2019-10-12 - spike - The New Shop 136

Author: spike
Title: The New Shop 136
Date: 12 October 2019

Chapter 136
As I lead them to the elevator, Q spoke. “Artemis, I think you forgot something. Return to the screen.”

“Oh! Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.” I turned and ushered them back to it. “One thing I did forget. Stand to attention in front of the screen.”

As I did what I’d ordered them to do, Q appeared. As he’d said, he wore his suit, “I am Master Q” on his chest. Four and Ten behind him as usual.

“Good afternoon, officers. I am, as my legend suggests,” he tapped his mark “Master Q.”

They looked at each other, then at the screen.

One of them pointed and started signing.

“You’re the guy who set all this up?”

“Oh yes. Much more than that too. My home is even more well equipped and manned than my American complex.”

I’d lost track of which was which again but one twiddled. “Why are you dressed as a slave?”

“You know how good these suits feel. Mine is marked with my identity, but, on occasion, I have blanked myself and taken my place among them. I enjoy being a slave too, sometimes. As for why I’m wearing it today? You are police officers and my face may be recognisable. I prefer to remain anonymous for obvious reasons.”

It nodded and the one next to it signed.

“Thank you, sir. Thank you for allowing us to experience this.”

Ten tapped it out so everyone could hear, as usual.

“It’s a pleasure, believe me. For far too long, the authorities have shown a terrible prejudice against the most… extreme ends of the fetish community. They tend to look on all of it with some level of disgust or contempt. I simply decided to use the opportunity to… indoctrinate a few of those people. To show them what we’re really like.”

It looked at its companions, stepped forward a little and twiddled extra small, extra fast. “Please, don’t repeat this so they can hear.”

I noticed Ten begin to type and then his hand froze over his armband.

Q tapped something on his before continuing. “Very well. Only Artemis and you can hear this now, assuming you were Kowalski at least. Click your fingers if you hear me.”

It did.

“Good. I thought it would be. Make your request. I assume it is a request, anyway.”

“It is, sir. Keep me, sir. Please. I recoiled in horror when Artemis suggested we join them in these suits but now I’ve felt it”

“You never want out. I know.”

“But it’s not just the suit. It’s everything. It’s amazing. I don’t want to”

“I’ll stop you there, Blank. I would, under normal circumstances, at this point, order Artemis to sedate you during your next clean and simply replace the suit with a permanent one without your knowledge. Request made and granted, but you do have a more important job to do, remember.”

It sighed. “Yes, sir.”

“I will accept your gift, Blank. But only after you’ve continued with your police duties for another few years. Not only in spreading the word within your precinct. Become a defender of the deviants. A protector of the perverts. Become one of them. You may even find you like that life even more than life in the suit. You’re still very new to your kinks, Blank. Spread your wings a little before you decide to have them clipped. Before you commit to something there’s no backing out of.”

Its shoulders sagged and it nodded. “I just don’t want to lose this. I love it, sir!” it pointed at the suit.

“How about a compromise?”

“Sir?”

“I’ll agree to take partial ownership of you on your release, but it will impose quite a few restrictions on your lifestyle in the outside world.”

“What do you mean, sir?”

“When you’ve completed your race and you have your suits removed, you will retain everything below the waist. Chastity and plug included. You won’t be free of the suit because in such a state you won’t be able to wash your bottom half. You won’t be able to defecate. Instead, you’ll report each day at the end of your shift to the store you were originally told to report to. There, they have the facilities required to seal you back into the suit so you can be cleaned. You will also restrict your diet. No more food. They’ll feed you when they wash you. If you have extended time off work, I may even consider keeping you in the store and putting you to work there.”

“Oh god! Thank you, sir. I accept!”

“Understand this. Slaves who exist outside are still slaves. If you want to do anything that isn’t related to your work, you ask permission and abide by that decision. You wear only what I order you to wear. You go to social functions and yes, that does include fetish clubs, only if I grant you permission. If you find yourself a slave or dominant, or indeed a dominatrix, again, you ask permission. In such a situation, release from the bottom half of the suit may be necessary, after all. Such a release will not be permanent. You will report the next day to have it reapplied.”

“I agree, sir! Does that mean I can continue with the hair removals too, sir?”

“You really wish to spend the rest of your life hairless? Even outside the suit? It can be a very unusual look. It’s not just the hair on your head, Blank. Eyelashes and eyebrows too, remember.”

“I… I can live with that, sir.”

“Very well. Then I accept your gift, Blank. I didn’t expect such a result until the end of your term of imprisonment. This is very promising. You’ll be provided with a cellphone number to text to ask for such permissions upon release.“ Q’s shoulders shook. “One benefit for a police officer in such chastity is… Bulletproof crotch. Step back.”

It did so. It seemed to be standing taller too. Prouder.

“Is there anyone else who wants a private word with me?”

Polson inched forward, its fingers twitching, but its hands fell to its sides and it shook its head. The others did too.

“Good. Because I have something to show you. You need to understand that the place you reside now, my home too, are at the very extreme ends of the fetish spectrum. If you see the fetish community as a subculture, mine is more a full culture in its own right. We have our own rules, our own laws. You’ve experienced one of my punishments already, but it isn’t the most serious.”

They looked at each other, obviously unsure what to say.

“Last year, a number of schools were bombed in the city of Atlanta. The bomber escaped even though his face, his very act of pressing the button that detonated those bombs became viral. A while later, that bomber was located wearing a suit similar to yours. Or haven’t you made that connection?”

One of them, not sure which, began to twiddle.

“What the hell? What do you mean he was in one of these?”

“I conduct a thorough background check on all my slaves. Only those who pass are given the chance to take on the suit, gentlemen. Until it pressed that button, it had committed no crimes. Not even a parking ticket and fifteen minutes after pressing it, it presented itself to a fetish store affiliated with us, submitted itself and took on the suit. It knew exactly what it was doing, or thought it did. It’d passed my security checks one week prior to the bombing. A few days later, it was where you are now. That might’ve been the end of it, but it couldn’t bear the thought of such “perverts” existing and while it was working, cleaning in the fetish store you came to, it committed an act of vandalism. We identified it or thought we had and fitted it with a new addition. A vest that permanently bonded to its suit announcing who it was and what it’d done. Then we shipped it back to Atlanta and threw it in a dumpster while at the same time informing the people of Atlanta of its presence.”

“They hunted him for days! They claimed they killed him but lost the body! Good. He deserved what happened to him.”

I shook my head. “I didn’t. My master said they thought they’d identified him. Sir, can you demonstrate blanking, for them?”

Q nodded. “Gentlemen, pay attention to Artemis for a moment.”

I stood facing them, looking down at my marking as it vanished and then reappeared.

“I was the one they nearly killed. There was a mix-up. The plugs you currently wear are used to identify you. Otherwise, you all look identical. The core of the plug that gets removed during your cleaning is what powers the suit and acts as that identifier.” I turned to the screen. “Why are we telling them this, sir? Has it arrived?”

Q nodded. “Artemis very nearly died, but, after he made it back to New York by stowing away on a freight train, he alerted us to the danger before passing out. We shipped him by emergency transport to my home here and repaired him as best we could. It took a few days to identify the bomber after the mix-up. We put it in isolation once identified and kept it in solitary confinement for several weeks until Artemis was fit to return to New York. Just under a week ago, we fitted it with a new vest identifying it and sent it back to Atlanta. It arrived this morning, but it was sedated.”

Q tapped on his computer. “Since then, a drone has been observing it. It woke up an hour ago.”

The picture changed. The view from above.

A black figure with a yellow stripe down the back of its head. It lay in a dumpster and stirred. Judging from the light quality, it was nearly dark.

Then it looked around in panic and peered over the top.

Q continued to speak. “We shipped everything it needs to survive to the Atlanta police department when Artemis was mistakenly sent there. We now know, thanks to Artemis overhearing a conversation between two of their police officers, that some of them were on the side of the lynch mobs that roamed the city hunting him. They have been alerted to its presence again but this time, they’re not out to kill it.”

It was Kowalski that twiddled next. “It deserves to”

Q held his hand up. “It deserves to suffer, I think you’ll agree. And you know how much pain is possible in that suit.”

It looked at me. I nodded. “My idea. That’s what we passed onto them. Keep it locked up. Make it suffer. Torture it for the rest of its very long and miserable life. They agreed.”

“And now, you’re letting us see it try to escape?”

“Hopefully even more entertaining than the races. I’ve been wanting to see what it’d do since we unmasked it, considering how well I did. Broken hip, shattered leg, gunshot wound and broken arm and that was before I even got on the fucking train.”

All five of them stared at me.

Q spoke again. “What Artemis says is true. We have some excellent doctors on hand here and some medical technologies the rest of the world won’t benefit from for decades. If you wish, you could benefit from it too.”

All five of them snapped back to the screen.

One of them twiddled. “Benefit how?”

“We have the ability to detect anything within you that may become a health problem and in some cases, prevent it. We can also give each of you a perfect twenty/five vision.”

“I thought twenty/twenty was perfect?”

“Good lord, no. Twenty/twenty’s just considered average.”

“What else can you help with?”

Q shrugged. “Depends how far you’re willing to go. Precancerous cells, gone. Arthritis prevented permanently. Depending what it is, damaged caused by infections and infections themselves, gone. We haven’t encountered anyone with HIV yet but we believe we should be able to wipe it from a system without the unpleasant side effects most drugs have. We could even strengthen your bones, clear out your arteries. It’s not just the gym that can make you healthier and fitter than you’ve ever been before.”

“You’re talking about enhancements? Not just repairs? Fixes? Cures? You want to turn us into superheroes?”

Q’s shoulders shook again. “When I told Artemis just how resilient the suit was, he said “I’m a superhero! I should be out there fighting crime!” but no. No Captain Americas. Hawkeye maybe. You’ll have slight improvements. Repairs, undoing the damage of a lifetime, a few things strengthened. Slightly improved heroes is all we can manage I’m afraid, not superheroes.”

The one at the end stepped forward. “Sir, for me at least. Anything. Everything. Can it clear chickenpox too?”

“I see no reason why not. Let me guess… You had it as a child and now you’re worried about shingles?”

“Worse, sir. I had it three years ago. Sometimes it’s worse as an adult. For me, it knocked me off my feet for a month, sir.”

“I believe we can help. We know how the chickenpox virus works. I think it hides away, dormant in the lymph nodes until something triggers it later in life. It’s certainly something we’d look into. And you are...”

“Beck, sir.”

“One for everything. Any other volunteers?”

The other four stepped forward.

“Everything all ‘round then?”

They all nodded.

“Good. It does require standing for extended periods immobilised. Not as long as your first, but a few hours at a time. We can perform this procedure on one of you at a time so it might be several weeks before you’ve all been dealt with. It may mean a stay beyond the end of the races.”

Kowalski twiddled. “If that’s the case, sir. Do me last, I”

“I understand, Blank. That was the idea anyway. Anything to extend your time with us.”

It nodded.

I pointed at the screen. “Sir. Looks like it’s making its move.”

There was movement within the dumpster. It was going through the trash, ripping open the garbage bags searching for something. It did this for a few minutes until each bag had been opened and, failing to find whatever it was looking for, it tipped the contents of one black bag out, tore a hole in the bottom and the corners off and put it on as if it was a singlet.

I glanced at the cops.

One signed. “Why’s it doing that?”

“I didn’t know my suit had been modified when I found myself there. I was attacked by the first person who saw me. I thought it was just because I was wearing rubber at the time. It knows about the sign on its back. I imagine it was looking for clothes in the trash.”

They nodded.

Meanwhile, Khan was peering over the edge of the dumpster again, and, seeing no-one about, it clambered out and inched its way towards the end of the alley.

It got to the end and rushed a few steps back before dropping into a crouch and pulling its arms into the sack. Just as a person walked past the alley, it ducked its head in the sack too.

The pedestrian continued on his way, not noticing anything.

It inched forward again. The road seemed clear so it poked its head around the corner, sprang to its feet and bolted across to the next alleyway, then leapt and scrambled over a wall.

The drone followed its progress as it hopped over three more before ducking against the wall of the yard it’d landed in. It spent the next five minutes just looking around.

The area was almost open apart from a few packing crates on one side and a dumpster by one wall. About ten feet up, attached to the building, a security camera.

Khan had spotted it. It sidled up the edge of the wall as it was facing the other way and stood under it, then began studying the door.

It turned and looked around the yard, looked up at the camera again and waited until it was pointing as far away from it as possible, rushed out and got a long thin piece of metal. What was that?

I shrugged.

Whatever it was, it started attacking the door with it. The hinge side of the door. It took about ten minutes to get the first hinge away from the frame, moved up to the top and did the same, then got its fingers into the gap and wrenched, yanked and pulled the door open enough to get through.

The camera view followed it through the gap.

I felt a prod and turned.

“How the hell are they recording this, sir?”

“My master told me it would be followed by a drone. Not one of those noisy huge things they sell as toys… About the size of an insect, isn’t it, sir?”

Q replied. “Miniaturisation is something we’re very good at. A drone that uses very little power, capable of tapping into electrical supplies by induction. As long as there’s power in the area, it can continue indefinitely.”

“That’s… How do we get our hands on those things? They could be incredibly useful for the police!” Came from one of them.

“I have considered releasing some of my technology to the world… I’m sorry, which one are you?”

“Blank, sir.”

“Previous name?”

“Yarrow, sir.”

“It might be possible but I understand your budgets have been constantly falling behind inflation for several years, true?”

It sagged and nodded.

“I doubt the police could afford the technology. The military, possibly.”

Khan had continued into the building. It searched the back room, ran into the front and then upstairs to an office. To a computer.

It turned it on, then spent the next couple of minutes searching the desk. It flipped the keyboard, slapped itself on the forehead and entered the password.

The camera view shifted so it could see the screen as a website popped up.

It looked incredibly plain, no identifying marks, no logos, no graphics at all. There was however a text box.

It started to type.

> Help me!

No response.

> Please! I’m in trouble.

> I need help! I’m screwed!

: Who is this?

> Look at my ident! It’s me! Ibrahim!

: Ibrahim who?

> What do you mean? It’s me. I did what you commanded. I

: Khan is dead. How did you get this address?

> I’m not dead. I found a way to escape, but I fucked myself over in the process.

: What do you mean, escape?

> I worked out a better way or thought I had but now I’m trapped. They caught me. They put me in a suit I can’t get out of. They’ll torture me if they catch me now!

: What do you mean a better way? You were trained to be a martyr to the cause!

> Please! I’ve given you everything. I need help!

: Help? You promised to give your life to the cause and now you’re saying you chickened out? You betray us and you dare to ask for help?

> What do you mean, betray?

: Get off this site, now! You fool! You should’ve been wearing one of the bombs that exploded!

> I need extraction! I need help! I’m fucked!

: I said get off this site! Now! You are a coward and a fool! You deserve death for your incompetence! You idiot!

+++ Connection Terminated.

Khan sat stock still, staring at the screen.

Q spoke again. “Don’t worry gentlemen. That extract of video has already been sent to the federal anti-terrorism authorities. It may well be that it has betrayed them if they can track that URL and the IP addresses involved. It certainly wasn’t using a secure piece of software to contact them.”

It shook itself, pulled itself together and started to turn the office upside down. It didn’t find what it was looking for so ran downstairs and started searching there.

The place seemed to be a computer repair shop. Half-open computers on several work benches. Soldering irons, wire cutters, pallet knives, screwdrivers and wrenches littered the worktops.

It took one of the knives and ran it across its chest, slashing the garbage sack. The blade snapped on one of its armour plates.

It turned on one of the soldering irons and looked around again. It ran over to a locker, forced it open with a screwdriver and its shoulders sagged. It tore off the sack to reveal the sign on its back and the armour plating.

There were clothes in the locker. T-shirts. Hoodies. Trousers. Even boots.

It started to put them on.

Another prod from behind. I turned again. “What… Why does its suit look different?”

I checked my armband. “We made some final additions before shipping, Mr Donnelly. After what happened to me, I made the suggestion that when it got there, it should be armour-plated. It’s effectively bulletproof in all the important areas. No vital organ damage. We want it to live.”

“That doesn’t seem much? Where’s the padding?”

“Trust me. Once you’ve seen the second race, you’ll understand. Atlanta wasn’t the first time I was shot. I was shot as a dog too, but I was frozen and it protected me. It can’t be frozen, but the suit is covered with hardened graphene plates now. Enough to protect it.”

I returned my attention to the screen. It’d finished getting dressed and now it was advertising something else. The address of the repair shop it was raiding.

It returned to the soldering iron and tested it on a piece of plastic. It melted.

It rolled up its sleeve and tentatively touched itself on the arm with the tip, then held the iron to it’s arm before finally pressing it in hard.

It waited.

I stared. “What the… Why isn’t it… It should’ve burned its arm by now, shouldn’t it, sir?”

“In a rubber suit, yes. Graphene is an excellent thermal conductor. The suit’s distributing the heat quite efficiently. It’s just making its arm warm. It could hold the business end of that soldering iron for an hour with no ill effects.”

“Good god, sir! How much temperature can it withstand?”

“Hell of a lot. Even a high powered laser would have trouble building up to cutting temperature. In such a situation, the occupant would suffer more damage than the suit.”

“What about a welder’s torch, sir?”

“No. Not even that.”

I chuckled. “Every time I learn something new about this suit, I love it even more, sir.”

By now, Khan had gripped the soldering iron, just as Q had suggested. Clearly, it couldn’t feel the heat of it. It picked up a roll of solder and touched it to the tip. It melted.

Khan melted solder directly onto the palm of its hand. It landed with a splash, formed into a ball and solidified. It stared at its hand, shaking its head.

I nodded. “I think it’s finally realising it’s out of options. Its only choice now is to do as it was told.”

“What did you tell it to do, sir?”

“Hand itself into a police station. It can’t survive out there for much more than a couple of weeks. It can drink, it can’t eat solid food, it’d have to rely on soup and it can’t shit. Did you lock its piss tube down too, sir?”

Q appeared picture in picture and shook his head. “We allowed it that. We thought it might prove more interesting if it could piss. It might try to resist its fate for longer.”

It made its way out of the building and did some more wall climbing before it hit a main street. It looked at its wrist. I hadn’t noticed it putting a watch on.

There was still a lot of traffic. Still a few people out on foot.

Q sighed. “What you saw was just after it awoke. Let’s see it live. See if an extra hour’s enough to see more action.”

A video blip and the scene changed. It was in another alleyway, peering around another corner. This time, it wasn’t as careful.

A man walked past, glanced at it, his eyes widened and he increased his pace.

I sighed. “Finally. Let’s just hope he’s on twitter or at least calls the police.”

Khan had realised its danger. It bolted back to the other end of the alleyway and across it, this time, not caring who saw it. I think it must’ve been in a panic. All caution, gone.

It ran down three more until it saw a wall that looked scalable, climbed it and dropped into another yard.

I think I’d recognised something when it ran past one of the streets. Maybe they’d dropped it in the same dumpster I was thrown into.

“Sir, can you bring up a map? I still have no idea what the city layout’s like. I did have access to a smartphone and used the map app, but only concentrated on the local area… Might be good to track it on that too. Highlight all the police stations, so we can see if it is heading for one.”

The video shrank to one side and a map appeared beside it. I recognised it instantly. They had! They’d dropped it in the same dumpster.

I pointed. “That’s the railroad siding where I broke my arm and got on the freight train. It’s in the same area I was. Where’s the police station, sir?”

The map zoomed out. Now the area I’d been in was about half the size and on the extreme left of the map, a blue flag appeared.

“That’s its target, Artemis. I think it might know the city better than you did, so it might actually stand a chance.”

“That wouldn’t be very difficult, sir. Even driving through it once would be more than I’d done.”

As it continued, it was beginning to head in a more westerly direction. After the initial panic, it fell into a routine. Hunkering down in the alley with its hoodie pulled up to conceal its face whenever it spotted anyone, making sure the street was clear before running down it and ducking into another alley or, failing that, hiding between dumpsters on the street.

Trying to act like a homeless person seemed to be its tactic.

A few police cars drove by, sirens blaring. It ducked, crouched or hid every time.

We followed its progress. The map had a marker on it to indicate where it was and it was getting closer to its goal.

Then it walked around a corner and ran headlong into a cop. The cop yelped as Khan scrambled back and turned to run back down the alley, but it was too late.

The cop pounced, slammed it into the ground and applied cuffs before it could do anything.

“You do not have the right to remain silent, but you will anyway. You do not have the right to an attorney. You will never see a court of law. You’re coming with me, fucker!”

He got out his cellphone.

“Zeek, get to HQ and pull the package from evidence.”,”The blank one!”, “I got it, yes. It literally ran right into me. Get onto the rest, make sure the welder’s there.”, “Good, I’ll see you in thirty.”

I glanced back at the cops. “I was hoping it’d run into a cop on the street rather than make it to the station. It’s well and truly fucked now…” I looked up at the screen. “Why isn’t it struggling?”

Q answered. “It couldn’t hear what the cop said. It probably thinks its safe. That he’ll be taking it to the station. We turned its ears off. Full noise cancellation mode. There’s a microphone in the package if they want to taunt it.”

I nodded.

The camera view took on a strange angle as the car pulled away, as if the drone was sitting on the trunk. Probably a good idea. It might not be able to keep up otherwise.

The car drove for some time and as it did so, the area began to look increasingly run down. A derelict industrial area by the looks of it.

The car pulled up outside a particularly wrecked looking factory complex. The cop hauled it out and dragged it through a heavy iron door to be met by a couple of other men.

It looked around in a panic. Now it was struggling but with three holding it, it didn’t stand a chance. Down some steps, into a bare room with another man there, they slammed it against the back wall and snapped a heavy iron collar around its neck.

The man in the room nodded and approached it with an arc-welder.

He lowered his visor, said, “Turn away or leave the room” and did his thing on the collar, making it permanent. The collar had a chain attached and the chain snaked up to the wall, where it was attached to a steel plate embedded into the brickwork.

The welder wasn’t done yet, however. Shackles and manacles were added and they too were welded on.

“You can look now.”

He pulled a knife and cut off the clothes it was wearing.

“Well, that confirms it.” he pointed at its back. “I don’t remember seeing that last time, though. Make me suffer. I like it.”

He pointed at the message on its back.

“Well.” I nodded. “Looks like it's not getting out of that room again.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Q replied. “I offered quite a few ideas to keep them entertained and that thing tormented.”

“What like, sir?”

“Just as we go on hunts, they can too. I suggested arranging for it to escape once in a while so they can recapture it. It will need to be transferred from the cell in order to get near a water supply for its cleaning after all. The exercise will also do it some good. The collar was supplied by me. It contains a tracker so they can toy with it but never lose it. It’ll never get far but dashing its hopes time and time again is one additional torture I wholly approve of. Now that it’s been captured though, I think it’s time our guests had their demonstration, Artemis. Don’t worry, we’ll keep recording and send edited highlights.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”