Six-O
The Pan-Galactic Scumbag
Objective: BYOO - Time Between
Location: Tree-Frog Motel, Testa
Enemy: None
Posts: 5/20
[youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IAjGdmFKf8E[/youtube]
His head swam, not just in the literal sense of that notion. But metaphorical, figuratively and all that far out low down free loving jazz. He and Six-O were between crimes, sort of, the proverbial wind down after a high-profile murder fest. The news was making lots of hay over the situation. Lot's of big names were printed in black on the obituaries.
Only one had been the target, the rest were but gravy on the Coruscant Hydroponic Potatoes.
The rains had come back again, strolling on through, chill in their step. Lightning the tapping cane that clicked at pace. The windows, hidden behind thick fabric curtains that hadn't been slapped out probably for the last two decades, dripped the tears of the outer gloom from the world outside.
Inside the room was thick of smoke, victim of some wildly untamed debauchery. The sheer scope of drugs and party favors enough to lock Big Boo up for the rest of his life, and initiate a well-deserved deactivation of his Droid friend, Six-O.
A scream, muffled from behind an obvious gag of tape barely broke the percussion of music that filled their humble abode.
Big Boo, back planted lazily in a fluffed up satin pillow, red of color, bathed in vivid blue glow of LED neon. His mind expanding it's consciousness in a multi-colored, hallucinatory, kaleidoscopic journey of psychedelic variety. Riding those far out, groovy waves of sound. He could taste the music, smell the sounds.
His goggle oculars simulating that freaky mind-bending gasp of ego killing perception as he melted away for a thousand years in the psychotomimetic trip.
He was just a note of music, touring a Galaxy beyond the Galaxy. In existential bliss, void of hate, pain, suffering. Love incarnate. At the very precipice of this far-out jam that vibrated the very soul within, climax. Orgasmic-ly fervid elation the power of which could never be obtained again.
"Maaaaaaaaannnnn!" Big Boo purred, stupor so thick in voice one couldn't even tell if he knew where he was right now---he didn't.
Funny the two sides of the coin that this seedy little motel room currently displayed.
Another scream.
Through the contraband strewn, food laden room. A much brighter light than this trippy neon shone.
Shrill cry beckon once more.
Inside, the source of music was shown; Six-O.
Serena Degazio, a beautiful 16 year old girl of the human variety clung to life in it's most cruel form. Her only crime? Her father was a big name in the Rutanian Customs for Exportation Services.
She screamed once more as the Droid applied it's penchant for sickly defiling to her soft brown flesh. He had a masterpiece to craft.
And his art would be forever remembered once unveiled.
Location: Tree-Frog Motel, Testa
Enemy: None
Posts: 5/20
[youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IAjGdmFKf8E[/youtube]
His head swam, not just in the literal sense of that notion. But metaphorical, figuratively and all that far out low down free loving jazz. He and Six-O were between crimes, sort of, the proverbial wind down after a high-profile murder fest. The news was making lots of hay over the situation. Lot's of big names were printed in black on the obituaries.
Only one had been the target, the rest were but gravy on the Coruscant Hydroponic Potatoes.
The rains had come back again, strolling on through, chill in their step. Lightning the tapping cane that clicked at pace. The windows, hidden behind thick fabric curtains that hadn't been slapped out probably for the last two decades, dripped the tears of the outer gloom from the world outside.
Inside the room was thick of smoke, victim of some wildly untamed debauchery. The sheer scope of drugs and party favors enough to lock Big Boo up for the rest of his life, and initiate a well-deserved deactivation of his Droid friend, Six-O.
A scream, muffled from behind an obvious gag of tape barely broke the percussion of music that filled their humble abode.
Big Boo, back planted lazily in a fluffed up satin pillow, red of color, bathed in vivid blue glow of LED neon. His mind expanding it's consciousness in a multi-colored, hallucinatory, kaleidoscopic journey of psychedelic variety. Riding those far out, groovy waves of sound. He could taste the music, smell the sounds.
His goggle oculars simulating that freaky mind-bending gasp of ego killing perception as he melted away for a thousand years in the psychotomimetic trip.
He was just a note of music, touring a Galaxy beyond the Galaxy. In existential bliss, void of hate, pain, suffering. Love incarnate. At the very precipice of this far-out jam that vibrated the very soul within, climax. Orgasmic-ly fervid elation the power of which could never be obtained again.
"Maaaaaaaaannnnn!" Big Boo purred, stupor so thick in voice one couldn't even tell if he knew where he was right now---he didn't.
Funny the two sides of the coin that this seedy little motel room currently displayed.
Another scream.
Through the contraband strewn, food laden room. A much brighter light than this trippy neon shone.
Shrill cry beckon once more.
Inside, the source of music was shown; Six-O.
Serena Degazio, a beautiful 16 year old girl of the human variety clung to life in it's most cruel form. Her only crime? Her father was a big name in the Rutanian Customs for Exportation Services.
She screamed once more as the Droid applied it's penchant for sickly defiling to her soft brown flesh. He had a masterpiece to craft.
And his art would be forever remembered once unveiled.