Six-O
The Pan-Galactic Scumbag
There was a particular sort of obscene evil that lurked within New City. Perverse. Grisly. Revoltingly beautiful. Tinctured with malignant heathens and impish fiends rotten to their very core. The sort of devils the Galaxy at large was thankful were secured within their untamed and barely civilized Unknown Region of Space.
Her body weaved side to side, shapely legs pendulating a sylphlike, pink frame. Bareskinned and glistening, she moved with an erotic gracefulness to music that throbbed her flesh from all sides. Teeth clutched the corner of a plump lower lip, hands swimming through a thick, wavy river of neon lavender hair, stretching high over her head. The lids of her eyes lazily sagging over mint yellow spheres.
There she was, adrift in cimmerian shade, heady fog from an evening of excess draped around her. From this vantage so high, she was an uninterested spectator on the gruesome spectacle flowering below.
It was butchery.
It was havoc.
[member="Matsu Xiangu"], the Witch and some machine toy.
Lunacy uncaged.
Skin split like wet paper. A tide of crimson let loose. Men. Women. Aliens. Shaved of sinew and meat, only gleaming bones allowed to remain as they collapsed where they stood. The gore of who and what they were flooding the alley and left steaming in the webbed crevasses of sweltering walls.
Both Witch and Machine sodden, left splashed dripping with the rust of fallen rivals. A machete reeled wildly, a physique built of steel rending and carving. Braided spools pouring from cleaved stomachs, limbs sliding loose from the framework of their hosts.
Madness was spreading.
Friend became foe.
One to the other, guns discharged. Heads inflating stunningly before shards of skull peeled through. Teeth clenched in terror as the hysteria radiated. Biting, clawing, stabbing, bludgeoning. Matsu was the Siren of the mobs demise.
The Zeltron watched until an arm, powerful and coated in blood dewed fur, curled around her stomach. Cradling the the gentle side to side swagger of well-rounded curves to the front of a Shistavanen body. A towering alien, impressively built and treacherously unstable. A clawed hand with gold ring banded fingers provided a square of mirror to further powder her nose with the burn of a glittering, viridian hued Spice.
With a final glance out in to the city outside the window, a curtain was casually drawn, both Shistavanen and Zeltron retreating to the bedroom to celebrate this night of debauchery. The gore of this apartments actual residents, the only witness.
And this, just the Visceral Vice of a single New City night. . .
Her body weaved side to side, shapely legs pendulating a sylphlike, pink frame. Bareskinned and glistening, she moved with an erotic gracefulness to music that throbbed her flesh from all sides. Teeth clutched the corner of a plump lower lip, hands swimming through a thick, wavy river of neon lavender hair, stretching high over her head. The lids of her eyes lazily sagging over mint yellow spheres.
There she was, adrift in cimmerian shade, heady fog from an evening of excess draped around her. From this vantage so high, she was an uninterested spectator on the gruesome spectacle flowering below.
It was butchery.
It was havoc.
[member="Matsu Xiangu"], the Witch and some machine toy.
Lunacy uncaged.
Skin split like wet paper. A tide of crimson let loose. Men. Women. Aliens. Shaved of sinew and meat, only gleaming bones allowed to remain as they collapsed where they stood. The gore of who and what they were flooding the alley and left steaming in the webbed crevasses of sweltering walls.
Both Witch and Machine sodden, left splashed dripping with the rust of fallen rivals. A machete reeled wildly, a physique built of steel rending and carving. Braided spools pouring from cleaved stomachs, limbs sliding loose from the framework of their hosts.
Madness was spreading.
Friend became foe.
One to the other, guns discharged. Heads inflating stunningly before shards of skull peeled through. Teeth clenched in terror as the hysteria radiated. Biting, clawing, stabbing, bludgeoning. Matsu was the Siren of the mobs demise.
The Zeltron watched until an arm, powerful and coated in blood dewed fur, curled around her stomach. Cradling the the gentle side to side swagger of well-rounded curves to the front of a Shistavanen body. A towering alien, impressively built and treacherously unstable. A clawed hand with gold ring banded fingers provided a square of mirror to further powder her nose with the burn of a glittering, viridian hued Spice.
With a final glance out in to the city outside the window, a curtain was casually drawn, both Shistavanen and Zeltron retreating to the bedroom to celebrate this night of debauchery. The gore of this apartments actual residents, the only witness.
And this, just the Visceral Vice of a single New City night. . .
