*** 5 Power ***
Traveling by boat made Fucker feel sick, but he held steady. The cooperative pirate was navigating. Eventually they were back at the coast, though not the same spot where they had left. The firm ground of the ferry station was a welcome sensation.
Fucker led his nude slaves off the boat and gave their pirate friend a bag of provisions. He himself didn't really care for all those standard protein bars number 5.
Hardass went into town with their loot from the passengers and slave traders to exchange it for caps. It didn't matter if they didn't get much, they just didn't want to have to carry it.
When night fell, Fucker brought his slaves to the auction spot. The pirate had pointed them to the right place.
Again it didn't matter to get the best price. A slave sold for a lot anyway. The clientele took their time examining the good in the first hour.
Beside Fucker's bunch, there were twenty more men and boys in the tent. Some of them looked like they really hadn't expected to be legally sold when they got up in the morning that day. In fact, most of them looked like that.
Fucker made use of the "observation hour" to check out the other slaves available and picked one to suck him off on the spot.
The auction was an impenetrable mess of shouting and numbers. Fucker was glad he didn't have to do it himself. He simply handed over his keycard and the six men and two boys found their owners.
Conversely, a lot of caps found their way into the trash punk funds.
There was one thing left, of course.
The second slaver. They had put him on the boat and he was still there, tied up. Pyro hadn't been seasick and had used the time to go over the crazy inventor's notes.
Apparently it was easy enough to use the machine.
"Are we sure we want to risk it?" Hardass asked. "I haven't known you for long, but I'd regret losing my new gang's leader."
Fucker shrugged. "I'm not sure of anything, but I want to try and we won't be any readier if we wait for the next opportunity."
Pyro sighed. "Kay, fuck it. We'll try it if this is what you want."
One part of the creepy device went on Fucker's head like a huge spider holding onto his skull. All other things led to the second pirate. His arms and legs, plus his neck, were decorated by metal clamps digging into his flesh.
Pyro turned the doomsday machine on.
Fucker was struck by lightning.
He woke up in the middle of the next day, with high fever and spasms. The punks didn't want to drag him onto a ferry like that so they waited in a motel room at the docks.
Fucker heard Hardass use Pisspig's mouth for pleasure and Savage brought over two guys to hump consecutively. In between his fever dreams, Pyro told him what else had happened.
Since they had way too many caps now, he had spent most of it on equipment. Two new phasers. The new kind – mark 3. Sand-proof.
Fucker could have kissed the boy, but didn't want to risk it in case his fever was something contagious.
The next ferry was going to dock tomorrow so once Fucker felt better the punks roamed the settlement. Fucker ended up walking the main road with Pyro, in between food stalls and market tents.
In Fucker's backpack's side pocket was his new phaser, just hidden from plain view but easy to reach. He hadn't gotten a chance to try it out yet.
"You know," Pyro said. "I've been thinking."
"Hm?"
"Every time we travel there's a new train station, farther into the midlands. They probably won't need trash punks for trade routes much longer."
"Yeah. Makes sense," Fucker said.
"So... I thought we should try the mercenary business. We got kinda good at it, with Shadow Kid and his slave."
Fucker pondered the option. He had a hard time thinking clearly. The effect of the cultist machine was still there. Everything was too bright. No, too present.
An hour later the boys had found a few knickknacks to purchase, with Pisspig's nipple chain exchanged for a thicker one. Hardass had a new knife. Savage had gotten himself a tattoo between the shoulder blades.
"Waddaya think?" the brute asked. It was a huge, stylized fist with its middle finger raised, pointing halfway up his short neck.
Fucker shrugged. He wouldn't have blown his portion of the bottle caps on something he couldn't use, but Savage was the impulsive type to put it mildly.
They were back at the motel and Hardass got his dick sucked by Pisspig on the common mattress. Savage showed off his new dick pouch, which looked like the one he had worn before, but a lot newer, obviously.
Fucker had a headache. Why was everything so fucking present. As if he had another pair of eyes, staring right into the sun without his control.
Maybe he wasn't hydrated enough to sweat out the fever?
Fucker reached for the water bottle – and the bottle moved away as if he had shoved it. Pyro and Savage went silent.
The punk gang leader tried again. His heart was racing with excitement. He pulled back and the bottle followed. He reached to the side and focused on a pillow on the bed.
As he raised his hand, the pillow rose, too. He made it hover as if frozen in midair.
Slowly, Fucker retracted his hand. The pillow remained up, held in place by the boy's thoughts.
"Fuck yeah," he said. "Fucking fuck yeah."
"Yo," Hardass said. "What's up with your eyes?"
Fucker dashed to the basin and looked into the mirror above. His eyes were pitch black. Like the cultist inventor's. Like Savage's.
He spread his arms and focused on the whole basin area. Soap, shampoo, and a sponge – they all rose to the air and hovered perfectly controlled.
Fucker was a telekinetic freak. He felt that the cultist hadn't been so wrong. Power did feel great.
Savage threw himself on the bed. The muscle freak pointed his beefy ass to Fucker.
"Yo, leader. Special occasion, if there ever was one, huh?"
Fucker didn't have to be invited twice. It was rare the strongest gang member let someone fuck him in the ass, but every now and then, he had the urge.
With copious lube from the motel's hygiene supply, Fucker sank his dick into the ultra-tight hole between the thick cheeks. Pyro pulled Savage's dick pouch off and sucked the muscle boy's hardening tool with loud slurping.
Some part of Fucker wanted it to be over fast so he could practice telekinesis, but the bigger part wanted to make sure Savage got back some of the brutality he made his bottoms feel.
They almost missed the ferry.
What better way to start the evening than with their first proper job as mercenaries.
Fucker had practiced his freak power on the ship to the other coast and once they arrived north, the punks looked for the bulletin board. The leader was confident he could do something with his powers, even if it would take a little longer to figure out how to use them best.
Pyro tapped a sheet. "Yo, looks like some kids fancy themselves raiders."
"Are you serious?" Hardass asked. "Wouldn't they already have been hunted over a cliff?"
The fire conjurer shrugged. "They will be once they cause enough trouble."
"Yo," Fucker said. He had now read the sheet, too. "All they did so far is steal supplies. I'm thinking... If we take this mission officially, we have to give it all back. We'll get paid, yeah, but what if the stuff is worth a lot more?"
"Fuck yes," Pyro said. "We can always give it back and claim the reward after we already got those wannabe raiders nailed down."
It had taken the better part of the night, but at last the trash punks had found a concrete cube at the center of an abandoned hydroponic farm with a lamp burning inside. Nobody was supposed to be out in the ruins, so it was likely the pseudo-raiders.
Team alpha consisted of Hardass only. Beta were Fucker and Savage. Pyro waited behind a steel pillar with Pisspig as team gamma.
The shadow walker returned from having climbed the window by the building's door.
"There's only one man, as far as I could see. He's armed with a phaser rifle. Not sure if this is really the hideout we're looking for."
"Any clues," Fucker asked, "about the stolen stuff?"
"Nope. The building has a giant hole in the ground. Could be a tunnel entrance."
Fucker frowned. "I don't want to cause unnecessary fights, so we'll knock and ask politely. If he's trouble..."
Harass saluted. "Count on me. As long as you can make him step away from the light, I got your back, boss."
They took position. Fucker knocked.
"Yo, who's there!?"
"Trash punk traders."
"We don't need anything. Fuck off."
"You sure? We got power cells?"
There was the noise of boots on concrete, then the door opened a little bit. Fucker wiggled a reserve cell from his (still hidden) phaser to show he was telling the truth.
"Can't let you in," the maybe-raider said.
"No problem. We can talk out here."
The idiot fell for the ruse and stepped out. He even closed the door behind himself. Hardass was completely invisible.
With only Fucker and Savage to be seen, the two punks were probably unthreatening enough to make the man careless.
"Hey..." the guy said. "Are you both freaks?"
Oh, right. Fucker had forgotten his eyes gave him away now. "Fuck yes, we are. Anyway. Let's talk about trading... Ah, is that thing in your arms a warp pulse blaster 300?"
"What's it to you?"
Fucker whistled. "Heavy stuff. Do you need it out here? I heard there are possible raiders in the area."
The man looked highly suspicious. "Maybe so..."
"Haven't come by here, I hope?"
Something in Fucker's voice must have given him away because the raider guard lifted the barrel of his gun. "You're dead meat, punk."
Thin air (aka Hardass) kicked the phaser rifle up and the raider lost his grip on the weapon. Fucker used his freak power to catch it before it fell and gave it a hard shove. The instrument of destruction sailed up to the blocky building's roof.
In the same second, Savage rushed forward like a cannon ball and the raider's chest was pulverized between the brute's fist and the concrete wall behind.
"Guard one, eliminated," Fucker said and waved the others to come closer. The building was indeed empty, but the hole did lead to a tunnel as expected.
With Pyro's palm fire casting shadows in the rock walls, the punks marched forward. Hardass stayed far enough behind to be invisible, while Pisspig went right behind Fucker.
The slave had gotten the leader's old phaser. It wasn't the most reliable, but still worth keeping.
The tunnel terminated quickly into a simple room-sized rock enclosure. Five young men were fast asleep on the ground. The guard had been the only alert system they had.
Pyro's orb grew hotter, just in case.
Careful to be silent, Fucker walked across the place. The stolen supplies were the usual rations of water, fresh food, standard protein bar number 5 and some generic stuff. Nobody would make a fuzz about those little things.
There were crates full of... sand? Fucker reached inside. Seeds! The raiders had stolen seeds. Well, a few poor farmers' livelihoods were certainly threatened by this action. The seeds would fetch an okay price, but Fucker was not willing to have his gang carry crates all night long. They'd take the reward.
Ready to sneak back to his friends, his eyes fell on a pouch next to one sleeping guy. It looked suspiciously like a money pouch.
Instinctively, the punk grabbed it.
He had been right, it was bottle caps, but the sound was enough to wake two raiders simultaneously.
"Who... Fuck!" A guy at the entrance scrambled for his weapon. Pyro smacked his fireball forward and it melted the raider's head like not even a phaser rifle would have.
The one waking up right next to where the pouch had been stared up at Fucker with horrified surprise. Then the flames died and they were plunged into total darkness.
Fucker kicked the space in front of him and hit a stomach.
A suddenly ending scream on the other side of the room, plus the cracking of bone, told him that Savage had jumped his target.
Now things were bound to become chaotic. Fucker had bought a bunch of glow sticks at the ferry port, but he risked ruining Hardass' camouflage.
He didn't really have a choice, though. He turned one green shimmering stick on by bending it and dropped it into the center of the room.
As soon as there was enough light a third raider died, his throat slit by an invisible knife.
The guy at Fucker's feet was getting back to his senses. With telekinesis, Fucker brought the headless one's rifle into his possession and aimed down. The raider stopped getting up and held perfectly still.
There had been five, so one was still left. Fucker risked a glance. Apparently the last raider had found a way to pacify Savage by sucking him off. The brute made sure to explore as deeply into the raider's throat as possible. The gargling and coughing was the loudest noise in the otherwise quiet cave.
Fucker realized something and laughed out loud. "Yo," he said to the raider at his feet. "You do realize I can't use someone else's phaser, right? They're gene-bound."
The poor guy looked like he wanted to facepalm, but still didn't dare to move.
Yeah, a rifle was way better than a measly hand gun, but having it re-bound without the owner's consent was costly. Fucker would rather have spent the reward on food.
"All right, Savage cum already. Pisspig, get the ties out."
The two living raiders had their hands tied together and a short rope running from one's right foot to the other's left one. They got to carry their stole seeds back to town, where the punks were met with gratitude from a few farmers and a token amount of money.
Since the guy whose rifle it had been was dead, Fucker decided with a heavy heart to leave the weapons behind instead of blowing their budget on a gene-bond hacker.
"Yo," Savage said. "Let's get going."
"Actually," Fucker said. "I have a question for the mayor of this place. If it doesn't matter where the wannabe raiders are punished, couldn't we have them carry our stuff to the next village at least?"
Tune in next time for more slave stuff.