The neon haze of New Eden's skyline stretched as far as the eye could see, glittering towers of glass and steel piercing the smog-choked sky. From above, the city looked utopian—gleaming, orderly, perfect.
Below, however, the streets were veins of struggle, pumping desperation through the lives of those who survived on scraps and shadows. It was 2125, a century since the Mutation—the night when Earth had turned on itself, when beasts had emerged from once-familiar forests, rivers, and fields.
Even the air seemed sharper now, tinged with an unease that no amount of technology or governance could mask.
The ruling elite, the Auric Syndicate, had carved the world into zones, enforcing law with iron fists.
Artificial paradises floated above, cities in the sky with crystal walkways and endless gardens, while the majority of humanity scraped by on the ground, beneath the looming towers, in districts riddled with collapsed infrastructure, mutant overgrowth, and the ever-present hum of surveillance drones.
It was in one such forgotten corner of Old Grid District Nine that the shop stood—an anomaly, a relic of the pre-Mutation world wrapped in grime, metal, and flickering neon signs.
Its windows were cracked, the paint peeling, yet within its walls, the chaotic charm of countless commissions made it vibrate with life.
Shelves buckled under an eclectic collection of goods: cages holding tiny engineered familiars, jars of glowing spores, scrolls etched with forbidden runes, and tools whose purpose only those who knew could guess.
Eric leaned against the counter, arms crossed, eyes scanning the street through the grimy glass. His lean, muscular frame radiated agility and precision.
Dark tousled hair with a subtle metallic sheen framed sharp, calculating eyes, one of which bore the faint trace of a rune that glimmered softly whenever the Sibling Contract System nudged him.
Sleek, dark utilitarian clothes clung to his body, accented with subtle, almost luxurious patterns hinting at control and authority. Every movement was measured, confident—he was a strategist, the anchor in their chaotic lives.
Across the room, Alice moved with feline grace, arranging a set of small automatons on a shelf. Her slim, athletic frame made each motion fluid and precise.
Silver hair shimmered faintly under the neon, and her bright, mischievous eyes flicked toward Eric with a teasing smile.
Her layered, edgy clothing was both practical and stylish, with hidden pockets and asymmetrical designs, and faint glowing sigils traced her wrists and shoulders—the visible heartbeat of the system they shared.
Where Eric exuded control, Alice radiated playfulness and daring, a contrast that made them an unstoppable pair.
Both bore the subtle, shared mark of the Sibling Contract System—a glowing sigil embedded in their wrists, a tether only they could see, hear, and feel.
It had chosen them five years ago, when the orphanage that had raised them since childhood was destroyed in a beast riot.
On the verge of death, surrounded by the chaos of mutated animals tearing through stone and fire, the system had found them, binding their lives to its rules, granting survival, power, and a bond that no one else could access.
Their names carried no surnames; abandoned, orphaned, they had only each other—and the system.
Outside, the streets of Old Grid Nine were alive with tension: mechanized scavengers prodding through trash, holographic ads projecting promises of prosperity they could never reach, and the distant, muted roar of patrol drones.
Beyond the city, the mutated remnants of the old Earth waited—forests twisted into nightmarish shapes, rivers glowing with bioluminescent toxins, animals of legend stalking the shadows.
A hundred years of scars had not healed, and humans knew better than to underestimate the danger still lingering in the wilds.
Inside, the shop hummed with controlled chaos. Orders arrived through encrypted comm-links, each message pinging a new commission into existence: "Retrieve stolen prototype," "Locate missing citizen," "Eliminate rogue mutant," "Acquire rare plant sample from quarantined zone."
The system assessed, nudged, and rewarded, demanding participation, cooperation, and occasionally pushing them into morally gray, daring, or intimate acts that earned the most points.
Eric's eyes flicked to the holo-pad embedded in the counter as a new commission arrived. Alice smirked, fingers tapping in time with the pulse of the sigils, her gaze daring him to act first.
Together, they were merchants, manipulators, assassins, and agents of chaos—all under the watchful, invisible guidance of the Sibling Contract System.
The world outside might be broken, beautiful, and cruel in equal measure, but within the confines of their shop, Eric and Alice carved out control, thriving in the spaces others feared.
In a city ruled by gold, technology, and fear, they had found their edge, their freedom, and their tether—one commission at a time.
Eric's gaze slipped to the street again, impatience sharpening the line of his jaw. He pushed off the counter and turned back to Alice with a grin that didn't reach his eyes. "Hey, sis—hasn't the client arrived yet? We already finished her uncle. The file's clean."
Alice didn't look up from the automaton she was adjusting. Her fingers moved with the same precision she used in the field, quick, deliberate, practiced. When she finally glanced at him, the smile was half amusement, half reprimand.
"Can you have some patience, big brother? She'll be here—obviously. She's bound by the Contract."
Eric snorted softly. "Bound or not, I'm tired of waiting."
Alice's eyes darkened slightly, her tone sharpening. "You know what happened to the client who tried to violate it, don't you? Not just punished—erased. Removed from records, from memories. Everyone forgot she ever existed. Except us. That's how absolute the Contract is."
"I know," Eric said, voice low. "But I can't help it. I just… I'm looking forward to her arrival. She's the most beautiful client we've had in a long time. I can't wait to fuck her into high heavens."
Alice's fingers paused mid-adjustment on the automaton's wiring. Her silver eyes flicked up, sharp with amusement and something far more territorial.
"You do know it's my turn now to use the client's pussy, right?" she drawled, tilting her head just enough for the neon glow to catch the smirk on her lips. "You can either watch from the side—or film it, if you're feeling creative—or you can use her mouth. Your call. She won't object as that is all in the contract that she signed."
Eric's brow furrowed, his jaw tightening. The faint rune in his eye pulsed once, betraying his frustration.
"Sis, c'mon. Can't you let me have her this time? She's the most beautiful girl we've seen in months. I'll make it up to you—next client's all yours, no arguments."
Alice snorted, abandoning the automaton entirely and sauntering closer, her hips swaying with deliberate provocation.
"Oh, now you're generous? Funny, because last time, when that corporate exec with the pretty long legs showed up, you 'forgot' whose turn it was then, too."
"That was different," Eric muttered, though his gaze flicked away for half a second—guilty.
"Mhm. Sure." Alice rolled her eyes, stepping into his space, close enough that her breath ghosted over his lips.
"Face it, brother. You're greedy when it comes to pretty things. But rules are rules—our rules. Unless you wanna start keeping a tally sheet?"
Eric exhaled sharply through his nose. "Fine. But I'm not just settling for her mouth."
Alice laughed, low and victorious. "Then you'd better hope she's enthusiastic about round two."
Before he could retort, the shop's rusted door chime rattled.