Kite lay upon the bedding, grinding her teeth. The ceiling above her was familiar. The marring of the shade on the hanging light-fixture from when one particular attempt at "aggressive home-cooking" had exploded substantially earlier than it was supposed to. She'd never understood why whatever system of the school's that had been responsible for repairing when she and her roommates, her adoptive sisters, had gouged open the walls, covered things in graffiti, done every stupid and pointless act of rebellion they could think of short of trying to cook up hard-drugs (which would have actually been considerably easier than trying to stabilize refined explosive, but she'd been doing regular chemistry as a sideline on her math degree, not biochem)... had left the lampshade damaged.

Her sisters. The room had only ever been meant to be a double, but all four of them had crammed into it because it had felt better that way. Sure, it didn't offer any protection, less, really, since anything taking one of them 'at home' thus got a four-pack bonus... except the werewolf who'd thought posing dramatically holding onto the windowsill was a good idea. That was a nice memory. No, the real 'protection' came after, came in the time when 'personal space' meant less than nothing, huddling together in a tangle of affectionate flesh to remind each other that positive contact existed. That for all the need to be boiled hard on the outside to survive this place, there was still a sheltered part of their hearts that could hold onto soft. And now the room and the bed somehow still smelled faintly of them when she'd been away from it long enough for the bedding to feel alien against her skin, harsh, and scratchy, compared to the-

She managed to withdraw from the fugue a few minutes later, shudderingly sitting up, curling into herself, trying to clear the fragmentary images and chaotic jumble of shattered code from her mind. Hmph. So that's why they left the room recognizable. Why they'd have gone to the trouble of however they re-annointed it with that smell. An anchor. A thing to pull her back into being human, being herself, to pull her out of the identity-less, emotionless, volitionless emptiness of having been Sever13-Cluster6-Processor2.

Her sisters would not want this to beat her, wherever in the universe they now were. Kite did not want this to beat her. And it seemed whoever was responsible for terminating her use as a biocomputer didn't want it to beat her, either, even if they most likely only wanted it in the "vacant nonresponsive shells are no fun to rape" sense.

So she stretched out slowly, and stood, cursing herself inwardly for flinching at the feel of her feet on the floor, snarling as she looked around. Her room appeared to be the same as she last remembered it, except three less people in it. Some of their belongings were still there, even. The laptops, the shared toolbox, the little knicknacks of sculpture or doodling scattered on the desk. The door out into the hallway was crudely boarded up, just a pair of planks crossed over it, but there was a steaming bowl of some kind of soup sitting on the floor in front of it.

The message was clear. Feel free to pretend not to exist until you're ready to come out.

Fuck that. Fuck that with some sort of pneumatic drill press made of bone and loathing.

Kite rummaged through the drawers and wardrobe as she got dressed, anchoring herself in the physical act despite the intense irritation of the cloth upon her skin, plain underwear (with a momentary sigh that it had been one of her sisters who'd convinced her it was worth bothering with in the first place), the usual blouse and skirt, though deliberately to challenge herself, leggings rather than socks, and her jacket from draped over her chair... it still had her pens and calculator jammed in the pockets, though the calculator had doubtless been wiped of anything but her actually math-related work, and probably had something nefarious added to it. She could rip it open and find out later. There were more important things to do for now.

She threw a withering glance at the corner of ceiling which she'd always assumed concealed a hidden 'security' camera. "Your concern is touching. Go ahead, puppeteer, watch me dance." And so Kite strode over to the door, seeing that while there were nail-heads in the planks, they were not actually nailed to the door, but just taped there, and without hesitation she reached out to tear them away, dropping them negligently on the floor beside her to stride out into the hall, to see what she could see.

You can teach an old cat new tricks very easily. You just don't know what they're going to do with them.

[OOC: Whew! As said in title, open thread, whether friends from the old days or people who've never met me before. Don't worry, i've no intention of slapping out this much on a regular post-by-post basis. But what girl doesn't like a splashy entrance for her homecoming?]

The demon had been busy pilfering some needed supplies from a chemistry closet. Turning random canisters, stoppered flasks and bottles this way and that, he began filling the backpack he had taken as a momento from that nice asian girl. Her screams of pleasure only rivaled her disgusted crying, one from from the drugged up fucking he gave her and one from the despair filled sliming. Although Hello Kitty did not match his...well anything really, it was useful and if there was one thing he was, it was a sick bastard, well that and practical. As thoughts of that encounter floated through his perverted mind, he thought about stopping for some fun after his "shopping" trip. He had to give it to those guys behind the school, they sure knew how to stock a labratory supply closet to the point he wondered whether he was pilfering from a college or a chemical weapons labratory in the worst war zone.

As he left with his cartoon kitten embroidered sachel, he made his way towards his other favorite supermarket. This one stocked all the freshest available delights. A stickler for unspoiled goods he was in for a new experience only he didn't know it.

He left the satchel undisturbed outside under a thick bush. He would retreive it after a quick round of the college meat market. Without the backpack he was nude. A demon comfortable in his own skin, he traveled in the buff at most times to take advantage of his unique ability to hide from sight. Like the villain of an ex-govenor's movie he could blend the light around his form going unnoticed unless someone knew exactly what to look for. Even knowing it didn't give most a chance in hell of acually spotting him or even being able to tell what the hell they were looking at.

He made his way through the dorms when he caught two curious sights. The first was a student not in socks but leggings. Those who dared risk a wardrobe mal-function would be quick to face the wrath of an empowered headgirl, sometimes to painful results, sometimes to erotic results, and sometimes to painfully erotic results.

The second oddity was that she seemed to be removing boards from an older unused room. His curiosity running higher than Cheech and Chong with a blunt he decided to investigate...

Many are they who say that they can feel the eyes of an unseen watcher tracing their flesh, feel the aetherial whispers of Intent. Fat lot of good that does HERE, where someone with such a sense would find themselves driven mad by the endless plethorae of voyeristic attention directed upon them from viewscreen and payfeed from across who knew how many thousands of star systems?

Far more useful to simply be paranoid. Far more sensible to simply be cautious.

Kite walked as ever with aggressive posture belying her alertness, she missed the solid clack on the walkways of the studs she'd modified her shoes with for some extra kick-weight, but was not surprised to find them gone, along with the other martial accoutrements she and her sisters had made. She got a wide berth on the paths. Strange older girl looking angry at everything she lays eyes on? Who would want to approach? It didn't take long for her to turn off the path to head away from the campus proper, away from where she didn't recognize any of the buildings anymore, away from looking at having been made out of place anew in so many ways.

The forest would grow and well, she'd seen trees move around in there before for any number of reasons, technological or biological or a hybrid of both. But at least that would still feel like a forest.

Strangely enough she was unboarding the door of a room. The room was a double and it appeared no different than the countless others he had the pleasure of visiting. Though as an uninvited guest he typically was alone in rejoicing at the company, at least at first. Her demeanor caught him more off guard than even her purple dye job.

While most of the women here were fancy free twits, enjoying the tropical paradise and the majority of life before them, she seemed to be brooding and angry. She was avoided, and by the way she carried herself, it was by choice. Although not classically beautiful, her glasses and figure made her attractive passed cute, even pretty. Her attitude made the beauty bone deep rather than superficial. She was a flower among the sprouts.

In a word she seemed angry, no anger didn't quite cover it. It was more of a take shit from no one aloof personality, that had seen more than her young years belied. The outfit said I will play by your rules meanwhile the leggings were a giant middle finger to authority. No it wasn't anger, but he couldn't place the thought as he tried to mentally unravel her enigma.

She surprised him more by heading off alone into the woods. A place the newbies went to explore, hike or run, she seemed to be a ghost haunting what was once familiar. She seemed lost in thought or maybe she was thinking about something lost. Her age had to place her at graduation level. Was she a grad student? Intigued he stalked, wondering where this puzzle of a student would lead him. Perhaps this day was meant for more than a quick snack, but a full blown seven coarse meal that sated the mind and body.

Things changed in the woods. Pace slower, the odd entanglement of mixing increased alertness and a sort of relaxation. Not safety, for there could be no such thing upon the island save its pale and pointless echo while surrounded by the invasive pressure of those who Did Not Know. But peace, a calm of sorts.

She stopped in a small clearing that seemed insignificant to anyone but she, and began stretching for several minutes of warmup before driving herself into the practise routine of a martial art which had no name, no dojo, no students. The rage flared anew, and stronger, her body did not move as swiftly as she felt it should, her muscles did not snap as taut.

Informal as her personal style might be, anyone could recognize the angry kick of Stray Cat Breaks Eggs, even aimed at an unoffending bush.

The demon trailed the purple haired girl as she made her way through the dead woods. While the trees may or may not grow, Slimer had contemplated that very question for long periods, the silence was both peaceful and eerie. The usual chittering and scampering of small furry mammals and the incessant drone of insects in search of food was simply missing. For one who had walked a true forest, the silence was as missing as a forgetful blind man's cane.

The unusual prey reach a clearing, an oasis in the woods. In the Oasis she seemed intent on burning off some of her pent up energry or aggression. One of the true joys of the paradise Slimer enters the clearing and simply enjoys watching. There are few sights in his experience that compare to college age girls doing martial arts in the Shokushu school outfits. The flash of leg exposing fine limbs, toned asses and panites; while the swift punch of an arm jiggles their wonderous breasts.

Truely a show worth enjoying, but even the demon had to flinch as she directed a vertical kick straight up to where the no-no's of said bush would have been had it been with genitals. He decided then and there that a catching and sliming may be safer than open combat with the fiesty young thing...

For several long minutes, Kite continues her assault on imaginary foes, still upset with her body's inadequacies after so long unmoving. The machines had prevented atrophy well enough, but muscle-memory was all but gone. Reflexive flow a memory that would have to be relearnt. But some thongs still worked.

She came to a stop, standing straight, then dropping back into a slight crouch, looking warily around.

"i've always liked the forest." She said seemingly to herself, "And not for the seclusion. So much underfoot, twigs, leaves, all manner of cracking and snapping things to tell an acute listener they're not alone." Ah. Not talking to herself, then. But looking the wrong way.

The demon watches her unorthadox katas waiting patiently to see what he can learn. Finally, she drops into a crouch and begins having a conversation with herself. The demon begins to wonder if she is a little crazy when he finally realizes she is actually speaking to him. The demon is mistified as he wonders how she had known she was not alone. Debating on acting and proving her right or simply holding still and hoping she may doubt her female intuition, he waits.

She is ready for him, and he makes his move. Extending two tentacles he lunges as she appears to be watching the wrong directions in the clearing. Silent as he moves, two tentavles whip through the air one aimed for her neck and one aimed for her waist when his massive bulks snaps a twig his hinds legs happen to crown. He hopes his speed, invisibility, and surprise will still catch her unaware in time.

Kite tries to turn, but caught by the neck and waist from behind is a bad way to start an altercation, slammed into the ground by the momentum of the assault. She twirls her legs, trying to use the momentum to turn herself towards her attacker, intending to try to drive her fingertips into one of the tentacles and twist, who knows, maybe this was one of the sort where the whole length of the tentacle was sensitive? It didn't matter. Her body responded with a dozen conflicting reflexes. Rape someone often enough, and they develop a lubrication response to being grabbed, just to reduce injury. Fight someone enough, and their every concept of conflict is a physical one.

Show Kite a foe, any foe, anywhere, any time, and she will attack. She can no more control this than she could take back the years of ingrained habit which made it so. She can no more control it than she can control that her body knows it cannot win, and her sex is already preparing itself for the abuse of the loss.

Slimer barrels forward the snap of the twig giving her time to adjust to the unexpected angle. His momentum carries him into her back as she is turning, his large bulk carrying her to the ground. His tendrils had managed to wrap her neck and waist but as her claws dig into the sensative flesh he growls and quickly retracts them. She manages to twist her lithe body underneath him and he seeks to trap her knees with his while lunging forward seeking to trap her flailing arms.

He knew he was going to be in for a fight but her diminutive strength and ferociousness of her resistance is surprising. The surprise and pain would be apparent on his face as the sudden stabbing causes him to appear to sight in all of his demonic twistedness.

Kite attempts to pull her legs free, pinning knees with knees means if she can pull that off, the perennial soft target is nice and vulnerable.

Of course, the fact that seeing the monster's visage inspired no paroxysm of terror, no panty-wetting fright, might perhaps be offputting.

It instead resulted in Kite giving a grinning sneer of self-contempt, and whispering, "Finally, something familar," before reaching up to attempt to grab at his throat and yank, intending to bring their foreheads together at significant speed. Every monster's first Liverpool Kiss should be something special, after all.

She squirmied and fought ferociously from underneathe his trapping mass, he managed to pin her knees with his. The grass of the clearing made a soft carpet of the floor and he managed to pin her left arm. Soon, he thought she would be his to do with as he pleased. Then as he tried to gtab her other wrist she managed to grab him by the throat, and all he knew was the sharp white pain that filled his vision. She had managed to slam her head right between his eyes.

His knees went slack and slipped to either side of hers on the soft grass straddling her form. His hand pinning her wrist went slack as he momentarily slumped forward. The unorthodx attack caught him off guard and stunned him...

Neither side of a Liverpool Kiss is at their best afterwards, but only one side is usually ready for it. Kite pushed with the hand upon his throat to roll him off her... but she did not then scramble to her feet and run away.

She rolled as well, mounting his chest, swinging her fists again and again at his neck and head. Never give up! Never surrender! Every fight is not to the death but to the suffering! Break the enemy and never again can they hur-

Her body went suddenly rigid as though electrified, eyes rolling back in her head as her mind snapped away from where she is to where she was. Hands. Needles. Tubes. Alien synthetic un-flesh enveloping and invading mind far more than body. "Index 14 sector 12 com.bat line 3179 error. error. error." Her voice devoid of intonation as a different sort of scar made itself known.

The felt his large frame rolled onto his back and was promptly mounted by the enraged student just when he thought he had snapped back to reality the blows began to land. It seemed as if the purple haired minx was intent on taking all the frustration of her missing friends, her time as nothing more than a circuit, and her constant assualts out on the pinned demon. Left, right, left, and right the hurricane of fists landed making his grip on the here and now faulter yet again.

As the bruises and lacerations began to mount he feared he was in real trouble when the strangest thing he had ever witnesses began to happen. The student halted her assualt and began to spout out mechanically like a computer ending in a line of faults. Her dark eyes rolled back into her head and as he saw whites he knew it was time to act while he had the chance.

Pushing off the soft grass with his tail he launched the mounted fighter off his torso androlled to his feet. Quickly he shot out his four tentacles seeking to wrap her limp muttering body before she regained full mental faculties. Each tentacle shot through the air, their cock headed tips seeked to wrap and immobilize each limb...

"Erro-aahhgh!" The sharp impact with the ground after being throw jolted Kite back to herself, though not truly to her senses, unable to get her bearings before being snared by the tendril's launched upon her, instinctive tensing at the sensation far too late to save her.

Kite tried to pull free, and tried in vain. She screamed her frustration in a wordless wail of hate, kicking at the soil beneath her in a desperate, and futile attempt to continue to fight.