Death Cherry

[Ash]

The last few moments of her life were exhilarating and adrenalizing. There was beauty in chaos that Ash couldn't resist. The sound of thunder before the glass rained down to the streets above, the knocking sound of the gruff man in rough armor coming to find her. She wasn't the arrogant type, but she was satisfied that her taunt at least worked. His foot steps were clanky but rhythmic, metal grinding across metal and heavy feet falling against the floor like low bass thuds in the music she was more than accustomed to hearing.

She was nimble and fast, but apparently, it was a fool's dream to get away from an ultra marine, even this delighted her. She had been prepared to die; death meant nothing to the likes of her. It would be interesting to see what was on the other side. Did Omni enjoy this? Watching as she fled for her life but still being aware that this was all just some game. Her heart pounded in her chest, but she was smiling like madness had finally taken over her corrupted body. 

Ash was suddenly flung into the air and across some poor guy's desk, unfinished paperwork flew into the air before falling all around them like autumn leaves. She heard his sexy voice name off a list of offenses, attaching them to her name and face. Her tail came up in delight and she turned her head to look at him over her shoulder. Even without irises to flex or pupils to dilate, there was pleasure in her face as she smiled back at his glowing red eyes of his mask. She briefly wondered what kind of man could be so cold and dedicated to the job..

She bit her lip as she saw him lift her leg. Would he crush the demon under that lawful boot? No, instead he kicked her across the room with so little effort she appeared to be a doll instead of a person. Her body twisted on its own and she crashed into a desk, it snapped in two and so did her delicate spine. She landed so that she was looking up from her place on the floor, the pages of some unknown document scattered on the floor under her. She was staring up at his upside-down image as he approached her already battered body.

Ash let a wicked smile cross her blue lips as he informed her that she was banned from ever entering the city again. It was the last thing she'd hear as she stared straight at the blaster in his hand, like an inexperienced whore who didn't know you had to stare at the camera while the guy gave you a facial, and watched as he released his justice onto her.





'Challenge accepted.'

[Ash]

The room was dark, cold, and featureless except for the cool brush of fog against her cheeks. That should have been the most alarming thing in the world to feel when your head was just reduced to ... well, ash. Her precious brain matter was stuck to some pieces of her skull in some office building somewhere in Coruscant, blown to pieces and among the splintered rubble of a desk. Any way you twist it Ash felt she had won. That was more trouble than they were hoping for, more paperwork for the faceless distraction, more cleanup for both the Empire and the poor sap who had to vacuum up the scattered skull and wood pieces. If they didn't hurry, her dark blue blood would stain the cheap ass carpet those places always put in to save cost. They will have to replace it, and possibly more if they don't have a skilled carpet expert on hand. Then again, this was the Empire, surely they could afford an artisan.

The Storm Demon felt as if she were floating like she was laying on her back in a cold pool of whatever substance cradled her thin body. She stared at nothing in particular and felt her skin tighten as she frowned. For a woman who'd been delighted through the whole process of getting her shit wrecked, she was rewarded with such a boring spawning room. She couldn't tell if she was on her back or floating horizontally, but she assumed it was the former as she felt both air and liquid. She could tell she was very naked and felt the cold unknown substance lapping at her sensitive skin while the cold air laid on top of her, chilling her nipples to stiffness.

It surprised a lot of people that she didn't have piercings there. Not that she was scared of the pain, she just didn't see the lure in them. The options were limited to rods or rings, but that was the same for almost every part of her body...

"I just don't understand, hun. Why does she have to be such an unruly child! It's as if she doesn't even think about what she is doing and how it will reflect on both her body and us! A navel piercing! What's next? Condoms?"

Ash knew that voice... But how did you forget the shrew shrieks of your own mother? No seriously, if someone has a solution she would like to know the secret. If there was any place where that solution actually existed it would be here.

These words weren't known to her, in fact, it was most likely that it was a memory. Something to keep her company.

"Look at how different she is to Isabelle! They are twins, how can they be so different!"

"Oh, Gerald... Why can't she be more like her sister?"

Naked didn't mean vulnerable to Ash, she stared into the darkness passively as the words echoed off the empty cavern walls around her. She wouldn't put it past her mother to say things like this. As a twin, your parents had to love you equally because they couldn't risk one feeling inferior or left behind as it would affect them psychologically later in life. It was hard to gauge exactly when Bella was the one who was getting all the praise while Emma was left to her own devices.

Any child psychologist could have told you that was a bad idea, but her mother always knew better. Always needed control.

"Gerald!! The police were at the door today! Do you even know how humiliating it was? For our neighbors to come out and see my daughter being led up to the door by a cop! I'm just happy it wasn't in handcuffs, how do you expect me to explain that away? And she was just absolutely impossible the whole time. She couldn't look me in the eyes, and she had this ugly look on her face. I was screaming at her and she still wouldn't look up at me!!"

"I think there is something going on... I found new clothes in Emma's closet. I don't remember buying any of them, and I know this because I don't approve of how revealing they are. One shirt barely had a back!"

Wonderful parenting skills, right there.

"Mercy!! What is that!? A thong?! Emma take it off right now! I will not have people talking about how I've raised the next local harlot!!" A banshee's shriek. "Did you just flip me off, young lady!? YOU ARE GROUNDED!!"

Ash could barely remember that, but she remembered clearly the day her mother realized her worse nightmare had come true...

At some point in their lives, Emma and her sister's skin-tones changed. While Isabelle's looked pink and beautiful, Emma's skin took on a more blemished look. Their mother must have been in denial or just wasn't paying close enough attention. Then again, at that time, Emma had already been in the boxing club. Maybe she simply thought they were bruises. Ash never found out because the woman that 'raised' her didn't ask about them.

When the realization that one of her daughter's was walking a path of sin, she became hysterical and desperate.

"GERALD!! DO SOMETHING!! I don't care if you have to beat it out of her, just don't let her continue like this!!"

They forced her to talk to some therapist, they took all her things away, turned all her friends away, did everything in their power to cut her off from the potential bad influence! She so desperate to save her own image that her mother didn't even consider the possibility that this would just speed up the process. That woman was the only thing that could bring the sin of Wrath into Emma so fast. She had been persistent about purifying her precious daughter, finally paying some attention to the girl she's been damning to the path of hell this whole time. It was all negative and it just manifested in a pair of horns.

Her mother couldn't deal with it and blamed Emma for it all in the end.

Eventually, they stopped talking, she was allowed outside the house, and every time she came back in the care of an officer her mother would cry like the victim.

Ash hasn't even thought of her mom outside an annoyed thought when Bella mentioned her in conversations over the phone, its been years since she's even seen the bitch.

"Of course.." The voice took on a new life. "As expected. I tried to warn her, I tried to do my best as a mother, she just wouldn't listen! She's dead now because she was off doing something stupid and sinful! Shame on her, but shame on me for not being strict enough. You know when I was younger I would have never given my mother so much grief! I have wrinkles! My mother never had wrinkles!! Tck! Why couldn't she be more like Isabelle? She's smart enough, I know she is! Emma... I just wanted one thing from you, and that was respect. You've defaced your body, but you are not the only person who is suffering for it. The neighbors are talking, and everyone is staring!!"

"AND NOW YOU ARE DEAD!!"

The voice roared out in a demonic growl!!

[Ash]

Blaming her for the little things, blaming her for her own mistakes... This was something her mother had alway done and frankly the demonic twist to her already ear-grating voice sounding like she was pissed that the younger morality mirrored humanoid had died didn't faze Ash in the least bit. Primarily because the Prime no longer - if she ever did - cared about what the woman who birthed her had to say.

Rather early on in her life, this became evident. It shouldn't come to a surprise that Ash has always been the head strong one.

Her mother was right though, she and Bella were completely different. The thing her mother didn't get though was why. Isabelle was honestly pure of heart. She was everything her image stood for. The kindest person you'd ever meet, selfless, responsible, sweet, and just about perfect. You'd think Ash would take advantage of her, or worse hate her for being so true and honest. You'd be wrong. Because while she had her flaws and defects, she has never blamed her sister for being herself. She blamed her mother for thinking that was the only way to live. She had no idea how her mother managed to remain hornless with how she acted. Faking it until you make it wasn't sinful, but the pride in that woman could make a preacher shake his head in shame.

"Funny how you claim my judgment immoral, but here you are doing the same."  Vivian's voice was more demonic than her own and less true to the woman whom this nightmare borrowed it from.

The white voids that were the Storm Demon's eyes narrow. As it growled out from the darkness the liquid that held her suspended like this lapped at her naked form. As if the voice carried the power to send her back into the depths of her subconscious.

Ash didn't answer the disembodied and out of character echo of her mother's voice, much in the same way, she'd react to Vivian's unaltered vocal scolding as she grew up. The woman judged her entire existence relentlessly and without a spot of mercy. Anything Ash did was analyzed by the older woman for weeks on end.

"Not talking to mommy is rude you know.." The stolen voice reverted back to her mother's normal tone but with a faint echoing effect, as if that would get a better rise out of her.

It would continue to be ignored.

[Ash]

Ash became aware of herself again after what felt like hours of staring at nothing. It was similar to falling asleep, but it was different. Instead of dreaming it was more like nothing happened for so long that she simply drifted out of thought. She felt as if she should be doing something, but couldn't find the motivation to break this lethargy. Not quite yet.

Not that this place was comfortable, it wasn't uncomfortable either though. It invited the lassitude she felt without encouraging it. The cold mysterious liquid has a soothing property and she felt aware of the cool air only when she thought about it, but for the most part, she was actually numb to it all. If she thought about her skin she'd feel the breeze playing with it. If she thought about her tail she'd feel the sensation of it being embraced by the thick substance at her back. if she thought about her hair she'd notice it was there. However, if she thought about her fingers she could feel them but could not muster the will to move them, same with her legs. Which, by the way, her feet, calves, and up to her knees were submerged in this substance.

She couldn't even gather the energy to break this feeling of apathetic torpor by simply turning her head to sate her curiosity of what exactly this liquid she was floating in was.

[Ash]

The silent treatment, however, seemed to have worked as well as it did for her real mother. The creature that had tried to mock her from the depths of her memories has fallen silent for the time. If it was true to the nature of her mother, it would be back with some frail attempt to make up with her only to revert back to yelling and trying to guilt trip her into being a good little girl. Either her mother was a glutton for punishment or that's how all parenting was supposed to go when you had a bad daughter.

The problem was she was so close minded that it was impossible to talk to her in the first place, but then her mother always pushed off the truth and wouldn't look herself in the mirror. Maybe she was afraid she'd see Ash's horns if she did, or a darker hue to her skin.

Come to think of it, that wasn’t the only type of gluttony her mother indulged in. When most people thought of that sin a room full of sweets came to mind, more than likely with the person in the middle making a pig of themselves. However, even as stupid as she might seem taking on a Marine paid by Coruscant, she was in fact intelligent enough to know that gluttony is defined as ‘habitual greed’. While food is the most common habit that fits this description, it could easily be twisted to say that her mother’s life being disturbed by her little devil’s insistence on disrupting the pattern would fit the bill.

After all, what are habits but behaviors done in a pattern? It’s no different than when a chain-smoker has to step outside after fucking a girl’s brains out just to light up a cigarette. Like brushing your teeth every night. Like popping a mint before you leave the restaurant. Like washing your hands after every use of the bathroom, or buckling the seat belt in as soon as you sit inside a car seat. Her mother had a set way of doing things, and honestly it made The Storm Demon wonder why she even had children if she couldn’t handle a drastic change in her life.

Her oldest daughter - by a few minutes actually - had fed into this admirable and pristine life. Ash couldn’t even remember her sister ever running away when she broke something as a mere child. She always admitted her faults and strived to be better. She apologized and prepared to be punished, but punishment never came her way. Isabelle rarely got punished because she owned up to it, and she was conditioned to believe that’s how things worked. And it did. For her.

Where Isabella was a much appreciated summer rain which filled the shrinking pond that was their mother, Emma was a large stone someone threw in to see how shallow it really was. Very, for those who were curious. In fact, the very idea that her mother could be defined in any way as ‘deep’ was laughable. She was short-sighted, close minded, stubborn in her views, opinionated, and super judgmental. Apparently she also had a problem with anyone who challenged her mentally. She refused to change anything about her life despite the two new additions to her life.

It was almost a crime how little she changed for her daughters. As a mother you were expected to sacrifice some part of your life, and generally motherhood changed you. Or so they say. Except, Vivian Shutter demanded that her daughters conform to her way of life or be shunned.

Where Bella shared in most of mom’s ideas, Ash got the stubborn genes. It was said by a scientist once that when two equal forces acted upon each other there would be a stop in progress unless acted upon by another force. He was either very intelligent or he watched in on one of their infamous fights. Which tended to end as soon as she began to lose control over the volume of her voice enough for the neighbors to hear. To avoid awkward conversations with those on either side of their living unit, her mother would always bow down when things got too loud.

Nothing was more important than that false image of a perfect life and her mother’s attempts to maintain the image Emma threatened to tear apart every time she came home with Detective Grayson.

In a way, Ash was a victim of habit as well. If only by how it looked on the outside. She’d always go do something she wasn’t supposed to, eventually get caught by either Grayson or someone under him, and after a dance between her and the good detective, he’d bring her home. It got to the point that they didn’t even read her her rights. She even heard them once on the radio: ‘Come in Grayson. Yeah, its her again.’ The were on a first name basis, she would blatantly flirt with him despite the age difference. In fact, they talked in circles and had their own code by the end of it. Practically best friends.

She never got to ask him why he never told her mother that part? Actually, he bailed her out of a lot of shit. Not that she deserved it with all the disrespectful shit that came out of her mouth. He was just a good guy.

The fucking loser.

"He was too good to you.. Too good for you. You should have been locked up a long time ago." The voice returned, apparently seemingly able to read her mind. It was still borrowing her mother's voice.

Silence followed just the same. 

Ash did wonder if this was her subconscious trying to tell her something, but that was impossible because she was much more savage than that. Still, she couldn't see her mother growing the balls to actually stand up for herself and talk to her in such a modern fashion. So instead, she turned her attention back to Grayson.. She wondered whatever happened to that guy. Now he had bad habits!

[Ash]

He was probably in some gutter looking for her body, he was about the only actual good influence in her life. Grayson worked at her every time the met trying to turn her around. Compared to the power-greedy mother he kept taking her back to, who looked angelic and gorgeous for her age, the detective had a lot more hope at doing such a thing. Her sister might count. She was often just repeating things her mother said in a more appropriate tone than the other woman could hope to achieve, more often than not Ash pitied her. But Grayson? He was his own man, his own kindness, and he didn't know a damn thing that was going on at home. Oh, he could tell she was in trouble, mother's always had that look when you brought their children home while the lights on your car flashed blue and red in the distance.

She remembered the first time vividly if only because her mother was so furious her voice cracked under the pressure of loosing her crown, eventually she even crumbled into tears full of anger. The next few times were still laced with shock and horror, but shortly after that it became less entertaining to watch as the two settled into the habit of mom glaring at her and then thanking him for all his trouble and apologizing. At some point she even stopped promising that her daughter wouldn't do it again. Ash didn't think Grayson believed that load of shit anyways.

He was patient, far too patient for the likes of her. Grayson was only older than her by like a decade, but his actions always teetered from old fashion to childish. They had their own dance, as well.

Grayson wasn't your typical STARS member. Typically they just did the job and if they could smack around bad people they enjoyed it more. Grayson was one of those sad saps that truly believed they could make a change in the world and either hadn't had it beaten out of him yet, or didn't show it. Real smiles were more rare than fakes ones from where she came from. Maybe that's why it was so hard to be made at her sister? Because she was honestly happy the way she was. Grayson was no different, happy with his life and happy being the way he was.

The only person who was eager to be something she wasn't was her mother.

As far as Ash could tell, her mother desired power over her household the most. She longed to have a world she created, everything in its place and a place for everything. She was obsessive with order, and doing what is expected of you. As Morality Mirrored Humanoids that was more important than anything according to everyone around her. Except those who looked more like her. She never got to sit down and talk to another devil kissed figure, and probably wouldn't care to. But she imagined their story being an exact copy of her own. Someone who held a lot of power over them wouldn't let go of the chains that choked them, and now it looked as though they've hung themselves publicly for the world to see.

"I just want what's best for you.." 

The voice tried again, sounding more like her mother than before, repeating something Ash could believe her mother would have said at one point, in voice full up tears and desperation as it reached and grasped at straws. She imagined the older woman in her pleading pose. Her hands cupping one other for strength to stay calm, over her heart as if it would guard her from her daughter's scorn. Her fine features made by praying for 30 years, scrunched up into wrinkles in her T-zone from a mere 16 years with this child of her's begging for the devil's mercy. She was such a drama queen. 

Vivian played herself off as a victim all the time, yet she was always trying to bully her child with her power. The more Ash became unaffected by her mother's antics, the more power she lost. And the more control her mother lost, the more she wanted it. Her greed for it had already tore a rift between them but it would destroy any hope for mending it the longer this went on.

Not that the bridge was repairable by any standards, Ash was done with this nonsense, but perhaps it was a factor in why Emma Shutter left home.

[Ash]

If the expectations of this new life was of something glamorous and grand, so much that she was the envy of everyone in town, there was nothing further from the truth. While there were plenty of jealous bitches left in her wake, the only person who believed her life was what it was all about was her. Even then, it was only half true.

Leaving behind a controlling mother, a passive father, and a sister who could do no wrong would ultimately be the best thing to do in her life. She was content with cutting off all contact with her parents and every other adult in that corner of the well off district, but found it was only right to keep up with her sister. So even at the young age of 16 she left almost everything behind except her experiences, her attitude, and a hand full of clothing her mother didn't pay for to go be her own person.

A pop-up apartment and a dead-end job later, Ash had the makings of a responsible life. For about a month before that job became too demanding. Not that the work was hard, but the lack of respect customer’s had. In general, the world is full of stupid people, but to be able to disregard someone because of their supposed worth in the public eye was just ignorant.

Ash never kept a job for long, of course she never needed to. She made more money in a few hours doing side jobs on the computer than she made in months of ‘real’ jobs. Even if she wasn’t being monitored, she felt like she needed to keep up the wage-slave appearance, but her return to the work-force after getting fired or quitting kept getting longer and longer. To the point where she would go at least 3 months without a job.

Of course, that's exactly why she loved her life. While others struggled through the system, Ash was making as much as she needed and rarely did more than lift her fingers to key in some coding. Had she put any effort into schooling and going for a respectable job like her mother insisted she needed Ash could have lived a completely different route.

No one person in particular was seething at this fact, as she remained well beyond anyone’s emotional touch, but had half the trashy public been aware of her they would be up in arms about her wasted potential. If Grayson had an inkling of her capabilities in mind he could have tried to convince her to use this power over electronics for their sake instead of selfishly. He would have been rewarded with bonuses monetarily for seeking out such a promising member of society, she would be seen as heroic, he would have been able to say he achieved something personally as well as he had always wanted her to stay on this side of the law. But ambition was never on her agenda. She never wanted more than she had with that cheap little apartment.

Freedom from her mother and society. Comfort of a rocking gamer chair, a state of the art sound system, every game she could ever want at the flick of her finger, and it was all attached to a beautifully crafted computer that her and an acquaintance had built as soon as she was settled in.

If that wasn't something to throw back in the faces of those who already hated her, she didn't know what was.

As smug as that sounded though, it wasn’t what was most forward front in her mind when her sister called, if ever. She knew when her mom was around, fishing spitefully for her misery. Even then Ash would just dodge the questions until she could hear her mother frustrated cries.

Emma thought jealousy was petty, and while she was not above being petty, she didn't like the way envy tasted. Purely from the outside it looked sour and desperate. Ash hoped never to be desperate. It didn't look good on anyone and her self-confidence was far too great to be touched by anyone, while still be managed enough to hide it from plain view.

This left a lot of girls scorned, men liked confidence! A timid thing was cute to tease, plenty of girls played the part and were content with the attention it gave them. But Ash was the type to kick in the door and walk through with so much swagger it was impossible to ignore. She embraced the attention without needing it to survive. Suddenly meek rabbits were less interesting, guys loved the buck wild.

There were plenty of sour faces to go around.

[Ash]

Ash found herself staring into space once more, how long had passed this time? Where was the voice that had berated her? Did it get bored and leave her behind? It was time she get her shit together and get off her ass. As comfortable as the mystery liquid was against her back she was tired of this immobile state she was in.

Before it was impossible to move as she didn’t really have any motivation to do so, but now with just a will to do so, she moved. All at once her stiff lifeless body twisted into motion and when she was belly down the Demoness was suddenly on a waterbed instead, between satin sheets the color of grapefruit. The water responded to her body’s motion by rocking her gently for a few minutes before it comes to an eventual stop.

As this happens, she gets a good look at herself in the mirror that was the headboard. Her face surprised her, if only because she could see it and see that it was whole. She had no idea why she was surprised, why wouldn’t she have a face? It did look a little, in the fact that it looked like it had been pressed into her arm for a good part of the night. A big bright spot showed through the cheek slightly. She noticed her piercings were gone, her make-up smeared, and her black hair fell off her shoulders. Long strands of ebony web down her back, horns, and shoulders, the dim light reflecting off each section. She also didn’t remember letting her hair grow out, it has never been so long.

Under the sheets her naked body moved once more, the waves under her tested her balance as she sat up, dragging her legs across the surface while she planted her ass on the still moving bed. The ripples tickled her sensitive bits the same way the mystery liquid lapped at it before, but suddenly her body was a little more sensitive. As she settled on the bed, the sheets were already clinging to her smooth skin only to fall like curtains across her lap and around her backside to prove to the image looking back at her that they were both naked. She showed most of all the signs of just having a hot night with someone, except she lacked the slightly bruised feeling between her legs that promised her she had a good time.

Other than her hair, there was no visible change to her body she could see. Or at least remembered. Everything else that was off immediately came to her in an instant, so with that she decided nothing else must have changed. She gets back onto her knees and pushes herself closer to the mirror, inspecting the damage to her make-up and trying to give two shits. Maybe her friend who was lurking in the house somewhere liked the trashy look.

Next, she stuck out her tongue, the inside of her mouth and the pierced appendage that fell out were darker and more blue than her epidermis. The silver rod was shining brightly, covered in a thin layer of saliva. She didn’t see any surprises there, so she slid it back in her mouth. The holes were hard to see, but she could see five sets between her brows, the indentation in her skin for her nose, and the hole in her lip. She was satisfied her body remained defaced. With that out of the way, Ash went to leave by sitting back down and preparing to half roll half slide across the sheets to get off the bed but was stopped when the image in the mirror remained on her hands and knees.

This was clearly just to get her attention, the image smiled and then lowered her butt on the sheets. Except suddenly in the mirrored world the bed was replaced with a stage, behind her a pole. Lights flickered to the beat of the music which was mute at first, but slowly the volume rose; as did the Ash in the mirror.

Her mirrored ass glides up the pole first, she wore a thong that had a pentagram in the triangle of fabric that her tail normally fought because of where it sat, but her tail was missing. The mirror Ash’s butt reached the peak before a flash of black washed over the ‘screen’ as she snapped herself up right. When the hair flew out of view the barely horny girl from her past stood, grinding her hips into the pole. She was practically topless, her breast barely modest by a cropped-top vest with only one button which was not fastened.

She still had platinum white hair with hot pink streaks, styled in a Mohawk just as it had been prior to this waterbed, and the makings of her horns were just poking out of either side of the gelled hair.

Paper money as it was in the old days started to flutter around the dancer with impossibly high heels as she grabbed the pole and and let every ounce of her weight carry her into a simple spin. The outer shell of the pole twisted while the inside remained unmoving couldn’t be heard over the booming bass and the approving lewd hollers. She kicked up off the floor and threw herself into the air. Her feet sliced through the air while both hand grasped the gold case of the pole. It appeared she was defying gravity as she looped her body like a alligator's death roll.

When she stopped the perception point has shifted to be behind the thrill seeking devil, angled down at her neck, aiming right at the silver circle at the base of her skull. It looked a lot like the place you jacked in your headphones on a common computer, only big enough to stick your thumb into.

In front of the unsuspecting Storm Demon was a city-scape. Lights mimicked stars in numbers and brightness. The illusion was broken by the different colors of lights, and a neon sign advertising some bar: Blasted Cat. The wind picked up and ruffled her outfit which consisted of a tattered looking skirt that layered between broken stripes of black sheer mesh and black tears of a special cotton blend. Her legs were covered in black tights that reached to at least her knees, but the combat boots covered the rest of her feet after that. Her back was to the ‘audience’, leaving only the Death-like hood to flap in the wind, the rest of the long cloak to float ghostly at her back.

She was on the edge of a building, legs dangling off the side, as if contemplating suicide. The hawk was now black, her skin richer in color, and her tail whipped among the layers of black just enough to be seen briefly. In her hand, a shiny red grappling hook.

Without warning, the woman in the mirror lept into the open air. She hung there a second, like all that useless material in her skirt caught the wind and made her hover, only long enough for the world to remember she couldn’t fly and began to pull her down to earth once more.

As she was seized by gravity and dragged down, the ‘camera’ remained, staring at empty air for at least 10 seconds before the hook’s arch sent it around the neck of a gargoyle on the other side of the street, an ornament for the building before it was reclaimed for some business. Perhaps the owner didn’t even know of his guardians. Ash watched herself shoot up into the air again, before vanishing into the background once more.

Her blank eyes stared at the lonely street before they refocused and revealed her image once more. Like when you stare out a window you’ve pressed your face into to see what’s on the other side, only to notice the other image the glass was reflecting and straining to see what that was. Eventually you see yourself, and that’s what she was staring at.

Ash had to test it, lifting her hand up and clawing her polished nails through her now long black hair, raking it back and out of her face. She watches as her reflection does the same and then decides she’s done playing Alice. Freeing the rest of her body from the sheets she rolls across the ever moving terrain until her toes find solid ground in the form of a shag carpet.

Standing after laying on water for so long felt off. For a moment she thought she was drunk by how she fell into the dresser, but couldn’t remember doing that. Of course, she was suddenly having a hard time remembering anything outside of herself. Who did she go home with? This tacky furniture and the gimmicky waterbed surely didn’t belong to her, but she looked around regardless from her supported lean from the corner of the room to get some kind of feel for where she was.

There was decor, but nothing fancier than a carbon copy of some ‘painting’ that was meant to stimulate you mentally hanging on the wall. She saw an impossibly old television with a VHS sitting on top of it, and VHS tapes on top of that. Using the dresser, the bed frame, and a wall she moved closer to the old as fuck set-up to see the movie selection. Stacked three high and two across were obvious pornos. If the cheesy lines didn’t give them away, the images of naked women being taken from behind by naked men solidified the thought. There was a limited variety, but they did have girl-on-girl and guy-on-guy for those with more refined tastes.

Curiosity got the better of her, and she hit the power button on both the VHS-player and the TV. She expected the speakers to explode with lewd moaning and the classic ‘Oh yes, fuck yes’ lines porn films were full of, but found instead a blank screen. She frowned at this at first, because that was boring, after thinking about it she always thought porn was a distraction and not an aphrodisiac. It could be, and often opened the minds of men to the idea of fucking her if they weren’t already thinking that, but during the actual act? She’d rather turn on some metal and try to scream louder than the lead singer.

She tended to win that, but only because of her range as a female.

Ash pouted as she took a seat on the wood that framed the mattress full of water, still thinking it was boring not to at least watch something.

The screen flickered right in front of her, the sharp click of someone changing the channel snapped, and there on the screen she saw herself once more. She was running through the concrete jungle that was the city. Her feet were in the same combat boots, her pants tucked inside. She wore a black shirt, but the bright white partially there skull art took up the whole front which flapped freely around as she chased after whatever it was she sought, the sides looked like they were bunched up and tied off under her arms, but the shirt was made like that. The back was about the same, minus the skull. Her tail was clear as day, but the horns didn’t look fully developed.

The grappling hook bounced dangerously at her hip, as secure as it could be without tying it down or making it impossible to use at a moment’s notice, its influence on her image not yet finished.

Across her face was a smug grin, as to what was happening before was anyone’s guess, except Ash’s.

She remembers her races with Bandit around the city, usually the finish line was his place which was an abandoned ship in the harbor he’d strung a bunch of Christmas lights around in one section of and managed some furniture into somehow. It was his very own bachelor pad and it was great for hanging out and plotting out their crimes. He was all kinds of sexy, but he was shy. When he manned up enough to lure her into his bedroom he rocked her world.

Ash watched herself leap into a chain-link fence, then up it. It had been a guard to keep people from falling, but she wanted to fall. The past Ash jumped off the top of it and down the rabbit hole. She loved the feeling she got from falling. Diving off the railing of Coruscant’s highest tier and twisting her way down the maze that was the following tiers gave her a high nothing else could. It was dangerous and satisfying, on the same level as sex with a man who really knew how to fuck you. Sometimes it was even better.

You would think it was the most stressful part of her life, but it’s sinful how jumping off a building can make you feel.

The television clicked again and she watched the ‘power on’ light burn out like the last ember in a fire.

Ash picked herself up a second time, much more comfortable walking on land again, she moved to the open door to the side. She could just make out a shower curtain in the dark, and when she flicked the switch she saw its tropical pattern with girls in grass skirts; she just rolled her eyes and moved to the sink.

There was no sign of permanent living to it, no toothbrush, no medicine cabinet full of secrets, no counter really. Just a small bar of soap for your hands and a hand towel to the side. It was the color of sand and had an angel fish embroidered into the bottom of the ‘front’ side. It was also obviously used and tossed haphazardly over the railing. She glanced at the toilet, the seat was lifted up and left there.

She lowered the seat and sat down herself, as she answered nature’s call she looked at the magazine rack that had been nailed to the wall under the toilet paper dispenser. It was full of all kinds of magazines, including but not limited to swim-suits monthly, playboy, playgirl, and even ‘GoodHouseKeeping’. She didn’t reach for anything because a second later she was cleaning up and washing her hands. She snapped the light off and moved towards the final door.

Just as she touched the handle, she heard the television snap back on. Turning back she watched as Deadpool waited impatiently near a changing station in a local shop, tapping his foot, tapping his fingers, tapping into his store clerk and dressing a nearby mannequin in the craziest outfit he could muster. No one would dare wear that hat with that top, or with those shoes, but it was a way to kill boredom while Jak stuffed himself into tight ass jeans.

It replayed the scene from Dante’s Abyss where Deadpool suggest Jak might want to put in the effort to possibly using his junk as a weapon. Both men knew how silly that really would be, but it brought a smile to her face regardless.

She put her back to the room and walked away.

There was a little hall, attached to it was just a staircase, and down the steps she would find one last room. It was the living room, it followed the same cheesy 80’s into 90’s theme. The couch was brown with a lazy-susie design, and probably cheap material; shaggy floor. There was something a little more modern in the room though, the eco-warrior himself, playing with his commlink. Or whatever was before that. He was almost as naked as she was, sadly he has put his pants back on. And not the really tight ones.

With steps deafened by the rug and a swiftness she was known for, she was behind him. Her hands grabbing his hips, her thumbs pushing into the waistline of his jeans.

Obviously Jak was startled, but must have remembered where he was and who his company was. Though she was assuming a lot given that she woke up alone and naked. She found no evidence they had done anything, and truthfully the half-assed discarding of the hand towel could have been her before she stripped down and fell asleep. However, he didn’t attack her or seem surprised by another person coming up on him. When he managed to turn around is the same time these assumptions being just that became a possibility as he seemed surprised more than ever at finding a naked woman reaching into his pants.

Hot in the face and trying to be respectful, Mar looked away from the woman in front of him, but Ash was not about to let it bother her. How could she? Becoming a stripper was the best job she’d ever taken on a whim. She enjoyed playing with the minds of men, reading them in the dark with a throbbing light on her was hard at times, but you learned how to perform to cater to their desires after a while. Faces blurred together and were unimportant, what was important was how wild they went when she picked up on their wants and needs. It was already adrenalizing to dance in front of strangers while taking her clothes off, but to have power over them if only for about 3 minutes was criminal, incorrigible, addicting..
The Storm Demon grabbed him by his sexy jaw and pulls him down to kiss her. Too shocked to do anything she pushes him into the nearby wall and presses her naked body to his half-naked form, slamming Jak into the wall behind him hard enough for the plastic picture frame with a flower rattle on the wall. Stunned, Jak couldn’t even think about stopping her, and pretty soon he wouldn’t be able to. She felt down his chest, her fingertips were ice-cold compared to his skin which burned her fingers to touch. She knew exactly where to put her hands though, and whens he found the waistband once more, her fingers slid between fabric and flesh.

As she pushed the boundary between them, her head tilted and her tongue ran across his lip. He was helpless to her advancement, still confused by what was happening he followed her lead. Their tongue’s collide like the ocean waves on rock. He’d feel her tongue ring as she rubbed her tongue along his. It must have been so strange to him, but he must have liked it because he began to rub back and began to relax, letting his hands come down on her bare shoulders. Eventually she even squeezed her shoulders as he began to get into it. She could feel him rise to attention at her hand, and she felt sorry for his poor pants. If she didn’t get him out of them now, he’d rip them with his hard-on.

---

When Ash’s eyes open again she stood surrounded by darkness once more. A light flashes on and shines across an old silver mirror she remembers from the treasure trove inside The Leviathan she’d tracked down before being uploaded into this game. As she approached it, she saw herself briefly. She wore a pair of simple white shorts, and a loose white tank top. It was disturbing how a simple outfit could trigger her. She wanted to rip it off her, or force the color to change, but before that:

The surface went blank like a bright light had exploded on the other side. Then she could make out the rippling of water and after a while she could accurately describe it as if she were underwater, looking up at the Nexus’ sky. Without thinking, she reached up and touched the surface of the mirror. It responded to her touch much like a puddle to rain, the surface shimmered and then the ripples grew out until it reached the edges.

With the thoughts of Jak still fresh in her mind but almost everything else forgotten, she reaches into the mirror, ready to go back.