I am definitely one-hundred percent open to BETA READERS right now. Cause I got none. So, you know, volunteers would be good. PP me for details. Thanks~!

On the burning surface of Eden, Hang's Point...

It wasn't going to stop. He realized this long before the fangs of death loomed over him, yes, but he had held onto the vain hope that perhaps the angel of mercy would ward that which claimed all life just a little longer, just a little longer for him to reflect him life's choice. Just a little longer before death finally won the race.

Such convenience was not something he should have expected. Hang's Point lasted for just over thirty-two hours. After the first twelve, their automated weaponry ceased functionality and barrels of flak and protection quit their very important jobs. That only allowed more of those red comets to blemish Eden's once beautiful surface.

He turned. Far as his eyes could see, his brothers and sisters fired bullets accelerated by technology and power. Their battle cries in the face of the unending doom that approached was brave. He wished he had even that going for him.

The Batarian soldier already lost his best big brute of a friend. A settled sorrow glimmered in his eyes at his lost for a moment, but the barrage of guns barking reminded him of a fight he desperately refused to let crush his will.

Freed was at least thankful for the somewhat outdated trench warfare tactics that managed to bless his life with prolonged longevity. But the Krogan-enduring vixens were damn accurate, the cover that protected their lower bodies worthless if their flood of pink lasers easily bypassed their shielding and splattered the brain matter inside strong Batarian skulls.

Freed didn't know how many started off, eager to repel the invaders, but ten remained loyal Hegemony soldiers remained standing, including himself. The flurry of pink death and determined bullets swung at every turn, his military training reminding him of the female Batarian and her heavy turret pumping accelerated death that barely kept them alive, the harsh barking of the gun impacting the vixens with enough force to actually make them hurt and stumble, but he knew it wasn't good enough when some just got right back up. He was also aware it was the source of firepower keeping him, and his soon-to-be-dead teammates, from having their position overrun.

That comfort ended awfully quick when a new foe entered the fray. If the Asari-like vixens were the slimmed down Krogan, these newer beast were the stronger, more bestial version of Elcors. Almost like male Asari, they were twice the thrice size of Krogan and bore enough spikes on their limbs to make a fully grown Thresher Maw hesitate. The resemblance to the Rachni had his mind screech in fear, but he couldn't figure why. Their faces had an almost familial resemblance to the smaller ones, but they were more likely the byproduct of Geth and Krogan mating gone wrong. It was unsettling. It shouldn't be possible. It barely registered the smaller, female-looking ones seemed to be happier with their presence, let own an noticeable significant improvement in their accuracy.

Freed choked. They were insectoid. Sickly, abominations of death not unlike the abominations that threatened the Citadel Council not too long ago. But they were different. They leaped and fluttered over their smaller, battle walking lesser such grace. Like some overly grown older brother who took satisfaction in showing off to his little sister Surfing the wave of womanly bodies with far too much ease than their hulking mass should have been capable of.

Far too close to ignore, he screamed desperately at the gunner to open fire over the approaching. Of course, she couldn't hear him. Not over the sounds of her turret and their lasers pouring onto them relentlessly.

It was too late. The gunner barely had been booked time to scream, before one laser sunk into her skull and melted the softness that once controlled her corpse. The nice ten strong were bullied to only two. Freed and some grunt.

The grunt died not long after. Ammo expended and wounds too severe to overcome. A lucky laser hit his gut, forcing him to become gravity bitch. He fell onto the body littered trench. Pondering his end. Death finally caught up huh? About time.

He was alone. Freed knew his life was over. He felt just so… tired. Life long memories flashed by in a blur. The world around him silenced, his body unwilling to act, only sleep. To rest at last. As unloving life treated him, he drifted from consciousness into a bliss he hoped was death, wondering if his big battle buddy would be in heaven waiting for him.


Xyn was glad to see the untamed superstitions that filled humanities religious beliefs, most of them anyway, proved to bare no fruit to the truth of reality.

Hell was an amazing place! Sure it was infested with volcanoes of violence and omnipotent sin was damn near a must, but the place had it's charms Xyn couldn't help but appreciate.

It was a space-sized interdeminsional plane of existence where anyone could do whatever they wanted, whenever they wanted so long as they fell in accordance with the Lords and Ladies and other superior denizens of the stat hierarchy whose gender identities were questionable at best. The similarity between that of medieval Kingdoms and their feudal landlords that controlled certain landscapes and Hell's hierarchy was something not to be ignored.

Hell was also filled with a myriad of sub-species. Demons were spawned at rates not unlike bacterias. This is where the beauty of Hell came in. Xyn was not too privy to the close winded details (yet) of daemonic creation, but understood the concept well enough.

Hell was like a big ol' bowl of soup. Condensed and compressed ethereal energies wondered about, clashing and dashing here and there, but never actually did much unless a concentration of of different elements came together. Depending on the quality and quantity of demon, the created spawn of Hell could range from little more from fly-sized pieces of abomination to monstrous creatures capable of interplanetary devastation. Hell by itself produced demons capable of self-generation. Incorporeal mass and desires from higher tier daemonic spirits formed newer and more powerful demons just from the residual waste juice alone. And each Intelligent demons have potent enough souls that herald impressive energy pools, pools vast enough that many have created mini-versions of themselves. It was Xyn's dream to create herself in a technical smaller extent someday. Many humans have joked how they aren't too different from the same caste that befall upon Virtual and Artificial intelligence in that regard. Xyn found herself agreeing.

On the subject or Lords and Ladies, anyone with basic smarts can achieve the title so the titles was a mute point of view than it was an aesthetic pleaser. It was the name, notthe title, than counted.

What Xyn loved the most was the absolute and utter lack of necessity that was plagued most every single collation of intelligent species within reality. Hell followed a loosely vague prospect concerning three stats: Power Respect. It was more of a unwritten suggestion than anything else, one that most all did well to keep in mind. The details were prodigiously basic. Power was a bareback representation of an individual prowess, an assessment of ones own strengths and weaknesses while Respect was the general downpour of how other daemonic denizens viewed an individual. Nobody could skip anywhere high enough to make an impact within the vastness of Hell without acquiring both. Lord Mudan commanded the most out of both these two currency resources in that regard so it would not be wrong to claim him as a "ruler" even if that is wholesomely untrue.

Regardless, power and respect won the day every-time.

Xyn saw information as a hybrid factor in this case. Her unique position as a communication officer and high end mercenary gained her many friends and much gain. Baring in mind that sex was on a literal different level in a piece of space not limited with the trivial shackles of reality, it was easy get lost in the orgy sea of satisfaction and pleasure and many were okay with this. It was the more ambitious megalomaniacal saucy boys and girls Xyn made note to be wary off. They could be a hindrance or asset in due time. Definitely something to look out for.

Xyn's mind calculated responses and reactions before the thoughts passed the trails of becoming sub thought. It was a curious mind game the chief communications officer enslaved herself into enjoying. Ultimately, the game was irrelevant but it was the satisfaction of being correct that brought the self-proclaimed sex demoness and ex-human joy. She wished she knew these blessings when her life was full of humanness.

The room she labored in was her bedroom, if it could be called such. The usual decor was present and matched a semblance of normalcy, yes, but the entire room was all red. Dark reddened metals jutted from specific angles and frames that made it quite a sight indeed. The only non-metallic aspect was the door, an honest to goodness mouth if nothing else that was currently closed at the moment.

Thanking the many sub-groups of demons was something the succubus made a mental reminder of. Many a little sucky-suck action if she was frisky enough. A bonus but not necessary in the grand scheme of things. Her hands were most pleased at the way her fingers danced upon the holographic red keypad with unbridled ease, the single monitor that displayed a sea of digits and images her sole attention. Omnitools excavated from Batarian husks were just so fun to play with at times.

The red flesh that served as the door to her room opened with a squelch. Hence entered Zarkatha. The chattiest combat demon Xyn had the relative misfortune of befriending. Her fingers never halted, but she leaned her head in acknowledgement to the other female's presence. The ex holy servant of God attired an all encompassing black latex that exposed most of her soft chest pillows, stopping just short of her nipple reveal. Black eagle wings displayed on her back, folded nice and neat for both comfort and allure. They glowed with mild power that cautioned it unwise to ignore.

"What do you think?" Zarkatha asked as she took a hefty dive onto the succubus' King sized bed. The resounding bounce was noted by the black feathered death bringer.

"Of?" Xyn questioned, her eyes glued to the monitor.

"The new addition to our ranks. The Asari girl Lady Ryu brought in." Zarkatha elaborated. Xyn found her British accented voice to be quite adorable.

Lady Ryu was a nut-job in that best way possible. Schizophrenic beyond all repair too. Lady Ryu always kept others guessing. Something Xyn Respected.

"She's quiet." Xyn replied.

"She's hot." Ah. So that was her game.

"Cute. Have you seen the goods?" The question carried a peaked curiosity in it.

Zarka sighed dejectedly. "No..." She sounded disappointed. Xyn's smiled at her part-time lovers apparent dismay.

"Why not ask her out then?" Xyn suggested. Hell was a literal endless expanse of ludicrousness and violence, but the other dimensions weren't so rabid.

"No, way to prudish. Plus he's shy. I need something… a bit more subtle." Zarka said. Her arm laid over her eyes. "Buuuuu, what do I do Xyn? I really want to make this work." Zarka's voice drawled out the 'o'. Too cute for the communications specialist to not adore. A flash on her monitor sucked in her slit irises, a smile that creeped out a great many crawled into view.

Xyn turned from her monitor, the swivel chair obeying her momentum. Zarka got a bit nervous at the suddenness and the smile. Both were just off putting.

"What?" Zarkatha questioned, not wanting to know.

"I do believe I can help you with your… situation, provided you help me in return."

Oh shit.

"What, exactly, do you need help with." It's time like these she wished she spent more times into mind games than her mercenary friend did.

"I need you to sleep with someone."

Zarka blinked. Surely Xyn was more than capable of seduction. Why her? Something was up.

"Why me?" Zarka asked, eyes narrowed.

"He's a high level Power-demon and a very close ally to Lord Mudan. I... don't like him. His need to display dominance his crude." Xyn explained. "But he is fair. And he is too much a slave to his lust for anything long term. Just your type, am I right?"

Zarka mentally snarled at the unbelievably accurate deduction. "What do I get out of it?" She knew having a smart-ass bitch like Xyn owe her had its merit.

It took a while for the winged lady to realize Xyn stopped typing.

"I'll owe you a single favor and you get to obtain yet another fuck-buddy with benefits. Your power and respect grows and I get my rockers off. Just be sure to mention my name, k?" Xyn spoke smoothly. "A fair deal is it not?"

Zarka accepted, but somewhere deep down, she knew that she got the worst end of the deal not matter how nice it sounded.

"H-h-hey there. You awake?"

His senses were dulled, like he was in a surreal dream. Where was he? Who was that voice? He wasn't sure if he responded, but the voice continued on.

"Ugh, he's to ugly. Why to I gotta waste my time with this piece of trash? Need help waking up or something?" He made what felt like a scowl. He held vehement disdain for the wake he addressed him, as if he were nothing more than a child in need of tenderly care.

"Oh! I know! Let's give him some encouragement!" He was confused. This voice sounded chipper. Were there more than one person? It sounded like the exact same voice just with different pitches.

Then came the pain.

The moment his consciousness just barely bared fruit through the physical embodiment he dubbed a body, the air he breathed to stay alive, however ironic the term, burnt him internally. His throat cried in a shrill scream in his mind as it was forced to draw breathe upon such foul fumes. He felt much pain.

"Stop." Just like that. It ended as quickly as it arrived. An unwelcomed quickie of unpleasant agony made him focus on his immediate surroundings, and the cause of his anguish. It didn't help that he had now just some to the realization that he was utterly bare of all clothes and bare in the nude.

She, he was certain if was a female from the base of the voice, booned him with a moments respite. His eyes finally opened and it frightened him that he had no recollection of them ever being closed. His soldiering days kicked in, as he assessed the room. It was unusually lavage for an interrogation room, yet the two guards at the door and the absolute restriction of movement confirmed his suspicions to be a room for forcing submission and information. A very pathetic side of him wondered why the Hegemony didn't have such nice torture rooms. He violently murdered these thoughts.

The voice was identified. The being before him was very much like an Asari, much like the feline females that slaughtered his crew. She wore no clothing of any kind, yet she had no discernible nipples or genitalia to protect in the first place. Yet he was limited to just her upper body so he couldn't make assumptions. He could hop, right? He mentally sneered. Nothing wrong with a little hope. His excitement caused his little slave between his thighs to twitch but thankfully the table obstructed her view. Her legs crossed over the other, between them a small wooden table. Immaculately clean. She had odd, lengthily purple fur growing from her head. Utterly alien and similar at the same time. What got him was her expression. It carried an air of utter pessimistic boredom. A voicing dripping with an odd accent that only solidified her feelings. A little book in her palm sat opened, equally purple eyes scanning it's content with a not very impressed glance.

"Braak Kulem of the Batarian Hegemony. Captain Braak Kulem of the Hegemony Dreadnought Hegemony's Guard. Oh I already said that, why the fuck did I repeat myself?" His growing resentment towards this woman only grew when she spoke so... casually to him. She hadn't even looked at him since he'd been agonized into focus. She continued despite his best glare. "A father of three, and holds over 73 personal slaves. Lives in a mansion too. A fit bastard just over 190 of muscle. But a man slut with over 9 wives?! Christ dude. What, one vagina didn't get the dick hard enough or something?" She rambled on, half mocking half condensating. He didn't need to hear his entire life story and he didn't want to either.

Braak brewed a distinct hatred for this bitch in front of him. She opened her mouth to read more, but stopped when she finally looked at him. Glowing violet orbs gazed into his black pits. A chill ran down his spine. That was not the look of an unamused person. That was the cunning smile of a predator who just realized it's prey made a very deadly mistake. Braak's jaws parted for words to make way, but all that was heard was the raw bleeding cry of pain that only the act of a great person could make go away.

Little did the the former Captain know, he was in the humble loving care of Lady Ryu. Daemon masochists and all round pain-bringer to all. Hence her nickname:

Lady Ryu the Insane.

Well loves, I do try to keep my promises. I did probably make some errors in spelling rushing to pump this out, but I do believe this will suffice. Of course, I suppose I gotta delete the April Fools ch. cause that's just a waste. Forgive any spelling errors, as I was in a bit of a rush to transfer everything to this. If you have any questions, PP or review. School break is coming soon to hopefully I can work this more frequently then. It is STILL my overriding goal and prime directive to make this thee most unique MS story out there and I intend to do so. Till' next time loves~!