A Night In The Life

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WARNING: This story takes place in a more adult setting and makes reference to mature subject matter. While I tried to keep the mature content to a minimum, there is just no avoiding certain references.

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Spoiler Warning
The following details are about a player-created storyline, or is information currently unrevealed about a character.
Please do not use this information ICly unless given permission to do so.

At home

It was ten at night in Millennium City. Aliya was in her apartment, preparing for her nightly bathtime ritual; she had turned the water on, cranking the hot water handle over as far as it would go, and gave the cold water handle a tap just so it wouldn't feel unnoticed. Then, she leaned on the sink, meditating on her reflection until the mirror fogged up and was rendered useless before actually stepping into the stream of scalding-hot water. She didn't mind the heat at all. In fact, she wished that the temperature would have gone up a few more degrees, up to an even hundred-fifty fahrenheit. She just stood under the stream until she felt the water temperature start to dip into the double-digits, then she stepped out of the shower, grabbed a towel and tried her best to de-fog her mirrors. With that accomplished, she turned back to the shower stall and manipulated the handles, turning the cold water all the way up and turning the hot water off to give it a chance to replenish.

It was now eleven at night in Millennium City. Aliya was in her bathroom, having just de-fogged her mirror. She took a few moments to check herself over for any injuries or bruising and, finding none, took a few more moments to ogle herself. She shook her head, swooshing her long black hair across her back. The feel of her hair brushing across the tops of her buttocks sent a shiver up her spine. 'Totally worth sitting on it all the time.' she thought to herself. She then opened the medicine cabinet, which was completely empty save for an elegantly-carved wooden container, about the size of a long matchbox. The container was made from some sort of dark hardwood - mahogany, Aliya thought. Opening this container, Aliya took out a small tool that looked something like an obsidian arrowhead, except it was completely smooth, as though it had been molded rather than chipped out of a larger piece. Then, as she had done countless times in the past, she dug the small blade deep into her left bicep, incising through the olive-tinted flesh as though it were butter and spilling the greenish-black ichor that was her blood. When she felt bone, she dragged the blade through her flesh, cutting a ring through the scar tissue left behind by previous performances of this ritual. Her regenerative ability was quick in repairing the damage; not even a second after the blade cut through her flesh, there was no evidence that any wound even existed, save for a band of scar tissue and black droplets of ichor which were wiped up with a few squares of toilet paper. When Aliya finished cutting her left arm, she hopped up onto her counter and repeated the ritual with both of her legs, cutting into the flesh high up on her thighs. When she was finally finished with that, it was eleven-thirty and her hot water had replenished enough for her to finish her shower.

It was midnight in Millennium City. Aliya was in her bedroom, trying to decide which outfit she would wear to work tonight. She decided on something modest: jeans and a t-shirt. She tossed the towel she took from her bathroom onto her bed - she didn't care about a soggy mattress, she didn't even sleep and she never had any company over that would call for the use of her bed. Once she was dressed, Aliya grabbed her work bag from its place by the front door and stepped into the hallway, taking a quick look for anyone with blue hair. She had been having recurring dreams about a woman with golden eyes and blue hair, and even heard someone like that lived in her building, but she only ran into her once. 'Probably weirded her into re-dyeing her hair.' she thought to herself as she stepped into the elevator. She would have taken the stairs, but she needed her energy for work and the twenty-minute walk to the outskirts of the city. It probably wasn't a very smart idea for a single woman to be walking through the city alone at half-past-midnight, but Aliya really didn't care much about endangering herself. After all, she's fought much greater danger than muggers during her dayjob.

At work

It was now one in the morning at Supermoves, a gentleman's club on the outskirts of Millennium City. Aliya had arrived twenty minutes earlier, whereupon she started referring to herself as Janine, the name that she danced with. Janine thought it amusing that there were so many different types of men and women that came to watch her on the stage. She paid attention to the faces as she twirled and gyrated on the pole, finding some of them easier to recognize while upside-down. She even recognized one man from the streets: a businessman missing his top right molar, who she didn't recognize until she grabbed a handful of his tie and pulled him into her breasts for a couple of dollars. She barely managed to stifle laughter once she realized where she recognized him from; she knocked out his tooth the day before as Aliya. He was wearing a biker jacket and holding up a gas station at the time. He didn't seem to catch Janine's recognition, and she supposed that was okay. When her last song ended, she went into the dressing room to stash her tips and freshen up a bit before moving on to the floor and, judging by the few dancers that night, the back rooms.

It was now one-thirty in the morning at Supermoves. Janine stepped out of the dressing room to look for patrons, and immediately recognized a woman she had previous interactions with. This woman was a low-grade supervillain with a mutant ability granting regeneration and a minor strength boost. She was a bit of a regular at Supermoves, and Janine broke the woman's rib a week earlier. She never really learned the woman's name though, real or in-costume. The woman was sitting beside a young man that Janine assumed was a brother, they both had the same green eyes and rust-colored hair. Janine recognized this boy as another low-grade villain. When she fought him, he had regenerative powers much like hers, but she later found out that he was a mimic; someone with the ability to copy mutations. He called himself Chameleon and apparently recognized Janine, as he looked about ready to bolt for the door when Aliya approached. The woman put a hand on his shoulder to calm him before greeting Janine. "Hey Aliya. Slow night, eh?" She didn't bother correcting those who called her Aliya.

"Good evening, ah... Annie?" Janine just guessed at a name. She looked like an Annie. "How's the rib doing? Who's the guy you're with? He's cute!" She didn't really think the guy was cute... red-heads weren't Janine's type. "I prefer Anita. The rib's healed but still a bit sore, and this is my son, Blake. Twenty-first birthday party... decided to keep it to something simple." Anita looked to her son who had calmed a bit, no longer looking like he was about to run for the door. Janine crawled into his lap and draped her arms over his shoulders. "Want to come into the VIP room for a little birthday party? On the house, promise!" Janine preferred to be as friendly as possible when it came to supervillain customers. "You catch more flies with honey than with vinegar, you know." Janine explained, picking up that Blake was more than a little apprehensive over that fact that the woman who kicked his ass and broken his mother's rib last week was now half-naked and sitting on his lap. After downing the last of his drink, Blake decided to take Janine's offer and headed to the back rooms with her.

It was now two in the morning at Supermoves, ten minutes after Janine took Blake to the back and bought him a bottle of champagne. She didn't mind the expense, as it really didn't matter in the long run. Janine had opted to treat him for an hour, and by now had stripped down to just her garter. Blake's entire body was tense, as though he were anticipating a fight, and Janine tried her best to make him feel more comfortable. As she was gyrating her body against Blake's, she tried to make small talk. "So how's the bad-boy life treating you?" she asked. Blake responded with an uncertain, nervous grunt. Remembering a tip that another dancer had passed on to her, she decided to let Blake feel as though he were in control. She turned her back to him, sat on his lap, and placed his hands on her belly. "Tell you what. Since it's your birthday, I'll let you call the shots. Don't be nervous, just do what you want and I'll tell you when to stop."

After about ten minutes of Blake nervously groping Janine's body, he started to get a bit more talkative and eventually a dialogue was established. The young man was deceptively intelligent for a normal street thug. He also had surprising insight into his actions, or else he was just trying to sound intelligent in an attempt to impress Janine. "I, uh. I actually don't like the life I'm in." "Oh? Decided to break the silence then?" "Yeah... Uh. Well, I... I kind of feel like I'm pressured into crime stuff. I mean, my mother robs banks, and the gangs in Westside..." "Yeah, I know how rough those guys can be. You're not in one, are you? A gang, I mean?" "I've thought about it, but it doesn't really seem like a good move for me. Too violent. I'd probably be better off getting a real job."

By now, one of the bouncers knocked on the doorframe and peeked past the curtain to let Janine know that Blake's time was almost up. He frowned when he noticed that she was sitting on Blake's lap with his hands in a position that would probably get the boy kicked out at the least if Janine hadn't given the burly bouncer a cheerful smile and spoke up. "It's alright Bubbles, he knows his limits." Bubbles looked at Blake and nodded with a warning. "Just so ya know, she dun need me if you push her." Janine and Blake finished their time in silence and she went back up on stage for another round.

It was now three in the morning at Supermoves. Janine was in the locker room redoing her makeup and changing into a different costume before hitting the floor again when a woman in a powder blue figure-skating leotard came up to her and notified her that Anita and Blake wanted to have a chat with her before they left. Janine acknowledged the request and met up with the mother and son after she finished changing.When Janine approached, Blake was looking mortified. Anita had a broad smirk on her face as she asked for a job application. "Sure, is this for you?" Janine asked. Anita gestured towards Blake. "Nope. We've been talking and he decided that he needs a job. I'm sure you can put him somewhere, right? Like, as a DJ or something?" Janine nodded and shortly returned with an application form. Blake worked for several weeks as a janitor before the regular DJ let him take over as his backup.