[ LOCATION: SECTOR 4 - FINANCIAL DISTRICT (B1 CORRIDOR) ]
[ TIME UNTIL BREACH: 00:00:10 ]
"Move!"
Viktor Kaelen screamed the command, his voice ragged, tearing through the raw scrape of his throat.
He didn't look back. He didn't need to. The sound of wet, slapping footsteps echoing off the concrete walls told him everything he needed to know. The Void-Stalker was gaining.
The corridor was a blurred nightmare of flickering fluorescent lights and gore-streaked walls. Viktor's boots—heavy Combat Jump Boots—slammed against the linoleum, slipping on the slick patches of blood left by the bank's previous security team. He raised his massive Desert Eagle Mark XIX, aiming blindly over his shoulder.
BOOM. BOOM.
The recoil kicked hard against his wrist, the muzzle flash illuminating the hallway in a strobing white glare.
For a split second, he saw it. A nightmare of shifting shadows and elongated limbs, skittering along the ceiling like a spider made of oil. The rounds hit the creature's carapace, sparking harmlessly off the obsidian chitin.
'Ricochet,' his mind analyzed, cold and detached even as his heart hammered against his ribs. 'Angle of incidence too shallow. Armor rating exceeds caliber penetration. We are effectively throwing pebbles at a tank.'
"Viktor! The Vault!"
Anya Vostrov surged past him, a massive blur of silver steel and blonde hair. She was the Tank—his Shield—but right now, she was running on fumes. Her heavy Steel Cuirass was scarred, the metal grooved deep by claws that had nearly gutted her three floors up.
They skidded around the corner. Ahead, the massive circular blast door of the Main Vault stood open, a dark mouth promising safety.
"Get inside!" Anya roared.
She stopped. She turned. She planted her feet.
"Anya, no!"
She didn't listen. She raised her weapon—a jagged, concrete-encrusted length of rebar—and braced herself against the doorframe. She was buying him the two seconds he needed to reach the control panel.
The Void-Stalker shrieked, dropping from the ceiling. It didn't slow down. It became a missile of shadow and claws.
CRUNCH.
The impact was sickening. The monster slammed into Anya with the force of a freight train.
Viktor watched in horror as her Steel Cuirass buckled. The metal groaned, denting inward with a sound like a car crash. Anya was thrown backward, flying through the air to land in a heap inside the vault.
Viktor slammed his hand onto the emergency override.
KLANG-HISSS.
The pneumatic locks engaged. The massive steel door began to swing shut. The Void-Stalker lunged for the gap, a razor-sharp claw swiping through the closing space.
Viktor raised the Desert Eagle. One bullet left in the chamber. He didn't aim for the head; he aimed for the floor track.
BOOM!
The concrete track exploded. The debris jammed the monster's claw for a microsecond—just long enough for the three-foot-thick steel door to slam home.
THOOM!
The impact didn't just shake the room; it tasted like metal. The locks spun. The seals engaged.
Silence.
[ LOCATION: THE IRON VAULT (B2) ]
[ TIME UNTIL BREACH: 00:07:42 ]
Dust—a choking, gray mixture of pulverized concrete and rust—rained down from the ceiling, catching in the beam of the single, flickering red emergency light that strobed overhead.
Flash... Dark. Flash... Dark.
Viktor slumped against the wall, sliding down until he hit the floor. His lungs burned. His hands were trembling, not from fear, but from the Static buzzing in his skull.
[ WARNING: Entropic Buildup at 96% ]
[ ALERT: Host Sanity Critical. Neural Pathways Overheating. ]
"Shut up," he hissed, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes.
He forced himself to stand. He was a Tactician. He had to think. He had to scavenge.
He moved to the wall of Safety Deposit Boxes. He began ripping them open, his fingers tearing at the thin metal doors.
'Ammo. Meds. Adrenaline. Anything.'
He dumped the contents of Box 104 onto the floor. Gold bars. Diamond necklaces. Stacks of cash wrapped in plastic.
"Trash," he muttered, kicking a brick of hundred-dollar bills aside.
In this new world, a diamond ring was worth less than a bottle of water. The System didn't care about the Federal Reserve. It only cared about Sin and XP. He found nothing. No weapons. No medical supplies. Just the useless debris of a dead civilization.
SKREEEE!
The sound tore through the vault—a high-pitched shriek of claws dragging against the door he had just sealed.
'Structural Analysis,' Viktor's mind supplied unbidden. 'Target: Level 10 Void-Stalker. Force exertion: 4 tons. The upper hinge is damaged. Conclusion: We have seven minutes before we are canned meat.'
"Commander..."
The voice was a jagged whisper. Viktor turned.
Anya was huddled in the darkest corner. The sight was a tragedy in High Definition.
She was massive—a six-foot-two Amazon of muscle. But right now, she looked broken. Her heavy breastplate was caved in, pressing dangerously against her ribs. But it wasn't the physical damage that terrified him.
It was her skin.
It was Alabaster. Marble-white, translucent, and radiating a terrifying, unnatural cold. Moisture in the air was freezing around her, turning into tiny crystals of ice that drifted to the floor like snow.
'Mana Hypothermia,' Viktor analyzed. 'The Curse of the Tank. She blocked a magic-infused attack. Her body absorbed the kinetic mana, but she has no way to vent it. She's freezing her own blood.'
Clack... clack... clack...
Her teeth chattered—a skeletal rhythm.
"I... I can't feel my legs," she stammered, her golden eyes dilated into black pools of panic. "Viktor. It's cold. It's so deep."
Viktor looked at her. Then he looked at his empty gun.
'Calculation: If I fight with fists, survival probability is 0%. If I neutralize her Mana Chill, her combat efficiency restores to 100%. If I discharge my Entropy, my tactical processing speed returns to optimal.'
It was simple math. Cruel, cold, thermodynamic math.
He crawled toward her. His Combat Boots crunched on the layer of frost that had formed on the concrete floor around her.
He reached out. His hand hovered over her cheek. The heat radiating from his palm met the cold emanating from her face, creating a visible wisp of steam.
He touched her. Zzzzt. Static electricity snapped between them.
"Ah!" Anya gasped. "Warm. God, you're so warm."
[ PHASE 1: THE SENSORY IGNITION ]
Viktor didn't speak. He went to work.
His hands found the latches of her leather harness. They were shaking. He fumbled with the freezing metal, snapping the releases with a sharp Click. He shoved the heavy Steel Cuirass off her shoulders.
CLANG.
It hit the floor with a deafening noise.
Underneath, she wore a black Compression Tank Top. It was soaked with cold sweat—a wet seal suctioned to her skin. Viktor hooked his fingers into the collar and ripped.
RIIIP.
The spandex shredded. Anya violently shuddered as the freezing air hit her damp skin. Her massive, heavy breasts tumbled free—pale, yielding globes of soft flesh that spilled over her ribcage. The nipples were dark pink, stiff and hard as pebbles.
Viktor moved instantly to cover her warmth with his own. He cupped her left breast, kneading the dense, doughy weight of her flesh, forcing his heat into her frozen tissue.
"Viktor..." she moaned, her head falling back. "It burns... it feels so good."
He leaned in and captured her mouth.
He crushed his lips to hers, sweeping his tongue inside, tasting the iron of blood and the salt of her fear. He devoured her breath, sucking on her tongue, exchanging hot saliva until her lips were swollen.
He broke the kiss and dropped his head to her chest. He latched onto her stiff nipple.
Slurp.
He sucked hard, swirling his tongue around the sensitive nub. Anya arched her back, her hips bucking against the floor.
"Help me," she begged, pressing her flushing breasts against his face. "Burn it out of me. Put it inside."
[ PHASE 2: THE PRIMER ]
Viktor stood up, towering over her huddled form. He popped the Cobra Buckle of his belt and shoved his Ripstop Cargos down.
His cock sprang free—a magnificent, throbbing monolith of purple flesh. It was fully engorged, the thick veins wrapping around the shaft like steel cables. The head was flared wide, dark and angry, weeping a clear bead of sticky nectar.
"Open," he commanded.
He grabbed a handful of her blonde hair and pulled her head back. She looked up at him, her eyes tracing the length of his veiny iron.
"I need heat," he whispered. "Drain me."
Anya didn't hesitate. She opened her mouth and took him.
Gawk.
She swallowed him whole. The sensation was decadent. The wet, suffocating heat of her throat encased his shaft, sliding over his sensitive skin like hot silk.
Gluck. Gluck.
Viktor groaned, his hands tightening in her hair. He began to pump into her face, using her mouth to wake up his system. The wet suction, the warmth of her tongue swirling around his sensitive head, the vibration of her throat as she swallowed him—it was electrifying.
He pulled out, leaving a string of glistening saliva connecting his tip to her bruised lips.
"Turn over," he ordered. "I need to bury myself in you."
[ PHASE 3: THE VELVET GRIND ]
Anya scrambled onto her hands and knees. The position exposed her completely.
Her ass was wide, pale, and heart-shaped. Between her thighs, her pussy was a vivid, glistening orchid—swollen pink lips parted to reveal the weeping heat inside.
Viktor knelt behind her. He grabbed her hips, his thumbs digging into the soft white flesh. He rubbed the head of his scepter against her wet entrance, spreading her honey-like juices until she was slick.
He pushed.
Sloosh.
He sank into paradise. Her walls wrapped around him—tight, hot, and incredibly soft. It felt like sliding into molten velvet.
"Oh god... Viktor!" Anya cried out. "It's huge!"
He buried himself to the hilt, bottoming out against her womb with a heavy Thud.
He began to drill her.
Plap. Plap. Plap.
The sound was intoxicating—the wet slap of skin, the squelch of nectar churning between them. He pistoned his hips with a violent, mechanical rhythm. He reached down and slapped her ass hard.
Smack!
The flesh rippled under his hand, turning a bright red.
"Take it," he snarled. "You're a Tank. Take the hit."
He grabbed her waist, pulling her back onto his cock with every thrust. He dragged his sensitive head over the internal ridges of her canal, feeling the velvet texture grip him tight.
"Deeper!" she begged. "Split me open!"
[ PHASE 4: THE ECSTASY ]
Viktor pulled out. Schlop.
"On your back," he commanded.
Anya flipped over, spreading her legs wide. Her face was flushed a deep crimson, sweat tracking through the grime on her chest.
Viktor moved between her legs. He drove back inside, impaling her to the hilt.
Schlick.
This time, the angle was deeper. He was hitting the firm, rubbery ring of her cervix with every thrust.
He leaned down and captured her mouth in a brutal kiss.
[ SYSTEM ALERT: NEURAL SYNC ESTABLISHED ]
The bond snapped into place. It was a drug. A wave of white-hot euphoria flooded Viktor's mind. He didn't just feel the friction; he felt her desperate need to be filled. He felt the exquisite, burning itch in her womb. Her pleasure fed his, creating a feedback loop of sensation that threatened to burn his mind out.
"Viktor... I'm melting!" she sobbed into his mouth. "Breed me! Fill me with your essence!"
[ PHASE 5: THE LIQUID GOLD ]
The pressure in his groin hit critical mass.
"I'm gonna blow," Viktor roared, his voice a guttural growl.
He slammed into her one last time, grinding his pelvis against hers to seal the connection.
He erupted.
Spurt. Spurt.
He squeezed his eyes shut as he dumped his load. He pumped thick ropes of boiling hot seed deep into her womb.
It wasn't just a squirt; it was a flood. It felt like he was pouring liquid gold into her, emptying his life force into her greedy, milking walls. He pumped jet after jet of boiling hot cream into her, inflating her lower belly with the sheer volume of his release.
Anya seized, her internal muscles spasming as she took every drop.
He held himself deep, letting his cock twitch and throb as he drained his balls completely.
[ THE AFTERMATH & BREACH ]
Finally, breathless and drained, he pulled out.
Schlop.
The sound was lewd and wet.
As his thick, purple head slid free, Anya's entrance didn't close. It remained gaping open—a swollen, red circle of stretched meat.
Gravity took over.
A messy, gluttonous overflow of white seed bubbled out from her gaping hole. It ran down her inner thighs in thick, heavy rivers, dripping onto the cold concrete floor with a soft Splat.
Viktor looked down at the mess. Her pussy was wrecked, swollen, and leaking his elixir.
"Good girl," he panted.
Ding!
[ SYSTEM NOTIFICATION ]
Entropy Purged.
Status: [Euphoric Afterglow]
Reward: [Sin Points: +500]
Shop Unlocked: [Item: .50 Caliber Armor-Piercing Round (x1)]
Viktor wiped the sweat from his forehead. The static was gone. The cold logic was back.
"Purchase." Vwummm. The heavy brass round materialized in his gun.
"Gear up," he ordered, his voice flat. "We breach in ten seconds."
He stood up, wincing as the cold air hit his damp skin. He hauled his Ripstop Cargos up, stuffing his softening meat back into his underwear. He zipped up, the fabric pulling tight. He didn't bother wiping; the sticky friction of the drying elixir on his thighs was just another reality of war.
Anya scrambled up.
Splats.
A heavy amount of white seed leaked from her pussy, running down her legs and pooling around her boots. She ignored it. She grabbed her Steel Cuirass and slammed it against her bare chest.
Clang.
She hissed as the cold metal bit into her swollen, bitten nipples, but she tightened the straps with brutal efficiency. She grabbed her jagged rebar weapon.
She stood beside him—naked beneath her armor, thighs slick with his seed, eyes burning with restored power.
Viktor racked the slide of his gun. CH-CHICK.
He turned his gaze to the vault door. The blue ring of his [Tactical Overlay] spun to life.
"Stand clear," Viktor commanded. "I'm going to teach that thing a lesson in ballistics."