As his mother used to tell him and his sisters when the whole family sat together for dinner, ``The best way to your lover's heart, is through their stomach. That's how I fell in love with your father.'' and then she'd go on a romantic tirade of what Eric's father must have been like before he'd been shot in the head or something because the man she described was very different from the man he knew. Romantic, talkative, and a poet, all things that didn't fit the description of a man who ran a very violent but successful PMC/security company.
But his mother had some sense, and Skiv loved the treats he had `scavenged' from the upper levels of Atlantis when he was going by Drips. Hopefully, that would make her more willing to talk. Or the fox was just using this as an excuse to procrastinate in actually talking with her because he was too afraid of her rejection.
Eric scoured through the fridge in the dining room. Sure, he could use the food printer for something high class. But he'd been treating Skiv to things like corporate brand snack cakes, the kind that they don't sell printers for home use. The fox had made sure to keep a steady supply of them in the fridge for his trips down below. That and grabbing a water bottle or two didn't hurt. Even if Skiv was gene-cleansed, he had a feeling Mallory would incinerate any actual cup that touched her lips.
A saggy eyed vixen trudged her way into the kitchen, scratching her long blonde headfur and only stopping when she saw Eric at the fridge. ``Morning, little bro,'' she yawned, stretching her arms.
``It's past noon, Harriet,'' he answered, taking a chocolate creme-filled snack cake from the fridge. His sister blinked but said nothing as she took a jug of synthetic orange juice from the fridge.
``So, what was all the ruckus about?'' she asked, ``I tried closing the door to block it out, but by then I couldn't go back to sleep.''
``You should have been hours ago,'' he muttered. Being older than him, the fox had expected the vixen to have some modicum of responsibility. He still had the excuse of being in school, but she had long since finished her schooling and extra lessons. But rather than move on to work within father's company or with mom, she decided to go her own way as an `artist'. Or, in Eric's mind, a layabout who barely did anything.
He sighed. The whole situation with Skiv and Mallory had put him more on edge than he expected, ``It was nothing, sis. Mallory just had a less than friendly encounter with someone.''
``Oh,'' she sipped from her cup and headed to the food printer, ``So you finally brought over your date.''
``W-what?'' he dropped his snack cake only to catch it inches from the floor, ``I...I don't know-''
``Oh please, Eric, I'm an artist. You know what that means, right?'' she asked after typing in her meal. He had half a mind to say it meant she laid about doing nothing except drawing pictures, models, or writing terrible music. Instead, he kept his mouth shut and let her continue, ``It means I need to see all the angles. And from how cheery you've been these past few months, it's obvious you've been meeting with someone special.'' She leaned over to him, letting her full breasts creep out from her red bathrobe, ``So, what kind of fur is she, or is it a he?'' Harriet asked with a smile.
``She's a...a bunny,'' he said, ``And she's pissed.'' Eric didn't know why he was saying this as he sat down. Maybe he just needed someone to talk to about everything. Or a sounding board. Someone other than himself.
``Oh?'' his sister tilted her head, ``Why's that? Mallory's usually lovely with guests.''
``I...well I lied to her. I told her we didn't have slaves,'' he half-lied. Given everything that happened, the fox knew he should stop lying at this point. But a small part of him couldn't help it, he already had one headache today with Skiv and Mallory, he didn't need his sister riding his ass about bringing a dirty classless into their fold. Though, knowing Harriet, she might try to `borrow' Skiv for inspiration. And knowing Skiv, Harriet might get her throat slit.
He gulped.
``Oh...she one of those, `Slavery is barbaric' types?''
Eric nodded, ``I just...well I like her a lot, but I knew she was going to hate me if I told her the truth. Most people at school already dislike me because of dad.''
``Oh like they have room to judge,'' she muttered, ``Sure, a lot of our family income comes from the work of a PMC, but how's that any worse than overpriced insurance and ware? Or how about literal brainwashing slaves? Dad and sis end lives, not ruin them.''
``How's that help me with my problem?''
``It doesn't,'' she said with the blunt force trauma of a hammer, ``You lied to her, now it's time you come out with the truth. If she likes you well enough, then she'll forgive you and you both can move on.''
Looking at the snack cake in his hand, all Eric could think about was how best to phrase his words to Skiv. Maybe he didn't need to phrase them the best way but in his own way? Skiv was mad at him, but he'd been with her for three months. They'd scoured through the outskirts together, and helped each other through tight spots enough that surely, surely, she could forgive him if he came at her from the heart.
``But...what if she doesn't?'' he asked, that possibility lingering in the front of his mind, ``What if...what if she doesn't ever want to see me again?''
Harriet wrapped her arms around his head and pulled her brother in, ``It's ok,'' she cooed, ``If she doesn't, then you and her will just move on. As the ancients said, there's plenty of fish in the sea.''
Moving on wasn't really an option. At least, not for Skiv. The contract he wrote up was binding and being classless made her ineligible to fight back once her DNA was encoded. His throat clenched, he ruined her life trying to save it. All he had were childish hopes that she'd forgive him for it.
``I know you'll make the right choice,'' Harriet said as her meal readied itself, ``Now go get her.''
Smiling, he nodded before heading back out, ``Thanks, sis. Hope your dumb art finally gets done.''
``Well it's-did you just call my art dumb?'' she asked. Eric was gone before he could answer, with renewed confidence and a clearer head. Sure, Skiv was angry with him. But maybe, just maybe, she'd see past this situation and they could move on. She did want him to be with her, all that really changed was the venue. Plus, it was safer up here than at the lower levels.
``Skiv, I know you're mad,'' he said as the doors slide open, ``But I think we can-''
A grunt echoed through the room, followed by his desk chair bouncing off the glass, ``Why won't this facking glass break?!''
***
The maid was a problem. Skiv had her pride, but she didn't let that get in the way of survival. If she met someone like that raccoon bitch back home, she'd make it a point to stay as clear of her as possible. So that made escaping out the front or back door an impossibility. Pacing through the room she'd woken in, the rabbit tried to formulate a plan to get herself out of here.
At first anyway. It quickly devolved into her running every meeting with Drips she had over and over in her head. She knew something was off about him the first time she met him, no one in the slums was that cute. She gripped her hair, growling over and over about how she shouldn't be thinking about him.
But it all made sense. The treats, the lack of knowledge of basic survival, and the gun. He wasn't some east side scavenger, Drips was some classed facker. Not just any classed facker, no the gods just had to make it worse by making him part of Spartan. Least that's what she assumed since their emblem was printed on the door.
Taking a seat on the bed, she calmed her breathing. The front door wasn't an option, and if she had to guess, the backdoor wasn't either. The longer she stayed here, the more likely they were gonna put a collar around her neck. After that? She shuddered, having seen what happened to classless slaves rounded up before. They'd brainwash her, make her trapped in her own body so she couldn't even piss without their permission.
A breath escaped her lips, then another and another. Hyperventilating, the rabbit screamed and grabbed the chair, throwing it against the glass. She didn't know if there was anything immediate to grab outside the window, nor did she care. Dying was better than being a doll.
The chair bounced against the glass. Picking it up, she wailed the chair against the window with all she was capable of. Not even the tiniest of cracks formed. ``Why won't this glass facking break?!''
``Cause it's safety glass.'' Drips said. Skiv saw the fox enter the room carrying one of those snack cakes he'd `scavenged' so many times before, and bottled water. She shook her head, it wasn't Drips. Drips wasn't real, just a disguise for rich boy Eric. He put the items on the desk and picked up the chair she dropped, ``It's built so that you can't accidentally break it. I think maybe Mallory can if she tried, but I wouldn't want her to-''
``The fack do you want?'' She spat, stepping away from him, ``You here to put a collar around me? Or do you think you can come in here and force yourself on me whenever now that you `own' me?''
He looked hurt at the accusation, almost enough for her to take it back. But she didn't know the boy in front of her, no matter how much she wanted to believe she did. ``Skiv...you know I couldn't do that, even if I wanted to,'' He stepped closer, but when the rabbit moved back he sighed and sat down in his chair, ``Look, Skiv, I'm not here to hurt you. I never wanted that.''
``And I never wanted to be a slave, but we don't get what we want do we?'' she said, ``You think I'm just gonna accept this?'' she pointed to the door, ``Like your psycho maid out there? That I'm just gonna start calling you, `young master' every day in some sweet sing-song voice? If I wake up and find a single augment on me I'll-''
``I'm not going to augment you, Skiv. The only thing I had them do, on top of `saving your life' was put you through a gene cleanse and get you registered.'' he leaned over, ``And just so you know, they removed several potentially cancerous growths. Beyond that though, your genes were good.''
``The fack is cancer? Registered?''
He grabbed the snack cake and tossed it to her. Skiv smacked it out of the air, ``Tell me what you did, Eric!''
``Not until you eat!'' he shouted back, immediately regretting the raising of his voice, ``Just...Skiv please, I want to explain this. I know you hate me right now, but I need you to understand that I don't have any ulterior...I don't have any sick thoughts towards you about this. You'd think I'd let you take my virginity if I didn't care about you? For Thor's sake, Skiv, I killed someone to save you life!''
``You...'' she blinked, ``I took your virginity?''
A blush brightened his orange facial fur, ``Y-yeah. I've never been fucked in the ass before, for real anyway. It's...different and...look I'm not going to force you to do anything. Maybe I can find another way to get you out of this. Slavery isn't exactly super easy to get out of. But...'' grabbing the water bottle, he looked mournfully over to her, ``if you could just work with me here, maybe we can make this little nightmare go by quickly?''
Picking up the snack cake from the ground and taking a seat on the unbelievably uncomfortable bed, ``Once I'm free,'' she whispered harshly, ``I never want to see you again.''
She expected a scream. A spoiled shout filled with belittlement towards her for being so insulting. It was all these classed fackers cared about. How much better they were over her. He didn't. Instead, Eric sighed and handed her the water, hiding his saddened face as she took it, ``Whatever you want, Skiv.'' he said, typing his fingers into the air briefly.
A window popped up between them, filled with words that the rabbit couldn't read, ``Because the classless don't officially exist in the registry, the cost of acquiring one is the cost of their citizenship. Slavehood puts you below even class three. Since you didn't exist,''
``I am a person, Eric.'' she said, his name dripping with venom whenever she said it.
``Not to the system, you were. So I had the liberty of choosing your name.''
``Skiv.''
``Yeah, Skiv. I know. Problem is, `Skiv' isn't a real name. Your name, at least the one that'll show up when people scan you, is Sarah.''
Her brow arched, ``Sarah? That supposed to be someone important? And what do you mean by scan?''
``No, just the most normal-sounding name I could think of at the time,'' he explained, ``As for scanning, well, in high-security zones like this distract, there are scanners that tell security who you are. The lower down you go, the less common they are, but a scan will tell someone your name, age, biological gender, blood type, who owns you, and a bunch of other stuff.''
``What's a blood type?'' she asked, unscrewing the bottle and taking a sip. As clean as the water he always shared with her.
``A blood type is a classification of blood, based on the presence and absence of antibodies and inherited antigenic substances on the surface of-,'' He shook his head, ``It's not important. What is important is that you can't leave the estate without me, a family member, or a code that grants you permission to wander without a chaperon for a certain time period.''
``So...how long am I allowed to leave?'' she asked. It was a simple question. If Eric wanted to help her, he'd clearly have it so she could at least walk around freely. The pale look on his face didn't fill her with confidence.
``I...I couldn't gain access to that.'' he muttered.
``What?''
``Look, it's past five levels of encryption to get that kind of code! I'm good, but I don't know how to break through that without sending a bunch of alarms. And by alarms, I mean a lot of feedback that could snap my spine.''
Skiv didn't understand all the words he said, but she got the point. He was afraid to risk his life for her, but enslaving her was fine. ``So...how long am I yours?'' she asked, fingers digging into the uncomfortably comfortable bed sheets in an attempt to hold her anger at bay.
``I...'' his eyes shifted through the room, ``I don't know. Probably a decade if you don't add on any debts.''
``What's a decade?''
He sighed, ``Ten years.''
She had him by the throat and against the wall in half a second. Just the right amount of pressure and she could shatter his windpipe, making him suffocate. Then she'd have a dead first classer on her hands, and that maid would surely go running in and snap her neck like a twig. Maybe that was ok. Maybe Skiv was fine with dying in defiance to all this classed bullshit that made her life a living hell. It's `cause of classers that she lived on the outskirts. Because of them, she'd seen so many people die in the name of survival, and taken many lives for that cause. The rabbit was a survivor, she had to be.
That's the lie she told herself to keep her from snapping the fox's neck. She couldn't deal with the actual reason.
Letting go, she looked down to him with tears in her eyes, ``Get out.'' she muttered.
Massaging his neck, Eric...Drips...the fox looked up to her in terror, ``S-Skiv, it's my ro-''
``I said get out!'' she roared, the impact of her punch against the wall echoing throughout the room. He ran, ran like the coward she wanted him to be. The fearful classer she needed him to be right now.
Then he stopped, head inches from the door, ``I thought about it. When you asked me to stay with you.''
Sniffing, Skiv balled her fists but said nothing as he continued, ``All of this,'' he waved his arm around, ``It doesn't make me happy. You do, and I figured it was worth losing to be with you, even if we were going to die soon by some gang or something. I mean...I suspected you'd protect me, and I was worried you'd see how bad I really was without my support. But I figured I could tell you when we were...well, together.'' he turned to her, a soft but sad smile etching across his lips, ``I wanted to be with you, Skiv. And in a way, we're together. Just...just in a different setting.''
The door slid open as she stepped closer. That damned smile still on his face. She would have accepted a smug or confident expression. Skiv could have taken it as an excuse to break his jaw. Instead, his smile was hopeful, and by the damnable gods, she wanted to be hopeful. But he robbed her of that.
She shoved him out of the room, forcing him down to the floor, ``Sit on a spike, Drips.'' the rabbit spoke coldly as the door closed. Picking up the snack cake, she bit into it to taste the spongy chocolate shell and the sweet cream underneath. The first time she tasted it, Skiv thought he drugged her. Nothing could taste so good without some sort of trick. But it was real, and no drugs required to give that small euphoria.
That stupid fox with a backpack full of gifts. Her eyes teared up. She should have seen it sooner. Her gut told the rabbit something was off about him early on, but she ignored it like a damn fool. All because he became a small light in the sewer hole she called life. She consumed the cake before she considered throwing it in anger.
Why did lies have to taste good?
***
Mallory had waited by the main hall for several hours now. While she looked innocently enough working her latest sweater, she'd been watching the classless cur through the hidden camera in the young master's bedroom. Though she respected the privacies of all her betters, the rabbit had proven to be too much of a threat to leave unattended. The main reason she didn't decide to slit the bun's throat as she slept was that master Eric would disapprove. A personal feeling of hers that rarely became an obstacle in her line of work.
The other reason was that the rabbit didn't seem to sleep. Not for lack of trying, the black bun tossed and turned in the young master's sheets. Even with her gene-cleanse, the raccoon felt the urge to burn those sheets, and maybe even the mattress, and find a suitable replacement.
Mallory sighed, she missed a stitch.
If the raccoon had to guess, the tramp had trouble adjusting to the comfort of high-class living. The classless whore shouldn't even be sleeping in the master's bed. Mallory didn't understand the young master's infatuation with this creature. Perhaps he had been having troubles in the romantic department in his class, and thus found it easier to woo someone so...no that couldn't be it. First classes could just pay for third-class whores if they wanted that, and Eric seemed satisfied with his matrix VR experiences before that. Though she had worried he was getting too into them. It's only so obvious when a boy spends all day jacked in but his history is empty.
Returning to the topic of school, Mallory checked the young master's attendance file. At a glance, everything seemed fine. Monday through Friday he had reported to class and his grades hadn't dropped. Looking closer, however, the head maid noticed that the pattern was too consistent. Eric had not seemed particularly stressed about any subject as of late. Even with his modified genetic code, the fox had trouble with certain subjects that should have been draining on him. Had he been avoiding his classes? Sighing, the raccoon let her head hang back as she returned to the room feed with her cyber eyes. She'd have to call a cybersecurity specialist to see if any messages had been getting intercepted on their way from the academy.
The rabbit no longer laid in bed. Instead, she had begun sorting through the young master's clothes. Carelessly tossing them aside or stretching them out. Such a lack of respect would have made Mallory bend her knitting needles if she didn't have the proper restraint of her position. The raccoon looked forward to the day master Eric lost interest in this hare. The things she could do then.
Finding clothes for herself, the classless ruffian carefully made her way from the room. She took a deep breath and closed her feed, putting her needles down and brushing any dust off of her uniform. Another escape attempt, how droll. Anyone could see that she'd try to leave yet again and would continue trying until someone made her see the truth. Young Eric wouldn't do it, so she might as well.
Walking through the halls, a new thought emerged from her head. There was no place this hooligan could really go. Sure, she had the outskirts, but they were too far away to reach without being caught by a sector security firm. Mallory had no doubt that at some time tomorrow, she'd receive a call to retrieve the property of the Karbon estate. So she'd be wasting her time laying down the law here and now.
She did not stop walking. Letting her escape would be neglectful of her duties, but there was something more about it. Something selfish the maid wanted to gain from his classless harlot who dared latch her paws onto her beloved owner's son.
Just who exactly was this, Drips, the bunny had trusted? And how different was he from the young master Mallory knew?
***
Skiv didn't expect that being only a few inches taller than the fox would make his clothes so hard to wear. Having needed to stretch out the black shirt and being unable to find any pants, the rabbit found herself sneaking through the damnable first-class mansion with only the teal garb as an impromptu skirt for her waste.
The rabbit didn't normally care about how she looked, favoring comfort, and mobility over anything else. Back home, you didn't have to worry about if your clothes matched or if you had an extra pair of pants. You just took what you wanted and everyone fit right in.
But up here, Skiv felt like a bright light in a wide drain pipe. Judging by how Dr...by how Eric dressed, she'd be sticking out like a fat classer in the slums. If Skiv was going to get out, she'd need to at least look like she belonged. The clothes might be enough until she finds some unlucky and uppity classer her size to mug for something more appropriate.
Sneaking into the room aligned with weapons, Skiv reached for the hard light kopis she used earlier. Ain't nothing like this in the slums, and while the rabbit knew it'd make her a target both here and there, she figured it was too good to pass up. Plus the added bonus of taking what didn't really belong to the classed fucks made it all the sweeter.
``Clothes and a weapon. At least you're a practical thief,'' Mallory stepped out from the shadows of the staircase. Skiv ignited the blade and raised it in defense, gritting her teeth and mentally swearing at her luck. Just like before, the maid stepped forward unafraid. This time, however, she raised her arms in defense, ``Come now, I'm sure you know by now that if I wanted to hurt you, I would have done so by now.''
``Then why did you talk the last time?'' Skiv asked, slowly pacing behind the cabinet and sneaking another hard light blade handle into her underwear.
``I was being polite,'' she said, carrying a smile that Skiv could see past, ``Everyone gets at least one chance.''
``Then why you talking now?'' the rabbit asked, her body preparing itself to move at the first sign of danger. Skiv should have already ran, but her last fight with Mallory put her on too much of an edge. The coon made her afraid, as much as she wouldn't admit it.
``Because you have something I want, and I have something you want. I figured we could trade for services. Basic economics.''
``I'm not giving the knife back.''
Mallory chuckled, ``It's not yours to give. I'll be taking it before you leave.''
``Leave?'' the hare's heart rumbled through her body, ``What do you mean, leave?''
``That's what you want, is it not?'' Mallory asked, ``To leave? I've dealt with enough escape attempts to know that it's rather pointless to prevent them. You'll be back, they always come back.''
Gripping her kopis, Skiv charged forward in anger. Mallory intercepted her engagement, catching the rabbit's arm and pulling her to the ground, knocking the knife from her hand, ``Come now,'' Mallory said as she locked Skiv's other arm and sat down upon her, ``I'm trying to be nice, slave. Just tell me what I want to know, and I'll let you walk out of here.''
Skiv wanted to just tell the coon to fack off, but struggling in the maid's grip proved to her that she wouldn't be escaping anytime soon. Sighing, the rabbit gave in, ``Fine. What does a black tongue like you want to know?'' she asked, betting it was something stupid like, `Why she disliked her betters' or `Do you enjoy sleeping naked and hungry?'. Anything to reassure the coon's status over Skiv.
``What was Drips like?''
The rabbit blinked, ``What?'' she asked, having heard the raccoon perfectly but still not understanding the question.
``Drips, the name you called the young master by. What was he like?''
She blinked again, ``Why...why the fack would you want to know?'' she growled. This some kind of stupid joke? She struggled in the maid's grip again, ``What you want to mock me for falling for your master's lies? Is that it?''
``The young master cares about you. More than I've seen him care about anyone beyond immediate family,'' Mallory explained, her grip growing tighter against Skiv's wrists, ``The only reason I haven't knocked you unconscious and sent you off to have your mind overwritten to something more acceptable is that it would upset him.'' she leaned closer to the rabbit's face, a hateful glare staring into Skiv's eyes through cybernetics, ``And as someone who has been taking care of him since his diapers days, I put his happiness above many things.''
She spat into the coon's glasses. A quick slap across her face followed, stunning the rabbit long enough for Mallory to hold her again, ``It's a simple question, harlot. Who was Drips?''
``A...'' she grit her teeth, eyes watering more for the memory than the pain, ``A scavenger who made me smile.'' she admitted, ``Back home, everyone's out for themselves. No one relies on each other for free, going to as far as offering their bodies as payment for some meager protection. I stayed away from communities, knowing full well someone would try to make me their eventual flesh pillow, and that I might not be able to get out. But...but Drips didn't think like that. He never asked for anything when he gave me his stuff, nothing but my time. Despite my gut telling me otherwise, I took his offers. He never poisoned me, he never tried to fuck me over...he just wanted to be around me,'' she sniffed, tears flowing freely now, ``And godsdamnit, I wanted to be around him! I went so far as to join a community so he'd feel safer when we were together because I hated it when he left. I...Drips was the first thing I can say I wanted but didn't take, because it meant more if he gave himself.''
Mallory's blood drained from her face. Eyes wide, her grips grew tighter as her mouth moved, ``Did...did you...'' she couldn't finish the words, but Skiv could understand the question loud and clear.
She smiled, ``Yeah. I fucked him. Right up his golden ass,'' she leaned her head up, ``And he offered it.'' the rabbit gloated. Skiv could die right now, content with the utter shock and rage plastered across the maid's stupid face. She spent her whole life getting fucked over by classers, having it end after fucking one didn't seem like the worst way to go.
Mallory took a deep breath, exhaled, and let go, ``Thank you,'' she said, clearly holding back the urge to add a derogatory title to Skiv's person yet again. Pointing down the hall, ``There is an exit through the servants quarters. From there you can sneak off the estate and out into the arcology. I shall disable the security measures for the next minute.
``Wh-''
``Fifty-nine seconds and counting.'' Mallory said. Skiv shot up from the floor and ran, faster than she'd ever pushed her legs to go throughout her life. The rabbit was out the door and hitting the cool night air in a manner of seconds. Using her strong legs, she hopped over the gate from the front and ran off to the night, lungs burning and legs aching but never stopping. Not until she couldn't see that damned house when she looked back.
One step closer to being free. Just like she wanted.
