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Amy stalked her way through the club, the scent of synthweed and various fragrances, one stale sweat filling her nostrils. She sat down at the bar, ordering herself a drink.
She glanced across the room, searching for company, or sizing up the competition.

A small group of Hogosha at the far side of the club caught her eye.
She leaned forward in their direction on her seat, stretching her arms above her head slowly, her long red dress revealing the perfect amount of cleavage.
She was a Chrysanthemum, Kusarian by birth, but they didn't have to know...
Amy had a perfect chest, just the right size without causing her any trouble. She wasn't tall, nor short, but just about average. Her skin was a radiant, delicate and toned perfectly; no one would suspect the girl used a small amount of Cardimine to stay so sexy.


A tall handsome figure propped himself up on the bar next to her, wearing a fancy waistcoat and shirt combo.
He had very pale hair, not blonde or silver, but pure white, and it was mostly unkempt.

"Names Tyler..." He smiled, melting her heart instantly, "Mind if I buy you another?"

"Whatever, just don't get any ideas" she scolded, playing hard to get, glanced at his wonderous green eyes, "Name is Amy"

He settled onto the stool next to her, charming her with words of silk. He bought her another cocktail, and chatted on. He was tall, slim, and had a smile that could kill.

Amy chatted with for a while before she took his hand and began caressing, clearly teasing him.

"I don't usually do this, but..." she leaned in close, moving his hand onto her waist, "...meet me across the road"

She stood, and calmly walked to the exit. At the door, she hopped down from the step and skipped across the road to the motel on the other side.

The motel opposite the club was surprisingly enough, a five-star hotel, facading as a model... The bright neon signs, the Samura logos spray-painted on the alleyways, as much as this tried to be low class, it was all a lie, there was barely any crime for miles, and the area was infact, a very nice place to be.

As she moved behind a small suka-cola machine and stopped, feeling his hand brush through her hair swiftly, he was a quiet one...

"That was fast..." she smiled for a second,

"No need to keep a pretty girl like yourself waiting now is there?" He smiled again,

She paused to smile back, then threw herself at him, kissing him intensely.
As she kissed him, he began to embrace her body, feeling his hands across her chest, running a hand over her stomach...

His embrace wandered, caressing her boldly. She moved into his touch even while the path of his hands startled her.
Over her stomach and bottom, down to her thighs, he pressed and claimed all of her. His touch moved more shockingly, teasing through her dress along the cleft of her bottom, venturing to the pulse that maddened her, making the pleasure sink and throb.

He didn’t assault. He didn’t attack. He lowered his mouth to hers slowly, but Amy did nothing to stop him. She gasped a little at the first touch of flesh to flesh, and he took advantage, easing his tongue into her mouth slowly, deeply. She shuddered at the blatant carnality of it, but did nothing to stop him. She felt caught in the pull of some incredible magnet, unable to draw away, unable to stop her body from responding as he tasted her.

She turned her face up to his, but her half-felt protest became a moan of surrender as he drove his mouth down on hers with a hungry kiss which splintered her senses his passion coursing through her like a wave of velvet fire, setting the insides of her soul on fire, severing any connection to her higher brain functions, her sense of reality.

He reached out to remove the clip from her hair, murmured his warm pleasure as it fell in a red-blonder gleam around her shoulders.
“See how your hair glows like fire against your skin. And how your eyes sparkle like pure, clear aquamarines” he whispered gently into her ear,

She had never been seduced by words so liquid before, had never known their sweet wanton power.
He kissed her slowly at first, shortly thereafter, she was on his side, or he on hers, everything blurred quickly.
She was in his arms; breathing had become a thing of the past, something they were both so incapable of. His was loose, nearly off. The left strap of Amy’s dress was no longer secured on her hips; and her hair had come loose. Eyes closed, lips pressed. She heard a zip and knew that he had begun to undress her slowly, her arms pulled through without a second thought. Tyler was as well joining her in the removal of unneeded clothing.

She let herself go, succumbing fully to her wants. There she was, lying in the arms of a man she had known for less than a day. He pulled her on top of him. The fit was perfect; they were made for each other.
The pleasure took control, overwhelming her, until she screamed as the very essence of her being was tussled and reshaped into a pure wave of affection.

Her hand was on his length now, minute by minute, her nipples grew stiffer and more erect, as shivers of pure passion reverberated down her spine. She held tight as he grew longer and harder, and began to shudder with great force. He touched her chest, her heartbeat rushing. His own body still moved to the rhythm of her heart.

He brushed a strand of her hair, moves his hand lower, touching the springy hair, and touching the silver threads. Tyler thought that this is what it would take to make her want him but now she is no more real than he is.

He is drawn again to her legs, which are smooth now and so definably textured. He gently runs with his fingers over her sensitivity, he imagines that he can see the flames within her, raging out of control. Thinking, he is the spark and she is the fuel. Together they produce wild fire. Thinking, this is the rhythm of the world.

She is so still, it doesn't matter how he touches her, fingers or lips. She lies there and they become more and more of the same person.
Tentatively, he was inside her, the wheels turning, drawing him in, to warmth, to moisture, to a small surrounding space, widening, drawing more of him in to fill. She writhed beneath him in ecstasy.

She touched him more firmly now, tightly clenching her arms around him. He pressed into her body as she moaned gently in rhythm to his thrusts. Pure pleasure coursed through his veins and into her with every movement.

As he looked deep into her eyes, he felt them both spiral towards orgasm. With one almighty lunge they climaxed together and he pulled away, breathless and weak.
He moved his hand over to hers and clutched it tight; she rolled towards him and rested her head on his chest.

Amy traced the contours of Tyler's chest, her fingers brushing down his figure, stopping at a small bump, a scar, probably caused by a knife, or a weak energy weapon.

"Where did you get these?" Amy asked, tilting her head to look into his eyes,

Tyler thought for a second, then looked her in the eyes, "I grew up in the underworld of New London.."

Amy nodded, and listened intently,

"Okay, I'll tell you the full story then..." Tyler sighed,



Planet New London houses a lot of criminals, feeding off the underworld, surviving in a corrupt, harsh environment. Above the cities look busy and safe, but in the underworld, petty crimes and gangs rule the streets.

The two most prominent and powerful familes in control of the majority of the turf, are in a constant blood fued, their lieutenants planning ever more dangerous attacks against each other.

The Red King was a gentle, religious man, he thought that by controlling the crime, he could eventually bleed it out and stop the suffering. He owned mostly rackets, his turf slowly melting into the Blue King's control. His son the Red Prince controlled the small army of thugs and murderers, tactically plotting the Blue King's downfall.

The Blue King was a business man, he tried to contol as much of the industry as possible, extorting business owners to use their property as fronts. He was seizing warehouses and distributing dangerous drugs, occasionally Cardimine shipments. His son the Blue Prince was incharge of overseeing the business on a street level, his vicious tactics the reason for the Blues winning the crime war.

It was upon a winter day when the Red King finally caved, he arranged a meeting with the Blue King, to surrender his side of the underworld over to the Blues. The Red Prince saw his father as weak, he gathered his most loyal men and disappeared for a month.

On the day of the meeting, the Red King and the Blue King sat down in the house of the Reds, as they discussed their arrangments, the Blue Prince stormed into the room, his face of fury.

He screamed of the Reds betraying the agreement, of them attacking his men.

The Red King denied the claims stating he wanted the bloodshed to end, the Blue King watching intently. The Blue Prince described how hundreds of thugs all over thier turf were raiding and destroying Blue territory, how there was chaos in the streets. The thugs were not of Red flags, but the Blue Prince refused to accept it was not a Red trick.

The Red Prince burst through the doors behind the Blue Prince, guns in hand. Before the Blue Prince had time to draw, he was shot dead, the Red Prince did not feel, no smile or grin crossed his face, he was calm and collected.

As the Blue King rose to his feet and roared dishonour, the Red King shouted his words of disbelief, trying to calm the Blue King.

The Blue King charged at the Red Prince, dropping his cane to punch with his fists. The Red Prince lowered his body, swooping under the grasp of the Blue King, thrusting a small knife between his ribs. As the Blue King stumbled, dazed in disbelief, before his weight toppled, collapsing next to his dead son.

The Red Prince bowed to his father, who was shocked by the dirty work of his son. The Red King denied his son's existance, casting him out of the House of Red. The Prince obeyed, dropping his weapons, he calmly walked from the House of Red, onto the streets, where he laid eyes on the chaos he had created...



Amy's breathing had slowed, her fingers tracing his body once more,

"So which side did you work for?" Amy asked,

"I used to fly the Red Flag" Tyler replied, running his fingers through her hair...

"What happened to the Red Prince then?" Amy asked, curious to hear more,

"I was the Red Prince" Tyler replied, crawling out of bed to get dressed...

"Oh..." Amy smiled, pulling the bedsheets up to her shoulders.

Tyler eyed his watch, grumbling at the time.

"It was nice meeting you Amy" Tyler winked...

The bar was relitively quiet, a few IMG Miners had dropped by for a break from mining, Tyler was sat up at one of the stools, a strong drink infront of him. The bartender liked him, often gave him free drinks, the occasional free meal too.

Tyler yawned and sipped his drink, spinning the glass between his fingers. A small stubby man hopped up onto the stool next to Tyler, nudging him with is elbow.

"Takin' a break eh boy?" he chuckled, waving for a drink, "Name is Roy"

The man outstretched a hand for Tyler to shake, Tyler imagined drawing his knife and stapling the mans hand to the bar, but instead chose to ignore it.

"Tyler" he smiled falsely,

"What you do then?" he waved at Tylers plain flight-suit, "A Merc? Freelancer?"

Tyler pushed forward his glass for a refill,

"Something like that..." he glanced out the window of the station, watching the ice float by,

"Junker myself" he pointed proudly at an insignia on his jacket, "That's my Slave Liner on moor point one" he indicated through one of the roof windows to the huge bulky liner.

It looked old, ancient perhaps, rusty and beaten. A hundred Colonial attacks, asteroids, few torpedos maybe. The massive engines designed to drag it onwards through the unknown, trying to block out the sun.
Roy poked Tyler again, noticing a small Lane Hacker tattoo on his neck,

"Former Hacker or something?" he chucked his obnoxious chuckle, his breath offending Tyler, "I pick up your Bretonian accent boy"

Tyler coughed,

"Not much of a talker eh?" Roy drank his entire drink in one go, swallowing greedily, "If you ever need work, I need men to keep the cattle in line" he chuckled again, sending ripples through his rolls of fat,

"I'd rather die" Tyler hissed,

"Woah, all you had to say wa-" Roy's eyes opened wide, his words knocked from him.

Tyler had moved quickly, shoving a small knife right into the Junker's stomach.

"Send me a postcard from hell, scumbag..." Tyler cursed, forcing his knife upwards further, his free hand grabbing the keys from Roy's belt,

The Junker dropped from his stool, struggling to breathe, blood covering the floor around him. The barman recoiled in disgust at the sight of Roy,

"I didn't see nothing" he smiled, cleaning an old glass,

Tyler pocketed his knife and nodded to the bartender. He left the bar, the Junker's keys in his hand...