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Most of the crew members aboard the Felicity are freelancing mercenaries.
My owner is honestly just a small-time peddler compared to the larger human trafficking organizations in the skies, and it's not exactly easy for an upstart merchant to make a living operating a slave hunting business. Almost everything aboard the airship is either leased, mortgaged, or rented. While I don't know the exact numbers, I know for a fact that my master has considerable debt. It costs a lot of money to acquire an airship, even if it is a basic model paid in monthly installments.
The guards are paid on a commission, and we picked most of them up from cantinas in Tower Anchorage. A majority of the guys don't stick with us for longer than a month or two, particularly since guarding slaves isn't really a long-term career. Pretty much everyone is focused on earning a little quick cash to improve their own situation on the server.
People here are a lot more ordinary than you might expect.
The mercenaries are fairly talkative, and most of them are relatively young and eager to seek new opportunities.
Casual conversations inevitably drift to offline subjects, and the players periodically complain about university exams, their shitty boss at work, or the referee calls in the latest sports game that just aired back on Earth. It's so blandly normal that it's almost disturbing. You would think that slave traders would be hellish monstrosities of pure evil, especially with all the violence, murder, and rape that they commit online, but most of them are really no different from the guys who went to my local college.
I mean, there's the typical locker room banter and Internet toxicity, but they don't act like mass murderers.
I think that's the most disturbing part.
Everyone looks so relaxed and normal.
When did we get so desensitized to all the violence?
Is there something broken in our heads?
I've killed my fair share of innocents and sliced up the bloody intestines of a few screaming people that I disliked, yet I'm practically as innocent as an angel by Vetita's moral standards. I don't really think of myself as a despicable villain or a psychopath.
But sometimes, I still wonder if I am a bad person for everything that I've done?
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I was curled up comfortably in my owner's lap when one of the mercenaries suddenly spoke up.
"Hey @Jasper, what level is your pet?"
A couple of guards were sitting atop some empty ration casks, biting into dry hardtack1Hardtack (or hard tack) is a simple type of biscuit or cracker made from flour, water, and sometimes salt. (see Wikipedia) while taking occasional swigs from the flasks of whiskey at their sides. They appeared to be in good spirits, most likely because everyone would be earning at least a couple hundred gold pieces for the fresh merchandise we hauled in today.
One of the guards in the back had a girl in between his legs — one of the new captives — and she was in horrible shape.
The clothes was torn off of her body and her skin was heavily bruised. Her blond hair was singed and a bit burnt at the tips, probably from escaping the underground flames, and her face was swollen. The mercenary had likely beat her around until she finally started sucking him off, and then he casually fucked her face while she choked and struggled to breath with a leash roped around her neck.
None of us bothered to move a finger.
This was a regular occurrence on the airship, so the two of them might as well have been completely invisible while the rest of us carried on with a leisurely conversation. There was nothing unusual about a mercenary blowing off some sexual frustration. The nice thing about freshly spawned players was that they were tight and nearly guaranteed to be free of STDs2Sexually transmitted infections (STIs), also referred to as sexually transmitted diseases (STDs), are infections that are commonly spread by sexual activity, especially vaginal intercourse, anal sex and oral sex. (see Wikipedia), unlike the cheap whores who sold themselves in disease-ridden brothels in the bigger cities.
Most of the other guards were relaxing and just eating on the main deck.
"That was some crazy fire magic. You sure that your cat isn't secretly a kitsune3Kitsune is the Japanese word for fox, which in Japanese folklore are typically intelligent and paranormal beings. (see Wikipedia)?"
"I could have sworn it was foxfire in the tunnels."
They were laughing over drinks and reminiscing over the successful mission.
Since my owner was their employer, they tactfully made sure to praise him and include him in the social banter. In this case, they had realized that my master @Jasper wasn't the talkative type, so they switched to using me as the conversation subject. Since he wasn't going to divulge personal details about himself, apparently fishing for his pet was the next best alternative.
I didn't like being the center of attention though.
I curled my tail and hissed quietly at the men, but my master stroked my head softly.
The mercenaries laughed at my reaction.
"She's got some personality, doesn't she?" One of them said. "Why do you keep her in her cat form all the time, Boss? I'm sure she's a cute one, and talented too. You're keeping a nice babe that you don't want us to see under the wraps, huh?"
"You should let her transform for us!"
"Yeah! Have your little fire kitten give us a little show!"
@Jasper's arms stiffened around my midsection. Even though the expression on his face didn't change, I knew my owner well enough to know that he wasn't very pleased by the suggestion.
"My cat is male," he said in a soft but frosty voice.
His calloused hands never wandered away from my back.
Some of the mercenaries looked surprised.
"Wait, what? But I don't see any dick."
"Lol, @Ross was staring at the cat's crotch this entire time?"
"You can't see the penis on male cats," one of the other guards spoke up. "It's hidden in their sheath."
"The fuck? Are you serious?"
"So basically it's retractable???"
"Holy shit."
The group of mercenaries suddenly went silent.
"...The crazy things that you learn every day..."
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