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December 19. 11:19 AM.
The Invisible and Dead Apartment Complex was close to the more underworld-y parts of the FPOU campus.
Most well-known was the bus stop, where the bus for Hell stopped daily. It was an interesting event to witness, and fun to guess who was going where. Plebes were always jumpy and wibbly, because they knew they were going to the eternal land of thwappings and bitchy mods. Computers that had been bad in life and hackers and programmers who used their powers for evil and made viruses were carted in by the dozen for the 10:45 bus to Computer Hell.
It was, however, the 11:23 bus that interested all of FPO most, and that was the bus to Sex-on-Legs!Men Hell. Occasionally, they would sit on the stoop and watch the condemned board the bus, observing the, er, details closely. Usually, they were a well picked bunch of men, and Scott didn’t particularly mind if he was heading out for an early lunch or late breakfast or just in some random direction and happened to catch a glimpse of the 11:23 passengers. It tended to be quite a lovely sight.
Today, there was only one passenger for the aforementioned bus. Scott had to do a double take to make sure that yes, that was Callie, and yes, she was floating several feet off the ground in an oversized hand basket.
She saw him and waved cheerily. He blinked. “Lee?”
“Hullo,” she offered. He started at her. “Plebe fic,” the redhead said by way of explanation. Her hand basket floated to the bus idling by the curb. “Bye!”
“Wait! Wait for me!” Scott had yet to figure out how to float at different speeds, but he followed Callie nonetheless.
“Sorry, sweeite, can’t. The fic’s weird like that. You’ve got to stay up here.” And she floated on her merry way.
Scott sulked for a brief moment, then turned and indignantly floated off in the opposite direction with a resolute, “Hmph.”
Sex-on-Legs-Men!Hell, just below FPOU campus
December 19. 11:30 AM.
Candy was bored. She sat in a corner drinking a frappuccino (non-poisoned) and playing Spider Solitaire on her beloved laptop, waiting for someone to join her. The members of this Hell seemed from the start to be pretty aware of the fact that Orgyettes were not to be messed with, and she had pretty much been left alone, though so far the Harem had been closed off.
She was (im)patiently waiting for some FPOer or another to join her so that they could take the place over, though so far, nothing had happened.
She dragged a stack of cards, dropped, and watched as they quickly aligned themselves at the bottom of the screen. Microsoft’s custom Spider Solitaire fireworks went off with it’s cheery message in eye-spork-y colors. “You’ve won!” it told her brightly.
The Slayer yawned and checked her watch. The bus should be here by now.
Right on cue, the gates at the far end of the violently red room opened and the bus driver – and young man resembling Christian Bale – stood back to allow Callie and her hand basket to float through. The diver waved to both Orgyettes, turned on his heel, and left.
“My Slayer!” the Queen exclaimed, hopping out of her hand basket, and meeting Candy halfway for a glomp.
“I’ve been bored,” Candy whined. “They’re scared of me, but they won’t let me in the harem. They’re being meeean.” She pouted.
Callie patted her on the head. “It’s okay, Slayer, we’ll have out mutiny and take over and cast them all into the horrible flamey depths of plebe hell.”
“For we are Orgyettes, and we just rock like that.”