Appearances By: None
Mentioned: Jamie Heck, Brody Reno, Kayla Brooks


Femme Fatale: Aphrodisia
The Bruise Party


Like I was saying, cat fights are for preppy girls that are too worried about their personal aesthetic to worry about getting their ass kicked. I believe I have proven my point. And now… I am placed in the ring with the only other female in the federation: Kayla Brooks. Lovely!

I can already feel the nails raking my face and my hair being pulled. As if I wasn’t sore enough. My throat was bruised from Heck’s leg drop and my ribs were bruised from being plummeted into the mat by Reno. It was good to be back. The pain was my company and reminder. It reminded me how much I had missed my job in my unemployed lull.

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If there’s one thing I hate, it’s airplanes. I despise flying. There’s just something portentous about being however many miles in the air with only thin pieces of metal and Plexiglas separating me being safe and me being sucked out a hole the size of a basketball. It is a paranoid notion, I guess.

I had taken two planes today, and was not a happy camper. I had had to take one from Nevada to Toronto to get some clothes for the week, and another from Toronto to Alaska. That’s not including drive time between Toronto and Picton. When were those science geeks going to invent teleporters? Honestly. I’d invest in one… or seven. Yes, I’m lazy. I know. So, until then… I guess I could get used to this flying thing…

I stepped off the plane, and, like I expected, I was cabbing it home from the airport. I wore normal attire… well… normal for me. I didn’t try to hide who I was. As far as I was concerned, I was just another Average Joe. I refused to dress up and hide like many other people. No big hats, trench coats and dark aviator glasses. Just a pair of baggy, blue jeans that are well-loved and overly worn as well as a burgundy halter top beneath a black, long-sleeved, zip-up hoodie. ‘Satan Inside’ was written across the back of the hoodie in red, cursive embroidery. And, of course, black, Doc Martin boots that laced up to an inch or so beneath my knee. I did have a pair of sunglasses, but they were slender and only hid my eyes.

I moved slowly through baggage claim and the claims department. I had brought some wine with me, so of course, I had to claim it. That only took, oh, an hour. I nearly fell asleep in the taxi, with my duffle bag on my lap and my forehead against the window. A shorter ride than I expected and I was at Darkstar’s place. The taxi zoomed away, leaving me outside the large gate. My fingers moved to the keypad slash intercom. I didn’t have the code, so my index finger pressed the buzz button. I leaned against the wall, waiting for a reply. A familiar, raspy voice came through the intercom, sounding slightly metallic due to the intercom.

“Who is it?” The intercom clicked afterwards faintly. My index finger found another button to work the intercom. I leaned in towards it, brow raising slowly.

“‘Ey. Who do ya think it is? Lemme in, will ya, please?” I asked, my head tilting a bit more to the side.

“Hmmm, you sound familiar. I didn't order pizza… I don't allow solicitors. Oh wait, I have a girlfriend.” His tone grew a tad more evil, thicker sarcasm as he spoke. I could already tell where this was going to go. “No, wait… she would remember the pass code I gave her so that she could just walk in.” My finger pressed the intercom button again.

“Well, maybe she wanted her boyfriend to be a gentleman and show up at the airport for her, but no. He didn’t do that, now, did he?” I retorted. I was only teasing. Besides, a little guilt trip was good for him… honest. I couldn’t help but laugh a little. “All right, I’m comin’ in, ya fuckin’ bastard. You’re in for it now.” I added before pressing in the code semi-quickly. I was still getting used to all of the security because the only thing I had at my place was the security alarm for if one of the doors opened or a motion detector was set off.

“We're up in the living room. You remember where that is right?” He was rather jovial for once: far different than his normal, brooding, nasty self. Though, I knew, some would be hard-pressed to be able to tell the difference when listening to his raspy voice. The gate swings open slowly, grinding and screeching in protest. I walked in, still sort of slow. My back was aching, as well as my neck.

“Yeah, yeah, mother fucker…” I muttered to myself though I was out of earshot from the speaker. I walked up to the door and pushed it open, dropping my duffle bag on the floor, but not before I took the bottle of wine out. One stop and the wine was stuffed into the refrigerator. Soon enough, I moved into the living room, and there, as expected, was Darkstar and Demonica. Darkstar sat shirtless, his muscular upper body exposed to the cool air in the house. A bump stuck out from within an area on his right side that was so thickly bruised, it was almost black. His scarred, unpainted face contained some fresh stitches in his heavily bruised cheek. He put out a cigarette as Demonica spoke.

“Hey.” She said. She looked even worse than D.S.. Her face was swollen, especially her right eye. What could be seen of the actual eye was blood red where it should be white. A homemade sling rested around her left shoulder and her left wrist was in some sort of brace. She also wore fresh stitches, but hers were on the side of her neck. The two of them looked like shit but both smiled. D.S. motioned to the spot next to him on the black, leather loveseat.

I should explain. Darkstar is Demonica’s mentor and they kick the fucking shit out of each other on a sometimes nightly basis. And, on top of all of that, both refused to go to the hospital or see a doctor. They stitched themselves up, made makeshift bandages and slings, obviously and other random bull shit. I guess I don’t understand it. Granted, I don’t like doctors, but there comes a point in everyone’s lives when everybody’s just gotta suck it up.

“Hey.” I repeated with a smile and a gentle squeeze to Demonica’s non injured shoulder. I sank down onto the loveseat beside Darkstar, painfully slowly, after shrugging off the hoodie. Thankfully, I was on the left side of him. I leaned against him lightly, one hand flattening gently on the top of his thigh in a sort of feathery touch. Lips gently kissed his jaw line, with a smile. I gazed at

“Christ. You guys look like death worn over. I thought I was pretty banged up…” I let my words trail off, fingers lightly squeezing my boyfriend’s thigh. With a quirky sort of smile he looked at me. It was the kind of smile that frequented the faces of the criminally insane. Yeah… I know… my boyfriend isn’t all there. With a slight nod, he asked…

“What happened to you?” A soft shrug caressed my shoulders as I rested the back of my head against the inside of his shoulder. I tilted my head back to let him see the bluish-brown bruise on the front of my throat.

“Courtesy of Jamie Heck. And I got some bruised ribs from Brody Reno.” I explained with another shrug. “I won though so I guess it evens-out, eh?” I asked with a bit of a sly grin. My hand came up to rub the front of my throat. Stretching it back pulled the skin too far, further inflaming the bruise. He pushed my hand away from my throat and tilted my head to the side with his large hand. Instinctively, I sucked in a light breath through mostly pursed lips. For a long moment, he inspected the mark.

“That's a pretty good one.” There was a sick pride in his words. I couldn’t tell if it was pride for me having taken the wound or for the person having inflicted it. Then, it went away a few seconds later.

“Want me to kill ‘em?” There was no doubt he was serious with his question. Like I said, not all there. My hand gently patted his thigh, shushing him gently. He was being my knight in shining armour… in a sadistic, psychopathic sort of way. Way to sweep a girl off her feet, I tell ya.

“No, D.S. Be good. ‘Sides, it’s just the job.” I replied, insistently. I leaned up a little bit and kissed his jaw line because that’s all I could reach in this position. “My hero.” I added in a sort of private whisper, followed by a ribbing laugh.

“So when did you guys get home?” I asked, my head tilted a bit to the side, but not too far. I couldn’t really move my neck all that well anyhow.

“Well I shouldn't kill ‘em anyway. What happened is all part of the fun.” He said. I chuckled and shook my head.

“That’s right.” I said with a nod. It was then my question sank into his head.

“We've been home since this morning. Haven't slept yet either.” Probably could have seen bags under their eyes if they weren't so bruised. I nodded faintly in agreement. I hadn’t slept either. His finger toyed with the bulge in the bruised flesh of his side. My fingers moving across his abdomen to capture his fingers lightly and tug his hand away, much like he had done with my hand. I leaned over his stomach to get a better look at the discoloured protrusion, my nose wrinkling faintly.

“Fuckin’ Christ, you two. There’s a difference between trainin’ and beatin’ each other within an inch of your lives.” I said. Always the drama queen. Their injuries weren’t as bad as I was making them out to be… but if I had a big ol’ lump on my side or had to have my arm in a sling, I’d be taking a trip to the doctor’s. He shrugged at my words like I was overreacting. Which, granted, I was.

“It's just a broken rib. The little one…” His pet name for Demonica who has a muscular five foot, eight inch frame that made normal women look tiny… like me. We were the same height, but she definitely had strength on me. “…is gettin’ good.” His pride in her combat ability was obvious and it made me smile. It was one of the few times that Darkstar had actually admitted pride in his student and my best friend right in front of her. Demmy snorted slightly at his praise.

“It cost me a dislocated shoulder and a sprained wrist two seconds later.” She snapped. It was good Demonica wasn't waiting for an apology because one would never come for something that came in training. Still, he doesn't train just anyone so she's obviously like minded. I rolled my eyes at Demonica with an exaggerated sigh.

“Just take the damned compliment, would you?” I pleaded with her, my sapphire eyes glinting faintly. That smile was still on my lips. I rested back against Darkstar, comfortably, fingers lacing with his so he would stop playing with the broken rib. There were some days I was just glad I was the friend slash girlfriend. I really did not want to have to face either of them in a combat position. An out of place, raspy chuckle escaped his cracked lips. It was a creepy laugh that always sent a shiver down my spine. A good kind of shiver, though.

“She'll never be satisfied... and she shouldn't.” He said. I knew he was glad she didn't just accept praise and use it to fuel her ego. He liked her drive. He moved his head, looking into my eyes as he squeezed my hand lightly. It was the first sign of any romantic thinking since I got here and, like always, I smiled sheepishly.

“So, did ya miss me?” His naturally fanged teeth glinted slightly off the dim lamp as he spoke. The same sort of sick grin that was usually on his lips, plastered itself onto mine. A devilish glint flashed in my eyes.

“I missed the sex, if that’s what you mean.” I came back with, smiling a very less threatening smile. I pat his leg again. “Of course I missed ya. Sheesh, I’m not an ice-hearted snow queen, am I? That’s Demmy’s job.” I grinned wide at her. I knew I was in trouble. Demmy chimed in, her patented, tilted smirk crossed her features.

“Bitch.” She laughed.

“You love me!” I exclaimed teasingly before she continued.

“Last time I checked I wasn't Chill.” She paused for a moment in reflection. “There's something I'm thankful of.” I sucked in a soft breath again, wincing a tad. An odd silence filled the room at the mention of Darkstar's ex-fiancé but he just shrugged it off without so much as a glance at Demmy. She was in trouble now.

“So, when do you have to fly out again?” His hand escaped from mine before his arm went around me. I sank in against him, relishing the simple touch that I’d missed all week. My one arm was folded between us, the other moving up to rest on his flat stomach.

“Sunday around noon when you’re still sleeping.” I said with a listless sigh. Darkstar had this funny habit of sleeping during the day and being awake at night. Not that I was any better. I stayed up with him, usually. His head shook and I could tell a mini-lecture was coming.

“You're gonna have to get used to flying at some point, Aph.” Now there was a name I hadn’t heard in a while. My nickname was Aphrodisia. The three of us had gone through a ritual of a second life. Demonica’s real, though despised, name is Monica Macon and Darkstar’s is… well… I didn’t even know what it was. It had been a few years shy of twenty years since he’d gone by it, so I didn’t pry. It wasn’t a thing one would bring up around us. Especially D.S. or Demmy. Obviously, I still went by my real name, but that was just legal stuff. There deaths were also a bit different from my own. As far as I can tell, they’ve died and managed to keep on living. To me, it was a sort of rebirth.

“I’m gettin’ there. I just don’t like it. I never will. But I haven’t been getting sick so that’s good.” I said, babbling on to myself more than them. I was reassuring myself, convincing myself that I was really okay and not afraid of flying. Hey, fuck you, everyone has their fears whether you admit it or not. Bitch. And what happened next just reaffirmed my point that I was talking to myself.

“Demmy go grab the cases of beer.” There was no consideration towards her injuries. No surprise there. Apparently what's in the mini fridge in the room won't be enough. Demmy got up, without argument, and left. She was back carrying one case under her good arm and another in the same hand. He spoke again.

“No need to put any in the fridge. They aren't going to have time to get warm.” Yup, definitely a patent D.S. manoeuvre. He opened up the mini fridge and tossed both me and Demmy a fifth of Kessler Whiskey. The post training celebration. It never fails. It's amazing they weren't already drunk when I came in. I held the Kessler in my hand, not really feeling like getting hammered tonight. So, I just opened it and would social drink for the time being, resting the cool container against my stomach. I put my elbow on Darkstar’s shoulder and placed my hand across my forehead and eyes, rubbing the bridge of my nose.

“I’m gonna crash soon…” I mentioned through a soft yawn. It had been a long, friggin’ day and the time-zone changes were killing me. He took a long chug from his bottle of whiskey while Demmy opened the first case of beer. Finally, after making a sound that showed his enjoyment of the alcohol he replied to me. Though he was probably somewhat disappointed, he actually understood… which was nice. At least he wasn’t on my back about being a spoilsport or something.

“That's fine babe. Sleep when you like. I'll be in after the little one and I are finished here.” With that, he gave me a small kiss that smelled fully of the whiskey. I kissed him back, of course. The post training celebration was important to him so I knew he wasn't gonna just get up and come to bed with me. Normally, I would stay up until the wee hours of the morning with him, but I was just too damned tired today. I nodded faintly and let my hand fall unto the back of his neck, squeezing the muscles just lightly. They were tense from the training.

“So that’ll be, what? Six in the morning? Eight?” I said with a lethargic grin, leaning forward to put the untouched whiskey on the table. I curled up a bit more beside him, perfectly ready to fall asleep right there while they drank the rest of the dark hours away. Why not? My ‘knight in shining armour’ could carry me to bed. He’d done it before.


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