Chapter 13

After a lot of steamy and sweaty sex where Tom used and abused each hole of Celene, he was beside her side while the girl was just shaking on her bed. Her legs were too sore to close as each inch of her body was covered with a mixture of both semen and sweat.

"Damn, fighting really leaves me pent-up; it was not like that before . . . well, good luck getting me another girl," the cat boy muttered and let out a deep sigh, his stamina depleted.

Celene took a few seconds, trying to talk with the semen coating the interior of her mouth and throat. "That is going to be hard . . ." the girl mumbled.

"Don't you have any friends?" Tom asked with a curious tone.

"You killed them," the girl answered, less like an accusation and more like a cold fact.

He raised his hands in the air. "Guilty. But like female friends?" Tom asked again.

"When am I supposed to get those? The others I have are online friends," Celene barked, a little bit frustrated with the question. 

With the kind of job the girl had, there was not a lot of time to have a social life. Between the video editing, the money laundering, the filming, etc.

"You are so pathetic," the catboy purred with a mocking tone.

"Well, how many friends do you have?" Celene barked back.

That hurt, but not as much as her posterior after Tom was done with her. "Ok, you are getting ass fucked again," the catboy said, and before he started to drill, the woman's phone rang.

"Hmmm? New text message?" She mumbled and grabbed the phone that was on her nightstand.

Celene's eyes widened, regaining all the vitality that Tom had fucked out of her. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, it's Valkyrie!" She yelled, and the catboy grabbed her phone.

"Oh, the leader of Valhalla? You really managed to get some interesting clients," he muttered, as this was far beyond her league. A "Divine metal gargoyle system" was not a joke.

"They just like seeing mundane people like us killing each other, and then . . . well, the porn," Celene muttered and washed her hands of this problem.

Tom smiled. "Let me handle this," he muttered and then read the text message.

"I hope you reconsidered our offer; I am willing to increase your pay if you stay with us."

"Hello! I am Tom, the current owner of Celene and the one who killed those thugs. Currently, she is busy being my personal assistant, so I cannot have her distracted with other jobs. She is not currently owing your group any money or video. Since all her responsibilities have been fulfilled, I hope we can resolve this problem without further conflict."

Tom made a small pause and then removed the bedsheet from his loins.

"In the case that you are not willing to accept my proposal."

"You can sit on this," he finally texted and then sent a picture of his sweaty and wet cock.

Celene blinked for a few seconds, completely unable to understand what had just happened. "Di-did you just send a dick pic at . . . Valkyrie?" She mumbled, each inch of her body starting to shake.

Tom slapped his forehead. "Oh yeah, sorry," he apologized to her, then willed his cock to go full mast.

"Sorry, that was a mistake." He sent another text message and then followed it with a proper dick pic and his fingers doing the victory sign.

"There, a fully erect cock pic."

Then he turned off the phone after watching the dots that indicated that Valkyrie was writing a response. He didn't care; the trap was already set.

Celene chuckled, her body going limp as dread began to set in. "We are so fucking dead," she mumbled, her tone barely above a whisper.

"Relax, it's all part of my plan," Tom purred, his lips twisting in a wicked smile.

"What plan?!" Celene yelled at him while grabbing her head with her hands.

"I am not going to let a group that tried to kill me go scot-free. I am going to burn that place to the ground. For that, I need to get stronger, so I baited a not-so-lethal response from them. They would probably send some thugs to kick my ass," the catboy explained his plan.

It was simple. He wanted the troubles to come to him and not the other way around. Being on the defensive was just better, and provocations always made people act irrationally. In the best-case scenario, Valhalla would think of him as a new hothead newbie who needed to be taught a lesson.

"And then what?" The girl barked back.

Tom made a small spin with his index finger in the air. "I farm them, get stronger, and repeat the process," he said, expecting a typical drip feed of gradually stronger opponents. The catboy couldn't kill them if they were supers, but if they were women, they would still be useful. In the best-case scenario, their defeat would be enough for his system, but he could not count on that.

"And what if they stop drip-feeding low-level thugs and they just send a heavy hitter from the start?" Celene made an excellent point.

He shrugged. "Well, not every plan is bulletproof," the catboy answered.

The woman took a deep breath and rubbed her forehead. "Couldn't you just have used the Nemesis program?" She berated him, frustrated that her catboy would get murdered.

A shiver ran down Tom's spine. He was actually surprised that someone mundane like her would suggest such a thing. Well, after thinking for a second, it made sense that Celene saw the lives of people she didn't know were just another asset. "I have . . . personal problems with that . . . I prefer risking this way," he answered, not wanting to give more explanations about the topic.

"You are crazy . . ." the girl said and gave up. There was nothing she could do to stop him now.

Tom nodded. "Maybe I am . . . maybe I am . . ." he purred, already thinking about what to do next. The catboy would need more guns.