Thick, gray -white mist hung over the beaten-down town giving it an eerie haunted look. The Heavens cried in remorse for this pitiful town, pitting it and every fool in it's belittled walls. The town's once great buildings have a destroyed look to them with bricks and cinder blocks lying at their feet and great lengths of ivy and morning glories basking on them, the dusty fires burning in old tin garbage cans gleaming dimly, their lids throw hap-hazardly over the alley, lying upside down with bits and scrapes of jewelry, food, alcoholic drinks, and numerous drugs. A prostitute's paradise.

A black clad whore stood in silhouetted darkness, watching the people dressed in what only could be described as rags warmed their fingerless cotton gloved hands towards the small bonfires made in the bins of trash. With a hefty scoff he looks up at the old town clock, mosses and little vine-like bushes trailing down it's broken glass covering. Squinting he reads the clock's time: Nine o'clock. His client was already 15 minutes late. Shrugging, he pulls out a cigarette and lights it with a flick of his finger.

"Magic sure as hell can come in handy.." Limp sienna hair is quickly brushed away as the owner of such hair leans back against a wall, cancer stick hanging from a up-turned bottom lip. Slowly it burned down, the end barely lit with a nauseas smell to it. Growling from his throat in fury he pulls himself right, the black mini skirt un-ruffling as he stretches his arms high, testing the black fish-net he's wearing over his feminine chest. Tapping the toe of his foot, the black lace up boot going up to his tighs rides down almost to his knees. With a hiss of frustration at 1) not getting laid and 2) the boot itself he pulls it back up bending over seductively as he does so. A lustful growl comes from the alley nearby and he smirks in approval.

"How much..?" A grunt comes from the speaker and his grin widens. He pulls on the hem of the cut long black skirt that overlaps the short one, with a slit all the way up his front, the leather material falls from his hips slightly before he pulls himself back up, chestnut hair going everywhere as he brushes it back into place, behind his ears which the left one has seven bright silver hoops and the right one has four, skinnier than the left's. Black lips part, and pale skin moves to say:

"Free, but you can leave me a tip, if you want. But, only leave it if I please you. Much."

~|:*~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*:|~

Sweat beaded down brown -black tipped locks and meshed black eye-liner with white foundation. He looked like he was crying black tears. Arching his back against the heat driving inside of him so forcefully, he grabs onto the nearest thing, shaggy dark brown hair. Gasping he lets out a howl of pure satisfaction as he faintly hears his 'partner' release inside of him, groaning in respondence with the young brunette's loud yelps and mews. At the age of seventeen he sure as hell knew a lot about pleasing closet perverts and people just wanting to release stress or cheat on someone and numerous other things; he knew what they wanted and what they needed to give him good pay.

"Damn, boy, you're good." the prostitute smiled at him, in fake serenity, before he got up and started to pull on the fish-net stockings and the skirts he wore. After clasping the bet around his waist to hold the skirts up he pulled on his sleeveless black fishnet shirt, the bottom coming right to the edge of his skirts. The silver bell hanging from a tight, thick black choker around his neck ringing with his every delicate move. Before he could throw on the black -gray cotton duster, hands wrapped around his waist, holding him close tightly. Hot breath poured into his ear as the metallic rings on his ears clouded over. Naughty hands traveled up his soft pale legs and up over the fish net hose to reach the soft flesh hidden with a thin black leather.

"Mmm.. Ah.." Soft purring escaped his mouth as his 'partner' ran his rough palms over the flesh in between his legs, thrashing it up and down, carefully applying pressure to areas eliciting moans from the prostitute. Throwing his head back he laid his head against the strong man's should. Such a man that could easily destroy him. Mewing softly he curls his hand in the man's crevice in the other side of his neck, balling it tightly as he feels the pressure building and building down inside of himself.

"Mmm... no. Can't mess up my pretty leather, now, can I?" A dark chuckle echoed in his ear but the pressure reluctantly left his heated member. A quick chaste kiss and a crisp hundred dollar bills finds its way into his jacket pocket. With a grin the whore leaves, blowing a kiss from those half washed away black lips and leaves, carefully closing the rickety door behind himself.

~||:*~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*:||~

"Goddamnit. Where the hell are the merchan-.." Carefully the outraged brunette picks up a piece of torn newspaper, reading the article before cussing profoundedly. The lit cigarette rested on his lower lip tempted to fall as he read it again. The words "Kyianri* City is under quarantine. No one is aloud to leave. If you see anyone from this city leaving, please hold them and call 1-800-46-86-4355..." (the last three sets of numbers stands for 'Go-To-Hell'.)

"Son of a bitch! THIS IS NOT HAPPENING." With a lucid curse he throws his cigarette down on the newspaper, the said paper burning to ashes. A sudden, uncharacteristic smirk crosses his face as he sees a caravan on the horizon. Most likely carrying booze and drunk men.

"Perfect."

//~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~//

Kyianri - Some Japanese word I'm using as a city name.