Rated M for language, violence and sexual situations.

A Red Damascus Steel and Scott Pilgrim Collaboration.


A man swathed in acrylic wool blankets fumbled around underneath them. Fits of giggles and soft moans echoed in the master suite bedroom he was currently fooling around in. The bumps underneath the sheets traversed wildly across the vastness of the mattress. Three lovely women, or as he liked to call them 'bodaciously hot babes', were at his disposal and he was going to fill them more than a pubescent teenager left alone with a sock. The various wet slaps and groans filled his ears until the most intoxicating whisper graced his canals.


The tanned and sinewy man popped out from beneath the blankets, sweat dripping down his milk chocolate brow, "Hello?"

The feminine voice, a bit stronger, spoke again, "Mirek…"

His hazel eyes wandered toward the door that led out to his suite. The gigantic windows gave him an almost full 360 degree view of Manhattan. There was no mistake, some woman had called out his name. It had to have been down the hall, somewhere downstairs. He was essentially on a roof in a hotel, overlooking the East River. The three women gently whined, having tried to pull Mirek back down, grabbing and tugging his brown mop of hair to tease him. However, he had lost interest in his bounty and felt nothing besides morbid curiosity; who called his name and is her body as intoxicating as her voice? He untangled himself from the ladies' limbs and the heap of blankets, stumbling toward the door. The three women were disappointed, sighing and whining as he took hold of the door knob. After debating, the three women shrugged and decided to go to town anyway, regardless of his lack of presence. Mirek whimpered, realizing what he was missing out on as he heard the wet noises and the hot smooching, but his entire being had been drawn toward the mysterious voice that kept calling out to him.

He had to investigate.

Mirek twisted the knob, pushing the door open as he sauntered down the steps that led to a well-lit, stone corridor. Doors were lined on the wall, going down as far as the eye could see. The deeper he traveled, the louder her sweet vocals became.

"I hear ya, woman," Mirek muttered under his breath, still feeling a particular frustration in his loins. "It'd be a lot easier if you just popped out instead of makin' me run my ass…"

The voice had steadily grown louder until it had abruptly reached an eerie silence. His head cautiously turned to stare at the suddenly lone door with an engraved number: 301. He reached for the doorknob and, as if hypnotized, everything in his peripherals had turned to black as he swung the wooden door open. He sauntered into a candle lit room with rose petals that led his eyes to a bed.

"Well, hello, mama…" the sinewy man bit his lip as he felt his muscles tense, mesmerized by the thick and curvaceous woman that laid on a queen sized mattress before him.

Her smooth skin was like creamy milk with emerald almond shaped eyes, piercing the very fabric of his being. Her hair was like the color of caramel, light brown and long. Her locks reached down to her bubble bottom, covering the strings that tied her kale colored lace corset together. His eyes wandered down to her black crotchless panties and garter stockings. She stood up in her kale colored stilettos before he could dare make a move. The woman towered over him, her curvy figure embodied power and it was oh so revealing; he was captivated. Her prominent features were emphasized with smoky makeup. This gorgeous doll of a woman was perfection and he wanted to defile it. She made the 'come hither' motion with her index finger, full and luscious lips curving into a perfect smile to which he met with his own. He plodded toward her, practically drooling at the corners of his upturned lips. As he reached out to touch her, she slapped away his hand. Mirek blinked, confused as he tried again, but achieved the same results. His hands trembled eagerly, attempting to shove her onto the mattress, but he had found himself on the floor with her surprising strength. The man grinned sheepishly at her; he was given the perfect vantage point beneath her and it was a sight he didn't mind with those crotchless panties.

He whistled a cat call, chuckling.

"Mirek, I need you to be serious for a moment," the woman who clearly had enough bite to back up that bark with her gorgeous body, pressed her stiletto heel onto his chest.

He winced, trying to relieve the pressure with his hands by pushing her heel up a bit, "Serious? Babe, with you lookin' like that, I'll do whatever you want me to."

The woman pressed her heel a bit deeper into his ribs, making him whimper, "Good, then I'll have you know that you need to find me."

"Find you? But you're right in front of me!" he cried out in pain, muttering aggravated curses as she dug her heel in deeper.

"No, really?" her sarcasm flared, exciting him with her European accent. Mirek couldn't place his finger on the accent because he couldn't concentrate given the pain and—well, his complicated position. She rolled her eyes, noticing his focus seemed squarely on her genitalia, "I meant when you wake up."

Mirek furrowed his brows, "What?"

The woman prayed for a moment, hoping this guy wouldn't be as useless and dense as he seemed to be right now. She gathered her bearings and smiled sweetly, her emerald gaze fell onto him, "I need you to go the Metropolitan Museum of Art. You will find me there."

"Why? Can't we at least have a little fun now?" He smiled weakly, still eyeing her crotchless panties.

However, his beguiling of her beauty was soon lost as she stabbed his chest. Her stiletto penetrated him like a blade, or as Mirek liked to think with sweet irony: a cock swiftly penetrating a tight ass, and the man began to cough horrendously, spewing up blood as he bled out on the floor. She twisted her heel, ripping it out as he spasmed. She smiled, leaning down to press her lips against his ear.

"Remember, I said MET Museum," the woman smiled sweetly as she got up, sashaying out the room while she left him to writhe in agony. "See you soon, Mirek."

The door slammed shut.

He groaned with literal heartache as he watched her walk out. "Bitch…" His eyes fluttered, struggling to remain open as he felt the air leave him; she stabbed him in the heart with a damn stiletto! He held the deep puncture wound, feeling his heart rupture as he blacked out.