Nothing makes Tallulah Rieper feel good the way being saddled up in the cockpit of a huge mech suit does.

Thirty years. She’d been piloting these machines for thirty damn years now. After that much time on the job, one would certainly want to enjoy it, eh?

Right, and enjoy it she did.

Tallulah Rieper was the best of the best. Be it doing merc work in her twenties, cargo transport in her thirties, or running the corporate backed private rebel force she’d spearheaded from the beginning of her forties, she was undisputed.

There was nobody better.

???: The job’s a bounty. A big one back in the Arcadia system. You interested, Reaper?

Yet, as Tallulah sat in the dimly lit interior of a shitty bar in a shittier, broken down city of Imperial decay, the feeling that something was missing loomed over her.

Missing pieces were a growing concern for Tallulah, but focusing on them was worthless. 

She was on the clock, and the job had just walked into this sad excuse for a watering hole.

“I’ll call back within twenty minutes if I am. Little busy at the moment.” Tallulah’s calm, methodical voice reached her mystery caller’s ears with all the personality one would give a telemarketer, then hung up.

Tallulah didn’t turn her head, simply glancing towards the dinky bar’s squeaky entrance from the corner of her dark green eye.

Despite herself, some small, nearly-smothered part of Tallulah had hoped this rebel could be something different. That managing to escape Leukon and survive on her own in Imperial heartland was testament to some potential the girl had. Something that'd remind Tallulah of what she'd lost when Celik got got.

Something that would convince her a hero more than a mere golden calf could still exist in this dying world.

…

One look at the pathetic, miserable thing strolling into the bar dashed those hopes. Tallulah’s face hardened. Stupid, she thought. Stupid to hope. Stupid to believe. Belief got you killed and hope got you broken.

She put the foolish thoughts to the side, and refocused on her job.

Mh, the target looked like a match. She was above average in height. Her build represented the kind of malnourishment that surviving Leukon Base’s inevitable fall would bring. She had that cheap looking dyed blonde hair a lot of those poor, sad little fanatics wore both before and after her capture.

That was her, alright. The last little MIA girl from the fall. Some kind of messier, bed-headed looking Sartha Thrace, sans the rebel jacket. Her target had the sense to ditch that after her escape, at least.

Tallulah’s intel didn’t include a last name, but the first was Pela. That was more than enough to go off of. A malnourished girl with uneven blonde hair and the reddened eyes of a crybaby.

That was her. Time to get to work.

Tallulah snapped her gloved fingers, producing little in the way of sound but giving the nearby bartender a visual indicator to make her way over.

The bartender was unremarkable, and her only role in this mission required little in the way of appreciating her features, so Tallulah’s cold, calculated gaze focused squarely on the woman’s tired, brown eyes.

“Thought you just popped in to let me listen in on your calls. Can I get you something?” The bartender’s voice carried itself with a soft, welcoming tone for what was undoubtedly a stooge for the Imperials. Tallulah’s look at the disheveled rebel was a subtle glance.

The bartender’s was anything but.

Whether the barkeep was simply curious or told to keep an eye out for stragglers of a certain Leukon variety, it bore little effect on anything to do with the job.

“Two gins. Both on the rocks.” Tallulah spoke with calm, clinical precision, already slipping a hand into the pocket of her combat pants and grabbing both her wallet and pill bottle. The first item was quickly put on the table, with the second staying beneath it for just the right moment.

“As long as I see some ID that’s no problem, miss.” The bartender spoke with a similar level of calm, but still confirmed the suspicion she was little more than a set of Imperial eyes. Tallulah took care of herself, but no woman in her fifties was passing as young enough to get carded.

“Not a problem… miss.” Tallulah’s penchant for subtle jabs and light mockery had to be kept in check on the job, but a slight tinge of her venom dripped out while she reached into her wallet. Cash and her ID card both were pulled out, the latter being gingerly presented to the bartender with a neutral expression.

“...Nataliza Rayfield… Not the kind of name I’ve heard before. Not looking too bad for forty-one, though.” Tallulah had to suppress a grin as the charmless bartender tried to charm her. Her fake ID working without issue only made hiding this rare moment of joy and frequent moment of superiority more difficult.

If she took that Arcadia job she may need to fashion a new one, though. There, the name Nataliza Rayfield was known enough to require a dictionary placement. On Earth, only the rare scholars and few interested in happenings beyond the Andromeda knew that name.

The Reaper, however, was known across both systems.

“It’s from before your time. I’m assuming that’s enough surveillance to get my drinks now, yes?” Tallulah placed her fake ID back in her wallet and waited until she saw drinks pouring before removing anything else from its leathery compartments.

“Plenty. I wouldn’t stick around if you’re… on the clock, though.” The barkeep’s face wore a smile Tallulah could easily identify as fake, one that didn’t dissipate as she began pouring cheap gin into two worn glasses. “Mercs aren’t too popular here right now. Don’t need any vultures picking at the scraps from that base nearby, eh?” Clever little girl. Fishing for info on an obvious contractor was smart.

Tallulah was smarter.

“Right. Rest assured, you won’t see me again after tonight.” Tallulah kept her face stern, reaching into her wallet and pulling out just an awkward enough amount of money to require rooting around in the register behind her nosey barkeep.

“Good. Change is coming right up. miss.” The bartender didn’t look too pleased as an assortment of coins and notes dropped onto her counter, and that displeasure brought a slight feeling of satisfaction for Tallulah.

It was necessary, too. Tallulah was smarter, after all.

When the barkeep’s back was turned, Tallulah slid two pills from the bottle in her hand into the other.

Pop. Pop.

Fizz…

Before the barkeep could even turn around to present Tallulah with a fistful of change, the fizzing in both glasses of warm, mediocre gin had subsided. Only an amateur spikes a drink with something that doesn’t dissipate fast.

“And that’s your change. Enjoy the drinks… and stay out of trouble, miss.” The barkeep seemed eager not to prolong any further conversation with Tallulah, and that suited her just fine.

Tallulah met the barkeep’s words with a nod, picked up her two glasses, and turned around to locate Pela. A cramped booth on her own in the far corner? Perfect. Only made the Reaper’s job easier.

With the target located, Tallulah began a calm, collected stroll towards her, a warm, uncharacteristic smile adorning her face when she entered the vision of her disheveled mission objective.

Time to do her job.

“Look like you could use a drink, soldier.” Tallulah allowed her voice to carry an air of sweet, welcoming kindness usually buried beneath professionalism and calculated neutrality, taking a seat across from Pela with an unmoving smile on her aged face.

“N-No… Uhm… No, thanks I… No.” Pela’s immediate hesitancy to partake in the pill-addicted glass of likely piss-tasting gin was a complication, but an expected one. Witnessing the destruction of your home was never something that brought out the best nor the trust in someone.

Tallulah learned that from an old trainee, many, many moons ago.

Alas, thinking about young bucks turned mercenaries a star system away wasn’t part of the mission. Tallulah needed this girl in a mood to trust and to drink.

Time for an innocent little lie.

“Understandable, but you can relax, Pela.” Tallulah’s voice shrunk from cheerful conversing to sly whispering when she said the target’s name, maintaining said quiet when her mouth opened again. “It’s Tallulah. We were deployed together last year at Hebros Ridge. Recon mission turned into a dog fight, and you got a Doru off my tail. Bailed me and my Thanatos out pretty good.” Tallulah whispered towards the nestless rebel with a sweet, reverent candor in her voice.

Technically she had told the truth. As far as Tallulah’s sharp memory could recall, Pela was one of the fodder pilots she was deployed with on that tussle. She got a shot off on a Doru before Tallulah did the real work on it. Truly, Pela performed the equivalent of waving at a fly while someone else swatted it, but ego boosting was important for catching prey.

It got their guard down.

“A-Ah… Yeah, right, I do remember that. You flew pretty good for a merc.” Pela didn’t quite whisper that part as quietly as Tallulah would have preferred. Perhaps the obvious multiple days of eye bawling were the cause of that hoarse, poorly regulated voice.

Perhaps Tallulah didn’t give a shit.

“Mh, I tend to prefer the term ‘private rebel’, but I’ll take the compliment.” Tallulah kept smiling, but she was already growing tired of talking up someone so far beneath her on life’s food chain. Maybe the sight of a weak runaway annoyed Tallulah, or maybe she secretly envied having devotion to a cause, meaningless as Tallulah knew it was.

Neither impacted the mission.

What would impact it is stalling in a bar with a potentially wanted rebel. With that in mind, Tallulah gently moved one of the glasses of spiked gin to Pela’s side of the table with a still gentle smile. All of that gentle energy was put on, of course. But that was the mission.

It was necessary.

“Whatever… Like I said, though, I would really prefer if you left me alone.” Depressed and wrecked as Pela was, she still had some kind of defensive fight in her. Cute, but pathetic ones like this fell like a house of card in a hurricane all the same.

“Trust me. I’ll be quick.” Tallulah hummed, trying to identify some kind of vocal tone that may convince Pela to get this all over with the quickest, and settling on letting some smug sweetness infect her put on gentleness. “I can’t stop you from running off alone, but what if I happened to be in touch with a few of the other survivors from that Leukon mess? It seems foolish to run from that, no?” Tallulah smiled at Pela to try and seem as welcoming and reassuring as she could.

This level of playful, sickly confidence was always Tallulah’s last resort. It was a fake affair; one that tended to take frustratingly longer than grabbing a syringe from her pocket and jamming it into the target’s neck.

Mh, times and places, Tallulah. You were on the job. Do it properly or you’re just another mutt.

“I… You’re lying.” Pela blurted that little accusation, false at that, out a tad louder than preferred. This one had a short fuse, one possibly caused by more than just the fall of her home. “I was there. I looked back when I got away a-and… No, you’re full of shit.” Pela’s disbelief was understandable, but undeniably the symptom of some deep trust issues.

There was probably a fun, evil little tale there. Pela was hiding something, but story time wasn’t part of the mission. 

Not yet, at least.

“Amynta Tet. That name rings a few bells, doesn’t it?” Tallulah saw Pela’s face change from annoyance to curiosity, a change that made the girl’s head perk up too. Reel her in. “I got in touch with her when I heard the news. She and a few survivors have been on the run since the place fell. I figured I’d scout for a few stray survivors before my next mission. Give you both some closure.” Tallulah’s words came out easy, but telling a garnished version of the truth was always easier than cooking up a gourmet lie.

Pela gained nothing from knowing her real mission. Not one thing.

“I… I guess I didn’t see her go down on my way out. Maybe my radio got jammed or something.” Tallulah’s reveal had allowed Pela to look over her escape with a fresh, less dire perspective, but misery still lurked behind those eyes.

Truthfully, Tallulah didn’t care if she believed her or not. All of that was ancillary to her drinking the damn gin.

“I can’t say how many got out, but as far as I could find, you’re the last one not with her.” Tallulah spoke as if there wasn’t an in depth file on Leukon’s survivors sitting in her mech, pretending her days of work hadn’t made her dead sure Pela was the last of these Leukon stragglers. “Amynta’s going to be pretty pleased to know another one made it, though.” That statement was probably truthful in some form. Tallulah had no clue if Amynta would even remember this nobody’s name. Making it this far in an Imperial den showed a certain lack of importance, but whatever was left of Leukon’s survivors would probably take whatever they could get.

Tallulah was just hoping this was enough to get Pela drinking.

“That… makes sense, I guess… So, what? Are they going to be waiting for me here somewhere or are you my guide?” Pela bought it all with renewed, foolish trust, but her next action showed a smidgen of doubt still lurked within.

Pela was ready to drink, but grabbed the glass still sitting at Tallulah’s side of the table. Never trust a drink from a stranger or overly generous benefactor. That was one of Tallulah’s first lessons to her old trainee.

“Something like that.” Tallulah didn’t feel the need to convince the rebel of much else. She looked a little brighter. She was holding that glass of inconspicuous gin, ready to drink.

Tallulah, figured she should try and make her target more comfortable partaking in her drink, reaching over to the glass on Pela’s side of the table.

Yet, taking the first sip wasn’t even required. The target saw the drink switcheroo as a win and glugged more than half their gin back with a look one might give after drinking piss.

Imperials can’t even bottle a decent drink. Pathetic. Even Tallulah’s corporate overlords could do that.

“Fuck, that is just awful!” Pela may not have had working survival instincts, but her taste buds functioned. That was something.

It made the mission easier.

“I don’t doubt it.” Tallulah’s neutral expression twisted into that of a smug, victorious smile, even as her voice remained devoid of that emotion. “After all, that one was spiked.” Tallulah does allow a brief smirk to adorn her face, but that was subtly wiped away by taking a victorious swig of her own gin glass.

The pill had to be responsible for some of the rancid taste, but the flavor of stale gin could be found under any amount of roofying.

“No. No fuck off. I can… Why would you even fucking-” Pela stopped herself, panic setting in her eyes as she felt the unfamiliar effects of the drug rapidly take effect.

What kind of drug? Some kind of stimulant? A mind control pill like she dusted off from time to time?

Mh, none of the above. It was actually just a light, fast acting muscle relaxant. Pretty handy for winding down after piloting a sixty-foot war machine in your fifties, or tricking an already exhausted girl that she was going to pass out. Pela didn’t have to know that, though, hm?

What harm was a sweet little lie if it got the damn mission done with?

“I’d focus on my voice here, Pela. You’ll pass out in a little over two minutes. Telling the guards outside won’t accomplish anything, they’d kill you without a bribe.” Tallulah always found some enjoyment in this part. Be the target actually drugged or not, dismantling the resolve of a weaker animal always put her back on top.

That panic in Pela’s eyes? The looking around for exits to run to?

Momentary bliss that would carry Tallulah to whatever the next mission would be… and she’d only gotten started with it.

“Fuck you. F-Fuck off! All you mercs are the fucking same…” Pela hadn’t made a move yet. Good. Tallulah liked the kind of mutt who didn’t know when to cut and run.

She didn’t like being called a merc, but that could be rectified in a minute.

“Relax. Private rebel, right? I have a stimulant that’ll counter it with me.” Tallulah had to make up a whole lot of this tale on the fly, and her skill at weaving a drugging tale had waned over the years. “Consider it a trust exercise. Wouldn’t want you running off before we got back to Amynta, hm?” Still, this one looked gullible, and gullibility was easily beaten by unfiltered, calm confidence.

“Fucking merc. Fine. Whatever. What do you even want?” Pela seemed far too tired to try arguing with Tallulah’s point, and with her already diminished strength already leaving her, it seemed like she simply wanted to get this over with.

An overly trusting girl with trust issues. Now Tallulah had seen dogs do everything.

All the Reaper had to do was reel her the fuck in.

“Simple. Walk to the bathroom calmly and wait there for me.” Tallulah reached a hand into the pocket of her tactical leather jacket and ensured the syringe she was alluding to was there. With it identified, she continued. “I just want to talk to you away from prying eyes. Then I’ll take you to Amynta, okay?” Another half truth was quietly spoke underneath Tallulah’s breath.

Ah, that muscle relaxant did work its magic fast, though. Tallulah would sleep pretty tonight.

As would Pela… after the mission, at least.

“Couldn’t you have just asked?” Pela didn’t seem too pleased with nor trusting of Tallulah’s intentions, but with her body feeling weaker by the second, she didn’t seem to be resisting Tallulah’s false version of reality.

“Saves me time if you can’t say no. Now am I going to have to scoop you up from that seat, or are you done wasting my time?” Tallulah struggled to hide a smile as she watched Pela’s face grow pale. Testy little thing didn’t want to be yelled at right now, hm?

A person among dogs Tallulah was.

“Whatever gets me away from freaks like you faster…” Pela stood up with a noticeable shake to her every move. Nervous jitters, exhaustion, and muscle relaxants were quite a combination, weren’t they?

Tallulah heard Pela mutter a few things under her breath as she walked off to the bar’s bathroom. A few things about scumbag mercs. A few other things about wanting to go home.

All irrelevant, but she didn’t have a few members of her private rebel band track this one down to be compared to a wretched merc like Kione Monax, or that trainee of Tallulah’s.

Cluanaire.

So much promise in her.

…

Concerns and comparisons like that could be made later. Getting so caught up on the growling of a dog or chirping of a songbird was beneath a woman of the Reaper’s stature. Animals like that were the same brand of mindless, be they fangirls of Sartha Thrace or Nataliza Rayfield. Fighting for a cause was all well and good, but if said cause was lapping at the claws and talons of mutts and caged birds, the cause was worthless.

There was no room for idolatry or worship in war. Only the acceptance that war was kill or be killed, and that no greater world would be born on the backs of those worshiped animals. 

That was what Tallulah taught her rebels. 

Survival was all that mattered.

…

That was enough internal musing for Tallulah. The final stint of this mission was waiting in that bathroom, and, after finishing her glass of relaxing, ammonia flavored gin, she began a calm, steady walk towards it.

Frankly, it was almost a surprise she’d made it inside without being asked for her ID again, but she was greeted by everything she needed when she did.

Pela was there, standing shakily in the middle of the restroom. The three stalls next to her were empty, there were no windows, a single camera in the corner, and enough room for the primary meat of her mission.

The door even had a lock on the inside. Tallulah would have considered this fate or luck if she believed in either as concepts.

Tallulah did spot Pela’s expression shift upon seeing the door lock. A coward like her didn’t look like a runner, but Tallulah couldn’t be sure. The thing that kept some rebels alive was latent unpredictability.

A shame most of them were the exact opposite.

“Can’t fucking believe this.” Pela muttered under her breath loud enough for Tallulah to hear. The crossed arms and lack of eye contact betrayed any mature annoyance she was trying to communicate. Pela was an untrained puppy. Little more.

Fortunately, the mission gave Tallulah the chance to break said mutt in once and for all. The diehard rebels were all the same breed of loyal worshipers. Labradors following a woman they deluded themselves into thinking wasn’t merely the same type of dog as them.

Pela represented a worthless cause, but was Tallulah’s probable fate of death at the hands of a brainwashed animal any better? Could Tallulah be, perhaps, envious of believing in even something as basic as another person?

…

No. Tallulah believed in her own survival and the corporate donors that ensured that. 

No more. 

No less.

It was enough.

Finish the mission, Reaper.

“Patience is a virtue, you know? It keeps a woman alive… or awake in your case.” Ever so slight venom trailed from Tallulah’s words, but such lingering disrespect didn’t need to be hidden. The mission was all but finished, and Pela had all but convinced herself she had nowhere else to go.

Such an easily abused hound. Someone should have put her down when they had the chance. Oh well.

“Get this shit over with… I-I just want to go home already…” Like a dog standing with its tail between its legs on a rainy night, Pela both looked and sounded pathetic. Though the ones who went through personal crises always had a habit of falling into pathetic decline.

Tallulah saw more promising pilots than this shaking Leukon flunkie sink because of personal or emotional loss. Fruitless admiration. Love. All setbacks that ruined a good soldier.

All led to fighting for a purpose beyond themselves. Failure. Pathetic, selfless failure.

Survival was all that mattered.

…

Now focus and get to the mission, Tallulah.

“What did I say about patience, Pela?” Tallulah mused dryly, reaching into one of her pants pockets and producing a small, simple medical syringe from it. She popped its cap off and gave the tip of the needle an idle flick with her gloved right hand and took a second to ponder its contents.

Starlight… 

Odd name for a bag of sickly green junk found in a nigh eviscerated rebel hole in the ground, but Tallulah wasn’t one to judge the desires of her corporate overlords. She was one to question them about her cargo’s purpose, though.

The answer was vague, and even with the increasing knowledge of Imperial psychological experiments, “mind control” felt like a purpose thrown at her as a joke. If it was some mind controlling drug, then what the hell was it doing in a wrecked bunk she’d surmised belonged to Sartha Thrace?

…

The mission didn’t demand these questions. Yet, Tallulah was curious, and with an expendable nobody she could handily chase down, what was the harm in ensuring the product was working to Limbic’s strict specifications?

Curiosity killed the cat, but the Reaper was no animal…

“Hey, wh-what the fuck are you doing?” Pela’s voice raised in both volume and urgency. Perhaps pulling out the syringe before she could instantly jam it into the girl’s neck was a miscalculation on Tallulah’s part, but it wouldn’t impact the mission.

“Is it my fault for assuming you knew stims didn’t come in pills, Pela?” Tallulah tried her best to calmly bluff her way through the rebel’s concern, but she may have assumed too much stupidity from this cornered puppy, who’d quickly began glaring right through Tallulah.

Right through her and towards the door.

Like, for the first time, the rebel knew Tallulah was full of shit.

…

This was a rookie mistake, but Tallulah’s talents never laid in her charms. There were other women who used those to mask tactical failings, but the Reaper wasn’t afraid of getting her hands dirty, and she’d damn well need to.

Pela, seemingly filled with a rush of adrenaline that should have clued her into Tallulah’s other fibs, made a mad dash for the locked door behind the Reaper. 

Tallulah surmised that the scraggly rebel was hoping her speed would let her cut past the private rebel in time to burst through the door. A combination of exhaustion and Tallulah’s calming muscle relaxants made any such daring displays of momentum an easy to predict impossibility.

“Dumb move, rookie.” Tallulah waited until Pela was within a foot of her and made a grab for the rebel’s neck, loosely locking on long enough to slow Pela’s intense jog. That gave Tallulah time to stomp with full force on the back of Pela’s calf, aiming to lower the girl enough for a more steady hold.

“F-Fuck!” Pela yelled out with slightly concerning volume, but was staggered enough for Tallulah to pull the weak, hopped up rebel close. She was shaking, sweating, and her heartbeat had a tempo of one about to burst out of her chest.

Pela had good cause to be terrified. Her grand awakening to Tallulah’s shadiness had come far too late to matter. The Reaper’s hand was wrapped around her throat, her boot was firmly pressed down on her calf, and the needle of green, starry liquid loomed in Pela’s vision with vicious intention from Tallulah.

“Scream, and I’ll have your neck snapped in a second and a half, Pela.” Tallulah’s tone oozed a malicious joy her previous bluffing lacked, and the look in Pela’s eyes made it clear the rebel believed it.

Pela’s silence confirmed it further. Good, because Tallulah meant every syllable of it. Even if it would make finishing the mission a little more… complicated.

“You deserve some honesty, Pela. I’m going to inject this into you, and you’re going to let me. If you’re good it might even let you forget the last few weeks for a bit. Wouldn’t that be generous of me?” Tallulah whispered loud enough for Pela to hear every bit of sick enjoyment she was getting from coming out on top over the animal. It was delicious, even if Tallulah knew victory over the animals was fleeting. “Tomorrow, you’ll be with Amynta and your troops again. So… are you going to scream?” Tallulah began bringing the syringe towards Pela’s neck, already confident in the girl’s answer.

Not quite confident enough to stop digging hard rubber against the back of Pela’s leg, earning a few pained whines.

Was any of what Tallulah said the truth this time, though? Every damn word of it, yes. All Pela had to do was believe that and give in.

This mission had gone on long enough already.

“F-Fine… Screw you… Screw everything…” Fortunately for Tallulah’s impatience and curiosity both, Pela nodded. Tears formed in her eyes, and it was apparent whatever cocktail of emotions mixing around in her brain was splitting her in half, but Tallulah also didn’t care. Emotions like that were for the weakest of animals.

Time to get this over with.

“A-Agh!?!?” Pela didn’t scream, but she yelped louder than Tallulah wanted as the tip of the Reaper’s needle was pushed into the vein of her neck. Pure liquid starlight was plunged into that vein, much to the immediate, visible discomfort of Tallulah’s temporary dog on a leash.

“U-Ugh… What even… the fuck…” Pela’s words had already begun to fail her, but Tallulah didn’t quite recognize the other symptoms the drug almost instantaneously showed off.

The eye dilation was an interesting start. Was it a hallucinogen then? Did Limbic have her doing stealth ops in an Imperial hotbed for some fancy LSD?

No, that theory was thrown out of the window when Pela’s muscles went slack against Tallulah. Slacker than the releaxants had already made the both of them. 

She wasn’t about to fall over or anything. Tallulah would have gladly let it happen if she was, so she was pretty damn sure Pela was keeping herself up.

What for? Tallulah had a hunch based on some prior experiments and lessons slipping other concoctions into girls’ drinks. Pela’s changes resembled little of what those cheap Imperial stims could do, though.

“What even am I… doing here? Get… away…” Was Pela talking to Tallulah? She had to be, surely, but whatever fight she was trying to put up with hazy, star-struck words was diminished further by her utter lack of physical movement. Like she was waiting for permission to fight back.

A dog that needed its owner's permission to bite. Did that make Tallulah its owner?

Fat fucking chance, but it did make her curious enough to see exactly what could be done with this mutt. After all, she’d be a poor corporate owned rebel if she simply sat pretty and didn’t ensure whatever this miracle formula was operated to Limbic’s specifications. If anything, she was saving them some work and wasting one of the batches left in that bag of the stuff.

Mh, maybe she’d demand a bonus for all this extra labor. After a little curious testing, of course.

Tallulah thought over what to test Pela with for a few moments, but the answer was thankfully obvious.

Rebels were mutts. Hounds fighting for the scraps of a world that can never exist again.

Pela needed to be reminded of her place.

“Sit.” Tallulah spoke with authority practiced over decades of bossing pilots and soldiers around. The authority one would give when sternly training an unruly pup,

“What… I… No way?” As expected, Pela put up the fight said hypothetical pup would. It was minimal, of course. She hadn’t moved or tried to escape yet. Her words were spoken more like a question than a drooling but emphatic statement.

Pathetic.

“Sit.” Tallulah repeated her simple, one word command with slight aggravation, but quickly realized that alone wouldn’t keep this quick. “You’ll be a lot happier if you sit, pup. Trust me.” Tallulah was never the charmer, but she wore her best facade of a charisma drooling mercenary and hoped whatever smoothness remained in her aged voice would bash through Pela’s weak resolve.

“...O-Okay, but I–”

“Pups don’t bark unless they’re told to, Pela. Sit.” Tallulah’s charming wiles lasted all of a few seconds, returning to her default dry impatience with full confidence her put on charisma was enough.

…

Ah, wonderful. Not a word in response. Pela stepped back when Tallulah’s foot left its spot on her calf, sitting down in front of her…

…like a person.

It looked wrong. Her ass was planted on the cold, ceramic tiles of the bathroom floor, her arms slacked to her side like they couldn’t even move on their own anymore. Pela’s gaze towards Tallulah showed a great distance bonding with what Tallulah saw as a rapidly increasing familiarity,

All joined by the stars in her eyes.

Was Pela truly this brainless, or did she just want an excuse to shut down? Truthfully, Tallulah couldn’t give much of a shit. That was for the Limbic Corporation to discover.

She was just here to test this little toy out.

“Wrong, Pela. You’re not a person. Sit like the mutt you are.” Tallulah looked down at Pela like a stern parent, and while the cruel words didn’t seem to accomplish much on their own, that look seemed to unnerve the pup below her.

“B-But… I’m not a mutt?” Pela replied slowly and confusedly, like the recently developing internal fiction of her brain clashed with both fact and Tallulah’s words.

No, the mutt thing wouldn’t work. If it could, it would take far too much time. Tallulah needed to channel a different kind of energy. The kind of sleazebag that could make a girl like this do what they wished.

The kind she used to train back in Arcadia, and the kind she’d done the odd mission with here on Earth.

“Mh, that’s a good pup, understanding your place.” Tallulah’s words were sickly enough to almost make herself gag. Blunt honesty and convenient, quick lies told with the same tone were more her style, but they weren’t great tools for worming into an animal’s brain. “Do you want to be a good pup and sit like one, hm? For me?” Tallulah loathed this, but the nod from Pela afterward indicated she’d need to wear this facade ever so briefly.

…

Perhaps she could have a little fun with this, though.

Pela seemed to remember not to respond, or maybe she forgot to speak. Either way, Pela did as she was instructed. She shifted her butt until she was sat at least a bit more like a whimpering mutt, primarily sitting on her knees with her hands planted on the floor in front of her. 

It wasn’t perfect, but Tallulah wasn’t hunting for perfection here. A quick, curious thrill, and the confirmation her client wasn’t getting a plant supplement or a bargain bin bag of LSD was all she needed.

Tallulah knew a surefire way to see if this mutt was truly as far in the sky as her starry eyes suggested. But was engaging in the filthy depravity of her old trainee not beneath her?

It was, but Pela was further beneath that.

“Pants down, pup. And if I hear another word from you, you’ll regret it. Got it, hm?” Even when Tallulah was trying to ooze charm, the brutal apathy leaked through, but once again, this was enough.

Pela seemed to stop wasting her time, either because Tallulah’s voice had permeated her skull, or the sticky green liquid had shut her brain down enough to leave that as unnecessary. With some awkward shuffling, her ragged combat pants were down to her ankles, with her panties following behind them.

Tallulah took a quick glance downwards, and saw the barely average, soft cock she’d expected to see. A hair dyed Sartha Thrace fanatic being one of those trans girls was as commonplace as that Nataliza woman’s adoring fools sporting a pixie cut.

Unfortunate. Tallulah would have to put a modicum of effort into this part, but didn’t a pup deserve a treat?

…

No, but Tallulah sure as shit deserved to bask in her superiority over one. A pathetic dog worth nothing to anyone. A drooling mutt incapable of a single thought of their own. A mongrel simply following the leader to their causeless death.

A hound.

The kind destined to kill Tallulah. There were no true humans left on Earth after all. Pela was a reminder of that. There were monsters on one side and dogs on the other. Neither believed in anything.

One of these would kill the Reaper. Did that make Tallulah one of them?

…

Tallulah should make some calls, but first, she had work to do.

“Good pup. Now…” Tallulah had long since forgotten the art of properly luring a woman in. Those in her private rebel corps took little in the way of convincing, and the cheap hookers in places like this weren’t worth more than the cash required for a quick fuck, and they were hardly worth that.

Tallulah had let charm do enough of the talking. Pela was empty, and the Reaper had a hunch that, once she moved her left boot towards Pela’s groin and lifted it up enough to fit that mostly flaccid cock, she’d play ball.

Like a good, dirty mutt.

“Hump it.” Tallulah’s two words were intentionally firm, but managed to hide her growing malice. She was an owner giving their unruly pet an instruction. There was little fun to be had in that anymore.

Yet, the reminder of superiority was tantalizing.

Pela, seeming increasingly distant from the world and reality around her, also seemed to hesitate. It was only for a moment, so Tallulah didn’t particularly care. Two seconds of hesitance before shifting until her cock was wedged underneath the rubber sole of Tallulah’s shining, leather boots mattered little.

When Pela began a messy, shaky, and impotent rhythm of humps against Tallulah’s boot, all that truly mattered was the unchanging natural order. Pela was a filthy animal relishing in her pleasing, emptying desires, and Tallulah was a person. Something real.

Perhaps the very last one on this planet. The lone survivor.

“Good pup. Now like I said. Not a word out of you. I have calls to make, okay?” Tallulah worded that last part like it was a question, but she had already pulled a touch screen communications device from her pocket seconds before Pela clumsily nodded along.

The pitiable whines and light background audio of a slowly growing cock schlicking against her boot could be a problem, but if clients wanted the best, they’d tolerate shit like this.

Tallulah kept her glare locked onto Pela’s faraway gaze as she punched in the first of her two comms numbers for today.

First, the less important one. The already completed job. She needed to call someone named Holly Walker for that…

…

CEO-HW: Ah, Ms. Rieper. You’re calling quite a bit earlier than expected. Have you found the package?

Holly responded quickly, gently striking Tallulah through the earpiece in her left ear with that collected, smooth voice of hers. In a gift from the Gods, Limbic’s newly crowned CEO liked to keep things brief, and Tallulah much preferred that in her corporate overlords.

Especially today.

“It took a little finessing, and a couple of Imperial casualties, but yes. I have the sample.” Tallulah spoke dryly and professionally, bearing no concern for Pela retaining a single second of this intimate work conversation. She was content to drool against her pure black leather and leak pre against her bot’s sole. An animal like this wouldn’t even know what language Tallulah was speaking right now.

All Pela could do was whine like a passive hound.

CEO-HW: And you’re certain it’s the correct one?

Holly was wise to be skeptical, it was frankly a small miracle anything was left in that crumbling den of rebel dreams, but Tallulah half-assed no job.

“If you were looking for a sickly green bag of mind-altering drugs, then yes, I’m certain. I’ve taken the liberty of testing it to be sure.” Tallulah’s dry tone remained, even as she pretended that was the only reason she’d partaken in the devil’s gift from the stars.

CEO-HW: Ah, so my ears didn’t deceive me then. Test it on an animal if you need to, but I’m assuming you’ve left enough for our own testing, yes?

Yet more skepticism, but Holly had a fine ear. Tallulah could contemplate how the corporate busybody recognized such specific debauchery from a latency-filled, systems apart call, or she could get paid.

Tallulah preferred the latter.

“Eyeballing it, I’d say there’s at least five full doses left in the bag. More than enough.” Tallulah was quick and matter of fact, already growing eager to move on to her next gig, whatever that was.

Perhaps she was eager to see if her starry-eyed, humping mutt would cum before the first, brief call was even done. Maybe Tallulah would even be impressed with the dog if she could last a whole minute without shooting a pathetic few droplets onto her boot, hm?

Doubtful.

CEO-HW: Good. Such fantastic work as always, Ms. Rieper. But I suppose I’ll be able to thank you in person upon delivery, won’t I?

Holly was a brief woman, and part of that quick talking nature was figuring out how to propose a second job without even properly asking.

Slippery serpent, but the galaxy was full of those. Like the other animals, Holly would fall too.

After Tallulah got paid, ideally.

“I’ll be in the area in a few weeks regardless. I suppose a trip to Ansa wouldn’t put me out… assuming you’re paying my full rate for the delivery.” Tallulah kept her acceptance of the job similarly brief, though a very slight smile did creep up on her face. Was it from the promise of more cash, or Pela’s increasing, voice cracked whines Holly was listening in on?

The former, but there was slight humor to the latter. Even Tallulah could admit that.

CEO-HW: Full rate, of course. You’ll receive both payments face to face. Until then, Ms. Rieper.

As expected from Holly Walker, the call was cut off before Tallulah could even send her off. The corporate overlord almost reminded her of someone she similarly disliked the impulsivity of, but better to keep personal thoughts about others out of her business.

“Mgh… Mhhh…”

Ah, right, the mutt.

Pela seemed about as far away as one could be, humping away with the lack of coordination a dog in heat might give a stuffed animal. The sounds she made were only further exacerbated by Tallulah gently and lightly grinding her sole against the animal’s pulsing cock.

Was Pela close? Fuck did Tallulah know, but she doubted the resolve of a mutt like this, and fully expected an early finish.

“A-Ah… Mh-MHFF!”

Ah, and there it was, actually. With a few louder whines that Tallulah was tempted to punish, Pela fired off what almost amounted to a blank against the bottom of her boot. When Tallulah moved it away, a second miniscule shot was delivered to the leather top surface of her footwear. Much more irritating.

Much easier to make Pela clean off.

“Bad pup. I want that cleaned off my boot now. I want it to be spotless. Put that tongue to use, or you’re not going home after this.” Now felt as good a time as any for Tallulah to be stern with the mutt. Someone needed to punish her for doing what she was told.

She seemed the type to be into that.

Tallulah was right, too, of course. With another few seconds of hesitance and what looked like a millisecond long return to reality, Pela leaned down and began tracing her tongue against Tallulah’s leather with a few winces and apparent inexperience.

That was more than enough for Tallulah. She was superior to this animal. Hell, she was superior to that wealthy mongrel on the radio too.

Mh, speaking of her radio. Off to the second call.

…

…

???: Damn, twenty minutes on the dot, huh? Shit, you really are punctual, Reaper.

Her potential second client took a few seconds longer to answer Tallulah’s call, but the mysterious, younger, brasher voice was still quick to bash her ears more loudly than Holly Walker.

Yep, that was a Mercenary Guild Bounty Offerer, alright. These girls could pretend to be working for a mysterious backer, but the Guild was obvious. Predictable.

There’s a reason Tallulah never joined them proper.

“I’m a soldier of my word. Now, what’s the job?” Tallulah wasn’t one to sign up for a bounty hunt a system away with minimal knowledge. If the Mercenary Guild back in Arcadia weren’t total feckless amateurs then they’d at least have a name and the bounty’s reward for her now, surely.

???: Straight to business. Got it.

The woman in her ear paused, the sounds of ruffling paper overpowering the more subtle sounds of a dog’s recently rehydrated tongue lapping against her boot.

Not very professional.

Not very surprising.

Tallulah just hoped they weren’t wasting her time with some rebel grunt. Compromising the reputation of her private rebels like that was worthless. No pay in the galaxy could change that.

No pay that anyone'd be willing to tack enough zeroes on, anyway.

???: Got it! The bounty’s on a high ranking rebel on Ansa. The UA themselves and a consortium of corps have pooled together for this. Big pot. Take her alive, and it’s a ninety million dollar bounty. Sixty mil if she’s dead.

Fucking Gods? That much money? Even with the UA Dollar inflated to shit, that was enough to outfit a whole second base with cash to spare.

Tallulah didn’t work just for the money, as useful as it was in surviving a crumbling world of endgame Capitalism. Money alone was nothing, but a bounty that high had to be for someone worth a damn fight. For ninety million dollars, they would likely be a Nataliza Rayfield, or at bare minimum someone with some damn fight left in them…

…

But even she was a mere animal. Sartha Thrace dressed in feather instead of fur, wearing a combat jacket of failure and idolatry.

“Tempting, truly. I don’t work bounties without a name, though.” Tallulah was entertaining this idea, but killing an animal like Nataliza was worth little to her, and if she wanted to die fighting some rebels’ favorite predator, there were a dozen contracts relating to Sartha Thrace to take.

This had to be something special.

???: I was getting to that!

The presence of further paper ruffling didn’t leave Tallulah confident in that fact.

???: The target is Captain Bailey Cluanaire. Think the Guild’s got a whole separate contract out on her, so might be able to claim that too, Reaper. Neither contract is exclusive, though, so I’d get on this one fast if you want your payday.

No fucking way. Not a fucking chance.

Not. A. Chance.

Tallulah had long since moved on from believing that old trainee of hers could amount to anything special. A destined animal, if Tallulah believed in destiny in the first place.

A love struck kitten whose unimpressive death she'd hear about through the grapevine.

A woman who’d either die to a corporate machine or drink herself to death in a hooker’s arms.

…

Rebel captain.

Fucking hell…

…

“I’ll get it done. Travel time should be six weeks if nothing holds me up.” Tallulah didn’t need long to think over her answer. In a fit of impulsiveness that would have disgusted her a mere minute ago, Tallulah agreed to the contract. Nothing else needed to be heard.

She was in.

The private rebels could be convinced to join her if needs be, too. She’d need a crew with her for Limbic’s delivery anyway, and her own band of mutts would follow her to the deepest pits of Hell itself.

It was almost too perfect.

…

No, it was too perfect. Tallulah was no fool. This was an engineered series of moves from a bigger player. Holly Walker, perhaps? The United Arcadium’s leadership on Ansa?

Fuck it, for once, Tallulah didn’t care.

???: I’ll keep your number then. Keep us posted, Reaper.

Another woman who hung up without a formal goodbye given.

Tallulah didn’t care. This was what she was looking for. A final chance to fight someone who, very possibly, wasn’t the same animals she rolled around in filth with here.

Sure, the possibility was slim. Tallulah’s last meeting with Bailey Cluanaire may have been a long time ago, but she echoed the same hallmarks of the rebels here. Someone chasing a woman instead of an ideal. An animal with nothing to fight for beyond crawling inside another woman’s skin and becoming her.

If that was all Bailey was, well over a decade later, then Tallulah was only doing her a favor.

Euthanizing a wounded animal was but a service.

But, if there was a glimmer of Bailey’s potential still inside her, then there was hope for something real.

Something to die for.

Something the Reaper might finally die for.

…

Tallulah felt something in her chest she had long since forgotten the meaning of. There was no care left in that heart for her former protégé, Bailey was her own woman now, and whether that meant anything would be decided on death’s battlefield.

Tallulah knew she’d win, deep down. Perhaps it was a shame Bailey was going to be put down like a dog. Maybe it was unfortunate that the Reaper would only die to an animal instead of a person.

But, something in the Reaper’s bones knew, deeper down, that this had to mean something.

Rebel Captain Bailey Cluanaire?

A woman with a cause?

Oh, Tallulah doubted it, but to die to that after giving her all would make it all mean something.

Or, to kill the animal she expected would bury the last trace of her past.

A last resort in her buried hopes to die for something that meant anything. A final chance to be proven that, just maybe, there was still a light in humanity’s fight against Imperialists.

…

Tallulah let those thoughts rest for the night, and refocused on Pela, smiling down in her direction for reasons wholly unrelated to the lapdog. Pela’s tongue, despite having left that boot shining in her saliva bright enough to see her own reflection, continued its work.

Good, a bit of loyalty in an animal at least made them useful, but this mutt was useless to the Reaper, and that’s all that mattered tonight.

“That’s enough, pup.” Tallulah spoke, still smiling even as her voice carried her typical dryness.

Tallulah pulled her boot away and placed her hands in her pockets before letting out a few more words.

“Time to take you home.”

Softly, more to herself than anything, she added one final sentence before strolling towards the dilapidated bathroom door.

“I'm tired of playing with dogs.”