Neon Dream of Organic Toys

Chapter 1

The young fox gulped as a crimson red chromed out car zoomed towards her from the distance. She was perfectly camouflaged against the dirty wall, the soot and grime of the street life permanently staining her naturally light brown coat into a scruffy mess of ash and concrete grey. The rags that she wore were the same, its Biotechnica branding and green dye having been worn away long ago until the cheap nylon was the same color as everything else in this bleak and washed out world.

A flash from a particularly bright advertisement in the distance illuminated her for a moment. A more observant driver would have noticed her silhouette and slowed down but she had seen this car a few times before, usually driven by a blonde canine and a human beside her, she in a crimson dress and him in a suit, both usually very drunk by the time they entered their car. Usually they would just drive off to their destination but with construction ongoing on their normal route they, and a few dozen other cars, were forced down this detour.

She flared her nostrils and growled in jealousy at the dog, lucky enough to be the literal bitch of her human owner. Probably was allowed to sleep in his bed and be fed kibble so long as she bent over and pulled down her panties whenever he ordered her to. Bathed daily too, by the look of her long, gloriously golden yellow coat that shone in the sunlight and flowed in the wind.

All the fox knew was that she wouldn’t feel too bad for them.

She swallowed nervously, gripping the cracked plastic grip of her Slaught-O-Matic pistol until it started to creak. While its magazine had been emptied long ago it was still shaped like a firearm, just enough to scare a victim for a few moments. It wasn’t like she was a cyberpsycho out to zero anybody, not that she had the eddies to buy any augments anyways. Thankfully it was a garishly hot pink, clearly visible even in this dreary afternoon.

The fox prayed for rain so that she could wash herself for the first time in forever.

Even at this distance she could hear the supercar’s engine revving up as the vehicle began to descend down a slight hill, so subtle was the slope that many sober drivers didn’t even notice until they had to slam on the brakes to stop at the first light. A drunk driver would have zoomed right past all three lights and jumped his car straight into the river.

She was doing these gonks a favor, really.

Chloe glanced towards the line of All-Foods vending machines that were humming peacefully further down the street on the other side. With a little luck, she, her mother, and her siblings would be going to sleep with full bellies tonight.

The car zoomed past the second stoplight. It was time.

The fox straightened her back with what confidence she could muster and stepped out of her alleyway onto the cracked asphalt, raising her empty pistol towards the vehicle currently barreling down towards her. She gave the drunk driver a few more seconds to register her situation.

The car began to steer away in an attempt to simply avoid their assailant, Chloe imagined the dog with wide, panicked eyes trying desperately to get out of her way. The fox continued to walk across the road with her raised gun. It was certainly a gamble that they wouldn’t just run her over which was a real possibility in this city. Tires screeched as the dog attempted to regain control, crushing signs and hitting piles of garbage bags that splattered all over the front until finally she smashed into the vending machines with a violent and beautiful crunch.

Chloe clenched her hand into a fist as a quiet cheer of success as she watched the glorious view of dozens of Burrito XXL packs rain down from above, more food than she had ever seen in one place. She immediately sprinted towards her prize, pulling out a few shopping bags and stripping off her shirt to tie the sleeves and neck to form a sack.

The passenger side door swung open as the human accidentally pulled on the door latch in an effort to find something stable to grab. His limp body was flung out, violently tumbling down the sidewalk leaving a trail of various curses and blood, eventually coming to rest in a heap of trash with all four of his limbs pointing in very unnatural directions. The red car skidded sideways, smashing into an overflowing dumpster and pushing it across the concrete sidewalk towards the water with a soul-shaking shriek, only just barely stopping after it had peeked over the edge of the wharf.

Chloe’s mouth watered as she picked up the heavy teal packages that contained ground SCOP meat that was wrapped in a genetically modified hypercorn tortilla, only the finest from Biotechnica’s protein farms. Each one was enough to feed her for two whole days if she rationed it out properly, her latest prize would be enough to keep her family's bellies full for an entire month.

The young teen fox quickly stuffed her bags.

She yelped as a half-filled bottle smashed into the back of her head, covering her back with an acrid-stinking liquid that stung at her new wounds. The dog she had forced to crash was now stumbling her way towards her with an angry scowl and a raised fist. How exactly she had managed to land a clean hit with her only bottle despite her inebriated and possibly shell-shocked state the fox hadn’t quite figured out.

It was time to leave. Chloe scampered away into an alley, leaving only her echoing laughter of victorious euphoria and her swinging tail. Multiple plastic bags hung from each of her arms while her hands gingerly cradled her shirt that was ready to burst with how much food she had stuffed away inside.

The brick wall in front of her coughed puffs of dust as bullets whizzed by her and buried themselves in the old red clay. She ran ever faster, still giggling maniacally at her success as the first drops of the incoming storm seemed to reward her with a refreshing chill to her sweaty face. Not even the broken glass and discarded scrap that sliced at her bare paws were enough to ruin her mood.

She didn’t even bother to look up at the Trauma Team AV as it screamed above her head, flying towards the wreck she had caused.

Today was a good day.

“Momma!”

Chloe burst into her home, nearly smashing through the flimsy plastic rectangle they called their door. It was built from the remains of a shipping container, the rusted metal barely held together by the thick layers of Arasaka’s signature black paint. The floor was cardboard and plastic sheets covered the walls to keep out the rain and cold. A stolen digital sign was strapped to the ceiling to act as a light, its cracked screen still displaying the ghost image of an item long since discontinued, burnt in after many hours of showing it off to a disinterested public. On the stove was their dinner, the dented pot filled with some kind of salvaged bubbling slop that they were forced to eat.

She was met with the wide, panicked eyes of her sister and the mean end of her yellow shotgun, fully loaded with actual ammunition unlike her own firearm.

“Dammit, Clo!” Zara screamed and sighed tiredly, lowering her gun when she realized that the sopping wet, crazed, naked fox bitch who just smashed through their front door was in fact her younger sister, “Don’t fucking do that!”

“Sorry Zee!” Chloe giggled as she squeezed past her exasperated sibling who only let her through after giving the naughty fox a firm smack to the head with her fist, “But I got somethin’ too good!”

“Shit! You’re bleeding!” Zara gasped, tossing her shotgun on her bed and gingerly poking at the fresh wounds on the back of her sister’s head.

“Ah who cares!” the teen waved off her concerned sibling, “Not when I got this!”

She triumphantly dropped her heavy reward onto the table, finding great satisfaction as she watched her sister’s ears prick up at the sounds of a dull thud and the crinkle of new plastic.

“Bam!”

She tipped the sacks over and covered their table with a deluge of burritos.

Kita and Mace, the youngest pair of their family, only stared in silence. They slowly crawled out of their beds and approached the heavenly pile, their young minds unable to comprehend that this much food could exist in one place at the same time.

“What the fuck…” Zara whistled, impressed but still a bit confused.

Chloe beamed, holding out her chest and putting her hands on her hips as a victory pose.

“Clo…”

“M’yeeeeees?” she answered slowly, waiting for the praise she deserved.

“First off, put your shirt back on, you’re bare-ass naked. And second,” Zara gently grasped one of the burrito packages to inspect it, turning it over a few times in shock, “yeah it’s preem stuff but how the fuck did you pull this off?”

“Well ya’see-!” Chloe returned her shirt back onto her top, now stretched far enough that it reached her knees, “I got this drunk gonk to crash her car into some vending machines and I jacked as many as I could from the wreck!”

Zara raised an eyebrow, “You stole this from the car?”

“No, from the vending machines.”

“Oh!” she scratched her head, “Oh. So how’d you get her to crash?”

Chloe grinned and reached into the pile of burritos, pulling out her empty Slaught-O-Matic that had been buried in the pile.

“Ooooooh,” Zara hissed through clenched teeth, “Mom’s gonna be pissed.”

“Com’on, Zee!” Chloe shrugged, waving around her pistol, “I just got us enough food for a month! Is she gonna be late tonight again?”

“Yeah she says she had some extra work. And it’s not that, you know she’s gonna be mad about you making someone crash.”

“Fine, fine. Just don’t tell her about that part.”

Zara rolled herself back onto her bed, “Well shit, what the hell are we supposed to tell her, then?”

“Tell me what?”

Despite her voice being the softest of the family, it was the one everyone feared and respected.

Chloe jumped and spun around to meet face to face with her mother, making sure to hide her pistol behind her back as she did so.

Noelle stood a whole head shorter than her second daughter, dressed in nothing but her teal overalls and tattered work boots she was issued at work. She was the kind of mother that would have carved the meat off her own limbs to feed her children if she had any to spare. Usually she just gave them her portion of dinner resulting in her suffering severe malnutrition for all her life.

Her belly was round and growing fast with the latest member of the family, another unfortunate accident in her efforts to earn her whatever extra cash she could. Greying hairs on her coat, wrinkles under her eyes, and her permanently flattened ears revealed her tired, aching soul that knew nothing else. But despite the stresses of the world remnants of her youth still shone from her weary face, having gotten pregnant with Zara in her early teens she was still very often mistaken as an elder sister of their family instead of their mother.

“Well, uh… H-Hey Mom!”

“Dear, you’re bleeding!”

“Oh don’t worry about me, Mom!” Chloe laughed nervously and backed off, away from her mother’s concerned hands, “I uh, uh fell down! Yeah!”

Noelle raised an eyebrow, clearly not convinced.

A bead of sweat rolled down Chloe’s face as she felt the intense gaze of her mother burning a hole right through the facade into her soul. With only one option she inhaled through her nose, held her breath for a moment and moved off to the side to reveal what she had brought home.

“Oh my lord…” her mother whispered.

They stood there, mother in disbelief and daughter in silent prayer, hoping the shock of seeing the pile of food would dissuade her from asking too many questions.

Finally she noticed that Kita and Mace were staring at the huge pile with wide, begging eyes, “Everyone,” she said breathlessly, “pick whichever you want. We’re not sleeping tonight until our bellies are full. Zara, I’m sorry you had to make dinner on your day off but-”

“It’s fine, mom.” Zara got up and emptied the pot out the window, “It was mostly water and bad stuff from the garbage anyways.”

“Well, thank you for your effort anyways. Chloe, could you clear the table and heat up dinner?”

“Sure.” she began to pack up the burritos and turned to the cheering young twins, “Com’on guys, you heard mom. Pick one and give ‘em to me!”

“Thank you, sweetie.” Noelle reached down and pulled out one of their well-worn pans, “You’re a lifesaver for doing this but we need to have a talk after dinner.”

“Aw, mom!” she groaned and slumped her shoulders as she tore open the plastic and dropped the wraps onto the hot pan, “Do we really have to?!”

“Dear,” Noelle gently cupped her daughter’s pouting cheek with a hand to look into her eyes, “A mother knows when her little girl’s been doing some bad things. Now there are some bad things I can look away from but I need to make sure. So please,” she went in for a hug, Chloe’s ultimate weakness, “just tell me the truth.”

“Okay…” she whispered, hugging her mother back after her brown eyes had melted her soul.

“Thank you.” her mother patted her head, sat down in her chair with a relieved huff and turned to her only son with as much forced enthusiasm she could muster, “Mmmm! Something’s smelling good! What flavor did you pick, Mace?”

The kit held up the empty blue-green packaging for his mother to see.

“Nuh-uh, mister! You have to read it yourself!”

“R-Ro-s-s-sa-dooo!”

“That’s right! Rosado. Good job!” Mace’s mouth stretched into a wide grin at her praise, “Kita?”

“Or… Or-eey-gug-ee-n-al.”

“Ohr-ih-gin-ahl, deary. Original. Do you know what it means?”

Kita shook her head.

“It means regular or normal.”

“...boring?”

Noelle giggled, “Sort of. Oh!”

Chloe placed the steaming plate of burritos onto the center of the table, barely able to control herself after getting a faceful of the delicious smelling steam wafting from it. Kita immediately reached for one but Noelle softly smacked her hand.

“Well! It looks like little Miss Kita’s going to pray tonight?”

“But Mom, I dun wanna!” the young kit said with a pout.

“You must, dearest. We might be the lowest of the low but that’s no excuse to act like barbarians. I won't tolerate uncivilized behavior in this house. Now, hands together and like we practiced.”

Kita kept pouting, but obediently weaved her fingers together and closed her eyes as the others had already done. She understood little but did so anyways, mumbling her call to the heavens. Zara rolled her eyes, she doubted there was anyone up there who gave a shit about them, a lowly family of foxes living in a rusted to hell shipping container.

A merciful god would've had them killed already.

“And?” Noelle peeked one eye open at Kita, who was finishing up her prayer, “Who else do we thank for this meal tonight?”

She thought for a moment, then closed her eyes again.

“And we thank big sis Chloe for jacking the good shit for us.”

“Thanks, Kita.” Chloe muttered.

“Language, dear.” Noelle whispered sharply, although not without an amused smirk of her own.

“...Amen.”

“Amen.”

“Woo, let’s eat!” Zara cheered.

Simultaneously they picked up the hot wrap of gloriously fake cheese and synthetic meat, taking a few seconds to gaze in awe at the sheer weight and amount of actual food they held in their hands. And simultaneously they bit into their gifts, gagging and wincing at the overwhelming flavor of plastic, filler "beef", and 214% of the daily recommended serving of sodium per mouthful. Still, it didn’t come from the garbage, it wasn’t out of date, and it actually filled their bellies.

With only a single burrito and their ravenous appetite, dinner ended quickly without another word spoken. Noelle yawned and stretched, her emaciated body and stomach not used to being so full in one sitting.

“Zara, dear. Would you please ready the twins for bed? I have to talk with Chloe.”

“Yeah, I gottit, mom.”

“Thank you.” Noelle opened the door and held it, “Chloe?”

She swallowed, despite believing in her innocence being grilled by her mother was the hardest thing for her to do.

“Yeah.” She exited, followed by her mother.

The storm had arrived, its raindrops drumming the plastic over their front porch into making a soothing white noise. Each of them dragged an upturned bucket next to each other, the hollow plastic pallets they used as flooring buckling slightly as they sat down.

The teen, trying not to look towards her mother, instead stared out into the distance. Past the mud and trash, past the scrapyard they called home and the formerly bustling factories, towards the glittering towers that surrounded Corpo Plaza and the city center. She had seen a glimpse of the high life on a public television once and squinted her eyes trying to take another peek, wondering if she could see the party of suit-wearing humans and the occasional dressed up anthro lady hanging off their arms through the executive penthouse windows of the towers in the rich city center.

Despite being only 3% of the nearly eight million souls that called this city home, the humans dominated the middle and upper classes and completely conquered the ultra-wealthy class. They regularly ate real meat and fruits, danced around on perfectly flat floors made from smooth marble inlaid with gold, and listened to music played on classical instruments centuries old. She understood none of it, not even having the context to understand what a “Stratavarius” was and why it was hyped up as much as it was.

Noelle stayed silent, choosing to let Chloe have a few moments to pick her words while Chloe herself wished she was anywhere but here, hoping that the burrito in her mother’s stomach would lull her into falling asleep and forgetting about the interrogation.

“Dear?”

No luck.

Chloe sighed and mumbled, “I got them from a vending machine.”

“I know that, but how?”

The teen stared down at the polluted mud underneath the pallet floor and mumbled.

“Dear?”

“I… kinda… sorta… made someone crash their car into them.”

Her mother’s tired, defeated sigh broke her. It was the worst sound in the world.

“Chloe-”

“Mom!”

“...How?”

“How what?”

“How did you make him crash?”

And then came the hardest part. Chloe shrunk under her mother’s softly tired, yet still intense gaze. After what felt like an eternity the teen fox slowly balled up her hand into a fist, stuck out her index finger out the front and thumb towards the sky, and pointed it towards an invisible target.

“Chloe!” Noelle raised her voice angrily, “You actually-?”

She nodded, guiltily.

Her mother’s hand smacked repeatedly into the back of her head. It wasn’t the first time she had been beaten but it was certainly the first time in a while. Chloe didn’t hear what exactly her mother yelled but what actually broke her heart was just how weak her strikes were after a lifetime of torturous labor had left her muscles shredded. She only winced from how her hand was landing on the now healing wounds from the thrown beer bottle.

“You could’ve gotten hurt!”

“I know.”

“They could’ve run you over! Reported you to the NCPD and they’d be scraping your corpse off the road and-!”

“Mom! I’m not stupid! I wouldn’t have done it if there was a chance of that happening!” Chloe retorted, knowing full well that she actually had gotten lucky.

“Young lady, you will not become a common criminal mugging people at gunpoint!”

“Pu-leeze, mom! NCPD and the corpos aren’t gonna waste their time with us! ‘Sides it wasn’t even loaded anyways…” Chloe finished with a mumble.

“And what if they had guns too!?” her mother shot back, “They could have shot you dead! Legally too!”

She remembered the bullets flying past her and her guilty face betrayed the truth.

“Oh my god-!”

Noelle yelled a few more words and gave her a harder smack to the head.

“I am not-!” she suppressed a sniffle, “I am not burying another child, do you hear me?! I understand why you did this, but you cannot prey on or use other people like this!”

“It was just some gutless corpo suits! Who cares about them!?”

“They are people, Chloe. People just like you and I. You blow up a hundred vending machines? No one cares, All-Foods has thousands of those things on every corner! But getting someone personally involved? That’s when you risk their wrath! Did they get hurt?”

Chloe shrunk under Noelle’s concerned gaze as she remembered how the human’s body ragdolled down that incline, confirming her fears.

“Oh no…” she slumped, burying her head into her hands, “Chloe-!”

“I’m sorry, mom! But I didn’t have any other choice and-!”

“You’ve done wrong, dear! You hurt someone for your own gain, even if they were only collateral. No matter how high class they were, that's no excuse to involve people personally! I know why you did it, but why-!?”

Chloe shrunk into a tighter ball as she heard her mother sigh as if her very soul was deflating.

“I know we are the lowest rung of society. This is why I told you so many times to keep your head down. Bad stuff will happen, know your place and don't start fights you can't walk away from! I know the only ones below us are the germs and parasites but that’s no excuse to act like them! Do you understand me?!”

The teen stayed silent, but nodded eventually.

The final rays of the brilliant orange sunset peeked through a break in the clouds, eventually disappearing over the horizon as the pair sat silently.

“I just… wanted to give you an easier time… You come home later and later and always tired.”

Noelle reached out to her daughter, taking her hands and grasping them tightly with hers.

The dagger of guilt slid itself deeper into Chloe’s heart as she felt the rough, calloused skin on her mother’s palms. Despite her social status she maintained a lifetime of proper, honest labor, despite said labor leaving her body completely destroyed.

“I know. I appreciate it, Chloe. I really do. No matter what I said today I actually do appreciate that you’ve brought this much food on our table. We'll be able to stretch this food for months. But not like this, not when you have to risk your life and health for it. It’s my job as a mother to destroy my life for you, not the other way around. You have a future! Your health! And to throw that away just so I have an easier time-!”

“What future…” Chloe mumbled.

“I said the same thing to my mother once. She told me that no matter how bad things got, so long as you aren’t lying dead in a ditch you haven’t failed yet.”

Chloe slowly looked around her familiar surroundings.

“We're halfway there though...” she mumbled defiantly.

“I know. I know, sweetie… I know. But I have four beautiful children who are doing much better than I ever was. I know every parent says it to their child, but things really were tougher back then. When I was your age I wandered the streets without even a place to call home. And to make sure none of you ever have to live that life I will work and bleed as much as I need to.”

“And other things.” the teen softly growled without thinking, immediately regretting her words.

“That’s… That’s what I have to do to feed this family.” Noelle whispered, placing a hand on her round belly as her lips quivered, trying to keep down a sob.

“I just don’t want to see you and him… All he’s doing is giving you more mouths to feed! Docking with that creep multiple times a day for… what? A couple more eddies?! He doesn’t even own the factory! He’s not even a human!" Chloe raised her voice, stuttering her next words after many months without arguments, "You’re my mom, not some f-fucking joygirl he can bang while you’re trying to work the assembly line!”

“Language, dear!”

“No! No, fuck that!” Chloe stomped her feet and stood, teary eyes glaring straight into her mother’s, the same eyes that had witnessed the worst that this world could offer, “I don’t want to sit here while you and Zara kill yourselves for pennies! I’m… going to join the Hayriders tomorrow! I’ll bring in more eddies! I-I’ll smash every single fucking vending machine in Watson so we never go hungry! A-An-And then you won’t have to see that creep ever again!”

“You will not join that gang, young lady!” said Noelle, literally putting her foot down on that matter.

“Why not!? Lizzie’s bringing in a hundred eddies every week! Double if she gets lucky! And she’s not even that high ranked! If I do this for a year we could even afford to rent an actual flat! It’ll be in the asshole of Watson but it’s still better than living in this literal dump!”

“Chloe, I will not accept anything but honest work or at least work that doesn’t involve you getting hurt!”

“Oh please, mom!” the teen fox got on her knees and begged, “You know there’s no legit work here, even if we could work legally! You and Zara are already doing illegal jobs that pay less than the minimum, what’s the difference between that and me joining a gang!?”

“Don’t you dare compare criminal behavior to your sister’s job, she works very hard to-”

“Yeah! That’s the point!” Chloe jumped up to her feet again, waving her arms around trying desperately to make her mother see sense, “You and her agreed to work at least twelve hours a day and do ‘extra services’ for shit pay! That’s not fair! Why the fuck should either of you have to whore your-fucking-selves out!?”

“Chloe!”

She froze as her mother’s angry, raised voice snapped her out of her hysteria.

They sat in silence for a little while longer, Noelle not even able to raise her head to look at her daughter.

“Sit down.” her mother ordered, her dry, slightly raspy voice now only a feather’s width above completely inaudible, “We will not talk about this anymore, am I understood?”

Chloe remained standing, her balled up fists shaking in anger.

“Sit.” Noelle said a little more firmly.

Chloe obeyed, only then realizing what she had just said.

“Oh s-shit…” tears began to seep from the corners of her eyes, “Mom, I-I didn’t- I-I’m sorr-”

“No!” she held out an open hand to stop her stammering daughter, “No. It’s been too long since we’ve had a heart to heart. You will always be my little girl... But you are not a little girl anymore. You’re part of this family and you need the chance to speak your mind too. No, it is not fair that Zara-”

“-or you-”

She nodded, trying to suppress a lifetime of regrets, “-or… or me, should have to sell our bodies like this. But that’s what we have to do to survive.”

“And me?”

Noelle gulped, “We work hard so you won’t have to live that life. So hopefully that won’t happen. You’re doing just fine, taking care of the twins and making sure Zara and I don’t come home to a leaky roof.” she leaned forwards and patted her daughter on the head, “That’s all you need to do right now. But please, Chloe. Promise me. Promise you won’t join that gang.”

“Why not?”

Tears rolled down Noelle’s face as she was barely able to speak, “Violence breeds violence and I’ve already lost one child. So please, find something else. Anything else. Just no gangs.”

The young teen finally nodded in defeat, “...I promise.”

“Thank you.” she wiped her tears, “Come here.”

Chloe ducked down low and accepted her warm embrace. Things were bad but at least this never changed.

Noelle finally broke the silence and looked back up with a sigh, “So tell me about them… About the people you hurt. Your grandmother would insist that you go after them to apologize in person but I can’t risk it, not if you might not come back home afterwards. And I can’t do the same, not while I have children to care for.”

“So what are you going to do?”

“Pray for them.” her mother wiped her soft, broken brown eyes of its tears, “It might be cowardly and wrong to just leave it at that but the family comes first and this city doesn’t forgive. There’s nothing more you or I can do, not without risking everything. So please, just tell me.”

Chloe sighed as her mother’s trembling hands squeezed her own ever tighter.

“It was… It looked like an expensive car, red and chrome with no windows. Like an airplane that got squished from the sides. The driver was a canine. Looked like a goldie. Drunk and wore a snazzy red dress. Her human sitting next to her was wearing a black suit and-”

Noelle’s hand suddenly clenched surprisingly tight for the amount of muscles left in them. Her eyes went wide and pupils shrunk to pinpricks. Her jaw gaped in a silent gasp and trembled, every single dirty grey and white hairs on her body rose until her hide could’ve been used as a scouring pad.

“Her... Her WHAT?!” she shrieked.

Chapter 2

Chloe rolled her eyes as she listened and watched her mother continue to scream, cry, pace back and forth their little home, and sweat intensely. Fortunately only some of it was directed towards her with the majority of it just letting out the stress and worry that had plagued her heart for years.

At first it was in terror, about how humans never forgave nor forgot and that the same vindictive rage was what pushed them to become kings of the world. They would come for her, dragging her out the door kicking and screaming. She would be stuffed into the back of their car and the last image she would have of her family were their bloody chunks slowly sliding down the walls. Afterwards they’d make her suffer, healing her wounds and curing her of diseases so that she might suffer for many decades in their custody. Then they would preserve her mind and stick it into a robot so she could serve for many, many more decades. At least, that was the story she was told.

Then it was in anger, Chloe had known better than to knowingly risk a human’s life. With a mere two hundred thousand humans in a city of nearly eight million, every human was a minor celebrity in their own right regardless of their actual class and wealth. It was not uncommon to see them surrounded by their own personal cult gang wherever they went. Whether they were there as genuine followers of the human or just out to catch what luck and fortune surrounded them for themselves, she had been incredibly lucky that human had been mostly isolated. Had she struck at the wrong moment she could’ve been torn apart by his crowds of rabid followers.

Chloe sighed in relief as Noelle, her usually tired and soft spoken mother, finally fell into her bed and passed out well after midnight.

And now she wasn’t even allowed outside for the foreseeable future.

Darkness filled the inside of their home after her mother had tied a cloth over their only window and turned off the light. Chloe sighed loudly in defiance of her paranoia. She was sure they wouldn’t go after her. They were drunk out of their minds on a dark night and Trauma Team had gotten to them barely ninety seconds after the crash. There was no way they got her face or were willing to bother wasting time and money to look for her, a scraggly, homeless looking anthro holding a gun described over two-thirds of the population of this city. Pacifica alone was filled with thousands of anthros just like hers.

Despite the full, bright noon blazing upon their little stretch of home only a tiny ray of sun peered in from a rust hole in the wall, just enough that Chloe could stare at an empty burrito packaging to practice her reading.

In the distance she heard a hustle and bustle of Night City. Car horns, expletives, and the occasional NCPD siren, a normal day in the city of dreams.

“Thiamine Mononitrate…” she mumbled, bored out of her mind, “Calcium Propionate…”

She didn’t know what those things were but her mother ordered her to practice pronouncing words that she had never read before. Why exactly, she didn’t know. It wasn’t like she was ever going to attend a school, much less Arasaka Academy like she had been pushed to apply to.

The twins were gone as well, their mother had somehow managed to leave them with a family of rats they were somewhat friendly with, forced to trade a few of the burritos for their services. Usually Chloe cursed the presence of the two annoying toddlers but today she wanted nothing but. For a single moment she even missed the disagreeable task of teaching Mace and Kita to properly clean themselves after pooping, but quickly shook that thought out of her head. Anything was better than that.

The sound of distant gunshots reached her ears like any other day but her boredom increased the sensitivity of her hearing.

Chloe idly picked her nose as she continued listening, indulging on a casual fantasy about shooting up cyberpsychos as a MaxTac Enforcer, screaming around on an AV and getting dropped off in the middle of a gunfight.

The fox looked around for something, anything to do, having already finished with all her assigned chores. While there were still tasks that had to be done all of them involved her leaving their shipping container home.

The small digital clock blinked the time. Her mother wouldn’t be back for another few hours. If she was lucky, Zara would return in three.

In the distance she heard the booming digital voice of a woman seductively advertised yet another item she couldn’t afford.

“Guuuuh!”

Chloe tossed the plastic away back in the bin. She stared at the spots of rust on their ceiling, having already counted and recounted them hours ago. There were seven. Two of them were round. One was had the rough outline of a bottle. The rest were shapeless blobs that would soon leak water if they couldn’t find a big enough sheet of plastic.

She rolled onto her bed of stacked cardboard and closed her eyes. One hour later she opened them, unable to sleep. The sun had baked the inside their home with an unbearable heat. Usually she would spend the late afternoons outside, going inside only when necessary and even then leaving the door wide open to bring in fresh air.

Her ears perked up as she heard a car slowly drive down the road in front their home. She wondered if they were the mercs that her mother was expecting. It quickly drove off after a pause at the stop sign with the bullet holes.

The fox huffed, of course they weren’t. She was a nobody. There was no reason to.

She closed her eyes again, this time managing to fall into a light snooze.

Chloe groggily yelped as she was jumped by a hyperactive Kita and Mace who giggled and laughed about their fun day playing with the rat family’s own children.

“Hey Clo.” Zara tiredly yawned as she closed the door behind her.

Chloe sleepily mumbled her response, rubbing her eyes as her sister switched on the light.

“Mom says to eat dinner without her, she’s gonna be late again.”

Her stomach twisted at the thought of her mother being tossed onto a filthy mattress while an even filthier male used her like a toy, tearing off her clothes so he could enjoy her nude body. Flashes of her abuse popped into her mind as Chloe imagined what kind of torture she was going through.

Chloe gripped the handle of their dented pan til her knuckles turned white. She had witnessed it happen exactly once when one of her mother’s coworkers drunkenly visited their home one night.

The then-child was told to stay in bed and keep her eyes closed as she listened to the moans, groans, sobbing, rough slapping, and wet squelching of… something. Curiosity took hold and she slowly turned her head to peek at what momma was doing.

The unknown male was over her, slapping and hitting her butt with his hips before forcefully pulling away with an audible pop and making her yelp in pain. The stink of burning fur and the pathetic whimper of a broken woman filled their home as he put out his cigarette on her back and stuffed her gaping, despoiled holes with crumpled up bills, stumbling out a few minutes later.

If she had been just a little older, just a little more knowledgeable about sex, she would’ve taken Zara’s shotgun and made him deepthroat the barrel to swallow a hot load as retribution for forcing her mother to do the same.

He didn’t even have the decency to be a human. At least sex with a human ended pleasurably, or at least painlessly as they did not possess knots that they could tear out of their female’s sensitive holes without care. Even if it wasn’t for love a human would pay well. Even if he didn’t a human-sired pregnancy always had the chance of a human offspring which was a blessing in its own right. Being fucked by an anthro only guaranteed another fuzzball doomed to a wretched life of poverty and being gunned down one day, not even worthy of being counted as a statistic.

They ate dinner and went to sleep.

Chloe, having already slept earlier, simply laid in bed and closed her eyes. What drowsiness lulled her mind was soon erased by the horrible sound of splashing water, most likely her mother cleaning herself out after another day of spreading her legs for her coworkers to make some extra Eddies.

She slowly opened the door and entered. The foil that covered the pan crinkled as it was lifted up and the lone remaining burrito, still warm, was removed and quickly eaten. Her mother rolled into bed, sighed exactly once, and fell asleep.

Morning, the same routine. Each of them had half a burrito for breakfast, with the other half to be eaten later as lunch. Mace complained about a tummyache but he and his twin were soon dragged behind Zara and Noelle and left at the rat family’s for the day, leaving Chloe alone again.

A piercing silence replaced the voices of her family, broken only by the faint swishing of her broom as it cleared the floor. Luckily her mother had allowed her to keep the lights on that day, with bright, clear skies it would be difficult to see any light even if it managed to escape. The cloth over the window was to be left as it, no exceptions.

More gunshots. A gang war, maybe.

Make the beds but no laundry, if she was stuck inside she wouldn’t have the sun to dry them. Done and finished within an hour, with the only reason it taking this long was because Kita had wet herself again and the cheap fake wood shelf had rotted soft. Luckily they had replacements on hand.

A car slowly rumbled down the nearest road, stopping for a moment at the sign then driving off.

Chloe hated having to purify the collected rainwater as it filled up their home with unbearable humidity and then a heavy fog that clung to everything, especially since she was not allowed to open the door. They needed to, unfortunately. Rain was the cleanest source of water they had access to and even then it was still full of dust and other aerial pollutants. Using a monster of copper tubes and a large pot that was once owned by someone who had distilled his own spirits, they could at least drink water that wouldn’t put them in a coma. At least their power was hooked up to a forgotten outlet and was thus “free”. Wash and replace when done.

She slowly munched on the other half of her burrito for lunch and looked around, having run out of chores an hour ago yet again. This time she pulled out a magazine to practice her reading but the glitzy pictures distracted her from the words. It was filled with humans, suited up with little lines of silver and gold running across their faces, a method to both hide their cybernetic augments and to subtly exhibit their immense, unimaginable wealth.

And then there were the anthro ladies, standing tall and proud but still only bedroom toys and dressed up novelties of their human masters.

She stared in awe at sheep lady who had been modified to grow stripes of crimson and gold wool right out of her hide, which was then kitted into a short dress without the wool even being sheared off of her. Then there was a leopard with golden teeth and glowing pupils, dressed in strangely primitive clothing which was still clearly designer. Perhaps her owner enjoyed her more tribal past.

Even here, with the paper of the magazine creased and worn with age, and ink stained with water, Chloe could see just how different their coats appeared compared to hers. Theirs was smooth and gleaming with exotic soaps and oils, and although she had never smelled any she could imagine the sweet scent of the expensive perfumes they covered themselves with.

The fox brushed some of the fur on her arm. Instantly a cloud of dust appeared and a shower of grit rained down on the magazine. Using a few drops of rainwater she experimentally scrubbed a little patch on the back of her wrist, growling an annoyed huff after only managing to get rid of the dirt but not actually cleaning her seemingly permanently stained fur.

It had been so long since she had seen the actual color of her coat. Perhaps she really was just a grey fox.

She turned the page and stared at the advertisement filled with Kang Tao’s signature orange as they showed off their newest model firearm as of the ancient magazine’s printing.

Her ears pricked up as she heard the cheerful giggling of her siblings before they burst inside.

“Hey Clo.” Zara tiredly yawned as she closed the door behind her.

Chloe sleepily mumbled her response, tossing the magazine back into the box of reading material and pulling out the pan to start heating up dinner.

She twitched her ears as she heard the splash of water despite all her siblings having entered the home.

“Mom’s not working late tonight?”

Zara shook her head, “Nah, everyone left early…”

Chloe nodded slowly. If it wasn’t the usual gonk then her mother would have gone around looking for anyone else who was willing to pay for some fun to release the stresses of work. Some of them were nice enough that she didn’t mind too much if they laid with her mother.

“That’s pretty weird, though…” she replied, not entirely interested in the topic but eager to have a conversation after a day of tortuously silent boredom.

Zara dropped her things and began to peel her sweaty clothes off of her, “Yeah I know. Even the boss delta’d before lunch. Shit, any day we don’t have to hear him screaming at us is a good day.”

“Why’d he leave?”

Her sister huffed in relief as she was released from her musty shirt prison and shrugged, “Fuck, I dunno. One of the girls near the window said she saw a pig so… NCPD probably snooping around again, I guess. We hid for an hour but nothing really happened.”

“Did you see him?” Chloe absentmindedly asked.

“Nah, only heard his car leaving.” Zara picked up a square of cardboard and fanned herself, humming as she felt the cool wind carry away the day’s sweat, “Boss probably didn’t have a bribe ready.”

“Huh.”

Her sister put down the fan and placed one hand on her jaw and the other on her temple, twisting her neck to squeeze out a few impressively satisfying pops then repeating on the other side.

"We even left early after we finished all our shit. Oh yeah, today was a good day.”

“Hello, Chloe.” her mother’s quietly tired, but eternally happy voice followed the creak of the door opening.

“Hey, mom. Good day today?”

Noelle paused and smiled gently, “We had an easy day, yes. And you were right, not having to do extra work once in a while was really refreshing.”

“That’s… good to hear.” Chloe tried to erase the image that popped into her mind and raised the steaming pan, “I got dinner ready. We can eat whenever.”

“Thank you, dear.” Noelle turned to her youngest, “Kita, Mace, have you two washed up?”

Their mischievous giggles betrayed the truth, their mother put her hands on her hips and pretended to be angry, “No dinner until you do!”

Their little feet pattered as they raced out the door and to the outdoor wash bucket.

“Zara, dear, you have to make them wash up before entering the house!”

The eldest sister giggled nervously, “Sorry mom, I tried to hang onto them but they ran off first.”

Noelle took the rolled up smacking newspaper from the wall and gave Zara’s head a light but audible tap, “Well you get out there and make sure they wash up properly, do you hear me young lady?”

“Yes, mom…” she groaned, rolling her eyes playfully as she followed them outside.

“Thank you, dear.”

They ate dinner and went to sleep. Same as yesterday and the day before that.

Chloe, having yet again slept during the day and having yet again been barred from going out, tossed and turned for hours. It was too hot to cover herself with a blanket but too cold to go without it. Her ears itched and she thought she felt a bug crawling on her legs. But most of all, she was outright bored.

She missed seeing the sun and stars, the wind that carried the stink of sewage and pollutants, she even missed seeing the skyline of Night City’s wealthy center. The boredom strangled her, it clenched at her throat until she couldn’t take it anymore. She needed to breathe. How many days had she been stuck inside?

And she was sure her mother was just being paranoid.

Her eyes peeked open and twitched around to confirm that everyone was asleep. Living near a bridge, being able to sleep despite the noise was a necessary skill. Her mother and Zara would only wake up if they were shaken awake. The twins had once slept right through a shooting that involved bullets flying above their heads.

The damp cardboard compressed silently under Chloe’s feet, having been crushed and flattened many times before. She jumped as her hand brushed up against the table. Holding her breath as she pulled the door open, the fox turned around and readied herself to slam it shut and jump back into bed at the first sign of anyone stirring.

She held her hand up to block Zara's closed eyes from the shimmering moonlight as she slid out of the open door, taunting her with a majestic view that she could not see, not while she had yet to escape. Chloe paused, holding her breath to confirm that everyone was asleep one last time.

The plastic barely creaked under her feather light steps as the young fox closed the door and disappeared into the night.

Chloe breathed once and let her gut feeling drive for a bit. She scampered through the wastelands of Pacifica, deftly jumping through holes in fences and walls like a thread through the eye of a needle. These old paths and routes were burned into her heart from her childhood spent sneaking around and she felt more than a little warmth as her feet stepped on familiar dirt.

The young vixen dropped down inside an open storm drain which still trickled a little water to avoid the local gang of criminal trash who were busy smoking and shooting up their arms full of the latest drugs, possibly the very same kind that her mother and sister were cooking up at work. She paused, slowly raising an ear to listen for their movements before ducking inside a complex of covered culverts and drains until she eventually emerged out the side of a retaining wall.

The dark waters of the river calmly flowed out to the sea, the only indicator of its movement being the putrid grey and light yellow foam that floated on top, formed as pollutants were collected and churned as they passed through the network of drains.

She suppressed a cheer as she saw her destination, an old, burnt out car that sat on the bank which overlooked the bay. Conveniently it usually faced the moon head-on, allowing any who sat in its seat a nice view of their planet’s closest friend. And it appeared that tonight was one of those nights with no clouds or particularly bright advertisements ruining the sky.

With one final look around to confirm her security, Chloe shook the water from her feet and slid into the driver’s seat, settling into the somehow still comfortable cushions that had been sitting here since she was not even half her current height. She exhaled once and melted into the sticky synthetic leather and leaking plastic foam, relaxing for the first time in what felt like ages, enjoying the cool night air as a welcome change from the usual oven of her prison cell.

The young fox reached above her head and stretched, her short legs not even managing to hit the pedals as she felt the soothing cool of her muscles relaxing after the initial heat of stress. Somehow the moonlight felt warm and inviting, gently pushing her to close her eyes and disappear into the land of dreams. Chloe shook her head, if she fell asleep now her mother would lose her mind when she eventually made it home in the late afternoon.

Although she began to wonder what would even happen if she just… never bothered going home. Maybe her mother would be forced to forgive her if she returned a month later with the keys to their very own apartment she’d rent with the scratch earned from running with the Hayrider gang. Chloe had heard that some of those apartments had vending machines right in them.

It probably wasn’t a good idea to break into one of them but with the money she'd be earning affording food would no longer be an issue anymore. Wouldn’t her mother appreciate that she’d be able to do things lawfully and properly from now on? And wouldn’t they be able to get an actual job now that they had an actual address to give to employers?

Chloe scoffed, if only her mother understood that she was willing to sacrifice for the family just like they did. And what else was she going to do, join her mother and sister to labor away for scraps in that underground factory where she’d be leered and groped by her letch of a boss?

The teen tightened her hands into fists until they began to shake. Despite all her mother’s whining about good, honest work she still helped make substances that destroyed people’s minds. It was, at best, hypocritical.

The more rational part of her mind reminded her that her mother was only against directly hurting people and that she was doing what she needed to do in order to feed this family.

Right?

The vixen shook her head to file away that thought for later. It was too early for this much thinking. And besides, she’d have plenty of time to think once she was returned to her cell. She faced the city center and narrowed her eyes to look for a specific building with a clock projected on its side.

4:32AM

Chloe twitched in surprise and rolled her eyes, sighing as she extracted herself from the vehicle shell. She hadn’t even realized that it was already time to leave.

It only took her a few minutes to reach the open storm drain. Not wanting to walk on the carpet of broken glass and stones that layered the bottom of the drain and deciding to enjoy the limited time she had as a free fox, Chloe climbed out and stepped onto the bare, dead earth that surrounded the concrete ditch. She knew that not only the gang from earlier but everyone in this community were long gone, their late night parties having come to a close by the time the faintest orange haze ever so slightly peeked over the horizon. Anyone who’d want to rape her at this time of day would either be too sleepy and/or drunk to even walk. And that was assuming they hadn’t been knocked out properly after shooting up their arms with whatever drug was in fashion.

The nightlights that illuminated Night City’s many advertisements began to switch off.

Despite knowing she was most likely safe, the fox still maintained a brisk walk as she passed abandoned buildings and dark alleyways. This was her favorite time of day, when the heat and grime of the day before had been washed away by the refreshing chill of the early morning before anyone could ruin it.

A car rumbled nearby.

Every hair on her body rose up and stiffened into bristles as a mysterious tickle appeared out of nowhere on the back of her neck. Though she stumbled and almost smashed her face into the weed-infested concrete she somehow managed to keep walking casually until she had a chance to suddenly turn into an alleyway.

That was the same car that had been driving around her home.

Taking the opportunity, Chloe sprinted through the short alley until she reached an open area. A dead end unfortunately, but thankfully absolutely littered with garbage. Finding a suitable hiding space behind a dumpster the fox managed to squeeze herself in and cover the rest of her body with a few discarded bags, years of living in trash around allowing her to do so without a single audible crinkle.

She held her breath and froze, cursing her mother for spreading the contagion of paranoia to her. Even if it was the same car the driver was probably just some random person who just started a new job or was just passing through the road near her home. There was no reason for her to be hunted.

A young female voice with a distinctly unique accent cut through the empty morning air from the distance, “Pause here! Lemme hunt this house-gap!”

A deep sense of unease filled her stomach but she kept quiet as she thought of even more excuses. There was always a chance she was just in the wrong place at the wrong time, mercs and hired gangs were always snooping around dark alleyways. No reason to believe they were here for her, right?

She cocked her legs to ready them for a sudden exit if she needed one.

The mystery woman’s heavy, echoing stomps calmed her a bit. If the mystery person was actually on the hunt she would have been stepping much more quietly lest her prey be spooked off.

Chloe’s eyes narrowed in confusion as she walked past her dumpster. She was nearly Zara’s height, wearing dirty white hiking boots, a khaki vest and pants that would not have looked out of place in a sim-safari, and what appeared to be a short skirt formed out of the countless wires and unknown electronic equipment around that hung from her belt. Her head was covered with fluffed up light brown hair, tied neatly down the back in a ponytail. Her knees bent in the opposite way of Chloe’s and for a brief moment the fox thought that she was being pursued by a human child of all things until she walked under the last lit streetlamp.

Her long, thin tail swished and twirled in thought, short snout scrunched up in frustration as her large ears scanned the area like a chameleon’s eyes. She was some kind of primate, one of humanity’s closest cousins. But what almost forced Chloe to gasp and give away her position was her eyes.

They were large, larger than any eyes she had seen on an anthro of any kind while her pupils were only tiny black dots in the middle. And they glowed an eerie blue, the electronic traces of the highly advanced optics making her eyes appear weirdly bloodshot, clearly visible to Chloe even at a distance.

“Hey Joy! Got anything?!” a gruff, male voice called from the entrance of the alleyway.

The woman, apparently named Joy, took one last look around before yelling back.

“Negs! Square’s blank!”

She began to walk back, past Chloe’s dumpster towards her ride and partner.

Though it may have not been appropriate to comment on it at that moment, Chloe thought Joy’s distinct accent and chippy voice sounded rather charming. She was definitely not from around here.

She breathed a sigh of relief as she heard the two exchange a few more words then drive off. They weren’t looking for her or they hadn’t found her at all. Either way, she was free to leave and make some noise if she had to.

“Bleg.” she spat as she tossed away her cover, trying to get the taste of a bitter, rotten liquid that had flowed out of one of the trash bags she had accidentally punctured. She hissed and cursed as a sharp piece of metal cut her hand as she attempted to extract herself from the pile.

Her shirt was in tatters, her lower half only partially covered by a curtain formed from ribbons of cloth. Other than that she wore nothing else.

Chloe looked towards the end of the alleyway. She would have liked to make her escape through a different route just in case they could still see the entrance but she found no other way out other than an extremely risky climb on the outside of a five story building without the assistance of sunlight.

With her route home set, the teen shrugged once and began to turn when the back of her neck began to tingle once more.

“Firm mark, that’s her.”

Chloe’s ears twitched as she spun around, sensing both her whisper and the distant screech of her vehicle accelerating towards them.

Icy blue eyes peeked around the corner, glaring and illuminating the panicked young vixen.

Chloe’s blood froze, then boiled in anger towards herself at being outplayed by such a simple ruse of pretending to leave. And that she should have listened to her mother.

What an idiot she had been.

Joy’s eyes began to flash rapidly, just enough to induce a minor headache.

“Why the-”

The merc’s eyebrows narrowed in confusion.

“Tryin’ ta cook ‘er but this vixen’s got some serious brain-freeze!”

Chloe snapped out of her panic. What exactly this primate was trying to do she didn’t know, but she knew that the window to her escape was closing fast.

Somehow Joy’s already large eyes grew even larger as her target dropped to all fours and charged. With her sharp teeth bared and throat rumbling from her growl, the rush of the hunt returned Chloe to the world of her ancestors. It was a world of hardship and strength, where the weak, stupid, and unlucky were eaten alive. Where great forests of tall trees hid many dangers in the darkness and only the best lived to become legends.

Sort of like Night City.

Feral instinct took over as Chloe blitzed towards her hunter. Almost in slow motion the fox saw Joy swing out from behind the corner to block the alleyway, fumbling for something on her belt. And yet despite all the risks she continued and struck. With her maw stretched wide and launching herself from her low position, Chloe skillfully closed her jaw around the primate’s thin neck and began to bite down, stopping only until she felt the skin give to her teeth and began tasting blood.

Joy howled, loud enough to not only hurt the vixen’s ears but also to tickle her tongue with the vibrations from her victim’s throat. Joy grasped and wildly beat Chloe’s head in a futile attempt to force her away but her thin fingers were more at home swiping on a touchscreen than attempting to physically fight, much less actually win. The fox continued to bite down, showing her the same mercy that she had been shown.

It was in that moment that Chloe understood the hype around real meat.

A bullet whizzed past her head, breaking the young fox out of her bloodlust-induced trance. She relaxed, forcing the crying primate to back out of her mouth and sending her tumbling onto the cracked asphalt with a swift kick to the gut.

Chloe didn’t look back as she ran from a car, yelled at, and shot at for the second time this week. She tore through the ruined district, still running on her hands and feet, gracefully jumping over trash and debris as she looked for a way to make her way off this street. Right as she thought the car was about to catch up to her she found one of her many secret passageways.

She ducked under a rusting but still mostly intact fence and into a large, open yard, her mind so drugged up with adrenaline that she didn’t even notice their car smashing into and being stopped by the fence right after she had gone through it.

Home. That was where she needed to be. With her mother and siblings and all the burritos she could eat. Her mind had no space to think of anything else.

The morning sun began to peek out from over the horizon, illuminating the city of night with the first rays of day.

“Joy! Get back in here, you’re fucking bleeding!” The driver’s gruff, commanding voice boomed across the yard.

“BB’s got me for now!” even at a distance her voice was clearly strained and raspy, “Wheel ‘round and keep an eye on my blinker, Doug!”

Chloe heard Joy’s partner curse loudly once then floor the motor before the familiar stomping of the primate’s boots on dry dirt reached her ears. Now was the time to run.

The fox didn’t dare glance backwards, nor did she need to. More often than not she saw a flash of blue reflecting off of a particularly shiny piece of metal as she stormed through the ruined, graffiti-marked remains of a parking garage, climbing up multiple levels to wear out her wounded immediate pursuer as much as she could. Chloe blinked the tears out of her eyes as the thudding of Joy's boots taunted her with whatever future awaited her.

She slammed through the sliding doors of the empty elevator shaft that stood at the very end of the garage and flew down, its once fancy and stylish windows giving her both a good view of her destination and an escape route as all of the glass had been broken years prior. On any other day she would have screamed, wet herself, then splattered at the bottom and died an embarrassing death. But today her blood flowed with adrenaline and her mind reacted perfectly and instantly, as the instinct blessed to her by a faraway ancestor guided her to safety.

Chloe twirled in the air, expertly twisting herself so that she would not land on her face but on her hands and feet, her perfect landing only broken by the stagnant puddle at the bottom.

The familiar stink of rusting iron brought her back to her senses. Home was only one or two streets away.

And yet she still saw flashes of Joy’s glowing eyes in the puddles in front of her.

Chloe slammed into a wall as she went around a corner a little too fast and slipped. It was not until she glanced back that she realized she had slipped on her own blood. Her paws and palms were shredded from running on all fours for this long, stinging and burning from the mix of grit and oily pollutants that stuck to her bloodied skin.

The vixen hissed as she rose and continued to escape, now reduced to limping slowly as she realized just how painful it was to even walk. The sound of Joy’s boots were thankfully far away. Chloe allowed herself a moment to breath then resumed sprinting to make it home first. The logistics behind hiding in her flimsy home to escape two armed mercs unfortunately didn’t reach her mind.

She reached the end of the alleyway and jumped out into the street that bordered her scrapyard. Her eyes were blurry from her tears and battered, destroyed body in anguish with every step she took, but she had made it. She would readily accept whatever punishment her mother had in store for her. All she wanted was to lie down and sleep.

“Momma!”

The car returned and her world turned to fire.

It slammed into her side, sending her twirling through the air like a short length of rope being thrown until she bounced once and skidded to a stop on the dirt right in front of her house, lying face down barely a five second sprint away from her front door.

She tried to stand, but failed. Chloe stared backwards for a few moments before her mind realized that, just like what she had done to that human, her legs were now bent in ways that should not have been possible. The shock managed to ease the white-hot tendrils of agony into a dull throbbing that radiated from her multiple shattered bones.

Chloe watched as Zara slammed the door open, shotgun in hand. From behind she saw her mother, wide eyes and still bloodshot from lack of sleep.

It was then she realized that she had been screaming. Her sore throat stung as she let loose a hoarse, pained, but shrill scream. Not from the pain her conscious mind still hadn’t registered but from the terror of being pursued. They were right behind her but her home was just within reach. If only she could extend her arm just a little bit further she’d be home and safe and could forget about all this.

She saw Zara begin to run, only to stop as an absolutely giant boot descended from above and landed next to her shoulder, sending up little pebbles and dust in a miniature earthquake.

The dull brown synthleather boots he wore a flashed before her eyes, replaced by sterile, bright teal in the next moment. The man wearing a white visor and mask knelt beside her, scanning her face with a handheld tablet before nodding to his partner who was also wearing a white, red, and teal combat suits. He looked back upwards, pointing towards Zara and ordering her to stand back and to put her weapon down.

A dopey grin stretched across Chloe’s face as her mind tried to make sense of everything.

Trauma Team was here, they could take care of her. She was going to be fine. Everything was going to be fine. The teal and yellow hypo injector was roughly shoved against her sweaty neck. She watched as the medic’s thumb pushed down the little button, breaking the seal with a snappy hiss before a needle shot out and pierced her skin to deliver a cool, refreshing ease that filled her body but made her nose feel strangely numb.

The fox didn’t resist as she was turned onto her side, hallucinating mind trusting that the professionals knew better than she did. The medic applied another injection of Bounce Back into her neck. And then another. And then a fourth.

Chloe let out a weak, scratchy laugh as the thought of them using four whole medical injectors amused her. She must have gotten the Platinum Coverage Plan without even realizing it. The whole package, seven-minute response time or your money back, unlimited nanite stabilizers during transit, everything that she had heard in Night City’s many advertisements.

The beaten fox took the opportunity to look back at her family, feeling plenty better already after four injections of life saving fluids. She saw her sister screaming, opening and closing her mouth although her bloodied ears only heard a muffled yell. Her mother shoved the twins back inside roughly and stood next to Zara, trembling hands half reached out as if she wanted to run out and help but couldn’t.

It broke Chloe’s heart to see her mother unable to move but Trauma would shoot her dead if she interfered. They would take their client to a specialty clinic to be placed under the care of a skilled ripperdoc and when she was all better again she’d even have the option of being flown home in one of their AVs.

It was then that Zara raised her shotgun.

Time slowed to a crawl as the Trauma Medic who had been guarding Chloe reached for his holster. The horror and realization of what would come next combined with the adrenaline boosters that had come with her injections granted her one final burst of energy.

The fox grabbed a leg of his pants which were no longer teal, but a dirty dark green that now sported one bloody handprint. Chloe involuntarily growled as she fought the sharp pain in her limbs and reached out with her other hand, somehow through sheer force of will managing to hook her fingers into his right cuff.

For a split second she saw a flash of her own reflection in the polished chrome of the mean looking revolver as it was being raised and almost puked.

Her face had been plastered with the mix of the chalky dirt she had been thrown into and the blood which poured from the open wound where her left ear had once been, turning her into a grotesque, freakish parody of a Japanese Geisha, the same blood gluing down her right ear down onto her head. Her eyes were sunken and dark but her pupils had shrunk into pinpricks from the chase, making her appear almost like a rabid feral which was not helped by the fact that part of her upper lip had split open, forcing her snout into baring her dull fangs.

All she had to do was stay home.

Chloe raised her head and shrieked in absolute desperation, resting her meager strength into pulling down his heavily muscled right arm as much as she could before he could shoot her sister. She didn’t know what exactly she had screamed, only that she had screamed hard enough to spray blood all over the pig’s face.

The hallucinations about any Trauma Team medic had disappeared completely, replaced by a tall, robust pig who’s round belly slightly bulged out of his purple tactical vest and armor. He stared back with wide eyes in both shock and pity at the ragged little fox who clung to his side, too stunned to even blink out her blood.

The loud, booming roar of Zara’s shotgun broke them out of their stupor but not before a hefty slug of lead slammed into his shoulder pad.

“Motherfucker!” the pig, whom Chloe assumed was the Doug Joy had called out to earlier, howled through gritted teeth as he shoved her backwards into Joy's embrace, landing hard enough against the primate's chest to knock the air out of both of their lungs. He raised his revolver, this time without a little fox hanging off his arm, and fired back.

Zara’s body was instantly slammed into the thin sheet metal behind her as if she weighed nothing, leaving a large dent in the wall as she slowly slid down and went limp. Her shotgun was flung out of her hands, smacking Noelle in the head before dropping to the ground with a clatter.

Joy began dragging the limp Chloe backwards into the car. Even if she had any energy at this point her leg bones were now nothing but splinters. Not being able to resist or break free from her grip, Chloe cried out for her mother one last time, letting out a pathetically weak bleat that still felt like knives slicing up her aching throat with every vibration.

She watched as her mother, despite her weakness and pregnancy, immediately dropping to all fours and charging at Doug in one final act of stupid, futile, but ultimately motherly love. What exactly happened next Chloe didn’t see, only hearing her mother’s feeble yelp and a dull thud of her body landing in the dirt from inside the car.

Chloe laid across the stained fabric seats in the back of their vehicle completely still, her exhausted and collapsed mind not even realizing that she should be crying.

Joy slowly slid into the passenger’s seat, weakly slamming the door closed behind her. She glanced backwards at Chloe, her giant blue eyes flashing as she scanned their prize, making sure she was not going to die anytime soon.

The car shook suddenly and sank as Doug entered the driver’s seat. He barely fit, having to duck his head just to look out of the windshield and his sheer heft making the entire vehicle lean to the left. Joy hissed in pain as the sudden movement forced the bloody cloth she was holding against her wounded neck to move slightly.

“What a fucking mess.” Doug growled, angrily punching the steering wheel before cranking the engine back to life.

She watched through the window as the tops of the giant piles of scrap metal and trash that she had known all her life slowly slide backwards and disappear forever. The sky went dark then light again as they passed under the bridge she had spent many years hiding under. A few minutes later even the stink of open sewage stopped flowing in from the air vents as neon and brushed aluminum replaced the rust and flaking paint of the district she had once called home.

It was then Chloe began to cry.

Chapter 3

Joy weakly groaned and winced, stumbling out of the dented black car as the emergency meds and painkillers she had taken herself began to wear off. Clouds of polluted dust and drops of fresh blood trailed the limping lemur as she slowly dragged herself into Buster’s HyperClinic, their ripperdoc of choice as Doug had mentioned in his panicked phone call to him.

The cloth she held tightly around her throat grew redder and redder, dripping frighteningly frequently as she passed two shirtless bulls filling their noses with glittery escapism powder. Despite being drugged out of their minds they were still aware enough to spare the wounded netrunner a passing glance.

The last remnants of Chloe’s shattered mind idly wondered why they weren’t dropping her off as well, considering that she was in much worse condition than Joy was. Her legs and multiple ribs were still ground into a powder from being hit by the same car she now rode in. Her fur was bloody and pasted with dirt and she was sure that her mouth was missing multiple teeth.

“Wake up.” Doug’s deep, rumbling voice tickled her sensitive ears as he applied yet another Bounce Back to Chloe’s neck, “Don’t you zero out on us now.”

The darkness at the edges of her vision rushed away as another shot of adrenaline began to flow through her blood. He wiggled the plastic mouthpiece of a MaxDoc inhaler between her numb, immobile lips and sprayed, filling Chloe’s lungs with yet another soothing concoction of painkillers and other medical magic. Thankfully the internal bleeding was temporarily stopped by her multiple previous injections but her body still screamed from the pain her mind couldn’t feel.

The fat pig squeezed back into the driver’s seat and drove off.

He glanced in the rear-view mirror at the broken fox girl who had run out of tears an hour ago. She stared out the window with glazed, empty eyes, the only thing her body was now capable of.

“Fuck.” Doug sighed and grumbled to himself as he turned onto the entrance ramp and onto the freeway, “Sly fucking fox, ain’t’cha? Leadin’ us on a grand goose chase. If it makes you feel better,” he patted the large holster on his hip, “my iron’s fitted with the Pax attachment. Non-Lethal. Your folks? Yeah, they’ll live. They’re gonna be hurtin’ for a few weeks but… they’ll live. Was supposed to be for you, but ol’ Theresa said otherwise.”

He awkwardly chuckled and lovingly slapped the steering wheel of the car.

A line of drool spilled out of Chloe’s gaping mouth as she continued to stare at the world they drove by, too tired to listen but too drugged up with adrenaline to fall asleep. The glittering skyscrapers seared the fresh morning sun directly into her eyes. The skies were a perfect, clear blue, only broken by the ultimate symbol of corporate arrogance in the form of holo-ads that floated high enough to annoy even God with products he didn’t need nor want.

Chloe’s nose twitched as a small draft of air whistled from a rusted hole in the doorframe and gently cooled her face. Despite the pollution farted out by the nearby factories and the acrid stink that occasionally wafted over from the nearby landfill, the air of Night City’s inner core was somehow still cleaner and less smelly than the air she had been breathing since she was born.

But the moment her family was mentioned her chest began to shake as her sniffle returned, eventually turning into a dry sob.

“God-fucking-dammit, not again! ‘ey, kid!” Doug annoyingly yelled, trying to stay on the road while looking backwards, “I’ll… Shit! I’ll roll’ round and give your folks some meds and eddies if you shut up!”

Chloe kept crying as the events of the last few hours finally caught up to her, but the final remnant of her consciousness acknowledged his deal. She had already fucked up majorly, the least she could do was to not make things worse. With the last shreds of her strength she bit down on her lower lip and forced her silence.

”Thank fuck.” Doug turned away as her crying was suppressed down to nothing but subtly quivering shoulders.

He took a deep breath and tiredly sighed after rubbing his weary face, “Merc’s honor.” he finally whispered, more to himself than to his prey, “I’ll visit them later. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel bad though. You’re just some random-ass kid, not fucking Militech. You give me a chance to nuke those bitches, I’d be pressing the red button without waiting a single fucking second… Well, I ain’t saying you didn’t deserve it, you’re the one who fucked up the Wilkins and smashed the car after all. A fucking Caliburn…! Worth more money than I’ve ever made and spent. Didn’t your momma ever teach you not to start shit with humans, especially the ultra-rich ones riding around in fancy cars? She didn’t deserve to see her daughter be treated like this.”

Chloe hiccupped, the only sound and movement she could still make in response to Doug’s ramblings to himself.

“Fuck!” he punched his steering wheel yet again. “It’s not like we didn’t fuck up bad too. That was some sloppy shit. Joy was just supposed to hit you with an Overheat and knock you the fuck out. I drive over, we stuff you in the back, boom. Job done, easy n’ simple. If you resisted I’d shoot you with a less-lethal. She didn’t realize you were full ‘ganic. Like nothin, not even a shard reader. Foreigner, if you didn’t notice. Talks real weird but she’s a helluva of a runner. Nice girl, but naive as fuck. She thought she could take on Night City with nothing but her chrome. This job too, she insisted she could pull off easily. I’m glad she got a good lesson before we took the serious jobs, though. I’ll make sure she carries some iron next time. You tore her neck up real good, you know that? Fast on your feet too. Real fast. Real fucking fast.” There was almost a hint of admiration in his voice, ”Could’ve used you on our last job. I’d offer you a position on our crew if we didn’t have to give you over to Mrs. Samant-”

Doug choked on his tongue. He jumped and cursed loudly, accidentally swerving into the neighboring car. Chloe’s ears twitched as she heard the screeching of metal and angry curses as the two vehicles traded the paint on their sides. The hog didn’t even bother looking up, only accelerating away from the minor accident as he began to rapidly tap the screen on the center console until a small jingle began to play. Somehow the risk of getting turned into a burning wreck on the side of the freeway was preferable to potentially aggravating whoever he was calling.

The phone rang for a full minute, during which the hog’s fingers switched between rapidly tapping and nervously strangling the faux leather steering wheel until the jingle ended and a very familiar voice filled the car.

“Oh, Mister Doug. You’re late.” The woman’s greeting started with a clearly sarcastically forced light and friendly tone only for it to wear out by the end, finishing off her first sentence with a light growl, clearly annoyed.

“Sorry ‘bout that Samantha!” Doug cheerfully responded until he realized his mistake and cleared his throat, continuing with a cleaner, more professional voice, “Oh uh, Ma’am.”

Chloe gurgled as she finally put two and two together and connected the woman’s voice with the memory of the drunk, angry goldie professionally drunk-hucking a beer bottle into her head.

“Mh, hm.” Samantha unamusingly hummed on the other side of the call, “I thought you said this job was going to take a day or two, max. Not an entire week.”

“Yeah, sorry about that, Mrs. Wilkins. Our target was a sly one.”

“Right, you totally didn’t spend the last week jerking off. Mh hm, of course you didn’t.”

“Hey! Com’on now, Mrs. Sammy!” Doug chuckled out a nervous attempt to lighten the mood, “You know we don’t fuck around on the job!”

“Yeah. Sure. Totally. So how is she?”

Doug glanced at Chloe through the mirror again, “Alive.”

He shrunk down as the almost painful grinding of Samantha’s teeth made the car rumble, “She fucking better be, Doug. Mister paid for Alive. If she’s dead you’re not even getting half.”

“She’s alive, Mrs. Wilkins. Barely, but alive.”

She paused.

“First off, I wanted to beat the shit out of her myself. Second, what the fuck do you mean by barely?! All you had to do was nab her off the streets. I don’t care if she got roughed up but was she that hard to catch?”

“Well, she’s pretty quick on her paws so me and Joy had to chase her down.”

“Duh.” Despite their distance, the two inside the car could hear her rolling her eyes from the sheer amount of sarcasm she had laced her single word response with. “...And you shot her?”

“Well no, I uh,” Doug guiltily scratched his chin and sucked in air through clenched teeth, “Ah… I might’ve got caught up in the heat of the chase and uh… ran her ass over with the car.”

Samantha gasped, what sounded like a cup of coffee rolled out of her hand and onto her desk, shattering on the floor. The labrador choked, coughing and hacking and desperately swallowing, probably due to the same coffee going down the wrong way.

And then she began to laugh. She howled until her throat was dry and raspy, uncontrollably as if she was a crossbreed between a husky and a hyena who had heard the best joke of her life. The pig glanced worryingly at his phone as the sound of the dog repeatedly slamming her fist into her heavy hardwood desk continued to thunder out of the speakers and caused all the other drivers to give them a weird look. Even Chloe narrowed her eyes with slight fear as the laughter continued without weakening for a whole five minutes.

“Bahahaha! Holy shit! Ho- Hold on, my bra just got messed up, gimme a sec.”

Doug scrunched his eyebrows together as he heard his client sliding off her jacket and top while continuing to wheeze for air, “That’s nova as fuck, Doug! You got the vid?”

“Y-Yes, ma’am. Dashcam was rolling.”

Yet more howling laughter.

“Don’t you… Whoo! Don’t tell your fixer about this but-” Samantha coughed, still giddy, “-stop by my office for an extra bonus, I owe you that much!”

“You’re joking…”

“I’m not! I’m not, Doug! You gotta give me the vid though, I haven’t laughed like that in a long time!”

Samantha held her breath for a moment to force her giggles to cool.

“Al…Alright, Megabuilding H9 as usual. I’ll have Charlie waiting with a stretcher at loading dock A4. Park wherever you want and come up to my office.”

“Gottit. I’ll be there in a few, Ma’am.”

“Nova.”

The call ended with a beep. As the adrenaline wore off the exhaustion of the chase finally caught up to Chloe. With Samantha’s shrieking laughter replaced by the soft sound of late morning traffic and the gentle rocking of the car’s worn out suspension, the little fox girl finally closed her eyes and slept for the remainder of the journey.

“And whatta we got here?”

Chloe stirred, not even having the energy to break the dried gunk that glued her eyelids shut to see who was now poking and feeling up her helplessly naked body. The voice was a woman’s but it was not Samantha’s. It was light and playfully casual, speaking normal words in normal speech. But strangely her hands were featureless, with no claws, pads, or fur as anthros would have.

She felt a prick on her neck as she was administered yet another injection. She had lost count how many meds they had used by this point to keep her alive. Was she this valuable to them?

The woman slid her arms under her limp body and gently heaved, easing the battered girl out of the car and onto a bare metal stretcher. Chloe felt the splintered remnants of her lower skeleton grinding against each other as she was laid down. Had it been any other day she would have screamed. But not today, not with at least a dozen shots of painkillers and blood thickeners flowing through her blood. A soft whoosh of air flowed over her naked body as someone closed the door of Doug’s car. The sliding glass doors opened smoothly with a faint hiss and the rattling vibrations turned to a sterile glide as the stretcher’s wheels rolled off of the loading dock’s rough concrete and onto smooth, featureless linoleum tiles.

She felt the warmth of a lamp being shone into her face and sank back into the darkness of a dreamless sleep.

Chloe woke after what felt like mere seconds to the faint sounds of whirring and buzzing. Distant laughter made her jump for a moment, thinking it was her mother and Zara talking about their day. But it wasn’t. The younger woman was screaming to this year’s latest manufactured hit song. The older woman was absentmindedly babbling to her friend about men as they usually did.

The sheer sterility of the air stung her nostrils as she inhaled a lungful of the cleanest air she had ever sucked in. Above her head were the piercing pure white lights that could be found in any medical room, though thankfully they had been dimmed to a much more bearable gentle glow. The bed she laid on was eerily clean but the mattress, while mildly uncomfortable even by Night City standards, was the softest thing she had ever slept on with the exception of her mother’s chest when she was younger and smaller. Teal curtains surrounded her bed while her naked form was covered in a disposable cloth gown.

The seemingly permanent street grit in the fuzz between her toes was gone. She slid her legs across the bedsheet, trying to process just how unimaginably smooth everything felt. Her mouth and throat were more than clean. A life of breathing in pollution made for constant black phlegm, enough so that they would occasionally be woken up by clogged throats at night, and their makeshift toothbrushes were hardly effective in combating oral filth. The only word she could describe her mouth was empty, more empty than it had ever been in her whole life.

Her first bath and her first piece of new clothing.

Chloe screamed or at least tried to gurgle out in surprise as she finally came to. Everything burned for the first few moments. She felt the ghostly blade of a phantom knife slowly slicing through the flesh of her thighs, the heat of her pain perpetually rising yet never actually moving. Pins and needles pricked her lips, and the back of her throat was dry and leathery. The ache of a lifetime pulled at her jaw and the slightest of movements caused by her shivering made her feel as if one of the ribs was repeatedly stabbing her stomach.

“G’mornin, sunshine!”

The woman who had extracted her from Doug’s car was back. Chloe peeked her eyelids open, realizing that they too had been cleaned while she slept, making them easy to move again. The fox gurgled once again in surprise as she realized that she was being stared at through soft brown eyes by the ripperdoc at an uncomfortably close distance.

The pain disappeared as soon as it had come and the blurry shadow in her vision was replaced by a human. A woman.

Equally as rare as male humans but certainly less common to see in popular media and advertisements, appearing only rarely to advertise something the middle-class male anthros could afford to buy. Her skin was a gentle tan, unlike any other human Chloe had seen before. Her eyes were somehow wider yet slenderer at the same time, similar to the Japanese humans and anthros. She had propped up her elbows on the edge of her bed, chin in her hands to support her round, homey face as she stared at her patient. Her chocolate brown lips were puffed up in a sly, cheeky cat-like grin as if she was a schoolgirl keeping an extra spicy secret from her friends.

Chloe gasped and gurgled again.

“Easy, tiger!” the woman said, almost singing her words as she reached over and patted Chloe’s upper chest to force her back down, “I spent waaaay too much time to have you die on me! So how are you feeling? Any pain in those legs?”

The fox girl mumbled out her answer past her numb lips, unintelligible even to herself.

“Hmm… Okay. Okay.” the woman mumbled as she quickly ran her hands over Chloe’s body, “Well, you’re going to be fine. Not great, but I didn’t get the okay to completely fix you up.”

Chloe gurgled out a question.

The human stood up and twirled, letting her white lab coat and skirt gracefully flutter in the air, “You’re in my very own ripper clinic! Welcome to the Organic Toybox, by the way! Where digital dreams come to life and-!” she rolled her eyes and dropped her outstretched arms, “...Fuck that, I’m not doing that advertisement again.”

With her doctor now standing up Chloe turned her head and took a good look at her savior. She was quite the petite woman, surprisingly barely taller or bustier than Chloe herself despite being clearly at least a decade her senior. Maybe even a decade and a half. Her face was covered with the telltale silver lines of hidden cybernetics that probably also ran all over her body but were covered by her long white coat that reached all the way down to her ankles, roughly secured to her thin waist by a tight belt. Her exposed arms were a chitinous black, glossy and segmented like an insect’s from the countless panels and covers that hid many tools in her fingertips and wrists. Behind her Chloe noticed an entire wall of cybernetic arms, each with a different set of tools for whatever job needed doing from what she could tell.

The vixen gasped and weakly hummed another question, wondering if this human had gotten lucky or if she was just really good at interpreting incoherent mumbling.

“Yeah, I fixed you up. Not as much as I wanted to, but Sammy’s a bitch. She ordered me to do the minimum to keep you alive but nothing more. Fucking mongrel thinks she’s hot shit because she gets the big boss dick every night. Not anymore though, hah!” she sat back down on her wheeled stool and rolled around to her desk, picking up a tablet and holding it up to Chloe.

Her drowsy mind could only barely realize the severity of her injuries from the small X-Ray image and how it showed her just how destroyed her body had become in a few short hours.

“See? Pretty much your entire lower half was crushed! I had to stitch up your intestines and bladder and fill everything under your belly button with skeletal repair compound so you should still be able to manage a limp. But you’re probably not gonna be running around anymore. If Sammy signs off on it I’d be down to fit you with some ‘ganic replacement chrome so you can at least walk normally. She won’t though, she’s a cheapass bitch and she hates you. Fuck 'er. But I did give you a shot of some purge nanites I had laying around. Lemme tell you, I’ve seen some filthy strays in the past but you get the big Number One trophy with the amount of worms, toxins, and heavy metals that came out of ya! It’s on the house but it was more for everyone else’s benefit that an untreated, diseased mutt wasn’t walking around, no offense.”

The tablet flew across the room and landed back on the desk with a loud clatter.

“Oh yeah. Name’s Charlie, by the way. It’s funny cuz, ya’ know, I’m a fucking dink?”

She leaned back in her chair and laughed.

“Cuz, Charlie’s what they used to call- Oh forget it, you kids wouldn’t know anything about that. Actually it’s not even Charlie but no one in this damn town can pronounce my real name.” She raised her hands and mockingly waved them in the air, “Oooh everyone’s got no problem with that Jap shit but what the fuck is your name? What do you go by instead of that nying-nyong brown asian bullshit?!”

Charlie rolled her eyes and stuck out her tongue, “Myegh. So I chose Charlie because I thought it was fucking hilarious. How ‘bout you?”

She mumbled her name, slowly pushing herself up into a sitting position to better look around her surroundings.

“Chloe, gottit. Nice to meetcha! No really,” Charlie leaned in, pressing her warm cheek right up against Chloe’s with an even wider toothy grin, “you’re the one who smashed up the Boss and Sammy, weren’t you?”

The teen nodded, or at least tried to. Why was this lady smiling when she had almost killed her supposedly beloved boss?

“Hehehe. Nice.” Charlie backed off, “Well, only kinda nice. The Boss- Ooh! His name’s Richard, by the way! Mr. Richard Donavan Wilkings the Third if you want to shove your tongue up his ass. I call him Richie cuz we go all the way back, same high school, used to go out together. Everyone else calls him Boss or Sir. Or Daddy, if you’re one of the toys. We like him, he’s cool. His dog, not so much. Whatta bitch. Samantha’s a real fucking cunt about everyone giving her the same respect even though she totally doesn’t deserve it. Take my advice and stay the fuck away from her. Not that you have a choice…”

Charlie rolled her stool away and began returning some medicines that were on the counter back into their cabinets.

“Anyways, he’s one hell of a workaholic and hasn’t taken a vacation in years. You smashed him up real bad but when you got the Platinum Plus Plan and all the options checked off from Trauma no one’s gotta worry about anything. They got him patched up in their fancy, private med center without lil’ ol’ me no problemo. And you managed to piss off the Boss enough that he finally pulled out the stick from Sammy’s asshole. Or maybe he stuck an even bigger one up in there.” she laughed as she filled a cup of water from the little sink in the wall and handed it to Chloe.

“Samantha Madeline Wilkings, apparently she’s the daughter of a high-ranker at PetroChem or something. Labrador but not friendly at all. I heard she got one hell of a talking to about trying to service him all by herself instead of letting other people help. No fucking way the boss is gonna let her drive anymore either. She’s been quiet for the last two weeks. Real fucking quiet. Like I haven’t heard her screaming about shit for whole days. Fuck, the last time I saw her she was walking around slow with her tail between her legs. The other girls are probably gonna hate you since you hurt the boss but you made Sam shut the fuck up so… who the fuck knows what kind of rep you’ve got here.”

Chloe gripped the cup as tightly as she could, knowing that she would definitely manage to drop it in her current state. She put the plastic cup to her lips and let the ice cold, perfectly pure liquid flow into her empty stomach as Charlie continued to ramble on.

She mumbled a quick word of gratitude.

“Yeah yeah, you’re welcome, girl.” Charlie began patting her back, coaxing out a little burp. “Hah, I knew there was something in there. Good to get those out before you go upstairs.”

“Up… stairs?” Chloe rasped, her voice somewhat restored by the water.

“Yeap.” the ripperdoc sighed before reaching under the bed and pulling out a folding wheelchair, “Richie wants to talk to ya about the whole thing. I can’t promise you’ll walk out of there, if you could walk. I’ve seen Samantha shoot people for much less but I don’t know if she still has that authority.”

The dread that formed in her stomach almost made her puke up the water she had just drank. It was exactly like her mother had said, never mess with the humans, especially not one in a suit. And now she was to meet the one she had wronged face to face.

“Please… Please don’t…” Chloe slowly reached out in desperation as she tried to find the right words to say, finally realizing the gravity of her situation. She slowly grabbed onto the doctor’s sleeve like she had done with the leg of Doug’s pants, begging for any kind of salvation despite knowing full well she absolutely deserved to be dragged upstairs and suffer whatever horrors they had in store for her. She had wronged the human and his dog, she had involved her family. She knew she had to pay, even though she didn’t want to.

“Sorry, girl. For what it’s worth I am actually sorry.” Charlie softly shrugged, accidentally shaking off the vixen’s weak grip but catching Chloe by her armpits before she could tumble off her bed, “But them’s the breaks when you fuck with the big guys. And I can’t lose my job to save you. Overall, you’re basically the most hated person in this building right now. They might hate Sam but they love the Boss more. Sure, Trauma’s treatment means he won’t even have scars when he comes home but...”

The young vixen continued to plead until the guilty, broken look on her face finally made it through.

“Alright! Alright! Look,” Charlie sighed, kicking the wheelchair away before sitting back down, defeated, “I can’t stop the meeting but I can at least pretend that you’re still knocked the fuck out. You think you can keep down dinner?”

Chloe sniffled and nodded. Anything to delay her fate.

“Aye. Ey Naomi!”

A few seconds later a brilliantly blue bird anthro pulled open one of the curtains and seductively slid inside, replacing the now open teal plastic dividers with a brilliant plume that formed a portable and permanently attached backdrop. Her feathers were sharp and shiny, shimmering beautifully iridescent despite being illuminated by nothing more than the drab fluorescent lights of the clinic.

Her eyes were soft, hiding a quiet soul behind her flashy, sexually charged exterior. And yet the moment they glanced towards Chloe all she wanted to do was shrink down and disappear from the sheer judgment that they radiated.

She wore nothing but a hot pink g-string that dug into the soft flesh around her curvy hips. Chloe tried to hide her rapidly blushing cheeks as Naomi strutted out and stopped, her natural stance seemingly posing for an invisible photographer.

“Yes, Ma’am?”

His soft, androgynous voice threw off the vixen, who only stared at the flamboyant not-female bird in confusion. She took another look and realized that the small patch of cloth that was his underwear was hiding a suspiciously large bulge between his legs, confirming his gender.

“You’re going for dinner in a bit, right?”

“Yes, ma’am. I was thinking about Mr. Yang’s stand. Mapo Tofu. We haven’t had that in a while.”

Charlie ooh’ed and softly clapped in approval, “Yeah, that’s sounding real nice.”

“Extra spicy, concentrated chili oil for you?”

“Yeah, make sure he knows it’s me. Legit Asian spicy, not that white people “spicy”. Oh and toss in another small size bowl but tell him zero fucking horsepower in this one.”

Naomi glanced at Chloe, who immediately ducked her eyes to avoid his brief, yet intense stare that seemed to bore straight through her soul and sins.

“Very good, madam. Will that be all?”

“Actually I’ll take two Nicola Blues. Ya want anything to drink, Chloe?”

The vixen shrunk down under Naomi’s soft, yet somehow intensely judging gaze.

“A-Anything’s fine.” she finally murmured.

Charlie turned to her sexy birdtoy, “Two more Nicolas, then. I’ll let you choose the flavors. Oh! And can you get four Pierre’s Croissants and an Orgiatic Omniflave for later?”

“Of course, ma’am.” Naomi bowed.

“Thanks babe!” Charlie reached out, giving his round bottom a firm, commanding smack as he turned and left. What seemed to be the entire floor began giggling as they heard his high-pitched yelp of both surprise and arousal. Chloe watched as his whole rear seemed to continue wiggling from Charlie’s spank until the curtains were closed again.

“That’s Naomi. My little bitch-boi that I like to use to try out all the latest sexy chrome. I’d take some of the other boys to bed, but this club focuses on Chara-Clones than joytoys or dolls and I like my boys shiny. He’s also a test bed for a little something I’ve been working on.” Charlie giggled, licking her lips as she grabbed her tablet and showed Chloe an online order page, “You know what a cyberpsycho is, right?”

Chloe nodded slowly, looking at the catalog in confusion and embarrassment. There were the usual Mr. Studd and Midnight Lady sexual enhancement implants for human men and anthro women respectively, no different than the ones advertised out in the middle of the street. Below, there were many additions and other smaller toys and augments to improve one’s sex life. But then she swiped to another page and some different modifications showed up.

She didn’t know what exactly she was looking at, all she could process was that it was horrific, lewd, and above all else, most likely highly illegal.

“Well he’s a little something I’ve been working on, most cyberpsychos just start shooting up the local NCPD station and get put down like a rabid dog. But you could say my little Naomi’s… special. He was born a raven, black as the night and as nerdy as any night owl shut-in if you could believe that from the fucking fabulous feathers he’s got now. He has an incredible potential to handle cybernetics. Most gonks who can handle multiple major addons usually load themselves up with combat chrome and become mercs but my dude Naomi wanted none of that shit. Which is why I’ve loaded his ass up with at least three dozen sex augments. For both genders, too.”

Chloe nodded slowly with a quickly growing blush on her face, despite the fact that she didn’t really follow.

“That’s right! He’s my little ultraslut with an on-off switch for his cyberpsychosis. Except instead of killing people, he fucks them like crazy. And gets fucked. Basically anyone around him better be ready for a good time ‘cuz Mr. Studd ain’t got shit on my prototype!” Charlie guiltily sank in her chair and stuck out her tongue, “‘Course there was that one time early in the project he got triggered in the middle of the street and I couldn’t control him. Ended up satisfying about fifty guys and gals and got creamed by at least a dozen before the pigs showed up and joined in. God! The MaxTac guys were laughing so hard. Can- Oh, fuck I forgot about this! Can you believe that one of the guys he sucked off was a rich corpo faggot who paid for the bribe to get him cleared up if he could spend a month fucking him privately?”

The ripperdoc laughed out loud as she reminisced.

“Don’t mention any of this shit to him by the way, he hates the fact that pics of him swallowing dicks in broad daylight are still circulating.”

Chloe only continued to smile and nod weakly, wondering when this woman was going to stop talking while she went on and on about her life.

In many ways she was intensely jealous. Never did Charlie mention going to sleep hungry, finding water that didn’t smell like sewage, or having to cut up a trash bag so that she could have something to wear. Food and drink were bought without any sort of worry to their price during breaks and at the night Charlie went home to her very own apartment on the upper levels of the megabuilding, after which she would enjoy a movie or sometimes destroy her walking, talking, feathered dildo through many hours of rough sex.

Charlie continued to talk on and on as she multitasked, snapping out the legs on a small metal bed tray and placing it straddled across Chloe’s legs. She tossed a small pack of alcohol wipes towards her and pulled a larger folding table from behind a desk, jabbering on and on about things the fox didn’t even have the context to understand.

But the luxuries of a stable life weren’t even the peak. As a member of the extremely exclusive human club, Charlie casually referenced certain societal treatments that not even Chloe could believe.

Possibly the most unimaginable was the fact that she could walk through the absolute worst areas of Night City without bothering to care about her safety. Such was the respect that her very presence commanded that an entire gang war had screeched to a halt the moment she had casually walked through their line of fire without a care in the world. An anthro, even a child, would have been shot dead either unintentionally or not.

And Charlie didn’t even realize it.

Chloe’s eyes and head began sliding downwards as the doctor’s endless words turned into white noise, lulling the tired fox back into her sleep, only to jump as she saw the flash of her reflection in the shiny metal surface.

She slowly reached up and touched the soft nub that used to be her left ear, running a finger across the patch of bare skin on her head where her fur had been shaved off and her wound stitched. She stuck out her tongue in order to do the same to her upper lip which had also been torn open, only to instead feel that two of her canine teeth were now gone.

Charlie kept talking despite the mess of a teenage girl before her. Most likely she had and will see much worse.

Not that it made Chloe feel any better to take a good look at her destroyed image.

Naomi had finally returned ten whole minutes later. To Chloe’s relief, Charlie stopped her rambling long enough to open the curtains for him. He strutted magnificently with multiple plastic bags under his arms.

“Madam!”

“Sweeeeeeeet. Lezeeeat!” Charlie grinned wide and rubbed her hands together as her birdtoy dropped their dinner on the table.

Chloe’s stomach audibly gurgled as the heavenly scent escaping from the steaming bag reached her nose. Even the scent itself was delicious, heavier and more flavorful than anything else she had eaten. The smell of ground synthmeat and sim-spices filled the air as Naomi slowly opened the bag and extracted from it three plastic bowls and spoons.

Naomi slowly placed the heavy bowl, a wrapped plastic spoon, and a can of soda with a stylized bird mascot onto the fox’s bed table. For a full minute she could only stare at her meal, not knowing what or even how to start eating until the bird looked over and sighed in annoyance after setting the table for him and his mistress.

Her eyes went wide as he popped the lid off and pulled out her spoon from its plastic wrapping. Naomi held it up for a few seconds before rolling his eyes, taking her hand and wiggling the utensil in between her fingers. Knowing she would probably have trouble with her soda as well, the avian deftly popped the metal can open with a single hand and pushed it towards her.

The open can of soda fizzled quietly as it began to form and drip condensation onto her tray. Chloe said nothing, only continuing to stare in disbelief at the sheer intensity and weight of the first real meal which was almost certainly too much for her malnourished body to handle.

Naomi paused and raised an eyebrow before letting the ends of his mouth curl downwards with the faintest scowl of disdain at the lack of even a single word of gratitude.

He turned away and joined his mistress in eating his own portion silently, not bothering to start any trouble with a little fox girl who would be dead in a few hours anyways.

Chapter 4

Marble slabs, each larger, possibly heavier, but definitely more expensive than the car she was brought here in lined the floor of the expansive office that dominated the entire topmost level. They were tiles of pure white, their few natural imperfections only visible after kneeling down and firmly pressing an eyeball into the cold flooring. Pure gold filled the nearly imperceptibly thin seams between each square. Barely a hair’s breadth wide, they could’ve been mistaken for simple reflections of the late afternoon sun who’s light seemed to be guided by it to flow across the highly polished stone and perfectly illuminate its interior despite the fact that only a meager few rays still made it past the polluted evening air of Night City.

And, as Chloe discovered after an enraged Samantha had smashed her face into the floor, it even had the pleasant taste of citrus.

The pointed tip of the labrador’s finely crafted shoe buried itself into the fox’s stomach with a dull and heavy thud, sending her tumbling backwards and causing an expensive looking statuette of an anthro female in revealing white robes to fall and shatter after Chloe had rolled into a freestanding bookcase. Various other hardcover books and other priceless objects followed, raining down from above onto the already badly beaten vixen.

Samantha howled in rage as she kicked off her ruined footwear and sprinted after her downed prey, the exact words she screamed out unknown even to her. But it was not the broken artifacts nor the stink of the poor that now tainted her master’s office that she was focused on.

A perfectly manicured hand struck Chloe’s cheek. And again. And yet again until her face was as red as the dog’s nails. Samantha’s technique was sloppy but her blind fury compensated with pure strength, a strength she herself did not realize she possessed. With her beloved master hurt and the criminal responsible before her, Chloe did not last a full thirty seconds under her radiating glare before she was torn out of her wheelchair.

Their personal assistants watched from behind, a small crowd of various smartly-dressed anthros calmly standing to either side of their supreme master’s empty desk. They were mostly of the domesticated species, species who's long history submitting to humanity made them unquestionably loyal. Canines and felines made up the majority with equines and a sole violet-eyed doe completing the lineup. Though their clothing was slim and neat, their pockets subtly buldged with various tools and other equipment to solve any issue that troubled their master and mistress. One of the felines glanced towards the large screen in place of their master’s chair, still blank.

The grey-furred servant with heterochromatic eyes and a turf of light cream hair quietly huffed, amused that they had gone through so much effort in order to catch a street rat. While he himself did not have access to the budget books, rumors were abundant that Chloe’s capture and delivery involved at least a few hundred thousand Eurodollars, if not a full million and various merc teams and other intelligence assets. Expendature like this hadn't been seen since they had last renovated the underground biolabs three years ago.

Richard, or more likely, Samantha, must have been exceptionally angry to sign off on that amount. While the labrador had immediately taken the violent route, Richard would have likely taken a more calculated approach. He wouldn’t simply send her off to the bloodhouses to be butchered into sausages, not the anthro girl who had wrecked his car, body, and wife. No, she would endure a punishment of his own style of cruelty. Some other much worse punishment. What exact hell she would suffer, none in the room knew.

They would talk once his daily medical rehabilitation session was complete. Whether it was a chance for her to speak her plea or a false hope to crush her further, no one knew for sure.

The servant slowly raised his watch, noting that Richard Wilkings was now a full fifteen minutes past the scheduled start time and that the sun had even set past the horizon. The warm embrace of natural sunlight was slowly replaced by the eerily subtle increase in brightness of the retro-style standing lamps and the incandescent bulbs that hid behind their decorated accordion-folded shades.

Of course his master was never late. It was already a gamble of life and death to remind a human of his responsibilities, they knew what they were doing even if their anthro thralls were not capable of understanding their full genius. Not to mention that he was hospitalized. He would be here when he would be here.

Until then, the cat thought as he lowered his arm and replaced it behind his back in a smooth, professional motion, he and his colleagues should enjoy the show. Most didn't even watch, their eyes unfocused and having wandered off to stare at the rapidly dimming horizon. Some watched the cruelty without a twitch of their lips nor a scrunch of their faces to betray their genuinely horrified emotions, others allowed themselves the slightest of satisfied grins while viewing the beating in amusement at their literal bitch of a mistress taking her frustrations out on someone else for once. What made it sweeter was the fact that in a city of injustices and innocent victims, for once someone who deserved their punishment received exactly that.

Chloe gurgled pathetically as the dog’s trembling left hand wrapped around her thin neck. No matter how tightly she pulled on Samantha’s perfectly conditioned hair, no matter how hard she scratched at the bitch’s own neck, she could not overcome the rage of a wronged lover for her wounded husband.

No amount of sobbing apologies nor cries to her mother stopped the barrage, eventually her newly healed lips had become so battered again that her already incoherent words turned into animalistic cries and meaningless sobbing. Slaps turned into punches as the labrador finally figured out how to curl her fingers into a fist to better deliver her fury directly into Chloe’s face.

Darkness began to creep in from the edges of her vision as she gasped for precious air. Samantha not only maintained her grip but even made sure to position her hands so that Chloe was forced to look directly into her enraged eyes as the beating continued. Her chocolate brown pupils had shrunk down into mere pinpricks and her perfectly white fangs were bared and clenched together so hard that the rapidly dying fox watched one fracture from the sheer pressure her jaw exerted onto it.

The dog’s nostrils flared as she inhaled deeply, unconsciously taking in the scent of her defeated foe. Foam bubbled rabidly from the corners of her mouth and down onto her ruffled top as she watched the vixen’s eyes roll up into her head and eyelids flutter weakly, her empty lungs heaving for air and heavily concussed brain beginning to fail and shut down.

For a single moment her mother’s gentle, smiling face replaced Samantha’s. Her palms warmed the young fox’s bloodied cheeks in a soft, welcoming caress. Behind her Zara was busy dancing around a seemingly infinite expanse of a grassy field, each of their youngest siblings hanging off of each of her arms. Her melodic voice was joined by their off-key and screeching voices as they jointly sang an unknown song that went on for eternity.

Chloe looked around, apparently she had fallen during their fun. The cut on her forehead stung a little bit but it was nothing major. Noelle smiled and shook her heat at her second daughter’s antics before standing up and backing away, silently motioning her to rejoin the family. Chloe reached out and struggled in an attempt to follow, finding her legs aching and hurting more than usual. She called out to her mother, only for her to turn around in horror.

Samantha was back and the idyllic, almost heaven-like end with her family was replaced by the cold, opulent office. Chloe was disappointed at being denied this one final mercy. If she had to die that was probably the best way to go, and not staring into the eyes of a raging bitch.

She got her wish in the form of a bright, harsh blast of static searing her tired eyes, disabling her vision for a few seconds.

The extremely large holoscreen behind Samantha ignited to full brightness for a single moment before being replaced by the digital recreation of their master’s stitched up face, leaving the tall labrador as nothing more than a dark, cowering silhouette in front of the visage of their supreme leader. From how all the assistants were now cowering in pain from having their eardrums blown out, it was clear to all that Richard Wilkins was pissed.

“DOWN!”

His booming bark of a command was absolute and unquestionable. Samantha’s formerly arrogant and superior stance instantly disappeared. She dropped her prey and distanced herself from it like a guilty child caught with her hand in the jar of forbidden sweets. Her flowing tail submissively curled under her torn dress and in between her legs. Obediently lowering her head and staring at the floor, she clenched her hands tightly together over her belly to suppress the fearful whimpers that now attempted to escape her throat.

“S-Sir! Please do not stress yourself any further! Your body is still recovering…!” The faint voice of a frantic nurse interrupted Richard’s tirade before it even began, her gloved hands attempting to force the boss to lie back down onto his bed.

Samantha stayed silent, knowing that her husband was not in the mood for any more disobedience and that attempting to fight for his right to speak would only grow his ire further. Her assistants and servants knelt down and similarly stared at the floor to show their loyalty and to keep out of the fight. The sounds of their human and his nurse arguing over each other echoed through the office until he finally accepted his current state.

“Alright, alright!” Defeated, Richard sighed and weakly waved off his temporary caretaker, the rage that fueled his initial burst of energy wasted on arguing with someone who had nothing to do with his visit and his need for multiple surgeries and rehab.

The man before Chloe breathed in once and steadied his eyes. Words escaped her as the human’s piercing pupils bore through all the barriers she had put up to survive the streets and peered directly into her soul. At a glance he did not seem the deadliest, or physically impressive. In fact, he did not seem to even have any cybernetics at all, at least not ones that significantly changed his physical appearance. Stitches and sterile patches covered his face and his arms were tightly imprisoned in teal insta-casts. Despite his hospitalized state, as she looked at him through her right eye that hadn’t swollen shut, Richard Donovan Wilkins still radiated a commanding, unquestionable presence that Chloe trembled at despite being protected from him by a great distance.

He tossed his head to the side and Samantha obeyed, despite the fact that not a single word was spoken and she continued to look away from her master, the nearly two decades of intense etiquette training she had been forced to endure kicking in. The labrador stepped aside without a moment of hesitation nor confusion, the extremely subtle whoosh of air she heard being more than enough for her to understand what had been ordered of her.

For the first time, Chloe felt naked.

Despite a lifetime of comfortable nudity due to her family's poverty she felt like his eyes were looking inside parts of her body that not even her mother knew existed. He softly huffed in annoyance, not from the blood and other fluids that now flowed out onto the floor of his office from the slowly breathing slump of flesh and fur, but instead towards his wife.

“What did I say, Samantha?” he asked slowly, almost growling, without taking his eyes off of the well-beaten fox.

A frightened gasp was followed by a piercing silence until she finally found the courage to nervously gulp, “Yo-You… said… said to wait until you were on…”

“Oh.” he said slowly and softly, sliding his piercing gaze towards his wife with a threatening whisper of acknowledgement that only a razor-sharp human corporate god could pull off, “So you were listening. After all this I had really hoped you’d learned your lesson about acting out of order…”

Samantha tightly gripped her hands together, not even wiping away the blood that flowed out of the side of her mouth from her broken tooth, anything to maintain her professional, obedient posture. She tensed up her whole body in a desperate attempt to keep still and prevent herself from losing what little good will she had in her master’s eyes, but despite her efforts her shoulders began to shake uncontrollably and tears began to wet her eyes as wild thoughts of being tossed out and replaced for her disobedience filled her spoiled mind.

After a tortuous few minutes in silent thought, Richard Wilkins sighed quietly as he relaxed the stern wrinkles around his face and deflated back into his bed, too tired to deal with this in the usual manner.

“Ah well.” he finally mumbled.

His low, relaxed acceptance of the situation sent her to the floor. Samantha landed on her knees with an uncomfortably loud thump and gasped, releasing the breath not even she realized she was holding.

“I really shouldn’t be surprised you went for it, not with the amount of independence I made sure you had. Not a bad thing as an admin, but..”

The human shook his head, “In the end this whole mess is because I didn’t push you after you insisted on driving me around yourself. I’m not going to say you’re out of control but…” he sighed, “I really should’ve kept your collar a little tighter. I’m not going to give my heart to someone else because I have a driver instead of you. I get you want to do everything for me but we’ve got help, Sammy. A lot of help. A lot of fucking help. There’s a reason I pay them to be here. Shit, some of them would be here even if I didn’t pay them. You don’t need to be up for twenty hours a day doing everything for me like the old days, Love. Not anymore.”

She began to cry, tears now flowing freely while blubbering incoherent apology after apology to her husband for supposedly causing this whole mess.

“It’s alright, girl. S’allright.” Richard yawned, rubbing his tired eyes, “But really, I'm getting a driver, you're getting a driver and I'll make sure you’re never sitting in the front again. Maybe if you’ve been a good girl I’ll let you ride shotgun on the weekends, okay? And then you can stick your head out the window all you want.”

Samantha choked and coughed, "Okay..." she gurgled, not even realizing that snot from her running nose had joined the mess on her now thoroughly ruined dress. She didn’t care, not at that moment.

She had her life back.

“Just consider this your semi-retirement. I might get… I dunno, I guess Amelia to unofficially replace you as VP. You’ve done a ton to get Organic Toys up onto its feet but,” the boss chuckled softly, “if you could do all that and still be a dedicated wife, I’d like to see what you can do with less distractions. You get me?”

The labrador hiccupped and nodded, trying to smile but crying a little too hard for the corners of her mouth to curl upwards.

“Now!” Richard said, his cheerful tone returning to a low, silently furious rumble as he turned back to the savagely mauled teen vixen, “What to do with you…”

Chloe’s one good eye only stared upwards, weary and red from everything. Samantha was just misguided, but she herself was nothing more than a filthy street anthro preying on the innocent. Justified in her mission to feed her family perhaps, but she was going to die regardless.

Samantha coughed as she wiped her face clean with her arms in an uncharacteristically sloppy manner.

“Kill her.” she finally growled quietly as she soaked up the last of her tears into her arm fur, “Fucking just kill her.”

Her husband cocked his head back and forth in thought before shrugging slowly and nodding once, too tired to come up with a more cruel alternative. He nodded to one of the assistants and the guillotine blade fell.

By this point Chloe was exhausted, not even being able to muster the energy to cry one last time. The doe nodded back before reaching inside a drawer, pulling out a little black object and began to briskly walk towards the broken fox girl. Despite everything the slickly-dressed doe somehow maintained her professional posture and step despite being the chosen one to end the poor girl’s life.

So this was it then. The thought of death and of being released from this entire mess was almost welcoming. No more beatings, no more pain. They would put a bullet through her head and dump her corpse out the window for the vultures to feed off of. There would be nothing left of or for her.

Her heels clicked on the perfect floor, increasing in volume but maintaining a highly regulated and tight step as she approached.

A chill ran down her spine, she already had seen what was waiting for her on the other side. She had cried out the last of her tears, screamed out the last pleas for mercy, she had run as fast as she could and yet they had caught her. And when they did they healed her, stitching up her wounds for the express purpose of brutalizing her yet again. She was back to what seemed to be her natural state, lying on the ground, stripped naked and beaten bloody. What else was there to do? What else could she do?

Nothing.

She heard the doe’s short office skirt shuffle and slide against her shapely legs as she knelt from behind. Finally defeated, Chloe breathed out one last time and relaxed, enjoying the comforting chill of the stone floor one final time before she felt the even colder embrace of death. It would be over soon.

The gun clicked quietly as the doe pulled back the slide and confirmed its deadly potential. As the doomed fox felt the cold muzzle of the pistol on the back of her head one final ember of tenacity sparked back to life. No, she still had one final card to play.

She forced both her eyes open despite the stinging agony in her left. Chloe’s muscles burned one final time as she ungracefully raised a shaky arm and swatted the black handgun away from her head. The doe, not expecting this move, obliged and pulled the gun away. Chloe returned the stare into the human’s own eyes on the screen, making sure to show him just how resilient her spirit was.

“I.. saved… your… life…”

The room went silent, even the usual distant humming and droning of Nice City seemed to back away in respect.

“What?” Samantha softly growled, only to be stopped by the raised open hand of her husband.

The soft, loving husband was gone. In his place was the corporate overlord persona he wore during the day. He voiced the single word in a sterile, curt tone, the same tone a cutthroat manager staring down a pitiful, lowly applicant who was less than a week from absolute destitution during her interview would use.

Richard, now at least slightly intrigued, motioned for Chloe to continue.

“Explain.”

“The…” Chloe stuttered as she tried to remember the right word, “the wharf…”

The feline assistant marched sharply behind the desk and brought up an overhead map of Night City for all to reference, circling the incident area red with a finger on the touchscreen.

Memories of that fateful night began to flood Chloe’s mind again.

“I kn-know that you’ve… never driven this way. Bec-because of the construction.”

“You bitch!” Samantha quietly growled, “How long have you been watching us?”

Chloe’s silence told them all they had to know. Again, only Richard’s open hand stopped Samantha from shredding her apart.

“It was a downhill and… your car was going too fast to stop. You would have gone into the water…”

Samantha spat, “We have Trauma’s Platinum Plans, you little shit! Wouldn’t have made a fucking difference…”

“If I may, Madam-” the feline raised a finger.

“The hell is it, Raymond!?” she spun her head around and glared at the lowly office grunt who dared to interrupt.

Raymond deftly pressed a few more keys on Richard’s terminal and brought up the dash camera footage taken that night. A deep sense of shame clenched at Chloe’s heart as she saw herself from a few weeks ago, throwing away her health and family with a single move by even thinking of raising her pistol.

“I estimate that Mr. Wilkins’ Rayfield Caliburn was traveling fast enough and that the vehicle, that, might I remind the Master, was being driven by an inebriated Mrs. Wilkins that night, has an aerodynamic and sturdy design to create an exceptional downforce, enough to cause the vehicle to plunge to a much deeper depth than most other vehicles during a submersion at speed-”

“So?”

The feline hummed for a moment, “If we consider that Trauma Team prioritizes human clients over anthros and the less-than-ideal probabilities of a successful underwater rescue and stabilizing of, ah-” Raymond cleared his throat, “long-furred anthro individuals, I can conclude that while Mr. Wilkins himself was not at any risk of drowning or at least at risk of dying from Trauma Team’s inability to reach him in time, I cannot say with good confidence that you, Madam, had the same chances of survival that night had you driven into the water.”

A shocked pause filled the office, broken only by Samantha’s soft sputtering.

“Heh.”

The feeling of life flowed back into Chloe’s body as the doe backed away, returning the gun back into the drawer knowing that it would no longer be needed.

The room stayed silent for a few minutes that felt like ages.

Richard grinned and inhaled and exhaled until his lungs were full then emptied, ignoring his speechless wife for even considering believing the story.

Samantha looked back and forth in shock, trying to come up with the words, any kind of words, to properly convey her dissatisfaction that the floor was not currently coated with Chloe’s brain matter.

Like a well-rehearsed ballet, the assistants all began to move in perfect unison once they wordlessly read their master’s wishes.

One retrieved the wheelchair that had been thrown off to the side during her beating. Four began treating her injuries, their gentle hands dabbing away the blood and expertly patching up her cuts and wounds with a first aid kit that they had seemingly pulled out of thin air. Two shook their handkerchiefs open and began to wipe up the mess from the floor, even spraying it the same citrus cleaner Chloe had tasted earlier. Even the doe who only a few minutes ago was about to end her life, now helped her colleagues ever so gently return the battered fox back into her chair. Her nudity was covered in a replacement patient gown that had also appeared out of nowhere, with slight-of-hand skills rivalling even the sleaziest magician she herself didn’t even notice they had dressed her until after they had all backed away.

And just like that, Chloe was back where she started, sitting in a wheelchair facing the human’s desk. Bruised and bloodied, but alive.

Richard nodded in acknowledgement, “Let’s forget about the statistics for a moment and just say you made a bad situation less bad. I’m okay with getting hurt if it meant that Sammy wouldn’t. That’s if she was even alive enough to go, so I’ll have to thank you for making that impossible.”

Chloe only stared through unfocused eyes, her tired mind not capable of realizing the fact that she had gone from being less than ten seconds away from being executed to being praised by one of the most powerful humans in Night City.

“Ya’know, Sammy…” Richard dropped his corpo mask and teasingly stuck out his tongue, “I didn’t know you were such a softie!”

“Softie?” Samantha cocked her head.

“You were beating her pretty hard earlier, but you weren’t trying to actually kill her, right? Just the usual beating?”

She slowly nodded, if only to pretend to agree with her master’s words. Chloe glanced her way, only for the canine to return a nasty look and a quiet hiss. She totally meant to kill her earlier.

“And you could’ve run her over with the car but you chose to avoid her instead. You crashed our car with me in it instead of killing her! Didn’t know you had such a heart for some random Kibble!”

“I don’t! It was just- That was-! I was just trying to keep the car clean and-” she stammered, trying to come up with something believable for a lie much harder to explain away.

Richard laughed playfully, “Does this have anything to do with you wanting a daughter, hm? You’ve always told me you wanted a little girl to spoil.”

A deep crimson bloomed all over Samantha’s face as she instinctively placed a hand over her lower belly and neglected womb, still empty from the birth control medication she took in order to both minimize any distractions from her work during the day and continually satisfy her husband at night.

“We didn’t have time then. But…” Richard grinned, “we’ll have plenty of time now. Especially since we won’t be in any more accidents. How about it, Samantha? Toss those pills and when I get back in a bit we’ll get this family started properly. Would you like that?”

Euphoric tears dripped from her eyes and down her face, currently frozen in shock at her ultimate dream getting confirmed. Samantha sniffled and smiled.

“Atta girl." he grinned, "Then go ahead and take an early night for the rest of the week. Clean yourself up first though, you’re a mess.”

He chuckled, breaking his wife's shock loose as well, causing her to join in with her own laughter as if they hadn’t just tried to end Chloe.

“Okay, but I wanna talk a little more afterwards!” Samantha giggled, her horrible day now quickly forgotten.

“Alright, alright. Just let me get this business done first, okay, Love?”

She breathed in once, “Alright, honey.” she responded softly, turning around to take a seat on a velvet sofa.

“Now, back to you again. I gotta ask,” Richard leaned forwards, glancing at the paused video of Chloe pointing a gun at their car. Had her pistol been loaded and triggered it would have killed at least one of them, “I’m pretty sure you weren’t just trying to save us. So why not tell us the whole story?”

Chloe gulped and glanced meekly at Samantha who was thankfully distracted with her hands in her dress, rubbing her currently flat belly and having fun imagining what it would be like for both womb and breasts to expand as she carried her master’s children after so many years of hard work preventing them from taking the next step with their relationship.

“Well…”

Her first words were hushed and stuttered, barely able to be heard. But slowly, as his amused smile grew wider and wider her confidence continued to grow. By the end of her explanation of her plan to cause someone to crash into the All-Foods vending machines to crack them open by pointing her pistol towards their car, Richard was amused enough to give her a short laugh.

“Cle-ver fox…”

He asked her many more questions, about her family, about her role as the middle child, about her home, about her sister, her mother, their work both official and unofficial, and what they had to do to survive. He nodded with genuine interest as she described her old home, raised a surprised eyebrow at the oddly orderly way her mother raised her children, and even chuckled once or twice at the more humorous of her stories. And he particularly seemed to enjoy the retelling of her chase and eventual capture by the mercs Doug and Joy's.

Samantha gave Chloe a few glances of jealousy at stealing away her beloved master’s attention but otherwise gave no other objections after the promise he had made.

Eyes wavering and faces subtly contorting as they attempted to suppress their yawns, the forgotten servants and assistants all continued to obediently stand side by side. Each’s usually neat clothing was in various states of disheveled after their long and unusual night. Not even their developed skills of stretching their muscles without moving their limbs around weren’t enough to stave off the fatigue.

Fortunately it seemed that despite his usually endless energy, even Richard was starting to feel the effects of the longer then usual night. He looked up and yawned for a full ten seconds, groaning in relief as he felt his neck release some immensely satisfying pops.

After another pause that felt like it stretched to another age, he finally rubbed his eyes and shrugged.

“Ah hell, I’m feeling generous. Must be the drugs.”

Samantha’s jaw gaped in absolute horror as she realized what her husband was about to do.

“I can’t release you. Hell, I won’t be releasing you. You saving us was a happy accident, nothing more. You might be a smart and spirited girl who cares about her family but that doesn’t change the fact that you cause a lot of bad shit. Wrecked my car, hurt my family. In the end, Raymond’s predictions are just that, predictions. There is no guarantee that anything would have happened to us if you hadn’t interfered. But his predictions are usually damn good.”

Raymond looked away and blushed from the praise.

“So. Considering the confusing situation, I’m willing to deal. I won’t have you killed but I won’t just let you go. Starting tomorrow you will begin paying off your debts.” the human leaned back and thoughtfully tapped his finger on the railing on the side of his hospital bed, “We'll have an actual number for you to work towards soon but let’s make it clear that I don’t want the money, even if you had enough to pay it all off. No, I want you. Your time, your body, your effort, your mind. All of it will become property of Organic Toys. Considering your debt, it will basically be in perpetuity. Am I understood?”

The weight of dread dampened the brief high of freedom she felt earlier during her unexpected interview as she genuinely poured her soul out. The fox froze up as her mind slowly began to understand the true depths of the contract. He wasn’t asking if she was agreeing, he was asking if she understood the terms of the contract knowing she wouldn’t even have the alternate choice of suicide.

"Wh- What abou-" she began to stammer out until she was interrupted.

"Your family? I'll give you one last piece of advice," Richard shook his head and leaned closer to the camera, "everyone has to leave the cradle eventually. They will no longer be your focus, Organic Toys will be. I'm not saying you should forget them outright and I won't object to visitation, but go ahead and consider it a privilege for good work than a right. If you know what I mean."

She gulped, sniffled, blinked out a few tears and nodded once she realized she had no other choice.

Richard nodded in return, sealing the contract.

“Don’t worry, I can’t guarantee that whatever tasks you will be made to complete won’t be distasteful or humiliating, but I will promise they won’t be deadly or at least unnecessarily harmful. You’ll be fed, clothed, and sheltered. And hey, I'll even toss in a hot shower.”

Without even allowing her a second to process what just happened Richard raised an arm and waved at his servants to take her away, only to call out and stop them from wheeling her out the door.

“Ah, shit!” he hissed as he smacked his head and laughed at himself, “I can’t believe I forgot to ask earlier. May I have your name, please?”

“C-Chloe,” she paused, “Sir.” she added after remembering one of Charlie’s words about showing respect towards the boss. Her boss.

Richard nodded and opened his arms, “Miss Chloe. I’d like to welcome you to the Organic Toybox.”

She suppressed a sniffle and bowed down as far as she could while sitting in her wheelchair, not knowing how else to respond.

“Welcome forever.”

Chapter 5

While the concept of clothing was nothing new to the little fox girl, never had she been made to wear so much at once. A pair of cheap plastiky rubber boots protected her usually bare and free feet, squeaking and chirping uncomfortably loud on the smooth vinyl tiles of the employee-only utility hallways hidden well behind the rooms who’s walls were slathered in glitz and glamour. The faint stink of filth that seeped in from the cracks underneath the doors was masked by the sharp, overpowering smell of sanitizer which forced tears from her eyes.

A faded navy blue jacket adorned with what she assumed to be the club’s emblem over her left breast hung from her shoulders above a pair of well worn but somehow immensely comfortable work pants. They sagged off her body and she walked with a new, slightly uncontrollable swagger from the unfamiliar weight, just slightly too much for her lithe, semi-emaciated frame. Chloe jumped and gritted her teeth as her new clothing occasionally caught on the random objects and decorations that jutted out from the sides of the hallway, still not exactly used to wearing clothing at all.

Chloe squirmed as she felt the lacy, delicate cloth rub against her privates with each step she took. Despite their eye-stingingly bright pink color and certain features that hinted at their more lewd nature, Charlie’s loaned panties and bra managed to fit her perfectly and she already appreciated how they protected her from the rougher insides of her uniform.

She raised the little slip of paper Charlie had printed off and read the instructions she had scribbled on the back of her temporary pass and ID. And again. And again, until she breathed in to clear her nerves, knowing she couldn’t procrastinate any longer.

With a nervous gulp she stopped in front of the featureless double doors that led into the Central Club Atrium. She heard no thudding music nor the cheers and laughter of the usual patrons through the many cracks between the door and the frame. She exhaled, grabbed her shoulder with a hand to steady her nerves, and used the other to slowly push the heavy doors apart.

The musty, weighty air of a quiet dance club in the early morning, the aftermath of last night’s partying, all combined with the glaring morning sun blasting in from the nearly four story tall windows almost physically pushed her backwards. The neon club lights hanging from the overhead gantries were dark and cold, replaced with the irritatingly calm and nearly useless fluorescent bar lights. A weary, slightly chubby rodent technician wearing the same blue uniform hung from the ceiling trusses by her tail, sighing audibly as she quickly replaced the burnt-out bulbs to blast out the eyes of the next night’s partygoers. Without even looking she expertly dropped the expended lights into a garbage can that was sat on the floor nearly thirty feet below her.

The soles of Chloe’s boots ceased their dry squeaking and began to squelch as she carefully walked through the puddles of various fluids that had been spilled onto the tile floor. She held her breath, attempting to suppress her nausea and protect her nose from the heavy stink of alcohol, sweat, vomit, sickly sweet perfumes, among other fluids, the nauseating result of a night of debauchery and unrestricted lust that would soon ferment into an unimaginable pool of truly disgusting sludge should it not be cleaned quickly.

She subtly pulled her uniform away as she passed by a couch that was being sprayed down by a team of half-asleep workers, trying to avoid getting any of the filth onto her new clothing. Despite being run over by a car and beaten to a pulp all within the past few days, Charlie had managed to work her ripperdoc magic over the weekend and the little fox had regained enough mobility to weave between the many obstacles between her and the mysterious person she was to meet. Mountains of unconscious whores still coughing out their last meal of semen from a dozen different partners and the absolutely massive pile of used condoms and abandoned sex toys swept from the private rooms into the central atrium for disposal, all were easily dodged as she made her way towards the center.

Tired yells and the sound of wet slapping made Chloe stop in her tracks. What appeared to be a brown rabbit with pink fluff on her ears was currently busy weakly kicking and beating a half-asleep canine male. Their bodies seemed to be woven together, joined together between the legs by a thin stretch of pink flesh. With a final push and a screeching scream, the bunny’s feet managed to find purchase on the dog’s belly and forcefully tore out his still crimson red, enlarged knot from her gaping, painfully sore pussy. With his unwanted gift still flowing out of her she pounced yet again, this time able to directly assault his exposed privates now that they were no longer right up against her body.

Chloe’s remaining ear folded back down at his tortured, now not-so-sleepy scream as the rabbit took advantage of her species’ incredibly strong legs to make sure the seed he had so thoughtlessly poured into her would be the last he would ever make in his sad, non-human life.

“Ahem.”

The little fox spun around, slightly panicked that she had been so distracted, a death sentence out in the streets. She managed to capture one blurry glance at the new person before finally slipping on a puddle of what was probably a putrid mix of stale urine and a discarded lubricated condom, landing squarely in its center with a wet, prominent splat. Chloe hissed, cursing a little bit as she carefully got up and wiped her hands on her pants, more annoyed at her clothes being ruined than the fact that she now stank of piss.

The woman cleared her throat again, causing Chloe to twitch and almost fall back in, having already forgotten her due to the unexpected slip. The little fox stammered a bit before Charlie’s advice came through again.

Learn when to shut the fuck up, don’t say anything unnecessary, keep your responses short and curt.

“I-I’m sorry, uh, Ma’am!” Chloe bowed her head, but peeked upwards just enough to see who was trying to talk to her.

She was a feline with dark cream fur, what delicate appearance her slenderness and delicate form may have given her was compensated by her height and stern stature, granting her a strikingly commanding presence that was thoroughly out of place in such an unrelentingly degenerate club. She wore a strange outfit of a graceful blue coat with gold trim, matching pointed hat, and tall, dark leather boots, all somehow immaculately clean despite being surrounded by and most likely after stepping in filth. Her jade eyes under scrunched eyebrows peered down to the filthy girl before her with judgment and contempt, but also a large amount of unimpressed indifference. In some ways even Samantha had initially appeared more approachable than her.

“Good. I had hoped you would at least be capable of the bare minimum.” Even her voice was curt and concise, speaking in a polished accent Chloe had only heard spoken by the absolute highest-class humans, “I was informed that I would soon be receiving a new laborer and I had my doubts regarding your… competence,” Her eyes glanced downwards to Chloe’s ruined pants, “however I see that you are no stranger to dealing with filth. Hm. Perhaps you will be useful. Papers.” She held out her hand, not asking, but demanding that her order be followed.

The documents that Charlie had printed out were swiftly taken from Chloe’s hand before she could even finish raising her arm completely. She simultaneously began her introduction as she unfolded and read the printouts.

“I am Amelia Smollette, General Manager of Sections One and Two of The Organic Toybox Club. When addressing me you will refer to me as Captain or Ma’am.” She snapped her eyes towards and back from the rapidly shrinking fox, comparing the mugshot on her ID to her actual appearance, “Miss… Chloe, is that correct?”

She nodded.

Amalia narrowed her eyes into a glare.

Chloe stared back for a moment until she realized what was being ordered of her.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Hm.” she returned to the papers. “No surname, I see.” She mumbled to herself. With a single hand Amelia waved the open paper around, folding it perfectly with nothing but its momentum until it disappeared smoothly into a hidden pocket like a spy and his butterfly knife, “This way.”

Without waiting for Chloe’s acknowledgment and response she spun around on the tip of her right foot with the grace and precision of a ballet dancer and smartly began walking towards the main entrance of the club. The vixen scrambled to follow, trying not to fall back into the wet puddles underneath as Captain Amelia began the introductions.

“The Organic Toybox Club, or ‘Organic Toys’ as it is also commonly known, is a rather unique establishment that prides itself on its custom-made, exotic offerings that no lesser club nor brothel can match. While others rely on cheaper, less authentic methods of delivering sexuality and sensations usually utilizing dollchips or braindances, Organic Toys is exactly that, boys and girls of nothing but genuine flesh and blood for our customers to enjoy however they so desire. This extends to all cybernetics both internal and external, which our Toys are banned from being fitted with unless their character is canonically augmented with such.”

The Captain gestured to the many advertisements showing off scantily-clad, lewdly posed busty females and occasionally boys that lined the walls of the long hallway that slowly sloped downwards.

“As you can see our primary focus is on faithful recreations and occasionally anthropomorphic adaptations of licensed, trademarked characters and species. Eligible individuals are rebirthed in our underground laboratory and trained on site. Most will be transferred to our many franchised establishments in various other locations all across the world but some will remain right here at Organic Toys headquarters should they display an exceptionally high aptitude.”

Without stopping or slowing down at all Amelia passed through the automatic door of an elevator that Chloe didn’t even realize was there, almost causing her to gasp in surprise as the Captain almost walked right into it before it could open fully. Another wave of nausea formed in her stomach as the lift unexpectedly began to descend quicker than she would have liked.

“Using patented methods which shall go undisclosed to maintain trade secrets, potential candidates are first screened, trained, tested, and then physically transformed into the Toy that they shall remain permanently. Toys are split into two main categories, Species and Characters.”

The elevator stopped suddenly with a soft ping and unceremoniously deposited them into a loud, turbulent underground. Chloe had to slap her hand over her mouth to force down the vomit. Unlike the highly polished gloss and neon finish of the upper levels these areas were purely utilitarian and clearly meant only for employees. Bland fluorescent lights illuminated the concrete and tile which lined the floor of the long hallway with many wide, doorless entrances leading to many different rooms.

Toys of all kinds and genders leaned up against the wall, relishing the end of their long workdays chugging cool sodas dripping with condensation and chatting amongst themselves, not caring that their abused bodies were still soiled with cold and drying semen from their many customers.

She peeked into one of the cleaning rooms. Other than the waist-high fog of heavy steam which slowly flowed out of the shower rooms, privacy was nothing more than a myth in the mixed-gender bathing level. The fire sprinklers had apparently been repiped to now squirt out a constant stream of hot water and foamy soap, enough to splash the nearly three dozen Toys packed tightly together underneath. On the far wall, toilets and other more serious tools were available for more in-depth purging of unwanted substances.

Some of the more friendly Toys were busy assisting each other with extracting lost dildos from their holes, purging various fluids they had been forced to consume, or simply washing the backs of whoever was closest while others continued to chatter about random events as if they had not just been pretending to be raped for their customer’s enjoyment.

In the small confines of the elevator Chloe had shrunk in embarrassment at just how badly she smelled but suddenly she didn’t feel so out of place. Just another soul covered in filth from the daily grind.

Amelia gestured to a small rabble of what appeared to be extremely pale green-haired women in white and green dresses, tall, curvy light brown rabbits, and a small number of blue and black canines, all waiting in line for the crowded showers.

“For example, from the extremely popular Pokemon franchise are the Gardevoir, Lopunny, and Lucario types and their sub-evolutions. They are Species types and are manufactured with various body types and in both genders to meet the widely varying demands of their customers. Of which there are many as their popularity has remained extremely high and steady many decades past their initial debuts, with each single evolution type occasionally surpassing the demand for entire franchises from other media corporations.”

Chloe unsuccessfully attempted to force her eyes off the tired sex workers to save them what little dignity they still had left.

While they all shared the overall traits with their species each was different in some way, some had breasts larger than their skulls, others were flat as a board. Some males had penises no larger than her pinkie, while others sported unwieldy cocks the length and girth of a street bollard. Some girls and boys with shorter and less curvy bodies appeared to be dangerously young, perhaps around the same age as her younger siblings. Fortunately the cigarettes that hung from their mouths and the gruff complaints about mysterious back pains revealed their true ages.

“Character types are recreations of Named Characters. Even less common are the extremely limited stock of Main Character types, such as myself. As the name would suggest, we take our titles and appearances from the famous and iconic main characters from media which are currently or predicted to become popular. The training to become a Named is extremely difficult, with only one in every hundred ever satisfactorily meeting our requirements. A Main, even more so. Less than one in a thousand will ever gain that privilege. Our offerings include characters from franchises owned by mega-media giants such as Disney, Dreamworks, Nintendo, Sega, amongst many others. Of note is our more niche lineup of exceptionally popular netizen-created ‘Original Characters’ that feature in various artwork, webcomics, animations, and other net creations. Non-humanoid types are currently only offered as Anthropomorphic adaptations.”

Chloe scrunched her eyebrows in confusion and concern as she watched one unfortunate frustrated Lopunny unsuccessfully attempt to peer past his intrusive G-cup breasts with large heart-shaped piercings hanging off his nipples as he unsuccessfully attempted to pick open the metal micro chastity cage he had been forced into by a particularly perverted customer.

“Um, is he-?”

“Hm?” Amelia glanced backwards to where Chloe was pointing, “Ah yes. Certain… customers… find the allure of mixing both genders into a single individual highly titillating. Though absolutely unnatural and derided by many, our labs are more than capable of highly drastic modifications to cater to more deviant preferences. Nonstandard Toys do come with a rather hefty additional fee, however their customers do tend to be more fanatic and loyal than others.”

The Lopunny, noticing that he was the subject of a discussion, angrily raised a middle finger towards the pair. Or, Chloe mused, perhaps she had originally started off as fully female.

“Is that… okay?”

Amelia raised an eyebrow in confusion before realizing what Chloe was referring to.

“If you are curious about consent then yes, each Toy is a willing employee of Organic Toys. They have agreed to their conversion beforehand and are treated as regular employed individuals after their debt contract period has ended.”

“Debt?”

“The process to change their bodies is a permanent one. They will be transformed into a trademarked character for which many licensing fees, not to mention the expense of the actual bodily modification, must be paid in full before they are allowed free. An individual that has been formed into a generic member of a species tends to earn their freedom in roughly two decades. For a Named the average time to settle that debt is, I believe, fifty years. For the scant few fortunate enough to become Mains their debt may as well be perpetual.”

Chloe choked as she heard those numbers, “Wait, ‘fortunate’?”

Amelia looked back and raised a curious eyebrow, “Do not be so shocked, Miss Chloe. Many see it as a non-issue at worst and at best, a generous blessing to be sheltered for as long as possible. I’m sure you of all people would be well educated in the harsh truths of the outside world. To be indebted to Organic Toys is a guarantee of at least passable treatment for the longest time, some even deliberately grow their debt to secure their livelihoods. Very occasionally some unwanted Toys with more minor debts are evicted to dispose of unnecessary stock. To have a debt not only as great as yours, but one that is personally owed to Mr. Wilkins himself is a collar many would find envious.”

She stopped in her tracks as they passed a line of small yellow avians, “Wait, how… how great?”

“I had assumed that you had been informed.” Amelia annoyingly muttered, raising an eyebrow before snapping out her phone to search up Chloe’s information on the internal database, “Your debt stands at a rather impressive Sixty-Four Million, Seven-Hundred and Ninety-Four Thousand, Eight-Hundred and Five Eurodollars… with an annual interest rate of eight percent.”

In a split moment every single pair of eyes in the hallway was on the little fox, frozen in thought as her mind tried and failed to fathom such an incomprehensible amount. For someone who had only ever seen a €$20 bill in her mother’s hand that one time, the amount might as well have been infinite.

Envious muttering and jealous glares were not enough to break Chloe from her trance, only after Amelia snapped her fingers in front of the fox’s face and roughly pulled the collar of her shirt did she begin to move again.

“Si-Sixty-f-four… mil…” Chloe found herself just barely being able to follow, drifting to her sides with each rushed step in order to keep up as the shock made her head feel light and dizzy.

The Captain stopped at the metal door at the end of the hallway that was guarded by two humming vending machines which flanked each side. Well-oiled hinges made no noise as Amelia swung the door to her office open, standing off to one side as she let Chloe enter first.

“Yes, a 2076 Rayfield Caliburn, XT Platinum Trim with less than five-hundred miles at the time of the incident does demand quite the premium, not to mention the bill after two counts of full package extended care Trauma Team service. Sit.”

Moving smoother than a freshly dead ghost, Amelia seemed to dance her way around her desk to reach her chair, stepping with calculated, well practiced steps that would make any ballet dancer jealous before Chloe could limply dump herself in the worn seat on the opposite side.

The faintest trace of a disgusted wince wrinkled Amelia’s face as she heard the filthy wet squelch of Chloe’s soaking wet pants bottom as it met the smooth plastic seat of her chair.

She snapped her fingers twice, “Miss Isabelle, if you would please!”

“Fine, fine…!” A minute later a cute but clearly weary and exasperated little voice squeaked, followed by a thunder of falling boxes and what sounded like empty plastic gallon jugs. A tired, droopy-eyed golden dog, much shorter in stature than Samantha, scrambled forth from the shadows and obediently tapped her computer terminal awake.

She wore nothing but lacy underwear as she slouched in her chair, formerly a pure white but stained with mysterious liquids from years past. Accepting Chloe’s employee printout from Amelia she scanned the stripes of data ink and began typing before Chloe could even register where she had just appeared from. With a single hand she pulled out a cigarette and ignited the tip with a lighter deployed as swiftly as it disappeared.

Chloe narrowed her eyes as she watched the ember of Isabelle tobacco glow brightly as she allowed herself to take a long, heavy drag while her computer groggily came back to life. Even through the thick cloud of smoke the fox could detect the absolute bitterness that the once-beloved canine radiated with each tired second she spend staring at the dark display. Her round, adorably plump face had no place being stuck in the depths, doomed to be nothing more than an office bitch. It was clear that she was a fallen icon, once a beloved character of the higher floors.

“NCCID.”

Chloe choked, “W-What?”

Isabelle glared, already annoyed, “Night City Civil Identification Number, say it.”

“N-No, I don’t have one.”

The dog sighed deeply and rolled her eyes.

“Chloe, no last name listed. Is this correct?” Isabelle asked in a soft, scratchy, and now annoyed voice as she flicked away her already expended cigarette.

“Huh- Y-Yes, that’s ri-”

“Date of Birth?” she interrupted, lighting the end of yet another cigarette.

“December 8th, 2061.”

“Location of Birth?”

Amelia began pouring herself a cup of coffee.

“Heywood, I-I think.”

“Parents?”

“Mother’s… N-Noelle.” Chloe almost whispered, feeling more than a little weird referring to her mother with her first name. It was always Ma’am or at least some variation of Mother. Something respectful at the very least.

Isabelle hummed as she exhaled and surrounded herself with another cloud of cigarette smoke, completely disinterested.

“Maiden name?”

“She doesn-”

“Her Date of Birth?”

“July 7th, 2044.”

“Father?”

Chloe shrunk in her chair, squeezing her hands into fists then relaxing them repeatedly in a fruitless attempt to feel some kind of connection to the mysterious male that her mother had spread her legs for many years ago.

“I don’t know…” Chloe finally mumbled.

“Father: Unknown.” The dog huffed, then mumbled, “...typical…

The interview seemed to stretch on and on. Amelia had sat down at her own PC and had begun working through the many messages she had received in the past few hours, occasionally flicking her ears while continuing to listen in to Isabelle’s unrelenting squeezing of their newest employee for more information to feed into the system.

The wet filth she had fallen into and soaked the butt of her pants with had half dried out, leaving her new underwear uncomfortably moist and bunching up in the wrong places. But while she was sure fixing it was not the worst thing that had happened in this office she dared not give them any excuse to give her a worse job.

“I must say,” Amelia finally spoke up after finishing her own documents, “I do find it curious as to why you have such an exhaustive history of your family. The common street whelps hardly know how to spell their own name, much less write it, and yet here you are, effortlessly reciting obscure details of family long since passed. How?”

Chloe blinked and shrugged after a few moments, feeling relieved at Amelia’s even skin-deep courtesy after her assistant’s relentless questioning.

“My mother liked to pretend that we lived normal lives no matter what happened.”

“Normal?” she raised an eyebrow, “How so?”

“Well…” the vixen paused, not entirely sure how to describe something that was normal to her, “Washing up before bedtime, praying before meals, not joining gangs. Stuff like that.”

In the corner of her vision she saw the golden shiba roll her eyes, perhaps not in disgust but definitely with irritation at being interrupted by Amelia.

“And definitely keeping the family together. She would tell us stories of grandma, and the stories she would tell her. Something about remembering where we came from and keeping the tradition alive.”

Amelia nodded as she finished off her coffee and tossed the paper cup into the trash.

“An admirable ambition, and convenient as well. It certainly places you above the vast majority of applicants we filter out of our recruitment process. Very well then, Ms. Isabelle? One Priority Six Ration Card please.”

The plastic rectangle was launched into her outstretched palm like a ninja star.

“Thank you.”

“Fuck off.”

Amelia held out the card for Chloe to take, ignoring the rude comment. It was a blue card with a magnetic strip and a small round hole where a plastic loop was passed through it, embossed with the same round logo of the club that was on her jacket. Streaks of black residue and deep scratches ran in all directions across its surface, a symbol of its heavy use by its many previous owners.

“This is a Ration Card, although it would be more correct to call it a general allowance card. This particular card grants you access to a limited portion of personal provisions and supplies from the many autocommissaries which can be found-”

“Fuck!” Isabelle growled, throwing up some random data shards that were lying around her desk, “Can’t you just say vending machines like the rest of us normal people?”

Amelia didn’t turn away from the rapidly shrinking fox, her gaze narrowed dangerously to match the dog’s bared teeth.

“I do hope you will excuse my colleague of her… boorish vocabulary.” she slowly hissed through the thin gap between her teeth to Chloe who only shrunk further into her seat in an effort to not get involved.

“Stop trying to be something you’re not, fish-pussy! God, your corpo-faggot attitude makes me sick!”

The fox slowly pushed herself and her chair backwards as the screaming match began, only stopping to stealthily lift up her butt and pull out the underwear that had been tormenting her for the last hour by being in places it shouldn’t have been.

She watched as they traded insult after insult. At first Amelia seemed unstoppable, elegantly deflecting all of Isabelle’s hatred with razor sharp words of her own. And yet, even Chloe could see the slight quivering of her lips as the shiba hit low blow after low blow. Eventually she began to stumble, her refined persona slowly fracturing as they descended into Isabelle’s rough and uncouth domain until the argument concluded with a spike through Amelia’s heart.

“Oh, oh what!?” she waved her arms around sarcastically, “‘Whorish tendencies?” Isabelle howled maniacally like a demon unleashed, “In this line of work that’s a fucking compliment! No wonder you of all people still think that’s a bad thing! At least I’ve been with a human! That’s more than what you can claim!”

She coughed and laughed, more in mocking superiority than actual satisfaction, flicking and bouncing her burnt-out cigarette off her humiliated manager’s forehead as she trotted out the door with her short legs.

Chloe’s eyes followed as Isabelle punched one of the vending machines, wondering why she was taking her anger out on them when a large jug, the very same which littered her room, rolled out the bottom. The shiba cracked open the cap and chugged nearly half of it before turning back to the still open door, glaring at Amelia but then giving Chloe an odd, questioning look.

Whether it was one of pity or hope, the teen couldn’t quite figure out.

Isabelle replaced the jug to her lips and kicked the door shut.

Chloe turned back.

Amelia was a mess. The facade of a strong and proper lady she had reinforced had properly broken. She continued to stare at the now closed door with wide eyes and somehow even wider pupils. Her sharp teeth clenched against each other til her jaw shook as her tight fists did the same. Tears flowed freely down her cheeks, creating a large patch of normally light brown fur which had turned dark and shiny from the moisture and mascara.

She slowly sank back down into her chair before resting her forehead on the edge of her desk.

Chloe shuffled awkwardly as quiet sobs filled the now silent office. She couldn’t exactly leave, not when her registration was still incomplete. The vixen shrunk down, trying desperately to avoid reminding the broken captain of her presence, lest she be threatened to keep quiet of the intensely personal information that she had just stumbled into. Perhaps there was still a chance she could have a normal employment.

The sly, opportunistic fox which lived in her mind returned. Perhaps now was the time to act. Avoiding enemies was a key to survival but making friends, or at least amicable acquaintances, was certainly another.

She gulped, standing up slowly before walking to her new boss, stopping at her side as she held her hand over her. She gulped again as she thought of the potentially life-ending gamble she was about to make. There was a reason anyone high ranking enough to be notable in one of the largest Night City clubs was a cutthroat shark, willing and sometimes eager to send anyone who slighted them into an early grave.

Chloe felt the warmth which seeped through Amelia’s uniform as she gently rested her hand on her shoulder, pressing firmly into her to make its presence known before lifting it up momentarily to give her the lightest of awkward, but comforting pats.

The captain didn’t move, only responding with a quiver as another wave of sadness passed over her. But fear soon turned into a moment of absolute terror followed by relief and a mutual sadness as the feline extracted her hand from under her lowered head and wrapped it tightly over Chloe’s.

The vixen winced as Amelia’s abnormally sharp fingernails, somehow sharp enough to pierce through her glove, dug into her wrist. And for a moment, the two simply stayed where they were.

The quietest of thanks was muttered as she slowly raised her head, still clutching onto the hand of her newest employee.

“One…” Amelia coughed, “...one final piece of advice, Ms. Chloe.”

She looked up at the young fox, her eyes still wet and red, “Do not confuse rank from standing. Rank is given, standing is earned. Take every chance you can to further your standing.”

Chloe glanced back and forth for a minute before she realized the point which was being made, “Is this about…?”

Amelia nodded, “To take on a human lover, even temporarily for but a single hour, is a measure of one’s desirability. To take the risk of becoming a toy and yet still being rejected is the ultimate humiliation. And mine,” she took a long breath, “is the greatest.”

“That you became a-” Chloe stopped to remember, “-a main character?”

“No. Richard loved that movie ever since we were young and I thought I could become more…” she sighed, “...desirable in his eyes if I had myself changed into Captain Amelia.”

“It didn’t work?”

Amelia huffed as her unfocused, reminiscing gaze turned back to the floor, “Obviously not. And now he’s married and the head of the biggest sex club in Night City, twelfth largest company in the world. I’ve had to witness that loose wretch crying about how her husband was too busy with other girls while she herself is left high and dry for that night.”

She released Chloe’s hand, leaving behind a few red dots where her nails had broken skin.

“I would kill for a single hour with Richard. What chance do I have now?”

What seemed like an hour passed before Chloe narrowed her eyebrows, then suddenly softly gasped as she remembered why the captain’s name sounded so familiar.

Amelia turned her weary eyes towards her, too tired to even raise a curious eyebrow.

The vixen’s mouth stretched with the tiniest of smiles as the advice she had just been given about standing proved surprisingly useful immediately. She had stood before Mr. Wilkins and had listened in to a particularly pivotal conversation, one that would prove very valuable. Take every chance, indeed.

“I heard Rich- I-I mean, Mr. Wilkins, mention your nam-”

“What…?!” Amelia snapped in surprise, her sadness forgotten.

“Yeah!” she beamed, “So you know that thing about Samantha?”

The feline nodded slowly, confused.

“Well I heard…”

Her mother would have scolded her for spreading rumors and gossip. It was unbecoming of a proper lady, she would say. If one is to speak, one should speak clearly and with good conscience. But as Chloe continued to explain the situation happening at the top, Amelia suddenly reached out and slowly grabbed the Blue Ration Card that Chloe still held in her hand.

“Ms. Chloe…” Amelia muttered as she leaned over and pulled open a drawer after tossing her blue card onto her desk.

“Yes…?” She answered slowly, not knowing what exactly was going on.

The Captain slowly skimmed her eyes across her neatly organized items before eventually pulling out and holding up a slightly less worn teal green card.

“This is a Priority Four Ration card.” She slowly whispered, staring deep into Chloe’s increasingly uneasy but intrigued eyes, “This will not only allow you additional provisions but also certain other benefits which may be redeemed at your demand.”

Chloe stared at the much more valuable card which she was being offered, then looked back at Amelia, and back again towards the card. Her spirits seemed to have risen, both in hope but also an urgent desperation.

The captain steeled her eyes, and her stern, commanding aura returned. “I will have you assigned to the upper levels of Section 2. Many of Mr. Wilkins’ associates and occasionally Mr. Wilkins himself will occasionally indulge in the more risqué pleasures not found in Section Three. My opportunity to take the VP position is good but not yet guaranteed.” She held out the card for Chloe to take, “My opportunity is your opportunity. If I am promoted, I will take you with me. If.”

Chloe shut her eyes and breathed out, expelling the now uncomfortably hot air she had been unconsciously holding. She couldn’t stay at the bottom, she had already lived there for so long. She reached out but stopped her hand halfway as doubt began to creep in her mind. Perhaps it would be best if she kept her head low.

Perhaps.

Perhaps.

Chloe gulped once and took the card.

“What do I need to do?”

Amelia weaved her fingers together and rested her elbows on her desk, “Your first task is to simply work. Ms. Penny, head of Janitorial and Maintenance, will be your new immediate Superior. I trust you will be able to learn quickly from her. But covertly you are to gather information pertaining to high internal matters, should I have any potential competitors, what my standing is with Mr. Wilkins, and such. This will be your primary objective for now and you will report back to me. Am I understood?”

Chloe gulped again, her thundering heart causing her to stutter for a bit before answering clearly.

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Good.” Captain Amelia nodded curtly, her recent humiliation now fueling the fires of a new challenge, “I will contact Ms. Penny, you will meet her at the central maintenance office at 2-14.”

Another gulp and the young fox nodded as well before turning to leave.

“Oh, and Ms. Chloe?”

She stopped and turned.

Amelia exhaled in the exhilaration and relief of the hope that her many years of suffering were about to end, “Good luck, and…” she gulped uncharacteristically, “Thank you.”

Chloe nodded, knowing that she had no more words to say, and left.