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The man always woke up late and got to a late start everyday. He had turned his alarm off three different times. Finally, on the fourth try, he managed to get out and let out a sigh. His head was pounding and he soon realized that he shouldn't have had those few last shots. Wiping his eyes and putting some gel in his hair, he moved to put on his business suit. A phone call from Pepper, telling him everything was in order, and a nice breakfast of whiskey and eggs, he was off. Moving quickly back upstairs, he took another look at himself in the mirror and smiled. "Damn, I look good." Looking at the clock, he was already late, though he ran the damn business, so he was allowed to be late. At least, that was his thoughts. Moving back to the girl in the bed, he kissed her on the cheek and sighed. "I gotta go babe." He said to the blonde, brushing her hair out of her face and planting another kiss on her lips. "I'll be back tonight." He said as he covered her back up and moved downstairs, getting into the limo, and going to Stark Industries, for another day of work. . It was another day of school for Peter Parker. He sighed as he sat in class and took notes for his test that next day. Of course, he thought about MJ, but he had other things to worry about that day. He made it pretty much through the day without anyone talking to him or touching him, and he moved toward the pay phone, sighing as he input his dollar and dialing MJ's number. After getting her message system, he let out a sigh. "Hey, MJ, it's Peter." He started, with a pause. He didn't know how to break it to her, so his voice was very shaky. "Look, I can't go to your show tonight." He said with another sigh. "I will still pick you up after, I just. . . I'm busy alright. Love you. Peter." He said finally as he hung up. With another sigh, he punched his locker. This relationship with Mary Jane was slipping through his fingers. He hated to do these things to her, but most of the time he had no choice. It wasn't as though he was cheating on her or doing anything along those lines, but he just didn't have the time. What between being Spiderman, to studying, to hanging out with MJ, one of those things had to take the back seat. . .

The blondes eyes opened to reveal a bright shade of green when she felt his lips against her own. He was late again and sometimes she didnt understand the logic of setting an alarm clock if you werent going to get up for it. As he left she slowly sat up in the creamy sea of satin that was their love nest. Felicia had been dating Tony going on three months now, probably her longest and most successful relationship with one of the most successful men in New York. Rolling out of bed she headed to the shower to prepare for her day. Thats when she realized she was naked. Just what exactly did we do last night? A soft smile graced her fine features as she tip toed across the marble floor and turned on the shower. A thick spray of steam water would soon relax the muscles in her body. Sometimes she believed Tonys sheets were to soft. It had been like this for several weeks. She would come over and spend Friday nights with him and they would dine and drink from the comfort of his home. Felicia believed Tony was an excessive drinker though he didnt think so. Maybe one day she could persuade him not to drink so much. Hoping in the shower she washed all the impurities off her body and thought on today and last night. A blush crept onto her cheeks. Tony was quite a lover, hell he had practice in it and so did she. Honestly she didnt think he and her would of lasted this long, but there was something about him besides the obvious that held her to him. Probably the same thing that made her mother detests him. She wasnt sure it was love, but it was definitely a strong attraction. Soon afterward she hopped out the shower and got dressed. A black blouse, white skirt and red heels grabbing her purse she was off. Tony wasnt the only one who would be making headlines today. ~~~ Mj was at the local theater rehearsing for tonights show. All sorts of emotions had been eating at her all day. Her thoughts jumped from one thing to another. First Peter, than the show, back to the night when Spiderman had saved her life for like the fifth time in the past two months back to Peter and so on. "Mj" She didn't know what was going on with as of late. Well not just lately he seemed so out of it. When she tried to tell him something his head would be up in the clouds. When she tried to surprise him he would smile, but his smile seemed sad. She didn't even know it was possible smile sadly. Ever since Uncle Ben died she figured a piece of Peter had gone with him and who could blame him. They were so close and yet Peter and her seemed to be growing further apart. "Mj" To be honest she spent more time with Aunt May than Peter. Late nights of studying and sometime her could back completely worn out from studying if that's what he was really doing. She shook her head. Of course Peter would never step out on her and she knew that, but sometimes she felt so frustrated and it hurt. Whatever he was feeling he should know by now that he could tell her anything. "MJ!!" Yelled her partner. The Red head snapped back into reality. "Oh sorry!" She said continuing to rehearse. Wondering if he had called her.

As he reached the building, he greeted the employees. Just greeting them, with a simple "Hello" seemed to brighten everyone's day up. As he got to his office, he grabbed a stack of papers from the secretary outside and sat at his desk, looking over them. He shuffled through stacks and stacks, crumpling some up to be put into the garbage, and later to be destroyed, or pulling out a sharpie and correcting the plans and making adjustments. Right now, his biggest priority was to build Spider-man a suit that was designed and made by Stark Industries. A win - win for both. Spidey got top of the line gear, and Stark Industries had their name plastered all over the crime fighter. With a sigh, he leaned back into his chair and enjoyed a whiskey on the rocks. Who said he drank too much? "I know, I know!" "Well?" "No, Fuck you! You are fired!" The man yelled as he slammed the receiver down on the base. Why was it so hard to get any work down around here? What, with the damned board, and the crime he had to fight, as Iron Man, there was no room to get anything done. He wondered if Felicia would be mad that he was Iron Man, he also wondered, what she had to hide from him. . . The kid walked through the school, snapping pictures of the decorations for the dance that was planned for a week from that Saturday. For sure, he would take MJ out to this dance, and they would have a great time. A chance to rekindle their flame, a chance to. . "Parker!" The big brute Flash Dennison shouted as he was dozing off. "Yeah Flash?" He asked him with a smile. Seemed the football player wanted his picture taken with some of the cheerleaders next to the decorations. He happily took the pictures, sense it meant him not getting shoved into a locker that day. As he trudged off, shaking his head, thinking about MJ, he looked at the T.V, where a local news reporter was standing in front of a large apartment building. The building had black smoke billowing from it, and it was plainly visible that there were people stuck inside. With a sigh, Peter put his camera in his locker, and slinked off to the bathroom. . .

She landed with even grace on the stone blocks above the city heights. The wind blowing in her silver locks there was but one way to truly live and jumping from roof to roof was definitely a highlight . It had become like her own addiction. The freedom. The will to do what she wanted. Felicia was a good girl, but sometimes her old wounds would reopen and she would find herself collecting some precious artifacts, taking priceless jewels and sometimes defacing some of the worlds most expensive art. It was the cat in her. The city was busy and thriving. People going on about their lives. Sirens in the distance alerted her to action. With her grapple she quickly made her way towards the scene. A building had caught on fire and as usual the news crew were there with the story along with a crowd of people forming on the street. " It's never dull in N.Y." Resting her hand on hips that's when she heard screams coming from where the smoke was perforating. Quickly she dug her claws into the side of the building and scaled up. Slipping inside the smoke was dark and just as it was thick. "Where are you!" She shouted. Focusing her senses. She spotted two small children under the table. Quickly she made her way over. Neither were hurt, but if they didn't get out of here soon none of them would have a happy ending. "Don't be afraid. I'm here to help. Hold on to me and close your eyes." She said as the two children nodded she held both in her arms and scaled out the window people watching in awe and pointing. All she could think about was how long it would take to wash the smoke from her hair and that the kids were safe ~~~ She had received several messages in her voicemail ,both from friends and family. When she heard the message left by Peter she became upset and just wanted to find him and hit him over the head with a science book. The thought made her laugh since he would most definitely let her do it. "I really wanted you to be here tiger.." Hanging up the phone. She wished the best of luck to everyone for tonight before leaving and heading to next class. Not that she felt like going to it. She planned on clearing her mind of Peter for tonight and wouldn't let him get to her. No more excuses or apologies. Mary Jane Watson would get her answers sooner or very soon.

Our friendly neighborhood Spider-man could not believe what he saw. He hung upside down from an adjacent building and watched the Black Cat herself, do his job. On one hand, it felt good not being the only crime fighter, citizen saving, righteous member of society, on the other hand, it washisjob. With a sigh, he decided only one person was going to get the credit for the job, and that person would be the Cat this time. Taking a few snapshots of her moving in and out of the building flawlessly, like some kind of eerie dance, or some kind of weird ritual, he decided he just better go. He only had to make one more stop, and that was to his boss, Jonah Jameson, to drop off the photos and get the money that would be made from thje photos. Sure, she would be the headline, but if he could take Jameson's mind off of Spider-man for at least one day, it was a win in his book. Tony Stark sighed as he downed his third whiskey on the rocks of the evening. Looking outside, he decided it was best that it was time to go, leaving his beloved building in the capable hands of his security staff. Moving quickly, he elected to stop and have another drink, before entering his limo and be driven home. A quick stop to the liquor store, and he was ready to go.

Once the kiddies were returned safely to their families she was off. No time for idle chit chat. Felicia loved the spot light , but The cat wasn't a fan. She had made it a good several blocks before landing on the open patio of her apartment. Sliding the glass door closed she peeled off her mask when a letter caught her attention. She looked around quickly. Someone had been in her home. She sensed noone, but still remained cautious. Picking up the folded piece of paper she read it before her eyes widened in shock. "My father...he's alive." She noticed the signature of the one and only notorious Kingpin at the bottom. She had become quite annoyed. She didn't bother on changing clothes. Anything involving Wilson Fisk was hardly worth the trouble. Quickly she took out of her apartment heading to Kingpins headquarters. ~~~ "Good luck tonight MJ!" Yelled Sue her classmate. "Thanks!" Shouting and waving back as she quickly made her down the steps out onto the sidewalk. MJ had been working a part time job so that she could save up to get her own place. She worked as waitress at one the busiest bars this side of the avenue. She had gotten the night off since her boss was a nice man who did support her acting career. Unlike some people. she noticed a group of people were crowded around electronic store tv displays. The channel all showed the news live. Zz..A fire had broke out in City Avenue Condominium earlier this afternoon leaving two children trapped on one of the higher floors. Miraculously is wasn't Spiderman that came to the rescue but a white haired woman in what appears to be black leather. Zz

The cue ball known as Kingpin was just waiting for the Cat's arrival, pacing, listening to classical music, and watching her father struggle as he "conducted" the orchestra with his fingers. The man in chains muttered something about "not getting away with this," the usual thing that most captives say, yet he didn't care. His dull threat fell on deaf ears. As he moved toward the window, he picked up his phone, dialed some numbers and listened to the ringing. The ringing stopped and all he heard was silence. "It is time." He spoke and hung the phone up promptly, looking outside, and enjoying the view that he got from his penthouse atop some building. This was going to be a beautiful evening. Spider man srung around the city, and after awhile, decided that it was time to call it a night and for the first time in about three weeks, he was able to enjoy dinner with his Aunt May. It was nice, though he did miss being out tonight. Something soon caught his ear. "Breaking News: Spider man goes beserk while someone else saves his city." The ticker at the bottom of the screen repeated the words over and over, and Peter moved to turn the T.V up. The correspondent on the screen was in mid sentence. "I stand before you, inside the First Bank of New York, Spiderman is wreaking havok, taking hostages and demanding money. His motives, unknown, but nonetheless, eye witness reports confirm that it is in fact Spider man."

Soon enough the door opened to his office. Two of his finest guards walked in. "Sir, the Cat is here" He spoke holding his weapon in his hands. Two more men came in escorting Felicia. "Let go of me" She snapped, pulling her arm away from her captor. "Kingpin, I don't have time for games. "She tossed the letter on his desk in front of him. "Next time you send your men to my house I swear your going to have to start thinking about new security" However something did bring her here. She wanted to get down to the business of the matter. "What do you want?" She glared through her mask at him. "Spiderman? That can't be." MJ looked on with the rest of the viewers. The Web slinger did have a fan club, but there were people who weren't to fond of him either. "He finally went rogue...the bug" "Oh no not Spiderman it can' be!" Her blue orbs watched the news intently as shouts and comments were being made. Making her way through the crowd Mj rushed home. She other things to worry about, like tonights performance. That would hopefully wash over anyway.

There's an island that's populated with mutants. The Government sent them there a long time ago to keep them in check and restrained. No one was allowed to leave, yet they were given near unlimited access on where they wanted to go on this island. It wasn't your small, desert thing either. No, it was pretty damn big and more than enough room to keep accepting new residents. Of course it was hard to make sure they had every single one of them here. It was impossible, actually, there were still news bulletins describing of small mutant attacks. They were quickly captured however, thrown on a boat and dumped on this craphole. James Howlett was a Canadian soldier that had once been part of a mutant program to create the perfect soldier. They called it Weapon X, and it brought him great pain. He escaped, and for a while was forced to remain on the run while the Canadian Government chased after him. They took away his memories, gave him false ones, played with his life and now he has to give a second thought to anything that comes in to his mind. Is it his, or just another staged image? Tonight is the first of the big offensives. James wants off this island, and he's not the only one. It's a special occasion, so what better way to celebrate than to climb in to the old uniform that he regularly wore back on the mainland? Of course, the mask wasn't needed -- but except for that, Wolverine was back in the blue-and-yellow of the old days. Standing beside him is the woman he loves. Without her, he would have fallen apart. He would have remained a wild beast, slowly devolving in to something fit only to roam around the jungles of this world. Her name was Jean. If hecould-- he would die for her. The derelict parking lot shudders, the broken glass of the scrapped cars tinkle and metal shakes. A pair of hulking Sentinels are approaching. Wolverine's gloved hands stroke his partner's arms, their mouths are inches apart. "You ready Jean?"

Was she scared? Maybe. Was she ready? Most definitely. They had spent to much time here. This place. This hell for mutants. Tired wasn't even the word for it. She was done with this place and the sooner they escaped from here the better. Jean barely remembered home. Going to school or out on a date. All the things that made life worth living had been taken from her, all except for him. The wild man who took her heart. "I'm ready James." Around her neck was power disruptor. Telepaths were considered to be one of the most dangerous types of mutants. Jean was a level 4 according to the data her captors had collected on her when she first came to this place. She remembered the experiments, the tests and procedures they preform on her. She truly hated this place. " Remember once you take out the satellite tower. I'll be able to use my powers freely." She said before brushing her lips against his. Kissing him softly it reminded her of why she was doing this why ever mutant deserved this right to be free. Instead of locked up like some animal. She had no special uniform. Just the once piece hospital blue outfit with her number encoded on the sleeve. Unlike Howlett she was to under go some severe tests experiments.

The Researchers on the island had attempted to keep everyone's mutation under control, but there were a few that had tricked the system, kept below the radar, roamed free. James was one of them. With every attempt to capture him, he was always one step ahead. But Jean wasn't so lucky. They did terrible things to her. The nightmares she must have were things even Wolverine wouldn't be able to handle. But he promised her every day that he'd rescue her from them, that he'd always be here for her. But every time he told her that, they would always probe further in to her mind. Once more, he touched her lips. The soft kiss was like a fuel to him, it spurred him on, kept him fighting. The first Sentinel came in to view, closely followed by its identical brother. James knew this would be tricky, he had to get up to their heads. That's where he could inflict the most damage. The searchlights looked down from the mechanial monsters, identifying the pair of mutants below them. "Keep moving!" He shouted to her, pulling away and growling up towards the robots. A heavy foot rose, and slammed down on to where James once stood. But he was quick on his feet, and the mutant had begun to climb.

For a moment she felt stuck, but her feet were moving as fast as they could. She touched the collar around her neck. If only she could take this thing off! She remembered what he said about not looking back. Keep going all the way till she reached the tower. The tower was they key to their freedom. Once they destroyed it all the main defenses would be down, including the radio signaling that controlled this contraption around her neck. The ground from under her shook. A bright light flashed overhead as she blocked its piercing gaze with her hand. The second sentinel had her in it's sights. One massive hand as large as two story house descended upon her. Frightened wasn't the word. The mechanical behemoths were what mutants anguished about. She ran. Up in front of her were the electrical wires that blocked off anyone from entering and anyone from leaving. She looked for anything that could help. The Sentinel prepared to grab her again, but it's target was to close the wires. Jean ran along the electrical wall until she could reach the tower. The Sentinel following in her wake she searched for any sign of James. Without incident she began to climb the ladder of the 80 foot tower. This was her only chance. Her last chance.

The Wolverine's claws pierced through the skin of his knuckles, a moment of pain. The adamantium poked through the metal of the robot, allowing him to ascend upwards with apparent ease. It didn't help that the machine was moving around alot, but there was no way that James was letting go. Up and up -- he was now climbing up its back and close to its head. The other Sentinel was chasing after Jean, and he just hoped she was OK. Damn it, he should have told her to stay far away from here tonight! Its neck. The wires were already poking out, but the head was where it was all at. By now, the Sentinel was shaking about as if attempting to throw Wolverine off. But it was no use. And by the time James reached the metal skull, it was useless. His claws scraped and scratched away, creating an opening which allowed him to gain access to the large circuit board and controls. Sparks went everywhere. Again - and - again! The Sentinel went crazy, it lost its footing, the CPU was damaged beyond repair! CRASH! The robot fell to the ground, and it echoed throughout the island. A Sentinel was down. Mutants were fighting back. James had held on and survived the fall, looking over towards where Jean was climbing the ladder. The Sentinel wanted to avenge its brother, and James wasn't going to let it. Sprinting. Running. Dashing towards the last one -- But it got him. A lucky kick of its large foot sent the Canadian flying. No! It was going to get Jean!

As the first sentinel went down the tower shook again. She held on for her life. Looking back in time to James running towards the second sentinel just to be kicked back across the lot she screamed. "James!". The wind had begun to pick up as lose strands of her bright red hair flailed wildly from the ponytail it had been in. Looking beyond the tower she could see it. Yes! The shore it was their only chance. Take down the tower, open the gates and make it towards the boat! It was upon her now, never knowing how to stop or how to give in. It's massive hand reaching for her. James could hear her scream. It had her now in it's large iron grasp. She struggled to free herself as the mass of metal and wiring circled her. Those piercing yellow eyes staring as if looking right into her. If she managed to get out of it's grasp, the next thing she would have to worry about is the shear drop from it's hand and she hardly thought she'd survive that. "Let me go!" She shouted. She didn't want to go back. Not to this prison. Back to the labs, the tests and experiments. She couldn't! She would rather die than to be probed over and over again. Jean, can you move this object with your mind, Jean? Can you? Move the object with your mind and we'll let you go. What am I thinking? I know you can read my thoughts, Jean. Tell me what is in my head and we'll stop hurting you...promise A fire flickered in the corner of her eyes, but only for a moment. The metal collar around her neck began to vibrate and then it unlocked. The sentinel was making it way back across the lot. She felt like her energy had been returned her. Clearing her mind she began to concentrate on what to do next. "I said let me go.." Sending a telekinetic blast to the sentinels head it caused the behemoth to stagger. She sent another one and another one. Then soon it came crashing . Releasing it it's group on her Jean jumped!

It took James a few moments to get his bearings back. The Sentinel had kicked him pretty far, and it just so happened he hit against something hard to stop him. His back was in pain, but that problem soon disappeared. His attention was back on to Jean, who had been caught by the robot! "Jean!" Again, he quickened his stride. But he was too far away -- it all happened too fast for him to react any quicker. Something was hitting the Sentinel's head. Was that -- Jean? Her powers... what was happening to her? The robot began to look as if its legs were going to fall beneath it, and his thinking was correct. It began to stumble, stutter backwards, and then fell. With Jean still in its clutches! She was at too great a height to survive the drop. Logan had to get there before she hit the ground. Run. Run, James. Run! He was so close. And as the shadow below her began to grow, James dived with his hands out for her...

The ground began to close in. It was coming so quick so fast. How could of she braced herself! Jean closed her eyes hoping that it would be quick end or by some miracle she could stop herself. Umph! She fell into his arms almost to afraid to open her eyes, but when she did she smiled. "James..." She was almost o happy to see him. He had saved her! Wrapping her arms around his neck she kissed him. Her lips pressing firmly against his. She had owed so much to him. It was a cry of laughter that slipped from her lips. " What would I do without you.." She said. Her hand cupping his cheek. She took off the collar and threw it to the ground . Jean was glad to be rid of that thing and she hoped it would be the last time that she would wear it. The ground from under them began to shake and quiver. Jeans green orbs looked up to the tower. The defenses were still up as she pointed skyward. Sentinels were approaching, but all had flew directly over them. She could begin to think what had become of the others who were trying to escape. As much as she wanted to play hero they would have to make it to that boat if they wanted any chance of avenging their comrades.

The air was close, hot and sticky that unforgiving October night; it was a Thursday, and the beaches were littered with sweating, lively bodies. At sunset, couples would walk along the sand and shyly hold hands, but it seemed that when dark fell in Miami, the predator came out in everyone who inhaled the night air. Dexter Morgan felt it too, but he was different from them; certainly, he engaged in intense, sweaty nights the way anyone else did, but his company tended to be a little different. And much quieter. Eventually. Tonight, he was enjoying the company of Wilbur Fator, a member of Miami's Elite - he was a man originally from the South, borne of a well-off family and carefully groomed; Dexter always appreciated when people were immaculate. Fator liked to spend his mornings on the golf course, his afternoons on the porch with his pretty wife drinking Mojitos, and his evenings in small dark basements where he paid a human trafficker to bring him a fresh young Cuban boy every month. Fator liked them young, dark, and pretty, and enjoyed taking his time with them - Dexter had seen the videos; for a man from the South, Fator wasn't terribly discreet. It would be awful if his wife saw the videos. Presently, Dexter was on board his little luxury - his beloved boat, Slice of Life; he wasn't a sailor by any means, but Dexter's foster father Harry Morgan had instilled a love of the water in him at an early age. He'd been coming out to Bay Harbour since he was three, and he couldn't bring himself to stay away from the spot - he supposed it was some sort of sentimentality, but he wasn't sure how that sort of thing applied to him. He whistled a sprightly tune as he idled the boat, and then turned off the engine; he was several miles out on the water, comfortably out of view of anyone - most people avoided the water at night, unless they were up on the beach. The darkness scared them. Dexter liked it; it was quiet. He turned to face Wilbur Fator; he was a big, well-built man, so Dexter had needed to use several hefty bags for all the pieces - he couldn't remember which bag he'd put the head in, but it didn't really matter. Dexter wasn't one for keeping trophies, at least, not the kind that some of them liked to take - he was satisfied with his blood slides, a tiny piece of memorabilia from each monster that had kept him company on these late night trips. With practised ease, he hauled each hefty bag over the side of the boat and watched as they were swallowed up by the black, shifting water; he always weighed them down with rocks from the harbour - it was a rookie mistake to think the body would keep itself down. Even the dead had gas, and it tended to make them bouyant, and when that happened, curious boaters and fishermen couldn't help but peer in, wondering what they might find like a toy in a cracker jack box, only instead of a cheeky slide whistle, it was a dismembered hand. Fun for girls and boys. Satisfied that there were no bits of Mr. Fator trying to stick around a little longer, Dexter started the engine again; he would have enough time to get home, catch a few hours of sleep, and be ready for work. Work. Unlike many Miami residents, Dexter Morgan liked his job working for the Miami Dade Police Department, he wasn't a cop like his currently damaged foster sister Deb - he was a lab rat, a forensics guy. It kept him low-key, kept the attention away from him. Or at least, he'd thought it did, up until recently. Things had gotten unexpectedly complicated when Dexter had discovered he had a brother, one from a life he could barely remember. It had been the life where he'd been Dexter Moser, and his mother had been Laura Moser, and life had been beautiful and perfect up until the day he watched her get torn to messy, wet shreds by a chainsaw. It had changed something in him, maybe killed something in him - he still wasn't sure exactly what it was that was missing, but his brother Brian was missing it too. They were two of a kind, and Brian had known it long before Dexter - he'd been old enough to keep the memories that Dexter had lost, and as such, he'd been subject to the whims of various foster homes, halfway houses, and orphanages while Dexter had been eagerly adopted by the cop who had worked the crime scene. It was somehow unfair; somewhere along the line, the decision had been made that Dexter could be saved, and Brian couldn't. Dexter got a relatively normal childhood after that, save for the awkward teenage years where other boys were chasing girls, and all he could think about was what his classmates would look like in pieces. But Harry Morgan had straightened that out; there were rules to abide by. It was what kept Dexter from being like all the others, rather than just being a monster, he was a choosy monster. He only allowed other monsters to accompany him on nights like these. Funny that Harry never mentioned he'd had a brother. But Brian had never forgotten, and had decided one day that he couldn't go without his baby brother anymore, and he'd been overjoyed to discover that Dexter was - just like him. So overjoyed that he'd done everything in his power to get close to him, teasing him with the jigsaw puzzles made of dead, frozen hookers. Breaking into his home and playfully leaving him clues. Dating his sister, Deb. Trying to kill her. Trying to get him to help. He'd even set her up the way Dexter liked it; unconscious, strapped to the table, an electric saw at the ready. It had been an interesting reunion. He'd had Brian in his grasp after he'd made a second attempt on Deb's life, he'd had him hanging by his ankles, strapped down in his own home, prepped for the kill. He'd put him out so he wouldn't have to feel any pain - but then Brian had opened his eyes. The rules said that he should have killed Brian when he'd had the chance, but he couldn't do it, and he couldn't kill Deb either - he kind of liked her. He'd let him go. He'd let Brian go, and told him to go away, to get far away from Miami and never come back, because then he really would have to kill him. He told himself that he would. And now he knew for a fact that he had been lying; the certainty was gone, leaving dearly devoted Dexter disoriented in the dark. What had once been a clearly paved path edged with rules and boundaries that kept him from ever crossing The Line had suddenly transformed into an endless, misty field filled with the sort of temptations that his Dark Passenger just loved. It was all because he had broken the Code that Harry had laid down for him - all because he had let Brian live. And then in an act of outrageous stupidity, he had even agreed to visit his brother in New York, like friendly relatives getting together for a holiday. Dexter had assured himself he was only going so Brian wouldn't come to Miami that was too risky, he might get himself killed. Or or he might be a danger to others. Something like that. He had brought a knife with him when he had gone to visit; at one point he had even steeled himself to use it while he stood opposite to Brian in his little kitchen in the ill-gained New York apartment but he hadn't done it. In fact, he'd pretty much done the opposite of killing him, he'd done things with Brian, things that he was sure were very, very wrong for people who weren't like him. For one, he had shared a kill with him: a middle-aged blonde - guilty of poisoning her three husbands - had been strapped to a polished, clean steel table in some old abandoned warehouse down a backalley in the worst part of the city. She had been there for hours, held down by the clear saran wrap that Dexter had always favoured, mouth duct taped and a folder full of evidence beside her for Dexter to sort through. It was all Brian's doing - it had been very thoughtful of him. The memory of it all still made Dexter shudder, because Brian had watched him the entire time - hadn't taken his eyes off of him once, in fact - and if he thought about it, he could remember the bizarre sensation, the strange thought that his brother's eyes were burning into him and leaving a mark somewhere inside. And afterwards, they hadn't even had a chance to clean up, they hadn't even made it through the parking lot when Brian had pounced on him; they'd struggled and torn at eachother, eventually they even managed to get back into the apartment just before the aggressive pawing had stopped being enough for either of them. Hands and knees had been replaced by tongue and teeth and nails, they hadn't even closed the door behind them before they were all over eachother. It was wrong, it was so, so very wrong. Harry would have disapproved. Harry would have also disapproved of what he had done to Brian on the couch later on that evening - Dexter had never used his mouth like that before, but it had been worth it to see the wild expression on Brian's face. Rubbing at his hair with gloved hands, Dexter stared out at the water and listened to it lap against the sides of the boat; the moon was three-quarters full that night, and the sight of it provided a cold, clean comfort. In that moment, in the middle of the bay, an oddly introspective Dexter was struck by the strange and empty sensation of loneliness - it was followed quickly by a fiery trail up his spine when he thought about Brian's eyes. The way he looked at him. Theunderstanding. But Dexter knew that he couldn't think about it anymore; he had to limit those thoughts because they led to terrible things, the kind of thoughts that threatened to pull him overboard and plunge him into waters that he would never escape from. Waters where his Passenger was at the top of the food chain, and the world was subject to his whim. It couldn't happen. He bid farewell to Wilbur Fator and quietly left his quiet little world behind, hid the blood slide behind the air conditioner, and retired to his bedroom; as he got under the covers and stared up at the dark ceiling, it occurred to him that monsters didn't get happy endings - all they got were precious, sparing moments of freedom. And he had never felt more free than in the moment where his hand had touched Brian's to accept his knife.

Maybe it was because he had been bred and born there, but there was something about Miami that really made Brian Moser feel alive. He typically hated mess, couldn't stand clutter; by all rights, the sticky, damp air and the number of slick, sweaty human bodies that typically populated the place should have disgusted him. Instead, he had had a tight, knotted feeling of anticipation during the entire drive back to Florida from New York. He felt like he was on his way to finish some important business. He felt like he was on his wayhome. Not that 'home' had ever held any sort of tangible meaning for him. Brian had spent so much time institutionalized when he wasn't being juggled around in foster houses. 'Going home' had only ever meant 'going back to his room,' the standard 11x15 foot room with concrete walls and bunkbeds. No, this was different. This wasn't home because of the location, but it was home because he was on his way to see his last living family member again. Dexter understood what he was, because Dexter was the same. Slightly misguided, but Brian was willing to help him work past that. He had never met anyone before whounderstood,who was as intelligent as he was. As clever. Asperfect,ignoring the minor 'conscience' hiccup. Brian needed him like an addict needed heroin. He had seen what Dexter was, what he had the potential to become, and he was hooked. It was more than just errant desire; it was visceral. He had no reason to stay in New York. Staying away was safe, and it was lonely, and Brian cared little for the former and even less for the latter. Besides, Dexter had so much to learn, and who better to teach him than his loving brother Biney? Rita was a real hitch in his plan. Dexter thought he cared about her, and Brian had a problem wrapping his mind around that. She was a vapid blonde, too concerned with material things. Doormats and nutricious breakfasts for her children, cuddling up to Dexter on the couch after a long day smiling at strangers at the hotel. He didn't understand why Dexter didn't use her and throw her away. She was a good alibi, at least. She made pretty arm candy, and for a pretty convincing Normal Life cover, but every time he toyed with her picture, all he could think was how pretty she would look with a knife at her throat. And with that, it had been easy for Brian to break into her home. Late at night with a ski mask, he rattled the front door loudly before smashing one of the windows, careful not to leave any fingerprints or to actually disturb anything else, but it was with such obvious clumsiness that he couldn't imagine the woman actually believing that it was a serious attempt to get into her home unnoticed. He tossed a knife onto the kitchen floor, before ducking back out of the window when he heard Rita's voice floating down the hallway in a too-loud whisper in an attempt to reassure her frightened children. With a roll of his eyes, Brian trotted down the street, yanking off the mask and tugging on a pair of headphones. He looked like some yuppie going for a midnight jog, not a convicted serial killer, and that was the way he wanted it to remain for now. Rita heard the commotion in the kitchen, standing up even as her hand groped blindly for her phone. Leaning down, she slid the baseball bat from beneath her bed, hefting it onto her shoulder as she stepped out into the hallway. She could see Astor and Cody crowding the doorway to their bedroom, Astor's arms wrapped around her brother in a protective hug. "Shhh," Rita said, before she crept slowly into the kitchen. Glass from a broken window, and a knife on the floor, but nothing seemed to be gone, and it was quiet. She peeked around the kitchen, before glancing into the living room, and then finally - in a rush - ushering her kids out to the car. Shakily, and still in her nightgown, she called 911 and explained the situation, and was pulling into the parking lot of Dexter's apartment complex right as she started dialing his number. "Dexter," she said a bit shakily, "Someone tried to break into our house, I've called the cops, but how do you feel about a sleepover tonight, please say yes because I'm actually pulling into a parking space right now," she finished in a rush.

Normally Dexter slept like the dead - empty, dreamless rest that served only the purpose that physiology had meant for it, but on that particular night, dark images had managed to slink into his head and take up residence. It was familiar, if only because it was similar to the only other dream he'd ever had; he was strapped to a surgical steel table - except, this time it was as though he had somehow stepped outside of his own body and was looking down on himself. The version of him on the table was wearing khakis, an obnoxiously yellow tropical shirt, and a lab coat. Stranger still, he could see a distinct look of horror on his own face, the appearance of - was that fear? Yes, it must be; Dexter had never known that look for himself, but had seen it on so many others that he had no choice but to recognize it. He looked away from the Victim-Dexter and looked down at his own hands; he clenched his fingers, and the tight leather gloves made a comforting squeaking noise. A glance to the right, and there was an array of tools for him, shimmering silvers and gleaming grays, all so perfectly sharp and clean that he reached for the nearest one and held it up to the light to watch it refract. He saw his own reflection in the knife; yes, it was definitely still him. He turned his eyes back to his - victim - and Harry Morgan was staring back at him now, strapped to the table and looking grim. He opened his mouth, and rang. Dexter sat up in bed like Bela Lugosi and stared at the wall for a long moment before he realized he was hearing his phone; he lifted it off the cradle, mind still misty from sleep and confusion, and raised the phone to his ear. "Dexter" His mind managed to work out that he was hearing Rita, and a glance at the alarm clock told him it was two in the morning. "Someone tried to break into our house, I've called the cops, but how do you feel about a sleepover tonight? Please say yes, because I'm actually pulling into a parking space right now." Dexter was silent for a long moment as the breathy, hurried words slowly curled their way through the fog, and he finally managed to answer with, "Uh. Yeah." And by the time he reached the door, having yanked on a t-shirt and shorts, he was clear-headed enough to remember that he should pull her into his arms, because that was what worried boyfriends did. Rita clenched her little hands into the material of his shirt so hard that her knuckles buried into his ribcage with surprising strength while Cody and Astor slipped inside, characteristically stoic and silent. The two made a bee-line for his couch, "Hey," Dexter said, looking over his shoulder while Rita did her best not to show fear in front of her kids, "You guys are already breaking the rules by being up this late." Cody and Astor stared at him in morose silence, too injured by a traumatic childhood to hear the playfulness in his voice - or maybe he just didn't sound playful. Maybe he sounded like a psychopath, he wasn't sure. "So how about some ice cream?" he asked, and he watched the two slowly exchange glances; their little features didn't move, but they still managed to communicate. "Do you have the green kind?" Astor asked, the spokesperson for their little team while Cody continued to stare unblinkingly. "I have the green kind," Dexter confirmed, drawing Rita into the condo and closing the door behind her, bolting it shut, and moving towards the kitchen. "I'm so sorry to do this to you, Dex, it's just that I didn't know where else -" Rita began, still clinging to his side. "I'm just glad you're safe." Dexter replied; he was getting good at this kind of thing and wanted a Tony Award. Or maybe a little golden knife, because if it was a stage show, he was sure he would make the cut. He also needed to stop making puns. Rita glanced down and finally recognized her iron grip; she released him then, and backed herself to the counter, leaning back and gripping the edge of it instead; she was still in her nightgown, robes hanging off her shoulders, barefoot and blonde hair dishevelled. Though she was quaking and appeared as though she hadn't slept for a week, Dexter somehow found he liked the way she looked right then. He decided not to inspect the thought any further. Pulling a block of unopened pistachio ice cream from the freezer, he doled it out into two bowls and handed them to a blank-faced Cody and Astor before returning to Rita; he found her digging into the carton with a fork. "I have spoons." Dexter said, mildly interested in the way she had set upon the dessert like an animal; she looked up at him then, the fork hanging out of her mouth. There was a long moment of silence, during which Dexter began to suspect he had done something wrong and that Rita was about to attack him with the silverware, but then she was suddenly weeping tears and pistachio onto his chest and leaving him just a little more confused about the entire world. Cody and Astor didn't have time for the sugar rush to set in before they toppled over onto the couch, while Rita sobbed into his arms for another half an hour; he put her to bed and laid beside her because she told him it would make her feel safe. "You always make me feel safe." Rita said just before she fell asleep, confirming for Dexter that the existence of sensible people was pure mythology. He managed to nod off for another two hours before he had to get up for work; he told Rita she could stay as long as she wanted to, told her everything would be okay, and left for the lab, desperate for a day filled with blood stains.

Angel was pretty good at his little routine by then. Wake up (in an empty bed), brush his teeth (spitting in a vaguely disgusting sink), get dressed (in clothes that were perpetually just slightly wrinkled), grab a bagel (strawberry cream cheese, one of life's little blessings) and go to work. And that was what he did, except he'd taken a page from Dexter's book that morning and stopped by the local Krispy Kreme to pick up two dozen that he had paraded around the station, winning looks and nods of approval from his coworkers. Sometimes life was terribly cliche, and one just had to embrace it. He had saved the last one for Dexter, however, and cut his friend off at the door to work with the nearly-empty box. "For you, my friend," he crowed, before passing the box off to him, whistling a jaunty tune as he headed back to his desk. Not that he had a lot to be happy about these days, but hey! He still had his little girl, and a good job, and maybe he wasn't in a perfect place socially, but at least he wasn't dead. Or dating a serial killer. Poor Deb. He sat down, flipping through a few pages before a long shadow fell across his desk, and he glanced up with a squint to see Masouka leaning down. The Asian man was either terribly concerned or terribly amused; given his personality and ability to find humor in some of the darkest places, it was almost impossible to tell. "So did you hear?" he chirped, glancing back at Dexter as he spoke, before straightening up and folding his arms behind his head. "Did I hear what?" Angel asked in a deadpan, quirking an eyebrow. Masouka shook his head, and his expression was obviously concern now, even if he did sort of have the same expression a rubber-necker passing by a severe automobile accident did. "Morgan the sister called in this morning at like, seven. Dead catnailed to her door,dude, it was sick." Angel straighted up immediately, but Masouka cut him off. "Team's already out there on it, dude. But can you imagine? I think it's just some sick kid, but you never know when it comes to psycho killers."

Stepping into the station, Dexter was tense; just the way Batista did, Dexter had an established routine that he had followed religiously for years, and the appearance of Rita very early that morning had shaken it. Grateful that his face always obeyed his command, he still managed to wear an expression of slightly vapid friendliness; the upside to feeling nothing was that facial expressions also meant nothing to him - they were purely for show. Of course, Dexter was convinced that he wasn't the only one who did it; with a donut box held in his hands, Dexter watched Batista whistle his way over to his desk, a prime example of human beings putting on a show. He was pretty sure that was why he liked Batista - and Vince, for that matter. They both pretended. Initially Dexter considered heading straight for his lab - the temptation to get to his clean, dark little fishbowl was strong - but Masouka's sideways glance had him furrowing his eyebrows questioningly until he elaborated. Dead cat. Deb's door. Somehow, he was going to be blamed for this, Dexter decided as he stupidly continued to hold onto the donut box and stare off into space because the Passenger was slowly raking its nails down his spine and leaving trails of cold. Then itpurred. "Ain't that right?" Masouka asked, and stared at him, "Dex?" "Huh?" Dexter asked. "Psycho killers?" Masouka elaborated. "Q'uest que c'est?" Dexter tried, and Vince gave him one of those funny, crooked stares that he did sometimes. "Cute." Vince said flatly, "You didn't hear about it?" "No." Dexter said, and Vince shrugged his face. "Don't worry," Vince said, patting him on the back in a way that was almost consoling, "I'm sure you will." "Yeah." Dexter said, reduced to monosyllables before he dragged himself off to his lab, oblivious to both Angel and Vince staring after him. Rita's place had been broken into around two in the morning and Deb's door had been decorated at seven - Miami had one of the highest crime rates in the world and the incidents were very different, but Dexter couldn't ignore the call of the Passenger. And anyone with a dark enough mind would recognize they were both connected to him. Stepping into his lab, Dexter stopped in the doorway because a pair of eyes were staring at him through the darkness; anyone else wouldn't have seen him in the absolute shadow of the room, but Dexter's finely honed night vision had him meeting the eyes unflinchingly. Slowly, he reached out and flicked on the light, "Good morning Sergeant," Dexter said cheerfully, and extended the box to him, "Donut?" Doakes continued to glower at him, and for an instant Dexter thought he might swat the box away and lunge at his throat; instead, he disregarded it. It was somewhat dissappointing. "I hear your girl called in this morning." Doakes said. "Word gets around." Dexter said, setting the box onto a filing cabinet and turning to his desk; he moved to roll out his chair, but Doakes set a foot against it to stop him. "And your sister called in an hour ago." Of course Doakes would have noticed. "Yeah, I just heard about it." Dexter said, "Was about to call her." "There was a cat nailed to her door." Doakes added, even though he had to be aware that Dexter knew that detail already, "What do you think about that? Do you think it's funny?" "I guess I'd have to know the breed before I could really get the punchline." Dexter admitted, and he watched Doakes' face twist angrily; the Sergeant had never hidden his aggression, and especially not towards Dexter who had, for some reason, set Doakes off from their very first encounter. There was an unholy hatred that radiated from Doakes, as though he was constantly in search of a reason - anything that would allow him to break someone's neck. "Listen you fuckin' psycho," Doakes said, because he was always subtle with his opinions, "If I find out you had anything to do with this shit, I will fuck you up." "Right." Dexter said, dismissive, "Okay." Doakes continued to stare, but his expression had changed into something strange, so Dexter raised his eyebrows and added: "Got it." Before the Sergeant stormed out of the lab, slamming the door so hard that the hinges rattled. For a long moment Dexter stood there watching the door, and then slowly looked down to his hand; he realized then why Doakes had given him that look - at some point during their discussion, he had begun to play with his keychain, and had been toying with the little decapitated barbie head that hung from it.

Masouka and Angel exchanged glances when Doakes came storming from around the corner to Dexter's little area. "Weird guy," Vince muttered, and Angel lifted an eyebrow. "You'd better be talking about Doakes," he said with a slight smirk, words playful, but it was obvious that he was worried about something. Deb, most likely; not that they had ever been best friends, but she was a good girl, he knew, and they did work together. He had always felt a sort of brotherly affection for Deb. She was kind of abrasive, but good-hearted, and that meant a lot to guy like Angel. Masouka knew she was sharp, but also just thought she was hot. "Well," Vince said, backing up, "gonna get to work, I guess. See you around lunch," he called, then backed away, heading away. Deb sat on the edge of a bed in a hotel room, playing with her phone. Her first instinct, of course, had been to call Dexter and demand his help, but he'd done so much for her since the whole ordeal with Rudy. Brian, she reminded herself with a shake of her head, before she dialed her foster brother's phone number, holding it up to her ear. She was a big girl. She'd take care of herself... and surely that moron wasn't stupid enough to come back and try to kill her a second time. But she knew the mentality behind a lot of these guys. They wouldn't stop until they'd finished what they started. "So Dexter," she blurted into the phone, hurriedly, "you don't think it's him, do you? I mean, that's a pretty fucking retarded thing to do. He KNOWS that I'm a cop." And then the first email in Dexter's inbox was dated about ten minutes before he arrived at work, from an anonymous address with the subject YOU JUST NEED TO CHILL OUT. Hey pal, It's been a while since we've gone out. I think we could both use a pizza and bowling night. Invite your girl, because I'm bringing one along, too. She's a bit nasty, but hopefully you'll get along fine. Let me know if you're interested. I'll be waiting.

The doll's head stared at him and Dexter stared back; for a long moment he stayed like that, watching the little plastic face as though he expected it to bring up an interesting subject, but neither of them seemed to be able to find a topic they both liked. He had no way of proving any of it, he knew, but the consistent and rhythmic unfurling of the Passenger's claws was telling Dexter that there was another monster nearby, but this one was so much more fun than any of the others had been. It was him - it had to be, because the agonizing little curl of heat in the very base of his spine had only ever been caused by one person. Dexter was wrenched from his thoughts by the phone, and for the second time that day he heard the sound of panic. "Deb," Dexter said, eyeing the flashing indication at the right corner of his laptop, the one telling him he had new e-mails. YOU JUST NEED TO CHILL OUT. The heat spread suddenly up to his neck, and Dexter shuddered bodily and had to restart, "Deb," he tried again, hovering his cursor over the message subject, like a child savouring the moment before tearing into a Christmas present, "If he was in the city, do you think he'd spend his time nailing Mr. Fluffy to doorframes?" He opened the e-mail and nearly hissed, but managed to stop himself. "You've been in the papers a lot lately," Dexter continued, as soothing as he could manage to be while the Passenger was rearing up inside of him, demanding a chance to play, "You probably just got hit by someone with a sick sense of humour." He held the phone up between his jaw and shoulder; he set his fingers onto the keyboard and they began to move of their own accord: I don't think she'll be up for a double date, but I'm sure you two will find something cool to do. Any idea on what cleaning product removes felines? Just wondering.

There was something about Dexter that always seemed to soothe Deb. Maybe it was the fact that he was so earnest, or that she trusted him more than anyone else in the entire world. He was family, afterall. If there was one person in the world that she could trust not to lie to her, Deb knew for certain that it was Dexter. "Yeah," she agreed after a long moment, flopping backwards onto the bed and looking at the door to the hotel room. It was locked sturdily, and she felt safer there than she did anywhere else, if she wanted to be perfectly honest. "Well, bro," she said finally into the phone, "I think I'm going to get some sleep. Kinda.. shocked after this morning, you know." Deb hung up, then, and watched bad porn on demand for the rest of the morning, just for something to laugh at. Brian was also at a hotel, though a good twenty miles away from where Deb was currently holed up. He had been swimming already, had jumped into the pool almost immediately after doing the funny little deed with the cat, and he felt like a predator as he waited for Dexter to email him back. His brother rarely disappointed him. Felines? Tried bleach? Brian felt his own Dark Passenger coiling in him, excited, like a snake ready to strike, but he embraced the feeling instead of hiding it away. It was in his nose and throat, behind his eyes, swelling in his stomach and chest, and it made him feelalive. My dates are always the best. I've got a big surprise in store for her, too.. I wish you'd be there to see it. And he wanted to see Dexter, wanted to touch his face with his fingertips, take his hand and draw him away into a room with a nubile young woman on display, ready to be sliced like ham - but that, for the moment, was just a dream he would have to keep nursing.

Shocked, that was the word she had used - but over the years, Dexter had become fluent in Deb and knew that she had actually panicked; she had been scared that the Ice Truck Killer was back in the city to finish the job. And, of course, it wasn't such an unlikely assumption - it seemed that Deb's instincts were improving these days, or maybe it was just pure paranoia, but whatever it was, she was getting better at seeing the patterns that monsters followed, and it had begun to translate to her job. Dexter liked Deb; she was one in a tiny group that he could say that about - he liked Deb very much and wanted to see her advance in the ranks the way she deserved to, but at the same time he found himself considering what it would mean if she becametoogood. How long would it be, after all, before she began to see some of those dark traits in him? He knocked those thoughts away; it was something he would have to deal with when the time came, and these days he had no doubts that it would. Dexter spent some time working on slides, inspecting them through the microscope and measuring bloodstains and impact spatters with a single-minded interest; he allowed himself to be pulled into a dark and familiar little world made of blood and messy, graceless strikes and slices from amateurs, rookies who wouldn't make it to their next kill because they had been too careless with their first one. That was the price one paid for being untidy. Of course, the Ice Truck Killer had never been untidy - no, Brian had always been very careful, hadn't he? Cheeky, but everything had been thought out, carefully planned, cut clean and precise and placed so intentionally that the obsession behind it had sent chills through Dexter the first time he had seen his brother's work. He had known from the very start that it was a message forhimhe just hadn't understood why at the time. Suddenly struck by the need to do so, he looked into his e-mails again and found a response. He could imagine what Brian would have in store for his current paramour; a cold room, flashing metal, sharp edges and maybe a little nailpolish. He was sure that a date with Brian was a thing to be admired, and the thought of watching his brother do his work - no, he couldn't do that, after all, Brian didn't follow the rules. Brian didn't have a code - and that made him subject to Dexter's, didn't it? Dexter realized he was gripping the edge of the desk in a white-knuckled hold, and he slowly released it, letting out the breath he hadn't known he had been holding in. For a moment, he closed his eyes and thought it over. Then, opening his eyes again, he deleted the e-mail and turned back to his work.

When an answer didn't come almost immediately, Brian had the sinking feeling that one wasn't going to come at all. He had been afraid of that - he knew his brother well enough to realize that Dexter was still struggling with what he really was, what They Really Were. And it had taken Brian a while to get that. He couldn't comprehend that someone was able to live with that sort of beast inside of him without embracing it. Brian had long since given up suppressing the Passenger and had become it; he looked with its eyes, spoke with its tongue. His fingers were its fingers, and the pain they wrought together wasn't destruction, but creation. Art. He was wiping something ugly from the world, and smearing something beautiful in its place. He was not simply its vessel. They were symbiotes, and to have that ripped away from him... Brian would have felt like a naked invalid, missing chunks of his soul. Not a perfect metaphor, since he didn't quite believe in the human soul, but it would do him well enough. And as much as he wanted to, Brian knew he couldn't pick up where he had left off. He could barely afford to live in Miami as it was; it had been a while, but people - the right people - would recognize him in a crowd. He couldn't draw attention to himself, and he couldn't start killing and leaving bits of hookers around, either. He was finished with that game, and he wanted the city to think he was gone somewhere, living in a Mexican village until the law forgot about him. Hiding in plain sight had always been his game. Dexter's game, too, from the looks of it, but Dexter was hiding for all the wrong reasons, and all the wrong ways. He had grownattachedto his flimsy second life, far too attached, and Brian would have to do something about it. But in due time. He was hungry, but it was early, and he had his plans: he'd wait until night fell, find a pretty young thing at the local bar, and take her back to Rita's. That needy, incessant woman had to have fled to Dexter's for at least a day or two (not that he wouldn't double-check first, it wouldn't do to bring someone back to an already occupied house), he'd clean his date and the kitchen, and dump her into whatever river he could find. Clumsily, of course. He didn't want the police to realize that he was a pro at the game, just some clumsy half-wit who'd gotten a little stab-happy. He sat on the edge of the bed, satisfied at his plans, before scooting back atop the sheets and flipping the television onto some inane nature channel. Brian kept remembering when he'd caught an episode of America's Most Wanted a month or so back withhisface plastered across the screen. He felt rather like a celebrity, actually, and they had called him 'handsome' and 'devilishly charming.' Smugly, he settled back onto the sheets and went to sleep.

Dexter had spent the day trying not to think about how there would be police in his south beach condo, sitting down to talk to Rita about what had happened, eyeing the place the way that cops always did, because they were looking for things out of place - it was their job, it was second nature, but in his mind's eye, he saw them approaching his air conditioner, or thinking it sounded a little strange. He shook his head; he wasn't usually given to flights of fancy, but it had become more recent as of late - since New York, in fact. No, since before that. Since meeting Brian, back when he was calling himself 'Rudy' and dating Deb, that was when it had started, when he had started dreaming and getting nightmares - some part of him had known the truth, but it hadn't been a conscious part, which left Dexter questioning what else his subconscious could be hiding from him. How much more, after all, could there be? The hours went by in a whirl of blood and paperwork, and Dexter made a point of avoiding Doakes - who had been sniffing far too close lately - for the rest of his shift. It proved to be difficult, because it seemed the Sergeant was making a point of appearing wherever he was these days, usually remaining silent and just staring at him with the same look that had long ago told Dexter that the bigger man had a few skeletons in his closet too - though there probably weren't as many, and they likely weren't wrapped up quite as neatly as his were. Dexter made sure to keep that in mind; if Doakes became a problem, he would want - Blood. Blood. Stalk him, hunt him down, cut his neck and watch him bleed. - leverage. He pressed his palm against his eye like a man fighting an oncoming headache, but it was the Passenger he was pushing back - the Passenger, who had suddenly just climbed up his throat and told him things, right while he was sitting at his desk at work. Instead of the usual quiet hisses and gentle goading, his darkness had just lunged at him like a crazed animal, the way it had done when he and Brian had been in the same room together. Take him cut him he's nothing but if you do it you can make him something, he'll have meaning again not another worthless human stain, he can be - Suddenly flushed, Dexter eyed the clock; he had always been precise with his work schedule, never late, never leaving early, never taking days off - but he had broken that last rule for Brian, and suddenly he was going to be breaking another - because right then, he felt like a schoolboy who had suddenly been caught in class with an unfortunate adolescent problem in his cargos. He had to leave; he needed to get out of there. For the first time in all of his years working for the Miami department, Dexter Morgan the fastidious lab rat clocked out an hour early, having hastily packed his equipment and paperwork, and left the building in enough of a hurry that Angel and Masuoka exchanged glances from across the station.

As much as Brian desperately wanted to be near Dexter, he knew better. More than anything, he wanted to be camped outside the police station,watching.But he had waited before, and now it was a more dangerous game than before. Too many people recognized him, especially near the police station, for him to be safe at all. It wasn't the kind of desire that could be slaked with something like a photograph. Brian was sentimental, but an odd sort. He wanted to watch Dexter sleep again. 'Of course, if I'm not very careful,' he thought as his date crumpled to the floor in Rita's kitchen, and he tilted his head to stare at the odd angle of her broken neck, 'I won't get that chance.' And then he cleaned her up, tidied the kitchen. Not the best job. Not even a particularly satisfying job, but she'd been a slut who wasn't even worth his time. He supposed it fit that she didn't really get it, but he was stillstarving. He flipped open the phone he'd gotten from her hip pocket before he had dumped her into the river, shouldering the door to his hotel room open as he began typing a text message to Dexter's number Normally Brian liked to work with more finesse than this, but times were tight and desperate. Besides, Dexter already knew the game, knew what he wanted. What was the point of another facade? You missed a real treat tonight.

The outside air didn't help; it was too hot and too close to provide any actual relief and all Dexter could think to do was sit in his car with his head pressed against the steering wheel, enclosed in the sweltering heat of a vehicle that had been sitting directly in the Miami sun for hours, feeling his own sweat running down the back of his neck like a warmer version of his Passenger's nails. Normally his darkness was more controlled than that - it usually came in gradual waves, a slow crescendo that gave him time to think, time to plan and predict and find the right target. The last time the Passenger had been so impulsive had been back when he was a teenager, after he had been shoved around on the school ground and had gone back to the baseball diamond with a butterfly knife in his hand - he hadn't been doing it for revenge, not really. Back then, his darkness had been lurking around him and standing over him, casting a cold shadow that had made it impossible for him to focus - the boy who had bullied him had been an excellent scapegoat for the Passenger, it had reasoned that anyone who beat up other kids surely deserved the punishment. The truth was that Dexter had only gone to the field because he had thought it would make the Passenger quiet, that maybe if he just followed its desires that one time, with something other than a dog or a deer, it would stop waking him up at night and whispering things that made him shudder. Something buzzed against his thigh and Dexter didn't even bother sitting up; he drew his cell phone out of his pocket and looked at it through the gaps in the steering wheel: Unknown number. A text message. You missed a real treat tonight. Dexter had to shut his eyes for a moment, clenching them closed before opening them again to stare at the message, and he let out a small groan; frustration welled up inside of the Passenger, and as a result, inside of him as well. They had missed an opportunity, a chance to release some of the darkness - even worse, a chance to work beside Brian again. He shook his head and brought a hand up to his forehead, bringing it slowly down his face to wipe away sweat that had moved into his eyes. No,he reminded himself,that isn't how it works. Somehow it had slipped his mind, if only for an instant, that there were rules - he couldn't have just gone off with Brian anyways, because whoever his playmate had been that evening, there was a good chance she didn't fit the requirements of the Code. Brian did, however. But he didn't like the thought of Brian on a cold steel table, strapped down and prepared for the kill - in fact, he was one of the few Dexter could say that for. He wanted Brian beside him, wanted his brother to work with him - if only he could convince him, if he could just teach him the Code, make him realize that structure would keep him alive and out of the blood slide collection, then maybe - maybe he could - - what was hethinking? Dexter sat up, rested his head back against the seat, and blinked hard at the windshield; no, he had to be sensible about this. He had to just think about the code, remember the rules - he couldn't afford to let himself forget, or things would becomeproblematic. Of course, they were quickly becoming that way already, because the feeling of the Passenger's frustration wasn't dissappearing, and he knew it wouldn't until he took care of it - even though his last kill hadn't even been two days ago. He would just have to research a little faster than usual, then - with Rita and the kids in the house, he couldn't let his blood lusting friend get too out of control. He knew he wouldn't hurt them, of course, but - they might see it, especially Cody. He couldn't let that happen. Dexter moved to start up his car, but something in his side-view mirror caught his eye; Doakes again, sitting in his silver Taurus two spaces away - staring at him. He couldn't be certain how long the Sergeant had been watching him, but he was sweating and flushed and the sunny disposition that he normally accosted the bigger man with was absent - he had been caught, he knew he had been, but the Sergeant wouldn't know what he had been seeing. Just that something wasn't right. Perhaps Dexter could blame it on a fever during his shift on Monday. He turned his head and looked down the line and met Doakes' eyes directly; neither of them blinked, and though Doakes glared all of his hatred at him, there was a measure of puzzlement there, too - some vicious interest in the cop that had him furrowing his eyebrows just a little. Slowly, Dexter allowed a smile to curve his mouth because it brought an ugly scowl to Doakes' face that even now, when it was just the two of them, he was keeping up appearances. With a friendly wave goodbye, Dexter started up his car and pulled out of the parking lot, heading for his condo. The inside was blissfully cool in comparison, enough that Dexter briefly closed his eyes and stood by the doorway to just feel it - his eyes snapped open just in time to find Rita in front of him. Oh. Right. She stepped forward and put her arms around him in what would have been a hug, if she hadn't backed up only moments later, "You're soaking wet," she said, astonished; she looked up at his face then, "Dex, your face is red - are you alright?" "It's a little hot out." Dexter admitted, but it didn't remove the expression of worry from her face - instead, it grew, and she made a beeline for the kitchen, digging in and pouring him a glass of ice water. In that instant, Dexter felt a brief but intense appreciation for the tiny blonde, but he wished that the glass had been big enough for him to stuff his head into, because he wasn't sure any amount of ice would be enough to quell the burn he was feeling.

Dexter had never been easily shaken; maybe that's what was what troubled her so much about his expression. Something seemed off, and that was unusual for him. She sighed and passed him the glass of water, concern on her face as she crooked her brow and studied his face. Or maybe she was just reading too deeply into things again. She'd always done that, even if she had only recently began to voice those concerns. It had never occurred to her until after Paul had - been killed (the thought still jilted her a little bit, even if she was reluctant to admit it) how well she fit the 'battered wife' stereotype. Oh well. That's not who she was anymore. She had moved on... and she had a good man to show for it. Rita pressed her hand briefly to the side of Dexter's face, running her thumb across a line of the sweat, before she pointed to his couch and headed hastily for the air conditioner to turn it on a bit higher. "Sit, would you? I'll get dinner started.. I was going to take the kids home tonight, the police didn't find anything this morning, we can't hide forever, but maybe it's a good thing we're still here." Not that she was in a hurry to move in with Dexter. She wanted to take it slow with him, and she was. And as empowered as she was - mother of two with a job, she still enjoyed making dinner for her man. Not that Dexter's kitchen was overflowing with groceries, but there was enough for some soup, and she'd go out to pick up a salad while it was cooking. Mother of two with a job, but not a great job. She had learned to feed a family on a budget, but none of them were going hungry. "Dex, just sit down and I'll get you something to eat.. the kids are at a friend's house, I figured you didn't want them running around here, and the peace and quiet has been nice.. we'll talk in a minute, okay?" She braced her hands on his shoulders, leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek, before leaving him with the water. And Brian was left in his room, staring at the phone. He'd known this time that he wasn't going to get an answer, but he knew Dexter; if his brother was being this callous, then he was bothered. Mission accomplished. If he could only figure out how to achieve therestof his goals.

Dexter didn't protest; Rita's hands felt cool in comparison to the furnace that his skin had become and he dragged himself to the couch, silently obeying the command of the tiny blonde; it occurred to him that he must look like a mess right then - he never got like this, he had always been collected at the worst of times, didn't lose his temper, didn't lash out. Well, not in ways she hadseen. The incident with Paul, he'd maybe acted a bit - rashly. Maybe slamming a cast iron frying pan into his skull hadn't been the best response, and maybe dragging his body to his car and wiping the blood up with his sock hadn't been a great way to follow it up, either, but really, it had all turned out for the best anyways. But this was strange behaviour for him; he knew he looked ill, tense. He would need to make up an excuse, but he couldn't use work as the reason, couldn't let Rita think stress was getting to him. Of course, he couldn't tell her it was because his estranged serial killer brother was trying to seduce him with a trail of dead bodies, either. We'll talk in a minute, she had said. Dexter didn't like those words because it meant he would need to think fast, to come up with something reasonable quickly, but his brain wasn't working the way he wanted it to, it just kept crawling back to the brief stay in New York and the way Brian's eyes flashed in the dark. Dexter barely suppressed another shudder; he really was a mess, and Rita's kiss was still burning on his cheek while the Passenger's voice whispered in his ear. He couldn't even turn to his blood slides for comfort, not with Rita there - it was a side of him he could never let her see. But then, he remembered, Rita had looked into his darkness before - she just hadn't realized what she was seeing. The first time it had happened, she had called him passionate, wild; he hadn't bothered to tell her that she had actually been experiencing what homicide would feel like if it was translated to sex. The Passenger needed something. Anything. Dexter rose from the couch and moved around it in one fluid motion, stopping for a moment with his hand resting on the back of it, eyes on Rita, chin tilted down slightly; he watched her for a long moment, moving through the kitchen, pale and small. When she finally looked at him, she did a double-take, gave him one of those nervous white smiles and tucked a bit of blonde hair back behind her ear, "Dex?" She asked. He said nothing; he simply began to slink towards her in a way that had her gaping at him. The soup didn't get made, but the ingredients wound up strewn around the pristine kitchen as poor Rita was mauled through the entire condo, and some time later while they laid on the bed in a sweaty heap, she observed that very occasionally he was like an animal. With no witty response available, all Dexter managed to do was give a half-hearted growl that left Rita clutching her sides in laughter.

Brian was a man who worked with plans - who had worked with plans his entire life. At the institution he laid careful ones, all in his head, of course; he couldn't leave any sort of paper trail. It was too dangerous, and besides, he had noreasonto when he could hold it all in his head. Every action he made was the chance to get some sort of a response, an opportunity to get closer to what he needed. Of course, he had made too many mistakes when he was young. On his way to becoming a sociopath, he said. Antisocial personality disorder. He was the Boy Without a Conscience, tossed from home to home to institution to home, but he was okay with that for a while. It kept things fresh, original. It wasn't until he was well into adolescence that the full repercussions of being branded with that title might mean. People would judge. Become suspicious. There was no way to clean his record at that point, so he worked at becoming better, cleaning up, and planned his moves for the future. Different names. Different identities. It was the ultimate anonymity, wasn't it? With enough careful talking and research andwork, he could become anyone in the world that he wanted to be. So, understandably, when Brian's plans failed to pan out, he became frustrated. He needed more of a response from Dexter. Heneededhis brother to want this as much as he did, but he was resisting every step of the way. Not that there wasn't a thrill in this. Challenge was what excited him, got him up in the mornings, but he was impatient. He had waited too long for this, had gotten such a taste of it in New York... he closed his eyes, remembering Dexter's face. The couch. Dexter was in. Would be in. Brian just had to coax it out of him. But what could he do? Another attack on Dexter's family.. he just wasn't ready for that. He couldn't imagine it would be met with anything other than a jab of a needle to the throat, and it just wasn't what Brian was ready for. Stopping by the apartment was risky, he knew that, especially with Rita's car in the parking lot, but it was pushing three AM and he had few other choices. He slipped an envelope beneath the door, sealed and lettered with Dexter's name on the front in slanted, masculine handwriting; it contained a message that simply saidYou can't run from the past forever. We need to talk. I'll be at home. The police had long since stopped keeping surveillance on the old Moser home. Stupid to return there, maybe, but it was the place that contained the only real -good- memories that he had, and besides, it was mostly boarded up now, most of the windows shattered from where neighborhood kids had started tossing rocks at them. Not a place to live anymore, but a place to sit in the kitchen and reflect. He had no idea if Dexter would take this bait, either, but damnit all, he had to get his plan back on tracksomehow.

For the second time that week, Dexter dreamt; he dreamt of sharp and flashing silver and glittering liquid crimson, he dreamt of cold stainless steel pressed against the bare skin of his back, dreamt that he couldn't lift his arms away from the slanted table he had been strapped to. The room he was in was cold and his breath came out in rolls of fog; he couldn't move his head to look around, but only a few feet away from him, he could see buckets of unclotted blood, each carefully labelled with a name. The fifth one was empty. And then there were clever hands and dark eyes, a low voice in his ear and teeth on his skin, nails on his chest and a knife against his throat, the feeling of damp breath against his face, and the murmur of 'brother' that somehow made his teeth ache. Dexter woke up with sweat on his temples and the taste of iron on his tongue, naked and tangled in the sheets; beside him, Rita lay asleep and undisturbed by his twisting. He peered to his right and the clock blinked 2:00 a.m. at him; he had to rub his eyes to relieve them of the burn that made him feel as though he had laid with them open for hours - and maybe he had, he knew for a fact that he had done stranger things - before rising from the bed, unable to sleep any longer. Stalking across the living room, Dexter's thoughts were still muddled with sleep and hazy from the memory of his dreams, but the Passenger was wide awake, alive with the clarity of a true predator - and the predator was hissing things, low murmurs, but not it's usual ones. No, the Passenger was telling him something. Something was wrong. No, something was - different. Just like before, Dexter's first thought was to check the refrigerator. He wasn't sure if he was dissappointed or not when he didn't find anything - but the Passenger had nothing to say. He was just about to check behind the air conditioner, just in case, but then he caught sight of something sticking out beneath his front door - an envelope. You can't run from the past forever. We need to talk. I'll be at home. Everything Harry had taught him told him to wait, told him to plan, told him to be careful. Told him tokill Brian Dexter ended up sitting on the couch with the letter clutched in his hands, barely resisting the bizarre urge to smell the paper, as though he might be able to find some trace of Brian on its fibres, might be able tofeelhim through the neatly scrawled lettering. The damned heat was moving up his spine again, crawling through him and over his limbs, making his head swim. Brian had come to his apartment again, while he was asleep - whileshewas asleep. And only days before, he had broken a window in Rita's house, nailed a dead cat to Deb's door - they weren't warnings, but they werereminders. Brian was playing. But the game was becoming darker. Rita was still asleep and smiling when Dexter was pulling on his clothes, still lost in sweet dreams while he slung his bag over his shoulder and tugged on the tight leather gloves, flexing them and revelling in their familiarity. When he got in his car, it was the Passenger behind the wheel, hungry and apprehensive, leading him forward. This was reckless. This was stupid. He hadn't planned anything, he was going in blind and the knives, hefty bags, and saran wrap he was armed with seemed suddenly meaningless in the face of what he was telling himself hehad to do, just as he had told himself before. Just the way he had meant to do it in Brian's economy freezer, when he'd had him strapped down and prepped for the kill, just the way he had gone to New York planning to do it, too. He had to do it, he reminded himself. The Code demanded it, and he had already broken it too many times, had already betrayed everything that Harry had taught him, had let Brian continue on, let him kill more. And for what? Dexter flexed his fingers in the leather and told himself that this couldn't go on. He moved silently through the grass of the old Moser home and up the steps to the front door, intent on moving as efficiently as possible, but when his hand touched the old metal railing, he froze. Suddenly it was summer and she was in white, bare foot and blowing bubbles on the front steps; the cotton of her dress felt cool against his cheek, where he was resting his head on her leg, watching the soap float through the air. He prodded a bubble with one tiny finger, and Biney watched him intently, smiling. Dexter pulled away from the railing as though he had been burnt by it, staggering back to stare at it, looking at the front yard again, just the way he had done the first time he had set foot on the Moser residence. No.he told himself, hands going to the door, turning the handle, an action that seemed to take more effort and co-ordination than it should have,Focus. The inside of the home was sparsely furnished, dark, but Dexter's well-trained night vision allowed him to move through it - but his finely honed predatorial skills seemed to be rapidly giving way to memories as he found himself stopping in rooms, staring at points on the wall or the floor - -remembering. He didn't have an answer while he was in the car, no way to know why he had broken the Code, but as he stood in the home that he had spent his short childhood in, it came to him. For freedom, the Passenger reminded him hungrily,To be whole.

It was the dusty couch in the house that Brian had retreated to while waiting for Dexter. It was certainly a scene out of a shitty goth movie: he lay on the cushions in the dark, his arms folded lazily across his stomach as he stared at the ceiling. His face was slack, almost drowsy. Occasionally a car would putter by, and dim lights would arc across the ceilings and walls from the headlights through the dirty window panes. Dexter had to answer. He had tried and tried, pushed as much as far as he felt he could, safely. Was it too late? Had it been too long? Brian's eyes focused on the ceiling before he shut them and inhaled a low breath. For some inexplicable reason, gooseflesh crawled across his arms. He wasn't used to feeling panic. Dread. But since his birth in the shipping container, he had never thought that he would be denied by the one thing in the world that meant anything to him. His eyes popped open. Dexterwouldanswer. There was no other possible option. He was the only other person who understood the craving, had felt the urges. Brian had seen it in his eyes, even when Dexter was playing faithful and loving boyfriend. It was a facade, and a damn good one, but that didn't make it any less fake. And he had seen it again when they were in New York, sharing a kill, working in perfect tandem. But he was alone now, wasn't he? This was supposed to be the future he was working toward, but at the most crucial moment, it had broken, taken the wrong track. Then he heard Dexter's car and he sat up quickly, feeling himself relax. No. This was right. This was better. Thingswouldgo according to plan, and hastily Brian stood up, moving to silently tread to the door, frozen and silent save for the sounds of his own breathing. He chuckled humorlessly, leaning forward as he reached for the doorknob. That was Dexter's car. He will be standing there. And he was. Immediately, Brian surged forward, wrapping his arms tightly around his younger brother and pressing his face into the side of his neck, letting out a low groan. "Thank God," he said quietly. "I was afraid that you were going to stand me up."

Dexter had allowed himself to be distracted when he should have been vigilant, and he might have paid for his inattentiveness if things had gone differently. Of course, he hadexpectedBrian to be there, had expected that he would have to confront him - he had even expected that he might be ambushed by his bigger brother, because really, it was whathewould have done if the roles had been reversed. He had expected everything except for what happened. Brian appeared in front of him, having thrown the door out of the way with such intensity that it bounced back against the wall; Dexter's head snapped up, every muscle tensing in preparation for a fight, but what came was somehow the worst thing that could have happened. Instead of attacking like the predator he was, Brian strolled forward and wrapped his wiry arms around him, tugging him in and pressing his face into his throat; Dexter could feel his eyelashes against his adam's apple. There was no fight. He was being held. He was being pulled into strong, warm arms, and held close to someone just like him, someone whoknew, whounderstood- a monster just like him. And it felt good. Dexter wasn't sure where it came from, but he found himself saying: "No." A strange ache opened up in Dexter's chest, his hands sliding up to Brian's slim waist, gloved fingers curling against a narrow ribcage and he began to push, just a little; he could feel Brian's muscles shifting under his palms, even through the leather, and suddenly the feeling of the other man's body against his own felt like too much - he didn't know why. All he knew was that he had to get it away from him, or something inside of him was going to break. He moved his hands to Brian's upper arms instead, trying to minimize contact, trying to pull away, but Brian was strong for how thin he was, "No." Dexter repeated hoarsely, and his movements were suddenly more violent, like a startled animal, a wolf caught in a steel trap as he shoved Brian hard, bringing a knee up in a kidney shot.

That brief moment that Dexter froze while Brian held him made the struggle, the fight to get him there worth it. The warmth of the other man's body against his own - the fact it was his little brother's, little Dexter's, the boy he had promised his mom he would protect. Of course, 'protect' meant something a lot different now than it did when they were small children. No more scraped knees and bee stings. Brian would protect Dexter from himself. From the stupid Code that he followed so diligently. That was no way for someone likethemto live. It was beneath the both of them. He felt him start to shift away, but he didn't release him then, instead exhaling a reluctant, acknowledging sigh. Dex just wasn't ready. No matter how much hewantedhim to be ready, it would take a little time. And then Dexter made the blow to his kidney and Brian let out a muffled yell, releasing him and stumbling back. His eyes were wide as he stared at Dexter, his expression like a child whose feelings had been hurt, but he forced himself to relax, and when he smiled, it was toothy, weirdly white in the dark room. "You're wearing your gloves," he said softly, catching his breath as he held his side, before he paced to the couch and took a seat. "You at least owe your big brother a cup of coffee before you take him out back and kill him, you know. It's not my fault you never answered any of my calls." So he had to convince Dexter, or die. He folded his hands into his lap and quirked an eyebrow at him. "Shut the door behind you, would you? And wipe your feet."

He watched intently as Brian stumbled back - the strike was satisfying on two levels; the first was the one that had been groomed by Harry Morgan, the one that told him bad people should be punished, and it was his job to do it. The remaining delight came from the Passenger, who had been craving any sort of contact with Brian, and seemed to relish the idea of scrapping with him again - though, it was the one time his darkness didn't approve of killing someone; the Passenger wanted to have Brian around. Wanted tokeephim - however that would have to happen. You could just take the troublesome pieces off and keep the rest. Dexter's eyes fell down to his own hands, to the skin-tight gloves that clung to his fingers, and his eyes moved back up as his brother offered a lightning fast smile that made him feel hungry. Dexter stood in place, fingers clenching and unclenching rhythmically, craving contact and a throat to squeeze, shoulders hunched, eyes boring into Brian - everything about him right then told the dark tale of a predator looking for a fight - - but then Brian spoke again, and a perplexed expression crawled across Dexter's features. It was almost with disbelief that he watched Brian move across the room and slink down onto the couch, like a lazing cat. For a long moment, Dexter continued to stare at Brian, and as his brother watched him and remained seated so casually, Dexter couldn't help suddenly feeling stupid, and some part of him wanted to go back out the door, get in his car, and go back to bed. He couldn't help wondering if that was a normal reaction to family. Maybe. Regardless, he found himself numbly moving back to the door and closing it. As an after-thought, he locked it, and the sound of the bolt sliding seemed to echo through an otherwise silent home. As he turned and moved towards the couch, he found himself suddenly hyper-aware of the world around him, and he stood in front of Brian, staring down at him as he sat primly, expression shifting between the predatorial one, and something puzzled. For a long moment, there was complete silence, and then words slipped from Dexter before he could really think about them, even though they came out deadpan: "Deb always wanted a cat." he said.

The perplexed expression on Dexter's face meant a lot to Brian at that moment. It meant that he hadn't made any real decisions yet - perhaps he had decided, but he hadn'tdecided,not with conviction real enough to storm in there and take him out. It pleased him, but he didn't want to admit that much. Instead, he just watched Dexter with a muted smile as he moved to the couch and took a seat, before he leaned slightly to the side and, very lightly, rested his hand on his younger brother's wrist. "Yeah, I know. She told me once," he mused, and then realized that perhaps Deb wasn't the best person to be talking about at the moment if he wanted to keep Dexter from killing him. He squeezed his wrist and then let go, leaned back a little on the couch and let his eyes cut briefly across the room. "Kind of like old times, isn't it?" he murmured, finally looking back at Dexter. "If we could just reassemble mom we could have a nice little reunion by candlelight." His tone was light, ire, and he had to shake his head to get rid of the mental image of his mother, lifeless and stitched up like Sally on the love seat. Food. He didn't have any food. (He wasn't sure why he always wanted to feed Dexter, but the impulse was there. Something about wanting to make sure that he ate right between vivisections.) "There's some beer in the kitchen," he ventured finally, and idly the hand that was on Dexter's wrist pulled back to rub at his side where the knee had collided, and without segue he finished, "And what's it going to take to keep you from killing me? I'm willing to change, Dex. I'm trying."

Dexter stared down at the hand on his wrist like it was something bizarre and foreign, the look of puzzlement remaining firmly in place, even as he looked to his brother's face again, staring at him intently. Eventually, he took a step back - he wavered a little on the spot, gloved fingers flexing and clenching and wiggling at his sides as though he didn't know what to do with them, like an over-energetic kid with nowhere to go. "I don't really remember old times," Dexter said, and then his brow furrowed as he thought about the images that had come to him in his exploration of the home, so he added, "Much." Dexter was lingering; he loomed, he took a few unsettled steps back and forth, pacing a small trail along the floorboards but never coming to close or straying too far from Brian, watching him the entire time, never looking away. Part of him had difficulty believing Brian was there, in front of him, even though all signs pointed to it being true; his eyes followed Brian's hand to his side, observing him massage the spot where Dexter had landed a firm strike. Strange that Brian was showing discomfort - especially around another predator. The offer of beer was tempting, if only because it was something to do with his hands - and besides that, Rita had got him to like the foul stuff, feeding it to him in the ultimate display of a domestic life, handing him a cold beer when he came to her home after a long day of work, sitting down on the couch with him, putting a slender little arm around his shoulders and kissing him on the cheek. Sometimes she gave him a lot of them; there were times he lost count of how many he'd had, but it inevitably ended with him doing things to Rita that he sometimes had trouble remembering, all he knew was that when he woke up in the morning with a foggy head, she always looked pleased with him. Beer was magical. Maybe it was the thought of Rita that made Dexter's eyes flash the way they did, but regardless of what thought had spurred it, his expression was suddenly more predatorial than ever. "We don't change." Dexter said roughly, "We just adapt."

Brian had only ever been drunk by himself. He wasn't willing to put himself in a position so vulnerable around anyone else, though he was good at pretending. It wasn't hard - weave and slur enough and people would titter behind their hands that he had had a few too many. A normal man, part of good society. He didn't understand how Dexter wore it like skin instead of the mask that it was. "Then I'm willing to adapt," Brian said, and his expression was sharp, serious. It had somehow moved away from the game that he hoped that it would be, but he had anticipated that. New York had been uneven ground. Dexter had nothing to lose there, but Miami? He was surrounded by things that he thought he loved, thought he cared about. If only Brian could prove otherwise. If only, if only. "Everything I've done, Dexter," Brian said finally, words deliberate, "I did for you. That game that we played, the Ice Truck Killer... you enjoyed it, because I knew that you would. I got the wrong impression, brother. I misinterpreted. I thought I was doing what you wanted me to do." And he held his hands up then, hands pale, palms out in a show of peace, deference to Dexter. "But I'm willing to do what it takes to - to coexist. I'm not going to pretend that I like Harry -" that son of a bitch "-but it's not exactly like I had the chance, is it?" A slightly bitter tone tinted his words there. He had been too old. Unsalvagable. "I'm throat up here, Dexter. What else do you want me to do?"

Dexter was still watching Brian, but his focus seemed somehow sharper; Brian was trying to reason with him. Trying to negotiate. But he knew his brother wasn't really negotiatingfor his life- that sort of thing was below Brian, he would never beg or plea for the sake of his life. He would, however, try to convince someone for other reasons - and Dexter was painfully aware that Brian wanted to workwith him. The purpose behind all of it - the Ice Truck Killer, dating Deb, and the disguise he wore to do it all, it had all been for the end game, for the moment where they were together, face-to-face, masks removed. "I didn't even know you existed." Dexter said. Yet there he was - sitting in front of him, slouching against the couch, the very picture of everything that wasright, the embodiment of the only honesty that Dexter could ever know, because so much of his life had been masks and feigned interest, and Brian was just - - Brian. Just like him. Whatdidhe want Brian to do? Join him? Fall in line, abandon the freedom and come with him, follow - The code. Fuck the code. Fuck the crime lab and fuck morals and standards and ethics, fuck all of those stupid faces you have to make so people think you're not dead inside and fuck Harry Morgan and his fucking rules and you know what, fuck bowling shoes, too. Dexter was speechless. The Passenger was acting like a three year old.

"I knew about you," Brian said softly, and he straightened up a little bit, took a tiny step toward Dexter. His face was soft now, eyes searching, but his expression was one of sincere, heartbreaking honesty. "I never forgot about you. Holding you in the cargo van. When they took you away from me, I didn't know what I was going to do. I had promise that I would keep you safe, and I couldn't even keep that promise to mom." Another tiny step forward - small, ever small, because he didn't want to risk another shot to the kidneys. More importantly, he didn't want to scare Dexter away. "From the moment I got out, all I wanted to do was find you." He spoke with fervor then, and his own hands clenched unconsciously at his sides. For just a bare moment, he shut his eyes and shuddered a little, forcing himself to calm down. "..but I've told you all this before, haven't I?" A little shakily, he raked his fingers through his hair. It was a bizarre feeling for him to be on unsteady ground. From the moment he had been birthed from the shipping container, he had decided to make the worldhis,to be in control of his environment. He had never realized that the people around him would be so easy to manipulate. Then again, when your feelings normally only ran as deeply as 'hunger' and 'boredom,' it was easy to see what made people tick, how to twist them around and between his fingers. But here.. here was pushed into the bizarro world where Dexter still existed, and despite their separation, was stilljust like him.Seeing Dexter face to face excited him in ways he had only been excited a handful of times in his life before, and that utter happiness cracked his face in a jagged sort of smile normally only reserved for anxious children Christmas morning. "I never..neverforgot you," he finished.

As Brian rose and began to approach him with slow, cautious steps, Dexter suddenly felt as though he was standing at the edge of a vast chasm, and with every step that his brother took towards him, a little more of the solid ground beneath him crumbled away. He could only stare at Brian, head tilted down very slightly, peering at him as he recounted their horrors - and these days, Dexter could remember it in vivid detail, if he dared to think about it. The cargo container; the darkness, the heat and the smell of rot and decay, the sticky feeling of inches of blood up around their hands and their knees, coagulating slowly over the course of the days they were in there. Brian had refused to let go of him, holding him tight, clinging to him, keeping him close; more than anything, he remembered his brother's heart beat, the steady rhythm of it in the silence of the container - it was the only reassurance in the endless dark, with the dead faces staring at them. With mom's head so close by, her pretty face frozen in perpetual horror, eyes wide and blank, with that broad slice across her cheek. She hadn't looked quite like mom anymore. He watched Brian intently, shoulders hunched like an animal preparing to fight back; he watched, he waited. He watched as Brian's hand's twitched; he watched him run his fingers back through his hair. He watched the smile, which suddenly seemed so brittle. Three year old Dexter Moser had been too young and too traumatized to remember much of anything; he had suffered the ghost effects of what had happened, never knowing why he was the way he was, but mercifully not remembering the details. But Brian - he had remembered it all, lived it from day to day of his miserable, short childhood going through one foster home after another, too troubled, his story too complicated for anyone to know how to help him at the time. And through all of it, Biney hadn't forgotten him - had sought him out. Like the heartbeat in the darkness. Dexter wasn't sure when it happened, but he found himself suddenly close to Brian, stepping in, closing the space between them, standing so near that he could feel his brother's body heat, so close that their chests were nearly touching, his head cocked just slightly to the side, eyes roaming over a face that was close enough that he could count eyelashes. He didn't touch; he looked, he ghosted close, muscles still tense with some unreleased energy, a predator exploring.

The muscles on Brian's face relaxed, the smile going slack as Dexter stepped closer, and out of habit he grew tense while sinewy arms locked at his sides. He stared at Dexter, cocking his own head just a few degrees to the side as he studied the lines of his brother's face, and suddenly he was able to see with a startling clarity. Dexter, the idea of Dexter, often had him in a haze. Someone so perfect despite the imperfections - someone who understood, but hadn't been wasted the way that he had been by the vivid memories of it. Brian's eyelids lowered slightly, though his body was still tensed, coiled, like a snake ready to strike, even as his eyes cut down to Dexter's chest, mesmerized by the way it swelled with each breath. As if also struck by the memory of heartbeats, Brian lifted his hand suddenly fingers curled slightly as he pressed it hard against the shirt of Dexter's chest, pitching forward very slightly. He watched his hand for a moment, then looked back up at Dexter, eyes narrowed, as if he were daring him to move away from that. Dexter was warm. It was not an unpleasant sensation.

It was a simple motion, the hand that rose with great care to settle onto his shoulder; he could feel his own heart thudding against his chest wall and he knew Brian was feeling it too - like he had followed Dexter's thoughts, he was also thinking about the heartbeat. He was thinking about the crate where they had been left like animals, left to die. And something had died in them that day; they just never got to know exactly what it was. They had entered it as normal children, scared for their lives, screaming for their mother, mourning and sobbing and wailing at her violent end as it happened right in front of them. And then they had left the crate at something else entirely. Still physically children, but with something torn out of them, left inside the crate with all of the blood and the bits and pieces of people. Brian said that was the day they had been born. Dexter felt it was when he had been killed - and turned into the thing he was now. He looked up and found Brian's eyes narrowed in something like an aggressive challenge; Brian's darkness communicated with Dexter's on a level that he couldn't understand, but without knowing why he was doing it, Dexter suddenly swatted Brian's hand away from his chest, causing them to fall against eachother, bumping chest-to-chest before Dexter gave Brian a hard shove backwards. He stalked towards his brother again, slow and predatorial - but then he stopped himself. He stood in place then, motionless, but still watching Brian, "I want you to come with me." Dexter said hoarsely, "Tomorrow night. We'll meet here. I need you to help me bag some garbage."

It wasn't in Brian's nature to yield. He did not go belly up, he didn't show his throat - so when Dexter shoved him back, his first reaction was to pounce, bite, kill. Self-imposed restraint left him almost breathless, though, as he threw his own shoulders back and stared at Dexter with an angry challenge on his face. He rose, nearly brought to a boil before Dexter spoke, and again he was winded, the anger in bubbling in his throat giving way to a gasp of a laugh. He leaned forward, tucking his chin down, and his expression was approving. "Alright," Brian said finally, and he leaned back to slide his hands into his pockets. The moment was over; he wouldn't touch him again tonight, wouldn't push him again. He'd made leeway - at least enough that he believed Dexter wanted to kill with him, not killhim.He had seen the look on his brother's face and recognized it, and he wasn't afraid. Just excited. He turned from him then, sitting back onto the couch and turning to stretch out, and as hard as his own heart was pumping blood in his chest, the look Brian gave Dexter was a look of almost drowsy satisfaction. "I'll be here with bells on," he murmured with a lopsided smile, folding his arms behind his head and getting comfortable, apparently settling for sleep. "And if you'll do me a favor, Dex.. don't let anyone know that I'm in town? I'm here on private business." He cut his eyes from Dexter to the door, his position giving him a perfect vantage point for seeing both it and out the shaded windows. Tomorrow night. The idea of getting to kill with Dexter again made him shiver.

It was time for the operation to begin. For weeks, Bai Lan had been tracking a man they suspected of having information on RAPT that could prove useful in the near future. Sei was tasked with getting that information, and if at all possible, capturing the man. It was quite possible that he had even more information that he could give up after some. . .thorough persuasion. Their task was quite simple - the man had been tracked to a bar near the river front. Meg would be used as a decoy, to seduce and ultimately disable the man quietly. Jo was on standby, and would be awaiting the go-ahead to spring into action and create a disturbance so that the man could be extracted and they could leave. She sat with Amy in the red sports car she used to move around when she did not want to be noticed, as a giant blue trailer would have been a dead giveaway that something was up. Meg was getting into place now, while Jo was lingering around outside of the bar, ready to cause mayhem at the drop of a pin. There was one thing that Sei was worried about though, and that was Meg's annoying knack of getting into trouble in situations like this one. If that happened, there were several contingency plans in place. This was an operation that had to succeed, no matter what happened. Hopefully, things would not reach that point. Conditions here seemed favorable enough. Outside of the usual suspicious characters hanging around, there weren't that many people around. It was usually quiet during this time of night, before people got drunk and decided to start blasting whatever they thought would look better with a few bullets holes and hot lead inside of it. She wasn't all that worried about herself or Amy in this situation, as the windows of the car were bullet proof and the vehicle had a very sturdy build. They would be fine, unless of course, a Cybot decided to use the car as a landing strip or for target practice. Call her conceited, but Sei was more than confident in her driving skills. "We're ready whenever you are Meg," she said into the communication decide Amy prepared. Inside of the bar was a very different story. There were people everywhere, smoking, drinking, laughing, have as good of a time as they possibly could. People all over the places were playing drinking games, some seemed to be enjoying a game of Russian Roulette. People who didn't value their lives or the lives of others. This was one of the most dangerous places in Tokyo, not that Tokyo wasn't a dangerous place in and of itself. Of course, they were all armed to the teeth and none of them would hesitate to pull a gun on anyone here. The target was a man they knew only by the name of Tanaka. He was a heavy set man with messy hair that looked to be a bit. . .greasy. It was not at all attractive looking, which would only make it harder for Meg to hit on him than it already would be. A job was a job though. The sooner it was done, the sooner they could get on to doing whatever else Bai Lan needed them to do.

Meg: The bar, 'Rapture': Inside, the place was lit by glow-globes and hanging lanterns, each private booth and dining table surrounded by fluttering drapes of white silk, magnifying the lamplight, creating a creamy, flowing texture like vellum. The twitching brazier light cast a crimson, almost hellish illumination of the pitch-black floor below, creating the eerie sensation of falling through space... At a corner table, a pale, long-fingered hand curled around the stem of a wineglass, bringing it up to ruby-red lips~ As she set it back on the glossy black table, Meg *stretched* languorously, displaying the curvaceous tightness of her silky crimson cheongsam; Beneath the long, trailing hem, her coltish legs whispered as the lovely redhead crossed them, enticing flashes of creamy thigh flickering through teasing gaps~! There was a gentlescrapeof fabric, inaudible as Meg leaned back in her chair with a sigh, the charms that lined her bound hair clinking against her hairpins, in a gentle surussation; Appearing, all the world, to be thoroughly *bored*~ Idly, her fingers drummed a gentle tattoo on the obsidian surface of the table; A distinctive code that meant 'Target in *sight*.' Now, seduction's a complex thing- Too little, and the target doesn't even *know* he's being, well, targeted- Too much, too soon, and it's all-too-clear that *something* is wrong...It takes an exquisite balance between subterfuge and interest, the gentle pressure of one's attention to oh-so-*carefully* draw the eye...Meg, however, was *incredibly* good at it. Right now, though, the lovely redhead's nostrils wrinkled, just a little, as she considered the greasy-looking man she was *supposed* to be putting the moves on; A burly middle-ager, slowly letting himself going to seed-Nother type.Notat all~ *Why* aren't there any *handsome* targets?she pondered, glancing briefly skyward as she slid her chair back- Steeling herself for what came next! It was simple enough- Just get the absolutely grotendous guy away from his buddies...And Jo would take care of the rest, the way she *always* did! "We're ready whenever you are, Meg,"Sei's voice crackled, as if the woman herself was whispering in Meg's ears- Indeed, the complex charms strung in her ponytail concealed a fairly sophisticated audio suite, keyed to both transmit *and* receive...The wonders of miniaturization! "Copy that~" Meg murmured, her voice low, lilting...The legs of her chair scraping against the tiles as she stood... A girl *alone* in this bar, the favorite watering-hole of the criminal underworld, was rare enough- An absolutely *lovely* one even more so! It wasn't a surprise that Tanaka's head turned as she drifted past- She could *feel* his gaze lingering on her, then her back, as she took a slow, indirect route to the bar...Taking care to brush one silky hip against him as she moved past! A quick, heartfelt, if a trifle slurred, "Oh, I'm *so* sorry!" parting her full lips, clearly the worse for drink- With the delicate, mincing grace of a woman who wasn't *quite* drunk enough yet, Meg crossed to the dance floor; She'd had his attention, after all, his eyes roving over her lissome form as she swayed in time to the music, seemingly *entirely* entranced by the barely-legal beauty before him~

Lovely wasn't what Tanaka would have used to describe Meg. No, the red haired young woman was much too beautiful for that. Angelic. That was a word that successfully captured the essence of her. Any woman who was able to look at him and not gag was worthy of the title "lovely", but angelic was reserved for a young woman of such magnificence as she. Her face was perfect, her lips were plump and looked as if they were awaiting his own. Luscious was the only word he could use to describe her body. He just couldn't take his eyes off of her as she walked towards him, the dark brown optics following the sway of her hips. As she brushed up against him, he felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. Just like that, he was under her spell. "Oh, no, I'm. . .why don't you have a seat, let me buy you another drink or two," he said. For a man who was so unattractive, who was involved in such shady dealings, Tanaka certainly came across as a gentleman. Then again, it very well could have been an act, a ploy on his part to get her to drop his guard so that he could have his way with her. At this point, he was so enamored with her presence here at his side that he didn't care what he intended on doing. Tonight, there was a good possibility that he would be getting lucky tonight, and he did not want to mess up that possibility by thinking about the situation too much. Jo was a bit anxious now. She stood outside of the bar impatiently tapping her foot. Obviously, she didn't like the fact that Meg was in the bar with the creep who was working with RAPT all alone. If it were up to her, she would have blasted the bar apart to scare the piss out of the man, then threaten his life and force him to give up the information they needed. Sei insisted on not making an enemy out of most of the criminal underworld in Tokyo, which squashed that idea flat. With a visual on Meg now lost, Jo couldn't help but to feel more uneasy. The only thing she could do was wait until Meg gave the signal for them to spring the trap.

"Ah~Sucha gentleman~" Meg cooed, pressing slim fingers to her lips to stifle a giggle- And ohick, he *really* was older than she'd thought, those exquisite tailored clothes not *quite* hiding his sagging gut...No more than the coiffed hairpiece hid the fact that he was *balding*...Still, the lovely redhead flashed him a fetching smile as she slid smoothly into the seat, her ponytail snaking against her sleek back, green eyes twinkling with amusement- Sending *all* the right signals! It was *entirely* clear that she was either a party girl, or simply slumming it for the night- Looking for Mr. Right Now to take her home, and not particularly *caring*...As long as there was a *good* time at the end of it! A measure of amber fluid splashed into a proferred shot-glass, slid eagerly across the table to her ~ And Meg resisted the urge to look around for Jo, reminding herself that her partners were ready to bundle Mr. Tanaka off at the drop of a hat... -On second thought, maybe a drink wouldn't be such a bad idea. She was going to need to be at *least* a little drunk to pull this off...She lifted her glass, in a brief toast, meeting his gaze again- Then *drank*, draining it in a single draught, her face going red as the scalding spirit cascaded down her throat! It went down warming, and hit her stomach with a heated glow, spreading and waking up her limbs, muscles and skin tingling.spreading out into her limbs~ Meg's gaze seemed greener than ever as she *stretched*, with a low sigh of satisfaction- And it was entirelynaturalto respond, even as color spread in her face, her motions becoming, without conscious thought, *just* that little bit more sensual, the tip of her pointed shoe *accidentally* brushing against his leg~

A woman like Meg was completely out of his league. Tanaka wasn't stupid, he knew that. As entranced as he was by her, there was a part of him that was telling him that he needed to be careful with her. What started out as a night of fun could quickly turn into his worst nightmare. The only way he could know for sure, either way, was to go along with what was happening. He would have his answer soon enough. The man offered her a smile as he took another shot, the alcohol giving him some much needed liquid courage. A few shots later, and he seemed to be in the same state that he had been in when she first bumped into one another. It was clear that Tanaka could hold his liquor, so waiting for him to become plastered would be useless. It would be wise for the plan to move forward soon. "So, my dear, how about you and I leave this place? I'm not one to brag, but my place is quite nice. I believe it'd suit your tastes much more than this dump," he said, ignoring the glare that the bar owner was shooting his way. "He's taken the bait," Sei said, biting down on her thumbnail. So far, so good. For their sake, she was hoping that things continued as well as they started. For once, it would be nice to complete a job without Cybots destroying parts of town, or unnecessary bloodshed. She would have even liked to avoid expending a single round from a gun, but since the plan called for Jo to turn the bar into a giant bullet hole, she knew that it was impossible for such a thing to happen. Still, there was no denying that Meg had an annoying knack of getting into trouble at the worst possible time. So long as Jo remained close enough to see her, Sei was sure that things would be fine. The bond that the two of them had was a strong one, and she knew that there was no way Jo would let anything happen to Meg. "Amy, just in case things don't go well, find out where he lives and get the floor plans. If worst comes to worst, we need to be prepared." Though she had confidence in the skills of all of the girls, she needed to have a back up plan just in case.

Another glass, and the world was looking decidedly better through a warm, liquid haze of alochol- Though Meg was beginning to wonder, now, whether he wasreallyas drunk as he'd initially appeared! It was an effort to concentrate on his words, now; The lovely redhead shifted in her seat, fanning herself with a hand- Feeling *just* a little warm... "So, my dear, how about you and I leave this place? I'm not one to brag, but my place is quite nice. I believe it'd suit your tastes much more than this dump," "R-e-a-l-l-y?" Meg cooed, her deep blue eyes going *very* wide with mock surprise- "Oh, I couldn'tpossibly~" she began, hesitantly, biting her lip, and turning away coyly...But then her gaze went back to him, and she giggled. "Tanaka-san, you really *are* too sweet~!" She clasped her hands with every sign of excitement, her chest *heaving* against the front of her tight crimson cheongsam as she took a *deep* breath~ Those sapphire eyes shimmering, as she turned away coyly...Clearly *entirely* charmed by his oh-so-obvious wealth! *** Lounging against the bar- Or at least *trying* to- Jo swirled her drink, her gloved fingers wrapped around the snifter. "*God*, he's disgusting," the silver-haired beauty muttered. "Just be careful, Meg...Be *careful*..." Only the thought that this was adelicateoperation prevented her from unleashing absolute small-arms hellfire onto the bar in general and Tanaka in specific...And now she was going to have to *watch* them walk out, Meg clinging to his arm and giggling, like a trophy- While praying that the others were up to the task... *** "Amy, just in case things don't go well, find out where he lives and get the floor plans. If worst comes to worst, we need to be prepared." "Mmmmm~?" Amy's heels thumped against the side of her seat, the one she'd been distractedly kicking as she fidgeted~ She'd never had much to do *on* an operation itself, most of her job coming before or after...And she'd been *thrilled* to finally be able to go along on one- It was just that she'd never expected it to be so, so...*boring*! All she'd done was to sit there, while Meg chatted up some sleazy guy in a bar... "Hai-hai, obaa-chan~" she chirped, her brown eyes sparking- At least she'd have something to *do* now, instead of just *sitting* here~! The bell affixed to her pastel-pink blouse and shorts chimed as Amy rested her laptop on her knees, unreeling the thin cable of the fiber-optic wire...And a recent new addition, the VR headset! It was bleeding-edge tech...One that let the user dive *into* the system itself, and slip *effortlessly* through the datastream- But not without *some* risks, like being *entirely* more vulnerable...Not that it mattered to Amy, one of the best hackers in the world! "Here I go~!" she announced, slipping the visor over her eyes- Then, quite abruptly, she went limp, as the world faded, filling with the swirling blue data of the 'Net...

Ichimaru Gin was a man that almost no one could figure out. He tended to keep his personal life quiet and plastered a permanent smile upon his face, narrowing his eyes so far they were almost slits and walked around like that all the time, thus earning himself the nickname of 'fox face'. Aizen Sousuke had first met him when Gin was a child and had just killed the 3rd Seat of the 5th Division, telling the man that he was worthless and didn't deserve to have such a high rank. Instead of reporting him, Aizen had immediately given Ichimaru the now vacant position and kept the killing a secret between the two of them since it served his purposes quite well to have someone indebted to him. It seemed as though Gin was a child prodigy much like Kaien Shiba had been, having graduated from the shinigami academy in one year rather than the usual six. And now, he was Aizen-taichou's fukutaichou. Of course with that responsibility came paperwork and Gin hated paperwork. But Aizen seemed to have a plan in mind for Soul Society and wasn't usually too concerned thing he considered insignificant, such as paperwork. Not to mention the fact that with his kind and generous nature it fit his personality to do any necessary paperwork on his own. So Gin didn't have to worry about it too much, which was a relief because he really couldn't stand it. In fact he'd lost his mind once and used Shinsou to slice through a stack of papers that were giving him problems, before his sanity returned. Aizen hadn't seemed to mind at first, but he'd given him a piece of his mind later on when they were alone, which Gin hadn't forgotten. That was when he'd realized the man was pureevileven to those he trusted and Gin had no intention of ever betraying him in the little plan he had for Soul Society. Not if that was the way Aizen treated his 'friends' when they messed up. The little taste he'd had of Aizen made him shudder and his smile dropped slightly but returned to its usual brightness a moment later as he pushed his dark thoughts aside. Gin had never seriously thought of betraying his captain, he'd only jokingly considered it just to mess with his mind. He sighed as his slitted eyes roamed around trying to find someone or something to focus upon and saw nothing which made him somewhat annoyed, where was everyone? Most likely in class of some sort or off on a mission. Perhaps he would go work with Shinsou and with that thought in mind he took himself off down the corridors to head over to the training ground where shinigami went to practice their shikai. He had to pass Aizen's office though in order to get there and he hoped the captain wouldn't be in. Gin didn't want to deal with him right now. Because he wasn't in the mood to exchange playful banter with Aizen-sama, who knew when the man would snap and try and hurt him. Not that he disliked being hurt in that way but sometimes he didn't want it and this was one of those times...

Captain Aizen was in his office doing the usual paper work that had to be done because there was a fight between one of his subordinates and the 11th Division member. He had to write down why both of them were fighting in the first place and it was hard because he was not even at the scene of the fight. Even though that Captain Kenpachi was there and did not bother to stop the fight he was not good when it came to paper work. Aizen was not happy and he needed to have some form of release. As he sat there looking at his door he felt Gins spiritual pressure and thought about having some fun with him. When Gin came passed his office Aizen told him to come in and shut the door so they could talk for a little bit. But what Aizen was thinking about was not anywhere close to a talk. Aizen was looking at Gin as though he was ready to cut his head off. Aizen always had a plain straight face when he walked around the Soul Society, but when he was with Gin he had a real expression on his face. Most of the time it was not a good one and it meant trouble for Gin. So what are you about to go do Gin? Aizen asked with a smooth and calm voice to him. Aizen got up and walked over to him and started to rub on his face as gentle as he could without scaring him.

Blast. It didn't look like he was going to be able to get away without greeting Aizen. Gin entered when Aizen told him to come in so they could talk for a bit, wondering what was on the other shinigami's mind that involved him. More about his planning regarding Soul Society? His typical smile was plastered over his face, eyes narrowed into slits as he tilted his head to the side, waiting for Aizen to speak since he obviously wanted to bring something up. Inwardly he was somewhat nervous due to the way Aizen was looking at him but outwardly it did not show at all. "Oh nothin' in particula'. I just thought I might go train with Shinsou fer a bit. Did ya need me fer somethin' Aizen?" Gin inquired with an arched brow. He didn't really want to do anything with Aizen at the moment but he didn't dare refuse him either. Not when he was like this. He could tell Aizen was teetering on the edge at the moment and now was not a good time to fool around even though he was dying to give in to his usual nature. Gin was surprised when Aizen went over to him and started to rub his face in a gentle manner. His body stiffened a bit, expecting the other man to hurt him but so far Aizen was being fairly nice and he didn't understand it. Aizen had never touched him like this before. Well, he had but the touch had always turned into a blow. So maybe that was what he was doing. Perhaps he wanted Gin to relax and once he had, Ichimaru would be subject to another harsh blow.

Aizen noticed that Gin was not comfortable when they were near each other. Rubbing his face Aizen started to get just a little aroused by the thought of Gin. Gin was like the only person that was able to calm Aizen down, that was the only reason why Aizen kept him around for so long. When Gin seemed uncomfortable it was Aizens job to make sure Gin did not get to uncomfortable. When Gin got to uneven he can get just a little edge and kill somebody as he did before. Aizen moves to the back of his lieutenant and starts to rub on his chest in a warming way. When he does that to Gin it means that he was ready to get some dick from him, but he only got dick when he was done fucking him. Looking at Gin sometimes made him so hard that he was going to rape him right there in front of everyone. Being Aizens sex slave was the price of living after killing the other Shinigami. Aizen has been using his services almost every other day just so he did not get the urge to kill someone. Moving his hand down just a little bit more down to his dick, Aizen starts to rub him so he could get in the mood as well. He was in a very good mood because he would have hurt him by now just for the hell of it. Just because he was not hitting him does not mean that he will not do something later while he pleasured him. As he rubbed Gin he picks him up and moves him to a couch that was to the left of his desk. Taking his head and moving it to where he was able to get a clear shot at his neck and starts to suck on it.

Nathan grinned as the Pokemon battle was over, his Raichu once again victorious, though the battle had taken its toll....it had been quite some time since Nathan had been in a Pokemon Centre or even a store to buy supplies, and just recently he had used his very last potion. This was a rather bad situation....all of Nathan's Pokemon were rather weak, but Raichu in particular, this last battle had really taken it out of her. As the other trainer left rather dismayed, Nathan hurried over to kneel beside his Raichu, rubbing her head slowly. "Great job Raichu....but come on, let's see if we can get you some help..." He rubbed her head once more, scratching behind her ear, before turning to walk slowly. There was a tiny village not far from here, and whilst it had no Pokemon Centre, he might be able to get some supplies. Ever since she had been a Pikachu, Raichu had hated going into a Pokeball, and that trait had carried over through her evolution after exposure to a Thunder Stone. Still, Nathan didn't mind, infact he rather liked things this way. It didn't take long for the two of them to arrive in the little village, and as Nathan had expected there was no Pokemon Centre, nor a real store to speak of. All that Nathan could find was a tiny little store in a back alley, seeming to sell a few items that resembled Pokemon health potions, though they appeared rather....different. Still, beggars can't be choosers. Nathan purchased the potion that most resembled a healing potion, then went to leave the store with Raichu, headed towards the tiny hotel on the edge of the village, getting them a room for the night. "Now...." Nathan pulled the potion from his bag as he closed the door to the small room, helping Raichu up onto the bed. "Let's hope this heals you up enough huh?" He smiled to the Pokemon, then opened up the bottle, the smell rather strong, and whilst it was rather offputting to Nathan, to Raichu it would smell absolutely delicious. Nathan seemed to pick up on that, then held the bottle out, slowly tipping it up to allow Raichu to drink the contents, waiting until she had downed the whole thing. "There we go....feeling any better?"

"Rai, Rai!" The Raichu had let out happily as she won the battle, before letting her wounds take effect, nuzzling into her trainer, panting softly, having put her all into the fight, glad he had taught her 'Endure' sometime earlier for just such an occasion. As they left, she let her long, thunder-bolt tipped tail sway behind her as she kept up at his side, having enough energy left to keep herself walking. After getting into the town and finding the back alley shop, while feeling a little unsure of things, tugging on his shirt lightly. "Chu...." Though, as he bought it and got them the hotel room, she looked on, interested, as he popped the bottle open, and an oddly pleasant aroma wafted into her nose, causing it to twitch, as she started to hop up and down in place, pawing at him quickly. "Chu, Chu, Chu~!" Looking excited, she murred as he tilted the bottle for her, letting the liquid slide down her thought, sitting back as she licked her lips a little, murring. "Rai!" She seemed to enjoy the taste, moving forward to nuzzle Nathen gently, feeling better then she had, tail swishing quickly as she held onto him with her little hands, seeming better already, looking happy at him, nodding. Ever since she was a small Pikachu, he had always taken care of her better then anything she could remember, and she always wished to do her best to make him a great trainer.

Nathan was happy when Raichu seemed to like the potion, the taste even more than the smell, and she certainly did seem to be feeling better. At the very least she should be fine until they reached a Pokemon Centre, though that was at least another 2 days travel from here. "Now, I think the very best thing we can do right now is get some rest hm?" Nathan smiled and gently rubbed Raichu's head, scratching behind her ear. The boy slowly stood up and turned to get himself ready for bed, stripping down to his boxers, before climbing into the bed, patting the spot beside him for Raichu. The Pokemon had always slept beside him for as long as he had been with her, so this was no different. The boy yawned, then curled up in bed, slowly drifting off to sleep, the days travelling and excitement taking its toll on him at last.

As he mentioned getting some rest, she nodded her head, smiling to him, tail swaying along behind her, as she sat on the bed, waiting for Nathan to get ready, ears giving a twitch as he stripped down to his boxers, a sight she had gotten used to. She hopped happily to his side as he patted the spot for her, curling herself up and snuggling against him, letting her long tail coil around his leg, getting comfy. "Rai...~" In snug against him, she kept herself at his side as they slept, getting herself ready for the coming days of traveling. As the pair slept, the little Raichu began to change, the aftereffects of the potion kicking in when she hit deep sleep, causing her body to grow and expand. Her form grew slender with muscle tone, with long, fit legs, shapely rear and upper body, and even a head of shaggy, violet colored hair on top of her noggin. Once thetransformationwas complete, the girl kept herself snuggled close to Nathan, pressing in, feeling a bit colder now as she shivered. Her new arms going about his waist, her even longer tail kept itself coiled around him, resting her head in the nape of his neck, sleeping peacefully. "Chuuuu~...."

In his sleep, Nathan could feel movement beside him, but it wasn't enough to wake the heavy sleeper. Probably just Raichu moving around beside him, she did sometimes after all. Once the movement stopped, Nathan just settled down once again to sleep peacefully for the remainder of the night. When he awoke the next morning, Nathan yawned and started to sit up, in his tiredness not noticing the arms around him as he reached up to rub at his eyes. "Nnngh....morning already?" He yawned again, then blinked as he started to wake up a little more. "Hmmm....?" Slowly the boy started to look down, looking at the arms around his waist, before slowly looking over to see the girl beside him. "Wh-wh-wh-what....?" His eyes widened, staring for a moment, before yelping and suddenly getting off the bed. "Wh-what...what are....who are..." He started and pointed at the girl, shocked for a moment before he started to investigate. The girl resembled a Raichu, and the markings on her fur...they were the same....they were the same as the unique markings his Raichu had. "I....R-Raichu....? Is that....is that you....?" He blinked again and slowly stepped forwards.

The Raichu-girl had slept peacefully throughout the night, happily snuggled up to Nathan, not having noticed anything had changed. Though, as the morning came and he started to move, she yawned softly, letting out a few soft sounds, her cheeks letting off some extra charge into the sheets as he moved, sitting up herself, the blanket falling down, covering her lower half. She was, as one would guess, rather naked, safe for her fur, as she rubbed her eyes, mumbling softly, as she looked to Nathan who looked shocked, confused, and surprised. "Hmm...Master? What's wrong?" Though, as she finished her sentence, she herself stopped, eyes wide, realizing she just spoke 'human', instead of speaking in 'Pokemon', as she should have. Looking down at herself, she gasped, seeing she had a human-like body now, but was still by all means a Raichu, as far as fur, typing, abilities, and looks, only a human-version of one. As such, she then looked towards her chest, noticing she had breasts, and actually smiled, feeling them lightly, then blushed deeply and looked towards her trainer, forgetting he was there for a moment, pulling the blankets back over herself, her cheeks sparking a little in her embarrassment. "Mas...Master, what happened? Why...why am I human-like now? How...?" She pouted, looking sad as she stared at him, shuffling a little closer to the edge of the bed and him, keeping her new form covered.

Of course, you can't possibly just wake up in Wonderland. And she knew they wouldn't treat her to another moment of just falling into Wonderland, however that was apparently not the case, because she had been dropping for quite some time, and now decided that perhaps it was time to think back. Think back to when she had originally come to Wonderland, some years ago as she was now nineteen and not the docile child she was before, perhaps still with a hint of navet in the back of her mind, still finding things to be all the more curiouser. Thinking back to it, she absolutely hated Wonderland, so it made no sense for her to be the one to be brought back to such a place, although she couldn't help but say that this time she hadn't crawled into the rabbit hole. She'd tripped right into it. That damn hole was broad, and truthfully, she felt that it had almost, literally, sucked her in. And now here she was, suspended in a constant fall that had turned to her waiting for her rear to hit the ground, when truthfully, she knew it would be a lot more painful than she wanted it to be, however, as though it were nothing but calmity around her, she landed. Not with a hard thud, but with an 'Umph' with a 'fuck' at the end, her rear hitting a tree stump and leaving her sitting on something not even close to being softer than the ground. She wasn't sure whether to be pissed off or to be rubbing her rear, though the latter was chosen, she still managed to be both of the two, clicking her tongue behind her teeth as she waddled herself up to a standing position. Not knowing where to begin on fixing her attire, she started with her skirt that had awkwardly bunched itself around her legs, pulling at it continuously until it finally settled where it should. Fluffing out the light blue and black pettiskirts, adjusting the bow on the side and making sure the ribbon was properly placed, her hand shifted to her belt b- Wait a minute. She was in Wonderland. China saucer blue eyes opening a bit wider as though she couldn't POSSIBLY see naturally the way her eyes were, she looked around her and found herself at an awkward clearing. Not a fork in the road, but a round, circular section with a stump in the middle, perfectly placed for her. . Or maybe it was just coincedental. Please. Nothing was coincedental or accidental or anything of the 'dental' family in Wonderland. Batting her thick eyelashes and making sure her hands reached her all too slim hips, like her mother always said, when you had slender hips, it made everything else fluctuate. And as this was true, it was one more fact to prove that she was not the young child she was before. Hourglass figure moving around the stump in search of anything she could have perhaps dropped, her loose curls of fresh hay blond fell over her shoulders, another ribbon in her hair to separate her bangs from the rest of her hair, the sleek black fabric streaking through her hair. Shoulders caressed by her hair and whatever sunlight managed to take stabs at her through the trees, Alice sat down again on her stump, adjusting one of her heeled black and white criss cross mary janes, her hand slid up her leg and pulled at one of her striped knee highs. Well. Here she was again in Wonderland, obviously not with as much hate as she had been granted the last time, a bit of parchment caught her eyes when she let her eyes dance up again. Tipping toward it in case there was someone playing a trick on her, she stopped in front of an image of herself, from the last time that she had arrived at Wonderland and, literally, shaken things up. 'OFF WITH HER HEAD! the HIGHEST bounty of them all. BRING her to the QUEEN. ALIVE.' Bounty? Perhaps she had done more than just shaken up Wonderland, judging by what this sign read, Alice was now a wanted criminal in this place. "What have I gotten myself into. ." There was a worried bite to her bottom lip as she moved away from the sign, fingers twiddling with the bow tie necklace around her neck as she moved in any direction, knowing it at least had to guide her somewhere, anywhere. Anywhere away from that sign would be wonderful. But unfortunately, she didn't see anything but signs granted with her face, threatening her life in Wonderland if the wrong person came near or spotted her. Now this, as she easily figured out, would make things a bit more difficult to be in Wonderland. click

The woods were so quiet this time of evening, it was insufferable but at the same time wonderful, or at least so thought the Cheshire Cat. Wonderland had changed quickly after the girl named Alice left, he guessed she had been one of the things that influenced the change... but then again, wonderland was always changing. Cheshire sat on a stump in the woods, looking up through the branches waiting for something to happen. There wasn't much going, and hadn't been much going on since many of the forest's inhabitants fled, some retreating to the underground, others deeper into the forest to get away from the wrath of the Queen of Hearts... Cheshire himself was in the forest for that reason, the queen had developed quite the vendetta against him, however she couldn't blame him after all, she was just so much fun to infuriate, tease, and play with, though he hadn't been able to since the Duchess tied the collar to his neck, one he couldn't remove himself. The Cheshire cat hummed idly to himself, relaxing and smiling to himself while he did, the old ballad of the Jabberwock, his favorite song in wonderland. The cat hummed to himself idly, kicking his legs once in a while until something distracted him. The cat gave paused when he heard the noise, a loud 'thump' that came from somewhere nearby. "Oh~" the male turned his head in the direction of the sound, which was followed by a couple more sounds, a female voice... The cat grinned, running a hand through his hand through his dark purple hair before his body vanished. Why hello there!" Cheshire appeared in Alice's field of vision with a tinkle of the bell on his collar sounding clearly, at first a twinkling before the set of pearly white teeth appeared in the signature grin, hovering over the branch that the cat begun to materialize on, followed by the golden eyes. The rest of the cat followed shortly after, his body, fully changed and in all it's glory slowly faded in to view in front of her. The light sifting through the leaves and branches above illuminated the Cat's form, he had changed since Alice had last seen him, his form shifting from a crazy cat to a human male with catlike ears and a long catlike tail. The young male was quite attractive, appearing to be about Alice's age with an athletic and svelte form, his upper body was covered by a couple thin wrappings, otherwise remaining naked from above the belt. The cat wore pants, baggy in their form and hanging on his hips just barely, giving him a relaxed appearance, as well as adding a seductive tone to his form. Around his neck was a large collar, also loosely worn with a large jingle bell on it. When the cat moved the bell would produce a jingling sound, it was a measure to ensure he wouldn't startle others much more. The catboy lie sprawled out over the branch, one leg hanging over the side of the branch and the other on top. The creature's eyes were focused on the woman before him, the golden slitted orbs focused on her, for a moment his head tilted to the side curiously. This female certainly looked like Alice, though she was taller, and shaped differently than the last time that she ran amok through wonderland, sowing wonderful chaos in her wake. Cheshire stared down at the female, his eyes appraising her, looking at her up and down slowly, curiously before his grin widened to an almost ear-to-ear one. The male's tail twitched excitedly from his prone position, straddling the branch in almost the same manner he did a long time ago. The female had looked distressed over one of the many wanted posters strewn about the woods, a picture of Alice, which the cat deemed to take as a clue to her identity. The male's sudden appearance could have many effects, though the mad cat wasn't going to make any guesses as to what. Cheshire waited a couple minutes, appraising any reaction the female would make before looking down at the ground "Long time no see... Alice... How are you doing this fine evening?" Cheshire took his chances, not anybody could just wander into wonderland so easily at least. The cat slowly faded again, first his body vanishing, leaving behind only his smile before it too faded. Cheshire would rematerialized standing a little away from Alice, an innocent smile on his lips as his eyes scanned over her form, he was puzzled with her new form, curious as to why she looked so different. "Did you do something with your hair?" The male asked, approaching her and reaching out towards her hair, but not actually attempting to feel the golden strands.

There were so many signs, so many of them hanging up and smiling at her with her young, pretty face while the rest of the sign screamed at her that she had a high possibility of her head getting snatched off her shoulders. If that wasn't something scary, she didn't know what was. Apparently, she had caused more of a stir in Wonderland than she expected, although when you basically destroy a court and totally mess with whatever odd balance rested within Wonderland, she partially understood how the Queen could be a bit bitter. Jumping softly though, a voice spoke out to her with the jingle of a bell behind it, her skin crawled when her eyes arose to meet the set of pearly white teeth she was so familiar with. That grin. She hadn't seen it in so long, however it didn't feel like anything new or unfamiliar to the lovely young woman, watching as a body materialized to place the grin with a face, followed by the rest of his body. Her wide eyes blinking because this body was definitely not the one she expected to emerge with the cat's voice or smile, mentally taking note that he was looking at her similar to the way she was looking at him, evidently they had both changed. But it was only understandable in her case, correct? She wasn't meant to stay as a little girl for her entire life. Perhaps that was what happened to Cheshire? Or perhaps she was just seeing the wrong person. No, she was definitely seeing Cheshire, those big yellow eyes and that grin that was unmistakable. One of her hands gently holding on to her elbow while her free hand clutched the end of her skirt gently, Alice's blue eyes looked over the cat again, for what it was worth, he was handsome. A handsome cat. Hm. How strange did that sound going through her head, though at least he hadn't particularly sneak up on her like he used to, thanks to that little bell around his neck. Maybe that was another change that had come from her leaving Wonderland? Someone had taken the chance to keep him from scaring ones as he crept up behind them, the bell made its soft twinkling noise and poof, he was caught. He seemed to be on the edge of deciding whether or not she truly was Alice, looking up at him this time and finding herself looking down again at the sign on this tree, however there sat another, no longer her face, but the face of another. A woman, with long ears that couldn't entirely fit in the picture. 'Catch the Hare'? The Hare? The March Hare? "I'm. . I'm not sure how I'm doing." She truthfully wasn't. She wasn't sure about anything right at this instant, however apparently he was, looking up at him again when she found him giving her another look over her body, taking a few short steps back. Letting out a soft breath of air and blinking quickly when he was already down and only a few feet away from her, taking those short steps to close the distance between them in that space invading way he always did. Cocking a brow upward however when he asked if she had done something with her hair, the only thing she had done to it was gotten her bangs clipped at, although she was sure that wasn't all he was talking about, "I. . I grew up," Pausing for a moment, a light smile fell onto her full lips before adding in a positive announcement, "I'm not a little girl anymore."

When the female explained why she was different Cheshire blinked curiously, tilting his head to the side a bit in a rather catlike fashion before narrowing his yellow eyes in mock suspicion. "Grown up?" Cheshire smiled again, the tip of his tail flicking from side to side. "Well, youaretaller, and I don't remember you being this attractive..." The cat stood in front of Alice, having circled her fully, and reached out a hand that would have cupped her cheek if he hadn't stopped. Cheshire seemed astounded with Alice's transformation into a young woman from the little girl he had come to know during her last visit to wonderland, not to mention completely unaware that he, too, had changed. "Well, since you haven't been here for a while, I might as well tell you, Wonderland is in a bit of a prickly situation." Cheshire rolled his eyes a little, glancing over his shoulder at the path behind him. Any minute now, Cards could filter into the forest, that wasn't something Cheshire wanted, the game had only begun "The queen has been madder than she usually is... taken hold of wonderland, locked the king away... Without him to pardon us poor citizens, the phrase 'off with his head' became so much more... real." Cheshire turned his head to the female, the bell jingling as he did. "The first to go was the poor mock turtle, then the walrus, then the dodo, then the dodo's pals, then The Duchess's cook, she really hasn't been the same, petted me way less when on pepper." The cat glanced over at Alice, pausing to frown "Many of the inhabitants have fled, lest they lose their heads as well." Cheshire sighed "Though you are here now, you can help make things better, we should get going, the Hatter will be thrilled to see you" Cheshire smirked playfully, leaning forward onto his toes, then rocking back onto his heels, he liked to think he helped, though strangely many of the other residents didn't trust him. Cheshire cast a smile at Alice before turning away from her, another tinkle was given from the bell on his collar as he vanished from sight, doing his little act once more, and again as he appeared again. The cat's ears flicked, adding to his grin in his display of happiness. His right ear flicked happily as he appeared again, this time appearing further down the path from her, his back to her. "Come, come, Alice, I am sure you do not want to stay here too long. The Queen of hearts will be livid when she discovers you are here, heads will roll, it is going to be so fun!" Cheshire smiled again, he looked thrilled with all the chaos that was likely to unfold. The queen had her turn, now it was time for the others to make their move. Cheshire began walking, allowing time for Alice to catch up with him. A sign located to Cheshire's left read "This way", pointing down the path, one of the many signs that read either that or the equally informative "That way". The male ventured down the path, his tail swaying from side-to-side as he walked, staying visible and moving slowly down the path, humming to himself as he went. Cheshire did this of course for a reason, allowing the young woman to follow him down the path on the way to his destination. "Come on" Cheshire called behind him, walking at a brisk pace with his tail swaying behind him. The last time Alice had been in this forest she had been helplessly lost, this time would be a bit easier if she deigned to follow the cat down the path.

"Pandora... This is our home, but make no mistake. This is not a planet of peace and love; they say it's a wasteland. That it's dangerous. That only a fool would search of something of value here. Then perhaps... I am a fool. But don't be fooled by what Pandora appears to be. There was a legend. Many people tell it. The Legend of the Vault. My father would always go on about the vault, even with his dying breath. Advanced Alien Technology. Infinite wealth. Fame. Power. Women. So you can understand why some little kiddos who hear the stories grow up to become Vault Hunters. Well, I have a story you may not believe, but I tell you it's true. The Legend of the Vault is TRUE! And it's here on Pandora. And there is a Guardian Angel, appears to guide the Vault Hunters to their prize. The tale begins right here, on Pandora with the brave Vault Hunters, the Guardian Angel, and most importantly... Me." Salem growled quietly as the driver of the bus spoke to them, checking his sniper and side-arm. The dust on Pandora was starting to give him fits about his weapons. Oh, how he hated them being not in perfect shape. The bus jostled on the rough road, his body hitting the wall hard. He grunted with a shake of his head, pressing the goggles from his forehead back onto his dark eyes. "How much farther?" He yelled forward, at the driver. Supposedly, this man knew the ins-and-outs of Pandora, and would be helping them. He had heard the stories as a kid, everyone had. But it had taken him years of research, favors, and an immense amount of money to get them out here on this no-where planet. The days were over 80 hours long, and the sun was out for most of it. Pandora was covered North-to-South with dust, and dirt. The plant life was scattered, at best. "How do peoplelivehere?" He asked himself in a whisper. The bus driver ignored his question, continuing his little spiel. Salem wondered just how many times the man had given the same speech as he glanced over at his partner in this mission. They had been childhood friends, and he brought her in on the mission purely because he figured she was the only one he could trust with the hunt for the Vault.

She sighed heavily as the bus drove on towards their destination. If it wasnt for Salem she wouldnt have even been in this place. Sure, they had both wanted to be treasure hunters when they had grown up, but this was just ridiculous. They were on some horrid planet and for what? Rumors of an amazing treasure that was supposed to be hidden here? Rolling her dark blue eyes, Claudia just let her head fall back on the seat. In her lap was a simple pistol but on her hip was a beautiful revolver that looked like it had been made for a king. She even had a few knives strapped to her thigh. You never knew when you would need a good knife. Her father had taught her that much before he bailed on her and her mother years ago. Slender, pale fingers brushed dark locks of hair from her face. After a moment of pouting, she leaned her head over on Salems shoulder and smiled. Hey. Calm down. Im sure we will be there soon. She told him. He always got so worked up and this place was only making him worse.

Salem shook his head softly, bringing the goggles down onto his eyes to help shield them from the glare bouncing off the sand. He felt his anger nearly melt away as she leaned on him, his rough face cracking into a tiny smile. "Yeah. Soon. And then we can finally get started trying to find that treasure we always talked about." The man didn't need the treasure for any sort of money. The backing for the entire journey was financed by him. He just enjoyed the rush of treasure hunting. The side-effects of actually finding it were moot to him. But boy, would he rub his parents faces' in it once Claudia and he found it. "I'm feeling it this time. Really. Hear how that guy's going on about the Vault? There's gotta be something here." He said, letting his gaze drift back out of the window. There was a giant sign coming up on their right. A welcoming sign. It had bullet holes in it... it was barely standing. The entire sign seemed rusted, and worn down. 'Like this fucking planet.' He thought sourly, his eyes narrowing behind the goggles. The bus hit a bump, jostling the pair once more. "Sorry about that folks! Musta been a skagg." Cried the bus driver, cackling madly at the thought of hitting some 'natural' creature that lived on this Godforsaken planet. "Arriving at Fyrestone!" He said a few minutes later, stopping the bus... in the middle of nowhere, it seemed. "Now, get off my bus." He growled, spinning around in the seat and ushering them off quickly. Salem growled himself, as he picked up his pack and sniper and stepped off the bus. He looked around slowly, watching Claudia get of the bus as well right after him. The man drove off rather quickly, leaving behind a giant billowing cloud of dust. Suddenly, a strange and rundown looking robot moved up to them. "Hello! I'm CL4P-TP, but my locally designated name is 'Claptrap'." The robot continued droning on about the city of Fyrestone, and moved off almost as suddenly as it came. Salem looked at the thing with a stoic expression, his shoulders shaking with restrained laughter. Once it had left, he turned to Claudia with a smirk. "Claptrap?" He asked quietly, before starting to walk off on whatseemedto be some sort of path into town.... If you could even call it that.

Of course there had to be something there. She had her own pair of goggles that sat on her head, but she only wore them when the wind was blowing hard. Her hands had brown leather fingerless gloves on them so she could have a better grip on her weapons. The bus soon stopped and the two got off to be left behind in a cloud of dust. Claudia coughed and covered her eyes with her arm before the stupid robot showed up. "What the fuck?" She said as she listened to it yammer on before it scurried off. She looked at Salem and just shook her head. "Claptrap." The two walked towards what was left of a town. It looked like this place had really taken its toll on what was left. Her nose wrinkled and she pulled her goggles down to hide her pretty eyes. Now everything had a green tint to it. Claudia kept her pack on her back and one had was on the shoulder strap to make sure no one tugged it off from behind. Her left hand was gripping her pistol tightly as she glanced from side to side. "This place gives me the creeps." It was always bad when a place gave her the creeps. Salem knew that better than anyone. Her slender body shook slightly as they continued on despite her creepy feeling.

Lately, a huge group of Menos Grandes along with an army of ordinary Hollows had gathered in a small part of Karakura Town for no logical reason. This had inspired the Captain-Commander Yamamoto to send out the 10th Division captain, vice captain and a few others in their squad to go check it out and take care of the problem. Toshiro Hitsugaya, Rangiku Matsumoto and three others from their division had answered the call and followed orders, heading through the gate portal to discover what was wrong with that particular area. When they had arrived they couldn't find any disturbances but that didn't mean the monsters weren't there, only that they weren't around at the moment. So they went into their gigai bodies and separated for the time being, Toshiro going to get some food for dinner, Rangiku going to get some sake because a little bit wouldn't hurt even if they were on the job, and the others remaining where they were to be on the lookout for Hollows. As it was the Hollows showed up ten minutes after Matsumoto and Hitsugaya had left and the captain and vice-captain were alerted to the danger moments later. Rangiku arrived first and quickly took note of the situation. "Growl, Haineko!" She called out and her zanpakuto turned to ash and wrapped itself around a Hollow obliterating it within moments, returning to her blade to reform into a sword-shape again. Matsumoto leaped forward to bring her sword down through another Hollow as the other three did the same while the Menos Grandes looked on almost idly. Then out of nowhere they suddenly converged and three opened their mouths to shoot three different Zeros at the vice-captain. "Sit upon the frozen heavens Hyrinmaru!" Toshiro's voice called out and an ice dragon placed itself between the Zero and Rangiku, causing the Zero to obliterate the icy object while Matsumoto got to safety. "Matsumoto. You should pay more attention to your surroundings." Toshiro's voice sounded somewhat aggravated as it always did. "Taichou!" Rangiku exclaimed and flash stepped over to Hitsugaya as she looked around at the Menos Grandes and the remaining Hollows. "How are we going to destroy all of them? What do you think they're here for?" She frowned, trying to come up with some sort of explanation.

It started out a cool morning the sun was starting to rise in the sky a slight chill held in the air. A girl was out in the courtyard of a shrine sweeping the leaves. Pausing a moment she looked to the sky seeing a large figure flying over head, She didnt know what the monsters she saw were called, but she saw them, a lot. At times they seemed to be coming for her, searching her out. The girl searched the sky looking up her fiery red eyes peering though her reddened bangs sighing hoping the creatures would just leave her alone, leave the town though she knew that wasnt going to happen. She wanted to ignore it but she knew if she did more than likely someone would get hurt. The monks whom took her in always told her she was different, special, had a special gift normal people, even themselves could never really understand. And she used her gift to stop the monsters. With a heavy sigh she returned to the shrine leaving her broom by the door making her way down the long hallway to her room shutting the door she slipped her temple garments off walking to her mirror looking at herself. She was always disgusted with her appearance. Ever since shed changed. Her burning red eyes, and fire red bangs, and the mark emblazoned on her skin. She grunted in disapproval pulling her hair into a high ponytail grabbing the bandages she used to hide her markings, wrapping it snuggly around her arm as she walked to her dresser opening it shed pulled out a pair of baggy cargo Capris and a baby tee, getting dressed quickly shed returned to the entrance of her shrine slipping into her sneakers before running out the door and down the stone path in the direction the monsters were traveling. Shed been running for a few minutes when shed felt a strange surge of energy, it was different from those monsters. Shed felt something like it before but by the time shed arrived to the scene no one was around and the feeling was gone. She ran harder not wanting to miss what was happening running down the street turning into the woods coming to a secluded park. Thats when shed seen something she didnt understand. The monsters, lots of them more than shes seen at one time were attaching a group dressed in black who were fighting them and killing them. She was a little afraid of the scene playing out before her she nearly ran but one of the monsters was coming up beside her it was large towering into the sky, black with a hole through it and spikes encircling it. Opening its mouth a beam shot at her. She jumped just barely missing it still getting tossed aside but regaining her composure. Holding up her hand hesitantly a familiar chant incoherently passed through her lips the markings on her arm glowing through the bandages. What seemed like merely a shot of fire split the hollow in 2. Returning to her panting she fell to her knees hearing the cries of the people in black who were fighting the other monsters, seeing most of them were gone and only 2 people were standing fighting the last one. Knocking one of them out of her range she watched a young man with snow white hair attack with a dragon made of ice which intrigued her get knocked away injuring the monster but not killing it. She ran to the scene he was barely standing the monster, LongweiRyuu!: She called unfamiliarly this time a coiled dragon of fire emerged finishing off the monster before it could hurt the white haired guy. Panting as the dragon returned to her she gathered her strength hurrying to the strangers side. Checking him over she saw that he was a live and still breath but badly injured. ~~~ Mitsuna Haetsuno 20 Long sunny blonde hair with deep red bangs Bright red eyes. 56 120 She has markings on her right arm she usually covers with a bandage or long glove to hide. She was lightly trained in hand to hand combat to protect herself. Shes really good with her bow and arrow, she can clean, cook, she pretty much takes care of the residents of the shrine. Mitsuna was your average girl, born to elderly parents who passed away when she was 3, never meeting her sister who died a long time before she was even born. She lived in a local shrine since she was 11 what family she has fears her thinking shes cursed, or a pyromaniac. After a bad fire when she was 10 the people from the shrine took her in feeling something special was hidden within her. Before that fire she was your usual blonde haired blue eyed little girl. But trapped in the flames something happened her hair and eyes changing a mark appearing on her arm. Shes not fully aware of her power only that shes different. She sees things and experiences things others dont. Despite her insecurities, shes a friendly social girl. Can be a little on the serious side but is generally a playful nice girl.

Before Mitsuna had arrived at the scene Toshiro had gotten unexpectedly hurt quite a bit, along with his fukutaichou and while this was expected during missions,howthey had gotten injured was not normal. Hollows did not tend to work together, especially when they were Menos Grande and yet this time they had, almost as though someone had been controlling them and pulling their strings to make them do what they wanted. Hitsugaya had tried to draw one of the Menos Grande's attention to him but as he was doing so a group of Hollows attacked him from behind and when his attention was focused on destroying them, another Menos Grande had sent a Zero shooting at him. Something he had only seen at the last minute. He didn't have time to turn to bankai because if he paused a split second the Hollows fighting him would converge and take him out. Before he knew it Matsumoto had knocked him aside, trying to make both their escapes possible but she got caught in the after effects of the blast and struck a nearby building, falling unconscious almost immediately inside the building itself. "Matsumoto!" Toshiro yelled as he looked over at the building that his fukutaichou had been driven through and bit his lip as he turned his attention to the Hollow that were remaining. There was no way he could take out a group of Menos Grande along with the Hollows that surrounded it by himself. Why were they working together like this? It didn't make any sense, Hollows didn't have a mind, not really. They went for people with the most spiritual energy, that was it and yet they were working as a team and lying traps, something was definitely wrong with this picture and Toshiro knew he needed to contact Soul Society. But he didn't have time at the moment. He had to survive. In the next few minutes he constantly flash stepped, using his sword to take out at least ten Hollows before he had to avoid another Zero from a Menos Grande and kept flash stepping until he grew tired, wondering how long he could do this for. There had to be some sort of solution. "Bankai!" Hitsugaya said and when the smoke cleared he had ice wings on his back and an icy dragon at his side. He used his wings to raise himself up into the air and took out a communication device. "This is Hitsugaya-taichou of the 10th Division requesting backup to our current location. Matsumoto is unconscious and the rest of our team needs medical assistance." He avoided a Hollow that appeared before him and ducked as one behind him tried to slice him in half, making the two Hollows take each other out for the time being but in the process dropped the communication device. "Damn." Toshiro used his wings to transport him around and managed to take out another ten Hollows but more just kept coming and he was growing tired and the Menos Grande were still here. The situation wasn't looking too good. And then he realized that the Hollows had lured him into a secluded area and he looked around to see that five Menos Grande were surrounding him along with tons of regular Hollow above him to cut off any escape attempts. Hitsugaya's eyes widened as he saw the glowing red balls appear at their mouths and instantly shot downward, hoping to cut the damage in half if he managed to avoid at least some of the Zeros that were bound to come. They came and his wings caught most of the blasts, which destroyed the ice, causing it to shatter but one Zero caught him full in the shoulder and Hitsugaya cried out as he was slammed into the pavement of the ground beneath him. The after effects of the blast caused him to pass out and he wondered if this was the end for him. He'd never expected to go out like this...the last thing he saw was a girl standing above him and a dragon of fire...

Mitsuna watched the scene confused by it all. Usually the monsters shed seen went after her, not others. And who were the people in black. She sighed her mind trying to figure it wall out till her attention was diverted. She looked to her feet a moment spotting something that looked like a cell phone. Recalling seeing the white haired with it just a moment before. She looked at the screen seeing the red spots but not sure what they were she closed it tucking it into her pocket seeing the white haired kid fighting. As he was being blasted with bursts of energy from the monsters she ran to him reaching him just after a blast made contact casting a worried eye to him before looking back to the towering monster. Hey kid She called to the white haired young man as she approached him, getting a good look at his features blushing his face was handsome, he had an older look than she would have thought a few wounds and blood marring his features. His eyes were still open appearing to look at him till theyd shut. She stood once more facing the monsters which were coming right for them. I hope you are up for this She whispered holding her arm above her once again calling the name of the dragon of fire. LongweiRyuu She called her arm glowing red Slowly a golden red and black burning dragon encircling her. She looked to it with a slight smile turning her attention to the monster. Uzu nenshou gogyou hasu seme LongweiRyuu! She yelled the dragon seeming to nod in understanding glowing blindingly bright, an intense heat emitting from him as he spiraled towards the towering monsters which remained one by one they all evaporated with a piercing cry. She smirked as the last one finally fell grimacing as a few of their attacks reached the dragon and affected her but shook it off as the dragon returned to her fading once more the glow coming from her arm disappeared. Falling to her knees for a few moments she was breathing hard. Taking a few moment to catch her breath. Looking behind her seeing the white haired young man still unconscious. She moved to his side her reddened eyes running along his features. She debated what to do deciding to bring him back to her shrine and carefully pulled him onto her back glad he wasnt extremely heavy. She took the woods back to her home as to avoid questions about what happened to them and whom he was questions she couldnt easily answer. It took her 20 minutes to make it back to the shrine. She felt fortunate the monks werent around sneaking into her room carefully placing him on her futon seeing the pained look on his face. She brushed her hand over his forehead her arm glowing. He felt frigid to her but a smile curled her lips as she walked away into her bathroom pulling a glove on her hand she returned to his side debating on removing his shirt seeing blood especially around his shoulder. With a deep breath she acted carefully removing his top seeing him wince in his sleep as she did so. Carefully shed cleaned him off and dressed and bandaged the wounds covering him with a clean blanket as he slept. Sitting on the floor beside him she dozed off after a little while still in her dirty clothes.

"I'm not...a kid..." Toshiro managed to get out before his eyes closed, the sight of Mitsuna being the last thing he saw. He winced in his sleep when she lifted his body to remove his shirt and his head fell to the side, revealing a wound on his head as well but not from the Cero since it wasn't deep. Hitsugaya had probably gotten that when he'd hit the ground, smacking his skull against the pavement. His spiky white hair was mussed up but still retained the style Toshiro always wore it in. Hours later he blinked and his turquoise blue eyes opened. He winced when he tried to sit up and the blanket fell off his form to reveal bandages all over his body. What had happened to him? Had he gotten into a fight or something? Toshiro looked down to see a young woman with long sunny blond hair and red bangs sleeping on the floor beside the bed. His sister? His girlfriend? A friend? It couldn't be his mother because she didn't look old enough. She probably was his sister, it made the most sense. Why she would care for him, look after him and worry about him. He also didn't feel anything towards her romantically so that made sense too. He wondered why he couldn't remember. Maybe she would know. "Hey! What happened to me?" Toshiro said as he looked over at Mitsuna, waiting for the woman to wake up. Perhaps she would be able to make a few pieces fit into the puzzle and he waited rather impatiently.

Mitsuna was lying in a troubled sleep being haunted by the same monsters that have always been in her dreams. This time her mind also replayed the events that took place, with the stranger. The fight shed helped with. She was confused, the monsters rarely involved anyone else when they came after her. But maybe they werent after her. Abruptly shed opened her eyes confused as to why she was on her carpeted floor looking around seeing a figure on her futon sitting up quickly rubbing her eyes her fiery eyes taking a minute to adjust seeing the white haired young man on her bed looking around confused before his eyes finally fell onto her. She looked back at him with the same confusion not sure what to say. Hi She said rubbing the back of her head. When hed asked what happened to him she gave him an unsure look. I was going to ask you the same thing. She said more to herself turning her attention to him once again. Why were you fighting the monsters? She asked moving sitting up looking at him as she sat on the floor running a hand through her long duo-toned hair.

Toshiro's brow furrowed when Mitsuna said she wanted to ask him the same thing and his turquoise eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?" He blinked when she asked him why he had fought the monsters and he wondered if that was a metaphor for something he didn't know about. If it was, he was in the dark about what this woman was talking about and he didn't like the feeling at all. "What are these monsters you speak of? Is that how I got injured?" Toshiro inquired as he glanced down at his body, eyes taking in the bandages for a moment before he looked back up at Mitsuna once more. The spiky white haired male watched as Mitsuna moved to sit up on the floor and he sat up in bed as well. "You're not going to sit on the bed? The floor looks kind of hard to me." Toshiro remarked and looked around the room once, still not remembering anything about it. "I take it you're my sister, right? What's going on? Why are you asking me about monsters?" He asked, wanting to know what was going on that he didn't know about. Being kept in the dark about certain things was not his idea of fun. But he had to admit she was kind of pretty and he wondered what he looked like.

She looked at him trying to think of how to answer his inquires. Though she cocked an eyebrow as she watched him wondering why he didnt seem to know what she was talking about. And frowned when he didnt know of the monsters. I dont know what they are. They come after me from time to time. Id found you fighting them. With a few others. She explained her head leaning forward in thought her bangs falling in her eyes. You were fighting a lot of them and the number seemed to overwhelm you. She added. She shrugged when hed asked about the floor. It doesnt matter to where I sit. She said idly shifting her position pulling her knees to her chest. Surprised by his next question she gave him a strange look slowly shaking her head as she replied. Im not related to you. I dont even know you. I just happened upon you when I was following the monsters. She said getting to her feet slowly dusting herself off making her way to her chair which held his clothes still soiled with dirt and blood and holes handing him his clothing when shed returned to the futon sitting on the end. I dont know what you are... For that matter whom you are. But youre different like me. She said with a sad sigh looking out her window across from where she sat on her mat.

The forges of Hepheastus were hot and hellish, filled with sufficating heat and the loud hammering of the workers. Half-finished armor hung everywhere, as well as swords and shields. Every so often, something delicate intended as a love gift could be found. One tended to sweat the moment one walked inside the forge and only the heartiest could survive there. It was not the kind of envirment one would expect to find Eukleia, goddess of glory and the chaste bride. As the daughter of Hepheastus and Aglaia, she often could be found in the company of her stepmother, Aphrodite. She and her three sisters were the younger Graces, attendants to the goddess of love and beauty. It was not always an easy job, Aphrodite was paranoid about the beautiful women around her and often jealous if she thought they recieved any praise. Eukleia had been banished from Aphrodite's side after the goddess of love believed her son, Eros, smiled a little longer at Eukleia then her. Which, was silly since Eros was madly in love with his wife, Psyche (both having been stabbed by Eros' own love arrows). With no where else to go, Eukleia went to her father's home. "You're miserable," Hepheastus said, looking at his daughter. "Why not see if Aphrodite has forgiven you?" "I did nothing wrong," Eukleia said. "And if I return before she's ready to forgive me, then I'm in even more trouble. It's best if I just wait." Eukleia did not look anything like her father. Where Hepheastus was ugly and twisted, reputed to be the most unpleasing of the gods, Eukleia took after her mother. She was tall and slender with high perky breasts and a sweet swell to her hips. Her black hair, much like the color of her father's, was plastered to her head and stuck to her face and neck. She did not feel very beautiful, and she knew that if her stepmother saw her, it would make Aphrodite feel better. She just had to wait for Aphrodite to make one of her rare trips to the forge. Hepheastus sighed, pushing a beefy hand through his sweat-slicked hair. "Well, if you're going to be staying here, at least you can help. I have a few pieces of armor for Ares. You can deliver them for me." Eukleia smiled. Her father hated Ares, the lover of Aphrodite. Though her father had the rare affair, he could never stay away from his legal wife. And Aphrodite knew it, taunting him with her many affiars and perfect children. Ares, protected by Zeus' desire for peace in Olympus, had no fear of Hepheastus and that angered the artisen god even more. "I'll deliver them," she said. "Just let me take a bathe and change first."

Enyalius very much looked his fathers son. Indeed to his annoyance the resemblance was often considered sufficient that he was taken to be his father. The youthful war god had taken to growing a beard that covered the strong form of his chin and drifted up along the lower reaches of his cheeks and his lip. Dark eyes, were set against olive hued skin and closely cropped dark hair. He was the son of two gods of war Ares and Enyo, hence his body seemed formed in warlike perfection. His shoulders were broadly set apart and his form was of a muscular build. His torso had the chiselled appearance that the sculpture ever strove for, with each muscle rigidly defined and visible in its brawny power. A tunic of crimson and gold rested against his form. He remained for the moment in his fathers house. Although Ares himself had departed on some matter or another. Enyalius did not feel the stir of conflict or war within his blood, so he suspected that rather than sowing havoc upon the earth, his father was like as not sowing his seed in Aphrodite or some other woman. A bemused smile graced his lips at that particular thought as his fingers idly touched against the hair that graced his jaw. Mischievously he wondered if absent the beard his resemblance to his father was sufficient that in dim light the goddess of love could tell the difference. Although if he wanted a sure manner in which to bring his fathers wrath upon his head that would most definitely be it. Thus the experiment hed considered was likely to go for not. Indeed he was waiting for the armour that had been procured by his father for him. His mother had been rather persistent that he warranted the finest armour that could be obtained in the heavens or earth as a god of war. Although Enyalius had no illusions that his father had sought it as a great sign of favour towards him, rather like as not it was simply to revel in the joy of needling Haephestus as Ares and the god of the forge loathed each other with a passion. He could hardly blame the crafts god for his hatred of his father. After all the philandering of his wife was legendary at this point. Nor could one help but notice that Aphrodite had numerous children by Ares and yet not a one by Aphrodite. He could only imagine that it galled the lame god. He rather imagined that a less beguiling figure than Aphrodite would have been chased from his home and divorced many times over. None the less whatever contention existed it provided him with fine armour so he could hardly complain as he lounged with a cup of wine in hand.

After her bath, Eukleia dressed herself in a chiton of light sea-blue with a gold beld, inlaid with gems just a touch darker then her dress. It was a gift from her father, something pretty for one of his pretty girls. The dress matched her eyes, he said. It also looked beautiful with her olive skin. She pulled her hair back in a ponytail and slipped on a dainty pair of soft sandals. She then went to get the armor from her father. "You look too pretty to be delivering this stuff," Hepheastus said, pride in his eyes. "Thank you, Father." She took the armor and left. She was to go to Ares' chambers in Olympus. Well, chambers made it seem so small. It was probably more like a home, one that housed not only Ares but a few of his kids. As Eukleia approached, she grew nervous. She had only seen Ares from afar, normally when he and Aphrodite were sneaking off for another tryst. She had heard of him, from her father. Hepheastus may not have been an ideal father, perferring his forges to actual contact, but he tried. Eukleia was probably the only among her sisters who was as protective of her sire as she was of her mother. She didn't trust Ares, thinking it scummy to sneak around with another man's wife. While her mother was not Hepheastus' wife, her mother also never repeated her indiscressions. Hepheastus was alone and Aglaia had many other lovers after him. When she arrived at the chambers, she squared her shoulders and walked in. She could see someone lounging in the main room. Thinking it was Ares, she walked over. "I have your armor," she said. "Father finished it this morning."

Enyalius lowered the cup from his lips as he spied the woman entering the room carrying armour with her. His eyes fixed upon the woman and traced over her body in a rather lingering fashion. His interest and appraisal of her figure was rather blatant, and its rather continued fashion seemed to indicate approval for the pleasant composition of her lithe form. After he took his time observing her he rose from where he sat, drawing himself up to his rather considerable height. The war god sauntered across the room towards her without speaking. Rather he approached her and then stopped a hairs breath from her form. His rather brawny form would loom over her and she would be able to feel the warmth of his breath as his head tilted downwards towards her. How kind of him to send it over promptly. He remarked as his dark eyes gazed down at her. His hand rose and idly captured a lock of her hair and toyed with it. Who would have thought that Hepheastus rivalled himself in the making of armour and weapons only in his creation of pretty daughters? He said in a rather suggestive tone. His head tilted downwards to rest against her own. His hand pressed to her hip rather firmly and then he inquired And which one are you hmm? He inquired as his dark eyes gazed down upon her own. Impetuous might be the right word for his current actions. Although in that Enyalius indeed resembled the father he was being mistaken for. But hed looked upon the goddess and decided he wanted her. Now lust flared in him and that desire be obvious enough. War and lust always seemed intermingled and if the matter further provoked the lame god that while the father stole away his wife, the son claimed a daughter so be it. He would have what he wanted.

Eukleia was first struck by the handsomeness of the god she believed to be Ares. She could clearly see why Aphrodite had forsaken her father for him. If she were as shallow as the goddess of love and beauty, she too would then go for this viril warrior. His face was rugged and manly, short cropped hair that accented his features. Dark eyes that seemed to see into her soul. Her knees felt weak as he walked to her, his eyes ablaze with a look she was used to seeing in men. However, for once, it was focused on her and not Aphrodite. In that moment, her awe turned to anger. Ares was Aphrodite's lover, and here he was, staring at her like she was that night's special. Or some war prize. With his hand on her hip, she finally found her tongue. She had to take a step back in order for her to shove the armor into his arms. If it clattered to the floor, it wasn't her fault. How dare he try to take advantage of her like that! "My name is no concern of yours, Ares," she snapped. "Just take your armor and leave me alone!"

Enyalius observed her initial look of awe. A slight smirk graced his lips as she referred to his as Ares. It was a rather common mistake. But he noted the rather angry look that was directed at him and as she demanded that he take his armour and let her go. He lofted and eyebrow as he remarked And if I dont? A rather arrogant tone entered his voice, as reasonableness and compromise tended not to be traits one associated with warlike deities. He simply stepped over the armour and he pressed to her body once more. He didnt allow her much of a chance to answer as his mouth pressed down rather firmly to her own. His lips rather hotly crushing against her own. His lips were demanding as he pressed them against her, and his hand strayed along her side rather firmly now. Roaming from the curve of her side down along her thigh. His fingers pressed into her flesh as his body pressed up against her. His muscular body pressing up against her form so that those supple thighs and pert high chest was felt. His hand grasped hold of her chitton and then dragged the garment upwards towards her waist seeking to bare her lower body. His hand craving that naked flesh, and as he did so shed feel his own arousal pressed to her body. The thick length of his manhood pressing through the tunic and up against her body. His member pressed against her belly and his mouth continued to savage her lips. Roughly pressing against them as he found himself burning with desire for her. His other hand sought to part her thighs as his hips would seek to press between them. The thick form of his cock would soon press against the softness of her sex. Threatening to plunge within her as his muscular form was crushed against her body. His lips pressed to her as he murmured Tell me you dont want it.. Although he gave her little time for such protests as he lanced the stiffened form of his prick inside of her. His hips rolling into her and smacking against her hips as he claimed her soft body.

Eukleia's sea-blue eyes widened when he kissed her, his beard rubbing erotically against her, his body pressed hot to hers. She tried to fight against him when she felt him pushing her chiton up and spreading her legs. She didn't want this, she didn't want Ares (for he had yet to tell her she was wrong in her assumption). When he entered her, she bit her lip so hard to keep from screaming that she tasted blood. She had been the goddess who represented the chaste bride. She had lived that life, remaining chaste and virginal until marriage. That was stolen from her in one brutal thrust. He was huge, far larger then she thought a man could be. Larger then any of the statues she had seen. Tears stung her eyes as she clung to him, the pain too much for her to bare at the moment. She was no longer the goddess of the chaste bride. She had been robbed of her position by the very man her father hated. She no longer tried to hide her sobs, burying her face agasint his muscular shoulder. "Please," she whimpered, "Please let me go. Please, Ares, just let me go. You've had your fun."

Enyalius watched her eyes widen as he kissed her and struggle slightly when he lifted her chitton. He pressed inside of her and he heard her muffled scream. His dark eyes watched her as his hips pressed to her, lancing that thick cock inside of her. The throbbing flesh of his prick filling her and rather swiftly he felt the presence of her hymen and the gush of blood that its rending indicated. He idly whispered Youre Eukleia after all he assumed the goddess of glory and the chaste bride would be the only goddess who would remain chaste at least until this moment. As the goddess began to weep he raised his hand to her cheek and slowly wiped the tears from her eyes. Rather gently hed wipe away her tears as her face was buried into his shoulder. He leaned in and pressed his lips to her ear Im not Ares, Im Enyalius, his son. There was a slightly soothing manner to which he revealed that. You might note something of a resemblance though. He smiled faintly He is my father. The large member remained inside of her and as she clung to him slowly he pumped himself inside of her. Perhaps more gently than was expected as he slowly worked himself within her. He sought to let that virginal sex stretch to accommodate his presence within her. But he pressed inside of her filling her as he claimed that previously untouched passage. She felt deliciously tight and despite the pain she clearly felt he couldnt help but to desire more. He tilted her head towards his own and pressed his lips to her own. He could taste the blood of her bit lip and gently hed suck on that lip as its coppery taste left a tang on his tongue. His mouth moulded to hers as his hips rocked and ground into her. Steadily his member pressed to the cradle of her sex, taking her rather firmly as he claimed her as his own. The goddess of the chaste bride was now rather unchastely his.

Enyalius. That name would be forever burned in her mind. Handsome, seductive and very possessive. The way his hands held her, the way he smelled. It was all branded in her brain. The way the pain between her legs faded as he slowly thrusted into her and pleasure filled her. Almost against her will, she found herself responding to him. She held tighter to him, moving her leg up to hook around his thigh. This position helped open her further to him, and the pain eased even more. She allowed him to claim her lips, closing her eyes as he savaged her mouth. Her hands inched higher, moving from his shoulders to the back of his head, holding him to the kiss. Every logical fiber told her to push him away. She should be screaming for help and outraged, but shd found herself pushing closer to him. When she wanted to scream, she kissed him, silencing herself. All she could think of was that this was not Ares, and she should not feel ashamed for finding him attractive. Instinctively, her body molded to his and her hips slowly ground into him. When she could force herself to tear her lips from his fiery kiss, she managed to murmur, "You could have been gentler with me, you big lug."

Enyalius felt her beginning to respond to him, and as her leg hooked about her thigh and her body pressed back against him his pace began to increase. He pressed into that taunt sex as it gripped him and buried his cock within her slick folds. His desire only seemed heightened as she now gave herself willingly to him. His body crushing her to the wall behind her, as he pistoned his manhood within her. His dark eyes gazed down into her own blue orbs, peering into those beautiful pools. He murmured I wanted you from the moment I saw you. Rather than screaming the goddess seemed to pull his head closer to her own and kiss him rather deeply. He grinned into the kiss as his body met her own. His hands pressed into the softness of her body and he felt those svelte curves brushing against him as they coupled. Those tantalizing thigh and firm breasts promising him all their delights. He pressed her back to the wall behind her as the weight of his body pinned her in place. His mouth consumed her own as he rutted between her thighs rather lustily. He grinned to her as she murmured that he could have been gentler with her. But he bit down upon her lip and tugged upon it. I could have, but I dont think you want me to be. His tone was rather teasing although he soon seemed to but the test of it as his hips smacked into her and drove her back into the wall. More firmly now he began to enter her. Rougher and more rapidly his hips moved in that arching motion to smack into her own, and ram his cock up and inside of her. His forehead leaned against her own as he murmured Your father is going to hate this. The words parted his mouth although he was just realizing it now. He kissed her rather vehemently as his speared her upon his shaft. Deep and hard he fucked her now. He sought to fully fill her with each thrust. The virgin goddess was one no more, rather he sought to make her a goddess of carnal pleasures as he revealed in the feel of her folds about him.

"What an asshole," the one crewman mouthed, mouthed low, watching the cocky blonde strut by out of the corner of his eye. "Shh!" the other chided him quickly, and with a sharp nudge. "Dude! Watch that. What if he hears you?" Jericho did. Jericho had. And on a worse day he might have taken it out on the man, might have knocked some sense into him. Or some steel into him. As he strode confidently on the concrete floor of the arena's backstage hallway he glanced at a folding chair at the corner of his eyes. That would work. But, no, he thought with a smirk as he continued past the two maintenance workers. These guys were pathetic enough. Any fifteen minutes of fame they'd get from him beating the crap out of 'em would highlight their day, not bring them down. Instead he continued on in his walk, the large golden World Heavyweight Champion belt slung along one shoulder, turning a corner to take the long way to his new personal dressing room. And why not take the scenic route? Hewas the scenic part of it. These hallways were all the same - he was giving everyone else something to look at, something to admire. The two workers had held a lingering glance toward his back as Jericho rounded the corner, and now that he was gone they again spoke, "Seriously though, I don't get it. How does one guy get so much power?" "He's the champ." "Right, right, but didn't you hear the announcement he just made out in the ring? World Champ title shots will now be limited to pay-per-views only, and once someone loses against him once they can't challenge him again? I don't care who the belt is on, this company is nuts giving anyone power to make the rules like that." "That was Vince's call. Good luck when you tell him what you think!" "Haha, no thanks! That fucker's crazier than Jericho could ever be." Another turn, a left down this hallway, and then another. Chris took his time, walking slowly, smirking as he made eye contact with wrestler after wrestler in the halls. Shad. Yeah right. That guy might take the Intercontinental on his best of days. The World? Keep dreamin'. Next were Hardy and Mysterio. A joke and a fluke. Then he came up to The Hart Dynasty, paying Kidd and Smith no mind as they attempted to stare him down. Instead, his eyes were locked with Natalya's, his mind considering inviting that nice piece back to his dressing room later. For now though he just continued past the trio, back straight, shoulders strong and confident as he stopped finally at a doorway. Chris Jericho World Heavyweight ChampionAnd there was that smirk again, a look on his face that never quite left, and when it did it was never for very long. Furnished, private, this was one of the perks that came with being the best, that came with supporting the whole of the show on your shoulders. Turning the knob, he opened the door and confidently stepped inside, ready to embrace that which was due him.

"I'm sorry Mickie, but there's just nothing I can do." Teddy Long said while fixing his glasses, trying to keep the WWE Diva calm. "I can't help what Vickie chose to do in the match. She was the special referee and what she called, is what she called." Mickie James, the former Women's champion had her hand in her hair, with a look of disbelief struck onto her face. She was quick to reply, raising her voice some-what. "You can't really mean that! You saw what she did out there! She clearly hit me and favored Michelle!" Earlier in the night, Mickie James had a title match against Michelle McCool with Layla at ring side. To top it all off, Vickie Guerrero was the special guest referee. She happened to be the "Smackdown Consultant" appointed by Vince McMahon himself which meant she had a lot of power, and she had a strong dislike for Mickie. Of course, the match turned out in Michelle's favor, costing Mickie the belt, a week after she had just won it. The WWE Diva had gone through weeks of torment from Team "Laycool" but finally shut the two up at Royal Rumble, becoming a five-time women's champion. But all that was for nothing as of tonight. "I'm sorry Mickie... my hands are tied." The GM spoke calmly, letting out a small sigh afterward. And with that, Mickie left his office in a huff, very annoyed with everything that happened tonight. She was desperate for a chance to get back in the ring with Michelle, to regain the title that was rightfully her own. She could go to Vince McMahon, but she knew what he was like. He favored the blondes in the company like Maryse, and Michelle herself. Vickie was a definate no-no. As she walked down the hallways, Mickie avoided conversation, clearly not in the mood to have one. When she stopped to calm down and think a little, the diva over-heard two workers talking. "Right, right, but didn't you hear the announcement he just made out in the ring? World Champ title shots will now be limited to pay-per-views only, and once someone loses against him once they can't challenge him again? I don't care who the belt is on, this company is nuts giving anyone power to make the rules like that." "That was Vince's call. Good luck when you tell him what you think!" "The World Champ.." Mickie muttered to herself, thinking for a moment. "Jericho?" She bit down on her lip, putting two and two together. She was desperate. It was better than nothing... right? Still dressed in her wrestling attire, the diva moved through the hall ways rather quickly, trying to find his locker room. After a while, Mickie came to a quick halt, finding his name plate on a door. Letting out a deep sigh, her hand moved up to the door, ready to knock. She hesitated, giving it one more thought. After swallowing hard, the nervous diva knocked on the door a few times, hoping that he would be inside. "I can do this. Just ask for a quick favor... then get the hell outta there."

knock knock Light. Timid. If there was one thing Chris knew how to smell it was weakness, weakness from even a mile away. He had just set his belt down on the dark mahogany coffee table between the black leather couch and black leather loveseat, had just sat back on the soft, cool cushion and turned on the live feed on the TV showing what was happening in the ring - a match between Kane and Ziggler, the first of the night - when he heard the knock. Giving it a moment before responding he thought it over. Considered it. That had been a pretty light knock. He wasn't going tonotanswer it, but... this better not be another stupid interview. "Yeah, yeah, what do you want?" he questioned, somewhat annoyed as he stood from the couch. He let his eyes linger on the television a moment before turning, taking his time in walking to the door, it having been a good ten or twelve seconds now since the knock. Jericho grabbed the knob. Turning, he opened the door and... What the hell does she want? ...that was his initial thought. Not in a bad way, but quite unexpected. He didn't say that aloud though. Rather, first his brows raised in brief surprise but soon shifted to a smile, "Well well, what can I do for you?" Her wrestling attire was quite delicious, wasn't it? He saw it every week, though usually just in passing. He saw all the Divas. He'd been doing this for years, this profession. Yet that truth never once diluted the attraction of a hot body in something skimpy. The smile lingered for a moment before becoming a smirk, cocky and confident. Whatever it is, he thought, "Come on in... Whatever you want, I don't feel like standing in the doorway. I've graced these losers with my presence enough for one night." Peering over Mickie's shoulder to a few wrestlers prepping to go out next, The Hart Dynasty, he smirked a little more. "And close the door behind you," he said as that look past her lingered, even as he stepped away, until he was out of the doorway completely. Jericho was no fool. Arrogant, yes. Every right to be, yes. But when it came down to it he knew what he was doing. The simple truth was a beautiful half-dressed woman just knocked on the door of his private dressing room and was being invited in. Moving back toward the couch, Jericho took a moment to adjust his tie as he sat back down, loosening it a bit as he sat in the center, leaning back. Not wanting to appear overly interested he turned his head to watch the match on the television while reaching for a water bottle on the coffee table, twisting the plastic top open.

Mickie had an awkward smile on her face. Jericho and her weren't friends. Not even acquaintances really. They would see each other around but that was it. No "hello", no "how are you?", nothing. At least he was being nice so far. Which was a nice change from what she saw on the monitors. Maybe he really was a normal guy. Though all of her thoughts quickly changed when he spoke about gracing people with his presence. Mickie simply rolled her eyes when he turned away. Guess he really was arrogant after all. Her attention turned back towards the Hart Dynasty who was out in the hall way. Looking them over, and then herself, Mickie shuddered a bit. "I really got to get a new outfit... matching in with them isn't going to do me any good." The brunette let out a small laugh while brushing her hair back slightly. She attempted the break the ice with that one liner, but she assumed it wouldn't do much. Taking a step inside, Mickie James closed the door quietly behind her, looking around the fully furnished room. "Ah, the good old days." She joked once again, referring to how she had a similar room. Of course it wasn't as nice as this, but it was certainly better than what she would be going back to. Small, rather nervous-looking steps was all she did, slowly making her way over toward the champion. Clearing her throat as if to get his attention, Mickie looked down at him, standing off to the side of the couch. Her eyes would shift between the television and Jericho himself, feeling slightly uncomfortable. "Look, I'm just going to get right to it. No BS, no ass kissing, nothing." Her eyes stayed focused on him now, trying to show him that she was quite serious. "I need help, and I know you can help me." Her hands were placed on her hips. A minute ago they were playing with each other, but she decided keeping them still would be better. "I need a rematch against Michelle. Teddy won't give it to me. I know Vickie isn't going to let it happen any time soon. To top it all off, I know Mr.McMahon is going to be a lot of hell to go through to even ask him. I figured you were the next best person to come to." After saying her little speech, Mickie bit down on her lower lip, waiting to see how he would take it.

Jericho listened. He listened without looking at her, his eyes to the TV, his hand raising the bottle of water to his lips. After a slow, relaxed sip he twisted the cap back on and leaned forward just enough to set the bottle back on the coffee table. He was listening, but he didn't want to let it seem like she had his full attention, not so easily. "...The next best, huh?" he finally chimed in. "Your faith in me is astounding." He smirked at that. Jericho watched the screen for a moment more before finally turning to face her, the leather of the couch sounding beneath his movements. Shifting, his eyes trailed up from his guest's hot pink legs to her firm, impressive abdomen, to the even more impressive cleavage. Finally to her face, and with it he tilted his head a bit, looking her in the eyes. "Hello Chris..." A purse of his lips. "How are you doing today, Chris?" A wince. "Ouch! That was a nasty match you had just now. Are you alright?" His voice filled with a degree of energy. "No, not even a 'Hey, congratulations on the title win!' or anything, huh? The first time you come to even say hi it's because youneedsomething. Tch.Of course you're here because you need a favor. And, truth be told? Maybe youshoulddo some ass kissing, instead of just 'cutting right to the chase.'" He turned away again, shifting against the leather to look back at the screen. The show had gone to commercial. "So you want a title shot, Ms.Mickie-Choke-James." His body remained still but his head turned back to her, over a shoulder, arrogant as ever. "Guess what there toots? Know how I got this belt? ...of course you do. By defeating five other men in an elimination chamber. By defeating The Undertaker! So if you're gonna come crying to me about losing to one woman it's not going to get you very far." Looking back to the TV, "You know, you come here wanting a favor, but favors go both ways... why should I give you a title shot?" A sneer. "What kind of favors are you going to do for me?"

Mickie crossed her arms over her bust, shaking her head as he spoke. It's true that she skipped all of that, but there was a point. Little chit-chat like that would get her the same kind of remarks. Asking those questions would probably result in sarcastic and snarky replies. As for the ass-kissing? She didn't think so. Mickie was quick to reply to his comment about it. "Yeah, I don't think so,Chris." Again, Mickie shook her head in disbelief. "You have to be joking... You punched a fan, you got into a fight with Gregory Helms after drinking... you even got arrested. All you got was a slap on the wrist. I accidentally spill food on Vickie Guerrero, and I lose my belt, while you got an opportunity you shouldn't have. Then.. here we are. I'm without a title, and you have one. Looks like you're the one whoreallydid the ass-kissing, huh?" The diva laughed, placing her hands on her hips again. "There's nothing I have that you want, so all I'm going to say is..." She took a deep breath, keeping eye contact with him. "If you've got even a tiny bit of a soul, you'll help me out. I'm sure you saw how Layla and Michelle taunted me for weeks. They humiliated me publicly, and I put up with their crap. I finally made them eat their words at the Royal Rumble, and then I was cheated from my title. How would you like it if that happened to you?" The former women's champion moved in front of the television, making sure he was paying attention. With a serious look on her face, Mickie stared down at him, keeping her hands against her hips. "I bet you'd be backstage, throwing your little mantrum until you got your rematch, right?" Mickie was intent on getting her rematch, even if it meant dealing with the worst of the worst.

Jericho palmed his mouth, running fingers along his jaw as he thought. It was hard to not laugh. He didn't look up at Mickie right away when she moved between him and the TV. Rather, he let her go on. He let her dig her grave deeper. A quick chuckle ran through his body, amused, shown by a brief rise of his shoulders, failing to hide it until she was done. And when she finished he applauded, giving her a brief mock-clap as he looked up, laughing right to her face. "Oh boo-hoo, did they pick on you sweetheart? Did theirmockinghurt your feelings? ...You wanna know how many raw dealsI'vegotten over the years?" He stood. Slowly, letting his presence be felt, he approached this conversation just as he would with anyone else. Just as he would were she Khali; seven and a half feet and pure muscle. Jericho didn't get told how things were. He told you, and you accepted them as fact. Or you learned. "A slap on the wrist, huh?" He slapped Mickie across the face. Suddenly. Hard. "Maybe that's because- Come here, you little twat," he grabbed a fistful of the Diva's hair. With his other hand grabbing her hip Chris put his strength against her, shoving the smaller woman to the black leather loveseat a foot or two away. His face twisted in anger, a finger pointing at her, lecturing, he continued, "Maybethat's because since the day I returned I've been carrying this company on my back, Ms.James! Maybe that's because, if you paidanyattention, you would have noticed that ninety percent of the time since I've been back I've had belt after belt after belt around my waist! Maybe it's because I've been a mainstay ofbothbrands, and now they're even showcasing me on a third night! Maybe it's because Corporate knows who to reward, and who around here isreplaceable!" He was seething. Come to his private room and insult him? "Youdohave something that I want, as a matter of fact, Mickie. You have something I'd very much enjoy for you to give me." Calming now, though his voice was still firm, still irritated, Jericho stood up straight. He was between her and the door. Well, her and the door immediately; taking the long way around the coffee table was an option. "I want your dignity. ...You think you're gonna just walk in here and act like I owe you something? Little bitch. In your shortsightedness you must have forgotten that I not only canmakematches, I canunmakethem. I can make it so you get a title match every night or never again. And with what Vince was proposing to me right before the show, the power I have is only going to grow." Straightening his tie, he smirked down at her. "Women's Championship, huh? You can either degrade yourself right now and start earning my forgiveness, or I can make it so the only matches you ever have around here are on WWE Superstars. ...Or maybe not even that. Maybe you'll just get booked on house shows from now on."

With a determined look in her eyes, Mickie didn't back down when he advanced. She would simply stare up at him, intent on what she came here for. If it meant getting into a verbal fight with Jericho, so be it. She wouldn't leave until she had what she wanted. Mickie was about to respond to the little "slap on the wrist comment" but just as she opened her mouth. Slap. Her head was turned to the side, feeling the stinging sensation against her cheek. Did he really just slap her? Raising a hand to her face, Mickie looked back at Jericho, tears already forming. She spoke, but no words came out, unable to retort. The diva was stunned, shocked that he had actually done it. Soon enough, she found herself being pulled by her soft brown hair. A groan escaped past her lips, closing her eyes. Another sound came out when she felt herself thrown into the couch. Opening her eyes slowly, the vision of Jericho right in front of her soon became clear. The diva had paid attention to his little rant, though her eyes were focused on a way to leave. It was a mistake to come here. Thinking it over while her eyes followed the man, who was clearly frustrated. If she left now, Mickie knew that Jericho would go out of his way to make her day even worse. He already stated that he wanted her dignity. What did that exactly mean? A repeat of McMahon and Stratus? Doubtful, but she wouldn't put it past him. Still rubbing her cheek, Mickie managed to speak out, quietly though. "W-what do you want, Chris?" He had stated his terms, but she didn't know what he was specifically asking for. A part of her was too scared to use the attitude she had earlier, knowing that he wasn't afraid to get rough with her. It was painfully obvious that this was going to turn into something ugly. Either she could listen to him, andpossiblyget a title shot. Or she could leave and get Jericho to join Michelle, Layla, and Vickie in the quest to destroy her. On top of that, Jericho had the power to get Vince McMahon himself on her case. "Just tell me what you want..." She spoke again, a hint of nervousness in her voice. Her eyes traveled away from his face, looking down at the ground.

Weakness. Jericho soaked this moment in, standing over the frightened woman triumphantly. Smirking. Pleased with himself. Does that cheek hurt, honey? Poor baby. "Now that's a good question." In truth he didn't know. The idea of her dignity was simple enough, but from there things could branch out in a number of ways. A number, and all of them humiliating. "You can start by apologizing. ... ...You know what? You know what, I think I like that idea." He could see the fear in Mickie's eyes. Chris turned his head from one side to another, looking into the brunette's eyes. Observing her. Considering. "First we're going to start with me, right now." He could cash in on the power he had over her right now, he knew, or he could gamble and see if this woman would go all the way. See how broken she could become. "You were pretty rude to me just now, you know that? You can start by apologizing to me, Mickie, followed by a little ass kissing. All truthful compliments of course - let's face it, my accomplishments are enough that you don't need to embellish." Taking a slow, deep breath, Jericho sucked in the power like oxygen. Snickering, he sat calmly back down on the couch, back on the center cushion, leaning back. His voice had returned to a relaxed tone. "And after you've apologized to me I think you have a few other people to apologize to, don't you? ...The current Women's Champion for starters. And Vickie. And Layla too while you're at it. I think you should track down and apologize to all three." Bearing a toothy grin, Chris leaned forward to retake his water bottle, unscrewing the cap for a drink. "I'll be waiting here, of course, so don't dawdle. ...You hear me? That means get started there honeypot. And when you've finished apologizing to everyone for your unladylike actions as of late, you can come back here," smiling, he ran his palm along the black leather cushion beside him, patting it lightly, 'sit right here, and you and I can discuss what your future holds. Oh, you'll get your title shot. As soon as you learn some respect." He paused. "Or maybe the word is 'obedience?'" This was an interesting game. If she left and never came back he really wasn't losing anything; he could let what just happened sink in and approach her about it later. But if she came back? If she came back to his room, timid and defeated, obedient and willing? Then things would get very interesting, very quick. "Get started, Piggy."

He was serious? With a look of disgust on her face, Mickie would just glare at Jericho, unable to find words at the cruel punishment he was placing upon her. Apologizing to him was bad enough, but apologizing to those other three women? It was something only a monster would make her do. She knew she was in no place to argue, but she kept hoping, and waiting for the man to burst out laughing, simply to state it was a joke, but that moment never came. A tear rolled down her cheek, accepting the terms that he pushed onto her. The last thing he said was what just pushed it over the line. Slowly, she nodded, looking down at her lap. Wiping away the tear, her attention was focused on Jericho. Her eyes showed hatred for the man, but in an annoyed tone she began to speak. "I'm sorry..." She said slightly grumbled. At least the ass-kissing part wasn't literal like it was for Vince and Trish. "I'm sorry for coming in here and trying to demand something from someone like yourself. I should have known that I had no right to ask something from someone as great as yourself, and for that, I'm sorry." With that last sentence, Mickie got up and made her way to the door. Without even looking back, she pulled it open and headed outside, slamming the locker room door shut behind herself. Fixing up herself as she traveled around the arena, the brunette searched for the people she had to apologize to. Eventually, the diva ran into both Michelle McCool and Layla who were chit-chatting amongst themselves by the table of food that had been set up for the superstars. Standing behind them, Mickie took a deep breath before tapping Michelle on the shoulder. "Okay.. Ew. Don't touch me Piggy James." The blonde raised both her hands up, before turning around. "How did you know it was her? The stench? The earth-quake causing foot steps?" Layla asked with a sneer. "All of the above, Layla." Michelle said with her arms crossed, giving Mickie the death stare. "So what do you want?" Mickie tried not to get bothered by the under-handed comments, and with a deep breath, she mustered up the courage to do what she had to. "Look, Michelle... and Layla. I know we've had our differences, and I don't want to fight anymore. I just wanted to say I'm sorry." And with that, the former champion stuck out her hand to the new one. "Yeah.. no. Who knows where that hands been?" Michelle raised her hands up and walked away in disgust, Layla following right behind with her usual cackle. Shaking her head, Mickie turned back to head in the direction of Vickie's office, but she was quickly stopped, feeling herself bump into something heavy. Ironically enough, it was Vickie herself, who now had water all over her top. "M-Mickie!!" With an "ugh" type of sound, Smackdown's consultant began to storm off, shouting at the top of her lungs. "You'll never see that title again!" "I'm sorry!" Mickie repeated it several times, walking behind her before giving up. She had apologized to all three women now, and the next thing she had to do what return to Jericho's locker room. The former women's champion had decided that she had enough of all of this today, and slowly began making her way back to her locker room. The diva closed the door behind her, forgetting to lock it however. Stripping off her clothes, Mickie headed inside her shower. Trying to forget all of today, she spent a while inside, relaxing underneath the hot water. After a while, she stepped outside and wrapped a short white towel around herself. Mickie stood inside her bathroom, with a smile on her face, feeling much better than she did before.

Pandora... Few knew what it actually meant, where it stemmed from. Go through enough researchers, if you truly cared enough about such a desolate place, and you might find out that the junkyard of a world was long ago named after a mythological box from a forgotten planet. Dig even further - though, why would you? - and you might find the significance of the mythological item. Perhaps you'd get a kick knowing it. Perhaps there was a degree of morbid amusement in how even when this planet was first colonized that the people back then knew it would be a complete shithole, for they named it after a box which was said to contain every evil in the world: Avarice. Pride. Prejudice. Envy. Theft. Rape, and murder. It was said that this thing, this 'pandora's box' contained a shred of hope despite all of these evils, but anyone who had spent even a month on the planet, even a goddamn day, could see that if any such hope existed, it was simply for the agony of it then being taken away. Pandora was a planet one person should never wish upon another. Scale every inch of the place and you would find only two things: small colonies built of jagged sheet metal and rotten wood, settled in valleys and alcoves where the sandstorms weren't as bad, and endless stretches of wasteland. Wastelands of dirt and wild beasts, wastelands of rancid trash piled upon rancid trash; neither was realistically inhabitable. The only people you might even find in venturing out to such places, should you go mad, and should you luck into someone before you die, were bandits, savages of society who holed up in such places because they were so awful that not even a rival gang would put up with it to come and shoot them dead. Why live in such a world? Because you were born here, and because there was no way out. There were no ships off of the planet, the galaxy well aware of the type of people living here and in the value in keeping them isolated. The planet was allowed to continue existing solely to serve as a garbage dump, rather than dump into space where a lightspeed ship might strike debris and go up in flames without even knowing it. So why come to such a place? That was often the question, the joke toward any new faces; the poor bastards had no clue they'd never be able to leave, did they? Oh well. Not like it really mattered. Most 'visitors' were skag food within their first week anyway. "Well goddamn," Rade Zayben said with a laugh, middle-aged and bald, leaning forward on the counter of his sheet metal booth at the Circle of Death, a 'sport arena' in the Arid Badlands. He leaned forward in a heavy, sloppy slump, shameless in the fact that he didn't know the name, hell, eye, even hair color of the person standing in front of him, outside the booth. "They ain't anything great, but I can't quite remember the last time we had a woman out here." Her tits. He was staring at them, at Lilith's chest for the past few minutes, his eyes never bothering to rise above it. What were they talking about again? "...Hm? Anyway, you saw my post over on the board, did you? Well, fine. Heh heh. It'll be a shame to see you torn to bits, but maybe if the pieces of you left over are big enough... A woman 'round here goes for quite a bit 'a cash, you know. Even half of one would fetch a nice price. Though I suppose it matters what half." Breaking his glance, an act that had only happened once or twice so far since the redhead approached his booth, Rade looked over about forty feet to the metal entrance of the arena. Once closed, it now raised as the cheering of the few dozen people inside gradually died down. "Heh... looks like they got 'im. Another sucker I don't gotta pay." Back to the woman. "Anyway," back to her chest, "the standard going rate is four grand. You go in. Skags everywhere. They win, you get eaten alive and everyone has a laugh. You win, you get four grand. Very simple. Even a woman should be able to understand those rules." Smirking, he cast another look over to the now-open gateway into the arena. The skags, some quite large, could be seen in the distance being rounded up and ushered back into their pens. Back to her chest. "Though you bein' a female an' all is a rare treat, so I'm gonna go out and make you an offer for my customers." He looked down, eyes trailing her flat abdomen to her crotch and thighs. Then, an ever-wicked smile, he looked back to the woman's chest. "You take off that top 'n bottom, you manage to slay those shits in there like that, and I'll think about adding something to the prize to make it worth your while."

You could call Pandora a festering heap of corruption, and you woudn't be far from the truth. The parched, arid lands were decidedly inhospitable, bleached dry by centuries of basking beneath the planet's merciless suns- The cloudless sky a blurred, rancid blue, doing absolutely *nothing* to stop the slow roasting of the endless plains stretching out beyond...Inhabited mostly by scags, mercenary gangs, and wretched, devolved subhumans. Those who could usually cowered indoors, out of the bleak, blistering sun- Those who *couldn't* didn't last too long. Natural selection in action. The armored security booth was a rusting hunk of metal, still solid, but sand-blasted and pitted as *everything* on this wretched planet, pornographic etchings and crude graffiti the only hint of color in the ramshackle Arena; Considering how short, brutal, and simply *ugly* life on Pandora was, the popularity of blood sports- As well as the up-and-coming Mad Moxxi's Underdome Riot- was depressingly clear- After all, the locals didn't have cable. In sharp contrast to the booth's slovenly occupant, the woman standing before him- A rare enough sight- was absolutely smokin'hot. The killer curves of hip, bust and ass were only outlined by her tight leather apparel, her legs sheathed in tight leather jeans, battered from months of travails- A pink half-shirt exposing a tempting glimpse of navel and flat belly... Lilith sighed, and snapped her gloved fingers, in a futile attempt to draw the man's eyes back *up*- God alone knew how many times the Siren had tried to keep his train of thought from derailing. She rolled those deep brown eyes in sheer exasperation, her vivid crimson hair a splash of color in the murk. The women on Pandora tended to be a *lot* like the men- Gritty, ugly, and crude, quickly swelling up from the day-to-day struggle of survival...Compared to them, Lilith looked like something out of a wet dream. A low 'tsk' parted her lips, though her eyes betrayed a flicker of interest at the offered bounty; Rade's smirk, however, was what *really* decided her. Life on Pandora was like a pirahna tank- Show *any* weakness, any at all, and quite suddenly, they were *all* over you. Four *thousand* was a not-inconsiderable sum~ And she'd been spending the *last* few months running a series of equally bizarre, inane errands, back-and-forth across Pandora's rocky surface. This came as absolutely *no* surprise. -In time, people *can* get used to anything. Or they die. See a pattern? "Deal," Lilith purred, her voice low, husky, and acid-sweet; For a woman who claimed to gain her powers from crossing the 'Hotness Threshold', she sure wasn't shy about showing it off- Though the thought of walking out *there*, in front of hundreds of the worse kind of hyperactive degenerates, screaming for blood and carnage...It made her skin crawl. Still, her apple-red lips curled into a confident, beckoning smile...And scarcely had he finished, when there was the dry *rasp* of leather of skin as the Siren pulled her *tight* leather apparel off- Slithering out her shirt, her nimble fingers unclasping the belt fastening her tight-fitting jeans- revealing only her hot pink undershirt...And surprisingly lacy undergarments, clinging to her long, toned legs... With a disdainful flick of her wrist, the lovely redhead rebuckled her bandoleer, the old, rusted- But still *entirely* lethal guns hanging from her webbing, as she bundled her clothes aside! Her feet, arched high on heeled boots, creaked as the Siren sauntered forward, heedless of the hot breeze on her bare skin- About to walk into the arena in little more than a tight-fitting shirt, and lacy black panties! "Take a picture, cueball," she suggested, her full lips curling into a distinctly nasty smirk. "-It lasts *longer*." Without another word, Lilith sauntered right past him, with the sultry, hip-rolling gait that seemed second nature to her- To the roars of the crowd, as she walked out into the ring...Armed with a shitload of guns and a *very* bad attitude!He'd *better* have the money, she thought, darkly-...Or I'll show that frig a whole new *world* of pain...

That smirk on Rade's face widened, damn near seemed as if it'd wrap around the whole way as the redhead gave him quite the show. A man could get hard as a rock just listening to that, the sound of leather peeling from a woman's body, of her skin being revealed to the world. Having eyes simply made it all the more enjoyable. He lifted up a hand as Lilith piled her clothes on the counter by where he leaned. Instantly the strip had brought cat calls from the numerous lowlifes hanging around the stand, some by a barrel, standing a ways behind, sharing a conversation of open admiration of the woman's tight ass. Another had been cheering her on, laughing and calling to 'see some pussy' from over by the vending machines - vending machines, vending out guns and medical kits of all things; what a fucking degenerate of a world. They wasted no time in verbally complimenting the woman, even started to approach her, but as Lilith finished her strip and gathered her clothes up onto the counter Rade halted them with a discreetly raised palm. No, fellas. Not now. This little chick's got a crowd to entertain. "Good luck sweetheart," he called with a laugh as the Siren sauntered off - that ass! That ass in those black lace panties. You'd have to be begging for dick to willingly go around such a place like that. When she passed the entranceway Rade turned to look to the other men, still that smirk. "I don't know about you fellas, but I'm gonna watch the show." Nods. Laughter. Grins. "Anyone think she'll make it? Bets now." "No way!" "Haha, four of five, maybe, but not clear it. Not with those rusted out shits." "Make what, the round? Make me a sandwich is more goddamn like it." "Amen to that." The several layered thick sheet metal door slammed shut once Lilith was standing in the center of the dirt ring, sending up a small bit of dust on either side. "Sounds like we should all grab some seats." "I've never seen a bitch get eaten alive. Do you think it'll be hot when she screams?" "Nah. That comes later, when I'm poundin' her." "Her remains you mean." "Tch, fine with me!" "How about one of you goes ahead and makes her clothes disappear? This world, fucking bandits everywhere... It'd be a shame if she had to strut around like that permanently." "I'm a fucking bandit!" "Well then that works out perfectly, doesn't it?" They all laughed. Over in the arena there were roughly two to three dozen spectators; hardly enough for a blood sport, but a decent turn out for such a dingy shithole as this. Many were hooting, howling, and making otherwise lewd gestures and suggestions to the half-naked woman standing in the center of the dirt arena. The rest were chanting; 'Die!,' all of them. Laughter abounds. After a few long moments of wait, time enough to let the victim's courage falter, several gates opened up and a half dozen skags of various sizes came charging out. Hundreds of sharp teeth. Drooling maws. Claws that could rip through sheets of steel. The gauntlet had begun.

Skags come in several varieties. There are Skag Pups. Skag Whelps- Names which are deceptive, as they make the ornery creatures sound decidedly *less* lethal than they are; When your typical Skag is a three-jawed omnivore that eats *anything*, and yurfs out everything *else*, it's easy to see why they're native to Pandora- Anything less vicious simply couldn't hope to survive on a planet as barren, as blasted... -Then you had those which spat acid, those which were so badly mutated, even by Pandora's standard, that a thick layer of chitin and bony growths bulged beneath an already *really* thick hide...About the only thing Skags *couldn't* do was fly, and that was simply because most of the aerial predators were just a lethal.Thatniche had already been filled. The crowd had been indulging in whatever depravities it needed to turn them *all* into hyperactive, bloodthirsty monkeys- A thick *roar* of mingled lust and blood-hunger rattled the zinc roofing, calling out suggestions and lewd threats; They were literally *slavering* over the sight of the gorgeous Siren, sauntering oh-so-sexily into the crude ring...When they saw what she was *wearing*, those lacy panties and a lacier bra, beneath ammo belts and the webbing-straps of the rusty weapons Lilith had plundered from, well, all over the planet, the roar got onlylouder! Lilith tossed her head back, vamping for the camera- "Ah, showbiz," she purred, in that smoky voice of hers, *entirely* aware of the eyes greedily devouring every inch of her lovely form...And of the skags, waiting to devour her, *too*. But literally. They *all* wanted a piece of her~ And the hot air *tingled* on her bare skin, as if to remind her how very, *very* exposed she was...Though with a brisk shake of her head, the lovely redhead squared her shoulders, reaching from her trusty combat rifle! The gates screeched open, and the first of the skags came bounding hungrily past the bars- Those things were *always* hungry, triple-jaws gnashing the air for more, more, *more*...*Right* up to the point where the first bursts of fire stuttered from the weapon's molded barrel. Literallyfire. Apparently, somewhere, Lilith had found a gun that shot flaming bullets. She was using the same technique that'd served her so well in her travails across the surface- Backpedal like hell, shooting all the way, and start *dodging* like crazy! The first skag walloped over, as it took most of the magazine- The two rushing alongside it promptly split, peeling away to come at the woman from the sides, as the other three lead a hungry, slavering charge! One didn't make the leap- It tumbled over the flaming corpse of it's packmate, and the curvy redhead promptly gave it the last few shells in the magazine, just *because*! She'd taped them together, end-to-end, jungle-style...And those slim but strong fingers moved *fast*, as she snapped the empty one off, spun it around, loaded in another... "Ugghhhhh!!!" And stumbled back, as one particularly canny skag raked her from behind! It's razor-sharp claws drew lines of fire down her back, slicing right *through* the straps of her black bra- Her rifle's stock bashed it right in the head, pitching it back...Right before the Siren crammed the Cobra halfway down the main maw! "-That's one *hell* of a mouth you got there, boy," Lilith gasped from between gritted teeth...She *squeezed* the trigger, and kept holding it, until fire and death ate the spasming creature out from within! The crowd's cheers were deafening. They wanted blood- The skag pack *pounced*, all three of them at once, right for her... -Now, on the bus, Lilith had met a trio of interesting characters. A sly little weasel of a man, with that equally mean hawk of his, who went for the eyes- And fingers, if it could- of anyone who got too close. A tactiturn soldier, who had a mobile turret- More like a bunker, really- he'd duck behind when there was shooting. And a big, big bruiser, who simply was *very* tough. No one likes being hit- A hot woman even less. Lilith ducked, with a gasp, letting go of her weapon- Amateur mistake, right off the bat- And wasn't there to be hit. She went translucent, then transparent, and the skags met in midair...Right before a crackling wave of lightning swept over the skags!! The first two pitched over, then sizzled as a second sheet of chain lightning washed forth from the de-ghosting woman...Smelling like fried cockroaches, as they popped and *burst*, riling under the stuttering of pinpoint fire! The last one went for her *anyway*, and those sharp teeth *bit* at her, slashing a deep gash down her side...Only to feel a shotgun's snub-nosed muzzle press into it's jaw! "Say hello to the disco for me," Lilith panted- And a buckshot blast hurled the thing's broken body against the wall! As the energy died from her, she slumped, just a little...Battered, bruised, and nicked countless times, in the brief encounter, her skimpy lingerie hanging off from her in tatters! She waved to the crowd, a sardonic little flip of her wrist...Then blew a wet, juicy kiss to them, bending over low and *deep* to really show them the goods! "Mmmm, thanks for a *great* night, boys~" the Siren cooed, with a brisk shake of her head...Looking absolutely gorgeous as she stepped daintily over the blackened bodies. That bastard better have the money.

The Queen of Iron Fist? It was amusing, in a sense. When it came to being the world's strongest you either were or you weren't. Period. Women were invited to participate in Heihachi's 'King' tournaments just as men were, and cross-gender matches were not uncommon. You were, or you weren't. Gender mattered not, at least not in Heihachi's eyes. To denote women into that second tier role would be a blow against the prestige of the title. He wasn't looking for the world's strongest woman with his tournaments, much as he wasn't the world's strongest man. He was simply looking for the world's strongest, whether it be male or female, whether it be a machine such as the Jack series or a trained, yet still wildly vicious bear. But despite this envelopes had been delivered two months ago to eight women around the world, cherry picked from the most recent 'King' tournament to compete in the first ever 'Queen'. Emilie de Rochefort from France, young, prim and proper, with an elegant style to match. Zafina from Egypt, a light-skinned sort of shamaness. Christie Monteiro from Brazil, a brilliantly skilled capoiera fighter. The Williams sisters, Anna and Nina, bombshells with only the other rivaling their assassin abilities. Julia Chang, a naturalist from America with Native American ties. Ling Xiayou from China, beautiful and swift, honed beyond her years. And finally Asuka Kazama, his own granddaughter, rounding out the most elite women the world had to offer. But to what end? ...They would find out soon enough. They would find out in time. The offer to whomever could claim victory in his 'King' tournaments was always grand, perhaps near mad, and assumption alone would be that the 'Queen' title would grant something equally prestigious. The invites had been delivered two months ago now, and it was finally time to see who would show. The Queen of Iron Fist November 11th Bring only what you need to fight. All else will be provided. - Heihachi Mishima It was to be held on the same tropical island that all other tournaments were, secluded and full under his control, isolated from the world by fields of sea. There was no government out here, no country that had power to step in. Heihachi here was law, until a day when one could unseat him by force. It was finally time. It was finally the day, and Heihachi chose to spend it in deep meditation, dressed in a ceremonial robe in his dojo at the very center of the island. All afternoon helicopters had been arriving with the participants, one at a time lest any decide to start hings early. To further this precaution private quarters had been built for the women along a beach with a full mile distance between each guest house. They were designed identically, and in the style Heihachi himself preferred, traditional Japanese-style homes, straw mats and sliding walls, with numerous closets full of personally chosen clothing based on what he knew of each of the women. Each guest house was extravagant in design with no expense spared, rivaling hotels that might cost thousands for a single night's stay, though they intentionally paled in comparison to the grandeur of Heihachi's dojo. Each home had a simple, hand-written note set on the table in the dining quarters, instructing its reader to pick from the vast, varied swimwear provided in their wardrobe and to report to the beach by dawn, to a circle of torches. One girl however had a second note left for her, a note set on a package, the box long and flat. His granddaughter, Asuka Kazama. Inside was a beautiful red lace teddy, the fabric a soft silk and completely sheer, tight around the chest and abdomen and billowing outward to a short skirt that only came a third of the way down one's thighs. The top stretched up around the neck with a small heart clasp in the back, shimmering with diamonds, a matching clasp placed between the top curves of the woman's backside. The note with the package stated she was to wear this, and only this, a potentially embarassing request as nothing for her lower half had been included, and she was to await her grandfather's arrival on the beach behind her new home.

Bishamon Island, the personal, *private* retreat of Heihachi Mishima, was the closest thing to an earthly paradise- A beautiful gem of an island, with the golden sweep of a natural beach and the emerald waves of the forest...A eclipsed by his personal mansion looming tall and stately above it all, like a victorious fist thrust towards the heavens... -It was, to put it simply, *impressive*. On this day of days, the low drone of helicopters sliced through the serene tranquility of the island- The anoymous wasps darting through the clear, cloudless skies, each with a *very* specific destination...And a *very* specific cargo... *** Two left jabs short and fast, and then high right round snap-kick. Swing the body low to avoid the first two and slam forearms into the thigh of the kicking legs. Counter with a right back fist and an uppercut with the left. Take the impact on the left forearm, tighten up the body and spin with the force of the punch. Drop down and keep spinning, sweep the right leg out to the calves of the opponent... -Or not. With a flare of blue, along with a brief, flailing moment of confusion, Asuka Kazuma yelped as she toppled, squarely on her nicely rounded behind with a lowthud. "O-w-w-w..." she muttered, straightening- One gloved hand rubbing at the bruised portion of her anatomy, a longsighrasping in her throat... It wasn't any use. She still couldn'tconcentrate.She'd been thoroughly surprised to receive the invitation, two full months ago- Long enough to murmur "Queenof the Iron Fist?" before Xiaoyu was on the phone, wondering whether this was some kind of joke. It'd taken a while, but they'd agreed that the leader of the Mishima Zaibatsu, founder of the Tekken Force, *and* one of- if not *the*- greatest warrior in the world, probably didn't have much of a sense of humor. The fact that he was supposed to bedeaddidn't seem to have slowed him down at *all*. Asuka rose to her feet in a single smooth motion, the fluffy whiteness of her towel hooked around one slim, toned arm- She ran her fingers through her lustrous brown hair, momentarily lost in thought...Her eyes going again, for the umpteenth time, to theboxshe'd placed on the cool sheets of the bed, the slightestglimpseof gems and crimson winking oh-so-innocently in the lights... Shestillwasn't *quite* sure that this- *All* this- wasn't some elaborate prank. Those full lips quirked in a smile, a mischievous glint in her eyes, as Asuka held the oh-so-scandalouscrimson teddy in one hand, tossing it lightly...Her face coloring, ever-so-slightly, at the *thought* of wearing it- Before a low, long chuckle parted her lips! "Well now," Asuka murmured, almost to herself- Stealing a quick glance at the slow pendulum of the clock. It'd been some kind of mistake- Probably meant for one of the *other* contestants- but that didn't mean she couldn't...play along, for now, at least... It wasjustttttthe slightest bit embarrassing, but she'd nursed an absolutecrushon her grandad when she was just a little girl...He'd been so *handsome* then, though it'd absolutely infuriated her dad- But then again, *most* things infuriated him. Why should this beanydifferent? Besides, if this was *really* Heihachi, it'd be chance for him to see how she'd...grown... -And Asuka flushed again, ever-so-slightly, banishing that decidedlyoddthought with a brisk shake of her head! With a flick of her wrist, she whisked the garment after her- The bleating of water on the shower's tiles, and the rush of hot steam punctuating her decision...

They had all arrived. No attendant came to Heihachi with this news; he simply knew. He had counted the whirling buzz of each helicopter as they arrived at the island throughout the day but even before that he knew. Only a fool would pass up such an offer as these women had been given, though they still had yet to be told what that offer even was. Only a fool would turn down the renowned Heihachi Mishima to begin with, even, or perhaps especially if they knew. "It is time," he said, opening his eyes. Day had given way to evening, evening way to the beginnings of night when the warrior rose from his meditative crouch. Dressed in his usual attire, half ceremonial and half combative, for one should never dress in a way that restricted their movement ability, Heihachi wore loose, flowing, rich blue pants with a gold and black dragon stretching from one leg to the other. A similar gold and black belt, though this design a tiger stripe, held two swords at his waist, the first a katana for if a blade were ever to be needed and the second a shorter blade, its one and only duty to be used for when its bearer failed to a point where he could no longer honorably live, and needed to take his own life. Thankfully Heihachi didn't fail, his power, his money, his island an existing testament of that. Finally he wore thick wooden sandals on his feet and black armbands covering the length of his forearms. Aside from that the man wore nothing, his entire torso bare, bare and muscled, a wicked scar ever present at the center of his chest. Heihachi dressed like this for all of his tournaments, right up until it was time for him to compete, at which point he changed into a black marital arts gi. But for now it would be this. When he felt it time, only the slightest bit of sunlight still on the horizon, the aging warrior stood from his meditative sit in the middle of the mahogany floor of his dojo at the island's center. One of the room's walls was completely removed, only columns existing every sixteen feet for support, allowing for a wide, picturesque view of part of the beach, and the thick forest from there to here. Heihachi smiled as he looked onward, recalling in a flash which was to be Asuka's. Third from the left. And so forth he went. Traversing the depth of the jungle was a feat neither challenging nor time consuming for the man well into his seventies. Tigers and snakes, bears and packs of wolves, the beasts bowed to him whether ahead of time or by force. They had been included as an extra challenge to the women, as if they were so weak as to succumb to a stalking leopard or a hungry bear then they were not worthy of the gift they had been brought here to receive. Heihachi, for his part, knew every part of the woods like a man knew the crevices of his home, knew which route would be the fastest and which direction would take him to his granddaughter, a girl with no lack of beauty whom he held every bit of confidence would be waiting for him. His pace had been nothing short of a solid dash from the moment of setting foot beyond his dojo, and as he emerged from the treeline to step out onto the beach his chest was rising and falling with only a slight harshness to his breaths. Ha. Seventies indeed! How long had it been since he'd seen her? Too long. Too long in person, anyway. He was well aware of Asuka's beauty, that very much the reason she had been left a personal gift. That very much the reason he visited her at her guest house tonight instead of any of the other stunningly attractive women. Spies were everywhere. Cameras were even more places. He was well aware of many things about each participant invited, his granddaughter's voluptuous, womanly form amongst an elite few thoughts often at the forefront of his mind. And now came the time to again wait. All that he had done so far, there would be a little more still, as he saw Asuka had not yet taken to the beach as her note instructed. Did she decide against such a forward, blunt request? Did she even show up? ...Of course she would have. And of course she would come. When Heihachi reached her home he walked right past it, past it and to the beach where he would wait standing at the very tip of the tide. Arms crossed along his chest, muscled back facing the back of the extravagant home, the eccentric billionaire gazed out at the coming moonlight upon the waves as he waited. Patience was one of many things he could afford; not even time would bring about his death, as many often hoped.

The raw, untamed jungle bordering the island was a sweltering thicket of green, the lush foliage creating an almost tropical heat, the smothering air prickling sweat across Heihachi's scalp- The aromatic resins of the evergreen scrub casting a shimmering haze in the air, one that lingered at the very edge of the treeline... In sharp contrast, though, the golden arc of the beach was a breath of fresh, crisp air, tinged with the bite of salt and spray...Far, far beyond, the ruddy orb of the setting sun glowed redly against the sky, slow fingers of cloud twisting to follow its stately descent. It'd been a *hot* day, and the golden sands were warm underfoot, smoldering with stored heat. -Now or never. In an ironic echo, Asuka had spent the intervening time in...contemplation, though that might've been the wrong word to use for the strange,formlessthoughts that'd raced through her mind, bringing a slow, spreading *heat* to her lovely face, a flutter to her stomach...As if sheknewsomething, or anticipatedsomethingthat she wasn't *quite* ready to acknowledge, *just* yet... The lacy softness of the crimson teddy touched her in odd places, as sleek as a second skin, molding oh-so-perfectly to the lissome curves of Asuka's form, the hem whispering against her bare thighs as she took the first steps out from her luxurious quarters, her arms clasped demurely behind her back...An odd spark of excitement dancing in her eyes, as sand crunched underfoot, toward the figure silhoutted against the evening sun... The distance suddenly seemedvery, very far...Those soft brown eyes widening, ever-so-slightly, a light gasp to her throat as she laid eyes on Heihachi for the first time inyears. Not for the *first* time, Asuka felt decidedly...*underdressed*, all-too-conscious of the silky lightness of the fabric against her flawless skin. In this she could perhaps be excused- It's hard *not* to feel just the slightest bit uncertain, even *vulnerable*, when meeting one of the most dangerous men in the world... Heihachi Mishima, in contrast, looked like he might know of uncertainty and vulnerability by reputation, but had never met either face-to-face. One hundred eighty-eight centimeters of muscle and stone. Absolutely still. Absolutely relaxed. From his attitude, thegihe wore might have been body armor. For a long,longmoment Asuka paused, basking in the odd serenity, a breeze ruffling her glossy brown hair- Then, her voice clear, strident, just the hint of a smile on her face, she said: "Hello...Grandfather. It's been a long time, hasn't it?"

And there she was. He knew it from the moment she exited her new beach home, though Heihachi had kept his back to it, his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes to the crashing waves. You didn't live this long, not with this many enemies, without having to train your ears to pick up every slight detail about every minor thing. Not only was she approaching him on the beach, but the light sound of her feet when she left her house before stepping to the sand signified that she had indeed dressed as requested, or at least similarly light. Good. This caused the older man to smile. Letting a length of time pass before he acknowledged his granddaughter, he replied with a strong, "Good!" followed by, "you came." Turning, Heihachi's body often resembled that of the animal he often wore on his attire. A tiger in every sense, he was beyond strong, beyond intimidating, yet not clumsily so, retaining a grace about his movements that seemed to ignore his age, as if he could strike with the utmost ferocity at any given moment. The steps that separated them in the sand were few, and from the moment he turned to the moment he was face to face with the young woman, literally inches in front of her, Heihachi's gaze had been only for her eyes. For now. "It has been very long indeed, Granddaughter." A smile. "You do great honor to your lineage by proving strong enough for such a tournament as this. I have hand-selected the top eight women in the world, and you would not be among them for blood alone. Though," and at this he had a brief paused, a sneer overtaking the disappeared smile, "Kazama...tch.Do you really think you get your strength from there?" Asuka Mishima would be far more appropriate, he mused. "I had hoped you would rid yourself of such a name long ago." A few more seconds of pause. Breathing in. Breathing out. Heihachi stared his granddaughter in the eyes, his harsh expression gradually fading to find a slight smile once more. The wind beating on the beach was the only sound for a few moments, then. "Though you have proven wise enough to accept my gift," the seventy year old said, reaching a strong palm up to caress up Asuka's side. It started first at her thigh, moving up to her hip, dragging the red silky teddy up with it to expose her lower half entirely to the night. Heihachi didn't look however, his eyes set firm on hers. As his hand moved upward the fabric fell back into place, the single hand moving up Asuka's ribs, and to soon cup her left bosom firmly in his right hand. Palming the firm, supple skin through the sheer fabric, this was a part of a woman, he thought with a smile, which would stay that - womanly, tender and soft, no matter how strong the rest of her body might be. "You did not have these when I saw you last, Little Asuka..." "Orthis," he continued, his smile turning to a firm grin as his hand left her breast to travel downward, down the front of her lingerie. Down across her firm, flat abs. Down to her crotch. Slipping beneath the fluttering fabric, his fingers cupping his granddaughter's bare vaginal lips in his palm. "It wasn't like this, was it? You feel so...readynow." He was going to have sex with her. Consensual or rape, he truly didn't care. Pulling his palm back from her warm, moist folds, Heihachi stood there with a look of arrogance on his face, the epitome of confidence. He was a man wel accustomed to having anything he wanted. Right now he wanted his own flesh and blood. "Offer yourself to me, Asuka." A pause. "Remove the last of what you wear and make it clear I may take you as I wish from now on." Clear to herself; he needed no such permission. "...Do not be shy about it."

A soft, taut *gasp* sawed in Asuka's throat, her brown eyes going *very* wide as he touched her, his strong hand *very* warm on her hip! "Oh-" she began, at that intimate contact, almost *unbearably* hot...Her lips moved, but she couldn't seem tothink, to phrase the shock she felt! "W-what are you~" She murmured, her voice low, disbelieving- wondering distantly if this was some kind of *joke*, some dream... -She remembered joking about it, with Xiaoyu; "Ah, maybe he's looking for a bride~" the Chinese girl had said, in that innocently cheery tone of hers...Asuka had chuckled, just a little; "-Him? He's too old, after all~ And then why's he's inviting *me*?" They laughed about that, together, and she'd thought it made a perfect retort- But *now*... "Wait...Nnnnnn~!" Asuka gasped, that lissome form shivering at his touch, an electric thrill jolting up her spine as those strong, *masterful* fingers cupped the perfect peach of one full breast, kneading the soft, supple flesh...She could feel herself *respond*, on a deep, primal level, the lovely fighter's lips parting; There was a low murmur of protest, of course, but there wasn't any strength in her voice...And her gaze never left his, as she realized, belatedly- -He's *serious*! Her own grandfather- A man more than *three* time her age- *wanted* her, as a woman...And to her own surprise, that thought wasn't repulsive or frightening, but...*thrilling*. The realization was like a shot of brandy- warming, spreading a heated glow through her limbs, muscles and skin tingling! Her gaze seemed deeper than ever, as his hand delved between those smooth, sleek legs...grazing against the neatly-trimmed thatch of her nether curls...to encounter *warmth*...And then a wet, creamy heat. "Mmmmmm~" that low, sensuous sound left Asuka's lips as her knees buckled, just a little, acutely aware of how sensitive her body felt, how her blood seemed to sing in her veins, calling to it's own! The ocean breeze made her shudder, as the silky fabric of her garment rasped against her hot skin... -Somewhere, reason wailed a plaintive cry...That this was *impossible*, that this couldn't be *happening*, that he was her own *grandfather*, and she should run- Just *run*, or fight, or wake up...But slowly, with a sensuality she'd never known, her slim but strong fingers slipped the straps of the lacy red teddy down her shoulders...The fabric sighing as it slithered down her sleek curves, then long, toned legs- Pooling in a silken puddle at her feet! For a moment, the only sound was Asuka Kazama's breathing, sweet and low, rising into *pants*- A slow, how color spreading in her lovely face, as she stood before him, her arms demurely folded across her chest...Then drawing apart, the fading light limning her silhoutte, glistening off her skin! The sand felt *very* warm underfoot, as she stood there, for a heartbeat... Then- "*Yes*~" she whispered, the words low, lilting...And smoldering with desire. With that same, dreamlike haze in her brown eyes, she prowled towards him with a tempting sway of her hips, her tongue darting over her dry lips- "-I *do* want you..." A shimmer of heat seemed to lift off her skin, glistening in a thin sheen of sweat- Her hands rose, to caress that lined face, seemingly mesmerized by their sheer proximity...Intoxicated by what they were about to *do*! "I've waited...so *long* for you to make me..." And her voice trembled, savoring the heady words, her mind churning- "*-yours*. It was as if *that* had sapped all lingering restraint...Her eyes squeezing shut, Asuka's tipped her head back, her face rising to meet his, *pressing* that supple young body up against his, with a deep, shuddering *gasp* as their bodies met!

Did she understand what this meant, what it meant to be 'his'? It was sex. It was lusty, incestuous, constant sex. It was more than that, though. None of the women yet knew the reason behind this tournament, the reason they were all here. They were here to compete, yes, but for what end? Asuka would be his no matter which of the eight won. A young woman still, she would remain on this island regardless of whether she won or lost. She would be a sexual object, always on her grandfather's arm, always on her grandfather's dick. Bearing his children - child after child, for years to come. He hadn't been very clear, he knew. When the tournament was over he would explain to her in more detail, explain to her why she could not leave. For now he simply watched her with no shame in his eagerness, enjoying her curves with his eyes, craving her femininity with his loins. Heihachi stood firm as he watched his granddaughter mull over the decision so very briefly before giving in, animal lust in her eyes, a red lace teddy at her feet. Grinning, he allowed her to press herself up against his form before moving to react. The patriarch's strong, powerful arms wrapped around her muscled, yet still gorgeous form, hugging her erect nipples away from the cold and against his chest, urging her needy crotch to his hard, ready own. He looked down to his granddaughter's eyes, her lids closed, and the lips she held pursed - but didn't kiss her just yet. Grinning, "You have waited long, have you?... ... ..." Kissing her, he finally leaned in close, exhaling hot, hungry breath against her supple lips, his arms tightening hard around her back as he let his lips linger. The next few moments seemed to meld together for him, each kiss firm, each coming intense, a thick white mustache brushing back and forth against her cheeks. "I have waited since your youth, little Asuka, for you to be ready for me in both body and mind." Heihachi's strong, firm hands were not the least bit shy in grabbing her body, muscled arms squeezing tight around her sides, palms sliding in separate directions, one up the right of her back and between her shoulders, the other down between her cheeks to then cup Asuka's left, spreading them slightly as he squeezed. Like this he held her firm, held her strong body against his even stronger, encouraging her form to meld against him as he kissed his own flesh, as he kissed his own blood, as he thought nothing wrong of it in the least. A strong, pleasured grunt came from between Heihachi's lips, against hers, the sound escaping as he tilted his head to kiss Asuka again. They had crossed a point of no return already. He was too aroused, too needy of her, something Asuka had surely felt by now. Should her courage falter, she had already given her grandfather to take her as he pleased. Gripping her firmly to his chest with those large, powerful arms, Heihachi leaned back a moment, lifting her feet off the sand with it. Still kissing, moving his tongue between her younger lips, Heihachi's hands moved about her back as he held her slightly aloft, letting her lean against him. One hand moved from Asuka's shoulders to the very center of her back, holding her close as the other moved down the back of her bare buttocks to the just as bared leg, down her thigh, his strong touch guiding that leg to wrap around his side. Leaning forward, Heihachi dropped to his knees in the sand before laying the woman out on her back - for no matter their relation she was still very much a woman, and if she wasn't yet then she was about to be. His other hand moved to grab Asuka's other thigh, guiding that too around his waist. Heihachi's hungry lips abandoned hers to search instead around her neck, along her throat, his breath heady, his eyes greedy, pinning her buxom body down against the beach. With her body guided around his he was perfectly poised now to take her fully, an opportunity he seized with some degree of eagerness. No foreplay. No fooling around. Heihachi grabbed at the front of his ceremonial pants, a rich blue with a gold and black dragon, pulling the gorgeous fabric over the hump of his crotch to reveal the very proud erection she'd have no doubt felt pressing up against her this entire time. "You've waited so long, you say," he whispered, hot breath dancing along her skin. The waves on the shore nearby provided an interesting backdrop of scent and sound that Heihachi was far too caught up in the moment to appreciate. Instead he traced his lips across her neck, intoxicated by the mixture of respectable strength and gorgeous femininity. "Tell me more..." His hips thrust forward. Hard. Deep. This wasn't about gentleness, about a tender first time. She was being claimed. Her body was being made his.

"I have waited since your youth, little Asuka, for you to be ready for me in both body and mind." Those heady words made Asuka *gasp*, just once, a taut sound in her throat, as those corded arms encircled her lissome form in a forceful embrace~ A heartbeat before Heihachi's mouth...Her *grandfather's* mouth...closed her on hers! Her tanned, toned skin prickled, at the brush of his whiskers, full lips parting obediently as his tongue slipped into her mouth, sliding over her own; Their tongues duelled, as she leaned *into* that long, *hot* kiss, returning it with equal fervor! The stiff, rosy peaks of Asuka's nipples *ground* against his chest, as proud swell of her bosom pressed up against him~ It felt like fine sandpaper against the sensitive nubs, the rough *friction* stimulating them as she writhed, giving herself over to the kiss; She could hear, distantly, the hungryslurp, feel the thin trickle of drool, in faux-hunger, down her chin~ Those long, coltish legs rose to wrap around his waist, doing her level best to press every *inch* of her supple form up against his powerful one! Asuka's pulse thundered in her ears, as the sheertabooof what she was doing- Fascinated, rather than appalled, by the sheer *physicality* of the man...And Heihachi wasverymuch of a man. Her eyes squeezed shut, droplets of sweat glistening like dew in her brown hair, Asuka *felt* rather than heard his pleased grunt, the sound seeming to reveberate through her in a taut shudder- And she couldn't help but *moan*, at the feel of his cockhead, brushing against her damp petals...Theraspof fabric against her hot skin almost *unbearable*... Then she slipped to the golden sands, as his mouth moved to the sleek curve of her neck, making her head loll back in bliss~ "Mmmmmm!" Asuka gasped, her eyes going *very* wide...Electricity crackled through her nerves, at every touch, every caress across her lissome form, wonderfully, achingly *sensitive*! Flat on her back, now, a sensual shiver rippled through her form at the prickle of cool air~ Pinning her with the illusion of complete, submissive helplessness, though her gaze, locking with his, was hot enough to melt a glacier. A powerful shift of Heihachi's frame, an adjustment of the angle just so even as she was raised up to the perfect height; the bulbous, blunt head of his cock dragging against the weeping flesh of her open and ready sex between her thighs. Flesh caught against flesh, the soft kiss of her opening holding his erection right there, perfectly aimed. A moment, as he *held* her poised, without so much as a hint of tremble in those powerful muscles, letting it stretch out even as her muscles trembled and writhed in anticipatory ecstasy- -And with a smooth, sure thrust as he pressed *in*, spreading her open on his cock! Her legs locked up and over his waist, the soft, hot junction between her thighs open and defenseless, Asuka's surrendering flesh traced the bumps and contours of her grandfather's phallus as it slid itself into her, inch after agonizing inch, penetrating this wonderful, tight cunt! "Ah! Ah!AAAAHHHHH!!!" a hot cry burst from her lips as her back arched, eyes going wide, her hips slapping against his- Hands going to her mouth, breath coming in white clouds as she tried to stifle her screams, quaking visibly at the fullness within her, body going taut at the strain! There was a flicker of pain- and a hot, coppery trickle down the inside of her clenched thighs- and Asuka *flushed*, a low "Oh~!" teased from her core at the knowledge that he'd *claimed* her...The respite was only brief, as Heihachi stabbed forward again, sheathing more of his cock inside the lovely fighter, his rutting movements pinning her against the sands as his body loomed powerfully over her. This was only the start!

Harry Potter sighed and adjusted his glasses as he walked up the long path towards the rather ominous looking manor. Whilst he would rather be spending time with his friends, this was certainly better than what he was being offered. It was summer and the only way he had been able to get away from the Dursleys was to agree to undertake a summer job through the ministry of magic. Unfortunately, the only thing that had been left available by the time he got around to applying had been a stupid cleaning job. Well....at least it wasn't cleaning for the Dursleys, and at least he would get some pay and appreciation for this, Harry didn't know who he was actually working for, just that they lived here. When standing at the doors of the manor, there was no nameplate, nothing that might indicate who lived within. With a sigh and a shrug, Harry reached out to pull a cord that looked like it might ring some kind of bell, then took a step back to wait, trying to look relatively happy to be there, even if he wasn't too fond of the idea of being a cleaner for the next month.

This had perhaps been one of the best ideas in his entire life! Putting an advert in the Ministry of Magic weekly newsletter, advertising for a cleaner. Well if he had been anymore brilliant, he would have had to have killed himself. The amount of young school girls that would want to work for the summer had to be huge amounts, and of course they wouldn't be stinking muggles! Having dressed this morning in a dashing suit, made from the finest of materials, Lucius paced the mahogany floors of his incredibly lavish manor. The dragon hide boots clanking against the surface, making an echoing noise around the vast hallways. Pushing a strand of platinum blonde hair behind his ear, he rose a brow as he heard the noise from the door. Quickly a small house elf shuffled towards the door, and pulled it open. "Master is...Oh." The house elf stopped in it's tracks, and begun to chuckle a little "Master is not going to like this...' The creature whispered under it's breath, ushering Harry into the hallway. "Allow me to take your cloak?" The creature spoke once more, offering it's spindly hand. The being chuckled under it's breath, pointing to the drawing room door where Lucius had now taken his seat in the large leather wingback chair.

Harry glanced down at the House elf as it spoke, seeming almost surprised, then amused to see him. Still, he never had quite understood House elves....they always acted in the most peculiar ways. "Hm....thank you..." Harry removed his cloak, handing it over to the expectant House Elf, then moved to follow it's directions to the rawing room. "Wonder why they need someone to clean up if they have House Elves running all over the place...." Ah well, who was he to argue? He was going to get out of the Dursley's place for the summer and get some extra spending money for it. "Hello?" He knocked on the door, then started to step into the drawing room, seeing only the back of the chair, not knowing yet who's house he was in. "I'm from the Ministry....they sent me for the part time cleaning job?"

Taking the cloak gratefully from Harry, the little elf scurried off down the hallway and disappeared just as soon as he had appeared in the first place. Snapping his fingers gently, a pop sounded and a different little house elf appeared at Lucius' feet. "Whiskey" Was all he said, observing as the elf rushed off to oblige her master. Within seconds a crystal cut glass was placed into the pale hands of the Malfoy elder, filled with an amber liquid. Nodding his head a little upon receipt, Lucius took a small sip of the fluid. As he did so the elf disappeared. After he took another sip, his ear's perked up at the sound of a male voice. Immediately his brows furrowed, and an angry expression filled his face. Cheeks as pale as snow, suddenly turned fiery red with clear anger. There was noway he had put that a male should apply, definitely not! Placing the glass on the side table, Lucius pushed him forward a little in order to stand regally. Adjusting his suit jacket, he moved across the room to open the door. Once he had opened it, Lucius eyes widened as he noticed the Potter creature stood before him. A wicked smirk adorned his lips, as he looked the dark haired boy up and down. "Well, well, well, if it isn't Mr Potter" His voice was as smooth as silk when he spoke, giving him a somewhat aristocratic presence. Although this boy was clearly the wrong sex for the job, it wasn't beyond Lucius to make the very best out of a bad situation. Having the little wizard about the place would surely make for some light entertainment, especially if he could managed to get the male into the outfit he had chosen for his 'wanted' slender female. "Do come in, and take a seat over there. Drink?" He asked, moving into the room and taking a seat once more in his chair.

Just another day in Spira. Far above, in the blue sky, birds- And terrible razor-winged harpies- soared through the clouds, a bewildering array of native fauna crawled, growled or spat flames...And somewhere else, far, far away, a titanic, invincible behemoth set about on its task of destroying the entire world. But *that* happened every generation, after all; So hey, no pressure. Currently, the only hope for the salvation of two worlds was...Dodging lightning bolts on the Thunder Plains? After that, he'd get round to chasing those damn blue butterflies in the depths of the Macalania Wood...And then there were those chocobos to breed- When asked exactly *when* he was going to work on the whole 'Destroying Sin, and saving the world for good' thing, the party's nominal leader answered, quote, "Eventually." unquote, and went right back to playing a particularly brutal variant of underwater football. Curiously, by-and-large, the people shrugged and went on with their daily lives. While Spira might be, as stated by a recently re-killed madman, "A sad land, trapped...In a *spiral*. Of DEATH!" the god-spawned abdomination and potential ender of the world certainly wasn't going anywhere, anytime soon... Of course, while waiting for every last sidequest to be completed, a girl could get very, very bored. *** The city of Luca is the second-largest metropolis in all of Spira. For the purposes of our story, though, it's a particularly important city; It's the trade center of the world, where merchants and people of all stripes mingle, away from the repressive theocracy that grips most of the land. Here, anything and everything is available...For a price, of course. As befits the 'free trade' zone, the rest of the city has been built entirely to cater to visitors; Blitzball matches, breathtaking underwater- and aerial- views, a variety of exotic restaurants... -And bars. There's *always* a bar. It is, without a doubt, a place a girl could get herself into a *lot* of trouble. *** In the pavilion of a salon in the depths of Luca... Inside, the place was lit by glow-globes and hanging lanterns, each private booth and dining table surrounded by fluttering drapes of white silk, magnifying the lamplight, creating a creamy, flowing texture like vellum. The twitching brazier light cast a crimson, almost hellish illumination of the pitch-black floor below, creating the eerie sensation of falling through space... At a corner table, a pale, long-fingered hand curled around the stem of a wineglass, bringing it up to raven-black lips. As she set it back on the glossy black table, Lulu stretched langurously, displaying the curvaceous tightness of her fur-trimmed gown; Beneath the endless array of criss-crossing belts, her long, lissome legs whispered as she crossed them, enticing flashes of creamy thigh flickering through teasing gaps... Bored Her wine-dark lips curling in a sultry pout, the lovely sorceress leaned back in her chair with a sigh, the charms that lined her bound hair clinking against her hairpins, in a gentle surussation; She was bored. Idly, Lulu tapped her long nails together, fingers drumming a gentle tattoo on the obsidian surface; She sighed, a low, throaty sound from her magnificent throat. This was *not* what she'd in mind. Ever since she'd taken on the duty as Lady Yuna's Guardian, it seemed that the world had become an odd place indeed; They'd left the well-defined rut of the Summoner's Pilgrimage, and were, apparently, breaking entirely new ground...Now, the impetus was to *defeat* Sin, forever, not just seal it away for another generation; And, certain disturbing...revelations...had come to pass, which'd changed things entirely... It was, she decided, enough to make a girl turn to drink. Cupping her pointed chin, Lulu gazed absently at her reflection, thinking. Their fearless leader had come to the decision that, with the final confrontation looming, it'd be best if they found the ultimate weapons...More firepower against Sin. That, on paper, was an excellent idea. In reality, though; There'd been an insane number of hoops to jump through- You didn't just need the weapon, you needed an, um, 'Celestial Mirror'. Then a 'Venus Emblem'. And, finally, the damn thing itself. She'd asked to be dropped off here, in Luca- After all, if those could be found anywhere, they'd be found here...Right? And besides, she had to admit, she *was* looking for a little fun... A spark of amusement ignited in Lulu's dark eyes, and the sorceress straightened, ever-so-slightly, her bare shoulders rising above her gown's fur trim; She'd sent out word of her interest, and had received a fairly enthusiastic...Let alone overwhelming...response. Maybe, she thought, it was the *way* she'd been asking the questions... Oh, well. She had time to burn, and a will to pursue this ridiculous sidequest. Who knew? Perhaps something would come out of it, after all...

The dull roar of the blitzball stadium was a welcome sound to the ears of Demitrius Biggs as he exited the giant floating orb of water and let his body adjust to standing on firm ground again. There were only a few people milling about, his teammates (done with practice for the day) and a few devoted fans who came to watch the practice. His chestnut brown nape-length hair was matted to his head and face, limp from the hours of swimming. Long, tan and toned arms glistened and rippled as he stretched them. All the repetitive motion of swimming had tired him out a fair bit. Demitrius turned and looked back up at the strange aquatic sphere and furrowed his brow. How this mass of water was able to stay afloat in the middle of the air with seemingly no magical aid, how it never got dirty with seemingly no maintenance crew, and how he was able to hold his breath for so long while submerged in it was beyond him. He was a Red Mage, one skilled in both the arts of magic and physical combat. He did fairly well in both, and as such he was gifted with an athletic body and a decent mind. Of course, he was no Spartan Warrior and he was no genius, but he at least knew more than most of the meatheads on his team. He didn't like Blitzball a terrible lot. It was fun to watch, but definitely not something he thought he would be involved in. Still, when he heard how flexible the hours and how good the pay of a spot on the Luca Goers was, he decided it was in his best financial interest. After all, that Tidus boy, the outlandish guardian of Lady Yuna, still had time to play in tournaments while out saving mankind from the world. How Tidus managed this was beyond him, but what he did know was that it was rather easy for him to do his work as both a Red Mage and an athlete. He headed back to the lockers, taking a shower and changing into some suitable casual clothes before heading out into the streets of Luca. His blue eyes, slightly shimmering from his magic power, scanned the streets as he walked. He'd heard a rumor that another from Yuna's pack--a magic user named Lulu--had branched off and was currently staying in Luca. He'd never seen a picture of her but from what he had heard, she was quite a lovely lady and she hadn't exactly looked chaste in her search for...whatever it was that she was looking for. He arrived at his destination, a tavern in the shopping district of Luca. It was called The Golden Chocobo, named after the elusive creature obtained through extensive breeding. It was an old-town folksy name for a rather modernized bar. That way, people could go and enjoy a drink and pretend they're living the old-fashioned life while enjoying all the comforts of contemporary style and technology. Consumer psychology was a tricky business. Demetrius stepped inside and glanced around. One patron immediately caught his eye. She was aloof, yet not quite snobbish. Beautiful and almost dangerous. (And if he thought she was "almost dangerous" from one glance across the room that meant she was most likely rather dangerous.) She looked far too...unattainable to be alone at a place like this. Demitrius didn't waste time in calmly striding to where she was sitting and taking a seat next to her. "Two more glasses of Cornelia Rouge, if you would," he signaled to one of the people working. "Demitrius," he said, flashing a smile. Friendly, but it showed his intent well enough.

A soft, low "Hmmmmm?" parted Lulu's lips, as his knuckles rapped on the wood; She glanced up, arching an eyebrow, her dark eyes curious...She hadn't been expecting company, after all! She caught the flash of white teeth, heard the easy, almost amused vitality in the speaker's voice, and thought- I *could* make an exception... With a flick of her wrist, the sorceress twitched the curtain aside, just the smallest curl to her pouty lips; "Lulu," she murmured, her voice smokey, a little husky from drink- But with a certain sparkle in her eyes..."Please, feel free; Some things *are* better shared." Lulu gestured, cradling the carafe of wine she'd ordered, turning it in her pale fingers, letting it catch and sparkle in the light. Easing it into a slow spin, she brushed her dark tresses back from her face, leaving the curtain open, invitingly; Ice clinked as she swirled her glass, the sound- And the cool darkness- a pleasant contrast to the heat of the day outside... A smile tugged at those full, bee-stung lips as she leaned back into the plush seat, those kohl-rimmed eyes meeting his, for a moment...Then shifting away, as if satisfied. "-And what brings you here, Demitrius~?"

So far, so good. Demitrius was never one to play games when it came to these sorts of situations. Hell, when it came to womanly pleasures he hardly needed to. After a game there was no shortage of girls who wanted to accompany him to the after party and then some. Still, when one encounters someone like this...by the Yevon gods, one goes out of their way. Lulu.The name clicked with him immediately, but he didn't let on. Chances are a girl didn't go off to enjoy a drink with the intent of talking about that odd party of warriors and magicians. "Charmed, Lulu," he said, his face remaining calm but friendly, like that of a close friend in a poker game. He graciously took the carafe and poured himself some wine before lifting the glass to her. "Cheers." He thought for a moment at her question. What did Demitrius come into the Golden Chocobo for, anyway? "I was done with my obligations for the day and didn't feel like going home yet. Besides, nothing good ever comes from drinking alone." He leaned back, his eyes fighting the temptation to glance down at her luscious lips and her impressive cleavage. Eye contact, eye contact. "And yourself? Something tells me you don't frequent this place."

Lulu's bee-stung lips curled into a smile, enjoying the back-and-forth; On the ship, with the rest of the party, with one thing after another, well...It'd been a long, *long* while before she could just unwind, and enjoy someone else's company- And this certainly qualified. He was...certainly good-looking, in a dusky, muscular way...Again reminding her, oddly, of- "And myself?" she echoed thoughtfully, a low "Hmmmmmm~" as she considered- Then those dark eyes flashed with mischief. "It all depends," Lulu murmured. "-Can you keep a secret, Demitritus?" Those slim fingers brushed a stray strand of midnight hair back from her pale face, her skirts rustling as she shifted the slightest bit closer...Then waved it away, as if it meant nothing at all. "-I am, actually, seeking...Exotic goods. Relics of old Spira. But-" and she paused, just for a moment, "...Thatisin the long-term. For now, though..." And her dark eyes locked with his, in a pleasantly uncomfortable contact, seeming to *measure* him...The amused glitter leaving him pondering whether she liked what she saw! "-I'm merely enjoying the ambience." Ice clinked. "With company, of course..."

Demetrius's sky-blue eyes flicked downward, catching a brief glimpse of her tantalizing pale legs behind the outlandish matrix of belts that comprised her skirt. How she assembled them into a suitable vtement was beyond him. Still, the way her legs peeked through like light through a tight lattice was quite a sight. Perhaps I'll find out how that skirt comes off... No. No. Demetrius chided himself for almost letting his mind wander. But oh, the places it could wander to... "My lips are sealed," he answered, leaning forward as she did. She was obviously enjoying his company. He had to admit, even beyond her stunning body and sensual aura, he was enjoying himself as well. Lulu seemed like the type of person one could never get bored of being around. "For now, though..." Though he'd been actively listening to her before, he felt himself suddenly caught in a new sharper focus as her eyes zeroed in on his. "Is that so? Sounds like quite an endeavor. I suppose you'll be around for a while then?" It almost hard to keep his cool composure as he could feel her eyes evaluating him. He could almost sense a hint of skepticism in her, as though she wasn't quite convinced that he was the one she'd like to be spending an evening with, and that she was merely entertaining him for the moment to amuse herself. If she could do this much with a look, he could only imagine what it was like to be one of her party on her bad side. "There is something of a charm about this place, isn't there?" he replied, banishing his previous thoughts and putting on an air of confidence once again. "Well, while you're around, I suppose I could take some time to show you around," he offered, sliding an inch or two closer to her.

Mos Espa. A once-sweet desert rose nestled in the heart of the horrid dune sea, the winding snake of a city was a dying cesspit of corruption. With an economy based so heavily on drawing in spectators for the famed pod races, it was a city of come and go. There were always strangers in the streets, and their faces changed day to day, week to week, race to race. The locals were lost in the constant crush of visitors and excitement, and business boomed. Especially the lucrative businesses that were the slave trade, and in particular the night life. Cantinas were like roachesfor every one you saw, there were another two nestled around the corner in some filthy back alley somewhere, somehow. The more civilized ones were featured on the main drag of the snake-like central street, complete with dancing entertainment. The more seedy, darker places were the ones that a person couldn't find unless they were lost in the maze of alleys and walks. Rather than put herself in either category, the young red-headed woman chose to walk the hazy middle line, choosing an establishment only a block away from the main street. Just far enough away from the commonplace that the common folk wouldn't bother most of the time, and not far enough into the shadows that the shadow dwellers wouldn't come out unless called. Her name, or rather the word that she chose to be called by, was Seren. Seren Fey, some called herfey meaning a number of things, but most commonly 'fated to die'. And that was the reason that she kept to a nearly indistinguishable fringe, where she wasn't likely to be found, by someone who wanted to carry out that fate. And so she slid up to the bar, hunkered into a seat, and tipped the barkeep's attention toward her just enough to let him know he had a new client. Durindfire, she whispered Cold. And the glowing cocktail appeared before her in a moment or two. The barkeep cleared his throat, and she looked up from a sip, gesturing at him vaguely with her hand. I already paid you, good sir. Forget me. His eyes glazed very slightly, he nodded, waved her away, and she slid away from the crowd at the bar, and into a corner, out of sight, and out of mind. Or, she would have been had it not been for the glowstick of a drink she was sipping at, twirling the glass in her fingers. She smiled at the sickly blue-green glow, watching the way the light lit her delicate features into a ghastly, spectral glow, from the reflection in the glass. Her smile didn't reveal her teeth, and was faint enough that it was nearly not there, but it was just enough to make her features all the more eerie in the ghostly glow. Let the night begin.

A young man walked into the shabby bar, many obviously illegal drinks bubbled lightly behind the bar. The man looked around as if he had sensed something amiss. His eyes stopped on Fey for several moments before he turned back towards the bar, now acting as though he was completely unaware of her very existence. The man himself was difficult to describe, since he was cloaked and hooded in Jedi garb. The garb was pure white and was etched with almost to many Jedi symbols, as if some form of disguise. Many heads turned, as his garbs apparently announced the presence of a Jedi to the stupid and easily fooled. The man sat down by the bar and ordered a drink, placing a small pack which he carried down. The pack hit the floor heavily, indicating valuable or just plain heavy contents. One of the drunks eyed the pack, obviously thinking about potential contents. To this the man whispered shortly in his ear. The drunk stood up and walked out of the bar, ignoring the call of the bar tender. "Hey you, Riorian, you didn't pay for your last round." The bar tender chased after the drunk and turned him around, the drunk didn't seem to notice he had been turned around as he walked past the bar tender collapsing on the floor near the bar. The bar tender seemed confused for a moment but quickly recovered as he walked up to the drunk, extracting his wallet from his pocket and returning to behind the bar.

From her spot, Fey could see the entirety of the bar, except down beneath it which wasn't visible to anyone except perhaps those sitting at the bar itself. She could see the drunks, the sober, the deals being made and unmade, and the entrance and exit of every patron. All there was to give her own presence away was the steadily dwindling bottle of glowing liquid, and within a number of minutes, it too had been extinguished. Becoming bored, and deciding to play with a glowing drop hovering around the inside of the neck of the bottle, she didn't notice the look she received from the newest entry to the establishment. Her eyes rose to touch his back just as he turned away. His robe intrigued her--she had always known Jedi to be much more subtle creatures. They hardly liked to flaunt their presence like that, wearing pure white with jumbles of stark symbols. That brought several things to mind; he could either be an idiot, or a fake. One way or another, it hardly seemed to bode badly for her. Bored with the sudden lack of good drink in her bottle, she mentally nudged the bartender with her suggestion of more drink, and he made his way over to her with another cold durindfire, eyes slightly clouded with her mental pressure, and bent for a moment, almost as if talking to her, and she made the mimed action of slipping something into his hand, though she really did no such thing. He dropped the imaginary money into his apron, and then wended his way back to the bar, where he seemed to come back to himself. Completely unaware of what had just happened. She chuckled softly, and cracked the wax seal from the second bottle, sipping steadily as she continued to watch the goings on, in particularly the potentially stupid/fake Jedi who sat at the bar.

The man silently sipped his drink as if no one else was present. Several thugs were talking about the man as silently as they could. They occasionally would point to him and the bag he carried as they rabidly discussed their increasingly obvious plans. The man remained by the bar, not even giving the bar tender his attention as he mentally probed everyone in the room. He did this rather slowly, and cautiously towards those most likely to catch him in their mind. He finally had a general synopsis of everyone in the room, and what some of them planned to do next. The only one missing from the picture was Fey, whom he had intentionally avoided contacting mentally. He took several more sips from his drink, relishing it's subtle intoxicating effect that he so enjoyed. He waited several moments, keeping his senses alert to see what fey would do. The only thing he knew about her for sure was that she was shrouded in the dark side of the force and had no training to hide this from others familiar with the force. Though she was powerful, the force was strong with her, but she neglected to properly train herself.

While two small bottles of drink were certainly nowhere near the amount that she would need to ingest to even come close to being intoxicated, they were enough for her to make her more easily bored. If there was one thing that was bad for her to be, it was bored, because she had absolutely no problems with starting things that would make her...less bored. What mattered quite a bit to her was her own amusement. It was petty, sure, by all means, but it was her. Her attention had turned to one particular group of men muttering to one another, and watching the 'Jedi' at the bar. There were four of them, and it looked like they were getting ready to move. She smiled. One of them stood up, from the far side of the table, and began to move around his companions as they began to rise, and she found her opening. With a gentle thought, she called a tendril of the force to swoop around his ankle, and the man went down with a squawk of anger. One of his companions jumped up, and darted around to check on him, but only made it half way when another of his buddy's chairs slid out just enough to trip the second man up. Both second and third man and chair went down into the pile, and the fourth man simply sat at the table and howled with laughter, mocking his clumsy friends. And within seconds, a small brawl had started between the four, and it didn't take long for it to escalate to include more and more of the bar patrons by the second. Fey chuckled, tipped back the rest of her drink, deftly ducked as a chair sailed across the room and through the window behind her head, and then disappeared out the window behind the chair in a single, fluid movement. While starting barfights was fun enough...now she needed to find another bar to plague herself upon. She flipped up the hood of the short, tan-coloured cloak, covering her choppy, sandy red hair, smashed the empty bottle against the ground, and stepped off down the alley, humming an amused, jaunty tune to herself as she made her way deeper into the darker, nastier part of town. There was still much fun to be had.

The supposed "Jedi" noticed Fey leave as the bar fight conveniently broke out, and it didn't take him long to deduce what had happened. He stood up grabbing his pack, easily overpowering everyone in his way as he made his way out the door after Fey. He stepped out into the windy street to notice water was flooding it. "Rather odd for Tatooine" he thought. He turned to see a moister farmer had in effect, lost control of his merchandise. Ignoring this small inconvenience he began to run after Fey. He quickly found traction to suddenly be a bit of a hazard in the freshly soaked street. Catching a glimpse of Fey running off in one direction, he acts quickly to over take her. He dashes behind a corner and focuses his energy at her mind. Using the dark side of the force to seize control of her mind.

The swell of darkness in the currents of the force behind her was enough to alert her that something was definitely not right, but she wasn't quite quick enough to throw up her mental shields to a state where she would either be invisible or able to block any sort of mental attack. Her hands jerked over the hilts of her sabers, fighting for control to take them as the other mind in hers fought her to keep them off. Her entire body stiffened, her back arching to a painful angle as she fought the mind control, lashing out with a mental bombardment of her own. But she was simply too disoriented and caught off guard for that to function properly, and though she could tell the general direction of the attack, she was more interested in trying to keep control then she was in pinpointing the idiot screwing with her. As a last ditch effort as she remained trapped in the arched posture, Fey threw back her head and let out a sharp keening shriek, much like a banshee, that reverberated in reality as well as in the force. To anyone without any sort of training or force abilities, the sound put them down almost instantly, bleeding from the ears. Not dead, but in massive pain or unconscious. Windows shattered shamelessly within a fifty foot radius, and then the sound cut off as she crumpled to the ground in a limp heap. A force scream was erratic and unpredictable, and also took a massive amount of energy. It's lack of total success had destroyed any chance she'd had of fighting the invading mind in her own, and she laid there, curled on her side, her eyes totally blank and glassy while her conscious mind flailed and screamed inside her head.

Kynslive was thrown back slightly at the rather unexpected force scream. He scanned the area observing the damage done by Fey and then quickly turned back to Fey seizing control of her mind. She was weak after that single attack, and although his ears were still ringing he was able to quickly take control of her mind. He had her stand and follow swiftly behind him towards the edge of the city. A lone speeder hovered over the sand just outside the city, a dug happened to be in the process of looking through the speeder for valuables. the dug looked up, rather surprised to see the two approaching the speeder. He jumps out of the speeder in a panic as Kynslive raises his hand. The Dug begins to apparently choke, not able to breathe as it attempts and advance on Fey and Kynslive. Kynslive has Fey sit down in the passenger seat in the speeder as he chokes the dug to death and retrieve is stolen goods. As various objects float through the air replacing themselves in their original position Kynslive seats himself down and fires up the engine and speeds off into the desert. Kynslive closed the cockpit, shielding both himself and Fey in darkness, away from the blazing sun. After about three hours they come to a large ship in the middle of the desert, with rather a rather obvious purpose for battle. He slows down the speeder and opens the cockpit, stepping out he has Fey follow him into the ship, leaving the speeder open as he usually did. Despite the fact the ship was designed for battle it was fairly luxurious, with dual decks, each luxuriously furnished. Kynslive brought Fey onto the second deck into a small lounge, where he yielded control of her mind, but kept his presence in her mind.

Fey was mostly aware of the trip through the city, though the surroundings blurred slightly from a combination of the speed and her distraction as she attempted to wrest control of her mind back from the strange man from the bar. While she couldn't control her motion, a rough, dark expression began to appear on her face, and her teeth gritted. Her canines elongated very slightly into a delicate pair of points, and her breath began to hiss. While he had the control, she was still roughly fighting him. The trip in the speeder flew past in a blur, and by the time they reached the ship she was mentally and physically exhausted. A few tiny flecks of perspiration dotted her face beneath her russet hair, and her eyes had taken a slightly orange-yellow hue characteristic of many Sith. Mostly, the colour was due to her fury at losing control, and when she lost her temper, sometimes parts of her physiology changed, due to her shapeshifting nature. The only changes so far were the teeth and the eyes, and both were hardly noticeable. She hadn't been expecting the sudden yield of control, and she jerked harshly when it flooded back to her. A sharp gasp came from her, and then she took a step back, tensing, and her face screwed up in an ugly snarl. "That," she growled "Was rude." But she knew better than to put her hands near her weapons, or attack him just yet. She could feel him. Her arms crossed under her breasts tightly, and she shifted uncomfortably, her eyes flickering and inspecting the room every few seconds from the corners of her eyes, before returning her gaze to his face. "What was the point tothat?!"

Kynslive sealed the doors to the ship and walked over to a small compartment, opening it. Inside was a galore of Sith holocron's. He opened the pack he had been carrying and carfully sorted the contents onto separate shelves with other holocrons, sorting them carefully. He then sealed the door with a very unique lock that sealed itself with a specialized holocron that required one to activate the holocron to gain access. He then turned to Fey whom he had ignored until now. "What is your name?" It was a simple question that he already knew the answer too since he had already visited her mind. The question was simply a test to see if she knew that he already had most of his questions answered. Testing how much she knew of the dark side, perhaps she was greatly knowledgeable, or perhaps she knew nothing and was simply shrouded in the dark side. He would soon find out for himself if she knew anything worth learning.

The city was quiet except for the constant stream of rain and lightning that lashed out over the city. The thunder struck as lightning ripped across the sky. Beast boy sighed and sat back on the couch as he kept flipping through the channels, most not working due to the lightning storm they were experiencing. "Great nothing on and nothing working can this day get any worse?" As soon as he said the lightning tore across the sky and struck the ground knocking out the power to the titan tower. "Apparently it can." He sighed and just shook his head sitting on the couch. Robin looked outside and shook his head as the lightning kept arcing across the sky. "Something about this just doesn't feel right, Like its not natural and I know how odd that sounds but it just doesn't seem right and some of the lightning is actually striking the ground and that is RARELY normal to happen so many times." Robin walked back over to the living room and when the power shut off he knew something wasn't right. "All right now I know something is up. Titans be on guard." Outside the city where the lightning had struck the smoke began to clear. "Oh wonderful job." "I know what I was doing, it was a short cut." "You know what you're doing you know what you're doing, If I had a penny for every time you said that I wouldn't be needing this gold!" Fear growled ready to smack his brother Chaos across the head. "Both of you, shut up, We're here so now we need to infiltrate into the tower and take it over so that the defenses of this planet are gone. Then the rest of the team can get through." Fear and Chaos looked over and nodded. "All right all right." Shadow just shook his head and looked at them. "Remember we want them alive, No use in killing them so fear, ease off on the power." Shadow looked up at Titan tower. "First the tower then the world."

Raven stood quiet in the tower, casually watching the lightening strike outside in odd amounts. The girl seeming unchanged but the sudden loss of power as well. "Robin's right..lighting doesn't strike like this. Something is definitely up." She watched the tower carefully as it lay covered in darkness, the only light seeming to be from the lighting that struck. When she was given that chance she studied the tower, waiting to capture something out of the usual within the tower. "Aw maaan, you just had to say something didn't you BB? You know once you say that, something always happens!" spoke Cyborg, glaring over at the Beast Boy, as if to blame him for their loss of power. His red eye glowed dimly in the darkness of the tower, sighing he moved to stand once hearing Robin about staying alert. He calculated the tower, like Raven, waiting to something out of the norm. Starfire stayed close to Robin, a small squeak escaping from the girl as the power went out. She still was not quite use to the sudden power outage, making the tower seem to change completely. "Do you think we may be under attack?" she spoke in a curious tone. Raising her hand it quickly became engulfed in a green ball of energy, allowing her fellow team members to better see the tower then with just the light from the lighting outside.

Beast Boy looked at Cyborg and sighed. "Oh COME ON CY! it's Not my fault." He then looked over at Robin and Starfire and just shrugged. "well if something is coming this way don't you think we should get ready for what ever may be coming our way?" how true beastboy's words rung that night. They should bet starting to get prepared for what ever was coming their way but what was coming would be something they had never faced before. Robin looked at Starfire and nodded. "I think it may be a direct attack against the tower. Titans GO!" Robin quickly rushed out. "Cyborg you and Beastboy take the basement levels, Starfire, Raven take the top floors and roof. I'll take the direct center." The team was all ready for their raid against Titan tower. They had everything they would need to be able to subdue any of the titans which ever they met. Shadow looked at fear and Chaos. "Fear I want you to cover their top, Chaos you've got ground floor and I'll go to the front door and welcome myself to the new home." Fear looked at his brother and nodded before pulling their masking over their heads. The green glow of the illumination lights giving an eerie look to them. Quickly Fear moved through the cliff-side and up along the side of the tower keeping out of direct sight. He was right at the top ready to climb over the lip and onto the roof. Chaos quickly rushed out and went for the basement, sliding through an old window then creeping inside. Shadow walked up to the main doors setting the charges. "Knock knock".

Cyborg snorted, shaking his head a bit "Your the one saying 'Oh it can't get any worse' So as far as I'm concerned, it's your fault BB." he argued with the green male. Though quickly put that aside once hearing Robin giving out his orders, a sharp nod coming from the half robotic man. "You got it. Let's go BB!" Quickly he took off through the tower, heading towards the basement to meet any intruders who may have already entered. Raven nodded her head "Right." Keeping her hood over her head she started through the tower, heading up towards the roof. Starfire was also quick to follow "Yes, please be careful Robin." she spoke, being as he would not have any partner to fight with. Flying quickly she caught up to Raven, the two girls now both flying through the tower to gain quicker access to the roof. Once reaching the top the two stood back to back, careful of their surroundings in the rainy, dark night.

Beastboy just shook his head and headed off with cyborg heading down the many stars of the tower before finally getting to the basement and looking around. "You don't really think there is anyone down here now do you? I mean whats the point in coming from the bottom, its too big to head up and you'd get spotted coming up." Beast boy just laughed abit and looked around. "See no one here." He was sient for some time before a voice replied to him. "Oh I don't think so." Chaosreplied as he had his sword resting on the ground lightly tapping his foot. "Its quite useful actually. attack the bottom and it all comes crumbling down." Fear climbed over silently in the darkness onto the roof. the glow from his eyes hidden by the darkness of the night, if spotted it would of been mistaken as just the reflection from the lights from something in the city. "I guess I always get the good ones." Fear laughed to himself once he had eyed up both the two girls Raven and Starfire. He licked his lips thinking that he was the lucky one of the squad. Slowly drawing his sword he watched the pair, he couldn't help but oogle them. ShadowWalked to the door and drew his sword. "Release" and with the words uttered the doors seemed to explode and fly out. Robin quickly turned hearing the explosion before he hardly got enough time to jump back from the edge of a sword to his face.

"I don't know BB, but just keep an eye out ok? If one is coming up from the bottom, means there could be more elsewhere." he spoke sternly. He looked around carefully in the darkness of the basement a small light flipping out above his shoulder, about to agree with Beast boy and no one seeming to be down there, before he heard the voice. Quickly his actions changed, standing in a defensive mode now, turning to face the noise he glared at Chaos. "Who are you?" he had to question, in all their years of fighting he had never met this guy before. A small sherik could be heard from Starfire as she felt herself thrown in a different direction from the explosion. Though just as quick as she was to fall, she moved to hover above the ground, both her fists shining with green orbs. Raven grunted as she felt her own body thrown from the door behind them exploding, though like Starfire she moved quickly to raise as well. Both the girls now facing the door, waiting for their oppent to show himself to them.

"Are they all to be this long, Master?' "Be thankful," Obi-Wan replied with a half-smile, half-smirk, "four and a half months isn't as long as some." "It's longer than most." The cloud car soared gracefully through the darkened sky of Coruscant, floating through the Imperial City with ease. This late at night it wasn't quiet, the Imperial City never truly sleeping, but if you could navigate its trafficked skies during the day you could navigate nearly anywhere. "Most we've been lucky enough to be assigned to, sure. More than once when I was a padawan Master Qui-Gon and I were sent on missions by the council that could last up to a year." "A year?" Anakin's brow quirked quizzically. "More than once," he repeated, a soft, brief chuckle accompanying the Jedi Master's lingering smirk. "What could you have been doing for that long?" "On the record?" Obi-Wan replied with a quick glance, a wide turn to the right and a sharp incline. "Establishing relations, more or less diplomatic work, but in areas too hostile for normal delegates to visit. Off," he said after a pause, "it was usually to seek out the cause of the lingering hostilities and deal with it." "...I hope the Council never tells me I'll be gone a year," Anakin said with a smile, the teenager leaning back against the soft cushioned chair of the crimson ship. "Even four months away from Coruscant has been too much." "Tell you?" And this came with a laugh. "I've never known Master Windu to give a time frame. He tells us when we're going. We tell him when we're done." "Well tell them we're done until further notice!" he replied in matching amusement. Anakin rubbed at his neck and closed his eyes momentarily, the feeling of a familiar bed at the forefront of his thoughts. ...No, at this point it couldn't so much be considered familiar, could it? Not after this long. An old friend, more like. Comfortable. Missed. "Me?! You'r-" A sharp, sudden turn at the last second saw them half-spinning to avoid colliding into another ship. This came almost seamlessly - almost - with the conversation only skipping a single beat. "Ha! You're mad if you think I'll be doing any such thing, Anakin! They'll have us out to Kashyyyk by dawn!" "And you're mad to not let me drive, Master." Yawning, "Are we almost there?" "We landed five seconds ago." The engines cut off. "Perhaps if I was more of a showoff like you we would have had a rough landing and you would have noticed." Even as they jested back and forth, even as tired as they were, it didn't take the two long to climb out of the ship, and even less time to drag themselves from the landing pad to the homes the provided for them. Yawns accompanied their steps. Things such as reporting in to the Council, even such as showering and eating could wait for the morning. If they didn't have droids to take in their bags that would have likely waited too. In fact, perhaps the only thing necessary right then was Anakin seeing Obi-Wan to his room, a gesture of respect that the master would be to rest first before the apprentice. Any energy that had existed with which to joke on the flight seemed dispersed, overcome now instead by grogginess, with quiet accompanying the two as the door slid open to Obi-Wan's home when they came to it on the walkway. Stepping inside, the lights in the main and any adjacent rooms flickering on, Obi-Wan rubbed at his face tiredly with one palm while the other, his glance back over his shoulder to his padawan, went to motion that it was alright to retire for the night. Though, the young Skywalker had an odd look on his face, one in which his was too tired to decipher right away. "Anakin? What is it?" But then he realized the teen wasn't looking at him, but past him, to which Obi-Wan's eyes immediately shot forward.

Coruscant. It was so very different than Naboo and yet, like all planets in all galaxies these days, it was familiar due to one commonality; war. War took place on Coruscant very differently than it had on Naboo. No droid armies threatening to tear down the skyscrapers that covered over all of the natural features of the planets surface, as they had done to the verdant and dense landscapes of Naboo. There were no guns here to fight with, in public that is, only words. The main arena was not the fields outside of Theed, but the Senate Building; where tempers flared, alliances were forged and broken, and liberty dangled upon a thin and breaking string before their very eyes Padm had witnessed more than enough of the atrocities of the Senate during her reign as Queen. Though her own council and her people had pleaded with her to take a second term, she was consumed by the thoughts of the Senate dismantling all that she had fought for in the name of peace. Resigning at the elected period to Queen Jamillia, Padm was supported by the new monarch to represent the Chommell Sector in the Senate A motion that would be welcomed by those who supported her unwavering dedication, and silently brewed upon by those who were certain they had seen the last of that poised and headstrong girl, whose tongue was sharper than any blade and whose eyes seemed to know all of your secrets without needing your confession at all Padm was well aware of how her deep sienna eyes captivated those around her; particularly one above all others. One whom she was certain hadnoidea that she would be there, standing in his chambersHe would be too weary after such a long journey to tap into that familiar throbbing in his heart that his senses stirred about when she was near.. It delighted her to know that she had the upper hand in this situation. To one up a Jedi Master was not an easily accomplished feat. Albeit, she had arguably done so since the mid reign of her nobilityNot simply in a friendly game of chess either When she arrived in Coruscant, Padm had been disappointed to learn that Obi-Wan and Anakin had been sent on a rather long mission by the Jedi Council. They had not made contact with an anticipated return time so Her -now- Excellency, Senator Padm Amidala of Naboo, had requested to be informed of when her esteemed diplomatic escort and his Padawan would be returning. Master Windu himself, on his way towards the Senate Building to no doubt tame the fires that had begun to spark surrounding the Jedi Council, had stopped her upon the steps to inform her that Obi-Wan was due in that night. Though utterly exhausted and flustered by the days prior occurrences, Padm had to muster the strength to not beam with delight at the Jedis words. She had nodded, politely, and thanked him with a pleasant and soft Senators smile. One that gave no inclination whether she was truly pleased or not Hours had passed standing beside the standard Coruscantian one way windowsWatching ships of all shapes, sizes and colors whiz byThree accidents, one fire, and even two fools attempting to race one another to the Stars know what destination. Padm had laughed to herself upon seeing thisThis was no race. Annie would teach them all a lesson. Annie Anakin was the reason she stood there in such formal gowns, instead of something loose and truly befitting more to a Cantina girl rather than a Senator. Well, she wore such thingsbeneathher formal robes Being a politician made one used to many layers and disguises after all. The gown was of a beautiful pale blue shade, soft silken materials that were pulled to hold tightly against Padms lithe and blossoming figure. A dark bodice of a more royally affiliated hue was decorated with symbols as traditional to Naboo as the stark white polish ever present upon the former Queens thumb nails. This bodice however, as part of her elegantly devious plot formed whilst dressing that afternoon, would pull away quite easily..revealing that her gown was not truly a gown, but a midriff top with a large diamond shape cut out of the fabric in the back, and a low set skirt that teasingly covered the rest of her body. She had draped an ornate white satin cloak with her familys crest clasping the front over herself, so that any seams or skin could not be seen without her permission. Padms long curls were pulled up with a thick band which matched the shade of her gown, ringlets elegantly falling about her face with such natural perfection. Perfection took planning, at timesIt had taken her at least an hour to dress, but the perfection of the moment when the two weary Jedis entered the elders chambers; its perfection was not due to any planning more elaborate and perfect than that of an eager heart She had been facing the windows still, when the doors made their familiarwhoosh. With no need to hide her endearment, Padms face lit up with excitement. She turned to face them, and as the Padawan gained his composure the moment his Master turned his eyes, Padm couldnt help but to giggle. Surprise! A giddy exclamation guilty of her age. Anakin dropped his bags, grinning with boyish delight as he rushed over, embracing her with the enthusiasm of a boynotquite his age Padm! What are you doing here?! The Senator smiled warmly, hugging the young Jedi whom even now was still that little boy back on Tatooine. With one slender hand stroking his feathered hair, those captivating eyes stared on towards the boys MasterHer smile elegantly, coyly, curling into a smirk of pleasure. I am a Senator now Check.

Check indeed. "Padm...?" It was whispered, very soft, barely escaping Obi-Wan's lips. So shocked, so sudden came this that he knew not how to respond. His body language, his face, and, when he would speak, his speech belied the Jedi's usual exterior of knowledge and control. "Anakin! Your manners." Beyond gorgeous... "Manners? But Master, this is Padm!" he exclaimed, his smile still a mile wide despite the chastisement. It took everything Obi-Wan had to gather himself in a moment's time. First he stood up straight, no more slouch; tired as he was, this wasn't the time. Second he let his padawan's informal greeting slide. They were in his private room right now, there was no one around for which standing on ceremony was necessary; he had gotten so used to the act, with her, that by now it came too naturally. Third, he fought to quell any thoughts of attraction, for should a blush appear up high Anakin was quick and would wonder, and should anything rise below the insatiable little brat would find time to tease him about it for hours - and not only with her words. And finally he processed, quickly as he could, what she had said. "...Senator? Are you joking?" Obi-Wan laughed confusedly. "And what happened to Queen, Your Highness? Aren't..." He paused, thinking a moment. "Shouldn't you be on Naboo? Isn't the reelection supposed to be soon?" "Master, do not be so quick to send her away!" Anakin said with a laugh, still hugging the young woman. "She has come all this way to see us!" Obi-Wan smiled. Then the smile softened, a bit embarrassed. Inhaling a deep, slow breath, hands clasped together at his front, he found those deep sienna eyes and in that moment... felt home. "She has, hasn't she?" His heart beat steadily. "Then we are indeed blessed." Another moment. Obi-Wan couldn't help the soft smile edging his lips. "A Jedi is never too tired for a guest, especially not one whom has travelled so far. Anakin, pick us out a nice wine." Those were the words that released the young man's arms from around Padm, his eyes flashing with perhaps even more excitement at Obi-Wan. "Master?" "Yes, yes, you can have some. I suppose can't take you across galaxies, teach you to use a lightsaber and then- ONE glass!" he called out as Anakin quickly rounded a corner for the kitchen. "And then it's straight to bed!" The moment he was gone - themoment- the Jedi's steps moved quietly across the carpeted floor to his guest. To a woman who was much more. He had all of two seconds before the eagerness of a young teenager would be allowed his first sip of alcohol. Obi-Wan's left hand slipped into Padm's right. He gave her a squeeze, firm and telling, as he leaned in, eyes lulling, an exhale of warm breath coming against her lips. He didn't kiss her. Stopping an inch short, instead, he whispered, "You have been missed." His thumb traced the soft inside of her palm. He had to let go when he heard Anakin coming back, however just before his student returned, just after releasing her had, the skillful man gave a quick pinch to that lovely little derriere. More so her hip, maybe, but it was close enough to count. When Anakin got back to the room Obi-Wan was already halfway to meeting him, taking the bottle for inspection as the youth set up the glasses.

With the bewildered look upon the Jedi Knights face, the high ground was forfeitfor a moment. Anakin held tightly against her, as he had on those cold nights in space when they had first taken him from Tatooine...Back when she was both Padm and Amidala, but Padm only and always to Annieand more than either Padm or Amidala to Obi Wan Amidala was a faade put on by all Queens of Naboo, the same ethereal and austere nature differed only by a variance in regnal title. To act as a proper and efficient Queen, it was essential to be compassionate without being openlypassionate. The stark white makeup of the Queen was painted to present an air of unwavering confidence, split red lips to remember the suffering of her peoplePainted up, to hide her true self as best as possible..But to hide Padm was a difficult task for anyone, including herself. Her spirit was not relinquished beneath the extravagant gowns and courtly rules. Her persuasion and allure all the more enhanced by that ornate make upThough she had gladly cleaned her face of reds and whites, that elegant ferocity that made Amidala a notable force in the Senate had not been washed away. Padm was undeniably herself, despite anyone and anything, she could not forbid herself from being ruled by her heart. A tragic flaw for a politician perhaps, but Padm knew her heart better than most. It was dangerousThiswas so very dangerous But to deny it, was something they had already failed to do. It felt so much better to indulge Temptation had won years ago; the forbidden was far more satisfying. As he laughed, her momentary complacency in self proclaimed victory shattered. What was so funny? The former Queens eyes narrowed slightly, but calmed as the padawan clung a bit tighter, his words making his Master seem more at ease. Though that..incredibly handsome smile, would not excuse him from a few sharp words in private. Padm did not enjoy being laughed at, especially pertaining to her politicsAnd though she knew he had most likely just been taken aback by her sudden announcement mixed with her unexpected arrival,it would still be amusing to taunt him later..to hear him plead for her forgiveness.. The thought alone sent a tremble up her spine, her fingers twitched slightly but thankfully Anakin had already dashed off to select a wine that would be worthy of both their guest and his first time, as far as Obi-Wan was aware, of sampling alcohol. As he approached her, the Senators breath stalled in her throat. Soft pale lips trembled slightly as he leaned in towards her, that rugged scent of sweat and worry ever present uponherKnight. Missed was a tame word, one replaced with longedneededachedfor in their hearts. Dark eyes gazed up towards the man much taller than herself, a smile dancing upon her lips as her eyes for a moment waveredTrembling. This was no time to confess their longings in wordsLater.. From the pinch, her nose wrinkled slightly, her smile curling to a smirk as she took a seat on one of the sleek couches. After the glasses had been set, Anakin immediately sat down beside Padm, his eyes wandering over her face..Studying her to make certain she was alright. So if youre a Senator now, does that mean you can stay here? On Coruscant? Yes! Padm smiled, cupping her hands over Anakins out of a sisterly affection. I resigned a second term as QueenI believe that I am needed here, more so than on Naboo. Her eyes wandered towards Obi-Wan for a moment as the wine was poured. As she watched the clear lilac liquid bubble inside of the sleek glasses, the padawans eyes lingered upon the former Queen, upon his hands trapped between her soft fingertips. Padm elegantly withdrew her hands, taking up a glass, which Anakin immediately followed suit in taking his own. Though, The dark haired girl smirked, raising the glass to her lips as she stole a most vixen-esque glance towards the Master Jedi whilst his padawan eyed the wine before them, I think I may have already stepped upon a few toes in my short time here. I suspect the Senate will simply have to become used to me, without the restraints of Monarchy keeping me tame..

Vixen. Nymphet. A most alluring little succubus. He had touched her. A moment ago he had felt the warmth of her hand. That meant this wasn't a dream, didn't it? Obi-Wan stood there, his side facing the pair as he pretended to examine the bottle Anakin had brought. As he pretended to look at his glass, considering it. Considering something. Considering nothing. In truth he heard little of their words, but rather listened to their voices. Her voice. That it was real filled him with warmth in a way he couldn't yet afford to react. All he could do was take one breath after another. Slow. They had played this game long enough, she and him, this illusion of Queen and Knight and nothing more. He would have to suffer it just a little while more. "Already I get the feeling you will be a great boon to the senate, Your Highness," Obi-Wan chimed in as he lifted the glass to his lips. He paused for a moment before sipping - Your Highness? No, that didn't fit anymore, did it? Now that would be something to get used to! It should make for fun pillow talk later, too, that she was no longer royalty and therefor couldn't remain quite so bossy! Taking a hearty sip the master jedi smiled, "As much as you were a wonderful ruler for your people on Naboo I am sure you'll do them even more good here, where the planet's needs can be addressed on a greater level. And I wouldn't be surprised - nay, might even be disappointed if you hadn't stepped on some toes by now." With this Obi-Wan turned his face toward the pair, smiling a warm, familiar smile to Padm. To his Padm. He looked to her with a warmth she would recognize; not the face each knew to wear so often when others were around. "Smart. Strong. Fragile only in appearance. I pity any who would assume you to be less than you are." Another sip followed his words, this with a look of his eyes directly into hers. "Though despite my faith in your abilities, not all the rest of the senate here on Coruscant is quite as pure and innocent as you." Pure and innocent? Hardly! A private little joke, that. "Dare I say, some of them may even be corrupt." A smirk, and a bit of sarcasm. "I wouldn't be surprised if your... style, steps on quite a few toes in your time here, Padm. And I wouldn't be surprised if you go too far and someone attempts something foolish. And what do I always tell you about fools, Anakin?" Another good sip. "That their blades may be sharper than their wits, Master." "Very good." He looked to Anakin briefly, then back to the dark-eyed beauty. His. "If I might make a suggestion, speak to the Council soon on such matters. I suppose it would be best if Anakin and I are with you to explain to Master Yoda the situation." Another sip, and a lingering look to the woman, this with an amused, jovial smirk to it. "That situation being, Senator Amidala of Naboo is, by our experience, headstrong and quite incorrigible, and quite likely to stir up things both intended and unintended. It is in my opinion that though an escort could not tell her how to act, for such an attempt would never get anywhere, having a jedi in such a role could keep her from harm." "Could we be those jedis, Master?!" Anakin piped in excitedly, drinking heartily at his wine, loosening Padm's hand just long enough to pour himself a second glass before snatching the familiar warmth back up again. "Our assignments are rarely up to us, Anakin, you know that. Such a request would have to fall to the lady here," and with this he shot he a glance, "and, beyond even that, to the will of the Council. Ultimately I think someone should be assigned to her side for awhile, no matter whom that may be, as surely her... way of going about... will see her at ends with some of the more questionable members of the senate, and through that who knows what is to be discovered?" Obi-Wan paused. "Of course, forgive me for overly assuming. I am exhausted, it is late, and my apprentice picked an especially good bottle." Obi-Wan smiled to Anakin, a mirroring look on the padawan's face. Then, back to Padm, "I meant no offense, Lady Senator." The brown-haired man finished the last bit of his glass before setting it on the end table at the couch where the pair were sitting, beside the bottle. Scratching lightly at the beard at the side of his jaw, he mused aloud, "Later than I'd care to acknowledge, really. The sun is likely closer to being up than it is down. ...Anakin, I think it is time for bed." "Aww... but Master, I haven't gotten to see Padm in so l-" "Bed for us both, Anakin. All three, I'd say, if I might be so forward as to suggest," he said, looking to his sweet, fiendish, angelic little devil of a guest. "Miss Padm will see herself out when she wishes, I suppose. As for you and I, despite what she decides, we still have to report in to the Council in the morning." "...Yes, Master," Anakin said with a childlike whining of a sigh, setting his glass down and immediately wrapping that freed hand around the woman in a tired hug.

She knew he was pretending, as he stared at the wine cradled in his handsHis calloused, worn hands that could feel so gentle and tender upon her skin, yet held the power to make her raw and aching still, begging for mercy at his feetOn those rare occasions where she demandedtoomuch, and the tolerance of her Knight was pushed too far, he held the power to make submissive, a very sultry and boisterous Queen. FormerQueen One little dark haired political minx, who believed herself to be much more intimidating than she appeared. Albeit, even being of such lithe and petite stature, Padm was quite capable of making men more than twice her size, and age for that matter, unsettled and unnerved in her presencefor reasons far beyond her looks. She possessed the wit and tongue of a politician far beyond her years, at least as far as those outside of Naboo were concerned. Her home planet very much focused upon the intellectual pursuits, political involvement and outspoken activisms of their youthThe Senate had been used to dealing with Padms predecessor, King VerunaAn older man who had been as corrupt as the majority of them. Veruna was power hungry, complacent with sitting silently in the Senate halls and counting his Republic marks. Unless someone challenged him of course; being challenged did not sit well with any person from Naboo. Veruna was why there were so few male monarchs on Naboo Young girls held an elegance, an ethereal grace that was revered and regarded with wisdom on Naboo. Padm, at twelve, had defeated him mercilessly in a debate, leaving the King shamed and exposed for his tyrannical reign..And leaving the Senate to deal with a young Queen, who sat idly for no one. Well, at least not forjustanyone.. Curious eyes watched the Jedi Master chuckle against his glass, using words so eloquently strung to tease her, in order to keep his padawan ignorant while her own blood boiled. She would not lose the upper hand so easilyNot yet. Padm leaned back against the couch, sipping at her wine as Obi-Wan jested of her ferocity in the Senate. She inclined her head delicately at his words, as if she had no idea of what he spokeand at the same time lifting one of those long, sculpted legs to cross over the other, parting silken fabric around her waist at the very high slit in her skirt, allowing her bare, smooth skin to be seen, as well as the silver, glittering straps of her clear heels which tied midway up her calf. Elongating that smooth stem, unblemished, and untouched since the Water festival on Naboo This display immediately caught Anakins attention, as all of Padmes movements tended to, but it was taken as a motion nothing out of the ordinaryThough he had inhaled his wine more so than sipping it, causing the young padawan to blush furiously. Plenty of women crossed their legs after all, it wasnt considered a sensual movement outright But with Padm, her intentions were just that. To torment the seemingly conservative man to near bursting.To ruffle his feathers and make his skin crawl far more easily than even AnnieShe wanted to control him, to see him red in the face and eager for an excuse to send Anakin away She loved seeing him twitchA sign of eminent victory. Incorrigible? Well that is certainly not the word I would use. She purred, sipping at her wine with a smile lingering upon her glossy lips. Though, I suppose for those still focused on theoldways An emphasis upon the word made with a quirk of her brow, My youthful voice and perspectives are rather exhausting. But time encourages change, it cannot be expected for things to remain as they were a long..longtime agoAround the timeyouwere born Obi-Wan. She giggled, and Anakin nearly spit out his wine. Covering his mouth as he choked back laughter, he exchanged a gleeful glance at Padm, who was giggling still. But yes..it is probably best to go to sleep. I would not wish to keep you up Obi-Wan she smiled through her laughter, placing her glass down upon the table as she warmly returned Anakins hug. Shall you both escort me to the Jedi Temple then tomorrow? She asked as she stood once more, that veil of silk resuming its place to keep her flesh from sight. I suspect you already have to report there, so I could accompany you and request your appointments as my bodyguards. She smiled to Anakin who was wiping a bit of wine from his chin that he had in fact spit out. He smiled sheepishly, nodding towards her. Padm then turned her gaze to Obi-Wan, brushing a few curls away from her face, twisting one slowly around her fingertip....Childishly...Devilishly... The sooner it is requested, the less trouble I will find myself in.

She gave him goddamnshivers. Those shoes... those heels... Obi-Wan didn't look. He didn't look as in his face didn't turn, as in his head was still, remaining where it was, eyes forward to stare at whatever he could stare at to not lose his composure. He didn't look in that he kept his head straight, but a man could only do so much about his peripheral vision. He could only do so much about a sexual little minx sitting on his couch in heels that would fit right in at the skankiest of clubs. He could only do so much about an adorable youth flashing him those eyes, those hungry eyes, and about the way she girlishly played with her hair, making any man who looked feel like the worst of sinners. Deep breaths. One, and then a second. And then another to follow it. There was no other way to get through this. Blinking hard, if only Anakin wasn't lingering, he thought... It felt as if they were working together against him, to torture him, to drive him nuts, though in separate ways. Breathing, he knew the boy cared for her greatly, though not as he did. Not love. Love, yes, perhaps, but of a different sort. A young, naive sort. That was something they'd have to address sooner or later rather than to keep skirting around, but for now Obi-Wan could only acknowledge that briefly before his mind was pulled back to the issue at hand. The small issue. The petite, and adorably seductive issue. "We'll meet here in the morning then," he managed, a forced calm to his voice. Very forced. "I will see you both here by nine? That does not allow for very much sleep tonight, but Master Yoda does prefer promptness." Taking another breath, now that he'd started to talk again it was a little easier to regain himself, to concentrate on something other than her.Hisher. "Truthfully he would have wanted us reporting in now, I am sure, were it not already so late." Another breath. He gave Anakin a look that was neither harsh nor relaxed, but commanding, one that the boy had come to learn meant there had been enough procrastinating. Giving a weak frown as his only response, Anakin knew better than to stall anymore. Giving Padm one more quick hug, for in the mind of a youth in love it had been ridiculously forever since their last, he smiled to her as he stepped back. "Goodnight Padm," he spoke, letting go of her hand last. then, "Goodnight Master," before he finally turned, stepping out the door. "Goodnight Anakin," Obi-Wan replied, his tone already shifting from the uncomfortable forced-calm of a moment ago to something else. Would she feel it? Would she sense it coming, or did the little devil still think herself in control? The Jedi could feel it in his chest, throbbing, eager, that feeling he had learned to go so long without during their months apart. He looked to Padm from her side. He looked to her as she watched his Padawan apprentice leaving. He looked to her cheek, to her youthful face. He looked to the clothes that hid beneath something he could only imagine was equal parts filth and beauty, something he'd been gifted with a brief glimpse of already. He looked to her as one might stare at a painting, at a statue, admirably at first, then analytical at second. And when they were finally alone, when she began to turn to him any pleasure he might have felt in their privacy disappeared immediately. When she began to turn she would find nothing less than a hard, open palm cracking hard against the side of her face. "How dare you," he exhaled hotly. Reaching out, the Jedi snatched at Padm's hair, taking a fistful to then twist her to the side and slightly up, the tips of her toes briefly all that touched the rug. His opposite hand came up then to strike her opposite cheek, holding nothing back in his frustration. Letting go, he shoved her head forward, anger painting his face. "You little brat!" he chastised, not too loud yet for Anakin couldn't be far, but that didn't save his tone from any degree of fury. Hushed, yet sharp. "I have told you again and again Padm that we must be careful! And again, and again you push to see how far we can go without getting caught!" His chest rising and falling with each rapid breath, Obi-Wan raised a palm to run through his hair. Looking down at her, he continued, "I'm thrilled that you are here, but surprising me like that is risky! And what of someone else? What if another senator's spies saw you come here so early in the morning? Would you jeopardize us both?! ...And what is this 'senator' business?!" What was he to do? How was he supposed to respond? He had enough on his hands dealing with one teenager all day. So much stress, so much burden he had to constantly shoulder... Obi-Wan moved to plop down on the couch where she and Anakin had just been sitting, sighing into his hands. "Goddamnit Padm I love you, but I... ugh... I am thrilled to hear that you were chosen to be senator -thrilled- and it's still surreal to me, but I wish you wouldn't test the limits of what people would believe by coming here so late. And your actions in front of Anakin! He's not a kid anymore, no less than you! He's going to catch your actions one day, and how much he likes you is already enough of an issue!" He wasn't going to get through to her, was he? No more than he did any other time he went on a tirade. ...though, much as he didn't like to admit it, she wouldn't be herself if she were more well behaved. She would still be his, but there was just something so youthful about her free spirit with things such as is that he adored. And as such was her role to play, his was of the older, more mature that had to clean up any messes while being careful bigger ones weren't created while he was dealing with the first. And part of him was constantly terrified she'd resent him for that one day. "I love you," he spoke again, this one softer though, more calm. But instead of allowing himself to calm for long Obi-Wan stood. "And I think you'll forgive me because of that, my Padm, for what is coming." Standing, he reached over to the bottle Anakin had brought, to a small towel sitting on the endtable beside it. "I'll not have you dressed like that right now, whatever it is you are wearing beneath that. Like a whore." Did that word give her the same guilty shivers it did him? "I am too worked up, too tired, and you will not be allowed to seduce me into a quick forgiveness. So take everything off." He tossed the cloth down at her feet. "And when you've finished with that you can start cleaning that spot you caused from your joking. ...Old, am I? So old that Anakin thought it was funny and spilled on my rug. So old that you can disrespect my home?" Taking another long, calming breath, Obi-Wan returned to his seat. "I hear wine stains quick, and can be rather difficult to get out."

Judging by the way his eyes kept averting from her, never settling upon her form for longer than a glance to keep himself from looking rather suspicious, Padm felt rather secure in her triumph. In the Senators mind, she had executed her plan for a perfect seduction flawlessly. The element of surprise combined with his weariness from travel caught him perfectly off guardWhich permitted her to add an extra blow to his senses with that light, floral perfume spritzed with sparkles upon her neck and wrists, the bright color of her clothing in the dimly lit quarters and that innocent flash of skin when those absolutely trampish shoes were revealed Had he been alone, Padm was confident that he would have been brought to his knees before her And despite that vision being in her head alone, it brought a tremble of immense pride and satisfaction coursing through the young nymphets body. Nine sounds excellent, She concurred, moving to stand beside Obi-Wan as Anakin followed reluctantly beside her, knowing that he would be forced to leave her side soon. His hands lingered, tracing fingertips against the soft skin of Padms wrist, idly smiling to himself. Months had seemed like years away from herHow had he ever survived a moment without her warmth? The young padawan caught his Masters firm stare. He immediately retracted his hand and instead embraced the former Queen, who warmly returned the affection. Goodnight Annie, sleep well She smiled softly, watching the boy head quite unenthusiastically to his quarters for the night. Ignorant entirely of what he left behind, and what his absence would unleashUnaware of his place as a tourniquet for forbidden passions; the moment he was removed, such wanton desires were released at a near perilous force.. A force as strong as that open strike to the Senators pretty little face. In her swell of confidence, the little vixen left herself vulnerable for such an assault..Check She stumbled slightly, but was caught by the Jedis fingers twisting firmly into her pretty locks, pulling her back into place..Herplace..A place she needed to be forced into, for she wouldnt submit so willingly on her own. She could feel her feet rising off of the floor, and somewhere within her panicked thoughts she wondered how much strength of his own he was using to lift her Padm, after all, weighed as much as one of the many fancily decorated feathered pillows placed upon her bed. The second strike she was prepared for, preemptively wincing as she braced herself for the sudden blowand for the lecture to follow. She said nothing at first after being released, fuming with her humiliation as she gently rubbed her face. Feeling the blood rushing to the spots on her pale cheeks where his hand had impacted the harshest, bringing her a shade of blush no amount of makeup could recreate. Those sienna eyes trembling not with shame, but with fury. How dare she? How darehe! She may not have her crown, but she was still Queen! And she would make certain to remind him of such As he began patronizing her, Padm twisted her fingertips at her side, allowing him to blow off steam with words she would use against him later on to sate her own guilty delight in hearing him beg and plead for her forgiveness. Never out of malice or desire to hurt himbut when he scolded her soso , was it not just for her to desire to see him nuzzling at her thighs, whispering his pleas against her inner most intimate folds.. He was right, for many reasons.. He was right about her carelessness about coming to his quarters so late. She hadnt even considered the thought that other Senators could be spying on herHer heart had been beating too loudly for her to think of anything else but him Not even about Anakin, or his feelings towards her..Which she did not believe, mostly because the idea seemed as probable as being attracted to ones own sibling He was also right in thinking he wouldnt get through to her like thisScolding worked for some but like Anakin, Padm did not respond well to such things..In fact, in a manner almost exceeding the padawan in brattiness, the young Senator mostly ignored what was being reprimanded. Even Anakin paid attention, his mind wandered at times, but he was mindful of his Masters words. Padm however, focused on what she delighted in hearing, that he loved her. Words to confirm he was not incredibly mad, and that she still had a chance to win in this power play they constantly reveled in. Who would submit tonight Who would relinquish themselves to lay beneath the other, to obey the heated commands made between the sheets They needed the release, both of them didDespite Obi-Wans headaches, despite his protestsHe needed her, almost as much as she needed him in fact. To play this dangerous game, every move needed to be carefully plottedBeing mindful of the other players, the other piecesthe pawns. But at times, the most thrilling and satisfying thing to do, was to take a chance..To movecarelessly. To play on instinct and hearts desireAnd Padms desire, from the bottom of her heart, was to spend even a few hours with her Jedi Knighteven if they were both thoroughly, painstakingly exhausted for the entirety of the following day. Clothes off was it? The youth smirked in delight as she moved her hand to the clasp of her cloak, letting it drop to the floor in a fluid motion, pooling around her feet as her hands dropped to unclasp the pearls upon her bodice. Old indeed She mused, slipping her bodice off as she walked towards the couch, revealing the much more sultry attire she had been hiding under the guise of modest couture fashion. Her hands moved down the curve of her sides as she approached him, lifting a leg so that once again the thin silken material parted around the muscular shape of her thigh. So old that youve forgotten how to treat your Queenwhom you vowed would always be such, crown or not She purred, lowering herself to straddle his waist, making certain to bring herself quite close to him, her free hand moving to stroke his beard as she gazed up towards him with the most innocent expression. Havent you missed me? She pouted sweetly, pressing her breasts against his chest. Ive dreamt of you every night since weve been apart She whispered, moving her hand from his beard down to the one at his side, guiding it up towards her face And I was so anxious to see you..I could not wait until morning..and you greet me by hurting me? Yelling at me? There was a choke in her voice, one further emphasized by a sniffle and a pouted lipBut there was no hiding the lust in the Senators young, beautiful eyes as she gazed up towardsherKnight

She would not break him so easily. He knew his Padm. He knew her devious little mind, her dirty little thoughts. As he said the words Obi-Wan knew she would turn the order to remove her whorish attire into an opportunity to striptease - and even if she didn't, even without any added effort, the revelation of a female's skin by itself sent shivers through the spine. Knowing this, his face was turned away before Padm could even be rid of her cloak. What were the ingredients in that wonderful wine? Blackberry juice. Filtered water from... how would you pronounce that planet? He had to squint to even see the small lettering on the label. Eventhishe found impossible to concentrate on! ...Was Obi-Wanreallyreading the wine? His eyes shut. A hand came up, fingers folded into themselves, fist coming to rest against his lips and chin. He had hit her. He hadn't seen her in so long, loved her, missed her, thought about her every day, craved her every night... he had hit her twice after being away for so long. And she wasn't mad; he could see her playful gyrations from the corner of an eye. This was all part of their game, he knew, everything from the attitude he was showing now to her clothes to... to everything. But right now he couldn't help but want to be rid of this nonsense for just a few minutes. And then she straddled his lap, pressing her thoroughly bared body against him. That did him in. The finger affectionately stroking his light beard. The warmth of her breath. The pouty, guilt-inducing voice that questioned whether or not he actually missed her. Obi-Wan cracked in that moment. Fuck his anger; one arm rose up around the bared skin of her upper back, hugging firmer the body which already fitted itself so close to his form. His other hand left his chin to spread its fingers, trailing around Padm's face, nails tracing a stained cheek, reaching to dig themselves in that softest of brunette hair. "I'm sorry," he whispered, voice shaky. "I'm sorry, Padm... don't... don't be mad at me, for this..." Guiding her head closer, Obi-Wan leaned forward, eyes still shut. He met her halfway, nuzzling his bearded cheek against her forehead. "I missed you terribly. I love you. You will always be my Queen. I promise, I promise..." Could they drop their game just for a moment? The time away seemed to get longer and longer with each tearful departure. Did their reunions always have to be like this, a power struggle? "I love you," again he whispered. "I've dreamt of holding you like this forever... I could go without this ever ending..." His fingers slipped out of her hair to instead stroke against them, soft, caressing the strands. His other arm drifted down to her lower back. His face fell to kiss at her jaw. "You mean everything to me, my Padm." Her hair was so soft. And what was that perfume? "Please... p-please, stay here with me tonight. We'll be up early, before Anakin, but I want you in my bed... my arms..." Obi-Wan took a deep breath. Oh, to end such a moment... He hated himself for it already, the thought. He could accept that though. What he worried about, instead, was similar, and always a constant. "You make me do these things, my love... you do." She was so soft, so warm. The taboo of even touching her hadn't worn off years later, the simple, intimate contact sending shivers through him still. "I know I must be this way so you can afford not to. I just... I just hope you do not come to detest me for it some day." The hand at her back ran around her smooth, feminine side to her waist. "Not for real." To her front, palm resting against her belly. "You mean so much to me." And then the moment was over. The game was back on. The hand at Padm Amidala's hair jerked her head backward. The other, at her abdomen, aided in shoving her away, shoving her off the couch and to the floor. Would she notice his own wince as he did so? It didn't matter. Obi-Wan's eyes opened to look upon her young teenage form as he stood, towering over her. "You are going to clean that before it stains like I told you to," his voice having sharply regained every degree of strength, "and you are going to do it now! And if you insist on dressing like such a galactic ho then we will simply have to put you on the corner where you can be one!" She was in check. Her turn. How would she move? "Aagh!" A grunt of frustration. Brows furrowed, Obi-Wan waved a dismissive hand at her before turning and walking off toward the bath.

And so, for the moment, the white flag had been revealed Until moments later when said flag would surely be used as some sort of lewd restraint or gag, for the time being, peace was to be made between two lovers whom had been surviving off of the lingering taste of the other upon their lips for what seemed like a dreadful eternity... She felt him falter beneath the weight and warmth of her body. All of his anger and grouchiness crumbling as his arm rose up to guide her closer. Padm smiled, a sharp breath drawn inward as if she were choking back tears. A whimper stalled in her throat as she relinquished herself, for the moment, into the Jedis arms. Oh Obi-Wanshe whispered as he plead with her, her elation all the more intensified as his embrace encompassed her entirely.. There. Thiswas what she wanted.What all the teasing built up to; surrendering on both sides into such intimacy and trust forged upon necessary secrets. These brief moments in their game, when professions of love and affection took place, made such confessions all the more meaningfuland the illicitness of their affair all the more worth while. Padm curled herself closer against Obi-Wans chest, her lips softly playing upon the base of his neck as her fingertips traced the curves of his muscles through the fabric of his robesDropping those slender hands down between his thighs, seeking more warmth as her smile became a bit more playful. And I love you Obi-Wan She whispered in turn, And I have every intention of staying here for the remainder of the nightin you arms, whether you approve or not Those neatly trimmed brows raised with audacious intent. Would he submit now, and come crawling behind her as she went to his room? Would he nuzzle against those shoes he scoffed at? Would he relinquish all that it meant to act as severe and composed as a Jedi, and serve his Queen well that night, taking every ounce of humiliation with pleasure and gratitude? Or would his age demand he take his young lover back into her place? Did he desire her to be the one upon her knees that night? Well, starting that way at least A soft, aching moan escaped Padms lips as the hand in her hair tightened, for a moment, her back arched forward, pushing her breasts against his chest, grinding herself against his waistEagerly. As she was again tossed to the floor, Padm laid down upon her back, eyes intent upon her Knight as her own hands wandered down the length of her body. Smoothing down her waistline, trailing upon the curve of her skirts band. She arched her back in a rather feline-like display, twisting at the golden clasp upon her hip that held the very thin material of her skirt together. You dont bother cleaning upyourstains.. she mused wickedly, sitting up on her knees, causing her skirt to slip off of her body to reveal very sheer white panties that hugged against her body with what little material they were composed of. Finding the act more to her advantage than that of humiliation, Padm crawled after Obi-Wan, hips swaying elegantly in the dim light. Mmm and you wouldnt put me out on the streetYoure far too possessive. She smirked, pausing as she came to the threshold of the door, moving up in one very elegant movement to her feet, before guiding herself up to stand with her back against the wall, eyes ever so intently upon the Jedi Master Dont you remember Supernovas.

'You don't bother cleaning upyour stains...' That attacked directly at the gruff, frustrated, and frankly exhausted attitude. Obi-Wan couldn't help but crack a smile, thinking to himself how all of those stains were her fault too. Thankfully, though, he had already stepped into the bathroom, and since his back was turned she wouldn't have seen the pleasurable expression. As far as she would know he was still dissatisfied. This meant he had a moment to fight that smile, to make it go away. This also meant that he saw nothing of her stripping her lower half, the sheer white panties or the sultry catlike slink along the floor. "I would not put you out on the street?" he mused aloud, thinking on that a moment. True, he was very possessive. Very possessive. Padm was his. As determined to keep their relationship a secret as he was, there was no doubt between them of the mutual ownership, that they belonged to one another and that hell would freeze over before either would be seen in the arms of a third. But, still, the thought of putting Padm on a corner somewhere as punishment was so delightfully arousing. She already had the attire of a working girl. It was just a matter of some make-up, a squabble, a few harsh slaps and even harsher words, and Obi-Wan could see himself sending her to a seedy corner somewhere to stand among other prostitutes with a quoted amount in mind - however many customers it took, she would not be allowed to return to him until she made that amount. And perhaps from then on she would reconsider dressing like such a harlot. ...but as he thought this the jedi already knew how the scene would play out. He would follow her, using all his tricks to remain undetected. He would wait and watch for someone to pick her from the other girls, an event that would come quick as her beauty was both flawless and undeniable. Then, seconds into her stepping into the vehicle he would have to intervene, waving his hand at the customer to make the man or woman forget her while he dragged Padm back home for the beating of her life. That, or maybe he'd be the one to purchase the 'prostitute', bringing her back to his bed to have her fulfill all the desires Padm was usually too prissy to readily allow him. Either way, just thinking about it had the man hard as a goddamnrock. Smiling still, quite content with his thoughts, Obi-Wan turned when he heard her right behind him. He turned just in time to catch her back pressed against the door frame, to catch her rising up against it from a kneel, pure sex coming from her eyes, pure lust from her skin. His heart beat rapidly against his chest as he watched, no shame in observing. No shame in the protruding length that stretched against the typically loose attire of his chosen profession. "Of courseI remember Supernova," he replied with a purely lecherous twist of his lips. His eyes were on Padm's body, scouring the tantalizing inches of her young, taut skin. By the Force, they had been apart for far too long! "Fourteen years old, the night before your fifteenth birthday you begged me for an early present, in addition to the one I had already acquired you... so spoiled you were. I can see things haven't changed much." A smirk. His eyes continued to leer. "You whined for me to take you to the dirtiest, seediest place I could think of, and I eventually gave in. ...I do recall they asked us to not come back after your little performance on stage." It had been hard enough to sit idly by as he watched men stick currency in her garter as she danced around a pole, and worse after that, to sit still when offers for each of her holes were being shouted out... When the pair of wookies got too grabby it took everything in the jedi to resist using his saber, or even the Force, for such a display would surely be talked about. "I broke my hand fighting those thick-skulled beasts. Or did you forget? ...To be entirely honest, I am not sure you quite made up for that yet." Smug. Aroused and smug. Obi-Wan stood there a moment more, thoroughly enjoying the sight of her whorish attire even if openly chastised her for it. This game between them was always interesting, and always ever-changing. He took a few steps past her, out of the bathroom, not quite sure where to go or what to even do next. He had to keep moving, keep thinking or at least keep doingsomething,he knew, else she would be the little opportunist and seize control. And oh how terribly his soul craved then to simplysubmit...

Make up for what? The little brunette minx mused, inclining her head slightly as she slowly caressed her hands up her thighs, across her lean stomach and beneath her breasts that were still blossoming amidst womanhood. I dont recall doing anything wrong that night.Infact, if I recall correctly, after youdraggedme homeYou had me dance just for you A smirk curled on her soft lips, her hand reaching out to grasp at the folds of his robe as he tried to pass her. A move like that wouldnt be ignored He was trying to get away, to keep pacing so that he could come up with some sort of plan to retain what little dominance his gruff attitude had built up that night. As the Senators little fingers twisted against his robe, tugging at him lightly to turn and face her, theQueenin her decreed that this would not be so. Surely that under most physical circumstances, Padm would not stand a chance in winning against her Master Jedi; however, when the man was already tired, and his arousal was becoming to heavy and painful to bearthe soft tug from a young maiden half his age felt like a gravitational pull And thus the Master would find himself pressed against a giggling girl, whose hands moved to grasp his wrists before his Jedi reflexes could contact his sensesFor a young girl in heat was a dangerous foe, and her skills far more deadly than that of even the most renowned Jedi. Setting her trap by pushing her breasts against his chest, whilst guiding his hands to grope at her ass, batting her eyelashes with all the innocence of a desire demon.. Perhaps She whispered, one hand still atop of one of his wrists, keeping him there as her other hand moved down between their bodies. She lifted up her right leg, draping it around his waist to pull him closer, pressing the bulk of his arousal against her open palm. Those little fingers went immediately on their devilish task, stroking at the older man through the layers of cloth. Her hand positioned almost as a barrier between his length and the curves of her sex. Though his tuned senses no doubt could feel her heat still, her excitement clear from the glistening wetness against the slit of her white panties. Perhaps after the Senate meeting you will take me to another club to dance. Eyes intently moved up towards his face, her heels providing enough extra height for her to be able to nuzzle at his neck without straining upon her tiptoes. Her hips began slowly moving, back and forth in a slow grind to press her palm against his need. A dangerous question that she wagered her power on at that moment, as such a suggestion could snap her lovers carnal envy and cause him to regain control with a fist wrapped tightly in her hair, his other hand eager to teach her a lesson on endangering them with such excursions "I do love dancing..." She purred, her lips lining the curve beneath his jaw. "Knowing that out of everyone there, that you're watching me...That I am yours, and when we go home that night you'd remind me of just that..." Albeit....if her pieces had been lined out just rightHe would be so overwhelmed at that moment, by the sight of her...the smell of her, thefeelof her....that he would be willing to say or agree to anything, just to be able to melt into her delicate and most manipulative, nymphet hands

A small, hooded figure walked through the sand slowly, methodically, heading straight towards Mos Eisely. A sand storm was brewing, the wind whipping this way and that as the young girl made her way to the space port. Lara was a beautiful girl, and that was clear once she got into Eisely. The robe dropped off of her, showing a tight robe that clung to her frame. She wasn't wearing bottoms, but luckily, the robe acted more like a dress then anything. She had black curly hair that brushed against her shoulders, pale green eyes, pale skin, and a smile that could make even Emperor Palpatine smile for at least a few minutes. A few of the alien creatures turned to look at the girl, but she paid no mind, only headed to the bar before speaking quietly to the bartender. "I need a smuggler. One who won't ask questions." He pointed off towards a corner of the bar, the girl nodding and walking over before dropping a bag of credits on the mans table. "I need you to take me somewhere. I'll pay 25,000 now, and another ten when we make it. If you accept, you'll know the location once we get to the ship. It's far too crowded in here to risk saying anything. What do you say, can you do this for me?"

Arden looked up from his drink as he saw a bag drop onto his table. From the sound of it, it contained money. That was good. He liked money. He looked up at the person who had dropped it. It was an attractive young girl. This was getting even better. Now he just needed her to take of her clothes and his day would be perfect. Of course, he knew he would be dreaming since things like that never happened to him. She did want to hire him though. All he had to do was take her somewhere. That seemed easy, but maybe a little too easy. He looked at her carefully. She didn't seem to be a fugitive. He could be wrong, but he didn't want any Empire ships stopping him and searching his ship. He leaned back and thought about it for a few moments. He took a sip of his drink before looking up at her again. He then looked down at the money and back up at her. He smiled. "Follow me." was all he said. He got up from the table and placed a few coins down to pay for his drink. He left the tavern without even looking back to see if the girl was following. He stepped out onto the streets and turned toward the nearest space port. He walked along at his own pace, never looking back to check on the girl. He had to make it look as if he didn't even know she was there. He didn't know who she was or why she needed him, but she might have people following her. He had to be carefull. As he walked he ran a hand through his black hair. There was a sparkle in his blue eyes as he winked at a pretty girl he passed. He was 6'2" with a broad frame. He was strong, but not overly muscular. His skin was lightly tanned. He wore dark brown pants and a black vest. The vest just covered his chest and stomach, having no sleeves. He arrived at the space port and entered the hanger where his ship was located. He loved that ship, the Phoenix Flame. It was a custom designed ship, perfect for smuggling. It had one main area in the center that contained a small galley, a sitting room, a bedroom with a small bed, two gun emplacements on the front on the left and right with a very wide range of motion, as well as one at the back. The bridge was simple with just two seats at the very front of the ship. On either side it branched out slightly and led to a pair of large engines. They only appeared large though. The main thing about it was that the engines were only about a third the size that they appeared from the outside. Yet they could power the ship to speeds that normal engines that size could. The rest of the space inside the engine housing was perfect for hiding things. No one ever searches inside engines. Other hiding places included a very well sealed compartment beneath the bed, open spaces above cockpit control panels, and some compartments on the outside of the ship, only accessable from outside. The ship was designed for speed in both space and planetary atmospheres. He turned around to see if the girl had followed him the entire way. He had no doubts that she had. It was not likely for someone to not follow a person they hired to take them somewhere. The only problem was if she had lost him in the crowd.

She had followed him all the way, after first putting her cowl back on. She had stayed behind him, at least five or six feet back to make sure no one realized she was indeed with the smuggler. Lara had come from a slave background. She had been forced to work on ranches and such, and was usually the one to take trips across the dune, risking being caught by Sand People, when someone needed something. When he stopped at the ship, she lowered the hood, tucking her black hair behind her ears before speaking slowly, with a little bit of a Huttese accent. "I need you to take me to Yavin IV, to the Rebel base. I need to get there fast....Can you do it?" She asked softly, looking over the ship a moment before continuing to speak. "The only cargo will be me, but you can not get caught by Imperial Storm Troopers. Granted, they won't know who I am, but I have very important information that if they find, our attempts at foiling the empire will be ruined." Her accent was actually pretty cute, and when she was done speaking, she looked up into his eyes, of course, taking time to look over his physique a bit. He was pretty cute, but she couldn't think about that right now. Right now, she had to meet back up with the rebels and get ready for whatever would happen next.

Arden smiled as he saw the girl still there. That was good. He could use the money. He listened to what she needed and smiled. She had an interesting accent. It made her voice sound even nicer. The problem was that he recognised what the accent was. He hoped there were no hutts after her. He did not want to have to deal with that. He let her continue telling him what he needed to do. So she was a rebel. That was interesting. He had never really liked the Empire or their ships. They weren't that hard to trick or out run, but they were annoyingly persistant. He would still take the job though. He didn't see any real problems. His only worry was the hutts coming after her. He turned toward his ship, pressing a button attached to his belt. The door opened and a ramp descended. He glanced back at her. "I can get you there very fast. I can also make sure no Imperial soldiers get to you. If they stop us you may have to hide in a cramped space, but they will not find you. I can guarantee that much. Well, let's go." He walked up the ramp onto the ship and waited for her to join him. He gave her a quick tour of his ship, showing her the bedroom where she could get a quick nap, the sitting room, the galley, and the cockpit. He also showed her where to go if they got stopped by an Imperial ship. He would help her get into the hiding spot if it was needed. He finished by going to the cockpit and sitting in the pilot's seat. He got the engines started up and let her go wherever she wanted to go on his ship. He had nothing to hide from her. He wasn't smuggling anything at the moment.

She smiled as she was shown around, and once he left to get their journey underway, she got comfortable. She took off the cowl, setting it down on the back of a chair before taking off the robe and doing the ssame, exposing the girls slender yet curvy frame. She still had a tank top on, however, and a pair of panties, so nothing riske could be seen. After a few minutes though, she headed to the front of the ship and sat down in the cock pit next to him. She curled up, shutting her eyes slightly before looking out the windshield. "I'm Lara....I used to work for the Hutts, but I bought my freedom years ago with the credits I had accrued." She said softly, but sweetly as she buckled herself in. She hated flying, which was slightly amusing since she was practically always on a ship at some point. Whether it was smuggling Rebel plans, or trying to meet up with whoever, she was always flying. The girl's eyes shut completely, happy to be out of the harsh sun and whipping winds.

He was about ready to take off when the girl entered the cockpit. She had removed her cloak and what she had on now surprised him very much. She had only a tank top and pair of panties on. She was quite beautiful. He had to be dreaming. He was being paid a large ammount of money for taking a beautiful woman to a planet. He was quite happy about this now. She introduced herself to him and explained her background a little. It was relieving, knowing that no hutts would be after them. He nodded. Once she was buckled in he took off. The ship lifted off the ground smoothly. He pushed a lever forward and it started to move forward and up. He picked up speed until the ship broke free of the planet's atmosphere. He flicked a few switches and pressed a couple of buttons before relaxing. The ship was now searching for the planet's exact location and plotting a course. All he had to do was wait for a minute and then hit the light speed switch. He turned to the girl, trying not to stare at her body. He smiled slightly. "It is nice meeting you Lara. I promise to get you to your destination safely. I'm Arden. I have been flying this thing for many years. I've been stopped many times, but never caught, even when holding illegal things. You have nothing to worry about. Just sit back and relax."

She smiled when he told her to relax, noticing him glancing at her and giggling. "Don't worry, I don't care if you look at me. If you had seen what the Hutts put me in, you'd understand how.... desensitizing it is. I could probably be bare and not really think twice about it." She laughed slightly and shut her eyes completely. It was nice to know he had done this plenty of times before. At least this way some of her worries left her head. Slowly, she opened her eyes again, looking him over one more time before stretching out. Her stomach showed a little bit, but she barely even noticed it. The girl shifted in her seat slightly before staring out the window for a few moments. "Well, thank you Arden. I appreciate this. Just warn me before you go off into light speed. Otherwise, I might faint." She smiled at him, running her hand through her hair lightly as she pulled her knees to her chest slightly. "What drove you to be a smuggler? I mean, it may be none of my business, but I'm just curious. It seems like a scary scary thing. If I were being chased by the Empire, I'd be terrified." SHe practically whispered, leaning her head on her knees and wrapping her arms around her legs snugly.

He was a little surprised to hear an attractive girl tell him to not worry about looking at her. She didn't seem to have any shame. Her explaination made it clear. He nodded but still tried not to look too much. He focused on the computer telling him how long it would be until the ship was ready to go to light speed. He nodded to her request, a little preoccupied. When she asked him what had made him become a smuggler. He glanced over at her. She seemed nice enough. He didn't tell many people his story, but something about her made him trust her. He pressed a few buttons and put his hand on a switch. "Get ready. Going to light speed in ten seconds." He flicked the switch and heard the engines starting to shift into the light speed mode to jump the ship up in speed. Once the ship made the jump he relaxed in his chair and sighed. "Well, I was an orphan since I was a young child. When I turned eighteen I left the orphanage and tried to make it on my own. I stole to survive. I stole once from the wrong guy. He caught me a few days later but I had spent the money already. He was about to kill me when he figured out I was an orphan. He had been an orphan as well. He decided to spare my life if I worked off my debt for him on his ship. It was this ship. He was a smuggler. I continued to travel with him when my debt was paid off. He was killed by an angry hutt a few years ago. I got everything he owned and continued to smuggle, though I never work for hutts or against hutts. I never have anything to do with hutts."

"Stoopa schutta....The Hutts aren't something to mess with. My mother was a slave, my father wasn't....He was a bounty hunter. Jabba sold him my mom, and then I came along. When my father died on a job when I was seven, Jabba figured that he should "take care" of us. A few months later, he fed her to the Rancor.... Once I was older, once I got...sexy, I think the word is, I went from being a server to a dancer....I wore less then the Twi'leks...I had to sit at Jabba's side and be....a...lur....ing...Alluring! Sorry, my english isn't as good as it could be. I've only been speaking it for a few years. " She smiled genuinley, and it seemed that even though her life had been less the great, she was happy. Once in hyper space, shen unbuckled her seat belt, slowly standing up and walking out back of the ship. She grabbed the papers she had, slowly slipping them into her top before sighing and grabbing his money. She hid it on board, not wanting him to be able to get it before she decided to give it to him. Then, she slowly made her way to the front of the ship again, stumbling slightly and grabbing his shoulder to make sure she didn't fall down. The girl ended up with one hand on his shoulder, the other on his leg as she blushed and looked at him for a minute. "Sorry...."

Arden listened as the girl told him her story. It seemed she trusted him as well. That was a nice feeling. Most people did not trust smugglers. He looked over at her with a smile. Her life had been tougher than his had been. She seemed to be doing well though. He wished he could be as happy as she seemed to be. He glanced over as she left to go to the back of the ship. He simply adjusted a few things to make sure they stayed on course. They would have to stop a little before the planet to get past an Imperial ship, but that did not worry him. He was making the preparations for the encounter when he heard her footsteps returning. Suddenly there was a hand on his shoulder and one on his leg. He looked up at her. He couldn't avoid getting a good look at her body. The sight mixed with the feel of her hands caused him to become aroused. He looked away and stared at his computer. He hoped she didn't notice the forming bulge. He tried to speak. "I....Its ok."

Lara bit her lip, and then did something unexpected, even to her. She leaned forwards and kissed his cheek lightly and tenderly, a slight smile on her face before standing up and blushing. "Um, I'm going to go lay down for a bit. If you need me, don't hesitate to wake me up." She giggled nervously, standing there for another second before hurrying off to the back of the ship. She was embarrassed, and rightly so. As she climbed into the bed, she sighed, getting right under the blanket and shutting her eyes. She didn't go to sleep yet, though, only tried to make herself less awkward feeling. He had given her feelings she hadn't really felt before, and they were making her uncomfortable to say the least. She couldn't really get Arden out of her head, and she didn't actually want to, either.

What happened next caught Arden completely off guard. He felt Lara's lips press softly against his cheek. His arousal grew from the tender kiss and he blushed from nervousness and embarrasment. He swallowed hard and just stared straight ahead, not having any clue of what he should do. He nodded slightly as she said she would be in the bedroom for a nap. Once she was gone he tried to get his thoughts under control. Sure, she was a pretty girl, but he had a job to do. He needed to get her safely to the rebels and then she would be out of his life. He couldn't develop any feelings for her and couldn't let her develop feelings for him. It shouldn't be hard. They were only together for a short while. If something did connect between them, him leaving would become much harder and more complicated. He didn't want to get caught up in the rebellion. He wanted to avoid the Empire as much as possible. He sighed and just continued to monitor the computer.

Lara hadn't gotten up again for a few hours, relaxed and well rested finally. The groggy eyed girl stood up, stretching slightly before walking out of the bedroom. SHe headed out to the cockpit again, sitting down in the chair next to his as she rubbed her eyes. "How far away are we from Yavin IV?" She asked slowly, crossing her legs and putting her feet up in front of here. She gripped the back of the seat as she watched out the window, trying to wake herself up a bit more, although, it was proving unsuccessful. After another few moments, she shut her eyes and curled up in the seat, still feeling quite awkward about earlier. She didn't know what to say at this point, but her eyes couldn't help but wander down his frame slowly when she did open her eyes again. Her lip was clenched between her teeth lightly, a soft sigh escaping the girls lips as she played with her hair for a moment.

Arden napped a little in his chair for about an hour. When he woke he checked the computer again. It seemed the rendezvous with the Imperial ship just before Yavin IV was inevitable. He sighed. He just hoped they would not be stopped or questioned. He changed course to try making a wider berth around it, lessing the chance of being contacted. When Lara eventually rejoined him he was preparing for the jump back down from light speed. He glaced over as she asked how far away they were. He focused on his control panels. "Um, about four or five minutes, if we don't get stopped. don't worry about that though." He glanced over at her again and smiled. She had a bit of a strange look on her face that he didn't understand. He didn't worry about it and hit a few more buttons. "Prepare to slow from light speed." He waited a few seconds and flicked the final switch. The ship came out of light speed. He started to direct the ship as far away from the Imperial ship as possible.

"I said stay away from the empire, not rendezvous with them! Oh god damn it...." She jumped up, running towards the back of ship and grabbing her things alone with her robes. She quickly put the robes on, tucking the plans into her tank top before shaking her head. Now, although the Stormtroopers probably wouldn't know her, there was a possibility they'd do a search of the both of them. And if they got the plans, well, the rebellion would crumple and they'd have no chance to overthrow the empire. The girl was panicking a bit now, and rightly so. As she ran back to the front of ship, she whimpered softly, cowl being pulled up over her head as she muttered. "E chu ta! Stoopa sleemo..." In truth, the way she sputtered Huttese insults was sort of attractive, but her anger was clear. "You best get us out of this....Because if I die at the hands of storm troopers, I swear I will be so angry...I was almost fed to the rancor, which is better then dying from a blaster ray."

Arden sighed as his passenger did exactly what he told her not to do. She was worrying. He let her got to the back of the ship. He changed course, deciding to take the route around the planet in the opposite direction as the imperial ship. He saw no indication that they were trying to contact him. In this part of the galaxy he was not well known and his ship was unknown to the imperials. They would not be looking for any ships like his. He heard the girl return and mutter in another languge. He knew it was an insult. He had heard it more than once before. He rolled his eyes. She sounded cuter than she did threatening. She gave him orders and he looked up at her. "Do you think I want to get stopped by them? Just sit down. We are not going to be stopped." Just then an imperial scout flew past. An alarm went off. He swore. He looked out the window and saw that they were close to the moon. He set his ship to go right to the rebel base on auto pilot. He then got up and ran to his gun emplacement. He wasn't about to be stopped. The ship sped up automatically. He just needed to last a few minutes. Once he got within the rebel defense line, he would be safe. He looked at Lara. "Get on the radio and tell the rebels who we are. We don't want to be attacked by them as well." He got his aim set and waited. If he attacked too soon, the battle would be crazier. The closer he could get to the rebels, the better. They were only a minute away when the final warning came. He waited another ten seconds and then took his shot. He destroyed the scout. He then ran to the rear emplacement to see more fighters on their way from the main ship. He took aim and fired to slow and divert them. He destroyed two more. The rest closed in. They got within their accurate range just as he pased the rebel defense line. He shot at them and destroyed one mroe as the others peeled off, realising that he was now protected. He breathed a sigh of relief as he retook the controls and piloted the ship toward the rebel hangar bay.

Lara did as he said, running back and immediately contacted them. She hung up the communicator once she knew they were on her side, watching in awe as the ships exploded from the shots. WIthin moments, they had landed, but it wasn't all good news. A few rebels came onto the ship, one holding a blaster to her as she laughed and shook her head. "Dolpyee kikyuna. My name is Lara Sal." "How do we know you're not with the Empire?" "Do I look like I'm in the Empire to you?" "Why are you speaking huttese?" "I was a chik youngee. Dancing girl for the Hutts. It's the first language I learned." A rebel started heading for the back of the ship, which caused the girl to grab one of the blaster from another rebel before pointing it at him "Chuba! Koona t'chuta?" He stopped immediately, smirking slightly as she walked over and made him turn around. She took his blaster, sticking it in her belt before pointing the other one towards the ground. "This is not my ship. He's just a smuggler. You don't need to worry about him or us. Here....are the plans I was asked to bring." She said, pausing as she pulled the plans from her robes and handed them to him. They took them and left the ship, the girl smiling before grabbing the hidden 10,000 credits. She then started heading back to where Arden was, leaning against the wall lightly and sighing. "I'm...sorry I called you a Sleemo. You aren't one. You're very brave, and thank you very much for bringing me here." She slowly walked over to him, putting her hands on his cheeks and kissing his lips softly before pulling back slightly and looking into his eyes. "Here's your credits, and thank you. Chess ko, Arden." She leaned back in and kissed him one more time, sighing softly before standing up straight and heading off towards the front of the ship. She knew she had no chance of getting him to stay at the base with her. Why would he want to help them? He was a smuggler, and only had to do what he wanted to. She ran her hand through her hair, stepping off the ship before shutting her eyes and leaning against a dormant x-wing fighter.

Arden set the ship down in a rebel hangar. He shut down the engines and relaxed. He had been lucky. The Imperial ship had not attacked right away. It could have done that easily and he would have had a much tougher fight on his hands. Now he would get his money and leave. He could hear a commotion at the back of the ship, but he was sure Lara could handle herself. When someone entered the cockpit again he looked up and saw Lara. He smiled at her softly. She looked happy. He was glad. It seemed to have gone well. She even appoligised for insulting him and called him brave. Then she really surprised him. He watched her approach, expecting he would get money from her. Instead she leaned in, put her hands on his face, and kissed him. He looked up into her eyes, not sure how to respond. He took the credits from her without even really thinking about it. Then she kissed him again. He was still in shock when she left the ship. He recovered a minute later and he started to consider what he wanted to do next. He could easily leave and find something to smuggle on another system. Yet something told him he should stay with the rebels. It didn't make any sense at all. He had told himself he would never get in a situation that put him in conflict with hutts or the Empire. He knew what it was keeping him around though. Lara. He felt a connection to her like he hadn't with anyone in a long time. He had only known her for a few hours, and had only spoken with her for a little while, but he still felt something. Her kisses had probably just added to it as well. He thought she might feel the same. One kiss would not have meant anything in particular, but two meant that it was probably not just a friendly gesture. After some thought he made his decision. It went against all his personal rules and all his logic and reason, but he decided he would see if they wanted his help. Actually, he would just stay. He went out to find whoever was in charge. As he stepped off the ship he saw Lara. He went over to her and cleared his throat to get his attention. Then he started to talk before letting her say anything. "Hey. I did some thinking. It sounds like you do some dangerous things for the rebels. You need some protection and a fast ship all the time. You won't be able to find anyone better than me and my ship. As of now we are a team. I am going to go and tell the person in charge and ask what they need us to do next." He looked at her to see her reaction and what she thought.

When he cleared his throat, she jumped, looking over at him and starting to smile as he spoke. She couldn't help but be thrilled at the fact he wanted to stay, and she took his hand before starting to lead him away without a word. Finally, they got to where Mon Mothma, the appointed leader of the Rebels before she smiled and spoke to her. "This is Arden. He wants to help us defeat the Empire." "Is that so? How did he get here." "He's the one who smuggled me here." "Hmmm. Well, does he have a ship?" "Yes." "You can leave us, Lara. Go find your base leader and have them show you your room. Arden will most likely be joining you shortly." She bowed slightly, smiling at Arden slightly before leaving the room quickly. She found Korvas, and he showed her where she'd be staying and where her clothes had been moved to. She quickly went off, first taking a long shower before meeting back up with Korvas who was waiting in her room. She was in a tank top and shorts(if you could call them that), and the male laughed as she entered the room. "What?" "You're in hardly anything!" "So what?" "Well, normally, you cover every inch of yourself." "Shut up Korvas." "You like him, don't you?" 'Who?" "That smuggler." "Maybe. Why do you care anyways?" "BEcause, I know smugglers. He doesn't care about us or about you. He cares about the bounty." "He isn't a bounty hunter. You don't know him." "And you do?" "Better than you. I trust him." "Well, maybe your a fool...." She grabbed the man and shoved him into the wall, getting in his face as he went wide eyed. She had learned to defend herself quite well since her dancing girl days, since every man that came around tried to force himself on her. She smirked a bit, muttering in huttese before laughing. "A fool who'll teach you to keep your mouth shut. Now, go." The man left immediately, the girl laying down on the one bed in the room as she shut her eyes and messed with the blaster she had acquired. "Now, Arden, if you mean what you say, you'll have to share a room with Lara. Rooms have one bed each, so you two will get very close over the next few days. We have a week until the we attack the Empire and then move to our base on Hoth. If you still want to be a part of this, then go find your room and get some rest. Otherwise, leave before Lara becomes too attached to you."

Arden didn't know what to think when Lara said nothing and just pulled him along. He was confused, but followed along. When he saw an important looking person he smiled and bowed slightly. He let Lara do all the talking. When Lara was sent away he was a little nervous. He didn't know what to expect. Once Lara had left he looked at Mon Mothma and waited for her to say something. He listened to all she said very carefully. He was surprised that he would be set up to room with Arden. It made some sense though, rooms were probably fairly scarce. The fact that there would be a fight with the Empire surprised him more and made him nervous. He had hoped they would just need him to smuggle some more stuff or people. When she was finished he nodded and left. He walked slowly to find the room. As he did he thought. Did he really want to stay? He had told Lara he was staying and that they were a team. He couldn't go back on his word. It may be dangerous, but he needed to protect his new friend. He found the room and opened the door, looking inside and then entering. He spotted Lara laying on the bed. She was dressed in some clean clothes, barely. The girl definitely seemed to prefer skimpy clothes. He would have to get used to it. He rarely spent time around other humans, even less around girls, and almost never was around girls as attractive as her. He knew he would need to control himself around her to avoid awkward situations. He cleared his throat to get her attention and smiled over at her. "Uh, I was told that if I stayed I would have to share the room with you, even though there is only one bed. I have decided to stick around, even though we will apparently be attacking the Empire. I will have to teach you to use my ship's weapons so I can fly and you can shoot. Anyway, what do you think?"

"You don't have to stay, you know. I mean, this is something I have to do. We need to be at peace. We need the old republic back. But you don't have to at all. If you want to leave though, do it now before you meet anyone and make any attachment. You need to be dedicated to this. You need to know that you could die, and so could I." She stood up, walking over to him and putting her hands on his chest before shaking her head. Her accent was thicker, the way it seemed to get when she was emotional at all. Her hands were shaking lightly, the girl taking several deep breaths before speaking softly again. "Don't stay because...of me....Stay because you believe in what we are doing....No matter what that kiss meant to either of us....But if you do stay....I'll make sure you don't regret it...." She smiled at him slightly, one hand movie to his cheek as she pet it lightly. She had never felt this way about a man, and the thought of him leaving made her stomach hurt and her heart slow down. She only had known him for what, a day, but she still felt like she needed him with her, That she needed him to protect her. "So, decide now. Do you want to be on our side, or do you want to leave and go back to Tatooine." She looked up into his eyes, blinking slowly as her breathing got shallow. She wanted to hug him and beg him not to leave, beg him to stay and protect her from everything bad, but she knew he had to be here because he wanted to. Because he knew the Empire was wrong and evil. Her hand slid down his neck, and before she did something stupid, she moved away from him and back into the bed. She looked down at her legs, her mind going back to Jabba's palace and how....safe it had been. That sounded odd to most, but there, Jabba killed anyone who tried to touch her. Boba Fett even shot someone that tried to kidnap her. The empire couldn't hurt her, and the men who tried in secret didn't ever succeed. And they met their end soon enough. She laid down on her side, sighing heavily as she traced the wall with her back to him. "If you're staying, come to bed. If you aren't....then....go now before I try to change your mind."

Arden listened as Lara started explaining that he needed to stay for the right reasons. She had some good points, but he was afraid of confronting the Empire. His old mentor had always taught him to avoid conflict that you couldn't win. To him it didn't seem that the rebels had a shot at completely defeating the Empire. Yet she seemed upset at considering him leaving. She touched his chest and his face and lookde into his eyes. Some of her words even told him she cared whether he was there or not. He watched her go back to the bed. He thought for a minute if he really wanted to stay. He decided that he did need to help in any way he could. His main focus was keeping Lara safe though. He considered what to do now though. He felt a little wierd sharing a bed with her, but didn't want to go back to his ship in case she thought he was leaving. With a deep breath to calm himself he walked over to the bed and lay down next to her without a word. He tried to get comfortable without having too much contact with her, not wanting it to be too awkward. He checked the clock once he was comfortable and looked over at Lara. "We should get some sleep. It is getting late."

"Yeah, it is. I'm glad you stayed...." She smiled, taking his hand and making him wrap his arm around her waist as she shut her eyes and smiled. She pulled the blankets up over them both, slowly rolling over to face him as she leaned her head against his chest. She felt warm and safe next to him, and fell asleep within what seemed like seconds. When she woke up the next morning, she normally would have immediately got out of bed and started her day. But with Arden laying next to her, she couldn't leave. She ran her hands over his chest slowly and lovingly almost, sighing softly as she shut her eyes again. She didn't ever want to leave his side, even though she knew her feelings were so wrong. But it felt so right with him. She laughed at herself, finding it sort of funny that before him, she though every man was a pig and couldn't stand any of them. Sure, she was nice, but only to be friendly. Anything they wanted other than conversation would never happen. But with him....he could try anything and she'd probably let him. The kiss had electrified her blood and sent it rushing through her veins. She had felt completely drugged, and she had loved it. Finally though, she moved out of bed, but not before kissing his lips softly and tenderly. "Oh Arden....I hope you made the right choice..." She slowly climbed out of bed, got dressed in a tight black long sleeved shirt and a pair of tight matching pants before slipping her boots on slowly and silently. She didn't want to wake him after all. She made her way from the room, after first leaving a note on the door telling him how to get to the dining hall. Once she got to the hall, she grabbed a plate of whatever they were serving before sitting down and starting to eat slowly.

Arden was glad that Lara seemed happy. He didn't protest when she made him hold her. She covered them both with the blanket and lay close. He felt a little nervous, but also enjoyed it quite a bit. He relaxed after a minute and once she was asleep. He still held her and it felt comfortable. Soon he was asleep as well. His dreams were a mix of being very nice and unsettling. In a couple there was no war and he didn't have to worry about Lara's safety. What would have been confusing if he had remembered any of them would be that Lara was still there by his side. At that time he would have consciously thought that if she didn't need him there he would go on his own again. The other dreams made more sense, but also more intense. They involved battle and often Lara was in danger. In most of them he was able to protect her, but in the one that woke him she had been killed. He nearly leapt out of bed. The intensity of his worry and emotion from the dream was surprising. He felt the emotion and fear and tried to remember what he had been dreaming. It didn't work. The dream quickly faded from memory. He sat in bed and sighed, quickly calming himself down. He looked around and saw that Lara was gone. He found her note and read it, memorising the instructions to the dining hall. He was already dressed so he simply left the room and walked off to get some food. He got the plate and then looked for Lara. When he spotted her he smiled and walked over to her, sitting across from her. From the look of her plate she had not been there for long. He took a bite of food and then looked back at her once more. "Good morning Lara. I hope you slept well. I hope it was not too awkward sharing a bed with me. If so I can always sleep on my ship."

"I slept better then I have in such a long time. It was...nice..." She smiled and ate some more of her breakfast , shutting her eyes after several moments before glancing up into his eyes. "How did you sleep? I mean, did I bother you? If you want to sleep in your ship, you can, but I liked it." She finished her food, sighing softly as she thought about what the next week would include. They'd have to go through how to work the guns on his ship, but that didn't have to happen just yet. They definitely had three or four days of just quality time together, and that made her sort of nervous. She was starting to get feelings for him, more so then before. It was like the more she was around him, the more she needed him with her. She didn't like feeling so dependent on him, but she couldn't help it. "What do you want to do today anyways? I mean, I thought maybe we could just relax, but it's up to you. Whatever you want to do is fine with me," She laughed softly, pushing her plate over a bit before getting up and taking it towards the kitchen. As she walked away, her hips swayed slightly, the girl dropping her plate off before making it back to him. She sat down next to him this time, leaning her head on his shoulder as her hand moved to his thigh. She rubbed it slowly, not being very sexual but sort of letting him know that she was into him. Her hair fell in her face, the girls eyes shining out from under the curls as she looked up at him. "So, what do you feel like doing?"

Arden was very happy to hear that she had slept well. He looked over into her eyes and smiled softly. She asked how he had slept and if she had bothered him. He shook his head. "No, I slept well. I'm fine with sleeping like that. It was quite comfortable." He ate as she did, but he was slower. When she finished she got up and he stayed at the table, eating. He thought about her question and watched her take her plate to the kitchen. Her hips moved in a way that made her look even more attractive. He forced himself to look away and considered her question. He wanted to spend time with her. Yet he also worried that spending too much time with her would lead to a situation that might not work out well in the end for them. He knew he liked her, and he was definitely attracted to her. He just didn't know what to do. When Lara returned she sat right next to him. He had finished his food and pushed the plate away. When Lara leaned her head against him and put her hand on his thigh Arden was surprised. She rubbed his leg and le looked over at her. The look on her face told him everything. He was left speechless for a moment as he got his thoughts together. Then he finally responded. "Uh, I think it could be nice to explore the base. We could get to know where things are and where to go in certain situations." He shifted a little, feeling a bit uncomfortable. After another few moments he got up and grabbed his plate. He started off toward the kitchen to return it.

New York City. If you can make it here, you can make it anywherePerhaps. In the most remote villages of Russia, if you livedthen it was a miracle in itself. If you could survive the filthy home birth or even filthier hospitals, acquire enough food not to starve to death growing up and find a job that would not require signing your soul or a member of your family to the higher upsthen perhaps you could make it. Maybe. Crime would be unavoidable...No one is guilty of crime, if everyone participates in it It would not be regarded so much as crime as it would be day to day living..If your neighbor has more potatoes than he can consume, and you have starving children to feedtake it. You could offer something in return, but desperations breeds greed more often than generosity. Your neighbor would want something outlandish Better to nourish his fields with his blood, than filling his pockets with your own.. New Yorkers knew nothing of desperation. Their city was nothing in comparison to the corrupt cesspool that formed an entire country..Even in Moscow, where even the slightest glimmer of hope could be seen through the polluted fogs lingering overhead, even there the greatest dream you could have was escapeSome disease or enraged cutpurse would claim you if the secret police did not..But Moscow was where Russians went, girls in particular, if they wanted to find means of escape. Plucking up young maidens from villages often went unreported for those seeking to sell brides or generate a few more bodies for the human trafficking business, but just because it happened in a major city didnt mean the crime would be looked into with any more care, than if it were out in the middle of nowhere. Besides..for the people in such a business, it was far more alluring to tempt a desperate girl with a career in modeling or acting than to simply snatch them up. It was all part of the twisted game..The more those eager doe-eyed girls believed that they would soon be on the covers of international magazines, the more sadistic gratification their sellers received from the deal No one played the hero in Russia..You wouldn't last a day as one.. The country was populated by villains, and victims...And at times, it was difficult to tell them apart. Magdalena Ivanov had packed what little belongings she had brought with her to Moscow, into a worn and tattered duffel bag, and boarded one of those planes with an American man named Harrison. She had thought their meeting to be a God sendOnly a few days in Moscow and an American man had stopped her as she came out of Mass to comment on how beautiful she was! How her deep gray-blue eyes were like the sky before a summer stormHow her dark hair flowed like silk curtains around a lithe body carved from the most perfect and fair stone! A sign for sure! The cathedral bells chiming in the background to serenade this moment! Oh and how this man had laid it onThickly too, with his charming American accent. Musing of angels and heaven and how God must have made her beautiful for the world to see. To outsiders, the mans pinstripe suit and greasy black hair would have sent up red flags immediately..So would the way he had snatched back his business card and shuffled through a portfolio of clients that he just happened to have with him at that moment. Russian models he claimed to help, fashion designers who were eager for the face of a liberated Soviet girl..Oh he would have been an obvious rat to anyone, except to a young girl starving for fame as much as food. To her, he was offering a chance she would be a fool to pass on After the plane would land in John F Kennedy Airport on October the 19th, 1979, she would know how much of a fool she was to think that God would send her anything but punishment for her vanity...For her pride...For her sins. A sleek black limo with tinted windows was waiting outside on that brisk autumn evening. Magdalenas bag was tossed somewhat carelessly into the trunk by a driver who would not look directly at her. Harrison told her to wait inside, and no sooner had she settled into a set close by the window, two tiny Asian girls wearing matching clothing came inside, whispering and giggling to each other. Were they models too? Magdalena had wondered this for a momentThen another girl with a beautiful olive complexion and thick black hair braided down to her thighs hesitantly entered the limo. She was clutching her slightly rounded stomach, as if it were paining her..But from the shape of the colorful sweater she was wearing, Magdalena could not tell if it was simply weight or.. The car door opened again. Along with Harrison, two other men dressed in similar garb with equally greasy hair came inside with grins as devious as foxes. They sat beside their respected ladies, and attempted small talk in base English about the landmarks they were passing by. The Asian girls stared with their hands covering their mouths in disbelief, and admittedly Magdalena had lost herself in the glittering sparkle of the New York night lights...but as she glanced at the dark skinned girl clutching her stomach with such stress upon her face, the charm and wonders of this new place seemed to fade Very soon, it would come crashing down entirely. ** Shhhmmm! A small couch pillow came whizzing through the air, crashing down upon a neatly placed group of white tea cups that clattered against the glass coffee table they had been set upon. The sudden noise caused nine skinny timid girls who had been in the cramped lounging room, to flinch defensively. Most all closed their eyes, some covered their faces...but all of them cowered and held their breath, awaiting a sharp blow to come from anywhere. Thistime, there was nothingJust a smug chortle from a lanky man in a pinstripe suit who stood in the doorway. His hair was far too thin to maintain any amount of grease. A gnarly finger pointed towards Magdalena, who had been sitting on the windowsill, gazing through the iron bars that had been installed for safety measures... Destiny, you got a John tonight, The man sneered, running his tongue against his yellowed teeth, Cabll take you to the place. Be down in five, And with that, he turned and morphed back into the dimly lit hallways..The familiar echo of Move your fuckin worthless ass! brought the girl to her feet, wrapping the red blanket she had curled up in closer to herself. In two months, she had seen plenty of villains..plenty of victims. Were there no heroes left? Had God deemed mankind beyond saving..? She smiled lightly to the girls around her, who had reanimated after the man had left, returning to their nail polish and magazines. She had, remarkabely, kept her faith...Despite everything, for the most part. If one could be religious in Russia, they could be here as well..There had to be hope somewhere in this city of dreams... Destiny, as she was now, walked across the hall into her room. Destiny..A name picked for her byhim.Hepicked all of the names for the girls...Candy, Ruby, Angel...All of them. Something short, sweet..Something the clients will remember. Curled up on a twin sized mattress sitting in the corner of the room, was the olive skinned girl whose tummy had rounded considerably in the last two months..Her breasts were swelling beneath the tiny pink tank top she wore, damp in the spots she made the most money from for the cliental with more..specifictastes. Destiny took the red blanket from her own shoulders , leaned over and draped it over the sleeping girl, kissing her forehead affectionately before standing up once more. Placing two fingers between the broken horizontals over the window, she peered out into the foggy city..Rain, again. Never had she missed snow so muchRain was horrible. She would have to pack extra to touch up her hair and make up before the client arrived. Her duffel bag long since gone, a pretty black tote bag with American Dreams embroidered in red white and blue cursive along the sides was used to pack her things. It sat upon the oak dresser that she and the girl she knew as Baby, shared. It was a long dresser, that would have stretched between the tops of the two mattresses, had Destinys mattress still been there. It was filled to the brim with clothes, costumes, jewelry..Anything and everything they had was either on the floor or in that dresser. The room was barely big enough for the two of them, the size of a walk in closet maybe. These had been storage rooms once..and in a sense, they still were. Into the large bag she packed a royal purple negligee, in case her client had opted for her to spend the night. Removing her jeans and I Love NY t shirt, she slipped on a corset of the same color, with black lace to match her garters. Black elbow length gloves, sheer black knee highs and stiletto heels that pressed her toes together too tightly, but they were the only pair she could fit in since the two girls who shared her shoe size refused to lend her their shoes. Her long black hair had been cut since arriving, styled with layers and blonde highlights..More of an American feel...Hewanted her to be exotic, but not so much to put off the clients... A make-up bag was placed inside with shades picked out for her by crotchety Rita who worked alongside ofhim, as well as a bottle of wild orchid perfume that Destiny had bought from a vendor on her own. She also slipped her rosary off of its nail upon the wall, kissing it softly before tucking it away inside of the bags inner pocket. Making her way towards the stairs, she held the rail tightly as she walked down the narrow, creaky stairs..One flight down and through the a door, the light was almost blinding. Taking a long gray military style trench coat from the closet immediately outside of the door, Destiny placed it on before taking one of the larger bags from the bottom of the closet...A bag with the American Dream logo written a bit more boldly with a phone number printed, as well as her name, filled with items that could be used throughout the night..if paid for. The stairs going downstairs felt more stable, but still she held tightly to the railing..The first floor always had soft classical music playing at all hours. The hallway adorned with statues and paintings of nude women, giant flower arrangements. It looked like a parlor to a private home..but the door to the left of the stairs read OFFICE in large gold letters, and the come-hither looking stare from the half nude, blonde haired, blue-eyed girl upon the poster beneath, stuck out significantly in the otherwise seemingly elegant atmosphere. As she made her way towards the front door, Destiny heard the door open behind her. You She froze, not daring to look back. The voice was deep, hoarse.. You offend again, and I will be takingyouout..You understand? Her lips quivered. English..You understand? Youre on thin ice. Thinfuckingice after your last stunt. I hear anything back like that again and youll be the next fucking Romanov, got it? Y-yes.

Arms held behind his back, Dan paced. Night had fallen hours ago and some distant, long-buried part of him ached to get out, to go into the shadows where he belonged, where he couldfit inbecause he always looked uncomfortable during the day, out of place in any atmosphere. He wasn't himself anymore - he hadn't been since '77, not that he would admit it. He had told himself every day that the Keene act had been the best thing for them - sometimes he even managed to convince himself it was true, that a life as a superhero wasn't normal, wasn't healthy. It was something crazy people did, and he was reformed. He wasn't a hero anymore. Sometimes he even wondered if those days had really happened, if maybe he truly was insane, if he had made the whole thing up in a flight of fancy to get away from the mind-numbing monotony of daily life. Sometimes, he was convinced it had all been in his head. Sometimes he could carry on and be sure that this was how life was supposed to be - dull. An empty existence that consisted of going from day to day, writing articles about aeronautics, focusing as much obsession as he could into the study of ornithology. Sometimes he could even forget - or at least, push it all to the back of his mind. Act like it never happened. But then he would come home and find his front door ajar just a little, or he might smell something that was raw and familiar - the smell that came with dirt and grease and terrible hygiene, and he always knew what he would find inside. It was the reason he always left the can opener in the same spot; if Rorschach couldn't find it, there was no telling what he might do to crack open a can of beans. It was good to see his old partner sometimes, good to know he was still alive - just, Rorschach always came with complications. Even when he had little to say - which was usually the case - Rorschach had a way of reminding Dan of how things used to be, reminding him of what he left behind. And after Rorschach had left he would inevitably find himself standing in his basement, catch himself starting longingly at the suit, and he would always have to fight the maddening urge to put it on, start up Archie and just - go. Leave behind the lonely, pointless life of Daniel Dreiberg. Have meaning again. But then he would come to his senses. That's what he told himself he was doing, when he resisted. He just just being reasonable, obeying the law. The city didn't want heroes, they had made that clear, and only Veidt had been the exception in the whole thing, making a mint from his moonlighting days while Blake and Laurie and Manhattan had become government hires. The rest of them had faded away. They might even pass eachother on the streets sometimes and not know it. Though, some of them were hard to mistake. Dan swore he had seen Laurie just the other day, there was no mistaking her hair and the way it moved in sync with her hips - no mistaking that. Ever. But she was with Superman, that was how life worked anyways - he accepted it and moved on. But not really. For the last three years, it felt like he was stuck in one spot as one day blurred into another, nights of eating dinner alone and reading books until he was too tired to turn another page - which sometimes wasn't until sunrise. Days of being alone, broken up only by his weekly visits to Hollis, which he wasn't sure were healthy either, but it was all either of them had anymore. Some days Dan wondered if the rest of them were having the same trouble he was, if letting go seemed so impossible. He wondered if any of them had become as afraid as he had become. Fearful that they were insane. Dan removed his glasses and rubbed at the bridge of his nose for a long time in an effort to settle his nerves. That night had been one of those rare visits from Rorschach, he had come and gone in a whirl of ink and dust and had left Dan feeling as though his world had been overturned all over again because he could swear he could taste the blood and the sweat and the dust of the streets and the fires and the war. He could feel the breeze on his face, the comfort of his suit pressed to his skin - the familiarity of it all. The feeling of beingwhole. And he was looking at the suit again, seeing his reflection in the glass that covered it. He put his glasses back on and took a good look at himself and suddenly - suddenly he felt angry. He felt miserable. He felt useless, and pathetic and lonely because he was thirty-four and empty and living by himself, wishing for days that wouldn't come back, days that he knew he shouldn't want. The suit had to stay where it was. He had to stay where he was. But god, that night, being alone was too much - he couldn't stop thinking. He needed - he needed - something. Someone. So he did something monumentally stupid, something he wouldn't have done in his right mind, he was sure of it. Too shy to go out and risk being turned down, Dan found an escort service - the first four times, he dialed the number but hung up before anyone could answer and between each call he would find himself sitting and staring at the phone for a longer period of time. By number five, he managed to wait for someone to pick up before he slammed the phone back down on the reciever. Six was the charm. A raspy, bored-sounding female voice asked him what he wanted and Dan had stammered and stuttered that he was looking for someone to come over; the silence on the other end convinced him he had said something stupid. After an uncomfortable wait, the voice prompted him: "Are you looking for anything specific, sir?" "Specific?" Dan repeated, "I - I'd prefer she was. You know. Female." Silence again. Dan could feel his face heating up. "Yes sir. They're all female." "And, you know. Whole. One piece." "Alright, sir. We've confirmed you would like a woman who isn't an amputee. Perhaps you could narrow it down a little more." Briefly, Dan had considered slamming the phone down again and hiding under his kitchen table until the shame went away, but he forged onwards, "Brunette." he blurted out, "I'd - I'd like a brunette. A girl with, with big -" Dan shifted uncomfortably on the couch, "- eyes." he finished lamely. After the fact, Dan had panicked because - well, he had just hired a call girl. He dropped his head into his hands and asked himself what he had been thinking; he was sure this was a new low.

It would have been easier to walk. Even in five inch heels, she would have moved faster than the traffic they were currently caught in. The fifteen minutes itshouldhave taken to get to this Johns house, would double easily. Her drive would be serenaded by the charming background sounds of the city; blaring horns, screamed obscenities and the occasional siren Just like home. With a large round mirror on the back of the passenger and drivers seat and an airplane-esque dashboard for make up to be set upon fastened to the chairs, the backseat of the white cab was like a motorized vanity. The time in the back of the companys exclusive cab often served as primping time, or time to look over the conversation the secretary had had with the John in case something specific was mentioned. Destinys English was base at the very best, but she knew key phrases. Bigeyes? She said this aloud, hoping it would make sense that way as it certainly hadnt within her head. Dark brown eyes with flex of green and gold, turned upwards towards the mirror. She placed her fingertips against her eyes, trying to measure them..Were they big? Or was this some slang term she was unfamiliar with..Something the few actualAmericangirls who worked for the company, had yet to mention to her. This man had not been specific at all. But that was the way some Johns were..Her first client, but not herfirstfirst..Hetook that privilege upon himself for every girl. No, her first John had been very specific. Right down to the shade and brand of lipstick she would wear, he gave the secretary a list of requirements that he personally inspected at the motel door before letting the cab driver leave. Some Johns were like that Using a charcoal base color, Destiny tried to accent her eyes with a smoky look. Blending the dark with a shimmery white to allow herself to sparkle a bit more than the sparkly orchid lotion she used on her skin that only glittered in the right light. Candlelight usually. Most girls overdid the sparkles, which got their Johns in alotof trouble. Lipstick could be washed off, and perfume covered by cologneBut those goddamn flecks of glitter were more condemning evidence than fingerprints on a gun. Destinys sparkles were applied just right..So that they would make her shimmer in dim light, like the ethereal and forbidden being she was supposed to be. SecretsThe world was filled with secrets. The Johns kept secrets from their significant others about where they were going at night. If they had none, they still wouldnt admit to anyone else that they knew about seeking a call girl..But those people denied the confession had secrets of their own. Darker ones perhaps. Something that in comparison, made indulging in the company of a fantasy seem miniscule. Not all of the Johns were corporate sleazes with a kink their wives wouldnt satisfy Most of them were, but not all of them. Destiny lined her lips with a soft red, glossing on a clear peppermint glaze to plump them out slightly. A pouty look was almost always endearing to a man..A subtle mark of innocence, vulnerabilityNeed. Twenty five minutes, almost double time. The driver parked, but kept the engine going as he took out an umbrella and expanded it. Making his way to her door, the tall chauffer adjusted the sunglasses that all of the drivers insisted to wear despite the weather or time of day. It was like a mask As they approached the door, Destinys heart began to race. It always did. Every new John was a clean slate As the driver rose his large hand up and rapped three times upon the wooden door, Destiny drew in a deep breath. Slipping a few gloved fingers through her layered tresses, she glanced towards the windows, trying to peer through the little opening in the curtains. There was light flickering insideA television maybe? Or a camera flashing.. It wouldnt have been the first time, or the strangest request she had received by far... She wouldnt know how to approach him until she met him, and waiting out in this deathly rain served as a bleak backdrop for the arrangement. It was dark outThe lights on the streets were flickering. Some Johns were ready to go as soon as she arrived, others were as hesitant as if she was their girlfriend and foreplay was necessary for her to say yes. Most got over that rather quicklyAs soon as their blood rushed to the right places.

Dan had only just managed to settle himself down onto the couch, to calm his nerves enough to stop the endless pacing lest he wear a hole through the sitting room carpet - but he couldn't seem to get comfortable. He settled with leaning his chin onto his fist and flipping through television channels only to find that nothing could truly calm him - even the discovery channel couldn't supply a decent distraction, despite the fact it was presently airing a show on the moon landing. He had been twenty-five when Apollo 11 had landed on the moon in 1969 - everyone he knew had witnessed the original broadcast of it at 10:39 p.m. He had watched a re-run of it on the news because he had been out that night, breaking the jaw of a bank robber. Of course, Manhattan had witnessed it first hand. He had beenonthe damn moon with them. The sound of gentle rapping shook Dan out of his reverie, causing him to nearly jump out of his skin; suddenly on his feet, he stared at the front door, expression briefly anguished as he struggled between the maddening urge to run in the other direction, and the absolute need to be polite and answer the damn door. No running, Dreiberg. You've faced terrorists, crazed gunmen and neo-nazis. Dan took hold of the doorknob and very gradually turned it, opening the door half an inch, enough for him to peer out with one enormous eye, magnified by the thick lens of his oversized glasses. Yeah, but neo-nazis didn't ever have legs like that. A woman stared back; thin and brunette, she seemed almost like she was glittering from the low blue lighting emanating from his house, but he told himself his eyes were just going funny. "I - uh," Dan said, pointlessly, and then looked at the floor for a long moment, embarrassed, before he stepped back and opened the door entirely with a helpless, "Come in?"

When the door opened, it opened slowly..Hesitantly. The light from the house blocked out by a shadow that took up a good portion of the doorways height. An eye came into view, peering out searchingly, carefully observing through a thick lens. Studying..Wide, as if afraid. Destiny inclined her head slightly to the left, a light smile upon her lips as she tried to catch this wandering eye. Hello, She said softly, her accent apparent from the simple word. She could hear the door knob shaking from the inside, as if he was gripping it with all of his might and was unable to let go. As the man stepped back, asking her to come inside, the driver returned with his umbrella to the cab. She would call him to pick her up when the John was finished, and he would be billed appropriately for the time spent. Crossing the threshold, the last wind chill from outside seemed to linger even as the door was shut. Not enough to bother the Russian girl of course..Winters in Mother Russia froze the very blood in your veins after all..This chill here was just enough to send a shiver up ones spine and tingles throughout the body. A lot of John's liked the room cold...Helped them to sleep better after, and kept them from leaving sweat stains on their underthings. As he tended to the locks on the door, curiousity urged her to glance around. Usually these...encounters, took place in a pre-paid room. It was rare to actually be invited to someones home. This home felt very empty, but there was plenty inside. Even within the hall, there were books lined up neatly in shelves and photographs of various birds framed neatly and hung in a perfectly straight row upon the wall. Nothing seemed out of place...Save for the painted up woman in the long coat, dressed scantily beneath and the man behind her fumbling with the locks on the door. An air of dissatisfaction lingered heavily in this home...A potent emptiness that was present in some way with all of the Johns she had met. But this one.She could almostfeelit.. As an object that's purpose was to sate that sorrow..She could sense it easily now..Most would have recognized the tidiness and passed it off as a compulsive disorder or something of the likes. But this poor Russian girl could sense that the meticulous placements were meant to cover for something..To distract, from something.. Maybe someone. Elegantly, she turned to face him. Her ankles crossed slightly, her wrists folded in front of her as she stood in an almost childish pose, still smiling to him with her head inclined ever so slightly. He was cute. A little round in some places, but hey, it would help keep the bed warm. His clothes were well kept, no wrinkles and no stains. His face well shaven, and from the meek smile he had flashed her way as she walked in, his teeth were in good condition as well. A lot could be said about a John by the way he dressed when answering the door for a call girl. Robes were expected, but this man was fully dressed as if he was on his way to work. It wasrefreshing. Extending her hand out, she gently moved her fingertips to caress and straighten the collar of his shirt which had been upturned perhaps while anxiously rubbing his neck. Smiling, she took a step closer to him, closing in the proximity slightly..Her eyes turned upward beneath lashes that needed no mascara to be full and long. I am Destiny.

Dan had never been good with women; in grade school he had been gawky, the kid with the glasses and the acne and the good grades, but genetics had given him the good fortune of being too tall to stuff into a locker and persistence had given him the kind of cardio that got him away from potential bullies with minimal effort. But girls had always been interested in the jocks; that was just the way it went. Senior prom had him shyly asking out a girl from the chess club, a night that ended with an awkward front door kiss and nothing else. His freshman year was when Dan first started hitting the gym - it was also the year when girls started noticing him. At first he had figured there was something on his face they were staring at, and when he looked back, they often continued to stare; it hadn't made much sense to him at the time - he had been used to being a nobody. His first had been that same year; a girl he had a sticky tryst with in her dorm room, something indelicate and too quick, but enough to show Dan what he had been avoiding - he kept shyly avoiding it anyways. Something about women did that to him - - and this one was no different. She was small and pretty and smelled good, the way all women seemed to; it was the sort of smell that made him want to lean in and discover where it was coming from. Her hair? Was there perfume on her neck? Dan's eyes dropped to the pale edge of a collarbone that peeked out from beneath her jacket and instantly averted his eyes as though he had been doing something terrible, "Destiny," he repeated; of course that was her name. She stepped closer, her fingers brushed his neck; Dan immediately flushed and gave a small, nervous smile - he stepped back he offered out a hand - for a handshake. "Daniel. I mean - Dan." Smooth. He did his best to recover, "Can I take your coat for you?"

The outstretched hand puzzled her. Formality? Nerves? Perhaps a bit of both. It was not unusual to be nervous when receiving an individual such as herself. Nerves were part of the thrill. It added to the adrenaline rush that some of the Johns craved so desperately. This guy thoughHe didnt strike her as the sort thirsty for an adrenaline kick. The handshake was new though. Nevertheless, she moved her soft gloved hand against his. Her hand significantly smaller in both height and width, so to make up for it, she clasped her other hand warmly on the other side of his. Intertwining their fingers briefly as she made the hesitant hand shakefarmore intimate than it was intended. Trapping his hand for a moment between her delicate fingers as he spoke his name, her fingertips outstretched to stroke along his wrist. Dan. She repeated, coordinating her nod with a gentle pressure made by her hands. Her fingertips stroked over his knuckles before releasing , turning around gracefully upon that thin black heel, so that her back would face him. One by one, she unfastened the round black buttons of her coat, before sliding the thick material off of her slender shoulders which became quite apparent quite quickly, were hardly covered so well beneath such a conservative piece of outerwear. Had he gripped the shoulders of her coat in just the right manner, he would have brushed against her skin She stepped forward, shedding the coat like a wolf shedding its sheep skin to reveal something far more menacing to the innocent lamb standing by. No claws or shaggy coat, no watering jowls and sharp teethBut black lace and garters, andverylong legs.. Turning her head to glance over her shoulder towards him, she smiled somewhat, running her hands up her arms and onto her shoulders, giving a playful shiver. So chilly in here

It occurred to Dan that he had probably gone for far too long without human contact because the slight brush of Destiny's fingertips against his calloused knuckles was cause for a small shudder to run through him, though he did his very best to cover it up. You need to get out more often, Danny-boy. His hand lingered for a moment after Destiny released it and it took a moment for Dan to realize he had left it hanging there before he curled his fingers in and withdrew it entirely; he watched as she turned away, unbuttoning her jacket, "Can I - get you something to drink?" Dan asked, "It's not very nice out - something to warm you? Maybe a cup of tea? Coffee?" A can of beans and an opener? What the hell? Dan was sure his brain fell out somewhere along the way because as Destiny slipped off her jacket and he moved to take it for her, he ended up frozen in place and missing the coat entirely; it slipped past his outstretched fingertips and pooled onto the floor. Instead of doing anything remotely useful, Dan gaped; in front of him, Destiny was scantily clad in lace and frilly things and the retired hero felt his entire face go hot - his ears felt like they were on fire. He closed his jaw with an audible 'click' and swallowed hard, "Oh." Dan said meekly and then fumbled to pick up the jacket, only to find his hands weren't being entirely obedient, his fingers suddenly clumsy; he dropped his eyes to the ground, a difficult task with her stocking-clad legs so close to him, "Um. Sorry. It's - yeah it's a little cold in here. I sometimes forget. Would you - would you like a sweater?"

Laughing at the Johns was not advisable by any means, but Destiny could not help herself but to giggle as the man completely lost his grip upon her coat. His eyes as wide as an owls gawking, despite himself, from beneath those thick lenses. It was a wonder she had not seen his heart leaping into his throat! Or, perhaps that was what he was attempting to swallow back down.. Was his blood rushing yet? After observing him for a moment fumbling about with the jacket that seemed to be as allusive to grasp onto as smoke, Destiny turned and stepped towards him. One leg outstretched elegantly before her, so that as she bent forward, the muscles of those shapely stems became all the more noticeable. As did the swell of her cleavage promptly placed no more than a few inches away from the already thoroughly embarrassed mans face. If his blood wasnt boiling yetThat should move it along nicely. A cup of tea would be nice. She said softly, placing her hands on the jackets shoulders, picking it up as she regained her posture. But A mischievous quirk of her brow, a coy and playful pout upon her lips that women in herfield, mastered quite easily, without coming off as desperate and rehearsed. Instead, the intent was to lure the John out of his initial defensesEase him into allowing that carnal urge which bid him summon her forth, and permitting it to take control..If only for the night, if only just for her. I thinkyoucould keep me much warmer than a sweater..

Dan's expression was akin to a deer in headlights as he froze mid-reach for the jacket, eyes wide when Destiny shifted a lean leg forward, her thigh exposed; unable to help himself, his eyes instantly followed the line of her leg up to that beautiful dip of muscle where the thigh connected to the hip, up to the thin and ornate lace panties that were barely covering a body that already didn't need any adornment. And if his face wasn't red enough, he was promptly given a very generous view of milky skin and gentle curves when she bent forward, her breasts within inches of his nose. Dan jerked back into a fully standing position, goggle-eyed as she picked up her jacket, a simple motion that he was sure shouldn't be doing such ridiculously pornographic things to his brain. Only a cave man would call up an escort, he reminded himself. I am such a knuckle-dragger He carefully took the jacket from her and half-stumbled to hang it up, barely daring to look back at her as he put it on a hanger and into the closet - though he certainly heard her. "I - I'll get you that cup of tea." Dan managed to get out, nearly sprinting for the kitchen, pausing mid-way to search for something he should say, "Please - make yourself comfortable. There's - I mean, the sitting room is warmer."

Despite the bashful expression upon his face being quite flattering, Destiny was uncertain of whether or not this manwantedanything to do with her at all. She half expected him to hide himself away in the closet alongside of her coat! He had been the one to call the serviceright? Practical jokes had been played on unsuspecting friends of Johns back when the company first startedLeading to fuming wives and one of the girls getting a broken nose from a frying pan to the face. The company only permitted a girl be sent, and charged, to the John making the phone call.. He had to have been the one to callAnd yet he tiptoed around her as if she was some dangerous wildcat loose in his home. One that would pounce upon him and rip him to shreds at the slightest offense!.Did he want that? Was he being timid because he wanted to be controlled? No Destiny had seen many closet masochists and this man, with his owlish eyes and two left feet as he seemed to stumble over himself, did not seem like the sort wanting to break out the whips and chainsBut there was a sense oflacking, in the air. Something Destiny could not quite describe as she made her way into the sitting room, sitting down upon the leather couch, barely making an indentation, though she observed that the cushion upon the left side of the couch was very comfortably worn in compared to the rest...Everything piled upon the coffee table seemed to be organized in reaching distance from that spot. A smile curved upon her face. Placing her hands upon her lap after combing several fingers through her hair, knees bent inward to touch one another, Destiny glanced to a book with several pieces of paper sticking out laid upon the table.National Avian Society Field Guide: Birds of Eastern Europe. The title was printed across a picture of a large Eurasian Eagle Owl, of which Destiny recognized from the forests of her village. Her smile brightened, moving her fingertips between the pages of the large book so as not to disturb the carefully placed torn bits of paper lodged near the spine.

Dan tried to still the strange shaking in his hands as he waited for the water to boil, staring intently at the stove as though he might will it to go slower - because, because - - well because he wasn't sure he wanted to go back out there. She was soft and pale and she smelled good and she was so, so -pretty. Too pretty, even. Dan had stared down the barrel of a gun without so much as a trembling lip, but beautiful women scared the shit out of him, and this one was no exception to the rule. The kettle began to whistle and Dan damned it before pouring out two steaming mugs of tea; he stepped out of the kitchen hesitantly and peered around the doorway, magnified eyes looking at the woman who was currently perched on his couch - completely silent, he observed as she flipped curiously through the book. She wasn't just poking around - she looked genuinely interested, a fact that nearly startled Dan. He realized then that his fingers were in agony as some of the boiling hot tea had managed to spill onto his hand, "Ngk!" Dan said, and hurriedly put the tea down onto the table, standing upright and shaking out his hand with a soft hiss, "Haaah." He briefly sucked on the burnt skin and gave it another shake before asking, as casually as possible, "You're Russian?"

Curiously peeking between pages, being mindful not to disturb anything, absentmindedly subsided as she drew the heavy book onto her lap. Her fingertips curled slightly around the torn pieces of notebook paper to keep them in place as she looked more at the pictures than the actual words. Language was far more than words, written or spokenThe photographs of each species of wild bird captured their essence just as well, if not better than the words that described them in the paragraphs below.. The twisted beaked vultures drawing strings of ligaments and meat from half frozen corpses buried deep in the snowPlump wrens curled up with their chicks in a nest made of twigs and stolen ribbonsThe Loons mating.. Ngk! Destinys eyes shot up, shutting the book immediately and placing it back on the table with a panicked start, as if she had been reading his journal or some other lewd personal confessional. Johns typically didnt enjoy having their items snooped over- understandably so. As he approached the table, placing down the apparently lava filled tea cups, Destiny stood up and produced, of all things, a kerchief from, of all places, between her breasts. A dainty almost doily embroidered looking cloth, with white lace and the initials MAI stitched in English lettering with purple thread upon the lower corner. Are you ok? She frowned, stepping close to him as she moved to wipe the kerchief against the drops of tea still upon his hand and cuff of his sleeve. As he sucked upon his finger, hissing slightly, she couldnt help but to giggle again. It was not funny to burn oneself by any means, but his mannerisms wererefreshing. Sitting again, closer this time to that indentation on the opposite end of the couch, Destiny wiped at the dripping tea cups, smiling still as he asked a question typically posed for an icebreaker. Not many people guess right on their first try. They are thinking I am German or PolishEven French! She giggled, wrinkling her nose up slightly as she shook her head. Her eyes wandered back up towards him, setting the kerchief down on the table beside the book before patting the cushion beside her. Please, sit. I am not going to bite...Unless you ask of course

Dan froze with his fingers halfway to his mouth, watching as Destiny retrieved a kerchief from a spot that, all things considered, was incredibly convenient. Also distracting. He stared as she stood and approached him, gentle hands blotting away the droplets of tea that lingered on his skin, leaving the retired superhero feeling a little like a clumsy kid. I must look like an idiot. He was used to it by now - despite being of above average intelligence, Dan had been a member of thewatchmenand had thus been exposed to both Adrien Veidt and Dr. Manhattan on a daily basis. It was enough to make anyone feel like an idiot. But feeling stupid in front of women was a completely different thing; this made Dan feel bashful, a feeling he wasn't particularly fond of - he barely kept himself from scuffing his slipper against the ground like an embarrassed child would do or giggling about the fact he could see cleavage. I'm so immature. Christ. "That's probably because most of the people around here aren't exposed to other cultures, except for what they see on the television." Dan said, jerking his head towards the screen for emphasis; he looked back and found her curled up on the couch, patting what was clearly a well-used spot on the couch. Dan swallowed down his nervousness and edged his way over, settling into the spot with a nervous laugh, "So then," Dan said conversationally, "Your name isn't really Destiny."

As he sat down, she scooted just a little bit closer to him. Nothing drastic, as she didnt wish to make him more uncomfortable than he already seemed to be, but just close enough so that her left thigh was pressing lightly against his right. She inclined her head slightly as she watched him, her long hair veiling over her shoulder, brushing against his arm slightly as she smiled; watching as his eyes darted back and forth beneath those thick lenses, trying to settle somewhere, anywhere but on her. And then he mentioned her name, and she reclined slightly. Her hands settling upon her lap as she smiled, forcing a soft laugh as she looked away, towards the Bird book on the coffee table. The light from the muted television flickering upon her face, casting shadows across them both before flooding them with temporary light, repeating itself as the pictures changed on screen. No, it is not She smiled, a twinge of momentary melancholy to her voice, before she turned her head back towards him. Not one of the Johns before him had ever questioned about her nameMostly because they didnt care, or had thought that her accent was put on to sound more exotic. To think she actually struggled with their language and wasnt from their country was not really a concern considering for the service they paid for As long as she had the parts, cleanparts, her name could be anything and they wouldnt seem to care. Maybe if she had a boys name there would be more of a reaction, but as far as Destiny was concerned, it sounded like a name good enough to f--- Youreally want to know my name? She asked, her brows furrowed in disbelief, but a soft smile still parting her glossy lips. His interest, whether forced or not, was most unexpected and yet incredibly.charming. Or pehraps she was just too dazzled by the fact he had actually noticed her name, or bothered to ask where she was from, that if he was feigning sincerity...that she didn't seem to care.

Superheroes were not average citizens, this was a fact; any one person who donned a cape or a mask to save lives could never be considered common - but as far as Dan was concerned, amongst heroes, he fell directly on the line of mediocrity, it was a complex that came from years of working alongside the likes of the smartest man in the world and, well, Superman. However, Dan had settled himself with the idea long ago - he was of above average intelligence, but Veidt would always be more brilliant; his strength was impressive, but Manhattan's was immeasurable; he was determined, but Rorschach would always be more dogged. This was all fine, because Dan Dreiberg was humble enough to accept it, but he was also capable of acknowledging that he had provided a service that few other heroes could - he was the mediator, the leftist amongst right-wing extremists. As socially awkward as he was, Dan was perceptive. And he was perceptive enough then to see that there was much, much more to the woman who was sitting beside him, and yet again he hated himself for - ordering her. Like take out. "I want to know your name." Dan replied sincerely, his fingers entwined with eachother, a nervous attempt to keep them occupied, suddenly unclear on what he should do with them.

As he affirmed her question, her purpose for being there seemed to traipse fleetingly from her mind. It was almost like they were having a conversationan actual conversation that neither party feigned interest in for the sake of awkward small talk before business was taken care of For a moment she seemed to forget, or at least ignore, the fact that he was a John and she was a call girl. For a moment she forced herself to believe that she had a life outside of theDream. My name is Magdalena, That radiant smile widening upon her painted lips as she picked up a notepad and pen from the coffee table, writing neatly in the margins of the page Magdalena Ivanov in elegant cursive loops. The first letter of both her first and last name slightly larger than the rest, and the first stem of the M had been looped into a small heart that she colored in with black ink as she looked up to him. Magdalena Ivanov, with v not f she giggled slightly, tilting the paper towards him. Many people say Eefahnoff she pursed her lips slightly, to emphasize theffs I suppose they are not use to such spellingsRussian is harsh sounding language to some Twirling the pen between her lean fingertips, she placed the notepad on his lap, slipping the pen between his clasped fingers before gesturing to the page. How do you write your name?

Dan Dreiberg frequently had cause to feel clumsy and cumbersome, and the situation he presently found himself was no different in that regard; as Destiny - Magdalena - scrawled her name across the margins of a notebook, he had to pause to observe the elegance of it. The more introspective part of his brain observed that she had clearly spent a long time writing and had put a great deal of thought into every stroke she made with the pen - which was more than any American could say, most of them stopped using cursive in grade school. Not to mention the tiny little heart made his own ache a little, for reasons he wasn't sure of. Maybe because it reminded him of a girl in high school, doodling in her notebook at her desk. Not for the first time, it occurred to him that she was likely quite young - but even with all of his social ineptitudes, Dreiberg knew better than to ask a lady her age - it was rude. Instead, he gently took the proferred pen and scribbled his own name down - left handed, the words all tilted to the right, written out with little flourish, the legible but untiny writing of a man who has spent years writing out painfully long papers - usually about physics or birds. Or sometimes both. He held out the notebook for her to see, feeling for all the world like Tarzan trying to communicate with Jane, "Magdalena." Dan repeated, "It's a beautiful name."

Maximilian Draco was what many might call a loner. So it was no surprise that he was in this age old forest alone despite the fact that most would fear even coming near to these woods or the ruins found within. But Max was also not a man known for fear, far from it as he was one of the few in the many kingdoms who could be called Knight Errant. He was a wandering swordsman and in fact a knight though he had no sworn oath of allegiance to any given kingdom at the moment. But that was another story all together. He moved through the trees swiftly and confidently wearing a jacket of light sectioned armor. At his hip hung a beautifully crafted sword and upon one arm was a collapsible shield. The odd part about his attire however was the large wrapped bundle that was strapped to his back, sticking from its wrappings was what appeared to be the hilt of a sword though it was larger than any typical blade would have... then again the bundle was a good deal larger than any typical blade as well. It made for a rather odd sight to behold should anyone else be lurking in the woods. His stride was filled with purpose and determination and his eyes scanned the woods as if looking for some sort of sign or indication of something in particular. Finally he paused and keeled to examine the foliage and the way the trail he was on was marked and nodded his head a bit as if confidant he had found what he was looking for. There was the sound of snapping brush to one side and Max dove into a roll just as a gout of flame filled the space where he was moments before. With a flick of his wrist the shield on his left arm unfolded just in time for him to use it to parry a second gout of flame before diving over the tail of the Dragon that had finally revealed itself. His motions were graceful and lightning quick which was surprising given that he looked to be quite powerfully built. At the moment he also wore a makeshift helm with visor but that seemed more a determent than a help at the moment as it narrowed his field of vision. He dropped into a crouch and raise the shield just in time to take the brunt of another gout of flame before the dragon roared thinking it had won. Suddenly though there was a resounding click as the flames died down and Max stood tossing the charred shield and several sections of the armor aside. He likewise tossed the helmet to reveal long flowing black hair and eyes of crystal blue which seemed perfect suited to the dashingly handsome face that was now revealed. His right hand went to the massive pommel over his shoulder even as his left reached around and pulled a drawstring on the bundle freeing it and letting its wrapping fall. Now the powerful young man was brandishing a sword easily four feet long if it was an inch and he moved with surprising speed now freed of the armor. He dove over the dragons first swipe spinning as he did so and slashing across the beasts limb in the process earning a howl of pain... he had drawn first blood. But he did not pause when he landed but instead pivoted and swung that mighty blade even as the dragon scrambled away, still he scored a large gouge in the beasts side. He saw the tail coming and ducked low as he charged forward... the dragons tail narrowly missed him but his charge forced the beast to rear up in order to scramble backwards. That was the moment he had waited for and suddenly he stood and brought the sword up in a might vertical swing that gouged the beasts belly, and then with a final lunge he drove that giant blade through the neck of the wounded beast. As the dragon fell to the ground in its death throws Max dropped to a knee and mumbled to himself, "And to think Alan claimed me a fool for asking the Master to learn that style... will have to make sure to tell him about this next time I am in Asturia." He stood only when the dragon was clearly dead and made his way over drawing the sword at his hip, he used it to carve and force the wound in the beasts belly further open and then reached in with a gloved hand to draw out what he had came to these woods for in the first place, a Drag energist. No sooner did he have it in his hand than he heard the approach of men behind him and a rather exaggerated applause before a gravely voice spoke, "Bravo... now when we finish we can tell them we killed a dragon slayer not just some fallen knight... you are going to pay for what you did to my brother."

An airship was on its way to Fanelia, carrying supplies toward the nation that was trying to rebuild itself. They were a group of merchants, skilled fighters and traders from Austria. Their leader, a young rebellious woman who was the daughter of their former employer, stood at the front of the bridge, glancing out at the glass windows that allowed them to see everything before them. Noting the flames that were coming out of the forest, her brows rose with interest. Her sub commander came to her side and noticed the flames as well. A dragon, he said slowly as he glanced around the bridge. They all knew that there were dragons around Fanelia, for it was one of the most known facts about the small country. It was one of the reasons why merchants preferred to not travel on foot throughout the land, fear of running into one of the beasts. It would surely kill them and all their merchandise. This did not detour the young merchant though. She was the daughter of a wealthy merchant who had passed away shortly before Zaibach had fallen. Thus it became her job to take care of the company, which she did more than willingly. Not being able to stand court, she eagerly ran off to run the family business. It was in her blood, having the same sense of adventure that her father had while he was alive. Leaning closer to the glass, the woman smirked and started barking out orders to her men to lower the airship. I want a closer look at this dragon. She said in a slightly husky voice. The men began to protest, not wanting to risk the ship, but a firm scolding from her got them to bow in submission. Soon the airship was descending, and the young merchant went outside onto the bow of the airship. She had climbed it all her life, ever since she was a child, and knew that she would keep her bearings. Crouching low to the bow of her ship, she held on and glanced down at the forest that was getting closer. She saw the slain dragon, and a few men corning the one covered in dragon blood. The situation immediately appeared to be fowl. The men were fighting the lone knight, who appeared to be from the area from his garb. She immediately grabbed onto a loose cable and jumped off of her airship, swinging downward into the forest. Landing on top of one of the men who were going to attack the man covered in dragon blood. Unsheathing her blade, she brought it down on another and kicked the man she landed on down so he would stay there. With a playful smirk on her face, she winked at the man holding the huge sword and stood beside him, holding up her dainty saber. It had elaborate writing on it, clearly indicating that it was an antique. Need help stranger? she asked in a chipper tone. The bodice around her torso was made of leather, as was the brown trousers on her legs. She had boots up to her knees and a sash wrapped around her hips. Her white shirt was fluffy around the shoulders, cut short to reveal her tanned skin. Wearing gloves over her hands, she gripped the sword tightly with her right arm. On her left was a jeweled ring, signaling that she was a member of a higher glass family. Her long curly locks flew about her shoulders and back, soft and silky looking as the sunlight hit it. Her green eyes flashed up and met the crystal blue ones of the errant knight.

Max's gaze was calm and collected as he took in the situation and flashed the young woman a rather dashing smile. He turned his crystal blue gaze to the brigands who had tried to jump him... he counted six of them standing but was fairly sure there were more of them than that. He recognized their leader as the younger brother of another brigand who had tried to get the drop on him in what was a less than fair fight to begin with... it had not ended well for the brigands. He smirked a bit and let his eyes drift to the massive sword still stuck in the dead Dragon. Without a word he took it and drew it from the beast and with a flick of his wrist sent the dragons blood flying to the crisp green grass at their feet. He brandished the massive blade with a shocking skill and grace before smirking and finally answering the young woman who had so recently arrived. "It would be rude of me to refuse aid out in the middle of nowhere, and I would not want to seem rude." He turned his gaze back to the brigands and then drove his massive sword into the ground beside him before he once more drew the ornate longsword that hung at his side. It was beautifully crafted and seemed the sort of thing that would not be out of place in one of the royal courts or as a gift from the nobility. He dropped into the stance of a trained swordsmen as his eyes held a certain fire to them, "Since you did not bring any Guymelefs this time I guess I will stick to my longsword today." The leader of the bandits snarled, "You used that sword to take my brothers arm you bastard." Max smirked a bit and then shrugged before resuming his flawless stance, "Then your big brother should not have brought a guymelef to a sword fight." The leader of the brigands simply snarled and nodded in the knight's direction, three of his men charged without a second though. What happened next was to say the least rather surprising. The young man parried the first thrust with a downward stroke then with a shift of his wrist reversed his blades direction even as a swift kick of his heal through the first parried blade wide... on its upswing it batted the second brigands thrust aside and then with a lightning quick motion it snapped back to stop a mere inch or two in front of the third brigands throat even as drove the elbow of his free arm into the second brigands jaw while simultaneously using the return sweep of his foot to take one leg out from under the first brigand. In what amounted to a few breaths he had grounded two and held the third on the tip of his blade. "Then again... maybe you should have brought Guymelefs" In the end however the wisecrack was meant to prod them into sloppy mistakes, three men out of twelve as impressive as it may have been... was not a feat that would ensure overall victory. Max knew that he was fast but if more of them rushed at once he would be in a bit of trouble. So he taunted them and hoped the young woman who had descended from the airship was as capable as she seemed.

Hearing the strangers comment of not wanting to be rude only brought a smirk to the young merchant lips.Oh hes goodshe thought to herself when she saw how effortlessly he wielded the huge blade.Hes really good.Her green eyes flicked around the group, taking in the six men and immediately analyzing how difficult it would be to defeat them all with this stranger. She was rather skilled with a sword, for a woman, but she knew that with this stranger beside her it should be no problem. Knowing the hum of her airship anywhere, she could tell that it was getting closer, descending into the jungle to look for her most likely. The dispute between the two didnt really concern her thoughts. From what she gathered this man had injured the others brother and the whiny pipsqueak wanted some revenge so he got the gang together.How pitifully pathetic. Not even man enough to fight his own battles on his own...Glancing to the experienced swordsman beside her, she smirked seeing his blade and raised hers once more. Clearly they both had more in common than was originally thought. The mentioning of guymelefs intrigued her even more as well. She had her own locked up in the airship, but that was a matter to be attended too later. Her brows raised highly when she saw how swiftly he had parried the first threes attack, and it made her smirk devilishly.Okay, he is better than good... I know that fighting style, he must have trained under someone incredibly special, just like- Her thoughts had been cut short. Two men from behind rushed her but luckily she had heard the snapping of twigs. Immediately spinning around, her thin and graceful form bent as she moved, contorting almost to what seemed to be impossible feats. Her blade immediately whipped out and slashed at one of her attackers swords, sending it flying into the air. She immediately kicked him square in his jewels before slamming her booted heel into his jaw, a loud snap being heard. Clearly she was stronger than she appeared. Whipping around to the second one who was charging her, her arm stretched forward and unleashed an array of quick slashes toward his blade, moving almost faster than he was able to process. Thus the difference in their skill. He was a crude excuse for a swordsman, and she was an above par example of a swordswoman. Her father had seen to that little fact. Quickly flicking her wrist, she slashed at the second mans belly, cutting deeply, and held her blood soaked blade up toward the others that were surrounding them. Her chest was slowly rising and falling as she breathed, the bodice making it a bit difficult, but she was managing nicely. Spreading her feet out from underneath her, she grinned at a few and let out a low growl, meant to intimidate them. Well come on! she shouted, egging them on further. Whats wrong, are you scared of a petty little woman? You are a bunch of sleazy beggars who deserve nothing but the divine punishment of our blades. I would sincerely advise that you reconsider your options. A wicked grin spread across her lips as she spoke; clearly she was rather enjoying this whole adventure. Suddenly the group that was attacking them heard ropes flying through the air and a crash through the forest. The nose of the airship suddenly appeared above them, and ropes were dangling down from the tip. A large figure was descending down toward them, and landed with a rather large crash. Standing upright, the bandits were faced with a man so tall it made even the errant knight appear tiny. Grabbing a large hammer, the giant man swung it toward a three of the bandits, making contact with one. The sound of his ribs breaking immediately filled the surrounding area. Wielding the large weapon with ease, the mans bulging muscles and scar ridden arms showed that he was someone not to mess with. Clearly he could take out multiple men with one blow of his weapon. This in turn scared the bandits beyond belief. About time you showed up, Brawler. The merchant woman said with a snicker. She jumped for another one of the men attacking her, landing squarely on his chest and slamming him into the ground, knocking all of the breath out of him which rendered him unconscious. Of course Mistress, the huge man said with a deep bear voice. It made the errant knights chest quiver; it bore that much strength to it. Brawler then spun his hammer around the errant knight and took out another two of the attackers. All that was left was the leader and two of his goons. Brawler and the young merchant each took a side beside the errant knight, wide smirks across both of their faces as they stared forward. So, care to dance? she asked the leader as she flicked her blood tipped saber at him, taking a fencers stance.

Max was a bit surprised at the new arrivals size, people that him a bit over-sized just because he seemed a match for Balgus... and though he was a big man with the muscles to back it up this new arrival dwarfed him in size and strength it seemed. He was never one to look a gift horse in the mouth though and so was all to happy for the help as he noticed more thugs pouring from the woods to meet them. He also noticed the well muscled but still rather curvy young woman holding her own with the help of her giant friend. But then he heard a sound that would have frightened most in this situation and with it an angry howl from the bandit leader. "Funny you should say that mister cocky knight... because I actually brought two friends of my big brothers with me today." and just as he said it two Guymelefs came crashing through the trees. Max closed his eyes and shook his head as she sheathed the long sword once more at his hip and walked over to the massive blade he left in the ground. It never ceased to amaze him how few people out there seemed to realize that he was probably one of the few men who would not be intimidated even by a Gymelef. He pulled the sword his master had gifted him from the ground and dropped into a very different combat stance as his gaze fell upon the new arrivals and he spoke only a few words though they were uttered loud enough for all to hear, "Guess you didn't learn last time." What happened next was something most never could have imagined. This man without any heavy armor and that massive sword in hand charged the Guymelefs. Using his impressive physique and a well timed jump fueled by his own power as well as the weight of the suddenly swinging sword... He leaped over the giant of a man who had been addressed as 'Brawler' and even as Max flew through the air and swung that massive blade over his head. The first Guymelef managed to parry his blow with a resounding ring of metal on metal, only for the swordsman to plant his foot on its chest and kick off spining so that his blade swung in a horizontal arc towards the second Guymelef. His second opponent brought up a shield to gaurd against the blow and Max kicked off that with an impressive back flick that landed him just out of range of the first Guymelef's counter attack. He charged forward once more ducking under the sword of the second Guymelef and then shifting his grip planted his stride on the foot of the first Guymelef and leapt up following that leap with a second bound off its leg... and with a powerful upward arc of his blade he cleaved straight through the arm of the first mech sending its blade and limb to the ground even as he planted his foot and pushed off raising his sword to parry the blow from the remaining Guymelef. The blow spun him but he landed gracefully on the ground and used the force of that spin to continue into a spiral even as he charged forward and with a second mighty swing cleaved through the leg of the remaining Guymelef sending it tumbling to the ground. In the confusion of that moment as the two Guymelefs were reeling he leaped up driving his blade through the energist of the fallen mech, then pulling it out with a leap and a spinning slash drove it into the energist of the now one armed Guymelef before kicking off and landing gracefully once more. As the bandits looked on in shock and fear he casually raised the blade and then rested it across his shoulders with a smirk... most of the thugs were already fleeing in fear and the color had drained from their leaders face. "I think we are done here... unless you would like to go a round with me on your own... proper honorable combat given you think I wronged you... or we can let this end and be done with it." The bandit leader looked to the fallen Guymelefs and then back to this strange Knight and then simply nodded before turning around and bolting like a frightened child. Max then with one last elegant swing buried his blade in the ground once more and walked over to retrieve his armor and the wrapping for his massive sword. He gathered his things and then double checked to make sure the drag energist was stowed safely in the satchel on his belt before he turned to those who helped him and smiled. "Thanks for the assist, I am Maximilian Draco... wandering swordsman and general trouble maker if you believe what they say about me in the taverns."

The female merchant was staring at the whole scene with wide eyes. Shed never heard of anyone taking on guymelefs before on their own. It was simply unheard of! But here this knight was, defeating them even. She was simply amazed and awed, a bit shocked as well. This was definitely something she wasnt accustomed too, and it was a pleasant surprise. Brawler stood beside her protectively, a bit unsure if the man they had helped would turn on them next. It was his duty to protect the young woman beside him. With one hand constantly on the hammer, his free hand held her shoulder, dwarfing her appearance even more. As the pair watched the knight fight, the merchant sheathed her sword after cleaning the tip. Crossing her arms, she smirked as her eyes followed his every movement. Once he was finished scaring the piss out of the ring leader of the group, she watched him gather his things before staring him boldly in the face as he introduced himself to her. Reaching out her hand, she grasped his in the way many wandering merchants would, checking for a blade. She didnt fear him though; she was doing it out of friendship. There was a wide grin on her face and she promptly bowed her head to the side as a proper lady would. No need to mention it! What else are your friendly neighborhood band of merchants for other than to bail a friend out when theyre in trouble? She chuckled softly before speaking more seriously, but it was clear that she had a sense of humor about her. It is nice to make your acquaintance Maximilian Draco. I would definitely say that you are a grand swordsman. Its so hard to find men nowadays with your skill. Theres just the King of Fanelia now and Sir Alan who possess such skill. I must say, I am rather awed by your performance. Brawler now took his other hand and gave it a gentle shake, clearly not wanting to hurt him in any way. Impressive lad. He said simply as he stared down at the young man, clearly still testing his intentions. Oh my manners! the merchant exclaimed as she tipped a nonexistent hat toward Max. My name is Bridget La Fontaine. Giving him a wink, she quickly darted away from the two men and jumped up onto one of the damaged guymelefs, clearly inspecting it. Hey! Do you think we could salvage this and sell it for spare money!? she shouted as she started tugging at part of it to see how durable it was. Brawler immediately shook his head and rolled his eyes as he glanced down toward Max. Clearly Bridget was a merchant through and through...

As the young woman spoke Max was once again wrapping that massive sword of his carefully and fastening the ties around it once more before hefting it and placing it on his back once more. He was used to the looks of shock since to his knowledge only two men ever fought the way he just did, and his master had passed on in the heat of a battle defending Fanelia... so that just left him. He took her hand in a firm grasp and shook it when offered, he noticed the way she checked his wrist seemingly out of habit which was something he had seen often from merchants in his travels. He could not help but chuckle when she mentioned other swordsman, both of whom had trained under the same master as him and one of whom he had actually trained with before they parted ways. After his chuckle he did decide to make a comment and inquiry though, "Sir Allen? You mean Alan Schezar I am guessing... yes I suppose he is rather skilled, never beat me when sparring though... but a good man and a noble knight just the same." He flashed a rather amused and somewhat cocky smile as he then took the hand of the large man noting the gentle nature of his handshake. Brawler was clearly a man well aware of his own strength and the way he eyed Max seemed to suggest that he was also rather protective of the young woman and cautious given what he had just seen. Max nodded his head slightly in a show of thanks and respect before answering the large man, "Not as impressive as the man who taught me I fear... maybe someday I can do his name the honor it deserves." Max nodded his head to Bridget as she introduced her self, then almost laughed as she leapt to the damaged Guymelefs that were the results of his handy work. Her excitement and comments made it clear his estimation of her handshake was correct... she was indeed a merchant. As Brawler shook his head Max was inspecting his light armor and then shook his own head before he mumbled to himself, "Damn light armor never seems to survive a bout with a dragon... fire slagged the shield mechanism too... might as well junk it." Max then sighed a bit and walked over to lay his ruined armor at the feet of the dead Dragon as he took a knee and bowed his head in respect. It was true he needed the energist but that did not mean he could not show respect to the powerful beast and honor its sacrifice for his need. He remained that way for a few moments before he stood once more and then walked towards the others. "I do not suppose you are on the way to Fanelia by chance and could offer me a lift? I have a small place just outside the city proper and need to make my way there to take care of a few things before I head out again."

Bridget heard the comment about Alan and nodded in agreement. She understood what he meant. Alan was a different type of fighter than this man. If anything, he resembled the King of Fanelia more. The merchant was completely oblivious to what was going on after that, she was too engrossed in figuring out whether the guymelefs were salvageable or not. Brawler noted how Max discarded his armor and said that he should junk it. it was true that armor like that would not last for long against a dragon, or in heavy fights, thus why the larger man didnt invest in it. But the young lad had an effective strategy and he couldnt think of a way to suggest a change without seeming rude. Brawler turned toward Max, watching him pay respects to the fallen dragon. He immediately could register that the lad was from Fanelia, and upon hearing the question, nodded his head. Indeed we are. We are bringing supplies to the king. Giving you a lift should be no trouble at all Sir. He said softly, trying to not ruin Bridgets excitement over the suits. She was already writing numbers in the air for how much she could get for the metal and other working parts. Shaking his head once more, he spoke to Max, leaning closer to him. Just, pardon her eccentric behavior. He whispered before standing straight again, whistling up at the airship before shouting. Come get these pieces that Our Lady desires to salvage! His voice was certainly loud enough to be carried up to the airship, and men could be seen scurrying about it as they started to descend on the ropes. Apparently they were used to salvaging things they found. Bridget was now jumped off of the guymelefs and returned to Max and Brawlers sides. So, did I hear something about a ride? she asked, eyes sparkling up at Max. No problem at all! Just climb aboard! And with that, Bridget jumped onto one of the ropes and swiftly began to climb up the 100 feet or so that the airship hovered above the ground. Her agility and strength was rather surprising for a woman, but if you knew Bridget it would all make sense. Brawler in turn grabbed a thicker strip of rope, clearly to support his added weight and started to climb the rope at a much slower rate. Need any help Sir Max? He asked before getting too far off the ground.