Not wanting to risk being late, at least during your first week on the job, you decide to go home. You take a blanket from the back of the sectional and cover the still-clustered girls with it, tucking them in for the night before you go.
You give the little can in your pocket a pat as you drive home. Considering how powerful just a few sprays have been, you strain to imagine what the case could do -- provide a nubile harem into your retirement years, at least, assuming your heart holds out that long. You remain a little wary of the AXE's effects, after all. You hope the micro-dose you used tonight won't be quite so debilitating to the girls as your previous applications were. You yourself feel physically weary, but lightly buzzed, pretty much the same as your past experiences.
You unlock the door to your apartment, and note that the lights are on in all its small rooms, though you don't remember having left them that way. You hang your jacket on the coatrack as you enter the main room, puzzled, but hardly have a chance to look around before you take an kidney punch from behind and a resounding jolt rips through your body.
You come to your senses on your open sofa bed, one hand cuffed to the frame behind you, and looking up at Dr. McKenzie, who is clad in a dark trenchcoat and holding an electric stun gun in her left hand, and a small caliber pistol fitted with a large silencer in her right.
"Alright, you idiot," she hisses. "What have you done with Lot #7?"
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