Figured I'd spend a little more time on Supernova since I'm so excited to get things started. Are you guys looking forward to it too? Well, I think you're gonna like this one. It's about time for our protagonists to gather, don't you think?
Oh, and be sure to pass this story around if you know some other Huniepop fans. I'd love to get this one out to as many folks as possible.
Let's get started, shall we?
Prelude
Three in the morning saw Audrey Belrose bring the covers up to her shoulders as the aparment's door swung open with a bang. She pulled bathrobe closed swift as she could. Marky Boy had already taken one peek too many at her goods since this strange rooming deal of theirs started.
"Take this, Miss Belrose."
Speak of the devil, He locked up, stopped in front of the bed - even blocked the television. Rude!
What kinda guy walked in during the early hours and tossed a red summer dress at a girl? Manners?!
"Thanks I guess," she snapped up her change of clothes with a sassy roll of the eyes, "How'd shopping go? You get the stuff you need?"
It was even weirder watching the fucker drop a massive black duffelbag in the middle of the floor with a thump. What was in there?!
"You could say that. Bare with me for just a moment, please."
Markus tugged the zip down. Audrey shuffled nearer, craning her neck to look over over the edge of the bed.
More clothes. Black tees to match the one he already wore, couple of white ones too. Underneath that? Combat pants, also a plain, simple black. And tucked next to those? Markus unfolded a long leather trench coat. 'Course he did. Something about this guy and leather, Audrey reflected as Markus took off his snappy sports sunglasses and placed them in his pocket.
Yeah, he was snooty and well fucking mannered on the surface. But Audrey knew pride too well, and this guy reeked of it. 'Was the little things that gave it away. Way he walked, way he looked things over. Most of all? The way he spoke - it still got under her skin.
Hold up, a second of pause. If that bag was full of clothes then why'd it sound so heavy?
Audrey took a closer look inside. "Wow..."
Chrome black. Metallic grey. Polished steel. The shimmer of bullets and shells in the low light.
Markus pulled a compact handgun from the bag.
Audrey sure as fuck wasn't a stranger to guns. Nope! Not with the way daddy used to tote his revolver around for target practice in the yard. But this many guns... this many? Really?
"What the fuck's wrong with you, Richie Rich? The first amendment's not going anywhere."
Markus kept busy slapping a magazine into place and checking his sights. He quickly worked through his trove of armaments. Audrey did something of an uneasy count. One handgun, a second, third... and a fucking forth. From the bottom of the bag Mark pulled out a pair small white boxes, each of 'em with a long red stripe down the side, complete with fancy lettering. Standard 9mm rounds 9x19.
"Forgive me if this makes you uncomfortable, Audrey," Markus spoke up as he loaded bullets into clips, "I respect that some aren't keen on guns."
He kept going regardless of her giving gave a shit or not, finally quitting around the eighth or ninth one. Letting out a rasp, Audrey damn near fell off the bed with what he pulled out next! What was this fucker? A card carrying member of the NRA?
Markus took the weight of a short pump-action shotgun into his hands. Audrey felt a nervous twitch in the pit of her tummy as he rested it against his lap, loading it with half-a-dozen shiny red shells.
This is too much. She scoffed, sweeping up the half-empty packet of smokes she'd been lucky enough to find on the bedside tying her bathrobe to cover up. Not that she gave a shit. Someone like Richie 'prolly paid good money takin' bitches with bigger knockers to parties anyways.
"Jesus... You getting ready for a war?" Audrey asked, scooping up her lighter, sparking a flame. "I get it. Slimy fuckers with suckers aren't geeks wet dreams. But overboard much? You said there's only two of 'em, right?"
"Three," Mark spoke shaply, nearly a hiss behind his teeth. "I'm not ruling out a potential third at this stage. And between you and I? The concept of firearms isn't something I hold in high regard."
"Huh," Audrey scoffed, taking a nice, hard lungful of nicotine. Yeah baby. "Could'a fooled me."
Richie hung his head, gloomy as all hell.
"My disdain for such things which cost me dearly the first time. Hand-to-hand combat is something our mutual captor is disinclined to engage in without underhanded tactics. He is cowardly, lacking in honor."
There he went again with his mini speeches. Audrey snapped up an ashtray from the bedside draw. Stubbing out her smoke, she gave a long drawl of a sigh. "Down here in the real world honor ain't worth shit. Where'd your glittery feelings get you when these E.T bitches rolled into town, huh? Wake up. Down here with the rest of the scumbags, outside your little bubble? Peeps don't play nice."
"You and I live in different words entirely, it would appear."
Damn right they did! And Audrey wasn't gonna back down. She glared to hammer the fucking point home!
"You think the toothy cunt that drugged me and stuck me in a glass tube gave a flying fuck about honor? Like hell he did! Prolly didn't give a shit when he jammed a bunch of wires up my snatch either. Whoever he is..."
Audrey held her hate close, embraced it, let it burn deep like acid. Her friends, the only ones nice enough to spare her a sec or two of kindness, came to mind. Tiff. Nikk. Mikey. Even Delrio, skanky as she could be, wasn't bad at fixing up a girl's hair... sometimes.
There wasn't a name for Audrey to attach to the face, but she'd printed her attacker's appearance to memory. Those glittery eyes like dimonds, six of 'em, three on each side, dreadlocked hair and hellish jagged teeth. The way he laughed at her from inside the tube. The way dragged her her into the dark, stuck a needle into her neck outside Lusties. Every painful second of the humiliation was locked in place, unforgettable.
"I've got a score to settle, 'specially if what you told me 'bout pretty boy's true. That alien shitbag's killed my bae. 'N treated me like some lab experiment. Asshole's picked the wrong girl to screw with."
"Your bae?" Markus asked, confused as ever. "I cannot say I'm familiar with such a term."
A giggle from the party girl. Okay... that lifted her mood.
"Slang talk for a guy friend Richie. It's not in any dictionary you'll find at Yale."
"Most colorful," Markus nodded, looking like he understood, at least a little. "But I'll have you know that I studied my Business Associate at Greenville Community College.
"Yeaaaaah right," No way a guy like this studied at a place like that. "Sure you did."
"It was one of the most liberating choices I've made. I fail to see why my choosing to attend a semi public funded institution is a cause for concern."
"Just drop it," Audrey was quick to move the conversation forward. Mark was seriously overthinking this. The redhead wrapped her body tight in the sheets and scooted closer to the duffelbag. Something caught her eye at the very bottom. Cold, polished metal.
"That a knife?" She asked with a point, "Pass it here."
Not just any knife, Audrey whistled. Against the light it made regular switch-blades look small-time. A large grooved, dark handle and long, thick serrated steel a good eight or nine inches long. Jam that thing into a probing alien's gut and they'd leak all sorts'a colors. Not too heavy in the hands. And a good, sturdy grip.
"When I see our blue-skinned friend again I'm gonna set the fucking record straight."
Mark frowned deeply at her willingness. "I'd not be so quick in your desire to seek revenge, Miss Belrose."
Oh really? Richie had something to say, stacked to the eyeballs with enough pieces to make a hitman cream his jeans?
"Got a problem?" Audrey slipped the knife into its holster, keeping it close. "Come on. Judging me while you pump that shotgun like a cock. Out with it."
Done with his checking, at least for now, Markus began packing everything away. Zipping up the bag, he set it under the bed, standing and pulling a stool from the cubby space between the television and the dresser. "The alien to whom you refer, Crull, is capable of feats you and I can scarcely imagine. It is going to take far more than a mere bowie knife to stop him. Rest assured if it were that easy he'd already be well and truly deceased."
Alien or not, everbody and every damn thing in this skeezy world had a weak point. Just because Riche'd fucked up first time 'round it didn't mean Audrey was gonna run and hide like some wimpy hoe. She'd smacked away a jock for getting waaaay to touchy feely at a frat house once. She'd even given daddy a few hard knocks when he'd come at her sauced up. One time she'd even taken a swing at Delrio's greasy chola of a cousin.
Big or small. Fat or thin. White, Latino, or a fucking ten foot tall alien, if it felt pain, you could down it.
"Looks we're gonna have to see about that, aren't we, Richie?"
"You've been refering to me as such all night, Miss Belrose. Please stop it."
The redhead winked. "A'ight. Don't get butthurt. What's the plan?"
Markus snapped up the remote and switched to the news channel.
"Our local Anchor Miss Carmine made an interesting connection," he began, reaching into his coat for a cigar, "a great many of the local dissapearances link back to Lusties."
Not a good look for the place, Audrey reflected. They were already well known for easy access drinks and seriously hit and miss bouncers. Add vanishing students to the list wasn't going to help much. Damn, even she'd been nabbed there!
"Does that change jack shit?" Audrey asked, watching the early morning weather forcast draw to a close. Christine's report flashed back up as soon as it was out of the way. "Even if we find Crull the cops wouldn't believe us. Aliens? Fuck... they'd throw us in the nuthouse."
"I'm not foolish enough to suggest we seek help from law enforcement. We'll go to Lusties and seek answers tonight. Quiet recon, if you will."
Now there was a good idea, "I'm down for that," Audrey pulled over the ashtray, ready for another smoke. "While you're doing that keep an eye open for our 'friend'. Bet he'll be stoked seein' us walking around when we should be locked up in like good 'lil test tube babies."
Earth log. Day forty-seven. The sun of Terra's solar system continues its elegant spin. The inhabitants of this stellar world remained almost entirely blind as to the wider workings of the intergalactic community. War raged unhindered between the Elizian Empire and the Intergalactic Council of Interstellar Worlds. Such combat had brought with it fantastic financial opertunity. Over many blood moons the denizens of Tendricide - strong enough to travel offworld - finally knew real wealth and opertunity. Most stayed within the same solar system, sadly, kept in line by stigmata.
Most unequivocally ironic then, that for one of the watery planet's most skilled hunters, found herself so far away from home. A simple press of a buttom upon the ship's command console haddelivered good fortune, the silent blessing of Nar, old goddess of her people. It seemed such a simple job at first. None escaped the bounty of the council. Just as none had escaped the reach of Celeste Tenavia Luvendass.
My calculation was a karos incorrect.
Pride for an entire career sat crushed and broken like the shell of a Gerax bug. The craft once belonging to her father and mother, fast enough to cleave a path through the wide blackness of space in mere Earthling days, now rested at the bottom of this settlement's primitive shipping harbor. And for the first time in a many Tendricidian harons of glee and haughty dedication... Celeste's ocular organs opened wide to the truth.
Tales told those by those outside of her species by 'superior' council races described Earth, this beautiful blue gem of Terra, as a mere wasteland stuffed to overpopulation with technologically devolved homosapiens.
Such stories are untrue.
This planet was beautiful. Its inhabitants were proud and whimsical; artistic and supremely interesting. No, these beings had not yet unlocked the cure for rapid cellular mutation. Nor had cast aside the industrial-age blight of atomic weaponry... but they were worth safeguarding. One of them in particular required extra vigilance, especially since he'd been granted a marking of compassion - a sign of great importance in Celeste's homeworld.
In the words of this planets poetic literature, a kiss binds us.
Jumping from rooftop to rooftop in stealthy following of Mike had been a wonderfully fun game so far. Memories of being a young bounty hunter in-training, a rowdy adolescent with dreams of exploring the expanse of the galaxy flooded back as vast oceanic mass.
Celeste perched, body covered by a terse but airy vestment and the intriuging undergarments known as 'jeans'. Neither one of these items was effective at concealing her assets. But her behind looked optimum at this instant in spacetime. It was her hope that such physical appeal would impress the human male - or at least sufficiently enough upon their reunion for him to disregard her taking these jeans without seeking his blessing first.
The Tendricidian expressed a smile and returned to the operation at hand. Her target had ceased his movement mere mitons away from the venue known as 'Lusties'. At present he was encircled by females - a trio of them. Celeste revealed her compact scanner - a sleek circular device of Novarian design - flipping it open with a press of the fingertip.
"Activate."
Zooming in brought results of note. These creatures, decsended from the ape, never ceased to amaze. In mere instants of dialogue the females experienced elevated heartbeats and notable spikes in the estrogen compound. Conversely, Mike departed with little interest, disregarding their noticable chemical desires for sexual contact with the exchange of paper slithers.
Perhaps a replay of the dialogue partaken by the group would yield some answers? Celeste pressed against the reversal icon upon her portable wrist unit - content in listening to the brief discussion.
"Sarry lahdiaes. Haybae lotur? Hout ticats ferto nest how! Say yur tin? Yer?"
"It is no good," Celeste switched off the holographic replay. "With my tranlator malfunctioning these words equivilate to little beyond garbled interlingua."
A sigh from the bounty hunter. She would have to double down on her improvised lessons in Terran English, at least until these moments where her translation equipment refused to cooperate ceased. Eyes locked upon her target again, Celeste jumped to the next roof, waiting with the view of an Elovian hawk of the cityscape. Every sound and scent was hers to enjoy, from the blurring of simplistic Terran vehicles, to the glittery twilight of colored illumination.
"I will keep watch from this vantage point," she declared, draping her body in a thin silvery cloak and dissolving into the night. Mike entered the building, his audio readout lost in a garble of recreational music.
Hands sat neatly in her lap, Celeste looked upward in greeting of the many vibrant stars in the night sky.
"This domain, 'Glenberry', is filled to the brim with vibrance and life. Though I held very little beyond simple curiosity at the start of my time in Terra, sights such as these invigorate me."
The Tendricidian placed a hand upon her dually thumping vascular organ. "I am filled with toraki, gratitude in the linguistics of this planet's native people. My thankfulness for being here is steadilly increasing. Both due to the hospitality of my landmaster. And the unmatched splendor of these positively cosmic urban lights."
To be continued...
Alrighty! There you have it! Did you enjoy the read? Is there anything you'd like to see in future? As always feel free to leave some feedback on this story. I have some good ideas for the next chapter!
That said, please keep on supporting Huniepop and Huniecam Studio! I'll see you in the next part!