Even as she sat at the table, spilling her metaphorical guts to the literal viscera-consumer that sat across from her, Purity felt that same devious flare of mischief in her heart. Esper James was so easy to play, to twirl around her delicate, manicured finger like a stray lock of hair in need of some applied obedience... and the little blonde with the sharp teeth, the insatiable appetite, and the surprising amorous endurance sitting across from her certainly needed some obedience applied to her. Just a casual reminder of what she should be feeling for her human playmate: love. Pity, too, perhaps. Whatever would make the ghoulette more pliable, like soaking timber before reforming it into a new shape. She'd ensure Esper James retained the desired shape this time.
And so venom crossed her tongue. As her toxic words trickled into her target's ear, just like she had been trained, her mind roamed of its own accord. Through those narrow, dust-peppered corridors of memory, the mental curator of Purity's consciousness tip-toed past myriad experiences in her life as a warden patrolling a cell block: her twenty-fifth birthday back in February, spent cold and alone at a nightclub that had since been vacated due to Tsang crackdowns; her first night with the compliant little blonde whose attention she now held, the memory rife with the scent of blood and booze, the sounds of gasps and whimpers and shared moans leaking out from cracks in the doorframe. That thought brought relish, the reverie transporting her to a simpler, better time, even though it hadn't been so long ago at all.
Past it were the cells of previous engagements, locked up tightly, their keys long since thrown into the bottomless moat of intentional forgetfulness. Whereas the mental inmate representing Esper James's liason had smelled... acceptable, and her warbling and the quivering tone of her voice and exclamations was akin to sweet music, these other inmates and their cells were repugnant. While her words in the waking world were touched with that same entrancing poison she had been taught to use by Tsang, to entice and disarm, there was also truth to them: men and women were imprisoned here in the recesses of Purity's mind palace, or prison in this case, each one of them a second-living to add to the body count of her sexual graveyard. How had it all began? How had it come to this?
Three years ago. Heel-clad footsteps let out resounding clacks in these deeper passages, repression both intentional and otherwise putting up door after door, barrier after barrier, obstacle after obstacle to prevent further inquiry. Purity's curator stepped past the heavy barricades and all that yellow tape, the keychain on her simulacrum's hip letting her open those doors that lay in her way and advance ever deeper. This was where she wanted to be right now... Where she needed to be. To draw upon those incarcerated muses of her own trauma to try and excuse the trauma she had laid upon others - to justify her actions, even though justification was the last thing her waking lips were begging for out of all things.
And there, set into a cell with the doorframe welded and the hinges rusted, a tantalizing peep-hole to sat to allow her curator to gaze in and reminisce - to re-live what had made her into her current form, what had shaped her into a cruel seductress with selfish ambitions. The fall of her Roman Empire, in a way, but also the rise of her most prosperous period in life. It was bittersweet. The money was good, excellent even, and as long as she did what she was directed to do then she could live comfortably, wear nice clothes, eat well, have fun; but also, the requirements were more than anyone should be subjected to, even in the darkest fantasies of fiction. Or so she felt. She had seen some of the popular smut in Vitus bookstores, and seen the artistic endeavors of independent illustrators on social media - perhaps she was less degenerated than she thought. It was a wry thought, and her conscious mind fought to keep herself from grinning as she regaled Esper James with the details of her modern slavery.
She had moved to Vitus initially for college: once an A+ student with a dazzling GPA, Purity Francharde had been accepted to the Yakumo-Kitagawa Institute of Higher Learning, her application for courses in the medical field smoothed over even further by her father's military background - UNAC military forces had a program, LAPFALL, which stood for 'Learning Assistance Program For All Levels of Learner', which practically guaranteed acceptance of any veterans or offspring to any school they desired within the UNAC. The stated reason was to help give back to veterans and their families, and assist with finding a job once they were discharged... but those in the know were aware of the open secret that the real purpose was logistics: if a person enlisted in the UNAC needed to pick up and move to a new station on the other side of the continent, they could get their kids a new school without any hassle.
And then, disaster. Her funds were dwindling from the start - a ticking death-timer that so cruelly put a time limit on her newfound life of academic rigor. The classes had been stressful and demanding, of course, as medical classes always are... and Purity, with big dreams of being a doctor, maybe even working in one of Vitus's morgues some day, had taken the initiative to sign up for the most advanced courses she could take. She had been so confident. So self-assured. Previous successes in the academic field had made her headstrong, and with the demands of her torturous coursework, she couldn't even try to hold a job... And student loans didn't even exist in Vitus anymore, another support structure dismantled so that those outside of the upper crust could never truly climb higher. And so, she dropped out.
She had been broke, kicked out of her dorm, all of her personal belongings save for some warm clothes and a pair of fur-lined boots already pawned off for petty cash. Days whiled away beneath overpasses, hiding in alleyways, sleeping in homeless shelters soon became weeks, which became months, which became years. Her social life had withered to the point that the only people willing to talk to a dirty, disenfranchised homeless woman were others in a similar situation, or more often than not for a woman who retained her youth and beauty and mortal warmth, those predatory figures who were looking for an easy score, preying upon the unfortunate for their bodies, their blood, their meat... their emotions. Sadism was rampant in a city where punching up was illegal and punching down encouraged.
Her peep-hole reverie comes to a brief pause as the images flash by, suddenly given a moment to pause and consider a scene: Purity standing atop a bridge, a ragged and filthy stuffed bunny in her hands, watching the vehicular congestion below like a doctor observing a clogged artery. It was sad, in a way: a massive city, the largest single city ever built, the single greatest achievement of human civilization in the minds of the UNAC citizens... while in truth, it was like the withered body of a cancer patient, struggling against itself to stay alive while all whom resided within went through personal Hells that would make even the Devil weep. Of course, only so many people could even scrape together the funds to purchase and maintain a personal automobile, so it wasn't always like this.
Her eyes drifted from the choked motorway and its black, tar-scarred asphalt up to the buildings of the city. Most of them, almost all of them really, were concrete. Grey, depressing, and dour, their cracked and acid rain-worn faces wearing various technological components like countless blisters, blemishes upon an already leprous visage. Personal generators... Air filters... Miniature substations, to ensure continuous access in case of blackout... Cameras by the dozen, but even those watchful eyes couldn't and sometimes wouldn't stop every crime in the city. Wires stretched from building to building through the hazy air like the nervous system of a horrid, unimaginable beast, ensuring life was felt and sensation kept by every structure in Vitus's domain. Tumorous organs riddled with the filth and rot of human life, of the touch of mankind, bloated and ready to fail at any moment.
Finally, her eyes, still natural blue at this point, drifted skyward. The sun, high in the sky, gave the whole city a warm glow - all that could pierce the countless plumes of lung-burning smog which filled the air of the city with that same tinge of eternal rot. An eternal city, where the citizens never truly died, where the work never truly ended, where the life functions never ceased - but just as tumorous and scarified and frankly abscess-laden as the most disease-riddled beggar that imagination could produce. And at it's heart, the pacemaker of Tsang Solutions kept the body alive: reviving the dead, pressing them into labor, breaking strikes, lobbying against anti-corporation legislature, doing everything and anything to keep it all moving. It was a horrific affair, but at the same time, there was true beauty in its despair.
Nothing was as evil, or as cruel, as Vitus. Nowhere on Earth was as devoid of morality, or joy, as Vitus. It was, in a sense, a parody of the very cities that had once made the original components of the UNAC a world power to be considered in the first place. An economic hub through brute force, the most populous city in the nation through bioscience, the largest city through necessity. And then, Purity considered herself. A single mote of dust in the lungs of this great giant - the barest speck of life, doomed to one day die and be returned, to most likely live as a forced laborer within one of Tsang's monolithic work centres. To help this accursed, vile place exist even more than it already did, to facilitate in her own little way the continued abuse of human life that took place here, the disregard for mortality making the people herein cruel beyond words.
A dirt-caked boot was raised up onto the railing of the bridge, grime crunching softly as her sole touched the rough concrete surface, slipped below the cold steel railing above. A second boot joined soon after, and up she stood, gazing out over the prison she had willingly put herself into. The very reason for her misery surrounded her, but... But if she died here, she knew what awaited her. Those beautiful, sad blue eyes began to water and well with tears, the smog wafting into them only helping to speed their accrual. Why was life so uncaring? Why had whatever divine source created the world allowed this place to exist as long as it had? Why would anyone, even the UNAC, allow this rapacious affront to morality continue on untouched, unmolested? Didn't they care?
And then, from the roadway atop the bridge, just behind her, came the squeal of tires pulling to a halt. Burnt rubber mingled with the naturally smoky and bitter aroma of Vitus air, reaching Purity's nostrils just as she began to turn, met with the view of an almond-skinned man, face a mask of worry beneath his sleek ebony side-part, scrambling to clamber out of an expensive luxury automobile - it was so low to the ground that he practically had to pry himself free of it to stand. She couldn't help but sneer a bit at him subconsciously, her own eyes narrowing with contempt as they met the man's shimmering emerald irises, pupils in tidal lock before breaking free to appraise one another.
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"Stop! S-Stop, please, oh my God, miss! Suicide is never the answer! I mean, look at you, you've got a lot going for you: you're young, beautiful, still first-living, and I mean... Oh, fuck, sorry, I'm just a bit frantic..." The man's words were inoffensive enough, even sympathetic, but nowadays Purity knew of the poison that lay beneath - the subliminal influence of a vampire. She brought her feet back down to the bridge proper, facing him directly, hands buried deep into the pockets of a now-ratty and filth smeared faux fur jacket. It was meant to be white. It had instead been stained permanently, an unbecoming shade of brown.
"Yeah? What, you gonna offer to fuck me for some cash? Take me to a big party tonight as your party favor to the guests? Tell me that maybe you can get me a job as a nude model? Fuck you. I've heard it all, dude, and I'm not fucking interested. Being 'young and beautiful' doesn't mean a fucking thing of good, it just means I get people like you trying to get their cocks wet before throwing me aside like a candy wrapper. Well, I don't wanna be your candy! I don't wanna touch whatever shriveled little excuse for a dick you've got in your pants! I don't wanna put out for your friends, either, no matter how much of 'their type' I am! It's not happening!" Purity closed her scathing rant by spitting on the ground, the very saliva in her mouth slightly tinge of an unnatural color from the air and endless days without proper dental care.
The man stepped closer, his slight frame and slender figure keeping Purity from being too intimidated by him; he was effeminate, in a way, a disarming way that made Purity calm. Of course, that too was deception, the pheromones in the air piercing Vitus's smog to set Purity more at ease around the stranger. He listened and watched with wide, frightened eyes as Purity raged, only daring to speak once she was well and truly done. "N-No! No, God no, nothing like that. I... I work at Tsang. I used to be like you, y'know? Used to think life wasn't worth living, and if death was coming, I may as well embrace it. Took a bath with some spare razor blades for my arms, and now here I am, cursed to live forever and only under the Tsang banner. But... I think I could help you. Please, let's talk just for a little bit, ok? If you don't like my offer, I'll drive away and leave you to it. I won't stop you. But if I can keep you alive... It's my duty as a human being to try, right?"
That last sentence was like driving a metal probe into the brain of a lunatic, the lobotomizing effect mimicked on Purity's emotions. Her rage stilled and simmered, down to a manageable sense of curiosity, even empathy. Her expression softened as well, the wrinkled edges of eyes once squinting in anger fading in an instant to return to a soft and somber gaze. Her lips parted to try and speak, but no words came for moments, nearly a minute - the longest minute of Purity's life up until that point. Then, she nodded, her still-natural head of brown hair immediately worsening its already tousled state as locks flew about from the enthusiasm.
"Fine. We'll talk for a bit. Just a bit, ok? And... And yeah. Thank you. I'm Purity, by the way. Yes, that's my given name, my parents were really religious and loved virtue names like Chastity and Faith."
The peep-hole regained speed once again, moving in double-time through the details of what turned out to be a fairly long discussion. The man, whose name she learned was Alex, was a newly-minted executive at Tsang - he worked at an IRE site, but management from above had informed everyone of a need for new hires to fill an important role in the medical field. Alex didn't know the details for sure, but it had to do with offering reproductive assistance or furthering Tsang's mastery of genetic manipulation, helping to improve the future generations of second-living. No experience was required, and they were looking for humans specifically, ones in Purity's age bracket - it came with fair pay, allowed a flexible schedule, and benefits included medical, dental, and room and board. It was as though someone above had head Purity's silent prayers, her desperate inquiries to the divine, and decided to grant her a little blessing, a miracle even.
Nowadays she knew better. Men in a small black SUV came to pick her up an hour later, and they drove in silence until they reached Tsang Solutions HQ, whereupon she was shuffled unceremoniously out of the vehicle and in through a back door hidden in an alleyway. Brief flashes of the mazelike corridors beneath Tsang HQ flitted by as if a slideshow set to fast forward, until they arrived at a heavy iron door labeled 'LAB 06' in a plastic plaque across its mechanized face. The door opened wide and in they went, into a world of pristine, sterile white tiling, centrifuges, and those smaller cold-wombs used for genetic tampering and physical alteration of still-living parties.
She didn't leave Lab 06 for a month or more, the days speeding by in an instant, and when it finally came she had been altered irrevocably: new eyes lined with LED contacts which ensured perfect vision, a full set of new teeth grown in a tailor-made organ vat, additional fat deposits for her breasts and thighs and ass and lips, and 'preferential augmentations' to her orifices. Her skin was silky smooth, too, but that would require upkeep - flensing someone was a lengthy process, and one that took months for the replacement skin to grow anew. Purity, however, had other work to do. A new body required testing and training, and that's exactly what she was subjected to.
Speech patterns. Body language. Gestures, techniques, and eventually, bodily movements as a whole. How to move her hips, how to move her lips, how to flex what needed flexing, say what needed saying, perceive what begged perception... And then, her mission: to gather the vaguely-named 'genetic material', though no one was unsure what the implication was. Many times she tried to run, and many times she ended up with tranquilizer in her veins and a guard dragging her back to the jail cell she was given as a bedroom. From one Hell to another, from homelessness to prostitution. Every day she thought about ending it as she looked in the mirror - every single day, she thought about how she could set herself aflame, or drink strong acid, or get her hands on silver. But without opportunities presenting themselves, she knew even if she killed herself somehow, they would never let all this effort go to waste. She would simply be pressed into the same work at the end of a gun, not in exchange for a paycheck.
As she received her assignment, she was introduced as well to her handler: a woman with long, sleek black hair like waves of ink falling from the inkwell, eyes a deep crimson of gemlike shade, and tanned skin that spoke of Eastern descent, likely to the south. But her smile was the most notable thing about her, the thing that stuck out in Purity's mind: ivory white and immaculate, unbroken, with golden plating about the upper fangs. A display of wealth and power, no doubt, given the woman's personality. The meeting was brief, but even now, two and some years later, Purity knew she would recognize the woman in a heartbeat - they never spoke face-to-face again, it was true, but the aura of sadism and dominance she exuded was nearly stifling.
And then, the peep-hole of memory began to close, just as Purity drew to a close in the waking world. Esper James's reactions in real-time helped to draw the pinkette's curator out of those winding halls of distant, repressed memory, and soon, every part of her conscious thought had returned to the present time as if awoken from a terrible nightmare. She became vaguely aware of the tears welling in the corners of her eyes, ruining her already ruined makeup even further, but also taking note of Esper James taking a stand. Then came the blessed embrace, the touch of the other woman, the comfort and care so desired after such a deep plunge into one's devastation and trauma. It took Purity some time before she could even return the hug, but not out of apathy - no, she was simply relishing the moment, reveling in the sensation of her maybe-lover's touch.
EJ always smelled so good. The lukewarm touch of her skin, the scent of blood eternally on her breath, the aroma of sleep and sweat she could never seem to shake, each was a comfort to Purity. In truth, in her years in Vitus, especially those last few, she had developed something of a taste for the second-living. Most mortals didn't prefer them, or even think of them romantically or sexually, but in due course of her forced profession, she had grown accustomed to them to the point of preference. To touch living flesh was... repulsive now, save for her own. To consider anything sensual was a first-living was nauseating. To love one, though? To bare her heart to a fellow mortal, to release her emotions to one who had yet to feel the pain of death, to lay herself bare for them in all senses? It was as vile to her as the thought of eating bile.
And so, there was also truth in what she said about Esper James. 'Love' was not yet there, despite what she said, but genuine affection was: the prelude to love, the emotional calm before a romantic storm. She meant it when she said she saw Esper James as a way out from all of this, every last bit of it, and that had truthfully inspired a burst of desperation within the lab-made party girl. All she had to do was get EJ back in the sack one more time, to show her what Purity could do for her, to win her heart all over again... and then send that mailbomb to the woman with the gold fangs and be free forever. Free to live how she wanted, where she wanted, how she wanted - she had dreamt of moving away for a long time, of finding a different town in the UNAC to start a new life with a second-living lover to keep her company. Hell, fuck the lover idea if it didn't work out - sex was a thing she had had far too much of for one lifetime, though she could make exceptions if it came up.
She'd ask Esper James to marry her. Yeah, that would work. The little ghoulette needed someone just as badly as Purity did, not for the same reasons, but in the same way. They were compatible, right? And maybe her contacts in the Knights could work something out, help the pair of them disappear forever from Vitus and its tyrants. She'd probably need to do a little footwork for them in exchange, but that was a price worth paying. The idea made her smile sadly at both its tantalizing nature and also its impossibility. Maybe things could just go right for once, could just work out, and then she would be able to have a life of her own. It didn't need to be a glamorous life, or a life with many additional trappings, but anything was better than the life she had been thrust into.
And then, the knock on the door. The shooting. The stabbing. Each came in the blink of an eye, one after another, the glimmer of hope in her heart fading like a dying candle even as she plunged the knife into the pair's shared aggressor, making sure to target non-vital regions of the torso so it was torturous and slow. Standing up, she was snapped into action mode, head snapping over to her little murderer playmate - and as she nonverbally acknowledged the blood now covering her outfit, a single thought pierced the cloud of tumult and rage in her mind.
Why couldn't things ever just go right for her?