Wanton Violence, Brazen Immorality and An Unwanted Recourse
by Ersatz Sobriquet

She thought that he was a cutie and needed some bad; so she let him do her. It was good, of course, just like she knew it to be.

She called her a slut, so she let her fist fly in her face. So what if she slept with the woman's husband?

That's often how her days went by. She often slept with whoever seemed to do it the best, and she was normally right. Never call her a prostitute, though. Her sexual acts were never something that constituted a payment of monetary means. As long as that feeling of emptiness was temporarily filled, she was satisfied. This was the first real way she found out how she could sedate such feelings.

It wouldn't really matter whom it was either that she performed the acts with, as long as he had some sort of desirable quality she liked. Nice muscles, cute face, head full of hair, white teeth, it didn't matter. That person would be picked out and they would soon become her new "buddy". And if they were good, well then, she would be calling on them in the future if her seemingly demonic feelings of worthlessness re-surfaced once more, which it inevitably always did.

Iris Obdurate is her name. And a bit on the ironic side, wouldn't you agree?

Despite the fact that a woman simply walked up to a complete stranger asking for sex would be reason enough they would comply, but coupled with her beauty beyond anyone's imagination helped her success rate remain high. Soft, long flowing red hair, big emerald eyes which did little to hide the hurt within, fair supple skin, big, high breast and long curvaceous legs caught the eye of each and everyone of her "buddies". And they all, no doubt, liked what they saw.

Iris has to keep her body in such pristine condition if she is to be the best killer her enemy had ever seen. Who this enemy was though was still unknown to her. Her mother committed suicide when she was at a very young impressionable age of seven; stuck a gun in her mouth with young Iris looking on, tears cascading down her face, hair matted wildly to her face from the perspiration... and pulled the trigger. A war torn veteran in his prime would even be repulsed at the gory scene that played out that day, yet this young girl witnessed it all. Like some sort of tragic play, her father, two years later was brutally murdered in the line of duty.

She remembered being escorted to the lab where his body was under physical examination. Iris was well informed of the appalling condition her father’s body remained in. But her unfailing persistence caused the medical authorities to grant this little girl permission to see her daddy one last time. She could barely distinguish some recognizable features of this man she once called father, and the fact that half his face was gone really didn't help matters.

The tears flowed, of course they would. But it was at that awkward moment when a mysterious feeling fell across her. It raced through her veins and surged her heart with renewed hope. It washed away all sense of lost and abandonment and dressed itself up as hope amid trials that seemed to be for naught. She felt security in this newfound feeling. Everything would be all right now, she gathered.

She felt revenge.


It sat so high in the sky that night and there was nare a cloud to be seen throughout the star filled sky. The moon cast it's soft glow onto the field that laid below, giving the fighters their own personal spotlight. Iris smiled approvingly at her opponent, knowing for a fact that this was a battle that was already won.

"They say that your one of the best fighters that ever came out of Costa del Sol." Iris softly purred. She stood a nice distance, twenty feet perhaps, from the man she was speaking to. Holding a sai in hand and a dagger in the other, she shook her head some to re-arrange the strands of hair the wind blew out of place. A tight form fitting body suit, slick red in color, donned her person to help prevent her more tangible assets from moving about too much and a color matching ribbon was tied around her head, moving freely, the breeze tussling it along with her hair.

"When I got the invite to this fight, I didn't know I was going to be fighting a little girl," the eye patched rapscallion replied. His long trench coat blew some in the wind as well, revealing his one solid sword for a weapon.

"Little girls don't have these to play with at night, though," she smiled as she grouped her chest.

He grinned. "So true. I'll have fun wit ya after I finish beating you to nothingness," he taunted, unsheathing his sword.

"Doubt you'll have the chance."

"Why you suppose that?"

"Only cause, more likely than not, you'll be dead before you get a chance to swing at me four times.

He chuckled. "Pretty confident little snatch aren't you?"

She didn’t flinch at what he called her, but coolly shot back at him, "Know any other way to be?"

"Yeah. You could just be my hoe."

The words barely left his mouth before Iris' dagger made it's way deep within his left shoulder blade. He howled in pain as she yelled, "Never call me a hoe!"

Gripping the handle, he yanked the blade out, a slurping sound coming from the blade and a deep groan escaping through his teeth. As he grimaced at her, she said, "Fight. Now."

Tossing aside the bloodied blade, he wiped his hand on his trench coat before shucking it off, gripping his brand with both his hands. "More than welcome to oblige." he mumbled. The eye-patched fellow ran up to Iris, sword held high, deafening war cry resonating throughout the area. The wound in his arm proved to motivate him to eliminate the rumpus young lass ever more so and he took a fierce downward thrust with his weapon, which was surprisingly sidestepped.

"One," Iris hissed and with her free hand, slammed her fist in his face.

Recoiling some, amazed at how little of the attack he actually saw coming, he again resumed a fighting stance, wiping the little dribble of blood coming from his mouth. This time, without the war cry, he commenced his attack and thrust forward, taking an opening he knew to be available. Again, though, she gingerly sidestepped the "flimsy" attack and swiftly let her foot connect with his face, which was quickly followed by her other foot to his stomach, then a punch to the face, which was quickly converted afterward to a backhand slap. The sheer number of connected hits followed by the final blow sent his body spinning to the ground.

"Two." she said.

He struggled to his knees and spat out some blood and a newly freed tooth. "Your becoming much more than a nuisance..." he growled deeply.

Once again he charged at Iris and sliced his sword through the air, completely missing his lovely victim as she had dropped flat to the ground. During this brief period, her quick mind and reflexes noticed an opening that his running pattern exposed him to. She smiled inwardly as she was going to exploit this opening to the very end.

Spreading her legs open as much as possible so he could continue running towards her, she jammed her sai deep into his groin, until the hilt reached it’s limit. He couldn't scream even if he wished it, the pain so intense, so unbearable. Pulling her leg back, she kicked him out of the weapon, hopped up before he stumbled back too far and slashed him across the face, grabbed and yanked his flailing arm back towards her and again let him run into her waiting sai.

Staring deeply into his twitching eyes, blood flowing across the course of his face, she whispered, "Three."

Twisting the sai, just so she could hear him cry, she finally yanked it out and placed one final kick to his mid-section. She didn't wait to see which mangled position the body would fall into as she began to walk away with re-enforced confidence.

This type of "training" was just what she needed to face whomever it was who murdered her father. The day that she takes revenge on her fathers death.


She couldn’t remember the last time she cried out in so much pleasure the way Ricktic made her do that night. That was the closest she ever felt to someone, and she broke one of her own rules that night: Never divulge any sort of background information to her “buddies”. But she did just that; she let him know about her parents, about the quest to find the persons responsible for her fathers death, about her fighting, everything. She cursed herself afterwards for doing so, but continued to “hang out” with him here and there, whenever she was really feeling down and knew that he would be the only one who would be able to make her feel better.

That was probably one of the few times that she did something initially stupid which benefited her end-want. After associating with Ricktic for over five months, she received a videocassette with a small note attached, which simply said:


                                                                                        His name is Vincent Valentine.

                                                                                        Don’t know about his where-

                                                                                        about’s, though. Hope this




She placed the tape in her VCR and sat down on the wood worn floor to watch it. A security camera, she instantly recognized, showed a litter of men, probably about seven, sprawled across the floor, appearing to be lifeless in form, especially considering the massive amounts of blood splattered across the floor. A man stood, wielding a huge sword, it’s massive blade seeming to be nigh impossible to control. The blade was dressed in slick red. Across the way, another man came into view, adorning a trench coat, red was it’s color, holding his shotgun directly over some hapless fellow’s face, who was also lying on the floor.

Some mumbling was heard, seeming to originate from the solider. Then the red coat fellow shot the solider. The tape then stops.

Confusion set in for not even a mere nanosecond as she immediately made the connection. Iris now knew who this murderer was. Where he was, though, she would probably have to ask her “buddies” about that, or make new ones who could probably help her. Looking back at the note, she silently thanked Ricktic for this invaluable info.

“Vincent Valentine.” She whispered. Repeating the name again to insure she would never forget it, she swore that he would be dead by her hands. And then everything would fix itself. Everything.


"Deeper! God, can't you come in any deeper?!" she annoying asked her "buddy" as they engaged in their sexual pleasures.

The room was nothing to write home about, or even mention to your friends that you actually once existed in such conditions. The wallpaper was hanging on for dear life and the water stains would have made reapplication of the wallpaper to be a virtual impossibility. The room had sort of an odor that was couldn't be identified and light voided itself from such a locale.

There was a ceiling fan that spun ever so quietly as the blades struggled to make their full rotations. Iris thought, looking at the length of the blades, that it's... length would probably give her more pleasure than this sorry person that was on top of her, trying his best to give her what she obviously wouldn’t achieve this night.

"Hurry," she coldly said. And within a few moments, the act was over and complete.

He rolled off her as he looked at the ceiling as well, huffing and puffing for air. His name was Jimmy Stanton, the information hog of Nibelheim. He was a skinny little runt, but he had nice hands, so Iris, this time mistakenly, thought him worthy enough to be one of her famed "buddies".

"He's the worst mother..." her thoughts trailed as his rather scratchy voice woke her from her reverie. "Huh?" she asked.

"I said, that was wonderful." he stared at the ceiling, glassy eyed.

"Oh." She rolled her eyes and let her right arm drop to the side of the bed, letting it scan the floor for what she wanted. "So, where can I find Cloud? You said he could help me find Vincent, right?"

"Yeah, he'll help you find him. I heard that was one of his old buddies. They used to go ahead and fight off all those bad guys that were around, ya know?" he shook his head slowly and smiled. "Man, I can't believe how incredible that was!"

"Uh-huh," she said, her hand still scanning the floor. Ah, she thought. There it is. She let her finger run its course across the cold, sharp steel. "And Cloud is usually in the bar, down the street, right?" she whispered.

"Uhh, yeah. Right there at old Kinddy's joint. Nice little place, real cozy too. Been there for almost three decades now. Had a fire while back, and they were thinking about closing it down for good." He chuckled to himself. "Man, imagine all the memories and experiences I would have missed out on if that happened, eh?"

"Yeah, sure." she agreed. Her fingers gingerly played with the wooden part of the item she caressed, going over all the little kinks and nicks it developed over the years.

"Oh, gosh, I just have to ask." He closed his eyes, and sighed. "Did you like it, baby?"

She felt like she was about to puke, angered he would dare ask her such a thing. She grabbed the knife she was fiddling with and stabbed Jimmy in the neck. His arms shot straight ahead of him, fingers spread wide, eyes showing shock and confusion. The blood continued to spray out the newly found wound, dressing the white bed linen in a crimson red tide. "You figure it out," she said as she got up, his body left, flinching and twitching sporadically.

Iris walked over to the full-length mirror, reveling in the glorious, pure naked sight that stared back at her. Everything was so perfect. Her skin left not a trace of any mark, her breast sat high and perfect, her legs were plump and full, her feet, perfect, her hair, sweeping over her shoulder so wonderfully and so soft. Her lips, so succulent and wanting; nose, not inhibiting the beauty of her face, ears tucked away behind her red hair. She was amazingly beautiful, perfect; and here she just finished letting such a horrid man try to please a body like hers.

But her eyes. Crap. She looked at her eyes. Her cursed eyes! God, she hated her eyes. She always tried to avoid looking into them. She loathed them. Cause she could still see it. She could still see that little girl. That little girl who had everything snatched away. Everything that meant anything to her. The simple, unadulterated pleasure of just knowing while she played with her dolls that her parents were in the next room ready and willing to protect her, not some social worker who always changed every two weeks. She saw the girl that cried at night, trying to find a reason why her life spiraled out of control the way it did. She saw a little girl who just wanted to be loved.

That's when her other thoughts usually came charging within her psyche, pushing the other ones away. They love me. All my buddies love me. They all love me... They want me. They love me. They love me. They love me, right?? Right???

The mother's image popped up, the suppressed memory of her bloodied form staring at her as she huddled in the corner. The image of the white coat man knocking at her door that late morning, informing her her father was dead. The image of her fathers body. What was left of it. It was all too awful. It was all too much. She hated it all!

"Ahhhhhhhhhhh!!" she screamed at the mirror, tears cascading down her face. She screamed like that for some time, saliva starting to dribble out her mouth until her lungs couldn't contain the lack of air any longer. Taking a short breath, she started up again, the feelings not going anywhere, the images staring at her. She looked around the room frantically, the tears blurring her vision.


She couldn't find anything to destroy this image of her in the mirror! She ran up to the mirror and started punching, cracking and smashing it until she couldn't see herself clearly anymore. She whimpered a bit more, softly pounding the wall as she slid to the ground slowly. She didn't even notice her hands were bleeding. She probably sat on some fallen glass as she plopped to the ground.

She hated herself. Despicable. That what she was. She hated herself.

But she'll feel all better once she finds Vincent. Finds him and kills him. Everything will be better then. Everything.


Iris came equipped with her sai, the only weapon she knew she would need for such a battle with this one called Vincent. Cocky? Heck yeah. All she needed was her sharp mind and sharp reflexes to win this fight with him. She was just imagining how mangled she would leave his body, the grotesques position she would rearrange his body parts.

And she would take pleasure in it all. She knew she would. And then everything would be better. Right?

She walked into the bar, Kinddy, and looked around the joint. There was a haze of smoke flowing across the top of the ceiling, with many customers drunk flat across the table or too absorbed with their drink to notice her presence.

Iris remembered that Jimmy said Cloud's hair was now in sort of a buzz cut from the time that video was taken. Everyone is some old dirty filth, she observed as she scanned the bar. They all seemed to be dressed in a brown tint, except for this one person, whose whole aura oozed color and life. His hair was blonde and his shirtsleeves were cut, torn maybe revealing his cut arms. There this man sat at one of the bar stools, drinking some sort of alcoholic beverage.

She smiled. This must be the person. She couldn't help but have a slight chill run up her spine full of pleasure as she looked at his chiseled arms. She started walking over to him, all the other individuals oblivious. Sitting on the empty bar stool next to him, she made sure that she adjusted herself so that some strands of hair fell over her eye and stuck her chest out as much as she could while still trying to retain naturalness.

He, though, was oblivious to her.

She frowned slightly that Cloud wouldn't even take time to notice her existence, but still went along and rested her right arm and laid it out across the bar, stretching out to him, as she purred, "Hey. What's your name?"

He still looked straight into his drink, still unconcerned with whoever she was.

This was getting tiresome, but she would still play on. Touching his arm ever so gently, she again sweetly whispered, "What's your name, handsome?"

He averted his eyes from off his drink and focused on her fingers that were caressing his arm. She could feel the cold glare chilling her fingers and she quickly removed her fingers from off him. Looking back at his drink, he mumbled, "Cloud." He then took a swig from his drink.

She grinned. She's finally making progress.

"I don't mean to be a bother, honey. But... ooo, god, your so musculy." she squealed in delight, running her hands across his arms.

"Don't touch me,” he commanded. Again, she quickly removed her hands from him. Never had she heard such power from someone before. She would love for him to do her.

"I'm sorry. Your so handsome, though." she smiled, trying to invoke a response. None came. Trying to hold her smile, though, she resumed and said, "Anyway, I just wanted to know if you know where I could find a man named Vincent Valentine?"

He casually turned to her. And she swallowed.

Those eyes were so unimaginably breath taking. So beautiful. So radiant. But... They were just like hers. She could see all the hurt he had within. All the pain. The hardships experienced. She could just feel all the hurt that existed within his psyche. And at that brief period, she felt so much compassion and weak all at once. She just wanted to love and be loved for who she was. It was so different from anything she ever experienced.

But the thought was pushed aside quickly as her current state of mind returned to take up residency.

"What do you want with him?" he questioned coolly.

"I just wanted to talk to him. I wanted to ask him something." she played it off nicely.

He closed his eyes, and stretched his neck, several cracks coming from his spine. "Well, I'm sorry ma'am." He opened his eyes and looked right at her. "He's dead."

He's dead. He's dead??

Her whole world fell apart. He was dead? That wasn't apart of the plan.

"How... when did he die?" she asked, confused.

"Bout four years ago." he replied. "Today's his anniversary."

Four years ago? I was 16 then. That's when I really started my training. When I started this whole thing. This whole path. And he's friggin dead?!

"This was his favorite drink." Cloud said, looking at the light brown liquid in his glass. The thoughts of Vincent started soaring back to him and he just kept talking. "Just drinkin' to him, ya know?"

I killed so many so I would be ready for this day. I killed them all so I would be ready to kill him. Everything was suppose to happen like that! Not like this!

"It has a sorta bitter taste." Cloud continued. "I dunno why he liked it so much."

God, why is he dead?!! I'm suppose to kill him! Me! Me! Me!! Friggin crazy!!!!

"Well... He was odd anyway." Cloud said. "I said just get some Rum and not this strange mix, but he just liked this swill."

Oh god, I feel like a whore. I slept with all those people. I feel like a slut. God, I feel so dirty. God, so dirty. Ahhhh!!!

"But, it's whatever, I guess, right? As long as he rest peacefully, it's all good. Right?"

No, no, no. I am not dirty! No! What I did was right. I came to kill Vincent... And, and. And he's dead, so I'll just kill him! Yeah. He was there, too. He didn't stop him. I'll kill him! Everything will be all better. Yeah. I'll kill him.

"Dag. Why am I rambling on like this?” Cloud said, realizing what he was doing. Looking straight ahead, liquor bottles adorning the wall and occupying his sight, he asked, "What did you want with him anyway?"

"To kill him," she flatly said.

His left eye twitched, and she saw it.

"But I'll just kill you, instead." she finished as she grabbed her sai and thrust it out, intending to stab him in his side. Reflexes not dulling over the years, he bent himself backwards, still sitting on the stool, letting the attack sail over him. Grabbing her arm, she immediately tried to jerk it back, hopefully releasing his grip. Being pulled into her helping him sit back up, he pulled her back into his waiting arms while twisting her arm. Twisting her arm enough so that the sai was pointed towards her neck, his other arm holding her arm hard just under her bosom, he nuzzled her wild hair from her ear with his face.

People looked on a bit uninterested. "What... what are you doing??? You wanna die?" Cloud asked.

Several possible ways to squeeze out of this position ran across her mind, yet, she allowed them all to pass. She felt so worthless and confused and alone... all her suppressed feelings rushing all at once and simply overpowered her. She felt so weak and didn't want to fight anymore.

"I..." the tears started to come now. They wouldn't stop either. They just kept pouring and pouring. "I... Vincent killed my father and... I feel so messed up. I wanted to kill him. I wanted to see him die painfully. Cause, everything would be all better. I knew it had ta be. He would die and I would... I would feel better?" Crap.

She didn't know. Was she going to feel better? Why? Why would she feel better? She didn't know. She didn't know it all!

And the tears never stopped flowing. They never ended their journey to the ends of her face. They halted momentarily at the end and then commenced their decent to nothingness. And all her questions stayed unanswered. And all the light ceased to be.


It had been two days since her run-in with Cloud. After Iris blacked-out, the emotional stress too intense for her to cope with awoke in his little cottage just outside of Nibelheim. She was calmer when she woke, and more talkative. And everything was told to Cloud. Everything. About her sex romps, kill fests and morbid desire to kill this person that for years, remained a mystery to her.

Why she felt so trusting to this blue-eyed wonder, she couldn't fully comprehend. But, this was the only person she could ever remember trusting. Maybe it was the eyes. The bright blue eyes that peered ever so deep into her psyche, and also gave off some pieces of his. She knew that he could relate to everything she would tell him. And he wouldn't play judge.

It was on a little hillside where they both sat, overlooking the countryside. She was wrapped in a little shawl Cloud brought for her at one of the clothing shops and her yellow dress inevitably was going to be grass-stained as soon as she stood, but she didn't care. She wrapped her knees rather tightly to her as the wind blew and tussled her hair some behind her. Cloud sat to her right, pullover gray shirt and black pants adorned his person. And in the middle of the two laid Iris' sai.

They both stared out into the beautiful scene laid before them, not really focusing in on anything. Quietly they sat, a word not emitting from either of them for what seemed like an eternity.

Cloud finally broke the deafening silence, "So, you gonna do it?"

"Yeah." Iris simply said.

"What about the people you'll leave behind?"

She turned her head and looked at him. "You know there's no one."

Cloud simply continued to stare and said nothing until she commenced in staring as well.

"You really shouldn't."

"I need to."

Cloud closed his eyes. "Why?"

"It's the only way I'll feel good about myself."

He shook his head. "That's stupid."

"Don't judge."

"I'm not. You know I would never. It's just that... Just try to go on."

"No, I'm tired to trying."

"Iris, I... God... Iris..."

He opened his eyes and looked back into the beauty of nature. "It doesn't matter if I tell you this now, but you really attract me."

She started shaking her head slowly, anticipating where this was going.

"I think I like you, Iris. I don't want you to do this."

Tears began to work their way through her eyes and she fought back a sob. "Cloud, stop it. Your not making this easier." her voice quivered, a little sniffle tagged along the end.

"It's true though, I..."

Silence once more.

"Just please know that I... I care for you. Seems like I've know you my whole life. And, I... God." He sighed. "The last person I cared for ended her life as well. And the one before her I cared for sacrificed herself for the greater good, and… I don’t want to lose someone I really care for again.”

“But, we just met and...”

“Bull.” He cut her off. “I know you feel the same way.”

She closed her eyes and a tear escaped through.

“Just… Know I wish this wouldn't be what you wanted, but if this is..." He stopped and leaned over, tilted her head to him and kissed her ever so softly on the lips. Her heart jumped and didn't stop beating ever so hard even after he came out from the kiss. Cloud looked deeply in her eyes and she felt so much love come from him that she didn't know how to take such feelings. It felt good. It felt real. It felt like... love.

He stood up and began to walk away to leave her to do her deed.

She looked down at her sai. The sunlight glistened the tip of the blade some. Picking it up, she examined it, holding it gingerly with both hands.

Iris needed to do this. This was the only way things would be better for her. She knew it to be so. Right?

Why did Cloud feel like he did for her though? Seemed like he really loved me, she thought. He loves me? He loves me. He loves me. She chanted over and over in her mind.


He'll just die or leave me. Just like everyone else. He'll do it cause that's what everyone else always did. And he'll do it too. I know it.

She moved the sai to her neck and let the blade touch her.

He'll leave and it'll be another life stolen from me. He'll...

She pushed the sai closer and closer. Ever so gently, the blade began to pierce skin. Blood was soon drawn.

He'll leave... He'll...

And then she remembered those eyes. So much assurance and confidence of the words he spoke to her. "I care for you."

She stopped.

Pulling the sai from her neck, she looked at it, blood, her own blood peering right back at her.

She didn't want to take such a chance with him. But, at the same time, she did.

Standing up, she began to run in the direction Cloud went, her shawl falling off her. A small figure could be seen off in the distance and she called out Cloud's name. The figure stopped and turned around. She continued to call his name out.

Within all the pain and suffering she experienced throughout the years, she felt it all wash away. She felt a renewed hope. She felt a sense of happiness that didn't come from sex. Pleasure that didn't come from the gargled screams of her victims. She felt genuine love from this stranger.

Stopping within a few feet of him, he extended his hand and wiped away some of the blood still spilling from her self-inflicted wound. She only stared into his eyes and saw the same thing as before. Love that he willing wanted to share with her. She felt safe. And she forgot her troubles.

"I want to try," she whispered.

Cloud smiled and embraced her.


Notes D’ Auteur

Cowboy Bebop: The Movie
Linkin’ Park: Meteora
Indie films

I’ll be the first one to admit it. I was being very ambiguous with this story on purpose. The progression and the way the characters interacted with each other was done like it was on purpose, seeing to be detached from what ordinary situations would normally conform it to be. The ending was also changed from what I initially had it played out to be in my mind. The scene in the bar was suppose to have Cloud acting real arrogant and cocky, angry, purposely overpowering her and then doing whatever pleasurable thing he felt like doing to her until she died or committed suicide, with the resolution being that her life continued pluming into depths she could no longer climb out of. But, for some reason, the ending that you just finished reading seemed so much more natural and so much more… Indie films.

This story swept pretty close to the depths of “dark” that I would ever venture in a story, and you’ll probably never see something like this from me again. I was so depressed writing this thing halfway through that I had to stop and write a short little happy piece. I think, though, that the ending is a nice departure from the norm that I would do in stories such as these. Bittersweet.

There were also a lot of references and parallels between this story and it’s predecessor, Bullets Cry Of Red Tears. The yellow dress she wore here when she was about to find a love, someone she can trust and regain a normal life with, and the last time she wore a yellow dress, the last time she actually had some shred or normality’s in her daily affairs. The innocence she experienced and of what was occurring around her before and the now obvious acceptance of what was occurring and not giving a care. The images of her mother committing suicide not affecting her before, but now deeply bothering her psyche. All there, because after writing it’s predecessor, I wondered for a while just how that little girl would react and grow up knowing everything that she thought was right in the world was suddenly snatched away from her. Thus where this story hatched and gained it’s origins.

Expect a lot more happy things from me in the future, unless I come up with a REALLY good idea that I simply cannot pass up. Hope you enjoyed this!

Ersatz Sobriquet

Maintained by: