Hunter Killer Creature - Chapter 2

Aftercare is a vital part of any act of emotionally heightened intimacy. Valeria was pretty sure that, except for that one time with Callula, waterboarding did not count as aftercare. It didn’t even help with their hangover or scratch that dry itch in the back of her throat. She almost wished they were just trying to drown her instead since then at least she could drink the water. Perhaps the literal torture would be more effective if the dissociation hadn’t been persisting from the moment she first saw a man-shaped machine plummet from the sky and turn into a fireball on the ground.

Between laps of simulated suffocation Val actually paused to think about that. Machines had fallen all over the city she had been living in. She hadn’t been living there *long* mind you, but even a brief stay in a developed location meant meeting people. Making connections.

That city was gone now. Her coworkers, brief as she knew them, were probably all dead. Her desk had been on the 12th floor, there wasn’t enough time between the first burst of fire and the building’s collapse to get everyone out of there. Willow, the lady who worked across from her, wasn’t going to show up to brag about her dog anymore.

*Oh god what happened to her dog*!?

For some reason thinking about a literal canine is what made Valeria actually feel an emotion again. What happened to the dog? Was it at home? Was Buster okay? He could maybe tear open a food bag if he got desperate but would he be able to get out or was Willow’s apartment one of the many randomized winners of the “get caught in the spray of a weapon whose barrel is the width of a person”  lottery.

Their chest tightened rapidly, previously from the aforementioned suffocation, now from the rapidly approaching ball of Trauma that was actually starting to sink into their squishy brain. There were a dozen and a half other small things they’d never have again. A sandwich from that corner store that was, while not *great* was admittedly pretty good for the price and honestly it was bad in a way that satisfied an urge good food could not. She wouldn’t be able to get that morning coffee near the office, where the barista always winked and passed her an extra scone when she was there- was she flirting? Had Valeria been an oblivious fucking lesbian about that? Well that was a shame because they were pretty sure they saw that whole coffee shop get run over.

They really hoped she wasn’t working that day. They also hoped she had a long commute.

*Oh gods above and below what happened to the dog!?*

The next time her torturers yanked the wet rag off of her face she lurched up, dry heaved into the air, and shouted, “Is Buster okay!?”

The faceless goon that had been interrogating her seemed both confused and struck by the line. “...what?”

The two men behind her both looked at eachother with uncertainty, shrugged, and gagged her with the wet towel before pouring water all over her face all over again. This time Val kicked and screamed. There wasn’t actually any information they could give the weirdos, which made the whole exercise feel extra difficult. Tell me what you know, I don’t know anything, I don’t believe you, I’m being honest! So on and so forth with a lot of crying, a brief stint of vomiting, and at least one incident of a doctor coming in to make sure they didn’t *actually* die in the middle of it all. At least there was medical care. Oh that humor was probably the dissociation taking over again. Hello old friend, let’s not think about Buster- *oh gods above and below is Buster okay!?*

The next time Val lurched up she started to shout to find that she was still gagged, and the stranger she’d been expecting had been replaced with a group of stuffed business suits with folders all staring at her in visible confusion. “...really? This is what you’ve been doing with her?”

The two men behind her shrugged. Really? That was the best they could say to why they’ve been literally torturing her all this time!? She shouted into the cloth gag. The man sighed and gestured for someone to bring a table between them before taking a seat himself. 

“I’m sorry about the treatment. You’re…” He looked down at his paperwork. “Valeria Colt, correct?”

Val tried to answer, but, well, the gag in her mouth and the accumulated slime in her throat from all the waterboarding wasn’t interested in helping with that.

“Please understand, we were running a background check on you after the incident to make sure you wouldn’t be a security risk.” Intense background check, then. “The results were not much.” Oh that’s good. “As in, suspiciously not much.” Val furrowed her brows. Why the fuck would- “But, unfortunately, Claw seems to be intent on forcing our hands in this matter regardless of how much does or doesn’t come up about you.” He deposited a folder of paperwork onto the table, opened it, and turned it around towards her before placing a pen atop it. “Valeria, we can’t simply let you walk away from here after what you’ve seen already, and at the moment Hound is in need of a new copilot, which, Claw seems to have decided quite insistently- we have the bodies to prove this- that it should be you. As such, we are willing to offer you a job in that position starting today.”

…what? Val tried to ask the thought out loud but it just came out as a wet muffled noise.

“....Hells’ sake someone ungag her.”

Oh thank goodness she could talk again. “What!?” She snapped.

“Hound, the pilot you interacted with yesterday. You’ll be her co-pilot, as well as the one responsible for taking care of her and ensuring she doesn’t lash out, sort of like, well, basically like her handler too.”

“...what????”

“The pay is listed here, as well as the benefits. You’ll start tomorrow and we can give you training to get you up to par.

“...You want to *hire* me!?”

“No. But Claw mutilated the last man who tried to get you removed from the premises, so we don’t have a choice. It’s either this or we keep you in a cell high up enough for Claw to reach you for the next 20 years, your call.”

Val stared at the document, then up at the man, then back down to the documents again. “...what?”

One of the goons behind her sighed and grabbed the back of her hair, while the other grabbed the wet towel again.

“Wait,waitWAITWAIT!!” Val shouted. “OKAY I’LL SIGN I’LL SIGN IT I’LL SIGN-”

---

Sifting through the massive pile of paperwork almost felt worth it for the touch of sunlight Val got after. It’d mostly been nonsense to her, though they’d gotten a copy for “personal perusal” whenever they had the time for it- oh who was she kidding. As soon as sun touched skin she bolted. The men in suits had turned left, she immediately turned right and ran. Maximum speed, out across the courtyard and beyond the gleaming buildings.

To Val’s shock, nobody actually bothered to chase her.

Eventually she made it past the hangars, and only then did she start to see what could be considered an outside for this military base - no, no, the paperwork specified this was a corporate structure- *why would they care about misgendering a corporate installation!?*- and, to their dismay, see into the hangar to witness that mecha from before, gaping wound in her chest now a mass of naked purple-hued muscle fibers pulsing where metal should have been, curled up and napping like a dog. It poked… her? Did that guy say the robot was she/her? Misgendering a mecha felt more wrong than a building, to Valeria. She poked her ears up from the bundle as Val ran past, then perked her head up and locked eyes with the tiny human.

To Val’s continued horror, Claw started wagging her tail too.

She knew what came next.

Her mad dash became a desperate sprint for survival. Adrenaline woke up for an extra squeeze of juice as she heard the machine bolt into life behind her. Claw leapt out of the hangar and started running on all fours directly to her location, each footfall thundering into the ground as she grew closer and closer. Then suddenly their world once again turned into teeth and tongue as they were scooped bodily off the ground kicking and screaming, pressed tight against the roof of the machine’s mouth, and carried back to where the business suits were still waiting from the moment they first bolted.

Valeria did not like being deposited covered in dog slobber. Nor did she like the smug look on one of the guard’s faces.

They tried to turn and run again but were caught instantly by Claw’s big wet nose poking her back into place. Then tried a second time to be sure.

“Shall we carry on?” The lead man said.

“...yeah, yeah, fine.” Valeria sighed.

---

Valeria was given the tour by a cadre of burly guards, one corporate suit that later introduced himself as Caiman who absolutely refused to put on a nice customer service voice, and one very large unusually organic-seeming mecha that followed her around like an excited puppy. Sticking her nose through doorways or following close just outside a window. At least they had the good graces to give her a new outfit to replace the blood-, dust-, ash-, and other fluids best left unmentioned-stained clothes she had been stuck in since her capture. It was a branded set of overalls, but it was better than feeling dried *things* crack when she moved her legs.

Last came the most important step, meeting the pilot these corporate suits wanted them to be responsible for for some fucking reason. Of course her room was built at about Claw’s head height, in one of the buildings with all the metal and glass enabling a view wide enough for the mecha to poke her head through. Valeria would have preferred to discover this by reasoning it out based on comparative sizes. Instead she discovered it by Claw grabbing her by the scruff of her neck, lifting her bodily into the air kicking and screaming, and reaching through the window to drop her inside.

Oh gods above and below the smell. That was the first thing she noticed once she crossed the threshold. It was like sweat, but mixed with something that made her throat convulse and run right back out the window she came in, with an aftertaste that lingered on her tongue and coated the inside of her nose in it. She gasped, gagged, and then covered her mouth in a vain attempt to keep it out, but it was already too late. She could *feel* it coating her as she stayed here.

“Hola, lola.” Ah, there she is. The woman whose cum was currently being absorbed by their large intestine. Not that Val had much of a high horse to stand on, considering they were pretty sure their own cum was still inside the other’s cunt. The strange woman had been in the middle of a deadlift routine, and dropped the bar with a loud thunk before bounding over, towering over Val… and… covered in sweat and… uh, teeth… pointy…

Val gulped. She felt a bit lightheaded.

“Back for more? You weren’t half bad, I won’t say no if you ask-”

“She’s to be your new handler and co-pilot.” Caiman walked in through the front door. 

Instantly all the giddy energy Hound had built up in her body dropped, shoulders literally sagging and mouth tilting down into a lazy frown. “Oh,” Hound said flatly before walking back to her weights without a second glance. “Yay.” She did not sound enthused.

“Uh… hi?” Valeria managed to squeak out. Did they do something wrong? A bit of guilt gnawed at the edge of their brain- wait a second it’s *HER* fault they’re in this mess anyway!? Anger broiled up over the guilt at seeing her deflate like that. “Look, I don’t want to be here either.”

“Then leave,” Hound didn’t even bother looking back as she said that, already grabbing her bar and getting back into position like nothing had happened. “I’ve no doubt these assholes can have you replaced by the end of the day.”

“About that,” Caiman cut in. “She was chosen by Claw, specifically.”

Hound clenched her fists so tight that the metal bar in them warped and snapped sharply. “wHAT!?” She snarled. “Claw!? She whipped her head over to the window. The mecha was resting her snout through it and onto the floor, tail wagging happily behind her. “Really? *Her*? Look at her, she’s pathetic!”

It took Val’s brain a moment to remember that they were the topic of discussion. “...hey!”

“Shut up.” Hound snapped.

“The paperwork has already been signed, she’ll be getting training starting tomorrow-”

“It’s *your fault* I’m stuck here!” Val interrupted.

Caiman continued without actually listening, “And we expect you two to be combat capable again by the end of the month-”

“This is a new low, even for me. Look at you, you’re shaking in your boots just looking at me. It’d be cute if you were a quick lay, but that’s about all you’re good for. Well, that and your tits, lola.”

“I have a name! And it’s not ‘boobs’!!”

“I don’t care.” Hound leaned down, wrenched one of the weight plates off of the remains of the bar, and sauntered over to Val.

“And my eyes are up here.” Val gestured to her face.

Hound kept staring at her chest. “Yeah, I don’t care about that either. Here, hold this.” She dropped the plate into Val’s arms, and the weight hit them hard enough that it slammed them down onto their back, pressure falling directly onto their ribs and choking them out through their chest. Val gasped harshly as they hit the floor and clutched the metal with their hands. They couldn’t manage the strength to move it off of them. “The fuck do you see in her, Claw?” Hound just turned to the robot.

Claw did not respond in any fashion that Val understood.

“-and you’ll be having simulation practice together three times a week until our standards are met. They’ll be sleeping in the room across from yours.” Caiman finished his ramble, snapped his folder shut, and then looked down at Val squirming on the floor. “Please try not to kill each other *too* quickly.” He, and the suits, left without helping.

Val wheezed out something that was meant to be a curse.

Hound came back and landed atop their waist, straddling them as she leaned over. “Look, lola, I don’t know who you are, I don’t give a fuck, and I don’t see a point in changing either of those. You’re going to end up dead or washed out in two weeks, and the only reason you’re even getting this far is because Claw thinks you’re cute. Get it?”

Bereft of the ability to breathe and rapidly feeling like their brain was turning into fuzz, Val chose to do one of the few things they still could and tried to spit on Hound.  It didn’t even get past their lips before failing and slipping down their own cheek instead.

Hound laughed a guttural, cruel tone before whipping forward and spitting right between their fucking eyes. “That’s how you do it, idiot.” She grabbed the weight and stood up, tossed it over her shoulder with ease, and pushed Val aside with her foot. “Now get the fuck out of here, I’m tired of seeing you.”

“Fhh-” Val wheezed for air. “Fhh-fuh-fffhh-ffffuck, you.”

“Save it for the cockpit.”