$fdf|1-The Angelic Neon Blues

$f9f
           Summary: Single-part White Crystal Story, maybe...
               Keywords: White Crystal Gabriel Saraquael

                       by li%polari@uunet.uu.net

         Organization: The Black Delights Division of Hollywood

$ff1
        Julio  was  crying.   Not  an unusual thing for the 17- year-old
hustler  on  the  edges  of  the  Seattle Sprawl, especially out here on
Capitol  Hill.   This  time, however, he was crying blood.  Blood flowed
around pink bone showing through red muscle, dripped from where they had
pierced  him  carefully with a double edged knife, beaded on patterns on
his brown skin, trickled from a latticework of cuts, and ran from staked
eyes like tears.

        Independents were discouraged from working Broadway.  Especially
a  three-notched  indie who had an expensive specialty.  Bacchus and his
gang  of  Wild  Women  were  showing  Julio  just  how  much  they  were
discouraged.  It was brutal, not terribly efficient, but complete.  Even
if  Julio  had  somehow scraped up enough for a medtract, he would never
work  again  except  as  a  freak.   If  he hadn't, well, the vids would
plaster  such  an  artistic rendering on every vidset in the area, cheap
enforcement advertising.

        Julio's  knotted  and  still  writhing  body  was  tossed to the
sidewalk,  still  trying  to  scream.   One of Bacchus' purple and green
twisted  collars  tightened  implaccably,  his breathing worked the tiny
rachet  in  the  collar.   The body twisted, leaped, and touched a white
stretch  Rolls  limo,  leaving  a  red  smear  on  the  shining  finish.
Semi-autofires  nudged  their  ugly  snouts  out of the side slits.  The
Baccharites  scrambled  away, yelling; but the steel mouths didn't bark.
They kept going.  He was no more fun, anyway.

"No Immediate Threat" flashed on the console inside the car.  The limo's
external security cautions floated in bright holographic neon around the
threatened  car.   The ghost lights caught at the mangled silver hoop in
Julio's left earlobe and gleamed off his tears of blood.

                 The plates on the limo read 'IDIE4U'.

                       *       *       *       *

        Julio  wandered  naked  on the grey shore.  The layered iron sky
the  same  color  as  the  stones  that clattered and rattled with every
similarly  colored  wave.   He felt lost, confused, all that pain had at
least  been  a  handle to hold onto, something familiar in his life.  He
didn't  know  if  he  should  be crying or screaming, running or falling
down,  so  he  just  walked, lost on the shore for what felt like a very
long time.

        "Hello." said a warm female voice behind him.

        Julio  whirled  and fell back into a crouch that expected blows.
He  looked  into  two  mismatched eyes.  One was blue, the other yellow.
They  shone  from a cat the size of a scooter.  The animal was the color
of fire, all warm reds and golds, and muscles rippled smoothly under the
incredible  fur  as  it  paced  before  him.   Julio swallowed a lump of
longing  to touch the creature and backed up another step.  Better to be
safe.  He said nothing.

        The  cat  watched him as it wove back and forth, back and forth.
Julio  saw  the  glint of a white collar in the fur around its neck.  He
couldn't  tell  what kind of expression she had on her face, if any, and
didn't know what to do.  Finally she sat down opposite him.

        "Do you know why I'm here?" she said, not unkindly.

        Julio only looked at her with large eyes.

        She  laughed a purring laugh that sent shivers through Julio and
almost  made him want to cry again because it was so comforting and warm
that  she  must  want  something terrible of him.  "You have no idea, do
you?" she said musingly, her head tilted to one side.

        He stayed silent, watching.

        She  got  up  in  one  fluid movement and pushed at him with her
startlingly  warm  and  soft body.  The fur flowed and smoothed over his
naked body and aroused him embarrassingly.  She turned her flat head and
her  rough,  huge, sandpaper tongue stroked him on the belly.  Her teeth
flashed white and snake-wicked sharp.

 	"Tell me, little man, did you die for my Mistress's sake?"

        He  could  only  see  the  blue eye watching him sidelong as she
rubbed  her  body against his.  For a second he wondered what this beast
would  call a Mistress in such fond tones.  Then realization of what she
said  hit  him like a blow, "No!  NOT DEAD!" He screamed his first words
at the iron sky.  Even as he ripped them from his sore throat he knew he
lied.  The knowledge brought him to his knees.

        "Yes  you are." said the not unkind voice.  "I just need to know
if you died for my Mistress."

        Thoughts  scrambled  like  a  rat  horde  taking  out a shelter.
"Yes." he said to the rocks, not exactly sure what he had answered.  All
he  knew  was  that  if  he  said  no  she wouldn't be interested in him
anymore,  but  yes  could do almost anything.  He wasn't even sure if he
really  wanted  to leave the peace of this shore.  He did know he didn't
want to be lost anymore.

        "Oh, so sure, are you, little man?"

        He  looked  up  into the mismatched eyes, easy anger blooming at
her tone.  "Yes." He was shivering in the wind off the slate grey lake.

        "Then  another question, for you, the second of three.  This one
I  shall explain in more detail.  Will you live for my Mistress?  If you
say  no, I will leave you to your peace here, to whatever it is that you
will go on to, if you go on.  If you say yes..."

        "Yes."

        "No."  Firm as De Piste had been firm, "You must understand what
it means..."

        He  stood  up  to  face  this.   "Slotted  that  disk, sis.  Yes
double-equal  she be me Mistress.  On-again, off-again, under her thumb.
Hai?"

        A  disconcerted silence fell as he could hear her trying to work
out  what  he  had said.  "Hai.  I see you understand.  I'm sorry, but I
need  you  to  answer it one more time, now that *I* understand that you
understand.  Will you live for my Mistress?"

        "Yes.   I will." The older words felt odd on his tongue, full of
the weight of old ritual.

        She whirled, more graceful than the fire her color emulated.  He
felt  the  softness of her fur under his hands even as her claws slashed
open  his  body  with  a rake of blazing pain and her weight smashed him
back  into the cold jagged fire of the rocks.  He smelled the perfume of
her  hot  breath  and the caress of her sandpaper tongue just before her
white teeth and jaws crushed and tore the scream out of his throat.

        And all he could think of as the pain melted the blood and sight
from him again was that at least she had been beautiful.

                       *       *       *       *

        Julio awoke abruptly, feeling as if he had all the energy in the
world.   It  vaguely puzzled him that he also felt as if he had no body.
He  tried  to open his eyes and couldn't, something seemed to be holding
his  eyes  closed.  He tried to feel for what it was, but he didn't seem
to  have  hands,  so  he  tried  harder  to open them and felt something
ripping.   He  flashed to the feel of the spikes going into his eyes and
he  screamed.   Or  tried  to.   All  he heard was an obscenely gurgling
croak.

        "Shhh...   oh, shush, little man." said that voice that had been
in  his  dreams,  but  tired,  oh, so tired.  It was thin and reedy with
tiredness,  but it was the same amazingly warm voice.  There was a ghost
of  that purring laugh.  "Shush, you're safe now, little one." He felt a
shivering hand touch his skin.  It was a strange touch, as if there were
holes  in  his skin, areas where he could not feel her cool, soft hands.
There  were  other hands gentle in his hair.  The sob pushed its way out
of  his  chest  and  he relaxed.  "Good...  good..." she soothed, but he
could hear how much it cost her to say it.

        He  trembled  for  the  trembling  in  her  voice.   A jumble of
confusion,  grudging  gratefulness,  and pity poured through him to know
that she stayed to sooth him even in her obvious exhaustion.  Julio felt
pressure  at  his throat, a not-touch on a numb spot.  He cried out and,
even  as he heard that awful gurgle again, he heard a speaker cry out as
he wished to.  Then the speaker said, "Hey!" just as he wanted to.

        "Good.   A  quick  study."  This  other voice was crisp, cool, a
woman's  voice, pitched slightly higher than the other, sharper.  "Sara,
lie down.  Now." There was a hard edge in the tone.  "You hover over him
anymore, you'll just end up falling on him."

        "What's wrong with that?" teased the weak voice.

        That far away speaker said at the same time, "Sara?"

        The  warm  voice  laughed  from  a little further away, a little
further  down,  "Yes  and  no,  little man.  I am more commonly known as
Saraquael."

        The speaker then said, "Mistress?"

        Silence, terrifying silence.

        "Yes,  boy," said the voice finally, but as cool as ice, "I will
be your Mistress, but you must answer the last of three questions."

        He remainded silent, listening.

        "Will you give all that you are to me?"

        "Who do be you?"

        "Huh?" The phrase was startled out of the woman with

the warm voice.

        Julio tried again, flashlife bar, whitelife simple, "Who you?"


        An  amazed  laugh from hard voice, "Well, that'll teach me to be
so  vain  as  to think that everyone who answers the first two questions
knows who they are pledging themselves to."


        "Streetlife,  Lady.   No  yen, no ken." The voice that said that
was  should  have  been  the voice of the earth, so low it rumbled.  Yet
there  was  a crytalline clarity to its pronunciation, like the coldness
of a stream trapped beneath the darkness.  "You don't do vid."


        Julio  tensed,  there  weren't many stars known for no- vid, and
only  one  that  dealt  with death in this corner of the world.  The far
away speaker whispered, "White Crystal." White rage and ice cold longing
washed through him, stirring up his confusion even more.


	A  finger  traced  a maddening on-again off-again trail down the
edge of his jaw.  "So, boy, you have heard of me."

        "Julio.  Not boy." He said it flatly.

        "Not  for  long,  if  you agree." The hard voice was thoughtful.
For  a  wild moment Julio wondered if she could read his mind.  She went
on along her original track.  "The questions was, will you give all that
you  are  over  to  me?  If you say no, I'll only hold you to the second
answer.  You will die when I ask you to and you will live for as long as
I  wish  to  keep  you  alive.  I will have the docs make you functional
again,  give you eyes, get your limbs healed whole, and put you back out
on  the  street.   You will be free of me and mine, except if I call for
your  life.  You'll probably be boring enough for me to just let you die
whenever you happen to." Julio's nostrils flared at the last remark.

        "If  you say yes..." the hard voice paused and started pacing to
the  click of heels on hardness, "If you say yes, I will strip your name
from  you,  I will remake your body anyway I please, I will take you and
own you and use you for whatever I wish."

        "Think  long  and  hard about it, Julio.  If you say yes, I will
take  your life as my plaything.  You will live every moment at my order
and for my desire." There was a pause, "I may kill you simply for my own
pleasure."

        "Reran  flatline  to whitenoise." The faraway speaker spoke even
as Julio shivered.  Better brave face than shit faced, he thought.

        A  hard  laugh  from the hard voice.  "So you've played the game
'til it bored you?  What happened to your guardian angel tonight?"

        Julio  tried  to  think  of  something  flippant to say, but the
memory  of  those  spikes going into his eyes gagged him as nothing else
could.

        The  warm  voice  flickered  as  it  spoke,  "You...   sent  me,
Mistress.  Nothing's coincidence."

        A  silence balanced in the air and was snapped by the impatience
in that hard voice, "What is your answer, Julio?"

        For  a  long  moment Julio thought about that iron shore and the
lap  of  waves  upon the empty beach, the wild hot kiss of the firecat's
mouth on his throat.  He thought about the streets and the Bacchians and
about how tired he had been, how little he had looked forward to.

        "Yes."  said the speaker.  Words from a half- remembered senstim
came back to him.  The speaker said "All that I am, all that I ever will
be,  and all that I might be are yours to do with, as you wish." The old
words felt like they were weighted with his heart.

   "Thank you." she said and he was surprised by her tone.

        Still  wondering  why  the  infamously  ice-hard  White  Crystal
sounded like she was crying, Julio slipped away into an exhausted sleep.

                       *       *       *       *

        Julio  ran from the big cat, only to have it catch him and light
him  on  fire.   He  was  burning.   He could feel his hair crinking and
crisping,  his skin crackling in the heat.  He was spread eagle in a web
of  fire,  completely  unable  to  move  his  arms or legs.  He tried to
scream,  but  nothing  would come out.  Nothing at all.  That is until a
snake the color of remorse pulled itself out of his mouth, hauled itself
out,  each  inch of its smooth, soft, scaled skin slimed with his blood.
Julio struggled wildly against the bonds that held him helpless, but all
his  limbs  were  heavy, stiff.  The snake swayed before him with blind,
solid white eyes, the blood streaked hood spread wide and wider yet.  It
danced before him, hissing softly, its tongue tasting the air.

        When  the  needle  fangs  struck him the snake screamed with his
voice.

        Julio  woke up with a start.  His heart was pounding, his breath
coming fast and hard, and each breath hurt.  He held onto the pain as if
it  were  salvation.   He was sweating and firmly restrained in casts, a
blindfold,  and a soft gag against his tongue.  He struggled against the
bonds  and  pain blazed in all his straining muscles.  The speaker cried
out.

He  stopped  struggling.   The  speaker said with all the anger he could
muster, "Hoi!  Any fuckin' body flash this trip?"

Laughter greeted his foray, just as he feared.  "Hoi chummer, indeed, my
little cock." said the hard voice.

        "Ain't my chummer, girlie." said the speaker.

        "I  am wounded!" exclaimed the amused voice in a mock theatrical
manner.   "After having my crew pull the boy-child out from the clutches
of  death  itself,  and  after he consented to give me himself, he won't
even call me chummer!"

        Julio  wished  the speaker could sigh.  It did, but not with the
authority he wanted it to.  He settled for a disgusted "Slot that shit."
He was amazed to find that he felt gratified to hear her laugh.

        "You want to hear what comes next?"

        "Hai, Crystalsama."

        "So  you have some manners after all..." the sharp laughter made
his  face flush warm.  "Well, I need preference input from you before we
do  the  reconstruction.   The  docs  have  gotten you to a point stable
enough  to  do the stuff, and there hasn't been enough time for too much
scar  tissue  to be solidly established.  So it should be easy to remove
most  of  the scars.  We'll probably put you in a vat for replacement of
muscles, throat, kidney, voice box, colon, nerve, eye..."

He  didn't realize why she stopped, until he heard the keening that came
from  the  speaker.   This  time  there  wasn't  the on- again off-again
feeling,  it  was  worse,  he could feel all the healing scabs and scars
under  her hands, all the places where his skin had knotted and gnarled.
He  couldn't  even cry with his eyes the way they were.  His body didn't
know that and it convulsed on the bed as it tried to grieve for all that
had been taken.  Dry, racking sobs through a half crushed throat and not
even the ghost of tears could make his ruined eyes cry.