edited 8/16/14
/
Gill couldn't say she was particularly fond of Image as Designed. In fact, the place kind of haunted her. Half a lifetime of being teased about the crookedness of her nose or her barely-there tits could be supplemented by the surgeon's knife for a convenient flat fee. Yeah fucking right. This may have been only a sim, but if Zinyak had known her better, he would have restricted her just to the plush waiting room on the other side of the sliding glass doors, endlessly picking out changes she would make to herself.
Like she had done a dozen times before, she left without a change. She was the goddamn fucking boss of the fucking Third Street Saints. She was the fucking President of the United States of America. She was the motherfucker who was going to rip Zinyak's spinal cord out through his throat. She bought and sold tits, she didn't need them herself.
So her current cycle of self-doubt wasn't, strictly speaking, unprovoked. Today, CID was connecting her to Johnny's sim. It was the first time in over five years they were going to see each other, first in digital approximation, then, if everything went well, which it would, in the flesh.
A lot had happened in the intervening years. She'd become President, Shaundi had gotten (somehow) even hotter, Pierce had gotten stupider (not really). Hell, in the last six weeks since the earth had blown up, she put on five pounds of flab (no exercise outside of the sim and those fucking space rations she never felt full on so she just kept on downing them). Fuck it, it was impossible to think he would give a fuck about that. Johnny would undoubtedly be Johnny, ready to kick ass and blow a hold three times the size of earth through Zin heads. Good old Johnny.
She did take one last look at herself in the Planet Zin mirror, tightening her red-brown pigtails in the back, before leaving for the Broken Shillelagh. Fuck did she love killing shit. She unloaded both her pistols into a digital bystander, just for the sake of creating a little notoriety, before acknowledging CID.
/
Of fucking course. Johnny's nightmare wouldn't be a plane. On the plane he had succeeded in saving both her and Shaundi. Of fucking course his nightmare was racing towards Aisha and always losing.
Johnny Gat was a lot of things: sociopathic, violent, a little vain, confident to a fault. But ultimately, Gill always defined him by his bizarre adherence to chivalry. She had tried to beat it out of him, literally, but it never took, and it was always his fucking job to save a lady in need. Even if that involved blowing another lady's face off. That and all the damn door holding and paying for food even if it was only Freckle Bitch's. That's why he forced them to leave him behind on the plane. That's why his nightmare sim was about the woman he couldn't save.
There was a lump in the pit of Gill's stomach. She was going to have to tell him.
He didn't seem surprised at all at Gill's sudden appearance in the sim, then again, the antiquated side scroller graphics left few pixels free for expression animations and their speech was garbled. The boss had no choice but to play sidekick here. The other sims had ended only when victory conditions had been met. Only, in this case, Johnny would be returning to a reality without Eesh.
There was that awful feeling again. Whatever she and Johnny had been before the plane, whatever progress they had made in that…thing they were building together, years in this simulation would have torn down. Aisha would always be his girl, the one he chose rather than a second-choice option, yeah, fucking great. If this Aisha had been real, Gill would have thrown in the towel, like she had years ago when her youthful crush had so obviously already been taken. It was fucking worse losing to some fucking bullshit simulated memory. FUCK.
She hadn't particularly been paying attention to the action, instead mentally button mashing her way through the waves of oncoming enemies. Seemed to work well enough. Precision was clearly optional, unlike that fucking motorbike race against the clock to get Matt. The. Fucking. Worst.
The trip to Johnny and Aisha's house was all a bit of a blur, right up until the part where the Aisha sim got decapitated. Oh hell no. She was not playing through this repetitive bullshit from the start again.
"Kinzie, help me out here."
"Sure thing, boss."
Gill waited in the dark moment of silence as Kinzie reloaded the damn scene. Okay, Aisha resurrected, this time their arrival was a solid ten seconds earlier and Johnny went to fucking town on Jyunichi. Surely, had the graphics been better, he would have been a sight to behold. This way he was just kind of blurry. Okay, maybe Gill also needed glasses, but she wasn't going to tell any of these fuckers that. He was just so…big…everywhere. Instead she would have to imagine it in HD. Good thing she had an active imagination.
Helping him out didn't concern her in the slightest. Gill was certain that with the "too late" restriction overcome, Johnny would make short work of Jyunichi and the satisfaction of getting revenge himself would be far greater than her butting in.
Besides, when victory was won for sure, Gill wanted to excuse herself. It might not have technically been real…but over the last few weeks her experience with the simulation had left her questioning the lines between reality and not-reality in a way that made her head fucking hurt. The reunion of Johnny and Aisha was just too fucking intimate for her to observe. She turned her back to them and waited for Johnny to acknowledge her. When he did, she would have to explain. Everything.
"Boss," still that garbled lo-fi effect on his voice. "Let's get out of here."
"Wait for me, I'll come get you. You're going to wake up…sticky." She would have smirked, could she have.
/
Gill woke up on the Zin ship and refused to make eye contact with either Kinzie or Matt, both of who had come to meet her and presumably watched over her while inside. Pierce and Shuandi were still jacked into the virtual Steelport, running various jobs she had assigned them before going after Johnny. Both had protested, but she was the fucking boss.
"Let's go fuck up some Zin." Gill pumped her fist, legitimately excited to actually kill something tangible, rather than just scramble a bunch of numbers.
"Sure thing, boss," Kinzie started, "I've already set the course for the extraction point."
Matt nodded "I'll take one more diagnostic of the mech suit, just to be sure."
"Power armor!" Kinzie yelled.
Gill put one hand on each of Matt's shoulders, finally composed enough to look him in the eyes. "Guns, Matt, big guns, explosions, boom!"
"Er," he shook under her hands, "yes, ma'am." With that he darted down the stairs where they kept the mech suit like a scared deer.
"Fuck yeah!"
Kinzie high fived her. She knew there was a reason she liked this woman.
/
Gooy, sticky, naked, smelly Johnny didn't really lose any of his appeal. And how the fuck did he manage to keep his physique in five years of tube living and she couldn't even manage a few weeks? Those ration bars must have been pure fucking lard. He looked just as imposing in the flesh as she did encased in the mech suit.
Fuck she had missed this. She fired off another missile, causing a patch of Zin to explode all over the window of the mech. No guilt at all, just blasting through aliens. Not even that weird feeling she sometimes got where maybe regret was supposed to be but she was just hollow. She had always been just hollow there.
The trials of sociopathy.
The next thirty-five minutes consisted of corridors and aliens and carnage. A not insignificant part of herself wanted to ditch the mech and just start blasting through alien skulls with their own pistols. Maybe beat them to death with the severed arms of their own comrades. While she knew her kill count was higher than Johnny's, she wouldn't rub it in later. Besides, he was a naked man with a laser rifle and she was 5'11" of crazy in a four ton death robot. Oh, it was good to be fucking alive.
For every human on earth when Zinyak destroyed the planet she would murder 100 Zin. Even if that meant Kinzie and Matt would have to devise a way to make more Zin just so she could kill them.
The Zin were also particularly crushable. Their bones made very loud noises when they ended up under the feet of the mech suit. Crunch, crunch, crunch!
/
Johnny clearly got first dibs on the "shower" when they made it back to the ship.
Kinzie had set course back to their neutral position in the debris field that used to be earth. Gill passed the time looking out the giant window at the front of the ship. No one actually had to pilot the thing, so the cockpit was usually empty. Gill normally slept in here, though she found herself needing less and less sleep. Kinzie explained that while in the simulation they all entered quasi-sleep states, and they were technically resting while inside.
Shaundi and Pierce had returned from their missions sometime while she was out picking up Johnny. Neither of them had spoken to her, but everyone was waiting eagerly downstairs in the rec area for Johnny to appear. Gill just wanted a damn "shower" first. She smelled like ass and burnt plastic from the inside of that sweltering mech suit.
From the cockpit she could also monitor the locations of her crew. Johnny in the bathroom, everyone else, except Matt, waiting in the rec area. CID was still in his own private room. They had mutually decided it was best that CID get his own space. Gill knew full well why everyone thought that was a great idea. Clearly she was in no place to judge, although after the first time she decided that robot-sex wasn't really her bag.
Besides, not too long after that she had retrieved Pierce.
Gill buried her face in her hands. Fuck. Was she obliged to tell Johnny about that too? THAT was certainly just sex between friends. Which arguably was all she and Johnny had ever really been either. Only his fucking insistence on treating all women like fucking princesses made her feel really fucking attached when she shouldn't have. But then would Pierce bring it up? Or someone else? Only really Shuandi was in a position to know what had been going down five years ago.
The Matt icon paced the storage bay and the Johnny icon exited the bathroom and headed to the lower deck. Gill took that as her cue to go after her long awaited "shower."
She peeled off the Zin spacesuit and stepped into the dry shower. The white powder stood out against the deeper brown tone of her skin and it made her want a line or five real bad. If she could get fucked up she wouldn't care. She could be happy and violent and her very best version of normal. Withdrawal had been a bitch over that first week. Presumably some of her detox had actually occurred while she was in the pod.
After she had suitably covered herself in the cleaning powder she set about the tedious task of wiping it away, including from places it probably didn't belong in the first place…except actually that's probably exactly where it did belong. She hadn't bothered to put any of it into her dreads, but she did resituate her pigtails so they sat higher on her head.
Keith David had made her wear a "respectable hairstyle for a grown-ass adult woman" as a condition of his Vice Presidency. But, with no more earth, there was not more United States, which she was pretty sure meant no President of the United States of America, which she was pretty sure voided that fucking contract. That being said, she was never that good at geography, or politics….or cooking. Math though, she was good at math.
There was a pile of space suits in the corner, separated into male and female but not really by size. There were tiny ones for Kinzie and larger ones for the other three women on the ship. Shaundi and Asha couldn't really zip theirs up all the way. Gill didn't technically have that problem, but hey, she was a good imitator of a people person and liked to fit in, so she set the zipper low on her chest anyway.
Okay, it was time to face him. At least it would be surrounded by other people, so no chance of that being awkward. Right? She wouldn't have to spill her guts about certain things in such a public setting. So she could do this. This was cool.
Downstairs everyone was flocked around Johnny. Even Matt had taken a break from his little handheld video game to admire the charm that Johnny exuded. That was the thing about the both of them, her and Johnny, gosh darn-it, people liked them. She always assumed Johnny was a natural, that despite everything, all the murdering and shit, people wanted to be around him. For her, it was a carefully played part. She had cobbled together bits and pieces from movies and television shows. Writing down in a little diary as a girl how she was supposed to act around other people. It made her life infinitely easier, those little notes from other people's fantasies. Suddenly she didn't have to swallow those big, fat pills that stuck in her throat. And then she didn't need to see the psychologist who smelled like his 2pm whiskey anymore and asked her strange questions about her toys and why they ended up without any hair and their eyes burnt out. All of that stopped when she learned how to fake it. Then she didn't need the little diary anymore and she could just turn it off and on, how to be normal and how not to be normal.
Gill smiled to herself as Johnny related the story of how Zinyak had abducted him from the plane because he had been considered too great a threat to his eventual overthrow of the planet. Gill fucking beamed with pride over that shit. The Third Street Saints were not to be fucked with. She didn't even mind the jab from the room that that meant that Zinyak was more afraid of Johnny than he was of her. Okay, that maybe hurt her pride a little, but just a little.
It couldn't have been another twenty minutes before Johnny excused himself from the festivities, claiming that he was tired. If what Kinzie had told her was right, there was no way that he was actually sleepy. Although there was always the possibility that he had actually overexerted himself when she had come to extract him. She was so focused on tearing apart Zin that she hadn't considered the fact that Johnny might have been working himself a little too hard.
As he made to leave the room, he circled her thin wrist in those giant fucking hands of his and released it just as soon. Gill knew that meant well enough to follow him out.
She didn't bother to make an excuse for herself and simply followed him out after a few minutes. Other than Asha and Matt, these were people who knew her, and knew she could be erratic at times. Even Asha and Matt probably knew her a little bit by now, they were sharing close quarters. Whatever they attributed it to, it didn't matter.
Johnny wasn't upstairs by the sleeper pods so she detoured to the cockpit to check the crew radar thingie. He was back in the cargo hold. Alright then…well it wasn't as if there was really privacy anywhere on the ship.
She made her way into his general vicinity, although he could have already moved by the time she got there. In the end, she didn't have to look for long because that big hand was on her wrist again, pulling her behind a particularly large box.
Oh and fuck, was he on her. She was thrown back against the crate and Johnny's body was pressed against hers, pinning her down. He forgot about her wrist and instead his hands went for the zipper on the front of her suit, yanking it down and breaking the clasp. He literally growled in her ear.
"Gillian." Until this point he hadn't so much as hinted at her name. Not in front of other people. That had been the terms of her releasing her name to him those years ago. If too many people spoke it too often it would lose its magic.
Some distant part of her kind of cared that maybe they should talk for something about two seconds. There was at least one topic that required more than two seconds of talking. Gill wasn't entirely sure, maybe it wouldn't mean anything at all to him. But then his mouth was on her breast and she forgot all about caring about anything other than how hot his mouth was and the way that his fingers were working the other nipple.
She practically ripped the arms off of her spacesuit pulling it down and letting the upper half hang loosely around her hips. Her back scraped against the hard plastic of the canisters that made up the makeshift wall behind her, but she didn't really have fucks to give at this point. Her finely manicured hands (why the Zin had bottles of nail polish around the ship they didn't know, but she and Shaundi were grateful) worked Johnny's zipper down more slowly than he had attacked hers, teasing him and slowing their pace to a crawl.
His lips were on her fuller ones again, biting and kissing and pushing his tongue around a little like he had forgotten to be intimate. Those fucking huge hands covered both of her breasts and would occasionally tease the darker brown nipples until they became almost painfully hard. One of the first times they had done this, Gill could have sworn she could come from just those hands on her tits.
As much as she was pushed up against the boxes, she pushed back into him, pressing their groins together and making sure to apply friction to his erection. While she had intended to tease him, Gill was starting to lose control a little herself. Stripped to the waist from his space suit he looked just as good as he had five years ago. Like the man was cut out of fucking marble or some shit. Like those statues in the museum Kinzie politely told her not to fuck up. His lips were a little pink and his face was flushed when he pulled away from her face. Gill dipped her hands below the waistline of his suit and gave his cock a few short strokes, not nearly enough to bring him any sort of satisfaction. Still, he tolerated it and fucking growled again. Fuck did that make her hot.
Johnny dropped to his knees and started stripping the rest of her clothing, pulling off those heeled boots that she didn't much care for and rolling the stretchy space-material of her suit down over her hips and thighs. And honest to fucking God she didn't think that they were going to get this far again ever, much less today, so she had pretty practical underwear on. If she had fucking known she wouldn't have worn such dipshit underwear. But when Johnny pressed his mouth to her core she couldn't give a fuck about anything.
She reached down and pulled off his sunglasses, always hating the way his frames pressed against her lower abdomen when he did this. He always forgot though.
"Johnny," she moaned. A little plea for him to hurry up and get on with it. They had been relatively quiet up until this point and it wasn't like them. Even when they knew others were listening, normally they would be putting on a free show. Subtlety wasn't in their nature.
He hummed against her in between long, heavy licks against her clit. She thrashed a bit as she came closer to the edge, but the suit was still bunched up around her legs and she could barely stand as it was. Oh, that view of his paler face between her legs always fucking did her in.
He nudged her legs a little further apart with his knee, pushing them as far as they would go in the confines of the suit. Then two of those thick fingers were sliding into her, stretching her open as he continued to lick and suck at her clit. It was all so much and she threw her head back, smashing it into the shipping canister behind her and causing a terrible clash. Did she scream? She probably screamed.
She was still panting as he practically crawled back up her body. Tasting herself on his lips she greedily pushed her tongue into his mouth trying to drink everything about him in. They had been missing this for years. At least she had been. Maybe it hadn't felt as long for him. But if she had any worries about what life in the simulation had done to his feelings about Aisha, that was resolved. It didn't entirely resolve what they were. But it was enough to know that the casual sex thing at least was still on the table.
"Are you going to fuck me or what?" She smirked, finally kicking free of the space suit and standing naked in the cargo bay, other than her jewelry.
"Gotta make sure you're ready. You felt really tight."
His eyes were so warm, that kind of honey-brown that women just went mad for. Gill was convinced that was why he always kept them covered. They made him look like a normal person rather than some super-murdering freak. Truth was he was both. She had never bothered to hide her eyes for a similar reason. Hers were much darker, less inviting. They accurately reflected her reputation, to have eyes so dark they were nearly black, cold and distant.
"It's not like I was a nun or some shit while you were dead."
"I wasn't dead, Gill." He had pushed down the spacesuit further and freed his cock in the process. Yep, she had remembered this part. She kind of sort of wanted to stick it in her mouth, suck it down and make him squirm like he had done to her. But she actually wasn't that skilled in that set of actions and they were both clearly getting mildly impatient. So she would have to settle for him burying it inside of her. The sacrifices she made.
"No, but now I know Pierce isn't as impressive as he lets on."
Gill audibly gasped as Johnny sheathed himself inside of her. Even though she wasn't exactly petite, he lifted her off the ground easily and wrapped her long legs around his waist. She crossed her ankles behind his back and squeezed, pulling him even deeper inside of her.
"Oh fuck fuck fuck."
"I plan on it," he nipped against her exposed neck.
Johnny was frantic in his thrusts, pushing deep into her and only withdrawing enough to create friction between their bodies. He held her up against the crates like she weighed nothing and that was a heady feeling in and of itself. Johnny was a physical threat to her like few men were, and she fucking got off on that shit.
"Yes, Johnny, fuck me like that. I want your cock Johnny."
She knew how to push buttons too. Knew what Johnny liked, at least from her. At least in this situation.
"Tell me how good I am to you, Gill."
Even if their cries and moans were not exactly quiet, the words that passed between them were oddly private.
"The best, Johnny, your cock is the best. Ahh." She felt herself pulled tightly around him, stretching to accommodate him but still maintaining that delicious burn that she had missed, the one that the other men and women she had bedded in the last five years hadn't come close to replicating because it wasn't just about his cock in her, it was that this was Johnny and like hell was he fucking special. Even if the feeling wasn't mutual.
"Better than Pierce?" His voice was a mix of a growl and almost, almost detectable questioning. Like she actually had to answer the question. Like he actually worried. But that could have been her imagination. After all, she was piecing together emotional cues from studying sitcoms and daytime soaps.
"Jealous?" She was coy.
"Fuck right I'm jealous."
Somehow that was hot as all fuck. On Johnny's next stroke she came undone around him, looking into those too-human eyes that betrayed that his feelings were authentic, even if they weren't always the ones she expected or wanted.
This time she definitely screamed loud enough for the whole ship to hear. That was okay. Shaundi and Pierce could fill everyone else in on the details that they knew, providing that the rest of the crew hadn't worked things out already. They were a perceptive bunch for the most part….maybe not Matt.
Johnny's own pained/pleasured noise was muted against the side of her face, almost like a cry, or deep satisfaction. Maybe it had been a little of both.
He released her thighs and she slid them down the side of if body, collecting herself on the way down. It hadn't really registered with her that she slid all the way down to the cold metal floor. If the crew had any tact, they would spare them a few minutes more. Her whole body felt on fire. It was awesome.
Johnny slid his arms through the appropriate holes in his suit but left it unzipped. Gill idly thought about looking for her suit, it had gotten tossed somewhere, but for now the cool air against her skin felt great. He took a seat across from her, his own back now against another pile of crates labeled with mech suit ammunition.
"Shit that was good."
"Yeah, yeah it was, Johnny." Gill let her eyes drift closed, hoping that Johnny would introduce a conversation topic so that she didn't have to devise one on her own, or worse yet, tell him what she knew she had to.
She could feel his cum still inside her, some of it rolling down the curve of her sex.
"Are you going to keep fucking Pierce too?" He had located her space suit, and tossed it in Gill's general direction.
"No, no, Johnny. And besides, don't be too judgmental, I never let him stick it in. His dick is a perfectly acceptable size."
With that, Johnny had a fucking smug look on his face. He stood and gave her some privacy to get dressed. Well, fuck. She hadn't really made any progress, now had she?