The company representative peeked out from the back room, her nerves frayed as she observed the technical demonstration in full swing. Test Subjects were circulating among the gathered military brass, serving drinks and displaying their augmented bodies for appraisal. Some were mixing cocktails to showcase the fine motor control of the new prosthetic limbs, but everyone in the room knew the real purpose of the evening: sex sells. If the demonstration succeeded, it could secure a multi-billion-dollar arms contract.

Behind the scenes, the company's entire technical department worked feverishly to ensure the technology performed seamlessly. It was only the men inside the suits that were the potential fly in the ointment, moving like animals being prodded to perform tricks under duress.

The company had made a point of showcasing the full range of potential for the ExoSuits, using every working prototype they had. Several bulky ExoQuads shuffled awkwardly between tables on four legs, while the rest tottered around on bipedal models. Balancing had proven a challenge - the suits’ heavy chests required rear-mounted counterweights to keep them upright - tails. Her breath caught as a swish of Test Subject-06's metal tail swiped across a table, knocking a glass of champagne a Navy admiral. The suited veteran bent to apologize, clumsily patting the man’s soaked crotch with a napkin.

Before he could cause any more chaos, as he wiggled past, she grabbed him by the tail and yanked him into the back room.

"You blundering moron! Did I remove your brain when I removed your legs!? Watch where your body is out there!" she barked.

"Don't blame me," he whined. "Your company built these damn things."

"Shut it. You want me to replace your vocal cords too, hm? Talk back one more time and I'll install a mute button. And if you don't get out and refill his glass in the next five seconds, I'll turf you out of those limbs and leave you a torso. And would it kill you to shove your ass in his face while you do it? I think you owe the man an apology."

She span 06 around, balancing a tray loaded with drinks on his upturned tail. The ex-soldier huffed and wiggled away.

“Fascinating,” came a voice from behind her. She started, spinning to find the head of R&D watching her with an amused expression. "You have quite a way with them."

“I didn’t realize you were here, sir,” she said quickly, embarrassed. “I'm sorry. These men, they’re not exactly easy to control.”

He chuckled. “No, I was being quite sincere. You have a gift. They don’t listen to a single word I say. But with you? Yes, they mope and complain... and then they do exactly what you tell them.” He gestured toward the admiral’s table, where Test Subject-06 was performing his apology - his bulbous rear wiggling eagerly in the admiral's face as the officers laughed. "None of the others would have got him to do that."

"They're soldiers. They respond to authority," she shrughed.

"Not to male authority, they don't," he said thoughtfully. "Can't say I blame them. Keep in mind that they're ex-soldiers - most of them have been chewed up and spat out by a male-dominated system. We've been running psyche profiles on them through the process. Some of the results have been... concerning." His tone became serious. "This may look like fun and games but don't forget we're selling military equipment here. We're turning men into weapons. If this succeeds, we'll be strapping guns to these things and deploying them onto the battlefield to hunt and kill. We need to be sure the men piloting them can be controlled. Imagine if one of these things ran amok. Each of them will require a whole support team behind them, including, most importantly, a handler. Someone to keep them on a short leash. Perhaps they respond better with a woman's hand on that leash. There might be work there for you."

She ignored the remark. She was a saleswoman at heart, not some sort of mechanical lion tamer. She frowned. "Which psyche reports were concerning?"