CARTAFELL
This is Book two of the Helion series. Book One can be found here: Helion
*This story, and all chapters written herein, contain themes of an adult and graphic nature. Violence, abusive language, depictions of death and gore, descriptions of non-consensual events, slurs, sex, drugs, and a very particular hatred of whitebois are to be expected. Please be advised that if any of the above material may cause you distress, find another story with which to satisfy yourself.*
Ch. 01, Of Dust And Ruin
Eve swayed gently on her bunk; beams of afternoon sunlight streamed through the small port window directly into her eyes as she tried to enjoy her nap. The susurration of the train had lulled her into a peaceful sleep earlier in the morning, but now she found it impossible to return to her pleasant dreams. Swinging her legs out over the side of her cot she hopped down onto the floor of her cabin. The steel floor panels thumped loudly as she scratched languidly at an itch under her left breast.
The inter-city trains were the lifeblood of the continent; massive networks of Maglev tracks had slowly crept over the barren wastes to reconnect a once divided nation. They grew like the fungal roots of a mushroom super-colony, creeping across the rolling deserts and craggy valleys that dotted the land. Where highway travel had once been the standard mode of transportation, trains now ruled the roost. After the violence of the Race War had left the infrastructure of the old world crippled, the forward-thinking Men and Women of the Free United Cities had to start from scratch.
With the advancements made to energy storage and transmission, the simplest and most efficient method of getting from one city to another was only ever going to be maglev trains. But the wastes were unforgiving, and many a desperate soul chose to make the harsh world outside the walls of the cities their home. It wasn't uncommon for trains to be derailed, boarded, vandalized, or even stolen wholesale from the tracks in the early days of their development. Slowly an arms race began to develop between the Free Cities and the wayward inhabitants of the wastes. Better armor on the trains led to bigger guns from the Wanderers, armed guards on the trains led to more complex strategies from the Wanderers, and so on.
Eventually, the trains had mutated into behemoths of steel and electricity. Hulking giants, armed and armored as though traveling through an active warzone. A single lead car could stand well over 30 feet high and 200 feet long, with armor plating over 3 inches thick, with more guns and firing platforms than a small mobile army could field. Naturally, such precautions limited the amount of luxury one could expect while riding in passenger cars. Allowances need to be made for the train to still carry as many people as possible. So when Eve leaned over the small sink under the porthole window she nearly smashed her face into the wall when Carmine opened the door behind her.
“Oh shit! Sorry, babe! Thought you'd still be sleeping!” Carmine squeezed herself into the small 6-foot by 6-foot compartment and grabbed a handful of Eve's ass as she shut the door behind her. “The goons in car six are dead, staged the compartment to make it look like they asphyxiated while engaging in some incredibly pathetic mutual masturbation.” She slid her hand between Eve's thighs and ran her fingers across Eve's drenched slit. “One of them begged me for its life, you know? Promised me it'd never even show its face in public.” Carmine was hovering over Eve's left ear as she spoke.
“It started crying as the belt looped around its throat, and you wanna know what the best part is?” Eve gasped as Carmine plunged three fingers into her dripping pussy, focusing almost exclusively on her g-spot. “I made its fuckin’ partner pull the belt taught.” Eve tensed as an orgasm rolled over her. A stream of hot squirts splattered all over the floor of their cabin and Eve grits her teeth to keep from moaning too loudly. A white couple down the corridor from their room had been reported on a noise complaint by a Black couple and were summarily thrown from the train.
“Fuck, babe! What would you do if I couldn't hold it in-mmphhh” Eve was interrupted by Carmine's lips on hers. The fingers slowly working over her pussy caused her to pant into her partner's mouth. “Fuck, how-oh shiiiit-how did you do the other one?” A feral grin spread across Carmine's lips before she growled and bit down on the nape of Eve's neck. Before she could cry out, a powerful synthetic hand clamped down over her mouth to stifle the cry.
“I looped its belt around the same railing of the top bunk and ordered it to stroke itself while I slowly took the slack out of the belt.” Eve could feel another powerful climax approaching as she pictured the scene of the struggling whiteboi. She wasn't as afraid to moan with Carmine's hand around her mouth and she cried out into it as another hot geyser of squirt soaked her legs and feet. Carmine retracted her hand from Eve's abused hole and released her grip from her mouth. “Honestly I'm surprised the Guild managed to convince two fuckwits like that to tail us.”
Eve collapsed to the floor of the cabin as her knees gave out. “You're lucky I'm naked or you'd be cleaning my clothes…” Carmine just laughed and sat on the side of her bunk. “Mhmmm shit, but you're right. I'm not sure what they thought they were going to gain from doing that. Maybe since they can't find Jasper or Cassidy they thought we'd let some information slip?”
Carmine mulled that over as she fished a Tellmin's from her breast pocket. “Possibly, though, if they wanted to get something from us they'd have sent a Black Man to get the job done. No… this seemed more like a message than anything.” She lit the smoke and took a generous pull from it before handing it off to Eve. “I think they were just letting us know that we couldn't run from them? Kind of a pointless gesture seeing as we've already fucked up one of their stupid Gods.”
Eve readjusted her posture to lean back against the small vanity and puffed contentedly on her cigarette. “Well, it would make sense if they've left the management of things in the hands of Whitebois, we already know that they're hiding their actions through several layers of scapegoats so this kind of thing wouldn't surprise me. Our superiors are smart and capable, decisions like this wouldn't come from one of them. Perhaps these two twats took it upon themselves to gain some notoriety?” They both pondered that as the train continued to rock softly on its magnetic fields.
The 6-hour journey to Cartafell in the south was a non-stop trip. Had planes still been a viable form of transportation it likely would have been 3 or 4, but with the proliferation of advanced weaponry even the Wanderers in the wastes could target and take down commercial flights. Airspace anywhere outside a city's walls was contested heavily and was largely left to City Guard forces, military contractors, and pirates. Eve glanced around the small cabin as she drew in a long breath of cherry-flavored smoke.
The thin sheet metal still had streaks from where the cleaning crew had swabbed it down. The porthole window was cracked where a bullet had struck the outer pane of bulletproof plexiglass. A small vented fan whirred quietly next to the single dim light on the roof. The cots were barely more than steel shelves with a thin sheet to separate the skin from the cold metal. “Why didn't you book us for the first-class car? It's not like we don't have the money for it.”
Carmine chuckled as she beckoned Eve to come sit in her lap. “Because, silly, we couldn't terminate those annoying little faggots from up there. Besides, if I start springing for every little luxury you'd get all soft on me, and I like you just fine as you are! Tough as nails!” Carmine lightly tapped Eve's kidney with a fist as she came to rest in her partner's lap. Eve leaned back, allowing herself to relax into Carmine's body as Carmine took up the task of stroking her hair.
“I haven't checked the time, how long till we roll into Cartafell?”
Carmine took a drag and then replied, “Another two hours, assuming we don't get raided.”
Eve swiveled her head slightly, “I'm not sure I liked the way you said that…” Carmine had a habit of coloring her words with more or less emotion depending on how much information she was trying to hold back, and Eve had started to just pick up on her tells. Or, at least, the tells she figured Carmine was allowing her to pick up on. The android was far smarter than most people, and often left Eve feeling a bit like a rodent in a wheel.
“There's a Warband on an intercept path roughly two hundred miles down the track, depending on what the conductor decides to do we may be stopping early so they can mount an effective counterattack.” Eve sighed. Of course, the wanderers would choose to raid their train. It seemed as though even the smallest windows of peace were doomed to forever be interrupted for her.
“How big is the warband? Any indication they're looking to board?” Carmine took on her distinctive look of trawling through her vast data arrays as she searched for an answer.
“There's two land yachts and four dune cruisers. The yachts look like they've got the hook skiffs loaded so they may be planning to board as the train blows by… probably a small group of trained hijackers. Depending on where they end up hooking the train, we may see some action, though it's more likely they're targeting the first-class cars at the front.”
Eve agreed with the assessment; while targeting the front cars held the highest risk since they were latched directly behind the heavily armed lead car if one could board the first class car and ransack it, then all manner of riches could be plundered. “I guess we just need to hunker down for an hour and wait, not like we had much else to do in this tin box.” Eve griped as Carmine ran her fingers through her hair.
“Oh? Funny… I was thinking there was plenty we could get up to…” and with that, Carmine dragged Eve down onto the hard surface of the cot and began to kiss her passionately.
“Mmhhhph.. babe! Lemme finish my smoke first! Damn!” Eve hissed as she flailed her arm out to the side protectively. After having lost all of her smokes in their assault on the water treatment facility she was hesitant to let one go.
Carmine rolled her eyes as she flicked her butt into the sink, “Ugh whatever, I'll occupy myself, then.” And she began to kiss her way down Eve's naked torso.
“Ah! Ohhhh, yeah… that works… mhmmm” Eve cooed as Carmine worked to spread her thighs. “Yeah, that fucking works…” Carmine was unnaturally talented with every part of her body, achieving a level of control and intuition about her partner's needs that few people could ever hope to achieve. Eve drew in a breath of smoke and exhaled a pink cloud along with her moan. The past day had been too hectic to enjoy a small moment with her lover like this, so Eve was grateful for the brief peace.
A knock sounded at the door just as Eve was riding out her 4th orgasm, she barely had the sense or strength to pull her new Deckland from the holster slung on the railing of her bunk but managed to make a half-decent defensive pose as Carmine removed herself from between Eve's legs. “Are we expecting anyone?” Eve whispered to her partner.
“No, and the Trainmaster already verified our passes, so that's not it either.” Carmine brushed herself off and wiped her lips to remove most not all of Eve's juices before she stepped to the door and used the small peephole. “Oh shit, it's the Black man from compartment Four-G, he looks… pissed…”
Eve swore under her breath and pulled the sheets up around her, “Well, we better see what he wants, I guess.”
Carmine opened the door and greeted the short Black man with a beaming smile, “Well hello, sir! What can I do for you?” The man's expression subtly shifted from pissed to intrigued. He was short for a King, Eve placed him roughly 2 inches under her nearly 6’ frame. He was built like a cannonball, with broad shoulders, and a barrel chest rounded out into a significant gut. His hair was trimmed short in a pseudo-military cut, but his lack of diligence with his attire and physique told Eve he wasn't a career military man.
He glanced past Carmine and spotted Eve in the bed, the expression on his face shifted once more from intrigued to predatory. “I'm wonderin’ who was makin’ all the squealin’. Figures it'd be a couple of dykes.” The man grabbed at his crotch, jostling his bulge suggestively. “S’pose you cunts ain't forgot what real pleasure is? That lil’ bitch a few doors down said she ain't, but her faggot whined a lil’ too much with ma hog in its ass so’s I had ‘em chucked off the train. Maybe you bitches’ll make a better go of it on the sand, huh?”
His cock was hardening in his loose sweats and Eve could see the thick outline of his shaft and head. Like every other Black man Eve had ever met, his size and girth were prodigious. “Reckon I could save y’all the trouble if’n ya… lighten my load…” The man chuckled at his clever remark and Carmine giggled cutely.
“Oh Hun! Do you think we'd let you leave with a set of full nuts?! Get your beautiful ass in here and let us show you just how much we know about ‘real pleasure’!” Eve sighed, more so out of relief than any sort of disappointment. As a sworn and inked snowbunny, it was more or less her ordained privilege to service Black men throughout the Free Cities. A role that she had both taken on willingly and enjoyed beyond any other function she had.
Before her Excommunication from the Hunters Guild, she would have ranked slaughtering whitebois for money just under it in terms of satisfaction, but now… well things had changed. The dynamics of the world had shifted, and she found herself on a crash course with cultural revolution. Exterminating the white race had become something more than just plugging a few stray dogs pretending to be human, it was rapidly developing into a war that she was on the frontline for. As a result of that, indiscriminately euthanizing whitebois had stopped being fun and had instead become gravely serious.
That didn't stop it from being incredibly hot, though. Every crushed throat, every severed limb, and every gaping bullet wound was still just as euphoric for her as they had been when she'd taken her first pathetic life. “You ain't said shit since that door opened, slut, that any way to greet your better? Spendin’ too much time buried in cunt n’ now ya can't pull your weight, s’at it?” This was familiar to Eve, even the smallest of slights could lead to significant offense, depending on the person.
The Black race had assumed command of humanity as naturally as they breathed. It didn't matter if you were white, Hispanic, Asian, or Middle Eastern, the strong, virile blood of African ancestry had trumped everything else almost uncontested. Despite the bombs, the napalm, and the chemical devastation that Whites had employed against them, ultimately the Black race had dominated every other weak lineage on earth.
So when the man directed his displeasure at Eve, she did what came naturally to her as an inferior white cunt, she slid to the floor and begged for his forgiveness. Whether she earned it or not would remain to be seen, but the man seemed more interested in dumping a few loads than doling out pain so Eve suspected this may be a short tryst. Or, rather, she hoped it would be short; if what Carmine had said about the warband was true then they'd be running into them sooner than later.
“Get off the floor ya slut, my cocks up here. And you, Blondie, I want you lovin’ on my sack like it's a fuckin’ bag of jewels. The last bitch was sobbin’ over her little pink shit gettin’ beat black n’ blue so she couldn't finish the job. M’all pent up here so don't waste mah damn time!” The man yanked his sweats down around his ankles and a hefty Black cock sprang out to greet Eve. It bobbed up and down as its weight caused it to swing through the air.
Eve lunged at it with her mouth, letting her need and lust take over as she worshiped at the man's feet. Carmine wasn't far behind her as Eve felt the android slither up between the man's legs, taking hold of the man's ass cheeks, Eve began to pump her throat up and down his 10” shaft. She swirled her tongue and rotated her head from side to side as she used her face to jerk the man off. She hadn't been at it more than 20 seconds before the man grabbed a fist full of her hair and began to fuck her throat in earnest, Carmine knew better than to hover around the man's balls as they swung wildly back and forth so she ducked out from between his meaty thighs.
Spit and pre-cum ran down Eve's chin as the man rammed his stiff rod down her throat, “Mhmm fuck yeah, milk that cock, milk that fucking… cock!” The man forced her face into the short, curled hairs of his pubes, gyrating his hips to rub the tip of his cock against the back of her throat. “Ugh fuck I'm gonna…” and then Eve could feel the hot jets of cum gushing down her throat and into her stomach. The thick, virile ropes of divine seed flooded her esophagus as though he were pissing.
The cock twitched and spasmed as his naturally large prostate pumped copious amounts of his delicious jizz into her. Eve held on and gently worked her throat around the shaft of his cock, swirling her tongue around the base of his shaft as he mashed her nose against him. “Phewww-shit, maybe you dykes know more about dick than I thought. ‘Least you got a decent throat-pussy, been a while since I dropped a wad that big.” The man began to extract his cock from the back of Eve's throat, but she clung to him, licking and sucking as he tried to pull away.
“Aight get the fuck off me now, damn… how much you love nigga dick anyhow? What the fuck are you doing with a chick? Oh no, I know what it is. You're an old bitch now! Yeah, that's what's up, you a washed-up ol’ cunt for niggas like me. You ain't gonna land yourself a man ‘cause ain't no one want your ass. Heh, well that's too bad, I don't want you either. Bet that pussy dryer than the wastes ain't it, bitch?” Eve winced.
Her age was one of the few insecurities she had left. It was one of the main factors in men consistently passing her over for younger, hotter women. It was also one of the things she couldn't do anything about; while the Hunter Trials had slowed her aging to a crawl, they hadn't happened soon enough to trap her in her prime. She would forever be “too old” for the men of the free cities to truly consider a viable partner in anything other than sexual relief.
Still, she put on a brave face and decided to push back with a bit of bravado. “Sir, this pussy will milk you harder than any woman you've met.” The man's nostrils flared and Eve felt for a second as though he'd strike her, but instead, he just laughed.
“Yeah, yeah, and my cock’s never been wet. I'm fuckin’ this sex-bot n’ you're just gonna sit there like a good bitch. If you even move I'm reportin’ yo ass to the Trainmaster. Eve fought back the tears as the man took Carmine by the hair and bent her over the bottom bunk. It stung, more than she knew it should. Just another instance of that fucking God-Curse doing its twisted job on her. It wasn't her body or her age. That stupid fucking God had cursed her before finally dying and being banished.
While her powers had staved off the bulk of the curse, it had sunk enough of its claws into her to continue affecting her life. Originally she had been cursed to never feel satisfaction again, but it seemed that it had been limited to only experiencing satisfaction in incredibly short bursts. Carmine moaned as the man slid into her tight cunt; the wet slap of their hips meeting echoed out into the hall through the open door.
Eve worried about the noise, but the man didn't seem to care one way or another. A curious whiteboi nosed around the corner to see what the noise was about and Eve had an idea. She wasn't allowed to move, but that didn't mean she couldn't still enjoy herself a little. “Hey, yeah, you. What cabin are you in?” The whiteboi looked around like it couldn't quite understand it was being spoken to. It tried to back away but Eve called it back.
“Nah, nah, get back her faggot. What room are you in? I feel like playing with you. You're… cute? Yeah, I think we could have some fun. Tell me what room you're in.” Eve had to swallow back her bile as she complimented the wretch. The sheer fact that it was making eye contact with her sickened her to the core of her being.
“S-sorry, mistress. I-I’ve never… uhhh… this is my first..” the whiteboi swallowed hard, truly at a loss as to what was happening to it. It couldn't take its eyes off of the round Black ass currently turning Carmine into a gaping mess beside Eve now. “M-my room? Uhhh… I'm in four-K… m-mistress, may I ask w-what you… intend to d-do with me? M-my wife… she, ahhh I need to ask her before I can do anything…”
Eve dry heaved as it stuttered its way through its pathetic response. The sound of its voice, the woman unfortunately tied to it, the unsure way it spoke, all of it disgusted Eve on a visceral level. “No, you may not ask. Go back to your room and wait for me, with your wife. She'll want to be involved…” Eve's pussy began to tingle as she thought of the depraved and twisted things she was about to inflict upon this creature. Its “wife” would make a fantastic tool to use on it to deepen the torment, if Eve was lucky she would also be a snowbunny.
The whiteboi shuffled back from the door, finally picking up on Eve's malicious intent. Their survival instincts were virtually nonexistent so Eve wasn't surprised when it agreed to what she had told it to do despite experiencing the crippling fear of mortal danger she had just manipulated it into. The Black King beside her finally took note of her existence again as he slid his cock out of Carmine's abused hole. “Get that fuckin’ mouth on this shit, can't be walkin’ around all day covered in some cunts juice like this. The missus would shank me.”
Eve dutifully turned and wrapped her plump lips around the head of the man's cock. Carmine's pussy tasted of sex and musk, with a hint of metallic gunmetal. As Eve licked and slurped the remnants of her lover off of the man's shaft, she also discovered to her delight that it was smeared with his cum as well. So he'd blown his load in Carmine while she arranged her playdate, lucky bitch… “An’ make sure you suck my spunk outta her pussy, too. I ain't havin’ no fuckin’ bastard. Not after that last one… had to put the fuckin’ mother down cause she wouldn't listen to a word I said… fuckin’ whitey… kept goin’ like “law this, illegal that”... Like I have a fuck! A brat’s a brat n’ I ain't want no fuckin’ brats!”
He seemed genuinely remorseful, but more so for having to have done the work himself than for the loss of life. Almost like that act of terminating the mother was something he was too good to be forced to do, as though eliminating her wasn't worth his time or effort. It was completely illegal for women of any race to terminate the child of a Black superior. Typically resulting in death for the mother or a very lengthy sentence in a production mill. If the woman had complied, the King may not have chosen to report her. In this instance, It'd become a death sentence regardless.
“Anyway, If I’m ever hear from either of ya again you're goin’ in a dumpster like she did, a’ight?” Eve took his cock out of her throat long enough to thank him for his consideration before sliding it back down so she could lick his balls.
Carmine moaned as she turned over on the cot, spreading her legs to present the thick, sloppy mess of her pussy to Eve. She rubbed gingerly at her clit as she waited for Eve to make her way between her legs. “Heh, you snowbunnies are somethin’ else… get off my dick ‘fore I remove you, bitch. I got places to be an’ havin’ your stank on me all day put me in a mood.” Eve finally relented and extracted herself from his crotch. She thanked him for his attention once more and he turned to leave the compartment, lazily bringing his pants back up around his waist.
“Sorry, darlin’.” Carmine breathed the apology around an orgasm, a small spurt of cum burbling out of her abused cunt as Eve crawled up and began to eagerly eat her out. “I prom-oh shit-promise you'll get the next.” Even just moaned into the sopping-wet slit as she carried on. “We've got maybe-mmhhmmm-an hour before we're intercepted. What's this about meeting up with a whiteboi?”
Eve broke away from her meal and rose between Carmine's legs to share a passionate kiss with the android. “Well, seeing as someone stole a big, fat nut from me, I figured we could go stomp a couple of small, white nuts to make up for it. I told it to invite its “wife” since I'm sure she wouldn't mind sharing in the… fun.”
Carmine smiled, “Are you sure you wouldn't rather go on the prowl for another man? I'm sure a few are looking to blow off some steam…”
Eve just shook her head, “Nah, I feel like hurting something now, besides, we need to keep our heads in the game if we're going to be fending off Wanderers. What better way to get amped up for a fight than a little whiteboi beatdown?” Given the choice, Eve honestly would have preferred getting laid, but she knew heading into a fight with a ruined pussy would only distract her.
Black-on-white violence had been one of the main topics of pre-Race War discourse. Many in the “white faction” had argued that a disproportionate amount of violence was being committed against them, and that something needed to be done to quell the tide of bodies turning up on the streets. What always amused Eve about that fact, was that it had all been proven true in hindsight. All of the propaganda, all the statistics, it had all been true.
What amused her further, was that time after time, some of the loudest voices in the white faction calling out for an end to the “unjustified” violence were women who were inevitably exposed as partaking in those beatdowns. Prominent senators, judges, lawmakers, and teachers were outed as having reveled in the destruction of their race by either consuming, spreading, or producing content involving violence against whites.
The largest, most well-remembered instance of this was Senator Christy Mezlené. Something of a folk hero among snowbunnies and a champion of the Black Supremacy movement which inevitably snowballed into the BNWO. She sat in one of the most powerful seats one could hold in the pre-war continent and, for the longest time, was seen as a glimmering ray of hope for the white supremacists. On several occasions, she had single-handedly struck down bills designed to empower people of color and enable more equal footing for minorities across the board. She had been heralded as the savior of the white race.
And then an image surfaced on what was once called the “internet” of Senator Christy seemingly servicing a hung Black man. A prominent Queen of Spades symbol imprinted across her left cheek as she stared back into the camera with a devilish grin on her face. At first, the image was circulated among the niche online communities as a fake, a forgery meant to discredit her standing and sexualize her in a derogatory way. It would have been nothing more than a blip on the radar, except… Christy came forward, unprompted, to verify that the image was, in fact, genuine.
The event would come to be known as Spade-Gate. And would mark a turning point in history, as the world suddenly came to understand just how pervasive the BNWO was becoming. Christy doubled down on her admission, sharing every sordid detail of her promiscuous lifestyle, going so far as to publicly humiliate her then-husband by bringing one of her lovers to a Gala along with him in an internationally televised act of cuckolding. By that time the floodgates had opened and women the world over began to declare their allegiances. Firm lines were drawn in the sand and the momentum of the white faction was crushed into near non-existence.
From then on, anytime Christy attended any sort of major social event she would ensure her cuck was with her. She would make a point of showcasing all of the bruises, cuts, bumps, and burns that she and her lovers had inflicted as a means to encourage the behavior of others. Over one short year, she had gone from the most dangerous woman on earth to people of color, to being their greatest ally. The number of reported fatalities from Black-on-white violence plummeted to record lows, not because they had stopped happening, but because almost every woman across the continent had simply stopped reporting them.
In fact, because of Senator Christy’s brazen acceptance of the BNWO, Black on white violence was redoubled and it wasn't long before corporations started to smell money. A vast and previously unseen market of men and women had suddenly opened up to the mainstream, and capitalizing on the surge in popularity was in the best interest of the money-hungry entrepreneurs. Apparel, accessories, programs, self-help books, shows, and movies, the late 2090s saw a boom in BNWO content the likes of which hadn't been seen prior.
The most popular tattoo design in 2095 was the iconic spade symbol, which then went on to retain its place at the top of the list for 12 years straight before inevitably being supplanted by the more common “jack of spades”. Eve thought fondly of Christy for enabling the conditions in which unprompted violence against whites was not only allowed but celebrated. If the woman hadn't been long dead, Eve would have been thrilled to shake her hand or kneel at her feet. Carmine sighed, “Alright, get dressed, slut. We don't have long.”
-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-
Eve and Carmine stepped out of the whitebois room, checking the soles of their boots for blood. “I… what the fuck was that?” Carmine let the disbelief in her voice linger in the air between them.
“Yeah… that's was… wow…” Eve lit a Tellmin's, nearly in disbelief of what had just taken place in that small compartment. “I mean… she said it was her first time, right? She said that to us… right?” She took a long drag, hoping the cherry smoke would help drain some of the adrenaline pouring through her veins.
“Yep… she said she'd never beaten a whiteboi.” Carmine mimicked Eve's motions as she reached for her pack of smokes.
“I think… Carmine, I think she might be a monster. Like… what she did to its eyes… I just…”
Carmine picked up her train of thought, “I know… it was like she was… dissecting it. With her hands.” A cool chill crept along Eve's spine as she subconsciously put distance between herself and the door. It wasn't often she met someone with an even greater affinity for inflicting pain on Whitebois than her but when she did it was always exhilarating. Like stumbling across a wild cryptid.
“Why do you think she even married it? That kind of hatred would make it nearly impossible to stomach the sight of it, wouldn't it? I mean, I dry heaved just speaking to it. How could she possibly stand being in the same train car as them? Fucking insane…”
Carmine hummed as she drew in a breath of her cigarette, “I can't say, it seems like her mind is operating on some incredibly unique metric that we can't quite comprehend. Based on how much… fun… she was having in there, maybe she gets some sort of pleasure out of being around them…?” Her uncertainty was evident in her voice and Eve resolved to let the matter drop. While it had been fun she didn't quite get the kick out of it that she was hoping for.
“Whatever, how's our mischievous gang of Raiders looking?” There was an observation platform on the upper part of each of the cars, and Eve motioned to the steep set of stairs leading up to it. Carmine fell in behind her as they climbed up to take a peek out the small murder holes periodically punctured into the thick steel armor of the train car.
“I would say we should see the first signs of them any minute now. Just over the crest of that far dune next to the -N-OUT sign.” The sign sat half-buried in the sand, some of its lettering obscured. Eve imagined it was from some version of a diner or restaurant; she would come across similar signs in the possession of wealthy collectors, or long-forgotten apartments used by squatters. Most signs with that shape and coloring tended to be related to food.
Her eyesight was fantastic for a human, and coupled with her commtag implants it could be modified further, but in the end, they were still just regular, human eyes. “Yeah, that's, like, way too far for me to make anything out; that sign musta been huge, though.” Carmine nodded in agreement and they both fell into a comfortable silence as they smoked their cigarettes.
“Heh, kinda feels like we're in a movie, huh babe?” Carmine broke the small moment with her musings.
“Yeah? Is it one where the heroine beats all the baddies and gets the girl at the end? Maybe they ride off into the sunset together after a long hard mission? Whaddya think? Am I main character material?” Eve wrapped her arm around Carmine's waist and the android chuckled.
“Oh hell no! You're, like, maybe a supporting role! Do you honestly believe I wouldn't be the star of the show?! Babe look at me, I'm like, at least a fifteen out of ten, you're… well you're just a ten. You had, like, no hope.” Eve grumped and pinched the android's ass. Honestly, she was fine playing second fiddle to Carmine if that's how it was supposed to be. She wasn't cut out for being the main character of anything.
“Well then does that mean I'm the girl you get at the end? You gonna sweep me off my feet and carry me into the great ever-after?”
Carmine pinched her back and placed her chin on the top of Eve's head. “Bitch, this story ain't even over! It's not like I'm clairvoyant! But now that you bring it up, I always wanted a harem of hot chicks to travel around with… how's that sound?”
Even just closed her eyes and took another puff of her smoke, “Not a fucking chance. Not unless you wanted me to slowly make them disappear, anyway.” Eve imagined what that would be like, watching Carmine fall into the arms of another woman, directing her attention elsewhere, praising and spoiling other women besides her. It hurt, deeply. After the betrayal she suffered from Mason, Eve wasn't sure she could survive another like it.
It'd taken just about every ounce of willpower she'd had to overcome the heartbreak at that moment, and she knew that she still wasn't anywhere near done processing the pain and loss of that relationship. But Carmine had given her something to cling to in a very turbulent time, and if that final life raft fell out from under her…
“I'm just teasing, Eve. For as long as you live, you will be my one and only. Come hell or high water, you will always be enough for me, and one day in the hopefully-not-too-distant future, we'll settle down and live out our days peacefully. That's my true desire.” Eve let those words wash through her mind, flooding out all the negative thoughts that had been swirling around it.
Carmine's affection was likely the single greatest thing that had happened to her in the past 30 years of her life. Even given the somewhat manipulative way in which they'd come together and the mild terror she felt when Carmine did something potentially apocalyptic, such as dump billions upon billions of credits into their accounts. She still couldn't shake the undeniable feeling that Carmine was it. The one. Her true love.
Eve had stopped caring about whether or not Carmine's love was the result of true emotions or simply an output of 1’s and 0’s. The Turing test was a cute puzzle for infants compared to Carmine and so ultimately it didn't matter what was generating her regard for Eve. The result was the same either way and so long as that continued to be the case, Eve was content to let it be.
“Well, it was nice while it lasted, I guess. Looks like our welcome party is rolling up.” Eve opened her eyes at Carmine's words and spotted the long trail of dust rising from behind the dune. Alarms began to wail and harsh red lights sprung to life along the ceiling, replacing the sterile white of the normal ones. An automated announcement came over the loudspeakers instructing civilians to head for their designated panic rooms.
The lead dune-cruiser of the warband crested the dune and Eve marveled at its bulk. Massive tracks clawed through the sand, shooting up a spray behind the ship as it sped towards the tracks ahead of them. The remaining three cruisers crested the dune in a wedge formation and began to let off pock-shots at the train. Eve could see the muzzle flashes even under the harsh glare of the sun. The two land yachts tucked in behind the wedge for cover as the Warband began to turn parallel to the tracks.
The amount of bullets pinging off the side of the train car increased and Eve decided to descend back down to the lower level to avoid catching a lucky shot through the murder holes. Guards raced past the bottom of the stairs, headed for various defense points and gunfire began to sound from the forward cars. “I guess the rich folk get the pick of the litter when it comes to security.” In all likelihood, the rear cars would be left completely unguarded to ensure the safety of the wealthy front cars.
“Where are you calculating their breach point?” Eve began to make her way towards the front but Carmine stopped her.
“It's a feint, they'd have already latched if they were targeting the front. Looks like-yep, there they go.” The train rocked as the breaching hooks lanced through the protective sides of the train cars at the rear. “We're headed this way, baby!” Carmine grabbed hold of Eve's hand and began the race to the rear compartments, unlocking connecting doors as they went. They had 13 cars to navigate and by the time they reached the puncture sites, the warband would already be inside and volatile.
Eve drew her Deckland and prepared herself for the melee. After fighting in the cramped halls of the apartment, and again in the water treatment plant, Eve was getting sick of close-quarters engagements. “Sure wish Cassidy were here, I'd just chuck her in the car and wait for the screams to stop!”
Carmine chuckled at Eve's lamentation, “Nah! If Cas were here she'd have already jumped onto their yachts!”
*This story, and all chapters written herein, contain themes of an adult and graphic nature. Violence, abusive language, depictions of death and gore, descriptions of non-consensual events, slurs, sex, drugs, and a very particular hatred of whitebois are to be expected. Please be advised that if any of the above material may cause you distress, find another story with which to satisfy yourself.*
Ch. 01, Of Dust And Ruin
Eve swayed gently on her bunk; beams of afternoon sunlight streamed through the small port window directly into her eyes as she tried to enjoy her nap. The susurration of the train had lulled her into a peaceful sleep earlier in the morning, but now she found it impossible to return to her pleasant dreams. Swinging her legs out over the side of her cot she hopped down onto the floor of her cabin. The steel floor panels thumped loudly as she scratched languidly at an itch under her left breast.
The inter-city trains were the lifeblood of the continent; massive networks of Maglev tracks had slowly crept over the barren wastes to reconnect a once divided nation. They grew like the fungal roots of a mushroom super-colony, creeping across the rolling deserts and craggy valleys that dotted the land. Where highway travel had once been the standard mode of transportation, trains now ruled the roost. After the violence of the Race War had left the infrastructure of the old world crippled, the forward-thinking Men and Women of the Free United Cities had to start from scratch.
With the advancements made to energy storage and transmission, the simplest and most efficient method of getting from one city to another was only ever going to be maglev trains. But the wastes were unforgiving, and many a desperate soul chose to make the harsh world outside the walls of the cities their home. It wasn't uncommon for trains to be derailed, boarded, vandalized, or even stolen wholesale from the tracks in the early days of their development. Slowly an arms race began to develop between the Free Cities and the wayward inhabitants of the wastes. Better armor on the trains led to bigger guns from the Wanderers, armed guards on the trains led to more complex strategies from the Wanderers, and so on.
Eventually, the trains had mutated into behemoths of steel and electricity. Hulking giants, armed and armored as though traveling through an active warzone. A single lead car could stand well over 30 feet high and 200 feet long, with armor plating over 3 inches thick, with more guns and firing platforms than a small mobile army could field. Naturally, such precautions limited the amount of luxury one could expect while riding in passenger cars. Allowances need to be made for the train to still carry as many people as possible. So when Eve leaned over the small sink under the porthole window she nearly smashed her face into the wall when Carmine opened the door behind her.
“Oh shit! Sorry, babe! Thought you'd still be sleeping!” Carmine squeezed herself into the small 6-foot by 6-foot compartment and grabbed a handful of Eve's ass as she shut the door behind her. “The goons in car six are dead, staged the compartment to make it look like they asphyxiated while engaging in some incredibly pathetic mutual masturbation.” She slid her hand between Eve's thighs and ran her fingers across Eve's drenched slit. “One of them begged me for its life, you know? Promised me it'd never even show its face in public.” Carmine was hovering over Eve's left ear as she spoke.
“It started crying as the belt looped around its throat, and you wanna know what the best part is?” Eve gasped as Carmine plunged three fingers into her dripping pussy, focusing almost exclusively on her g-spot. “I made its fuckin’ partner pull the belt taught.” Eve tensed as an orgasm rolled over her. A stream of hot squirts splattered all over the floor of their cabin and Eve grits her teeth to keep from moaning too loudly. A white couple down the corridor from their room had been reported on a noise complaint by a Black couple and were summarily thrown from the train.
“Fuck, babe! What would you do if I couldn't hold it in-mmphhh” Eve was interrupted by Carmine's lips on hers. The fingers slowly working over her pussy caused her to pant into her partner's mouth. “Fuck, how-oh shiiiit-how did you do the other one?” A feral grin spread across Carmine's lips before she growled and bit down on the nape of Eve's neck. Before she could cry out, a powerful synthetic hand clamped down over her mouth to stifle the cry.
“I looped its belt around the same railing of the top bunk and ordered it to stroke itself while I slowly took the slack out of the belt.” Eve could feel another powerful climax approaching as she pictured the scene of the struggling whiteboi. She wasn't as afraid to moan with Carmine's hand around her mouth and she cried out into it as another hot geyser of squirt soaked her legs and feet. Carmine retracted her hand from Eve's abused hole and released her grip from her mouth. “Honestly I'm surprised the Guild managed to convince two fuckwits like that to tail us.”
Eve collapsed to the floor of the cabin as her knees gave out. “You're lucky I'm naked or you'd be cleaning my clothes…” Carmine just laughed and sat on the side of her bunk. “Mhmmm shit, but you're right. I'm not sure what they thought they were going to gain from doing that. Maybe since they can't find Jasper or Cassidy they thought we'd let some information slip?”
Carmine mulled that over as she fished a Tellmin's from her breast pocket. “Possibly, though, if they wanted to get something from us they'd have sent a Black Man to get the job done. No… this seemed more like a message than anything.” She lit the smoke and took a generous pull from it before handing it off to Eve. “I think they were just letting us know that we couldn't run from them? Kind of a pointless gesture seeing as we've already fucked up one of their stupid Gods.”
Eve readjusted her posture to lean back against the small vanity and puffed contentedly on her cigarette. “Well, it would make sense if they've left the management of things in the hands of Whitebois, we already know that they're hiding their actions through several layers of scapegoats so this kind of thing wouldn't surprise me. Our superiors are smart and capable, decisions like this wouldn't come from one of them. Perhaps these two twats took it upon themselves to gain some notoriety?” They both pondered that as the train continued to rock softly on its magnetic fields.
The 6-hour journey to Cartafell in the south was a non-stop trip. Had planes still been a viable form of transportation it likely would have been 3 or 4, but with the proliferation of advanced weaponry even the Wanderers in the wastes could target and take down commercial flights. Airspace anywhere outside a city's walls was contested heavily and was largely left to City Guard forces, military contractors, and pirates. Eve glanced around the small cabin as she drew in a long breath of cherry-flavored smoke.
The thin sheet metal still had streaks from where the cleaning crew had swabbed it down. The porthole window was cracked where a bullet had struck the outer pane of bulletproof plexiglass. A small vented fan whirred quietly next to the single dim light on the roof. The cots were barely more than steel shelves with a thin sheet to separate the skin from the cold metal. “Why didn't you book us for the first-class car? It's not like we don't have the money for it.”
Carmine chuckled as she beckoned Eve to come sit in her lap. “Because, silly, we couldn't terminate those annoying little faggots from up there. Besides, if I start springing for every little luxury you'd get all soft on me, and I like you just fine as you are! Tough as nails!” Carmine lightly tapped Eve's kidney with a fist as she came to rest in her partner's lap. Eve leaned back, allowing herself to relax into Carmine's body as Carmine took up the task of stroking her hair.
“I haven't checked the time, how long till we roll into Cartafell?”
Carmine took a drag and then replied, “Another two hours, assuming we don't get raided.”
Eve swiveled her head slightly, “I'm not sure I liked the way you said that…” Carmine had a habit of coloring her words with more or less emotion depending on how much information she was trying to hold back, and Eve had started to just pick up on her tells. Or, at least, the tells she figured Carmine was allowing her to pick up on. The android was far smarter than most people, and often left Eve feeling a bit like a rodent in a wheel.
“There's a Warband on an intercept path roughly two hundred miles down the track, depending on what the conductor decides to do we may be stopping early so they can mount an effective counterattack.” Eve sighed. Of course, the wanderers would choose to raid their train. It seemed as though even the smallest windows of peace were doomed to forever be interrupted for her.
“How big is the warband? Any indication they're looking to board?” Carmine took on her distinctive look of trawling through her vast data arrays as she searched for an answer.
“There's two land yachts and four dune cruisers. The yachts look like they've got the hook skiffs loaded so they may be planning to board as the train blows by… probably a small group of trained hijackers. Depending on where they end up hooking the train, we may see some action, though it's more likely they're targeting the first-class cars at the front.”
Eve agreed with the assessment; while targeting the front cars held the highest risk since they were latched directly behind the heavily armed lead car if one could board the first class car and ransack it, then all manner of riches could be plundered. “I guess we just need to hunker down for an hour and wait, not like we had much else to do in this tin box.” Eve griped as Carmine ran her fingers through her hair.
“Oh? Funny… I was thinking there was plenty we could get up to…” and with that, Carmine dragged Eve down onto the hard surface of the cot and began to kiss her passionately.
“Mmhhhph.. babe! Lemme finish my smoke first! Damn!” Eve hissed as she flailed her arm out to the side protectively. After having lost all of her smokes in their assault on the water treatment facility she was hesitant to let one go.
Carmine rolled her eyes as she flicked her butt into the sink, “Ugh whatever, I'll occupy myself, then.” And she began to kiss her way down Eve's naked torso.
“Ah! Ohhhh, yeah… that works… mhmmm” Eve cooed as Carmine worked to spread her thighs. “Yeah, that fucking works…” Carmine was unnaturally talented with every part of her body, achieving a level of control and intuition about her partner's needs that few people could ever hope to achieve. Eve drew in a breath of smoke and exhaled a pink cloud along with her moan. The past day had been too hectic to enjoy a small moment with her lover like this, so Eve was grateful for the brief peace.
A knock sounded at the door just as Eve was riding out her 4th orgasm, she barely had the sense or strength to pull her new Deckland from the holster slung on the railing of her bunk but managed to make a half-decent defensive pose as Carmine removed herself from between Eve's legs. “Are we expecting anyone?” Eve whispered to her partner.
“No, and the Trainmaster already verified our passes, so that's not it either.” Carmine brushed herself off and wiped her lips to remove most not all of Eve's juices before she stepped to the door and used the small peephole. “Oh shit, it's the Black man from compartment Four-G, he looks… pissed…”
Eve swore under her breath and pulled the sheets up around her, “Well, we better see what he wants, I guess.”
Carmine opened the door and greeted the short Black man with a beaming smile, “Well hello, sir! What can I do for you?” The man's expression subtly shifted from pissed to intrigued. He was short for a King, Eve placed him roughly 2 inches under her nearly 6’ frame. He was built like a cannonball, with broad shoulders, and a barrel chest rounded out into a significant gut. His hair was trimmed short in a pseudo-military cut, but his lack of diligence with his attire and physique told Eve he wasn't a career military man.
He glanced past Carmine and spotted Eve in the bed, the expression on his face shifted once more from intrigued to predatory. “I'm wonderin’ who was makin’ all the squealin’. Figures it'd be a couple of dykes.” The man grabbed at his crotch, jostling his bulge suggestively. “S’pose you cunts ain't forgot what real pleasure is? That lil’ bitch a few doors down said she ain't, but her faggot whined a lil’ too much with ma hog in its ass so’s I had ‘em chucked off the train. Maybe you bitches’ll make a better go of it on the sand, huh?”
His cock was hardening in his loose sweats and Eve could see the thick outline of his shaft and head. Like every other Black man Eve had ever met, his size and girth were prodigious. “Reckon I could save y’all the trouble if’n ya… lighten my load…” The man chuckled at his clever remark and Carmine giggled cutely.
“Oh Hun! Do you think we'd let you leave with a set of full nuts?! Get your beautiful ass in here and let us show you just how much we know about ‘real pleasure’!” Eve sighed, more so out of relief than any sort of disappointment. As a sworn and inked snowbunny, it was more or less her ordained privilege to service Black men throughout the Free Cities. A role that she had both taken on willingly and enjoyed beyond any other function she had.
Before her Excommunication from the Hunters Guild, she would have ranked slaughtering whitebois for money just under it in terms of satisfaction, but now… well things had changed. The dynamics of the world had shifted, and she found herself on a crash course with cultural revolution. Exterminating the white race had become something more than just plugging a few stray dogs pretending to be human, it was rapidly developing into a war that she was on the frontline for. As a result of that, indiscriminately euthanizing whitebois had stopped being fun and had instead become gravely serious.
That didn't stop it from being incredibly hot, though. Every crushed throat, every severed limb, and every gaping bullet wound was still just as euphoric for her as they had been when she'd taken her first pathetic life. “You ain't said shit since that door opened, slut, that any way to greet your better? Spendin’ too much time buried in cunt n’ now ya can't pull your weight, s’at it?” This was familiar to Eve, even the smallest of slights could lead to significant offense, depending on the person.
The Black race had assumed command of humanity as naturally as they breathed. It didn't matter if you were white, Hispanic, Asian, or Middle Eastern, the strong, virile blood of African ancestry had trumped everything else almost uncontested. Despite the bombs, the napalm, and the chemical devastation that Whites had employed against them, ultimately the Black race had dominated every other weak lineage on earth.
So when the man directed his displeasure at Eve, she did what came naturally to her as an inferior white cunt, she slid to the floor and begged for his forgiveness. Whether she earned it or not would remain to be seen, but the man seemed more interested in dumping a few loads than doling out pain so Eve suspected this may be a short tryst. Or, rather, she hoped it would be short; if what Carmine had said about the warband was true then they'd be running into them sooner than later.
“Get off the floor ya slut, my cocks up here. And you, Blondie, I want you lovin’ on my sack like it's a fuckin’ bag of jewels. The last bitch was sobbin’ over her little pink shit gettin’ beat black n’ blue so she couldn't finish the job. M’all pent up here so don't waste mah damn time!” The man yanked his sweats down around his ankles and a hefty Black cock sprang out to greet Eve. It bobbed up and down as its weight caused it to swing through the air.
Eve lunged at it with her mouth, letting her need and lust take over as she worshiped at the man's feet. Carmine wasn't far behind her as Eve felt the android slither up between the man's legs, taking hold of the man's ass cheeks, Eve began to pump her throat up and down his 10” shaft. She swirled her tongue and rotated her head from side to side as she used her face to jerk the man off. She hadn't been at it more than 20 seconds before the man grabbed a fist full of her hair and began to fuck her throat in earnest, Carmine knew better than to hover around the man's balls as they swung wildly back and forth so she ducked out from between his meaty thighs.
Spit and pre-cum ran down Eve's chin as the man rammed his stiff rod down her throat, “Mhmm fuck yeah, milk that cock, milk that fucking… cock!” The man forced her face into the short, curled hairs of his pubes, gyrating his hips to rub the tip of his cock against the back of her throat. “Ugh fuck I'm gonna…” and then Eve could feel the hot jets of cum gushing down her throat and into her stomach. The thick, virile ropes of divine seed flooded her esophagus as though he were pissing.
The cock twitched and spasmed as his naturally large prostate pumped copious amounts of his delicious jizz into her. Eve held on and gently worked her throat around the shaft of his cock, swirling her tongue around the base of his shaft as he mashed her nose against him. “Phewww-shit, maybe you dykes know more about dick than I thought. ‘Least you got a decent throat-pussy, been a while since I dropped a wad that big.” The man began to extract his cock from the back of Eve's throat, but she clung to him, licking and sucking as he tried to pull away.
“Aight get the fuck off me now, damn… how much you love nigga dick anyhow? What the fuck are you doing with a chick? Oh no, I know what it is. You're an old bitch now! Yeah, that's what's up, you a washed-up ol’ cunt for niggas like me. You ain't gonna land yourself a man ‘cause ain't no one want your ass. Heh, well that's too bad, I don't want you either. Bet that pussy dryer than the wastes ain't it, bitch?” Eve winced.
Her age was one of the few insecurities she had left. It was one of the main factors in men consistently passing her over for younger, hotter women. It was also one of the things she couldn't do anything about; while the Hunter Trials had slowed her aging to a crawl, they hadn't happened soon enough to trap her in her prime. She would forever be “too old” for the men of the free cities to truly consider a viable partner in anything other than sexual relief.
Still, she put on a brave face and decided to push back with a bit of bravado. “Sir, this pussy will milk you harder than any woman you've met.” The man's nostrils flared and Eve felt for a second as though he'd strike her, but instead, he just laughed.
“Yeah, yeah, and my cock’s never been wet. I'm fuckin’ this sex-bot n’ you're just gonna sit there like a good bitch. If you even move I'm reportin’ yo ass to the Trainmaster. Eve fought back the tears as the man took Carmine by the hair and bent her over the bottom bunk. It stung, more than she knew it should. Just another instance of that fucking God-Curse doing its twisted job on her. It wasn't her body or her age. That stupid fucking God had cursed her before finally dying and being banished.
While her powers had staved off the bulk of the curse, it had sunk enough of its claws into her to continue affecting her life. Originally she had been cursed to never feel satisfaction again, but it seemed that it had been limited to only experiencing satisfaction in incredibly short bursts. Carmine moaned as the man slid into her tight cunt; the wet slap of their hips meeting echoed out into the hall through the open door.
Eve worried about the noise, but the man didn't seem to care one way or another. A curious whiteboi nosed around the corner to see what the noise was about and Eve had an idea. She wasn't allowed to move, but that didn't mean she couldn't still enjoy herself a little. “Hey, yeah, you. What cabin are you in?” The whiteboi looked around like it couldn't quite understand it was being spoken to. It tried to back away but Eve called it back.
“Nah, nah, get back her faggot. What room are you in? I feel like playing with you. You're… cute? Yeah, I think we could have some fun. Tell me what room you're in.” Eve had to swallow back her bile as she complimented the wretch. The sheer fact that it was making eye contact with her sickened her to the core of her being.
“S-sorry, mistress. I-I’ve never… uhhh… this is my first..” the whiteboi swallowed hard, truly at a loss as to what was happening to it. It couldn't take its eyes off of the round Black ass currently turning Carmine into a gaping mess beside Eve now. “M-my room? Uhhh… I'm in four-K… m-mistress, may I ask w-what you… intend to d-do with me? M-my wife… she, ahhh I need to ask her before I can do anything…”
Eve dry heaved as it stuttered its way through its pathetic response. The sound of its voice, the woman unfortunately tied to it, the unsure way it spoke, all of it disgusted Eve on a visceral level. “No, you may not ask. Go back to your room and wait for me, with your wife. She'll want to be involved…” Eve's pussy began to tingle as she thought of the depraved and twisted things she was about to inflict upon this creature. Its “wife” would make a fantastic tool to use on it to deepen the torment, if Eve was lucky she would also be a snowbunny.
The whiteboi shuffled back from the door, finally picking up on Eve's malicious intent. Their survival instincts were virtually nonexistent so Eve wasn't surprised when it agreed to what she had told it to do despite experiencing the crippling fear of mortal danger she had just manipulated it into. The Black King beside her finally took note of her existence again as he slid his cock out of Carmine's abused hole. “Get that fuckin’ mouth on this shit, can't be walkin’ around all day covered in some cunts juice like this. The missus would shank me.”
Eve dutifully turned and wrapped her plump lips around the head of the man's cock. Carmine's pussy tasted of sex and musk, with a hint of metallic gunmetal. As Eve licked and slurped the remnants of her lover off of the man's shaft, she also discovered to her delight that it was smeared with his cum as well. So he'd blown his load in Carmine while she arranged her playdate, lucky bitch… “An’ make sure you suck my spunk outta her pussy, too. I ain't havin’ no fuckin’ bastard. Not after that last one… had to put the fuckin’ mother down cause she wouldn't listen to a word I said… fuckin’ whitey… kept goin’ like “law this, illegal that”... Like I have a fuck! A brat’s a brat n’ I ain't want no fuckin’ brats!”
He seemed genuinely remorseful, but more so for having to have done the work himself than for the loss of life. Almost like that act of terminating the mother was something he was too good to be forced to do, as though eliminating her wasn't worth his time or effort. It was completely illegal for women of any race to terminate the child of a Black superior. Typically resulting in death for the mother or a very lengthy sentence in a production mill. If the woman had complied, the King may not have chosen to report her. In this instance, It'd become a death sentence regardless.
“Anyway, If I’m ever hear from either of ya again you're goin’ in a dumpster like she did, a’ight?” Eve took his cock out of her throat long enough to thank him for his consideration before sliding it back down so she could lick his balls.
Carmine moaned as she turned over on the cot, spreading her legs to present the thick, sloppy mess of her pussy to Eve. She rubbed gingerly at her clit as she waited for Eve to make her way between her legs. “Heh, you snowbunnies are somethin’ else… get off my dick ‘fore I remove you, bitch. I got places to be an’ havin’ your stank on me all day put me in a mood.” Eve finally relented and extracted herself from his crotch. She thanked him for his attention once more and he turned to leave the compartment, lazily bringing his pants back up around his waist.
“Sorry, darlin’.” Carmine breathed the apology around an orgasm, a small spurt of cum burbling out of her abused cunt as Eve crawled up and began to eagerly eat her out. “I prom-oh shit-promise you'll get the next.” Even just moaned into the sopping-wet slit as she carried on. “We've got maybe-mmhhmmm-an hour before we're intercepted. What's this about meeting up with a whiteboi?”
Eve broke away from her meal and rose between Carmine's legs to share a passionate kiss with the android. “Well, seeing as someone stole a big, fat nut from me, I figured we could go stomp a couple of small, white nuts to make up for it. I told it to invite its “wife” since I'm sure she wouldn't mind sharing in the… fun.”
Carmine smiled, “Are you sure you wouldn't rather go on the prowl for another man? I'm sure a few are looking to blow off some steam…”
Eve just shook her head, “Nah, I feel like hurting something now, besides, we need to keep our heads in the game if we're going to be fending off Wanderers. What better way to get amped up for a fight than a little whiteboi beatdown?” Given the choice, Eve honestly would have preferred getting laid, but she knew heading into a fight with a ruined pussy would only distract her.
Black-on-white violence had been one of the main topics of pre-Race War discourse. Many in the “white faction” had argued that a disproportionate amount of violence was being committed against them, and that something needed to be done to quell the tide of bodies turning up on the streets. What always amused Eve about that fact, was that it had all been proven true in hindsight. All of the propaganda, all the statistics, it had all been true.
What amused her further, was that time after time, some of the loudest voices in the white faction calling out for an end to the “unjustified” violence were women who were inevitably exposed as partaking in those beatdowns. Prominent senators, judges, lawmakers, and teachers were outed as having reveled in the destruction of their race by either consuming, spreading, or producing content involving violence against whites.
The largest, most well-remembered instance of this was Senator Christy Mezlené. Something of a folk hero among snowbunnies and a champion of the Black Supremacy movement which inevitably snowballed into the BNWO. She sat in one of the most powerful seats one could hold in the pre-war continent and, for the longest time, was seen as a glimmering ray of hope for the white supremacists. On several occasions, she had single-handedly struck down bills designed to empower people of color and enable more equal footing for minorities across the board. She had been heralded as the savior of the white race.
And then an image surfaced on what was once called the “internet” of Senator Christy seemingly servicing a hung Black man. A prominent Queen of Spades symbol imprinted across her left cheek as she stared back into the camera with a devilish grin on her face. At first, the image was circulated among the niche online communities as a fake, a forgery meant to discredit her standing and sexualize her in a derogatory way. It would have been nothing more than a blip on the radar, except… Christy came forward, unprompted, to verify that the image was, in fact, genuine.
The event would come to be known as Spade-Gate. And would mark a turning point in history, as the world suddenly came to understand just how pervasive the BNWO was becoming. Christy doubled down on her admission, sharing every sordid detail of her promiscuous lifestyle, going so far as to publicly humiliate her then-husband by bringing one of her lovers to a Gala along with him in an internationally televised act of cuckolding. By that time the floodgates had opened and women the world over began to declare their allegiances. Firm lines were drawn in the sand and the momentum of the white faction was crushed into near non-existence.
From then on, anytime Christy attended any sort of major social event she would ensure her cuck was with her. She would make a point of showcasing all of the bruises, cuts, bumps, and burns that she and her lovers had inflicted as a means to encourage the behavior of others. Over one short year, she had gone from the most dangerous woman on earth to people of color, to being their greatest ally. The number of reported fatalities from Black-on-white violence plummeted to record lows, not because they had stopped happening, but because almost every woman across the continent had simply stopped reporting them.
In fact, because of Senator Christy’s brazen acceptance of the BNWO, Black on white violence was redoubled and it wasn't long before corporations started to smell money. A vast and previously unseen market of men and women had suddenly opened up to the mainstream, and capitalizing on the surge in popularity was in the best interest of the money-hungry entrepreneurs. Apparel, accessories, programs, self-help books, shows, and movies, the late 2090s saw a boom in BNWO content the likes of which hadn't been seen prior.
The most popular tattoo design in 2095 was the iconic spade symbol, which then went on to retain its place at the top of the list for 12 years straight before inevitably being supplanted by the more common “jack of spades”. Eve thought fondly of Christy for enabling the conditions in which unprompted violence against whites was not only allowed but celebrated. If the woman hadn't been long dead, Eve would have been thrilled to shake her hand or kneel at her feet. Carmine sighed, “Alright, get dressed, slut. We don't have long.”
-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-
Eve and Carmine stepped out of the whitebois room, checking the soles of their boots for blood. “I… what the fuck was that?” Carmine let the disbelief in her voice linger in the air between them.
“Yeah… that's was… wow…” Eve lit a Tellmin's, nearly in disbelief of what had just taken place in that small compartment. “I mean… she said it was her first time, right? She said that to us… right?” She took a long drag, hoping the cherry smoke would help drain some of the adrenaline pouring through her veins.
“Yep… she said she'd never beaten a whiteboi.” Carmine mimicked Eve's motions as she reached for her pack of smokes.
“I think… Carmine, I think she might be a monster. Like… what she did to its eyes… I just…”
Carmine picked up her train of thought, “I know… it was like she was… dissecting it. With her hands.” A cool chill crept along Eve's spine as she subconsciously put distance between herself and the door. It wasn't often she met someone with an even greater affinity for inflicting pain on Whitebois than her but when she did it was always exhilarating. Like stumbling across a wild cryptid.
“Why do you think she even married it? That kind of hatred would make it nearly impossible to stomach the sight of it, wouldn't it? I mean, I dry heaved just speaking to it. How could she possibly stand being in the same train car as them? Fucking insane…”
Carmine hummed as she drew in a breath of her cigarette, “I can't say, it seems like her mind is operating on some incredibly unique metric that we can't quite comprehend. Based on how much… fun… she was having in there, maybe she gets some sort of pleasure out of being around them…?” Her uncertainty was evident in her voice and Eve resolved to let the matter drop. While it had been fun she didn't quite get the kick out of it that she was hoping for.
“Whatever, how's our mischievous gang of Raiders looking?” There was an observation platform on the upper part of each of the cars, and Eve motioned to the steep set of stairs leading up to it. Carmine fell in behind her as they climbed up to take a peek out the small murder holes periodically punctured into the thick steel armor of the train car.
“I would say we should see the first signs of them any minute now. Just over the crest of that far dune next to the -N-OUT sign.” The sign sat half-buried in the sand, some of its lettering obscured. Eve imagined it was from some version of a diner or restaurant; she would come across similar signs in the possession of wealthy collectors, or long-forgotten apartments used by squatters. Most signs with that shape and coloring tended to be related to food.
Her eyesight was fantastic for a human, and coupled with her commtag implants it could be modified further, but in the end, they were still just regular, human eyes. “Yeah, that's, like, way too far for me to make anything out; that sign musta been huge, though.” Carmine nodded in agreement and they both fell into a comfortable silence as they smoked their cigarettes.
“Heh, kinda feels like we're in a movie, huh babe?” Carmine broke the small moment with her musings.
“Yeah? Is it one where the heroine beats all the baddies and gets the girl at the end? Maybe they ride off into the sunset together after a long hard mission? Whaddya think? Am I main character material?” Eve wrapped her arm around Carmine's waist and the android chuckled.
“Oh hell no! You're, like, maybe a supporting role! Do you honestly believe I wouldn't be the star of the show?! Babe look at me, I'm like, at least a fifteen out of ten, you're… well you're just a ten. You had, like, no hope.” Eve grumped and pinched the android's ass. Honestly, she was fine playing second fiddle to Carmine if that's how it was supposed to be. She wasn't cut out for being the main character of anything.
“Well then does that mean I'm the girl you get at the end? You gonna sweep me off my feet and carry me into the great ever-after?”
Carmine pinched her back and placed her chin on the top of Eve's head. “Bitch, this story ain't even over! It's not like I'm clairvoyant! But now that you bring it up, I always wanted a harem of hot chicks to travel around with… how's that sound?”
Even just closed her eyes and took another puff of her smoke, “Not a fucking chance. Not unless you wanted me to slowly make them disappear, anyway.” Eve imagined what that would be like, watching Carmine fall into the arms of another woman, directing her attention elsewhere, praising and spoiling other women besides her. It hurt, deeply. After the betrayal she suffered from Mason, Eve wasn't sure she could survive another like it.
It'd taken just about every ounce of willpower she'd had to overcome the heartbreak at that moment, and she knew that she still wasn't anywhere near done processing the pain and loss of that relationship. But Carmine had given her something to cling to in a very turbulent time, and if that final life raft fell out from under her…
“I'm just teasing, Eve. For as long as you live, you will be my one and only. Come hell or high water, you will always be enough for me, and one day in the hopefully-not-too-distant future, we'll settle down and live out our days peacefully. That's my true desire.” Eve let those words wash through her mind, flooding out all the negative thoughts that had been swirling around it.
Carmine's affection was likely the single greatest thing that had happened to her in the past 30 years of her life. Even given the somewhat manipulative way in which they'd come together and the mild terror she felt when Carmine did something potentially apocalyptic, such as dump billions upon billions of credits into their accounts. She still couldn't shake the undeniable feeling that Carmine was it. The one. Her true love.
Eve had stopped caring about whether or not Carmine's love was the result of true emotions or simply an output of 1’s and 0’s. The Turing test was a cute puzzle for infants compared to Carmine and so ultimately it didn't matter what was generating her regard for Eve. The result was the same either way and so long as that continued to be the case, Eve was content to let it be.
“Well, it was nice while it lasted, I guess. Looks like our welcome party is rolling up.” Eve opened her eyes at Carmine's words and spotted the long trail of dust rising from behind the dune. Alarms began to wail and harsh red lights sprung to life along the ceiling, replacing the sterile white of the normal ones. An automated announcement came over the loudspeakers instructing civilians to head for their designated panic rooms.
The lead dune-cruiser of the warband crested the dune and Eve marveled at its bulk. Massive tracks clawed through the sand, shooting up a spray behind the ship as it sped towards the tracks ahead of them. The remaining three cruisers crested the dune in a wedge formation and began to let off pock-shots at the train. Eve could see the muzzle flashes even under the harsh glare of the sun. The two land yachts tucked in behind the wedge for cover as the Warband began to turn parallel to the tracks.
The amount of bullets pinging off the side of the train car increased and Eve decided to descend back down to the lower level to avoid catching a lucky shot through the murder holes. Guards raced past the bottom of the stairs, headed for various defense points and gunfire began to sound from the forward cars. “I guess the rich folk get the pick of the litter when it comes to security.” In all likelihood, the rear cars would be left completely unguarded to ensure the safety of the wealthy front cars.
“Where are you calculating their breach point?” Eve began to make her way towards the front but Carmine stopped her.
“It's a feint, they'd have already latched if they were targeting the front. Looks like-yep, there they go.” The train rocked as the breaching hooks lanced through the protective sides of the train cars at the rear. “We're headed this way, baby!” Carmine grabbed hold of Eve's hand and began the race to the rear compartments, unlocking connecting doors as they went. They had 13 cars to navigate and by the time they reached the puncture sites, the warband would already be inside and volatile.
Eve drew her Deckland and prepared herself for the melee. After fighting in the cramped halls of the apartment, and again in the water treatment plant, Eve was getting sick of close-quarters engagements. “Sure wish Cassidy were here, I'd just chuck her in the car and wait for the screams to stop!”
Carmine chuckled at Eve's lamentation, “Nah! If Cas were here she'd have already jumped onto their yachts!”
