Title: Demonic Temptress I

Author: Lumamistic

Rating: R (adult themes and explicit scenes of violence.)

Disclaimer: From what I know no one has done this and I loved the little storyline that was put out in this special issue. Their wasn’t much to change considering that the source was about two paragraphs. I liked the little plot and wanted to read a fic about it but didn’t find one so ta da. I don’t own Psylocke or any other character in this fic so yeah blah blah blah you know the routine.

Summary: Based on Marvel X-men 2001 Millennial Vision... Psylocke: The Bladeless Sword. With her village murdered by the undead creatures known as the Ovi, Psylocke unwillingly is changed forever into a vampire. A battle is then forced upon her...between her vendetta against the undead and the insatiable bloodlust that hungers within.

Characters: Betsy a.k.a. Psylocke (an immortal mystic-warrior with a psychic intangible blade); Angel (a brooding ex-model searching for a cure to a deadly disease); Mystique (shape-shifting demon placed on earth to battle good); Rogue (half demon, she bares heavily the guilt of her unnatural powers); Logan (a disgruntled biker who hunts down Ovi); Scott Summers (local nightclub owner with a quirky obsession); Bobby (smartass newspaper reporter who ignites the whole Ovi uprising); Hank McCoy (scientist who has found a cure for the Ovi but with certain side effects ); Ororo Monroe (weather witch who becomes hunted by the Ovi); NightCrawler (a surprisingly powerful Ovi who soon becomes the leader of the undead); and some tiny surprise visits.

Night was her blessing. It was only at this time could she fully use her cursed gifts. The dark ninja stood back from the bright light of the streets behind a nearby dumpster and waited for her victim. Many kinds of people passed her lowly dwelling making her think of how their lives must be without the knowledge of what was invading this very world. The Ovi were on the very brink of making themselves known to the public. Phasing through the world herself had been difficult but now somehow more Ovi were appearing all around. Betsy spied her prey heading unearthly fast towards her spot. Strange how everyone in the near vicinity managed not to notice the Ovi swinging in and out of the crowds...oddly fast for an old man in his sixties. That was kicker in their little vampiric world. No matter what new super drug came across the shelves being old was something that couldn’t be changed even by supernatural terms. Die old stay old. The young ones never could grasp that too well. Some felt anger as they watched their loved ones wither and die. Dark brunette locks fading to a brittle gray, skin once smooth as silk now loose folds of flesh. The new Ovi would soon watch their mother, father, or lover’s heart flutter with the last of their strength then go flat line. Betsy never had the pain of watching her family’s last farewells...all she saw was throats slashed by the hand of her now unnatural kin. So many lifetimes had passed since the massacre. A battle that the world had ignored and now forgotten...a slaughter that still runs in her mind. They had been a farming community on the outskirts of Hong Kong where life was lived happily for the most part. Poverty and starvation still reared its ugly head even with a fruitful harvest but like the seasons good things happen in phases.

Betsy had been asleep for a good full hour when the chimes were sounded. The big brass bells at the entrance had been the village’s only approach at an alarm system. With the first loud clang, Betsy scrambled out of her makeshift bed and ran for the outside. Passing an open window Betsy squinted her eyes to adjust to the chaotic darkness outside. Large figures were swooping from the sky snatching out of nowhere small wailing bodies. Betsy tried to make out what the flying beasts were but they moved too fast in the night. A straggling cough came from behind her and Betsy turned to see her mother in the arms of one of the flying beasts. Snap. The sound echoed in her thoughts. All fear she had had that night melted away into anger as her mother’s body fell to the ground. Covered in the night’s shadows the cursed beast stood enormous gleaming in it’s well deserved kill. He stepped closer to her as if proud of his wickedness. With what little light she had Betsy made out the face of her mother’s murderer and now her forever antagonist. Sparkling white slits glared at her, teeth fresh with blood from her mother’s neck, sharp claws beckoning her to him, all this and a gigantic human body. He laughed at her reluctance to come to him and then within a second flashed beside her grabbing her in his muscular arms. She felt the sweat on his body soaking through her gown giving her a strange chill. “Ah...shivering in my embrace? Most plea to their gods to strike me down from this earthly plane. Are you going to call out to your gods or has death been welcomed?” Betsy’s head swirled at the deep voice in her ear. A rich tone that left a devious aftereffect in her chest. A voice that rang clear to her head...something hypnotic, spell bounding that made her not resist but open her body to his wishes. “Silence? Have the centuries finally buried the gods?” Snapping out of a drunken state, Betsy struggled against the mesmerizing spell of him and managed to free an arm. “Gods! Devils! Nothing but deceitful figments made up by power hungry monarchs. Free me, beast, and you shall be saved from my unearthly wrath!” The huge mound behind her shook with laughter, “Deceitful yes! Evil of course but you forgot something.....Thirsty!” His sharp fangs singed her flesh easily making Betsy feel woozy then the rush came bashing her once sound mind into oblivion. Vampires don’t exist. Demons aren’t real but what is happening. Reason came to her as death’s toll was about to be rung. Struggling to lift her free arm, Betsy grasped at the face buried in her neck. She only managed to make him bite harder growling at her ill effects on his kill. Her breaths were soon becoming short and feeling loose her body draped over his arm. The beast dropped his left arm but still continued to pin her body to his with his other. Betsy stirred vigorously fighting the urge to close her eyes and maybe it was her body subconsciously defending itself but her free arm grabbed the beast’s left. Feeling her moment was now short because of the coldness growing within she held out a single sharp claw of the beast and swapped across her attackers face. The beast had been in his own hypnotic trance when she had grabbed his arm so even with blood spurted from his jaw it took a few seconds for him to withdraw. Released and weak, she fell hard to the floor hoping that the solid ground didn’t break any bones. Across the room the beast gurgled something at her then began to crawl back to his prey. Determined to fight against any attack from him, Betsy persisted in dragging her failed body away to the next room. The beast caught a foot and pulled her underneath him preventing any escape. Dark blood poured freely from his huge gaping jaw and onto her sluggish body. He tugged her lower so that her mouth was directly under the fatal wound. She tried to fight the blood seeping through her lips, coating her parched tongue in its salty elixir but with no hope. Betsy had been drained to point of near death and now here she was about to become the winged horse-man herself as a vampire. Her pulse quickened as her body burn with the hot liquid racing through her veins. Strength was building, her senses were changing becoming more sharper..more powerful. She could now clearly make out the beast on top of her new form. A muscular man in his early twenties with jet black hair and thick eyebrows shielding above solid white eyes. He was trying to speak to her but no words came out of his damaged mouth. Their wasn’t a look of pain or fear from his face just understanding as if he knew that she would be his killer...his demon. Then the man collapsed on her... dead. Through the decades after Betsy came to realize a few things about her new role as a vampire. Straight off they weren’t called vampires but Ovi. A race of blood thirsty earthbound demons with a habit of roasting in the daylight sun. She wasn’t sure why they were here on Earth but only that they did. The first two decades were horrible but by the fifth things went smoothly. Betsy had managed to set a schedule: wake from sunless secured spot, hunt first prey, mingle with the locals, hunt second prey, have a little get together at the nearby brothel, then lastly kill its residents. She believed if every night went like this then maybe life as a hell beast wouldn’t be that bad as a gig. The realization though of what she had become was still haunting her and weighed heavy on her soul. The killing of innocents had not been Betsy desire but a necessity in keeping her dead body alive. Nightmares or daymares more appropriately flashed in her head...the faces of the humans she had murdered....the blood dripping from her fangs...then her own mother’s death glare looming at her. By her eighth decade of being immortal, Betsy had decided to avenge her family’s slaying by preying upon evil in whatever form it inhabited. Whether Ovi or criminals the evil ones were slain and their victims avenged. So now she had a role to play...the immortal hero.

So here she was present day in the city that never sleeps which for a night demon seemed like paradise. Betsy adored the lively city for here was a natural hunting place for the Ovi. The vampires loomed over the city ruthlessly but surprisingly unseen by humans. Missing and murdered victims were a part of the daily events in the big city so being a bloodthirsty demon one could find fine dining within the alleyways. Here seeking the local neighborhood Ovi was Betsy fresh from her night’s kill of a gang member and hoping for some little vengeance. The Ovi running across the street was now hers as he sped into the dimly lit alley. He prancing onward whistling a song that was topping the music charts. She couldn’t quite place the song but the melody was familiar. One step more and he was hers. Betsy released a low growl and pounced on the unsuspecting beast. Knocking him to the ground she pinned him securely. “Tonight death awaits you!” Raising her right arm high in the air a bright pink glow surrounded her fist. The Bladeless Sword, a mystical power passed through her family line to those who would fight for the village and end any suffering. This had been her birthright...her destiny but how foolish of her not to acknowledge this gift centuries ago. Maybe the massacre would have ended a bit differently...with the Ovi destroyed. Betsy held the blade above her head only momentarily then swiped it down severing the neck and head of the Ovi. Fresh blood sprayed her in the face and on her clothes. T-shirt and jeans soaked in red and a face full of blood from the Ovi’s last kill was just not how to end a night. “Ugh...juicy!” She stood up and wiped the blood from her face with the bottom of her once white tee. “Night’s duty done....now a little fun.” Always looking for a little light in the night, Betsy had come to discover New York’s cultural nightlife....the clubs. Watching humans take part of the cycle of mating had some interest to her. She had never been in love...never understood what made people fall in love...never grasped the concept of everlasting romance. Love is for pathetic puppies. No purpose in it but to satisfy a sexual crave. To the average smuck, she was woman of perplexing beauty. Gone were the tainted jeans and a t-shirt and replaced with a long black skirt with a split arching high on her hip. A dark green blouse hanging off her shoulders with a low revealing v that came to meet a very ripe bosom. Rich black hair draped her back like a cape and with every step she took the silken wave flowed side to side. The music echoed through the large club intoxicating the crowd with its loud beats and flavored lyrics. She closed her eyes and slowly yielded to the music that flowed all around her. Sliding her long arms in the air simulating the wave that was griping her. Moving like a steady stream through the crowds till reaching the center of the mesmerizing beat. A hand grazed her arm releasing a warm shiver through her. Betsy smiled and opened her eyes to the view of a young man in his late twenties with a mop of dark hair on his head. He was dressed in black trousers and a shimmering silver shirt something that was for some reason was the natural clothing for a party boy. His fingers brushed her arm again and then a warm hand cupped her elbow. “Your moves are...good,” he said while sizing her up with his brown eyes. Betsy gently smiled and placed an arm around his neck allowing him to pull closer. Together in motion the two moved ignoring the bodies grinding all around them. Out of time...out of place the two swayed in their own little world. As if the music that coursed from the speakers were just for them. Eyes locked on to each other the couple swayed then the melody changed into a different song. Betsy broke from the man’s touch and took a step back. She smiled then turned to leave. “Hey what’s your name?” The man refused to let her go. Betsy cocked her head to one side and reached out her hand to him. Hand in hand they waded through the crowd till the exit was in sight. On the street outside, Betsy pulled him to her and kissed him on the lips. Softly she pressed her moist lips to his not wanting to drag him in for a more powerful lock. She pulled back, “Betsy...and you?”

“Scott...Scott Summers. I own this place,”he threw a nod at the closed vibrating door “Say why don’t you come back in. I’ll get us a private table and we’ll talk.” She shook her head, “No...the sun’s almost up which means I have to go. See you around Slim.” Betsy threw him a kiss and stalked off down the street. “Sure... right!” He yelled down at her as he watched her sexy hips shake side to side as she ostentatiously slid down the busy sidewalk.

In keeping with her standards of not feeding on innocents Betsy had declared herself to at least try to be one of them. This took form as a classy apartment in Manhattan where money was spent in obtaining window covering to block any sunlight. In her lavish box on the sixth floor, Betsy had decorated according to the new times. Large rooms with big expensive furniture. She had come to realize long ago that Americans like things big unlike her native countrymen. Big cars, big homes, and even bigger dreams. For girl who grew up in a two room shack in the middle of rice field country this was her little dream come true. The sparkling new and unused kitchen laid just six feet from the front door and in keeping with the new advancement in technology was filled with kitchen hardware that was never to see the grim of cooking. The living room was spread out with two oversized chenille couches and a brick fireplace in the center of the room. On the walls were masterpieces from renown artists around the world. Comfort was the idea for her bedroom. A king sized canopy bed took control of the room with its overstuffed pillows and satin sheets. Though it was deadly important to keep any and all sunlight out of her sanctuary here in her bedroom was where in the dark of night Betsy could walk out onto her balcony. During the day the doors were securely locked and obstructed any light from the outside. The lavatory took the look of elegance and peace with its pastel coloring. Silver fixtures and a spacious tub topped the extravagant room. Feeling dawn was nearing Betsy took to her bed like a cat and snuggled in the sheets content to sleep the day away. Life being a vampire hunter had its rewards and drawbacks. One was that Ovi weren’t just happy in killing but stealing also. Most of Betsy’s expenses were paid by dirty money she would find in her killed’s living areas. Money did make the world go round even the evil ones.

She woke to sound of her doorbell. Day was on the brink of fading but the threat was still present. She scrambled for her robe and wrapped it tightly around her naked self. Wiping the sleep from her eyes, she made it to the door just in time for another round of bells to sound off. “I’m here! Hold on!” Standing tippy toed to see through the peephole Betsy released an annoyed grunt. “This isn’t some hotel you can just stay at, Logan!” A growl came from behind the door, “Lemme in, Betts!” She opened the door just enough to peek through. Before her stood a man who in her right mind should be scared to death of but instead was partners with. Before her stood a man any sane woman would craved for. Before her stood... Logan. Dressed in his typical tight blue jeans and white t-shirt with his brown leather jacket swung on his arm. “Why should I? You ditched me in Texas last time..almost got my head caved in by that crazed Ovi. I should be pissed at you.” Logan gave her a huge smile, “But your not...so let me in.” She held her ground. “Give me a reason to let you in.” He chuckled loudly and unzipped his bag on the floor. He searched for a bit then revealed a small parcel. “Here.” Logan thrust it at her and waited for Betsy to open the door. She did and snatched the small bundle. She walked to the kitchen and placed the gift on the counter then eagerly she unwrapped the packaging. Within the brown paper laid a fresh raccoon. “Yummy!” Betsy picked up the warm animal and sank her fangs into the soft fur. Soon the animal was dry and dead. Logan watched the event... disgusted he went inside the living room. He plopped himself on the sofa and began to untie his shoes. “So Sexy, how goes the war?” She sat beside him and whistled between her teeth, “Tissss...so-so. Got nasty last night. A real gushy one!” Betsy shoved her legs underneath her and sat like a child eagerly awaiting her bedtime story. “Yeah, I had a handful back in D.C. So what’s up for tonight, Darling?”

She yawned loudly and laid her head in his lap. “Up to bat is our rustic Wolverine. Swinging for the home team,” she said mockingly, “Take a break big boy and let the night be.” His eyes lowered to hers, “Breaks are for softies, sweetie, and what do ya mean let the night be? You’re the head honcho in destroying these things.” Logan plucked a cigar that was concealed neatly in his coat pocket and lit it. Breathing in the rich taste, Logan closed his eyes and patted Betsy on the arm. “You are the only one who can successfully destroy these things...its your destiny.”

“Yeah, destiny has a way of slamming you into doing what it wants.” She stood up and went to go change for the night. Dressed once again in her roughin’ it clothing, Betsy stepped out in a pair of black jeans, a small tank, and black leather boots with spiked heels. “Dressed to kill,” she mumbled to herself. Logan threw her jacket at her, “Does inconspicious ring a bell? Hell girl you’ll be spotted straight off.” Betsy put her jacket on then walked over to her friend. “Remember those years ago when we first met?”

“Yeah..yeah you kicked my ass.” Logan opened the front door and followed her out.

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The night has a way of beckoning those who desire freedom. Cloaked in darkness one can get away almost anything. Its something magical to allow yourself to be free to your whims. Paradise under the midnight moon. This night was to be her night...to be her night of freedom. The red head flipped the closed sign on the front door and turned the bolt. She took her duster and went through the shelved books before hitting the tables. Skimming the titles with her fingers, Jean could remember her early days of discovery. She could recall quite clearly the very hour she decided to follow a different path from her friends. Wicca had been to them just some passing fad but to her it was more like a calling. The secret meetings, the group spells, the seasonal rituals all of it meant something to her. Years passed and friends faded but the craft stayed with her...apart of her. Now here she was owner of a magick store called the Green Man. Business had always been good but lately more and more people were coming. Goddess, thank you for all I have, blessed be. Life had been good for the red head. Jean continued to dust the old familiar books when a knock rattled the front window. She leaned back and saw a young girl standing wild-eye at her front door. She moved to the door and sweetly pronounced, “We’re closed, sorry, come back at eight in the morn!” The girl stomped her foot and gave a very pleading look, “Lady please!” Jean placed a hand on the lock and got a good footing incase the girl decided to ram the door. Just a year ago, the store was ransacked by some local kids. “Then you can wait till morning! Go on!” The girl resisted at first then nodded her head and left. The rest of the night went smooth as usual and Jean closed up the store to go home. The stroll to her apartment was most night’s quiet but with it being Saturday the nightlife was blasting. She pulled her long brown suede coat tighter around her and journeyed through the chaos.

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His escort led him through a dark alley in the busy streets of New York. Buildings lined his path with their intimidating height. The street was grimy from oil and dirt making his shoes slip a little on each step forward. A red neon crescent moon symbol was hanging above a side door to what seemed like, from the music, a hip club. “Just where are we going?” Her purple cape fluttered when she turned to face him. Eyes clouded with knowledge. Knowledge of what was happening to him…to the world. Gorgeous dark eyes that when she flashed them on him...clarity and hope filled his essence. The woman swept her long locks of coal back off her shoulders and placed the strands in a tight ponytail. Asian features that reminded him of one of those getaway paradise resort commercials. His eyes uncovered her full form...that of a beautiful woman dressed in a light pink gown with a revealing slit up the side and a heavy deep purple cape that for the moment was off the shoulders hanging only around her neck. He had the odd impression that she was here to help but doubts kept creeping in. His only fear was that she would close that chapter of his life he yearned to uncover. His past had always been shrouded in mystery. Now in this alley with this temperamental mistress it would be revealed. “Soon we will come to separate paths. There you must decide whether to continue on or return to your life before our encounter.” The woman placed her arm around his shoulders and guided him through the dimly lit alley. “If you wish to go on you must go down those steps there. Embrace the challenge of your life, my friend, take hold of the destiny that you’ve been denied so long.” She turned on her heel and strode back down the alley. With one final glance the woman looked back at him and gave a wink. “See you soon traveler. Now open your eyes. You’re late.”

Angel awoke with sweat and a knot in his stomach. Her face was fuzzy now that reality started to sink in. He tugged the sheets closer to his chest and sighed, “Now that was different.” Angel hadn’t always had these dreams it only really started when the symptoms began. Angel had been the top male model in his agency and by that meaning he was gorgeous and knew it. Most of his jobs were runway for top designers but the occasional underwear shoot would be tempting. A man of six feet, shoulder length golden hair and a pack of abs that would make the ladies smile uncontrollably for hours. The days of fortune and fame were gone now. His hour was up..the dream was over. Now a simple man with a disease that left him some days crippled to a chair. As a boy the pain was moderate but with each year the pain grew to now an irritating stabbing in his entire back. A month ago the pain changed. Mounds of bone were bulging out and now two giant sores were his most trouble. Ashamed of his condition, Angel quit the business and with what money he had managed to save he lived his life in peace.

Remnants of his past life still laid about around in forms of photos and calls from former friends who didn’t understand his sudden absence. Getting to his feet, Angel moved to the old photos and gathered up each one then effortlessly threw them in the trash. His daily ritual consisted of taking a shower, having a lite breakfast, then popping in the thousands of tiny pills to thwart the pain he would endeavor through the day. Dressed in his old dingy blue jeans and his favorite baby blue polo shirt. When he was first started out his girlfriend of the hour had picked it out to favor his eyes and to show off his hard-earned biceps. Angel never had much interest in keeping a relationship with the women he would meet. The foolish women never clued in to his playboy behavior or the fact that he usually had three or four “girlfriends” at a time. All they saw was what he wanted them to see. A handsome man with millions to spend and not the cold heartless bastard he knew he was. So that was Angel’s life before the deformity...and he missed it.

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The rain had begun its wet journey around midnight. Puddles of water covered the dark streets allowing only those with a death wish to travel amongst its dangerously hidden potholes and cracks. People scurried to their homes hoping the rain wouldn’t let a drop hit them. Watching the umbrellas pop open was a young woman standing underneath the downpour. Unbeknownst to the scampering public was the power she held within her blase gaze was a woman of extreme measures. A woman whose very emotions controlled the world. She, a woman of twenty just out of her native tribal land, had not been prepare for the big city’s landscape. Tired and bored of the insatiable hot weather, Ororo had thought a good rainstorm would be good to wash the city’s grime. However the downpour wasn’t what she had in mind for. Ororo allowed the water to cascade down her pure untarnished white hair. Her light blue sun dress melded to her form giving the impression that little was underneath the thin fabric. But still eyes did not fall on the ebony beauty. Still she was below the public radar for the unnatural. Cool brown skin, and a white mane atop a face of surprisingly young and flawless features. Only recently had this beauty seen the pains of being mortal. Her village was massacred by the blood demons her visions had shown. Ororo was revered as a goddess mainly because of her heritage. Her mother was a seer of what was to be. Her grandfather a powerful mystic and her great grandmother was a high priestess to the goddess Maas...goddess of thunder and wind. The village’s story tellers had records of her great grandmother being the favorite of the goddess’s followers and was bestowed great gifts. So here was the descendant of countless magical figures throughout history. Here was Ororo Monroe...the Goddess.

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The rain battered hard on her windshield forcing the young brunette to handle the old Honda carefully. For three terrible hours the dark sky pelted the girl’s car with heavy rain and now dawn was fast approaching. Green trees came into the bright morning, small shrubs swayed in the warmth of the sun, and a young teen was finally escaping the small southern town that had been home to a bright fresh day ahead. Georgia had been her home for most of her life and the small town of Gables was friendly enough....if you followed their tight restrictive rules. Being an orphan was not part of the conservative model the townspeople of Gables took to. Instead the young brunette was ridiculed and made ashamed of her own being. Thought of as an outcast, the young girl’s self esteem dropped dramatically and soon found herself with the wrong crowd. She was teased and hassled by almost everyone in the county limits....so she became what she was thought to be...a Rogue. Then things went for a spend. One day while tagging the outside of a vacant warehouse, Rogue saw what she thought was a vision. A bright light flashed across her face and then in the center of the white light came a woman. A dark silhouette of a woman walking towards her cradling a baby. Rogue could almost make out the child but then a gust of cold wind blew at her and in instinct covered her face. When the cold blast was over Rogue’s apparition disappeared. She blew it off and continued on her illegal defacement on the building. Ten minutes later, sirens rang and the chase began on foot. Classic cat and mouse. Rogue gave the old cop a good run before she decided to play with him. Taking tight turns in the massive building, Rogue had managed to lure the cop into an asthmatic frenzy. When the poor old fool fell to the ground heaving Rogue came out of her hiding spot and out of concern touched the cop’s head. A wave of power washed over her knocking the air from her lungs. Bracing against the cop and the floor with her elbow, Rogue closed her eyes and prayed for release. A second vision flashed underneath her eyelids. She saw a woman sitting at a table in a huge brick house crying....then a man slapping her face hard over and over....then lastly standing in a group of men in uniforms pledging with their right hand over their heart. Rogue screamed and collapsed. She would wake later to find the cop dead. His eyes bulging out like balloons ready to pop. A face she was unlikely to forget. No one could ever forget their first kill. That was four hours ago...

Rogue turned at her exit and continued to her destination. A place where freaks dwelled equally..New York.

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The rain was a surprise. Bobby Drake hadn’t been prepare for the night’s downpour or else an umbrella would be over his head. Instead he sat comfortably in a little coffee shop sipping his third cup of the ultra strong caffeine. His deadline was coming up and without a story, Bobby knew his ass would be out that office door. He even pictured his little booty scooting across the rough pavement so a bread truck wouldn’t hit him and his ex-boss laughing his own ass off. But Bobby was refusing to made a spectacle of. He began to thump his thumb across his spacebar on his most prized possession...his laptop. He watched the little blinking bar move across the screen right then down then right again. An unending process set up by some math genius who probably is running around throwing money at hot chicks and all because of some stupid blinking bar. “Damn genius,” he whispered lowly. Running out of ideas, Bobby began to read last weeks issues. The huge title blared at him mocking his writer’s block. “Family Missing. Ah....family of four...father and mother didn’t show for work and nil on where they could be. Kids gone too and like their parents without a trace.” Bobby had read through the story before..hell he wrote it. His last bit of interesting news and now like his coffee had grown stale. “Well, boy wonder looks like you’re in a bine.” The familiar voice came from across the table. The voice belong to the bluest eyes he had ever seen and with a body that was solid. “Hey there sweet cakes!” The woman gave him a wink and smiled just barely showing her teeth. It was a pleasant grin and almost took him off his guard. “How’s business Alison?” The grin faded into a frown. She leaned her head to the side and shrugged. “Johns are coming hard to come by. You know my frown now what yours? Did someone steal your strawberry pie recipe?” Alison Blaire had a flare for sarcasm but that was just sad. Bobby had at one time written for a cook magazine but that was during a time of well...a time when nobody wanted a kid fresh from college. She was a dazzling beauty and how they had remained friends was beyond both of them. He wasn’t exactly romantically interested in her besides from what he could remember her heart belong to someone in another place. Just like how they first met was in another time and place. She had been his first undercover assignment. Alison was just another hooker working the street until she met Bobby. She saw a certain type of innocence in his face when she had approached his car. He reminded her of how life use to be. Fun and games. Laughter and love. She helped him uncover a story that night. And as thanks Bobby helped her off the streets. Now five years later, Alison still ran with the Johns but on a higher level. On her own terms and at her own set hourly rate. “I hear you are in need of a story.” Direct to the point, she was like that and Bobby adored her for it. “Guess I might. You got one?” He didn’t question her sources because well...mainly he didn’t want to know. Brotherly one might call it. She was like a sister to him and vice versa for her.

Alison tapped her pack of cigarettes on the table then bit her lower lip as if to resist the temptations of tobacco. Then she pulled the wrapping off and plucked a single in her mouth. The flame licked around the cigarette giving the once lifeless product some fire. She breathed in the gray smoke then blew out of the side of her mouth. He had watched this production without any real interest. Bobby knew this was just part of her act. The rat fishing for some cheese. “Ally, give me something good and they’ll be some happy presidents waiting to greet you at your pad.”

“You couldn’t even afford the shit on my shoes, Bobby.” she snapped, “besides I’m leaving town after I tell you what I know.” His attention went from the flaming paper in her hand to her eyes. Something was different. She was rattled and afraid. “What’s going on, Ally?” Alison quickly looked behind her then leaned in waving him to come closer. “There some heavy shit going around. Something about a big honcho taking over the City. People are disappearing and then showin’ up different. All funny looking...like they hadn’t slept for days. And then theirs those headless bodies popping up.”

“What bodies?” Alison was silent. She took a another look behind her then turn her head back to him. “Just some people without their heads. Cut of with some type of sword. Cops are keeping it real quiet. If you were a good reporter you would have already know about this, Bobby.” She said mockingly. Bobby drew back and pushed his hands against the table. Alison looked up at him and saw his brows draw close like he was thinking really hard and it was difficult to concentrate. He finally broke the silence. “Why are you really leaving?”

“That’s a bullshit question. I just told you why.” Bobby lifted his hand and pointed a finger at her, “Liar. You’ve stayed around with worst crap.” Alison brushed back her blond locks with her right hand and sighed, “I’m in love and well raising a child in this city is crazy.”

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Betsy stood on top of the skyscraper like an eagle searching for its next meal. She watched the bustling city below eagerly hoping for her next kill. She stared hard not wanting to release her gaze for an instant. To her left, Logan stood bored but patiently waited with cigar in lips. He just like her could wait forever. But does forever really last an eternity.

Tell me what ya think....so come on guys and dolls give me some feedback. This chapter and next is more on character development because well this is an alternate reality. I think the plot will thicken more in the third instalment.

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