Disclaimer: Don't own nothin'.

Beginning Authors Note: Most who read the previous installment will be disappoint (maybe) that NONE of the events I'd promised in the preview of this chapter happened. At all. Not that they won't next time, just that they didn't THIS time. The person who beta'd this chapter (I hesitate to call him MY beta because he's only done one chapter for me and that's not nearly enough to claim ownership on) posed a question that I reckon deserves answering. Yes, the other Hina girls will be in the story. Probably next chapter.

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Warnings: Adult Language, Graphic Violence, Sexy Stuff

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Chapter Two:

The Succubus

-or-

Why Keitaro Is A Badass

"Fuck me!"

Consciousness hit Keitaro like a taser to the nuts. He bolted up with a gasp and a groaned curse. Tactile examination determined that nothing was damaged downstairs, followed immediately by visual confirmation.

A slender arm wrapped around Keitaro's chest and coaxed him onto to his back. A face nuzzled into his neck as a dainty, feminine hand ran over his chest.

"I thought it would take a bit more convincing to get to the good stuff, handsome," A whisper carried on a puff of breath and followed by a warm, wet intrusion into Keitaro's ear. He didn't know if the tongue was pleasant or unpleasant, but he did know that it was pretty sexy. "but if you're ready, I'm willing."

Keitaro kept his face placid. Inside, however, he was doing cartwheels. He'd been anticipating this moment since he'd learned what sex was, and was in no way sad to know that his virginity would soon be leaving him. He couldn't help but think that he deserved to have SOME good in his life that wasn't mixed with bad. As far as Keitaro was concerned, which was pretty far, unless the woman next to him had a penis or tentacles or something, nothing could go wrong with this situation. He rolled towards her and threw his arm over her in the same motion, then pulled her flush against him. He dove in for a kiss, paying only enough attention to slide some hair out of her face. The woman groaned and ran a hand down his torso to his groin, where she began to fondle him quite vigorously.

'I feel a great disturbance in my Force,' Keitaro thought. Something was very wrong. By all rights he should have been ready and raring, but... nothing. Reluctantly, and with a frustrated grunt, Keitaro pulled away to examine himself. Externally nothing was out of place besides the lack of reaction. He looked away from Li'l K' and the hand that was still diligently at work to the woman it belonged to.

Red hair. Perky nose. Nice chest.

An image of a flying fist powered by righteous fury flashed before his eyes. Keitaro recoiled violently, rolled off an odd angle in the mattress he and the woman were laying on (sparing a moment to be thankful she hadn't had a stronger grip on him), and hit the shag-carpeted floor with a heavy expulsion of air.

"NOOOOO!," he moaned piteously. He scrubbed his face with his hands. "This has ta be a dream. A nightmare! The most humiliating nightmare I ever had... It's not bad enough that I was in bed with that-that maniacal, misandric TART, but I can't even show 'er what-for! I'm impotent! Oh, please kill me. Please!" He ended his rant with a cry to the mirrored ceiling.

"Too late for that, honey," a smoky voice from the bed stated with some humour. "I'll excuse the tart comment because you reacted badly to the body I had on." Replacing the strumpet from the inn was a curvy, buxom girl with wavy violet hair and bright orange eyes. Her full lips were spread in an oddly open and friendly smile. She was sitting with her feet together and her knees apart. From where Keitaro was kneeling, right at crotch level, he could tell that the carpet matched the drapes. "Don't worry about your rather... sizable problem," she winked. "It WILL wear off eventually."

"Just what's goin' on here?," Keitaro asked. He settled into a more comfortable position on the floor, still keeping his distance from the cute girl who was a monster earlier, and crossed his arms over his chest. He didn't bother preserving his modesty in front of the similarly dressed girl. "Where am I? Why'm I naked? Who're you? Who decorated this place?," Keitaro growled the last part almost under his breath and stared the girl on the bed down, trying to force honesty by will alone. The girl giggled in a way that made some interesting parts of her body temporarily go into motion. The jiggle-giggle almost warranted a blush from Keitaro, but he kept his blood down and continued to stare.

"Hmm... In order:," the girl began, affecting a pompous air. "I was TRYING to have some fun with you before you freaked out. Jump your bones, doncha know," the friendly smile reappeared. Keitaro internally added cute-points to her tally and continued to attempt to divine truth with a look. "This place," she said and gestured to the room at large. "This is your Afterlife!"

Keitaro's expression transformed from piercing to incredulous instantly, provoking another jiggle-giggle from the girl.

"No fuckin' way," he said. "I ain't been to church in long-ass time, but there ain't no way that Heaven could be a-a love motel! I woulda remembered THAT!"

"You're right, but I can prove that this is your Afterlife. Watch this," that said, the purple haired girl flopped towards the edge of the bed, which Keitaro now realized was heart shaped, and started rummaging around in a side-table drawer. Keitaro chose to keep his skepticism to himself and instead checked out her excellent backside in its reflection on the ceiling. Soon the girl came up with a TV remote, which she pointed over his head. The naked young man turned around in time to see several young men and women in what appeared to be a grimy apartment, naked and rutting in all sorts of uncomfortable looking positions. A second later the channel was switched to snow.

Keitaro looked over his shoulder and saw the girl looking uncomfortable for the first time. She was blushing and rubbing her neck self-consciously.

"Whoops, eh-heh. I got a little bored waiting for you and...," she trailed off, then cleared her throat. "Well, uh, anyway, watch THIS."

Keitaro turned back around. The snow persisted for a few seconds then was replaced with a blue screen with a white triangle in the upper-left corner. That was, in turn, replaced with a title screen reading "YOUR LIFE" in plain block-letters. Next was a screen that said "Part ONE: Early Childhood", followed by more snow.

"What's this?"

"Wait a sec, the tape's messed up. Some parts don't play and there's no sound anywhere. I'll fast forward to the first good part."

The first good part, such as it was, immediately filled Keitaro with immense pride in himself. It was a scene featuring what he recognized as himself as a young boy being kissed on either cheek by two little girls in a sandbox. Keitaro recognized himself so easily because of feature that had caused him no end of grief throughout life. Even back then Keitaro seemed to have a thousand cowlicks, all sending his hair in different directions. He looked a like he'd been hung upside-down, hair-sprayed, then righted. When he was small it bothered him a bit when the other kids made fun of him. When he'd gotten older, it just bothered him that, unless his hair was very long or very short, wearing hats actually caused his scalp pain. Older Keitaro had longer hair at that moment.

"You were quite the little player, huh? Cute too." Keitaro jumped upon hearing the voice coming from right beside him. The girl had somehow sat next to him and actually started leaning on him without his notice.

"Uh, sure. Fast forward s'more," he said. He'd decided to just accept that he was dead and was watching a bad cassette recording of his life with a naked chick, at least until shown otherwise. It could have been some sort of elaborate prank or maybe a hidden camera show. Whatever it was, he figured it would be best to just go along with it.

The next scene had Keitaro, looking around five or six, dressed in a miniature kimono and hakama standing atop some monkey-bars and looking imperiously down on nearly a hundred other children, all prostrate before him.

"I remember that! I'd read some cheesy samurai manga an' decided that I should start a revolution an' become daimyo. Even I was surprised how easy it was ta convince the other kids ta be my subordinates. I got in a lot o' trouble for that. Fast forward s'more."

Next was an older man throwing Young Keitaro around a small yard.

"That's my dad tryin' ta teach me the family style. Didn't work too well. Keep goin'."

A young girl with black hair was throwing Keitaro around much as the man had.

"My sister didn't have any more luck. Again."

A frowning teenage girl in white kimono and red hakama was beating Young Keitaro, now nine or ten, quite severely with a bokken.

"When my sister couldn't beat martial arts into me, my folks shipped me of ta this sword school in Kyoto. That didn't really help much, I had trouble with that too. Couldn't get into the right frame o' mind."

"You didn't ever cry, did you?"

"'Course not. I had brass ones even back then. Watch this, I'm 'bout ta spit right in that girl's face."

The girl stopped hitting Young Keitaro, bowed, then reluctantly stuck a hand out to help him to his feet. A glob of blood and saliva with a tooth in it struck her in the cheek. The girl shook in rage for just moment, before visibly taking a deep breath and stalking away.

"Go forward a bit more... stop. This is the first fight I ever won."

A smaller, younger version of the other girl was taking her turn at hitting Young Keitaro. By the look on the two children's faces, the girl was also taunting Young Keitaro.

"I think she's sayin' somethin' about how my parents didn't want me, so they sold me to the school. Breedin' stock or somethin' like that. I don't really remember."

A few more hits and Young Keitaro got fed up. He discarded his own practice sword in order to catch the next blow in one hand. He shoved forward, causing the hilt end of the stick to strike his opponents stomach, used her disorientation to reverse his grip, then pushed up and forward, striking the girl in the solar plexus with her own weapon. She onto her rump, cradling her chest and crying a little bit. Young Keitaro looked immensely satisfied.

"Go forward a whole bunch now, almost ta the end... a bit more... there! Man, that was awesome."

On screen a Keitaro, looking almost identical to the Keitaro watching except for wearing clothes, was... wrestling a bear. The bear had its forepaws on Keitaro's shoulders and looked to be leaning heavily on the young man. He resisted for several seconds, futilely trying to shake the huge beast off. When that tactic proved useless, Keitaro braced one foot before shooting the other out, hitting the bear square in the groin. The animal immediately rolled off of Keitaro and onto its back. The young man jumped onto the bear's chest and started punching it in the snout. This apparently annoyed the bear. It wrapped its forelegs around Keitaro then rolled over onto him. The bear looked smug as it slowly adjusted its hold on Keitaro so that it had one huge paw on his chest and the other on the side of the struggling young man's head.

"Is this where you died?"

"Hell nah, watch this."

From under the bear a hand appeared, followed by an arm, and latched onto the living death machine's throat. A second passed without reaction from the beast. Then it started rocking between its front and back feet, trying to crush Keitaro even faster. The hand held firm though and even tightened, if the tendons raising up on the forearm were anything to judge by. The bear began to become desperate in its movements, while the hand held steadfast on its neck. Ten minutes passed before the bear quit being a bear and started being a bear's corpse. Near the end it had even tried pulling itself away. It only ended up dragging Keitaro, with one side of his face turned into a giant bruise, with it. It was actually a bit anticlimatic, how the bear died. There was no roaring or mauling. It just sort of fell over and stopped moving. Even when that happened, Keitaro maintained his grip.

"Did you strangle that monster to death?"

"Oh yeah," Keitaro smirked physically and vocally.

"One handed?"

"Oh yeah," Keitaro's ego was practically a physical presence in the room. "The trip down mem'ry lane was pleasant an' all, but you haven't answered my other question yet. Who ARE you, an'... hey! When'd ya get in my lap?" It was a more than a little unnerving the way the girl was invading his personal space without his knowledge.

"Hmm...," the girl said striking a thinking pose and leaning more deeply into his chest. "I guess that you could say that I'm all of your lusts, given shape and life. You won a raffle when you died, so now you get to spend the rest of eternity... with ME!" The girl gave him her friendly smile again.

"That's fine an' all, but what's yer name?"

The physical-manifestation-of-Keitaro's-carnal-desires said something. Her lips moved and Keitaro heard something, but he couldn't seem to register it.

"Say again?"

"It's no use. Your ears are still too use to mortal sounds. How about you call me... Roxanne. You know, like that Police song."

"Ya wanna have the same name as some fictional hooker? Why?," Keitaro asked. Normally he would have just shrugged and gone along, but he seemed to be having some trouble keep his lips zipped with her sitting on him.

Roxanne shrugged for him and said simply, "I like that song." A moment passed in silence before the viol-ette sprung off of him in an extremely distracting fashion. "C'mon downstairs with me. I've got someone that you should meet. When you do, everything will make a little more sense."

"We can't leave the room, we aren't wearing any clothes-"

"Yes we are."

"-and I don't think that nudists are welcome in Heaven... what?," Keitaro stopped, confused, when what Roxanne said and what he was suddenly seeing and feeling registered.

Roxanne, who Keitaro had only seen naked up to that point, was now wearing a fuku several sizes too small. Keitaro now had on... a pair of extremely comfortable boxers covered with hearts the exact same bright pink as the room's bed. Keeping his composure now that no one was in his space, Keitaro said nothing, only grunting. Roxanne jiggle-giggled in a way that took full advantage of the tight uniform she was nearly bursting out of.

The room's door led directly to the top of a flight of dingy stairs. The stairs descended only one floor to an open doorway filled with dim light. Roxanne grabbed Keitaro's hand and bounced down the stairs, pulling him after her. The room at the bottom was fairly nondescript, as far as small pubs went. All of the chairs in the room were setting upturned on the various tables and counters. The pub's light was coming from a single fluorescent light hanging over the bar, behind which a man in a white suit was dry-wiping a glass.

Roxanne directed Keitaro over to the man. Keitaro cold practically FEEL her excitement building, while he himself was fishing for a memory. The man looked really familiar...

"Keitaro," Roxanne began. The bartender simply looked on with amusement, never ceasing to clean the glass. "I'd like you to meet-"

The memory came to him then. White suit. Bowtie. Goatee. The connection were made.

"Lucifer," She finished.

"Colonel Sanders?," Keitaro queried at the same time.

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Ending Authors Note: Man, all in one sitting. I'm beat. Pardon any mistakes (better yet, tell me about them), but this ones kind of rough. I'd like to thank the reviewers that have graced me thus far and any that might in the future. Did that ending throw you for a loop? It's actually the joke this entire chapter was based on. Whatever.

Again, critique and reviews appreciated.

Keep on truckin',

Neurobrand, out.