Disclaimer: I do not own the Persona Series!

A/N: Hey guys! Just as a fair warning, this story has some vulgarity and some offensive material. I'm personally not like this, but I thought it would be hilarious to see the main character of P3P be a complete prick. There's also a P3P Satire Boy Version, so if you're into this one, please check it out! My friend and I have joint ideas and influence on the different stories, and we thought it would be really funny to bring them to the Persona fan fiction world! Though it starts off just like the game, we have original ideas. So please enjoy and read and review, good or bad! :)

- Harken

Welcome to Iwatodai?

o1.

Getting off the train, there's a full moon that's as white as a full-grown albino. Where the hell am I? I can't really tell because the pollution of Japan is suffocating. Like really – why are there so many fucking people? They use too many resources, and they make me want to puke all over this gay-ass school uniform. This skirt seriously makes me look like raccoon tramp, and I hate it.

And as I'm walking down this trippy street at midnight to get to this trippy new dorm, of course the God-damn power goes out. Story of my life, really. Walking alone in a city I hardly even know? The fuck? The coffin things certainly don't help. Where am I? Dracula's hometown?

Finally reaching the shiny yellow windows of the dorms, my "home," things get even weirder.

As I walk into the funky-smelling, richly-furnished piece of posh poop and glower at the nasty, retro television and puke-colored floor tiles, a little boy with a shirt that looks like a jail cell shoves his pale little butt face into my own. "Welcome."

Excuse me?

"You're late. I've been waiting a long time." Okay? I stare at the humanly-impossible light blue of his eyes and gag. What kind of place IS this? A circus too? They've got to be kidding. Sad version of a fucking joke.

"If you want to proceed, then please sign here. It's a contract."

No shit, you bastard. It says "contract" on the top.

Glaring at him, I pick up the yellowed-piece of fabric and stare down at it. "I chooseth this fate of my mine own free will." Chooseth? Are we all turning into fucking Shakespeare now?

Yet nonetheless, I merely shake my head and scribble down "Minako Aristao." As if it's legally binding anyway. I'm only 16.

"Very well," he muses, giving me a creepy, "Imma kill you bitch" smile. "Time is something no one can escape. It delivers us all to the same end. Wishing won't…" I block him out and focus on his hair. It was scraggly and malnourished like a baby gorilla's. Didn't his mother know how to properly groom her little kid? Maybe she abandoned him because he's so damn stupid and annoying…

"And so it begins…"

Yeah, the time that he leaves and gets out of my face. As he melts into the darkness of the dorm, I let out a short, satisfied cackle.

"W-Who's there?"

"Yo momma, you bitch. Who the FUCK do you think it is? It's the transfer student!"

A brunette appears from the hallway, her light-brown eyes wide, round, and as she comprehends my remark, scared shitless.

"How can you be… But it's…!" I look over at her and laugh. Her skin-tight cardigan has a Ketchup stain on it, and her red bow looks as if it's about to grow eyes and strangle her to death. She's literally shaking in her boots, and it's so fucking funny that I can hardly keep the piss from trickling down my thighs.

"Well," I begin, tumbling with mocking laugher, "I'm –"

"Don't tell me…"

"Don't tell you what?" I advance on her, my red eyes narrow slits. Who the hell is she, anyway? "I'm answering your question, you dumbass. Don't you DARE tell me to…"

At that moment, I realize that she's holding a gun. It glints in the catch of the moonlight, and I continue to stare at it. It's silver, shiny, and engraved with S.E.E.S. Oh shit.

Changing mid-second to smile at her, I bat my eyelashes and let out a nervous giggle. "Oh, don't worry, girlfriend. I was only joking!" But she could see the fear and fakeness in my face. This bitch was gonna shoot my vagina out.

"Wait!"

"OH GOD!" I jump ten feet into the air as some prissy-looking redhead ambles into the room, her eye half-hidden by her flowing hair. She also has a gun, but by the way she gazes at me, I'm not afraid. Instead, I feel my frown return as I look her up and down. Beautiful, elegant, and, above all, a complete bitch. I could tell already. Especially since the way she looked "down" at me. Pussy-breath.

The first girl gasps, and the lights suddenly come flickering on. For the first time, I see these bitches in the light. They're both very pretty with flawless complexions and figures only presented in movies and video games, but they weren't as pretty as me. Fucking second place, ladies!

"I didn't think you'd arrive so late." Weird jazz music starts playing as the redhead steps forward. What the fuck?

"My name is Mitsuru Kirijo." Fucking woop-de-doo. "I'm one of the students that live in this dorm."

"Oh really?" I ask, my voice bubbly and high-pitched. "Cause I really wouldn't know since you're here and it's after midnight! What a fucking shocker!"

Both bitches stare at me for two full seconds. They contemplate me, judge me; maybe even pity me. I didn't even know.

"…Who's she?"

"I ALREADY TOLD YOU! I'M THE FUCKING TRANSFER STUDENT!"

"She's a transfer student," said the redhead. OH MY FUCKING GOD! "It was a last minute decision to assign her here."

It's then my turn to stare at her. "What the hell are you talking about? I got my assignment two months ago…"

She ignores me. "She'll eventually be moved to a room in the normal dorm."

"What? You already don't want me?"

"Is it okay for her to be here?" Fucking brunette was acting as if I wasn't even in the room.

"I guess we'll see."

"What the hell does that mean, you bitch?" the older girl merely moves her eyes in a retarted-looking squinting fashion. Who the FUCK does she think she is?

"This is Yukari Takeba," she continues, motioning to the timid, awkward-as-fuck brunette. "She'll be a junior this spring, just like you."

If I even go to school, you bitch….

"…Hi. I'm Yukari."

"OH, it's a pleasure to meet you. I'm glad you didn't blow me away with your fucking gun! And anyway, what do you assholes mean by this isn't a normal dorm?"

"It's a co-ed dorm, for one thing," said the mysterious redhead, "and there are other differences as well. I'll explain later."

"That isn't an answer! ANSWER ME, YOU GODDAMN BITCH-HO!"

She gives me the slightest look of disapproval, and for some reason, I understand that I'm expected to cringe and feel guilty for my behavior. What a fucking joke. She's REALLY going to have to get used to me being here. Stupid ginger.

"It's getting late," she sighs, looking down at her watch. At a glance, it looked as if it cost more than my tuition for the year. "You'll find your room on the 3rd floor."

"Oh? Is that where you stack all the prostitutes?"

Again, she ignores me. But I can see a hint of a scowl and even a twitch of amusement. "I suggest you tuck in for the night."

"Gladly," I grunt, lowering my gaze to her designer heels. This girl must be loaded! The fuck!

"Oh… I'll show you the way. Follow me."

"Uh, hold on a minute, bitch." I shift to my other side, staring up atYukari's skimpy-ass frame. "I don't need or want your help. You can piss off, Yuarki Take-a-bra. Seriously, your tits are so small!"

Without a word, the disturbing jazz music stops, and some suspenseful, serious shit starts. Mitsuru nods to me, and I can see the stern wrath in the pit of her amber-brown eyes. I can sense that she'll be a hard one to shoot down.

So much to my dismay, I follow the obnoxious Yukari to the last room at the end of the hall. The nameplate reads a scratched-off Yukari. Fucking great. Her hand-me-downs.

"This is it…" No shit. We're standing at a door while waiting around like idiots. "Pretty easy to remember, huh? Since it's right at the end of the hall."

"Yeah, I bet that's why you moved rooms – cause your tiny brain couldn't remember where it was."

Her brown eyes droop to the ground, and she shuffles her monkey feet. "So… Any questions?"

"So what about that little freak downstairs?" I ask, biting my tongue as I stare her down. "Mr. Prison Pants with the breathy, rapist voice? Did he come for you too? Did he look up your disgustingly short panties?"

"What are you talking about?" she stutters, her brows furrowing and her eyes shying away to the side. "C'mon. It's not funny."

"Oh, I'm pretty sure it is. Bitch."

She doesn't seem to understand what I'm talking about.

But as I snort in her direction and turn to make my way into my new "pad," the moron puts her hand on my arm and stops me, her eyes still freakishly shifted to the side even though she's supposed to be talking to me.

"Um…Can I ask you something?"

"No. Get the fuck out."

"On your way here from the station, was everything okay?"

"Yeah. Everything was great since I met you two losers." She scowls at me, actual anger instead of fear flaring in her eyes. Good girl. "But really, what do you mean?"

"You know what I –" She stops, catching herself. "…Never mind."

She was probably trying to see if I hooked up with any of her male strippers. That lousy piece of insecurity.

"It seems like you're alright."

"Yeah?" I say, a grin forming as I turn around to flash her. I'm not wearing any underwear. "You like it, bitch?"

"Well, I'd better get going," she breathes, her eyes peeping out of their sockets as she rushes away.

Laughing my ass off, I step into my room. She's gotta be totally freaked.

"Um…" Not even a minute later and she's in my fucking way again. Nice. "I'm sure you still have other questions, but let's save them for later, okay?"

What kind of thing is that to say? Is she TRYING to say "fuck you, you little bitch?" Geez! Japanese tramps and their lingo!

"Don't even bother," I shout, my face growing as red as my eyes. "I don't need to know where the hookers are because I can get some anytime I want for free!"

Her mouth opens, and that defeated, intimidated look returns. "Good night." And then she finally clicks away. For GOOD.

Now that I'm not bothered with petty girls in petty outfits, I FINALLY enter my new room. Though as soon as I swing inside and flip on the lights, I almost wish that I hadn't.

And ugly pink bedspread the same color as Yukari's cardigan haunts me from across the room. A fifty year-old desks squeaks around the corner, and a sink, some shelves, and a puny, un-erected-dick-sized fridge keep them company. Also, that fucking jazz music was back with a vengeance. "There's sex in the air, but I don't care; I love the smell of it!" Oh God. This has got to be a fucking practical prank.

As I check my bags to make sure Yukari Take-a-bra didn't steal anything and then lay down on the surprisingly soft surface of the stupid made, I make a note to tell rich Mitsuru to buy me some new furnishings.

But with the way things were going, the bitch would tell me to eat my own cum.

They all needed to fuck off.

WHERE THE HELL IS THAT MUSIC COMING FROM?

I hope you all liked it! If you do, please check out P3P Satire Boy Version. Yet again, let me know how I'm doing, and I hope you all have an awesome day!