Morning Blues

[Victoria]

“Beth? Beth, wake the fuck up!” A crash resounded and the woman rolled off of her bed with a hand to her face. Waking up in such a manner didn’t please her; it only made her grumpier than was typical for her.

“What?!” She yelled, she looked up through her fingers at one of her companions. Not a sore sight in the morning, but obnoxious as always.

“The ships gone, Beth, and the cargo with it.” Stella crossed her arms across her jumpsuit, wrench in one hand. “Would you like me to let you sleep, or would you like to get our ship back?”

“What? How?!” Beth struggled groggily to her feet and tired to make sense of the situation.

“Let’s see,” Stella paused, “they got onto the ship, hacked it, and stole it.” She answered and touched a finger to her lips. “Yep, that sounds about right.” A pillow smacked her in the face and she caught it before it hit the floor.

“I left the keys…” The woman slid a palm down her face and groaned.

“Yeah, you did, now get the hell out here.” The mechanic tossed the pillow back and it hit Elizabeth in the side before it flopped down beside her.

Liz hopped to her feet and snatched her guns from the small table, the only other furniture in the room besides the bed. She slammed her guns into her shoulder holsters and dashed out of the dank room. The bright sunlight from outside stung her eyes; she weaved down the hall and nearly slammed into the crusty wall. Stella awaited her outside looking at the empty lot where the ship would have been.

“Morning, sunshine,” the girl waved sarcastically.

“Bandits this time?” Beth scratched her head and stared up at the bright blue sky with squinted eyes.

“Dunno, I went out to buy supplies and, voila, gone!” Stella held out her arms to display the empty space.

“Fuck, and the boys?” She asked.

“Dunno, on the ship maybe?” Stella shrugged helplessly.

“Do you know anything?” Elizabeth stared incredulously at her engineer.

“Not really, it’s your job to know things,” Stella laughed and walked along the pavement.

“It wouldn’t surprise me if they took it.” She looked away in frustration and walked in the opposite direction.

“The boys?” Stella replied over her shoulder.

“Yeah, how long had they been with us? Just because the others died, doesn’t mean we have to pick up the shadiest rabble on the planet!” Beth sat down at the curb and leaned her chin on her palm.

“Don’t forget, you forgot the keys,” Stella shouted at her.

“Yeah! I know! I left the damn thing up for grabs!” She raised her hands angrily and shook her head in disgust. She pulled out a partially crushed packet of smokes and pulled one out. Despite its bent shape, she snapped her fingers and lit the end before taking a long drag. “Gonna be a long day, should have just slept in.” She muttered, the cigarette barely hanging from her lips.

[Juno]

Jezebel yawned, stretching out her arms as she slid her legs off the side of the bed. Her eyes popped open, greeted almost immediately by the sun’s bright rays. She stood up to her full height—which, admittedly, was not that tall—and slipped into the bathroom, quickly undressing and stepping beneath the warm water of the shower nozzle.

The girl’s strawberry blonde hair clung to her back as the scorching water pounded her, and with a smile and a sigh she bathed herself hurriedly. She didn’t exactly know what she was hurrying for, however; the day just seemed to call to her.

It didn’t take her too long to slip some clothes on—she quickly buttoned her shirt and slid on a rose-colored vest over it, then stepped into a magenta mini-skirt that treaded dangerously along the line between short and too short, and slid on long, brown stockings with a pair of tan lace-up shoes, similar to Converse in style. Clad in her everyday wear, the pink-haired girl skipped out of her hotel room and quickly caught the elevator, ready and willing to leap into the day’s events.

To people who weren’t familiar with Jezebel, her enthusiasm about life and the things it offered might’ve been looked at as strange, especially in a time where little was held sacred. To the strawberry-haired girl, however, life was for the living and for that purpose only she had vowed to live every day to the fullest. A common philosophy, true; Jezebel, unlike others who pledged to do so, planned to stick by her word.

The elevator was surprisingly devoid of passengers. It was uncommon for the early morning elevator ride to be so empty, usually because so many people were heading off to work. The human girl could usually count on seeing at least one man in a suit-and-tie in the lift, if nothing else, before she headed to the ice cream shop each day. Today, though, there was no such luck. Jezebel raised an eyebrow in curiosity at her empty surroundings, wondering if there was something wrong and eventually coming to the conclusion that it was just a slow workday. Spring break, after all, had come in full swing.

Jezebel’s family’s choice of lodging had recently been invaded by college-age kids the afternoon before, and the young girl had flirted with her fair share of cute boys the previous evening. Unfortunately, none of them seemed all too willing to take a seventeen-year-old military brat seriously, and so she’d gotten little in reciprocation.

The elevator doors slid open, and Jezebel was met with a similarly empty sight. A few people sat on couches or milled about, but there were, as of yet, few of the hotel’s many inhabitants awake and walking. With a slight frown—socialization was counted as one of the girl’s favorite activities—the strawberry blonde slipped over to the small booth that served as her ice cream shop, and placed her elbows on the counter, sitting her chin in her hands. Her eyes flitted to the chair nearby, where a college-age boy sat, reading a magazine. She couldn’t be sure, but she thought she caught him shooting a furtive glance at her. She blushed at the thought, and turned away, pretending to be fiddling with some of the ice cream tubs.

There was a ringing. Someone had rung the service bell. She turned on her heel, wanting to make sure that she didn’t mess up someone’s order—she’d only been working here a few weeks—and much to her surprise, saw the young man. He wore a Hawaiian shirt and cargo shorts, with short, yet slightly unkempt brown hair. Jezebel blushed—his gaze was quite piercing. He smiled at her, and she knew her face must’ve been blood red.

“Hey,” he greeted her in a rather sweet tone, “You… sell ice cream here?”

“Y-yeah,” Jezebel sputtered, attempting to get a handle on her words so as not to embarrass herself, “Why? You want some?”

“For breakfast?” he chuckled, “Sure, why not. How about I get some… strawberry?” he asked, and she went to the strawberry tub at lightning speed, scooping out three large scoops and placing them into a paper bowl. She slid it across professionally, and he picked it up with a wink. He turned to leave with a quick wave. As much as she would’ve liked to call him back and continue conversation with him, she was distracted by another conversation taking place in another corner of the lobby. Normally, she would’ve blocked it out—it was a skill she had to learn, working here—but this was a quite serious talk that she couldn’t help but eavesdrop on.

“Don’t forget,” one of the girls said, “You forgot the keys.”

“Yeah! I know!” the other scolded herself, “I left the damn thing up for grabs!”

She started to walk over towards the two women, and heard the brown-haired one mumble something under her breath. The brunette had tied her hair back in a ponytail, and wore a black shirt and short black shorts. From the looks of it, the two women were armed, which normally might not have sat well in a hotel. Jezebel had come to realize, however, that when you lived near a spaceport that all sorts of people passed through, there were some… exceptions to normal things. The brunette scoffed, glancing over her shoulder, and caught the approaching blonde in her sights. “What is it?” she asked as if she wanted to get the girl out of her hair, turning on her heel and whipping her pony-tail over her shoulder as she looked at the pink-haired girl, “What do you want, kid?”

“I just wanted to see if you needed any help,” Jezebel smiled shyly. The girl dressed in black looked her over, placing her hands on her hips. “My name’s Jezebel,” the strawberry-haired girl said, “I’m the ice cream girl.”

“She sells ice cream,” the other woman laughed, but the original speaker held up a hand in an attempt to quiet her.

“Elizabeth,” she introduced herself, “and how exactly do you think you can help us?”

“Well,” Jezebel prefaced with a toothy grin, “That would mean I need to know your problem, first. Of course, if you’re fine by yourself, I can leave and let you guys go about your business. I just want to make your stay here more enjoyable, you know?” Elizabeth shot a glance at the newcomer, and Stella—her friend—crossed her arms. Jezebel, all the while, wasn’t exactly too enthusiastic herself. These looked like rough women—what could she do to help? Call management? Yeah, right; their problems seemed much, much larger.

She was way too damn nice.

[Vad]

Rebekah ran a finger across the scar that ran along her chest in between her bosom. That's what she got for meddling in the business of a drug cartel on her planet. The scar curve from the top of her left shoulder, around her left breast, and stopped just under it. They had attempted to remove it. That's when she discovered her ability to teleport.

The female Saiyan examed her eyeliner in the mirror as she was readying herself for work. She had to match the facial tattoo's she had gotten under her eyes. Taking the leather collar from the porcelin sink in front of her she tied it around her neck, fastening the belt buckle so it was tight, but not cutting her circulation off. Taking a step back she fluffed her hair, examining her body as well.

Slipping into a pair of panties she exited the small bathroom of her run down apartment. Going to her dresser, which looked like it had been sent through a wood chipper then reassembled, she picked the matching bra for her underwear and put it on. Noticing the sticky note on her apartment door she went to the closet with a sigh.

Garret had left her a reminder about their date; she didn't really care. That man was always trying to get into her pants. Nor did she care about that. Bekah was usually in a good mood; happy and cheerful, but she had read a report on her brother last night. Apparently the Saiyan government thought it a good idea to send her best friend, Lady Jessica to execute Vad on Earth. The small army ruined half of Central City and slaughtered countless lives. According to the Earth report, Vad had put a metal spike through her forehead and had left her to rot.

Just another reason to rip his fucking lungs out.

Rebekah scoured her cloest looking for the appropriate dress to wear for her day in the office. Her current job consisted of managing reports that were filed with the Saiyan Royal Government as they came in from other plants. Every chance she got, the female Saiyan would take another report about her brother and study in closely, discovering his brutal tactics. The investigation into her birth fathers agency got them to reveal Vad's personell files as a deal to let them continue producing commanders for the army.

She only read part of a file before losing her lunch in the basement archives room. He had slaughtered, decaptitated, and mutlilated women, children, and men alike for no other reason than because he was ordered to. It made her sick to her stomach. After getting into volunteer work for the less fortunate, she'd always notice how some people she would help disappeared sometimes.

Bekah removed a black kimono from her cloest. It had white floral patterns snaking around the cloth, however what made her uneasy was the slit in the dress up her right thigh. In this neighborhood it was a little much, but today was a performance review. Her bosses were extremely attracted to her for some odd reason. Though, who wouldn't be? She had always taken care of herself. She took pride in the fact that she was built like her birth mother. Large breasts, round butt, and a slim physique with the strength of an ox.

She grinned, unbuttoning the kimono.