Outlaw Star Fan Fiction ❯ Revenge ❯ Chapter 8

Ready to take care of "business", Ron entered a sleazy bar called the Men's Club, full of male whores and male erotic dancers. He truly did have work to do, but there was nothing to stop him having fun while he did it, which was why he had chosen this location for his meeting.

And after that, he would have some real fun.

Ron sat at a lone table sipping a beer, and watched as a boy no older than 16 removed his skin-tight short shorts, leaving him in a thong that left nothing to the imagination. A cough interrupted Ron just as the boy finished. Turning to the sound, Ron saw his appointment. It was an elderly man in a lab coat, looking very out of place in the club.

Ron smiled, and said, "Doctor, I'm glad to see you on time."

The "doctor" smiled thinly back, and answered, "I would not let my favorite customer wait unnecessarily, Mr. MacDougall."

Ron glared dangerously. "I've told you before, the name is Williams!" he hissed.

Unfazed, the doctor replied, "Whatever, Mr. MacDou- Williams. I believe you have an order form to give me."

Ron passed the doctor an electronic notebook, and the doctor glanced through the information. Suddenly, a knowing smile spread across the doctor's face. "I'm glad to see you're no longer interested in the outdated constructs. Bioandroids are much more economical to make and buy. Not to mention more stable."

"That's why I'm ordering one. Harry has become too difficult to handle with his wild mood swings, and he questions my orders too much," Ron said. "But I've heard you have perfected bioandroids to have all the advantages of the constructs, without their various problems."

The doctor smiled. "Yes," he boasted. "The first step toward that perfection was the girl that came with the XGP my old colleague Gwen Khan worked on. But they were only able to remove instability, and she had enough will to disobey. Which of course started that mess years ago."

Ron narrowed his eyes dangerously in response to the mention of the XGP and Melfina, but the doctor paid no heed. "You see, the advantage of a construct was that not only could it think independently, it also behaved like a human. And to make reasonable decisions without complete information was then out of reach of a computer.

"So," he went on, "we spliced a human brain with a computer to maximize efficiency, but it not only had a will, it was also unstable. After removing the incompatible human brain, the bioandroid `Melfina' was made. Unfortunately, the new brain-like computer had a will, but I have fixed that problem, and now anyone can have a faithful bioandroid of their own." The doctor smiled, and added, "For a price of course."

He paused, and pretended to read the pad. "Your finances in recent years have diminished greatly, and I'm afraid you cannot afford my product. But because you've been a faithful customer, I will give you a deal. Your old construct, `Harry', would be wonderful for recycling. Every part of him excluding the brain, nerves, and skeletal bones can be used in bioandroids, and are quite expensive and difficult to grow." He paused a moment, making calculations in his head. "I'll give you a 30% discount for scrapping your `Harry'."

Ron's forehead creased in thought, but the love he'd had for Harry was long forgotten because of his obsession for revenge. It took less than half a minute to make his decision. "I need him for a month or two still, but after that he would only be a burden. It's a deal."

The doctor stood, and spoke one last time. "Then everything is set. Good-bye, Mr. MacDougall."

Ron glared angrily at the doctor as he left.

_*_*_*

A man of nineteen stood in the shadows of the Men's Club, scanning it with eyes and ears for information. Information was his first job. He bought and sold it daily. He wore cut off shorts that barely covered his ass and a black shirt with so many holes that it revealed more than it hid.

That was his second job - selling his body. Surprisingly, the jobs worked hand in hand. Few people knew how much a whore could hear.

Tonight, he heard a man say, "MacDougall", only to be immediately corrected. The whore listened in. A new job had been sent to him from Fred Lou, one of his many employers, and it offered 10,000 wong. What made the situation look sweeter was that the man matched MacDougall's description.

When the elderly companion called the other MacDougall as he left, the whore knew it was time to move in. He sidled up behind Ron.

"Hi there handsome." He smiled seductively. "Looking for a good time?"

Ron looked up and down his body, then grabbed his ass. Grinning lecherously, he answered, "I was, but I think I've found one."

_*_*_*

The whore typed furiously at a computer. He had just finished rummaging through MacDougall's discarded clothing, and found his ship's registration and dock number. Now he had to send the information to his employer as soon as possible.

But it was, like most things, easier said than done. Ron slept about five feet away, and there was no telling when he would wake up. To make things more complicated, Ron had not been a gentle customer. His nose had been broken, another blow making his right eye swell shut. The act of typing was near impossible. One hand was completely useless with broken fingers. General pain didn't help either.

Despite it all, he was determined to send the information tonight. The violent treatment only added to the 10,000 wong incentive.

He jumped as a heavy and now all-too-familiar hand lay on his shoulder. "What are you doing?" a cold voice asked.

Thinking quickly, he answered, "Checking e-mail."

"For some reason, I don't believe you." Reaching around, Ron opened the minimized window, and read the information the whore was going to send. "Who is your employer?" he asked quietly.

The whore shivered, and tried to pull away. Ron twisted his arm behind his back. "Who's your employer?" he repeated.

The whore attempted to calm down, and find an escape route. Ron pulled until his arm snapped at the elbow. Screaming, he barely heard Ron repeat the question a third time. Panic overloaded everything in his mind, and he struggled desperately, but Ron simply turned him around and pinned him to the wall. Adrenalin pumped through the whore's veins, enhancing his strength and stamina as he kicked and clawed to free himself, but Ron clearly outmatched him.

Ron backhanded the whore, and then closed his hand around his throat. "Answer me!" he growled, applying pressure, slowly cutting off his air.

"Fred Lou," the whore croaked, all thoughts centred on life preservation.

Without a thought, Ron pushed his thumb into the whore's throat hard enough to crack his trachea, and dropped him with a satisfied smile. The man gasped and clutched at his own throat frantically. Ron turned away, ignoring him as he put his clothing on.

The last thing the whore heard before death claimed him was Ron's sarcastic, "Thanks."