Chapter 3

The weasel’s name was Silus, and he ran a brothel in the grimiest, most forgotten corner of the Neo-Olamen underlevels. The “Pink Slip,” as it was ironically called, was a place where desperate people went to sell their bodies and even more desperate people went to buy them. It was a den of iniquity, a cesspool of vice, and the perfect place to find a man like Silus. Kayden found him in his office, a cramped, cluttered room that reeked of cheap perfume and stale cigar smoke. Silus was a small, greasy man with beady little eyes that darted nervously around the room. He was sitting behind a cluttered desk, counting a stack of dirty credits, a fat cigar clamped between his teeth. Under his desk was a young girl with vibrant pink hair and a large scar across her left eye. She looked no older than fifteen, and she was on her knees, her head buried in Silus’s lap. Her hands were tied behind her back with a length of rough rope. She was making quiet, wet, slurping sounds, her small body moving in a steady rhythm. His hand rested on the back of her head, not guiding her, but simply holding her there, a possessive gesture.

“Kayden,” Silus said, looking up, a flicker of fear in his eyes. “What a ... pleasant surprise. To what do I owe the honor?”

“I need information, Silus,” Kayden said, leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest. “And you’re going to give it to me.”

“Of course, of course,” Silus said, his nervousness growing with every word. “Anything for you, my friend. Please, please sit down. Can I get you a drink? A girl? Perhaps you’d like to try out my new acquisition? She’s got a mouth like a vacuum.” The girl under the desk flinched at his words, but she didn’t stop her ministrations. Her slurping became a little louder, a little more frantic, as if she was trying to finish him off before he could offer her to Kayden.

“Tell me her stats.” Kayden said, looking down at the top of the girls head, her pink hair a stark contrast to the dark wood of the desk.

“She’s...” He cleared his throat. “She’s fifteen. Stands five-foot-even barefoot, maybe five-one if she stretches real hard on her toes. Weight? Eighty-eight, eighty-nine pounds if I feed her twice a day, which I don’t always bother with. She’s all sharp little angles and hollows. Ribs you can count when she arches her back just right, collarbones that jut out like knife-edges under that pale skin. Waist is nineteen inches, I’ve measured it with my own two hands. You can see the faint blue veins running under the skin there when she’s cold, which is most of the time down here.” He reached down, sliding his palm along the side of her ribcage. She shivered at the touch but kept moving, the wet sounds steady, mechanical.

“Hips barely thirty-one around, narrow, except for that tiny flare that makes her ass look like two soft handfuls instead of flat nothing. Ass itself is small, high, tight. No real jiggle, just a pert little curve that dimples when she clenches in fear. Legs are skinny. Thighs don’t even touch when she stands straight. Gap all the way up. Calves are defined from kneeling so much, but they’re thin, almost coltish. Ankles you could circle with thumb and pinky easy.” He paused, letting his gaze drift over the top of her head, the bright pink hair spilling across his lap like spilled candy.

“Chest ... yeah, we’re talking Double A. Barely there. Little gentle swells, no more than half a palmful each. Nipples are tiny, pale rose, always stiff because the basement’s cold and she’s never allowed clothing. They poke right through whatever she’s got on. When she’s on her back they almost disappear, just faint mounds that quiver when she breathes fast.” Silus tapped ash onto the floor, grinning wider.

“Face still heart-shaped, big mismatched eyes. One sharp green, the other milky and scarred. Cheekbones high and cutting, jaw small enough that it looks like it might snap if you grip too hard. Mouth’s the only soft thing left: full lower lip, always a little chapped, swollen from use. Throat’s long and slender, you can see it work when she swallows. And down below...” His voice turned huskier. “Shaved, of course. Lips thin and pale, almost disappear when she’s not aroused. Clit’s a tiny pearl, hypersensitive, one touch and her whole skinny frame jerks like it’s trying to escape itself. Inside she’s narrow, hot, grips like she’s scared you’ll split her in half. Which might happen.” He gave her a little jolt with his hips, and the girl whimpered.

“She looks like something you could fold up and put in your pocket. Breakable. And that’s what makes it fun.” He shifted, leaning back more. The girl’s breath hitched, but she kept going, saliva dripping onto her chin.

“You speak so well when you’re describing your merchandise,” Kayden said, pushing off the doorframe and stepping into the room. He walked around the desk, the floor groaning under his weight. The girl’s slurping sounds became more frantic, her small body trembling. “Where’d you get her? Pink Hair? Seems a bit too exotic for the usual runaways you snatch up.” Silus flinched, his beady eyes darting toward the corner of the room, as if looking for an escape route that wasn’t there.

“She’s ... Well you are aware of our privacy policy. Client information is...”

“Cut the shit, Silus,” Kayden said, his voice low and menacing. He leaned over the desk, getting right in the weasel’s face. “You know who I am. You know what I’m capable of. And you know that the only reason you’re still breathing is because I’ve allowed it. Now, I’m going to ask you one more time. Where. Did. You. Get. Her?” Silus’s composure finally broke. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and his hands began to tremble.

“Okay, okay,” he stammered, the cigar falling from his lips and onto the cluttered desk. “I’ll tell you. Just ... just calm down. Please.”

“I’m listening.” Kayden straightened up, a cold smirk on his face.

“She was an SGC asset,” Silus blurted out, the words tumbling out of his mouth in a rush. “A discard. A failed asset. They have this ... this system. For their girls who don’t work out. The ones who get too old, or too damaged, or who just ... fail. They sell them off. To people like me. It’s a way to recoup their losses.”

“Discard? Failed asset?” Kayden leaned in, his interest piqued. “What did she fail at?”

“You know I don’t know details like that.” Silus stammered, “But she was damaged, as you can see with her eye. That’s it. All I know. I don’t get details on these things. I am a simple brothel owner.” Kayden knelt down and looked down at the girl, at the raw, red scar that cut through her left eyebrow and down her cheek, leaving her eye milky and clouded. Her one good eye was wide with fear, a bright, vibrant green that was a stark contrast to the dull, lifeless white of the other.

“Getting a bit close to my cock, Kayden.” Silus nervously chuckled. Kayden’s eyes met hers. He saw the fear, the resignation, the broken spirit. But beneath it all, he saw a flicker of something else. Defiance. It was a tiny, almost imperceptible spark, but it was there. He recognized it. He’d seen it before. He smiled, a slow, predatory smile.

“Her name?” he asked, his eyes still locked on the girl’s.

“Uh ... P-Pink.” Silus stammered.

“Her real name, you piece of shit.”

“I have no idea. She’s just Asset-47.” The weasel nervously fumbled for the cigar on his desk, only to find it had rolled off and onto the floor. “Look, Kayden, I’ve told you everything I know. What do you want from me?” Kayden stood up, ignoring the question. He looked at the girl, then back at Silus.

“I’ll take her,” he said, his tone casual, as if he were ordering a drink.

“Wh-what?” Silus sputtered, his beady eyes wide with disbelief. “You ... you want to buy her? But ... I just got her. She’s not even ... broken in yet.”

“I don’t care,” Kayden said, a dismissive wave of his hand. “I want her. Consider your debt paid. In full. We’re even.” Silus stared at him, his mind racing. He could refuse. He could argue, try to negotiate. But he knew it would be pointless. He knew that Kayden would take what he wanted, one way or another. And he knew that, in the grand scheme of things, a single, damaged girl was a small price to pay to be free of the debt he owed.

“Okay,” Silus said, his voice barely a whisper. “Okay. She’s yours. We’re even.”

“Good,” Kayden said, a satisfied smile on his face. “Get up Pinky. We’re leaving.” She stopped her ministrations and slowly pulled back, a string of saliva connecting her lips to Silus’s limp cock. She looked up at him, her one good eye wide with a mixture of fear and confusion. She hesitated, her bound hands behind her back rendering her helpless.

“Go on,” Kayden said, his tone firm but not unkind. “Get up.” She struggled to her feet, her small, slender body trembling. She was even skinnier than he’d thought, a collection of sharp angles and pale skin. The bright pink hair was a stark, almost violent splash of color against her white complexion. She stood before him, her head bowed, her body language screaming submission. Silus passed the rope that connected to her wrists over to Kayden.