Davencore Metropolis is the one of the few cities left on Earth. They use to call it something else when there was a system of government here. I forgot what it was called though, before my time, not many left who’d remember. I think it named after the first founder of the New Collective Corporate Earth Alliance. Who knows? Maybe it was just a random name they picked that sounded good. I never think too much about it, the world is a shit pot any ways, they could have called it ‘fuck you’ for all I care.
Good god, I’m so tired. Am I almost home? Man, I can’t wait to collapse in my bed.
“You have an incoming call. You have an incoming call.” I really wanted to know who this woman was that supplied the vocals for the car interface. Got to admit, it always turned me on to hear her.
“Crap sweetie, can’t you just give it to me later. I’m ready for a nap.”
“You must take this call if you do not wish to violate your contract.” That sweet husky voice stated back to me.
“Fine.” I sighed deeply. “Just no visuals, I don’t want to open my eyes.”
“That is not permitted. You must visually make contact if you do not -”
“-wish to violate my contract.” I passively finished. “Yeah, yeah - let’s have it then.”
“Jake, are you not answering my calls? Come on man!” The voice sounded familiar to me. A slight accent of middle eastern tone. But wasn’t sure who it was at first. Oh wait, that’s my Captain, is he wearing a wig? Weird.
“Hello Captain Shurkia.” I said sarcastically to him, trying not to look at that odd wig-thing on his brown sweaty head. “What can I - a mere humble servant of the ever demanding corporate human trash compactor do for you today?”
He hated me talking like that. Shurkia had a great fear that the corporate spies where always watching and listening to all of our communications. I never believed it. I know there’s few cities left in the world, but to sit there and listen in to every single boring transmission on a daily basis? I doubt they’ve got that kind of time. My boss just told me to lower my voice and wagged his finger at me.
“Are you trying to get us killed here? Come on man! Cut me some slack will you?”
“Ok - sure. So, what’s up - and ah, what’s with the wig?”
“This is not a wig.” He assured me in that accent of his. Cultures are a hard thing to diminish even after the demise of their own countries. Still I’m surprised english managed to stick around as one of the main forms of communication. He proudly pointed to it and smiled. “This is stylish hair enhancer with perm-weave technology. I’ve gotten several compliments already. It feels so natural.”
“That’s great, a really nice look for you.” It really wasn’t. “So… big bossman, what’s this about?”
“Oh yes, that last removal you did.” He seemed distracted as he admired his ‘head enhancement’ by grooming it lovingly. “You’ve got some additional instructions. The man apparently had an apartment on the west side. Sector two-two-seven-one level D. They want a full report of the contents.”
“Why?” I questioned while removing my feet from the dash. I could now see the holo-screen and the man still preening his false hair. “The robots can do that sort of thing. I just kill - sorry - I mean, remove the target and that’s it. Then I go home, drink my self to forget the horror of what I do for a living and sleep - if I can.”
“Not my problem.” The Captain stated. At least he stopped fiddling with the wig. “This is what they tell me to tell you. I’m a busy man you know. Talking to you guys, typing assignments, filling out all the paperwork….”
“Paperwork?” I scoffed. “Come on, captain….you sit in an office and do fuck all. I’ve seen you do it. You just watch old movies on the monitors and fall asleep on the couch beside your desk.”
“And do you know how tiring that is?” The lazy prick sighed with a grin. “Somedays it’s good to be the boss. But I am not a drain on the system. I’m the middle man of the law….I do what they say and I get to keep living one more day. So as I am the high ranking superior and the man who gives you the message from high above…go and get it done. Ok? And stop giving me such a hard time, man. I look after you all. I deeply care with my heart and soul.”
“No, you don’t. You’ve told us many times you’d walk over our bodies if it meant your own skin.”
“Yes. That is true. But... gentle steps with lots of care you understand, ok? Now, go be a good boy and hop to it.”
With that last word, he switched off the monitor and I was left cursing him and that stupid wig. I can’t believe I have to do something mundane as apartment searching. I’ve never heard of one of us having to do anything extra. We remove and we move on––that’s it. Now, I have to search an apartment? This sucks. I want to go home. But, unfortunately, the car is programmed with the address and steering in the direction. So I have no choice but to go where it takes me.
“Listen sweetie, can’t we just forget the call and head back to my place? Come on…”
“There can be no deviations. This unit must proceed to the coordinates. SRD directive one is active.”
I swear if this car was a woman, I’d do her with a nice voice like that. Despite her reluctance to go with my suggestion, I leaned back and dreamed that she was real anyway. I could see it. Busty blonde girl with a nice round ass and giving me the look of a hungry animal as she licked those cherry red lips of hers. I’m a straight cis guy, ok? At least I know which side of the fence I’m on.
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I know plenty switch hitters in this profession. But I’ve never had the need to resort to playing along with it. I like women… if there were any good ones left. The last girl I fucked was three-hundred pounds and dirty as shit. Best I could do on short notice. I would have kept going with her, dirty and heavy as she was, but she was a removal of mine. We had sex first… her last wish. Honest––it was. I can’t say no to free sex, right? Too bad though, I really liked her tits.
“So how long till we get there?” I groaned while mentally imaging my hot-voiced car as a well-endowed girlfriend.
“We will arrive in five point three minutes.”
“Wow, too fast.” I grumbled. “Slow it down a few clicks, I want to at least dream of you a tad longer.”
“We will be in violation of regulated aerial speed limits, decreasing speed will obstruct traffic circulation for this area.”
I glanced around, knowing full well there wasn’t anything out there. Traffic was almost non-existent since hover cars were for the privileged few and officers like me. I laughed at her and stroked the console.
“Shhh… it’s okay baby. I won’t tell anyone. Just slow it down, sweetheart. I’ll take the blame if it comes back my way.”
I’m surprised that worked. It slowed down slightly and hovered through the buildings at steady pace. I leaned back again and dreamed of our torrid fornication on the plush red-black seats. It was a hot vision that I wanted to live so badly. I really should have brought a change of pants.
* * *
Minutes later, we arrived at the building, and I made sure my pants were not soiled from my dream. The vehicle parked and the door slid back with a soft ping to let me know. Why that’s necessary, I couldn’t tell you. All vehicle doors ping when they open. It can be rather annoying. I reluctantly spilled out of the car and took in the sight of my destination.
“Ah, shit…” I grumbled. “You mean the assignment is here?” I gestured back to the car with confused look. Did I expect an answer? Not really, but it did.
“Level D…” The honey-voiced vehicle said to me. “Apartment six-six-nine…”
“Sixty-nine,” I smirked. “My fav position.”
“You must comply with…”
“Yeah-yeah, I know butter-tits, I’ll manage.”
The vehicle door firmly shut. I guess calling it butter-tits offended it somehow. I glanced back at the building and gawked at it with disappointment. The Saunders Palace, what a dump, in fact this whole sector was nothing but an embarrassment of the past. You see, all the buildings here use to be owned by major food chains. They were hotels with food inspired decor. Lucky me… I got the KFC building, aka-The Saunders Palace. I heard it that it used to be a major source of fried chicken goodness, back in the day. But all I could see, was some old southern fart smiling at me from the massive neon-glowing sign. Man, people of the past were weirdos.
As I entered the ungodly white and red striped building, with the paint chipping and fading in spots, I was then greeted by a robotic version of that old man as he waved and smiled while walking over.
“Greetings, my boy!” It said, with a rather over-exuberant Southern American twang. “Welcome to my palace-o-chicken! Don’t be shy now! Come on, come on in, ya here?”
“Jesus…” I muttered in disbelief.
A spitting image of the… well… the image of that sign out there. It was like looking at someone’s crazed old grandfather who’d been yearning for conversation ever since his children stopped coming to visit. He grabbed me by the arm, leading me to the main lobby and chuckled like a madman.
“What can the ol’ colonel do for ya this afternoon? I should mention that all our chicken coops are full up at the moment! But I could dip you into one of eleven-herbs and spices vats if’n you needing somewhere to simmer for awhile!”
It started to laugh at its own scripted humour. I briefly looked at my gun, wishing that setting was still set to vaporize, as to free me of this indignity. When the bot finished with its overdramatized laughter, it gestured to me over to the hotel desk and proceeded to enter in behind it. The bot continued to smile at me as it waited for my request. I eyeballed the place with mild amusement. Yeah, everything in this place was fried chicken themed; from the tables, chairs, bucket potted plants, and even the beat-up looking carpet had a brown crispy feeling as you walked on it.
I quickly stated my reason for coming, even as the white-suited icon grinned at me. “I, uh, need access to apartment six-six-nine.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, my boy, but that thar room is taken at the moment.” He stated while fiddling with his awful black-shoestring-like tie. “Uh, perhaps I can offer you something less occupied? The broom closet over there has some room… but I suppose we could accommodate…”
“I’m not looking for a place to stay.” I firmly interrupted him. “Look, I need access to apartment six-six-nine on level D.”
“And I heard you,” The colonel-bot affirmed with an annoyed glare. “But I simply cannot give you access to that particular room. Now, if you aren’t here to book a place, I’m going to have to ask that you leave this here establishment.”
“I’m a Sweeper, ya dumb shit!” I stated coldly. “That means I have the authority to…”
“Sir!” He firmly slammed his hand to the desk. “You are addressing a colonel! I don’t care who or what you represent, but I am the authority of this here establishment and will in no way be spoken to in such a manner!”
“I fucking hate these bots…” I muttered under breath sotto voce.
I quickly drew out my gun and shot the basted in the temple. The pulse burned a hole clean through and I could now clearly see the grease stained wall on the other side of him. The mechanical icon gave slight sigh, gazing up at the new air conditioning I just gave him, and twitched from the arching power fizzing about inside of it.
“I’m afraid that’s coming out of your bill, sir.”
The robot soon collapsed to the counter, sprawled out in a permanent death pose, and his eyes dimmed as the pupils turned completely white. Perhaps it was a tad unnecessary for me to do that, but, shit… it felt good to do so. And he was right of course, I’d no doubt be getting a bill from the company that still owns this place, should they pursuit it. It was doubtful though, I am a Sweeper, and the last thing anyone wants to see, is someone like me coming to pay them a visit.
Hopping over the counter and pushing the robot corpse aside, I managed to use the antiquated computer terminal and unlocked the door remotely. No need to fumble about looking for those swipe card keys, they weren’t really used anymore, just aa prop these days. Now it’s all biometrics and encrypted combos. Easily hackable, for those that know how to do it. I gave the robot colonel one last friendly kick in the head (cause he pissed me off) and headed for the elevator. The last thing I heard stepping into it (when it finally showed up) was the sound of yet another colonel-bot heading my way and quoting the same stupid opening line the other did when I entered the building.
Thankfully the doors closed just in time, and I gave giant exhale of relief. I thought the worst of it was over, until I heard the ‘finger licking’ good’ commercial jingle playing over the speakers. I looked at my gun again, up to the speakers, and back to the gun. I drew out a long exhausted breath.
“I better not, I’m already billed for one thing already.”