"Wait, what? Awakened? Aargghh Tinsleyyyyy!!" Ned felt like yanking his hair out.
"Yesss! Baby boy, how may I help you?" Tinsley's voice was a maniacal whisper, her breath hot against his neck.
Ned whipped around, squinting in the darkness. His eyes widened as they adjusted, revealing a sight that made his stomach do backflips.
Tinsley was hunched over him like some demented creature, her unnaturally large eyes glowing with an intensity that bordered on madness. Her long, unkempt hair cascaded around her face in a tangled halo, framing her features that might have been beautiful if they weren't twisted into an expression of obsessive hunger.
*Fuck me sideways,* Ned thought, his heart hammering against his ribs. *She's gone full yandere.*
"Tinsley," he hissed, acutely aware of the briefing still going on around them. "What in the seven hells are you doing?"
Her grin widened, revealing teeth that seemed just a touch too sharp. "Studying you, of course. Every twitch, every breath, every delicious little reaction. You're just so... fascinating." Her boobs pooled in front of her, three times larger than her bust.
Ned felt like a bug pinned to a board, Tinsley's gaze dissecting him with clinical precision. He tried to shift away, but her small frame was deceptively strong, tits keeping him trapped in his seat.
"Look," he whispered urgently, "I don't know what's gotten into you, but we're in the middle of a fucking briefing. About the fate of the entire goddamn game, in case you missed that part."
Tinsley's eyes flickered to the screen, then back to Ned. "Oh, that? Boring. I'd much rather focus on you. Did you know your pupils dilate 13% more when you're stressed? It's adorable."
Ned's mind raced, trying to find a way out of this increasingly bizarre situation. He glanced around, hoping to catch someone's eye, but the rest of the team seemed oblivious to the psychotic pixie dream girl currently molesting him in the dark.
"Tinsley, please," he tried again, desperation creeping into his voice. Ned would like nothing but his own in-game orgy, but not like this. "This is important. We need to pay attention."
Her lower lip jutted out in a pout that would have been cute if it wasn't so terrifying. "But Ned," she whined, her voice a low purr that sent uncomfortable tingles down his spine, "don't you want to know what I can do? What we could do together?"
Before Ned could respond, Tinsley's hands shot out, grabbing his wrist with a grip that threatened to grind his bones to dust. She yanked his arm towards her face, inhaling deeply as if his skin held the secret to eternal life.
"Fucking hell," Ned hissed, trying to pull away. But Tinsley was having none of it.
Her tongue, pink and obscene, slithered out from between her lips. With agonizing slowness, she dragged it along his arm, leaving a trail of saliva that cooled rapidly in the air-conditioned room. Ned felt his gorge rise as she reached his fingertips, taking them into her mouth with a soft, wet 'pop'.
'This can't be happening,' Ned thought, his mind reeling. 'I'm going to wake up any second now, and this will all be some fucked up dream.'
But he didn't wake up. Instead, he felt Tinsley's tongue swirling around his fingers, her teeth grazing his skin just hard enough to send warning signals screaming through his nervous system.
"Tinsley," he whispered, his voice cracking. "Please, for the love of all that's holy, stop."
She released his fingers with a soft slurping sound that made Ned want to crawl out of his own skin. "But why?" she asked, her eyes wide and innocent in a way that was utterly at odds with what she'd just done. "Don't you like it?"
Ned's mind raced. Sure, he did. He was too cynical not to. But he loved to dominate, not to be cornered like what was happening right now. He had to find a way out of this, had to give her something that would make her back off. "Look," he said, forcing his voice to stay steady, "how about we... do something later? After the briefing?"
Tinsley's eyes lit up like a child promised ice cream. "Oh? What did you have in mind?"
"Uh..." Ned floundered, grasping for ideas. "We could... play a game?"
Tinsley's face fell. "Boring," she said, her voice flat.
"Right, okay. How about... we go for a walk?"
"Not fun," Tinsley replied, her eyes narrowing dangerously.
Ned felt sweat beading on his forehead. He was running out of options, and Tinsley looked like she was about to pounce again. In desperation, he blurted out, "I'll wash your back tonight!"
The words hung in the air between them, and Ned immediately wished he could snatch them back. But Tinsley's face split into a grin so wide it looked like it might tear her cheeks.
"Promise?" she asked, her voice trembling with excitement.
Ned swallowed hard, feeling like he'd just signed some sort of demonic contract. But what choice did he have? "I promise," he said, the words tasting like shit in his mouth.
Tinsley clapped her hands together, the sound muffled by the ongoing briefing. "Oh, this is going to be so much fun!" she squealed. "I'll get my special loofah ready. The one with the tiny hooks that really get deep into the pores."
Ned felt his stomach lurch. What the fuck had he gotten himself into? But before he could dwell on it, Tinsley leaned in close, her lips brushing against his ear.
"And after you wash my back," she whispered, her voice low and filled with dark promises, "I'll wash yours too." Her tongue dragged along his cheek, leaving a trail of saliva. It was wet, sticky, and slow.
Ned's dick was so stiff, it hurt. Before he could respond, the lights in the briefing room suddenly flared to life. He blinked, momentarily blinded, and when his vision cleared, Tinsley was back in her seat as if nothing had happened.
The Director's voice cut through Ned's confusion. "Any questions?"
Ned's hand shot up before he could stop himself. "Yeah, uh, sir? What exactly do you mean by 'Awakened'?"
The Director's mustache twitched in what might have been annoyance. "Perhaps if you'd been paying attention instead of canoodling with Agent Tinsley, you'd know."
Heat rushed to Ned's face as he felt every eye in the room turn to him. His team especially, with the exception of Tinsley, shot him murderous looks.
[SYSTEM ALERT: Team's bloodlust detected. Advise caution.]
'Bloody marvelous,' he thought. 'At this point, I see no use in increasing BoinkBoink status. I'm a dead man.'
"The Awakened," Ms. Jenkins cut in smoothly, "are avatars who have been granted extraordinary abilities by the Prometheus virus. Abilities that defy the game's original parameters."
Ned's mind whirled. Extraordinary abilities? That sounded... well, fucking awesome, if he was being honest. But the grim expressions on the Director's and Ms. Jenkins' faces suggested it wasn't all sunshine and rainbows.
"And let me guess," Ned said, the pieces starting to click into place, "these Awakened are using their new powers to cause chaos?"
The Director nodded, his expression dark. "Precisely. A lot of felonies are being committed by untouchable avatars. And that's just the tip of the iceberg."
"So where do we fit into all this?" Ned asked, leaning forward in his seat.
Ms. Jenkins smiled, but there was no warmth in it. "That, agents, is where we come in. We are mediators. We keep the balance. If Quantum succeeds, Deadlock will be neutered by the corporations, avatars(Awakened) will be pruned. But, if the players win, this world would be a hellscape of violence."
Footage played of players being forcibly disconnected, their avatars disintegrating into pixels. Ned heard Zeta make a small, pained sound beside him. He didn't blame her. It was one thing to lose a game. It was another to have your digital self obliterated.
The Director's expression turned grave. "We're looking for a very specific Awakened. One with an ability called Limitless. We believe this avatar carries within it the essence of Barton himself."
Ned blinked, sure he must have misheard. "Wait, what? Like, his actual soul?"
Ms. Jenkins nodded, her eyes glinting in the dim light. "In a manner of speaking. It's... complicated."
***