Ava's eyes widened, raking over the beasts as I changed, her tongue darting out to wet her lips. "What... the fuck are those?"

"Hunters," I rumbled, voice low, cock twitching at her awe. "Autonomous killers on wheels. AI cores smarter, ran by ARIA's little sister—packed with weapons, shields, the works."

The first loomed brutal: a hulking, low-slung monster forged from razor facets, armored plates slicing the air like claws, wide and oppressive, front shield a battering ram, tapering to a stubby tail. Fat, treadless tires devoured the concrete, rear one grotesquely wide, golden-veined shocks coiled like serpents.

No exhaust, no lights—just hidden fury, pulsing subtly as if alive, hungry.

Void Reaper.

The second coiled sleeker: a viper of flowing aggression, bulbous core swelling like a venom sac, hooded fairing with glowing LED veins forming an enraged glare.

Body a protective pod, cutaways exposing raw power, truncated rear hugging the wheel like a tail. Hubless rims floated on illusion, perforated discs screaming lethality, rear swingarm a single sinister arm, crimson pulse in the hub like internal fire.

Shadow Serpent.

Ava circled them, fingers trailing the cold hides, breath hitching as the frames hummed under her touch, vibrating like a cock on the edge. "They're... beasts. Actual fucking beasts."

"One is yours now," I said, tossing her a bundle—identical attire, nano-suited for her curves. "Strip. What you're wearing. Bullet-magnet. This is bulletproof, self-cleaning, camouflage—blends to shadows, wipes blood and cum like it never happened."

She laughed low and filthy at the cum part, already soaked from the teasing, caught the bundle against her chest, eyes blazing with challenge.

She didn't rush. Instead, she locked eyes with me, biting her lower lip as she slowly unzipped her jacket, letting it slide off one shoulder at a time, teasing the reveal of skin underneath.

Shirt next— fingers deliberately unbuttoning from the top, pausing after each one to arch her back a little, until the fabric parted and her heavy tits spilled free inch by inch, bouncing heavily as they escaped, nipples already thick and stiff, begging for attention.

She cupped them briefly, thumbs circling the peaks with a soft moan, squeezing just enough to make them jiggle before letting go.

Pants now—hips swaying as she hooked thumbs into the waistband, turning halfway to give me a view of that round, firm ass while she eased them down slowly, bending forward deliberately, cheeks spreading as the fabric peeled away, exposing everything: her soaked thong clinging transparently to swollen pussy lips, slick arousal glistening and dripping down her inner thighs.

She paused there, bent over, glancing back over her shoulder with a wicked grin, wiggling her ass teasingly before straightening and sliding the thong down agonizingly slow—peeling it from her drenched folds, strings of wetness stretching and snapping as she revealed her fully naked body.

Shaved mound puffy and open, clit hard and peeking from it's within, cunt dripping shamelessly, toned abs flexing, wide hips flaring, every curve on brazen display as she stepped out of the last scrap of clothing, standing tall and nude, skin flushed hot, letting me drink in the sight before finally reaching for the suit.

She slipped into the suit—material slithering over her bare skin, hugging every curve, plates accentuating her hourglass, crotch seam rubbing her clit as it sealed, making her gasp.

Boots, gloves, full cyberpunk goddess—tits thrust, ass armored, ponytail whipping.

"Choose," I said calmly like I was unfazed by what I just witnessed, she licked her lips knowing pretty well I wanted t bend her over and fuck her now.

"Reaper's brute—smashes through anything. Serpent's sly—strikes silent. Both autonomous: palm the center console, biometric lock. Yours forever—can't start without you, or if you're forced. AI drives solo: you're pinned down miles out, it roars in, guns blazing and saves you."

She hesitated, hand hovering, pussy clenching visible through the suit. "Weapons?"

"Plasma rails hidden in frames, mini missile pods, EMP bursts, projectile blades that eject from wheels. And Strap Function—" I grinned as her eyes lit.

"Activates, magnetic straps lock you tight—tits crushed to tank, cunt grinding the seat—then hyper-speed burst. Zero to two hundred in a blink, G-forces pinning you like my cock in your throat."

"Fuck," she moaned, thighs rubbing, choosing the Shadow Serpent—palm slapping the dark screen on the console. It flared crimson, scanning her print, voice purring in her mind via neural link: "Biometric locked. Mistress Ava. Ready to hunt."

I mounted the Void Reaper, pressing the core. The back split open with a hydraulic hiss, helmet rising like a crown—matte black, visored, HUD flickering gold. I donned it, sealing with a click.

Ava followed, her helmet emerging—sleek, angular, visors tinting. She slipped it on, ponytail threading through, voice muffled but hot over comms: "This suit... it's vibrating on my clit already."

"Wait till Strap," I laughed, engines roaring to life—predatory growls shaking the garage, vibrations throbbing through seats into our groins. "Camouflage active—ghost mode. Let's hunt."

"Can we hurry and get this done with, wanna fuck you, you know."

I couldn't help a laugh, she was this on fire, huh. "Me too my shameless Agent."

Ava's gloved hand lingered on the Shadow Serpent's console, her chest heaving under the nano-suit, nipples straining against the plates like they wanted to burst free.

The helmet's HUD flickered in her visor, crimson icons pulsing—weapons hot, AI synced, biometrics locked. But her eyes—visible through the tinted glass—burned with that curiosity, locking on me as I straddled the Void Reaper, cock still half-hard from our kiss, throbbing against the seat's vibration.

"Strap Function," she repeated, voice husky over comms, tongue darting across her lips. "You said it pins me... shoots off like a bullet. Show me. Detail it. Make me feel it before I activate."

I grinned under my helmet, HUD highlighting her vitals—heart rate spiking, pupils dilated, cunt heat registering through the suit's sensors, wetness building. "Activate demo mode first. Palm the screen again—say 'Strap Demo'."

She did, palm slapping the console. The AI purred, voice whispering in her mind: "Strap Function Demo engaged. Simulated activation."

Holographic restraints erupted around her—crimson nano-tendrils whipping from the frame like lasers, nano-magnetic claws striking with precision fury. Wrists first: snapping tight, yanking her forward into a razor-lean assault posture, torso slamming flush against the tank, body fused for zero-drag warfare.

The onslaught raged—mid-strap crushing her core, pinning her waist in a vice-lock, thigh bands clamping like hydraulic jaws, boots fusing to the pegs in an unbreakable forge. G-forces simulated immediately—phantom blasts hammering her frame, dampers kicking to counter the invisible storm.

The anchor strap—titanium-reinforced—deployed from the rear with a sonic crack, bolting her spine for total rigidity. "Stabilization override," the AI bellowed. "Combat immersion."

Ava gritted her teeth, muscles bulging against the hold, testing the iron grip. "It's... a goddamn cage! Yet gentle to not hurt but protect! Unbreakable!"

"Command it to kill," I thundered, my demo detonating on the Reaper—straps crushing with brutal efficiency.

"Hyper-speed core: Strap live, twist throttle—rails slam, thrusters EXPLODE plasma fire. Zero to three hundred in 1.8 seconds flat. G-forces rip like artillery—inertial shields deploy in a nano-bubble, deflecting wind, debris, bullets. You blast through hell—traffic parting like tissue, terrain shattering under tires. Arrival? Instant annihilation."

Her visor fogged with exertion, body locked as holo-forces pummeled in waves, seat adaptive contours shifting for peak control.

"It forges me into a projectile," she roared, voice echoing with fire. "Blasts forward—untouchable, in command through the chaos?"

"Dead on," I bellowed, killing her demo with a mental slash. Holos vanished, systems primed to redline. "Voice override shatters it. Or ride the storm. Dmitri's world ends in our dust."

She hammered the console. "Strap LIVE! Launch us!"

Real straps detonated—clamping with earthquake force, AI howling approval.

I triggered mine—lockdown absolute.

Thrusters SCREAMED. Garage door SHATTERED outward.

We catapulted into the night—thunderbolts of retribution.

"ARIA," I commanded, voice steady as the Void Reaper idled with leashed power, its frame vibrating through my gloves like a caged storm, ozone-tinged heat radiating from the plasma coils. "Feed your little sister the coordinates. Volkov's lair."

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