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The basement of an unloading dock house in Olympus Harbor, Angel Falls...

   So odd, Janet Raison's "Number One Girl" thought as she stood in the semi-darkness. She's some kind of Asian, but her eyes... are they blue or not? And why do they reflect like a... a tiger? Shelby St. Paul had to stop from literally almost shaking her head in disgust with herself. What would Ms. Raison think about such racism?
   As if worried that her companion on this "errand" for their employer could read her mind, Shelby cast a submissive glance at the woman leaning against a dirty brick wall, arms crossed.  One of her legs was bent at the knee, raised so the heel of a polished-to-perfection jackboot could grind against said wall in irritation as she spoke to the figure ahead of them. The figure who seemed to be clothed in darkness other than those two (blue?) eyes.
   "So is the Crimson Cunt goin' to get raped by the devil or what?" Bianca Haight said. "Both Big-Lips Raison and my boss want a little me time away from her blowin' up our cargo 'n shit."
   There was a slight woosh, as if a bat flew between the Nazi and herself, and this time, Shelby could not help but react physically. Did she just catch a glimpse of what she thought? It was like a lizard was flying through the air, but somewhat transparent. It was like the ghost of a lizard, and of course, it seemed to have stripes that were blue of all colors, and they were radiating the faintest glow.
   It smiled at me, Shelby thought, sure that the bearded little face of the thing had been looking at her as it flittered in and out of her sight in under a second. Haight may have flashed her eyes at the spectre--Shelby was not sure--but Bianca Haight was the right hand woman of Dr. Josefine Mengele, after all, and therefore accustomed to horrors. I'm just a glorified secretary, Miss St. Paul thought. Why am I here with a hired killer who works for a Nazi zombie-maker talking to a psychotic sorceress?
   "Not quite," the figure in the semi-dark said in answer to Haight's question. "Technically she's going into a realm reserved usually for the dead, yeah, but not hell itself. That'd be above my pay grade. As we agreed, she'll be there over a week; maybe eight or nine days, depending on how the incantations go. This isn't like buying a flight on South West... though I do hear their service is pretty hellish..."
   "Fine," Bianca said, running some fingers through her utterly raven-colored hair. "My boss just wants her gone for a while, and Blondie's boss here wants her to suffer as part of the bargain. She gonna?" Haight had pointed a thumb at Shelby while saying that, and without knowing what else to do, the cowering blonde nodded at the dark figure.
   "Oh, yeah," the one in darkness said. "You have no idea. I mean, you think what Doc Joey does to people while they're still alive is rough? You just trust me... Connie's gonna wish she had a pitchfork all the way up her fat all-American ass within seconds of entering the realm she's going to."
   "U-Um, good," Shelby stammered, scampering away from a scorpion on the concrete floor that had two tails and three pincers as it scuttled dangerously close to her Christian Louboutin pumps. "I'll be sure to t-tell Ms. Raison the... good news..."
   The Nazi put her other boot on the ground and made a sound that was something like a chuckle. "I'm gonna get this little waif home before you'll be moping up a pee stain on your floor. Can't say it was a pleasure doing business with you, but if the boss is happy, I'm happy. And fuck me, am I ever ecstatic 'bout the big Republican bitch wishing every nine-feet of her had never been born!"
   As the two women illuminated in the overhead lighting went to the door--the blonde getting there much more quickly than the strutting brunette--the figure in darkness stepped forward.
   "I think all parties involved will be happy," Xenjii Xang said, a smirk on her blue-painted lips nearly connecting the left side of her mouth with her ear. After the door closed and the Asian practitioner of black magic was alone, she continued. "Even dear Connie... I mean, she will be laughing." With the conversation done, Xang snorted some cocain that had been cut with the dried leaves of a bush that exclusively grew on the graves of cannibalistic serial killers and could only be harvested with a blade that had been dipped in the blood of virgins.
   The runes are already made, she thought to herself, and I can calculate the hour at which the Ceremony of Opening must be held in my sleep. Easiest paycheck of my life... the only problem is, how am I gonna get that redheaded beast into the Circle of Vella...

Some random backstreet in Angel Falls, a mere hour later...

   "Hey!" a voice called from an alley. "Trump sucks!"
   "Why you little..." the Crimson Conservative said, stomping off the sidewalk and towards her target while swigging her new bottle of Jack Daniel's.
   There was a flash, a crackle of arcane energy, and Xenjii Xang strolled out of the alley, bottle of free booze in hand while the portal to another realm faded from this reality. "Bonus," she said, having a hard time taking a satisfactory swig while laughing.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Connie's not going to be in for a while thanks to this piece of art done by the awesome . She'll be back in time for Hyper Con, so don't worry, moxiee !

This was done for 's "Tickle Hell" contest last Halloween, but a combination of being very busy and stupidly thinking I was posting too much fanservice (really, is there such a thing?) made me idiotically not post it until now. Plus, Connie was mean to me in my latest journal, and I said I'd put this up, didn't I?

I'm a man of my word...

Characters are my own, writing my own (done in Ed Wood script writing speed... always get nervous when I do that), artwork by Jetichor . Look at that musculature--go tell the guy he is a pro!

Comments welcome, even if it's to tell me I should explain the realm the Crimson Conservative is currently dripping buckets of torture-born sweat in. Isn't having tickling be her weakness and Shloggy enough? I think so, but have the nasty habit of listening to fans... guess a job with Marvel is out for me.

Oh, and what do you think of this type of formatting? Like the block style with indentations, or should I go back to there being a gap between every sentence? I like this style better, but if the above is too jarring, I'll acquiesce.

Description

The basement of an unloading dock house in Olympus Harbor, Angel Falls...

   So odd, Janet Raison's "Number One Girl" thought as she stood in the semi-darkness. She's some kind of Asian, but her eyes... are they blue or not? And why do they reflect like a... a tiger? Shelby St. Paul had to stop from literally almost shaking her head in disgust with herself. What would Ms. Raison think about such racism?
   As if worried that her companion on this "errand" for their employer could read her mind, Shelby cast a submissive glance at the woman leaning against a dirty brick wall, arms crossed.  One of her legs was bent at the knee, raised so the heel of a polished-to-perfection jackboot could grind against said wall in irritation as she spoke to the figure ahead of them. The figure who seemed to be clothed in darkness other than those two (blue?) eyes.
   "So is the Crimson Cunt goin' to get raped by the devil or what?" Bianca Haight said. "Both Big-Lips Raison and my boss want a little me time away from her blowin' up our cargo 'n shit."
   There was a slight woosh, as if a bat flew between the Nazi and herself, and this time, Shelby could not help but react physically. Did she just catch a glimpse of what she thought? It was like a lizard was flying through the air, but somewhat transparent. It was like the ghost of a lizard, and of course, it seemed to have stripes that were blue of all colors, and they were radiating the faintest glow.
   It smiled at me, Shelby thought, sure that the bearded little face of the thing had been looking at her as it flittered in and out of her sight in under a second. Haight may have flashed her eyes at the spectre--Shelby was not sure--but Bianca Haight was the right hand woman of Dr. Josefine Mengele, after all, and therefore accustomed to horrors. I'm just a glorified secretary, Miss St. Paul thought. Why am I here with a hired killer who works for a Nazi zombie-maker talking to a psychotic sorceress?
   "Not quite," the figure in the semi-dark said in answer to Haight's question. "Technically she's going into a realm reserved usually for the dead, yeah, but not hell itself. That'd be above my pay grade. As we agreed, she'll be there over a week; maybe eight or nine days, depending on how the incantations go. This isn't like buying a flight on South West... though I do hear their service is pretty hellish..."
   "Fine," Bianca said, running some fingers through her utterly raven-colored hair. "My boss just wants her gone for a while, and Blondie's boss here wants her to suffer as part of the bargain. She gonna?" Haight had pointed a thumb at Shelby while saying that, and without knowing what else to do, the cowering blonde nodded at the dark figure.
   "Oh, yeah," the one in darkness said. "You have no idea. I mean, you think what Doc Joey does to people while they're still alive is rough? You just trust me... Connie's gonna wish she had a pitchfork all the way up her fat all-American ass within seconds of entering the realm she's going to."
   "U-Um, good," Shelby stammered, scampering away from a scorpion on the concrete floor that had two tails and three pincers as it scuttled dangerously close to her Christian Louboutin pumps. "I'll be sure to t-tell Ms. Raison the... good news..."
   The Nazi put her other boot on the ground and made a sound that was something like a chuckle. "I'm gonna get this little waif home before you'll be moping up a pee stain on your floor. Can't say it was a pleasure doing business with you, but if the boss is happy, I'm happy. And fuck me, am I ever ecstatic 'bout the big Republican bitch wishing every nine-feet of her had never been born!"
   As the two women illuminated in the overhead lighting went to the door--the blonde getting there much more quickly than the strutting brunette--the figure in darkness stepped forward.
   "I think all parties involved will be happy," Xenjii Xang said, a smirk on her blue-painted lips nearly connecting the left side of her mouth with her ear. After the door closed and the Asian practitioner of black magic was alone, she continued. "Even dear Connie... I mean, she will be laughing." With the conversation done, Xang snorted some cocain that had been cut with the dried leaves of a bush that exclusively grew on the graves of cannibalistic serial killers and could only be harvested with a blade that had been dipped in the blood of virgins.
   The runes are already made, she thought to herself, and I can calculate the hour at which the Ceremony of Opening must be held in my sleep. Easiest paycheck of my life... the only problem is, how am I gonna get that redheaded beast into the Circle of Vella...

Some random backstreet in Angel Falls, a mere hour later...

   "Hey!" a voice called from an alley. "Trump sucks!"
   "Why you little..." the Crimson Conservative said, stomping off the sidewalk and towards her target while swigging her new bottle of Jack Daniel's.
   There was a flash, a crackle of arcane energy, and Xenjii Xang strolled out of the alley, bottle of free booze in hand while the portal to another realm faded from this reality. "Bonus," she said, having a hard time taking a satisfactory swig while laughing.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Connie's not going to be in for a while thanks to this piece of art done by the awesome . She'll be back in time for Hyper Con, so don't worry, moxiee !

This was done for 's "Tickle Hell" contest last Halloween, but a combination of being very busy and stupidly thinking I was posting too much fanservice (really, is there such a thing?) made me idiotically not post it until now. Plus, Connie was mean to me in my latest journal, and I said I'd put this up, didn't I?

I'm a man of my word...

Characters are my own, writing my own (done in Ed Wood script writing speed... always get nervous when I do that), artwork by Jetichor . Look at that musculature--go tell the guy he is a pro!

Comments welcome, even if it's to tell me I should explain the realm the Crimson Conservative is currently dripping buckets of torture-born sweat in. Isn't having tickling be her weakness and Shloggy enough? I think so, but have the nasty habit of listening to fans... guess a job with Marvel is out for me.

Oh, and what do you think of this type of formatting? Like the block style with indentations, or should I go back to there being a gap between every sentence? I like this style better, but if the above is too jarring, I'll acquiesce.