A single bead of sweat rolled down Z-Heavy's forehead as he jacked his sub-dermal nano-threads into the techno-vulva of Krono-Sec's main mobius stack. Suddenly, he felt the skittering of a million searing needles across his skin. Either Krono-Sec had installed an army of microscopic secur-o-spheres within their crystalline server gardens, or that orgasmo-borg from Neo-Busan was not nearly as clean as she appeared.

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