Laying the groundwork for some new material:
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Cherry patrolled her corner with
the grace of a drunken lioness as her pimp, a near-7-foot flashy hulk named
Bitch’s Preach watched from across the street. If she didn’t start bringing in
the business she was going to find herself on the wrong end of a Singapore
Gonzo Bus, which is as painful as it sounds.
Before her three tours of duty,
Cherry (her street name) was studying to be a chem.-tech, but then the world
hit a fan made of shit. She was called into action and while she was there she
succumbed to one of her few faults. Cherry accepted a bonus from the military
by opting to be a guinea pig for one of their ultra-soldier programs. At first,
the drug worked splendidly. Her body surpassed its original apex of physical
capabilities. She was finishing special ops obstacles in a matter of single
digit minutes and her IQ shot up several hundred notches. She was a scientist
with a gladiator’s killing skills.
The addiction started during her
four month layoff. She began looking for compensatory drugs; first, legal
supplements used by fitness experts and world class athletes, but they didn’t
compare to the thrill of the military’s sweet sensation. Then, she started
dealing with the illegal stuff but cleaned herself before she was due back for
her second tour. When she came home, the need came back sooner and her desperation
doubled, but she was able to compensate until it was time for round three, but
compensating meant the money went to the bad people with bad things that made
her feel good and not to her bills. After her third tour of duty, Cherry returned
home to an eviction sign and a foreclose notice on her home. Her car had been
repossessed. She had signed her life and its connections to the military so she
could be one of the ultra soldiers. She had no one to turn to.
Bitch’s Preach found her in an
alley with her tongue stuck up the ass of a translator for the Chinese chairman
of the CPC Guidance Commission. Bitch’s Preach applauded her enthusiasm and
controlled her through her addiction. Bitch’s Preach had been dishonorably
discharged for running a prostitute scam on the American military Base in
Germany. He knew Cherry’s symptoms because he had also partaken in the same
experiments, only he wasn’t a guinea pig, he was a chemist. He had manipulated
the formula used for the ultra soldier experiments and was now pimping out
women laced with the junk as super sex slaves. Many of his girls were ex-war
vets, so not only did he have the most scintillating pussy in the city, if
anyone tried to skimp out on the tab, they turned into wicked enforcers and
collectors with a bloodlust. Bitch’s Preach wanted punks like that turned into
examples.
Cherry was sick of this life. She
was sick of Bitch’s Preach. She had fought in wars, saved lives, but like so
many ex-military, once she was done her government didn’t bother to remember
her name or the names of her street sisters. But she still had instincts.
Cherry still knew how to be a
soldier. Her sisters were fellow soldiers. Warriors – warriors that had fought
through pain, insurmountable odds, and common sexual degradation. Cherry didn’t
want to feel sick anymore. Cherry was ready to take her life back. It was going
to start with Bitch’s Preach.
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