (part 1) CONTENT: When the harbinger of eternal prosperity turned to betrayal, humanity won a narrow victory. Two hunks in the aftermath have to make sure the traitor stays down. Though, they find time to get horny along the way. KINKS: muscles, rough sex, humiliation; white servants, Asian and Black masters; and plenty of sci-fi jargon. ======= Chapter 1 ======= === Whisper of Heaven === Ni hao, fuckers. The name's Wancheng, rhymin with fun gang. Your boy's big for a teen, meanin I'm normal height with a tank build an' *thickass* muscles. Some definition done sackin for playin it nice with my baby face. Classic HunkMaker body, catch? Right... Fuckhow I'm expecting you gettin a vital? So, from the bang. I'm still standin in the shower with the window right behindway - tinted, mind - glutes pointin along the block. Erect view for a bathroom. Snup light softgoldin my ochre skin. (Editor's Note: erect = great; snup = morning, from "sun up") If you're only able bein here `n *seein* it all, same I'm seein in the mirror, towelin my hair – bouncy fucker of a mohawk, so black it's tendin blue. It's warm enough I'm mostly air dryin. Just no wantin drippin all over my fuckin floor as I'm swaggerin bedroomway. My crib's nothin special, mind. Desk for the grind, lounge for fuckin, metabolic pod for lightsout. All high end, tho. Views no less erect. But I'm already checkin the peaks. (peak = a message sent to the optical nerves by the Interconnect Focal Mesh, a transparent paper-thin strip beneath each eye) Settin up my holoskin for a glazin – little sheen on my bod, same as if it's lotioned. Very subtle, mind. No fuckin holosparkles on the face. Or the package. Tellin of package, it's a picture-perfect rod, `bout two inches hangin. Bein crystal, "Wancheng's wastelayer" is a *bastard-thick* eight inches hard. Grow-no-show's all the rage. My wrap for today is a slingsuit, pale red. You pre-heaven-war fucks best just imaginin a wrestlin outfit missin all but the thong part an' the straps keepin it on my boulder shoulders. Might done callin it a mankini, guessin. Fuckhow you expectin I'm catchin ancient fashion lore? A matchin choker, even if it havin my broad-ass neck lookin shorter, fuck it. Cup `n buds coverin the basics. (basics = nipples and genitals; cup = a flexible dome over cock and balls to keep the package as small as possible; buds = similarly, flat domes over the nipples) Already havin a peak from the kicks on the focus. Starpal wantin a round of tag. (kicks = acquaintances, from "sidekicks"; starpal = best friend) I'm downway the stairs `n Miss Lee already in the foodkitch. A.k.a. Mariko if you're at least halfway fam. Unit One to me - mom. You catchin? Mom wrappin a bodysuit so blue it `bout blendin into the liqui-tile wall. Coverin from crotch to shoulder, boobwindow humblin on those honkers. Hourglass figure dad's callin utopian. No vital fuckwhere she done gettin the bodyfix. Gals these days are more `bout targeted cellular shapin. We boys goin straight for polygenic interweavin an' work out like mad fucks. Fuckwhy half-ass it, mind? Unit Two's there, too, legs wide apart `n thighs too thick for fittin underway the knee-high excuse for a coffee table. Fucksure no able overlookin dad with his 150+ kilo physique, curtesy of Sizeforce an' the natural built I'm done inheritin some of. But mentally he's at work. Scratch, dad's been at work allevery day since I been five. But fuck it, old man done teachin me allevery thin' I'm able catchin. Tellin them, "Snup, units one-two. Hiroshi `n the crew goin for a tag-run. You needin the plebe for anythin?" Mom handin me a cup of Mornmuck, goin cash to my tastebuds. "Snup, Chengchengie. Hui comin homeway, might needin a whitey if he's no bringin one. Just a scant." (Mornmuck = caffeinated protein slurry; cash = directly; whitey = a member of the Yes Team, from "Y.T.") I'm lettin the "Chengchengie" slide. Okay okay, I'm slidin it allevery time. Tellin her, "Brolove able pickin up a couple of sox. *If* he even stayin overnight. An' he allever lobbin a whitey `round, anyway." "Just in case." I'm startin, "But maaaa~" Don't like my voice turnin whineyway. I'm able soundin like a reasonable as fuck adult, mind? Somethin `bout talkin at unit one puttin me in petulant mode. Deepbreathin for- Scratch. The whitey in question is almost makin an entrance, able seein him on the focus an' so doin mom. Urgently makin this a takeoff quickie. Door cascadin sideway for whitey 3-5 as we callin him by the namehawk. House is allever open to him for when I'm wantin him over at night. `fore he even goin kitchway I'm shootin him a peak so he appreciatin we're playin tag soon. You done seein one Yes Team bitch, you done seein allevery one. Milk-ish pale, namehawk in bald, no too tall, boyish slender – the plebes no exactly checkin in with HunkMaker. (namehawk = a serial number tattoo running from the top of the head down like a mohawk, with the final two digits that nearly reach the brow region usually being used as the name) I been hangin with 3-5 damn near allevery day for years - this one's almost a brolove. Blue eyes, my height, an' no *too* hard for lookin at. A sloob but no the rare kind of whexy FAG you pickin for fuckwhen folks comin over. (sloob = s.l.u.w.b. meaning "slightly less ugly white boy"; whexy = whitey sexy, attractive for a Yet Team member; F.A.G. = Fairness Advancement Group, faction of Yes Team) No that you really able catchin if he's whexy or no, mind. Even as just a plebe, trainin for proper service, he's still keepin a faceblur. He no wearin wraps unless you countin the LinkPads but naturally his basics hidin under nip buds an' a splitter in dull gray. (faceblur = holoskin pixilation leaving little more information than eye movement; LinkPad = skin-adhesive strips of transparent cushioning for long term kneeling; splitter = a life-long chastity casing keeping the penis minimal while prominently stretching the testicles ahead) 3-5 is cash on his knees the tick he's in sight, face groundway. Routine. He's from the docile 23% whiteys. Not a rebellious bone. We able tellin from the waves. "Master and Mistress Li, Master Wancheng sir, this whitey ASS is ready to serve." (waves = here meaning synaptic coherence measurement capable of detecting attitude; ASS = Accreditation Supervision System, the Yes Team task management software) Tellin him, "Snup 3-5, I'm blockin your schedule for a kill." Mom's faster. "Give me a tick, I'm still peakin Hui." 3-5 enterin the whitey wait pose - ass to us, bendin over so far his head almost touchin floor, hands on ankles. I been seein him holdin this for hours. I been *leavin* him same as this for hours, fuck yeah. His holoskin is tastefully blur-censorin the hole, mind. Your boy Wancheng no able foldin like a whitey, an' no just cause I'm muscle-poppin as fuck. Whiteys' done gettin ligament extensions, circulation diverter ducts an' fuckwhat else. I'm steppin into my LinkSoles, givin the skin-adhesion a tick for sinkin in. Meanwhile, mom gettin no vital I'm peakin brolove same as she, ha. (LinkSole = shoes like sandals without straps, sticking directly to the sole) "Mom, I'm no able meetin Hiroshi on the tick if I'm no outsideway *now*. No get me stressin. Brolove able orderin a whitey cash if he's urgin." "I'm never happy with strangers on our bedrooms, Chengie. But you're fine for headin. He sayin the same. Word for word. I'm no likin you peakin behind my back either." "Erect. Have a wonderful day, units one-two. Zaijian." My hand landin on 3-5's ass so hard I'm practically sweepin him up. Invite-peak goin out whiteyway on the same tick. I'm easily tellin he's smilin through the faceblur. His own hand comin down on his blur-censory balls, nutclappin the absolute *fuck* out of himself till pain's hittin the threshold. It's just fuckhow whiteys acceptin invites. No sweat, they cravin it. Closest they allever gettin to a cumshot. Fuckonce I'm out the door I'm switchin on sensation mode. Buds `n cup performin same as tongues – my nipples, cockhead an' hole rim gettin max edgelove. I'm stayin soft, mind. Bodymod self-control. Usin the elevator mirror for puttin in my earrings, safety pin on one lobe, short chain on the other. 3-5 kneelin proper but speakin up in that archaic whitey lingo. Fuckwhen we hangin, I'm allowin my whiteys a speakin role. "Master Wancheng, Sir, this drone loves your wear. Is that a new sling, sir?" "Erect perception, slave. First time wrappin it, too." His face hoverin on crotch-height an' my edgin settin in ferociously. HunkMaker no just cosmetic, I done gettin hormones tuned for perfection, your boy able fuckin like a mad beast allevery day. But it's a short buildin an' a fast elevator. Fucknow, I'm catchin no a vital on whether *you* able recognizin Taipei in the post-heaven era. Fuckwhen the hyper-cellularist neo-metabolist revival done startin again? We havin femtocarbon an' aegisglass tryin their best for squeezin out a traditional oriental style like a fifth cumshot in a row. Tiny strips of green fuckwhereever they fittin. We havin a Bubble waitin. Sleek chunk of liqui-glass, four seats. The two of us gettin in an' we ridin starpalway. === === === Hiroshi's the most erect kick you able wishin for. Dude havin a little height on me but you fucknever able tellin *I'm* havin weight on *him* cause Hiroshi been goin to AlphaRise for his body fixin. Allevery fiber customized. A physique you no able findin a flaw in if you lookin at eachevery fuckin *cell*. Lookin bigger than me while bein leaner. Hiroshi hoppin cash in the bubble an' we slammin pecs together like mountains collidin. He's in green wraps, just a thong, tiniest dome on his crotch. Buds are green, too. An' no overlookin the iridescent green mohawk. Holoskin paintin dragon tattoos on his godly muscles. Dude done findin his theme. Allever been admirin him. Wearin nothin' but a thong's like runnin `round shirtless pre-heaven, guessin. He's oozin confidence. Tellin him, "Starpal, fuckwhy we playin again? Here I'm thinkin we're done for the week." Tellin me, "Yo kicklove. Havin some acos to show `round." Seein the kneelin whitey, Hiroshi's eyes lightin up. "Erect, you been bringin a slore. I been in sensation mode since snup. Edgin so hard I'm a tick from breakin my zerofap streak, haha." (aco = a beginner, from "acolyte"; slore = slave whore, a whitey who is used for sex most often; zerofap = men who never jerk off, always using whiteys for the purpose) I'm catchin he's jokin. Hiroshi fucknever done breakin his zerofap. Neither doin your boy Wancheng. 3-5 takin a bow. "Sirs, this whitey ASS is ready for service, sirs." His hand cuppin the stretchy nuts, other hand comin down same as hammerblows for confirmin the task ahead. Docile-ass bitch still able figurin when his masters wantin some initiative. We men droppin the wraps with the bubble keepin on track, windows tintin themselves. My cup poppin off easy and I'm allowin my eight inch beast a fast rise. Hiroshi's baby dragon stoppin at two inches, two fingers thick. Mind, my starpal simply lovin easy oral pleasin – a whitey-swirly on his dick, maybe a girl on his face. Always sayin he goin back for a real AlphaRise cock when he done findin a longterm chick askin for it. We're leanin on the seat rests. 3-5's holoskin unblurin where it needin to. I'm findin my way into the hole, starpal dippin into the whitey mouth. I'm wreckfuckin the slore like I'm punishin him. Me `n Hiroshi are flexin at each other, grinnin, noddin. Starpal havin both hands `round 3-5's throat, whitey lips on the base of his cock. I'm ballsdeep, too, `n startin a swell minute of nervous-system-rattlin orgasm, courtesy of HunkMaker juicin up my naughty tissues. Just bein crystal, I'm straight as *fuck*. So's starpal, guessin. But same as any real men we done gettin triple-A. Yeah you... no able catchin that pre-heaven, course. It's uh... Adaptive Arousal Alignment. Dynamic behavior guidance, re-pathin the synapses via... Fuck me, dude, it makin any real men *enjoyin* rage-fuckin whiteys without messin up the brain. Makin sure whiteys cravin menmeat, too. It all been startin after the heaven-war with the world needin *somebody* for reconstructin shit from the ruins. Enter stage: Triple-A tech. Easy convincin a poor fucker of workin for peanuts if he gettin an erect fuck `bout it – just enforcin his love for fuckin first. Thus, slores. There's been other shit, too, like fuckhow all the bodymoddin makin us hunks more aggro `n brutal but chicks no likin gettin logsplit much. Easy solution is pumpin the madness in a different hole, reservin the sweet lovemakin for pussies. So yeah, I'm wreckin 3-5 up the ass an' the slore enterin paradise. Hiroshi's baby dragon's easy enough handlin, slave no makin much noise, only cockserve on the focus. My hands commin down on that whitey ass till it's glowin. Hiroshi grabbin the fuck victim by the throat like he tryin for a head rippin. Hittin my riv with the strokes, but the Bubble gettin goalway. Enhace-gasm plateau `bout crestin anyway. (riv = flow, from "river") I'm askin, "We gettin there cash?" Hiroshi tellin me, "No, meetin the acos in Jade Moon park. We havin a tick. You jizzin?" "Fuck yeah." A nod `an we lettin loose. Fuckwhen the point of no return happenin, we sure are shootin loads. Little perk of a mod-dick. I'm able cummin dry, if I'm feelin like it. All that sensation mode edge gettin messy otherwise, mind? I'm no waistin my prejuice leak if I'm no even fuckin a throat. But now I'm pumpin my juices into slore ass, finally hearin some gaggin fuckwhen Hiroshi shotgun blastin a throatway load down the slore's frontass. `Nother perk, a *deluge* for a jizz shot. Cup goin back on – the buds fucknever been off – `n we lettin the Bubble doors foldin as starpal steppin into the wraps. 3-5 confirmin with a spankin on the balls, legs tremblin when the pain radiatin outway. Three happy ass kids treadin on grass. === === === Red Gate Coil – dark red skyscraper, twistin up – is halfway shadin Jade Moon park. We're swaggin in one of the sunny in between parts, tho. Hues of green an' glass, vertically spiralin all over the fuck. You done seein parks before. We runnin into Xiao `n Indigo cash. Starpal sure been peakin them. Xiao's a slender dude, done buildin by BoyWorth, guessin. Lithe muscle, angel face, holo bunny ears pokin upway from his black mop. He's in a purple slingsuit, bit less flimsy than mine. More prominent bulge, tho. His girl, Indigo, blessin us with with big fuckin tits. European descent givin her creamy skin. Pink bodysuit huggin her round, perky melons at allevery contour. Long hair's pink, too, with the bunny ears matchin her man's. Sweetest-ass couple allever. We slam - hard on Xiao's pecs, gentle on the collar-region above Indigo's tits. Xiao's flat hand goin faceway on 3-5 fuckwho tellin us his ASS is ready. No a knock-out slap. Just a little physical comedy `tween kicks. "Yo, I been thinkin we meetin acos," I'm tellin. Xiao poking his thumb backway, tellin me, "Noobs grabbin froyo. It's their second time citytag gamin but they no been runnin in a group `fore. You slore slayers needin a tick in the booth?" (slore slayer = single man, especially zerofapper who use "slave whores" a lot) I been `round Hiroshi long nough I'm no needin three guesses he havin a second cumshot on the focus. I'm knockin out my refractory period with a thought `n restartin sensation mode – nips, dickhead, asshole gently ticklin. We movin fuckwhere they keepin genemodded sakura trees in bloomin season for allever. Metal box there like a small house, four out of five cells transparent an' empty. By a pole over a drain outside of the cabin, Hiroshi droppin his thong to his ankles, pissin at the pole with a stream so hard it feelin like it's able shreddin a wall. Acos showin up just then, spoonin their rainbow froyo. `Nother couple, if I been catchin the vital. The man, Shiki, havin a SizeForce bod – *way* over 100 kilo, maybe 150, biceps almost thick same as his thighs, thighs flarin wide same as the shoulders, shoulder-size same as the head, head too edgy for lookin like the teen he is, hair in a millimeter buzz. He's wrappin a matte gold bodysuit, gold choker `round the neck, holoskin sparkling. Mostly my kinda style. As they're swaggin closer I'm able seein Shiki showin off grattu. One of these days you able catchin me free ballin, too, but your boy havin to stay tracky for private school, mind. (grattu = without a cup between genitals and outer clothing, leading to obvious dickprints, from "gratuitous"; tracky = presentable in polite society, from "attractive") Shiki *towerin* over his own girl Melody, his little dick-print cash jumpin in my eyes half-same as her tits. Respect. Melody shinin gorgeous as fuck, on the slimway side. Wearin only a thong – Hiroshi's type. Her nipple buds are heart shaped same as her pupils. No the most common bodymod `round here. Butterflies dancin on her, kissin her skin, holographic innocence contrastin with tits out. Yeah, Hiroshi's type as fuck. Sometimes starpal leavin me feelin only ten percent man. I'm shootin my shot anyway. Melody's tits are *that* fuckin juicy. Puttin my "secret stash" in the aether. Media showin my strongest side: posin flexed as fuck, nudes, cumshots, fuck-ruinin slores, tender-pleasin pussies, my perfect zerofap streak. There's levels to the secrets. It's all up to the girl now `n if *she's* sendin her stash Wancheng-way. If Melody's no like that, she fucknever seein any of me. If she wantin me seein level one of her, she only seein level one of me. And so on. Melody's the only one with a vital on fuckwhy I'm suddenly flexin. I'm receivin her pics an' she's lookin real erect. An' fuck me, your boy slidin *all* the way in, clips of her all fucked out on Shiki's cock – massive grower-no-shower. Bouncy tits. Other dudes, too, if I'm scrollin down, an' some chicks, but she's been only Shiki's missus the last few years. We exchangin pleasantries for a tick `n Shiki slurpin down the cold sweet `fore we scannin the fuck booths. 3-5's in waitin pose, pixely asshole to us, face blurry `tween the ankles. We findin an unoccupied breakhole `n draggin 3-5 in with us by the stretcher. (breakhole = an off duty whitey, making himself available in or near a fuck booth) The new slore is 1-9, slim boyish FAG, tellin us his ASS is ready `n receivin the info package – Hiroshi `n Shiki sendin over whiteboi-how-to's for pleasin. They're both the oral type. Quick rock-paper-scissor for pickin the mouth. 3-5 is a docile FAG – he doin fuckwhat you sayin – but 1-9 is in the 39% of whiteys we classin "subservient". He fuckin *wantin* it. Sometimes Triple-A workin too well, guessin. He been sizin me up through the holo faceblur since I'm done openin the booth door. There's a *writhin* to 1-9 when I'm shovin my cock in an' splittin his guts. With my hands on his thin waist I'm feelin my cock pokin his abs from insideway. Shiki fillin 1-9's mouth, a real struggle on the giant's beast. 1-9's holoskin on his shoulder blades countin down 215sec till he needin air at the latest, nonnegotiable. Some whitebois gettin good at keepin their lungs full while gaggin. 1-9 one of those. When I'm done peakin 1-9's info, turnin out he spendin all his off duty here. He just lovin cock. No that it matterin. 1-9's no a plebe anymore. Full service whiteys fucknever sayin no. It's *Yes Team*, duh. Rules are rules allevery hour of the day. 3-5 kneelin an' serving Hiroshi again, almost casual. Shiki noddin at us, "Any of you up for manly action?" Shakin my head but Hiroshi givin a shrug. He tellin Shiki, "Fuckwhen I'm orgasmin, I'm up for *any* contact, ha." "Tongue?" "Erect." "Give me a vital fuckwhen you cummin." "Sure bro." Shiki pullin out, whitey 1-9 almost garglin. "An' you, assmouth, do it right. Fully baseway with allevery thrust." "Sir yes sir, this drone apologizes for failing, Master Shiki." Shiki wipin away the holo cencorin on the assmouth's face, gentlish, almost carin. A snear `n he spittin in whiteboi mouth. "Fuckwhat we havin?" Hiroshi askin, scootin in, draggin 3-5 along tweenway the monster thighs. No able seein 1-9's face myself from the anal angle. "Typical Futtah," Shiki tellin, grinnin down at 1-9 an' shovin his tool back into slavethroat. "Hey Wancheng, you lucky as fuck with your home bitch. This 1-9 assmouth havin a blaf. Feelin x-show on the focus." (futtah = f.u.t.t.a.h. short for "face uglier than the ass hole"; blaf = b.l.a.f. short for a "better looking ass (than) face"; x-show = whitey holoskin shows an x in areas that have received too much pain and must be left alone) I'm shruggin so Shiki snappin a gold wristlet off his arm. Flexile telescope rod shootin out an' he teachin 1-9's backside a lesson in erect behavior. Left right left right, whip zippin in the rhythm of 1-9 pushin into Shiki's crotch, which is the rhythm of my hips slammin him from holeside. Below me, 1-9 is clappin his nuts. There's nothin to confirm, he just tappin the button for fun, gettin prunk while he's already gettin alpha-omega high. (prunk = "pain drunk", a state of ecstasy reached by many whiteys during punishment; alpha-omega = anal orgasming, magnified through anal annealing – a set of bodymods including intestinal wall bolstering, prostate reconstitution and more, letting whiteys reliably archive ecstasy from anal orgasms) Hiroshi's climaxin, obvi, cause he pullin Shiki in by the gold choker `n they're makin out. I'm stealin the rod `n takin over for my new kick. 1-9 is x-showin in spots, his holoskin tellin me no more hittin here `n there. The red lines on the real skin sayin same as. The nutclappin tellin me for keepin it up fuckwhere able. Might be doin the whiteboi a favor here but all's erect as long as he learnin `bout pleasin my new kick. Been orgasmin for a good minute now, so show's over soon. I'm choosin cummin dry. Guessin the others goin sameway. Openin a live peak feed outway for a certain girl. Pickin up the fuck-pace, victimizin the fag hole with all my charmin power. Aaaand done guessin right, Shiki pullin out an' no cum in the spittle as 1-9 is strugglin for no collapsin. I'm pullin out, too, `n he's movin into waitin pose, red lines decoratin an' x-marks shinin from neck to thighs. His face is blurry again an' for the better. Dude's looking like, well, typical whiteboy really. Definitely a blaf. We puttin the wraps back on but I'm rememberin 1-9 is off duty. "Hey slore, ever been playin city tag?" 1-9 takin a sec to get fuckwho I'm talkin to, lookin at me from tween his own legs. "Sir yes sir, this drone has played with other whiteys, sir." Shiki chucklin. "Fuckwhy no? Here I'm comin in afraid *I'm* dead last for sure. Come on, assmouth." Our subservient an' docile fags followin outsideway, faces, assholes an' stretchers blurry. Melody done spoonin froyo. I'm closin the live peak goin herway. Your boy Wancheng tryin for no gettin hopes up. She's a hot-ass girl, tho. 3-5 an' 1-9 walkin behind us. With nothin to do, their faces playin ads. Holoskin images tellin me I'm able takin a sponsored quiz for thirty percent off dark choc almond bars. Bookmarkin that shit but usually no gettin `round to it in time. You catchin fuckhow it is. === === === Fuckwhatever. Time for puttin the LinkSoles on the knees `n elbows. We're up on an elevated path, lookin over the flowy vertical structures of Jade Moon Park. "Ready?" Hiroshi askin, headin the tag sesh. Tellin him, "Erect, man." The two couples `n the assmouths givin affirmatives or hammerin their balls respectively. Points poppin up all `round me, little coins for collectin. *Our* eyes only. Taipei is our playground. City tag's a team game but we're still competin for points. The game weavin us cash `round pedestrians, so we able keepin our focus on the kill, catchin? Call me a show-off but your boy Wancheng is startin with a flex. Maybe I'm subtly turnin Melodyway. Maybe I'm no subtle, fuck it. Her man no lookin. With a front pike, I'm sendin myself cash off the path, stickin it one floor below in the grass. 3-5 allever followin my lead, front pikin off an' stickin it next to me. Hiroshi no droppin at all, cartwheelin along the railin till he havin momentum for a handsfree, then again twice in a row. He takin the long way down, grabbin style points. I'm bookin it treesway, but lookin back for satisfyin my curiosity. Shiki `n his girl comin down with butterfly twists. She's grace `n dexterity. He's a spinnin tank comin down same as a missile. 1-9 just runnin for now, followin bunnykids Xiao `n Indigo till they backflippin off the railin opposite from us. Then whiteboi kickin off the wall an' stickin it on the roof of his fuck booth. Backflippin off for style points, too. No the most erect jumps, but no a total failure. Both girls' tits distractin me, jigglin harder than their asses. Melody's heart buds leavin behind a holo trail like purple comets. I'm starin so hard I'm almost crashin into a sakura tree. High jumpin up with all my momentum I'm swingin through the hoverin coins. Landin with okay momentum, cartwheelin over a bench an' stickin it on the path. Erect so far. Seein a plus-five ahead, I'm bookin it. Xiao is about cuttin me off. I'm changin course pondway, Hiroshi already aimin there. Pullin myself up an abstract concrete fuckwhatever an' front pikin onto the wood bridge. Hiroshi butterfly twistin over the railin, cuttin me off last microsecond. Next plus-five is hoverin on top of a pagoda, but Indigo `n 1-9 are already comin at it from their angles, grippin bars, swingin up. I'm rushin for a string of regular coins instead. Needin a reset with a style point first. Wall run into butterfly kick. Erect game, but crazy some folks doin this in groups of twenty. No thinkin I'm gettin a single coin in that scenario. Maybe I'm just suckin. Still a kill like no other. We gettin peaks. A second group. Different park. No fuckin matterin, city tag workin in the streets from here to there all the same. We sensin more of a goal now - beat those guys. Needin as many points as possible on the trip enemyway. Here's hopin the acos `n fags are bringin their A game. === === === No havin a vital back then, but at the same tick, my old men been waltzin downway office corridors in one fuck of a hurry. They havin those aegisglass floors at the ministry, lettin you see allway from skylight to lobby. Dad's thighs prolly makin the tiles shake, guessin. Some days they holdin these secret meets - airtight rooms, opaque in allevery way, always scannin for electro-fuckery. An' fuckwhat happenin on those meets? Mostly fuckall, bet, cause meets are no fun. This time dad done gettin janked for good, tho. Secret servers been bouncin signals `cross large arrays `n tiny networks. Pure paranoida, `cept for once they for real done findin shit. Dad later tellin me they gettin so worked up then, they all cash goin for fuckin the office SCUM for destressin. (S.C.U.M. = Serial-Connect Unified Memory, Yes Team members used for administrative labor and intellectual tasks, modified for selective memory and computer interfacing, with parts of their brains suppressed for industry security as appropriate) Bein crystal, I been catchin that fuckwhen dad pickin a whitey for victimizin he *fuck-demolishin*. No with mom, course, then he's a peach blossom wipin spring rain off the eyelashes of a baby deer. His words. Doin my best with takin after the old men. Soon, its fuckwhere I'm comin in. Lucky me time still done permittin my tag game `fore the parental unit peakin me up. We gettin the kill on the other team, if you carin, starpal doin the magic. No askin fuckhow I done scorin, okay? Just no. Your boy's still learnin.