The Eye of the Beholder...

[ArtificialIdiot]

"What do you mean you wouldn't?" She gasped, scandalously. "You totally would if you were rich..."

The young teenage girl was sprawled out on her bed, twirling the phone cable through her nimble fingers. She stared up at the oversized Weslife poster on her ceiling, listening as her friend filled her in on all the inane little details that held up the shaky house of cards that was high school politics. Except to her, it wasn't inane. It was gossip... It was life.

"What do you mean you wouldn't if you were rich?" She exclaimed, practically screaming down the receiver. "You could afford anything with that kind of money!"

She sat upright, listening to her friend uming and ahing, trying to squirm counter her argumentative streak with logic. She loved it when people tried to do that. She routinely cut in, throwing her friend into even more of a frustrated fluster. She wasn't sure why, it just gave her a thrill. To have control over somebody, over the direction that the conversation was taking. To be the centre of attention.

She didn't just confine it to her social life. Oh no, she couldn't do that any more. She took every opportunity she could, when strangers knocked on the door she'd be there, twisting their words and shaving away their resistance with her own brand of under-your-skin irrateness. In school she'd push at teachers, derailing both lessons and their train of thought. Sure, she'd got her fingers burned a few times, but she couldn't help it. It was an obsession.

There was a faint tapping coming from somewhere. She shrugged it off as birds, brushing a hand through her highlighted brown hair. She checked her clock, it was getting late. She muttered a slight curse, she'd missed tonights episode of Corporation Street. At least she'd still be able to catch Big Bother... There went that tapping again.

"Look, I'm going to have to go, yeah, you hear it too?" She uncharacteristically listened for a few moments, and then scoffed. "Get out! It's a bird or branch or something rattling the glass. Anyway, love ya, bye."

She placed the phone back on her desk and stretched out, taking a deep breath as she craned her neck, arms above her head. She slipped off her bed, into a pair of fluffy teddy-bear slippers. She took a few steps towards her window, before suddenly, the power went out.

"What the..."

She shook her head, pacing over to her light switch and flicking it on and off. Nothing. She frowned, that was beyond weird. In fact, it was beyond that! It was a crisis! How would she watch Big Bother now? She place a hand on the handle of her bedroom door, intent on getting her father to sort this out as soon as possible. It was only a matter of minutes before she'd find out who was being kicked off tonight, after all. But she soon found it wouldn't open. She frantically pushed and tugged on it, but nothing. It was jammed.

"Oh, this is stupid!" She stamped her foot down on the carpet. "Daaaad!"

She waited, but there was no answer. She called out again, this time louder. Nothing. And again. Over and over until she was practically screaming the world. Taking a deep breath, she resolved not to panic. It was just coincidence, that was all. It was just a really ****ty night, and that damn insistent tapping wasn't making it any better. Oh, she'd show that bird or whatever it was what for alright.

"Right, you annoying litt..." She fumed as she threw aside the curtains...

... There was nothing there but the night sky.

Disappointed, she closed them again, startled as suddenly the rapping began afresh. This time louder than ever. She took a few more deep breathes, placing her fingers to her temples and thinking it through logically. That's all she had to do, keep think... There it was again. She crept back over to the window, taking another peek out there through half closed eyes.

Nothing.

Relieved, she threw herself back on her bed. Maybe she didn't need her nightly dose of reality TV after all, she'd just go to bed. Yeah, that sounded good enough. She kicked off the slippers, tucking herself between the warm, comfortable bedsheets. She didn't even get changed.. Not because she was scared. No, not at all, she was just tired. That was all, really tired...

'Saaaaaarrraaaaaah...'

Startled, she squealed, throwing the covers over her head and screwing her eyes shut. Breathing deeply, she gulped. She felt like a five year old again... It was totally unreasonable. She laughed nervously at herself, joking that she'll be wetting the bed soon. However, her mocking facade was soon shattered when something brushed up against her leg.

"OHMYGOD!" She screamed, throwing the bed sheets aside to see a feline, looking up at her perplexed. "Mr. Smoogles! You scared the..."

Her eyes drifted upwards to the ceiling as she heard the heavy tattoo of a heaving chest above her. She half hoped to see her familiar Weslife poster staring back at her, but what she saw was worse... Far worse.

She screamed.

* * *

"Mr. Dean here to see you, Mistress Tala."

She tilted her head ever so slightly to the doorway that her faithful butler was stood inside. The corners of her lips twitching into a slight smile, she drew the satin dressing gown around herself and nodded. Not a word was spoken, none needed to be said.

And in he came.

The man who could have had Lutonopolis in his back pocket for all she knew - Though she assumed that was just his wallet. He was sharply dressed, as always, in a blue and silver pin-striped suit, all charm, all dashing, at first glace not a bad quality to him. She, on the other hand, had had the pleasure and displeasure of sharing more than a quick glance with this Adonis. Oh so much more...

"Hello Wesley..." She purred, running a pale, well-manicured finger over the rim of a crystal wine glass. "Do make yourself at home."

"I didn't realise you had company."

He said, sitting down on the chair opposite her, the her in question being Lady Tala Valentina-Stelledore-Celeste, Lutonopolis' premier playgirl with a reputation notorious to match, if not best, her male counterparts. Dean eyed the two men either side of her, both of them looking like they'd walked straight off the stage of the grand finals of 'Mr. Universe', whilst that delicate, blonde creature lay sprawled out over them. He hesitated to refer to her as a bombshell, she was more of a time-bomb. Slowly ticking away, going about her decadent lifestyle in a reserved, private way. She wasn't part of the new culture of trash aristocracy, no, you'd never refer to Lady Tala as an 'it-girl'. You'd never catch her drunk stumbling out of a nightclub, toppling over and giving some young photographers the shot of their careers. She'd never crash a party - she was invited to every one.

She had class.

"You like them?" She said, stroking the arm of one. "They're part of the Hungarian weight-lifting team... Don't speak a word of English, and I fear that I've forgotten their names already, but the most wonderful sparring partners one could possibly hope for."

"Perhaps they should leave."

Her wry smile shone through again, as she untangled herself from her European suitors and had her butler show them out. She sat like a content feline, waiting expectantly, yet with that feeling that she could easily take or leave whatever he wanted to say. Not that he was in any rush, he calmly removed the bottle from the ice it was being stored in, regarding the label like a jeweller would a precious stone.

"A rather strange choice of breakfast, Tala." He commented, replacing the bottle. "Far too early for my tastes."

"It's never too early for the finer things in life."

"Quite." He said, placing the bottle back in it's container. "I had hoped you'd reconsidered my most generous offer..."

"You mean the one to run around with your pissant little walking publicity stunt?" She inquired scathingly, one eyebrow arched. "Last I heard, they were causing more problems than they solved."

"A few teething problems, true..." He steeled his fingers, looking over them with piercing blue eyes. They weren't cold, far from it, yet they were intimidating. And even somebody as strong and proud as Lady Valentina-Stelledore-Celeste felt slightly uncomfortable under that gaze. "I know you far too well, Tala. I'm not going to try and appeal to your better nature, or recite a rousing speech on how the team would be any better with your presence. What I will say is that I know all your little secrets, and, as much as I'd loathe doing it, I could ruin you in a heartbeat."

"A very strong threat, Mr. Dean. However, you forget I've seen a fair amount of skeletons in your closet, and while I may not have the power to ruin you..." She allowed herself a slight chuckle. "... I'm not sure your pretty little fiance would be all too pleased."

"If that's how you feel on the matter." He rose from his seat. "It's been a pleasure to see you Tala, I do hope you reconsider."

She watched as her butler led him out, not taking her eyes off the door until her domestic servant returned. With that she heaved a sigh of relief and collapsed onto the sofa, hand draped over her forehead.

"What a disgusting little man..." She jeered, before swinging her self up right.

"Quite so, Mistress Tala."

"Hm... Oswald, I came across something very interesting in the newspaper this morning..."

"Before our 'guests' awoke, I assume?" He asked, clearing away the bucket.

"Of course." She took the paper, newly liberated from underneath the bucket, and spread it out across the table. "A young, teenage girl was taken from her home last night... I'd rather like to investigate the matter."

"Shall I cancel all your engagements for the evening?"

"Yes, thank you Oswald." She rose to her feet, handing the glass to him. "And be sure to draw me a bath in a few hours time, I'm afraid I'm going to need one after my morning work-out."

[Faethie]

this seems very interesting............

[Matt A]

This looks arguably more surreal than anything you've ever done. An uber-successful "it girl" (let's face it, that's what she is) invesatigating the dissappearance of a wannabe it-girl: should get highly bizarre, if your previous work is anything to go by.;) :anime:

I'm interested.:anime:

-Matt A-

PS: Like the Corrie and Big Brother puns.:p

[ArtificialIdiot]

The moon hung bright over the crystalline waters of the River Lea, as the steady flow of traffic on the highway just a few miles away provided a soft rumbling sound-track to proceedings... With the odd screech, siren and obscentities thrown in for good measure. Not only was it a textbook example of rising air pollution levels in Lutonopolis - But the scene was also set for the seeds or romance to germinate and blossom.

Not long ago, a Wescorp ALOS pulled up onto the yellowing lawns, the occupants of which intent on taking advantage of the ambience of the situation.

Roy and Casey had met... Well, last week actually. They were only young, but when they first saw each other they both knew that it was something special. He knew it was love at first sight as soon as he laid eyes on her 'Jesus loves you but everybody else things you're an arsehole' T-shirt, and it had been a whirlwind romance ever since. As for Cass, the was the longest-lasting relationship she'd ever been involved in - So it was obvious they were destined to be together.

And so they sat, huddled together by the bank of the River Lea, revealing in the warmth of each others bodies as a cool breeze whipped around them. He ran his fingers through her dirty blonde hair, trying to focus on her slightly-bloodshot, but none the less incredibly beautiful, blue eyes and not what was underneath 'Wasted Student' T-shirt.

"Oh, Roy! Look..." She gasped, peeling her eyes away from his and gazing dreamily into the night sky. "A shooting star!"

"Make a wi..." He began, and then his eyes widened. "Holy heaven in HELL! It's coming TOWARDS US!"

It burst across the land like a blaze of light, skimming across the water and soaking the young couple as it separated the lovers from their embrace, both diving for cover. The young girl looked on in astonishment, as what seemed to be a living comet banked up to avoid the cheap but certainly not cheerful car, shooting off into the sky like a freshly released firework.

And she was there. Chill air braced against her exposed back and cleavage, her hair entwined around her body from head to toe like the night sky that she rushed up to meet, speckled with stars as if it were a universe onto it's self. She came to a sudden halt, stretching her spandex clad form before twisting onto her back and kicking off once more, star-topped cane held out in front of her.

She blasted over the high-way, into the as-picturesque-as-Lutonopolis-gets suburbs. Gradually slowing herself, the vivid silver streak that once shot out behind her fading and dying a little more with each reduction. Her heel scraped along the slate-roof of a typical suburban house, and by adjusting her weight ever so slightly, she brought herself upright then proceeded to lower herself the few centimetres to the ground.

No sooner had she landed then she was off again, casually stepping off the rooftop to float outside the first story window. She regarded it carefully for a moment, then drifted slightly further away from it. She pointed her cane at the window, a pane of glass exploding into thin air, leaving no trace of it's existence. She slipped her hand into the gap it had left, opening the window enough for her to slip through.

She touched down on the lush pink carpet beneath her, cringing as the floorboards creaked beneath her weight. She pricked her ears, hearing the steady rhythm of footsteps on the stairs. Her eyes darted around the room as the sound got closer. Ruling out all other possibilities with her, admittedly limited, knowledge of teenage girls, she hit the floor and rolled under the bed. She pulled the sheet down to cover herself just as the door swung open, light flooding in from the landing.

"Could have sworn I'd heard something..." Muttered the disgruntled officer, before closing the door once more.

She heaved a relieved sigh, crawling out from her hiding place and looking up at distaste with a stray sock that had found it's way onto the top of her head. Discarding it, she quickly ruled out the floor, floating just centimetres above it only to have the low hanging ceiling meet her on the way up. Frustrated, she tapped the top of her cane, the star flicking to life and giving off a pale blue glow.

"By Ira's Iris..."

She gasped, staring up at the tattered remnants of a 'Weslife' poster. Scrawled over what remained, in red paint - She hoped it was paint, was a glowering, bloodshot eye. She scanned the room, nothing else. No notes, no ultimatums for her safe return, nothing. Just an eye. Eyebrow furrowing, she snatched a camera from the bedside table, taking a few pictures. She slipped the film out and pressed it inside her glove for safe keeping. She backed away from the vile mural, when something brushed against the back of her leg.

"What's this..." She whispered curiously, taking the book - No, photo album, from the same table as the camera. She flicked through it idly, arching her eyebrow a fraction higher with each new page.

"Interesting." She said, securing it under her arm and scanning the room again. Nothing but cat hair and a complete lack of style or colour co-ordination to be found. Satisfied that she had what she had came for, and being extraordinarily careful of the ceiling, she made her exit.

* * *

Back at the mansion of Lady Tala Valentina-Stelledore-Celeste, settled on a secluded hillside situated on the edge of the city, between Lutonopolis and Dunstable with a driveway that makes most race courses look tame by comparison and tall, ominous gates barbed with spikes and adorned with the family crest to keep out unwanted visitors, the same ominous figure stamped along the marble floored corridors, past the over-bearing faces of the Stelledore-Celeste family tree.

"Can you believe it rained on the way back?" She fumed, as Oswald hurried after her with a towel.

"I assume that, despite the elements, you found something of interest?"

"Maybe." She said, before handing the book to him and rubbing her dripping face dry.

"A photo album, Mistress Tala?"

"Yes, and this." She slipped the film from inside her glove. "I want you to develop it, as soon as... Excuse me a moment, I simply can't stand all this hair when it's wet."

She tapped her cane to the floor sharply, then watched it vanish before her eyes. The miniature galaxy that was her hair was the first to change. The stars that shone so brightly in it slowly extinguishing, the canvas that they were once scattered upon brightening. It snaked up her body, becoming shorter and shorter until it became the typical, shoulder-length blonde hair that Lady Tala usually sported. Her vivid silver eyes dimmed back to their suggestive green, as the bleeding star that was once tattooed to her face disappeared. Leaving her skin clean of all decoration.

"Ah, that's much better." She smiled. "As I was say, get that film developed if you would, Oswald. I shall take a look through the photo album, see if it turns up any suspects."

"You think the kidnapper may have known the victim, Mistress Tala?" the butler injured, handing the book entitled 'Our Memories' back to her.

"It's possible, however it's more a case of simply not knowing where else to start." She explained, laying her delicate fingers onto the handle of a door. "Even if the kidnapper wasn't close to her, knowing and questioning those close to her may turn up some more leads."

"Very well, I shall get to work developing these first thing in the morning."

"Thank you Oswald. And good night."

"Good night, Mistress Tala."

She opened the door to her bed chamber and tossed the album onto her four poster bed. Closing the door behind her, she peeled herself out of the skin-tight spandex favoured by her alter-ego and slipped into something far more comfortable. She curled up on her bed, pen and notepad in hand, idly flicking through the album.

"Father, in police custody... No. Mother, dead according to the article." She murmured to herself, making notes on each new face she saw. "No siblings... Ah, a boyfriend..."

She slipped the photo of Sarah and a dark haired young gentleman, who must have been at least three years her elder, and slipped it into her notepad. A quick search of news sites on her laptop soon brought up a name, Oliver Johnston. Attended Lutonopolis University, didn't live that far away from Sarah and if she was honest, wasn't much to look at. Not to her tastes anyway... But then, the girl did like Weslife.

She printed off the details, leaving then on her beside cabinet before retiring to sleep. After all, it had been quite awhile since she'd had an early night...

... For one reason or another.

[ArtificialIdiot]

The next day brought a somewhat surreal situation to Lady Tala, otherwise known as the normality of modern life. She sat behind the wheel of a cheap, foreign car (French, she believed), which radiated the overbearing stench of wood polish and plastic, checking her make up in the overhead mirror. It had to be said, it was the first time she'd ever applied make up to make her any less attractive. Her attire was equally gruesome, a practical sky blue jumper, equally practical charcoal grey skirt and flat soled shoes! It had taken an inhuman effort, but she'd managed to handle wearing something not in the least bit revealing... Just this once.

She run a hand across her head, following her hair to the small pony tail that it had been quickly tied back into. It was a completely horrid look, but the last think she wanted to do was seduce her intended target. The very thought of it sent an ice shiver down her spine. She rapped her unpainted nails, she couldn't help it, everywhere she looked reminded her how awful and unattractive she felt, impatiently against the steering wheel. She wouldn't say she was impatient... Just unused to waiting for so long.

She checked herself in the mirror again, when out of the corner of her eye she caught him. Oliver Johnston, thankfully alone. She couldn't stand doing this all over again. In fact, unless her cover story was incredibly glamorous, or took her to some far off Medditteranian island far away from Lutonopolis, she was never going under cover again. Well, at least not in that sense of the word. She leaned on the side of the door, unrolling the window as he came near and clearing her throat.

"Excuse me." She flashed a smile. "I'm a little lost, do you think you could help me?"

"Oh, yeah, sure. Where you trying to go?"

"I'm trying to get to here." She said, pointing out a location on a map. "It's my first time in the area, and I'm terribly lost..."

"Hey, that's cool. I live there."

"Oh, really?" She enthused. "Maybe I could give you a lift?"

"Wow, thanks. My feet are killing me." She waited whilst he threw his bag on the back seat and got in next to her. He folded up the map, throwing it on top of his backpack. She turned the key, stalling it at first (which was horrendously embarrassing), before getting it on the second try. "Right, take a left here and then go straight on until the round-a-bout. First exit."

"I can't tell you how grateful I am for this."

"No problem." He fastened his seat belt, before turning back to her. "That's quite an accent you've got there, if you don't mind me saying so."

"Oh, well, yes.." She laughed nervously, there were some things even the most obscene amounts of make-up could hide. "I work on a perfume counter, the boss prefers it if we sound slightly snotty."

He gave a knowing ah, the kind of ah a person utters even if they don't know what the other was talking about. Which was fine by her, as nor did she.

"Name's Oliver." He introduced himself. "I haven't seen you around before."

"Tracy." She smiled sweetly again, not many people would go out of their way to introduce themselves to a complete stranger. "Yeah, I don't really live there. I just rent the house out on occasion... Hoping to earn a steady income from the property market, mainly so I can finally ditch the accent."

"I hear that." He laughed, then caught himself and shook his head. "You'll have to excuse me, first time I've even smiled in awhile... Not since Sarah..."

He sighed in a disheartening manner. Tala looked over at him, concern flashing across her features.

"You mean that young girl on the news?"

"You heard about it too, huh?" He said, his voice tanged with bitterness. "Yeah, regular media circus it's turned into... I was her boyfriend, for what it matters."

"Any idea who took her?" She said, realising it was a little too eager she quickly covered herself with an uncertain. "... If you don't mind me asking."

"Hey, I know exactly who took her, but the police won't even speak with the little creep!"

"Oh?" She inquired cautiously, not wanting to push him too far.

"Adam Randall! That's who's behind all this! Little swine always hated Sarah, and he's just sick and perverse enough to do it... Turn here."

She turned the car, pulling up outside the house that she privately owned. Oliver unbuckled his seat belt, pulling his bag from the backseat and swinging the door open.

"Thanks for the lift, sorry to burden you with my problems it's just..."

"It's alright." She cut in, with a warm smile. "Just, good luck, huh? And I hope you find her soon."

"Thanks." He said, shutting the door behind him.

He walked the few yards to his front door, unlocking it and tossing his backpack to the side of it, his coat soon following. Journeying into the kitchen to face the perils of a near-empty fridge, he salvaged what wasn't mould-ridden to eat before retreating to the basement. Flicking the light on, he strolled over to a single desk, pulling up a chair to sit with his hands steepled. He sat in silence for a few moments, before breaking out into an insistent chuckle, which soon turned into a full blown laugh. Eventually, he wiped his eye, looking her straight in the eye and smirking.

"Hello Sarah."

The young girl gave a muffled cry for help behind her gag, fighting against the bonds that held her fast to solid stone wall. Oliver stood up, tucking in his chair, to walk over to her. Despite her best efforts to avoid his gentle touch, he cupped her chin in his hand, caressing it delicately between his fingers.

"I had some posh bint prying into our lives earlier..." He whispered into her ear. "... Don't worry, I sent her away. Blamed the whole thing on Randall."

He turned away from her, stripping off his shirt and throwing it onto the chair. Out of cardboard box marked 'Fancy Dressers & Snappy Outfitters he unfolded a pair of light red overalls, pulling down his trousers to put them on. Once suited up, he turned back to her with an cocky grin plastered across his face.

"What do you think?" Her venomous retort was stifled by the fabric. "Don't worry Sarah..."

He began, before placing an oversized, fish-tank-like, helmet over his head.

"... After tomorrow night, nothing will ever come between us ever again!"

* * *

Meanwhile, Lady Tala gracefully entered the four bedroom house that she'd brought this morning, through a third party, naturally. The former owners had been over the moon with her generous offer, but for her it was mearly loose change. Not that she was in the habit of buying houses on a whim, but needs must.

She settled herself down into a leatherbound chair, taking a sip of lemon-tinted bottled water at her side, before placing it back and picking up the cord-less phone. She idly dialled in a number, strumming her fingers on the arm of the chair whilst she waited for it to ring.

"Oswald? It's me." She informed her faithful butler on the other end of the line. "I have spoken to Mr. Johnston, he's far from perfect, and certainly a few years her elder, but obviously a loving boyfriend, I assume he's incapable of such a crime. Yes, I am aware I may be wrong Oswald, I certainly do not need you to point it out. In any case, he gave me a lead, which I'm going to check up on now... I'm not sure when I'll be back, unfortunately. Yes, the typical cover story will be more than adequate. Yes, keep working on the photos and let me know any developments. Good bye Oswald."

She hung up on her loyal servant, placing the phone back down. She contemplated her next move for a moment, deciding fairly quickly that she would take a more direct approach with Mr. Randall. It wasn't a job for Lady Tala, nor this fictional, perfumed rich woman she had created hastily named Tracy. No, there was only one woman to handle this. She rose to her feet, pulling her jumper over her head to reveal the black bordered, cut-out star insignia of Lady Stardust.

[Matt A]

This could easily be your best work yet...which is saying a great deal, believe you me. One of the best novelty spins on the private detective genre I've ever seen, your usual skewed and highly accurate comments on life, and a plot that already looks more twisted than the Gordian Knot: if your previous work is anything to go by, this is only the beginning.;) :anime:

-Matt A-

[ArtificialIdiot]

It's a good job you said that, my friend... Otherwise I would have posted the wrong part of this and nobody would have had a clue what went on. :p

* * *

"You wanted to see me, Miss?"

Inquired Adam Randall, though he already knew the answer, as he entered a classroom on the first floor of Leaside High School. Built close to the banks of the picturesque river Lea, that runs through the suburbs of Lutonopolis. An institution to the city, and the cities premier high school. Their motto of 'There's a little Dean in everyone' has been picked apart by political annalists, comedians and satirists across the land. Indeed, many believe that, due to the wild and often scandalous life of Wesley Dean II, many have quipped that the motto could be taken quite literally.

"Miss Thompson isn't here right now." A voice cooed to him, slowly spinning the computer chair she was sat in around to face him. "Close the door behind you Randall."

He hesitantly obeyed. Sat in the chair was something that he could only describe as alien, yet with a beauty that challenged all his ideas of race. He watched her, as he strolled across the classroom, only to find her staring back at him with those dazzlingly bright eyes. He noticed that she had an impossible amount of hair, it hanging over the headrest and snaking all the way down the back, just coming short of entangling it's self around the wheel. Once he was seated she made herself more comfortable, swinging her heeled boots onto the desk.

"Sarah Edge. I want to know everything that you know."

"I know she's missing." He shrugged.

"Hope she's dead?"

"Defiantly make things a bit quieter 'round here..." Lady Stardust arched her eyebrow, she didn't expect him to be so frank.

"Sarah wasn't popular then?"

"I dunno. I suppose she was, but she was so annoy..." His eyes lit up with caution, he could himself mid-sentence, he then proceeded to blurt the rest of it out. "You don't think... You don't suspect me, do you?"

"I've been told you had a grudge against her, I'm just checking my sources." She replied calmly.

"I didn't like her, but I wouldn't kidnap her." He scratched the back of his head uncomfortably. "Ok, I often joked about it, but you hadn't heard her. She just never shuts up. Anything she can do to distract the teachers - She'll do it."

"So life is a lot more peaceful without her?"

"Well yeah, but I wouldn't kidnap her for a bit of peace and quiet."

"Yes..." She mused. "That does seem strange."

"I don't even know her well enough to know who might have taken her." He continued. "She was just a nuisance, and her boyfriend was worse."

"How?"

"He was really over protective. Anybody even looked at her wrong, he'd smash their face in."

She nodded, rising from her seat and crouching low on the window sill.

"Thank you Mr. Randall." She said, before leaping out of the window and taking off across the mid-day sky, leaving an astonished college student in her wake.

* * *

"Well, that was... Interesting."

Lady Tala stated nonchantly, now returned to the safety and glamour of her private limousine. It was parked on the outskirts of the city, away from prying eyes. For if there was one thing Lutonopolis had no shortage of, it was prying eyes. Indeed, there were so many super humans in the city that hero spotting had become a sport. Tala herself had seen guidebooks on the subject, and it went unsaid that she was extremely upset at not being in a single one of them.

"Interesting, Mistress Tala?"

"Not exactly pointless, nor was it extraordinary helpful..." She sighed. "Yet ultimately, useless. All I've discovered is typical teenage melodramatics and adolescent grudges."

"I'm not quite sure I agree." Her butler chipped in, to say she was slightly surprised was an understatement. Oswald never corrected her, ever. When you live a life like Tala's, the last think you need is your closest confidant questioning your decisions. "The photos you requested, Mistress Tala."

He handed the shiny prints to her over his shoulder. She flicked through them curiously, first discovering the one she herself had taken, the giant eye scrawled across the ceiling in red. They'd come out reasonably well, considering she'd always been useless with a camera. She hired other people for that kind of work. The rest of the photos were cut from the same glossy paper as the ones in the album. Family, friends... Hideously unhealthy amount with her boyfriend. She reminded herself that it was young love, and spending an obsessive amount of time with one another was the first clause of the unwritten contract. Not that she'd know, if she were honest then love had never really been that appealing an option. However, as quick as she was to dismiss it, Randall's words still burned in the back of her mind. She scanned over the body language. Aggressive, territorial, always trying to keep her close... Yet, was that normal?

"Be a darling and help me out, Oswald." She requested, completely giving up. She might have been raised as a human, but she could never disguise the fact she wasn't one... Not really, not at heart. She wasn't sure where she had came from, and honestly didn't care. But some things, even after twenty odd years, were still, well, alien to her.

"Certainly, Mistress."

The small in-built TV screen in front of her flickered to life, displaying a slideshow of images. She sipped contented at a glass of champagne whilst she idly watched them go by. Eventually it stopped on one of particular photograph of Sarah and Oliver, featuring the young lad facing sideways to the camera whilst he hugged the mutton-dressed-as-lamb blonde in his arms. She'd seen so many images of this girl, and to an extent, as much as she'd worked to save the poor teenager, a part of her was completely disgusted by her. It was a matter of class. An outdated view, she well knew, but one that was oh so hard to repress. Here was this girl, clearly wanting to be what she already was. A pauper dressed up like a new-age princess, assuming her stylist was blind, deaf and dumb of course. She had the strong, sharp facial features, there was no denying that. There was also no denying that she was wearing enough make-up to cover a sperm whale's backside. After all, class couldn't be learnt... It can only be bred.

She was really beginning to see why everyone disliked the girl.

"I took the liberty of enlarging the image, Mistress. I think you'll agree what I discovered was quite... Interesting."

The image magnified it's self twice over, focusing in on Oliver's upper-arm. She leaned closer to it, squinting her eyes to make out what her faithful man servant had seen when it came to her. She shuffled through the photo's, holding one of them up next to the screen.

"Oswald, can you enhance this?"

The image immediately began to clear. Blurred, orange lines that almost melded in with the skin they rested upon, sharpened into deep red, the pattern becoming clearer and clearer by the second. Soon, the distinct shape of a tattoo took form, partially covered by the sleeve of his T-shirt. She spared another glance at one of the photos she had took on the night.

"I don't believe it..." She gasped, covering her mouth with a hand. "... It's Oliver."

"So it would seem." Oswald droned from the front seat.

"I don't understand... Why? And why leave his tattoo plastered on the wall?" She cupped her hands over her head, taking a deep breath. "... There's only one way to find out, it seems."

"Indeed, Mistress. Shall I open the sun-roof?"

"If you would be so kind."

* * *
The door exploded, not even a splinter nor screw left to betray the fact it had even existed in the first place. She stormed through the entrance, stopping just inside the doorway to scan the room. The first time she had been here it was as that diabolically common girl on the perfume counter, but this time she wasn't here to ask questions. No, she planned to get her answers in a different way, one that involved pain.

Lady Tala wasn't a violent woman. Far from it. She was a docile, content creature who ousted lifes complications and lived her life as peacefully, and as decadently, as she wished. Lady Stardust, on the other hand, was a slightly different matter. A fire burned inside her that had never even been sparked inside her alter-ego. She was determined, shouldered other peoples responsibility without a second thought for herself. She wouldn't leave Oliver's house until she had him, in chains if need be.

"Come out nice and slow Oliver... There's still time to come to a peaceful conclusion." She negotiated with the shadows, entering the room gingerly.

"There's only going to be one peaceful conclusion..." A strained, male voice retorted. "If you turn around and leave us alone, super human!"

The lights dimmed, the dull light of the mid-afternoon sun entering through what was the door the only source of light. She tapped the top of her cane, the pale blue light illuminating the scene around her. She could hear the steady, yet constricted, tattoo that was Johnston's breath, drumming out behind her. Her hand tightened on her cane as he came closer. A sudden movement disturbed her hair, as it spiralled down her back, causing her to spin on a heel, cane at the ready, blowing the vase he held in his hands into little pieces, which themselves vanished into thin air.

"By Ira's Iris!" She gasped, as the pale blue light illuminated a great, bulging eye staring back at her. "O-Oliver?"

"No, not Oliver. Oliver is no more..." He hissed through his over sized helmet. "You stare into the eye of the BEHOLDER!"

[Matt A]

The best final line I've ever seen. Not only is it a demon cliffhanger, but it also starts to explain the plot and the title, and is a pun direct from heaven itself. Looking at the chapter as a whole, I'd say that your comic talents are getting better by the sentence.;) :anime:

-Matt A-

[ArtificialIdiot]

ACTION PACKED FINALE!!!!! http://forums.cncden.com/images/smilies/moosmilies/coloured1.gif

* * *

"Oh don't worry, super human..." He cackled madly. "Your EYES don't deceive you!"

He stood in front of her, dressed from neck to toe in a garish red fabric, which luckily wasn't as figure hugging as her own attire. Draped over his shoulders, almost indistinguishable in the poorly illuminated environment, was a pitch black cape, which would completely cover his arms had they not been raised above his head. Not that the word 'head' was really applicable. For where his head would usually be, there only rested an oversized, larger than his actual head would be, blootshot eyeball. It stared down at her, without the capacity to blink.

"I may not be much of a streaker..." He began, lowering his hands to the rim of his cape. "... But I'm one hell of a flasher!"

He suddenly unfolded the garment out between his arms like a pair of batwings, dozens of tiny spotlights interwoven into the fabric lit up in a dazzling flash of light. It would have been disorientating for anyone, but for Lady Stardust's heightened alien senses it was all but overwhelming. She wasn't just blinded, her vision became nothing but a vivid white that stung her eyes. She fell back against the table behind her, dropping the cane at the Beholders feet. There was a ruthless smile behind his eye.

"Looks like the eyes have it..." He chuckled to himself, picking up the cane. "... And they've got their eyes on you!"

He lifted it into the air, bringing it down in a vicious ark to connect with the side of her head. The force of it knocked the dazzled heroine to her knees, clutching blindly at the edge of the table, before another blow rained down to the back of her head. Groaning, her already questionable grip on the wood slipped, and she fell to the floor. He bent down, clutching her roughly by a handful of hair and dragging her over to the door of his basement. Uncharacteristically, he decided to forego the 'going down' pun, opting to just throw her against the door. It swung open against her weight, her body tumbling down the flight of stairs below before coming to a halt at the bottom with an abrupt 'thud'.

"S-saraah..." She moaned through the slits of her eyes, her vision becoming more of a blurred parody of reality.

Even though, in her current state, everything melded almost seamlessly into everything else, she was positive she could make out the young girl. She strained against the chains that held her to the wall, muffled pleas for help screamed across the room. The Beholder gingerly stepped over her, casually slumping in a chair across the room, his feet on a near by desk.

"Vision clearing?" He inquired, as she tentatively lifted her upper body from the ground. her head felt like it had a legion of Congo drummers pounding away in her head, whilst the London Symphony Orchestra played a rousing three-hour set in three seconds, but as has been said. If there was one thing Lady Stardust had that Lady Tala lacked, it was grim determination.

"Don't bother getting up." He tapped her cane against his helmet. "Not only are you up to your eyes in it, but I bet your pretty useless without this."

She looked around the dimly lit basement, it was surprisingly normal. He hadn't decorated the whole thing in cold, hard, lifeless steel, nor had he installed various gyro-scopic-fusion-reactor-engines or Hyper-quickdrive-super-computers to liven it up a bit. It was just your average basement, photos of old Aunt Ethel piled up in boxes, whilst old furniture is shoved to the side next to almost untouched tool boxes. In fact, if it wasn't for the bound and gagged hostage, the flamboyantly dressed super villain sneering (or at least she assume her was) over his fallen nemesis and the massive, green-cased laser gun that rested in the middle of the room, it's ridiculously tiny barrel pointed directly at Sarah's neck.

"Nrr... Thought you loved her..." She slurred the words out, rising to her feet with her still-aching head resting in her gloved palm.

"I do. I love her more than life it's self. You could say that I only have eyes for her..." Oliver gushed.

"Then why?" She snapped back. A soft, knowing half-laugh drifted from that eye.

"It's because I love her, that I'm forced to do this." He replied simply. "You see, there are some faults that not even love can blind you too. As much as I adored Sarah, her constant... Prattling drove me insane! It's not just that she talked forever. I could handle that! It was... It was just that she treated every conversation like a game! A game she had to win! Always battling me, her mother, her friends... ANYBODY for control! Well that won't be a problem for much longer..."

"Oliver..." She began, but he cut her off immediately.

"No, don't say anything. I suppose you've already feasted your eyes on my laser..." He ignored her condescending groan. "With this high powered, yet incredibly precise, military laser cannon, I shall aim it directly at Sarah's voicebox. Just one small incision in her skin, and it'll be disintegrated! And without her vicious tongue in the way, we can live together in peace... Forever!"

"You're sick Oliver." She spat. Then curiously added. "But why a laser? And how could you afford it?"

"It's like Sarah always said..." He began, turning the laser on. It hummed ominously as the various generators, motors and refractors that powered it warmed up for the lethal blast. "... If I were rich, I - OOF!"

He stumbled backwards, caught off guard by a perfectly timed, albeit potentially knuckle-breaking, jab to the helmet. She scooped up her cane, cringing at the sight of her own blood on the points of the stars, pointing it at the eye-obsessed felon. It was the Beholders turn to taste his own medicine, as his helmet exploded around his head, blinding him.

"No!" He exclaimed, slamming his hand down onto the lasers control panel blindly. "You'll never tear us apart! Nothing can come between us now!"

A beam of lurid green shot forth from the barrel, such was the distress of the young girl on the receiving end that not even the piece of cloth lodged in her mouth could stifle her screams of terror. The Lady had to think fast, taking to the air, she flew to the side of the laser, slamming herself against it. It groaned under the sudden movement, swinging violently to the right in what could only be described as a truly vicious circle. It cut up everything in it's path, cardboard boxes, waterlogged magazines and...

"ARRGGGH!"

... Even a defeated Oliver Johnston who was foolish enough to stray into it's path.

"Muh... My eyes... MY BEAUTIFUL EYES!" He screamed, hands clutched over the cauterised holes that once housed a pair of eyes. He sank to his knees, attempting to sob, only to find that he lacked the capacity to do so.

"Sarah!" Lady Stardust exclaimed, rushing over to the worse-for-wear blonde. One by one the chains exploded, and she fell into the super heroines arms. She undid the gag, throwing it aside before asking... "Are you ok?"

"Muh... Muh... Ollie.... Nrr..." The words came out deformed, as a cross between a slur and a mumble. The Lady held her close, slowly shaking her head as she resisted the urge to cry.

"Ira's eyelids..." She muttered to herself sorrowfully. "What have I done?"

* * *

"Oswaaald!" Groaned an incapacitated Lady Tala a few days later. "For God's sake, I need more ice!"

"Right away, Mistress."

She lay flat on her back in her double bed, which was hardly anything out of the ordinary for the young woman. Being covered in bandages, and having almost every single part of her body aching was defiantly a new one though. Even Lady Stardust was no super woman. She relied on agility, grace, charm... All the things one would expect from a lady. So being used as a punching bag was unpreferable, to say the least.

Yet, there was something beside the insentient pain that stung Lady Tala more than any bump, scrape or bruise could ever hope to. She had failed. In fact, she hadn't just failed, she had failed on such a fundamental level. Not only had she failed Sarah, not only had she failed the girls family.. But she'd also failed Oliver. She had ran through the scenario again and again over the few days in which she had been bed-ridden. Wondering what she could have done differently. If she had only attacked the barrel, rendering it to non-existence... Or pushed it to the left... All this might have been avoided.

"Your ice, Mistress." Oswald informed her, placing the ice-pack next to one of the many bruises to her head.

"Thank you Oswald..." She said, disheartened. He stood over her, giving her a straight-faced, unsympathetic look. The one she loved him for. He never asked questions, never patronised her. People often asked her why she never settled down, she assumed the real answer was that Oswald was the perfect companion she could hope for. "Do you know what hurts the most, Oswald?"

"That you believed you failed, Mistress?" She nodded slowly, she hadn't expected him to be that insightful. "You shouldn't, for lack of a better phrase, torture yourself for it, Mistress Tala. The girls family would have never seen their daughter again had it not been for your heroic efforts, and as for that ghastly young man..."

"He's blind, because of me." She interjected. Her butler nodded, then added as a droll aside.

"Poetic justice, Perhaps?"

"Yes..." She sighed, staring out at the star-filled night sky from her french doors across the room. "... But some poetry is never meant to be heard..."


The End.

[Matt A]

A surreal story with a remarkably bitter ending. Nice hook and cross there, I think.;) :anime:

I'd say more, but right now I don't have the time. Sorry.:sad:

-Matt A-

[ArtificialIdiot]

Heh, no worries. One line from Welshie's Mate is worth more than all the tea in Tipton... At the current economic rates...

I was, by and large, quite happy with that ending. Was certaintly a better battle with Lady S than in the short story I have hiding away somewhere... *shifty*

[Matt A]

One line from Welshie's Mate is worth more than all the tea in Tipton...
I'm flattered. No, really, I am.:anime:

-Matt A-

[Snailbait]

That's great stuff.