Babysitter’s Boytoy part four
oc on liberty city.
The fighter jet shuddered as Orion strafed another police station, watching pixelated officers scatter like ants before the explosion painted his screen crimson. Three stars. Then four. The familiar thrill coiled in his stomach as the first tank rolled into view—only to vaporize under his missile barrage. His laughter echoed through the surround sound as he barrel-rolled through the resulting fireball, but the glee soured when F-16s appeared on the radar.
"Damn it," Orion hissed, jerking the controller as his plane started smoking and then burning under concentrated gunfire before exploding in mid air. The "WASTED" graphic mocked him in bold yellow letters. that was the downside of having a five star one level or using a military weapon: an Entire army with the same military great weapon that he had would try to kill him.
Across the hallway, Becky's laughter trickled in like sunlight through blinds. Orion gnawed his lip, thumb hovering over "Retry?"
*If I had cheats...* His knuckles whitened around the controller. *Invincibility. Unlimited ammo. I could level the whole damn city.*
The bedroom door creaked. Becky leaned against the frame, arms crossed under her chest, one violet nail tapping her bicep.
“Do you want any cheat codes, baby?"
Orion's grin split his face like a jack-o'-lantern's jagged cut, eyes glinting with the manic glee of a kid who'd just been handed the keys to a candy factory. Becky burst into laughter so sudden it startled a seagull off the windowsill outside. "Yes, yes, you greedy little gremlin," she wheezed, wiping imaginary tears from her turquoise-lined eyes. "Stay put." Her flip-flops slapped against hardwood as she disappeared down the hall, returning minutes later with a Post-it note stuck to her violet-tipped finger like a tiny neon flag.
The invincibility cheat tasted like victory when Orion punched it in, his fingers flying over the controller with the precision of a concert pianist. The "WASTED" screen dissolved into glorious respawn—just in time to clothesline some unfortunate NPC off their motorcycle. Becky's delighted squeal harmonized perfectly with the digital crunch of tires over virtual spine as Orion executed a flawless U-turn to finish the job. "That's my boy!" she crowed, clapping her hands like he'd scored a touchdown.
Liberty City's military base never stood a chance. Bullets pinged harmlessly off Orion's avatar as he strolled through the chaos, casually commandeering a tank while soldiers' pixelated screams filled the surround sound. Three F-16s erupted into fireballs under his cannon fire—Becky's enthusiastic "BOOM!" syncing perfectly with each explosion. When six more tanks rumbled into view, Orion made the tactical decision to vaporize two before executing a flawless combat retreat, his laughter bouncing off the walls as pursuers vanished in his dust.
Orion's grin stretched wide enough to crack his face, fingers twitching over the controller like a gambler clutching a winning lottery ticket. Becky's laughter peeled through the room—bright, unfettered, the sound of someone who'd just discovered the perfect toy. "Oh, you *evil* little gremlin," she wheezed, wiping imaginary tears from her turquoise-lined eyes. "Stay put." Her flip-flops slapped against hardwood as she vanished down the hall, returning minutes later with a Post-it note stuck to her violet-tipped finger like a tiny neon flag.
The invincibility cheat tasted like victory when Orion punched it in. His thumbs flew over the buttons, executing a perfect carjacking—yanking some unfortunate NPC off their motorcycle mid-turn—before reversing over the screaming pixelated form. Becky's delighted squeal harmonized perfectly with the digital crunch of tires over virtual spine. "That's my boy!" she crowed, clapping her hands like he'd scored a touchdown.
Liberty City's military base never stood a chance. Bullets pinged harmlessly off Orion's avatar as he strolled through the chaos, casually commandeering a tank while soldiers' pixelated screams filled the surround sound. Three F-16s erupted into fireballs under his cannon fire—Becky's enthusiastic "BOOM!" syncing perfectly with each explosion. When six more tanks rumbled into view, Orion made the tactical decision to vaporize two before executing a flawless combat retreat, his laughter bouncing off the walls as pursuers vanished in his dust.
Orion’s grin stretched wide enough to crack his face, fingers twitching over the controller like a gambler clutching a winning lottery ticket. Becky’s laughter peeled through the room—bright, unfettered, the sound of someone who’d just discovered the perfect toy. "Oh, you *evil* little gremlin," she wheezed, wiping imaginary tears from her turquoise-lined eyes. "Stay put." Her flip-flops slapped against hardwood as she vanished down the hall, returning minutes later with a Post-it note stuck to her violet-tipped finger like a tiny neon flag.
The invincibility cheat tasted like victory when Orion punched it in. His thumbs flew over the buttons, executing a perfect carjacking—yanking some unfortunate NPC off their motorcycle mid-turn—before reversing over the screaming pixelated form. Becky’s delighted squeal harmonized perfectly with the digital crunch of tires over virtual spine. "That’s my boy!" she crowed, clapping her hands like he’d scored a touchdown.
Liberty City’s military base never stood a chance. Bullets pinged harmlessly off Orion’s avatar as he strolled through the chaos, casually commandeering a tank while soldiers’ pixelated screams filled the surround sound. Three F-16s erupted into fireballs under his cannon fire—Becky’s enthusiastic *"BOOM!"* syncing perfectly with each explosion. When six more tanks rumbled into view, Orion made the tactical decision to vaporize two before executing a flawless combat retreat, his laughter bouncing off the walls as pursuers vanished in his dust.
The police station massacre unfolded like a ballet of brutality. Orion’s tank shell turned the rooftop helicopter into a firework of twisted metal, raining debris onto screaming officers below. Becky clapped her hands when he switched to the minigun, mowing down SWAT teams like wheat before a scythe. "That’s my little warlord!" she crooned, her turquoise eyes glittering in delight. eventually, Orion had to retreat as he saw on the radar for helicopters and four tanks approaching his location.
The tank's treads chewed through Liberty City's outskirts, leaving asphalt scars in their wake, and there were deciduous and coniferous trees on either side of the road. Orion's breathing hitched as the refinery's silhouette loomed—a skeletal maze of pipes and towers backlit by the setting sun. One well-placed shell turned the entire complex into an orange-black fireball that licked the twilight sky. Becky whooped as the shockwave rattled the TV speakers.
"Again!" she demanded, and Orion obliged—pummeling the smoldering wreckage until his six-star wanted level pulsed crimson.
The tank's treads hit dirt with a bone-jarring thud as Orion swerved off-road, splintering saplings like matchsticks. Becky whooped as pine branches scraped the canopy, her nails digging crescent moons into his shoulder when an oak trunk glanced off their hull with a metallic screech. Orion's thumbs twitched—left stick forward, right trigger depressed—watching through the rear camera as pursuing cop cars crumpled against the trees they'd just bulldozed.
Bullets pinged harmlessly off their invincible armor as Orion carved a brutal path through Liberty City’s dense forest, tank treads grinding ancient oaks into mulch. The police barricade dissolved under his cannon fire—bodies flung like ragdolls into ferns—but Becky’s laughter cut off when radar blips swarmed the screen. “Jets incoming!” she hissed, nails biting his shoulder. Orion wrenched the controller left, barely dodging the missile that cratered the earth behind them. The tank’s metal groaned as he fishtailed into a ditch flanked by steep hills, their slopes forming a natural bunker.
“Shit—they’re on foot now,” Orion muttered, watching pixelated SWAT teams fan through the trees. Becky’s breath warmed his ear as she leaned in. “Then make it *count*.” His minigun roared to life, stitching crimson across the digital forest. Branches splintered. Kevlar shredded. By the time the counter hit 100 kills, smoke curled from the barrel in pixelated tendrils. Then the jet screeched overhead—too fast, too high—and Orion snarled as another missile streaked toward them. “Hills are blocking my shot!”
The explosion bloomed across the screen in fiery oranges, but Orion’s fingers moved faster than the flames. A grapple gun hissed from the wreckage, its hook finding purchase on the F-16’s wing with a metallic *clang*. Becky shrieked with delight as Orion’s avatar went airborne, yanked skyward like a marionette. The pilot never saw the boot that sent him tumbling toward the treetops. “That’s my little spider-monkey!” Becky howled, slapping the mattress as Orion seized the controls and banked hard toward downtown.
Glowing skyscrapers rushed up to meet them, their windows reflecting the stolen jet’s silhouette. “Becky—” Orion panted, “—buildings. Can we go *inside*?” His babysitter’s violet nails drummed against his shoulder before she rattled off digits faster than an auctioneer. The cheat code tasted like battery acid when Orion punched it in—numbers searing themselves into muscle memory.
The stolen F-16 screeched to a halt mere inches from the skyscraper's revolving doors, its nose cone denting the fiberglass facade with a crunch that sent cracks spiderwebbing across the black surface. Orion exited the canopy with a smirk, his sneakers hitting the pavement as the jet's engines whined into silence.
The revolving doors spun with a lazy hum, casting fractured reflections of Orion's blood-spattered avatar across the green marble floor. Behind the mahogany front desk, the bald concierge with a black suit and tie, looked up at Orion as he approached, asking, “Can I help you with something, sir?”
The concierge's eyes had just enough time to widen—his polished veneer cracking into raw panic—before Orion's AK-47 muzzle flashed. Three precise bursts turned the man's crisp white shirt crimson as he toppled backward, his nametag *Tyler* clattering onto the marble beside his still-twitching fingers. Orion vaulted the desk, his sneakers skidding on blood-slicked tile just as the elevator doors pinged open.
Four suits spilled into the lobby, their polished leather shoes screeching to a halt at the carnage. Orion didn't give them time to scream.
The AK-47 bucked against his shoulder in rhythmic staccato—tat-tat-tat—dropping the first two before their briefcases hit the ground. The third made it three steps toward the revolving door before a bullet shattered his kneecap, sending him crashing face-first into a potted fern. Orion stepped over his writhing form to execute the fourth mid-sprint, watching as the man's silk tie flapped like a wounded bird before he crumpled near the bathrooms.
"Left or right?" Becky murmured in his ear, her breath hot as gunpowder residue. Orion's reticle wavered between the men's and women's restroom signs—the former's silhouette icon frozen mid-stride, the latter's skirt flaring in pixelated perpetuity. He chose violence over chivalry.
The men's room door swung inward with a creak that echoed off porcelain urinals. Orion's combat boots kicked aside a fallen *Employees Must Wash Hands* sign as he swept the stalls methodically—one, two, three—each cubicle door yielding to his rifle butt with a metallic shriek. The fourth stall's latch held firm until a well-placed kick sent it ricocheting off the tile wall to reveal a cowering executive clutching a gold-plated fountain pen like a shiv. Their eyes locked for half a heartbeat—just long enough for Orion to see the man's pupils shrink to pinpricks—before the AK-47 chattered its verdict. Blood sprayed across mint-green tiles in abstract arcs.
Becky's laughter crackled through the surround sound speakers like distant thunder as Orion pivoted toward the women's restroom, his avatar's shadow stretching long across the marble floor. The door resisted briefly—some hapless victim's body slumped against it—before yielding to his shoulder charge. Inside, a woman in a navy pencil skirt was halfway through shimmying out a frosted window, her stiletto caught in the sill. She turned, mascara streaking her cheeks, just as Orion's muzzle flashed. The windowpane shattered outward in a crystalline burst, taking her with it in a grotesque parody of a swan dive.
"Double-tap the stragglers," Becky purred from her perch on the bed, her violet-tipped finger tracing lazy circles in the air. Orion obliged—putting a bullet through each twitching limb he passed on his way back to the lobby. The concierge's corpse had slumped into a disturbingly peaceful pose, fingers curled around his name tag as if offering it to some unseen guest. Orion stepped over him without breaking stride.
The fighter jet shuddered as Orion strafed another police station, watching pixelated officers scatter like ants before the explosion painted his screen crimson. Three stars. Then four. The familiar thrill coiled in his stomach as the first tank rolled into view—only to vaporize under his missile barrage. His laughter echoed through the surround sound as he barrel-rolled through the resulting fireball, but the glee soured when F-16s appeared on the radar.
"Damn it," Orion hissed, jerking the controller as his plane started smoking and then burning under concentrated gunfire before exploding in mid air. The "WASTED" graphic mocked him in bold yellow letters. that was the downside of having a five star one level or using a military weapon: an Entire army with the same military great weapon that he had would try to kill him.
Across the hallway, Becky's laughter trickled in like sunlight through blinds. Orion gnawed his lip, thumb hovering over "Retry?"
*If I had cheats...* His knuckles whitened around the controller. *Invincibility. Unlimited ammo. I could level the whole damn city.*
The bedroom door creaked. Becky leaned against the frame, arms crossed under her chest, one violet nail tapping her bicep.
“Do you want any cheat codes, baby?"
Orion's grin split his face like a jack-o'-lantern's jagged cut, eyes glinting with the manic glee of a kid who'd just been handed the keys to a candy factory. Becky burst into laughter so sudden it startled a seagull off the windowsill outside. "Yes, yes, you greedy little gremlin," she wheezed, wiping imaginary tears from her turquoise-lined eyes. "Stay put." Her flip-flops slapped against hardwood as she disappeared down the hall, returning minutes later with a Post-it note stuck to her violet-tipped finger like a tiny neon flag.
The invincibility cheat tasted like victory when Orion punched it in, his fingers flying over the controller with the precision of a concert pianist. The "WASTED" screen dissolved into glorious respawn—just in time to clothesline some unfortunate NPC off their motorcycle. Becky's delighted squeal harmonized perfectly with the digital crunch of tires over virtual spine as Orion executed a flawless U-turn to finish the job. "That's my boy!" she crowed, clapping her hands like he'd scored a touchdown.
Liberty City's military base never stood a chance. Bullets pinged harmlessly off Orion's avatar as he strolled through the chaos, casually commandeering a tank while soldiers' pixelated screams filled the surround sound. Three F-16s erupted into fireballs under his cannon fire—Becky's enthusiastic "BOOM!" syncing perfectly with each explosion. When six more tanks rumbled into view, Orion made the tactical decision to vaporize two before executing a flawless combat retreat, his laughter bouncing off the walls as pursuers vanished in his dust.
Orion's grin stretched wide enough to crack his face, fingers twitching over the controller like a gambler clutching a winning lottery ticket. Becky's laughter peeled through the room—bright, unfettered, the sound of someone who'd just discovered the perfect toy. "Oh, you *evil* little gremlin," she wheezed, wiping imaginary tears from her turquoise-lined eyes. "Stay put." Her flip-flops slapped against hardwood as she vanished down the hall, returning minutes later with a Post-it note stuck to her violet-tipped finger like a tiny neon flag.
The invincibility cheat tasted like victory when Orion punched it in. His thumbs flew over the buttons, executing a perfect carjacking—yanking some unfortunate NPC off their motorcycle mid-turn—before reversing over the screaming pixelated form. Becky's delighted squeal harmonized perfectly with the digital crunch of tires over virtual spine. "That's my boy!" she crowed, clapping her hands like he'd scored a touchdown.
Liberty City's military base never stood a chance. Bullets pinged harmlessly off Orion's avatar as he strolled through the chaos, casually commandeering a tank while soldiers' pixelated screams filled the surround sound. Three F-16s erupted into fireballs under his cannon fire—Becky's enthusiastic "BOOM!" syncing perfectly with each explosion. When six more tanks rumbled into view, Orion made the tactical decision to vaporize two before executing a flawless combat retreat, his laughter bouncing off the walls as pursuers vanished in his dust.
Orion’s grin stretched wide enough to crack his face, fingers twitching over the controller like a gambler clutching a winning lottery ticket. Becky’s laughter peeled through the room—bright, unfettered, the sound of someone who’d just discovered the perfect toy. "Oh, you *evil* little gremlin," she wheezed, wiping imaginary tears from her turquoise-lined eyes. "Stay put." Her flip-flops slapped against hardwood as she vanished down the hall, returning minutes later with a Post-it note stuck to her violet-tipped finger like a tiny neon flag.
The invincibility cheat tasted like victory when Orion punched it in. His thumbs flew over the buttons, executing a perfect carjacking—yanking some unfortunate NPC off their motorcycle mid-turn—before reversing over the screaming pixelated form. Becky’s delighted squeal harmonized perfectly with the digital crunch of tires over virtual spine. "That’s my boy!" she crowed, clapping her hands like he’d scored a touchdown.
Liberty City’s military base never stood a chance. Bullets pinged harmlessly off Orion’s avatar as he strolled through the chaos, casually commandeering a tank while soldiers’ pixelated screams filled the surround sound. Three F-16s erupted into fireballs under his cannon fire—Becky’s enthusiastic *"BOOM!"* syncing perfectly with each explosion. When six more tanks rumbled into view, Orion made the tactical decision to vaporize two before executing a flawless combat retreat, his laughter bouncing off the walls as pursuers vanished in his dust.
The police station massacre unfolded like a ballet of brutality. Orion’s tank shell turned the rooftop helicopter into a firework of twisted metal, raining debris onto screaming officers below. Becky clapped her hands when he switched to the minigun, mowing down SWAT teams like wheat before a scythe. "That’s my little warlord!" she crooned, her turquoise eyes glittering in delight. eventually, Orion had to retreat as he saw on the radar for helicopters and four tanks approaching his location.
The tank's treads chewed through Liberty City's outskirts, leaving asphalt scars in their wake, and there were deciduous and coniferous trees on either side of the road. Orion's breathing hitched as the refinery's silhouette loomed—a skeletal maze of pipes and towers backlit by the setting sun. One well-placed shell turned the entire complex into an orange-black fireball that licked the twilight sky. Becky whooped as the shockwave rattled the TV speakers.
"Again!" she demanded, and Orion obliged—pummeling the smoldering wreckage until his six-star wanted level pulsed crimson.
The tank's treads hit dirt with a bone-jarring thud as Orion swerved off-road, splintering saplings like matchsticks. Becky whooped as pine branches scraped the canopy, her nails digging crescent moons into his shoulder when an oak trunk glanced off their hull with a metallic screech. Orion's thumbs twitched—left stick forward, right trigger depressed—watching through the rear camera as pursuing cop cars crumpled against the trees they'd just bulldozed.
Bullets pinged harmlessly off their invincible armor as Orion carved a brutal path through Liberty City’s dense forest, tank treads grinding ancient oaks into mulch. The police barricade dissolved under his cannon fire—bodies flung like ragdolls into ferns—but Becky’s laughter cut off when radar blips swarmed the screen. “Jets incoming!” she hissed, nails biting his shoulder. Orion wrenched the controller left, barely dodging the missile that cratered the earth behind them. The tank’s metal groaned as he fishtailed into a ditch flanked by steep hills, their slopes forming a natural bunker.
“Shit—they’re on foot now,” Orion muttered, watching pixelated SWAT teams fan through the trees. Becky’s breath warmed his ear as she leaned in. “Then make it *count*.” His minigun roared to life, stitching crimson across the digital forest. Branches splintered. Kevlar shredded. By the time the counter hit 100 kills, smoke curled from the barrel in pixelated tendrils. Then the jet screeched overhead—too fast, too high—and Orion snarled as another missile streaked toward them. “Hills are blocking my shot!”
The explosion bloomed across the screen in fiery oranges, but Orion’s fingers moved faster than the flames. A grapple gun hissed from the wreckage, its hook finding purchase on the F-16’s wing with a metallic *clang*. Becky shrieked with delight as Orion’s avatar went airborne, yanked skyward like a marionette. The pilot never saw the boot that sent him tumbling toward the treetops. “That’s my little spider-monkey!” Becky howled, slapping the mattress as Orion seized the controls and banked hard toward downtown.
Glowing skyscrapers rushed up to meet them, their windows reflecting the stolen jet’s silhouette. “Becky—” Orion panted, “—buildings. Can we go *inside*?” His babysitter’s violet nails drummed against his shoulder before she rattled off digits faster than an auctioneer. The cheat code tasted like battery acid when Orion punched it in—numbers searing themselves into muscle memory.
The stolen F-16 screeched to a halt mere inches from the skyscraper's revolving doors, its nose cone denting the fiberglass facade with a crunch that sent cracks spiderwebbing across the black surface. Orion exited the canopy with a smirk, his sneakers hitting the pavement as the jet's engines whined into silence.
The revolving doors spun with a lazy hum, casting fractured reflections of Orion's blood-spattered avatar across the green marble floor. Behind the mahogany front desk, the bald concierge with a black suit and tie, looked up at Orion as he approached, asking, “Can I help you with something, sir?”
The concierge's eyes had just enough time to widen—his polished veneer cracking into raw panic—before Orion's AK-47 muzzle flashed. Three precise bursts turned the man's crisp white shirt crimson as he toppled backward, his nametag *Tyler* clattering onto the marble beside his still-twitching fingers. Orion vaulted the desk, his sneakers skidding on blood-slicked tile just as the elevator doors pinged open.
Four suits spilled into the lobby, their polished leather shoes screeching to a halt at the carnage. Orion didn't give them time to scream.
The AK-47 bucked against his shoulder in rhythmic staccato—tat-tat-tat—dropping the first two before their briefcases hit the ground. The third made it three steps toward the revolving door before a bullet shattered his kneecap, sending him crashing face-first into a potted fern. Orion stepped over his writhing form to execute the fourth mid-sprint, watching as the man's silk tie flapped like a wounded bird before he crumpled near the bathrooms.
"Left or right?" Becky murmured in his ear, her breath hot as gunpowder residue. Orion's reticle wavered between the men's and women's restroom signs—the former's silhouette icon frozen mid-stride, the latter's skirt flaring in pixelated perpetuity. He chose violence over chivalry.
The men's room door swung inward with a creak that echoed off porcelain urinals. Orion's combat boots kicked aside a fallen *Employees Must Wash Hands* sign as he swept the stalls methodically—one, two, three—each cubicle door yielding to his rifle butt with a metallic shriek. The fourth stall's latch held firm until a well-placed kick sent it ricocheting off the tile wall to reveal a cowering executive clutching a gold-plated fountain pen like a shiv. Their eyes locked for half a heartbeat—just long enough for Orion to see the man's pupils shrink to pinpricks—before the AK-47 chattered its verdict. Blood sprayed across mint-green tiles in abstract arcs.
Becky's laughter crackled through the surround sound speakers like distant thunder as Orion pivoted toward the women's restroom, his avatar's shadow stretching long across the marble floor. The door resisted briefly—some hapless victim's body slumped against it—before yielding to his shoulder charge. Inside, a woman in a navy pencil skirt was halfway through shimmying out a frosted window, her stiletto caught in the sill. She turned, mascara streaking her cheeks, just as Orion's muzzle flashed. The windowpane shattered outward in a crystalline burst, taking her with it in a grotesque parody of a swan dive.
"Double-tap the stragglers," Becky purred from her perch on the bed, her violet-tipped finger tracing lazy circles in the air. Orion obliged—putting a bullet through each twitching limb he passed on his way back to the lobby. The concierge's corpse had slumped into a disturbingly peaceful pose, fingers curled around his name tag as if offering it to some unseen guest. Orion stepped over him without breaking stride.
31-35, M