Plastic: (Origins) (Mini-Episode) (Part 1)

Plastic.

Why she decided on a simpleton's name was unknown, most likely to disgrace and offend the most militant of the Klyntar in an effort to build her very own regime. Those who had the gall to joke about it were clearly nothing more than tricksters, who had could do nothing about it, because no matter how hard they wanted to believe--they couldn't stand up to her. Jumping from wealthy girl to wealthy girl suggested she had an obsession of sorts, but was it really so wrong for a woman to want to be pampered every once and a while? If it was wrong, she didn't want to be right.

A pink slop was a sight to see, a real 'eye-opener' of sorts, crawling through the alleys of an infested New York City. God, Plastic hated this place, preferring to be around areas where the rich and loaded were known to mingle around each other like a pack of wolves. Every predator had their upsides and downsides, a few of them were more upfront than others, while the others preferred to sneak on their prey. Plastic may have been an exception to this rule, which was odd for an alien which usually embraced the primal instinct.

"What the fuck!?" A bystander yelled as he entered the alley, staring at the rose-coloured fox clinging to the chipped wall.

Plastic lept graciously, twisting her body in an elegant ballet-like performance, landing in front of the homo sapien with a school girl's giggle. Carrying a specific type of nutrient in her system made her skin as smooth as liquid could possibly be, making it pliable and willowy. Plastic's signature traits were charm and intelligence, though this clearly did not work on everyone. Some people were just to simple minded to embrace her beauty, while others could appreciate the cream of the crop-- the créme de la crème-- haut monde.