CIUDAD AIRES: I, The Race

The last thing he remembered was that slimy spectator exploding in a thousand pieces. She had not, a slave, but she was glad. It was completely forbidden to bother the jockeys and the security bots took it very seriously. Fortunately, he touched her and not Fugaz, his rat, because otherwise his departure from this world would have been much slower and more painful. A good racing rat was worth more tokens than 100 girls in this part of the city.

Today was going to be a special racing day. The modified rats had already taken their doses of methamphetamine. They were chronically drugged to push them beyond exhaustion and the people around here seemed to enjoy it. The girls had already been smeared with rat repellent, trying to make the bites not finish with them before the finish.

Ciudad Aires was a euphemism for the most disgusting city that humanity had been able to imagine on an outer planet. Hundreds of overlapping floors, 500 million inhabitants ruled by the wildest anarcho-capitalism and the never-ending desire to hoard tokens. As expected, the bloodiest races were near the top, where the bets were much higher than on the lower floors.

-Louse! Ready?

Fuck, not five minutes ago, everything was dark, and in a moment the barracks was a hive of activity. The race had begun.