[h3][color=goldenrod][center][b][i]Francisca Labrys Seax Luxaria[/i][/b][/center][/color][/h3]

Fran didn’t want to admit it. She wasn’t going to accept this. She refused to submit to her weakness, to admit defeat. She will overcome this. But there was no denying that for all her strength, Fran had a fatal flaw…

She had no idea how mortal technology worked.

She was no surfacer. She’s spent a good part of her life in Loom fucking and fighting, more of the latter ever since that cursed chastity belt was slapped onto her. And even so Fran just wasn’t in a fighting mood right now. She was hungry, but for a succubus she didn’t feed off food or drink. Well she can, but it wouldn’t be nearly as satisfying as feeling the life energy of a man or woman through intercourse. Even the best food for the gods themselves would just be snacks to the simple pleasure of sex. But alas, this cursed chastity belt took that away from her. So now Fran was trying to order pizza.

[color=goldenrod]”Blood and Damnation! By the hells why is this so difficult?”[/color] Fran was at a pay phone, holding onto a flier. The Flier advertised quick pizza delivery anywhere within the city of Loom, and Fran hoped they could drop it off near her hideout: an abandoned bathroom in a park. Perhaps not the most… Glorious places to live, but Fran’s had worse. When you have literally slept with the dogs, a cold, dark latrine was hardly the worse places to be. At least the water was still running. But alas, Fran had no idea how this machine worked. She pressed the buttons and matched the numbers to what was on the flier, but it would only give her a long tone. Fed up with this, Fran smacked the payphone and drew her axe.

[color=goldenrod]”I’ll spare everyone else of your uselessness!”[/color] Lifting her axe above her head, Fran smashed the payphone into two, splitting it from top to ground. A loud, electrical explosion boomed from the wrecked machines. Also coins, but Fran didn’t care for chump change. Also she didn’t have pockets, only cash which she had stuffed into her breastplate. She had no purse or pockets for coins, though occasionally she would take a handful for easy purchases like soda or gum. Feeling tired and bored, Fran figured that this is what she’d do. So she took a few of the larger coins and went to go look for a vendor machine. With any luck she’d find one that would serve hot and ready food, like burritos or cake. She knew they were here, though she was too far from the last one she used.

Sighing, Fran looked into the skies. A new habit that formed since she had arrived to the surface world: the skies had things to look at. She didn’t remember what it was like back in the hells, but the only reason you’d look up there was because you were knocked down. But here, Fran can look into the skies and see… Clouds, the sun, birds, and sometimes even airplanes. Airplanes were impressive to Fran. She had heard of the metal ships that sailed hundreds of thousands through the skies, faster than any dragon or winged beast. If someone would have told her that ship could have carried a small army across the world in less than a day, she would have assumed powerful magics. One day Fran would want to ride an airplane.

And have sex with someone on an airplane. She heard about something called the “1000 mile high club”, exclusive for those who wish to have sexs on airplanes while it flight. Also that airplane attendants were cute. One day Fran would have both.

For now however Fran simply wandered through Loom. She had arrived to Loom hoping for new possibilities in her life. Things were getting so monotonous in the hells, to the point she would be able to schedule it out. In the mornings she’d get paid to fight a demon or in a battle, and she’d fight for that day or at least a few hours. Then she’d leave the battlefield and find a demon for rough, unloving fucking. Then she’d go home, polish her axe, and maybe either listen up on local rumors or go to bed. It was that cycle for so long that Fran wondered if she was actually a robot, one of those human puppets. She certainly had the mindless work ethic down.

Hence why Fran made a break for the surface. Back where she lived, a chance like this wasn’t easy. While where she lived wasn’t quite a prison, leaving it was a death sentence. You may as well have hobbled yourself for a quick and easy death. Fran didn’t quite remember how she got out herself. She knew she wasn’t chosen, that it wasn’t an offer given to her. One day she just heard that there was a chance to get out, and she was one of the thousands to have tried to take it. And she was one of the five who actually made it. She thought a change of scenery was what she needed to start a new, better life for her. One that’s more fulfilling. 

But so far she’s just been going back to her old ways, but even less interesting. The few times she’s fought with anyone, and she gets attacked by Angels. That was exciting, but then they slapped this chastity belt on her. Now after her fights, she can’t even feed. Sure she could try to rub against something, but that was about as effective as licking food instead of eating it. She would get the taste, but she could never satisfy herself with it. And with the lost of her sex drive, Fran’s eagerness to fight went down as well. She didn’t go looking for battles anymore, not like before. Sure she’d take jobs when they came her way, but now they were boring ones. Guards this. Protect that. No more killing jobs, no more assassinations. It was like this chastity belt not only deprived Fran of sexual pleasure, but violent ones as well. It was torture.

There were days Fran wondered if maybe it should all come to an end. This life on the surface hasn’t worked out quite as well as she’d hoped. It anything it was worse. At least in hell she could lose herself in the regularly scheduled ultra violence. Sometimes she might even fight a new demons with some tricks up his sleeve. But here Fran was deprived of these simple pleasures. So all she could do was eat and eat, until she’d finally waste away.

As Fran lost herself in the skies she noticed a winged humanoid flying away. [color=goldenrod]”An angel?”[/color] Fran has had… Less than pleasant memories of angels. Obviously, it was one of them that had put this cursed garment on her. But at the same time, she couldn’t truly bring herself to despise her holier-than-her counterparts. Sure she could hate individual angels just fine, but angels as a whole? She didn’t have a problem with them. They were so pretty, so powerful… And Fran has never had sex with an angel before. Was that even possible? She heard chimeras in this world were hybrids of demons or angels. Perhaps Fran could make a Hybrid of a Demon and Angel?

Only one way to find out.

The angel was flying far and fast, but Fran knew these streets well enough. Ducking into an alleyway she found a fire escape. For most humans it would require great feats of athleticism to reach the rooftop quickly, but for a demon like Fran it was child’s play. She easily leapt ten feet into the air, grabbing the railing of the fire escape and planting her feet on the side to propel her up. Like a cat on the prowl Fran continued to jump, grab, and launch until she reached the rooftop, where she would have a much clearer path to follow the angel. Even when there were streets dividing sections of buildings, with enough momentum Fran was able to clear these easily, continuing her chase for as long as she could. She wanted to see where this angel was going. See if there was trouble she could get herself involved in.

[hr]

[h3][color=00a651][center][b][i]Donny Yang[/i][/b][/center][/color][/h3]

No rest for the wicked, as Donny always said. It was business as usual at Omnibite’s Performance Plaza HQ. It was one of the busiest locations of the Omnibite’s restaurants, thanks to it’s location near the Master Melody’s Academy for Fine Arts. If it weren’t students ordering food all over the city, then it was delivered to the store or picking up shipments from warehouses. When Donny came in he had about thirty minutes to get all his equipment and begin his deliveries: twelve locations which he needed to finish within three hours, get back to the HQ, and get ready for more deliveries.

But that was business as usual for this good ol boy. If anything, he was surprised it was so light. Normally he’d have to deal with 30, but 12 was better. He could use his bike for 12 deliveries. So with an assortment of pizzas, ramen, cakes, and other catering, Donny hooked up his bike to the business’s official bikewagon. Or as those in the business calls it, “The D’s Chariot”, since Donny, the emptonomous D, was the only one who ever made use of the bikewagon. Mostly since others use cars. But Donny felt faster on a bike, and it certainly allowed him to avoid most traffic. 

With his route shipped out Donny left the HQ and was on his way. His first three were all clustered together in a single apartment, so he’d only need to make their deliveries and he could go. The apartment was about a mile away, and despite being on a bike that was easy for him. He took shortcuts through the alleys, taking bridges, tunnels, and even going up stairs. Those with a passing familiarity to Omnibites knew this fat boy on the bike, as he has already been everywhere in Loom at least once, and once managed to travel all of Loom in one day. Now THAT was an intense delivery route.

[color=00a651]”Malkus, put on the beats! Play my Gotta Go Fast playlist!”[/color] Donny seemingly shouted at nothing, but in his pocket his phone, the Omniscience IV, heard it’s name called and did as it commanded. It started playing a [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=doEwWzMz99A]song[/url] through Donny’s headset, to help him get musically pumped for the challenge ahead. The music inspired him to be faster, to see thing he too fast for most such as cars and the wind, allowing to to turn on a dime so smoothly, with such control, it was as if he simply teleported.

Donny’s first delivery went without a hitch. He grabbed the orders he needed, parked his bike, and in five minutes collected the money he was due and was right back onto his route. Now was for the next part of the challenge: crossing the main street. It was always busy, and for a sensible person they’d simply wait until the traffic lights were green before they went. But not Donny. There was a part of the main street which was thin, and at this part there was an alley. And this alley went down hill. So spending one of his free days off, Donny had rigged up a ramp for him to jump off of and land onto the other side, allowing him to subvert even heavy traffic. But he needed to be fast. So he would become speed.

Most bikes barely break 20 mph even on a freefall (Probably). But for Donny to clear this jump, with all his cargo intact, he’d need to hit at least 65 off the ramp. It was just a rough estimate of course, it wasn’t as if his bike had a speedometer on it. But he knew it in his head how fast he needed to go, and he was going fast enough now. He just needed to bring that speed all the way up the ramp and he was good to go. He had only seconds before he’d hit the alley, and he can’t lose any speed in that turn.

[color=00a651]”Ara ara ara ara ara!”[/color] Donny chanted as he biked harder, his legs pumping and sweat dripping off his body. He was two minutes ahead of schedule, but that was two minutes he can’t waste. Not a second to spare for the limitations he’s placed on himself. Some may question Donny’s dedication and effort to the job. He was just a delivery man after all. It wasn’t a prestigious or even noble occupation. He delivered food to people: why put so much effort and risk so much for it? He was no teacher, no enforcer, not even that high into the upper management. So why did Donny risk so much for his job?

Because when he was hired, thanks to the efforts of his sister, she told him there was only one rule. And as long as he followed that rule, everything else was just a guideline. And her rule was simple: Don’t fail.

A rule he’s already broken before because he’s tried to play by the books. He was late on deliveries, got into accidents, and on one unfortunate incident got robbed. So now Donny plays by his own rules. He does things his way, because that’s what works best for him. Playing it safe and trying to hide behind a corporate banner might work for the punchclock, but Donny was a profession with standards. A man with honor. And his honor demands a timely, possibly even early delivery of his cargo to their appointed customers.

Nothing short of death was going to stop Donny from delivering deliciousness.