---Bastion---

---Gordon’s perspective---

Jessica leans forward, closing her large, brown eyes (without visible sclerae) and bringing the pink skin of her rostral plate to the mic, around 135cm off the stage, in my cool, atmospherically lowlit club.

She herself is a little under 1.5m with a porcine face, wearing an obedience collar around her neck and a revealing harem-girl outfit that does quite a nice job of highlighting the curves she still has.

‘Jessica’ isn’t the name her parents gave her, of course. It’s what I named her after I bought her.

Even if it weren’t important to strip them of as much of their past life as you can, I wouldn’t have been able to pronounce the name she had in the language that sounds like pig squeals and Korean thrown into a blender(!)

Breathily and with a heavy accent, she sings

pp♫Oh, biorenze doez corr me, I’be anzwered bepore

I’be made many enmiez, I’be zettord my zcorez

But I did gror weary and I zettord down

And proudry bore de weight ob my crown♫pp

My club’s patrons listen raptly to the song that one of them requested.

I can easily see how it could raise hackles to allow a slave to sing a song with such strong themes of rebellion… but… I don’t think anyone’s worried(!)

Certainly, all the slaves currently in my employ understand how ill advised it would be for them to resist their rightful lot!… Those that don’t either quickly learn to… or don’t remain long.

This song is for us… Jessica’s just singing it…

I have to say… she was a good purchase!

I almost didn’t buy her because I found the (admittedly cute) piggy face and her initial obesity to be so offputting.

If it hadn’t been for the fact that I had a vacancy for a singer and she was a minor starlet (waiting for her big break among her species in her past life) I wouldn’t have bothered.

But, with all the weight she lost (while being broken in and since I picked her up) she’s actually become a lot more attractive…

I frown slightly and open my holo.

I see that no one’s yet booked her for after her shift today.

My finger hesitantly hovers over the screen before tapping to delete that slot… my heart palpitating with a mixture of excitement and embarrassment as I do.

Of course, I have nothing to be embarrassed about… She’s mine, I can do what I want with her!

So what if she’s a pig!?

What I really want to add to my collection, though, is one of the local women…

God! Those eyes! Those ears! Those arms! Those slender frames and almost Human faces!

Unfortunately, we still need to stay in their good graces, for the moment… Which means we can only take the ones they sell us and the only ones they’re willing to sell us are life sentenced criminals and people they otherwise just want permanently disappeared… a demographic that skews overwhelmingly male!

Competition for those rare females that arrive at the emporium always ends up far too rich for my blood!

Not that I couldn’t afford it (I am arguably the second most powerful and probably the second richest man in Bastion, afterall) just that I can’t really justify such an expense to myself!

One day, I’m sure I’ll get my hands on one… When I do though, I want her all to myself!

She’s not working the club!

She’s never leaving my penthouse!

Maybe if Cyrus ever gets bored of any of his, I can convince him to give her to me at a discount?

ff♫Iz diz what you want!? Corruption and power!?

Werr I won’t ztand por it, DIZ iz my hour!

Take ON deze beaztz, I’m now priend to none!

Ip you tink you’re a hero, den. DIE. rike. one!♫ff

belts out Jessica with all her heart, making me happier with the decision to delete her booking slot.

Once she gets rid of that tiresome accent, I think she’ll be a real money maker!

She is very cute, afterall… in spite of the pigface.

It’s at this point that I see Judith, one of my waitresses (tall, slim, breasty, lilac skinned, grey haired, pink eyed, with cow hooves, cow ears and the ground down nubs of horns on her head) making her way across the bar to wear I sit.

She isn’t running (she knows better than that) but she is hurrying.

“Apologies for interrupting your relaxation, Duke Chandler…” she states, her eyes cast to the floor in front of me, appropriately submissive “…but a message just arrived from the palace for you. The King has called Council and he requires your presence.”

“Ah…” I sigh “…and just when I was starting to enjoy myself!” gesturing to the stage.

I rise from my seat and tip back the remainder of my drink before placing down the glass and swaggering confidently to Judith’s shoulder.

“Send Jessica upstairs when her shift’s over…” I instruct “…She’s entertaining me later.”

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“I’ll see that it’s done, Master.” she answers, simply.

I give her insubstantial buttocks a light smack as she bends down to clear the glass.

“Don’t worry, Judith(!)… You’re still my favourite(!)” I smirk as I walk away from her, making my way to the exit.

I stop as I get to the door and turn back to the stage.

I decide to just stay for the last minute of the song.

fff♫I GADDERED my houndz and made dem DEBOUR

De ARRIEZ I once knew; zweet priendshipz now zour

And ret egzprorzionz rain prom on high

And gradry bid my pinar goodbye!♫fff

she continues as I stand, genuinely moved by her crescendoing performance of one of my favourite songs.

I’m glad I included it among the ones I made her learn!

She concludes…

No one claps…

We have a strict policy against thanking, congratulating or applauding slaves at this bar… They have to know their place, afterall…

Regardless, from the impressed murmuring that fills the room, I think it’s safe to say the performance was enjoyed(!)

I spare myself one last glance at her curvaceous, exposed pink thighs, either side of her badlah bottoms, before I smirk and walk through the door to the underground foyer.

Stepping through, I catch the eyes of my 2m tall (about 4cm taller than me) Mongolian bouncer, Chuluunbaatar (which I can’t pronounce), and say “Yo!… Chul! I’ve got to step out for a bit. It’s just the girls in there at the moment… Watch the bar and make sure no one tries to take advantage of the lack of oversight to rip me off!”

He gives a nod and a grunt and leaves his post by the door to walk past me.

Not exactly polite but I didn’t hire him for his conversational skills(!)

I climb up the steps to my skyscraper’s ground level (yes, it’s only a skyscraper, we don’t have the resources to make skypiercers here!)

I go to the doors and brace myself… then open them… being hit in the face by a positive wall of heat!

I squint to give my eyes time to adjust to the permanent bright sun of this region before striding forward, into Bastion’s Akropolis District, perched on the rebound peak in the centre of an enormous, ancient, meteor impact crater.

The lower districts, built down on the melt layer all around here, are mainly home to the lazarites… my lazarites… 12 million Humans who only exist because. of. me!

It’s a little hard not to be a bit jealous of those who live in the districts built in the shade of the crater rim, right now… On cool days, when the wind blows from the West, they don’t even need their climate control on inside!

Cyrus was right though… There was no where to build the Akropolis but up here, where we can see and be seen by the entire city!

Some covered, climate controlled walkways might be nice though… Maybe I’ll suggest that at some point?

Probably not today, though… sounds like something urgent has come up!

As I traverse this city’s most affluent neighbourhood, the many slaves and few people I see braving this heat all cut me a wide berth, recognising me as the King’s right hand man… that… or recognising me as a rich Human with a plasmarapier sheathed at my waist and somewhere to be(!)

Not that I’d actually cut a slave in half for failing to get sufficiently out of my way (dealing with the property damage claim from their owner would be far too troublesome) but I can let them keep thinking I might(!)

It is mildly ironic that, due to the relative affluence of the people granted the right to live in the Akropolis, it is also where you’ll be most likely in the whole city to see subHumans!

Upwards of 90% of its denizens own at least one… down in the lower city, that’s more like 5%.

Then, of course, there are your high rollers, such as myself, with counts in the hundreds!

Not all of them work at my club, obviously!… I’ve got them performing a variety of roles around my building…

I finally make it to the bottom of a wide, tall, white stone flight of stairs up to the white stone palace, perched at Bastion’s zenith, mostly empty but for the pairs of guards, standing at it’s sides at 30m intervals.

No other building in town is allowed to be built higher than that palace’s base, leading to an amusingly shear cutoff, along the shady side of the crater rim, where they’d like to build higher up, but can’t(!)

I sigh and brace myself for the climb up the 120m long stairway in this oppressive heat.

Ceremony is important… the King has summoned me so I have to make it!

I’m in much better shape than I ever was before the War.

Nevertheless, it’s simply impossible not to get sweaty, wearing this much clothing and ascending this many stairs in this heat!

I’ll need to give my clothes to Josephine, to launder, and have a shower before joining Jessica in my bedroom, later.

I make it to the top and push open the front door.

I give a relieved exhale as I step back into the cool of a climate controlled indoors.

I know that, with the quantity of sweat I worked up in just that 500m walk, I’m likely to get chilly as evaporative cooling does it’s work… but I don’t care right now… I’m just happy not to still be sweltering!

I navigate through the cool, white palace, its floors all polished to a mirror sheen, to the Council Chamber, standing with its doors open as I approach it, allowing me to see my fellow Councillors sat around a long table, only a few seats still sitting empty.

One is a large, high backed throne, at the far end, made from the same polished white stone as the floor but trimmed with gold.

“Announcing the arrival of Duke Gordon ‘Frankenstein’ Chandler, Head of Chandler BioTech!” shouts the herald-cum-guard standing to my left as I pass through the doorway.

I greet the two dozen or so others who’ve already made their way here as I pass them to take my seat, just to the left of the throne (its right).

No sooner have I taken my seat than a blue hologram flickers into being in the seat directly opposite me.

“Announcing the arrival of Duchess Circe ‘Mirage’ Stoker, Mistress of Whispers!” shouts the man who announced me a moment ago.

I look at the holograph of the woman, currently offworld, whose face has the look of a vampiric kewpie doll… a long way down the uncanny valley.

My handiwork, of course, and I did strongly advise her against it, but she insisted that that was what she wanted and the patient is always right in matters of taste!

“Good to see you, Circe.” I greet (careful to pronounce it as ‘Sir say’, not ‘Sir see’, ‘Sear say’, ‘Sear see’ and definitely not ‘Sir key’, ‘Kirky’ or ‘Searse’, as she gets quite tetchy about her name being mispronounced).

Bearing her fanged, holographic teeth at me in a spine chilling smile she says “Gordon… it’s been a while…” her voice a sultry half whisper, then pouting “…you haven’t missed your dear old Circe too deeply, have you?”

“I’ve managed to pull through somehow, ‘dear’(!)” I say with a wry eyebrow cock.

“Uh(!)… You wound me(!)… Did your mother never teach you to be delicate with a lady’s heart(?)” she teases.

“She did… but I’m not sure such lessons apply to whatever you are(!)” I return.

“You’re an utter brute, Duke Chandler(!)” she grins before looking around the table and asking “Am I the last to arrive?”

“No…” I answer, shaking my head and thumbing the empty throne to my left “…still waiting for the Big Cheese… You know how he just loves his dramatic entrances(!) I’m sure he’ll be along any…”

*BANG* is the sound of the high doors to the royal apartments being thrown open.

“Announcing the arrival of His Royal Majesty, Cyrus, First of his name, King of Bastion and future Emperor of the Terrans!” shouts the herald, taking his cue.

Into the room pads a snow white, red eyed smilodon fatalis, Artazostre, (another piece of my handiwork… who just had to be albino(!))

She makes to her master’s throne and sits beside it, about 3m from me.

Down the corridor she just came from, deep, booming footsteps thunder against the stone floor…