> ## Content Index > Fetch the complete content index at: https://www.cyberpunksurvivalguide.com/llms.txt > Use this file to discover other available public pages before exploring further. # when all the world dissolves: chapter 2 - URL: https://www.cyberpunksurvivalguide.com/p/when-all-the-world-dissolves-chapter-2/ - Published: 2026-10-16T16:30:00.000Z - Updated: 2026-10-16T16:30:00.000Z - Description: The plot thickens as the citadel's administrators look for a killer hiding among them, and their suspects' cover stories begin to slip... - Author: Greg Fish - Tags: longform, sci-fi, books, post-apocalypse After [her baptism by... well, not exactly fire](https://www.cyberpunksurvivalguide.com/p/when-all-the-world-dissolves-chapter-1/), Neva finds herself under the watchful eye of the citadel's increasingly paranoid administrators. And as long running tensions between them and ordinary residents begin to flare, she find an unlikely ally in Martin, who is apparently, may also not be who he claims... ![section break](https://storage.ghost.io/c/cf/67/cf67f109-8ed9-4b7e-8931-f24e9ccaf69c/content/images/2026/10/watwd_section_break_50.png) The warlord sat in his cool, gray chambers on what could almost be mistaken for a throne at first glance. A guard in an armored uniform stood by the steps leading up to it with a short line of children behind him. The children wore only undergarments and had their hands tied in front of them. Collars with thick cords descending to the floor locked around their necks. “Lord Yanzhen, these are the urchins rounded up by yesterday’s patrol,” barked the guard. “Little thieves caught in the act. We will be placing them in our juvenile penal colony after your inspection.” He turned to the children. “What do you little vermin have to say for yourselves?” “We were just trying to find food,” said a boy with an unruly mop of brown hair and a cold, defiant stare. “You decided to catch us because it was easy, and let everyone else run off, so I don’t think you really care.” The flabbergasted guard quietly seethed for a moment. He stole a quick glance at the warlord, who seemed just as surprised, and turned back to the boy. “You’re going to regret that,” he growled. Covering the distance between them in two steps, he yanked on the boy’s collar. The child remained defiant, standing firm and glaring directly into the guard’s eyes. A dark blob snaked around his shoulder. “You’re infected,” smirked the guard. “What do you think you’re going to do to me, pipsqueak? I can kill you right here, right now, for being such a disrespectful little shit.” “The infection will do that anyway,” scoffed the boy. “I’ll at least hurt you. Go ahead. I’ll be dead, and you’ll get to walk around without a nose. Good luck getting laid after that.” Before the infuriated Guard could launch into another barrage of threats, he was interrupted by thunderous laughter from the warlord’s throne. “I like this mouthy little bastard!” guffawed Yanzhen. “Child, where are your parents?” “I don’t know,” replied the boy. “Let me guess, the infection. They passed it on to you?” the aspiring tyrant nodded and grimly smiled. There was no answer. “Yeah, the usual story,” he sighed, leaning back in his seat and scratching his chin for a few moments. “Lord Yanzhen, your orders?” meekly prompted the guard. “Start treatments on him,” nodded the warlord. “He’s infected from birth, so there’s a chance he’ll be quite useful, and I like his feistiness. It’d be a shame to let him go to waste.” “What unit did you have in mind, sir?” asked the guard. “Get his condition under control and start his training with the mercenaries,” came the reply after another thoughtful pause. “If he survives, I think he’ll make a promising asset.” He turned back to the boy. “Do you have a name, nose biter?” he teased. “Martin,” replied the boy. ![section break](https://storage.ghost.io/c/cf/67/cf67f109-8ed9-4b7e-8931-f24e9ccaf69c/content/images/2026/10/watwd_section_break_50.png) Just after sunrise, Martin walked into Neva’s room with two plates of food balanced on a thick stack of scrolls, charts, and maps. Neva jumped up from a book she was absentmindedly browsing while lying on her stomach in bed, still half asleep. “Oh, hey, good morning,” she said groggily, tossing the book aside. Martin set the educational materials on the table and offered her a roughly made wooden plate with what looked like poached eggs on a piece of flatbread with spices and a drizzle of red sauce. “If you’re going to pretend to be from the Southern Wastes, I need to teach you how to actually act like it,” he said. “What are you... ?” she began, but thought better of it. “Just pay attention, follow my lead, and you’ll be fine.” Neva considered a response but caught herself before she even opened her mouth again as Martin’s stern expression made it obvious that he was in no mood to entertain it. Instead, she took the plate of food. As she started eating, Martin spread out a map of the North American Southwest. Spirals marked a dozen locations along the Pacific Coast, and a handful were scattered across the desert and mountains, with a few forcefully crossed out. Martin pointed to one and took a bite of his breakfast. “Okay, so, you’re here in Las’a’ref,” he said, still chewing. “Mm-hmm,” nodded Neva. “Is this your home?” “I’m from Aus’a’ref, at the start of the Desert Path,” Martin pointed to another spiral, one of a handful of citadels along the coast of the sea stretching across the eastern edge of the map. “The Desert Path? Where’s that?” Martin shot a stunned glance at Neva. “Ah, so that’s how you got caught by slavers,” he sighed. “This line, going from Aus’a’ref, through Ab’qua’ref, Phax’a’ref, up toward this place, and down to Lax’a’ref, is the main route for travelers through the Wastes. Then they just stick to the coast heading north.” “And you just call all of these citadels something that ends with ‘a’ref?’” asked Neva while munching on her breakfast, her brow upturned in surprise, or what seemed like incredulity. “Hmm... Let me think...” Martin scratched his chin in thought. “Pretty much, yeah. Except Burff right here.” He tapped on a spiral on the coast next to the one marked in flowing runes as “Lax’a’ref.” “Burff?” Neva burst out in laughter. “Burff? You called a city Burff?! That sounds like a place where you spend the whole day with food poisoning!” “Hey, I didn’t name it,” protested Martin. “It’s just what it’s been called for hundreds of generations, and you can’t change it at this point. You’ll need to send out a messenger to every Eden with new maps. And that is way too dangerous and way too much effort.” “Who called them Edens? And gave them these names?” “No idea. It’s just what the waypoints for the lights in the sky were always called.” “And do you know what the lights in the sky are?” “No one is really sure. We have ideas, and a lot of people will pretend they do, but they’re usually either lying, or think they figured out something no one else did.” “And what do you think they are?” “I try not to worry about them. They’re only relevant to me as navigational markers. Unless they drop into my lap, I’m happy to leave them alone.” “Is that your official policy? If things don’t bother you, you don’t care?” Martin paused for just a moment to eat the last bite of his breakfast, staring off into space and furrowing his brows. “We’re getting off track,” he finally said. “We have way more geography, basic history, slang, customs... We’ve got a lot of work to do.” “All right, then hand me a notepad. I’m ready,” she said with a warm, genuine smile. ![section break](https://storage.ghost.io/c/cf/67/cf67f109-8ed9-4b7e-8931-f24e9ccaf69c/content/images/2026/10/watwd_section_break_50.png) What did Martin know? He was a wimp. Always paranoid. Always extra careful. Always playing by their rules. Well, fuck that guy. He would find out what happened to his Vessels on his own, Xavier decided, after yet another sleepless night. As the sun was rising, he made his way down the maze of stone alleyways towards Rahime’s lab. Quietly navigating the narrow passages still shrouded in darkness, he didn’t hear anyone on his tail, as he expected. The guards were going to be thin. He could hear them getting coffee and breakfast if he turned in the right direction and focused with all his might. They were returning to duty, still either waking up or with food still settling in their stomachs, hardly in the mood to scour every nook and cranny in their path for a stray Handler. The entrance to the lab was a nondescript door made of thick dark metal with no markings or instructions. He only knew it was the right place because he followed the goons dragging their latest victims there. He tried to push or slide it and found that it wouldn’t budge. This was, again, completely expected. If anything, he’d be very suspicious if he could just walk right in. With his heart now pounding in his head, he fished out a small device Martin had given him and told him to use only in a life-or-death emergency. As Xavier couldn’t think of anything else that could be more important than his Vessels’ predicament, he placed the device roughly in the spot one could expect a lock or a handle. It quietly whirred, powering up a magnet, and displayed a red circle. The circle broke up into segments that began to spin, first slowly, then gaining speed, moving both clockwise and counterclockwise at random, but in narrowing intervals. Finally, the circle stopped spinning, reconnected, and turned green. The metal door unlatched, sliding open just enough for Xavier to push it the rest of the way. With a great deal of effort, he managed to wiggle his way in, unlatch the device, and shut the door behind him. He crouched on the cold, ceramic floor, catching his breath while listening for anything suspicious in the darkened corridor that stretched in front of him. He crept down the strange hall, noting that it was very, very different than the rest of the structure. Instead of carefully cut stone, concrete, and metal, it was clad in smooth, sleek ceramics. Overhead, where the walls met the ceiling, dim light strips cast an eerie white and blue glow. It felt menacing and forbidden, but he pushed forward through his unease. The hallway curved towards the end, leading him to another dark metal door he also unlocked with Martin’s device. Retrieving it, he examined the gadget up close, weighing it in his hand. Where did the Fixer get it? Why would he even need something like that? There was also no way he only had one, so there must be a good reason for... *No, forget it,* Xavier thought, as he was here on a mission and had just made it into the lab. It was time to focus. In his nightmares, he imagined a stone slaughterhouse, blood staining every surface, meat hooks hanging from the ceiling, the stench of rotting meat filling his nostrils. Instead, he found a large, clean, decently lit space. Tables were scrubbed spotlessly clean, instruments almost shining, a light scent of antiseptic and rubber wafting in the air. But the comfort was short-lived as Xavier’s eyes noticed the vats in the middle of the lab. There were five of them, filled with liquid and lit with yellow and orange lights from below. Inside were dissected, preserved bodies he didn’t recognize. Looking to his left, he found a series of glass tubes filled with floating fetal specimens at every stage of development. On his right, in a corner, was a horizontal tank covered with a tarp. He rushed toward the tank and peeled off the cover. Under the thick glass, he saw the frozen body of his last Vessel. Cuts across her chest, stomach, and hips in the shape of joined Y’s clearly indicated that she was dissected at some point. Frozen with grief and rage, he didn’t notice the shadows looming behind him. “Find what you wanted?” cackled Rahime. Xavier whipped around to find himself flanked by six large men in bright orange biohazard suits. “What did you do to her, you bastards?!” Xavier howled. “Science, obviously,” shrugged Rahime. “As was requested.” “Requested? By whom?” asked Xavier. In reply, Rahime simply cocked his head. His minions began their measured but firm advance toward the interloper. ![section break](https://storage.ghost.io/c/cf/67/cf67f109-8ed9-4b7e-8931-f24e9ccaf69c/content/images/2026/10/watwd_section_break_50.png) With a less hectic schedule, more sleep, a full stomach, and Martin as a guide, Neva finally took the opportunity to look around the odd place where she ended up. None of the buildings were taller than five stories, and all of them were assembled from a mix of stone, concrete, and metal alloys of unknown origin and composition. The result looked as if this complex rose out of the ground as is, a maze of polished, neo-brutalist slabs with paradoxical lines and circles that would glow with neon at night. Among the streets and courtyards of the citadel were swimming pools and patches of desert plants like cacti and succulents. On their way, they stopped by what could almost be mistaken for a small shop where Martin got them both steaming cups of fresh, aromatic coffee. Others around them seemed to follow very similar routines, and Neva started getting used to seeing one Vessel after another nonchalantly walking naked or wrapped only in a sheer cloak. The pair settled into one of the wraparound concrete benches lined with cushions by a pool where several Vessels and their Handlers casually swam or relaxed on semi-covered loungers. “So, to recap,” started Neva, “I am what you call a Vessel?” “Correct,” nodded Martin, taking a sip of coffee. Neva waited for his reaction and, finding nothing alarming, carefully took a sip of hers. “Oh fuck me, that’s good!” she smiled. “I can’t remember the last time I even had coffee.” “I’m glad you approve,” acknowledged Martin. “Okay, so, I’m a Vessel,” continued Neva. “Which basically means I’m a womb with boobs and legs, right?” “That’s a very demeaning way to put it...” Martin grimaced. Neva cocked her head inquisitively, daring him to disagree. “But, yeah, if you want to be really blunt,” he sighed. “Your job here is to have and nurture children, as many as you can. The title is supposed to be a celebration of the fact that you will one day carry new life. Or... something like that. It started as this very noble religious thing, with temples and rituals, but it kinda turned into an assembly line where the only thing that matters is numbers.” “So, I’m judged by how many kids I can pump out?” Neva winced. “Yeah. And ideally, you’d start doing that in about three or four months, or the administrators can’t justify the resources to keep you around.” “And the Handlers? They just get to run around and do who and what they please?” “Not really. There are rules. Everyone who isn’t in charge of something like medical, security, or administration is equally worthless. If the Handlers don’t want to follow the rules or can’t produce viable pregnancies, they’re invited to leave. At gunpoint.” “Does that happen often?” “More often than the admin would like. Between the infection and some environmental effects, fertility rates are iffy. And they’re more likely to have to be conscripted to fight and get infected by spending too much time in the desert. That’s why I’ve been asked to step in, even though I’m a Fixer.” “Ah, so you’re the relief forces.” “Yes, called in to provide cover fire.” Neva chortled into her coffee. “Just... The image in my head...” she elaborated between gasps for air. “It’s fine. Don’t mind me.” “No worries,” said Martin. “I just do what I need to do as a backshot... err... backstop.” Neva bit her lip and glared at a spot on the ground for a few beats, fidgeting ever so slightly. “It’s all in a day’s blowjob for you?” she snorted, losing her composure for a moment, then trying to center herself again. A barely noticeable twitch hinting at a smile flashed across Martin’s lips. “Well, I think it’s about time for us to go,” he said, getting up and offering his hand to Neva. “They’ll be expecting us to turn in an entertaining performance today.” ![section break](https://storage.ghost.io/c/cf/67/cf67f109-8ed9-4b7e-8931-f24e9ccaf69c/content/images/2026/10/watwd_section_break_50.png) The ornate doors to the chamber with padded floors began to open, almost taunting Neva. She shook out a nervous shiver, stealing a glance at Martin. “They always watch, huh?” she asked. “They at least glance,” he confirmed. “Their favorites, they watch and talk about. Or, at least that’s what I hear from my sources. And their favorites get more leeway.” “So, what’s the strategy here?” “You can either fit in and go unnoticed, but you’ve already stood out and caught their eye. So, put on a show. Same basic elements they loved last time. Just kick it up a notch. Focus on one day, one performance at a time.” Neva took a deep breath and made her way to the red X as the doors slid shut behind them. *Don’t look at them,* her mind kept repeating as her eyes darted around the walls, trying to find the glints of camera lenses. This went against everything she was taught about handling these situations, but there was something in Martin’s voice that made her second-guess her training. Or, rather, the lack of something in his voice. He wasn’t anxious, giddy, or nervous. He spoke in the calm, professional tone of someone simply doing their job while trying to maintain a certain standard, and absolutely nothing else. The only time he so much as touched her was in that exam room and this chamber. Hell, his eyes barely even wandered. *But wait, did that mean he didn’t enjoy the last...* No! Stop. Why was she even thinking about that? They were here to work and earn their keep. She needed to focus and buy herself just a little more time. Martin’s hands gently landed on her hips. She closed her eyes and placed her hands on his. “Like I said last time, do your worst,” she tried to scowl. He moved his hands up her sides, making his way to her ribs before brushing the inside of her arms and tenderly pushing them up and over her head. Neva followed his lead, letting him secure her wrists in soft, padded cuffs that locked together, hanging down from the ceiling above the red X. Her elbows could still bend, but not by much. She was once again at the Fixer’s mercy. Same elements. He was taming a wild brat. She was going to make him work for it. Just like last time. She steadied herself with a deep breath. His right hand slid just under her diaphragm, moving down her body until his fingers rested just above her mound. His left arm wrapped around her, that hand almost cupping the underside of her right breast. She felt herself start to relax into him, but caught herself, bowing forward almost defiantly. “Ready?” he whispered into her ear. The middle and index fingers of his right hand dipped down to her mound and stopped right at the opening. He could feel her warmth and the slight motion of her legs in anticipation. His fingers started to vibrate, slowly at first but ramping up in both pressure and oscillation. She jumped a little, immediately caught by the chains and pushed back into him. His left hand firmly cupped her breast while his fingers began to sink between her lower lips. A whimper escaped despite her best efforts. That whimper turned into a gasp as she felt him slip inside her and ratchet up the vibration even more. Her body moved on its own, trying to sink deeper onto his fingers as they kept gently but persistently rubbing against her G-spot while the meat of his palm pressed into her clit. At some point, he had to tell her how he could do that, but for now, she didn’t care. His hand gripped her breast tighter. She tried to lower her hands, but the chain didn’t let her move far. “That trick is getting old,” she growled. “You’re a terrible liar,” he chuckled in reply. He paused to shed his clothes but got back to work only a few moments later, continuing to finger, touch, and tease her, but now with the warmth of his skin on hers, her breathing grew labored, and she felt her mind lose focus. “Are you just going to play with me, or are you going to put something in me?” she moaned. Finally, she felt his hard shaft rubbing along the curve of her ass and between her thighs, getting lower and lower with each stroke. If she couldn’t move her arms, she could at least try something else to finally amp this up. Moving her legs wider and leaning into him, she felt his tip almost touch her mound. With one effortless motion, Martin pulled out his fingers, caught the underside of his shaft, and pushed his tip inside her. Neva’s breath was caught in her throat. Reflexively, she let her weight sink, trying to push him deeper inside. With relief, she found that this time, he was helping, slipping deeper and deeper until he was buried to the hilt. His hips began to move, gently at first, but quickly picking up the pace until he was pounding her to satisfied moans. Her hands wrapped around the chain, her eyes closed, her mouth open in a haze of pleasure. His hands caught the back of her knees, and in the blink of an eye, she was now off the floor, grinding on him in the air. “I can’t believe you’re using me like a toy!” she objected through whimpers and groans. “Really now? Like a toy?” he snickered. “Yes... Almost like my pussy is just a thing for you to pump and fill with your cum, and the rest of me is just something to hold on to,” she said. “Oh, it’s not?” he playfully furrowed his brow as he adjusted his grip to the underside of her thighs and continued to thrust. Clenching her eyes shut, Neva focused on the sensations. How deeply she was being filled now that gravity was doing part of the work, the vulnerability of the position, and the fact that this was going to be watched. Her body began to writhe as the orgasm began to build. Flexing her legs and arching her back, she managed to stop herself from bucking as she came. After a few seconds, Martin mercifully withdrew, let her down, and unlatched her from the chains and cuffs. She slumped down onto all fours to rest her joints, but before she could catch her breath, she once again felt his fingers sink inside her from behind, his knees digging into the padding. “Do you mind?!” she howled. “Give a girl a minute!” He backed off and raised his now glistening right hand to her face as she turned around. She lunged forward, grabbing his wrist with both hands, licking from the inside of his palm to the tips of his index and middle fingers, and without breaking contact, taking the fingers into her mouth, gently sucking on them before bobbing her head back up. Pushing him down, she plunged his cock into her mouth while stroking the shaft. Before long, she felt him twitch and shift his body weight. Keeping her hand firmly on his base, she straddled the Fixer and guided him back inside. “Are you gonna cum now?” she asked, grinding on him, her hips moving in aggressive, determined circles. “If you keep going like that, I might,” he grumbled, trying to stay focused. *You better enjoy this, you creepy bastards,* she thought as she maintained the frenetic pace of riding the Fixer fast and hard, putting in an absolutely superhuman effort not to turn around towards where she suspected the cameras were. Martin’s hands sank into her sides as he raised his hips off the floor. Taking advantage of the change in the angle, she pressed her body against his and kissed him deeply. Moments later, she felt him explode inside her. After a few heavy breaths, he flipped Neva onto her back and raised her legs onto his shoulders. “One more round,” he said. “Just to make sure.” She nodded as he once again began to move, this time a little more aggressively, his right palm flat against her stomach and emitting that ever-so-pleasant vibration she was starting to really enjoy. ![section break](https://storage.ghost.io/c/cf/67/cf67f109-8ed9-4b7e-8931-f24e9ccaf69c/content/images/2026/10/watwd_section_break_50.png) Bartolo, his head of security Felix, and a dozen other administrators were enjoying their evening, reviewing the day’s holographic cubes from the padded chamber. Martin and Neva made a stir once again as the men in charge of the citadel rewatched their clips with great delight. “I’m telling you, it would be amazing if we could just have a whole library of these cubes to watch whenever we want, instead of having to reuse them,” mused Felix. “Or, even better, trade them with other Edens! Can you imagine? We could recruit the best Vessels and Handlers from the entire region after seeing what they can do!” “You’re a big thinker, I’ll give you that,” laughed Bartolo in agreement, lounging on thick cushions in a cozy pit, waited on hand and foot by nude Vessels. “Tell you what, find me more of these image cubes so we don’t have to reuse as many, and we’ll see what we can do!” One of their colleagues, hypnotized by a specific cube, absentmindedly pumped in and out of a Vessel who was dutifully positioned on all fours in front of him, but desperate to be virtually anywhere else. The others seemed absorbed in either their paperwork, food, or small talk with each other or the Vessels. Rahime stepped into the room with a blank expression, late to the party and with something else on his mind, as per usual. He took a look around, sighed, and plopped down adjacent to Bartolo and Felix. Three Vessels immediately offered him food, wine, and themselves. He waved them aside. “Why, if it isn’t our resident scientist with zero interest in life’s little pleasures and rewards,” Felix grinned as a Vessel got comfortable in his lap. “Let me guess, you had important matters to attend to?” “I did,” nodded Rahime. “And I came with a question for you, Felix.” He fished the small device retrieved from Xavier out of his pocket and put it down on a small side table with a meaningful tap. “Are you familiar with this gadget?” he asked after letting the tension simmer for just a moment. Felix examined it with great interest while the Vessel stroked his chest. His frown turned into a sly smile as something in his mind finally clicked. “Oh... Yeah... I do know this little thing,” he beamed. “A very rare specimen at that. It’s called a skeleton keychain. Opens any lock unless it’s specifically built with a countermeasure. It’s pretty rare to spot one in the wild, and there’s usually some pretty nasty work involved in getting one. Where did you find that?” “My lab had an intruder this morning. Your guards were either too lax or too predictable, and while they weren’t looking, he got in using this.” “And how exactly does he have it? Luck? Or something else?” “That’s just the problem. He hasn’t told me yet. I was hoping you’d be able to help me figure out a way to... incentivize him to explain how he came into possession of such a thing.” A predatory grin crossed Felix’s face. “Of course,” he said. “Always happy to help. Let me just...” Following their usual routine, the Vessel in his lap pulled down his pants while kissing down his stomach. “On the other hand, just give me fifteen minutes,” he corrected himself while Rahime tried and failed not to roll his eyes too demonstratively. “Then we’ll get you your answers.” ![section break](https://storage.ghost.io/c/cf/67/cf67f109-8ed9-4b7e-8931-f24e9ccaf69c/content/images/2026/10/watwd_section_break_50.png) Sleep eluded Neva as she tossed and turned in the middle of the night, her brain anxiously buzzing. After some thought, she sat up in her bed and listened to her surroundings. It was quiet. A little too quiet, as far as she was concerned. She stepped outside onto the small porch of her quarters to get a little fresh air and was hit with a chilly breeze, her skin erupting in goosebumps. Winter was on its way. Hopefully, she could get some sort of clothing soon so she didn’t have to spend the next four months trying to stave off hypothermia. Taking a few moments, she looked out at the citadel’s blocky, angular, neon-accented structures, which looked almost outlined against the night sky. Squinting, she could see the Milky Way, and the ever-present lights drifting across the horizon. Opening the door, she took one last look in their direction. A streak of brilliant white shot away from them, accelerating as it moved farther and farther away. In less than thirty seconds, it faded out of sight. Neva watched for just a few moments longer before returning to her quarters and closing the door. ![section break](https://storage.ghost.io/c/cf/67/cf67f109-8ed9-4b7e-8931-f24e9ccaf69c/content/images/2026/10/watwd_section_break_50.png) In the morning light, a groggy Bartolo leaned back in his chair with a tired but satisfied groan. A collared, nude Vessel was trapped under his desk, his hand wrapped around her long, flowing hair. “I’ve just been so stressed lately,” he purred, pushing her head down until a strained grunt escaped from her filled mouth. “Yes, you’re making it so, so much better, kitten...” he encouraged. He pushed her down farther, slipping deep into her throat. Her eyes watered as she reacted with a wet cough, her hand tapping his thigh once to no avail. She raised her hand to try again, but stopped halfway down. There seemed to be no point. Lucky for her, he backed off just enough for her to catch her breath. “So, so close,” he cooed. “Come on kitten, help me over the line...” With a heavy sigh that could have been very strategically misinterpreted as excitement by a wishful ear, the Vessel cupped his balls and took him as far into her throat as she could manage. He began to buck, setting a rhythm that she struggled to maintain as tears began to slowly fall down her cheeks. She couldn’t hold back another wet cough. A few tense moments later, he exploded. She pulled back with a gasp, globs and strings of thick goop escaping her mouth as she struggled to catch her breath again before Bartolo tried to continue. Mercifully, a knock on the door, followed by an impatient Rahime sliding it open, distracted him long enough for her to finally regroup. “Oh! Supervisor Bartolo! So sorry,” apologized Rahime, noticing the Supervisor’s arrangement. “I can come back when you’re... um... ready.” “It’s fine,” Bartolo waved him in. “I take it you have urgent business.” “Yes, I just...” Rahime nodded towards the Vessel, who was wiping her blushing face. “She’s fine...” the Supervisor rolled his eyes. “Continue.” “I have further results from our new acquisition’s tests.” A sinister smirk crossed Rahime’s lips. “And some new information you might find... very interesting.” --- The first three chapters of When All The Word Dissolves will be available for free. 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