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[size=3]Chapter 1: Some Assembly Required[/size][/CENTER]
"Get back here you freak!"

The voice of the mob's leader was a distant echo as I raced through the streets, my feet hitting the asphalt so hard I was leaving cracks in my wake. I was (or had been, at least) being chase by a lynch mob, the kind of lynch mob that doesn't take especially kindly to a new breed of humanity rising up to take it's place. It was almost like the X-Men, except the X-Men could do more than just run away when push come to shove.

What I wouldn't give for fireballs instead of this damn near uncontrollable speed.

A sign flashed by me, and I was only just able to read it before it was gone - I was entering Abby Road, the city's infamous redlight district. I breathed a sigh of relief and willed my body to stop, slowly easing my way from 50 miles an hour to a dead stop. The lynch mob had been Christian fundamentalists, opposed to the idea of evolution even when it had sprung up right in their face. There's no way they would follow me here.

"Hey handsome, what's your poison?" a streetwalker purred. I grinned sheepishly and scratched the back of my head.

"Umm... vodka?" She made a face then flipped me off.

"Don't fuck me around, arsehole," she hissed, before moving on to her next possible client. I sighed and started walking aimlessly, fending off other such advances and looking for something - anything - that resembled a bar. Eventually I wandered into a strip club, paying the $40 cover charge and making my way straight to it's comparitively tiny bar. Understandably, most of the place was taken up by a large stage and it's accompanying tables, and off to the side a host of private rooms seemed to be doing rousing business.

"Vodka, thanks," I said to the barkeeper. He handed me a tiny shot and smirked.

"$9." I spluttered.

"What?!" The man - short, fat and balding - shrugged.

"You either pay for the merchandise, or you pay for the alcohol, choose." I scowled and slammed a note on the table. I didn't [i]want[/i] to be here to begin with, and now I was being forced to pay a premium on my drinks unless I watched a show. The barkeeper kept smirking.

"Who would you recommend?" A low, sexy voice whispered in my ear before he could respond, her hands rubbing over my neck and exposed chest.

"I think you want me," she whispered. My eyes glazed over.

"Yes... I want you."

"Good boy." With lithe grace she peeled me off the barstool and slowly led me to one of the private booths, my mind in a haze and barely even registering the limber dancer on stage whose hair seemed to have a life of its own. As the woman - who was astoundingly beautiful, mind - started her hip grinding dance over me, I wasn't even registering the sound of crashing outside, or the familiar voice of a lynch mob leader I'd escape only minutes before.

It was like I was... entranced.[/FONT][/SIZE][/COLOR]
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[font=times][color=darkorchid][i]Khali Serhan laughed at his expression, arching back to press her body very close to his. He was almost aware enough to notice her flimsy lilac baby doll, with deeper purple lingerie underneath. Her hair had a streak of ribbon in it, and it bobbed with the rest of her dark hair as she moved smoothly around his body. She leaned forward and brought her lips close...so close...to his ear.[/i]

"What's your name pretty boy?"


[i]He shrugged, or made an effort to. But it was so hard for him to move. His head felt like it usually did after a night of hard drinking. If Lance tried to move it, he felt disoriented and confused. Weak almost, and he didn't understand why. She smiled at him prettily while standing up and slipping her hands against the purple ropes that were hanging from the ceiling. Her muscles flexed in her arms and legs as she flipped around to let him see her better. The arch of her back made her shirt rise up, and he noticed several body piercings. Nothing deep industrial, but certainly enough to entice. The gleam of silver on her bare flesh was delicious. But it was almost frightening to see how she was moving while still appearing tied to the ceiling.[/i]


"A little. Isn't what I'm used to."

"I find that people usually get into the spirit...soon enough."

[i]She slipped down slowly from the silk ropes, almost slithering, her spine undulating almost as gracefully as her arms. Lance could feel her smooth flesh against his own, hear the sound of Trent Reznor music, but not the sound of anger and hatred. But Khali did. Her ears perked and she whipped her body close up against his. Her palms rubbed against his cheeks once, twice, and she turned to give him a kiss.[/i]

"I hate to tell you this...but there's an angry mob outside who's probably going to beat down the door at any second."


[i]The door splintered open and for a moment, the only thing the the furious crowd could see was the back of Khali's head as she straddled a man who's face remained hidden. She turned around finally and clenched and unclenched her fists. Her eyes narrowed and she let the first man come closer.[/i][/font][/color]
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[COLOR=DimGray][FONT=Tahoma]"Light it." Felix whispered.

"I need a lighter, dipshit."

"Right, here." Felix stuck his hand in his pocket and pulled out a bright red lighter, passing it to his friend.

"This is the good stuff." Another of Felix's friends said.

"You said that last time." A low hiss, followed by a hacking cough and a cloud of smoke emerged. "Nevermind, this really is the good stuff."

"Let me take a toke of that." Felix said. His friend handed him the small metal "tobacco" pipe and Felix inhaled, letting go of the choke after a few seconds. He coughed out most of the smoke not getting a chance to really suck it in.

"Ho-crap. That is really harsh."

"But you get [i]ripped![/i]" his friend, a girl, replied. "You know, coming to this old apartment building was probably the best idea we've ever had."

There were three of them total that gathered every other day. Felix, Jerry, and Maria. They would get together at the front door and walk in together, hot boxing a different room every time. Jerry would (usually) provide the reefer, Maria provided the smoking paraphernalia (bongs, pipes, papers, she had everything) and Felix would provide the guarantee that they wouldn't get caught.

"After this we should see if we can get into the club and have a few drinks." Jerry said. "Now pass me that pipe, damn it."

"Sorry." Felix murmured as he handed the pipe over. "I really don't think the club would be the best idea right now. When you were readying the bowl I looked outside and there was a mob or something out there."

"And here we are smoking up." Maria quietly said. Felix could tell from her tone of voice that she wanted to see what was going on across the street.

"Fine, let's check it out." Felix said, "...after this bowl."[/FONT][/COLOR]
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[size=1][font=Verdana]In front of her stood a man counting out 20 dollar bills. Anna sat there staring down at her feet, not wanting to look him in the eye. They were in a stall, a bathroom stall. It smelled like piss and ass everywhere one's nostrils dare to venture

"300 enough?" he asked her. His voice was generic. His slacks and shoes were generic. Anna knew if she looked up at him, his face, his shirt, his hair would look generic. They always do.

"$400" she replied, her Russian accent weighing heavily on her voice.

"$400 for a toilet fuck? Maybe you haven't got a good concept of money around here." said the guy.

Anna looked up at him, her eyes showing how unconvinced she was. "Add five more dubs to that little stack you've made."

"Well," the man said, moving his hand as if to put his money away, "maybe one of those fresh off the boat-Ruskie motherfuckers back in Little Odessa are willing to pay that much, but I'm not buying it. Either take the $300 or nothing at..."

Before he could finish he felt a sharp pain in his pelvis. Looking down, he saw that she had grabbed his genitals, all of them, in a pincer like grip. He felt the undeniably sickening feeling as she not only squeezed them, but juggled them in her fingers.

"You were saying?" she asked, a slight grin on her face.

The guy's eyes narrowed and met directly with hers, "Bitch..."

He grabbed her and forced her to the wall behind the toilet, slamming her head into it. Her thick head of hair softened the blow slightly. Anna lifted her legs up and using as much force as she could, drove her heels into the man's stomach. She couldn't help but thank god that she had on stilettos. The guy fell back out of the stall, breaking the door and falling hard onto the floor.

As nimble and quickly as she could Anna fell onto him and thrusted her knee directly into his pelvis. She did it again and again and again. By now the nauseating feeling was too great for the guy to do anything to stop her. She did it one more time for good measure.

"American pig." Anna said, collecting herself and going for the man's wallet. She went through it and grabbed all the cash he had, upwards towards $800. "Next time do not play."

Anna took the money, stuffed it into her bra, and began walking out of the bathroom. The guy, in an immense amount of pain, stumbled to his feet.

"Fuckin' Bitch. Get back here!" he yelled.

He started running after her in an attempt to tackle her. Suddenly, he saw nothing but gold strands. They clouded his vision, they were everywhere, these golden strands. Just as suddenly as they appeared, they disappeared and he ran headfirst into a wall, the blow knocking him out. The last thing he remembered was all of her hair slipping out of the door as it closed behind her...

[left][size=1]Anna walked out into the club and saw that a riot had broken out. Thanks to her idiot ATM back in the bathroom, she missed how it started. She walked over to the bar and called the bartender over.

"Vodka. And while you're getting it, tell me what happened." said Anna, turning around and watching the mess.

"I don't know," said the bartender, pulling out a full bottle of Vodka, "they just busted in here. Alot of the girls bailed for the night, If I were you I would too."

"That may be a good idea," replied Anna, seeing the guy from earlier emerge from the bathroom door, "can I take the bottle with me?"

The bartender looked down at the bottle and the shot he just poured Anna. He shrugged and gulped down the shot and handed Anna the bottle, "Don't let the boss know I did this for you."

"You know I won't, can I borrow your coat also? It's somewhat cold outside and well..." Anna gestured her hand to bring attention to what she had on. She was nearly naked with the exception of lingerie.

"You're killing me Anna," said the bartender as she threw Anna a coat over the counter.

Anna put the coat on and tucked the bottle of vodka away on it's inside and headed towards an emergency exit. Right before exited the club, she took a quick look back and saw her friend Khali, doing what Khali did best. Anna kissed the air in her direction, [i]I hope you make it home, kid.[/i] Anna left and disappeared into the streets behind the club.

The walk home was lonely. Usually she walked with Khali after a night at the club, but it was too much going on for Anna to grab her friend. Anna looked back to her experience in the bathroom. That was her first time doing anything like that, but all the money she put towards tryouts really hit her hard this month. She knew Khali would have understood if she came up short on the bills this month, but she didn't want to unbalance the set up they had for paying bills. She thought back to all the tryouts she had been to recently. The judges' criticisms played back fluidly in her mind.

[i]You're too short....
You're butt's too big...
Maybe if you cut your hair...
Was that even in the script...
We're looking for someone with red hair...
You're butt's not big enough...
I'm sorry...
You're just not...
What we're looking for...

[/i]By the time Anna got back home, she had thought herself sick. The little apartment never looked so good. She plunked her share of the rent on the table and turned on the shower. 15 minutes later Anna was in a sports bra and sweat pants, sipping Vodka and watching the late night news. Of course the developing story was the riot at the night club...

OOC:Sorry for the long post about nothing.
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[size=1]I pulled into the district, having stalked the mob nearly their entire pursuit. The cherry glow of my cigarette was all that could give me away through the tint, smoke seeping out the crack of the window. I slowed as I came by the angry mob who had gathered outside a strip club. I rolled my window down a bit further and flicked that spent cig to ground.There was an alley just ahead, accelerating foward I pulled into it and shut off my car. I had taken only a step out before I realized I was a bit revealed, pulling my pantleg down to conceal the combat knife tucked in my boot.I stretched my back as I got out. It had been a long, slow trip. Whatever these people were following, it put some ground on 'em. I should probably button my coat together to hide my gun ...

"That a nice ride you got there," a voice came from behind me. It's just not this thug's day. "How much would'ya sell it f--!" Sorry ... I had to cut this mugging short. The crack you just heard was your head against that wall. You'll wake up in about a half hour. With my keys in hand I closed my car door, and smiled at the brief song of the car-alarm setting in.

As I emerged from the alley I keyed in to some kids stumbling out of an old apartment building not far off, and some desperate hookers trying to pawn their services to the mob. The kids weren't a threat. Nor were the hookers. Move on.

As I got closer I could hear some louder voices from the inside. They appeared to be arguing, and from what I could make out, the struggle was within the mob itself. The door to the club was mostly blocked by the backend of the crowd, be I pushed his way through, getting a few sneers but most were so caught up in the action they didn't notice me.

"What do you think you're doing?! Don't let that slut tempt you like that! What of your wife?!" ... It was quite the sight indeed. One of the showgirls had herself suspended from the ceiling, her legs draped over the shoulders of who must have been the leader of the mob. He seemed stuck where he was, he couldn't help but be sinful. The little security the joint had was keeping the mob at bay, but couldn't get them out. I made my way to the front.

"Listen, tramp! We just want that monster you were pleasing," shouted the same person from before. A lady.

"Monster?" I interjected. "What monster?"

Suddenly the entire attention of the club was shifted to me. Ironic, but only for those who know.

"That [i]freak[/i]! That [i]thing[/i] there cowering against the wall!" The lady pointed to a man staying back in one of the private rooms. He seemed to be looking for the fast way out, not that there seemed to be one with all the people, but maybe he could see something I couldn't. It was at this time I noticed many of the jury were wearing crosses from their necks. Boy were they in the wrong pla--


"Do you know him?! Are you here to protect him?"

"John 8:1-11," I said. Funny ... I don't remember having ever read up on scripture. Improvise. "Surely one of you can tell me the famous line from that."

They grew silent. Some looked confused, others seemed to swallow their guilt. They knew it, and they knew where this was going.

"Let he who has not sinned cast the first stone ..." a man uttered quietly from the mob.

"Well ...?" I said, enticing them. Seeing who would be so arrogant to claim their slate is pure, but there was not a soul among them without holes. They pulled back a bit, no longer putting pressure on club security.

"You're all born with it. [i]He[/i] was born with it," I motioned to the man they were after. "There's no one sin that is worse than another ...

And regardless of doctrine, you may have this place outnumbered, but you're outgunned. You're in the wrong part of town. Taking one life is not worth what would be sacrificed in the process."

The bartender brought his shotgun out from under the counter and laid it across the bar. The mob to great note of it, and slowly began backing away and went out the way they came. The showgirl released the man from her grasp as he left. The reality check had set in. I'm still not sure what this whole thing was about, but it was over for now. We could still see them lingering outside, but this place had become a haven against them.

I took my seat at the bar. "Jack, on the rocks." The bartender put his gun away, set the glass up and poured the whiskey. The hustling of the club contiued as it was.[/size]
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[FONT=Arial][COLOR=Indigo][SIZE=1]"Fuuuuck. What just happened?" I was lying in the corner of the private booth, the stripper standing over me. My body was aching from head to toe from my earlier escape, as usual, but now my head was throbbing like it'd been having an intimate conversation with the asphalt. The stripper turned to me.

"Just an angry mob. Nothing to be worried about." She flashed me a smile and I shook my head, regretting the decision to ever come here and put these people at risk to begin with.

"Oh gee, yes, thank goodness it was only an angry mob." I sighed and collapsed back into the corner, closing my eyes to escape the pain. It wasn't usually this bad - most times it was like running a marathon, but nothing that could bowl me over for good - but tonight all I felt was burning from my shoulders down.

"You okay, hun?" I shook my head. "Anything I can do?" I shook my head again. "I'm really good at making people feel better..." A hot flash of pain shot through me and I groaned involuntarily, realising only too late that the woman had taken it as her cue to 'make me feel better'. Silently she shut the door and crouched before me, ripping off my shirt before my enfeebled arms could stop her. Knowing what was coming next, I braced myself for the removal of jeans over my swollen painful thighs, and was surprised when she stopped at my trunks.

"Wow..." she said softly, running her hands over my inflamed legs. "What have you been doing to tear yourself up this bad? I've never even hurt my muscles this bad, and I'm a dancer." I winced as her roaming hands hit a sore spot.

"I've been doing a lot of running," I managed. "I'm sure you understand." She made a 'tut tut' sound with her tongue and slowly started rubbing at my legs, her hands practicing some sort of witchcraft that made the pain almost instantly dissipate. Looking down I saw the swelling starting to disappear also, and couldn't believe my eyes.

"Just how hard were you running?" she asked, looking up at me. I shrugged.

"About 50." She raised an eyebrow. "...miles per hour." She laughed and continued her massage, now working at my calves.

"Surely you're joking, right?" I managed a painful grin.

"Mobs don't chase ordinary joes like me for no reason, right?" She made an mmm noise as she moved past my legs to knead my chest and arms.

"You know, I'm a bit like you..."

"You can run 50 miles an hour?" She laughed.

"No, no. Nothing of the sort. I have..." she paused and looked up at me, biting her lip. "Promise you won't laugh." Locked in this cramped room, with a beautiful woman in scanty lingerie massaging my muscles in a way I'd never experienced before, I was ready to believe anything.

"I won't laugh."

"I have powers." This time I raised an eyebrow. "Like superspeed but not. I had it tested through this weird company once, before the superhuman hysteria."

"...go on."

"I exude these... pheromones that enable me to control a person any way I want... potentially on an even larger scale, with practice, they said. I've never really found a use for it outside of the sex industry though..." A lightbulb went off in my head as I remembered our earlier incident at the bar.

"Are you doing that right now?" I asked, gritting my as she worked on a viscious knot. "Sending pheromones to like, my white blood cells and stuff?" She winked and resumed her rubbing.

"Maybe I'm just really good at massages..." she said devilishly, before slowly pealing down my trunks.


Sometime later I staggered out of the private booth and limped to the bar, taking my previous seat next to a guy I vaguely remember preaching to the mob before.

"The same?" the barman asked, seemingly unphased by having a screaming mob rampage through the club. I nodded and he poured my shots, getting out my wallet as he did so. He put his hand up and shook his head.

"Not for you buddy. This guy next to you has already said he'd pay your way." I turned to the man and he nodded at me knowingly. I nodded back, an expression of thanks on my face, before donning the first shot and turning back to the bar.

"This is turning into a better night than I had planned," I remarked to no one in particular.[/SIZE][/COLOR][/FONT]
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[COLOR=DarkOrchid][font=times][i]The back room of the club was messy...full of women in nothing, women next to nothing, stoic bodyguards standing still at doorways... And then there were clothes, robes, boas, thongs, towels, draped over every flat or hooked surface. By comparison, Khali's table and mirror was relatively clean. She had hung some of her ropes over her table and chair, marking it off as her property, and then had added strands of purple fabric over everything else.

At the table she stood, removing her sweat stained clothes, switching off for moderately less revealing Playboy jeans and a silk blouse. She slipped on a pair of slender black stilettos, while simultaneously flicking her hair out of her eyes. Staring into the mirror, she placed her fingers at the scalp, then fluffed it out furiously, and whipped it back for that lovely tousled look. Thus attired, she flipped her denim jacket over her shoulder, noticing that her room mate had left behind her clothes and jacket.

"She probably made good her escape earlier... Lucky."

Khali tripped down the hall towards the main bar, and sat between the man who had shouted down the mob and the pretty one, Lance. She caught the bartender's eye and he slid her a shot of Bombay Sapphire. Bracing herself, she tossed back the monstrously awful stuff and swallowed. The only good news was that it was both a perfectly effective painkiller and a really good pick me up. Lance raised an eyebrow.[/i]

"Isn't that stuff awful?"

"Oh absolutely. I hate gin."

[i]Lance raised an eyebrow and Al chuckled audibly while Khali did a second. She flashed him a grin and held out a hand, flicking her fingers in the direction of his cigarette. He handed it over obligingly, and she took a long drag, exhaling slowly. The smoke danced around her face, curling up along her dark eyelashes and she locked eyes with him, sending out a tentative and controlled burst of pheromones.[/i]

"Thanks for rescuing us. I could've taken out a few, but it's true what they say. ...humans really are like sheep. But I'm sure you knew that all along."

[i]He jerked his head once in response and took another sip of his drink. Satisfied, Khali smirked and spun the empty glass in her hands. She leaned back against the bar to get both Lance and the cyborg in her view.[/i]

"My name's Khali by the way. It's nice to meet you both."

[i]Lance managed a sheepish grin. It might have been a little awkward to finally know the name of the stripper who had just swallowed his kids not fifteen minutes ago... ...but if she was relaxed, why shouldn't he be too?[/i][/font][/COLOR]
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