Spider-Man 2114 | By : Ksennin Category: Marvel Verse Comics > Spiderman Views: 11739 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2 |
Disclaimer: I own neither the characters of the Spider-Man franchise or the Spicy City series. I make no money from publishing this work. |
They say that romance has become a lost art, but art only becomes lost when it becomes artwork. Nowadays, machines do all the work, that makes men lazy. Could it be romance is dead because it’s too much work not to be primitive? Too bad machines can’t do the work of romance…
***The first thing Virus did when she got home was thump on the air conditioner. It was old, and would conk out soon enough, but for a few minutes it pumped out a nice stream of cool air that was just what she needed after a long day of strutting her stuff. She kicked off her heels and sat down, her bare feet up on the cracked coffee table far more orgasmic than anything she’d been paid for. Belatedly, she thought to turn the lights on and see the grandeur of what she paid three hundred bucks a month for, plus handjobs to the super—there was Spider-Man, crouched on the windowsill.A few months back, she’d been run down by a gang of jackheads who were looking to get a five-finger discount on what she was selling. Spider-Man had swooped in, given them what for, left them for the cops—what any upstanding citizen would do. Then he’d walked her home, asking if she needed anything, given her a phone number to call if she had any problems in the future. Even the odd decent cop didn’t do that; they preferred looking down on her—getting ‘thanked’. Weird world: guy in a bug suit was the only one who seemed to actually care.Since then, she’d been giving him information. Not much; she’d lived this long by keeping her ears closed and her eyes down. But she thought he’d been able to find Electro and Hammerhead because of tips she’d given him.“I don’t suppose you put on a pot of coffee,” Virus said, looking longingly at her empty grinder.“I was worried it would explode. What do you know about the missing prostitutes?”Virus rolled down her stockings, out of the legholes of her bodysuit and off her long, tanned legs. “Nobody knows anything, Spider. Something like that goes down, even we talk to the cops.”He stepped inside her apartment, pacing—she thought mainly an excuse not to look at her while she was dishabille. “Someone has to know something. A customer that’s been giving you the creeps, someone hanging around where he shouldn’t be…”Virus unzipped her black one-piece. Her waist was tiny and firm, her breasts large, with only the tips covered by the cups of her bodysuit. She pulled them out of their confines, enjoying the thought of Spider-Man seeing them—perfectly round, grapefruit-sized, and as tan as the rest of her. Of course, there was no way to tell if he was looking with that mask of his. Who knew, maybe he was gay.“What customers?” Virus asked. Picking herself up off the easy chair and leaving her clothes behind—giving Spider-Man a look at her rounded ass, two cantaloupes in a bikini bottom—she went to the window and poked open the blinds with her fingers. Just two blocks away was the Cybersex Arcade, its storefront in the shape of a kneeling nude, open legs flanking the entrance. The biggest virtual whorehouse outside of the Senate. “Everyone’s going to the new joint. Sexbots. Cheap, clean, don’t burp, don’t fart—supermodels who fuck like fat chicks. You’re looking at an endangered species, Spider.”She ran a hand through her flattop hair—platinum blonde, with a single bang twisting down across her brow. In the old days, a look like that would’ve identified her as crème da la crème. Now, no one cared.“Maybe it’s for the best,” Spider-Man said. “You’re in a dangerous line of work. Let the machines have it.”“And make my money doing what? Fighting crime? There a lot of money in that, Spider? Bet I’d fill out that costume better—“He jumped back onto the windowsill, landing in a crouch. “If you don’t know anything, I won’t waste anymore of your time. Stay safe. I’ll go on patrol, see if I get lucky—““Or you could get lucky right here.” Virus turned around, splaying herself over her window. A pin-up pose—leg up, arms coiled, lock of hair falling across her face, asking to be brushed out of the way by a noble suitor. “It’s been a slow night, Spider. I’m getting out of practice. What say I give you a quickie on the house? You can keep the mask on…”He stared at her for too long; definitely not gay. Unless he was checking for a penis. “No thanks. I’m trying to cut back.”Then he was out the window, thwip, and swinging on a star. Virus hurried over to watch him go, as the AC conked out and the sweat started to touch her body with the growing firmness of an insistent lover. Maybe she should retire. She was too kinky for a guy in red and blue spandex.***Nisa walked through the crowded police station, shivering in her pink sweater. She cared about justice and the law and everything, but in a scorcher like Spice City, the air conditioning at One Police Plaza was reason enough to join up. That certainly seemed like the reason most of the men had joined. They certainly couldn’t care about the law.If only the AC wasn’t dialed down to Arctic levels. A sweater was almost good enough, but some days she wished she had a parka. Maybe then she wouldn’t be so uncomfortable with the attention she received. Men whistling, craning their necks to watch her as she passed. Their eyes on her well-developed breasts, bouncing merrily inside her tight sweater… if it wasn’t their hands on her pert ass.She made her way through the obstacle course to the Vice department, and the two cops working the missing hookers case. They crowded around a workstation, the holo-screen showing a coffee-skinned woman with jet-white hair. The way she was dressed, it took Nisa a minute to figure they were reading a police report and not watching a porno. Virus, the name on the report read. She was good at noticing details like that. Good practice for when she made detective.Stern was a big guy—steam-shovel jaw, gritted eyes, a voice like being dipped in gravel. His partner, Connolly, was thin and reedy, his narrow face barely peeking out from under his porkpie hat. The two smoked incessantly. Nisa stood well clear of their fogbank.“Connolly, Stern?” she asked, even though she knew. “You’re working the missing prostitutes case?”“Yeah? What’s it to you?” Stern didn’t look up from his work until Connolly elbowed him, then he gave Nisa the kind of look that would send her running for a police officer if she wasn’t one herself—or dealing with one.“I was thinking I could help you solve it.”“Great,” Connolly said. “Go get us some coffee.”“I’m a hard worker—I graduated top of my class from the academy—“ Nisa stopped giving her resume. They weren’t interested. “Look, I think the disappearances have something to do with the Cybersex Arcade.”“That’s a nice joint,” Stern said. His flattened eyes widened. “You like to go there, Nisa? Have your roll buttered on the other side?”Nisa ignored him. Just a little hazing. Everyone had to put up with it. “It opened a few weeks after the first disappearance. Most of the sex workers were in hiding because they were threatened; the Arcade got people to start coming because there was no other option.”“And they’ve been coming in droves ever since,” Connolly said. They both laughed.“I think the Arcade has something to do with the disappearances… I could go there right now and check it out—if someone would log me out a squad car.” Budget cutbacks. She needed a superior officer’s written permission to get a stapler.
“We’re not giving you a squad car, rookie.” Stern unzipped his pants. “But I’ve got something else you can ride…”
Nisa hurried away. Who would’ve thought that after so much time scrimping and saving to get into the police academy, that she’d miss driving a cab?Then she started to wonder why two detectives investigating a missing persons case were looking up a person who hadn’t gone missing yet.While AFF and its agents attempt to remove all illegal works from the site as quickly and thoroughly as possible, there is always the possibility that some submissions may be overlooked or dismissed in error. The AFF system includes a rigorous and complex abuse control system in order to prevent improper use of the AFF service, and we hope that its deployment indicates a good-faith effort to eliminate any illegal material on the site in a fair and unbiased manner. This abuse control system is run in accordance with the strict guidelines specified above.
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