My name is Rebel Star and I am not like most girls.


A common statement, I know and usually, the women that say this sort of thing, wind up being the embodiment of the typical, average female. In fact, it's almost a cliche. A thing that's said when a lady is trying really hard to stand out and gain attention, when she knows full well, in her heart of hearts, there's nothing particularly interesting about her. The fleeting attempt to grasp at straws. A desperate plea. Look at me! Notice me! I swear! I'm different, you'll see! It's kinda sad really, when you think about it and trust me, you will always be disappointed. Cause when you're truly unlike the rest, when you break the mold and destroy the stereotype, you don't need to say it or announce the fact, people will see it for themselves. It will be that undeniable factor that stands out, sticking out like a hitchhiker's sore thumb on a deserted highway. Garnering similar reactions, folks will either recognize you for who you are and choose to approach or stare straight ahead as they pretend that you don't exist and zoom right on by, hoping to never encounter you again.


There's no need to scream it to the heavens or shout it from the rooftops and be overly dramatic about it cause in the end, isn't that contradicting yourself? Women are classified and defined as being the paragon of drama, to shatter that impression and defy the assumed standard, would mean that you would do the polar opposite and avoid drama like the fucking plague. Correct? It's cool, I know I'm right, no need to answer. I also know this might make you want to point out the obvious contradiction in my words. Relax. I realize saying all this after I stated that I wasn't like most girls, discredits the value of my own testimony but please, allow me to further embellish.


When I spoke, I didn't mean I wasn't similar to most girls because I'm a laid back, easy going, drama free, girl next door wearing jeans, a t-shirt and a pair of converse, that can chill with the guys, shoot the shit and watch the game, while drinking a beer and scarfing down on pizza. Cause that's not really so uncommon either. It's so well known, they use it as a typecasted role in popular films and television programs. When I said I'm not like most girls, I meant I am - literally, not like most girls. And no, that doesn't mean I'm a trans-gender female, I don't have a dick and I'm not in the process of transitioning from male to female. It means, even though I may look like any other blue haired girl out there with a rebellious streak, there are certain common factors that are usually a well known biological aspect of being a woman, that don't apply to me. And then, there are some extra features that I wield that aren't normally a part of any average human's capabilities.


In spite of the latter, lets remain looking at this from a purely female perspective, shall we?


Some women, take it upon themselves to learn about car maintenance and repair, I can lift one over my head, with the ease of picking up a paper cup. There are ladies out there that get into MMA or join the marines, I can take getting hit with a wrecking ball, crash through several brick buildings and plummet fifty stories to the ground below, get up and walk it off. I have enhanced endurance, flexibility, dexterity and stamina. I don't grow hair below my neck, have never gotten my period nor will I ever get it and I can't have children. While being fully mature, I am low maintenance, with little risk factor. My body also won't cultivate any known disease and it will repair itself, should I acquire any damage, although as I mentioned already, inflicting injuries upon me, is no easy task in itself. One would have to be pretty damn powerful and special to pull that feat off. Either that or they'd have to be extremely lucky. Which isn't impossible, I've seen it happen on both ends of the spectrum, both good and bad alike. Still, there's no questioning the fact that you'd have something out of the ordinary, present on your side if you're able to impose desecration to this form or administer wounds to me.


I'm certain my claims will either have you calling me a liar or wondering just what precisely made it all possible by now. Well, there's an explanation for that as well, I was born this way or rather, I was created this way. (With the exception of my extraordinary strength. That was an enhancement that was gifted to me by a close friend, during a time of duress, in a situation of the most dire variety.) Derived from a test tube and incubated within a stasis chamber, where my body matured and my brain developed. I remained in a dormant "sleep state" while I received all the nutrients and supplements that I needed to grow, until I reached the proper stage and then I was removed or "woken up" to begin the next step in my intended journey. You see, I was produced in a factory in Japan that manufactured living sex dolls or "Trixies" as they called them. Living beings that were made for the sole purpose of pleasure and sold to anyone with the adequate funds.


All that was required was a credit card number and an address and you too, could own a "Trixie". There wasn't a screening process or background check, all you needed to do was fill out an order form and hit submit. Once the payment went through, you could be happy in the knowledge that your "Trixie" would be sent on its way and within three to five weeks, she would be all yours. Nothing more than a piece of property to do with her as you pleased, she would loyally obey your every command, never once objecting or even uttering the word - no. Because she wasn't designed that way, it just wasn't in her genetic make-up. On top of that, they sold "enhancement" injections that could further alter your "Trixie", in any way that you wanted or saw fit to do, even if that "enhancement" wasn't in her best interest or downright harmful. It didn't matter, as long as the consumer was satisfied that's all that was important.


This would have been my destiny, if fate didn't intervene. Instead of climbing out of my pod a willing slave, ready to do whatever I was told to do and please my intended future master, until my body would no longer permit me the ability to do so... I "woke up" with a keen sense of my surroundings, intelligence, total awareness, full comprehension and free will. In other words, I was deemed defective and eventually I was sentenced to be repurposed and used for spare parts. Sort of like organ donation but against my will cause it involved my termination, in order for it to happen. However, the man that was behind the "Trixies" invention, a scientist by the name of Izanagi Hikaru, couldn't go through with it. He couldn't have me destroyed despite his orders demanding otherwise. In his eyes I was a unique, irregularity and even though he came up with the whole living sex doll, pleasure slave concept, he could not bring himself to kill his creation. So he smuggled me out of the factory, gifted me with enough yen to survive and then sent me on my way to America. New York to be exact and the rest... is history.


The years that followed would be a learning experience but I would eventually adapt as I thrived and survived, whatever life tossed my way. Like a dandelion through the crack on the cement, I was the weed that wouldn't die, the misfit girl that wouldn't quit or give up, no matter what. It wasn't always easy, especially since I had to play student and teacher, to myself. After a while, I adjusted and got used to it all and as time continued to pass, I soon became fully assimilated and integrated into my new world. No one would ever suspect that I came out of a test tube and was grown in a pod! I fit in, dare I say I felt normal.


Over time I would meet others. Individuals that would soon become trusted allies and close friends. They made me feel accepted and less alone in the world. Sharing moments of triumph and tragedy, joy and sorrow, love and loss, never judging... they would have my back always, no matter what. And through them I was accepted into a team of heroes, valiant warriors that pledged to keep the world safe. Which gave me a sense of purpose. I would even fall; head over heels, in love, with one of the most powerful beings in the universe and the only man on this planet that might actually be stronger than me. Azrael Erebus. My current boyfriend and the alien with whom I share a home.


That's Rebel Star in a nutshell for you, ladies and gents and while I might not be like most girls, at the same time... I am just like any girl. Any extremely fortunate girl. Mine is a priceless life of contradiction that I wouldn't exchange for anything in the universe. And I didn't need to share this with you, I don't require validation or approval, I wanted to do it. Perhaps now when you see me, you'll understand me a little better.




"Oh geez! You startled me!"


"Hello to you too, my love."


Azrael Erebus stated from his place on the sofa, where he was laid across the cushions like he had either been tossed there or he appeared at one end and simply fell backwards, directly over the arm rest. Thus filling the entire vacancy of the couch.


"Sorry. I knew you were on one of your adventures and I didn't know when you were going to return. I was gone for like two seconds, I grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, came back to the living room and you were here. My mind was on the stuff that I was doing online, I wasn't expecting to see you, suddenly occupying the entire sofa."


Laughing, Rebel retrieved her laptop, from the coffee table in front of the sofa and dropped down into a sitting position, within the comfort of a pink zebra print bean bag chair that sat nearby. An obvious addition from her previous apartment.


"Yeah, well I just came straight on through the couch door, figured I'd stay lying here, considering that's how I entered."


A soft chuckle.


"It's been a long day."


"I see. Was your mission that much of a success, that it completely drained every ounce of energy out of you?"


"The results were as good as could be expected. With every positive outcome there always tends to be unexpected storm clouds though. Nothing can ever simply end well, smooth sailing all of the way, there always has to be those unexpected tidal waves, threatening to capsize the boat. Keeps me on my toes, I suppose."


Deep, heavy sigh.


"Where did you go?"


"Purgatory."


"Purgatory?"


"Yep. Purgatory. Went with Joachim and Lux to find the Engineer. Sat through his trial, said goodbye and then watched him disappear. He's got a whole, brand new life, ahead of him now. A fresh start. Still won't stop me from checking in on him, from time to time. You know, to make sure he's safe and what not."


"You can do that?"


"I have my ways. If his death hadn't been a fixed point, I would have simply gone back in time and cured his cancer but there are some things, even I can't do. There are certain events that are meant to occur and like the rest of the world, I must accept that fact."


Azrael shut his eyes.


"No matter how difficult they are to digest."


"Did something else happen when you were there?"


An expression of concern crossed Rebel's face as she shut her laptop.


"Stella was there, her trial was set to take place, right after Dexter's."


"Stella Blackwater?"


"Yes. Stella Blackwater. Donovan, Ezra and Raphael's mother."


"What happened?"


"I don't know."


"What do you mean, you don't know?"


"I mean, I don't know. I brought Joachim and Lux back and when I returned, she was gone. Her fate had already been decided and I missed it. Master of time, space and reality, and I was too late."


"Are you going to tell the boys? That you seen their mother?"


"I have to. Of that there is no question. At least then, they'll get some type of closure. I hope. Some is better than none. Maybe then Donovan can stop stressing about her being at large and lurking about the streets. The escaped mental patient."


"When do you plan on telling them?"


"Sooner rather than later."


Eyes open and focused on Rebel, Azrael propped himself up on his elbow. His head resting on his hand, he lounged on his side and settled further back into the sofa. Which left a nook, that seemed to call Rebel's name.


"Why?"


"Cause I have to tell you something... about Donovan and I'd prefer to tell you, before he does."


On her feet again, Rebel chucked her laptop onto the pink zebra print beanbag chair and walked over to the couch.


"Alright, what's going on?"


Her body finding solace in the recess next to Azrael's form, Rebel's gaze met his and he smiled.


"First you gotta promise not to get mad."


It was a statement that stirred a snicker from Azrael. He tried to hold it back but it was useless.


"That depends, are you about to tell me some, Maury Povich type shit?"


"No!"


"Then sure, I promise I won't get upset with you."


"I'm facing Donovan in the first round of Lethal Lottery."


"Okay. And?"


"That's it. I have to fight your son. I didn't know if that would piss you off or not."


"Oh well, when you spell it out like that, on second thought, I'm furious! You mean to tell me this isn't a cookie baking competition??? Wow! Unbelievable! I am beside myself with rage!"


"Really?"


"No. Not at all."


"What if I... hurt him? Bad."


"Are those your intentions?"


"No..."


"They should be cause I know my son and he's not going to pull any punches on account of you being my girlfriend. He knows exactly what you're capable of doing and he's going to come at you full force. You better be ready to respond in kind and take care of business."


"He's your son though!"


"So!"


"I'll feel... guilty, if he becomes injured."


"That's tremendously sweet but please, don't allow the fact that he's my son to hinder your performance in that ring. Kick his ass. Wipe the canvas with him. Donovan's a big boy, he can handle it."


"Are you sure?"


"Absolutely. You have my permission... nay, you have my blessing to beat down Donovan in that ring. Do not show any restraint. I promise you, he will feel more respected if you don't. Treat him like you would anybody else in that ring and make it your goal to put him down."


Brief pause.


"Out of curiosity, who's his partner?"


"'Box Office' Brian O’Haire."


"And who's your partner?"


"Jake Avery."


"Yeah, it's going to come down to you and Donovan, those two pretty much cancel themselves out. He's going to want to aim to entertain and I know you'd prefer to take on a worthy adversary. Pull the trigger on the metaphorical pistol babe and shoot to kill."


Azrael reached up and pulled Rebel down, so she was laying next to him and he wrapped his arms around her. Placing a kiss on her head, he whispered.


"Without actually killing him."

Former...
King of the XWF