You were sat in your favourite bar, a small rough place. Filled with the low life's of this universe , just outside the galactic federations jurisdiction on Neptuar 9. It was a hive of activity for black market deals. A constant buzz of hushed whispers and and under table hand offs. Despite the clientele that gathered here, there was a lack of trouble, you all followed an unspoken code. You liked that.
The one thing you didn't like was the attention that your mere presence seemed to attract. Indeed you were an Eithar, a highly respected race among the elites of galactic society. A race well renowned for your grace and Devine beauty. The truth of the matter was your planet was very much divided. Those considered flawless were placed in the upper tier, taught how to parade themselves to the rest of the universe and preserve the perfect image. However those of you born with any 'deformity' were placed in the lower tier, a prison like area covering the core of the planet. Those of you placed here were the driving force of the planet, providing power and money through the intergaltic sex ring. This allowed those privileged Eithars to live a life of luxury having to do nothing other than indulge themselves safe in the knowledge that Eitharia has the best defensive systems in 80% of known space. Not only keeping them safe from anyone who may wish to invade this 'paradise' but also keeping the disgusting underbelly of society from escaping.
You yourself were nearly perfect. Your skin a soft shade of lilac with a shimmer that resembled diamond dust under your skin. Your eyes like wide opals set into your face, you hair a shimmery shade of white , you had shaved it at the sides forming a white tufty Mohawk in the center. Not quite Eitharia approved but it was a styling choice of your own, naturally it would fall into a cascade of wavey white curls. From the sides of your skull grew two pearly white horns which grew in perfect curls and from the base of your spine a long , slender flesh like tail tipped with several white feathers. Even your figure was perfect, slim shoulders, leading to a heavy bust which was emphasised by your tucked in waist and curvy hips
However you had several deep lavender discolourations. Most noticbly was a patch that covered half of your lower lip on the right side and the corner of your upper lip, bleeding off into the skin surrounding your mouth. Your shoulders also covered in the deep lavender spots that resembled freckles,on your right shoulder they trailed up your collarbone, across up your neck, along your jaw and meeting up with the patches on your lips. You often wore tops with the shoulders cut out and a deep cut out semi circles that started at your collarbone and hung down exposing your ample cleavage. The final imperfection being on your hips. Once again your top exposed this , raising up at the hips and exposing the line of speckled dots that moved from your navel over your side and trailed down to your rear but were cut off by the hem of your shorts only teasing at where the trail may end
For these small markings you had been subjugated to imprisonment, forced labour and as you grew old enough sold to a collector as a concubine. While the conditions were better than you'd had most if your life you still loathed the feeling of being a pet. You wanted freedom, enough to kill for it. And that is why you were now sat in a run down bar, your clothes being permeated with the smell of vomit and stale liquor
The other perk of this bar was it always had a constant stream of work. You sauntered over to the board and scanned the notes that had been stuck up. A lot of them were in alien languages and while you were quite fluent in a few it still limited your choices. You scoffed at one "300 blurkles for a world leader, you've got to be joking." One caught your eye,
90,000 smeckles
Name: Rick Sanchez
Race: human
Age: 32
Kill at first chance
90,000 smeckles for a squishy human, that was easy money. You took the card and slid a few flurbos across the bar for your drinks before heading out