Case 015- Puppy. Part 1.

Case 015- Puppy. Part1.

Man, my head is killing me. Why did I agree to go out for a beer with the Demidov brothers yesterday? I knew that we would not stop with beer and start drinking anything that burns. The hum of the engines heating up only adds a nasty feeling to my hangover-racked head.

"And then Skipper says he wants to do a pub crawl, because it's boring to drink in one place the whole time. Threatening to deprive us of booze and locking us on the training ground, he forces us to look for another bar. In two hours we managed to visit a Mexican, Irish, German and Russian bar. Then, when we were totally shitfaced, we went to some fancy looking bar. There were a bunch of people in weird clothes inside." - one of the brothers said.

"In weird clothes?"

"Yeah. Even by Night City standards, they had a very unusual look. Anyway. Drunk as hell, Skipper made his way to the bar, near which several well-dressed girls about six feet tall were sitting. There he finally spotted these big girls and started buying them drinks and complimenting them by saying that he really liked tall and strong ladies."

"Haha. Our Skipper's a real ladies' man. So what happened next?"

"And then Sodom and Gomorrah started. One of the ladies with the crocodile smile lifts up her skirt and there she is with a big dick. Just like a horse size. Skipper went pale from this surprise and barked at the bartender to get him a bottle of whiskey. I'd never seen anyone get drunk and sober at the same time so fast. But the bottle of whiskey did the trick, and eventually Skipper began to slowly slump on the counter. We were already able to recover from the shock of this and hurried to pick up Skipper. And to be honest we were very scared after such a shock. By the end Skipper started screaming that he was upset that lady has twice bigger than his. To the laughter and jokes of the other bar visitors we retreated. It was only there that I could read that we were in a bar for drag queens and trannies."

"That's enough talk. I feel bad enough after last night, and you keep reminding me about this horror. I can't look at any girl over six feet tall anymore. And I really loved girls like that!"

Laughter was the response I got. I'm not going to that neighborhood anymore. Next time I'm not going to that neighborhood. I would drink in more boring, but safe places for my mental health. The dispatcher's call distracted me from thinking about beating up my teammates, who were just laughing at my tragedy like senseless pigs.

Right now we need to evacuate another spoiled rich kid out of one of the Animal Fighting Arenas. Shit. If the kid's guards don't hold back the Animals until we arrive, all we'll have to do is pack what's left of him in a body bag.

A quick check of the outfit and a rough plan for getting the little retard out didn't take long. The plan was simple, use threats and weapons to get the Animals to let the kid go. They certainly wouldn't want to turn their fight arena, where they make their money, into a war zone with lots of dead bodies.

Except things didn't go according to plan when they arrived. I don't know why or how, but the damn Animals had brought over a bunch of people, among whom we could see the IDs of our customers. Hell, if we start a firefight here, we might end up hurting them, and there's gonna be some real big penalties out there. All right. Since the gun didn't work, let's try a nice word.

"Animals! Call your leader. There's a very important thing we need to discuss." - I said in a steady voice to the gangsters standing in front of me without lowering my weapon.

In less than a couple of minutes a tall and flexible woman with a very beautiful face, not disfigured by the usual horse cheekbones, wearing sports clothes over which she wore a bulletproof vest with a defensive jacket, came forward. She glanced at me, stopping at a small chevron with a picture of an angel in armor. When she realized what it meant, a wide smile spread across her face.

"So that's how you look, Marcus Berkut. Commander of the Archangels. Well, let's talk. Or shall we continue to compete with each other's dicks?" - said this 21st century Amazon, "Night City's edition," with a smirk.

The dick joke after the recent bar show-catastrophe made me cringe and my team giggle over the intercom. Well, fine you assholes, keep laughing, I'll beat you to death on the training ground as payback.

Nodding back to her, I put my weapon away and walked toward her. But just in case, I kept my implants ready in case she wanted to speak the language of raw violence. After all, even though I could see glimmers of intelligence in her eyes, she was still an Animal and could easily leap at me if she sensed weakness or opportunity.

"We need to pick up a kid who has Trauma Team insurance. And I know you're holding him somewhere out there within your fighting ring. Now if you don't want me and my boys to start a meat grinder here then hand him over to us and get back to your bloody gladiator show."

"And you're not the cowardly type. I'm even jealous that Sasquatch found you first and decided to make you her plaything without even hesitating to hang a bounty on your head. I wouldn't mind having fun with you. I'm even starting to feel attracted to you. You smell like a real man, not just your average corpo toy soldier." - she said at the same time examining me like a predator.

"Let's deal with the client first, and leave the mating games for later. So are you going to give it to us or do we have to flood this place with blood?" - I answered, wanting to get this over with as quickly as possible. I'm not fucking Maugli or Tarzan, to win the hearts of Animals with phrases like "I'm your brother" and shit like that.

"Ha. Mating games. I like that. But let's talk about the guy, anyway. I wouldn't mind giving him to you and getting back to show. Except this piece of shit covered in gold had an awfully long tongue. He came into the arena and started looking at my fighters like he was buying a racehorse. He even started throwing money at one of my lieutenants with the phrase that he wanted to buy himself a real fighting dog. When he was told that's not the way it's done here, he started insulting us. So we decided to give him a lesson."

"Even though he's a piece of shit, he's still our client. So I still haven't heard the part in your speech where you say that you're going to give him back to us."

"I can't just hand him over to you like that. Then my reputation would suffer. Although. I have one interesting option."

"And what is that?"

"A fight in the arena."

Shit. I just flew headfirst into shit. But the situation is screwing me up. If I open fire, it'll be chaos and who knows what I'll end up with. Seems I have to risk it.

"Okay. I'll do it."

"Fine. Don't worry. I'm not going to put you up against a big beast. Your opponent will be a cute little puppy."

But when she showed me the puppy, I wanted to swear at her. For the little puppy turned out to be a two-meter-tall pile of muscle with big fists and a bloodthirsty smile of a professional sadist.