A/N: Mira, profuse appreciation for the positive feedback, brightened my day. ) To eh, this other guy, I understand if you don't like it but 'burning in hell' is a bit much, no?

Disclaimer – I do not own Robert Jordan's Wheel of Time or any materials relating to the Novels.

Mat yawns languidly as he pulls himself out of the uncomfortable bed in one of the many rundown motels in Ebou Dar. The brick walls are all chipped or cracked and the wooden floors squeak with the imminent promise of caving in. It was all he and Nalesean could afford without begging Elayne for money and Mat would rather bed a fat dude. For Vanin's disloyalty, he was banished to the laundry room but speaking of bedding…

Mat looks over at the yawning young woman that he spent the cold night with, a cutie with black hair and large innocent brown eyes. She seems a little young but she said she was eighteen and that's all Mat needs. She does seem a little boyishly slim and her te-te's could be a little bigger but after yesterday, Mat doesn't care.

"Hey." She says as Mat slides off the bed onto the cold floor, pulling up his black jeans. He looks over his shoulder and bobs his head,

"Sup, Leral. I gotta bounce early for work." Mat explains, looking out the glassless window at the morning sun. Leral giggles as she accompanies him out of bed in teddy bear footy pajamas,

"They gots breakfast in the lobby."

Mat would die for some food but in Ebou Dar, it's probably baked rat smothered in fungus. He'll just shanghai Elayne later for some grub.

"Nah, but thanks anyways." Mat reaches for the door of the small room and exits out into the hallway, but Leral quickly follows. Does she know nothing about one-night stands? Mat thinks of something to say as they walk towards the lobby but Leral speaks first.

"Most guys don't like to spend time with me this time of month." She says through confusion and Mat almost curses to himself and halts. Not exactly panic, he's had close calls before.

"Not 'girly time' is it?" He looks down at her with hope behind his eyes, but her stare remains blank,

"What?" Mat almost slaps her across the face,

"I'm not going to talk about it! You know what the hell I'm talking about." Leral simply shrugs and shakes her head,

"Whatever you're talking about, its no. It's cuz—"

"MATRIM!!!!" A beastly roar echoes from the lobby and Mat spins around, his throat going dry and his heart beating out of his chest. The door to the hallway bursts open and the proprietor bursts through, one of those female bodybuilders, huge biceps, furious faces because they'll never be kissed again and thighs that can kill with one squeeze. This one's had implants, though who she stole them from is a mystery.

"Hi, mommy." Leral giggles from behind and Mat twirls around and stares,

"Mo---mo---mommy?! Setalle…I mean Mrs. Anan is your mother?!" Mat talks loud enough so he can't hear the angry panting and huffing that emanates from the irate woman.

"Yea, that's what I said. This time each month she's in from fishing." Leral answers cheerfully and Mat wonders which unlucky shark lost a father this month. He slowly turns to face his future. Winning smile time.

"Hey, how are ya?" Mat asks with a wide grin but Setalle's scowl remains, perhaps even grows,

"What are you doing with my daughter!?" She demands, her hand clinching into a fist and Mat wipes sweat from his forehead,

"I think Leral is old enough to make her own deci—"

"Fourteen isn't old enough to choose her own clothes!" Setalle barks and Mat's eyes widen and his jaw disconnects from his cheeks. Fourteen...

"I uh---uh…we just--" Mat stammers nervously and Setalle encroaches, moving forwards, towering over the cowering Mat. His back reaches the wall and he fights off shivers as he snatches and claws in his mind for a story the testosterone ridden beast will digest.

"We---only---spoke of---eh, her future!" Mat chuckles nervously, "In uh, High School."

"Middle school." Leral giggles the correction and Mat looks over,

"Middle---Middle School!? Fo Rizzle?! Holy shiat!" Mat hopes The Creator lets off one horrible mistake in life. He's done too much good to lose all of his points with a pointless bang. He stops thinking about heaven because he's still on earth in front of the beast,

"It will never, NEVER happen again!" Mat promises and Setalle cackles maniacally,

"Oh I know! Because this!" Setalle holds up her claw of a hand, "Is the castrator!" Mat grabs himself subconsciously and lowers down to the ground in a barrage of whimpers.

"No, please, no, please, I won't, I---I have money!" Mat finally spits out and the fury seems to subside slightly, only a hair but a little is more than none.

"How much?" Setalle asks as she holsters the castrator and Mat hurries to think to himself,

"I have but fifty on me now…but uh, in a week, maybe less, I can have you…uh, 2,000."

"5." Setalle demands and Mat thinks to deny her but Lil Matrim is his most prized possession,

"So simple---5,000." Mat chuckles nervously and Setalle grunts in approval. She then grabs Leral, tosses the young wom—girl over her shoulder and is off. Mat lets out a sigh of relief and utters a thanks to The Creator.

Mat wastes no time as he rounds up Nalesean from his full bed and Vanin from his banishment in the laundry room and hurriedly leaves the motel, wondering how that woman keeps customers. Vanin chomps down on some baked rat and Nalesean hums to himself tiredly. The motel is only a few blocks from 'Ebou Dari Petticoats and Such'

"I don't see why you're in such a rush, Mat," Nalesean says through a yawn, "You're just going to have to see Elayne and those other whores. We both had women at the motel." Mat forces himself away from his concealed weapon,

"We aren't going to speak of that." Nalesean shrugs indifferently and Vanin spits,

"Not to mention that Tylin." Mat nods his head angrily at that, although she wouldn't be too bad…

"As long as she keeps her hands to herself…until I say so." Mat nods his head victoriously.

"You'd do her?" Nalesean asks skeptically but Mat doesn't see why, as long as it aint fugly or have what he has, he'll do it.

"Tha shorty's gotta badunkadunk fo'sho."

"Huh?" Nalesean rubs at his ears and Mat clears his throat quickly,

"I uh, like the curvature of her buttocks."

"Oh. Yea, it's nice." Nalesean answers and Mat sighs at the quick recovery.

"Hey look!" Vanin yells with an excited point and Mat and Nalesean both spin to look into the street where two poor hobos are fighting over a rotting fish. Both with short knives and men and women are gathered around in an audience.

"Let's go watch! Knife fights are awesome!" Vanin demands and Nalesean shrugs,

"Eh, sure." Vanin charges over and Nalesean follows casually. Mat remains on the sidewalk in quandary.

"What is this, the 50's?! Oooh, I got a knife, lemme stab you cuz its soooo cool." Mat spits through disgust and continues walking, leaving the idiots to their games. At least a gun will kill you pretty quick, a knife wound will leave you alive long enough to bleed to death or you'll live and have to remember what a dumbass you were.

"Ratha' a gat, son?" Mat spins around towards the alley where a suspicious lookin' black man stands with his hand down his wide black coat. He wears a black ski cap and both his chest and teeth are tricked out in gold.

"What's this?" Mat asks in confusion and the black guy snickers maliciously,

"Da name's DJ Gholam, son, and you, is gitt'n jacked." He pulls his hand out and Mat groans as he sees the gun.