DROP FORTY-NINE

 

 

Hondros walked in on the HPP store with two very powerful athletes in tow. They were armoured with top-of-the-line gear and armed with both swords and machine guns. He waved his pudgy hand around, and raised the upper lip, showing a bit of his teeth. “So, this is the Pies’ headquarters. How… quaint.”

Hector bit down on an insult, and forced a smile. “Yianni, lovely to see you here. What’s up?”

Hondros laughed heartily and his belly jiggled up and down, pouring over his suit’s belt. “Well, congrats on winning the match last night,” he said with a flourish of his hand.

“Thanks…”

“After such a victory, I merely wanted to check up on the athletes I loaned out to you,” he continued, pacing around the shop. He ran his fat fingers over a suit of armour on display.

“They’re fine,” Hector said defensively. He had a really bad feeling about this social call all of a sudden.

“They are, they are…” Hondros said.

“And they’re not your athletes, after all,” Hector said, gripping the side of his desk, drilling holes with his stare into Hondros’ enormous back.

Hondros spun towards him. “For all intents and purposes, they are my responsibility,” he said shocked, mouth open. He sniffed, “You see, you and me have a contract, and I have a similar contract with their owner that spells out my obligations to him.”

Hector really didn’t like where this was going. He took in a breath. What he really wanted to do was to get up and sock the bastard in the mouth, but he was sure his girls wouldn’t let him reach a metre close to him. “Just say what you came here to say, you must know by now I don’t like all this circling around the subject.”

Hondros stepped closer and touched his fingertips together from both hands, making a bow. “Of course.” With another flourish, he pulled up some data on the veil and sent them to Hector. As Hector’s eyes scrolled through them, Hondros explained. “You see, under our contract, the two athletes are to be kept in top condition, both in accommodation and inside the field.”

Hector shut his eyes tight.

“I had Dainty Feet send me a full-body picture of her body, and she is not in top condition, as you can see.”

Hector opened his eyes. The picture of the girl with just her panties and plenty of bruises on her body floated in the air before them. “Yes, those happened during the match.”

Hondros started. “By Dionysos, no, my friend. I’m not accusing you of anything. But the facts are the facts, and these bruises do activate the relevant clause in our contract.”

“What’s the surcharge,” Hector said, gritting his teeth.

“It’s only 500 per square centimetre of bruising, as spelt out in the contract, of course,” Hondros said helpfully. He pulled up their contract and highlighted the relevant bit.

Hector made a mental calculation. “But she’s all bruised up!” Dainty Feet had a nasty bruise mainly on her thigh and left buttcheek.

“Yes, I can see that. It will be 12.3k, I’m afraid.”

“What?!” Hector exclaimed.

“We can round it down to 12k,” Hondros said without missing a beat. He clicked his tongue. “I’m sure you’re good for it, no need to pay immediately…”

“You can’t be serious!” Hector threw his arms in the air.

“As serious as my sixth heart-attack,” Hondros nodded.

“What? How are you still alive,” Hector said, taken aback.

Hondros shrugged. “It’s only thanks to Apollo’s medical plan, the one called ‘Die Hard.’ You might want to invest in it at some point. Anyway, here’s the invoice on the sum total of the surcharges for Dainty Feet.” He sent it on the veil. “Now, as for Cadena’s living conditions…”

“She’s just fine!” Hector snapped back and stepped in front of Hondros. The two girls changed their footing, they were no doubt ready to pounce if he tried anything. He wasn’t gonna, he wasn’t a fool. But he could scream in the bastard’s face all he wanted, and screw them all.

“I’m afraid not. She isn’t sleeping well, look at her medical data,” Hondros said, pulling up the relevant stats.

Hector swiped them away, making them vanish from the veil between them. “She had been screwing a barman on Syggrou street every night! It’s not like it’s my job to lock her in the room so she can get some rest,” he shouted in his face.

Hondros tsked. “But I’m afraid it is,” he said with a worried frown. “These girls, you see,” he said while presenting the two inside HPP with his upturned palm, “have no free will. They are simply voluptuously shaped animals. You need to tell them when to eat, when to sleep, and when to spread their legs so they can be fucked.” He shook his head. “I know you’re new to this, but the sooner you let go of silly notions, the sooner you can actually make a name for yourself, if a career is what you’re still pursuing in this business,” he said with a calm voice.

Hector pointed a finger at him. “You’re wrong. They’re not what you just said. Yes, you’ve broken their spirits, but they’re still people.”

Hondros laughed heartily at that, then stopped and his face turned serious in an instant. “As you see, I’ve taken your advice and keep more serious defences around me,” he presented his two bodyguards with a flourish of his hand without turning to them. “Destiny?” he ordered, tilting his head to the side.

“Yes, Master?” one of the two athletes replied instantly.

“Cut off your left hand,” Hondros said, not looking back at her.

“M-Master?” Destiny pleaded, confused.

Hondros turned to her. “Don’t worry. I’ve been meaning to augment it, anyway. Come on now, don’t keep me waiting. Chop chop,” he grinned, his finger on top of the Tase button on his owner’s app.

Destiny gulped once, unsheathed her sword and with a powerful slash, she sliced her left hand at the wrist. It thudded on the shop’s floor, spewing out blood from her stump. She cried out in pain and fell on her knees.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Hector shouted and ran up to her. He tied up her hand with his belt. Then he hurried to get a first-aid kit from his workshop, and sprayed her stump with the haemostatic liquid. “Hold it up,” he said, propping her hand up, above her heart.

The poor girl cried, her face that of pure, agonising pain, but she nodded and held it there. The other athlete called for an ambulance.

“Now,” Hondros said as if a human being hadn’t just crippled herself at his command, “about those surcharges.”