Wainya Syndicate

Something inside her stirs a deadly storm. Already powerful among all she controls, her calling call is written in blood. Who fears such a woman? I’ll tell you. Other killers. She is not like any other. Each kill has been precise and beautiful. Her name is Wainya. She runs a new kind of Syndicate. Of course, it’s not your run-of-the-mill Asian organization. No, no. No, Wainya changed the script. What she did was give others something to fear other than themselves, being the monster that did not only kill with a contract but with own personal motivation. If another stood in her way of changing the dark world of killers, Wainya put an end to them or him or her. Her vision is clear. Wainya wants to be the elite organization not for the personal power but for the security, needing the respect and resources of all other organized killers to protect her and her own. Like all people, she had something to fear, it being far more frightening than knowing Wainya will spill your blood. Let’s not talk about such things. In this world, there is more than just blood. Wainya had a hunger for the flesh in another way. It did not matter who you were; if she wanted you, you bend to her. Aside from being a pentacle of nightmares, Wainya’s beauty is striking. Only the killers she employed under her knew her true appearance. Wigs, contacts, and clothing hid her identity from the world. It kept her safe.

“Boss, there’s a newcomer in Night City. Do you want me to scout him?” The man interrupts Wainya during her monthly inventory upkeep. For a long moment Wainya doesn’t answer — not that she was ignoring the man, but because she wanted to finish one thing before starting on another. It is how she works. Finally she pulls her fingers off the keyboard and leans back into her chair, looking to him.

“No, Jackson. I need air. I will handle this one.” It was not uncommon for Wainya to take care of much of the grunt work. She didn’t mind it. Although she had an handful of loyal employees to pick up work. Wainya stood and adjusted her wig in place walking past Jackson without a second look. He watches her leave, taking her leather jacket that he favored on her more than her others. It was clear she had no use for Jackson in any sexual manner. A woman like her often grew bored of the same lover. Monogamy was not her idea of a happy, fulfilling life. Leaving the secured underground mansion of her Syndicate, she closed the door that easily camouflaged as a wall. The familiar smell of the sewer did not bother her. Many times she came through them to come home or to resurface in Night City. Knowing the path well, she no longer needed to follow the faint trail of blood. The blood led novice killers to her Syndicate in hopes of becoming apart of the feared organization. Of course, they wouldn’t know where to look without the initial face time on the surface. She kept the whole city under surveillance. It gave her and the others the opportunity to watch newcomers. As killers, they knew who were normal and who had blood on their hands. For the last two days her employees been tracking a large male who wandered into the city. He didn’t hide his killer very well. Wainya discerned he was more like a predator that stalked. And those types made Wainya weary. Reaching up, Wainya pushes the manhole aside and pulls herself from the sewers. As she replaces the manhole, she hears Nasama coming through her earpiece.

“Boss, your target has entered an abandoned building near pier twelve. It’s the old Herman Plant. He went in on the eastside. Let me know if you need anything.” Nasama is one of Wainya’s few friends. The woman being a genius with technology made her an immediate asset. They went as far back as children.

“Thank you, Nasama. Do me a favor and pay a visit at Jackson’s bunk later. He’s brooding,” she answers, making her way towards the old industrial side. They shut down everything years ago when the Mayor decided to go green. Less pollution brought less jobs for the working class citizens. The overflow of contracts then went against almost anyone who had to do with the shut down of thousand of jobs. Wainya had to turn away more than half of them. That portion, of course, went to less organized killers who were caught and thrown in prison. The click of her heel on the concrete is deafening in the still silence of the area. Finding the building was easy since it’s basically one of the places other killers went into in hope of getting a visit from her or one of her own. Normally, Wainya wouldn’t go in the same way one did but she had watched this man, noticing his demeanor towards women or children was always gentle and with men he did a total one-eighty. Instead of the window she was sure he entered, Wainya took the door and stepped in to find him standing there. Waiting. This threw her for only a moment. What surprised her more is that he’s deliciously handsome. Wainya caught him changing. His dirty clothes in a pile and he looks to her adjusting his belt. His pants were the only thing on. She couldn’t help but do a one over on his body. The man was very tall, his muscles very toned, the depth of his six pack to the strength of his arms. When Wainya finally reached his face, her heart pounded. Everything from the curve of his jawline to the high stature of his cheekbones was perfectly symmetrical. His eyes watched her carefully and his long strands of hair that overshadowed his eyes only made him more enticing.

“Can I help you, Miss?” he asks, tilting his head to look over her in turn. Wainya, however, dressed in anything with a top brand. Her silk blouse unbuttoned enough for her black bra to peek out with her movements. The black skirt she wore barely covered her ass, leaving her legs bare down to her very strappy heels that made her six inches taller. It did her no help. While she stood at 5’11" on her own, the heels only made her 6’5". This man still towered over her.

“You seem surprised I am here. Why else would a killer come to Night City?” Wainya answers in a low tone, knowing if she spoke normally her voice would give away that she was distracted by him.

“Ah. You are apart of that Syndicate. I am just here to fulfill a contract. I’ll be gone by morning. I apologize for the intrusion.” He didn’t seem too interested, like some bored beast waiting for his perfect chance to pounce. Who is this man? The thought went through her head so much she made herself frustrated.

“You cannot uphold a contract here unless you work for me. Some idiot is trying to get you killed. Everyone knows that Night City killings are done under Wainya Syndicate only.” The disdain in her voice came out thick as she crossed her arms tightly over her breasts. The man stops in mid-bend for his shirts and finally looks directly at Wainya.

“Is that so…” He seemed to have said that more to himself, erecting himself upright and walking to Wainya. She stands her ground as only inches were left between them. He stood maybe six inches more than her. The way he looked down at her actually made her nervous. Men didn’t have that effect on her. “My apologies. I shall let the control fade. I will leave now.” He turns with his words and Wainya reaches out and takes hold of his forearm.

“Who are you?” The question was an odd one for Wainya to ask. But she had not ever been more curious about another as she was now.

“Jose Inugami.”

“Has anyone ever told you how beautiful you are?”

“No. You would have to be the first one, Miss.”

“Perhaps I could give you a better opportunity.” Jose turns to face Wainya and places his hand over the one she had on his arm. His touch felt electrifying. Without even thinking it over, she leans in, using her free hand to reach up to grab the back up his neck. With little force she pulls him down to her and claims his lips with hers. His body reacts and he pulls her in closer deepening the kiss. He tears at her clothes while gently laying her down on the cold concrete floor. Wainya shivers but feeling his hot skin against hers causes her to gasp. His body felt so good against her. Those strong arms held her close as he tears the last of her clothes. Caught in the intense passion, Wainya couldn’t be angry. Even her leather jacket laid on the ground in a few pieces. Jose removed his pants in a yank, repeating the action with his underwear. His mouth seizes her nipple viciously. He bit down hard enough to make her yelp but not enough for her to shove him off. The way he touched her was more enthralling than anything she ever felt in her life. The moment he entered into her, then not even a second later, he claimed her whole inner with his length. Surprising her with its elongated meat made her call out his name in a moaning spurt. Not once had she ever called out anyone’s name during sex. But she was lost to it. He made a low-growling sound that only added to the pleasure. He was thrusting into her so hard that he was sliding her whole body across the floor of the building. The scraping of her back didn’t break the sensation coursing through her entire body. Even when her head slammed against the wall, he just kept at it. Wainya, in order to protect her head, reaches up to push herself of the wall. In a swift movement, he flips over Wainya like a ragdoll, pulling her ass back into his quivering member. Wainya braces herself for a moment before pushing her body back to grab his hips, holding herself in a upright position. Jose took it as an invitation to hoist her up and against the wall, pressing her entire body against the window. He thrust harder and his hands gripping into his waist. Wainya surrenders to him, not fighting against his monstrous love-making. Dazed in the symphony of orgasms, she come back to the clear reality tangled with his body, her head on his chest, hearing the swift beating of his heart. His chest rose and fell heavily. She sits up, running her fingers through her tangled hair. Looking down to him, she can’t help but smile pleased.

“This wasn’t what you meant by a better opportunity, huh, Miss?” Jose asks, chuckling deeply.

“I’m Wainya. No. I want to employ you. Become apart of my Syndicate?”

“Did I pass your initial screening, Miss Wainya?”

“Wainya. And you passed it before I came here. You shouldn’t take contracts from anyone. That sort of thing gets an individual kill. You have the right instincts. I can make you better. If you give me the ability to do so?”

“Can I think about?”

“Sure, Jose. If you change your mind, go into the sewers. I think you can figure out things from there. I hope to see you." Wainya gets up, feeling the horrible aching of the love-making and the bruises on her hips. She bends over, taking his clean shirt and throwing it over her. It fit like a dress. Then she searches the pile of torn clothing to find her belt and heels. Slipping on the heels, she would also wrap the belt around the shirt to make the shirt look like some sort of fashion style.

“I’ll see you around, Wainya.” Jose waves and Wainya looks back and waves to him as well. "Damn. I hope I see you again, Jose Inugami."