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[otaku_hitman]

Travis woke up suddenly. Now he was pretty damn sure this wasn't where he'd started. Last he remembered was falling off a building after fighting that annoying pizza bat (whatever) brat. That little fucker gave Travis a run for his money. He was pretty sure falling off a building didn't usually end up with him in a very nice bed with some silky

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[scoldthestakes]

No.

It couldn't be.

That perverted assassin who just had to put on his growling voice to get her wet in the panties was back. Just as much as Satan was glad he was out of her hair, some deep, dark, twisted part of her was happy to see him again. The petite, curvy Stake of Purgatory expressed her affection the only way she knew how. With rage.

"Why the hell are you back?!"

[otaku_hitman]

"The fuck are you talking about?!" Travis stared back at her, frowning as hard as he could.

Well now that he was looking at her, she did have a pretty damn curvy body, but she was far too clothed for his tastes. He couldn't even look down her blouse!

[scoldthestakes]

Alternates. The thought occurs to her too late, and she sighs, hiding her disappointment with indifference, turning to leave. "My apologies. I thought you were someone else."

[otaku_hitman]

Travis was still unamused, though he was attempting to undress her in his mind. If this was some fucked up dream, he might as well enjoy it.

He looked off to the side, tapping the beam katana hilt on his shoulder. "Who the hell else do I look like?" he frowned. "I'm a fucking original, star of my own damn game." He didn't even look like his brother. Then again, he didn't even know he had a brother until the first game. God this was just confusing.

[scoldthestakes]

Oh, yes, it was still undoubtedly Travis. "I'm an... acquaintance of one of your alternate selves." It's the most simple way to put it without revealing she had been more than that. Much more, if the sore thighs and bite marks she had in the morning were any indication.

She tries to force the thoughts from her mind, but it's damn difficult when the source of such things was right in front of her.

[otaku_hitman]

Travis frowned. "The hell?" Alternates? "What is this, some fucking lame syfy show?" He liked being the only one, the only #1 assassin. Second best wouldn't do that for him.

[scoldthestakes]

"No; it's merely the hotel." She tosses some of her curled hair back, leaning against a wall. "It kidnaps people, trapping them here until it decides to let them leave." She unbuttons her jacket idly, cursing the hotel for both the heat and the drugs.

[otaku_hitman]

"The hotel? Fucking lame," he frowned. There was only one motel in all of Santa Destroy and that's where he lived. Why would he want to go to another hotel to live when he had his own, filled with all sorts of anime toys and his cute fat kitty.

But he was quickly distracted by her unbuttoning her jacket. Just what kind of hotel was this? Oh who cared. He liked where this was going.

[scoldthestakes]

"Lame isn't the word I would use." Satan stops herself from undressing further, crossing her arms to hold her jacket after slipping it off. She would be fine; he wouldn't use that voice, he didn't know it was her weakness, and soon enough, she could go and take care of herself.

[otaku_hitman]

Damn, the show was over already. So much for that. "What then?" he asked, prodding for more. "What is this place?" He hoped for something cool. Well if it wasn't lame, it had to be sweet, right?