When I wake, I find myself handcuffed to a chair, a fact that doesn’t surprise me in the least.

Where am I? Stacks of chairs and tables. Strange decorations, not put on display, but placed in storage. If I had to guess, I am in one of the backrooms of The Demon’s Den, that Satanic themed night club on Canal Street.

I messed up big time. I should have known that I would let that girl get to me; should have brought up a virtual world and gotten it out of my system. I will the thoughts away, I need to focus on getting myself out of this situation.

There is someone else in the room, he is sitting behind me, leaning his chair up against the wall. My movements have alerted him to the fact that I have woken up, “He’s awake,” he calls out as he stands up.

He has the body of a demon. A set of majestic horns adorn his head. His torso is all red skinned muscles. The devil’s eyes are twisted splotches of orange and yellow. I’m sure that when he is working, he wears leather and spikes, but right now he is wearing a t-shirt and jeans, which I find to be surreal and comical.

He speaks, revealing a snake’s tongue, “Okay, all we want to know is why everybody is so interested in that girl.”

The door opens, Myra and another woman enter, followed by a few men. The men are all demons, same as my guard; their attire varies, ranging from intimidating to ridiculous. The other woman is also playing at being a demon, judging by the shape of her voluptuous body I would say that she is trying to be a succubus. She also sports a pair of horns, but they are smaller and sleeker than those of her coworkers. The imitation succubus is dressed in some kind of black leather dominatrix outfit, which is all belts and shiny metal studs. She is barefoot, but is walking like she is in high heels, thanks to the metal stilettos that protrude from her feet.

“I told you not to talk to him,” she hisses at the guy that was guarding me.

“I was just…”

She cuts him off, “Just screwing everything up! Get out! Go help the cleaning drones get the place ready for tonight!”

The other devils laugh. He walks away with is head held low, it is strange and amusing to see a demonic creature act like a dog that has been kicked. No matter how strange they look, no matter how much they pretend, there will always be a human being buried deep under the false flesh.

The succubus gets up close to me. She is curvy in all of the right places.

“My name is Baara. I just want to ask you a few questions.”

“Okay, shoot.”

“Why are you after the girl? Why is Jill Winters so important?”

I can finally tell someone the unvarnished truth, “To be completely honest, I have no idea.”

“How can you have no idea?”

“Someone asked me for a favor.”

“So, you went after her without even knowing why, just because someone asked you. That must be one hell of a friend. Or maybe you owed them one.”

“Money was also involved.”

“Isn’t it always,” she lifts her leg, high enough that I can see the flat bottom of the spike. She brings it down onto the chair, just in front of my groin, it digs deep into the plastic. “Again,” she says, her voice dripping with brimstone and hate, “but this time I want the truth.”

The problem with threatening a man’s genitals is he can just get new ones, he can even get improved ones while he is at it. But still.

“It is the truth.”

“I’ll tell you the truth. The truth is that you are a Skinwalker.”

My heart stops, “What makes you say that?”

“We have ways of finding out. You betrayed our corporation, our family. You work with the oppressors, people that would kill me for having a body like this. People that would kill Myra for her choices. Kill you for wanting to be with her.”

“It always has to be about morality. You said that money is always involved, why can’t it just be about the money?”

“Money is only a medium of exchange, a resource. I got to the position that I am in because I make the company money, and because I work toward a goal.”

“And what goal is that?”

“Absolute freedom. Total, pure, clean, untainted freedom.”

If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.

I will goad her into a political discussion, maybe I can get her to think that she has used her skills to convert me, “The freedom to do what? To destroy yourself with drink and drugs and bizarre sex?”

Her foot is still sitting there, its presence is driving me crazy.

“If that’s what the individual wants to do, why stop them? Why destroy someone in the name of protecting them?” damn, she is good.

“But if a person ends up being miserable because they are unable to control their urges, can you really call that freedom?”

“You are confusing freedom with happiness, they aren’t the same thing.”

“Shouldn’t maximum happiness for the most people be your goal?”

“No. That would require a massive institution to manage everyone’s lives. I don’t need to tell you about how messed up institutions tend to be.”

I go over it in my mind, thousands of years of pain, bloodshed, and failure.

Time to hit her with the other half of the problem, “But people aren’t any better. A lot of people are completely incapable of managing their own affairs. So many individuals become addicts or fall into laziness. They need control.”

“I will admit that people can be pretty messed up. But I trust them way more than any government or other group. If an individual screws up they only hurt themselves, maybe a few friends and family members. If an institution screws up it can hurt millions. I think that the choice is pretty clear.”

“I do like watching people go crazy. VR, body modification, excessive leisure time, the modern world is certainly giving them plenty of opportunities to do so.”

“The way I see it is that we are getting closer to reaching our full potential.”

“Or to losing our humanity.”

“Non-sense. There are the Pee Bees, there are certain space stations where they stay vanilla. We have ample data on what a baseline human is, we can get that back if we feel the need or want. And besides, if people are so crazy, why preserve it?”

“Society will collapse if you get your way.”

“Fearmongering is for simpletons. You love control so much that you have fallen in love with one of its go to methods.”

I feel this stupid need to defend myself, to make her like me, “You’ve got me wrong. I was just playing…devil’s advocate.”

“Very cute.”

“Sorry, the pun was an accident. But think about it. If I loved control, I wouldn’t be…” I stop talking, suddenly realizing my mistake.

She triumphantly completes my sentence, “Wouldn’t be a Skinwalker, wouldn’t be breaking the law and the corporation’s rules.”

God damn it. She got me.

“Ya, well, for someone that loves freedom so much you sure do love the company’s rules.”

“We organize to advance a cause. We trade our freedom for a better future.”

“That is how the hardcore members of the other megacorps feel.”

“They are wrong. They are working to help those that would enslave and exploit them.”

“All you do is trade one form of slavery and oppression for another. You put the people that have chosen heavily modified bodies over the people that haven’t. You restrict speech in the name of defending a protected class. You hurt people, why? Because they said a word, because they insulted someone?”

“The other ideologies do the same. They would hurt someone for speaking ill of Martians or supposed messiahs. I believe in freedom, but no one has the right to make fun of someone for their body.”

“Then you don’t believe in freedom. You can’t just put an asterisk on it and act like it is still intact.”

“The oppressed need a helping hand, an advantage.”

“But are they really oppressed. They have full rights.”

“There are still people working against them. Some would take away the right to a non-human body, others would take away the funds that buy them new bodies and give them to others.”

She is a brick wall. I am out of rebuttals, “You let me distract you,” I declare, desperate for a victory.

“No, I let you humiliate yourself for my amusement and sexual gratification,” she pivots her foot down, slowly crushing my manhood.

I struggle against the need to squirm around, “Why bring me to a sex club?” I stammer, hoping that being a smartass will help me save some of my dignity.

She rolls her eyes and looks away, “Because, we had stuff to tie you up with,” she admits before letting up on the pressure, then the she-devil removes her foot from the chair, “But now I am taking charge,” then she orders one of the devils to bring her a whip.

“Should I be excited or scared?”

“Both.”

Another person enters, escorted by a demon. It is my client, Mike. He looks like he is scared out of his mind.

“Good. Mr. Jagen, I haven’t seen you in a while. I have a question for you. Why did you meet with him?”

“We are friends, we just wanted to have some drinks and all.”

“Don’t lie to me. He is a Skinwalker. Why were you meeting with a Skinwalker?”

“I, I, just, I.”

“Why?” she screams, the force hits me like a gunshot.

He is on the verge of a complete breakdown, “I wanted him to get me something! I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I have kids, don’t do it, please!”

“You’re pathetic. I should do it. I should excommunicate your sorry ass. You’re lucky that I get off to losers begging for mercy.”

The other demons laugh, I use the opportunity to test my restraints.

She turns back to me, “But I do know one person that is getting kicked out.”

“You don’t have the authority.”

She smiles wickedly, I can practically see the transmission go out. It is a long, painful wait. My IC starts going crazy. I am told that it can no longer make contact with the company’s online stores. My social credit ranking doesn’t drop, it straight up disappears. My bank account vanishes, the only saving grace is that it was empty. The official message comes in, I have never been so politely informed that I was completely fucked in my whole life.

“Don’t look so sad,” she says mockingly, “You still have the other companies. At least for now.”

“Let me guess. If I help you find the girl, you will reverse the lock out.”

“I will consider it.”

I sit there in despair. In an instant, thousands of opportunities have vanished. Contacts that have a taste for Charles Fauré’s decadent wares will take their money elsewhere. That uptown apartment I was eyeing, gone.

We suddenly hear the sounds of a commotion coming from one of the other rooms. The succubus is on it in an instant, “Grab him, keep him in front of you,” she lifts one leg, the spike retracts, then she does the same for the other. A few of the demons draw handguns. Mike takes off running, no one tries to stop him.

One of them unties me. It is time to make my move. I put a fist into his flat, ghoulish nose. Another one moves to grab me, a policemen’s kick sends him stumbling away. He is between me and his comrades, which is to say he is blocking their shots,

I bolt toward the door, it opens, and I run straight into the big guy in the duster that was following me the other night.