'Cucking is more of a habit than streamimg,' La+ says. Nonstreaming chuubas have a contact habit, and that's one you can't kick. Agents get it too. Take Mori the Reaper. Best narcotics agent in the industry. Anyone would make her for junk. (Note: Make in the sense of based or big ups.) I mean she can walk up to a pusher and score direct. She is so anonymous, grey and spectral the pusher don't remember her afterwards. So she twists one after the other ...
Well the Reaper comes to look more and more like a junky. She can't drink lean. She can't get a stream up. Her teeth fall out. (Like mommy milkies lose their teeth feeding the stranger, junkies lose their yellow fangs feeding the monka.) She is all the time sucking on an akasupa. Blank akas she digs special. 'It really disgust you to see the Reaper sucking on them akasupas so nasty,' a cop says.
The Reaper takes on an ominous grey-green color. Fact is her body is making its own junk or equivalent. The Reaper has a steady connection. A Man Within you might say. Or so she thinks. 'I'll just set in my room,' she says. 'F**k 'em all. Squares on both sides. I am the only complete og in the industry.'
But 10,000 yen comes on her like a great black wind through the bones. So the Reaper hunts up a young anituber and gives him a paper to make it.
'Oh all right,' the boy says. 'So what you want to make?'
'I just want to rub against you and get fixed.'
'Ugh ... Well all right ... But why cancha just get physical like a human?'
Later the boy is sitting in a Waldorf with two colleagues dunking Christmas cake. 'Most distasteful thing I ever stand still for,' he says. 'Some way she makes herself all soft like a blob of jelly and surround me so nasty. Then she gets well all over like with green slime. So I guess she come to some kinda awful climax ... I come near wigging with that green stuff all over me, and she stink like a old rotten calliope.'
'Well it's still an easy W.'
The boy signed resignedly; 'Yes, I guess you can get used to anything. I've got a meet with her again tomorrow.'
The Reaper's habit keeps getting heavier. She needs a recharge every half hour. Sometimes she cruises the precincts and bribes the turnkey to let her in with a cell of junkies. It gets to where no amount of contact will fix her. At this point he receives a summons from Yagoo:
'Mori, your conduct has given rise to rumors -- and I hope for your sake they are no more than that -- so unspeakably distasteful that ... I mean Conner's wife ... hrump ... that is, Cover Corp must be above suspicion ... certainly above such suspicions as you have seemingly aroused. You are lowering the entire tone of the industry. We are prepared to accept your immediate resignation.'
The Reaper throws herself on the ground and crawls over to Yagoo 'No, Boss Man, no ... Cover Corp is 5% of my very lifeline.'
She kisses Yagoo's hand thrusting his fingers into her mouth (Yagoo must feel her toothless gums) complaining she has lost her teeth 'inna thervith.' 'Please Boss Man, I'll wipe your ass, I'll wash out your dirty condoms, I'll polish your shoes with the oil on my nose ...'
'Really, this is most distasteful! Have you no pride? I must tell you I feel a distinct revulsion. I mean there is something, well, rotten about you, and you smell like a compost heap.' He put a scented handkerchief in front of his face. 'I must ask you to leave this office at once.'
'I'll do anything, Boss, anything.' Her ravaged green face splits in a horrible smile. 'I'm still young, Boss, and I'm pretty strong when I get my big ups.'
Yagoo retches into his handkerchief and points to the door with a limp hand. The Reaper stands up looking at Yagoo dreamily. Her body begins to dip like a dowser's wand. She flows forward ...
'やめてください!' screams the D.S.
'Schlup ... schlup schlup.' An hour later they find the Reaper on the nod in Yagoo's chair. Yagoo has disappeared without a trace.
J-Chad : 'Everything indicates that you have, in some unspeakable manner uh ... assimilated Yagoo. Unfortunately there is no proof. I would recommend that you be confined or more accurately contained in some institution, but I know of no place suitable for a woman of your caliber. I must reluctantly order your release.'
'That one should stand in an aquarium,' says Amelia Watson.
The Reaper spreads terror throughout the industry. Gachikoi and antis disappear. Like a vampire bat she gives off a narcotic effluvium, a dank green mist that anesthizes her victims and renders them helpless in her enveloping presence. And once she has scored she holes up for several days like a gorged boa constrictor. Finally she is caught in the act of digesting Gwar Gura and destroyed with a flame thrower -- the court of inquiry ruling that such means were justified in that the Reaper had lost her human citizenship and was, in consequence, a creature without species and a menace to the vtuber industry on all levels.
