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“Well, you invited me to the wedding,” Peter said, “but I think I might’ve gotten here a little late.” “Oh, you’re right on time,” Virus said as Nisa wiggled over her, until her aching pussy was over Virus’s face. Her bride stuck out her tongue, tasted the rich flavor of Virus’s juices, and moaned softly before licking again. “Nice!” Virus huffed, afflicted by Nisa tonguing her clit. “You like watching, Peter? I like being watched.” “I know this is a trap, but I don’t know how…” Peter muttered. Still, he shut the door behind him. He wouldn’t want anyone else to get caught with him. Nisa sunk down onto her wife’s voluptuous body, giving her own pussy to Virus’s mouth. Virus loved what Nisa was doing to her. She wanted the other woman to feel just as good. And her tongue quickly overwhelmed Nisa, the innocent-looking young woman groaning at the delicate, forceful touch. “You do that so good! So good…” Nisa looked down at Virus’s pussy, the only one she had ever seen like this. It was a glossy pink, dripping wet, and she imagined it with the creamy whiteness of Peter’s cum smeared inside. Imagined his tangy flavor added to Virus’s sweet, sweet taste. Then she moaned in ecstasy, Virus finding the tip of her clit, and extended her tongue to do just the same to her wife. Peter walked toward them, not sure what he would do until his legs failed him and he collapsed at the foot of the bed, unable to take his eyes off the tangle of women before him. He had seen it in porn, of course, but it was nothing next to actually being there, seeing them, hearing them, feeling the heat of their bodies as they ate at each other’s wet crotches. With the blood rushing to his prick, he didn’t see how he could leave without making the entire hotel think he had a third leg. He could hear their sucking mouths, see each lick and nibble, focus on it amidst the chaos of them squealing and writhing together—tongues flickering on cunts he longed to fuck. Then Virus stiffened her tongue and, with a wink to Peter, used it to impale Nisa. Nisa moaned wantonly, shaking like she was having a seizure, falling off Virus to the side before Virus twisted as well, the two women now locked together side to side. Nisa made her tongue as hard and as long as she could to fuck it into Virus’s cunt. Virus liked it. She liked it a lot. She tore herself away from Nisa’s fragrant cunt before she choked herself on it. “Fuck yes, Nisa, that’s it! That’s the best!” Her hand shot onto Nisa’s ass, groping her cheek, splaying open her crack, letting Peter see the little pink rose of her hole. So small, but maybe big enough for his cock. It was certainly big enough for the tip of Virus’s tongue to tease at, prod inside as she stared unblinkingly into Peter’s eyes. Offering him the same. And like a horse that’d taken a spur, Nisa plunged into Virus in turn, driving her tongue as far as she could into the wet sex that awaited her. Her sweet tongue fucked in and out of Virus, deeper every time, until Virus had to bite down on Nisa’s thigh to keep from screaming. She’d taught Nisa a lot since they’d gotten together. Sometimes, she almost regretted how much. “I’m gonna come!” she panted, eyes now fixed on Nisa’s pussy, her home, her prize possession, her temple. “Just like that, just like that—perfect!” Nisa broke from her steady rhythm just long enough to reply. “Ready to come?” Virus’s head was already tilting back to Nisa’s cunt, but she paused like a wine connoisseur taking a sniff to answer. “I need it!” “Then lick me so I can come too,” Nisa replied with jokey condescension, before returning her tongue home. Virus groaned, eyes shut as she was denied Nisa’s cunt for an eternal second more, having to voice her pleasure at Nisa’s attacking mouth. “Good,” she rushed out. “I’ll eat you till you scream.” Then they locked together once again, not stopping until they’d both came. It didn’t take long. For them, it was a quick century, but watching it, Peter thought it was over in the blink of an eye. He reached out, slowly, disbelievingly, to lay a hand on Nisa’s aching flesh. She moaned into the contact, trembling for his touch. He petted her, then stroked Virus in turn. Both women stayed connected, kissing each other’s thighs briskly as they came down, absorbing their fading pleasure. “Fuck, that was nice,” Virus breathed, her eyes still closed. She opened them, looking up to see Peter kneeling over her. Newly grown stiffness in his groin nearly in her face. “No sense wasting that…” Nisa kept hugging herself to Virus’s crotch, breathing in the scent of her well-fucked sex. “Come on, Peter. We want to thank you for all the hard work you’ve put in for us.” “And all the hard work you’re going to put in.” Peter realized what they wanted, realized he was going to give it to them. “You want my help with another case.” Virus rolled on top of Nisa, shaking her ass in Peter’s direction, painting Nisa’s face with her wet cunt. “We work well together, Peter. In lots of different ways.” “And if I do it, we have sex?” Peter could’ve slapped himself. Of all the crazy things that had happened to him since he’d become Spider-Man… Christ, he was so glad the X-Nation didn’t ask for help this way. “You can have sex with us either way,” Nisa said. “We owe you and I’m kinda slutty these days. But it would be pretty gentlemanly to fuck us both, then help us with our tiny little problem that you’d solve in like two seconds. Right, Vi?” Virus was stared at his erection, which had lost none of its potency. “Since you’re such a big hero and you’d be such a big help to us—“ “You don’t have to lay it on quite so thick. You sound like you’re trying to seduce a gay guy.” Grinding his teeth, Peter dropped down onto the bed beside them. “What’s the case? Tell me first, then… maybe…” Virus got comfortable, sprawling atop Nisa like a big cat. When Nisa tried to get up, Virus held her down with a quick swaying of her hips. “Alright, Peter. Here’s the blipvert version…” *** The hover-car had taken them to their destination fast and smooth; a mean feat, given how far a distance it was from their office to the skyplex they ended up at. The hover-car and chauffeur had been cleared for priority airspace. Moreover, Virus had watched the driver brazenly buzz past speed traps and police terminals without so much as a flash of blue. Whoever had invited them, the police knew better than to bother. From the outside, the skyplex was the Gardens of Versailles, finally with so much money behind them that they could buy off gravity. Ivory walls hung in the sky, greenery creeping over them in geometry as precise as a Hollywood braid. The hover-car set down, the chauffeur got out. His mask as concealing as ever, he led the two women inside, where even the vague futurism of hover-technology gave way to entirely old-school grandeur. Holo-windows looked out, not into the sky, but a quaint English countryside. And though a real fireplace would drive insurance through the roof, a holographic facsimile provided a bonfire, holding to one section of the wall like it’d just escaped, but could never quite manage to consume the whole of its hunger. Before the flames—the one and entirely adequate source of illumination for the vast room—an antique chair was situated as precisely as if it’d been carved there. The back was so high that but for the ringed hand on the arm, it would’ve been impossible to tell if it was occupied at all. The hand dangled off the arm diffidently, and the chauffeur stopped. Something of his presence compelled Nisa and Virus to stop with him. They heard a click from within the chair. The holographic flame became a woman instead. Her simple dress was well-made enough to flatter her, but flattery was entirely unnecessary. There was a flow to her—a painting created by a master draftsman, without wasted effort or a redone stroke. Just a flow of inspiration from her piercing eyes to her high cheekbones, down her graceful neck, the same elegant brushstrokes continuing even into the lustful curvature of her breasts and hips, and the long enigmatic stride of her slender legs. Seeing her, Virus elbowed Nisa in the ribs and gave her a grin. All that didn’t need to be said. “Beautiful,” said Mr. Flaxen in a reedy accent, imported from a microcosm society, one of the enclaves of the super-rich seeking to preserve themselves from the ravages of society. His voice was odd because it was untouched by Spanish, by Chinese, by slang or inflections not found in Received Pronunciation classroom. He continued, the same clipped tone, as quick and merciless as money changing hands. “Kidnapped. Get her back.” “Elaborate,” Virus replied. “Terrorists from the lower levels,” he elaborated. “Lower even than my reach. I understand that they are not so low that you cannot find her. Bring her back.” His tone had returned to that of terse command upon the last sentence. It was not to be mistaken for a request. “Who is she?” Nisa asked, breaking off from Virus to approach the chair from the other side. She didn’t see his other hand upon the armrest, just an elbow in a well-lined sleeve. “My daughter. Melissa.” “Has there been any ransom demand?” Nisa asked the questions. Virus watched. Saw the well-manicured hand wrap itself around its golden rings. A fist. “If there were, it would’ve been met.” “Then how do you know she hasn’t run away?” Virus interjected. Eyes on the hologram. “She looks… young.” “She wouldn’t do that,” Mr. Flaxen insisted. Same commanding tone. Like he was giving an order to history itself. “I’m too important to her.” Virus piled on. “Just what kind of daddy were you to her?” Nisa was quick to backtrack. “What Vi means to ask is what was your relationship like? Acrimonious? Fractured?” The fist was as tight and implacable as a moon stuck in its orbit. “Our relationship was in perfect order. She was taken. You will find her.” Virus shifted on her heels. “We’ll need her sequence then.” “My manservant has prepared a detailed file. It has retinal scans, fingerprints—“ “All of that can be changed,” Nisa said apologetically. “But not her DNA. It’ll let us know—when we find her—that she’s the real deal.” “I wasn’t aware such extreme measures would be necessary. Do you usually fail at reappropriating the proper article?” “We also find who we’re looking for,” Virus said, unapologetically. “Even when they don’t want to be found.” The fist unclenched. Became a finger tapping, idly probing, at the armrest. “A partial sequence is on file. It will be sent to you, along with details from the preliminary investigation. More reputable detectives were contacted before a specialist referred me to you.” Nisa gave Virus the nod. Let’s get out of here. Virus ignored it. “And how much did you pay our more reputable colleagues?” Mr. Flaxen sighed. “You will be given triple your usual fee, plus five thousand upfront for expenses. Does that negate your love of haggling?” “Amply,” Virus replied. She gave Nisa her nod. Now we can leave. “It will not be necessary for me to hear from you again before you’ve found her. You won’t waste my money. Farewell, ladies.” “Leave the light on for us,” Virus told him, in parting. *** “A missing persons case?” Peter asked. “You don’t have to find out who shot Clinton or anything?” Virus nipped at Nisa’s inner thigh one last time. “With this money floating around, you can bet it’ll be more complicated than her taking a wrong turn at Albuquerque. And if the Lowers are involved, we could use your help. You patrol down there. You have your ear to the ground.” “So you want me to help you find a missing girl. That’s it? What’s the catch?” “You have to let us fuck you.” Peter finally smiled. “I can live with that.” Virus ran her tongue over Nisa’s belly as she got up on her hands and knees, her head following last as she undulated up to present herself to Peter. He crawled up behind her, hard cock unlimbered just above Nisa’s face, Virus arching her back in anticipation. “I’ve never seen two people fucking before,” Nisa said, reaching for Peter’s cock. “You’re going to have a front-row seat,” Virus replied archly, swaying teasingly away from the prick, dancing her dangling breasts over Nisa’s lower body before her wife held her still, took Peter in her soft hands and guided him home. He grasped Virus’s supple hips, letting Nisa control him as he was touched to Virus’s wetness. Virus felt him enter her where she was soft and aching and warm. “Are you gonna fuck me, Peter? Gonna fuck me better than Nisa? You saw how good she fucked me…” Peter rammed into her, rock-hard, Nisa cupping his balls, urging him in deeper with all her wide, wide eyes. He had never felt a woman so wet, so slippery. Virus’s high-pitched wail echoed, almost as loud as the sound of Peter’s erection parting Virus a few inches from Nisa’s face, blood raging inside it, cream gushing inside Virus, Peter sliding back out shiny and gleaming. “That good enough?” Peter taunted. Virus nodded desperately, but it wasn’t enough for Nisa. She leaned up and moved her tongue in one swipe from the furthest reaches of Virus’s cunt, to the base of Peter’s hardness, right over his balls. Peter gasped. Virus moaned. “Fuck her!” Nisa demanded, feeling the surging heat of Peter’s balls against her cheek as she pressed herself to him. “Fuck her with that big goddamn cock, you bastard!” Peter didn’t need to hear one word of it. He skewered Virus again and again, like he wanted to embed himself in her permanently, like he wanted to make his cock a part of her squealing and squirming body, her rolling hips and rippling ass. Her body jerked as she was caught up in the pure passion produced by his lust. “That’s what I like to see!” Nisa exclaimed. The hard, fast thrusts Peter was making with his cock had taken over his entire body, all of them grunting, charging into Virus, chopping jerks of his pelvis that continued right on into Nisa’s face right below, becoming shivers down her spine. Nisa husked, growing frantic as she picked up the pleasured rhythm of the woman getting fucked on top of her. Virus gave it to her, transmitting it through her tongue, between Nisa’s legs, even as she thrust her bare ass up high, a perfect target for her other lover. Both women’s legs parted to accommodate their fucking. Peter watched with husked breath as Virus licked for every stroke she received. One hand collared Virus’s shoulder. The other reached down to find Nisa’s breast. His fingers closing seemed to drive a fervent moan from her. “Eat me!” Nisa groaned as she made her bushy sex rise up to rub at Virus’s receptive mouth. “Grope me!” she gasped as her chest heaved, breast filling Peter’s hand with soft warmth. “Fuck me!” Virus knew just how Nisa liked it—hard, fast, hot—and that was how she was giving it to her. She pleasured Nisa so hard that it was nearly impossible for her to keep her eyes open, keep seeing Peter’s cock spearing into Virus’s sweet cunt like the two were made for each other. But Nisa kept her eyes open. Each time she saw it, she was more amazed, more aroused. It felt unfair, getting fucked while she got to see a thing like that. How could she be expected not to come when she was looking at that? But even if she hadn’t been, Virus’s hot little tongue was finding every spot that needed to be licked. Without Peter, it might’ve been a small eternity of hours, Virus keeping her suspended on the precipice, drawing out her pleasure and her suffering until the two became one, need becoming satisfaction, Nisa’s mind and body turned into only fulfillment. As it was, Nisa came the first time she felt Virus dripping down on her. “Mmmmmmoohh! Fuck her, Peter, fuck that pretty pussy! I want to see your cum in her pretty pussy! And, fuck!” She barked passionately. Her thighs tightened on Virus’s head. “Keep that tongue in me, God, so far in! So deep… oooooh!” Peter watched the two sixty-nining women like he was trying to memorize them. He had never seen Nisa so horny, never felt a woman like Virus before—was she like this all the time?—a liquid furnace around his cock, scorching hot, flooding his hard-on, wet at both end with her flicking tongue at Nisa’s open thighs. And Nisa’s warm breath moist between his legs, on his balls, like the puff of a bellow on a fire. Turning it into an inferno. Nisa wrapped her arms around Virus’s waist in a tight hug, staring at Peter’s reddening cock, knowing on an instinctive level that it was time, that they had pushed this as far as it could do. Pursing her lips, she gave the base of Peter’s manhood a kiss that was almost sweet. Peter clenched his fists as a hot spurt of cum erupted into Virus’s cunt, penetrating where his cock couldn’t, splashing into her. “Hell yeah!” he shouted as what felt like gallons of his cum poured from him, his entire body seeming to drain. “Yeah!” He threw his head back, clenched his teeth like he was trying to break them as still more of his cum buried itself in Virus’s twitching sex. His face flushed a deep red, the veins of his neck bulging like bridges over his skin as he filled Virus to overflowing. As if feeding one half of Virus had created an imbalance in the other, she latched her mouth to Nisa’s cunt, licking and sucking, desperate to have another orgasm leeching into her body. Nisa gave it to her. She denied Virus nothing. “That’s it, Peter, that’s it!” Nisa screamed. “Fill her pussy! She loves it! We want all of your cum! We want it in her cunt! Yes, oh God, I’m going to come again! Now, now, now!” as she came again, again, her sopping wet pussy feeding Virus all she demanded. Virus herself came repeatedly, a violent little death, body rocking like she was feeling a machine gun clip be emptied into her, the stream of an electric chair fill her. She feel Peter’s hot cum shoot into her pussy, slide down her firm thighs, pile onto Nisa. It was more than enough for both of them. Peter shot more cum than he would’ve thought possible, not stopping until well after he felt totally drained, then weakly laughing as he slowly withdrew himself from Virus’s creamy womanhood. Nisa closed her eyes, luxuriating in Peter’s cum as it fell from Virus’s cunt to cover her face. Without Peter’s half-hard cock blocking it, his seed flowed back out of her like a river undammed. Virus looked back over her shoulder at Peter, shaking her ass so her emptying cunt fell in Nisa’s hair as well. “Help us solve the case and you can do the same to her.” Opening her eyes, Nisa smiled up at Peter. And licked her lips. *** The girls had a laptop that Virus brought up for him, holding it teasingly in front of her breasts. It wasn’t such a tease with her pussy bare, her cunt still a vivid red from what they’d done. She dropped the laptop onto a pillow and joined Nisa in embracing Peter as he opened it up, plugged in the USB drive Mr. Flaxon had given them. He synced it up to his own drive in the Cloud, cuing up several programs to analyze Melissa’s sequence. Nisa ran her hands through Peter’s hair as the results came up. Even to her, it was all Greek. “I can see why he wants her back,” Peter said, eyeing the headshot that came with the sequence. Virus took him by the chin, turned his face to hers, and kissed him hard enough to forget the ghost-girl. He barely pulled himself away. “Staying in bed all day will be a lot easier once the bed isn’t on layaway.” “C’mon, Peter,” Virus chided. “The bed was the first thing we bought.” Peter’s eyes were only for the screen now. “That’s odd…” “What?” “My preferred screener looks for abnormalities, defects. The X-gene, Down’s syndrome, a predisposition for cancer, whatever. Even a benign or recessive trait is something to go off of. But I’m not seeing anything. She’s flawless.” “Eh,” Virus said. “Her boobs could be a little bigger…” Peter rolled out of bed, nimbly scurrying over Virus to get to his clothes. “Nisa, stay on it. Let the programs run, go over the results.” “Since when am I a geneticist?” “Since now. Don’t worry, it’s easy work, just… tedious. The programs will tell you everything, just, you know, make a spreadsheet.” Nisa rolled onto her back, sighing. “Great. I let him make me come once and he’s got me doing AI work.” Peter was hopping into his pants. “Would you rather come down to the Sublevels with Virus and me?” Nisa rolled over again, grabbing hold of the laptop. “Just call me Cortana.” *** Peter and Virus rode down the once-an-hour freight elevator, fifty people packed in sardines and dropped like an amusement park ride, barely stopping before they reached the bottom of the city. At least it was fast. The ride back up would be several hours. They climbed out, avoiding the spray of the antiemetics and the line to the bucket for those it just wouldn’t work on, and then there they were. The Sublevels. Civilization packed in and around the massive foundations that supported the superskyscrapers that made up the city proper. An army of security droids to guard against attacks on the foundations, but that otherwise left the inhabitants alone to debase themselves as they saw fit. It was anarchy with a lid on. Two minutes and they got a mugging attempt like it was a rite of passage. Peter let Virus send them packing. He didn’t want to give away his superpowers, and she enjoyed it more than he did anyway. Then they made their way to the Meat Market. It was built in a half-finished foundation strut, a thirty-story structure for a renovation that had never come. Now it was honeycombed with businesses that actually turned a profit, not the favelas that people actually lived in. Inside the one particular enclave was what would be a serial killer’s dungeon in any other century. Row after row, aisle after aisle of body parts, vat-grown, floating in capsules of green nutria-juice. The glass was half-translucent. If you looked at it from the right angle, you could see a little hologram of someone modeling the part, like the drawing on the back of an action figure’s packaging. All sexes and races were accounted for, here or there. You picked up, went into the back, and had it installed while you waited. In the back, the Butcher was as much advertisement as operator. Each arm and each leg was a different shade. His eyes were different colors. His nose was a wide, flat African-American’s and his jaw was that of a Caesar’s. All worked together seamlessly. Took skill to manage that. Skill the Butcher was showing off, installing a new set of lungs in a scraper who’d somehow found two cents to rub together. Butcher was taking the old ones out as Peter and Virus pushed past the plastic sheeting. They were rotten with black tar, like a bit of food that’d fallen between the couch cushions, come up with mold on it. Butcher’s eyes looked up to regard them as his hands went through the familiar motions. Different colors seemed to regard them in halves. “Peter Parker. Always knew you’d go far. Didn’t know you had the guts for pimping, but you definitely have the brains for it—merchandise like that… here for some replacement parts, sweetie?” Virus idly adjusted her bra through her shirt. “No thanks. I just had my last upgrade.” Peter dug into his pocket for Flaxon’s USB drive. “We’re here about a sequence, and the girl it’s attached to.” Butcher looked back down as he took out the scraper’s other lung, hanging it up like a rack of lamb. “I see a lot of sequences. And a lot of girls.” “You’d remember this one.” Peter thumbed the drive, making it project a segment of Melissa’s sequence overhead in double-helix formation. Butcher eyed it like a jeweler would examine the cut of a diamond. “Now that is choice. Either you got a one-in-a-million trick here… and what would she be doing within a million and one miles of you?... or that is one top-notch pre-po job.” “Pre-po?” Virus asked. “Heard rumors of it. Designer genetics, but taken to the next level. Not just screening out defects, not just enhancing, but going through the goddamn source code line by line, marker by marker, like you’re constructing the Mona Lisa one pixel at a time.” Peter replaced the drive in his pocket. “Out of what?” “Depends. Heard someone did it for their dog once, and I’m not even sure if that’d be legal.” Like a dog that’d lost the scent, he seemed to forget the sequence. Toed a flap on a canister at his foot, like trash bins had, so the lid opened and he could reach in for a shiny new lung. Pink as a newborn baby. He sat it in the scraper’s chest cavity and rubbed it into life like a mound of sourdough bread. “So, does it ring a bell?” Virus insisted. “Second-hand. Knock-offs, you know, genetically hacked by the grinders. All sorts of malware put in to keep me from replicating it; more than it’s worth to pick them all out, you know. Maybe I could point you in the right direction, if we had a gentleman’s agreement…” “You want coding straight from the source,” Peter realized. Butcher picked up the second lung. Gave it a slap to get the nutria-juice flowing out of it faster. “It could be worth a lot of money.” “I’ll see what I can do, if the lead pans out.” “Or you could just hand over that sequence right there and we’d call it even.” Peter held his hands in his pockets nonchalantly. “You know I’m good for this, Butch. Don’t have eyes bigger than your stomach.” Butcher considered it. Then he swiped his finger through the artificial stem cells he’d filled the scraper’s chest with, finding them warm enough for his liking. He started stapling the man up. “A kidney and a liver I bought the other day, fast-grown. Callahan’s down on Barber Street. You know him?” “I know him,” Peter said with a tight nod. “Could be dangerous, going down there unannounced. Would you maybe like to leave a sample here? I could cook you up some spare parts while you’re gone; you wouldn’t be the first to need them after leaving Callahan’s.” “I’ll keep my hide together the old-fashioned way, thanks.” *** “What’s that smell?” Virus demanded. “What do you think it is?” Peter replied. “What I’m hoping it isn’t.” “Pipes break, where do you think it goes? This is the bottom of the city.” “Yeah, but doesn’t the city have to fix it?” “Yeah. Before people notice a pile. We’re here.” There were rare spots where the old city was left standing without being cleared for the foundations or their latticework support systems. Callahan’s was a historical landmark, the childhood home of an author who had written about depressed middle-aged people in the 1960s, so the internet had refused to let it be torn down. Still, the city had let it be rented to one of the few people who lived down here with enough money to live elsewhere. On the condition that it be covered floor to ceiling in plastic sheeting to preserve the original ambiance. The red-tinged, black-tinged plastic gave the place a Halloween flavor, a haunted house lighting scheme not at all offset by the bright yellow tourist cards that gave information on the classical fireplace, original writing desk, and dining room set. They floated, ignored, in-between bunk-bed gurneys of the comatose. Swaddled in thick rubber sheets, oxygen mask strapped to their mouths, IV system built into their bedframes. An elaborate contraption held their heads in place, dripped water into their eyes. “Clones,” Peter explained. “Genetically modified for rapid growth—all except the brains. Those are still in a fetal stage, good for basic bodily functions and not much else. Legally, these are about as human as toenail clippings. Hence the eyedrops. They don’t have enough consciousness to blink.” “Melissa,” Virus said, eying one. It was her, or at least, her face. Catheter running out from her, IV running in, there was something missing that had been there in even the most prosaic photos Virus had seen of the real girl. Like the difference between a drawing done in black and white and a paint-by-numbers picture. “Can I help you?” Callahan was the polar opposite of the Butcher. There was no indication that he wasn’t simply a handsome 31-year-old man at his physical peak. The fact that he was this way, year after year, operation after operation, was his advertisement of choice. “I see you’ve noticed our newest stock. Care to buy one wholesale? Like living dolls, they are. For a modest fee, we can upgrade them enough to sit upright. I’m told our clients find them very relaxing.” His eyes were green today. “Just scoping out the competition,” Peter said. He gave a jerk of his head toward Virus: “I’m her manager. We want to know how much we can get for her sequence.” Callahan looked her over. Virus preened. “Ethnically hard to pin down. That’ll hurt her in some markets, but the light skin is very attractive. Nicely exotic. You know what the process will entail, madame?” “I told her,” Peter said. “She’ll be on hand for you to take fresh samples, tissue, blood, and bone marrow. As long as she stays, she gets paid. What we’re really concerned about are the accommodations.” The upstairs hadn’t been renovated—more plastic, more bodies—but above the attic they’d put in a ladder, a hatch, leading up to a third story that perched over the rest of the house like a spider about to bite down on the fly. It was supported on metal stalks that had surrounded the house like prison bars. Inside, the space was vast and expansive, an apartment block. “We have all the latest comforts,” Callahan said. “Television, wi-fi, individual bathrooms, private bedding—my talent is far happier here than they’d be working as a wage slave for some mega.” “I’m sure,” Peter said, then stopped as a door opened ahead of them, letting out a gale of steam and the Melissa girl, stepping out in a bathrobe and slippers, looking at them with interest in her eyes. “Oh, hi,” Peter said, then “Virus?” She took hold of Callahan’s head and slammed it into the wall. He dropped. “Nicely exotic!” “I know,” Peter said. “I was objecting to that too. But, like, mentally, so I didn’t give it away. But just so you know, I didn’t think that was cool.” Virus ignored him. “Melissa? We’re here to rescue you.” Melissa was wide-eyed at Callahan’s unconsciousness. “Rescue me? From what?” *** Her room was well-sized, cozy, just starting to be colonized by posters and knick-knacks. Once they’d explained who they were and how they weren’t going to hurt her, she put on a record to steady herself. Opened a can of Coke. “Mr. Flaxen, he never felt comfortable, I don’t think. It’s hard for me to understand, because I do feel comfortable. That’s the point of me. I’m… relaxing.” Virus never scheduled any time in her day for bullshit. “We got it. You’re his sex slave and you ran.” “No, no, that’s not it at all.” Melissa sipped her drink. She sat down, then thought better of it, standing again and sitting back down on the bed, lying against the headboard like she was on a therapist’s couch. “He liked… dressing me and putting my make-up on and doing my hair. Changing me this way and that, making me look that way and this way… then he sent me off on these… errands, I guess. Scenarios… dates… I don’t know. I’d go to school for a week, or to summer camp. Once, he hired some girls to have a sleepover with me. And then he made me tell him about it. Everything, every detail, over and over again. Once he had me do it for him in bed—while he was in bed, I mean—you know, like a bedtime story?” “I don’t understand,” Virus said, though Peter was rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “I didn’t either, at first. When I realized it, I had to leave… you see, Mr. Flaxen wasn’t born a man. Not entirely a man. His sex organs—well, they were a little in between, and his parents chose for him to be a man. And he wasn’t ever entirely… right with that. And that’s why he made me.” “You’re his clone,” Peter said. “Can’t you see it, Virus? The neck, the chin? He had his sequence optimized, no doubt, went over it with a fine-toothed comb, but millions of dollars later, it’s still him.” “Her.” “Her,” Peter corrected himself. “And he had you… live the life he thought he could’ve led.” “I can sympathize with him having an unhappy childhood,” Melissa said. “But that doesn’t mean I want to be his happy one. He was never going to let me go. Not until he died, and I don’t want to wait that long.” “But when you do… I assume you’re in the will?” Virus asked. Melissa laughed humorlessly. “He wants me to take over the company when he’s gone. Lead his perfect life for him. All the power and all the beauty too. And then what? I clone myself again so I can vicariously enjoy having a life? No. No way. I’m not going back.” Virus glanced over at Peter. “I don’t know about you, but I was hired to solve a kidnapping, not commit one.” Peter held his hands up. “I’m liable to agree—but then, I already got my payment, and it’s non-refundable.” “Shush.” Virus’s phone beeped. “Second,” she said before answering it. “Nisa?” “Virus, hey, you’re never going to believe this, but I went over all the data and I think Melissa is some feminized clone of Flaxen!” “Yeah, we got that already.” There was a long silence on the other end. “Well, thanks for telling me before I spent four hours going over this computer shit!” “Love you too,” Virus said before she hung up. “Wife,” she explained. “Well, we can’t take her back,” Peter said. “And we can’t leave her here.” “Why not?” Melissa demanded shrilly. “Shut up,” Virus told her. “Why not, Peter?” “We found her. The next person Flaxen hires probably will too. And I’m guessing not every PI in the city shares our moral rectitude.” “I have an idea,” Virus said. *** They picked up donuts on the way back to thank Nisa for her hard, wasted work. She ate four of them. “Elegant in its simplicity, I think,” Peter said. “We took one of the clone bodies, used some leftover tech from the Cybersex Arcade to zap her into consciousness, gave that back to Flaxen.” Nisa held up her finger to stop him as she washed her donuts down with a tall glass of milk. “But if the first Melissa couldn’t stand living that way, why would a second?” “That’s the tricky part,” Peter admitted. “Tell her, Vi.” “We used my brain,” Virus said. “Copied it into one of Melissa’s bodies. The other me’s pretty used to that sort of thing; the fetish stuff. And in a couple years, he’ll keel over and she’ll get all his stuff. Win-win.” “But…” Nisa started. “You—the other you—she won’t be able to be with me. Her wife.” Virus looked around. “That’s what I’ll be doing. Why would she care?” “Because she’s you. And you, apparently, are just fine with cutting me out of your life.” “Not cut out. Taken away. I’m just fine with things being taken away from me because I was a fucking hooker and you get used to it. If you can’t hang on to it, let it go, it’ll only slow you down. Right, Peter?” “Uhhh…” Peter said. “So while I need you, while I can’t live without you, I could get killed and you wouldn’t even care!” “Not the same thing!” Virus protested. “She knows I’ll take care of you, so why should she worry?” “Because I am supposed to be your other half, no matter how many bodies you have!” Nisa grabbed the donuts. “You know what? I’m going to be by myself for a while. You should be able to handle that.” It wasn’t too intimidating, her five feet and six inches storming off, but the door slamming behind her was plenty loud. “What?” Virus asked of Peter. “It wasn’t even me, it was the… copy. I didn’t do anything!” “I might not be the best person to go to for relationship advice,” Peter demurred. “Why shouldn’t I go to you?” Virus asked. “You have to be good at relationships, you had a threesome.”