The Gamer Chapter 1571 – Merc Hiring (Patreon)

John took in the air of his office. It smelled, primarily, of him. The mixture of scents was heavy. Most intense was the smell of fire, distilled down to its most pleasant parts. The aroma of long-smoked meat, burning candles, incense, and sandalwood. A hint of sweetness complimented a manly, husky smell. Underneath that were a few smaller notes. A field after autumn rain, oriental spices, a bit of saltiness like a distant sea breeze. All of the kinds of things that women could not get enough of.

Not to say it had no effect on men whatsoever, John himself liked the way it smelled, but this was just one of those general dividers between the sexes. The way he smelled was not the way he wanted his haremettes to smell, he preferred sweeter scents there. Flowery, fruity, and just generally lighter stuff.

Such scents were present in the room. Although John was the one to permanently occupy the room, his haremettes did have regular stays each. The nature of their stays meant that their scent primarily remained in the leg compartment of his desk.

Beneath those two, strong enough to be noticed, was the bureaucratic mixture of paper and plastic. Had it not been for the weakness of these particular fragrances, they would have overpowered the trace amounts of perfumes and oils just by the sheer number of the red folders lining the shelves. There was also the smell of the wooden furniture and of the leather, but those only really registered when John bowed down to seek them specifically.

Usually, John hardly noticed any of these scents. He had simply been out of this office for long enough that they weren’t in the short-term memory of his brain anymore. ‘It hasn’t even been two weeks,’ he thought to himself. ‘Sure has been an eventful time though.’

John opened the large closet left of the door that led into the break room. The closet was locked by magical means and, once opened, much deeper than one would imagine. It had to be, considering the three slots for female posteriors to stick out of the wooden wall. One of them was currently filled, the adjustable cushions clinging closely to the pale, round butt. Due to design demands, naked feet were right underneath.

Smirking, John gave the exposed butt a nice smack. On the other side, Claire let out a moan loud enough to be heard clearly on his side. Running his fingers up and down the line that started with the valley between her round cheeks and ended with the sensitive button atop her excited quim, John coaxed a few more sounds from her. Then, he pushed his fingers inside and amused himself with two minutes of fingering her to orgasm. He only pulled out after her walls stopped irregularly contracting around his two digits.

John closed the closet up again, to use the holes in the wall at a later point of convenience. If Claire was still there, that was. This service was something the submissive haremettes could engage in on their own, when they had the time and felt like dwelling in the excitement of just wondering if they would be used or not.

John made it a point to almost always use them when they did, although he was being deliberately random about how much and when. Wouldn’t be much of an excitement factor if they could predict when or if it happened.

Done with distractions, the Gamer finally approached his desk. The massive mahogany table awaited him in all of its daunting glory. Glorious was what usually went on under that table. Daunting was the number of documents stacked on it. Up until recently, such a workload would have been a big reason not to invite anyone for the usual services. Thanks to a few Perks, he could have fun without compromising his ability to work.

John plopped down in his incredibly comfortable, leather-wrapped chair and swivelled left to right for a few seconds. He looked out into the room. Beatrice was silently typing away at something, sitting at one of the two secretary tables near the entrance. Unlike John’s, those tables were glass and rather small, designed not to impede his view when it came to eye candy. Beatrice had her own office for meetings.

As minister of finance, Beatrice did not have a lot of meetings. Granted, this was mostly because people had eventually realized that talking to the passive maid in person did not have any higher chance of success than talking to her via mail. The only times someone did have a meeting with the unbribable controller of Fusion’s purse strings was when there were several people involved or if the affair was too complicated to summarize in text.

The second secretary desk was empty. When haremettes stayed, they often used it for their own paperwork between service sessions. John would have liked it if he had a more permanent secretary to sit there. Beatrice was doing a fine job keeping his schedule aligned, but her personal duties took more and more time as the Token advanced in its reach and John’s own duties encompassed more than going through appointments. Someone dedicated to arranging meetings for him would have been treasured.

Sadly, no one in his current harem was up to the task. They either had a gap in interest or character. Scarlett, Nia, or Delicia were all perfectly capable of doing the job, they just did not want to. Aclysia and Claire wanted to do the job, but really did not have the temperament to deal with the kind of people vying for his attention. Everyone fell between one of those two camps or, in the case of Beatrice and Momo, simply already did all they could in aid of his administration.

‘Secretary haremette would be neat,’ John thought and sighed. ‘Doubt Lulu would like to do that job, though, and I’m not looking for someone new just to fill a job opening… guess I’ll keep doing my own schedule for the time being.’

The computer booted up in a second, the custom operating system Scarlett had written for Fusion’s administrative PCs functioning smoother than ever. John connected his mind with the machine and began scanning through the list of tasks on his desk. Everything that was present on paper was also present on file.

While he was doing that, his eyes flicked over to the clock. It was 8:30 now. His little fling with Momo had delayed him thirty minutes past the usual office opening time. It was no issue, the office was still running on the protocols that were usually in place when he was out of the building. Those protocols would remain in place for a little while longer. Transitioning back to business as usual would have been a waste, considering he was going to take the next day off again, then be back in the office for one day, then get shipped back over to Europe for his three-day crash course in knighthood.

‘Time to get the first affair of the day out of the way,’ John thought and picked up the telephone. He connected to the waiting room desk. “Send in Miss Valentine, please,” he said, then put the speaker down again.

It took a full minute for the summoned party to arrive at his door. He could see her outline behind the milky glass of the entrance before she knocked. “Enter,” John said.

In walked a white-haired woman in a white bodysuit. John recognized the make immediately as one of the kind Rave used to wear, before she got the much more personalized versions and finally Illuminare. The outfit was, no doubt, tactically chosen. The fabric stuck to the roundness of her decently-sized breasts and the width of her hips. The feature that immediately stuck out to John was the sheer size of her thunder thighs. A true pair of gorgeous, long legs, with the balance of definition and thickness to draw his eyes.

John pulled his attention away from the enticing display and focused more on the person at large.

She was tall for a woman, about 1,80 metres. Lines all over her body suit gave it a futuristic feel. Arms, feet, and joint areas were additionally reinforced with protective plates. The material was relatively thin and placed in such a way that the armour did not impede notably on manoeuvrability. Empty weapon holsters were attached under the armpits, to her thighs, and to her back, each of them dedicated to a different size and class of weapon – all of them firearms by John’s estimation.

The mercenary leader stopped halfway between the entrance and the table. Blue eyes calmly scanned the situation. Her heart-shaped face was framed by white strands. She kept her hair dishevelled, but not untended, and at medium length.

“You have been informed about the meeting conditions?” John asked, just to be certain.

“Yes, sir,” she answered with military respect. John immediately used Observe.


John nodded. There was nothing out of the ordinary here. There were a surprising amount of women that were aroused when they first met him, in however small a capacity. It was, it should be stated, only initially surprising. If the situations were reversed, he would also be a little interested in the super powerful woman behind the table, although he wasn’t sure if he still would be if he had heard the woman behind the table was a massive dom. ‘Not the time to test my theory whether all the women that are aroused when I first meet them as an authority figure are secretly or not so secretly subs,’ he told himself. “Please, take a seat.”

Fianna did, taking the empty chair on the other side of the table. She sat straight, kept her hands folded in her lap, and kept her general demeanour professional. The outfit was chosen to lower his guard, John felt, but her behaviour was genuine.

“You want to join Fusion’s military – why?” John cut straight to the chase.

“Reliable pay, safety in numbers, fighting for something bigger than the next paycheck.” As Fianna spoke, John listened to her very closely. He did it to detect any potential tells for lies that Observe alone wouldn’t catch. Eventually, he also did it because her voice was rather pleasant. She pronounced syllables softly, turned her Is into gentle Ois and her Rs felt ‘broad’ and breathy.

‘An Irish accent?’ John wondered. It was not strong enough to give him a definitive idea, but it was definitely there. “Are your men in agreement with your course of action?”

“Absolutely,” Fianna answered. “We had a discussion on it. It was deemed that I am unfit to lead the band after my father’s death.”

John raised an eyebrow. “Unfit how?”

“I work alone,” Fianna stated bluntly. “I have my targets and I take them out with precise strikes. My father created a group for grunt work. Our styles do not mesh and this is the best way to dissolve the group while getting everyone ahead.”

A pragmatic reason and one John could easily verify as being true. “I take it you do not want to join the military then – you want to join Nightfall?”

Fianna nodded and John leaned back in his chair, giving her another once-over. Experienced bodies for the military were always in short supply. Special operatives for Nightfall, Fusion’s federal secret operations agency, were even rarer. Someone that could take out people at a large distance would be a worthwhile asset to have. While there were spells that could deal a lot of damage at a large range, they weren’t exactly subtle.

Granted, the same could be said about bullets, but spells were generally easy to detect before they were fired, while guns generally gave a loud warning when and after they were fired. There was also the notable difference that Abyssals were generally less defended against bullets. This was primarily because they did not need to be. For normal bullets, the toughness of most magic-infused materials eventually turned them into a non-factor, if the skin of the person did not do it outright. Firearms remained in use between low-level Abyssals, who were about as susceptible to them as a mundane person. Beyond that, spells and martial arts were just more impactful and reliable.

“Explain your Innate Ability to me,” John requested.

“My eyes can focus at several kilometres of distance, like a camera lens. Once I have designated a target, I’m instinctively aware of weak spots in their cover. I’m also capable of figuring out how to use the environment to deflect the bullet to strike the target from an unusual angle.”

John hummed, trying to sound impressed. A little smile played around her lips, so he succeeded. It was a really good ability for a sniper to have, no doubt. John just found it interesting that he was capable of the zooming and the trick shots himself. Beatrice had weak spot finding as a weapon enchantment. By his standards, her Innate Ability barely even registered as one.

‘I shouldn’t judge. I’m a Latebloomer,’ he reminded himself. He was so used to fighting people that could sunder islands, he forgot how low scale the average Innate Ability was. “Have you killed in your line of work?”

“Yes.”

The expected answer. “Anyone you regret killing?”

“Not yet,” Fianna told him. “I’ve provided a full list of my missions with my request to speak.”

“I read it. I’m just trying to get a better read on you: you said you wanted to fight for something bigger than the next paycheck?”

“Affirmative.” A particular choice of word, but John left it uncommented. “My father and the rest of the band are fine with fighting for the victor. I’d like to fight for something that is worth dying for. I believe Fusion is that something.”

There was no lie in that, so John showed a genuinely pleased smile. “Assuming you are admitted to Nightfall, what would your optimal career path be?” he asked.

Fianna considered the question for a few seconds. “After the initial vetting period, I would like to be assigned to your personal security detail. It would give me the opportunity to get close to you and your harem, which would give me the highest chances of being sponsored equipment by Hailey and to achieve… other means of empowerment.”

Being vague about it hardly mattered, John would have understood immediately either way. Fianna was far from the first and definitely not the last woman of limited capacity that saw in him not only a ticket to financial security but also personal power. It was fortunate that Lover’s Will mandated mutual love, so he could always weed out the worst offenders even if his subconscious told him she was definitely another one worthy of his harem.

“You understand that I am quite picky?” John asked.

Fianna shrugged. “You asked me about the optimal case, sir. Realistically, I believe I will be used in low to middle tier scouting and assassination operations.”

“I appreciate the ability to separate what you want to happen and what you expect to happen.”

“It is a vital skill to have when choosing when to strike.”

John nodded again and now he was contemplating the situation. Her realistic expectations were likely where she was going to end up, and if she was fine with that, he had no reason to deny her. “Well, Miss Valentine, I believe we have an agreement.” The printer on the desk suddenly began working. Two documents that John had been designing as they spoke were swiftly produced and then finished up with all of the usual signatures. He pushed both over the table. Fianna inspected them, while he explained the contents. “These are recommendations of my office for your men and you for the respectively requested positions. Hand one over to your men and have them register themselves at the Fusion garrison for test drills at their leisure.”

“They won’t like that,” Fianna stated plainly.

The Gamer shrugged. “They’ll have to learn to work in an army unit. If they can’t, they shouldn’t have tried this route. The moment you hand over the paper, they won’t be your issue anymore anyhow.”

“Affirmative,” Fianna said and folded the first paper orderly, before placing it to the side. Then, she began to read the second.

“This is to be turned in at the Nightfall office. Nightingale and Siena will likely want to take another look at you. There’s no definitive process for special operative recruitment, so I can’t tell you what to prepare for.”

“That is what I expected.” Fianna folded that paper as well, placed it on the second, then put both in a hidden pocket under the holster on her leg.

John considered for a few more seconds if he wanted to ask her something. “Why would you want to seduce me?” he finally asked. “Is it only because your ambition outpaces your potential?”

The question clearly caught the woman off-guard. She straightened up a little more, her body language shifted from the stiff to the defensive. Her blue eyes narrowed. “Can I be blunt, sir?”

“I value swift obedience to orders in action. Outside of that, I want you to be neither timid nor cowed. Speak freely.”

“The answer is that I have no clue,” Fianna answered. “I’m dissatisfied with where I am and I don’t quite know where I am going. I believe Fusion is the best option going forward for both personal and moral reasons. I’m reliant on firearms for combat and it seems the Latebloomer engineer will be my avenue to give me firearms that give me the opportunity to stay relevant. I don’t know if I want to be important within Fusion. As a mercenary, you’re free but never part of something bigger. As a soldier, I’ll be limited but able to see something that lasts come to fruition. I don’t know if I want more than that. Will I be fine as a cog or do I want to nudge Fusion in a certain direction?”

“You are not engaging with my initial question,” John observed neutrally.

Fianna stopped herself for a moment, took a deep breath, and continued, “I’d like to be powerful, sir, who would not? I understand many attempt to seduce you for personal gain and I cannot claim I am unique in this regard. You are attractive, but I feel no unique pull to you that makes me wish to be yours.” Halting again, Fianna shook her head. “I’m conflicted when it comes to my personal life, sir. You can rely on me to be, at minimum, one of your rank and file. What I want beyond that is my problem to work out.”

Confidently, she raised her eyes and met his gaze head-on. She did not back away, she did not flinch, she did twitch a little when he put a bit of his magic behind his presence, but that was as far as it went.

“Welcome to Fusion,” he said simply at that point and stood up to offer his hand. Fianna took his. Her hand was a bit cold, despite the weather, but the grip was strong and she allowed herself a little smile.

“Thank you, sir.”

“Dismissed,” he added, after their hands had parted. He sat back down and watched her leave. Her butt certainly matched the thighs, all squishy and round, underlined by creases that shifted with each confident step.

John waited for the door to close behind her, then let out another long hum. The typing suddenly stopped and Beatrice rose from her seat by the right desk to cross the room.

Without any announcement, she circled around his table and sat down on the right of his spread legs. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she draped her bottom-heavy curves over him. Her artistically dishevelled pony tail swayed. “Question: your analysis?”

“She was wrong about not being unique,” John answered. “She didn’t lie. At all. Neither to herself nor to me. Do you agree?” Because of her focus on details and one of the Perks that stemmed from it, Beatrice was even better at reading people than he was.

“Affirmative,” Beatrice stated. “No entitlement or other personality defects detected. Introspection was appropriate. Opinion: lack of immediate veneration is odd, however.”

“That’s the Aclysia in you talking,” John pointed out.

“Disagreement: I have fully and consciously internalized that part.” Beatrice leaned in and the two exchanged a deep kiss. “Do you wish for me to keep you updated on her progress?”

“No,” John denied. He had considered the question already. White-haired women with thick thighs and round butts were among his definitive types. Her character was interesting. Neither was a good enough reason for him to give her dedicated attention, though. “I don’t want to lead either of us on. If she makes up her mind, she’ll try to distinguish herself. If she succeeds, then she’ll have earned what comes next.” He looked over the paperwork in front of him and groaned. “We should get back to work now.”

“You get to work,” Beatrice whispered in his ear, before gliding down his body. “I have the first shift today.”

His office hours were suddenly a lot more bearable.