You happily let out a sound that was very close to a whistle but not close enough to trigger commands that could have called the goods in warehouse D.

"Good, good!", you chirped and took three big steps towards him.

After just the second step, his shadow fell over you. It was like a beast, big and beefy, devouring you in one bite.

The pleasant coolness made the tension on your skin disappear. Immediately you felt comfortable again in your usual combat gear, your laced boots. Now your second skin was just that again: a part of you.

Although it appeared to be, with the woven metal and dynamic surface, your equipment was not the same as the Netrunners wore. It was tight, but that was because of the functionality, because you had to be quick and agile without being caught by the wind.

The best thing, however, was that not just any arsehole could grab a crease and pull you off your feet. Only the cropped leather jacket with the red, white and blue stripes was a risk that you allowed yourself to take for vain purposes.

Smiling with satisfaction, hands on your hips, you stopped right in front of him. The choom was big, huge even, with shoulders so broad that you had to analyse with your optics how much chrome and how much human he was.

Surprisingly, the proportion of flesh and real bone was higher than you had expected. He was almost entirely human, except for the right arm from above the elbow down, right hand implant included and a few facial modifications that were standard NUSA equipment.

It was good tech, expensive, which led you to believe that all this had been sponsored by the government. Which only made you think further ahead. A normal soldier did not get such high quality replacements. He must have been a big shot.

Arms crossed in front of his broad chest, the man gave you a wry smirk. Oh yes, you liked that self-confidence in his eyes. So much so that you wanted to obliterate it.

The urge to hunt awoke in you. Maybe this day could get even better.

"Hansen...", you thought aloud. "So you're the strongest?"

Shrugging his shoulders slightly, he shook his head.

"Strongest, no.", he admitted honestly and completely without shame. "Best, yes. At least until now."

He grinned, thin lipped, dark brown hair falling into his sweaty forehead. The sides were shorn short, but he had left the strands longer at the top. His face was clean-shaven, as befitted a soldier.

Looking at him from top to bottom, there was no better image to summarise the troops serving the NUSA. He was perfect, from the ends of his hair, to his black chrome neck, to the olive-coloured army t-shirt tucked neatly under his black belt, all the way down to the laced-up boots that were very much like yours.

But there was something in his white eyes. You couldn't quite put your finger on it, but there was something lurking beneath this fine facade of the perfect soldier. And you wanted to see it, to punch a hole in the wall and pull out what was hiding in the shadows.

A grin grew on your lips, wide and with gleaming white teeth.

"Oh, this could be very interesting.", you said, stretching your head back to meet his gaze. "I like em' big..."

A snort chased a fleeting grin across his face before the stony expression of discipline returned.

"I don't fight women.", he shrugged.

How bulky he was, broad, then narrowing a little at the waist. His upper body had the shape of a man who spent a lot of time lifting weights. And his legs didn't look skinny either.

He'd be quick, you surmised, with punches so powerful they'd knock you off your feet. But that wasn't a bad thing. You just had to be faster, more agile. He couldn't hit anything he couldn't get his hands on.

Yes, that would probably be the best tactic. If it wasn't for his attitude.

Playfully sweet, you raised your chin and gave him a smile that lulled him like a spider's web lulls a fly. He seemed confused for a moment, his eyebrows raised. Then he let out a snort.

"Someone wants to be challenged, I see.", he leaned towards you and you noticed that his eyes were implants.

A white iris surrounded two deep black pupils. Your eyes briefly flickered red. You hummed in response.

"Hmm~ Kiroshi Tech. A man with taste.", you purred and got so close to him that your noses were almost touching.

It was almost frightening how much you enjoyed playing with him. And he showed no sign of fear. Either he was just stupid or an opponent who was finally worth it.

Everyone around you seemed to be holding their breath. It had become so quiet that it was almost no fun teasing him like this.

But as Hansen leaned back and grew to his full height, you couldn't suppress the taste of victory. There was that twinkle in his eye.

Curiosity.

He wanted to find out who was stupid enough to challenge him. Especially when you didn't seem to be his equal in the slightest.

"One round.", he announced, holding out his hand to you.

You struck without hesitation, satisfaction and the feeling of triumph made you euphoric.

"I like you like this.", you laughed and turned your back to him to take off your jacket.

While doing so, you took a small bundle of eddies out of your inside pocket and handed it to the soldier who was taking the bets.

"I'll bet on him.", you said and wiggles your eyebrows. "He looks really dangerous."

Confused, the soldier stared at the money, but accepted it. He quickly wrote the names of the two fighters for the next bet.

"Kurt Hansen.", he announced to the crowd. "Against... uh... against who?"

A smile lit up your face, sweet yet deadly like the skin of an exotic, poisonous snake. With a muffled sound, your jacket fell into the dust. You spread your arms, prancing with every step, presenting yourself to the crowd.

"Whistler will do just fine.", you winked at Kurt.