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A night in the diner for the sultry half demon, portal-walker, come detective, Blaize, is a real bang.

I have been writing Blaize for 22 years now. This is just one of the multitude of stories she is in, and I sort of start in the middle. The beginning and end are still to be added at a later time.


Submitted:Oct 25, 2009    Reads: 75    Comments: 0    Likes: 0   


Within the single green ring, encircling the blue planet, was a tiny red rocket ship focusing its thin yellow laser beam at the comparably huge blinking pink letters that spelled out, "G-A-L-A-X-Y--D-I-N-E-R". The tall middle-aged man glanced over his shoulder toward where his chauffer awaited with his vehicle, despite knowing it was too far away to be seen. He was torn between access to a ready escape from the gutters and alleys of the baser side of the city, or maintaining his anonymity. In the end he decided he did not want anyone to know he had been here, so had left his driver and automobile a few blocks away. It never occurred to him that if he had driven up in his very expensive car, he would have been putting himself in a very different kind of danger than mere recognition.

A figure emerged partially from a darkened doorway as he walked hurriedly past it, proffering crude acts in exchange for money. Despite the heat and humidity of the post storm night, he pulled his suit jacket tighter around him and crossed the slick black street. His hand slipped into the jacket, his finger tips lighting caressing the holster of the gun at his belt. He did not really know how to use the thing, but how hard could it be? Point and shoot. He hoped he would not have to use it, but it made him feel more secure having it on his person. Quickening his pace, he pressed by group leaving the diner, wondering why on earth she had insisted that their meeting had to be in this place. Pressing the door open with his shoulder he entered the flickering, sickeningly bluish fluorescent light of the dinner.
Despite the late night crowd he spotted her immediately. She had chosen to sit a booth in a corner of the metal tube of a restaurant. The lights directly over that corner were out, so the only illumination was the yellowish tinge of the streetlights and the neon glow of the sign, filtering through the window. She was seated in a fashion that allowed her to see the doorway, the whole of the diner, and out the windows. It was the later that currently held her gaze. A ceramic mug of steaming coffee was enveloped in her hands, as if it were a precious elixir vital to her existence, her red hair was pulled back in a stark French braid, and a set of wire-framed glasses rested on the bridge of her nose, even though he was fairly sure she did not need them. She was dressed pretty much the same way she had been when he had first met her, in a men's white button down dress shirt, black silk tie, leather pants, and high heeled boots. The tie had been loosened and enough of the buttons of the shirt undone to make it clear despite the male clothing she was very female. A nicely tailored jacket was draped over the seat beside her, a fedora tossed atop it.
As she stared contemplatively out the window, her lower lip protruded slightly. Not the first time since he met her, he contemplated running his tongue along that lip. His eyes wondered from her full lips, down to her décolleté. He blushed slightly as she turned cool blue-grey eyes on him, catching him in the act of ogling her cleavage. The fact that this woman, who was under his employ could make him feel embarrassed irritated him, so when he spoke it was with an air of more than a little annoyance. "I am here. What do you have?"
Her expression was bored and unimpressed, as she pushed the oversized envelope, in front of her, across the table to him. He fumbled to open the package, growing ever more irritated at how this woman made him feel like an uncoordinated dolt. Didn't she realize how important a man he was? And if she had done her job right, he would soon be even more powerful.
The contents of the envelope spilled out onto the table. He spread out a few dozen pictures of his wife and his business partner in flagrante delicto, a micro-drive labeled as containing transcripts of emails and messages between the two, as well as a printed out copy of phone and text records.
"Everything you need to have them arrested and take over the business and personal aspects of both of them. Soon you will solely control half the commerce in the megacity, as well as be the possessor of the largest fortune." Blaize informed him.
Her voice was deep and sultry and made him want to bend her over the table and have his way with her right here in front of the unwashed creatures of the night. His irritation was beginning to bubble into rage, and he knew he would more than enjoy raping this bitch and making her his obedient pet. She frowned at him, as if she had heard his thoughts. He did not care. In a month's time he would be the most powerful person this slut had ever known and she would be begging to suck his dick. The thought bolstered his ego. "You have done well. As soon as I show these to my lawyers they will be arrested. They will be stoned to death before the month is out." He could not help but grin at the idea of having a large party, so that he and all his friends, clients and fellows could watch the traitorous cunt and her equally treasonous piece of ass stoned to death, in vivid live broadcast on television. Or maybe it would be better to be seen as the tortured betrayed husband and business partner, on sight as the two people closest to him were put to death for their crimes. "Soon I will be a widow and free to take on any fuck toy that catches my eye." He looked at her with an expression that often brought the woman in his offices to their knees with wet panties. Blaize just focused her cold gaze on him and said nothing.
He went from horny and power-hungry to pissed-off in less than a second. "I need to get out of here." He tried to gather all the evidence up and put it back in the envelop, but was too frustrated, finally giving up and just tucking it all under his jacket, holding it in place with the pressure of his arm on it. "Why the fuck did you pick this place anyway?"
She shrugged nonchalantly. "It has the best coffee in the city."
For some reason he could not put his finger on, this answer made him even angrier. "Our business is done. You payment is in the account you gave to my people. Do not try to contact me again." He tried to sound authoritative, but her gaze had already shifted back out the window, as she sipped her coffee. He no longer existed in her world.
Blaize watched the man leave out of the corner of her eye and heard him cursing her as he went. The laws of this world were very free minded in some ways but very strict in others. Prostitution was perfectly acceptable, however adultery was a killing offense. The "victims" of this egregious crime were awarded all business and personal assets of the perpetrators. In this man's case his business partner had no wife of his own, therefore the only "victim" was he. Or that would have been the case, if he had been able to keep his dick in his pants instead of in the mouths of young male escorts, and Blaize had not sold those pictures to first his business partner a hour ago, and then to his wife a half a hour ago. The wife was a talkative one, even though Blaize did not join in the conversation, and for a bit Blaize was worried the husband would arrive before the wife shut up and left. All three of them would be dead before the end of the month, and Blaize would be 1.5 million credits richer. Not that the money mattered to her. What need of a daemon for money, especially when she was so rich in multiple worlds of the omniverse that she could not spend it all in 10 lifetimes; even a life as long as hers could prove to be. She did it for the adventure. Blaize was easily bored and she did so hate being bored. Therefore, she was constantly finding new ways to entertain, amuse, and intrigue her. Soon it would be time to leave this world, before she started to find it dreary.
"Another refill, Hon?" The waitress asked through a carefully practiced beaming smile that did not reach her tired eyes. People who lingered for over an hour and only had a single slice of pie and several refills of coffee rarely left good tips, but she had hopes, after seeing the three well dressed people meet with this woman, that would not be the case this time. She normally worked the lunch into dinner shift, but Betsy had called in, so she had stayed on to pull a double. She needed the money, but her feet were protesting loudly at her. She remembered the girls talking about a woman with bright red hair coming in late at night and drinking coffee and leaving large tips. She was hoping this was the woman. She tried not to fidget as she held the hot coffee pot and smiled.
Blaize set her mug down, sliding it toward the waitress, with a nod. Not the best waitress she had had in this place, but she was at least smart enough to keep her distance when the clients were here, courteous enough to not bother Blaize with idle chitchat, and competent enough to keep the coffee mug filled. The woman filled her cup and left, without another word. Blaize was grateful.
Out the window, a large brightly dressed and eclectically styled group of young people came laughing and dancing out of a club across the street. One of them pointed to the diner, and they all headed like jocular lemmings this way. She had seen the group before. They were regulars at the club and always livened the place up a bit when they came tumbling in like the jesters of the night. Blaize was not quite in the mood to play with the jesters tonight, but they were a better choice than the killjoys that had been filling her night thus far.
The diner became significantly louder upon the entrance of the group. Their laughter seemed to be an entity in and of itself, as it spread out to every nook and cranny of the restaurant, filling the grease heavy air. A girl clad in a torn silver costume, with hair almost as red as Blaize's, road the back of a male with clover green hair and matching clothes and make up, as if he were her horse, complete with simulated riding crop movement and accompanying sound effects. They slid into the booth next to where Blaize sat, and were immediately followed by quiet dark haired male in dark clothing and his eyes downcast, and a boisterous, muscular young man, in torn jeans and a mesh shirt, who stepped onto the table and began to recite poetry at the patrons of the diner, until one of the waitresses shooed him off of the table.
Blaize was looking out the window again, when she felt one of the young people slide into her booth beside her. She could guess which one it was before she turned to see, even if she could not recognize the girl's scent before she even entered the building and had seen her among the group. Her name was Trixie and she swore it was her given name. Very few of the jesters used their real names. For instance, mesh top and muscles was known as Philosopher. The red head in the silver was Token, because she was a shiny thing. The quiet dark one was Mute, because rarely spoke and seemed to only be around to give Philosopher head now and then. Clover man was called Twisted, though Blaize did not know why, and was not sure she wanted to know.
Trixie was 24 years old, very pretty, but in a cute kind of way, not in a striking mature kind of way, and had a serious crush on Blaize. Her father was a powerful businessman and politician who lived halfway across the world. Her mother was the heiress to a large fortune of old money and had her own very popular, very expensive fashion house. Anyone who was anyone owned at least one piece from Trixie's mother's collection. It was her mother's penthouse in the megacity where the young lady stayed, along with several of her wrong side of the tracks friends. She was a very intelligent girl, but she was still very much rebelling against her parents upper crust life styles and money to realize that she could do more with that intelligence than find new and interesting ways to get in trouble and then use the same money she was rebelling against to buy her way out of it.
Trixie took the mug out of Blaize's hand and set it across the table, and Blaize let her. The girls slid onto Blaize's lap straddling her. The hair colour du jour was electric blue. The make up was in cool tones and highly glittered and shimmered. The lips, pouting prettily at Blaize, were deep indigo, and the cool tone theme continued into the clothing - what little there was of it. "Blaize…" Trixie said in a singsong, making the word three syllables long. She was leaning back slightly causing her pert breasts the thrust forward, the blue tinted nipples seeming to be straining to be released from the transparent plastic top into Blaize's mouth. Her far too short skirt hiked up as she began lighting grinding her pelvis toward Blaize, making it very obvious she was wearing nothing beneath it, save the garters holding up the silk stockings. One hand was playing with Blaize's hair and the other was holding onto the spiked heel of her metallic blue, knee length, boots. "Do you like my outfit tonight, Blaize?"
"It is very nice, Darling. Suits your new skin tone and eyes very nicely." When Blaize had first met the girl her skin had been cappuccino coloured, which she enhanced with a golden shimmer and her eyes were jet black. Now the skin was so pale it almost looked like porcelain and the eyes were nearly the same shade of blue as her hair. On this world, changing such things was as easy as changing one's clothes.
Trixie squealed in delight. "You noticed!" She hugged Blaize tightly, her breasts trying very hard to suffocate the other woman. She pulled back a little to say, "I am glad you like the outfit. I picked it out specially because it will look very good on the floor next to your bed." She leaned in and pressed her lips lightly against Blaize's and when she suffered no resistance, she kissed the redhead deeply, her tongue easily snaking into Blaize's hot mouth, and her body reacting by pressing hard and undulating against Blaize.
Blaize let the kiss linger for a few minutes, and then she broke it and gently pushing the younger woman away from her. "Very nice, Darling, but we have already discussed his." Blaize found it very disturbing that since Blaylok had walked back into her life, she had found herself turning down every potential lover. In her head she sighed and thought, "Oh little wolf, what have you done to the Big Bad Blaize?" Perhaps it was as simple as she had yet to find another potential lover who she thought would satisfy as well as the male half-demon. She hoped it was that simple, because otherwise things could get very complicated in Blaize's personal world.
Again the pretty pout. "But I love you, Blaize. I mean I am deeply and desperately in love with you! I would do anything for you. AN-Y-THING!"
Blaize smiled. "And next week you will be in love with the latest big pop star and the week after that your body guard and the week after that whatever new person catches your eye.
Trixie's brow furrowed. "Why don't you believe me?"
Blaize laughed and opened her mouth to answer, but was distracted before words escaped her lips. A very familiar feel and scent drifted to her mind and nose. She lifted the club femme off her lap and sat her down on the seat beside her so she could see the doorway better. A few seconds later, a tall, handsome, muscular man walked through the door. He wore a shirt very similar to Blaize's (which he probably gotten from her closet) tucked into worn jeans and had his golden blond hair pulled back in a tight braid, also very similar to Blaize's. He turned bright blue eyes to Blaize and began striding toward her.
"Oh my wet hot pussy! Who is that thoroughly lickable piece of meat?" Trixie exclaimed as she saw Konnor coming toward them.
Blaize chuckled. "That is my son."
Trixie's head swiveled around sharply, looking at Blaize in Shock. "How old are you?"
Blaize ignored the question and instead asked her son, as he sat across from her and gestured for the waitress to bring him coffee like Blaize's, "What are you doing here?"
Konnor tried to look hurt. "Aren't you glad to see me?"
"Always," Blaize smiled. "Why are you here?"
Konnor smiled brightly and Trixie actually squealed a little. "Can I not want to simply get a cup of coffee with my mother?"
Blaize maintained her pleasant smile. "Konnor, why are you here?"
"I was bored," he said with a shrug. "Finding you was the quickest way I could think of to find excitement."
"Ah," Blaize said, satisfied that he was telling her the truth. "Where is Rogan?"
"Little sister is spending quality time with her father."
Blaize nodded, only a small tinge of longing coming to her heart at the mention of Blaylok and their daughter. "I am afraid you will be disappointed. The excitement I was up to is pretty much over." A thought occurred to her. "But you should meet Trixie."
The girl giggled and waved at Konnor who flashed a crooked smile at her. Blaize ran her credit card through the slot in the table and made sure to add a large tip for the waitress. She tossed her card to her son and then shooed Trixie out of the booth so she could get out. Once standing she lifted the club femme up and set her down on Konnor's lap. "Have fun, children." She said as she leaned over and kissed her son motherly on the forehead. She retrieved her jacket and hat and walked away. Once outside in the warm, damp air she breathed in the sharp dirty scents of the city and wondered what world she should dimension-walk to next. Tossing the jacket over her shoulder and placing the fedora jauntily on her head, she started off whistling "Singing in the Rain", even though the rain has long since stopped.
She took no more than a dozen strides from the dinner when it exploded behind her. The half fire-demon part of her reacted instantaneously, protecting her from the heat, but the blast and debris, brought her to her knees. Explosions were going off all over the megacity, the largest of which was on the 13th floor of the Corpocon building - the exact location of the nearest hidden trans-dimensional portal off of this world. At first Blaize panicked that she might be forever trapped in this place, but that panic was soon replaced with a much larger and intense one. Konnor. Her son was in the diner!
Her eyes frantically searched through flame, rubble and dust, until she saw the golden glow of light. She allowed herself to feel slight relief. She should have known that the son of two half demons was tougher than to be taken out by an explosion not even large enough to take out the entire diner. Pulling herself to her feet, she rushed back into the diner, entering through the semi-truck sized hole that used to be the front of the building. In the back corner, where she had sipped coffee and met her clients earlier, were Konnor and the club kids, a bit battered and shocked, but in fairly good condition. He had kept the greater part of the blast from hitting them. Making her way through the dead and dying, stepping over the charred corpse of her waitress, Blaize hurried to Konnor, hugging him tightly.
"I am ok, Mother. But I won't be if you squeeze the breath out of me," Konnor said, so nonchalantly, one would have thought it was a normal occurrence for cities to explode around him. Blaize eased up and stepped back a pace. The found of more explosions could be heard over the screams of the injured. "What is happening?"
"I am not sure," Blaize answered, "but it is not good. And I think it would be a good idea if you and I were gone before the authorities get here."
Konnor nodded, not needing explanation to know what she meant. The city was under attack, and to be two unexplainable 'aliens' found in the thick of it, would not bode well. Not that the two of them could not take out any officials that tried to take them, but they were not here to wage war on this world. Resistance to being taken would be seen as proof that they were up to something, and allowing themselves to be taken could mean death, or worse, experimentation.
"I am coming with you," Trixie said, clinging tightly to Konnor's arm.
"No." Blaize said resolutely.
"You can't stop me from coming! If you leave, I will just follow you!" Trixie's voice was a little shrill and slightly hysterical. She looked as if she were going to wrap herself around Konnor and hold on for the life of her.
Konnor looked at her then turned his gaze to Blaize. "She will follow us and end up getting herself hurt or us caught."
Blaize rolled her eyes. "Fine, she can come, but she is your responsibility."
Konnor nodded solemnly.
"Let's go." Blaize said, wondering into what the hell they were about to walk.





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