Thank god the bar was painted like a Rainbow Popsicle or Max would have never found the place. He spent the better part of an hour wandering back and forth down the wrong street, then stumbled across it as he backtracked toward the mall. It was close to five in the afternoon, and the small parking lot was packed with vehicles.

Max opened the blacked-out door and was slapped upside the head by deafening dance music. He weathered the initial storm and soldiered inside. The song ended as he stood bathed in the evening light, and a score of weapons turned to glance at him. Men in short-shorts and torn tank tops eye fucked Max while the women turned back to their dance partners. The atmosphere was different than every bar he'd ever been in. It was off in some intangible way, and he couldn't put his finger on the sensation. The door closed behind him, and the sound system rolled over to a slow Depeche Mode track.

The moment ended and he was back to being just a random guy in the crowd. He caught sight of the single pool table in the corner which was occupied, but he ambled in that direction. People were still looking at him, and their eyes made his neck hairs bristle. Max approached a small table nearby and sat down with his back to the wall. Two of the four pool players turned towards him and he smiled. A small dark-skinned African man circled the table with a pool cue in hand. He had two gold earrings and a layer of thick purple eyeliner. Small dark hands absently ground a block of chalk on the end of the Pool Que as he analyzed the table. Three other men dressed in pastel colors sat on stools nearby.

"Hello," he said pulling a small menu towards himself. He glanced down the list checking how much the beer cost.

"You want in?"

"I would like that," he admitted putting the menu back.

"We're playing for credits."

"How much?"

"Buy-in is a thousand,"

"Sorry lads, I'm strapped for cash. Guess I'll order a beer and watch," he said settling against the wall. The small African-American struck the white ball, sending into a cluster of solids. The break blew the ball apart in several directions. His eyes lifted, slid over Max, he smirked playfully.

"You're new here, so we could float you the credits, but how about a little fun?" He asked in a lisping drawl.

"Fun?"

"Some strip pool. Each game you remove something."

"Sure! I'll take you up on that. When am I up?"

"Right now," he said leaning over the table. He aimed the pool stick between two strips and struck the cue ball. The ball spun around them like a ballet dancer and nudged the eightball into the pocket. One of the men stood and palmed the nearby console. It flashed and the credit transfer competed.

Max stood, taking the offered pool stick. He removed his tan gloves and stuffed them into his pocket. They had to come off anyway if he wanted to play.

"That's lame," they chorused. "Show some skin at least."

"You didn't say what I had to remove," he replied with a grin. Max settled the cue ball on the starting, aimed at the triangle of racked balls, and struck. They blew apart in an explosion clinking and bouncing around the felt table.

"What are you doing here?" A familiar female hissed from behind him. Max turned to see Violet in a black mini-dress and high heels, with an expression of angry suspicion.

"The same thing you are, darling. Sacrificing a piece of my dignity for this months rent," he quipped walking around the table. "Since you're here, how about a glass of whatever's on tap. I'm not picky."

Her eyes narrowed and she glanced at the other men nearby. None ordered anything so she grunted and sauntered off. She slid through a pack of female weapons and her expression lifted—marginally. Max watched her go before turning back to the game. He dropped two solids into the pocket before missing his third shot.

"I'm Lafayette," the dark-skinned man said sliding past Max. He took up a spot near the corner and sank an easy ball. He didn't bother moving as he dropped another into the opposite pocket, then circled the table rubbing his pool stick with the chalk.

"Max."

Lafayette dropped two more before Violet returned with his beer. The full glass careened across the table towards him, and Max made no move to grab it as it slid off the end. The music was loud enough that no one noticed the sound of glass shattering.

"Tisk, tisk… awful service," he commented, and Violet glared at him.

"You're still paying for that."

"Then I'd like another, please," Max said with a self-satisfied grin. Violet sighed dramatically and knelt to pick up the broken pieces. The other men stopped to watch, and Max admired the way her tiny dress rode up. The skulls on her thigh grinned at Max, daring him to comment.

"1 star for service, but damn… five stars for that ass," He crooned and Violet stood. Her eyes burned like molten silver as she turned to glare at him.

"What if I dump the next one on your head just to cool you off?"

"I'm sure these gentlemen wouldn't mind. They're already trying to get my clothes off, so you'd just be doing them a favor." Max said gesturing to his new friends. "Alas, who would I get to towel me off?" He asked winking at the woman. Violet glanced at them, snorted once and stalked off towards the bar.

"You should be careful of Violet. I've seen her thump a few customers who got handsy."

"I'm familiar with her temper, but I can't help myself. It's so much fun poking her buttons." Max said turning back to the pool table.

"You know her?" They asked.

"I rent a room from her and Friday."

"But, you're not her Meister?"

"I was, but she didn't like how handsy I got," he replied and the men snorted. Lafayette dropped the last striped ball into a side pocket and set up for the eight ball. The stick lazily hit the ball which rolled slowly across the felt and into the hole.

"Another?" he asked. Max stood and pulled his belt free. The four men watched him hungrily as he set it down on the table. He also dug his gloves out and added them to the small pile. Now Max started to understand how women could toy with straight men so easily.

"I'll play him this time," one of his friends said. He was a foot shorter with dark brown hair and hazel colored eyes. Lafayette held out the pool stick then racked the balls before the challenger broke the triangle in a nearly perfect spread. Friday came over carrying a tray and two glasses in one hand. The other carried a small mop to clean up the beer.

"Now I know why Violet asked me to cover her table," Friday mused and Max laughed.

"Hello, Friday. I hope you had a… pleasurable morning," Max said and a pink tinge crossed her cheeks as she set the beer down, and covered her chest with the empty tray. He stood and took the mop from her, unwilling to let the woman clean up his mess.

"Where's Rusty at?" He asked pushing the mob around the pool of liquid.

"Watching a dog competition in the back room. Do you need any else?" She asked glancing at the group.

"Since you're here. Would you mind putting my things with yours? I'm about to lose my second game, and I have nowhere to put my gear."

"Please don't go wild. The boys may enjoy the sight, but there is a level of decorum here." Friday said picking up his belt and gloves.

"These pool sharks are good, but I'll cut my losses before my boxers drop." He said holding the used mop out. Friday took it, and Max turned his attention back to the game. This new challenger was even better than Lafayette. He'd nearly cleaned the table in the short time Max had conversed with Friday. The man dropped every solid on the board, but thankfully, missed the eight ball. It rolled to a stop barely an inch from the pocket. There was no chance Max would win by skill alone.

Then again he didn't need to win. Max just needed to make the other guy lose. He leaned over the table and carefully nudged one of his balls with the pool stick. It rolled further than anticipated bumping the eight ball even closer to the hole. The other man sniffed as he straightened, and Max smiled. Max wasted a turn, but the eightball was fairly well covered. He picked the cube of chalk and rubbed it over the tip of his pool stick.

"You blocked me."

"Worried I'll catch up?" Max asked holding out the chalk. His opponent took it and walked around the table. For almost a minute, he examined the board looking for an angle. If Max were in the same position, he'd just waste a turn. He was human, well, previously human and still capable of flaws. The NPC was far more skilled and it showed in his confidence. He stopped resting the pool stick on his outstretched hand, finger curled over the shaft. He hit the cue ball low and off to one corner. It rolled sideways skirting the edge of the table and nudged the eightball, which rolled toward the pocket. It dropped into the pocket, and Max sucked in his breath. The cue ball tottered on the precipice, like a man waiting for the end. Then it slowly fell in.

"Ohhhh, scratched out!" Charlie cheered.

The man sighed and went over to the console. He put his palm on the screen, then tapped at it a few times. "Just put your palm on next, and a thousand credits will transfer over," he said. Max followed his directions and saw his balance rise to 17408 credits.

"Another round?"

"I'll pass for now. I want to celebrate by annoying Violet some more. I've got credits, so I think I'll order something fancy at the bar," Max said tossing the stick toward Lafayette. The small man caught it deftly, smiled, and stroked a dark hand over the tip.

Max waved and pushed through a growing crowd of dancers. He took his time so he could admire the number of girls grinding together. Men sprinkled the dance floor like salt in a sweet dish, but it was nice to see the sheer amount of female flesh on display. The weapons—not all of them men—casually pawed at Max as he shimmied and swayed past.

Quinn was in a red satin doublet today with a high v-neck collar. A bight Italian trilby perched atop his head like it dared gravity to try something. The man was bobbing his hips to the rhythm but paused with a smile as he noticed Max approach.

"The cutie is back," he said with a lisping chirp. Violet ignored him as he slid into place next to her, but he returned Quinn's smile and placed a hand on her pale shoulder "Violet here convinced me to try something new." Quinn glanced between the two, even more surprised. The woman sniffed in annoyance and continued placing drink concoctions on her serving tray, then brushed his hand off and went about her duties.

"I want to try an interesting drink, surprise me," Max said leaning into the opened spot. He slid a hand over the nearby console to open a tab.

"In all honesty Quinn, I'm a straight guy in a gay bar, but you know what? I am really enjoying myself. A man usually spends half the night looking for a slice of pussy. Chatting them up, getting her interested, fending off other men… it's such a headache. I can finally relax." Max said above the dance music.

"Why do it then?"

"In the real world, women go to bars to be picked up. Men go hunting. It's just how we apes go about finding love. Still, I'm enjoying myself so much maybe I'll go over and lose another game of pool."

"If you need money, I'd hire you part-time… if you're willing." Quinn offered as he pulled several bottles of alcohol off the shelf. He filled a metal shaker with ice, then dropped in several ounces of each poison.

"No thanks. Me and nine-to-five jobs don't get along. I always made my money as a soldier, and that isn't going to change now."

"I'd make it worth your while, beautiful. The boys are stacking the room tonight," Quinn replied dropping the lid on the shaker and rocking it back and forth. Max glanced back at the crowd of men around the pool table. It had grown to seven and they were looking in his direction.

"I don't like promises, but I might come back tomorrow."

Quinn pulled a small martini glass out and dropped a cube of dry ice into the bottom. Next, he added a slice of watermelon and kiwi to one side and poured the pink concoction over the top. The liquid bubbled and popped from the dry ice. Fog rolled off the top as he set on the counter and pushed it towards Max.

"What is it?"

"A Pink Power Ranger," said with a flourish.

He was about to pick the glass up when a slice of sex appeal sat down next to him. The woman flicked her icy blue eyes toward him, in a quick once over. One of which was covered by her black bangs. The rest of her hair was a short controlled bob that framed her face like a picture. She turned to the barkeep and raised a lazy hand toward Quinn.

"Beer please," she said and the owner quickly slid a glass of honeyed nectar towards her. She looked at him again, and Max felt her eyes slid across his body.

"You come here often?" She asked in a husky voice and he laughed a quick bark.

"My first night," he admitted, "You?"

"Bars aren't my scene, but my pistol told me lots of guys hang out here."

"I'm surprised. Picking up men at a gay bar doesn't sound very productive," Max mused and it was the woman's turn to laugh. He glanced at her again out of the corner of his eye. She had a straight hawkish nose, a mouth that was slightly larger than average, and a chin like a blunted point. Black knee-high combat boots, with a dagger sheath sticking out one. Shiny skin-tight leather pants, with a holster strapped so low on her thigh the extended pistol almost touching her knee. Her other leg had a sheath with three silver throwing knives. She had, what Max assumed was, light body armor under another black leather vest. Pistol magazines poked out from a half dozen pockets. Everything about the woman from her clothing to the hard beauty of her face screamed warrior princess.

"It wasn't my first choice either, but my options are limited. I've been silver for almost a week. Men are already hard to find, and none seem to be staying at the Armory." The woman said grabbing her beer. Max picked up his Pink Power Ranger, which bubbled and frothed from the dry ice. He sipped it and decided he didn't like the drink. It tasted like carbonated tropical punch smothered in vodka. The extra bubbles and dry ice fog were lovely to look at but didn't add anything to the drink.

"I was just telling Quinn, that's why I love this place. It's perfect for coming to relax."

"You could always take a boytoy home and try him out," Quinn replied with a wink. Max polished off the small drink and pushed it across the bar. He gave the bar owner a tired put-upon look.

"Another?" the man asked, but Max quickly waved a hand.

"I think I need a beer," Max admitted and turned to the woman again. She was looking at him with appraising eyes as she toyed with a lock of hair. A glass of slid across the counter and he caught it without looking. The woman made some kind of decision because she shifted in her seat.

"I'm Calamity, Cal for short."

"Max," he said offering a hand. They shook and her grip was quick and strong.

"May I ask what are you?"

"I'm a man," Max replied taking a sip from his beer which tasted much better in his opinion.

"You know what I mean," she said returning to her own beer. He set down his glass.

"There must be some misunderstand here, I'm not a weapon," he said, and the woman scanned him looking for holsters or visible weapons.

Max, in turn, glanced over her outfit. The pistol in her holster looked like a HnK USP, but it was hard to tell just seeing the rear slide and hammer. She didn't have a primary weapon, but there was the light body armor. More than likely that meant she had just hit the silver ranks.

"Where are your guns?" She asked and he lifted his arms.

"Meet Lucille and Maybelle," Max said flexing his thick biceps and grinned at her. "Be careful, Lucille's a firecracker," he added and the girl laughed.

"You're funny. I like that, and it seems your not totally off women. I need a primary weapon and I'll take anything at this point." Cal said leaning further forward. She pressed a hand to his jeans and damned if he didn't respond to her touch. It had been… months since he'd had a woman. Still, she was obviously under the impression Max was a weapon and playing hard to get. Most Meisters wore tactical gear, and it was the only thing that separated them from the NPC's. Max was wearing plain clothes, and his gun belt and gloves were missing.

"If you're looking for a gun, there are a handful over by the pool tables. Just wander over and introduce yourself. They are ready to find a Meister."

"I want you," she replied.

"That's a first. Usually, I'm the one chasing after women."

"I know what I want," she continued doggedly.

"I'm flattered, but I'm not a weapon you can contract with," he said draining his glass. Max got up to leave, but the woman stopped him. One hand wrapped around his elbow, while her other grabbed a fist full of his ass. She squeezed hard and smiled up at him.

"Let's go to my place," she said in a husky voice. Max quirked an eyebrow at the woman. Quinn was smiling behind the counter at what had to be the strangest encounter ever. He'd spelled out that he wasn't a weapon, so Max mentally shrugged.

"I'll follow you."

The woman finished her beer to bolster herself, then turned and possessively took his arm. She was a few inches shorter than him, and he looked down into her icy eyes. His better judgment gave way to the intense desire to fuck this girl.

"Lead the way," he said and Quinn laughed as he washed the dirty glasses.

"And here you said you weren't looking to get laid," Quinn said with a sly twinkling smirk.

"I wasn't, but maybe fate is telling me something," Max called back as the woman pulled him towards the door.

Max followed Calamity out into the parking lot. She approached a Kawasaki Ninja 1,000cc motorcycle and quickly straddled the seat. It started with a threatening roar before settling into a deep tiger's purr. He shrugged and climbed onto the tiny rear seat. She didn't put a helmet or offer him one, so he leaned forward wrapping his arms around her stomach. The woman smelled of leather and ode 'de femme fatale which made him a touch horny. It was a good thing he'd gotten a solid grip on her because she revved the throttle and they shot forward. The bike zipped forward, dropped off the sidewalk just ahead of a Red Bugatti. The engine roared again and the Ninja went up into a low wheelie as it raced down the street.

Max was not a man easily impressed, but this girl had a death wish with her motorcycle. They went around six or seven cars stopped at the red light then threaded the needle of moving traffic. The wind was annoying loud without a helmet, and Calamity's black hair whipped at his face.

"How far away do you live?"

The reply ripped past with the wind and the sound of the engine. She slowed, marginally to slide around an intersection before reeving the throttle again. He managed to keep his bearings enough to know they were heading past the competition center and toward the water. They pulled into a low set of apartment buildings and Cal let up on the gas. The ninja slowed with a discontented growl. She drove past three buildings at a relative crawl, then parked the bike directly on the sidewalk.

Max slid off the back almost gratefully. Cal turned off the bike, kicked it up on the stand, and motioned for him to follow. He caught up with her as she mounted the first set of steps. Cal looked back at Max as his hand slid up her leg and squeezed her ass. The leather was tight but flexible enough to give his fingers purchase.

"Returning the favor," he said and she smiled. The woman took her sweet time mounting the stairs, and by the third floor, he'd memorized the shape of her ass. She paused on the landing and turned towards him. He was a step below and she took the opportunity to kiss him. At first, it was a peck, then a tap of lips, then she was wrapping her arms around his neck and pushing her tongue into his mouth.

She tasted of beer and salted peanuts, and smelled like leather and musky sex. The erotic body odor made his cock harden with his jeans and Cal noticed. Her fingers coaxed and pawed at his thigh, ass, and groin. Somehow the apartment door got unlocked and kicked open. Max barely noticed a small living room before his shirt was being torn off. He grabbed her leather jacket pushing it over her shoulders. It thudded to the floor as he reached for the snaps on her armor. Teeth bit into his neck as she climbed up to his lips. Legs around his waist, they bumped into an old couch and the light armor fell off.

The bedroom was open and Max paused in the doorway. Cal's mouth was on his, hunting for his tongue and doing a good job of it. Together they couldn't make it through the small portal. He pressed her against the jam and she let out a dark growl as she finally slid from him. She shoved Max, shirtless into the room. Much of the space was taken up by a large bed and he landed on the mattress. Calamity stayed just in the doorway staring at Max's muscled chest.

"I have a confession," she said pulling a gray tank top over her head.

"Please tell me you're not a trap," he said and she laughed playfully.

I suppose I was at a gay bar, he thought.

"Fortunately for you, I'm all woman."

"Good, what's your dark secret then?" He asked and Cal kicked the door closed. She reached behind her back, unhooked the bra and let it fall to the floor. Her breasts popped free and he marveled that they'd managed to fit under the light armor. She crossed the short distance and their lips pressed together again. Max ran his fingers over her hardening nipples, then snaked a hand between her legs. He'd been in Thailand once and it was safer to check. Her crotch was steamy under the leather, but thankfully, lacked any suspicious bulges. Cal chuckled in response, then kissed and licked her way to his right ear.

"I love sucking cock," she growled before biting down on his earlobe.

"I'm not going to stop you," he replied and Cal's leather pants creaked in protest as she knelt before him. Her fingers worked the button on his jeans and slid the zipper down. Next, she pulled on the gray boxers and withdrew his cock like a magnum from its holster. It slid free and she barely avoided getting clubbed in the face.

"Shit, you are even bigger than Yohan," she gasped in surprise. Cal stroked him several times just to test his girth, then tried vainly to circle his thick shaft with her fingers. Her blue eyes grew smoky and she knew she'd made the right decision. A tongue licked out and slid along his tip, down his shaft, and dragged along the base of his cock. Then she kissed her way up his length just to start over. By the third torturous minute his erection was twitching and Calamity purred to herself. Finally, her lips slid over his head and he moaned. She descended partly down his length then pulled back. At the top she licked her tongue languorously around the crown before she descended again.

"Wow," he groaned as Cal pushed herself further. Inch after inch entered her mouth until her lips touched the base of his cock. She withdrew, and his slippery cocked popped free. She smiled up at him enjoying the dazed expression on his face. Calamity tucked her black hair behind one ear.

"You like?" Cal asked and Max nodded quickly. She clawed at his six-pack abs as her attention returned to his manhood. Her left hand half curled around his shaft as her lips slid down the shaft again. Nails raked his stomach again, and black hair bobbed as her head rose and fell. He'd heard tales of throbbing cocks, and now he believed it. His erection was jumping to every flick and lick of her tongue. It felt so good, in fact, he was tempted to say it was the best blowjob he'd ever gotten.

"Crap, Cal, I'm going to cum," he admitted and she looked up into his eyes. She didn't stop. Instead, Cal picked up speed as her nails cut more scratches into his stomach. Moaning like the dead, stomach spasming, body tingling, Max exploded in her mouth with an orgasm best described as world-shattering. He fell back onto the bed gasping for breath. Cal spent more than a minute sucking every ounce of essence he had to give. His cock exited her mouth with a loud pop and she grinned up at him.

"You know how to pleasure a man," he rasped still out of breath and she smiled again. Her slippery fingers continued to stroke his cock as she admired his size again. Max quickly discovered one benefit of being a digital ghost. He no longer had to wait an hour or more before sessions. Thanks to Cal, his cock never did more than droop before coming back to full attention. He grabbed her by the shoulders and dragged her onto the bed. She laughed as he fought with her gun belt. He didn't bother pulling it free. It was enough to loosen the buckle and unzip her leather pants. Then he grabbed the hem of her waist and dragged them down her legs, she quickly kicked out the sticky fabric.

Cal rolled over, crawling away on all fours towards the headboard. She put one hand on the wall and looked back at him with hungry eyes, then reached back and spread herself for him. Translucent lube dripped from her sex and spread across her smooth thighs. Max quickly pulled his jeans and boxers off then went after her. She smiled at him and lifted her ass higher. Max reached her and knelt behind the woman, then guided himself into her slick pussy. Her insides felt like a heavenly , and he quickly buried himself up to the base. This time she moaned in pleasure.

He pulled out enjoying the sight of her spread sex, then thrust forward, and Cal cried out as their hips met. Max bounced back, clung to her waist and pushed. She shoved against the wall and they collided with a loud fleshy slap. Max held her by the hips, digging his fingers into the flesh as the pace increased. With each thrust, another moan escaped Cal's parted lips. Ten minutes passed before Cal rolled onto her back.

"Damn that feels good. Fuck me, fuck me hard," she crooned and he did just that. Max pulled the woman towards the corner of the bed and climbed off. He pinned her to down as he fucked her pussy. With each plunge of his cock, she wailed and clawed at his arms, his chest, and when she could, his back.

"God, yes…" she groaned pulling a pillow onto her face. Seconds later, the woman screamed into it as an orgasm ripped through her. Max felt her sex quivering against his erection and he slowly pulled free. Cal grinned like a feral cat as she lowered the pillow and looked up at him.

"You know how fuck a woman," she sighed throwing the pillow across the bed. Smiling to himself, Max climbed onto the mattress with her, and she straddled him. Cal guided him inside and slowly ground herself against him. Max grunted as she worked herself into a steady back and forth rhythm. The woman sure loved her nails because his torso was turning into a patchwork of crisscrossing scars.

It didn't last though. Max saw the change come across her face. Calamity's expression shifted from contented pleasure to confusion, then subtle dawning realization.

"Where's your collar?"

"Why would I have a collar?" He asked in reply. Her eyes widened further and she stopped mid-motion to stare at him. Then Cal threw herself from the bed and clawed at her leather pants. She fumbled with the holster as Max sat up on his elbows. Finally, she yanked the pistol free and spun towards him.

"Who are you?" Calamity hissed.

"We sort of introduced ourselves back at the bar."

"I mean it, who the hell are you?"

"You should be careful, darling," Max said pointing at her pistol. He was happy to note he'd correctly identified the USP in her holster. "Shooting me will earn you a temporary ban."

"You're a Meister?!" She cried and the gun went off. The bullet struck the wall and she staggered backward in surprise. Max rolled his eyes but raised his hands in a non-threatening manner.

"Yohan, is that true?" Cal asked in a nearly hysterical voice. The weapon flashed yellow for a second and a handsome man with blond hair appeared next to her. He had the bright blue eyes, high cheekbones, and powerful nose of a highborn German. He glanced at Max laying on the bed, then the hole in the wall, and finally to Cal.

"Ya, he is a player," the man said in a thick Germanic accent.

"Why didn't you tell me sooner!?" The woman nearly shouted.

"I cannot see in pistol form, but he was close enough to hear. I recall him telling you twice he was not a gun."

Calamity scowled at him, then at Max, before grabbing her pants and fleeing the room. Max shifted to the edge of the bed and pulled his jeans back on.

"I have had better Meisters, but I'm glad she missed," Yohan said walking toward the bedroom door. Max glanced up from his dressing and eyed the weapon. He was dressed impeccably in expensive grey slacks and a polo. "That would have been the second time she hit another player."

"So… it's another 24-hour ban."

"Nein, it's thirty days the second time," he corrected glancing out through the doorway then added, "The third time it's permanent. Disputes are best taken into a match or a duel."

"That's harsh," Max said shoving his feet into the combat boots. He looked around for his shirt but couldn't locate it in the bedroom. Yohan backed through the doorway and toward his Meister. Calamity managed to yank her pants up as Max entered the living room. She snatched the leather jacket from Yohan, and with angry fumbling fingers worked the zipper up to her neck. Her icy eyes stared daggers at Max as he located his shirt.

"Please tell me you aren't some 40-year-old virgin in his mom's basement," She said acidly.

"You tell me, did I fuck you like a virgin?" He asked in reply and her face turned pink. "What you see is what you get," he replied pulling his top on. "Besides, who are you to question me?"

"I can prove who I am?"

"Oh," he said with interest.

"Mercedes Brigand," she said putting both hands on her hips. Max seemed to recall the name from somewhere. Something to do with fangs…

"Oh! The furry author? I've read one of your books and I was pleasantly surprised."

"It's urban romance," she said drawing herself up.

"Now I'm wondering why are you playing Gun Meister if you write novels about vampires and werewolves?"

"Research for a new book series," she said calming down.

"What's it about?" He asked trying to draw her out. Max wasn't truly interested, but keeping her talking seemed like the best way to diffuse the situation.

"It's about a werewolf mercenary company," she said and Max laughed.

"Playing this game isn't going to tell you shit about tactics. It'll be trial and error, with almost all error."

"Well… What do you know about combat?"

"I know to keep my finger off the trigger," Max said glancing at Yohan. The tall German nodded his head out of sight of his Meister.

"Then help me. You owe me that much."

"I don't owe you shit. You picked up a random guy at the bar and had a one night stand. End of story," Max said crossing his arms over his chest. Cal's face grew purple with rage and he rolled his eyes. Damn it. She was going to play the victim in all this. "I'll help you, only because I have a friend who's obsessed with your books. Wulfe's the perfect person to talk too if you want to know about female soldiers. She's a hardcore stone-cold bitch, and there were few people I trusted to watch my back. She deflated almost immediately.

"A soldier? You'll give me her contact info?"

"I can't tell you her full name. She wouldn't respond to an email if you included that. Just call her Wulfe, and tell her she still owes me for letting her read all those trashy furry novels on a mission." Max said, and she grimaced at him. Max hunted around for a piece of paper, found a random news clipping about the upcoming tourney, then jotted down an email address for Second Lieutenant Wulfe. She might not reply. Opsec was everything in the black community, but he figured Wulfe would love getting an email from her favorite author. Max held out the piece of paper and Cal took it.

"You still didn't tell me who you are?"

"Max."

"Just Max?" She asked and he backed toward the entrance. He wasn't about to give the crazy woman his full name either, so he ignored the question.

"I'll find my own way home," he added opening the apartment door and giving the two a jaunty wave. Then he turned and jogged down the stairs. Max spent the next hour jogging back to the penthouse.