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Subterfuge: pt 3I hear Boy Scout behind me, his heart beating about as frantically as a chicken with his head cut off. Idiot. I close my eyes, thinking of the diner's twisted wreckage, the sheer awe and terror of passersby. It had been awhile since I had seen those looks, and longer still since I was able to enjoy them. Boy Scout catches up to me, looking at me with his mossy eyes, rounded in childish fear.
"Nichole? Where are we going?" My own eyes narrow at his, resisting the urge to slap him stupid well, stupider.
"Nichole is not my name!" I hiss quietly, a sharp edge in my voice. He shies away, trembling a little. I shake my head, looking down at the sewers below us. "Do not try and call me by name, Boy Scout, because you'll invariably be disappointed." I turn as a film of blue covers my eyes. flashes into view. Great; just what I needed when trying to escape a private army.
My HUD chip begins scanning things in my immediate vicinity, downloading information from who knows where for a purpos
Subterfuge: pt 2My ears rang, white dots popping in my eyes as I fell onto the sidewalk, looking at the diner as it crackled with vibrant orange flames. I could hear her, almost distantly, yelling at me to get up as she took a few steps back. She had been carrying a gun, despite what Matthew's crew had been saying. I realized almost immediately that she had known we were watching her, knew that we were going to check her for weapons, and hid the handgun behind one of her shoulder blades, where we wouldn't be able to see it.
This, however, did not explain why the diner had so rudely been bombed, or why my counterpart, her name allegedly being "Nichole", was shooting at a few policemen arriving on the scene, EMTs behind them only by seconds. I shook violently, the ringing in my ears getting louder and louder until I was almost completely deaf; making the sounds of my primal screams of fear sound like whimpers. She dragged me up, pulling me into a run after her before swinging me into an alcove of a decr
Subterfuge: Pt 1 I was hardly what you would consider a private soldier. Lanky, awkward and taller than most since middle school, all those months of boot camp hardly helped my physique get much more defined than a slightly well-built track runner. Yet there I was, one of the lieutenants for Mr. Pete Coswell (a stiff in the Automotive industry), and one of the best. This, while I'm proud of it, doesn't mean anything Not after meeting her.
It was September in North Star City, a more frigid day than the regular 60 degrees, described by the local weatherman as a "cold snap". Six o'clock in the morning, the sun barely peeking over some of the high-rises and making the streets show their scars. I wasn't there, however; I was sitting uncomfortably in a cramped apartment with twenty-odd people, all staring almost wildly at a television monitor. Except, of course, for me, who was quite mildly smoking a cigarette on the balcony, looking at the glass from an office
I Belong To You I hate rain. Not really, I love it. Just not when the most beautiful, perfect, wonderful, perfect, comfortable, waterproof, perfect coat in existence has been savagely butchered by my so-called friend’s Dalmatian. Every slap of rain on my naked arms is a stinging reminder of the irreparable hole in my wardrobe.
Some people might try to fill the void with lesser coats but I can’t bring myself to betray Valentino, even after her death. Instead my slippery arms grapple with each other in wet shock as I stumble to the op shop, clinging to one last thread of hope. I know in my deadened heart that I’ll never have another coat like her. Yet here I am, blundering through the elements in my vain search for the acceptance and warmth I found wrapped in Valentino’s woollen sleeves.
Thud. My body slams into the door, making the ‘open’ sign quiver and the bells tinkle in offense. I fight for entry, the door’s assault doubled by the stale funk of
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^Nyx-Valentine arrived in our community and started whipping everyone into a frenzy with her relentless desire to bring the Artistic Nude and Fetish galleries to the fore. 9 years later, and it's safe to say that Nyx is not only a leader as a photographer in these galleries, but she has also established herself as a much saught after model. ^... Read More