KaminoNeko

On a world far from Earth, a building stood in the middle of a bustling city. The building stood out from the surrounding city, its alien influences and bright colours contrasting with the uniformity of the very, very old city which surrounded it. The inhabitants of the city, both the slender, dark bipeds native to this world, and the aliens who have come from all corners of the galaxy for reasons as varied as their forms, prefer it this way. They need only look up and be reminded that the Colour Guard stood watch over them, as they do much of the galaxy. Within that building was a large room, lined with a bank of computers, operated by almo

Weston Rice checked his watch. Almost midnight. 'Dammit, Benj, where the hell are y-urk!' Rice was dragged backward as a whip wrapped around his throat. 'Mr Araullo is not coming.' A voice, feminine, deep, and silken came from the alley behind him. 'In fact, he never was.' The voice's owner followed, her skin, pale as alabaster, seemed to glow in the darkness, set off against deep black leather and silk. Corset and tanga, thigh-high boots and elbow-length gloves, mask and cape lining – all faded into the shadows. 'You were tricked.' A slow, steady click of stiletto heels on pavement accompanied the length of whip between the two growing more