The rough man's eyes narrowed in confusion, raising an eyebrow as if to say, "Seriously?"
Pon lay flat on the floor, cheeks bright from the cold, totally knocked out like a little tomato in a snowstorm.
Ammo Tits yanked Pon up by one leg, dangling him like some bizarre garage-sale find.
His feather boa—worn like a scarf—slipped free and flopped to the floor.
She barked a laugh, sharp and mocking. "Pfft. What a weird fuckin' getup. You lose a bet or somethin'?" she sneered, giving him a little shake for emphasis.
Pon hung limp, completely knocked out, the insult bouncing off him like it was just for her own entertainment.
"Like you're one to talk," the man said, voice flat as stone.
Ammo Tits was a striking mess of gear and chaos: long black stockings clipped into assless tactical chaps, heavy with pouches and gadgets rattling with every step.
Beneath them, she wore skimpy fur-lined shorts, and under those clung a high-cut string bikini — thin straps riding high on her hips, tied in delicate knots. The whole look was less soldier and more dare, a taunt to anyone watching.
A pistol rested on her hip — an odd piece of hardware, nothing like the usual street iron. Its frame gleamed with ridges and vents, a faint pulse of light threading through the grip like veins. Across her lower back, a mechanical sword hung horizontally, its casing faintly humming, almost alive.
Her wild white hair flicked over the edges of orange goggles, framing her face like a warning light.
Really, the only thing she had to guard against the cold was a rough-looking tactical jacket — cropped so short it looked less like outerwear and more like a bra, straps and buckles barely keeping it together.
"But a skirt in this cold… "Surprised she's still breathing," the man muttered, shaking his head.
They had no idea, of course, that Pon was actually a boy—they just assumed from the outfit and delicate features that he was a girl. For a moment, all that mattered was how vulnerable he looked in their eyes—
until a sudden warm sensation streamed… down—no, up—Pon's leg, soaking the thin fabric of his spats as he dangled upside down in Ammo Tits's grip.
Ammo Tits's goggles flashed as she caught sight of it, and her mouth twisted into a wolfish grin.
"Ewwww, groooss!" she cackled, her laughter sharp and echoing in the frozen air.
"What an absolute moron. Can't even keep your bladder in check, huh?~"
Without the slightest concern for Pon's safety, she let go, tossing him like a ragdoll—or discarding trash she didn't need anymore. Pon head slammed into the ground with a sickening thud, and the rest of his small body went limp, collapsing beside it.
"Hey, Usumi! You dragging me into piss clubs now? Got a scent kink I should know about?"
Usumi's eyes snapped open, burning with fury. "What the hell?! Are you insane?! That's a kid you just dropped!"
Ammo Tits raised an eyebrow, grin spreading slow and wicked. "Oh? The great Usumi finally growing a conscience?"
"Careful… keep talkin' all soft like that and I might start thinkin' you've got a sweet side" She leaned in as she said it, voice lilting, almost purring.
Usumi didn't flinch. He bent down, grabbing Pon from the floor without hesitation, ignoring the piss, the grime, and the blood.
She tilted her head, a sly, teasing smile playing at her lips. "What, you really think we'd bother saving this one?
"You're thinking of leaving a child… in this frozen hellhole?" he muttered.
Ammo Tits smirk widened, eyes sparkling with mischief as they flicked to the limp girl in his arms. "Oohhh… I see how it is. You wanna toss her in the loop, don't you?"
Loop.
That word landed hard. The loop wasn't just some back-alley whisper.
It was a well-oiled circuit—underground, corporate-backed, and rotten to the core—where stolen girls were stripped of names, identities, and bodies. Broken in, rebranded, and cycled between brothels and black sites until there was nothing left but flesh and obedience. In Pon's old life, they'd called it sex trafficking.
Usumi's jaw clenched as he turned back. "I don't break people for profit," he growled.
His eyes filled with rage, locked on Ammo Tits, but not a single ounce of that anger touched the boy in his arms.
"You're the reason this world's going to shit."
Ammo Tits scoffed, looking offended. "You serious?" She crossed her arms under her chest, her grin gone.
"She's prime stock. That skin, that face—hell, the boys in Sector Nine would pay triple for something that fresh."
"Shut up!" Usumi barked, his fists tightening—not around Pon, but in restrained fury—as he lifted him into a fireman's carry. Every movement was deliberate, careful, as if Pon were fragile glass.
"Oh? Feeling all righteous now, Usumi?" Ammo Tits said, tilting her head, voice lilting. "Since when did you become a lolicon?"
"Say that again," he said, jaw tight, voice flat and dangerous. "And I'll put your face through the damn pavement."
Ammo Tits threw her hands up in mock surrender, smirking wide. "Ooooh, scary! Calm down, big guy. I was just teasing."
Usumi said nothing, shifting Pon higher on his shoulders as he started walking, boots crunching against the frost-bitten ground.
Her grin refused to fade as she fell in step behind him, eyes drifting to the limp weight of Pon slung across his back.
"Just sayin' — we've got too many mouths and not enough scraps. Another piss-soaked mystery kid? Bit of a gamble."
"So is keeping you around," Usumi muttered, voice tight with barely contained irritation.
"Aww, I love it when you get cold," she purred, tilting her head, eyes glinting with mischief.
Then, casually—like she was commenting on the weather—
"Honestly, if you hadn't shown up, I might've had my way with her. Left her curled up next to that busted sexdroid like a party favor."
Usumi's head snapped around, eyes locking on her like ice—hard, sharp, and quiet. Every inch of that slow, deliberate motion screamed how furious he was.
Ammo Tits chuckled, a low, amused sound. "Relax. I'm kidding… Sorta." She stretched, her gear clinking, her jacket shifting to show just a bit more underboob than was reasonable.
She sighed dramatically. "Maybe I wouldn't get these ideas if you had the balls to just pin me down and rail me already."
Didn't even look at her. Just exhaled slow through his nose, like she was smoke he was too tired to clear away.
The silence dragged. Ammo's smirk twitched, her eyes narrowing as if to needle him again—
A sudden buzz under his coat cut through the moment.
—and then the sudden buzz under his coat cut through the air. He muttered a low curse, dragging the device out with the same weariness as drawing a weapon.
"What's up, Junna?" His voice was flat, clipped, all business.
"Hello? Usumi?"
"Sakura won't stop trying to touch my Face!"
A second voice screeched from the background. "Junna! Just one more time! It's so squishy Pleeaaase!"
Usumi pinched the bridge of his nose. "Call me for emergencies. Not this."
"THIS is an emergency! Tell Junna to play nice!" Sakura wailed.
Usumi just stared at the little device in his hands for a beat… then snapped it shut, muttering through gritted teeth, "...Tch. Why the hell's it always me babysitting everyone?"
A shadow crossed him as Ammo Tits strolled up, arms folded under her chest, grin lazy.
"Those girls adore you, y'know." She tilted her head, mock-sweet. "Clinging, whining, begging for your attention like little strays…" Her grin widened. "Kinda cute, really."
Usumi's jaw tightened, gaze fixed ahead.
Then Ammo Tits burst out of nowhere, completely derailing the moment with a wild declaration, voice cutting through the air like she'd been biting her tongue all day.
"If I had a dick, nothing in this city would be safe. I'd screw everything that twitched." Her grin stretched wide, eyes gleaming behind orange-tinted goggles, full of mischief and teasing menace.
"You're lucky you've got one, Usumi," she cackled. "If I had a dick, I'd have you bent over a crate by now. You wouldn't stand a chance!" Her words dripped with playful provocation, deliberately testing his patience
"What the hell are you even talking about?!" he said, voice tight with frustration.
He turned his head sharply, jaw tight, as if trying to shut out her nonsense entirely.
He kept walking through the neon-flooded strip club, boots splashing through synthetic juices that glowed like oil-slicked mirrors.
Ammo Tits walked beside him, boots crunching broken glass, jacket still swaying open just enough to tease.
"Ah, lighten up," she murmured, voice dripping with mock-sweetness.
She leaned slightly closer, the glow catching the edge of her grin. "Most guys would've folded by now. One little wink, one jiggle—bam. Easy prey."
"What the hell's wrong with you, Usumi?" Her voice dropped lower, almost bitter. "You act like you don't even bleed. Like you don't even want anything. I throw myself at you, and you just keep walking. Do you even feel alive in there?"
Usumi didn't answer.
She smirked, elbowed him lightly.
"Come on, Usumi. I've seen you crush a man's skull like rotten fruit and walk through the spray without even blinking—don't tell me you're scared of these." She gestured broadly to her chest, combat fabric pulled tight.
He didn't look.
Ammo Tits was undeniably an attractive woman, but— Usumi still stood broad-shouldered and quiet-eyed, wrapped in a patched tactical coat that had seen too many battlefields and not enough rest.
"If I wanted soft distractions, I'd be dead already." he muttered.
Ammo Tits laughed—short, sharp. But underneath it, there was a bite of something real.
"Soft? You rotten bastard, there's nothing soft about me. You think I wag my tits around for fun? For scraps?" She stepped closer, voice rising. "I want you, idiot. You gonna sneer at that too?"
His gaze stayed fixed ahead. "Wasting your time. Go find someone who actually gives a damn."
She paused, arms on her hips, grin flickering. "Oh, so brooding and ignoring me makes you some big, strong man, huh?
Usumi didn't slow, just kept walking.
She shook her head, disappointment bleeding into her voice. Muttering under her breath, but loud enough for him to catch, "You're a joke, Usumi… a boring, bitter joke."
And Pon, still out cold but barely conscious, clung to the only name he heard through the haze.
Usumi.