(OOC: Amp's FP intro, broken into smaller posts so its not so long.)

Flies.

Flies were the bane of the earth. At least one of them, anyway. They buzzed around mindlessly, their only aims in life to annoy, feed their sweet tooth, and make more flies. You swatted at them, shooed them away, even hit them. But they didn’t get the point. They kept right on their dull, meaningless way.

Men. Men were like flies. Especially human men. Their ‘sweet-tooth’ may have been more varied than a fly’s, but they were just as annoying and mindless. The didn’t know how to take a hint when to buzz off. They couldn’t even comprehend the obvious ‘swat’, in the form of two little letters: N. O. Couldn’t get much clearer than that.

Flies. Men. Both mindless. Both clueless. Both pests. And both seemingly in endless supply.

”Hey there, Red. Imagine seeing you here again.”

Take this pest for instance. Four nights at the same bar. Four nights approaching the same lone redhead at the edge of the club. Four nights of the same corny pickup lines. And four nights of the same, two-letter reply to said pickup lines. Yet here he was, on Night Five, single-minded, clueless, annoying. Same as always. Granted he was dressed better than most of the others, in classy black, silk polo and sharply pressed trousers combo. And he sported enough gold to restock Fort Knox. But he still didn’t seem to get the point of the word ‘no’. So.... definitely a pest.

And sometimes, there was only one way to deal with pests.

Amp smiled over the lip of her martini. ”My, you’re a persistent one. Donnovan, was it?”

Donnovan.flashed a perfect smile. ”You must be persistent to get what you want.”

”We can’t always have what we want.”

”Maybe. But I tend to be a sore loser.”

Amp’s eyelids drooped slightly, and her voice took on a sultry timbre. ”Well, we can’t have you a sore loser, now can we?”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thumps and bumps sounded against the wall, accompanied by groans and moans, persistent enough to wake Mr. Jacob and Mrs. Beatrice MacDowell. Beatrice mumbled grumpily as her husband began banging on the wall shared by the two apartments.

”Keep it down over there!”

Something crashed next door, as if something had fallen over in the direction of the bathroom. Jacob banged again. Beatrice rolled over and retrieved a pair of earplugs from the nightstand.

”Oh, just ignore them, Honey.”

“Hormone-crazed kids. What happened to the days when they did that mess in the hotels?” he grumbled, as he accepted another pair of earplugs.

”That’s nice, Dear.” Beatrice couldn’t hear anything anymore, not even the sound of running water nearly half an hour later.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Amp frowned at the woman in the bathroom mirror, as she adjusted her top once more. She couldn’t quite get her bra to sit properly, and it annoyed her. Finally she sighed, and gave up. She looked alright, anyway. It had taken nearly twenty minutes to get herself rearranged properly, but at least now she was on the homestretch. Only makeup left now. Starting with the bleeding cut at her temple. She dabbed the blood away carefully, and applied a liquid bandage.

”You know, Donnie, I must admit, you’ve got a nice place here, though I’d have never guessed from the outside. Most people with your credit line go for the penthouses and country estates.”

She began applying foundation to hide the cut, leaning forward to be sure she covered it well, then moved onto the rest of her face.

”If you want my opinion though, it’s not very smart keeping to carry around your social security card like that. Thieves don’t always look for the obvious hit.”

Foundation done, on to the eyes. They just needed some sprucing really, and a bit more eyeliner. The bright green irises added their own certain ‘glow’, so flashy shadow was a bit of an overkill.

”Sorry about that antique vase, by the way. You know how it goes when you’re in the heat of things.”

A little bit of peachy blush on the apples of her cheeks, a quick reapply of matching lipstick, readjust the silver choker and pendant at her throat, and viola! Finished. She smiled at her reflection.

”I’d offer to replace it, but you just made such a fuss! You know? You were right.” She gracefully slid onto the closed toilet seat, next to the bathtub, and crossed her legs. ”You really are a sore loser.”

She smiled, down at the still form that lay at the bottom of the tile basin. Donnovan stared up at her, eyes wide and darting, and the only part of him able to move. He flinched slightly, unsuccessfully trying to move his bare, broken limbs. A thin line of crimson trickled from the corner of his mouth down his neck, his crushed vocal chords no longer able to even whimper. Amp reached down, and lightly traced a line with her nail across his bare chest.

”You know, Donnie, I actually have to commend you. You almost, almost, made this a challenge for me. It’s been awhile since I’ve had to do this much damage to one of my date’s insides. Usually a few broken bones and crushed vocal chords does the trick. But you? Well.... I’ve only had to shake apart three people so far. Four with you. You should feel privileged.” Her frigid smirk could have frozen lava, and a shudder managed to make its way through the man’s exposed body.

Amp sighed, and leaned her head in her hand. ”Well, Donnie, I guess since I won our bet, and it doesn’t look like you’re up for another one, I’d best be on my way. Besides....” She reached out and turned on the faucet, letting a gentle rain fall from the top of the showerhead. The cold liquid began puddling below the man’s body, unable to find a way past the closed drain. ”.... You really need a cold shower.” She winked, then stood and left, closing the door quietly behind her.

She glanced around the disheveled bedroom, spied Donnovan’s wallet, and removed the cash, about two hundred dollars worth, the credit cards, his social security card, and a list of passwords. She shook her head as she stashed the bundle in her purse, and made her way to the front door.

Typical man. As mindless as a fly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Two days later, passers-by paused at a newsstand to buy their daily paper. The story of a NYC up-and-coming accountant, suspected of embezzlement, and found drowned in his own bathtub was passed by as nothing unusual. With the exception of the fact that his internal organs had almost all burst, and his bones were shattered almost into non-existence, it was just another New York homicide. Weren’t there enough of them already? But aliens spotted at the Empire State Building? That was news.

The newspaper let itself be folded and whisked away to its eventual, and inevitable, fate as just another flyswatter.