The sounds of violence echoed through a penthouse apartment in a sleepless city. The name of the city hardly mattered, not when so much of it took place so far away, in many locations other than this one. Anyway, they were realistic sounds, to say the least. The voice of an Australian woman was strong and commanding when the gunshots stopped echoing through the open rooms in the large living space that was a rich bachelor pad, it was a voice much like one would imagine hearing had Nick Fury been female, "Any last words...<strong>Captain</strong>Chaos?" This was followed by the sound of a man blubbering and incoherently pleading for mercy. Two high caliber gunshots then echoed through the room, and a smirk formed on the face of Ender Starr, the infamous female-to-male transsexual gamer, as blood distorted the first person view of a slain commando outlined by futuristic goggle vision on the massive, slightly curved plasma television he was lounging in front of. He had designed nearly all the ins and outs of this game, and this was the release night of the online functions. He was a rich man, but only recently so. The memories of being a quiet girl named Erin, living in a rural community with an abusive foster family never really left him, but moments like these eased that pain. He severed the digital image of his online opponent's hand, and then equipped his knife to skillfully mutilate the body's head, all the better to remove its eye. These two body parts would come in handy for entering the fallen opponent's base upon next log in. With the night still young and the man who had dominated the leader board ruined, the game's creator logged out and pulled up a foldaway keyboard after stowing the controller in a charging compartment hidden in the arm of the recliner. He sat up and pulled up the browser he used on his supercomputer.<br/><br/>"Hm... some posts." Ender scrolled through the custom browser on her own private email server, deleting emails at a wild pace, even ignoring messages from family members and dating sites until one stood out and she read its title aloud, which made the browser select it by voice command, "Exclusive Invitation, R-S-V-P." He glanced at the sender name a moment. "Hm... Red Star Adult Entertainment?" There was a brief shrug of his naked shoulders, before he commanded in his strong, effeminate tone, "Open." The email was easy to read on the massive screen, and yet its reader pulled out a pair of expensive glasses and placed them on his face to read it all the better. He couldn't help enjoy hearing his girlish voice murmur each of his favorite parts, causing the computer to highlight them and scroll each time, "Exclusive beta membership... Gothic setting, with authentic structure and furniture... Free exotic entertainment, including one in house escort of choice... No public act too indecent..." The rest of the message was just a bonus compared to what really interested the upstart video game tycoon.<br/><br/>Thirty minutes later, he stepped out of his solid black 1967 Ford Mustang in his best black tuxedo and top hat, both complimented by red trimming, and tossed his keys to a fairly young valet. The valet caught them by the correct key, and he looked overjoyed to be driving an American muscle even if it was just to park it. The structure Ender stepped casually toward was ominous and decorated in statues of weeping angels and gargoyles. The only entrance was guarded by armed men wearing business suits. Each wore light shades to reduce glare, and had an earbug for better communication. Being a military veteran, Ender could tell that the men were, simply put, military veterans as well. "What's the code phrase?" the eldest of them exclaimed when the dark figure approached. Ender raised his head, and he realized as thunder boomed and raindrops started to pattern on the brim of his hat, that his entrance was perfectly timed for drama. Keeping a straight face, he milked it for all it was worth as he showed such a face to these guards, his feminine voice rasping like a true goth, "I've come to sin under the light of a Red Star." The guards froze a moment as they were truly intimidated, but their leader smiled as he handed Ender a shimmering silver card before exchanging cryptic words. "You are the first, and lead a way down the darkest path of all." The gaming genius gazed at the card, as a few raindrops bounced off of it. It was a premium membership card, and he gave it little thought as he entered the lobby. The furniture was antiquated, but well maintained. The only modern thing in the room were an entrance and exit, both locked by electronic keycard devices. Ender imagined massive magnetic locks barring anyone from intruding.<br/><br/>The woman at the main desk of the lobby was standing at a large round desk that looked to be straight from the nineteenth century, and yet she was surrounded by the glow of roughly a dozen computer monitors and had a modified M14 rifle strapped to her back. It offset her Victorian era dress in a way Ender found strangely arousing. "Please scan your card and enter, Master Starr. Just be warned... you won't exit as the man you were before," the lobby matron mentioned with a sly wink. The wink was returned, and Ender went as far as to tip his hat to such a woman before slipping the card quickly through the device. The magnets shifted loudly in the wall, and the door swung forward, allowing the first patron of Red Star to step into the club itself. There was an open bar with a wise looking tender, surrounded by fine beauties of varying cultures, each dressed as goth upper class bar wenches of the time period the club was bringing back to life. And yet, the lighting, which looked as old as that time, flickered and strobed in places to the beat of the dark, modern music. The dance floor seemed authentic to that time as well, and yet it was lit by panels just underneath the carpet that alternated colors to match the complexity of the music. Most of the furniture seemed in order, and yet a few pieces of it were nailed up side down to the ceiling, or poked out of the wall. Some were even suspended from nearly invisible cables and seemed to hover about. It did "down the rabbit's hole" justice, because the DJ looked light a mad hatter in every respect, and a girl in a white bunny leotard with a matching headband was leaning against him in an act of worship to his authentic skill on the mixing board.<br/><br/>Ender stepped up to the device and pulled a money clip loaded with five twenty dollar bills from his coat. He had half expected to leave this club and go to his favorite, but he was ready to test the DJ on an important track. "Blue Monday, and give it the sweet, sweet voice of The Birthday Massacre," the gamer commanded. The current track faded, and the electric lightening of the track display glinted off of the handsome DJ's eyes as he found what he needed. The heavy electronic track broke the brief silence, and a few instruments from another song joined the mix, and were gradually distorted to match the beat. The one listener slowed smirked, then grinned as the mix improved. The money clip rattled across the face of the custom electronics, and Ender tilted his hat and began to dance. The song would reach its climax in four minutes, in which he would shameless break dance to the very end, and throw his money clip at the DJ with all the velocity of a weapon. The dexterous hand of the skilled music mixer caught it with ease. "Hand me your membership card, and I will record it onto that," the DJ offered with a demure smile.<br/><br/>Soon, a bar wench took Ender's hat and coat, and he was seated at a lone table with a good view of a somewhat operatic styled stage. The girl primped Ender's jet black hair and marveled at his naturally violet eyes before pulling his seat out for him. She then pushed him close to the table and leaned forward a little, showing a bit of cleavage for the guest while holding out a pen and paper to take an order. "You are early, Master, and so you have first pick of escorts and the first drink, which will become the day's special. And if you prefer escorts of the male persuasion..." she perked in a husky, seductive voice. "Bring your youngest, palest female escort and dress her in the blackest of black," Ender said with a wry smirk. "Oh-ho-hohh~ How delightfully deviant, Master! And what would you have her drink with you?" the particularly busty bar wench asked, her pen going wild in the excitement. "Warm Bloody Mary, with a stalk of celery to garnish," Ender replied, appreciating the humor of his choice as it referred both to vegans and vampires. The giggling caused those two gorgeous breasts to jiggle, and one easy to humor bar wench was soon running toward the bar, nearly staggering once in her high heels. It was clear Ender had gained a lot of attention from the staff, because there was both laughter and cheering behind the bar.<br/><br/>A moment later, Ender had both of his feet propped up on the table, ankles crossed, and was lazy in the aftermath of some fresh wheat bread he had been offered with his first drink. A shy voice came from the dark behind him with the sound of the clearing of her throat. "My name is Dahlia... and I am here for your pleasure in your journey through darkness, Master Starr," the stoic voice of the girl in the shadows finally said. Ender listened to her quiet breathing for a moment, testing the behavior of the escort. She was clearly waiting to be spoken to. The genius gamer, aged of thirty-six years, settled with more poise upon his seat. He knew the girl had to have been no more than eighteen years of age, and perhaps as young as sixteen. And yet, the transsexual allowed his deviant smirk to return. "Have a seat."<br/><br/>The girl revealed herself as she stepped into the isolated light of the lone table, a girl who clearly was the age of sixteen but was covered shoulder to shoulder, breast to pubis, thigh to ankle in tribal tattoos. Her black hair was worn in such long, voluminously curled pigtails and she wore so little clothing. Ender's eyes scanned the girl from the crown of her head to the tips of her toes. Blood red eye contacts, a black tube top, a black miniature skirt with completely unnecessary little petticoats, a seductive garter belt, suggestive fishnet stockings and pumps made from fine glass were all that adorned the beautiful, naturally pale girl. "The... other seat," Ender's voice commanded again. But there was only one other seat at the table for two. And so, Dahlia took that seat on the patron's lap, and reclined back against him. She blushed as she settled on top of the bulge under the man born woman's pants, but she still managed to relax.<br/><br/>A familiar face stepped from the darkening dim between the tables, and the bar wench from before blushed as well to see the escort of choice getting comfortable. She set two more Bloody Marys on the table and took an empty glass. He fingernail tapped one of the drinks with a wink at the escort who was old enough to seduce, but too young to drink. And with that, she sashayed away patiently, more than happy to give Ender a view of her full hips swaying in thanks for a generous twenty dollar tip. The escort and the veteran gone gamer had a short conversation about their careers, and it was a time in which Ender discovered that the girl had been a young drug addict, and that the owner had saved her from an early suicide. The girl purposefully sipped the alcoholic of the two beverages with her client, and they became friends despite Ender's helpless arousal. He did not order her to please him, but made the most of introductions for now because the night was still so very young. The next guests were arriving, one at a time, occupying the neighboring tables a fair distance away from each other in the romantic setting. Their presence was hardly noticed by the two in the corner, who were happily blushing and chattering away.