I love writing villainous characters. A short piece and an introduction to the antagonist of my RP. If this guy makes your skin crawl then I've done my job 
Also, if you're a woman you might find this especially creepy, I do and I wrote it.(
appropriately strange & vicious club music)
Seeping excess and writhing figures trip to the light fantastic, a hard pulse and filthy bass penetrates the night club enslaving its patrons. Strobe lights glisten from unabashed skin, the throng seemingly one mass exudes an almost orgiastic fervour.
Even the VIP booth vibrates with bodies, an unnervingly young Gallente woman sprawls seductively on an illuminated glass table. She flows with the music and begins to pour a bottle of Feille d’Marnne Champagne over her drug affected expression, overflowing to the enjoyment of the booth. She almost melts in step with a post-climactic segment of the music grasping at the tie of an exquisitely suited man sat pride of place, dragging and melding his lips with hers after she removes his cigarette.
A few pounding beats later he re-emerges as she exhales a plume of thick smoke writhing atop the cold glass.
He looks completely and utterly bored to death.
Thirty minutes later he steps into a dark office. Beyond the top lit workstation is all but the sense of a cavernous area shrouded in darkness. A lit cigarette ashed almost to the filter between his pale lips, he summons by simple will an escalating trend chart and the visage of an attractive, professionally attired brunette.
"Yes Doctor," she prompts simply.
"Ms. Papotte," his ice blue eyes regard her without the merest hint of desire, "has the public statement been prepared?"
"As dictated, sir."
He takes a final drag and extinguishes the cigarette, "Release it during the next peak in traffic."
She nods simply. As he switches the link, her projection transforms into a degraded security scan of a large black piano with red trimming. His icey stare fixated on a female pianist, her long hair cascading from ruby roots to steel blue tips. She begins to play, notes eerily warped by the connection, a
Thukker Blues piece.
Swaying almost imperceptibly to the melancholy rhythm, he stands. With unexpected grace, he removes his fine charcoal suit jacket revealing a discerning suit vest, as before him the cavern slowly lights up to reveal hundreds of highly refractive glass pods either side of a grated walkway. Draping his jacket over a shoulder, he pulses with finesse and light feet to the music as it resonates through the hall.
As if selecting a fine wine he slinks from pod to pod, a cultivated taste bears fruit when one pod of his fancy drains to reveal a serene, bare figure with ruby roots hair that cascade to blue. She twitches, as if in a bad dream.
The piano twinkles into a lilt, the door opens and out she falls to be caught in his arms. Holding her close, the bio fluids seep into the fibres of his attire during the swoop. Autonomic reflexes and baseline muscle tension allows her to limply follow his lead as his free arm, caressing her lower back tenderly, rights her into a close embrace. They sway gently to the soulful pulse as the music enters its final movement. She shivers, never opened eyes tensely closed, hands in a limp clutch, the body reflexes into a tighter embrace. Finally savouring a moment of pure exhilaration, the doctor takes a deep breath of her scent.
The blues piece rallentandos to a finish and with visible disappointment the doctor gently drapes his exposed partner in his jacket, kisses her hand chivalrously and places her back into stasis awaiting a soul.
The crowd politely clap from the surveillance link, warped sentiments of appreciation filling the cavernous halls of a medical clone facility.
Author
Topic: The Grim Pulse Blues (Read 855 times)