Thothmoon again, with yet another of my brainchildren- possibly my oddest one yet, but I suppose I'll leave that up to the readers to decide, huh? I do not want to give too much away, I like the alure of mystery, you know, but I will be blunt when I tell you that this story is based in an Alternate Universe, and that I am quite serious when I word the title as "Inversed."

This first chapter is, I'll admit, brief and ambiguous, but as with all my current stories, I began to write it a while ago, and so some of its chapters are already written and waiting to be published on this site. I'll try to be routine when I can help it, but being as I am a review whore, the contribution of reviews may well be enough to bribe me to update more often

Red, green, yellow, red. The traffic lights switched through the colors, only to repeat the cycle all over again. A haze of dust and exhaust fumes loomed over downtown. The sounds of horns blaring and aggravated drivers swearing polluted the ears of those within hearing range. Everyone was in a rush to leave work and go home to their families, dinner, and bed- only to rise in the morning to do everything again. The circle of urban boredom refused to break, entrapping everything that ventured too close and sucking them down into a dull abyss without change.

One figure strode down the walk, coughing from the toxins given off by all the vehicles. He cursed the people who sat behind those steering wheels, with their air conditioning and radio. Oblivious cattle. They didn't have to walk the cracked, uneven streets of the downtown in the blazing sun, whose heat was only intensified by the pollution from their cars and factories. They didn't have to choke on the dust that rose from the barren Earth, where only the occasional patches of sparse crabgrass, yellow from thirst, managed to survive.

He wiped the sweat off his face onto his grimy sleeve and came to stop at the alley behind an old pawn shop. "It's me," he said.

The glowing red end of a cigarette briefly illuminated a silhouette resting in the shadows under the fire escape. "It's arranged, then?"

"Yes. The aforementioned vehicle should arrive at the Hotel Ningen between 8:00 and 8:10 p.m. Its occupant should be situated in his suite by 8:30. She'll strike then."

The silhouette beneath the stairs coughed. "Good. Keep an eye on everything, and report back to me when the job's finished." More coughing. "Now get out of here. My image would be tarnished if I were seen in the company of people like you."

They both laughed, their laughter soon smothered by the impatient horns of the middle class, eager to leave the inner city hell for the sanctity of their little green suburban havens.

Street lights came on in an effort to ward off the dark after the sun bade good night to the city. These lights bounced off of the limousine, showing off its glossy onyx exterior as it glided up the drive of the Hotel Ningen. Anxious attendants waited outside the entrance, eyes on the limo as it came to a stop. The chauffeur came around to open the back door.

The billionaire stepped out onto the red carpeting. He wore a shirt and pants of tailored silk under a full-length velvet coat, all of the inkiest black. A gloved hand gripped a cane fashioned of ebony adorned with a silver dragon, while polished boots walked casually up the walk. Everyone stared, entranced.

Hotel employees and a body guard escorted him to his quarters on the penthouse floor. "Can I get you anything, boss?" the body guard asked.

He removed his boots at the door. "That will not be necessary. You may leave me now, Shigure," he said softly. The man nodded, quietly taking his leave.

Not ten minutes passed when there came a knock on the door. He heaved a sigh of annoyance. Why couldn't his employees ever leave him be? "Come in," he called. The door clicked shut, but the newcomer was silent. "What is it?" he asked, turning around. He froze.

Standing before him was not one of his employees, but a stranger (obviously female) dressed head to toe in tight black clothing. A stocking cap was drawn down over her head, concealing her face. He stared, stunned, as this unidentifiable figure slowly raised an arm, the hand at the end holding a gun. "You should learn to lock your doors," a woman's voice said through the fabric of her makeshift veil. "But I suppose it's too late now, huh?"

She pulled the trigger.