Chapter Text
Alone on the dimly lit street, hands in his pockets strategically highlighting the bulge in the front of his jeans, he leaned back against a streetlamp, tapping it with the sole of his right leather boot.
He'd had reasonable success with this approach before. The City of Sins, as one of the humans had called it, was teeming, it seemed, with people looking to "sin". And human males were surprisingly careless about their sinning.
His lithe form, long hair and youthful appearance made him an interesting target for the ones who sought the company of other males in the dark.
They thought him easy prey. They were always disappointed.
He looked on placidly as a sleek-looking silver car slowed down and stopped beside him. His right hand twitched in his pocket.
The window of the car slid down and his eyes widened in surprise. A female! How curious.
Although his time on Earth had not been long, he'd nevertheless come to learn that the Tau'ri females were much more cautious and flighty than the males. And much, much less prone to succumb to the charms of those who sold their bodies by the side of the road. Technically, human females were easier prey. But not one of the vehicles that had stopped for him so far had had a female driver.
"Hi there," she called to him cheerily.
He smiled and approached with fluid ease.
"Do you need a ride, young man?"
He shook his head no.
"Oh. I see," she laughed. "But this isn't a great spot for that, you know. Any luck tonight? Business going well?"
He shrugged with a sigh.
"Not great, huh? I'm sorry... You don't speak English well? That can't help matters any," she said with a frown of compassion.
He leaned on her window and smiled, looking her up and down in seductive invitation.
"Come on," she said warmly, motioning for him to get in. "We can go to my place, it's close by. I'll give you some money and you can take a break today. Not sure I have what you're probably shooting or smoking, but I'll feed you some scrambled eggs or something. You look a bit hungry."
Hungry, yes...
He crossed over to the passenger door and got into the car. Leaning back into the seat, he took off his fingerless leather gloves and started absently playing with them in his lap.
*
The car went up the long, dark gravel driveway and pulled up in front of a large house. The woman turned the key in the ignition and turned to him.
"Let's go in," she smiled.
Oh no. Going in was not necessary. He would not be long. He could have his meal right here. And he needed a new car anyway.
A dark glint flashed in his eyes and his nostrils flared. His right hand flew toward her chest so fast she barely saw it coming. She cried out in pain and surprise as he slammed his palm down with eager anticipation, but did not struggle or try to fight him like the larger males had.
Instead, her hand shot up, fingers stiff, and she jammed her clawed fingers into his eyes with a fierce yell. Blinded, disoriented and in pain, he tried to catch her wrist with his free hand, but she grabbed him by the hair and slammed his head against the dashboard of the car, with surprising strength and ferocity, a couple of times in quick succession. The crack of bone against plastic reverberated through the air. Dark blood trickled from his eye socket and the bridge of his nose, and his body went slack.
Breathing hard, she leaned back in the driver's seat. She closed her eyes and grabbed the wheel to stop her hands from shaking. Her chest bled and stung and she felt like she'd run twenty miles.
She sat there quietly for a moment, listening to the ragged whisper of his breath.
"Still alive," she murmured. "Very good."
With methodical hands, she opened her purse, took our a small bottle and generously doused a car rag with the liquid in it. She pressed the fabric to the man's mouth and nose and held it there for him to breathe in the fumes.
Never hurts to be safe. This could take a while, can't risk you waking up.
She took a short moment to study him. He wore a long, black coat and underneath it, a striped t-shirt and black jeans. He was tall and, obviously, deceptively strong for his slim form and looked quite young, except for the strange mane of long, white hair that covered half his bloody face. Drool trickled from one of the corners of his mouth and his cracked forehead looked a patchy green under the dim overhead light.
She lifted his limp right arm to take a better look at the hand he had attacked her with. It was covered in tan foundation and she wiped off a spot. Underneath, his skin was a marbled green. His palm was split by a weird gash oozing a sort of green liquid. She touched it lightly in fascination and the edges quivered.
"What the hell is this?" she whispered.
She peeled off a piece of the man's crumbling forehead. The gash in his eye socket seemed to have healed. "What the hell are you?"
She got out of the car and opened the passenger door. Fisting a handful of hair, she pulled his head back to make sure he was still out for the count. She grabbed him by the armpits and dragged him off.
His boots scuffed against the steps to the cellar and he began to stir.
"So soon? Damn, boy..."
She dragged him quickly to a steel post sunk deep into the concrete, took off his coat, secured his wrists and ankles to the post with heavy chains and manacles, removed the spiked choker he was wearing and fitted a shock collar around his neck.
She took a bottle of water from a shelf next to a grisly looking whip rack, twisted the cap and leaned against the wall, waiting.
"Oh, how the tables can turn. Really not your night, eh, buddy?" she smiled sympathetically. "No worries, we can still have fun and get to know each other. We'll take our time, I don't think there will be anybody looking for ya."