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  #11  
Old 23-Feb-16, 19:40
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Thumbs up Re: Futuristic/Cyberpunk Intergender Combat Circuit (Series)

Loving this. Just a bit of a warning, if you do use overly muscled women as characters in the future, you might lose more fans than you gain. I know I at least prefer the slim types with hidden strength, such as Maika. This is great the way it is. I can't wait to read more.
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  #12  
Old 24-Feb-16, 14:06
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Default Re: Futuristic/Cyberpunk Intergender Combat Circuit (Series)

Just wanted to let everyone know the next episode is coming along steadily. I haven't had a whole lot of time to write but I'd say I'm about a third of the way done. I've written a good chunk, but since no fighting has happened yet (aside from some verbal sparring), I'm going to wait to post the whole chapter until the next battle is concluded. I'm having a lot of fun introducing new characters--it's proving challenging--but the real fun starts when the fighters enter the arena. I hope to have the next one finished by the end of this coming weekend.
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  #13  
Old 24-Feb-16, 14:10
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Default Re: Futuristic/Cyberpunk Intergender Combat Circuit (Series)

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Originally Posted by Sexybish [Only Registered Users Can See LinksClick Here To Register]
Loving this. Just a bit of a warning, if you do use overly muscled women as characters in the future, you might lose more fans than you gain. I know I at least prefer the slim types with hidden strength, such as Maika. This is great the way it is. I can't wait to read more.
By the way, thank you for your input. I definitely feel like that fits my "world" a lot better in terms of realism, as well as my personal preferences. Great to get positive feedback from such a prolific author as yourself. I've checked out a few of your stories and have really enjoyed what I've read so far!
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Old 25-Feb-16, 01:05
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Default Re: Futuristic/Cyberpunk Intergender Combat Circuit (Series)

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Originally Posted by Bi0mega [Only Registered Users Can See LinksClick Here To Register]
By the way, thank you for your input. I definitely feel like that fits my "world" a lot better in terms of realism, as well as my personal preferences. Great to get positive feedback from such a prolific author as yourself. I've checked out a few of your stories and have really enjoyed what I've read so far!
No need to thank me! Trust me, any time I see an opportunity to express my opinion or give advice to a promising author, I do it. Also, I still wouldn't exactly call myself prolific. The only reason I've got any real attention is through gameking's crossover stories. Without him I feel like my only consistent fan is mixfightor and maybe AP. I appreciate the compliment though!
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Old 25-Feb-16, 08:14
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Default Re: Futuristic/Cyberpunk Intergender Combat Circuit (Series)

Nods enthusiastically...

I am a fan of Vannah's work and agree with what she said about less than massive girls with augmented and surprising strength. Not to disparage anyone's preferences, but I do respond to that.

On a side note, you wouldn't have any girls who might look good in a tight swimsuit who'd be willing to take on a bit of a side project, would you? Our Hollywood Jobber has shown his true colours and urgently needs a decisive smackdown of the amazonian variety. Just a thought....
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  #16  
Old 25-Feb-16, 15:29
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Default Re: Futuristic/Cyberpunk Intergender Combat Circuit (Series)

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Originally Posted by mixfightor [Only Registered Users Can See LinksClick Here To Register]
Nods enthusiastically...

I am a fan of Vannah's work and agree with what she said about less than massive girls with augmented and surprising strength. Not to disparage anyone's preferences, but I do respond to that.

On a side note, you wouldn't have any girls who might look good in a tight swimsuit who'd be willing to take on a bit of a side project, would you? Our Hollywood Jobber has shown his true colours and urgently needs a decisive smackdown of the amazonian variety. Just a thought....
Haha... I haven't been following that thread so much although I did read about the last match... I wish Savannah a speedy recovery. This could be a fun idea--I already have a concept for a fun character to fill that role. I will introduce her in the next episode and will have to transport her to your world. Looking forward to it!

OK, as a friend of mine would say, "less talk, more rock!"
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Old 26-Feb-16, 00:45
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Default Re: Futuristic/Cyberpunk Intergender Combat Circuit (Series)

EPISODE 2: CHESS MATCH

Scene 1: Give the People What They Want!

I’m lying in a bed in the Med-Tech unit in the prisoner wing of HUSK, trying to hang on to whatever dream I just had during my unconscious state—it’s slipping fast, but it was definitely about Maika. The last thing I can remember from before was trying to exit the ring and just feeling exhausted—I must have collapsed. I’m covered in wires, and there’s some kind of device attached to my head. I try to sit up, but I’m strapped in. There’s a figure sitting to my left who notices that I am alert and rises to stand over me.

“Our hero awakes,” A deep, thickly accented voice—I think Russian or Slavic—announces. “You gave us quite a show out there. How are you feeling?”

“I’m… fine,” I manage, my voice crackling. It’s not true. My entire body feels broken all over. But who gives a shit how I am, anyway?

“My goodness, where are my manners?” the man says, “Allow me to introduce myself. I am Yakov Tolstoy. I am here on behalf of Boss Hamilton. Suffice it to say, he wished to have words with you, but had a prior engagement.” Tolstoy? This is clearly an alias.

“If he wants me dead, you may as well kill me right now. Nothing’s stopping you.” I’m not sure I actually want to die, but I figure it’s best to be honest. The guy does have me at a disadvantage and I’m trying to figure out what’s his angle.

“Mr. Cody, you disappoint me! Where’s that famous fighting spirit? You’re something of a celebrity today! The first man to kill an Amazon in half a century! Ha, they’re calling you ‘the Ladykiller,’ hahaha,” he snarls.

“They couldn’t come up with a better nickname than that?” I’m legitimately disappointed, but honestly, I’m even more uncomfortable about what this newfound celebrity could mean for me. What if I do get out someday? I can never be a courier again. Everybody knows who I am now. Maybe I should just hear what he has to say.

“I’m not going to sugar-coat it for you. Boss still wants you dead. But even he knows not to fuck with HUSK’s viewership. This establishment is a highly traded commodity, not to mention a key testing ground for every geopolitical weapons corporation on the planet. If he took you out now, he could lose out on significant income.

“You represent an opportunity to energize the crowd. That being said, this next fight is all or nothing. You must either kill or be killed. If you win, you may finish your opponent in whatever way you wish. However, if you lose, or refuse to finish your opponent, you are no longer of any use to us. Do you see now how we still own you? Yes? But it is not so bad. You are still master of your own destiny.”

“Fuck you, I’m no killer…” I protest.

“Really, Mr. Cody? I have several close associates and one Amazon who would disagree, if they could. But they are dead, so they do not.”

Tolstoy lays a massive hand on my shoulder and I can feel his strength. He is well over six and a half feet tall, and must weigh over 300 lbs. He wears black sunglasses, and has a neatly shaved goatee. He’s dressed in a brown business suit that must have been custom-made for him. “We are not so different, you and I. It takes a killer to know a killer—and you, Mr. Cody, are no stranger to the art of dealing death. My advice to you would be to embrace your tendencies. It will save you a lot of trouble in the arena, as well as out…

“Besides, if you really did not want to get your hands dirty, you should not have fucked with the SQUID in the first place. Now you must disentangle yourself from its grasp. Fight, win, kill, and keep killing. If you make the Boss enough money, he is prepared to commute your sentence to exile.”

“Exile?” I picture getting dropped in the wasteland of the North American southwest with nothing but my shorts, in true HUSK fashion. A fate worse than death—especially death at the hands of some beautiful woman. Still, It’s worth a shot to take my chances for the opportunity to start over. I pause for a moment. I’m a strong negotiator, and I know that despite my apparent disadvantage, I know an opportunity when I see one.

“I want the Boss’ assurance that if I am exiled, I’ll be set up with a new name, face, identification, and enough money and supplies to get a new start on the Eastern Expanse.”

“A shrewd negotiator. You are asking for a lot. I will take your request to the boss. In the meantime, I would like you to meet your new manager.”

“Manager?” Before I can get the words out, Tolstoy is gone.

This slender waif of a woman enters the room. By this point I’m alert and able to raise my head enough to get a good look at her, despite my restraints. She stands about 5’5 and can’t weigh more than 100 lbs, no way she’s ever been a gladiatrix. She’s clad in a tawny trench coat, short black cut-off jean shorts, black fishnets and black combat boots. Her A-cup breasts are completely bare underneath her coat, with the exception of a pair of small “X” marks made from black tape. Her features are rather gaunt—sunken, dark eyes, a messy blonde bob with a sickly green tinge, slender arms barely protruding from the sleeves of her coat. No makeup. She can’t be more than 25, but she looks, uh, how do I say, wizened, from drug use—like she’s 19 and 35 at the same time. She seems to be puffing from a vapor tube that is permanently fixated in front of her mouth, running down the length of her coat to an internal reservoir. She’s surrounded by a seafoam green cloud of vaporized NarcoTine. Great, a junkie.

“Hey there, champ. I’m Quix. Charmed, I’m sure.” I get the feeling from her tone of voice that she’s already bored with me.

. . .

After a few minutes, Quix has helped me out of my restraints and I’m sitting up in the bed. She then quickly retires to a nearby chair, kicks her legs up over one side and lets them hang over the armrest, lazily. Her hands are manipulating a 3-dimensional holoscreen projected from a console in her right eyesocket, just above the eye. It’s so small I didn’t even notice it before. Her head is resting on the other armrest and she’s still emitting that fucking green cloud.

“Will you cut that shit out? I’m going to get a contact addiction.” I whine.

“Put a sock in it, they’re not paying me enough for this shit. If I need a vape break I’m taking it. ” No dice.

“I could tell you were a fucking junkie the moment I looked at you,” I say, hoping to get something out of her.

“You don’t know a fucking thing about me!” There it is. “You know, for a fucking pervert, you talk a lot of shit. I saw what you did to PK.”

“Hey, she started it! Besides, Amazons fuck guys to death every day. Nobody complains about that!”

“Oh, fuck off with that shit. We are not having this conversation right now. Just… don’t touch me, and we’ll get along just fine.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

“So… how did you get assigned to me?”

“I… I didn’t. Listen, that’s not important, let’s talk about it some other time.” She seems almost… scared.

“Alllllllright…” I’m a little confused and annoyed. All I want right now is to know what I have to do next.

She sits up in the chair and crosses her legs.

“Here’s the deal. What you need to know about me is that I am, for all intents and purposes, on your side. Don’t get me wrong—I do not like you. But I can help you.

“I’m a netrunner. I can collect information from all over the Net. Useful information. I can bypass firewalls and encryption to disable programs, security systems, guns, tanks—you know, lay waste to empires, all that shit. Oh, by the way, I upgraded your reflex system and ran about twelve updates to your shitty old combat tactics processor.”

“Combat tactics?” Since when did I have one of those?

“Where’d you get your tech? It’s twinned with your reflex system. Maybe the guy never told you. Hah!”

“Well, it’s all non-standard. Most of it I acquired as payment from clients who were hitting a rough patch.”

“Man, it sure is a big old crazy fucking world, isn’t it?” she mocks, condescendingly, “I guess I’ve got some research to do. I hope you don’t mind having your head hacked.” I get the sense maybe this girl just likes to swear a lot.

“Come on,” she says, “let me show you to your new quarters.”

. . .

Quix leads the way out of the Med Tech unit, and we take a somewhat uncomfortable stroll through the hallowed halls of the HUSK arena. It’s mostly empty, with the exception of dim lighting, garbage, rats, and the occasional security officer. Thank God. Then we turn a corner and Quix hits a button on the wall.

A door opens, and we step in. What follows is the single most uncomfortable elevator ride of my entire life. I’m not sure what’s more suffocating—Quix’s cloud of drugs or the awkward tension between us.

A hundred-year-old pop song about fucking “like animals” is playing on the elevator intercom. It has to be the worst song I’ve ever heard.

“Bill Gates’ tits, what the fuck is this shit?” Quix moans.

“I thought I was the only one who hated old music.” I offer, as an olive branch.

“I actually like a lot of it… you ever heard of New Order?”

“Oh man, Ceremony’s one of my favorite songs…”

She flashes me a look that tells me I said something wrong. And I thought I was onto something there.

“Ceremony’s a Joy Division song.”

. . .

So as our history lesson on century-old rock music is concluding, we finally reach my new fighter’s quarters. It’s down a seemingly abandoned hallway full of old wooden doors and a strangely carpeted floor. My door is the last one, and there’s a balcony waiting to the right of it—lined with metal bars. GeoDome light pours in through the opening in the building. We’re 15 stories up, so although I could try to wrench the bars off, I think better of trying to make an escape at that elevation.

Quix opens the door with her holoscreen and flicks on a dim light. It looks like a cheap hotel room. There’s one bed.

“Home sweet home,” she says. She throws her trench coat onto a coatrack by the door and quickly begins to disrobe right in front of me. Once she is down to just her panties and her fishnets, she collapses on top of the bed and throws a pillow on top of her head to block out the dim lighting in the room. Like, she doesn’t even bother to get under the sheets. I start to get undressed and get comfortable, and although I’m slightly confused about sleeping arrangements, I begin to tug on the sheets on the side of the bed farthest from her.

“Excuse me?” she asks, “You sleep on the couch, creep.”

“Didn’t you say this was my quarters?” I complain.

“I need a place to stay too, you know,” she states, matter-of-factly.

I think about mustering a counterargument, but for one, I’m too tired, and for another thing, I need this girl on my side. There’s a grimy couch on the other side of the room. I grab a blanket from the closet and pass the fuck out.

. . .

Last edited by Bi0mega; 26-Feb-16 at 01:00. Reason: "navy brown," lol
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  #18  
Old 26-Feb-16, 00:49
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Default Re: Futuristic/Cyberpunk Intergender Combat Circuit (Series)

Scene 2: The Competition


The next morning, I’m up and getting ready to start the day. Quix is still asleep, in exactly the same position she was when she hit the bed last night. I check the time on my room’s holoscreen and it says it’s 9:25am. Not too bad—I had this feeling when I went to bed last night like I would sleep in all day today, but I guess my body is keeping me on task. Good, at least somebody is.

I set the fabricator (or “fabber”) for breakfast and the room fills with the synthetic smell of coffee and bacon. Quix then rolls over.

“Ugghhhhhhh… I hate bacon”

I ignore her and step into the tiny bathroom on the other side of the main suite room. It’s… pretty gross—tiles are falling off the walls, the shower is filthy, and the sink is barely hanging onto the wall. I’m starting to wonder if I’m going to be dirtier after a shower than I am now. I turn on the faucet, and, thankfully, the water gets warm fairly quickly. As I get in and immerse myself in the warm water, I’m flooded with images of Maika—her beautiful, graceful physique, her kind eyes, and the way she stubbornly taught me what she could before sacrificing her life to buy me some time—and Kira, too—the psychotic harpy that tormented me, gloating over Maika’s cruel fate while simultaneously using all her power to dominate me sexually, right up to the moment before I destroyed her. Love and Hate. I feel empty. My victory over Pneumatic Kira was a hollow one. It didn’t solve any of my problems, and Maika is still dead. I can’t bring her back. I feel the loss, like a phantom limb.


Whoever this next fighter is, I don’t know if I can kill her.

I dry myself off and come back out to the main room, only to find that Quix has eaten my breakfast. I made enough for two, but… you know.

“I thought you said you hate bacon…”

“I hate the way it smells, in the morning… It wakes me up! Anyway, thanks for breakfast.”

I pour myself what’s left of the coffee, about half a cup.

In a sudden break of character, Quix looks up at me from her plate and announces, “Cody, we need to talk about your competition.”

She pulls up her 3D holoscreen and I see her cycling through the profiles of numerous HUSK Amazons, with names like Mecha Molly, Faster, Katamaria, Hologirl, Knightstalker… after a while, we settle on the profile of a young woman by the name of Chess.

Her stats don’t seem too intimidating: 5’7”, 155 lbs., from her hologram I can see that she has a lean, somewhat muscular physique, but she’s significantly smaller than Kira and Maika. Her skin is dark and her hair is braided tightly against her scalp in thin, bumpy ridges, ending in a series of long, tight braids that are tied behind her head, and hang down to her shoulder. She wears a visor that covers her eyes completely, except for a pair of lenses that glare white, probably form-fitted to her eye sockets, while leaving the rest of her face exposed below the eyes. She wears a gi on top, with the sleeves torn off, and what is probably a sports bra underneath, and tight shorts, like mine, that end mid-thigh. She is wearing snugly fitted tabi socks that come up to her mid shin, and then her elbows, knees, wrists, and feet/ankles are covered in simple armor segments. She kind of looks like a ninja, but according to her profile she has not studied ninjistu—in fact she does not appear to have any record of martial arts training whatsoever. Weird…

“First thing you need to know about Chess,” Quix begins, “is that she is a gambit-fighter. She uses extremely powerful algorithms, computed in real time, to determine every move she makes. Every action and reaction is instantaneous, and she always chooses her next move based on a predefined strategy that is determined to be the most likely to lead her to victory.

“The second thing you need to know is that her visor allows her to see things at a much, much higher framerate than the human eyes can normally process. This allows her to essentially slow down time--this is the same ability that cheetahs use to catch their prey. Every move you make, she will see it coming.”

Great, I think.

“She is absolutely lethal, and for her, efficiency is the name of the game. But, she has one weakness,” Quix pauses. I think I know the answer.

“She can’t win without her augmentations, can she?” I venture.

“I don’t expect it will be easy, but yeah, basically. But then, how to disarm her? Easier said than done.”

“Can’t you, like, hack her system or something?” I ask, showing my ignorance of hacker stuff.

“No, I can’t. Her cybernetics are locked up tight, for just that reason. I can’t access her systems remotely. But I have an idea…”

“Go on…”

. . .

Last edited by Bi0mega; 26-Feb-16 at 14:06.
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  #19  
Old 26-Feb-16, 00:53
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Default Re: Futuristic/Cyberpunk Intergender Combat Circuit (Series)

Scene 3: There’s Always a Bigger Fish

For the past few days, I’ve been gradually returning to my workout routine. I no longer have a regular sparring partner, but I’ve been rolling with a few guys in the prisoner’s quarters every night. It’s not quite as erotic as my sessions with Maika were, but the guys are putting me through my paces. Some of them really look up to me, and are always asking me for advice on their upcoming fights—it doesn’t matter what I tell them, though, they never seem to win. There are also some pretty big dudes who don’t mind when I use my nanomachines to turn up my power level—although, they will sometimes complain of my unfair “tech boy” advantages. Most of these guys are not like me—they’re not from the criminal underground, they’re just guys who got into gambling or some other vice, ran up too much debt, and couldn’t pay. The typical example is these “family men” who have developed a bad habit to cope with the banality of their existence. Most of them have never been modded, much less trained in any fighting styles, so they’re at a real disadvantage against the Amazons. Most of them will be dead within the next month.

I’ve also been using some of the facilities that are specially designated for the Amazons, as my new position as a HUSK-backed fighter affords. The women really do not seem to like me—Maika was the only one who did—and I don’t want to risk getting into anything with them, so I only use their facilities at night.

So one night I’m swimming in the giant Olympic pool on the bottom level of the HUSK complex, just doing laps, training my endurance. It’s great for a full body workout, too. It’s pretty dark in the poolroom, with the exception of the lights emanating from the walls of the pool, which make the water glow blue.

I finish a lap and grasp onto the wall of the pool. Once the water has settled out of my ears, I can hear voices. As soon as I can make them out, they go silent.

I look around and I can see two women, one with purple hair and the other green, that extends just below their shoulders. They’re both a shapely 5’10”, bikini-clad, and, I’m assuming, beautiful, although it’s hard to tell in this light. They’re each standing on either side of the pool. I look back and forth between them, and then I realize—twins. They don’t look happy to see me.

“Check it out, sis, I didn’t know there were male Amazons!”

“Well, somebody’s gotta stay home and take care of the house, right?”

“Hahahahaha!” they laugh a high-pitched laugh in unison.

“You know what, I don’t think this guy is one of us. I know who he is! This is that guy that just barely took down PK.”

“Oh, I thought I recognized you from somewhere! Hey congrats on your victory! What’s your plan for your next match, you gonna fuck your opponent to death again?” the one with the purple hair taunts.

Seems like my escapades in my last fight were not well received by most of these women.

“Oh, no, don’t look embarrassed,” the one with the green hair reassures me, “I really enjoyed watching Kira get hammered. That bitch had it coming.”

What a relief. Maybe this won’t be so bad after all.


“Oh, but don’t get me wrong, we can’t just let you walk around like you own the place. That’s just disrespectful, if you ask me.”

Uh oh.

“Yeah, disrespectful... Hey Hannah, let’s teach this punk a lesson.”

Fuuuuuuuuuck.

“You got it, sis.”

They start to close in towards my side of the pool, the far side of the pool. The only way I can get away is if I can swim faster than they can walk, which I can’t. The only thing I can do is wade into the middle of the pool, and hope they follow me in, and don’t try anything else.

Jackpot. Both of them crouch down, dipping one foot in at a time, remarking about how cold the water is. They each dunk under the water and then explode back out—hair soaked, and slicked back. They’re laughing like they’re about to play a game of Marco Polo. But I know it’s on. There’s nobody here to protect me. I have to get out of here.

They’re closing in on me, and I resist the urge to get in an underwater wrestling match with these two bikini-clad beauties. They’re gaining on me as I swim the length of the pool and hit the wall. I scramble out and they are in pursuit. As I’m booking it out of the poolroom I can hear them kvetching about the cold and wishing they’d have brought towels.

Before I have any doubts about whether or not they intend to follow through, I hear their laughter turning the corners in the pristine megagymnasium hallway behind me. Their voices echo off the walls and the three-story ceilings. It’s such a mix of emotions—I’m terrified, but something about this reminds me of childhood games, the inversion of youthful play. Like being chased by two vicious dogs, but they’re fully human. They laugh and joke like humans. They’re sisters and they love each other. I wonder if they fight all of their battles together.

Quix wasn’t kidding about my combat tactics upgrades—I can sense I’m thinking faster, clearer. I see a strange door and go for it. It says something about restricted access but it’s strangely left open. Someone else’s mistake is my opportunity.

I slide in through the doorway and hug the wall as my wet feet almost go slipping out from under me. It appears to be some kind of laboratory—although nobody appears to be here right now.

I try to find a place to hide but I knock something over—a beaker or bottle or something. The girls hear the noise and come in after me. I can hear them breathing heavily from their little jog, laughing and slapping each other’s backs as they crash through the door. They flick on a set of lights, but not all of the lights in the room light up.

“We’re going to fuck you up real good, Cody.” One of them says—I can’t tell who’s who now, their voices sound the same.

“Anna, you want to just kill him? It’ll be fun!” Hannah says.

That’s when I realize who I’m dealing with—Hannah Hammer and Anvil Anna. They’re known for, aside from being twins, the fact that they are each fitted with a different set of gravitational hyperaccelerators, which allow them to control the relative weight of their bodies. Anna has been known to crush her enemies to death by dropping on them from above or just sitting on them, while Hannah can strike out with extremely heavy blows—like a hammer, you get it? Not to mention, it makes both of them very difficult to overpower.

“I at least want to mount his dick on my wall. You can have his balls.”

“Aw, that’s sweet of you, sis. I love it when you share.”

“I still think we should leave him alive for Chess.”

OK, I’m dealing with some seriously fucked up Amazons right now. Fear is pulsing through my body. My tactics system is telling me that my only exit was the door I came in through, and they’ve got me blocked in. The only way out is through.

I stand up and size up the room: several rows of lab tables, with lots of breakable equipment. I might be able to create a distraction in order to escape. There’s a strange device in the far corner that is covered in labels and buttons, with a man-sized door on it. It seems to be powered on and emitting a glowing blue light.

“There he is! Come and get it, big boy! Hahahaha!” I’m starting to get really tired of their laughter.

The one with the purple hair, who I have now gathered is Anna, rushes toward me down a row of tables, I turn the corner around my table and get on the other side, and start running for the front of the room.

Hannah crashes through a table with an incredibly powerful haymaker. She overshoots a little and I’m able to get around her. I’m still a few yards from the door when I see Anvil Anna running and jumping at me. I know what that means—she’s going to try to flatten me. I go from a run to a baseball dive as she soars over me and literally leaves a crater in the floor where I had just been. She seems annoyed.

Both of the soaked girls are now behind me, and as Anna is getting up from her crater, Hannah come up behind her and pushes her back down, probably signaling to “get out of the way.”

She punches so hard into the wall behind me that she actually launches herself past me and landing into the wall near the door. Great, my exit is blocked again.

Anna is closing in, and goes for a grab, but my tactics processer, in combination with my cyber-reflexes, allows me to duck out of the way and scurry back towards the other side of the room. Anna takes a huge armful of thin air and eats a tremendous punch from her sister, right in the forehead, sending her stumbling backwards.

“FUCK!!!!!!! SHIT!!!!! I’M SORRY I’M SORRY!!!!!” Hannah screams in horror as her sister stumbles backwards, completely knocked out on her feet.

She falls through the open door in the contraption. I’m close enough to the device to be able to reach it, and I instinctively shut the door on her.

Hannah reels back her cannonball fist as my hand hovers over a set of buttons on the device. I’m looking for a lock button, but really anything will do.

“Don’t you fucking touch that… I’ll… I’ll…” I can hear the desperation in her voice.

“What, kill me?” She already said she’d do that, so…

I push a random button, and the screen reads “2013.” Then a countdown begins. Her face a wash in horror, Hannah rushes to the console. I graciously get out of her way. She’s scrambling to shut down whatever I set this machine to, but she has no idea what to do. Her hyperventilation and panic becomes sheer screams of terror as a blue glow flashes from inside the machine. Her eyes widen and her mouth is agape, then her face crumbles into tears. Whatever happened to her sister, she is not coming back. I actually feel bad. Then the rage comes.

The only thing that keeps me alive over the next sixty seconds is my combat tactics processor as Hannah Hammer utterly destroys the room with a series of savage punches, each one missing me by an inch or so. One grazes my eyebrow and it hurts like Hell.

Finally, she catches me right in the gut. Thanks to my sub-dermal armor, it only knocks me halfway through the ceiling, only to fall back through to a table full of chemistry glass. I’m trying to clear myself from the wreckage but she’s standing above me, about to deliver what might be the final hammer.

Then she stops. She turns around and is viciously mauled by what is probably a 30-hit combo, nailing her to the wall. The assailant is a slight figure in a checkered gi, sporting a bizzare visor. The eyelets in her mask are glowing, red.

Chess.

“No fighting outside of the Arena, my dear,” she says, in a reptilian voice.

“Bu-huuughhh! Uahghh! Uhhm! Ufnn!” Hannah attempts to weakly protest, but before she can get more than half a word out, Chess unleashes a brutal flurry of what can only be pressure point attacks. By the time her work is finished, all the Hammer can do is dribble and cough blood as her head hangs weakly over her chest, her broken body slumping against the wall. Blood drips down over what I can see is a tattoo of a hammer over her right breast. Her arms lie limply at her sides, palms to the sky. One leg bent at the knee, the other, broken in Chess’ initial assault, is splayed outward from the wall. She’s totaled.

“I’m glad I found you here, Kasparov,” she says, in an upbeat tone that feels so wrong. “I want you to be fresh and ready to fight when it is our turn on the battlefield. I don’t want the Iron Twins’ sloppy seconds.”

“tth—thanks,” I’m almost too scared to talk.

“I have run 2,853,499 simulations of our battle using the most recent data from your fight with Kira, your sessions with Maika, and the medical analysis of your augmentations. I defeat you in every single simulation.”

I stare back at her blankly.

“One hundred percent.”

I maintain eye contact with those red, dead, robot eyes of hers.

“I don’t get the opportunity to fight men like you very often. Please do what you can to keep me from getting bored.”

And with that, she exits the room.

But there are still things she doesn’t know.



. . .

Stay tuned for the Dramatic Conclusion of Episode 2!!!!!

Last edited by Bi0mega; 26-Feb-16 at 14:57. Reason: wording
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Default Re: Futuristic/Cyberpunk Intergender Combat Circuit (Series)

Man, I love these!

Future cyborg sexy babes wrestling.

But I do wonder... If this is the future of intergender wrestling... Why has MonkeyFreed not affiliated himself in This?! That idiot loves Robots!
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