Biohell Read Online Free PDF

everything.”
     
    “Combat K is classified. Top
level.”
     
    The gun which appeared in Franco’s
hand was small and black, and completely non-menacing. But to anybody in the
know, the Heckler & Koch Kat.5 anti-terrorist microlite was a savage
weapon. It could clean remove a person’s head. Hell, a single round could
remove an entire torso.
     
    “I’ve been assigned to track you
down,” said Mel.
     
    “For a mission?”
     
    Mel frowned. “No, Mr Haggis. For
you to pay your tax.”
     
    “We’re in The City. Nobody pays
tax in The City!”
     
    “But you worked for the Quad-Gal
Military. Quad-Gal Government. Gov6. And that had nothing to do with The
City. You are in arrears, Mr Haggis. Franco. And, yes, whilst there are
no official laws here, QGM can have you extradited. You owe what you
owe. And that sum is very large indeed. I suggest you co-operate, or I’ll
be forced to initiate my PAB.”
     
    “PAB?”
     
    “Panic Attack Button. There’s a
flier with twenty Battle SIMs just a couple of blocks away.” She eyed the gun. “I
believe the punishment for attacking a Quad-Gal Tax Inspector is, oh, instant
death.”
     
    Franco deflated.
     
    “OK. OK. I admit it guv’nor. It’s
a fair cop. I never paid my bloody tax to the bureaucratic penny-pinching,
money-skimming daylight robbers we call the System. Go on. Hit me with
it. How much do I owe?”
     
    Melanie told him.
     
    Franco went pale.
     
    “However.”
     
    “Yes?” He raised an eyebrow above
a face filled with despondency.
     
    “There... might be a way out of
this.”
     
    “Yes?”
     
    “You were Combat K. Right? The
best of the best. Elite. A super-soldier?”
     
    “Yeah. Right. Fat lot of good that did me! Hah! Save the world, nay, the damn galaxy, and the bastards
still expect 33%. Where’s the justice in that, I ask you?”
     
    “Do you... still have your
uniform?”
     
    Franco frowned. “Um. Yee- ees?” It was a long drawn-out answer. Wondering. Questioning. Cow- fused.
     
    Melanie smiled. It was a wide
smile. Very wide. Very... friendly. She stood up and moved to Franco
with undulating hips. She reached behind herself, undid the molecular zip, and
stepped lithely free of her one-piece business suit. Full breasts filled a
Glitter Web bra. A flat stomach greeted Franco’s slack-jawed awe. Athletic legs
rose from diamond shoes up to a micro-filament thong that could only be called
underwear because it was under there. Franco stared at something slick
and inviting.
     
    Mel reached forward. She licked
her lips. Her eyes were gleaming. She patted his arm. “Go and slip into your
uniform,” she said. “There’s a good boy.”
     
    ~ * ~
     
    Mel
had hunted Franco down for tax purposes— initially. But she’d volunteered for
the job after seeing photos of him in his Combat K uniform, admittedly a few years younger, and a few pounds lighter, but still proud and erect and
strong. As it transpired, Mel had a thing about soldiers. Especially uniformed
soldiers. And especially Combat K uniformed soldiers. She acknowledged
this was a character defect, but she was willing to work around it.
     
    However, on that first evening,
despite stripping from her bamboo business suit and dancing with Franco in his
uniform, she had refused to “rush things”. She left after an hour with a
coquettish smile. Franco was left with an erection that could drill hull steel.
Melanie departed with the promise she would return that night... with something
special.
     
    As Mel began her arduous
sixty-nine floor descent, Franco, in his eagerness to please, like a puppy with
a wagging tail, shouted, “I’ll cook us a meal! I’m a good cook, I am!”
     
    Mel laughed. “OK then.”
     
    As she disappeared, the enormity
of what he’d said sunk in. A meal. Cooked. By. Franco. Shit.
     
    Franco liked to eat. Hell, that
went without saying. A gourmet chef, however, he was not. And he so desperately
wanted to please! At first he thought about buying