Crimson Looks Good On Us--PM for invite

[Dancer]

Her black dress ran dark with blood spots. Its once gorgeous and flawless edges were now ragged. What was before a gorgeous crimson waterfall of Freeflowing locks had become a mess of hair and dried blood. Her flawless skin was marked with cuts, slices, burns, and dried mud.

Darkness surrounded her, and Mystique liked that. Her dark green eyes glared out at the world around her with a venomous hate of agony. She could see the world moving my. Happy. Fathers and sons were out in the park, playing and forming lasting memories. Couples strolled by, lost in their love.

It wasn't fair.

It wasn't right.

The deathly woman slunk from her hiding place behind the speeders, stalking her prey at the edge of the park. A man and his dark haired woman strolled by, lost in each other's eyes.

"--you are so silly, Thomas," She giggled, giving him a playful slap on the shoulder.

He gave a confident smirk, "Well I--"

Mystique sprang from her hiding place, her knife flashed in a grisly action. Her hand gripped his throat, pinning the man to a tree as her blade dug deep into his stomach. She looked deeply into his eyes, savoring the pain, the horror, that moment of realization that his life--was over. How many times had she seen it in the last week? Many. She had lost count.

With a flick of her wrist, she ripped through his flesh, sending his innards flowing out in a mass of blood. It soaked her, the ground, spilling out of his hands.

"God, Tom, no, no, no," the woman wailed, recoiling in horror.

Mystique turned slowly, savoring the wails of torment. It was a symphony to her ears.

At last she lowered herself to the eyelevel of the woman.

"The pain you feel, it feels like your life is over, like nothing matters and nothing will ever be the same," she said at last, her voice cold, clear and crisp, "And like the pain will never end. And you tell yourself over and over again that that it will, one day but it won't. It gets worse and stacks on you like a never ending mountain of agony. You want nothing more than release, sweet release and freedom from the pain," she paused, letting the sobs fill the air and letting the woman have a few moments to think about the words. The former dancer reached into her belt and pulled out a kitchen knife she had garnered along her way, "So end the pain."

[member="Thraxis"]

 

[Thraxis]

Crimson surrounded by Darkness, slithering along the back alleyways a group of dead men and women had been littered, a set of jet armor coating a man as he twisted with glee, his black hair traced with blood of either innocents or criminals. At this point the titles affixed to them were nothing more then a frivolity. He sighed for a bit, his hand motioning down to his trenchoat now thick with the stench of metallic liquid, pulling out a small vial of unknown swill. With haste his arm reeled back into the common pace, the thick stench of powerful alcohol almost taking over before trailing down his throat.

He paused for a second. He had heard there were a string of murders on Soceras. He had seen their work, it was shabby at best, no care for the delicate knife work, this person was out for blood. He was no different, but at least had fun with it. Though in cultivation of death, most people do find it exhilarating. Slowly he paced himself, each step making as much damage to the carcass's as he approached his helmet, its face stained with blood as he slowly squished onto him, the feeling of blood pouring from his hair and falling into his teeth was a delight to say the least.

He looked up, some bugs had already came for their feast, their was no care by these little buggers. Just a meal sitting in front of them, slowly rotting away like all life before it. Slowly he pounced with a step, walking along sewing behind him a trail of blooded footsteps. He had no idea how corrupt the police where here, but if they couldn't catch an amateur, he doubted they could catch him.

Then a noise sounded, faint around the echoing town. He paused as a couple approached him, slithering back he flipped his coat inside out, wiping his mask of blood and taking back his pace with the people. Children walked past, large grins as they walked past the smiling face, only to be returned by a hidden spite.

He looked around, his eyes watching and waiting, trying to pinpoint the scream before moving to the park. There were plenty of targets there. Most are unprepared for death, surrounded by the smiling faces of peers and strangers, though in a park, there were plenty of places to hide. At least, long enough to get away. The trees canvas can hide someone for weeks on end, even the toilets can do well, until death starts to stench the place up.

As he looked around he saw nothing but smiling faces, nothing out of the ordinary, which meant he had to become a victim to find them. He took a stroll, his entire body changed, his actions becoming vacant as he wandered around, bumping into something on the occasion, just enough to catch the eye of a keen killer, but not enough to draw the attention of anyone in the park. His arms strolled through the air, pausing every few seconds to catch his breath as he paused at the many benches, waiting for the cobra to strike the lion.
[member=Mystique]

 

[Dancer]

Mystique watched as the sobbing woman took the knife

Her hands shook as she gripped the hilt and drove the blade into her own body. As tears came from her eyes, the strange woman stifled a sob, the pain was intense--and self inflicted.

"Ah--aat least--T-tom and I-I-I get to be to-together th-is way," she managed.

Mystique gripped this foolish hoe by her throat. The fresh blood of her love tainted the woman's dark skin. A half sense of terror shone out from behind her tears, mixed with pain, relief, and hope.

"You fool," Mystique said, her voice cold with venom, "you can never and will never see him again." she watched as the woman's eyes morphed from relief to terror and pure panic. Mystique twisted the blade in her victim's body, pulling out more blood and more suffering, "Die with that knowledge."

The woman's carcass fell and Mystique could feel the pain on her again. The maddening, crushing pain of her dead Scarlet. The Crimson haired dancer rose to her feet and blended into the shadows again. She saw another victim. A man. She followed him with graceful, but determined steps. Her body shifted, sliding through to follow him. At last she saw him perch on a bench. Perfect. The dancer's feet quickened at last as she moved in from behind, her blade clutched in her hand tight with anticipation.

@Thraxis

 

[Thraxis]

He waited, the pacing of feet, the fluent motion through, it was the way of the serial killer. To chase down their target. The kill that pulsed through her, the desire for more, his eyes looked down, a smile splitting across his face as he waited. Waited for the opportune moment. Then he heard it, as if he could feel their pulse. This one had true delusions in their mind if they couldn't see an act when it was happening right in front of them.

He ejected his needle, this play thing was gonna be fun. He paused for a second, looking with cold eyes, intensity mounting until he heard the first step, the first snap of the cobra's body, only for the lion to bite its head off. Time itself felt as if it slowed down, he could feel the killers lust between the two of them, it was a rare moment of ecstasy to see it but when felt. It was one of bliss.

His entire upper body twisted with an almost natural snap, his finger darting forward, it was a risky play, if this person had anything more then cloth on, then it would be a fight to the death. Armored God vs Knife Wielding Maniac.
[member=Mystique]

 

[Dancer]

I [member="Thraxis"] I

The dancer launched herself at the man. Her left hand stretched out, her ragged blood-tainted talons were twisted in a savage, angry grasp. Her teeth were barred in a vicious growl as she slammed into the Zeltron. Rage filled her, the love of the hunt. The hunger. The anticipation. She could all but feel his blood on her skin and taste it on her lips. The viscaral relief of his death was all but upon her.

As her body made contact with his armored body, she tried to knock him flat. Mystique was faintly aware of the sounds of screaming as the bystanders fled for their pathetic existance or watched in abject horror. Her knife rammed against his armored Carapace again and again and again. Frustration built in her as she tried to rip deeply into his flesh. Her free hand clawed at his garments, trying to find purchase. Her legs hooked around his body, coiling herself to him. Her blood lust was only eclipsed by her tenacity.

"Die you queen," she snarled. "Die!"

 

[Thraxis]

It seemed he had overestimated his abilities, the foes movement were quicker and harsher then he expected, his needle landing a few inches of its target, before returning into his finger, "Hmmmm.... Should have thought this more through..." he muttered, the screams of the people was almost electrifying losing focus on the target as his eyes darted about all the people running for safety.

He paused for a second, his eyes narrowing as he took focus, continuing to sit down to let the gravity sink in. The knife wasn't piercing Phirik anytime soon. Though it didn't take long, before his blood soaked trenchcoat fell to the ground with a thud, its body shredded apart from the knife wounds. His entire body was covered in a thick layer of blood. "Now, I want you too know. This isn't my blood." he stated as he started to move with haste, trying to get some distance between the two of them.

In no more then a few seconds he felt the cobra wrap its body around him, his eyes filling with anger as he felt the continuous push of the blade, "Sorry darling, I don't swing." he spat with venom, his arms lynching around her legs as he quickly directed himself towards a large nearby tree. Slowly he started to run, gaining more momentum, before finally turning on his boots, the rocket propelled power sending him flying towards the tree, with the young lasses head as the prime target.
[member=Mystique]

 

[Dancer]

Mystique snarled with rage as he wrapped around her legs. She was angry, this was taking longer than had anticipated---but anger was good. Anger was better than pain and at least it was a good release from it. Anger mixed with pleasure as she became aware of the idea. Her fingers clawed at him without release or without mercy. She was actually quite unaware of his running or rocket boots.

Wind whipped her blood-tainted hair around, into her face, around against his breastplate, and probably into [member="Thraxis"]' face. In frustration, she bit at this stranger's arms. Her movement, however, saved her life. It moved her head at the last moment from the path of the tree, instead her shoulder hit the wood with a sickeningly sweet pop. Mystique felt her body bounce across the ground and she gave a sharp cry--not of pain but of masochistic delight. She sat back on her knees like a savage hunter before looking down at her right arm. It hung limp from its socket, most likely dislocated.

Her dark green eyes flashed at the Zeltron with a moment of respect and admiration. He had been alive, well a lot longer than she had thought. A trickle of blood streamed from her bottom lip as the crimson haired dancer gave a twisted smirk.

"You think that hurts?" she challenged him, her voice coldly emotionless, "You have no idea what pain is."

Her body crouched low as the woman began to stalk him, circling low. Her arm hung useless, dragging on the ground as she refused to turn her back to him. Watching. Waiting.

[member="Thraxis"]

 

[Thraxis]

His brow raised, he was hoping for a more explosive reaction, but instead got a simple limp arm. A quick sigh as he watched her prowl around, spewing her incessant fool speak as he turned and watched. "Your right. I don't know what pain feels like." he spat, a quick glimmer of joy erupting from his eyes before another explosive kick from his boots, "Because I am too busy dealing it out to snot nosed runts." he spat out, pausing himself after what he thought was a heavy hit.

He snapped for a second, his fingers running towards his guns before realizing they had been tossed aside along with his coat. Slowly he paced himself, his digits running along it to see if it was even still wearable, "Now if you don't mind, this place deserves a proper Serial killer. Not so wannabe rookie." he said with a bow that showed nothing more then contemptuous rage, "However, if death is what you wish." he said as he slowly snapped his helmet off, blood dripping from across his brow, his hair crusted with the blood of his previous victims. His eyes piercing through with a blazed vengeance. "You will end up like all the rest. A meaningless kill. A pathetic child who thought they could best a self-made king." he said as his lips coiled and twisted into a sickened smile, his tongue beating against the inside of his lips, rushing along the few drops of blood that had fallen from his brow.
[member=Mystique]

 

[Dancer]

The savage dancer prowled around Thraxis, waiting for her moment. She lunged forward for a moment, sensing her chance to strike.

Thraxis' boot caught her in a well-timed strike. Her body loosened, relaxing and falling on the ground. She could see stars as she felt herself loose consiousness. Despite the shot to her glass jaw, the woman's hand still gripped her blade tightly. Its bloodied edge was the last thing she had of her lost love, the final memory of better days.

[member="Thraxis"]

 

[Thraxis]

He paused for a second, coming to the realization his latter speech was null and void because of the strike, "Hmmmm... was expecting more of a fight." he said as he looked around, the pigs were starting to dart to the scene and time was getting short. With haste he moved quickly towards the Trenchcoat, trying to get some grip around it only for the blood to weigh it down. Its body was a mangled mess.

Tears started to roll down his eyes, this coat had been with him since he joined the Jackals and escaped Zeltros. He fell to his knees, aloud cry being echoed from his voice as he recalled all the memories. The sweet memories. But now, they were gone, forgotten in a tide of blood and tears as the Officers started to get closer. He took out his guns, placing them in his Belt quickly, before taking off a single button. The last memento of his once great Coat.

Thraxis eyes burled with vengeance, he had lost his coat to some petty murderer, someone who couldn't even get the job done right. With a bounce of rage, he grabbed the child around his arms, tossing her over his shoulder, he snarled as he started to dart away from the scene the officers starting to make haste around him.

He pulled out his comm, "Get the Pitt ready! Get a Ship down here. I have a special Guest. And she is mine alone." he snarled with bloodshot eyes, the cracks between his teeth filled with the blood of his previous victims. After a few minutes of waiting a ship finally arrived, hoping in with a thud he tossed the girls carcass to the side, sitting across from her with more scorn then a mothers.
[member=Mystique]

 

[Dancer]

The familiar pain of waking from a head injury filled Mysique's body. She opened her eyes, blinking her dry eyes and trying to overcome the daze she could feel across herself. Shackles bound her wrists to the wall, at least for now. Her ragged dress had been reduced even further, to a halter top and skirt.

It took her a few moments to shake herself from the pain throbbing in her body. It took her a few more to recall that she wasn't a slave anymore. Everything else fell into place--Scarlet's death, the pain, the killings, the man who kicked her.

Rage burned deep in her veins as the woman vowed revenge. Glaring into the dark, her green eyes narrowed to slits. She balled her fists, driving her ragged nails into her flesh, making them sting. She wanted to kill, She wanted so badly to destroy and ravage it ached in her body like nothing else.

"Come out you little piece of shit," she spat, her thick saliva matted with blood hit the dirt floor, "Come out and I will make you a man."

[member="Thraxis"]

 

[Thraxis]

From the corner of an eye, the flick of rage bursting from a being of pure rage as he revealed himself, his armor was gone, his right arm a pulsating mass of obsidian. Up and down were the worms, following the veined tissue as the sound of Gammoreans chanted from speakers in the room. It was rare for Thraxis to take interest in a subject. And the first he had ever been angry for.

As he took his steps the Darkside emanated from his arm, pulsating into an almost roar. All over his body, were scars and bruises, not a single inch didn't have a scar that told a tale. "You wench. You have no idea where you are." he hissed out, his rage audible as it flicked from his tongue. His eyes focused on his preys, projecting a ray of hate unconsciously. "This Pitt you see around you, is ten layers deeper then the deepest of hells." he chuckled, though his face never changed, the air of menace wrapping around him like the finger of a rancor.

Slowly he hovered over, each step feeling like it could crush the dirt beneath him as his head rose, "Do you know why you are here. What sort of act you have done to enact the Wrath of a Vestiege?!" he literally spat, his teeth cracking his lips, the crimsons staining the cracks of his teeth as he glared at his prey. Literally an inch away from headbutting her to death.
[member=Mystique]

 

[Dancer]

"I don't care where the hell I am," she shouted back, straining against her chains. The rusty metal pressed against he pale, thin wrists, clanking and keeping her in place.

She took the hate in with a lust hunger. Yes, it hurt, and yes it was fiery, but it hurt less than the loss of her Scarlet. It numbed it like a feirce drug that threatened to destroy her. A person who wanted to live, who had something to live for, would have shied away, but Mystique didn't. She wanted it to end like no one and nothing else ever, it would be a sweet, sweet release from the captivity of her mortality.

She glared back at his face, less than a few inches from her own. His malice, she shot right back at him with the venom in her green, rich eyes. This was exactly where she wanted to be.

"Go to bloody hell," she growled back from between her clenched teeth, the words were barely audible.

[member="Thraxis"]

 

[Thraxis]

"Hell you say?" he said with an inquisitive tone, a flash of joy bouncing across him before settling back to unrefined hate, "My dear, I live there. In fact. You are a guest in my house." he said with a smile, his fingers snapping against each other creating an audible click. A large Gammorean came rolling in, a large tray of medical equipment lay adorned on the table, as well as a doctors coat.

He strolled over, putting on his coat with a cough as he pulled out a record of sorts, "Ah yes... Patient Number Double Zero Two." he said as his fingers ran along the board, picking up a single needle, "Tell me. Do you know who I am per chance?" he said with a smile, his tone completely changed, it was as if he was a professional doctor, "My name, is Thraxis. In the entire Galaxy I am the best at what I do." he said as his teeth were shown, the cracks of blood still dripping from his maw. each and every word coated in an almost jubilant tone.

His finger flicked against the needle, shaking his head, "No... this simply will not do." placing it down with a ginger touch he grabbed another, with a flick he smiled, "This however will." he said as he turned with grace, a single foot placed on the ground as he almost danced towards the women. "You see, I am the best. Because in my entire life. Anyone I torture. They do not die." a warm smile cracking over his face as his head tilted. "You will be here for quite some time. And there is no chance." he paused, his finger waggling before placing the needle against her skin. All it done was paralyze the body, whilst letting the sensation of pain continue to role over. "And I mean no chance, that death will embrace you here." he looked up, that same smile almost frozen on his face.
[member=Mystique]

 

[Dancer]

She watched as the needle sank into her flesh, deeply, the contents of the vial emptied into her. Her stare was mute, just as she had been before she met Scarlet. The past came back to her. However, this time it was very different.

Her memories of horror as a pole dancer, raised and groomed to perfection and grace from her days as a child. Endless hours of work. Endless horrors. Endless beatings for failing to meet expectations. The constant prying eyes, tearing her apart and using her for their pleasure--sometimes so intense that they carried the thoughts into action. All to be left alone in a cell, weeping, all with the knowledge that if she cried too loudly and the guard would beat her more--or do worse. All to have to do it again tomorrow. And the next day. And the day before. An endless existence of hopelessness and torture.

But this time, instead of pain and crippling agony, the memories fortified her like a wall.

She had survived all that--she could take anything. And nothing, nothing would eclipse the pain she went through when Scarlet died.

"If you live in hell," she hissed, "Then I am the door maid. Being a dancer girl for Hutts comes with a mattress in a place in hell."

[member="Thraxis"]

 

[Thraxis]

He wandered off, the needle had done its job, now came the fun part. As he turned, a small needle and thread were placed in his hand, "Oh don't you have a quick wit." he retorted, that smug smile still lacing his face as he took a few steps. "You know who else had a quick wit?" he said as he got started, lacing the Needle beneath the skin he started to bounce back and fourth, running it up along the arm so as to cover as much area as possible. "James Justice and Lady Kay. Boy, did they just argue and argue." he giggled as he got started, patting down on the skin as he placed his fingers along the side. "I won't break! You will never get away with this!" he paused for a second, recalling how many people had actually used that line. "Well. Now that I think about it, everyone has said that." he said as he tore off the skin, the thread doing its job to tear off as much of the flesh as he could.

He chuckled as he grabbed the flesh, looking it over, "Don't you just have some lovely flesh. Gammorean, cook it up. I am sure our friend here is hungry after the trip." he said as he placed his finger on his chin, rubbing up and down as he walked back and fourth. "But... you did say something interesting. Hutt..." he dawdled off... deciding to take his time.

A few minutes passed, he knew just what to do to get the Gammoreans on the edge of their seat. "You know. You shouldn't have said that." he said with his head nodding up and down, "See, where in the Pitt. My little slice of paradise. Also, the basement of the White Palace, AKA, Sempra the Hutts home." he smiled, "The Once Leader of the now defunct Cartel." slowly he walked over, his fist curled as he punched against the wall, "Boy does that bring back memories. I was the... the Chief Torturer of them actually." he chuckled shaking his head, "But that was then, this is now and you mam." he paused as a quick flash of anger ran along his smile, "You need to be punished for ruining my Trenchcoat."
[member=Mystique]

 

[Dancer]

The scarlet haired dancer felt her skin torn off with a pull of his fingers. Her face contorted in pain, and if her muscles hadn't been numbed--they would have flexed in agony. Her grimace turned into a sneer. She felt the blood from her wound trickle down her flesh, a more annoying rather than painful experience.

"Call it good genetics," she sulked when he mentioned her skin. She was, after all, the genetic offspring of the galaxy's two best pole dancers. No small amount of labor had gone into perfecting her genetics before she was born. She supposed that all her life she had been meddled with by people, contorted, shaped into their image. Perhaps, even now.

James Justice. Lady Kay. The names sounded familiar, but they were more like pop star icons than anything else. Oh, sure she had seen the guy go into a club where she was dancing. Said he was the owner, James Justice. He honestly didn't look too spectacular to her; grubby, disheveled, and wearing leather. Gross. Lady Kay had always struck her as--too good to be true. And she had a feeling the woman was hiding something behind that cup of tea and smile.

"Sounds like you fit right in with their slime," she taunted him back, "I bet they greased you right into their fat folds just like they did to me. Pulled you out, watched you and kept you around just for show. Just to see you do tricks and dazzle them and make their pathetic lives a little more palpitatable."


[member="Thraxis"]

 

[Thraxis]

"Better then mine I would garner at least. You look like a stock photo to be honest." he responded, walking over to his table, grabbing out a small petri dish, its lid covered up. He had been working on this for a while. Well, more like some random scientist he forced to make it under penalty of death. "And to be honest. I dealt with enough of that scum back at Zeltros." he said as he slowly removed the lid, dropping it onto the exposed skin and letting the Bacteria take hold. They were nothing too bad, simply pigmentation changers, though the feeling they gave off was none to pleasant as they repaired the skin. A slow burn would start to form atop the skin, its color morphing to a sick orange tinge.

Taking a step back he started to contemplate her words, "No. I never fitted in with their kind. They were always too soft. Could never get anything done themselves." he responded, he knew the Gammoreans wouldn't like hearing that but then again, he wasn't wrong and he suspected they knew that to be true. "The only reason I stuck with them was because it gave me something to do to pass the time. Now I simply do the same thing. Just with Justice Shipping." he took a few more seconds of contemplation with him. Wondering if the Hutts ever did manage to mold him, only to come up with no real answer to the question.

He sat down for a second, he could smell the food had been readied, smelling just right he turned towards his guest, "Dinner smells good doesn't it. I wander what you will have for desert." he said looking her over, his fingers running along her chin as he turned her head back and fourth. A few trails of saliva dipped in red fell from his mouth as his eyes rolled back.
[member=Mystique]

 

[Dancer]

Mystique stiffled a grunt as the nasty stuff began to mend her in the most painful way. Her eyes squinted for a moment as she struggled to relax into the pain.

"I.. am.... half Zeltron," she managed through grit teeth, "Genetic... creation.... for my mothers."

At last she felt her body release its tension as the pain eased to a more tolerable level. The cold sweat on her body rolled off her in beads as the dancer panted for air. Her chest heaved with each breath and she managed a swallow. It wasn't much and it took all of her will power but it was something--a modicum of self-dignity.

"You sound like a real dream," she said, sarcasm oozing from her words, "A regular hero. You should be so proud of yourself, nothing more than a hurdygurdy chimp turning the wheel for people bigger and more powerful than you."

"I've had worse," she said evenly. It was a true statement--one that she wished was more bluff and less truth. "You slobbering ass."

[member="Thraxis"]

 

[Thraxis]

He paused for a second, rage engulfing his body as the present Gammorean slowly started to tremble his way out of the building. He could almost feel the air around him stiffen with rage as he turned, his telepathic abilities running wild as he started to emit burning rage. "Ze... Zel.... Zeltron!?" his teeth started tor grind against each other as he walked closer and closer each footstep gripping deep into the ground and flicking it from between his toes as he moved closer.

"You... you disgusting little girl." his voice trembling with fury as he looked her over. It explained the perfection, though the lack of pheromones was a mystery to him. "You have asked for it." he said with a smile as he walked out the room, looking to the Gammorean, "Start a broadcast, this is turning into a Red Room Show." he roared as he stormed out, rushing to grab some bottles of booze to keep for the show.

He was gone for a few hours, letting the anticipation rise as he sat down in his ceiling chair. His eye twitching with a silent fury as he calmed himself down. It was not good to get worked up before a show. As the clock struck one he walked back, his steps calm and paced as he moved in with a ungraceful slam, opening the door he looked to her, a smile creeping on his face.

"Congratulations, you are the first Red Room show. At least... the first where I lead." he said as he walked up, his face contorting with anger as he looked her up and down. "Do you know... what is great about Red rooms. They tend to give me information most victims find privy." he said with a whisper against her ear, "It tends to help find your family and friends." he said with a chuckle as he turned around, his arms outstretched as cried with joy.
[member=Mystique]