Chapter 1. Payback & Awakening I

Story Tags: Sci-Fi, Action, Comedy, Adventure, Overpowered MC, Corporation Building, Business, Inventions, Decently Smart MC, Blunt MC, Overpowered (In tech), AI Friend.

Smut Tags: Passionate Sex, Blowjobs, Milfs, Rough Sex, Sex, Anal, Virginity Lost, Banging Enemies, Multisomes, Creampies, Light BDSM, Lesbian Sex, Cyberware Sex? (Don't know what to call banging Lizzy Wizzy)

NOTE: This story is porn with a plot.

NOTE 2: The story title has the word 'Madman' in it.

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Tampa, Florida, 2030,

[Get a college degree, they said. Life will be easy, they said. Man, that was straight bullshit. All of it. Screw that. Screw them. Fuck everyone who said that! I was born in the Midwest, in a small family. My dad was—]

Cypher halted all of a sudden; a deep frown marked his sullen, pale face, his lips dry like the Grand Canyon. He tapped on the phone with a grudge and deleted the video he had just shot.

"Who the fuck even cares about all that?"

He tapped on the record again, sitting on the single chair in his dimly lit bedroom. After a deep breath, he stared into the camera, his eyes serious and grim, like a man who had seen it all. Who had accepted his circumstances.

[I'm Cypher Blackwell. Yeah, I got a Literature degree. Thought I had my life lined up, man. Turns out nobody gives a damn. Every job posting wanted more school or years of experience I didn't have. Both cost cash I sure as hell didn't have. So I started flipping burgers just to stay afloat. Grabbed Uber after that. Finally landed some crappy day shift at Molonith as a delivery partner. Partner! What a joke!

All it really means is 'gig worker.' Perfect little loophole so the biggest quick commerce company won't cough up for insurance. Pay was alright for someone drowning in debt, but it was never enough. Picked up some night gigs at a gas station just to keep my head above water.

Even then, I could barely hang on. Living paycheck to paycheck, praying for some miracle scholarship for my masters. Man, I should've just swallowed my pride and twerked my ass on TikTok when it still mattered. I'd have been a millio... Ugh, what the hell am I even saying?]

Once again, frustrated, he deleted the video and recorded again, reaching the point before he spiraled into regretting not shaking his ass on the screen.

[...Man, I've been through hell. I was barely hanging on, starving half the damn time, running on like four hours of sleep if I was lucky. Look at my face. This ain't what a twenty-seven-year-old's supposed to look like. Any shot I had at dating? Gone. Not that I could've paid for a date anyway. Considering that, I'd say it was heaven compared to where I am now in front of you.

So I'm out doing my delivery route, right? Roll into this sketchy spot. Park the truck, drop the package, set it at the door. Soon as I turn around, this pitbull pops out of nowhere, barking its head off, drooling, eyes red. I bolt, but it still nails me, and right before I dive into the truck, the damn thing latches onto my ass. Yeah, I know. Hilarious.]

Cypher slid off his chair and got closer to the phone resting on the stand. When only his face was visible, he continued, each word carrying hatred and venom, his eyes dead yet filled with righteous fury.

[So I tell my team lead everything, and he storms me straight into the manager's office. You'd think they'd help cover my treatment. You'd think they'd at least pretend they give a damn. Nope! They sit me down and start nitpicking my delivery record. They tear me apart for the delays and fire me right there. They did it because I couldn't drive for a few days, and that was too big of a hit to their numbers.

I went home wrecked, cleaned up the wound, slapped some antiseptic on it, wrapped it up, and crashed. My head was spinning with worry about what the hell I was going to do. The debt on my back felt like bricks. I did end up going to the hospital the next day, but they just tossed me some painkillers and sent me out the door.

That was two damn months ago. Then two days back, I got this headache, felt wiped out, ran a fever, and the tingling starts. The itching hits right after. I knew something was messed up. And yeah, lucky me, turns out I got rabies.]

There was a long moment of silence. Cypher's face looked as if frozen, like the recording had paused. His eyes shimmered for a moment, but not in tears.

[Three grand for damn rabies shots. Three grand I didn't even have. Monolith was supposed to cover it, but they tossed me out without blinking. Trying to get help from the government felt like drowning in applications and waiting on folks who didn't give a damn. Screwed at every turn, brushed off nonstop, and now here the hell I am. So this is it. What you're looking at is a guy already gone. What you're hearing is whatever's left rattling around. I'm fucking twenty-seven and I'm already dead.]

Anger laced his words.

[They've got big walls. But we got numbers. We got a lot, a lot of shovels. I'm just saying it. They brainwashed us to never question or blame them. You get in an accident? It's bad luck. You can't afford groceries? It's you who's useless, worthless, jobless. You fall sick? Oh, god's testing you. Really?! His test demands you go bankrupt? Your fuck ups are yours, and their fuck ups are also yours.

Fuck that! All this! Their shiny yachts can sink. Their tall towers can fall. The second we decide we're done, there won't be a single corner of this dead-end world that'll shelter them.

You're listening to a dead guy rambling. I don't expect anything to move an inch. Corporations got us locked into comfort loops, delivery slop, cheap lights and noise, while they poison everything from those plush seats and fat paydays.

But I'm not going quiet. No chance. I'll make my point. Those corporate gods think they're untouchable, but they forget they gotta walk around like the rest of us. They still gotta sit down to take a shit. They ain't special. Just meatbags like me, and meatbags die, like me.

And I ain't doing this because I got a hard-on for a party or some ideology. Making it clear before you all play with my words. I'm doing this because I'm going, and I ain't going alone.

Hope you guys wake the fuck up. Adios!]

Finally, satisfied, Cypher ended the video and walked up to his laptop. He set the video to upload in three hours on a dozen websites, from social networking to porn sites.

After that, he stood under the shower for half an hour, feeling the warmth of the water, letting the gushing sound deafen his surroundings, leaving him with just his thoughts. Thankfully, the rabies hadn't reached the extreme hydrophobia level yet, but it did feel uncomfortable.

He had friends, he had a family, a loving one at that. He loved Borko, the family dog he'd grown up with. Would his next actions hurt them? Absolutely.

But he reckoned it wouldn't hurt them too much. The worst way to die was to allow rabies to reach its final stage. He'd seen the videos, and he didn't want that end. All that torment, writhing, screaming, begging for water, yet unable to drink. Letting his family watch him like that was worse.

Heck, he'd set an autopayment to transfer all the money in his bank account to his brother so they wouldn't be burdened with arranging his funeral.

Cypher had, indeed, put a lot of thought behind this. Death was guaranteed. Suing Monolith may have gotten him a nice settlement, but what good was that to a dead man? Besides, Monolith was a giant tentacle monster holding a monopoly in tech, space, cars, computers, internet, fucking everything. They had governments around the globe by the balls, dictators by their throats, and common people by the looming dagger of 'You're Fired'.

When did I get this ballsy?

He looked at his hands under the shower; they were shivering. But he didn't feel an ounce of fear. He felt rather refreshed, no longer having to worry about the future because it simply didn't exist for him. His thoughts, his ideas, his dreams had all come to a full stop.

The only thing he had going on for him was now.

With a sigh, he closed his eyes and felt his life flash before his eyes. He didn't cry or frown, because he'd lived a rather happy life. His childhood was joyful. His dad was always there, a warm, guiding existence. When he died in the Venezuelan conflict of twenty-eighteen, he still left behind a house, pension, and savings for his mom to carry on and raise him and his brother well.

A regret was there, however. His dating life. He'd dated a few girls, but none of them lasted long. They all usually broke up because of his financial condition. And girls who didn't care about that never found him.

Sorry, Mom, times have changed. Just going to college doesn't do shit anymore.

He remembered how happy she was when he got into college. Sadly, it was misguided happiness. That old notion of 'Just work hard and you'll be rewarded' doesn't work anymore. Corporate greed and bureaucratic corruption had made sure life turned worse for every average Andy.

Creak!

He turned the knob off and walked out of the shower. He fixed his hair, looking sleek and clean-shaven. He put on some casual clothes, fitting for a man working at some event. Then he grabbed his bag.

One last time, he looked at the hotel room, and then at the bed where he had his life's last sleep. And what a sleep it was.

With that, he shut the door and left. It was a cheap hotel where you could pay hourly if that was your 'need'. A lot of beautiful ladies used it to 'help' depressed men, not for free, of course.

He went to the parking lot, climbed into his average-looking car, and drove off. He sang along to songs on the radio the entire way, listening to the weather forecast as well. It was pretty sunny that day, as it usually was.

Damn, look at those houses.

He eyed the massive mansions as he drove. He honestly didn't know how he'd have turned out if he were also rich. He knew he was no socialist or communist. He still believed in the free market and capitalism. But there was also something wrong in that system, as was obvious by his current state.

He reckoned it was the unholy union of capitalism and bureaucracy that birthed the shittier version of what was supposed to be equal opportunity for all. Monopolies should've never existed, but they did now. The government allowed it.

If I were rich… Hmm…

He thought about money he didn't have and how he'd have spent it.

"If I had a million dollars… I'd have bought a nice house, a fancy car? Uh, no. Maybe well-paid cooks? Yeah, that sounds like luxury. Oh, and a nice backyard for my boy Borko."

Then he wondered, what if he had ten million dollars?

"Damn, that's big leagues. Maybe set aside some for insurance, and start a business with the rest? That sounds about right."

Finally, he thought of the big billion. He just whistled to that because that was an amount that made one forget their own humanity, because their world was just so different from the rest. A billionaire received special treatment everywhere, access to places people didn't even know existed, access to people who never pick up calls.

"It's just cold hard cash and not some inflated stocks, maybe secure myself first with some investment? Then maybe help a few folks. I ain't exactly good either. A billion, huh…"

Cypher wasn't dumb enough to think issues like homelessness, hunger, and poverty could be solved by just throwing money at them.

"I'd rather pay college tuition for talented kids around the world; that's more noble." He settled on that. After all, he really couldn't see himself ever needing more than ten, at best a hundred million to live life in luxury till his last breath. The rest could be used for better things.

Of course, it was all hypothetical. He was already a dead man.

"What about a trillion?"

Just thinking about that made him gulp. Not fear, but the sheer scale. That was the owner and founder of Monolith, James Hoffman. The fucker was personally worth a trillion, while Monolith as a whole came third when placed in a list of countries' GDPs.

At that level, Cypher did feel that a lot of good could be done for the world while also personally living in ultra-wealthy luxury. Water? Food? Poverty? Illiteracy? All was solvable. But again, he didn't know if he'd have done it, too.

He just couldn't think from the perspective of a trillionaire. He reckoned the fucker also believed he'd earned his wealth through hard work. But the truth was a shit ton of bribes and corruption and bad practices.

"Huh… Not for long."

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