Day One
Tall, dark and Galactic Peace Office just strode into my club with his weapons still in place. Someone is going to get an ass chewing over that. Later. Right now, he looks pretty damn determined, and I’m sure I know why. I’m a little amazed he had the courage to set foot in here. After all the years on detail, watching me, watching the club, he finally waltzes in like he owns the place…weapons still in place. He would be the first to do so on official business. And someone was going to get shredded about letting him walk in fully armed.
The Council has had this nice understanding about the Chalice. They leave me alone, I leave them alone. It looks like the rules are about to change.
Damn Shye.
She should have known better than to start playing coy with a Council Member. She should have stayed far away from said Councilman and his odd fascination with young mutant girls. If she’d done well enough, she wouldn’t have had to be spirited off planet to ensure her survival till the time the trial came around. As it was, she’d wrecked havoc in her life and mine. Whatever. She’s my friend and family, and I protect family. Regardless of their screw ups.
And hell, I’ve been looking for an excuse to tangle with this particular Tracker. He’s delicious looking. Purrs. Now, if I could just get the scowl off his face. Hmm, the possibilities…
Day Two
Alright, so he’s good looking. He’s got a body to die for and a mouth worth kissing. It’s too damn bad that every time he opens it, he digs himself in deeper. “I’m the wrong side of the law.” If I had a dollar for every time…Yes, I’m rolling my eyes at that one, again. Anyone who isn’t Council just isn’t running with the “In” crowd in our galaxy. I’ve never run with that pack. Hell, I’m not a Normal. I’m Mutant. Even worse, I’m Feral. *claws click* We Ferals tend to like our space. It’s the cat DNA. That solitary nature just shrieks when the walls start closing in.
Mr. All High and Mighty can just take his demands and ‘port to the nearest star system without oxygen. It’s a good thing I got to take my frustrations out on the alien crew who thought breaking my furniture was a good thing.
I’ll be damned if the GPO and their Tracker think they can handle caring for one of my own better than I can. Mutants have always had a raw deal with this particular legislation. I don’t care how far reaching they are across the known universe. Siron always has and always will be defined Normal-Mutant. They’re Normal. I’m Mutant. End of negotiations.
Yes, I’m still pissed at His High and Mightiness.
Next Rant….
Pro: He came back. Purrs.
Con: The jerk arrested me. ME! Obstruction of justice my ass.
*&$^%^@!#^^&%^#&$@(*!&#&$^&*#%*#
rant provided by Briana Sabre from Feral Fires
