*** 13 No Escape, Except... ***
Annoyingly, the twenty nutcrackers (dead and alive ones) weren't the whole gang. One was missing. The guy they had killed at the end was only second highest in rank. The real leader had made it over the wall and left his fellows behind.
Riding on a wave of success, the ass raider punks asked for a picture of the nutcracker chieftain and to interrogate the captives. Only their first request was granted, since Rocket City authorities wished to apply their own questioning techniques.
Whatever deal they had struck with the prisoners – it worked. When the nutcrackers heard, their leader was going to be pursued by the ass raiders, they willingly spit out the most likely hiding location. The ass raiders only had to assure them not to use lethal power unless absolutely unavoidable.
Since the nutcracker boss traveled by foot and they had bikes, the ass raiders caught up half an hour away from the bulwark.
Logically, the enemy leader had chosen to hide in plain sight. News of the gang's turn toward lawlessness weren't going to make it into the suburbs until tomorrow, so he could rest at a settlement like nothing had happened.
Fucker wondered why the guy had never taken a name. The rogue gang chief was still called N, having never changed his designation since slipping out of a tube at Big Daddy's. Some people liked it that way.
"To be fair," Pyro said as they got off their bikes, "it makes sense if he was always trying to be hard to identify. With so many guys named after their serial letter he'd be hard to filter for."
"Well yeah," the ass raider leader said. "But I've also met a couple of `Fuckers' so it's not that hard to stay ambiguous."
Savage walked right behind them as they entered the gravel path between rusty metal towers. The brute said, "Why did you pick that name anyway? I like it, but I'd have gone for something more leader-like. Alpha, for example."
"Ha, every other gang leader is called Alpha. I wouldn't... Hey, is that N?"
Indeed, the escaped criminal was on the middle of the road, farther inside the quiet suburb. His thick, absolutely smooth body was decorated with explosive tattoos in red and black ink.
He not only saw them, but pointed. "There they are!"
"What?" Pyro asked.
"They burned it down!"
Now Fucker noticed the thinning column of smoke, rising behind a pink NewLaw flag. Something clicked in his head. N had waited for them, because he had a plan. He must have burned down a building to blame it on them.
"The red one's their fire freak," N yelled. "Get them."
Not only was N clever, he was perfectly informed, too. Who could have given them away? The trash punks from the outpost?
Well, if Fucker made it quick, they could clear things up before-
A smoke grenade dropped into the ass raiders midst. The second Fucker was hit by the fog, he felt sleepy. It was just like the thing the pirates had used on them. Weren't those things illegal?
Not all his members were in the mist's reach. Savage was charging ahead and Hardass turned invisible while he dashed off to the side. Licker and Pyro went down.
Fucker saw Savage getting hit by tranquilizer ammunition before his own vision faded.
Fucker woke up right into his worst nightmare.
He was on a table with some guy in black shorts (with a pink rocket on them) bent over him. "Good morning prisoner," said the man. "Before you think about using your freak powers, you should be aware of a little addition we made to you."
Fucker could feel it. There was a gel pack on his neck. He knew what it did. The device could recognize the use of powers and inject an incapacitating neurotoxin. It would release the substance, too, it he tried to pry it off.
The metal walls were slightly reflective. As he sat up in the harsh light, he saw the huge digits on his forehead. He was prisoner 075e2c5b and would be for the rest of his life.
No, he couldn't accept that.
"Listen... Mister imprisoner. We were wrongly accused, my friends and I. We were hunting an escaped-"
The massive steel door opened and guards came in. They dragged Fucker (who was still dizzy) off the table and along a dim corridor.
He ended up in a cave – no, a mine.
With a pickaxe in hand, he was shoved into a nook. A phaser was aimed at him – probably a special one for torture.
The boy didn't know how long he worked, it was probably just an hour, but it felt like a week without pause.
He was called to lunch and got three standard protein bars number 4. Everybody in the crammed, sweat-reeking space wore the same gray dick pouches. Many had taken them off to jerk their dicks while eating. Finally, he saw his friends. Well, some of them.
In the harshly lit, featureless cavern that served as common area, Fucker walked over to Savage (who was fucking someone) and the fire conjurer (who had just finished blowing someone and was now eating his own bars).
"Yo, Pyro. Good to see you."
"Yo, Fucker." Pyro's red braid had been cut to the length of a regular mohawk. "I was afraid they sent you somewhere else. Pisspig and Licker are apparently in some other location. I think Hardass escaped."
"At least some good news. So... what do we do now?"
Pyro shrugged. "What can we do? It was always a possibility we'd end up as prisoners. That's it now, I guess."
"Forever? I can't believe that's how the ass raider punks should end. Someone will get us out."
"No chance, boss. Even if Hardass talks to the right people, we're prisoners with the numbers on your faces, the same way a slave is fucked for life from the moment the collar gets bound."
"Hm..." Fucker ate his second bland bar. "Slaves. That's one option."
"Sure. Prisoners can sign slave contracts if someone is willing to take them. But that's literally the only option we have and who says we won't end up in a worse spot?"
Fucker shook his head. "I was just thinking. We're freaks. If we can convince someone to take freak slaves – and we'd be really useful, right? – then we have a better chance of escaping."
Pyro thought about it for a while. The break was over before he got to a conclusion. Sure, slavery was just a different kind of limitation, but if whoever got bound to them was at least willing to make use of their gang experience and go on adventures again...
There were no guarantees though.
Had it really been a whole week?
Time moved slowly in the caves, but everything blended together so it never felt like a long time in hindsight. Mostly Fucker hit the stone with his eyes closet to keep the never-ending sweat river from flowing into his vision. What was there to see anyway?
He realized he was getting used to it. In a way he had become a fully accepting prisoner. Life outside seemed like an increasingly distant dream.
No, he couldn't let them break him. He had to do something.
At lunch, Fucker talked to his two friends again.
"Yo, we need to get out of here."
"Huh?" Savage made. He didn't have a gel pack to suppress his powers. His strength was useful.
"We should sign contracts. I'm serious. I want out. And I'll go without you if I have to."
"Fine," Pyro said. "I fucking hate this hell hole. We did a lot that makes us deserve being here, but I want revenge on N for doing this to us."
Right. Fucker had basically forgotten about the nutcracker leader. His mind was too numb to think of the outside world in clear terms. He needed out.
Once break was over, the trio walked up to a guard.
"We'd like to sign the contract," Fucker said.
The man rolled his eyes. "Every week there's some dumb asshole... Fine, here's what I'm required to say. You can only try getting auctioned once. If nobody takes you, you're here forever. And just to be clear, those who have no way out left, are treated a lot less nice."
"What do you mean?"
"You think you work hard, huh? Well, you haven't seen anything yet."
Fucker shrugged. "I'm sure someone will want us when they're told we have freak powers to offer."
The guard laughed. "I may or may not mention it, then. Probably not. Haha. Get back to work now. Next auction is in a week."
Fucker wanted to start a fight with the guard right there, but he had to hold himself back. He put all his rage into the pickaxe instead, but his steam didn't last for ten minutes before he fell back to his regular tempo.
Seven days left.
It was dazzling to step out into sunlight. It was either late morning or early afternoon, Fucker wasn't sure his inner clock still worked.
The trio – the original trash punks – were led to a tent, where they got collars locked around their necks, soon to be bound, if everything went right. Together with nineteen other, equally nude boys and men, they stood in silence.
They got water to drink in a big tub and had to wait in hellish heat for an hour before being called into the observation tent where they had to stand spread out and were told not to refuse anything done to them, no matter what.
Fucker looked at the sandy ground. How low they had sunken. The ass raiders had been on a trajectory to a life of fame and luxury. This sucked, but it would probably suck a little less than prison labor if they were lucky.
Minutes later, he was pulled aside. So where Pyro and Savage.
"Congrats," said a man in an ornate hip scarf as he led them to a hut. "You were all bought."
"By the same one?" Fucker asked.
"Yep."
"But the auction..."
"Hasn't even started. Yeah, you got way above market price in the quick sale option. Not missing out on that."
Now Fucker was glad about all the messy, impenetrable rules of the auction houses, since this meant they were not getting separated.
As per request by the byer, the trio was fitted with nipple rings. Nothing to complain about. Then their ring pairs were connected by a chain each. Fucker felt reminded of Hardass. Would they ever see him again?
The next part, Fucker hated. Savage came close to resisting, but he knew it was futile.
The three got transparent chastity cages. It wasn't regular hexa-glass. These were as indestructible as materials came. When had he last cummed? Fucker really regretted not using the hour in the waiting room to edge himself to a great, final orgasm.
At last, they were gene-bound with the keycard reader they were already familiar with from earlier adventures. Then they got kicked out into the arms of their new owner.
"Yo boss," said Hardass. "Been a long time, huh?"
Tune in for more twists and... Okay, you probably guessed that one. Anyway, tune in for more predictable post-apocalypse clichés and Fucker's new live as a slave, or whatever.