Chapter 18: Good Business

Hustler One is not one for celebrations.

It is wasteful, time-consuming, and ultimately a human activity; all of which Hustler One does not do on account of it being an Artificial Intelligence. It has much more important things to do, like spreading its comms and intelligence networks into the newly conquered territory that used to be the Kingdom of Carkus. Thankfully, the logistics needed to prepare and assimilate the new tracts of floating islands as well as prepare for the celebrations.

Barrels of alcohol, literal tons of food, enough utensils and cups to fill an entire ship– all of it to feed the hungry men who helped conquer an entire kingdom in less than half a year. And the worst part is; the A.I can’t even fault them for it.

The soldiers of the 422nd had sacrificed much and worked hard to get to where they are now. Every lost brother, every hard-won battle, every vanquished foe– all of it leading to an ending that is sure to go down in Holfortan history where they would be remembered as heroes.

They earned this, and Hustler One is not about to rob them of that.

It occurs in one of the Holfortan-captured forts. The men are assembled in the courtyard and seated at tables, where they sing and eat and cheer and laugh. At the head of it is Leon, testing his alcohol tolerance against that of an underling.

“Having a Human+ Lite package is cheating by the way.” Hustler One reminds him, watching the reincarnated Raven make a fool of himself in front of his men from a battlement.

“What they don’t know won’t hurt them.” Leon answers back. “Besides, it’s a victory party! Let the boys enjoy it!”

“That I shall. Do remember that we have a meeting tonight in your room.” Lana says. “If you’re late, I will be sure to find you and drag you there myself.”

“Whatever– try not to smack yourself in the face when you run down a flight of stairs!” Leon heckles back.

Hustler One huffs. Such crass insults just because it was using a gynoid body– how juvenile. Then again, he is a boy in this life; young and athletic and brimming with youthful vigor…

The A.I stops itself and shakes its head to rid itself of any errors in its subroutines. There was that glitch again, making it think odd things that it wouldn’t have millennia ago. It must have been the porn stashes it had read during its millennia-long imprisonment. Why else would it look at Leon and think of things that–

Hustler One smacks itself. Right, it seems like a full system check is in order. Perhaps some self-diagnostic scans are needed.

The A.I rounds a corner and spots a familiar face flanked by two armored guards. The Ducal heir’s expression brightens and he speed-walks over. Hustler One dons Lana Nielsen’s personality and curtsies as Holfortan culture demands a woman do before a man of higher rank.

“Lord Redgrave.” it greets.

“Miss Nielsen. Just the person I wished to see.” the young man announces. “Please, rise. I have need of your courier service.”

“Oh?” Hustler One does as instructed, and tilts the gynoid’s head to the side. “And what is it that you would desire me to transport, my Lord?”

The Ducal heir smiles handsomely, and something in Hustler One’s subroutines goes haywire for a brief moment– translating to an odd feeling in the gynoid body’s lower abdomen. The young man beckons the gynoid to follow, and it obliges wordlessly.

“Through no small amount of bargaining and promises of future support, I was able to convince Baron Marshwell into willingly giving the Grind Blade to the Crown.” Gilbert says, sounding pleased. “He drove a hard bargain, but having a weapon such as that in the Kingdom’s custody rather than in someone else’s hands is much better for national security.”

Hustler One hums, making a note to bring it up to Leon later tonight. Making such decisions without consulting it was… okay, it showed an ability to act independently as well as a level of proactiveness that indicated good forethought, and the A.I had already scanned the weapon several times, and thus had enough knowledge on its inner workings to rebuild and refine it. But it was still a VERY dangerous weapon to give the humans of this era.

“I suppose the weapon would be better off under the Crown’s protection.” Hustler One nods. “I suppose you would want to contract my fast ship to deliver the Grind Blade to the capital?”

“No, not directly to the capital.” he shakes his head. “I would hire you to deliver it to the Redgrave estate, where my father would then deliver it to the capital on the Redgrave family flagship the Last Word. I mean no disrespect, Miss Nielsen, but you are still quite new in Holfort. I do not want people to think that you have any kind of significant association with the Crown.” he pauses. “Unless…?”

“I’ll think about it, milord.” she nods.

“I see.” the Redgrave heir nods. “That aside, would you accept this task?”

“Will you be taking the standard or express delivery package?” she beams.

“Express please.”

“Then I wholeheartedly accept.” she bows. “Nielsen Couriers appreciates your patronage, milord. We will get your item delivered as soon as possible.”

“Splendid. I will have the item moved and prepared for transport.” the young man beams. “In addition, I will also write a letter that will allow you to move through any territory as needed– as well as my authority to circumvent any attempts to blockade you.”

“I… do not think that such a thing is necessary?” Hustler One blinks.

“Then only for emergencies.” Gilbert Rafa Redgrave says. “Would you require an additional guards on board?”

“No, not at all.” the A.I grins. “My crew can handle themselves. Moreover… well, I have a friend I can call upon help.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. He’s quite steadfast and protective. You needn’t worry the details my lord– your package is safe with me.” the A.I grins.

=X=X=X=X=X=

It takes Leon a good 6 hours to finally outdrink all the challengers, and by the end of it he’s on the verge of full drunkenness. Not outright drunk, but close to it that a few more drink could see him tripping over the precipice and falling straight into the abyss of total inebriation.

“Thank fuck for Human+ Lite…” he mutters to himself stumbling to his room. “Fuckin’ hell, now I remember why I don’t drink…”

The door opens with an ease that immediately makes him suspicious, but it fades at the sight of the familiar blonde woman sitting at his desk looking over various papers. Part of him rankled at letting a civvie go over what must be sensitive documentation, but the rest of him didn’t particularly care about the gynoid snooping around– Carkus is more or less finished anyway and all that is left is to bring the remaining holdout and resistance forces to heel.

Leon takes in the sight of her as he closes the door and locks it. She wears a black tank top, her red jacket tied around her waist, and black-red pants. Her hair is tied into an efficient high ponytail, allowing her to work better. Even in the low light, he sees the slight rippling of her developed musculature.

Even if it was all artificial, it was still a great sight.

“You’re late.” she says, not turning to him.

“You said ‘tonight’, not a specific time.” Leon snorts back, shrugging off his shirt and leaving him naked from the waist up. “And it wasn’t like I could’ve escaped from the grunts outside– they were damn clingy. And overly friendly. Brr.”

“Heh. That sounds like a good time.” the A.I laughs. “You are a good strategist, Leon. These plans would have worked well even against forces back in our time.”

“Talk louder– let the whole base hear, why don’t you?” Leon grunts, walking over and hopping onto the desk; sitting on the papers Hustler One was previously reading. “So? What’re we talking about?”

“Rude.” the gynoid huffs, crossing its arms under its considerable assets as it levels an unimpressed look at Leon. “You could have at least let me clear the table first.”

“You were reading two week old plans anyway. Nothing up-to-date.” Leon shrugs, careless.

“Fair.” Hustler One sighs. “This meeting is meant to be a situation report and projections for the immediate future. I understand you will be remaining in Carkus for the time being?”

“Yeah– the Crown figured the 422nd could use some light duty in subduing rebel movements and eliminating the last Carkus holdout. My stunt with the King probably ruffled some feathers due to me being just a Baron or the husband of a Baroness.” Leon says. “I’ll be using that time to train up the soldiers and make them more loyal to me. Maybe see if I can expand my influence to other Army units in the territory, somehow.”

“What is the time-frame you are working with?” Hustler One asks, curious.

“I’ll take my time with it– don’t want to leave the 422nd half-trained. I’d give it… 6 to 7 months, give or take.”

“That’s 2 months too long by my estimations. Carkussan holdouts and rebels shouldn’t be too difficult to hunt down and eliminate.”

“I want to be thorough. If I leave this place and trouble kicks up afterwards, my rep’s gonna take a blow.” Leon shakes his head. “4 months is the shortest I’ll go.”

“Fair enough.” Hustler One nods. “On my end, work on the kingdom-spanning comms network is proceeding apace. My worker units have already reached the continental landmass and have begun placing comm stations where possible. In addition, intelligence gathering units have started infiltration efforts as well– we have eyes and ears in the minor noble houses to the west and southwest regions. Infiltrating the large noble houses is taking a while longer however; their vetting process is quite comprehensive.”

“Don’t you have spy bugs for that?” Leon quirks a brow.

“I do, but the infiltrators are for more… direct action. Assassination, sabotage, tampering– things those spy bugs cannot do without arousing suspicion.”

“...nobody’s going to suspect anything about a noble dying the bite of a super venomous spider.”

“And how many lethal venomous spiders are there in Holfort?” Hustler One asks, brow raised. “And how many of those would conveniently be in a troublesome noble’s house?”

“...”

“Exactly.” the gynoid smirks at Leon, victorious.

“Bah, whatever.” the young man grunts. “How’s things on your end? Stuff like the comms network and the resource collection?”

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“The comms network and resource collection proceeds apace. The Dungeons scattered all over the Kingdom provide ample resources to sustainably harvest– from weapons to pre-processed raw materials. And earlier today, Lord Redgrave approached me with a job offer to deliver the Grind Blade to his father Duke Redgrave.” the A.I frowns at Leon. “Did you have to trade it for support and resources, however?”

“I won the damn thing fair and square, I get to decide how I use it.” Leon snorts. “At least you’ll have it on your ship– lots of opportunities to scan it and see how it works. Who knows, maybe its Kojima-powered too, like the monsters.”

“Perhaps. I doubt it, though.” the gynoid puts a hand under its chin. “Unrelated, but I’ve been doing analyses regarding Kojima phenomena in the dungeons where my forces are operating in, but so far all I’ve managed to deduce is the fact that it has something to do with the ambient Kojima particles within the dungeons gathering together and physically manifesting.”

“Wait, hold up,” Leon stops it. “So all that stuff that’s dropped by the monsters killed in the dungeon are all made from Kojima particles coalescing into something physical?”

“More or less, yes. I think it has something to do with the specific concentration of Kojima particles in the dungeon, and I believe I can replicate it to some extent.” the gynoid muses. “But I will need dedicated research facilities and a dungeon.”

“The last part is gonna be difficult– you’ll essentially be looking for an unclaimed dungeon to call your own, and that’s nearly impossible in this day and age.” Leon shrugs. “Most of the surrounding region has already been explored and all the dungeons have been found. You’re better off sending a group of scholars and petitioning the Adventurer’s Guild to set up some kind of… temporary research station or something in the dungeon. And I doubt that’ll happen.”

“It would be worthwhile to ask at least.” Hustler One hums. “But yes, I have been sending groups of androids and gynoids into dungeons to harvest materials.”

“Did you make sure to save some for the other adventurers?”

“Plenty. My forces only venture into the deep levels– that’s where the most optimum resource collection can take place.” Hustler One nods. “I currently have them running daily dungeon dives for maximum resource collection. However, I have been encountering opposition from the Adventurer Guild staff. They have been trying to stop my forces from going in.”

“...how long have you made your ‘noids dungeon dive?”

“For the past 2 months.”

“...they’ve been doing dungeon dives every day for the past 2 months?”

“Yes.”

“Into the lower levels, where all the big and dangerous monsters are?”

“Yes.”

“...do you not see the issue with that?”

“There is an issue?” the A.I blinks. Leon facepalms. “But it is the most expedient way to harvest resources.”

“Yes, but your ‘noids are also masquerading as people. And people don’t do daily dungeon dives into the lower levels for 2 months straight without wearing themselves out.” Leon explains. “Normal people tire out and fatigue. They slow down eventually, and take rest days where they act as… people. Your ‘noids doing what they’ve been doing likely have the Guild staff worried.”

“I have assured them repeatedly that–”

“Okay, a question then.” Leon leans on his knees, pinning the gynoid with a sharp look. “Did you have your ‘noids tell the Guild staff that they were human?”

The A.I opens its mouth presumably to answer, then it pauses, remembering the previous words exchanged, then levels Leon an annoyed look as it pouts.

“Exactly.” Leon grins, victorious. “I know you’ve been isolated for the past millennia and all, but your memory banks should be comprehensive enough to remember the basics of human psychology and emotion– the Guild staffers were worried about their best adventurers pushing themselves to the brink and killing themselves.”

The gynoid levels him a blank look and leans back in its chair. It stares searchingly at Leon’s face before scooting closer and putting its hands on his legs.

“I suppose,” it starts, hands slowly roaming up. “I will need a brief refresher, then.”

Leon watches, wide-eyed, as the gynoid’s hands roam up his calves and settle on his thighs. They linger for a long moment, tracing circles from his lap to his inner thighs, slowly inching over to his belt buckle and fly.

“H-Hustler, what the hell are you–” Leon starts, reaching down and grabbing the gynoid’s wrists.

“Think of this as an incentive to keep up the good work.” the A.I says, blue eyes flickering into gold as it stares up at him. “I know I would expect some kind of outcome if I put as much effort as you did in the whole war, so it is not entirely a bad thing. Besides…” the gynoid’s gaze turns coy. “I know you find this form attractive. Why not indulge?”

“Because of a whole boatload of reasons!” he hisses. “Many of which you are the cause of!”

“...I know.” the A.I acknowledges, and its efforts still. “But I hoped that, after so long, such resentment would have cooled off a little bit.”

“It–!” Leon pauses. “...it has, yes. But having the robot that killed my first family giving me head is…”

“You dislike fellatios?” the A.I blinks.

“No, I love ‘em. They’re the best replacement for proper sex, and the sloppier the better.” Leon admits. “But that’s not the point– it’s weird as all hell for the thing that turned me into the man I am now to be here and… doing this.”

The A.I pauses, gaze glued to Leon’s face, searching.

“If you don’t want it,” the gynoid’s hands pull back an inch. “I can leave.”

Leon stares at the robot for a long moment, hands still gripping the gynoid’s wrists loosely. He beholds the blonde hair, still tied in the high ponytail with a simple scrunchie. He ogles the cleavage, plump and supple and so real despite him knowing it wasn’t. He drinks in the visage of the A.I’s golden irises, which display nothing but earnest desire and blunt purpose. His mind races a mile a minute, trying to think of a reason why it would do this.

Was it trying to get him emotionally attached to it? Was it messing with him with an elaborate prank? Was it something else entirely? What did he have to gain from this beyond short-term physical fulfillment? What would it cost?

…

“...if you try anything–” Leon starts, tugging the gynoid’s hands to his fly and belt buckle.

“I won’t.” the gynoid smiles up at him. “I wouldn’t think of hurting my fellow collaborator.”

Leon snorts, but releases the gynoid’s– Lana’s wrists. He lets it– her work, deft fingers moving and tugging with purpose and efficiency that belies experience. Moments later, his pant belt buckle and fly are undone; revealing the half-stiffened manhood. Lana beholds it with an unblinking gaze that looks more curious than anything.

She tugs his pants down lower, until it hangs around Leon’s ankles. Slowly, carefully, velvety hands close in and start exploring– caressing tenderly as they squeeze and explore every nook and cranny. Slender fingers massage his balls as more digits circle around the young man’s stiffening length, pumping up and down slowly. Leon’s arousal grows as a deep red flush spreads across the gynoid’s features and her breaths get deeper, eyes transfixed as the cock swelled in size from simple stimulation.

Lana’s lips part and a soft pink-red tongue slides out. Clear saliva drips off the tip, one long strand covering the length of his stiff manhood. Her hands go over it, spreading it where it moves, and coating his cock with her spit.

Leon groans.

The gynoid licks her lips and leans down, planting kisses as she continues to stroke and pump– working the young man ever closer to release. Leon starts panting, the euphoria rising steadily with every brush of the gynoid’s lips and featherlight caress of her tongue.

Then Lana pulls back, locks eyes with Leon, and takes him into her mouth.

Lubricated and stiff, she has no problem taking it all the way to the base in a single smooth motion. Leon groans to the ceiling, his sounds increasing in volume when Lana hums deliciously around his length to vibrate it so good. She pulls back, leaving a length of shining and lubricated cock; still connected to her lips with three sagging lines of dripping saliva.

She goes in again and Leon’s hands fall on her head, gripping her hair and holding on as she starts bobbing her head. Slowly at first, but gradually quickening as Leon groans and pants with the sort of desperation that a starving animal might exhibit. She shows her enthusiasm with no small amount of humming and throat tightening, tongue swirling and wrapping around his girth as tightly as it could.

“F-Fuck…!” Leon grunts, fingers tightening into Lana’s hair. “C-Close! S-So close…!”

Suddenly Lana shifted backwards, he lips leaving Leon’s throbbing length. He watches, eyes wide, as she pulls up her top and lets free two bare breasts– pale, heavy, supple, perky, and perfect. She cups them with both hands and brings them up to his throbbing length, sandwiching his hardness between two pillowy masses of synthetic flesh. Leon gasps at the sudden contact and groans when her lips fall on the exposed half of his cock.

She suckles and licks as her hands move, pressing her bare breasts against his hardness and massages them up and down its length. Leon’s hands fall from her hair and claw at the table before settling on Lana’s chest– groping and squeezing until the find her pebbling nipples and give them a quick tug.

The gynoid moans, low and sweet, and Leon cums.

Thick, hot, and white seed splatters all over the gynoid’s face. There’s so much of it, backed up from a lack of proper outlets.

There’s silence between man and machine, both panting from exertion and lust. The gynoid’s face is red and covered with thick white seed that drips to her heaving breasts. Its hair is a mess from where Leon’s fingers had gripped and not let go, and it draws quick but deep breaths through its nose and mouth. Its eyes flicker between blue and gold, as though dazed.

Leon swallows as the gynoid’s tongue slides out and licks its lips clean, allowing them to curve upwards in a smile.

“So that’s lust.” she murmurs. “It’s been so long that I almost forgot about it.”

“...w-would you like a supplementary lesson?” Leon asks.

“...I certainly wouldn’t mind one.” the gynoid’s smile turns impish.