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Zeo Grey
Some Like It Hot
Thu Nov 19, 2009 6:10pm
174.18.2.85

NRP: Didn't mention Cross because... Well because this is long as it is damn it!

Since Damien's return there had been some serious partying going on. Booze flowed like water and liquored up Mercs charged around the Stomping Grounds like fiends from the pit. Delighted whoops and testosterone-fueled screams echoed ceaselessly around the desert compound. Yet there were still some quiet spaces to be found.

One such place was a particular room in the veterans' barracks. Bathed in cool shadows the only sounds in the room was the constant clattering of a faulty air conditioner and the gentle rustle of pages emanating from a desk. The lamp, a cheap oft-repaired assembly, provided the only light in the room. Seated at the desk was an infamous figure dressed in reploid under-armor.

Licking his thumb Zeo Grey turned a page in the book and continued perusing it. Next to his elbow a battered metal canteen gleamed. From the odor wafting from the uncapped canteen it could be filled with only one thing. Garns 42. One of the most potent – and illegal – alcohols to ever be distilled in the Free Zone.

Most who knew the berserker would have been surprised to find him sitting alone in his room during one of the largest parties the Stomping Grounds had ever witnessed. And reading a book no less. Incongruous as it was for the berserker he found the situation suiting to his mood. It was entirely too obvious that were he to join in the party as many of his friends had things would only end badly. The last thing he needed or wanted was another trip to the infirmary tacked on to his tab.

So he sat and read and was utterly unaware when young Tycho Sanders uttered “Presto-Changeo!” And doomed the Freelance Reploids to one of the odder fates they had been forced to endure.

Like a thief the wall of white light approached Zeo from behind. Only a stirring of his most primal instincts sent Zeo whirling around to see his fate face-to-face. The wall slammed into him like a freight train and all was blackness.

***


Lina slowly opened her eyes and gripped her head as a brief flare of pain forced them closed again. The last thing she clearly remembered was sliding down a man's waist to press her small synthetic breasts against his crotch as a heavy bass beat thumped in the background.

Opening her eyes again she examined her surroundings and lurched drunkenly backwards as her processors showed she was definitely not at Wade's any more. Somehow she was in a mercenary's private quarters. Panic gripped her. I must have been drugged...raped?

As her mind whirled with theories she began to notice distinct differences about herself. A new sense of power filled her limbs and when she examined her hands she found them to be much larger than they ought to have been, pale where her flesh was deliciously tanned, and covered in thousands of minute scars that she recognized as having come from innumerable beam saber duels.

Stunned by the revelation she slowly clambered to her feet, dazedly noting her armored boots, and headed for the nearest mirror. The small chunk of burnished metal revealed a face she knew almost as well as her own.

That of Zeo Grey.

“I...how is this –“ She snapped her mouth shut with an audible clack. The rasping voice matched the face completely but she knew the words had been hers. “Am I dreaming?” She touched her face and the image of Zeo in the mirror did the same. Violet eyes widened as realization dawned.

“What the fuck!?”

***


Zeo's eyes snapped open and he was instantly aware that something was drastically wrong. Somehow he was in Wade's Bar and Brothel and sitting on someone's lap at that. A hand clasped his breast firmly and emerald green eyes widened in shock and horror.

I. Don't. Have. Breasts.

The veteran mercenary knocked the hand away and leapt to his feet spinning around to confront the fondler. He was a human, late forties, with a spade of a beard hanging from his chin and heavily pierced eyebrows.

“C'mon babe. Don't be like that. I'm payin' for the whole package y'know? Lemme finish my drink and we'll head on back to my quarters.”

“No.”

Spade-beard sputtered as his drunk mind tried to process the reply. “No?” He finally echoed. His face contorted. “What d'ya mean NO!? You're a fucking WHORE! Whores don't say no!” The human slammed a handful of crumpled and dirty credits on the laquered tabletop. “Tab's paid. Now lets you and I get to screwin'.”

“What part of no is beyond you?” Zeo snarled, stepping back from the drunk mercenary. When the human rose to his feet Zeo found he had to tilt his head back to look him in the eye. Few beings had ever been that much taller than the berserker and none of them had been human.

With a palpable sense of dread Zeo looked down at himself and let out a disgusted snort. The body he inhabited – obviously not his own – wore an outfit barely a half-step above being nude. A metal brazier covered small breasts with a long loincloth of whispy red silk held in place by a delicately wrought chain was practically the entirety of it. The only other accoutrement was a pair of bronze-colored Greco-Roman sandals.

The human struck, wrapping a meaty hand around his small wrist. “Don' worry baby. I forgive ya.” The veteran mercenary wrinkled his nose. The mercenary's breath wreaked of cheap booze, too many cigarettes, and not nearly enough tooth brushing. Deciding he'd had enough Zeo wrenched his arm free of the man's grasp.

Or tried to.

The attempt proved so feeble the human didn't even notice the effort.

“Wonderful.”

***


It had taken only moments for Lina to figure out how to put on her new body's armor – she had plenty of experience in getting armor off – and as she moved briskly down the hall the whore reveled in the open fear her scowling face caused. Rumors were rampant in Wade's but she had never imagined anything said about the berserker to even come close to the reality.

Stopping in front of a particular door in the Soldiers' barrack Lina raised her hand to knock then lowered it and clumsily drew one of the heavy pistols holstered at her waist. Pressing the barrel against the lock she pulled the trigger twice and flinched back as shrapnel and sparks exploded outwards. With her free hand she tried to wrench the door open and found even the enhanced strength of Zeo's body lacking.

“Not gonna let a damn door stop me.” Lina muttered. “But what to do?” The girl was so lost in pondering she didn't even notice the looks garnered by her impromptu and decidedly one-sided conversation. Even in the mad-house environment the Stomping Grounds had become further signs of insanity from Zeo Grey was worthy of note.

“Is Zeo talking to himself?” A passing reploid asked. His friend, inhabiting a female body, shrugged.

“Who cares? Asshole's bat-shit crazy anyways. Now c'mon, I wanna try this body out before whatever-the-fuck's happening wears off.”

Scratching the back of her head Lina bit back a curse as her knuckles cracked against the hilt of a beamsaber. Then she grinned as her fingers explored the hilt. Unsheathing the weapon she tested the heft of it then activated the blade almost jumping as the neon blue energy sprang from the hilt with a sharp electrical snap followed by a steady hum.

Stepping back she pointed the tip of the blade at the door and hesitantly poked it. The blade passed through the cheap metal so fast she nearly stumbled. A wicked grin slid across narrow lips as the prostitute lifted her weapon high and brought it down in a lightning-fast diagonal cut.

***


Tycho Sanders dropped the wand and nearly the contents of his lower intestine when Damien stormed into his half-furnished office. Even with his over-large sunglasses on the intern could see the outrage etched across his new CO's face.

“Who touched my wand?” The necromancer snarled.

Jael, still getting used to the fact that he was lodged in Sarge's body, blinked. Or tried to. Turns out the venerable green war-bot didn't actually have eyelids. “Your what sir?”

“My. Fucking. Wand.”

“Erm... Dunno sir. One second I was reviewing some code for a new training simulation as per Cylecks' request, the next I'm standing in your office and... not in my own shoes if you catch my meaning.”Jael shuffled his immense armored boots.

“Stop. That's a priceless Persian Rug you're stamping all over.” Damien grated. Suddenly he swirled to face Tycho. “You.”

“M-me sir?” Memories of his too short life began flashing before Tycho's eyes.

Damien's eyes began to burn red behind his sunglasses as he detected the residue of his wand on the intern's soul. “You are responsible for this.” Tycho's knees hit the floor with a painful sounding crack and he started begging as he'd never begged before. Blubbering apologies and heartfelt promises to never again touch anything magical so fast he was wheezing for breath within the first twenty seconds. Jael actually felt sorry for the fool until it occurred to him that if he were in Sarge's body it wasn't at all unlikely that someone else was currently inhabiting his.

“You mother fucker!” He had barely gone more than two steps when Damien halted him.

“I'll met out his punishment later. Right now I need to figure out how to reverse this idiocy.” Kneeling down the necromancer began searching through a pile of books covering a pair of legs Jael vaguely recognized.

Damien paused and looked up at Jael. “Instead of standing there like an idiot how about you get that wand put away and help me find my grimoire.”

“Y-yessir!”

***


Lina hadn't known what to expect when she slashed the door down but what she got was three precisely placed plasma rounds that sent her flying backwards against the wall. Crawling frantically sideways the whore clutched her legs up against her chest and hyperventilated as an occasional plasma bullet drilled into the wall.

“You fucking crazy reploids stay the hell away from me!” A harried voice screamed from inside the room. “I got plenty a' ammo and I'm more'n willing to kill if I gotta!”

“Well this is fucking ridiculous.”

Lina gaped as she heard her own voice. There, on the other side of the door, was her body. It looked worse for wear. The knuckles of both hands were split and she had apparently acquired a black eye as well as a broken nose.

“What did you do to me!?”

Her body shrugged. “Nothing. Most of this was from the guy you were giving a lap dance to.” Her body examined her knuckles with a crooked grin. “These were all me though.”

Lina shook her head. “I can't believe you'd do that to me.”

“What'd you expect me to do? Get groped and sodomized by a meatsack that smelled worse than a three day old corpse?”

“You beat up my Mark!?” Lina groaned then jumped as another plasma bolt smashed against the wall.

“Who you talking to out there? I hear voices!”

“Pipe down.” Zeo grated.

There was a brief pause then: “Lina? That you? Listen damn it. For the last time I ain't gonna pay no dumb ass fee for an accident!”

Lina let out a shocked sound. Zeo found it odd to hear such a sound come from his mouth. “Accident!? You son of a bitch!” She was suddenly on her feet and charging through the doorway. A flicker of ultimate blackness caught Zeo's attention as his body swept past him.

“Oh hell.”

***


Axel heaved an electronic sigh, resulting in the AC unit for the Trasim cutting on and turning off, and wished he had hands to cup his chin in.

The ploy was not working well at all.

At this point he had the nude holographs going through complex gymnastic routines out of utter boredom.

Who'd think you could grow tired of titties?

“What the – that's SO perverted!” Axel started at the familiar voice.

“Zeo!”

Two figures he could just see outside the door paused and a female voice replied.

“Axel?”

Axel would have blinked had he eyelids. “Zeo?”

A shapely female in a brief metal costume sauntered into the Trasim. Zeo, entering cautiously behing her, appeared clumsy in comparison. As soon as the two were in the simulation room Axel formed a replicant of his body.

“Damn I'm glad t'see you!” He boomed, still not entirely certain which body was which. “Something strange going on around here.”

“Really.” Zeo and the female said simultaneously.

The female glared up at Zeo's face. “Oi. Shut it. Let the grown-ups talk.”

Instead of responding with some acerbic reply as Axel expected, Zeo simply nodded his head, clasping his hands in front of his belt buckle a sorry expression on his face.

“Oooooooooooookay...” Axel turned his simulacrum to the female. “I take it this has affected the whole base then?”

“Yup.”

“What're we going to do about it?”

The female shrugged. “Wait for it to blow over?”

“Huh... You're usually more of a go-getter than that. What gives? You finding out you're liking that female chassis?”

Zeo rolled his eyes. “Or am I concerned with what my DE core might do with that idiot woman's consciousness in my body instead of mine.”

The holographic Axel flinched then nodded.

“Good point.”

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