If you start at the top, the only way is down

Right, time to do this. Time to go charging – all by your lonesome – into a six-storey building littered with bad guys to rescue someone who you don’t know where she is, then escape back out and make your past the gang taking cover in the street outside.

What could possibly go wrong?

Okay, so you exaggerated with the whole ‘charging’ bit, opting instead to carefully pulling open the rooftop door and descend down the short flight of stairs behind it. Once you’re at the bottom, you hunker down behind the wall covering you from the corridor at the foot of them and listen intently. Down here, the sound of gunfire’s somewhat muted, suggesting that none of it’s coming from this floor. Not that you’re an expert or anything.

“Hey, sounds like the action’s getting heavy,” Just as you’re about to peek round the corner, the sound of someone talking from maybe thirty feet away makes you stop, “Maybe we should help out?”

“Nah, the boss told us to watch these doors, so that’s what we’re doing,” Another voice replies, and you have to commend this particular mook on his devotion to duty.

“That slut we captured last night’s just come to, and he don’t want any interruptions,” But then he proceeds to use a sexist term as well as make a grammatical mistake, which means he’ll have to die.

“What, like someone’s gonna get in here...” That’s the last thing the owner of the first voice gets to say before you dive out from behind the wall concealing the stairs to the roof to drop onto a knee. Your reflexes and targeting computer takes care of the rest, and two of those surprisingly loud cracks of your suppressed carbine being fired is followed by the almost simultaneous thuds of two now very dead guards hitting the floor, both of them with a neat little hole in the middle of his forehead.

Carbine raised and hoping that those two shots weren’t loud enough for anyone to hear them over the ongoing gun battle downstairs, you carefully advance on the set of double doors that the guards’ are now slumped in front of. Along the way, you check both that the staircase going down and every room on this floor that you pass are empty. They are, and the rooms look more like one-room apartments turned into wannabe army barracks than what you imagine the rooms of a brothel would look like. But hey, you guess there’s worse places to locate a criminal lair with cosy bunk beds for your henchmen in than the top floor of a whorehouse.

Without encountering anyone else, and without the sound of a dozen pissed-off bad guys coming barging up the stairs, you reach the doors and hunker down again.

Hopefully, no one knows you’re coming, but why risk it? With that in mind, you lean your **** carbine against the wall and pop loose a flashbang from your belt. Then you take a deep breath and proceed with the process of pushing one of the doors open, toss the grenade, and close the door again. Only then do you remember that the optical shielding cyberware that you fitted yourself means you could have just left the door open and started shooting straight away.

“Tell me want I want to know, or you’ll get another dose… What the…!” BANG!!! Yep, you definitely just ruined someone’s evening. Carbine back in your grasp, you push the door open again and burst inside.

In the middle of the big, relatively luxuriously furnished suite a tracksuit-wearing dude with peroxide blonde hair and a paunch finishes blindly waving a gun around while his other hand is in front of his eyes and looks about to squeeze the trigger as he aims it in your general direction. So he gets two in the chest and a third in the head once he’s finished dropping to the floor.

Quick scan of the room with your weapon raised, and that looks to be that. No more hostiles to waste. This is too easy.

“Yeah, that was pretty fucking ninja,” With a satisfied grin, you slap a fresh clip into your carbine and fix the used one furthest to the left on your tactical vest.

Now let’s see. In this particular part of the suite there are two massive sofas, a huge screen bolted to the wall, a cold-metal operating table tipped forwards and a low coffee table with a really shiny glass surface.

Hmm, one of those things don’t fit in.

Also, strapped by her wrists and ankles to the operating table is a drop-dead gorgeous dark elf babe with the biggest and juiciest set of tits you’ve ever seen, and that lovely tuft of snow-white hair on top of her otherwise smooth-shaven cunt. Realising that you’re being a perv, you make sure to notice how her face is fucking perfect too, what with those high cheekbones and plump cocksucker lips. Uh-huh, that was definitely classier.

“You’ve got to be the Fox,” Approaching the table, you sling your weapon across one shoulder so you can pull out your knife.

“I’M BLIND AND DEAF!!!” Even though she’s screaming, the Fox manages to have a voice that’s just straight-up liquid sex, “YOU THREW A FLASHBANG!”

“Oops!” Suddenly, you don’t feel quite so ninja, nor does this seem like the right time to point out that if she can hear you, she can’t be completely deafened by the blast, “Sorry about that. Here, let me get you loose.”

Said and done, you use your knife to cut the Fox free of her bounds, and while you first do that and then sheath your knife to help her sit up on what no doubt is a very firm and luscious ass, she starts to come back round again.

“DID YOU GET THEM BOTH!?” She’s still screaming like bells are ringing in her ears though.

Wait a second, ‘both’?

Spotting something moving in the corner of your eye, you turn your head and see a dark-haired woman in a lab coat rising up from behind the nearest couch with a syringe in her hand.

Instead of your rifle, you unholster your pistol and treat the lab coat lady to a dose of the old double-tap to the chest and an extra for the head thrown in for good measure.

“Yeah, I got them both,” Holstering your pistol, you’re back to feeling like a badass.

“Good,” Gingerly getting up to sit on the table, Fox – you decide to skip the The for the sake of brevity – definitely looks shook-up, and not just from getting a stun grenade (again, oops!) in the face either, “Shit, my head hurts.”

“Come on,” Speaking loudly, you figure you can save getting to know each other better for later, “Let’s get out of here.”

“Best fucking thing I’ve heard all day,” A confident smile playing across her face and somehow making it appear even more beautiful, Fox swings her legs over the edge of the table and hops down. Then the smile disappears as she crashes towards you, the weight of her boobs making you grunt. Also, the feel of them makes your dick throb.

“Shit!” Clearly frustrated, the naked babe is snarling and her mauve eyes have narrowed into tight slits as she looks up at you.

“What the hell did they do to you?” You tell yourself it’s to give her some support that you wrap one arm round Fox’s slender waist, but even you don’t buy that.

“Pumped me full of all sorts of crap that’s kept me up since last night,” Along with that explanation, Fox seems to relax against your bigger and more stable frame, “I think. Mostly I’ve been fading in and out and seeing blue boxes.”

“Ah, those...” Amazingly, you’re interrupted by the lab coat lady groaning and gurgling behind you while one of her legs twitches about for a fraction of a second. Fox notices it to, and responds by a) pulling your gun and b) putting two more rounds into lab coat lady’s skull. That stops her groaning in a hurry.

“Bitch!” Jarring though it is, Fox getting to waste her tormentor appears quite cathartic, as her smile returns while she holsters your pistol again before letting one hand rest against the lower portion of your stomach, “Hey, you’re kind of cute.”

“Thanks,” You return her smile and gently help her to step over the woman that she just executed, “Think we can your clothes round here somewhere?”

In fact, you do. They and her equipment laid out on another table in an adjacent room that’s either a smallish armoury, or proof that tracksuit man – you’re guessing he was Mr. Big until you ventilated his brain – had a serious gun fetish.

While Fox suits up where she’s sitting in the worn and suspiciously stained wingback chair that you helped her into, you let your inner role-player run wild again by grabbing an empty duffel bag and stuffing it with some of the goodies either mounted on the walls, kept in gun racks or stored in the boxes and craters that litter the floor.

“There, all done. Now, you’ve got a plan for getting us out of here?” Fox talking in a voice that’s all smooth and melodic and naturally seductive makes you turn your attention back to her. Wow, she looks good! Recovered enough to stand up on her own, the first thing you notice about her is how her already huge tits are pushed upwards to make them somehow even more eye-catching by the corset that covers the middle of her hourglass figure. And even from in front, you can tell that that tiny skirt with the slits on the sides is straining to contain her ass.

“Step one’s me stopping my drooling...” Yes, you just said that out loud.

“Then what?” Fox lets the corners of her mouth rise in a predatory smile, and one hand ends up on her hip.

“Ever see the first Star Wars movie?”

“Yeah...” Fox changes her expression to a more weary one, as if she expects you to go into way too much detail about a 40-year old movie.

“That rescue plan Han Solo and Luke Skywalker had for Princess Leia?” You grin, “Mine’s nowhere near as thought-out.”

“Great,” Every time Fox smiles, you want to make her keep doing it.

“Don’t worry though,” You assure her, “I’ll think of something.”