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| Baby Don't Hurt Me; Riva | |
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| Topic Started: Feb 1 2013, 07:17 AM (485 Views) | |
| Lodestone | Feb 1 2013, 07:17 AM Post #1 |
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January 10th, 7:30 am. [align=center]THE MIGHTY DUCK[/align] The camera flickered on, its focus adjusting to the empty view of the ornamental fixture in the center of the table, the little red "recording" circle blinking on the corner of the screen. There was a small laugh off screen before the view of it all tilted, the clatter of the plastic shell of the camera hitting the table before it raised and turned. Edmund's face appeared, a little tired from having just woke up, but otherwise a little too peppy for this hour of the morning. He fiddled with it for a second, turning the panel around to see what was being filmed from his side. "Okay, it works. Excellent," he said in a hushed whisper despite being alone in the kitchen. "Here's the deal. I've got a feather and a bowl of pudding with corn bits in it and a fiance who's still asleep. This is probably going to start a prank war or something and I'm probably going to end up with a few broken bones down the road. Luckily, I've got decent insurance. Here we go!" The camera rolled around, following the path from the kitchen. It showed Edmund picking up a bowl of room-temperature chocolate pudding as delicately and quietly as he could. The cat on the counter shifted and mewled and the electromagnetic gave him quick shushing and "stay out of the room or you'll die" before stealthily moving into the bedroom. And there she was, passed out, half-buried beneath the blankets, hair tussled and giving a little snore she was sure to deny whenever she saw the video. Quietly, he set the bowl down on the nightstand. It gave a small ting, but it wouldn't wake the sleeping Cajun. Taking a spoon, he precariously scooped up some of the pudding and transported it into Riva's upturned hand. Convinced it was safe to move further, he put the spoon back in the bowl. A moment later the spoon was replaced by a long feather. Leaning in with the camera aimed, Edmund brought the feather in close and tickled at the tip of the Cajun's nose, going so far as to irritate the inner ridge of her nostril to spark a reaction. It was going to be messy. And violent. Especially since it kinda looked like poo. |
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| Riva | Feb 1 2013, 08:33 AM Post #2 |
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Years ago, back when Riva was a wee little baby Cajun, she would have been up and about at this time of day, dragged sleepily through a shower and the yanking pains of a hard bristle brush through blessedly virgin and undyed dark hair as her memaw fixed it into pretty braids, then forced into some frilly dress while her pawpaw groused under his breath about not wanting to attend another nonsense-filled mass. Those were calmer times, before powers and Apocalypses and the insanity that seemed to envelop her life at all times, and often, she found herself dreaming of them. But Riva slept soundly these days, and judging by the placid look on her peacefully slumbering features she was happy beneath her grumpy and foulmouthed waking self. She slept on her stomach as she normally did, limbs splayed and performing an unconscious takeover of mattress territories ever since Edmund had left its soft warm confines. Deep in sleep, she wasn’t aware of the handful of chocolate sludged onto her palm, nor of the innocuous little feather hovering before her face. She snored blissfully away, nose giving a little bunny crinkle as the feathery fibers brushed against it once, twice. Her face twisted a little, and her snoring staggered just a little as she gave an undignified snort, feeling some little intrusion inside her nostril, an incessant tickle that provoked her to scratch her nose. Instantly, the young woman chocked and sputtered, awoken by a face full of… something. “Whah, whuh, que c’est?” she inarticulately murmured, looking upon Edmund with tired and uncomprehending eyes. She grasped at her face, smearing more of the pudding and simply compounding her confusion before looking to her hand as she sat up. “What the… oh my god. Oh my God!” she shrieked, the dark brown and corn-specked mess registering as only one very unholy and very unsanitary thing. Covers flew as she panicked and flailed and scrambled off the bed, tangling her legs in the comforter and falling off the mattress with a thud. She wiped away at her face in sheer horror, her desperation only growing as she managed to get some of the mystery pudding (pooding?) in her mouth, then suddenly, abruptly, she fell silent. “… Chocolate?” she asked, hair sticking out in random tufts before she turned to look at her oh so hysterical beau. Her expression quickly grew… dark. “CHIENNE DE MERDE!” she shrieked, sending a TK-driven splatter of the vile pudding after Ed. Oh. It’s on. [align=center]Glitterati[/align] January 16th, 5:00 AM Click. “It’s on like Donkey Kong.” Laying across the front seat of Edmund’s ratty old Volvo, leaning awkwardly to her side as the emergency brake persistently poked into her back, she finished rigging a very small, unobtrusive camera on the passenger side, concealing it in the passenger seat as she wedged it snugly into the headrest. XFI had plenty of gadgets in the way of surveillance technology, some store bought, some designed in house by their resident gearhead. There was no shortage of cameras, and Riva had grown very adept at rigging concealed systems. After all, it was her job. “Okay,” she whispered, carefully sitting up as she fetched the rest of the contents of her black bookbag, first checking her phone and opening up a special app. A few strokes and suddenly her profile appeared on the screen, filmed in real time as the camera feed synched to her phone. After affirming her little spycam was functioning and recording, she looked back to the recording device, brushing back a lock of dark hair behind her ear as she spoke in hushed tones. “So m’ fiancé thinks he’s reeal funny, pullin’ a shitty prank on me while Ah was sleepin’,” she began, setting the scene like any good thespian. Her lips quirked to the side in a smirk. “Well, Ah waited a few days, let him think Ah forgot all about his joke. An’ now, his ass is mine. Not that it wasn’t before,” she mused, giving the camera a coquettish wink. She pulled out a gallon-sized Ziploc bag filled with sparkling, snowy pink/red/white heart confetti, giving it a shake and smiling all too broadly as the shining chaos held inside mixed together. “People like t’ talk, an’ too often, Ah hear ‘em say how dull Edmund is. How boring. Got no pizzazz, no spark. Well, Ah’mma fix that. See this? This is a neat mix of glitter, talcum an’ confetti.” Next, she pulled out a page of newspaper, fashioning it into a cone. “We’re gonna show Mister Sparkledick some spark. Ah’m gonna take this glitter and funnel it all up in his car vents. It’s been cold, an’ Ah know he’s gonna wanna crank that heat,” she explained, looking very smug as she released the cone with her hands and held it in place with telekinesis. Opening the bag of powdery glitterfetti, she began dumping copious amounts through the vents, moving on to the next slot with focused determination. “Then fwooom.” She made quick work, dumping all the contents into his AC vents before hurriedly shoving the bag back into her pack, cleaning up stray pieces of Valentine’s themed confetti. Making sure to crank up the dials of his car’s AC system, she looked back at the camera. “Ah love you, baby, but you done fucked up,” she smiled, blowing a kiss before slipping quietly out the passenger door and retreating behind another parked car across the street, waiting for Ed to leave for work. Soon. |
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| Lodestone | Feb 7 2013, 11:17 PM Post #3 |
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It had been an uneasy few days, at least for Edmund. He knew there would be retribution, but it was the wait that was killing him. What would she do? Make a chair precariously weak so that when he sat on it it snapped? Something more... well, full of pudding like Riva's morning had been? She was none too pleased about that. Waking up to a face full of dark brown stuff could be confusing, especially if there wasn't any booze to be had the previous night. She was pissed... And he knew he was going to regret it after it had been flung back into his face. But this morning? No. It was too early. That was far away from his mind. Tired-eyed and still not yet fully awake, Edmund cleared his throat as he fumbled with the keys to lock up his apartment. Not that he needed the keys, but it just felt... well, it was part of his routine. The mechanism shut, his apartment secure with a little magnetic flare, and he left Hobbes to guard home while he was at work. It was damn early, but with the fish stuff still going on and the discovery X-Corps had made with SHIELD, things had kicked into high gear around the labs. Most days were early days. He was lucky to have to get up by eight just to pick up the slack everywhere. But, that's how it went and it would keep being like that until they could hire someone to help. Sipping the lifeblood that was coffee as he made his way out, the chill of the morning air forced a shiver in him as he meandered down the sidewalk to his car. A fog raised up with his breath, a yawn escaping as he came up to the side of the car. The rigged Volvo was a special little machine, his baby so to speak. It didn't look like much, but it had been fitted with an electric engine, something that definitely paid for itself. True, it needed some maintenance now and then but that was on the company's dime. The rickety thing served it purpose, however, and it would do it again. Getting into the front seat, Edmund set his coffee down into the cup holder and slipped the key into the ignition. Turning the car on, the came to life with the electric whine it always had, but something was off. The air vents didn't come on as fast as they usually did. "Too... damn cold," he murmured, tired, biting back another yawn. He gave the dash a smack and the vents, full blast, were purged. The inside of the car was flooded with talcum powder, glitter, and confetti, exploding out in a rush as the clogged air vents. A thousand thousand glimmery little bits dusted the air like a snowstorm of crafty proportions and powder found its way into every little crevice of the interior. And the poor, tired electromagnetic only sat there in stunned silence, face coated white with powder, dashed with a sparkle of glitter. Confetti in hair, confetti everywhere, still spiraling down with the touch of gravity, Ed Was he asleep? Did that just happen? Oh God, it was in his mouth. Edmund spat out the mixture of the attack, which became a puff of color in the air before him. Through the windows that were now difficult to see through, he saw and heard the mad cackle of the woman January 18th, 8:30 am. [align=center]If it falls like a duck.[/align] There was still glitter in his hair... It didn't help that he could control metal. Glitter, the herpes of craft supplies, wasn't going to go away in two days. It was buried against his scalp and no matter what he did, there was always going to be bits and pieces over him and through his house. From the doorway to their room, to the shower and back again, a proper angle betrayed the infectious bits' position on the ground with a small glimmer. He hated it. He hated it so much. And every time Riva was ever around, she took the greatest delight in pointing it out. The video she had taken was circulating XFI and X-Corps with a heinous fever. He had been taunted with little canisters of glitter hanging precariously over his office doors and confetti poppers. It was a barrel of laughs for everyone but him. So, eager for a counter, Edmund waited until the next time Riva meant to spend the night at his place. Even though his house had been cleaned thrice through by now, some of the craft-herpes remained for mocking and teasing. He tolerated it, knowing, just knowing that there would be vengeance. The night before when Riva had gone to bed, Edmund stayed up a bit longer, saying that it was to finish up a few papers. It was a ruse, however, for as the Cajun got comfortable in the bedroom, Edmund plotted to bring ruin to her morning. Of course, there was a great likelihood for some damages to his house, but he was prepared for that. With a special adhesive courtesy of Dr. Nemesis, Edmund bathed the underside of her shoes with the super-glue and stuck them to the floor. That was all. The tile was bound to be inevitably ripped up, but it'd be worth it. He meant to have her... occupied up until the last moment, which would force her to rush to work. And that morning, when she did leave, from across the room the camera would turn on from its position on the coffee table. |
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| Riva | Mar 19 2013, 09:02 AM Post #4 |
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“Eddy, it’s almost ten,” Riva insisted, wringing her dark hair with a towel as she looked at her reflection in the foggy bathroom mirror. No matter how much she wiped at the condensation, the clear patch merely fogged up again. Her fiancé wasn’t helping matters. “Ah’m serious. Ah—ohh, that’s nice—need to be at work—mmmm—fifteen minutes. Ed. Edmund! Cut it out!” Riva finally managed to wrestle herself away from her fiancé’s insisting hold and touches, swatting his grabby hands away as she tumbled out of the bathroom in a scrambling dash, sighing in frustration as she heard him chuckle. There was a slight limp to her gait, one she’d definitely have to hide once she made it back to the Brownstone or else suffer a day’s worth of teasing and not so covert snickering. “The hell is wrong with you?!” she called out behind her, grumbling as she slipped jeans—skinny jeans, at that—over freshly cleaned legs, which was pretty difficult even with a little telekinetic leverage. She tore across the bedroom like a tornado, putting on a fresh set of clothes and tossing the previous night’s ensemble into her overnight bag as usual, but with a lot more frantic rummaging. Her hair was a damp mess, but she didn’t dare risk another sojourn to the bathroom. Using the long mirror nailed behind his door, Riva made her best attempt to look presentable, finger combing her dark locks back and out of her face before snatching her bag, giving the space one last desperate look around. “WHERE ARE MY SHOES!?” she panicked, sparking another desperate search before she tore out into the hall, snatching up more discarded clothes of hers into her bag. Relief finally washed over her as she found her flats waiting innocently at the end of the hall, Riva slipping her feet quickly inside before taking her first running steps. SMACK. “Owwwww!” Narrowly avoiding smacking her chin against the tile floor, Riva tripped and hit the floor with her elbow, leaving spidering cracks with the impact. Each shoe now sported a matching tile beneath its sole, grating against the floor with a hideous sound that just couldn’t be good for Ed’s flooring. This, of course, triggered a slew of bilingual curses that devolved into primal noises of rage and aggravation, partly because she was definitely late to work now, but mostly because these were the second pair of her shoes that were lost or ruined this year, and it had barely even started. She was forced to pause, cracking off the tile and superglue with her bare hands until it was more or less off the soles before leaving his apartment in a fury and slamming the door shut behind her, limping all the way. January 21st, 4:30pm [align=center]Sugar, Spice, and Everything Nice[/align] So apparently, Edmund had a Youtube channel now. He’d been uploading their little escapades to the delight of thousands of anonymous web denizens online, raking up hits at a staggering rate. The Cajun girl’s booty shorts were quickly growing viral, a fact that Riva did not exactly appreciate. She could deal with the jeers from her coworkers, but when complete strangers were starting to recognize her on the street with cat calls and referencing her lacy unmentionables, well, things were going too far, and shit was about to get real. Pun intended. Her fiancé thought he was so clever, nailing her with his practical jokes when she was plagued with fatigue or strapped for time. Frankly, those were cheap tactics, and Riva was determined to hit back when Ed was nice and lucid. She wanted him to be very aware of the shit storm he’d started, and what better way to get even than with an apology? Yes, an apology. In Riva’s arm, she carried a very fancy and high-end baby blue box, stamped with the familiar logo of a local and very reputable bakery. She’d gotten that wonderful tiramisu from Gambino’s for their anniversary dinner, so she figured the dozen brownies packaged inside the box would be met with equally enthusiastic reception. She’d let herself in to Ed’s apartment, her telekinetic touch rendering a set of keys unnecessary. Time was of the essence, and she had a lot to do and prepare before her lovely little beau got home and got what was coming to him. Setting the box of brownies on the dinette table, Riva opened the lid and leaned forward, savoring their rich chocolate smell and smiling at their fluffy and sugar powdered decadence. Her handiwork. See, Riva had baked these brownies herself. Given her previous track record in the kitchen, it was a great accomplishment. Of course, she’d made these brownies with love and sweet vengeance. Her culinary victory carried a more sinister note, the deserts laced with a heaping helping of Ex-Lax. Edmund would never taste the difference, and once his guts started bubbling and the call of nature rang deeply inside of him, it would be too late. His fiancée would make sure of it, this next stage of their ongoing prank war actually a double-pronged attack. The moment Ed sits on his porcelain throne and succumbs to the violent movement of his bowels, then, and only then, would he know the treachery and evil Riva was truly capable of. Because she’d laced an entire roll of toilet paper with habanero juice and stocked his bathroom with it. Cackling to herself, Riva walked back out, setting up her camcorder on a shelf and disguising it with the clutter of knick knacks around it. She got a nice wide view of Ed’s apartment and the path of destruction she’d soon make before slipping away to the bedroom, stifling her giggles and making herself at home while awaiting his return from work. |
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| Lodestone | Apr 25 2013, 09:36 PM Post #5 |
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( Sorry for the wait, I'm a terrible fiance. ) Having to replace his floor had been more than worth it. The scream she made, barely making it out the door that morning to be on time, had all been caught on camera. Even if he knew the payback would inevitably get worse and worse, as it quite normally did, Edmund found their little prank war to be more than amusing. It gave him a sense of edge when being around her, waiting for something horrible to happen. It wasn't paranoia. It was more like waiting for someone to poke you in the ribs. Most of all, it was fun. In their lives, where travesty was always just lurking around a corner, where even now they were subject to being attacked by Spiral or any of the other Illuminati, it was a relief to know you could still laugh and find something to cherish in times of desperation. Even if they were mad at each other after being targeted for these pranks, at the end of the day Edmund could still laugh about it. Well... That was most of the time. Moving into his apartment, Edmund locked the door behind himself and kicked off his shoes in their typical spot by the door. The new tile had been well placed and still looked nice and fresh, something he gave himself a secret pat on the back for. He had learned from a young age to fix things, working in the kitchen with his father, tinkering with the pipes, laying tile, and all manner of handy skills. Those days were long gone, but the skill and know-how remained. Taking a moment to run his foot over the tile, he moved further in, setting about a typical routine of returning home. This began with finding a quick snack before he started dinner. To his surprise, a suspicious little package lay on his counter. Eying it, Edmund supposed his fiancé must have brought it along and left it here for later. Never did it cross his mind that she might have planted them for anything sinister. Riva didn't bake. Hell, she was lucky if she didn't burn water when boiling it. No. The familiar little logo was something they both adored, something they had shared on their anniversary. It was becoming one of their favorite places to go, as the bin of another box that had been full of cookies now lay at the bottom of his trash can. Opening the little treat box, Edmund delicately picked up one of the fluffy brownies and bit into it. From there, it was only a matter of time. About an hour later... A very distinct whine rumbled through his lower intestines. Sphincters clenched and something bubbled behind his navel. The beast growled relentlessly as the pressure built within and Edmund knew something horrible had happened. It had been a trap all along... "Shitshitshitshitshit," Edmund voiced as he made baby-steps with the greatest of haste. He paused three-fourths of the way to the bathroom, eyes wide with horror as the tension became so severe he was forced to stop. Almost... That was too close... He waited until that painful tension eased up some before pushing into the restroom. "Shitshitshit..." Edmund said as the door was thrown open. Hobbling along, his pants flew down his legs and he plopped onto the ivory throne. A great cacophony of horror sang out, accompanied by the greatest sigh of relief. There was flatulence abound. And some other stuff... Terrible stuff... But after a time, even with all that relief, Edmund became increasingly frustrated. He swore. Loudly. His day was completely ruined! This was going too far! It was one thing for a few jokes, but this? With his cheeks spread and who knew what coming out? The horror was that it wouldn't stop for a while. He'd have to make multiple trips for the rest of the day, well into the evening, just to get it out of his system. "Dammit, Riva," Edmund growled, probably twenty or so minutes after having sat down. Temporary relief from the horror allowed him a few minutes respite and finally, to clean. Reaching for the roll of toilet paper, Edmund didn't bother with any further details. He had no idea that what he had grabbed, folded neatly, and wiped himself with would be the second phase of his fiance's latest attack in the war on humor. Needless to say, Edmund found nothing funny about it as he yelled the yell of a thousand hot, burny, sore, butt sorrows. January 24th, [align=center]Princess Bubblegum[/align] His vengeance would not come swiftly. It would not come easily, either. Incapacitated throughout that night and more or less forced to spend it on the ivory throne that needed a fair bleaching, Edmund was not happy with her throughout the next day, nor the next few days after that. For obvious reasons, of course. However, though his guts now felt light and free and he probably lost a few pounds that he didn't need to lose, Edmund was still bitter about it. The rules of the game had changed. It was time for something... long lasting. Horizon Labs proved to be a beneficial resource, not only to the areas of science and technology, but also to its employees. The benefits were great, the hours... well, they changed depending on what was going on in the world. All in all, there was an abundance of curious things that could prove useful in a pinch. Medigels, unusual adhesives as Riva already discovered, and other such delightful little toys, Edmund had an endless resource of weird things to play with. So of course, he picked something incredibly basic, hoping it wouldn't explode. What Edmund had selected was currently being placed inside of the piping of the shower. It was a capsule, really. Easy to hide, easy to steal away from places it shouldn't be. From what Edmund knew, it was a prototype to check filter flow and to make sure everything was going right. If filters worked, then nothing happened. But if it different, well... Riva was soon to find out. Given that the capsule was designed for high-grade water treatment plants and not for shower heads, Edmund expected it to work just as he wanted. What little filtration there was just behind the shower head (honestly, showers didn't really have any right in the pipe behind the shower head at all...) wasn't going to be enough to hide the contents of the capsule. Was it mentioned that inside the capsule was a dye? A bright. Neon. Pink. Dye. It was harmless, of course. It's special property was that the dye's molecular structure was varied on a gradient from smaller to larger particles. This let it get through different filters to test their efficiency. The capsule membrane itself would last long enough in running before dissolving for maybe a minute, long enough for his fiance to wet her hair and close her eyes to the water as it came from the pipes. After that, the dye would be unleashed. Hopefully enough would get out to stain her skin for a few days. She might look like a bright pink lobster afterwards, but if she wanted to play a crueler game, she could do it as the Pink Panther. |
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| Riva | Aug 17 2013, 10:17 PM Post #6 |
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Steam slowly filled the bathroom as hot water poured from the shower head, air thick with water vapor, the vanity mirror fogging up. It was a temporary relief from the relative chill that always pervaded Ed’s apartment in the morning, and the hot water soothed sleepy muscles and aching joints and smoothed the fatigue out of her face. She already had a rich lather going in her hair, fingernails massaging into buzzed sides as the smell of strawberries and bananas rose steadily and filled her senses. Riva smiled, eyes closed as she ran the sudsy shampoo over her face and across slick skin, turned away from the jet as water lightly pattered on her head and back. It was probably a little ballsy of her, considering the ongoing exchange of mayhem and meanness going on between the couple, but Riva felt she’d made a very clear statement with her last prank. While she may not always start a fight, she would most certainly finish it, capitulating their impish series of tricks and pranks into something a little more, well, malicious. It’s all fun and games until someone bleeds out of their asshole, and Edmund was very aware of that lesson more than ever. Riva was very sorry for the pain and discomfort she’d caused her fiancé, though Ed might not have detected that amid her raucous laughter and jokes at the expense of his poor abused baboon butt—all, of course, caught and recorded and uploaded to a growingly popular channel. Maybe she’d gone a little too far with the habanero toilet paper. But as was said before, she’d wanted to send a message, and after a few days of tension and a tentative ceasefire around the two practical jokers, it seemed as though he’d finally gotten the hint. Riva was the last person you wanted to pull a prank on. Life resumed its normally scheduled programming, and after a week Riva returned to Ed’s apartment and for the most part lived there, the occasional work-related exceptions the only interruptions to their relative domestic bliss. But Riva would find out that ceasefires during wartime were all too short lived. Rinsing the sweet-scented shampoo from her hair, Riva tilted her head back into the stream, tussling naturally dark hair as she washed the remaining oils and such from her scalp, carefully shuffling in the shower as she moved further under the jet. Her skin was rosy under the heated water, a good exfoliating scrub part of her daily shower routine. Nothing out of the ordinary, that is, until something audibly popped in the showerhead, similar to a bang-snap or an old-timey cap gun. The casing of Edmund’s dye filter finally gave way with the heat of the water, and the shower head suddenly became a fountain of industrial-grade strawberry kool-aid. “SON OF A BITCH!” Alerted by the abrupt pop, Riva immediately noticed the streams of bright pink water coursing over her neck and shoulders and down her body, the Cajun woman scrambling away from the shower head’s range and pressing against the wall as far furthest from the cascade. Immediately, she noticed her skin was stained, flamingo-pink trails left behind by rivulets of water. “Ugh!” she growled in frustration, a quick burst of telekinesis sending a spray of water droplets away from her body, effectively drying her skin. But the marks remained, exfoliated pores cleaned and fresh and readily filled with pigment, and the shower head continued to vomit that flamboyantly colored water. Riva snarled to herself in a variety of colorful French words and phrases as she cut off the water, removing the shower nozzle with her hand, turning the attachment over as the culprit dye casing clattered on the shower basin. For the next hour, she scrubbed and scrubbed at her skin, screaming angrily at her fiancé from the bathroom as she valiantly tried to scour the evidence of his latest prank from her pale and very delicate skin, but to no avail. Eventually, she called in late. Two weeks later Noon [align=center]Sex Piñata[/align] It didn’t take much time and meditation to figure out that her fiancé was a fiendish, unscrupulous mastermind. Once again, he’d outsourced for his prank, drawing upon the fruits of Horizon Labs’s research labors. The glue he’d use to ruined a perfectly good pair of shoes was one of the strongest polymers known to man, as she later learned. As for the bright pink dye, it was meant for water purification purposes. Industrial-strength chemicals, shoved into their showerhead. Riva was only thankful that she hadn’t developed some horrible allergic reaction to the dye, though her skin did peel in some places after her frenetic attempt to restore her normal paleness. However, she hadn’t resorted to breaking limbs or clawing out eyes. No, not yet. She let the prank slide, a slap of the thigh and a patient smile. And she waited, letting the days go by without any fights or jabs, and for two weeks peace endured. Two weeks. Riva bid her time, making plans and arrangements, and all the while smiled lovingly while Edmund anticipated the inevitable, the comeback. And retribution eventually came. It was a normal Wednesday, the middle of a long and tedious corporate week. She didn’t have many cases at XFI, nothing high profile or adamantly time-consuming. Riva had finished running errands around town for the PI firm that afternoon and had even managed to question a reliable informant. It was smooth sailing after that, taking her sweet time on the company dime. She’d stopped at the Brownstone long enough to gather her things, cardboard box in tow as she took a quick trip to Horizon Labs. With a little help from an informant of her own, she waited until Ed had stepped out to lunch to set her nefarious plan in motion. Hanging from the ceiling in the middle of his cushy little office hung a sweet and festively-colored Mexican piñata, the little burro happily swinging. What was more adorable, though, were the burro’s accessories, little straps and cuffs and a customized gimp suit fashioned out of pleather. It was a labor of love, and a favor called in from a friend who happened to be into that sort of thing. But the real surprise rested inside the piñata, the paper-mache animal stuffed with penis-shaped lollipops, and nestled amid the bed of phallic-shaped delights was a small speaker. She waited outside, various employees sticking their heads out over their cubicle walls to watch the prank unfold and snickered to themselves as the man of the hour arrived, on his way back to his office. Riva gave a sly wink to Rhonda, the receptionist purposefully abandoning her post to witness what was about to happen. With a swipe on her phone, the small Bluetooth speaker turned on inside the piñata, and Edmund’s office was filled with very dirty and very passionate groans, moans, and grunts. “Ooh. Ungh! Oh God yes. Yes. Fuck! PUT IT IN MY POOPER!” Who was the mystery man on the speaker? Riva didn’t say, but she left it up to her fiancé’s coworkers to postulate. Riva only stood there, leaning against his office doorway as she offered him a stick and a smile. “Happy Hump Day, you stud.” |
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8:55 AM Jul 11