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Duo's motorcycle screamed over the blacktop on the way to the city. Dorothy hadn't been home when he'd called her. He had instinctively known where she would be, however, and had hurriedly gotten ready and started toward their favorite club. She must be pretty pissed at me, he thought. What am I gonna tell her?
~my god sits in the back of the limousine~
He'd lied to Relena; Dorothy Catalonia was more than a little eccentric. She'd been unstable for as long as he'd known her; a few months ago she'd been discovered by the fashion world, had posed in a few magazines, and had been drunk or stoned ever since.
~my god comes in a wrapper of cellophane~
He'd met her in his favorite club, The Downfall, swaying seductively to a slow, pumping bass line, rolling harder than a bowling ball [1]. Duo had been pretty high himself; when his own violet eyes met her strange icy blue ones, delicately accented with distinctive forked eyebrows, he'd felt as if every meter-long hair on his head had suddenly stood on end--and not only his hair.
~my god pouts on the cover of the magazine~
He'd approached her, a little brashly, as was his wont, and she'd responded just as brashly by slinging a leg over his hip and wriggling against him deliciously. He remembered thinking that she had been some sort of dark nymph, a hell's angel, a perfect complement to the self-proclaimed God of Death. As the drug-filled nights deepened, however, Duo had come to realize that Dorothy could by no means be considered an angel of any kind.
~my god's a shallow little bitch trying to make the scene~
Never before had he been with a girl who was so brazenly sexual and seemingly hell-bent on her own destruction. She lived moment-to-moment, thinking only of the pleasure at hand, whether that pleasure lay in a new designer hallucinogen or the bed of a man--or woman. Duo wasn't pleased about this, but kept his mouth shut, trying to simply be grateful that such a celebrity had taken notice of such a scruffy guy. She was one-of-a-kind, yet nothing about her was genuine. But Duo had worshipped every knee-length platinum hair on her delicate, elfish head.
And, as he had come to discover, and would soon learn again, so did many others.
~i have arrived and this time you should believe the hype~
The wheels of Duo's bike emitted tortured squeals as he skidded to a halt in front of The Downfall, so named because of its 20th century theme, the period when most of the troubles of Earth had started. Even over the noise of his arrival, he could hear the pounding bass of the classic industrial tunes which were the hallmark of this club and one of the reasons he liked it so much. A murmuring horde of young people, in varied states of undress and shocking makeup, were standing outside waiting to be admitted. Others streamed out of the matte black doors, peering vaguely into the darkness as if unsure where to go, clothing--what there was of it--ripped or hanging loosely on their emaciated bodies, so high they were practically floating. Duo himself was in fine form; he wore a spangled crimson shirt on which silver Chinese dragons chased each other's tails, and loose black jeans. He'd used hair mascara to streak his hip-length tresses silver, going to the trouble to unmake and remake his trademark braid because he knew Dorothy loved it when he wore makeup. The silver streaks were complemented by silver eyeshadow, identical to what Dorothy habitually wore, and silver lipstick which Dorothy claimed made her want to fuck him stupid.
He was hoping it would work tonight.
The braided boy strode confidently up to the doors and casually shook the bouncer's hand as he strolled into the club. Duo was a regular here, and claimed by one of the most influential fashion personalities in the world; nobody fucked with him. The doors led to a terrace which circled the room, housing one of the longest bars in the city. The terrace looked out over the dance floor, crowded with figures in stop-motion under the strobe lights, doing all but having sex right there in the crushing mass. There were rooms downstairs for that; some people even made it downstairs in time to use them for that purpose. Everyone else went down to participate in the thriving drug trade. In the basement of The Downfall, you could get anything from ancient herbal refreshment to the sexiest new chemicals. The club's name may have been inspired by a troubled era, but given time, The Downfall had earned its name in a new way.
Duo peered down into the sea of chemically-induced humanity, seeking a familiar silvery head which he knew would stand out even in the swarm of radically dyed manes. After almost two minutes of searching, he found her--and instantly wished he hadn't.
~i listened to everyone now i know that everyone was right~
Dorothy was emerging from the dark stairwell in the back left corner of the room, the one which led downstairs, on the arm of a blue-haired boy wearing no shirt and neon-green vinyl pants so tight Duo could practically distinguish the outline of his genitals. Well...not exactly on his arm; he was carrying her on his hip, like a child. Except Duo knew the expression on her flushed face well enough to understand that she had been taking care of adult business down there. The two staggered giddily out into the midst of the press and began to dance, slowly, rhythmically.
She was wearing his favorite outfit tonight: a black spandex tanktop accented by an assortment of necklaces made from leather thongs and metal designs fashioned from mobile suit shrapnel, black leather pants which hung low on her slim hips, and black motorcycle boots. Her face, slack with drugs and lust, was adorned with her habitual sparkly silver eyeshadow and black lipstick. A black headband contrasted deliciously with her silver-blonde hair, which despite hanging nearly to her knees was baby-fine, and floated around her as she danced like vapor rising from a dark pool. She was entrancing, seeming to Duo akin to some spirit of the air, moving gracefully and sensuously against her partner. The kid she was with had one hand resting on Dorothy's toned buttock; as Duo watched in agony the kid placed his other hand on her hip, and she curled that leg around him, bringing her hips into closer contact with the kid's clearly discernible genitals, relaxing her lean torso back, placing herself nearly perpendicular to the kid and undulating her entire body. Her unusual ice-blue eyes, made even more ethereal by the makeup, were gazing directly into his with such unabashed lasciviousness that Duo could feel the spark even where he stood. The punk's face, a mass of piercings which almost physically hurt the eyes, was contorted with desire, twisted with chemicals. As Duo watched, the punk lowered his face to Dorothy's and extended his pierced tongue; she extended hers as well. Their tongues writhed together like a nest of snakes.
That tears it.
Duo fairly flew down the stairs, pushing his way past countless horny teenagers. Some of those who weren't too stoned to know where they were reached out to blindly grope at his body. He shoved them all roughly aside, finally making his way to the dance floor. Even in the throng, the only people he could really see were Dorothy and her freakish lover.
~i'll be there for you as long as it works for me~
Duo suddenly found himself at the side of the blue-haired boy. He placed a strong hand on the punk's chest and furiously shoved him upright. Dorothy nearly fell to the floor. The kid looked at Duo, then at Dorothy, then back at Duo, with the dim expression of a retarded child. "Hey," he mumbled.
Dorothy regained her balance. Dull anger flashed in her frigid eyes, but Dorothy was too wrecked to maintain it long. She sidled up to Duo and put her hands around his neck. "Hi honey! What took you so long?"
~i play a game
it's called insincerity~
Duo flung her arms away. "Just what the fuck is this, Dorothy? You're supposed to be out with me!"
Dorothy peeked at him flirtatiously from beneath her lashes, pouting. "Well, you were late, darling. I was bored." She ran a finger down his chest. "Now that you're here, the fun can really start."
"Uh...fun, yeah," seconded the punk.
Under any other circumstances, the sheer deafening noise of the club would have completely obscured any conversation. But to Duo, so focused on the situation at hand, even the loud speed-metal blasting over the speakers was nothing more than background noise.
~starfuckers
starfuckers
starfuckers, inc.
starfuckers~
"FUN?!" screamed Duo, loud enough to rouse a neighboring couple from their stupor. "What fun? You're supposed to be my girlfriend! You have fun with me, not with..." He looked in puzzlement at the kid with the blue spiky hair. "Not with this...whatever it is." The kid stared for a moment, then began to laugh, as if he had just gotten the punchline of some dirty joke.
"But that's just it, Duo baby," whispered Dorothy in his ear. "We can all have fun together."
Duo pulled back and stared at her, dumbfounded. She pressed against him. "Jase is a swinger. It's okay."
~i am every fucking thing and just a little more~
"Are you insane?!" exclaimed Duo. "You promised you would stop this! You promised it would be just us now! I thought you loved me!"
"Oh, I do, baby," she hissed. "I love everybody. And everybody loves me." She began to bump her hips in time to the music. "I'm famous. I can do what I want."
~i sold my soul but don't you dare call me a whore~
Duo looked into Dorothy's upturned face, searching for something, anything, that would give him some evidence that underneath the layer of narcotics, underneath the fame, she had ever felt anything for him.
He saw nothing there but unabashed lust and the dull intelligence to do whatever was necessary to act on it. He saw that he was only something to play with when Dorothy got tired of everything else, the old, dependable yo-yo in a world of flashy new dolls. And he saw that if he left her now, she probably wouldn't even realize it for days.
He pushed her away. "What you are, dear, is a slut. And I don't want to see you any more."
~and when i suck you off not a drop will go to waste
it's really not so bad you know once you get past the taste~
Dorothy clutched at his shirt. "You can't leave me," she spat at him. "I'm not done with you."
Her expression changed suddenly; the venom in her eyes became a sly sensuality. She slid down his body, coming to a kneeling position before him. "There's so much we can still do...so much fun we can have..." She slowly reached for his zipper. Jase stared at her face, the lump in his loud vinyl pants becoming more pronounced. Duo could see tiny braids running throughout Dorothy's silky hair. "What do you say, darling?" she murmured. Duo could feel her smiling against him.
~(asskisser)
starfuckers
starfuckers
starfuckers, inc.
starfuckers~
Duo took one of the tiny braids and caressed it, running it along Dorothy's jawline...and then pulled it, hard, hauling her to her feet. "I say you're a whore. People are watching you. Get up."
Her mouth fell open. "You can't talk to me like that!" She turned to the kid, who was gaping dully at her. "Jase, are you going to let him talk to me like that?"
"Uhh..." Jase looked dimly afraid of the smaller boy glaring cold fire at him.
"Oh come ON, Jase! After what I did for you downstairs you still won't fight for me?" She ran her dainty pink tongue over her lips.
Jase grinned. "Okay."
"Don't bother," muttered Duo disgustedly. "I'm leaving. Have a nice life, Dorothy...what little of it you haven't fucked up with drugs."
~all our pain
how did we ever get by without you?
you're so vain
i bet you think this song is about you
don't you
don't you
don't you
don't you~
Duo turned his back to her. His feet did not want to move; he had to summon the image of Jase's tongue tangled with Dorothy's to budge them. Even then, it was a near thing; he fought the intense desire to simply turn around and yank every piercing out of the freak's face. Dorothy followed him, pulling Jase by his limp hand. Jase only looked around confusedly; he hadn't bargained on a confrontation, just a quick lay with a supermodel.
Duo burst through the doors of The Downfall, making a silent vow never to return.
"You can't leave!" Dorothy screamed after him. "You're MINE, you hear me? You're NOTHING without me! When I'm done with you, you'll never be able to show your face in any club ANYWHERE, EVER!"
Duo kept walking. The press was out, as they usually were at this time of night, looking for a scandal. The world's leading supermodel was outside the world's most decadent club, towing a blue-haired punk and screaming at her boyfriend; roughly twenty photographers thanked their respective deities and raised their cameras. Duo once again had to restrain himself from raising his fist and smashing it through a camera and into the face behind it. He settled for turning to face Dorothy one last time and raising his middle finger to her. "Do your worst, baby." That oughta give them something to report he thought. "I'm going home."
As Duo mounted his bike, Dorothy took a deep breath and screamed, "YOU'RE NO FUN!"
~now I belong I'm one of the chosen ones
now I belong I'm one of the beautiful ones~
The angry roar of Duo's motorcycle overrode Dorothy's drunken threats and the media's curious buzzing. As he drove homeward, he looked at his chrono. Ten. Too early for him to be in. He decided to drive around for a while; he didn't want anyone to think something was wrong.
Don't want to disturb Relena--I'm sure they've made up by now, and they should be alone...
Heero and Relena, alone. Images came to his mind of the bite-marks on Relena's neck.
Leave it alone, man. You got troubles of your own.
He saw the fading bruise surrounding her eye.
You promised you wouldn't say anything, Duo...
He saw her on the floor, arms broken, nose broken, skull fractured, her life seeping muddy crimson into the plain gray carpet in Heero's room.
And, shaking his head at his own unreasonable fears, he brought the motorcycle into a screaming 360-degree turn in the middle of the deserted beachfront road and headed at top speed toward Quatre's estate.