The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

King Anderson and Prathama stepped out of the town car to the street next to a biker bar. They wore matching suits, nicely tailored, though it was much tighter on Prathama than on him. She walked in first, and got a few whistles before she sat down at the bar with two empty seats to each side. Anderson wasn’t far behind—he was just watching first. A scarred man tried to take a seat next to her before he did, but she grabbed two fingers and bent them backwards the second he slapped his hand down on the counter. With a smile. He recovered quickly, but backed off anyway. The seat, he could see, was taken. And the guy who sat in it... dressed in a suit, but he moved like a threat. They ordered two Guinnesses and whispered to each other, glancing around. The bartender muttered to them, with a concerned expression, but the guy just smiled, shook his head, and laid down an extra twenty. A minute or two later, the corner table near the door got up and left, and the suits grabbed it before the girl could bus it. They glanced around the room, like they were sizing them all up. By this time, half the bar was watching them, only slightly trying to conceal it.

Then his gaze settled on one person in particular. A thin woman with a wrestler’s build, dark green leathers, and a “1%” patch on her left shoulder. And didn’t move from there.

Her boys—similar colors, same table and the next one, and they all deferred to her—noticed. Stared back, some at the guy and some at his lady. Got her attention.

She met his gaze. Held it for maybe ten seconds, scowling as he just smiled lazily. Half-broke it to say something to her crew, who slowly got up and stood around the bar, blocking the bartender’s view of the suit’s table. No one had ordered in the last minute, anywhere in the room—the waitress was already “taking a smoke break”, and the bartender joined her. Best way not to be a problem when a fight broke out was not to see the start of it. The bouncer was already out front, but a couple guys stood by the door to keep it that way.

When that was all ready, and the gang at the bar sat down, she stood up and walked, precisely and confidently, up to the corner table.

“The fuck are you doing here, suit?”

“Looking at an attractive, dangerous woman.”

“So not only are you an idiot rolling into a biker bar thinking he can just hire muscle, you make eyes at women out of your league, right in front of your other lady?”

“She’s a sharing type.”

“I don’t like your tone, rich boy. You think you own the world, but this ain’t your turf.”

“You’d be surprised. What’s your name, Miss Boss?”

“Fish, but you can fucking call me ‘ma’am’.”

“Fish? What, you like people asking you to go?”

The answer was ‘yes, that’, but there was no way she was going to admit that to a suit. “Right now nobody’s asking. I’m telling you to go. Get out of my bar.“

“I’m not done here yet.”

“I say you are.“

“It’s going to take more than a pretty face and an outlaw’s patch to make that stick, ‘ma’am’.”

Knew a little about how gangs worked, then. She mentally gave him an ounce of respect. Still. “Last chance.”

“Leave Prathama out of it.” He slid sideways out of the bench.

She lunged with a right, but he twisted and she just put her fist through the ratty pleather. He tried to sweep her leg out but she was quick enough to step around despite the overreached punch.

His smile wasn’t lazy now, but he still seemed completely unworried. Which was starting to worry her. He threw a slow left, but she was back in stance and leaned past it. Jabbed for the shoulder and landed it, but he just slid back like it was nothing.

His hands were hovering by his waist, not quite a guard...

She jabbed left and swung right, and his hand came up fast, swinging a circle and knocking the hook off target. It left him closer, though, so her plan to follow up knee was good- but he jabbed out with the blocking hand, a flat fist into her ribs just below the tit. Damn, suit hit hard—and how was he moving so well in those duds?

She sank lower and threw three jabs, which tagged him once but only lightly. The cross to the gut finally made him wince, but her satisfaction left her a little off-guard, and his uppercut was fast. She managed to roll with it, but this guy could fight.

The room was dead silent, the three gangs present all hushed watching their woman—not their gang-sister, for half the room, but one of them, someone to band together with against outsiders—fight evenly with a smooth-skinned, clean-toothed mystery man in a fucking suit. Prathama was occasionally gasping, quietly amused and clearly enjoying the show.

“Okay. You’re tougher than you look, suit. Ernie will be annoyed if I put more holes in his seats teaching you a lesson. So we take this outside. Clear?”

“Aww, I liked the audience. But agreed. Just give us a second to finish our beers.”

“I thought she was staying out of it?”

“I don’t think you could stop her from coming to watch without picking another fight. Or having one of your boys do it.”

Prathama nodded and took a long swig. Anderson leaned against the side of the bench and drained his.

“You’re fucking weird, suit.”

“Anderson. And I already introduced her.”

“Yeah, I noticed.”

His suit was a little rumpled from the hits, but it was still far too fancy for their dive. Whatever. She leaned back and waited for them to step outside first.

Prathama quirked an eye at her, like she thought she knew what was up with that. Maybe she did? Fish had clearly underestimated these two, and was trying to catch up. She didn’t like the feeling—she was boss because she was two steps ahead of the boys and she could take any of them one-on-one, being cold-read by a pair of suits who weren’t even a little scared had her off her game. But they went, and Fish followed.

Anderson stood by the door. “Probably best if you boys head inside. And please don’t interrupt—I don’t think ‘ma’am’ would appreciate it.” That fucking lazy-cat smile was back. Did he think he was the predator here?

“Your boxing’s pretty good, Fish. You could probably beat me if you were paying more attention to your senses.”

“The fuck’s that mean?”

“You’re better trained, but the reflexes you trained are about a month out of date. You’re holding yourself back and haven’t noticed the differences.”

“Now you’re just talking crazy, rich boy.” She fell back into stance and circled. Anderson fell into a different stance—shuffle-steps, probably karate.

“Suit yourself.”

Prathama giggled. She stifled it quick, but now Fish was fucking mad.

She went for an uppercut, he swerved. He cut at the shoulder, she blocked. Jab got his circle-block; flat punch, hammer it down and cross! -That landed, looked shaken—pain—fuck, nose broken, blindsided. A little blood. Jab, jab, jab, but he was staying just in reach, contact but no force.

She tried another leg sweep, but he just jumped—she slid sideways and readied a roundhouse, but he—hung there, just a little too slow, and his sleeves looked weird—but the roundhouse was in flight, she was off balance, and she tried to pull out and it was going faster than it ought to but she was so confused—and a front kick hit her upper arm and she was spinning a little and what the hell was going on and then her knee crumpled and she had no legs under her and she was down.

She blinked, and saw the suit looked—ripped? All along the back of his arms and shoulders.

“What the hell was that? You hovered or some shit.”

“More like gliding. Nothing you couldn’t do if you put your mind to it.”

“The fuck?”

“I told you already. You’re faster than you think you are. Also stronger, healthier, smarter. That nose was a clean break and it’s almost healed already. I could rip out your throat and you’d be fine in a half hour.”

Said that casually, like it wasn’t even a threat, just a fact.

He dropped a little bead out of a pouch, tied to it with cord, and tossed the two to her. “Catch.”

She did, instinsctively, and when she touched it she felt... faster, stronger, but her arms shifting, hair growing—she dropped it.

“Now you know what direction to push in your head. Try it a little. Or more if you’d rather.”

She was creeped out... but she did. A little push in that direction and she felt her eyes adjust to the dark, her nails and teeth sharpen, and a little of that speed and strength.

“The fuck did you just do to me?”

“Not much. Most of this I did to you weeks ago. And to everyone inside. And to the whole world, soon enough. Faster, stronger, tougher, smarter, immortal. I’m the alpha bastard vampire, and I’m recruiting.”

“Which you’re doing by... walking into biker bars in a pair of suits.”

“It’s surprisingly hard to find women who are actually dangerous and will pick a fight with me. The last three tries I just got... moshers.”

She snorted. “I’ll give you some credit, you have a little good taste. But still, fuck off.“

“No way you’re going to make me without the claws coming out.”

“What do you think I’ve been—?!”

“—Literally, Madam Fish.“

“...Ah”

He flexed his fingers, showing claws, and shifted his hands to a knife-chop shape. She fell back on wrestling grip, loose hands, and pushed back to the slightly beastly form. She felt faster—movement, thinking, everything...

He lunged, she dodged and gripped his arm, drawing blood—but the smell was distractingly intense and she didn’t hold it.

She sidestepped his next shot and went for a slash to the eyes—he just tilted his head back and bit the fingers. But it stuck him in place, and the other hand slashed up his arm and got a good shoulder grab. He tried to twist out of it, but she put muscle behind it and threw him-

-And he sailed almost ten feet, off a one-handed throw. Damn, he wasn’t kidding about the strength.

His suit was looking ragged, and her leathers were tough enough to keep his claws away. He seemed like he’d noticed, but she’d seen much more sharp on him in that second of not-quite-falling.

“Scared to show off, suit?”

“I’d rather not in public. Yet.”

She advanced, but he kept his distance for three feints and fades... then faked her out and went for his own throw, tossing her toward the wall. She planted a hand to recover before she hit, and cursed inwardly. She was still barely scratched, though, and he noticed.

“You know what? Meet you on the roof.” He crouched and sprang, with huge wings appearing as he passed the window height, and it sure looked like he’d landed on top.

She debated for a second. He was away from her real territory now, she could just let the prick stew and call it cowardice. But on the other hand... this fight was getting fun. She pushed a little harder into the beast, and jumped, punching into the brick and launching herself up again to land on top.

He had abanonded subtlety and was full furrry Dracula, and as she got her bearings, she heard—and felt—the woman flap and land on the far corner. She hadn’t gone halfway, she was actually a giant bat until she shifted back to totally human. Which left her suit intact, interestingly. But that was all the attention Fish could spare—she had a sharp boy to fight. Boxing was out, so she just took a wrestler’s crouch and let the transformation get a little stronger, feeling the growth of a little hair of her own, and her ears getting larger.

He attacked first, jumping for a dive kick, but she could still grab him despite the weird angle, and swung him toward the floor—but he had more leverage than he should, wings anchoring him a little, so the second leg had force behind it and knocked her free.

He was close in, though, so she kept him in knife fight range, slashing at anything nearby. He wasn’t as aggressive, but he got in better-targeted slices and jabs—with them both half-bat, he was penetrating the leathers, and even slicing skin. The scent of blood was strong from both of them, and she was getting more and more excited by the fight.

As her shoulders fell loose, she decided to hell with it and grew some wings. He was better practiced with flying, but with both in the air her wrestling was much more effective, keeping him half-immobilized and unable to get any leverage for more than some trailing slashes. They struggled back and forth for—who knows how long. A minute? Ten? She was tiring, but she’d sliced him up enough that he was weakening, and she got him in a solid pin, his back bent over backwards, and stressed with the pressure. She was about to ask him if he wanted to tap out when she noticed his throat was exposed and she could get right at it with a tiny move.

Go for the throat? Fuck yes. She bit straight in and drank deeply, and it was... heavenly. God, that was like water after a two hour run, an orgasm, and hot chocolate, all together. Was this what heroin felt like?

Then she was jolted out of the sheer ecstasy with a very sharp sensation which made her realized several things. One, she’d let the pressure on Anderson drop, which was sloppy. Two, between the fight and the transformation she was buck naked. Three, a hand’s worth of tiny knives, hovering over her clit just close enough to make her feel the threat, was shockingly hot. She broke off the bite... carefully, not making any sudden moves.

“I seem to have caught myself a Fish.”

She scowled, but didn’t reply—her voice felt shaky. Then she was distracted by the sound of clapping.

“That was a fantastic fight, lord. Can we keep her? I want her to scratch me up some time.“

“A good question. Don’t lie to me, Miss Fish, or my hand might slip.” His head left her field of view, and continued from next to her ear, not far from her throat, “Want to screw?“

She bit down on her first, snarky answer. She’d healed a lot of cuts already, but this one would really hurt. And she felt his body heat close, fur hiding his nakedness but not enough to totally hide his hardon. She felt exposed, in too many ways. And it had been... actually a long fucking time, her gang was off limits and so were their rivals and it was hard to find uninvolved guys who measured up to them. “May—", but her throat tightened. “...Yeah. Yeah, I want to.“

“Well, I have a nice limo we could use. Or a nicer penthouse. Or, if you’re impatient, right here. Choose.“

“—God. Here, now. But- will they hear? Facing them—”

“Unless you walk back in there as a naked half-bat, you’re disappearing with the strange suits and showing up much later wearing entirely different clothes. I think they’re going to guess.”

“—Hell. You played me. But good.”

“We did, yes. Speaking of Prathama, get over here, pet. I need a drink to get back some of what Fish drained from me.“

“As you command, sir.", and she was kneeling, head back, with most of her suit on the rooftop next to her. Huh, she was... quite something herself.

He took a bite, not a long one, and then kissed her with her blood on his lips. “Should I hold her down for you, master?”

“Mmmm. Please do.” Fish felt two firm hands pinning her arms back, and Anderson dropped to leave his dick rubbing against her as he dug his claws into her nipples. God, this was—she was beaten, and hungry, and having the guy who just out-fought her using her like a prize of war was—hnngg. She wasn’t going to let anyone use her, but getting taken down? Yeah, that was hot. He pressed his fangs against her throat, but didn’t drink, just cutting it a little... then suddenly planted a bloody kiss on her lips, pulled back, and planted his cock right in her. She came immediately, and disgusted herself with how loudly she moaned. And he kept forcing himself on her, and she kept moaning and shaking... she must have come five times before he switched things up and placed a claw back on her clit, which made her lose all coherence and mumble something about wanting. Was she really that easy?

The lady might have picked up on that, because she decided to interrupt Fish with an upside-down French kiss. Which she was much less conflicted about enjoying. She was still way overstimulated and overwhelmed, but god did it feel good. At some point she noticed he’d jizzed in her, and she’d missed it entirely... honestly, for the best, that had always been the least appealing part of a fuck to her.

A completely unknown—to her, at least—time later, they finally stopped, and the suits pulled her upright, sandwiched between them. He pulled her into another kiss, gentle this time, and... she was kind of into it, actually.

“Have fun, ‘ma’am’?”

“Hell yes. Probably going to make you fight me again before next time, but yes.“

“Ooh, you’re already conceding a next time?”

“Uh- I mean, may- Oh, fuck it, yes. That was hot. Both of you.”

“Can I kiss her, sir?”

“Weren’t you just kissing her for half the time I was screwing her?”

“But this time I can...,” she shimmied a little, “be more enthusiastic!”

“Hah. Go ahead.” They twisted her around to face Prathama, and she grabbed Fish again, kissing energetically and rubbing their chests together, which she...quite enjoyed. When Prathama pulled away, she whispered, “Scratch me up nice and I’ll do even more for you...“

They let her cool down a bit more before they spoke again.

“So, I told you I was recruiting. But collecting would be a better word. I’m recruiting plenty for practicality’s sake—devoted retainers, slaves, toys. But I’m also collecting a harem and that I’m much more selective about. Prathama is my first. I want more, and I don’t expect the next one to be a devoted submissive like she is. A beautiful, dangerous woman like you would be perfect. But there are some things you should know.“

“One. Within a year or two, every human in the world is going to be a vampire. You’ll all live forever, heal from any injury—you could regrow an arm in a month—be stronger, faster, tougher, smarter, and all of those will improve as you learn to stretch the shape changing. The giant bat you saw Prathama become is the far end of that. If the blood-sucking is your kink—and it seems like it kind of is—you don’t need me for that.“

She waggled her hand a little in a ‘so-so’ gesture.

“Two. I wasn’t joking about owning the world. I’m its king, it just doesn’t know it yet. Vampires cannot resist my orders. Not everything I say is an order, and I’ve only given you a couple so far. ‘What’s your name?’, ‘Try it a little.’, ‘Don’t lie to me.’, ‘Choose.’ I’ve given Prathama quite a few more, but she enjoys the submersion in my will.” She nodded happily and made gooey eyes at him. “Now, I could order you to like it, and you’d fake it pretty well, but that isn’t my plan for all my wives. The only thing I’m going to insist on besides not lying to me is ’don’t work against me or undermine me’. You’re already more interested in women than you were before, but I could order you to increase that, or, say, to be specifically more interested in Pra.“

Her mouth was a little dry. “Ah, how do you know?”

“I experimented on one of my disposable slaves. A previously straight maid I ordered to be desperately horny for two girls I use as honeypots, and after watching them play for a couple minutes, she came the second I let them touch her. Then I told her to completely forget I’d given her that order, and she still was on a hair trigger for them a week later. I’m thinking of trying the same thing on a convent some time—tell them all they’re incredibly thirsty lesbians who have to constantly restrain themselves from groping each other, and to completely forget they received that order, and see how long they take to start the orgies.”

“Wow. You’re...”

“A cold bastard? Yes. Call that point three. I’m giving the world fabulous gifts, but also taking full advantage of the power it gives me. I fuck around, shove pretty strangers up against the wall in alleyways, and make them be thankful for it. I am probably going to have a dozen women in my harem, and you all will perform with each other for my amusment sometimes. But I do intend to take good care of you.”

“So... if I agree and you ‘keep me’. Am I swearing off other men? Do I have to call you ‘lord’ and ‘sir’ like—Pra?—does?”

“Ehh, not entirely. I wouldn’t want you to make a frequent habit of it, but not never, either. If there’s some particular crush, I might even order him to entertain you.”

“Celebrities?”

“Hah! Maybe two or three of them.”

“Dibs on Jason Momoa. But the other thing?”

“I’m not incredibly picky. ‘Boss’ would be fine. Or ‘king’. And I will only insist on that in public. ‘Anderson’ is fine in private.“

“No first name basis?”

“I really don’t like mine.”

“I... want to think about it. But, probably. Which leaves... what we do now.”

“I have a car waiting around the block. I’ll call a truck to pick up your hog. Unless you want to drive it naked...”

“Might borrow your girl’s suit and drive it a couple blocks, there’s a garage I trust.”

“Sure. You coming home with us after that?”

“...Yeah.”

“Good. That’s a plan. Hmm....”

“What?”

“I’d been planning on renaming all my harem. But ‘Fish’ is a good name already.”

“Your joke was right. ‘You wanna go?’ was an hourly basis when I was proving myself. A buddy cracked that ‘Go Fish’ was a spectator sport and it stuck.”

“With a story that good, how could I change it? If I have something better, maybe... but probably I won’t.”

“Why Prathama?”

“Sanskrit for ‘first’. Her old name was Sanskrit as well, this one fits better.”

“Now I’m curious...”

“No, her secret to keep. That’s my rule—new name for a new life, old name as dead as you want it to be.”

“Hmm. If I’m with you, I doubt I’ll be calling anyone out... maybe I should ditch ‘Fish’, since it won’t be part of the new life.“

“I’ll have something ready if you decide to change.”

Fish woke up disoriented. The bed was too soft, the sheets too smooth... and she wasn’t wearing anything under them. She twisted, and her hand landed on a—very nice, very soft—breast. She blinked, and groggily remembered having that breast and its twin pushing up against her... Oh, dear, remembering it while much less horny made her even more embarassed than the first time. Was Fish’s other side empty, or was—Boss Anderson—there? Empty. She slid out, and walked around the place. Damn, this was swanky as the Ritz. Maybe it was the Ritz... she wasn’t really paying attention to the signage when they came in. She stood on the balcony and went through some warmup stretches, shifting more and less batlike as she did. She could get used to this...

The other two were still asleep when she felt done for now. A menu had room service listings, and a pad next to it had Anderson’s addendum, his orders for how his suite was to be serviced. She called for breakfast and sat near the entrance, enjoying the fancy soft fabric on her skin. A servant came in with a cart, and knelt in front of her. “Hello, ma’am. Are you one of master’s chosen I should serve?”

“I am. Eat me out while I eat my breakfast, girl.”

“Yes, ma’am. Thank you, ma’am.”

She was enjoying her leisurely eat-and-be-eaten when the king got up. “Enjoying the facilities?”

“Very much. I’m just about done, though. Mmmmhh...”

“Good job, slave. Do you want a reward?”

“Fuck me please, master?”

“Very good. Bend over that table.”

“What ya got for a name?”

“I’m leaning ‘Fauve’. French, means roughly ‘wildcat’.”

“Not bad. I think I need to go for a long ride, think about stuff. Might take a few days. But I’ll need clothes. Did you grab the remains of my leathers?”

“I picked up the parts with patches while you were driving. My pet tailor probably doesn’t stock replacements—or do quick repairs, at least not on short notice... but she’ll bring something if I give her rough measurements. Heavy shirtsleeves and jeans?”

“I’ll take it. Leathers are mostly practical, but if I’m as tough as you say I don’t need that.”

“If you lose control, go winged, you’ll gain height quick.”

“Pfft. As if I lose control. Black ice cowers before me.”

He snorted, then picked up his phone and sent a text.

“Half an hour, maybe a whole one. Tailor’s assistant I made addicted to enticing men to molest her, mostly at work. It made her unexpectedly airheaded... probably because I told her if she wasn’t managing it daily she should act more tempting.”

“Seems like it would get in the way of the tailoring.”

“Probably. It hasn’t turned their back offices into a brothel yet. Once I’m done with my tour of the global metropolises to be sure I have personal control of enough of the world, I’ll probably set up, like, an upscale department store with a bunch of slaves like her, and open it up to anyone rich who wants to indulge their fantasies of personal attendants being sex toys on command.”

“You have lots of them?”

“Only a few so far. Accountant, lawyer, nurses. Well, also a bunch of the hotel’s maids, but they’re not quite the same—they completely forget about it except when they need to do something up here.”

“Lawyer might get awkward with the airhead thing.”

“Yeah, I’ll probably have to replace them with ones I use a lighter touch on. Maybe leave the others as underlings.”

“Mmh. Cold. Not that that’s a bad thing.”

“Maybe I should take back the orders and cut them loose... I will eventually, I suppose. Immortality is a long time.”

“Maybe. I’m going to have to learn new styles of fighting now. Boxing just doesn’t work with claws.”

“Wrestling seemed fine.”

“Better, but it’s still odd. I heard of a Filipino knife-fighting style, I might learn that. It probably works better...”

“Oh, I’ve heard of it... There were a few names, I think, all the languages they speak there.”

“Yeah. ‘Escrima’, ‘Cally’ or something, probably another.”

“Or you could swordfight. Just carry a sword around, why not?”

“Cops wouldn’t be pleased.”

“So? You’ll have me on speed dial. If not a blanket order to leave you be.”

“Eh, I’d still rather not rely on tools I can’t pocket. Though maybe I’ll pick up new styles as a hobby. Teach you and your harem to fight.”

“Hmmm.... I’m into it, honestly. Ms. Miyagi.”

“Oh, fuck off.”

“Heh. Suit yourself... Up for another spar while we wait?”

“Not feeling it this morning. Though if your first lady is up, I wouldn’t mind giving you a show.”

“...I believe I’ll go check.”

Fish smiled, and looked around the big lounge room. She started clearing a bigger space in the middle.

She heard a loud “Eeep!” from the other room, soon followed by a blushing eeper.

“I take it he woke you up?”

“With a spray of cold water, because he is very mean sometimes.”

Fish snorted.

“Though the prospect of you beating me up got me properly awake quick.”

“You have way more practice being a bat, I might not beat you up that much.”

“Well... I’ll do my best.”

The boss took a seat on the couch with a drink. “Should I count off the start?”

“Sounds good. Ready, Pra?”

“As I’m going to be,” she said, taking a relaxed crouch.

“Then let the catfight—batfight?—begin in three, two, one, go!”

Fish started with a slash, dodged easily. She tried a few more testing attacks, to see how Prathama moved. The return attacks were less focused, not well targeted. Which was expected. She dodged around them easily.

As she was getting more confident she could read Prathama, she went in for a double slash—eyes and a shoulder. The lady surprised her by dodging down and sweeping at her legs, which she tried to counteract with wings but wasn’t quite quick enough to manage. She rolled awkwardly, and fended off a few faster attacks.

A more solid—and sharp—jab she just soaked, and its follow-up she grabbed and pulled down, throwing her to the ground on the opposite side. She half-rose and jabbed the darker woman, which got an ‘Eep!’ of her own. She went for an obvious pin, sinking claws into Prathama’s arm and shoulder, to see how she’d fight back... Except that she didn’t.

“Wow, a little claw and you just got completely disoriented.”

“...sorry, ma’am. Really subby...“

“Tch. And I was just getting warmed up. I think you’ll have to deal with her yourself, boss. I’m just not excited enough.”

“Maybe it will motivate her to get a little more endurance in the future. As cute as she is like this.”

“...mean.”

“Not very. Well, it took up a little time... mostly in anticipation. Here, have the phone. She’s in as ‘Amy Tailor’, should be sharing her location.”

She turned out to be pretty prompt.

“Hello, ma’am. I believe these are for you?”

“Good eye?”

“The clothes and measurements aren’t master’s or his first favorite’s. You suit them better.”

“Yeah, I definitely do. You have options, or just the one?”

“Black jeans, ordinary blue, and distressed bleached. And the shirts come in black, blue, green, and red, all muted darks.”

Fish nodded, and pointed to the green and black shirts and a couple pairs of black jeans. She got a good look at them in the mirror, and thought they were good choices for short notice.

“Alright, I’ll keep both of these sets. Good girl.”

“Thank you, ma’am. Are you a new one of his favorites?”

“He’d like me to be. I’m tempted, but not agreeing yet.”

“I can’t imagine refusing...”

“Yes, well, he wants me for different things than you. I’m done, and he’s probably busy. You can go.”

She called a fancy cab to take her to the garage and thought, with a drink in her hand. Then got on her bike and thought longer, with the wind in her hair, which was more helpful.

She pulled into the same parking lot as the night before.

“Yo, Ernie. My boys say where they were headed last night?”

“—Fish? Uh, I think Bruce left me a note... here.”

“Cool. I’m probably not going to be back. Suit made me an offer I can’t refuse. But... I’ll miss your place. Thanks.”

“Happy trails. He left benjamins to cover the damage, you notice?”

“Doesn’t surprise me. He’s a tough bastard, but he’s... generous when it’s cheap.”

“Huh. Honestly, not having you in charge is going to cost me more. You’re better at keeping them in line than most.”

“They really need a scaring, I think you have my number.”

“That I do... Luck.”

She nodded and ducked out.

“Yo? Boss! What happened?”

She cocked a slanted grin. “You wouldn’t fucking believe it. Why, were you worried?”

“Not exactly... Pretty damn confused, though. Especially when we saw your hog was gone.”

“Yeah, well. Turns out suit is a lot tougher than he looks. And he’s... basically an up and coming kingpin. Looking for an enforcer he can disguise as a moll.”

“Huh. He didn’t seem like he wanted the crew.”

“He’s got his own. But... honestly, I’m a little bored of you guys. It’s fun, but I’m itching for a new challenge. And he’s... well, this is a big ticket I can cash in on. World’s getting crazy and he’s on top. Seems like a good shot.”

“Well. Fuck. You want to pick the next boss?”

“Let Jones and Shorty fight it out.”

“They probably would anyway. Well. Miss you, boss. And... be careful. There’s a lot of sharks in suits, you know? Who you can’t just beat down.”

“You might be surprised. But thanks, Bruce. It’s been good riding with you.”

She offered a fist bump, and he pounded it. And then, looking kinda awkward, gave her a salute. She snorted and turned back to her bike, but threw up the horns at him before she pulled away. Last she saw, he was doubled over laughing.