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Ariadne

Everything we live with is touched by evil. It's not the kind you see in the movies, the nice, cute evil, that is vanquished by the hero with the white horse. It's the kind of evil that sends most people to quake under their covers until they soil their pristine, just-purchased clothes. It's the kind that people pretend doesn't exist, because to admit that it exists, would be to admit that it might exist in them, and to them, that's intolerable. It's hate; it's filth, and a dead angel, rotting in the mid-day sun. It takes a special kind of person to love something like that, because it does not accept love. You must hate it, but love to hate it, and hate to love it until your mind is blasted into that realm of perverted insanity that even the insane shrink from and sink deeper into their own insanity to avoid confronting it. But, once you sink yourself into it, it is the most rewarding thing in the world. Once you are covered in this filth, and at one with this filth, there is nowhere left to fall. Nothing can hurt you because you are at the base of everything, revelling in it all. For that matter, nothing tries to hurt you because to attack you would be to admit that you are part of the very same evil that they try oh-so hard to ignore. It's the ultimate power, the ultimate high.

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Ariadne stepped off the bus, relishing in the annoyed comments of the driver who remonstrated her for pushing her way through the crowds of departing passengers. With a wide smile, she took a deep breath of the city air; taking in every scent, from mingled cigarette and car exhaust fumes, to fast food odours wafting about. Closing her eyes almost blissfully, she took breath after breath, filing away the very smells of her new home, until they were ingrained upon her memory. Then, grabbing her bag, she stalked off confidently down into the city, finding the slums as easily as someone who had lived there their entire life.
She spotted a dark corner, and turned swiftly to it. She stepped into the shadows, vanishing from view to anyone outside the alley. In a swift movement, a hand dipped into a purse, and brought out a hand-rolled cigarette. The click of a lighter, and flames hissed into being, scorching the paper and plant into fulfilling their use. Ariadne took a long deep drag and blew the smoke into the air, just barely making out the hazy grey against the pitch black of the alley. She took another long drag, letting the smoke burn in her lungs, and puffed it out again, lolling her head to the side, enjoying the spinning sensation.
A hand pushed it's way out of shadows, groping her roughly, followed by an even rougher voice. "Looks like I?ve found myself a new-comer to my alley here. Do you know the price to pass through my alley honey?" It was a harsh masculine voice, grating and stupid. Calmly, not even blinking an eye, Ariadne touched the arms, and followed it up to the head, stabbing out her cigarette on the man?s neck. Swearing gushed forth, as Ariadne fished quickly in her purse, and brought out a small knife, slicing downwards, efficiently spilling all the blood to the side, keeping her clothes clean. She smiled at the death scream, and walked out of the alley, stowing the cigarette away for later use.
"Typical," she muttered to herself. I thought this city was going to be different."