Author's warning: If you are easily offended then please don't read this story. It contains blatant racism, anti-religious themes, senseless violence, and a serious amount of bad language. I wanted to create a character that you would absolutely hate, but still felt compelled to read about. An antihero in the strictest sense of the word. So no bitching afterward about how offended you were and how I didn't warn you.

I had nothing left to lose. "Fine, I'll do it."

The fire that burned eternal in hell had absolutely nothing on the fire of creation. That infinitesimal moment, at the beginning of all that was, when God pointed his omnipotent finger at the void and uttered his words of creation. The phrase wasn't 'Let there be light,' it was, 'Fuck it, I've got nothing else better to do.'

It was that same fire that created the universe that was shoved through me. It wasn't without cost. I would pay for my escape from my own personal hell, a place where I shouldn't have been to begin with.

Being resurrected is a tricky thing. It doesn't really happen all that often. Last time most people remember someone actually leaving the mortal plane and returning was a little over two thousand years ago and that was with more than a little assistance from the guy upstairs. The reason everyone and their brother isn't popping back and forth is because it takes a lot of power. You haven't heard much from God since then, have you? Two thousand years to him is like a weekend at Club Med, not enough to really recharge the batteries, but you could still get it up long enough to fuck the chick you picked up earlier when you were lounging on the beach.

There are turning points in history that some of the eternals are able to see, eternals being the god-crowd.

The thing is, they need representatives on Earth to affect them. Jesus is God's main guy. He's still around, but he goes by Jesus instead. That's Hey-Zeus for those of you that don't speak Mexican. He runs a goat-taco stand in Chihuahua. Nastiest things I've ever eaten. The man can't cook to save his life, but can he conjure up a barrel of the best red wine on the continent.

Lucifer's boy, Luthor, is over in the Middle East at the moment, fucking around in the mountains of Pakistan. Jerk-off. He was a nobody devil-worshiper resurrected around the mid-thirteen hundreds and had been partying ever since. His original birthday bash was one for the record books; remember the Black Plague?

Me? I've only been around about two years. When I died I was a devout Catholic. I said my prayers, went to confession weekly, fed the plate more than I had to when it came around, I was even given last fucking rites by a priest before I bit into the cherry tomato of death. Know what I got for it?

The fucking bureaucratic red tape of Limbo.

Everyone goes there after they die, no matter what religion you subscribe to. You wait, and then wait some more. Then after a good long wait, you wait again. You stand around for so fucking long you start cursing anyone and anything you can think of. That used up all my brownie points I acquired on Earth, but it wasn't quite enough to send me to Hell. So there I was, stuck in nowhere. That was until the Ouroboros came for me.

He, or she, I wasn't really clear on the whole gender thing where the Big O is concerned, told me that I was screwed. Even if I hadn't cursed God and all his slack-dick angels I'd still be there for half of eternity. I could go to Hell if I wanted. They'd love the chance to have them some former holy roller meat to corn-hole every conceivable chance they could. Or I could be His/Her representative on Earth. It was time to even the score a little between his cousins, see?

Ouroboros hangs around the ether, jacking off to succubus porn or something equally as senseless, and for a dragon-snake the size of the North American continent with no visible hands that's quite a talent. He comes to me and says, 'Drake, you're my kind of guy.' Of course, I hadn't talked to anyone in close to ten years, so I was licking up any conversation with a spoon. 'Be my rep,' he says. 'And you'll have real power.'

I'm all 'Uh-huh uh-huh.'

All I have to do is keep the balance.

That's what the Big O is all about, the balance. God had the good, Lucifer the bad and Big O the mid-ground.

See, here's the thing. Ole Hey-Zeus could give a crap about the good. He got staked to a giant piece of wood two thousand years ago and has had an attitude ever since. He says he was supposed to come back, walk on some water, do a little time, and in a couple of years go to his eternal reward. Dumb ass didn't check the fine print. A couple of years to a thing that exists in all times at once is eternity.

So Hey-Zeus said, 'Fuck it, I'm buying a goat-taco stand in Mexico, work your own shit out.'

He was around long enough to start his own religion, maybe you've heard about it. Then he bailed.

So the only thing good happening in the world is solely done by its mortal inhabitants. In other words the world is fucked.

Lucifer's boy is all about the evil. He lives for the shit and never gets bored. So it's up to me to put out the fires and keep the balance.

Oh, you want to know the seriously fucked up thing? Big O is all about balance, right? Well it turns out that I was a nice moderately rich guy in New York when I got accidentally shot in a drive-by. Big O says that I have to live my next life (i.e. this one) as something opposite in order to keep the balance. I figure I'll probably be Black or Mexican, or maybe even a slant-eye. Nope, I'm a fucking girl.

Oh yeah, that was hoot and a half, waking up to that shit.

Contrary to what's in the Bible, you don't get your own body back. You have to take the body of a person that is on the precipice of death, one that is taking in its last breath. Then it's you that is exhaling. Except the body I was thrown into was being choked to death by some perverted fuck as he was banging a fetish hooker. He went too far and killed her.

So, there I am. Newly sucked out of Limbo and dropped in a two-hundred dollar a fuck whore in New York. An extra two hundred and you could choke her as you emptied your spooge inside.

By this time I was seriously pissed off and let the guy have it across the jaw.

Us Resurrects have well above average strength and we can't be killed in conventional ways. This basically means that I snapped the guy's neck with the punch.

Well that was my first good deed for the evening to even up the balance.

So, grab three fingers of your favorite rotgut and kick back while I figure out how to squeeze down two years of my new life as a Resurrect into a story that even those Hollywood limp-dicks couldn't conceive of.

Want to know what being resurrected feels like? Try to imagine that you are a lung full of air being blown into a tight-ass balloon. There's something about the feeling of your new skin being stretched to its limits and then released that's almost invigorating and agonizing at the same time. Big O told me to prepare myself, that this was going to feel really weird, but He/She didn't quite capture the desire of wanting to scream my larynx raw.

Maybe it was the asshole that was above me with his hands wrapped around my throat that had something to do with it. All I know was when my eyes snapped open, my skull was banging rhythmically against a headboard in bed, my legs were flailing and I had a manic need to breathe.

For a split second I wondered why in hell I was in this situation and then realized I really didn't give a shit at the moment because this guy was trying to kill me. With pretty much everything I possessed I tensed the muscles in my right arm and made a fist before slamming it across his jaw sending him flying from the bed. When I didn't hear him get up, I dropped back down on the bed and sucked down about fifteen cubic feet of air for the first time in ten years.

It was Big O's last words that came to me then. 'Your race will not be changed. It will be your gender.'

I never had the chance to say, 'Hold the fuck on!' The bitch just did it. That's what made me open my eyes.

With great personal pain I looked down and saw my new body.

"Fuck!"

A lacy black bra was pushing one tit up while the other one was hanging out. The little red nipple in the center was angry and still hard from whatever the hell she was doing with that guy. A glance past the protuberances to my crotch and I knew what they were doing.

"Fuck!"

When I went to roll out of the bed, my left hand hung up on something. I looked back and saw a leather restraint wrapped around my wrist and jerked it hard. It came off with little effort.

"Mother fucking, piece of shit…" I developed quite the potty mouth over the last ten years.

I ripped the torn straps off both wrists and let them fall where they may while I made my way to the bathroom a few feet from the bed. Stomping ones feet on tile when you're wearing thigh high stockings isn't recommended. Before I knew it I was sliding back and landing ass over teakettle while spewing even more profanities. The only concession was that it was a soft landing. Apparently I had a lot of padding in the trunk.

With the aid of the sink, I was able to make it to my feet and see my new face for the first time.

"What the hell hair color is that?" It looked like someone had chewed up a bunch of rusted nails and then threw up in this chick's hair, which was all over the place in that 'just-fucked' look I love to see on…

"FUCK!"

I reached down and felt her cooch. It was still kind of damp, but more sticky than anything else. "He's dead. Whoever that miserable fuck is in the bedroom is dead."

Everything felt weird and not right down there. Considering I had been sporting a cock for thirty-seven years, pre-Limbo, that really wasn't strange. After spotting a hand mirror beside the sink, I grab it and cock a foot up on the counter. I almost wound up on my ass again until I smartened up and grabbed onto the doorjamb for support.

"Huh," I said with almost no emotion. Yep, I now have a little red Corvette, and someone apparently decided to trade the rug in for smooth linoleum. There wasn't a hair out of place because there wasn't any to begin with.

"Chicks are fucking weird."

Still, everything was all puffy and raw looking like it had been worked over by the Giants starting line up. Then, right as I was watching, everything pulled back in and smoothed out, kind of making me reminiscent of Buffy Steinbeck and eating out that sixteen year old sweet piece on the trunk of my Camaro. Camaro's were made for that shit, with the spoiler fin on the back that pushes the cooch into the perfect position so I didn't have to strain my neck.

Dropping the mirror to the side, I set my foot back on the floor and looked for a washrag. Whatever hoodoo Big O set me up with that heals whatever's wrong, didn't clean up the mess afterward. I was getting stickier by the moment.

I thought up a few choice words for the unconscious prick on the floor in the room while I dealt with that problem. After stuffing my tit back inside the bra I went back and checked on him, just to make sure the fucker didn't wake up anytime soon and want a second chance to get his rocks off trying to kill me.

I blinked for a second at the protrusion trying to stick its way out of the side of his neck. That and the fixed-open eyes led me to believe that I packed a little more punch than I originally thought. Something in the back of my brain told me I should probably be freaking out for killing someone, but to tell you the truth I couldn't be fucked to care. My only concern was what to do with the body before he decided to release his bowels on the carpet

Since I didn't know if this was my place or his, that was actually a valid concern at the moment. I stepped over the dead guy and made my way to the closet. Yep, it was his place; nothing but guys clothes, and judging from the size of the monkey on the floor they were about twenty sizes too big for me.

I eventually found the clothes the girl came in. Underwear was ripped. It was a G-sting anyway, not like it would cover anything up. I kept looking for a shirt of some sort until I realized it was part of the outfit… sort of. I slipped into the shiny metallic black pants and wrestled with the straps that were attached until I figured out that they crisscrossed over my breasts, making a big X across my front. A thick strap covered the bra and made everything look like it was floating free.

What the hell did this girl do for a living, strip? Judging from the high heel shoes that were by the door, I'd have to say yes.

"Purse… if I were a stripper's purse where would I be?"

Coffee table in the middle of the room. It was about the size of my hand back when I was a guy, now its two hands. Upon opening it I found six condoms of varying size, a key, a New York state issued ID, and five hundred dollars cash, four of which were crisp one hundred dollar bills.

"Aww, hell no! I'm a fucking whore?"

I stew for a good full minute, cursing Big O with every nasty word in the American language and a couple in Mexican, before I settled down and figured out what I was going to do. Finding some rubber gloves under the sink in the kitchen I went about and wiped down every conceivable place that I touched or could have touched from the front door to the bedroom.

Taking the monkey, I set him halfway on the bed and half off, with his head wedged between the nightstand and the bed. The leather restraints went in a green garbage bag, along with any of my hair that I found on the pillow. Since I didn't have any hair anywhere else, I figured I was safe on that part. The most distasteful part of the evening was washing down the fucker's limp cock and giving it a final wipe with bleach before throwing the rag in the bag as well.

Looking around I saw his slacks on the floor by the bedroom door. His wallet held another six hundred and fifty-seven dollars which I liberated all but twenty-seven so as not to leave any questions for the cops.

After all was ready for the finale, I gave the condo a once-over. After all, if I was a freakin' hooker, odds are I wasn't very well off financially. Any little thing could help, in the long run.

He had a couple of pistols which would be registered so those were out, but there was a sweet carbon steel knife that I liked. That went into a sports bag I found in his closet. He had a leather trench I would kill for, but it hung off of me like a blanket. I swiped a few CDs that were at the entertainment center from artists that I recognized. A sweet set of binoculars, everything else was too big and might be noticed.

I really wanted the laptop computer that was sitting in its own carrying case, but that was bound to be noticed.

When all was said and done I stuffed the green bag inside the sports bag and zipped it up. I swiped four packs of cigarettes from the carton beside the bed and lit one up. After it was halfway down I put it between the monkey's fingers and laid them both on the bed. With the lighter, I went ahead and scorched the sheets right where the cigarette touched them, setting the lot ablaze.

Nothing burns like a mattress. Hopefully any evidence I left behind would be toast in a few minutes.

Sliding on the heels I found my balance pretty quickly and exited the condo. When I saw smoke billowing out from underneath the door before I stepped on the elevator, I tripped the fire alarm.

I'm not a complete and utter bastard.

Looking like all the rest of the panicked masses got me through the lobby and out on the street where it was night and New York came alive. A quick walk two blocks away and I hailed a cab. The driver gave me a head to toe lustful glare before asking where I wanted to go.

"Fifth and Montgomery."

I had little doubt my own apartment was long gone, but hope still stood in my chest that Frankie's was still standing.

"You working tonight?"

I lifted an eyebrow up at the review mirror. However nice he was asking, he was still asking if I was a hooker. "Just drive, Abu. You couldn't afford me."

"How about fifty for a blow?"

I glared back at him. If the fucking bullet resistant partition wasn't between us, I'd show him what he could do with his fifty dollars.

"A hand job?" he offered.

I actually thought about it for a second. I only had a thousand dollars and in New York I could probably make it till next week without going hungry. But the thought of touching that guy's dick ran that thought straight out the window. Instead I unzipped the sports bag and took out the carbon steel blade I liberated from monkey-boy.

"If I even see your dick, I'm introducing it to Mr. Sharpie."

He hunched back down and grumbled, "Lesbians," in some pissed off rationalization as to how I could resist his charm, which I countered with, "Towel-heads."

Frankie's was a neighborhood dive that I used to co-own with my best friend Jack. Frankie was his wife who put up most of the startup money on their side. The only thing that had changed was the flickering neon sign over the door. It was gone and in its place was a backlit piece of shit that had her name in cursive.

After flipping off the cabbie, I turned to the door to see two drunk guys holding it for me. Certain parts of my body burned from the attention that the outfit led me to receive.

"Thanks." See I can be gracious.

It almost smelled like home. That and Buffalo wings. Some trends never die. The bar was a quarter full and my favorite seat on the end against the wall was open. The stools were new, or different rather.

I set the sports bag on the one next to it and had to hoist myself up into the stool. Seems I lost several inches with the upgrade Big O gave me.

"Sorry, ma'am. That seat's taken."

I give the guy behind the bar a glare and mouth off. "I don't see anyone's name on it."

He actually smirked. "Look on the back."

Okay, I'll bite. I swiveled around and looked upside down at my name. My old name, along with my birth and death dates right underneath. Well, I'll be fucked. That almost brought a tear to my eye, and if I was a limp-wristed romantic comedy watching motherfucker then it probably would have. Instead, I turned around.

"So, it does. I need to talk with Jack."

He looked me over for a few seconds. "His girlfriend ain't gonna like that."

"Girlfriend. What happened to Frankie?"

His brows lifted. "Uh, died about three years ago."

"Fuck." I ran my hand through my messed up hair. "I'm not here to yank his chain or his dick. Tell him an old friend wants to talk."

He looked back at me still sitting in the chair. "Anything to drink while you wait?"

Bracing myself on the foot rest, I leaned over the bar and grabbed a soda glass. "Half ice, then half sprite and half lemonade. Two shots of Jager."

He gave me a weird look as if he were confused about something. I tossed a twenty from my purse on the counter and that shut him up. While I was in there I grabbed my ID to see what my name was. How many people have to do that?

Kayleigh Wilson. A hooker named Kayleigh. Probably a misunderstood kid with a heart of gold. When I saw the East New York address located in Brooklyn, I changed my opinion. Probably just another crack-whore. The neighborhood was for shit.

The bartender disappeared after my drink was made. Without a second thought I slugged back one of the shots and eased it down with a sip of the soda. I think I missed alcohol the most. Then on second thought I fished a pack of cigarettes out and lit one up. Okay, now I know what I missed most.

"There's no smoking in the bar, Miss."

"Since when," I snapped at the jerk off that was interrupting a religious experience. Except I turned to find Jack standing there. It was a Jack that was thirty pounds heavier and the beginnings of a receding hairline, but it was him all the same.

"Two-thousand three. City ordinance. Fucking democrats. Where you been?"

I frowned, took another drag and crushed it out in the ashtray that he was holding. "Limbo."

"Uh-huh." He gave me a look I was quite familiar with. It said, cry me a river. "Look, that stool is reserved. Would you mind moving over one?"

I grinned, just a little. "I'm here because of Drake."

I think that's when he noticed what I was drinking. Without asking, he takes a straw out of the hold, a hands length down, and dips it into my soda. Trapping a sip, he brought it to his mouth and tasted. I couldn't tell if he was spooked or pissed off.

"Who are you girlie?"

I shoot the remaining Jager and grab the soda. "Come on. This is a conversation better made in private."

Without even asking for his leave I led the way to the office. It was locked as always, but I twisted the knob just a little more than necessary and gave it a shove with my butt. "Never got the lock on this fixed, Jack?"

The question was on his lips, but he failed to ask. Walking inside the office was like walking backward into time. Almost everything was exactly the same way as before. Older definitely, but the same.

He'd gotten a new desk chair, and a few of the posters on the wall were different, but other than that, I felt right at home.

"Alright, we're alone. Now who the hell are you?"

Sitting my drink on the partners desk, my side, of course, I crossed to the mini fridge and pulled out the bottle of Jager that was wedged into the frost in the freezer portion. I set it on the desk and went to the gray file cabinet, third drawer and withdrew a couple of shot glasses while Jack watched me the whole time.

"I'm Drake's daughter." Yeah, I lied. But I figured it was a better idea than the truth.

"Bullshit. Drake never had kids."

I just smirked as I poured two shots and made myself comfortable at my desk.

"Remember the New Year's Ever party 1986? The short blonde that Drake fucked on the balcony at Willy Smith's? He didn't use a condom, and she was too drunk to remember that she wasn't on the pill."

Jack's face ghosted for a moment, but shook it off. "Doesn't mean shit. Drake would have told me about a kid, illegitimate or not."

I shrugged. "She told him not to tell anyone. Turns out Mom was a councilman's wife." All of this was true, of course, except for the pregnancy part. I'd felt like shit afterward and did all sorts of penance at St. Mary's to make up for that shit. However being Catholic was fucking sweet. Just confess your sins, do your penance, and all is forgiven.

Jack still wasn't convinced, but I'd gotten under his skin. "Not that I believe all this bullshit, but now you're here to collect on your old mans part of the bar?"

I shook my head. "Nah. I'm just passing through, seeing if you kept any of Drake's stuff. I never had a chance to get a keepsake to remember him by." Seeing the doubt on his face I started going further into proving who I was. "How about I tell you things that only you and Drake knew?"

Shooting back another swig of Jager, I leaned back and propped up my heels on the edge of the desk. That was when I noticed how comfortable I was wearing shoes that should have had me breaking my ankle at the first available opportunity. Meh, whatever.

Now Jack was interested. "Why would you know anything?"

"Me and Drake would hang out every once in a while and he'd tell me stories. That's how I knew about his favorite drink, and mine too, by the way, the trick door, the shot glasses in the file cabinet. I also know that he was the one that introduced you and Frankie, that the first time you had sex with her it was in the alley next to this bar. That's why you opened it here."

His face was ghosting again. He never told anyone but me about that shit. Frankie would have killed him.

"I know about you and Drake boosting old man Carlson's seventy-six Malibu and taking it for a joyride before returning it and how he could never figure out how his mileage got screwed up, or how that dent in the left rear quarter-panel came to be. Drake told me that you sweated for days about being busted, but it never happened."

I leaned forward and slid the remaining shot glass toward him, before refilling mine. "Any of this ring a bell?"

Everything on Jack went on automatic as he lifted the glass and went over to sit in his own chair. He tipped it back and sucked out the alcohol. He was weird like that. Most people would just open their mouth and dump the contents in. Jack had to suck. I ribbed him about that for years.

His eyes met mine. "You don't look anything like him."

I shrugged apathetically. "I take after Mom's side of the family."

I had him on the hook, but he was still having trouble believing. "How do I know this isn't a scam?'

With a sigh I shot back another mouthful of Jager and gestured with the empty shot glass toward the framed poster of the old Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders that I'd gotten autographed back in the day. "Still using Frankie's measurements for the safe combination or did you change that when you got the new girlfriend." At the look on his face I laughed. "Jack if I wanted to steal from you I would have just waited until you were closed and robbed you blind."

He slid the glass over and I refilled it, afterward sliding it back. When he sucked it down again he set it aside. That was Jack's limit on working nights, two shots. "You have his mannerisms."

I raised my brow while I sipped on my soda.

"He used to sit exactly like that -- feet on the edge of the desk. Nowhere else."

Before we started swapping spit in remembrance of my greatness, I thought it best to keep the visit short. "So, any of Drake's stuff around. Tell me you didn't sell off all of it."

Jack bit the inside of his lip before pulling a wad of keys off his belt loop. "Come on."

Yes! He took me downstairs to the basement. Mostly it was filled with boxes of receipts or office bullshit, but in the corner of the locked room were two trunks that looked very familiar. He peeled off two tiny keys and handed them over.

"I guess these are yours since he never got married."

I frowned. "Jack, I'm not here to steal everything. I'm going out of town and probably not coming back, not for a while. I just wanted a few things of his that he told me about so I can remember the guy, is all."

Instead of holding the keys out to me like an idiot he bent down and opened each trunk.

Pictures, odds and ends, a few trophies made up most of the mess that was stored away. I dug around for a few minutes and found what I was mostly looking for.

"Shorty," I whispered. She was still in her holster; a Serbu Super Shorty. It was a twelve gauge sawed off shotgun that I had modified with an additional three shell clip underneath. The web belt hung off the thigh holster, which I wrapped up and shoved into my sports bag.

"Uh, why do you need a shotgun?"

Without looking back, I told him. "I'm going hunting."

Just to keep the story up, I swiped a picture of myself that I'd ditch later, as well as knee-length scarf that I loved more than I loved the leather jacket I couldn't take with me because of the size of the thing. It was a gift from my mother before she died. Both of those made their way in the bag as well. I closed the trunks and stood to brush the dust off of my hands.

Jack was giving me a weird look. I just smiled and held out my hand. "Jack, thanks. You don't know what it means for me to have these things."

He blinked. "What, you're leaving already. I thought…"

Shaking my head. "I have to hit the road. I'm stopping by my apartment on the way out of town, but this is it for me."

This was true. I had to see if the girl had any money stashed away and hopefully a change of clothes, something a little less slutty would be nice. At this point I'd just be happy with functional. I really didn't want to spend any of the money I had on panties and bras, thank you very much.

"Well, um. Drop me a line sometime. Let me know how you're doing. Any family of Drake's, I consider my own. If you need anything just let me know."

Aww, that was sweet, and if Jack wasn't staring at my tits at the moment I probably would have believed him. "Take care of yourself, Jack. And thanks again."

The subway got me to the neighborhood and with only five job offers on the way. The good part is if I was ever low on cash, I could make some easy money, as long as I was willing to fuck a guy. Believe me, spending what amounts to eternity alone in endless nothing makes you change your outlook on life. After ten years, I would have fucked a docile sheep in Limbo. Hell, even if it wasn't docile I probably would have. More fun that way. Thankfully my sex drive had been left behind for the moment. I wasn't counting on it being gone forever. Any way you look at it, I'll deal with it when the time comes.

The walk from the subway station was hilarious. All sorts of jerk-offs were giving me the nod like they knew me. Nobody fucked with me, which made me wonder why the hell they were leaving me alone. The only thing I exuded was sex walking. Threatening, I was not.

The lone key in my purse got me through the security door -- for lack of a better word, judging from its shattered security glass -- then I walked up three flights of stairs to the apartment listed on my ID, #304. The key slid in fine. That was a split second before the door was jerked open and a gigantic black hand pulled me inside, making me trip on the god-dammed high heels and wind up faceplanting on the dirty carpet. Jesus, hadn't this chick ever heard of a vacuum?

"Where the fuck you been, Star?" I rolled to the side and glared up at the hulking black man that looked like his head was about to scrape the eight foot ceiling. "You're late. I got two more jobs for you, an ass fuck, and a round the world at the Express. Where's the money?"

This was my pimp? No wonder the neighborhood was scared of fucking with me. I held out my hand so he could give me a lift up. The amount of pressure he used might have dislocated my arm if I were a normal girl.

"Money's in the bag," I answered when I regained my composure. When he turned his back on me and bent over the sports bag, I reared back and hit him with the majority of my strength, right across the back of the neck. Rabbit punch. Colossus went down but he wasn't completely out.

"Fuck! What the hell are you made of?" So I hit him again. This time he stayed down and my knuckles were throbbing. "Asshole."

I shake off the hand for a few seconds and it feels good as new. I'm kind of liking the upgrade at the moment.

The heels were the first thing to go. A less than extensive search results in a backpack that I fill with several pair of the most normal looking underwear I could find, two pair of jeans, a few shirts of varying types, and one hooker outfit. You never know. The main portion was jammed full. A search of the bathroom turned up toothpaste and toothbrush, hair brush, and a new bar of soap. I could at least live off what I had there. Colossus had a roll of cash on him that would choke a two hundred dollar a night whore, I know because apparently I am one, and it looks like I could definitely choke on that.

When all was said and done, I changed into a pair of leather pants. They were more for show than function, but at least they'd allow me to move if needed. Some black fetish boots with about a bazillion silver buckles on the side covered my feet. Luckily they were only about two inches in height, but the heels were wide and chunky. If I fell in these things then I was just a klutzy dumbass anyway.

A thin, long-sleeve stretchy shirt went on next. It was a dark purple. The closest thing I could find to black that didn't include rubber in its list of materials. Gloves would be nice, but I couldn't find any. One more thing to pick up along the way. That and a decent jacket. Again, she had a pink parka looking thing and four shiny PVC trench coats of various designs. No thanks.

Tossing the bed reveals a needle case. Nice. The chick was a fucking addict as well. Why should I be surprised? In one of the kitchen drawers I found a cardiac needle and a bottle of adrenaline. After a brief pause I toss the adrenaline back in, but take the needle out. The moaning I heard from behind reminded me that Colossus was still in the land of the living. I flip open the cabinet under the sink and pull out a bottle of Clorox.

Returning to the scene of the beating, I rolled monkey number two over and pin his hands with my thighs as I straddle him. Fling off the plastic safety thingy and plunge the needle into the bleach, in turn filling the syringe with the caustic contents.

I gave myself a wide range of error margin and jammed it through his chest into his right lung. "Wakey wakey."

Colossus jerked but stilled when he saw what was sticking out of his chest. "What the fuck are you doing, bitch?"

I grinned. "Look to your left dumbass."

He saw the bottle of Clorox with the pinhole leak spewing bleach all over the carpet. It was probably the most effort it had seen in the realm of cleaning in years.

"You have a needle of bleach in your lung. If you'd like to continue breathing without the use of a giant machine, I would suggest answering my questions without any lip."

"Fuck you!"

Ah, well screw it. I didn't need to know if there was anything else worthwhile around here anyway. With a hard press of the plunger, Colossus' eyes widen and he actually tried to take a breath so he could scream. Bad idea.

I dragged the body into the closet and covered him in a couple of blankets to keep the smell down. After heating up a frozen dinner, I ate and went to sleep. I wanted to be up bright and early to catch the first bus out of town.

After laying down and trying for an hour to go to sleep, I knew I couldn't. I just wasn't tired. The hour was late and I should have been exhausted but my new body just wouldn't shut down.

With a resigned sigh I pulled out the toothbrush and paste, brushed my teeth and drifted around the apartment. Apparently my hair color is Infra-Red according to the Manic Panic box of hair color I found in the bathroom. After staring at the inhuman shade, I agreed that anyone that uses it should Panic promptly.

I busied myself with pulling out all of the drawers in the bedroom and basically making a mess of things to see if there was anything worth taking with me. Nothing. Kayleigh Wilson was a heroin-whore it was just that plain and simple.

About two in the morning I'd had enough and grabbed the backpack and secured it properly before grabbing the sports bag. I really needed to find a proper single bag that I could stuff everything into. Perhaps a duffle or even one of those camping packs. Considering I have to buy a gun cleaning kit and shells for Shorty, a visit to a outdoors store wouldn't be amiss. I could just make a single trip considering my needs.

The subway was virtually empty, the bus depot even more so. Three people, looking on the edge of passing out from exhaustion waited for their busses while I perused the destinations. Virtually since the moment I'd returned, I had felt a gentle tugging, a need if you will to go south, maybe southwest, but I wasn't exactly sure as to where I wanted or needed to go. Making a decision to head to the middle of the U.S. seemed to be the best idea. From there I could maybe triangulate and have a better idea. For now I would choose Topeka, Kansas.

The bus left at three-fifteen and the fare bumped right up against two hundred dollars. From what the schedule indicated, I'd be there in one day and eight hours. I wasn't in much of a hurry, hence the bus. I could only imagine what it would cost to fly and I didn't have the money to waste anyway.

The haul from Colossus garnered me an additional twenty-four hundred and change. Fucking pimps.

After finding a decent area where I wouldn't be observed too closely, I arranged the inside of the sports bag so that the knife hilt was within quick grabbing distance. I'd have preferred to put it on the web belt along with Shorty, but without a decent jacket to cover it up, I'd be busted by the first cop that saw me. While I could probably subdue him given the upgrades, I'd like to keep a low profile for the moment.

Big O wasn't a font of information before he/she dumped me off in the hooker's body. I was told I'd be stronger, and I would be very hard to kill, not at all by conventional means, whatever definition that winds up being. Other gifts would come with time and experience. I'm guessing that that pulling sensation was one of them. Maybe it was some kind of hoodoo compass of some sort where I could do the most good, or bad as the case my be.

If you haven't noticed already, I'm not Mr. Niceguy anymore. Being in the middle of the Good versus Evil scheme allows me to take advantage of both sides. It's more of a compulsion if you really want to know the truth. While I'm sure I could have disabled the two monkeys tonight and turned them over to the police, they would've been off on a technicality soon enough. It was better to just end their existence altogether.

Evil had too much of a foothold on Earth at the moment and anyone that crosses the point of average everyday evil like lusting after your neighbor's wife, to more pronounced evil like selling drug to kids gets the death penalty from me. No lawyers, no courts, no appeals, no jail. I'm the judge and executioner. Fuck juries. Frankly doing the world this service gives me a warm fuzzy feeling inside. The troubling thought that came to mind was what would I have to do if Good was over balanced.

The thought of popping a preacher or fucking up a relief effort in some third world country sent a frown to my face. But after a minute I shrugged it off. Those that claimed to be good were the same assholes with a different mask. I didn't owe God shit, just like I didn't owe the Devil shit. Both of them could kiss my ass, a set of eternal lips for each cheek. Hey, I have a nice, smooth, plump ass now; it's not like they'd be kissing my old hairy one that was pockmarked with chicken pock scars from my youth. They should be grateful for the opportunity, really. I'd charge regular humans for that. Twenty-five bucks and you too could kiss my ass. Line forms at the back of the bus.

Speaking of which.

Two of the walking dead boarded with me. I found a nice, somewhat clean seat at the back. My packs took up one seat and me the window, so I could see the heartland of America pass me by. Of course, the heartland was full of clogged arteries and seriously needed a triple bypass at the moment, but it would help waste some time watching.

Even the monotonous thump-thump of the road and tires meeting couldn't put me to sleep. I was seriously thinking something had fucked up my sleeping patterns. Even in Limbo I could sleep and did so at every available opportunity. What else was there to do in endless nothingness? It would be just my luck if that was one of Big O's upgrades, no sleep needed. I liked dreaming. I was good at it. If I couldn't dream anymore then all I had left was my fantasies, my waking dreams, and brother you ain't seen fucked up until you've seen my fantasies.

For literally years, in Limbo, I'd fantasized about kicking the angel's ass that was in charge of moving people along. All sorts of weird shit. He died a hundred thousand deaths by my hands, half of which included me fucking him in the ass without lube at some point. Like I said before, I had no sex and I was trapped. At some point those two had to merge. It was only natural, ask Freud.

We made stops all along the way. Sometimes it was for food and a nice healthy shit, and sometimes to pick up more passengers. At no point was there any decent places to buy a coat or a camping pack.

Three times I had to give some jerk the evil eye for wanting to sit by me in hopes that I'd blow him. No, I'm not exaggerating. I used to be a guy, remember. Hell, if I'd saw me I'd do the same damn thing. Nothing like a blow job in the back of the bus.

At the three-quarters mark of my journey to the sphincter of the nation, some lady and her bratty five year old sat in the seats in front of me. Little fucker wouldn't leave me alone. Always sticking his head up and making faces at me. I wanted to lift up my boot and knock the little shit on his ass, but he wasn't evil, at least not at this point in his life. He was, however, working on my last nerve.

When I heard snores coming from the seat beside him, I reached into my sports bag and took out monkey number one's utility knife. It had a nice corkscrew attachment that I popped out. The next time the little fucker popped his head over the seat, I grabbed his Iron Man tee shirt and dragged him half way to me, shoving the corkscrew in his face.

"If you don't shut the fuck up and sit down, then I'm going to ram this in your spine and separate your head from your torso, got me?"

I think the kid pissed himself. His blubbering woke up the mom and she took him to the port-o-potty across the aisle. When she came back out I got the burning eyes of motherhood flashed at me. I flipped her off. Needless to say, she and her brat moved closer to the front.

I bet you ten dollars the little shit doesn't hang over the seat anymore though, fucking with people.

When I stepped out into the street the post-lunch crowd traffic was fierce for downtown Topeka, this means that the streets were almost full but actually moving. Checking the position of the sun in the sky I determined rough directions and concentrated on the subtle pull. Almost directly due south and a little bit stronger than before. I took that to mean that I wasn't even half way to my destination. So I was probably needed in south Texas or even Mexico. I fucking hate Mexico.

A few cabs were at their station and I picked the first one.

"Where to?"

"Is there an outdoors store around here, preferably somewhere big with lots of shit?"

"What, like Academy?"

I rolled my eyes. "Academy is for pussies. I'm looking for an place where I can buy shit that actually lasts for more than a week."

"Uh," he looked at me like I was from out of town or something. Well, he was at the fucking bus station, what did he expect? "There's a Bass Pro Shop on Regency."

"Fine."

We took off and twenty minutes later I was dumped at a big box store on the south side of town. Before I walked inside I spotted an army surplus on the other end of the strip center. Considering I was looking for a quality pack I gave the Bass store a nod and went to the surplus store instead.

"Ma'am, would you mind leaving those bags at the front."

I gave the man sporting the assistant manager badge a look-over. He was honest enough. I set my stuff behind his little hideaway booth and gave him a warning. "Anyone touches my shit and I kick your ass, we clear?"

Apparently nobody talks this way in Topeka. "Uh yeah."

Five minutes later and I was grinning a satisfied smile with a black Molle Engagement Pack much like I sported in the service years back. Basically it's a big sturdy backpack that you could drag through a swamp if needed and your shit would still be cool afterward. There was an optional waist pack that hung from D-rings on the bottom which I got as well. I hated having to sift through all the crap I had just to find something. The waist pack would hold my ready need items and the main pack clothes and crap.

A rain poncho, tactical gloves, gun cleaning kit, and finally a decent wool P-Coat that hung past my knees ended the shopping excursion until I saw the boots. Looking down at the decorative pieces of shit I was currently wearing I decided on a pair of ACU Danner's. Pretty high grade shit, water proof and tough. A couple pair of thick socks and I was done.

"That's a big pack for such a little lady," the cashier commented. He actually looked like he was in the service at one time so I didn't give him too much shit, just a little. "Fuck you, you gonna sell me this used crap or what?"

He laughed and pointed at me, but shut the hell up afterward and did his job.

I disappeared behind the store afterward and found an out of the way place between a dumpster and a cinderblock wall to transfer my gear. Dumping the cheap boots in the trash, I slipped on the new socks and boots. The bottom of my feet were almost purring with delight. The sports bag along with the rubber gloves, the picture of me, and the washcloth I used to wipe off monkey number one's dick followed soon after. I figured I was far enough away from New York that it didn't make a difference now. What I wanted to know was if Colossus' body was getting ass fucked in the alley next to the apartment where I dumped him. You should have seen the looks I got from the winos camped out there.

Shorty's web belt, went around my waist where I attached the carbon knife and my utility knife. I adjusted Shorty's thigh belt and cut off the excess since my leg was a hell of a lot thinner than my old one. Binoculars went in the waist pocket at my ass. When I was finished, the pack was barely half full, and the waist pockets all but empty. The P-Coat went on and got buttoned up. The pack went on my back and I barely felt it. Gotta love the strength upgrade.

A quick side trip to the Bass store and I picked up three boxes of twelve gauge shells, a decent sized survival kit and a pack of five ration kits. There was no telling when I would be in a position where there was no food around.

Most of my military instincts were sated at this point. I still wanted a decent pistol and maybe an M-4A1 assault rifle, but I think people would frown on that, not to mention it would be near impossible to get a hold of without a background check and a waiting period. Something told me that Kayleigh didn't have a spotless record when it came to crime.

Does sucking cock for money count against you on those types of checks?

The last thing I did was use a water tap on the side of the building to fill the three liter hydration system that came with the pack. It was a fancy way for saying big canteen, don't get your hopes up in a Dune way and think I was going to be drinking my own filtered sweat and piss, you sick fucks.

From the looks of the pay phone I used, the damn rates had gone up again since I died and I had to fish another dime out of my waist pocket. The purse went bye-bye, thank Big O.

I don't say 'thank God' anymore. God ain't done shit for me.

A decent cab ride later and I was on the outskirts of Topeka, Kansas, about six hundred dollars lighter, and hoofing it along US 75 south. I was tired of dealing with the smell of Greyhound, and wanted to conserve as much of the cash I had left over. There was no telling when I might come across anymore in the near future.

Idiot teenagers honked at me every now and then, but I was left mostly alone, that was until the late afternoon when a State Trooper pulled up behind me and turned on his flashers.

Fuck. I was having a semi-nice afternoon.

"I need to see your ID."

He didn't know he wasn't dealing with some dumbass chick fresh out of college. "I'm sorry," I spotted his stripes on his sleeve and the nametag on his chest. "…Sergeant Gibbs. What's your probable cause for stopping me?"

"I really don't need cause. ID please."

I snorted. "Unless you have probable cause, Sergeant, then you can't just stop me and ask for my papers. Have a nice day."

"How about PI?"

Public intoxication. It's bullshit, but theoretically he could still haul me in and find Shorty in the process. That's more than enough to stop me.

Without missing a beat, I turn around. "I've got no priors, Sergeant. What is this really about?"

His eyes drop to my breasts which are being pushed out due to the pack on my back pulling on my shoulders. Of course, they are covered by my P-coat, but I get the message loud and clear.

"Ah." I roll my eyes a little. "We doing this right out here on the road or somewhere more private."

He shrugged. "Patrol car is good enough."

I undo the plastic lock at my waist and unsling the backpack to set it beside the front tire. My read on the guy isn't evil, it's more of an opportunist vibe. With a resigned sigh I knew I wasn't going to kill him, unless he gave me some serious shit. Bring down the state law enforcement on top of me for murdering a cop is heat that I don't want or need at the moment.

Sergeant Gibbs opened up the passenger side door and dropped into the seat. Apparently I get to kneel on the side of the road. He undid his service belt and set it on the seat next to him before wrestling with his pants and zipper.

I just stood there with my hands in my pockets waiting for the unveiling. Surprisingly enough he had a decent sized cock. It made me wonder what his problem was. Either he wasn't getting laid or not getting laid enough.

Well it was inevitable I supposed, being in a hooker's body. I just let my mind go blank and allowed Kayleigh's body to do what it's been doing for a while.

Fucker held my head down and wouldn't let me spit afterward. I didn't want to fight him since he obviously should have a lot more strength than I should. So I swallowed and grimaced at the taste. Dude needs to lay off the asparagus.

"Thank you sweet heart. Best blow job I've had all month."

I give him a fake smile which I'm sure he saw as such and let him on his way. The toothbrush came out a few seconds later and I rinsed the taste of cop cum from my mouth.

Fucking asshole.

Once I'd secured the pack again I was back on my way south. Twilight lay in. That's when I gotten my second visitor. A college puke from the look of him.

"Need a ride?"

I give him the once over and nearly flinch from the goodness of him. "Yeah, thanks."

The pack went into the back seat of the Volvo his mom probably bought him so he'd be 'safe' on the roads. I unbutton the P-coat to my waist and slide in.

"Thanks," he said. "I was about to fall asleep at the wheel. Some company should take the edge off."

I nod and keep my smart mouth to myself for now. He was giving me a ride after all, and not in the biblical sense.

"Wow, backpacking," he started in some lame ass way to get me to talk.

"Yeah."

Sticking his hand out he introduced himself. "I'm Ryan, by the way."

Giving his hand a good squeeze in return, I replied. "Kay."

"You from around here, Kay?"

Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all. Being interviewed by Regis and Kathie Lee wasn't on my agenda for the evening. "New York."

"Really? Where you heading?"

"South." How could I get this guy to shut the fuck up?

"Me too. Tulsa, Oklahoma. It where my mom's house is. I just graduated from college." He glanced at me like I was supposed to be impressed and maybe swoon in his lap.

"Good for you."

"Yeah, I'm taking the inheritance my dad gave me and opening up a dojo for troubled teens in the city."

The cop's cum I swallowed earlier was starting to rumble in my stomach from all the sweet goodness in the air. Oh, hey, I know what'll shut the guy up. I reached back to the pack and grabbed my gun cleaning kit. "Done with the newspaper?"

"Uh, yeah, help yourself."

"Great thanks. Don't freak out or anything. I'm in security, I have permits and everything."

He gave me a confused look. "What? Permits for wha…"

That's when I drew out Shorty and laid her across my lap on top of the paper.

"Holy crow! Is that a gun?"

Who says 'holy crow'? "Serbu Super Shorty twelve gauge. I call it my little equalizer."

"That is so cool!"

Naíve little fucker isn't he? If someone pulled this out with me in the car, they'd be about a half mile back wondering how the hell they wound up flying from the car at seventy miles an hour.

I broke it down and cleaned all the parts while I tried my best to block out the running banter.

"You said you're in security. What kind?"

I raised an eyebrow. "International."

"Really? Wow. That's got to be such a cool job."

He wasn't intimidated in the least, and more gullible than most. Probably thinks God is on his side and will keep him safe. Like I said, gullible.

The spring in the clip would need to be replaced when I could find another, but for the most part, Shorty wasn't in bad shape. A few rust spots here and there, but I had those buffed out pretty well. When I reassembled her, I loaded two shells and jacked in a third before loading three in the clip and settling it in. Then it went back in its holster. The carbon blade was clean, but I oiled it up anyway. The same with the utility knife. Take care of your tools and they'll take care of you.

"So, you catch bad guys or something? Are you like a bounty hunter?"

"No."

He was getting a little frustrated that I was blowing him off with one or two word answers, but he was geeking out too much to give up. "I use a Dao, myself."

When I leaned to the side to slip the utility knife in its pouch I looked at him. "And you can actually use it?"

He nodded and almost split his face proud that he finally coaxed a full sentence from me.

"What's that?"

I looked up as I closed the cleaning kit. It was full dark already and we were still a way from Tulsa, so the red and orange glow in the distance couldn't be city lights.

Something in my gut twisted in an unpleasant way and it wasn't Sergeant Gibb's cum. "Slow down."

Ryan let off the accelerator. I took the chance to store the kit away and secure the pack. When we reached the top of the next rise, Ryan slammed on the brakes.

"Pull off to the side, hurry," I snapped. He did so, without a second's contemplation. The screech of tires behind us let me know my instincts weren't totally gone as two cars slammed into the line of stopped cars that we almost crashed into ourselves. "Fuck."

There was a fire about a hundred yards ahead and big rig was turned on its side. The ache in my gut told me this wasn't ordinary. "Punch it. I need to get up there."

The Volvo spun in the gravel that was lining the roadside and Ryan had a shit-eating grin on his face. Great, adrenaline junkie.

I dug into my pockets for my gloves and jammed them on. When we got about thirty yards away from the mess I heard it. My eyes widened as I tried to see where that inhuman roar came from.

"What was that?" Ryan barked.

"Stop here!"

The car slid to a stop in the gravel. I watched as panicked drivers tried to turn around and to tell you the truth I couldn't blame them. "Stay here," I growled. "If you steal my pack, I'll hunt you down and kick your ass."

I didn't give Ryan a chance to reply and I was out of the car and running toward the fire. When I slid on the gravel as I rounded the capsized semi trailer I nearly shit myself. Something was trying to bust out of the middle of the road. Its head was already through and the pavement was cracking all around. It looked vaguely dragon-like and pissed off as all hell.

That's when I stopped and took another look. It was stuck.

"Get up you big wimp! If you can't even break through concrete, what use are you!"

The voice was connected to a man, maybe in his thirties, wearing a black trench coat and sporting a van dyke beard. The look of disappointment was clear on his face.

"Hey!" I yelled. "Did you call this?"

He spotted me and looked confused for a second, then vaguely constipated. "Party's over. Mom's home."

Then he disappeared.

"…the fuck?" The knot in my stomach disappeared a second after he left. "Great, I let the bad guy go."

Another ear-splitting scream rent the air and my attention was brought back to the creature stuck in the road.

"Holy crow! What is that thing?"

I chanced a glance back at Ryan standing there holding a scabbard in his left hand and a sword in the other.

"Shit, did I go deaf or something? Did I or did I not tell you to stay in the car?"

He didn't even spare me a glance. "I thought you might need help."

I pointed at him and stressed my next words. "Stay there, understand?"

He nodded, eyes still on the dragon thing. Shorty was in my hand and I extended the foregrip for better control. While I was secure enough to know that I wouldn't wrench my wrist, I wasn't so sure about my aim with only one hand.

The creature spotted me when I approached and it threw back its head again and roared. I winced a little, but kept moving forward. My sense of the thing was absolutely nothing; neither Good not Evil radiated from its core. It just was.

Mercy Regulator, I beg of you.

I shook my head, wondering if what I'd heard registered in my ears or my brain.

Mercy, please. I have done nothing. Except get trapped in this damnable rock.

"Oh, sure," I replied off-handedly. "I'm sure you wouldn't have done anything when you got free either."

It stopped struggling and centered its multifaceted red eyes on mine. The summoner has gone and so shall I, given the chance.

I shrugged my shoulder until I approached minimum desired range for Shorty. "Yeah, piss on my other leg and tell me another one. What's to prevent him from calling you again?"

The lower jaw of the thing ground into the fixed upper jaw. Nothing. I am at your mercy, Regulator, and would willingly suffer a binding until you deal with the summoner, so that I might not lose my life.

I knew what binding meant but wasn't exactly sure how to go about tying up a dragon, or whatever this thing was. "I can't tie you up, so give it a rest." My hand tightened on the foregrip and I was about to pull the trigger.

Bind me to you, Regulator. Take me into yourself, there I would be held until you released me.

"Sorry there hot stuff. I'm new to this thing. At this point I just make big messes with Shorty here."

Then I shall teach you. You will need training in order to defeat the summoner. This I can do.

My shoulders relaxed for a moment. "What do you mean?"

Bind me to you and I will show you how to use the magic of Ouroboros. I am his creature as you are.

"And we're back to the binding thing again. I already told you I don't know how to do it."

I will lower my head. Place your uncovered appendage between my eyes and will me into yourself. I will offer no resistance.

It was the whole not Good and not Evil thing that led me to my choice. It said that it was a creature of Big O, meaning that it might be in the middle like I was. Considering it seemed to know what it was saying when it called me Regulator I was considering making a possibly really stupid move.

Knowing that I could heal pretty much anything, I wasn't too worried. I mean the thing was stuck. If it could be free then it would be free and fighting me. It just might be on the level. "Fine, bow your head." I wiggled my left glove off and stuck it in my pocket. Keeping Shorty in my right hand and pointing it at the thing's head, I reached out and set my hand between its eyes.

Fuck, I feel stupid doing this. "I will you into me." Nothing happened. "Hocus pocus, abracadabra, Shazam, whatever the fuck you're supposed to do get in here and…"

The monster turned to mist and I swear it slithered up my arm feeling like a giant snake sliding under my skin. Warmth radiated up my arm, over my shoulder and down my back, twisting around my right leg until finally settling.

"Holy crow! How'd you do that?"

Well done, Regulator. The dragon's voice was even louder in my head. Call upon me when you are ready.

The heat faded until I couldn't feel it wrapped around my body anymore. It sent a shiver down my spine until I blinked back to reality.

"Kay, you alright?"

I looked over at the streaking traffic on the other side of the highway. Luckily there was a decent amount of land between the two, not to mention a shit load of trees. Holstering Shorty, I closed my coat and turned to see Ryan standing there with a look of awe on his face.

"Let's go before the cops show up."

I blew past him toward the Volvo.

"Hey, I thought you said you were the cops."

Shaking my head I pulled open the door. "I said I was in security, and I am." Throwing myself in the seat, I blew out a breath and closed the door. "Mostly."

We were three more miles down the road and I was still trying to shake the funky feeling of a snake under my skin, crawling around inside me.

"You want to tell me what happened back there?"

"Not really."

"Was that a dragon?"

"Maybe."

"And you killed it by touching its head."

"Not really."

"Right."

I caught him another half dozen times about to say something before we hit Tulsa, but he just backed down. It was midnight before we entered the city limits and I squinted against the bright lights.

"You have a place to stay tonight?"

I looked over at him. I was almost disappointed to see he was offering me shelter out of the goodness of his heart. Not that I wanted anything else, mind you. Sex and or a relationship wasn't high on my priority list right now. "Not really, no. You can drop me off at the first Motel 6. I just need a shower."

Ryan shook his head. "Mom's place is about a mile away. Stay the night and I can drive you out of town tomorrow morning if you want."

Call it whatever you want, but nobody's been nice to me for decades simply just to be nice. I was actually caught off guard. "Uh…"

"Good, it's settled."

He pulled off the highway onto a dirt road and went about half a mile until it ended at a small one story that looked like the yard hadn't been mowed in a year.

"Sorry about the way the place looks. I usually take care of it between semesters or holidays."

When he finally killed the engine I opened the door and grabbed my pack from the back seat. "I thought you said your mom lived here."

There wasn't any sign of life, anywhere.

"I said it was my mom's house. She died about fifteen years ago, dad died last year. So it's really mine, but I still think of it as hers."

Turnabout is fair play, I suppose. He misheard me earlier and now I misheard him. The wooden porch creaked as we ascended the porch stairs and entered the house.

"Stay here a second and let me turn the power on."

I nodded. Oddly enough I could see perfectly well in the dark. It wasn't like it was daylight or anything, but I could see the coffee table that Ryan was about to bash his leg into… ouch.

"Darn it!"

I almost snickered, but held back. A minute after he disappeared the power came on as well as one interior lamp. Thirty seconds later the heater kicked in and the smell of year long burning dust entered the air.

"It'll take about thirty minutes to warm up," Ryan said as he returned to the living room.

I raised my brows. "Shower?"

He winced. "The hot water might take a little longer."

C'est la vie.

"Can I get you something to drink?"

I almost laughed at the thought. "Have anything alcoholic?"

He blinked and straightened his shoulder. "As a matter of fact, I do. Mom was the drinker in the family."

Go mom! He crossed the floor to a closed armoire looking cabinet, and opened it. Beside him I almost purred. Almost. No cold Jager, but mom was stocked up on twenty-five year old Wild Turkey, and almost a full bottle of Ouzo. I went with the latter, and a rocks glass. Fuck shots.

"So, none for you?"

He shook his head. "I don't drink."

Sitting down on the couch I pulled the cork and filled the glass half way. "Pity."

He sat in the chair next to the couch and sniffed at the smell coming from the bottle. "Is that licorice?"

"Maybe."

I was flavored that way, along with a number of other spices. He was pleased, but still strayed from it.

He fidgeted for a minute or two while I put away the first glass of Ouzo, when I refilled for a second round Ryan finally broke his reserve. He couldn't quite meet my eyes when his mouth started vomiting his conclusions though. "That was a dragon and you're some kind of angel or something, sent by God, sent here to defeat the forces of Satan."

Damn! I was pretty impressed. "Not exactly."

He eyes swiveled to meet mine. "Not exactly what? Angel, dragon, God… oh no… not…"

I drained half the glass and grinned as evilly as possible. "No, not Lucifer either. And I'm not an angel. According to the dragon I'm a Regulator."

"The dragon talked?"

I nodded. "In my head."

"Right." He nodded and his foot started working in rapid pace, making his knee bounce. I noticed that he was a redhead at that point. Not that bright carrot color but a rich dark auburn color. I really never pay that much attention to people's hair all that much, unless it's freaky like mine at the moment.

"You killed it by touching it. You're some sort of supernatural being."

"No and yes."

The side of his eye twitched. "What?"

"I am a supernatural being and I didn't kill the dragon. It's inside me at the moment."

His previously pale face lost all of its color and I thought he was going to pass out. I stood and made my way over to the bar to retrieve a glass. Filling it about a quarter full of Ouzo I pressed it into his hand and brought the whole thing to his mouth. Reflexively he swallowed and then his color returned. Ryan wheezed and coughed. His eyes watered as he tried to take in air.

"Smooth huh?"

Without asking I gave him another few shots worth. He shook his head and wheezed, "No more."

"Drink it. Doctor's orders. Your ass is clenched so tight it was sucking up the surround area like a damn black hole. You need to relax, Ryan." Seeing his defiant eyes I gave him a glare of my own. "Don't fuck with me or I'll tell God you've been a naughty boy."

He coughed again. "You talk to… him?"

I rolled my eyes and leaned back. "Don't get all reverent. He's an asshole just as bad as Lucifer. I think Al Pacino said it best in Devil's Advocate. He's an absentee landlord."

He actually sipped at the Ouzo before realizing what he was doing and set the glass on the table. "What? You're here actually confirming that God is real and…"

"He's an asshole, right. Come on, Ryan. You didn't believe all that crap they fed you in Sunday school did you?" I shook my head and drained the glass before refilling again. "Don't feel bad. I was just like you at one time. All Christian and Catholic, church every Sunday, said my prayers like a nice sheep and followed the doctrines of the Church, for the most part." Hey, I never used condoms. That counts in there somewhere, right?

"How…"

"How did I become an all powerful goddess-like supernatural being?"

"You're all powerful?"

"No, not really. If I was then I'd have a bottle of Já¤germeister instead of this Greek substitute. Hey, you mind if I smoke?" I fished a pack of cigarettes out of my jacket.

"Uh, yeah actually."

Lighting one up I offered him the pack. "No thanks."

"Go on, it'll calm your nerves."

"I don't smoke." He waved his hand in the air, sweeping away the puff I blew at him. "Aren't you afraid of getting cancer?"

I shrugged. "I've been dead before. No cigarettes in Limbo. I have to catch up. I'm about, uh…" figuring the math, quickly, "Four hundred packs behind."

"Limbo."

"Yeah, you've heard of Limbo, right? Fucking god-awful place." I don't mind saying god and awful in the same phrase. Kind of fits, don't you think? "Absolutely nothing to do. Nothing to eat, nothing to drink, no porn, no cable, no cigarettes. Place sucks."

"You were in Limbo." He double-checked.

"Yeah. Ten years in that shithole. Then Big O comes and bam! Here I am."

I lean forward to refill the glass again and I realize the bottle is half empty. I look at my glass in confusion.

"Fuck!"

"What!? What happened!?"

Dropping back down in the couch. "I can't even get drunk anymore. That's it. I quit." The damn upgrades! I can't be killed by conventional means. That includes alcohol poisoning. "You hear that Big O. I quit."

After Ryan restarted his heart he grabbed the glass in front of him and slammed the Ouzo into his mouth. I just glared. "Fine, make fun of the Regulator."

He grimaced at the burning in his throat, fucker.

"Got any ammonia?"

Ryan cocked an eyebrow. "Maybe."

My eyes thinned. "Maybe you can find it."

While he was scrambling to the kitchen I took out the carbon steel knife and pricked a finger. It bled for all of about a nanosecond before closing. Wonderful. There wasn't even any blood on my skin afterward. It never had a chance to come out.

He came running back in. "Got it. What do you need it for."

I grabbed the quart container and poured about two shots worth in the glass. "An experiment." I topped it off with an equal amount of Ouzo.

Ryan's eyes widened in fear. "You're not going to drink that, are you?"

I held the glass high in a toast. "I am Kayleigh MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod. I was born in 1518 in the village of Glenfinnan on the shores of Loch Shiel. And I am immortal." With that I shot the foul mixture.

It burned like a motherfucker going down and left an aftertaste that could kill a goat with one breath. I wheezed a single time and sat straight up. "YEEEEEAhh! Now that's the stuff!" My foot involuntarily stomped the floor a couple of times to work the edge off.

Ryan watched, stunned, as I poured another half and half drink and lit up another cigarette. "You're insane."

I shrugged. "You try living by yourself in Limbo for ten years and see how you come out."

"Are you really from Glenfinnan?"

I shook my head and took a drag. "No, that's all bullshit. It's a Highlander quote." Considering it for a moment I concluded, "But I do like the name MacLeod. Kayleigh MacLeod. Kay MacLeod. Leigh MacLeod. Hmph. What do you think?"

I must have been the most entertainment the boy had seen in ages. "Uh. I like Kayleigh."

I grimaced and leaned back taking another drag. "You would."

Two more glasses of the lethal drink and I was actually feeling something. Fuck, I hope my liver doesn't try to escape. Abandon ship, the stupid bitch is drinking ammonia and booze!

"I'm going to take a shower."

The fucking mattress was lumpy. Cheap piece of shit. Yes, I finally got some sleep. Turns out I'm not the fucking energizer bunny after all, or maybe it was the entire bottle of Ouzo and ammonia that did it. Better than four Tylenol PM with a Nyquil chaser.

I took a deep breath and let it out. That's when I heard the coughing right next to me. "Ugh, your breath smells like a bar floor."

My eyes snap open and I'm in bed with the Bible-boy. "What the fuck?" I scramble backward and fall out of bed, butt-ass naked.

"Kayleigh are you okay?" His face appeared above the bed.

"You fucked me?"

"You don't remember?"

I stopped and strained my brain for a few moments. "No. I'm going to kick your ass now, you realized this don't you. I'll be right back. I need my knife."

"It wasn't exactly my fault. You made me."

Spinning around -- yes, I still remember that I'm naked -- I glared. "I made you magically get a hard on and stick it in me?"

He blinked in a panic. "Not exactly. I was laying down and you were still in the shower. When you came out you got into bed and…" Ryan shrugged in a suggestive way.

"What? I shrugged my shoulders and looked like an idiot making faces?"

He palmed his face. "You jumped me. I'm sorry if having a beautiful girl rubbing up and down on me gives me an erection. I thought you were sober. You're immortal right?"

Okay, he had a point.

"We'll get married." He blurted out. I was so stunned I laughed in his face.

"Are you fucking nuts?"

Finally he looked affronted. "I'm trying to do the right thing here. I took your virginity, and you took mine. It's only right."

Okay, I lost it. I freely admit it. I lost it so much that my side was hurting I was laughing so hard. Ryan's face was red with embarrassment and anger. "What's so darn funny?"

When I'd stopped laughing to the point that I could actually breathe I told him. "I lost my virginity about ten years before you were born." I wasn't going to tell him I used to be a guy and the girl this body originally belonged to used to fuck guys for cash. Even I'm not that cruel.

"Are you on the pill?" he asked smugly.

That brought me up short. "What?"

"The pill, birth control. I didn't have any condoms last night and you told me to shut the F up and F you."

Gulp. "That's not funny."

"We should get married. You might be pregnant at this moment."

No, that can't be right. Shouldn't I have some sort of upgrade for this? "Uh, no." Spinning in place I headed out to the living room and my pack. I needed to get dressed and out of this freakshow house.

"Kayleigh, wait." I heard him stumble and give one of his country boy curses like aww shucks, or maybe it was aww poop.

The bra was first. I got that on quick enough. The panties were next.

"Whoa."

I looked up from the pack as I pulled out a pair of mismatched panties. "What?"

"On your back… isn't that the dragon from last night?"

"What?" I turn in place trying to look over my should as I emulated a dog trying to catch its tail. It wasn't one of my more proud moments.

"Look, it goes down your leg."

Coming off my right hip, wrapping around my thigh, back tracking at the right side of my knee and again wrapping around my calf, ending on top of my foot was a red and gold dragon tail, body, whatever the fuck it was. "That's on my back?"

Ryan nodded. "Come to the bathroom. You can see in the mirror."

Panties in hand, I followed him to bathroom. He gave me a hand mirror and I saw that half my back was covered in the freaking thing. It looked like the most realistic tattoo in the world.

"Hey, wake up. I reached back and tapped on its head. Wake up bitch!"

I watched as the tattoo's eyes opened and the warm feeling wherever that tattoo was came back. It's whole body undulated.

"Holy crow! It's moving!"

Are you ready to begin your training Regulator.

"You're a fucking tattoo on my body and you move?"

I am a symbol of the power you possess, Regulator. It is considered a great coup to have one such as me adorning a body such as yours. Most magic users are in possession of insignificant creatures that can perform minor duties.

"Well get the hell off."

The dragon shook its head. I cannot leave you permanently until you release me from the binding. I may never be more than fifty of your feet away and only for a limited amount of time. If you care to release me into the wild, unbound, I will of course bow to your wishes. Until then you are my master.

Its constant motion on my body was a serious distraction. "Stop moving, you're freaking me out."

A portion of its body stopped right over my crotch which… didn't feel too bad actually. "Get off there, and go back where you were. Go to sleep."

As you command, Regulator.

Great. Not only do I have a gigantic wyrm attached to my skin, I might be pregnant as well. Way too many parasites for one day.

"Quit looking at my ass."

Ryan covered his eyes. "I wasn't…"

Slipping my panties on, I returned to the living room and pulled out a pair of jeans and this thing that I originally thought was a tee shirt. When I put it on it only came to the top of the jeans and had these near to useless tiny straps that hung over my shoulders. Fucking women.

Ryan was still holding his hand over his eyes. "I was fucking with you, Ryan. You've already sampled the merchandise. What good's it going to do to blind yourself at this point."

When I swung my web belt around my waist and secured the thigh strap, I grabbed my P-coat.

"Where are you going?"

"I'm leaving. Thanks for letting me crash and for the booze."

He ran and blocked the front door. "You can't leave, Kayleigh. What if you're pregnant?"

I shrugged. "I'll get an abortion."

I thought he was going to shit a mongoose. "You can't. It would be my baby too. Just… wait around here for a while until we can find out. I'll take care of you."

I raised my brow. "I think I can take care of myself, but thanks for the offer." When I saw he wasn't going to move I offered, "Look if I find out I'm pregnant, I come back and we can get married. I'll even join the PTA."

"Really?"

"No, Not really. Now get the fuck out of my way, before I make sure you never have anymore children again."

He gave me his version of a pouty lip, which really wasn't all that good. It just made him look whiney. "Isn't there anything you can do here in Tulsa? Evil you can fight? Nuns you can abuse?"

The thought brought a smile to my lips. "You know all the right words to sweep a girl off her feet."

"Well?"

"No."

He clenched his fists and growled in frustration. "Why can't you give, just a little."

I almost laughed. "Ryan. You don't know the first thing about me. Sticking your dick in a girl doesn't mean you own her."

"I didn't say it did."

"You want us to get married," I offered as exhibit A.

He tried to stand up straighter. "I was trying to be honorable. I was taught a girl's virginity, which I thought you were, was sacred."

Something threw me. "Why would you think a girl that acts like me with a mouth like mine, drinks, smokes and carries a gun that could blow your face off would be a virgin?"

He looked down at Shorty and swallowed, probably thinking it was a trick question. "I, uh… had trouble… you know."

"What, really I have no idea what the hell you're talking about. Speak American."

He sighed. "You were exceptionally tight and I broke through your hymen."

"Hold on." I blinked, thinking maybe I had a brain aneurism or something. I had a hymen? Fucking upgrades. It literally healed everything. I would be a virgin for the rest of my life. How seriously fucked up was that?

Okay, I cut him some slack because I would have thought exactly the same thing. "It's my healing thing. I can't get hurt, at all."

Now, he looked dazed. "You mean…"

I nodded. "Everything."

"So you'll always be like that?"

My eyes narrowed again. "Get that thought right out of your head there cowboy. You're not riding this horse again."

He resigned himself to dropping the marriage thing. "Then at least let me find out if you are pregnant. If you aren't then I'll leave you alone."

Ah, hell what was it? A fifty-fifty shot. I hadn't even been on the planet long enough to know if I had periods or not -- and there's yet another pleasant thought to look forward to. Although with the whole healing thing, would I even be able to go through any periods? I knew the basics about the whole melting uterus-wall trick that real women had to go through. Does this mean I'd actually be fertile all the time? Fucking too many questions.

"How long does it take? Have they made improvements on the tests over the last ten years."

Seeing that he'd made progress, Ryan almost did a backflip which would have put him through the door and solved both of our problems at once. "Six weeks, but the tests are the same ones they use in the doctor's office, so just as reliable."

I set my pack down. "I can't stay, Ryan. It's just not possible. I have to be somewhere."

He blinked and realized that I wasn't Mary Sue Bonemenow that lived next door and remembered that there was a reason I was here. "Okay. Sorry, I get that. Well, then I'll go with you. We'll pick up a few tests, just to be redundant and I'll pack a bag. Do I need a gun too?"

I looked at him uncertainly. "Do you know how to use a gun?"

"No."

"Then no. I don't want you anywhere near any type of firearm."

He clapped his hands together once. "Ha! Since I'm going, then we can drive which will have saved you tons of time. So, that'll give me a chance to do laundry, pay some bills and go shopping. We can leave tomorrow morning."

Truth? I'm tired of walking. Not actually tired tired, just weary. That and I didn't want to give any more blow jobs to people I don't know, or rather any blow jobs period. To anyone. Especially people I know, like retarded bible thumpers that think they are Big O's gift to women and Fred MacMurray all rolled into one.

"Do you want your leather pants cleaned? I'm sure I can get them done by tonight."

I was going to leave them here, but what the hell. "Sure. And no sniffing my panties."

He had his shirt and shoes on the next time I saw him. "Do you want to come with me?"

I snorted. "You want to introduce me around as the little missus? Me?"

He grimaced. "Good point. I'd like to keep what friends I have."

That got a rise out of me and even a laugh. "See, I'll break you in yet. Pretty soon I'll have you smoking clove cigarettes and saying naughty words like fart and butt."

"Do you want anything from town?"

I shook my head. "No," then on second thought. "Maybe if you see a road atlas or something like that. We're heading through Texas and maybe Mexico. I don't know yet.

"How about a GPS. Will that do?"

Ding! Clueless. "What's a GPS?"

"It's kind of like… uh… I'll just get the map."

He drove off in a cloud of dust. I slid out a cigarette and lit up before returning to the porch to watch him disappear into the sunrise.

I'd finished the smoke before the dust settled. I think they need some rain around here. Lighting another off of the last I decided to take advantage of his absence and tapped the dragon's head on my back. "Rise and shine sweetcheeks. It's time we had a talk."

You called, Regulator.

"Yeah. I have some time. Ryan's not here. Let's get busy."

It would be advantageous to have your consort at hand for him to assist you if needed.

"My what? I just met Ryan. He's not my consort. I don't know if I'd even call him a friend any time soon."

And yet you carry his child in your womb? Humans have changed more than I thought.

Okay, now's a really good time for that aneurism, maybe two or three. "I'm pregnant. I… I… just. We just had sex the one time. I don't even remember having it."

Dropping on my butt seemed to be the thing to do at the time.

I lit up the my third cigarette since Ryan had left and The dragon that lived under my skin told me I was pregnant.

"Are you sure? How can you be sure?"

However temporary my being bound to you may be, Regulator, I am a part of you at the present. There are changes in the way your body works that were not present at our first meeting. Having been bound twice before by the female of your species I recognize the changes for what they are.

"I can't be pregnant," I said in a resolved voice. "I'll just do what I said before. I'll get an abortion."

This is unfamiliar to me. How does this process work?

I thought about that for a second and tried to recall what doctors did. "I think they give the girl a pill, it kills the fetus and then they suck it out with something like a vacuum. I can't remember."

A pill. A poison of some type? A poison that your current body cannot be harmed by?

"FUCK!" I screamed in frustration. Tossing the smoldering butt out into the weeds in the yard, I ran my hands through my hair. "Right, well no use crying over spilled cum. Maybe there's a magic way to stop this thing. Get to work dragon. Teach me some of this hoodoo shit."

My name is Synosius, Regulator.

"Sin no see what?"

Synosius.

"Right, well Syn, what's first on the menu?"

That's how Ryan found me when he came back. I sat on the cold porch, Indian-style, with my eyes closed, trying to find my center where all the Big O magic super-duper power was stored. There were a few times that I thought Syn was fucking with me just to see what I'd do, but off in the recesses of my hooker brain I sensed a spark of something just out of reach.

"Kayleigh?"

He was at the bottom of the steps with several of those plastic bags that I used to see at the grocery when they asked me Paper or Plastic. They were jammed packed with shit.

"What?"

"Have you been sitting out her this entire time?"

"Cold doesn't bother me. Supergirl remember."

He nodded. "Right." He shuffled a little. "I got the tests, but the box says they won't really be accurate until six weeks have passed."

My lips firmed in slight annoyance. I wasn't going to tell him. Not yet. I couldn't handle the simpering. Maybe later, after I pop junior out, one way or another.

The scent of something fried made it to my nose. "You got food?"

He nodded. "Yeah. None in the house obviously and I didn't want to buy groceries since we'll be leaving right away. So, you have your choice between Egg McMuffin or Sausage and Egg biscuit."

"Biscuit. Coffee?"

He shook his head. "You shouldn't be drinking caffeine if you are pregnant."

In response I lit up a cigarette.

"And you definitely shouldn't be smoking. It can cause birth defects."

I blew the smoke at him. "I can't be poisoned, remember?"

I liked the look of confusion on him. It looked natural, like he was meant to be that way all the time. For some reason I tried to imagine what waking up to that face every morning would be like. Then I gagged a little. I really needed to brush my teeth.

He got two of each mini sandwich, which I quickly scarffed down. The OJ was decent. Even though the caffeine couldn't do squat for me anymore, I still needed the taste and aroma to wake me up.

After the makeshift breakfast Ryan unloaded the bags, tossing one of those big Rand McNally road atlases in front of me. "Excellent." It covered the North American Continent. I was already plotting the quickest route south. That's when he set one of those handheld computer games on top of the map.

"I don't play video games."

He ignored me. "That's a GPS navigation device. That's what I was talking about earlier. When did you die by the way. You seem really out of date."

"2001."

"Ten years. So you just came back."

"I nodded a few days ago." I picked the thing up and turned it around, finding the on switch and it lit up a few moments later. "What's this thing do?"

"It's loaded with maps of the world and it uses a satellite up in space to triangulate where you are, where you want to go, and makes a route for you to follow."

"Ohhh, I remember. They had something similar to this in my day. Except all it told you was what longitude and latitude you were at."

When I caught the strange look on Ryan's face I looked at him. "What?"

"Um, don't take this the wrong way, exactly how old are you?"

I glared at him. "Old enough."

"Sorry."

Sitting there watching him unload the rest of the crap he bought on the table amused me. It was a wonder what people thought was the best equipment to take on a trip. After going through survival training in the service, I learned that you take the bare minimum. A change of clothes so you can wash the ones you wore the day before, soap, water, and food. That's all you needed. Well, that and weapons, but that's a given. Anymore and you risk wearing yourself out from exhaustion due to the weight you're hauling.

From the crap he was piling on the table, it looked like he was going camping for the weekend in the family truckster.

"We don't need all of that."

A look of disappointment dropped over his face. "But…"

"But nothing, Ryan. You see that pack over there. Everything I need to live in the middle of nowhere comfortably for five days is in that pack. You'd need three of them just to haul what you've got on the table here and you aren't even finished taking everything out."

"We've got the car," he offered.

"True, but what happens when we have to cross rough terrain that would chew your Volvo to little bits. Remember, we might have to go into Mexico and they're not all that fond of paved roads down there."

"Oh."

"Look, take two complete changes of clothes. Something durable that you can wash on a rock if need be. Some MRE's, something to carry water with, a really good knife, and I guess your sword. If you're carrying that then you'll need a decent coat to cover it up, too. Anything other than that will be dead weight. I have everything else covered."

"Okay."

I played with the GPS thing until the batteries died five minutes later. Hopefully a full charge lasted for more than five minutes or the thing was next to useless. When Ryan returned he had a full fledged camping backpack and was stuffing it with the things I told him to. Looking over the rest of the mess on the table, I picked out a flashlight, and box of safety matches, handing them over to him. "These too."

His hydration system only held two liters, but it was better than nothing. I topped mine off and set my pack aside. "You got some boots or hiking shoes?"

He nodded.

"Good. Wear those all the time."

My gut told me to just leave him there, to take the car and hightail it out of Dodge, but somewhere deeper told me that he would be an asset. To use him. Instead, I went back outside to have a cigarette.

This girl shit was starting to get on nerves. It wasn't so much that I was all the sudden the weaker sex or anything. Yeah, I'd of liked to be a little taller, and preferred to be a guy, but the whole having a man wanting to be all noble for me was annoying. Even the sex thing didn't bother me. I was a chick now. I dealt with it. It wouldn't do me any good to cry and scream at the injustice of the situation. I'd adjust. I really didn't think it would be this quick, but what the hell.

Now I had a guy hanging around wanting me to be the little lady since he thought I might be knocked up. No thanks. So I had one of two choices available to me. I could work the mojo and try to see if I could get rid of the little parasite, or I could be walking around with a kid cooking in my gut that'll pop out in forty weeks, then promptly shit piss, suck on my tits, and call me momma."

I can tell you which road I was leaning toward already.

"Hey, you okay?" Ryan came out of the front door, dressed in heavy jeans, hiking boots, a tee shirt and a thick plaid flannel shirt. He looked good. I just shrugged.

Sitting down next to me. I could see he was trying his best to be upbeat. "So, what are we going to do?"

That question had way too many possible answers, so I took the relatively safe one.

"I'm here to even out the balance between Good and Evil on the planet."

Lets see him swallow that one.

"Evil is leading the pack and I have to kick its ass until they're even."

He nodded, trying to absorb what I was saying. "So, why south?"

"A feeling. Big O gave me something like a trouble radar, I think." I shrugged and ashed the cigarette. "I suppose I go down, kill some people and then move on to the next assignment."

He swallowed at the implication. "I thought killing was a sin."

Glancing over to him I gave him a wry grin. "I told you I wasn't on God's side. I'm on Big O's."

"Who's he?"

Good question. "Ouroboros, is the middle ground. Neither Good or Evil. He's neutral and keeps the world spinning while God and Lucifer are fucking around upsetting shit like a couple of retarded school kids."

He nodded in understanding. "It doesn’t bother you to kill people?"

I shrugged. "Not really. It's a job. I killed plenty of towel-heads in Iraq. This isn't any different. Just a bunch of evil fucks that need to have their lights turned out for the betterment of the world as a whole."

The silence held between us while I fished another cigarette out of my pocket.

"I don't believe in the death penalty."

I snorted at that. "Redemption is bullshit, Ryan. People don't change their stripes deep down. Child molesters will always want to pick up the nearest kid that gets their rocks off and stick their dicks in their ass. Drug dealers will always take advantage of people, killing them in an off-handed way. We pick them up and throw them in prison where they become even worse than they already are and then let them loose a couple of days later. It's better to end their existence and take out the trash. Then they don't get to fuck with anyone again."

He shook his head. "The death penalty isn't a deterrent it's been proven."

I chuckled. "It's because they know given enough time people will forgive and forget because they weren't involved. Believe me if they knew I was here to judge them and end their miserable existence then they'd fear and maybe make different choices before they fuck up the first time."

The anger came through his voice soon after. "What makes you qualified to judge?"

I tapped on the side of my head. "I can see Good and Evil. Beyond a certain point a person becomes irredeemable. That's where I come in."

He blinked and looked at me in shock. "You can see?"

I nodded. "You're like a fucking beacon of good. It's annoying. I don't even think you masturbate, you're so full of Good."

Ryan reddened and ducked his head.

"I don't approve of killing people."

"It's not really your choice and it's out of your hands. Just stay out of my way when the shit goes down and you'll get to keep your precious goodness about you."

He stood abruptly and looked down at me. "You're not a very nice person."

I grinned. "There you go judging, Ryan. Better watch it or you'll be in the Evil camp before long."

He paled, turned around, and went inside.

We kept our distance for the rest of the day and I worked on finding that spark inside me again. He left late in the afternoon and retrieved my leather pants, some MRE's for himself, and dinner for the both of us.

Fucking Chinese food. At the end of the meal, I cracked open my fortune cookie.

You will be going on a great adventure soon.

No shit.

"I want to apologize. I shouldn't have said what I said earlier."

Popping the cookie in my mouth I chewed and swallowed. "It's human nature to be a hypocrite, Ryan. You didn't hurt my feelings. Just admit you can be an asshole sometimes and then live your life."

"I want to go to heaven. I don't want to be a… jerk."

A snort shot out of me, along with a few pieces of half chewed cookie. "I was just like you when I died." I considered. "Well, not exactly like you. But I did the church thing, received absolution, communion, the whole lot. I even prayed regularly. Then I found out that God doesn't listen. He doesn't get involved and when you die, you get to spend eternity in Limbo's waiting room going insane for being the good person you were supposed to be."

Cleaning up the mess I made, I shoved the empty cartons in the paper bag. "It's not worth it. So you can stay here, which I highly advise, and live your delusional existence unhampered by me and my morally ambiguous lifestyle, or you can butch up and have some fun while you're still alive."

I have a way of bringing a party down with just a few words. It's not magic, just natural talent.

We left the next morning after I got no sleep and Ryan about eight hours. It took the entire day to make it through to the middle of Texas. Big O, was that a big state.

Right around San Antonio we stopped for a nice steamy shit about eleven at night. There were a few cars and people moving to and from the restroom and their cars so the bogyman didn't get them with their dick waving in the air. They were pretty much middle of the road Americans, Good with touches of Bad here and there.

There was even a teenage girl that was edging toward the dark side of the fence. She looked wholesome enough. Those were the ones to watch out for. They use their charisma, or looks to control people. It's amazing what some guys will do all in the name of pussy.

When my business was finished was when I heard it. Something muffled and footsteps coming my way. I lifted my boots up and braced them on the door so anyone looking underneath wouldn't see anything. After they passed was when I heard him whispering.

"If you scream, I'll kill you and then kill your mom out in the car. You understand? Good. Just take your medicine like a good girl and I'll let you go."

Softly as I could, I stood and secured my jeans and gear, before stepping out and around. Whimpers coming from the stall let me know that the girl inside was complying well enough. I slid the carbon steel knife from its sheath. From looking before, I knew that the particular stall they were in didn't lock. It was busted. That's why I chose the one I just left. Easing the door open, it squeaked a little causing the guy with his pants around his ankles to look back.

A left cross to his jaw laid him out to the side of the toilet. The girl just about screamed but I put my hand over her mouth. "I don't need the headache. Shut up." She whimpered and nodded. It was the darkish girl. "Pull your panties up and stay there. I want you to see something."

Grabbing monkey number three's pant leg I dragged him back, clear of the stall.

"I see the darkness in you, girl. Pretty soon, you'll be just as evil as this piece of shit. Straighten out or I'm coming for you. You understand?"

The girl nodded, but at the moment she'd probably agree she was a quarter-horse as well. Taking the blade I slid it between his second and third vertebrae and twisted. He didn't bleed much but the fucker was dead enough for government work.

Tears dropped from the girl's face watching what I was doing. "Remember, I'm the fucking grim reaper and I come for evil shits like this. You're just about on my list of things to do. Clean yourself up."

Wiping the blade on the back of the guy's shirt, I returned the knife to its sheath and walked out.

"What took you so long?" asked Ryan.

I watched the girl as she ran from the restroom to her mother's car. They sat for a second and then the car lit up as they peeled out of the rest area.

"Did you do something to her?"

My eyes moved to Ryan's accusing face. "Yeah. She just got raped and I took care of business."

He didn't have much to say after that.

I took over driving, even though I didn't have a license, and got us down to Juarez. The pull was taking us down into Mexico and it was getting stronger and stronger with each mile. I knew we weren't far away when Ryan and I switched seats to cross the border.

About ten miles on the Mexican side of the border I thought that I was going to puke, the knot in my stomach was so tight. The only thing that was within viewing distance on the barren landscape was what looked to be a weathered taco stand.

"Stop here. Stay in the car." Stopping for a second, I looked at him. "This time stay in the damn car."

He nodded and I checked to see if Shorty was secure, popping open the thumb strap that kept her down, and then got out of the car.

I opened the P-coat to make sure I had easy access to my weapons then tapped my beck. "Wake up, Syn." Warmth slithered across my back.

There is another presence nearby, Regulator.

"No shit. Keep an eye out."

The dirt and gravel crunched quietly under my boots and the rank smell of meat that had been laying around was ripening the air. I didn't sense Evil, but there was definitely something seriously powerful around.

When I rounded the front of the taco stand I saw a short Mexican guy whose skin was the darkest brown I'd ever seen on anyone. It looked like he'd spent his entire existence in the sun. Strangely enough he didn't look wrinkled or weathered.

"What took you so long? I was expecting you two days ago." His accent was especially thick, but he at least spoke American.

The glow that was coming off him was Good, but tainted with something else, almost gray in color. It wasn't Evil, almost apathetic, I guess.

"Who are you?" I asked warily.

"Call me Hey-Zeus, and call your boyfriend over as well. I got tacos for you both."

"He's not my boyfriend."

"Uh-huh." Bending over, he came back up with two plates loaded with tortillas, beans, rice, and strips of black meat, charred to a crisp.

With a frown I stepped back and waved Ryan over. He pulled the car up and killed the motor. His eyes traveled over me and then up to the Mexican behind the counter.

"Take a seat, both of you. Eat. I'll answer your questions then I'm closing up shop, and you can leave."

Well, the tacos looked good. I shrugged and sat on the squeaky stool that looked like it had been around for a good fifty years.

"You want water or wine?"

Ryan looked interested. "Water please."

"Wine for me."

Figuring I was going to get sangria or some other Mexican shit wine punch, I was confused about receiving water as well. That was until he tapped the side of the glass and the clear water turned a deep burgundy right before my eyes.

Huh, water to wine.

…

…

Hey-Zeus turned water to wine. Oh shit.

"You're Jesus."

His brown eyes flashed at me and then thinned. "I go by Hey-Zeus nowadays."

Ryan nearly shit himself, but nothing came out of his mouth. Hell, if it was that easy to shut him up I should have tried it days ago.

Hey-Zeus held his hands up. "I'm not here to start shit with you, Regulator. I'm just doing Ouroboros a favor. He got rid of the piles that God cursed me with seventeen hundred years ago and I owe him."

The thought boggled my mind. God cursed Jesus, his son and power on Earth, with hemorrhoids so bad he had to go to one of the competitors for help.

"Yeah. He told me at the time that if I wanted to be a pain in the ass then I should know how it feels." He looked at Ryan and raised an eyebrow. "Eat. You're wasting good goat meat."

I picked up a tortilla and slathered it with refried beans before stacking strips of goat meat on top. Hell, I've eaten worse. I ate dog once in North Africa before. Meat's kind of tough, but otherwise it was decent. One bite out of Hey-Zeus's goat taco and I spit it out.

"Jesus!" I cursed. "What the fuck is that nasty shit?"

"I said I go by Hey-Zeus." He shrugged. "Locals like it well enough."

Spitting the remnants out of my mouth I lost any amount of goodwill for Mexicans that was left in my head. "I'm guessing that they like to lick the inside of septic tanks too. Fuck, that was nasty."

I swigged a mouthful of the wine and nearly had an orgasm. "Oh, but this is good."

"I've had a few years practice with the wine thing."

Ryan loaded up on beans and rice, skipping the goat meat, and watched every word we said.

"You met Luthor yet?" he asked.

I swallowed the last of the red and looked at him. "About six foot, looks like an extra from a magic act in black leather?"

Hey-Zeus nodded. "That's him."

I nodded. "Yeah, he tried to call a dragon name Syn in the middle of highway 75 in Oklahoma a couple of days ago. I busted the party and he took off."

Hey-Zeus leaned back. "That will probably be the last time he runs from you. Luthor doesn't like unknowns and seeing the Regulator at the scene of a summoning probably spooked him. He'll have checked you out with Lucifer and probably come after you soon."

"Well then, Shorty and I will have a conversation with him. I'm sure he'll get the point well enough."

He leaned back against the counter behind him, crossed his arms and looked at me. "There's nothing on you at the moment that could do him any lasting harm, chica. Hold on a second."

Hey-Zeus disappeared and came back with a quart jug of water. "This is a one time thing. Don't ask for me to do it again, because frankly I don't care if you get your ass handed to you or not. This clears my debt with Ouroboros."

I was about to mouth off but he tapped the side of the jug turning the water into a gold color. "Dip your blade and any of your shells in here, let them dry naturally and that should give you an edge until your dragon can teach you something useful."

I didn't bother asking how he knew I was carrying Syn around with me. The guy's been around for two thousand years. He's bound to have picked up a trick or ten.

I sniffed at the top.

"Don't drink it either. It'll hurt your baby."

My stomach dropped out of my ass. "Yeah, thanks for that. Appreciate it." Sarcasm dripped from my lips.

Ryan finally got distracted enough by the news to break his fan boy worship of Hey-Zeus. "You're pregnant?"

I rolled my eyes. "Yes."

Reaching up to slide down one of the metal safety doors that blocked off the front of the taco stand Hey-Zeus said, "Congratulations. Hope you don't die. Fuck off."

With the help of Syn, I was able to hide the bottle of golden water from the border guards and didn't have to declare anything. Golden water… if that motherfucker pissed in the jug, I'm gonna go back there and kick his ass. I sniffed at it again. It didn't smell like anything. We got a room on the El Paso side of the border and I went to work with all of my ammo and knives. Ryan's Dao was way too long to dip in so we improvised and soaked the blade. When we were though, everything was laying out on damp paper towels and the jug was about an eighth emptier.

"Were you going to tell me about us being pregnant?"

I snapped my head around. "I'm pregnant. You're… standing there. Don't give me any shit, Ryan."

"We can get married when we get back home."

Palming my face for a moment was the only thing that kept me from grabbing Mr. Sharpie and stabbing him. "We're not getting married."

His hands went on his hips all defiant-like. "You're going to let our son or daughter be born illegitimately?"

Who says I'm going to let it be born? No, I didn't say that out loud. I'd like to have some peace and quiet sometime tonight. "I haven't made that decision either."

"Kayleigh." Grabbing one of the two chairs in the room and moving it around in front of me, he sat down. "How would you have felt if your parents waited until much later to get married and you found out about it later on in life. Found out that you were an accident, not wanted, or even the possibility that your mother wanted to abort you to begin with, that she thought of you as a parasite?"

Making me try to feel guilty is never a good thing. "I don't do guilt, Ryan. I make my own choices."

"And damn the consequences!"

I blinked. "Holy crow, you cussed!" I fell back on the bed laughing.

Ryan's face flushed with embarrassment that he'd been baited into profanity. Deflecting the issue aside was his only option, which he did rather well. "This is about our child, Kayleigh, not about your ability to make the most devout man in the world forget his civility."

"There is no child. It's just a growth right now and will be so for at least for the next week." Pushing myself back up, with a humorous smile still on my face. "It's kind of like a wart right now traveling down the fallopian tube, just a bunch of cells that haven't formed into anything." And if I had my way, it would keep on going, bypassing the uterus altogether.

That only made his face redder. "Do you hear yourself? A wart?"

Standing up I made my way to my pack to take out a couple of dollars for a soda and maybe a candy bar. I had a craving for chocolate, which I'm sure had absolutely nothing to do with being pregnant. I heard those cravings didn't come until the third trimester. "I'm going to get a Coke, you want anything?"

He shook his head. Leaving a percolating Ryan behind, I walked down one flight of stairs to the vending machines behind the main office of the motel and fed a dollar into the machine. I bent over to pull out the condensation laden plastic bottle when I smelled the odor of sweat and unwashed body.

"Déme su dinero."

Something was poking me in the back. At that point I didn't know if it was a knife or a gun, or even someone's finger. I sighed. We'd just got the stupid hotel and I didn't want to abandon it and waste the money if it was a gun he was holding and it went off, summoning the police with questions I didn't want to answer.

I raised my hands and played dumb. For my acting along I was rewarded with another poke in the back. "Déme su dinero… give… money," the smelly Mexican said in broken American.

I only had two more dollars with me. What the hell, why not. Why not? It was the principle of the thing.

Turning in place to get a better look at my mugger, the Mexican jumped back. He was covered in grime, dirt, insect bites, and holding a semi-rusty knife. His clothes looked like he'd been wallowing though the Rio Grande and all points in between.

Now I dropped my hands and scowled. "I fucking wetback? You're shitting me. You're a short fucker too."

He looked at me like he didn't understand, so I translated. "Mujado -- wetback. Fucking illegal alien motherfucker that can't stay on his own side of the fence." Spinning the coke until I had it's neck in my grasp, I brought it up, slamming into the underside of his knife hand.

I kicked the door to the room and saw Ryan look through the window to see who it was. He quickly opened the door and looked at the blood dripping from my hand.

"What happened?"

I was cradling my hand so as not to drip blood everywhere. "Turn the water on in the sink. I don't want to leave a trail of blood everywhere."

At least he performed that task without having a moral discussion.

"Is that human?"

I nodded. "Wetback tried to fucking mug me. I swear, even in East New York, I didn't get fucked with like I've been fucked with over the last week. I'm like an asshole magnet." Running the complimentary soap over my hands I looked up at Ryan and smiled at the implication.

"You killed somebody else?"

I shrugged and rinsed. "Not so much killed as made an example of. He wasn't all Evil, but close enough. Don't worry, he's alive, just missing a few fingers and most of his macho mojo for getting his ass handed to him by a girl."

Disbelief showed on Ryan's face. "Where's he at? I need to call an ambulance."

"No," I said with a more forceful tone. "I left him with his buddies, after I found out where the little group hung out."

Running a hand over his face, I could see that Ryan didn't want to ask, but did anyway. "What did you do?"

I shrugged. "Cut off his fingers one at a time until he told me where his buddies were then we took a short walk to the warehouse behind this place. I dropped in on the five person crew and welcomed them to America, land of the opportunity to get your ass kicked until you go back home." I gave him a two beat and then threw in the last part. "Still want to get married?"

His jaw unhinged in disbelief with a touch of horror thrown in for a little kick. "Don't you have any compassion? Those people came here for a better life, and…"

"No, those people came here to sponge off society and my tax money, not to mention mug me in the middle of the fucking hotel with a rusty knife. Fuck them, fuck the bleeding hearts, and fuck the 'they're just here to do the jobs Americans won't' crowd. And while we're at it, fuck you too." Ryan blinked. "Go home. I don't need your fucking help, get out."

His simmering started into a fast boil. "You're carrying my child. I'm not leaving."

In two seconds I had him against the wall and my knife at his throat. All this time, seeing the dragon, hearing my story, meeting Hey-Zeus, Ryan had been like a kid experiencing his first ride at Disneyland. This was the first time I'd seen him scared.

My blade pressed into his throat. "You don't seem to get it, Ryan. I'm not some goodie two-shoes superhero here to fight the forces of evil. When I kick Luthor's ass and Good eventually has its heyday, I'll be keeping them in line too. That means people like you, the bible thumpers that try to push their holier-than-thou shit off on people that don't want to hear it." Pressing further, I saw a line of blood and its trail along the length of the blade until it dripped on his flannel shirt.

"In case you haven't noticed, this is my body now, not yours. You don't get a say in what I do to it. I'm giving you three minutes to get the hell out of the room that I paid for. If you aren't out then I'll take you over to your poor, innocent, I'm just here for work, wetbacks and we'll see exactly how much goodwill they show you while they're robbing you and fucking your tight little ass."

His fear was starting to ease a little while it was introduced to a small measure of humiliation.

"Now, there's one word I want to hear coming out of your mouth, and it better be yes, or else, you know, ass fucking will be involved. Ready?" I didn't wait for him to acknowledge me. "Do-you-understand-what-I-just-said?"

Ryan's mouth barely opened. "Yes."

"Good." I eased up but kept the knife at his throat. "See how nice I can be when you aren't spouting off with your nobler-than-thou bullshit? Three minutes."

With that, I backed away to the sink area to watch Ryan pack what little clothes he'd taken out and to sheathe his Dao. He paused at the door and I rolled my eyes.

"Kayleigh, if you have the baby, I'll take him or her. Come to Tulsa and leave it or call me and I'll come to you. A child deserves to have a parent that actually loves it."

I crossed my arms. "Hey Ryan. Fuck you."

My parting shot didn't even phase him. He just stared at me and his face dropped into pity before he opened the door and left.

To be Continued...

Photo credit: I don't have a clue. It's been on my computer for years.