Midnight finally came, and with it, Lust’s freedom. She slipped through the quiet sidewalks, shifting in and out of flickering street lights, barely of notice to the locals who had long since bedded themselves.

​

Stoneport Harbor was at the peak of its grotesquery: trash of all kinds lined the sidewalk, intoxicated sailors were a common sight to behold, and to top it all off, the city really wasn’t fit to be called one. No, rather, it was more of a great, big mess of ramshackle lots; filth-ridden slums; and god-awful, trash pile ups — not to mention, quite obviously, the plethora of taverns sprawling from every corner of every street. Indeed, a suitable place as any for the usual midnight scrounge.

​

Lust needed not worry about United Imperium states-guards interrupting her nightly scrounge. Simply put, there weren’t any — not in these parts, at least; what needed such a chaotic place for law and order?

​

This was Stoneport Harbor, after all.

​

It was ideal.

It was perfect.

​

It was her home, now more so than ever.

​

And she adored her home.

​

Lust spotted a sailor down the road, swaying to and fro like a leaf in the wind, barely able to walk a straight line. Even as she eyed the man up and down, head to toe, he tripped over a curb and busted both knee caps against the cold, wet cobblestones, crying well out into the night. He was answered only by the silence of casual disregard.

​

Tsk.

Animals, every single last one of them.

Deciding against her familiar nature, she set off in search for a better meal. The man was far too woozy to feel just about anything, and if there was something Lust sought — no, craved — from her unsuspecting victims, it was pain.

​

Oh, yes.

​

The unimaginable pain of having both their eyes plucked, sautéed, and paired with a delightful Syrah; the unfathomable pain of having each limb sliced clean off, salted, and dried for a later day; the mind-melting, heart-stopping, gut-wrenching, euphoric pain of having skin flayed from flesh, flesh ripped from bones, and bones torn asunder from whole bodies — it was all there was to life, in the end.

​

And if she were to starve for another night, it would certainly be most unpleasant.

Most unpleasant, and undesirable.

​

But from the crowd, out stepped a ray of hope, a glimmer of sunshine, perhaps — a gentlemanly scholar clad in fine tunic fit for even the wealthiest of Escardian nobles. A silk scarf wrapped itself around his collar, while a darkened fedora sat complacently atop his brunette hair, and from then on below, a battered tan coat obscured everything else underneath.

​

From where Lust stood, it was near impossible to make out the intricate features of his clean-cut face. It was near impossible to match gazes with the man who would come to meet his very gruesome end, very soon. No matter, they all looked the same in the dark anyways — at least, when they start begging. She licked her lips and set both eyes upon the fine gentleman. Now was just a matter of picking exactly when to strike.

And when to cut.

​

Oh, yes, there will be quite the feast tonight.

Lots of begging. . .

​

Screaming. . .

​

Crying. . .

​

Slowly, silently, and rather intently, Lust stalked her prey through much of Stoneport Harbor's grimy interior, watching his every slight shifts and turns with utmost care. There was something disconcerting about the gentleman — something she herself couldn't quite place a finger on. He moved at a leisurely pace, and without so much as a peep; every step was silent, every stride, sure. For someone so far from home, he certainly was a confident one.

​

Who was this gentleman, Lady Lust wondered; surely not one of Stoneport Harbor's. No, his was a new face, and one far too pretty for the likes of such a town. He was different.

​

Oh, what fun!

​

The thrill of a proper hunt!

​

It had been so long since her last chase, and even longer still since her hunger ceased its bickering.

Well!

If this debonair was indeed new to the slaughter docks, then she'd offer him the warmest of any Stoneport welcomes, complete with wine and flowers and all sorts of pleasant gifts — hugs and kisses too. And, if he was feeling a tad bit adventurous tonight, maybe even some ropes and chains.

​

Come one, come all.

​

The more, the merrier.

​

Lady Lust went.

***

There's a certain air of confidence to the Imperium Army, you see: they talk funny, walk funny, shoot funny even. Don't get me wrong — I know it's all fanciful routines and shit; still doesn't make it any less laughable. Worst still, they pair people like me with degenerates like them. Funny, isn't it? Here's something you need to understand: I'm Frontier States Guards; I'm the guy you call when shit hits the fan.

​

You know. . . Grimy stuff.

​

The next time Gentleman Death decides to march his army through the Royal Square, or Madame Justice decides to stage another mass uprising, guess who gets dialed up?

​

That's right.

​

Us.

​

And, of course, when you're looking for the grimiest, filthiest, most fucked up shithole in all of Escardia, you'll come running straight to Stoneport Harbor. It's not all bad, when you think about it — I mean, really think about it. Apart from the crackhead locals, the disgusting food, and the god awful fucking stench, what is there to complain about?

​

Maybe the sight of blood, but that's just been the course of things over the past fucking ye—

​

"You're not from around these parts, are you?"

​

I turned, stared, took in every inch of the figure standing before me; both hands twitched instinctively, reaching for the revolver strapped to one side of my holster. Old habits, don't ask; paranoia and I go way back. She's one hell of a mistress — clingy, that one.

The attire was a dead giveaway, you see. She's one of those fucking bastards, those sea-faring vanguards — pirates, and thieves. Personally, I've never taken a liking to any of them; they'll do just about anything for some coin — dishonorable, I know. Just this once, though, I figured I'd let one of them speak.

​

For the time being, at least.

And absolutely nothing to do with the way she looked, if you're wondering.

​

"What makes you say that?"

​

She smiled, gave me a slight chuckle; my heart decided to skip several beats. What can I say? She's fucking gorgeous — and not your run-of-the-mill drunkard too, mind you. "We don't get a lot of new faces around here, doll; Stoneport Harbor isn't exactly anyone's idea of a weekend getaway. . . Not that I blame them."

​

"It's a shithole."

​

"Clearly."

​

"The smell. . ."

​

"Mhmm. . ."

​

"And the fucking people."

​

"A step down from your Imperium palace, pretty boy?"

​

Her words felt like a raw punch in the fucking gut, I'll tell you that much; a sleight of the hand, a flick of the wrist — the revolver's very much so in play now. Still, she stood there, grinning. Credit where credit's due: she knew how to handle a gun. Unsurprisingly. "How'd you figure?"

​

"Well. . ." she inched closer, dragging a fingernail through the bedraggled bar-top. Polished, trimmed, yet bitten to the quick — an overthinker with anxiety. Noted. "Where I'm from, we don't exactly run around with official handbills. We're more. . . Word-of-the-mouth bounty hunters, you could say."

​

For the first time that night, I noticed the lime-yellow paper sticking out from within my coat; quick as my frozen hands would allow, I stuffed the edges back in and scoffed. Sharp eyes, very nice. Sharp. . . Pretty, brown eyes. "Touché."

​

"Business then, I assume?"

​

"You can say that."

​

"Now that. . . We get a lot of yous around here."

​

There was a spot of awkward silence, then, that damn smile again. Casually as ever, she tossed a few coins unto the counter-top and raised a finger; the bartender obliged, pouring her a glass of cheap ass whiskey. The liquid sloshed and spilled as it made its way out and into the stained cup. "You're not the only one after her, soldier boy. We all are."

​

Cat's out of the bag, I suppose — not that it matters, to begin with. The United Imperium has always made a big show of their military involvements — much too big of a fucking show for my liking. 'Discrete' apparently doesn't go well with many of the higher-ups, and those like myself couldn't give two shits about the prospects of change. I'll bet you dinner no one in their right god damn mind remembers when we used to do things by the book.

​

Quiet.

​

Clean.

​

Efficient.

​

The Imperium has lost its roots.

With one hand still firmly on the grip of my pistol, I reached deep within and retrieved the very same parchment of black and yellow, flicking it her way. On it were several words — several bold words that would otherwise lead to the death of one, infamous Stoneport pariah: Ava "Lady Lust" Lacroix. She took one look at the paper, then gave a slight chuckle. "Good luck with her."

​

She stuck one hand deep into the pockets of her torn jacket, fiddled about, then retrieved several gold coins. Each was different in size to the next, but bore the exact same sea-serpent logo. Stoneport currency, I assumed. One wave of the hand fetched the bartender. "A drink for my friend, please."

​

The glass slid by just seconds later, coming to a stop right in front of me.

​

I tested the cold liquor; what followed suit was a cacophony of grunts, moans, spits, and gags. How do I best describe the taste? 'Watered down piss' wouldn't be too far off from the truth.

​

A giggle slipped her lips.

​

"Good, huh?"

​

"You people call this a drink?"

​

"Oh, you'll get used to it — trust me. You're going to need it for later."

***

Lust dragged her unfortunate victim by the collar, painting a bloody trail through much of Stoneport Harbor. The scuffle was not at all what she had anticipated; within mere seconds, the man was lying in a puddle of his very own blood, choking on any final words. Pity his quick death; pity more her insatiable thirst. It was over far too quickly for Lust's liking. Had she her way with him, the torment would endure for days — weeks, months, years, even. He deserved it; she could tell as much.

​

Oh, how she'd make him scream both lungs out and into the silence.

​

Just the thought of it sent a tingle of ecstasy coursing through her veins — the things she'd do to him would overshadow all else on the daily paper. Perhaps she'd pluck both eyes from his skull and dry them in the sun; or perhaps she'd flay every inch of skin from flesh, and flesh from bones.

​

So many delights to choose from.

​

But alas, desperate times called for desperate measures. Her hunger was growing ever unbearable, and just this once, a swift kill would suffice. No need for such fanciful theatrics, no need for all the glamour and style and finesse. Just this once, she would not toy with the food.

​

However tempting their fears were.

​

In a darkened Stoneport alleyway, Lady Lust devoured every inch of the man's soul, and savored what little mortal suffering she could.

​

It was a pitiful affair, truth be told, but it would carry her through the night.

​

She knelt beside his corpse, admiring for once, the work of art born from her sickle-like claws. Dead eyes stared off into the void, while any semblance of life decided to part ways. The brunette hair now bore a tint of red to every strand, and his once handsome face, nothing more than a lifeless mask chopped up into slices much like baloney. Such waste, Lust thought to herself. Surely, in her prime, this gentleman would offer her so much more.

​

He'd scream.

​

He'd cry.

​

He'd beg.

Oh, how he would've begged.

​

"Hmm?"

​

She picked through the corpse, dusting debris from one shoulder, wiping blood from the other, tending to the man's attire in an almost sympathetic manner. And just as her interest waned, and just as the Terror of Stoneport Harbor herself grew weary, something drew her attention — captivated it — once more.

It was a parchment of black and yellow, sticking out from within the man's torn coat, all bloodied and soggy. She dug through the gruesome mess, parting patches of skin and strands of flesh, only to stumble upon. . .

​

An official Imperium warrant?

​

No, impossible. It can't be. What was it doing all the way out here, Lust wondered? What was it doing by Stoneport Harbor? A curious thing, indeed, and one worth investigating, surely. She looked on.

​

Though much of the words were borderline unreadable — tainted with blood and torn asunder — Lust managed to make out those few that would soon send her into childlike euphoria: Warrant of Arrest / Termination: Ava "Lady Lust" Lacroix.

​

An international man-hunt, just for her!

Oh, what fun! It had been ages since an empire sought her gruesome demise. First, the Heimer Republic, then, the Navylan, and now, the United Imperium; hopefully, this one wouldn't leave her quite as disappointed.

​

And very much so unsatisfied.

​

She looked to the gentleman's corpse, lips breaking into a sly grin. "Thank you, darling. Thank you so very, very much."

​

And as she dropped by his side, Lust could not help but sink her lips into the corpse's.

​

"You have made me the happiest girl alive."