Website Short Stories

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Eddie went out the front entrance of the New Rose. He thought it better to go into the Drome from the front door, and make an entrance, rather than his usual route through the bathroom.
He casually strutted over, and walked in. The bar was empty, save for Rychek, the barkeep. Disappointed, he slumped down on the bar. "Can I get ya something?" Rychek asked, leaning on the bar.
Eddie shrugged. "How bout a beer?" Rychek went into the cooler, and pulled out an Ice cold Lager. He placed it on the bar, and pointed to the price on the menu.
Eddie nodded, and tossed rychek 80 chyen. Rychek Grinned and said, "Thanks pal" in a sarcastic tone.
Thud. Eddie turned to the bathroom to the south end of the bar, near the NLM term. Something had smacked into the door. Then he heard the shout of a males voice. "What the hell?" Rychek muttered to himself, grabbing a baseball bat from behind the door.
Before he could leave to investigate, a Huge Tan skinned guy came limping out, holding his wrist and whimpering. Directly behind him, the Lady of Eddies dreams. She came out smiling, dressed in a fancy looking dress, and equally fancy shoes. Her hair, black and short, was shining in the light of the Drome, and her made up face
made her look like something out of Blue. She strutted by Eddie, and winked. He couldn't believe it, his face went red as an apple. She didn't stop, though, and strutted right out the Northern exit.
Rychek just stared. "That's one nice piece O' ass" He said aloud, before returning to the bar.
Eddie Looked Dreamily after her, then downed his beer. He had missed his chance again. Eddie stood up, nodded to Rychek, and walked out the front entrance. He leaned against the wall near the door, and lit up a smoke. He hung around for about five, then made his way back to New Rose.

Upon entering the Hotel, a thin white male ran smack into him.

"Watch it bitch." He said to Eddie, in a smart little tone. Eddie began to step up on him, but the guy pulled apart his coat, revealing a Shoulder holster, with a 6 mm sitting in it.
"You gotz summin ta say?" He asked. "He may not, But I do, Gringo." Donnie said as he came in from the locker room, his .357 ZMI drawn. The Old man, ducked under the front desk.
Eddie didn't say a word, for he was in the cross fire. "Aight..Aight, I see's how it iz. Suckas betta check yoself." The man said backing out the door. When he got into the street, he darted westwards.
"Who the hell..?" Eddie asked. "Joey Suttacuco, Italian prick from C20. Bitch better not come home tonight." Donnie answered. Eddie smiled at Donnie, "Thanks bro, Owe ya one."
"I'll hold ya to it mano, But I gotta get back to sorting through my lockers" Donnie said, waving and heading back into the locker room.

Eddie went upstairs, and stopped when he remembered what room he had…C21. Right next to the guy that held him up.
Eddie smiled, knowing there was probably no one inside, and decided to release the urine that had built up inside him. All over the C20 door did Eddie pee, filling the hall with a horrible stench.
Eddie chuckled, punched in the combo to his room, and went inside.

(Edited by Biohazard at 9:11 pm on April 10, 2004)

�You gonna shoot me or just point that piece at me?� His voice sang across the black top of the Drome roof.

Somewhere in between the volume of acid and grey water runoff that was released on the mix as rain from those bastards in Skywatch, I could begin to see him smile. A cruel and twisted gesture that seemed to well up from all the misery he caused to other people. A black sickness just trying to escape his body through the expression.

�I want to know why.� I laboured on the words and gripped the gun a little tighter, the grid pattern of the stock imprinting into my palm. �I want to know why you did it.�

That cancerous smile broadened as if pumped full of fresh life. �Why? You ask why?� �He raised his hands out to the side a little, his saturated Nexus trench hanging heavy and slow. �You ain�t no gold bred rabbit, chombata. You�re like me. Hell is your kitchen and the mix is in your blood. They deserved to die.�

I took a careful step to my right, my shoes coming out of the two inch deep water and sinking again as I made that careful move. I turned the gun on its side, marking him down the rat�s teeth sight on the ZMI. The rain now had a flat surface to enjoy and the splattering of those fat juiced up drops whispered to my attention. I loved the fucking rain.

�Killing me won�t solve the problem.� He grinned at me from far away, just a blur out beyond the end of my gun.

�Maybe, but I�ll sleep a hell of a lot more at night.�

He spat into the rain water covering the roof.

I shot him. Twice. The last bullet taking the side of his head clean off.

I trod through the water up to the body and crouched down. The water glistened on his pale skin. Beneath the tattered trench coat was the familiar contours of the Judge armour. Scarred and pitted by bullet fray.

I almost felt sorry for the sonofabitch. He was like a dog who loved his master too much. I glanced up into the rain for a moment, narrowing my eyes, then stood up. I looked down at him.

"The law should stay the fuck outa the mix." I hissed through gritted teeth.

I put my boot heel through the other side of his face.

>.<

Unless otherwise specified, I'm assuing I have all your permission to use elements of these stories, character likeneses, situations, and other aspects in the upcomming Sindome screenplay.

If you do not want your work borrowed and extrapolated from (with credit to you of course) please email me in private ([email protected]).

-Kevlar

'Damnit' I thought to myself, which thankfully didn't go out over
that SIC, not since I had that implant removed anyways. I was on my way back to my
pad. Nice one room apartment on South Tamya, when I see them. A Judge and two agents, trying to get into my spot.
It seems some chummer had tipped them off. That's the thing about the mix, and life too I guess. Don't trust anybody.
The first chance they get to make some chyen off of you, you can bet they're gonna run with it. But who could blame em?
The 50k reward money on my head was tempting.

I guess I should introduce myself. Jason Wagner, former Judge of this fine city, before Internal Affairs got wise of the game I was running.
Killing mixers who walk around with alot of valuables over petty offenses, then keeping their stuff, planting guns on people I didn't like, stealing from the evidence
room, makeing false warrants to raid small time businesses on RED, Murder for hire, and finally, selling gun permits to people who would never have a stab at em under normal circumstances.
It all went down smooth. Without a hitch. Until we decided to fuck with the wrong chummer, well I guess anyways. I believe it was due to plain dumb luck, but who knows.
He was a known criminal. In the murder for hire business as well, but he was different from your average chum. He had basic immunity. He worked for a corp, did security for them, Saedor Krupp I believe.
Well, Me and my partner, Maxwell, we'd get reports on this guy blasting someone or whatnot, and we'd bring him in just to find he had a carry permit. Well as we all know, that permit don't give you the right to kill.
But somehow his corp pals allways got him off. Now, you can imagine how frustrated we got. So one night, me and Maxwell, we get in a recently confiscated 2089 Duo, and take a little ride to RED, off duty of course.
We drive by the drome, and what do you know? He's outside haveing a smoke and chatting it up with someone. I pull my ski mask down, as does Maxwell, and we do a good old fashioned drive by. We used evidence locker P7's.
The 11mm rounds chewed through this prick like a bansuporo kid on a chicken wing. Him and his aquitance, as well as a few patrons inside the bar, had a nice little vat nap.
We parked the car in an alley, and wiped it down for prints, and made our way top-side where we went back on duty, and waited by Genetek, with a 6mm Seburo I had hidden away. We were gonna drop it on the guy after we permed him.
He came out soon afterwards, and I tossed him the gun, which was empty. We then littered his body with 13mm rounds, right outside of Genetek. We were fucking untouchable then.
Me and Maxwell had drinks at Grunens in celebration, and I went home hammered. I woke up to the pounding on my door, some 20 hours later. Apparently Maxwell had grabbed a hooker on his way home, and took her to habitat-x. He killed the bitch after he did her,
and the neighbors called the WJF complaining about the noise and such, and he came clean to the staff judge. But I didn't know this until I reached for the door handle, andit was all stabbed into my brain via Maxwell on the SIC.
So instead of grabbing the door handle, I grabbed a ZMI 830 Conciliator I kept stashed in my closet. Then I answered the door. Ol Judge Rudolph wasn't expecting a slug to the gut. I took all the gear I could carry down to my Koi, and floored it to RED, ditched the car, took my shit to
a small cube hotel on Fuller, and laid in a deadzone for a few days. I cut all my hair off, and grew out a beard, pawned all the armor off to a fence, and moved to the apartment on Tamya. But I still had a problem. Everytime I stepped into a SIC zone, Dispatch would go bizerk. I hooked up with a
creepy looking ripper, and had my SIC ripped. I was out of commission for days. All in all though, I still had about 210,000 saved up. And rent, and food monthly came out to about 3000. I was gonna ride it out, and I have been for a few weeks.

I just watched them bash in the door. Damn, I kept most of my money there. My favorite revolver too. Oh well, as long as I'm free, all that shit can be replaced.

Bah.

(Edited by Chaos at 12:29 am on Jan. 20, 2005)

Quote: from ReeferMadness on 12:18 am on Jan. 20, 2005[br]Really good. I wish we had tv scripts of "Stories of the Mix" like this. That'd be some Twilight Zone goodness, right there.

This is an amazingly good idea. :) GM HINT

He's takeing me for a ride. I told him fifty thousand for the hit, that's how much I lost in the raid. The prick, he wouldn't go over thirty. I stood up to leave, not knowing if he'd call my bluff or not. Who was I kidding? I need the income. I slowly headed to the door before he told me to wait. I stopped and turned, and he nodded. Half now, half when the job was done. That's how it worked in this game. He set a briefcase on the table, I opened it, saw there was chyen in it, then closed it. He asked me if I was going to count it. I asked him if I should, and he smiled. It was all there. If it wasn't, then this guy wasn't going to be the only one to meet his maker tonight.

I stole a 87 Mono. The thing hardly ran. Peice of imported shit. I didn't push it too hard to the spot. I stopped it infront of the Drome. Watching. Waiting.
Men and women, even a few teens came in and out. But he did not. 'I'll try his spot', I think to myself. I get the mono to turn over and klunk it over to East Ashlin. I let it idle for a moment, and it dies. Peice of shit. He's home. I see the light on in his apartment. I hear he's a natural killer. Like me.  I guess the rival dealer decided to fight fire with fire tonight. Then it hit me. Fight fire..with fire…

I syphoned some fuel from the Mono. Not alot, I got about three fourths of a gas can filled. I snuck my way up to the third floor of the apartment. From the top stair to his door, three rooms down, I made a trail. I then doused his door with the fuel. I lit a smoke, and had a nice puff, dropped it, and booked. When I made it back to the Mono, I looked back to see the whole floor aflame. People running out of their rooms, screaming. A teen mother holding her baby, an addict, dazed but aware enough to run. And then I see him. Curseing he runs out of the building. He dosn't see me in the shadows. He dosn't see me creep up on him. But he feels the cold, hard steel of the ZMI .357 muzzle pushed into his skull.  It took me back. Back to the times I put away so many mixers. Clone death. It allways gave me a rush. I pulled the trigger and he dropped like a rag doll. I took a picture with my fun-cam for proof, and left his carcass sprawled in the middle of Ashlin. Time to go collect my other twenty five. Wonder if the SIC is exploding. I should move now, no doubt the Judges have been notified. Glad I had that thing ripped.

He wasn't bullshitting about the tactical team either.

i tries ta settle 'er, aber she jes keeps cryin an' screamin, an i hear 'im outside yellin ab't brains. she keep cryin an' bubblin on, an' he pos def gotta slip o' dat.

i jes start scannin on what ta do, so's i yell out dat i'm nappin, an' 'e's wakin me. well, he no fall fer dat, an 'e starts bangin on de hatch. well, dat jes ain' gonna hap on my crash. dis place, it ain' much, aber i's mine.

"Aight, grinner. ya dun pissed me off. yer done," i yell as i key in de unlock code. "No," she pleads, "He'll kill me."
"Don'cha worry none. I's got dis grinner."
"You have a weapon?" she asks.
I grin, raise my fists as i slip on my brass, "Chickie, I is da weapon."
"ok," she says with a reassured smile, "Kill him for me."

I click de last button on de unlock an' de door flies open, dis scrawny chummer wit blood on 'is mouth rushin in, an' heads right for 'er. din' eve look at me. Well, dat was 'is first mistake. An' last. I clock 'im across de jaw wit dos brass knucks, an i hear de bones snap. Tears well in 'is eyes, an he looks to me fer de firstime.

he lunges, jes in time ta take one inna gut. he doubles over, an i move in fer de kill, aber he slides to de side an' places a kick in my back. Damn, dat freakin hurt.

I shake off de pain an' punch at 'im again, hittin 'im inna shoulder. he's bruised, an' his mouth bleedin more dan it was when he strolled in, an he kick's me inna belly. well, i'm tireda bein kicked, so i grab 'im. he's strugglin, aber he canna git away, an i jes keep squeezin like i'm a bear an' e's a snack. i whisper in 'is ear, "Yer dun, grinner. yer gonna die."

well, he musta freak'd er som'm, cuz he reaches down deep an' grows a pair, an manages ta slip free. he kicks at me, an i move to da side, an' step in, d'liverin a clean brass ta 'is nose. 'is face base 'splodes at dis point, blood flyin, nose busted open. He crumps to da floor, an i's all breathy an' sweaty, an she is chantin in my head, "Kill 'im. Kill im."

I step up to da ugly bastard an' place my meaty hands on 'is turf, give a quick yank, click da crack, an all she wrote fer po' grinner.

"That'll teach him to extort money from me," she says, an i gots no frikkin click what she be babblin about. she places a kick to 'is belly as she heads out de still open door, sayin, "Dump the body an keep yer mouth shut." She drops a pile of chy on de floor an' walks out.

well, i'm jes kinna stunned, cuz she don' sound like no chickie in trubbs, an' as i run de whole trick thru my scanner, i 'mem'rs 'er sayin 'is name.
Danny.
She knew 'im. not jes some clowner from de mix, she knew 'im.
well, i don much wanna have a corpse inna crash, so i's grabbin 'im up an draggin 'im outta der, scan dat my hatch red's a'hin me, an i takes 'im down an' out de lobby.
Yeah. tru de lobby. din' say i was dat smart.

I walk out de front, right into a passin Agent.
I c'n see 'is eyes bugger as he scans big ol' me, draggin dis dead body outta de rose, an i knows i's in fer it.

"What in the hell are you doin?"
"Uh… oh, hey Agent. Namuch. Dis grinner what push'd inna my crash an 'tak'd me. i hadta do 'im."
"You had to kill him? why didn't you just call us??!!"
i could tell dis Agent was kinna shocked an' pissed, an i jes kept talkin.
"Well, my prog got gank'd by some grinner day or so ago."
"You could have called us on SIC."
"Dinna click wit dat one, Agent."
Jes about dat time, dis mixer chickie wanners in an sees me, sees de agent, an sees de grinner lyin at my feet. she seems ta scan fer a min, den runs off.
"Didn't cli... Ok, you're commin with me," Agent says.
Chickie pulls up inna ambulance.
"Where we goin, Agent?"
"You're goin to lockup, mixer, now pick up that corpse"
"You wamme ta put it inna 'bulance?"
"Why in the hell would i want you to do that?"
"I dunno, Agent, i jes tryin ta figger out whachu wan"
"I want you to go to Terra, you're goin to jail!"
He's gettin perty flabber'd now, an da's jes what i want.
"Aight, Terra it is. I's goin quiet-like, Agent." So off to the west i go. I get down de street, fronta de doc chop shop, an i click's 'im yellin from down der, "YOU FORGOT THE CORPSE!!"
i chuckle an' head back. he meets me half, an' i c'n see he's havin trubbs clickin what ta do. we walk back ta in fronta de rose.

No body.

not nobody, but no body. no corpse.
"I don' see no corpse, Agent."
"What corpse?" de li'l mixer chickie asks, all inn'cent like.
De Agent, he what looks real mad now, ready ta do us both, i clicks, an he not scannin right, an he crawls inna back o de 'bulance, prolly ta check fer da grinner.
Dat was my queue.
I bolt down de street, dodgin traffic an' oder mixers, tuck myself in some bounty place enda Sin, wait it out fer a bit.

*chuckles* i love dat story.

I have a couple more, but they kinda include some stuff i dont want to be used against me IC, so i'll prolly wait till the situations drop, or i get another char.

(Edited by SoulExistence at 8:25 am on July 7, 2006)

She was resting, watching the porn puppets and twirling her blade. Blood splatters all over her clothes, the floor, the bed, the ceiling of the cube� The cure was still taking hold and she was still coughing. Her eyes cried tears of blood, literally. She sighed softly as a fresh stream of blood rolled down from her eyes leaving her porcelain face looking like a doll in a sadistic children�s store. Her Genetek Eyes had never looked so bad, and certainly weren�t supposed to. What went wrong? How had this happened to her.. How could she know the greatness she was meant to be�

The Forgotten Son of Withmore rolled over in his sleep calling out for a lady in red softly. She shook her head looking at his naked form. She bent down and picked up her clothes and robed herself. She was hungry, and the sushi at the NeoTrans was cheap on his salary. She showered and reapplied some red lipstick under her eyes to take the place of the washed off blood. She liked the look, it kept people away from her in the crowds.. Though she knew she was harmless to them now, at least when she wasn�t using the blade.

She came back after eating and he was still asleep. Typical. Didn�t matter, really, as long as he was breathing. Knock Knock� She looked to the door. A deep voice came from the hallway calling out a name she had never heard before, �Katie Thomlenson come out unarmed.� Out the peephole she expected to see Judges, these weren�t Judges though.. These men were sent, but by who? And for who? Who is Katie? What do they want?

They knocked again, louder. Null Void shifted a little and said softly, �Mommy..?� She sighed and shook her head. She walked toward the door just as it was kicked in sending her to the floor. Two men dressed in all black from head to toe and one woman robed likewise busted in and grabbed her. She tried to struggle but the next thing she knew she was in the back of their van, strapped into a cot. The lady said to her, �Don�t worry Katie.. you were lost, but now you�re found�� She squeezed a clear liquid out of a syringe and shoved it into Katie�s arm saying, �Sleep� Sleep now and when you wake up this will all be gone��

Quote: from Salvatore on 7:24 pm on April 2, 2006[br]

�Alright, Judge Murphy, over and out.� is the last thing to be crackled into the headset.

You obviously never met the man. Then again, anyone who knew him has either quit or been permed by now. :P

Quote: from Murphy on 2:05 pm on July 7, 2006[br]

Quote: from Salvatore on 7:24 pm on April 2, 2006[br]

�Alright, Judge Murphy, over and out.� is the last thing to be crackled into the headset.

You obviously never met the man. Then again, anyone who knew him has either quit or been permed by now. :P

  The pulse pounded inside her head as she looked around the darkened square.  All around her whores and pimps filled the street.  An eerie glow flooded the area from the florescent ads floating overhead.  A quick flash before her retinas reminding her of the time. Four more minutes, he better not be late this time.  Last time she waited around for nearly half an hour before he decided to show up.  By that time she had sunk back into her shadows and pretended to be what she was not.

Her sad, bloodshot eyes looked around the square once more as 11:57 ran through her eyes.  Three minutes and still no sign of him.  Her lips closed around the joint sitting delicately in her mouth, pulling air through it.  Even the bliss of tainted weed had begun to be normal for her.  

Her eardrums were filling with a dark electronica rhythm, her bony hands brushing hair out of her face.  One more minute had passed.  The stab of betrayal pressed into her heart gradually, slowly twisting and turning.  Tonight was supposed to be the night, the night when all her dreams came true.  He was going to take her away from all of this.  Away from the whores, the pimps� the abuse.  

Her long fingers curled around her tiny arms, pressing against the bruises that lined up almost perfectly with her fingertips.  She pressed harder and harder until pain skipped from her skin to her brain, sending messages through machine and tissue.  Flashes of malfunctioning mods flooded her retinas.  At least she was still alive.  In the physical sense that is.When she pealed her fingers away from her arms, the time flashed again. 12:03.  She took a step backwards, purple smoke trailed around her head as she stood underneath one of the many strip club advertisements.  

Her fingers danced around the opening to her pocket.  The needle pierced her, drawing blood from her shrunken veins.  She closed her hand around it, needing to get high.  Without a second thought she stabbed the needle into her arm as she took another hit of her joint.  The time flashed once more, fuzzy and shaky as the smoke filled her brain.  The beautifully clear fluid flooded into her blood.  She shook, suddenly wracked by a powerful orgasm of the mind.  

Her lungs slowed down, and her heart speed up.  Her eyes flitted open, the joint falling from her lips.  Her hands unwound from around the needle, which slowly dropped to the ground.  Blood trickled out of her nose.  The world grew dark and before her retinas error messages scrolled. Her body landed silently on the ground.  Another night had passed, another forgotten soul lost.

Quote: from Biohazard on 4:29 pm on July 9, 2006[br]Eh, it'd be sweet to have the legend backing us up at the WJF :p

According to what I've heard about the current WJF playerbase, you don't want that. Y'all would get kicked so hard onto the straight and narrow that you'd leave skidmarks on it.

I feel I can say this since it's been, what, three years since I retired him?

If I'm wrong and this is considered an OOC breach of IC information an admin should delete the following.

Despite the rumours that flew 'round (many of which made me giggle), Murphy was the straightest Judge, of the kind you'll likely never see again. He was so straight and intent on doing things properly, that his superior(s) would throw total hissy shit fits. He never even lied (knowingly). Though he didn't always say everything. (For instance, I could tell you where so-and-so lives, but I can omit to tell you that it's guarded by frickin sharks with frickin lasers on their heads, and it'll still be the truth).

EDIT: Somehow managed to fuck up grammar so badly in a sentence it looked like it belonged on Engrish.com

(Edited by Murphy at 7:57 pm on July 9, 2006)

There's the straight Judge, like Murphy. These Judges are fun to play with, as they keep you on toes.

There is the Dirty Judge, who is only out to line his pockets and flaunt his power, (Like my first Judge), These Judges also keep you on your toes, becuase you don't know if they're full of shit, and you don't know if you're gonna go down with them.

There is the Semi-Straight Judge, Who only crosses that  line when it absolutly has to be done. These Judges tend to realize that it is better to try and control crime as opposed to trying to beat crime.

all of these styles are fun to play as, or with, and I encourage anyone who has wanted to be a Judge, give it a shot.

"To Carnal Desires my mano," replied the long haired fellow in the back as he started fondling the long legged, big breasted female.  Looking through my rear-view mirror I could clearly see her. She can full pouty lips and wore entirly too much make-up, but I'd pay to have an hour with her.  The fellow she that was all over her wore a long jacket, looked like some of that Protek gear I see those gangers wearing.  Also had on alot of flashy jewelry.  Figured him for maybe a fixer or something.  

Anyway, about fifteen minutes later I pull up to the joint, "Two-hunerd fifty chy partner."  

Yea, and that's all the cheap bastard paid too.  No tip.  Plenty of them down here.  Hard to make a living, but the one good thing is that I own this damned car.  Not the fanciest getup but pays for the cube and plenty of cheap booze.   Been doing this for about 10 years now and wasn't until last year I finally had the scrape to buy this shitter.  A real beauty.  A few rust spots here and there, but mine.  Charge my own rates and have my regulars.  Figure another few years I might buy another or maybe I can afford to clean this one up and head topside for some of those deep pocket fellows.  Maybe, but tonight I need to worry about paying that gambling debt.  I threw five grand I didn't have down on some up and coming rookie in that I was tipped off would win in one of those back alley fights.  I don't frequent those places but one of my regulars do.  Told me about how the other night was supposed to be all staged and shit.  Big bank.  The rookie was supposed to pull a chiv and gut the bastard quick.  Well he got the out and tripped over his own damned feet .  Chiv ended up in his throat and I ended up in a big debt.

So far I've made about 2300, but ain't half yet.  Got a call from a chummer of mine.  He's hooked up with some high and mighty comin down fer good time.  Gotta meet em at the lev on Lamb's Wake in fifteen.  Shit…and I'm runnin low on eth.

After stoppin by and grabbin some go-juice (and lowerin my stash down to about 1900) I show up at the lev just in time.  The corp fella's not dressed like a corp, but still stands out like a sore thumb.  The bastard has some flashy clothes but didn't bother to take his fancy watch off and is sportin a real leather briefcase.   I figure this miught be a big chunk of what I need so I ham it up real nicelike.  I jump out and run my hefty ass around and open the door for em.  My chummer throws me a wink as him and fat stacks climb in.  I run back around and jump back in, "Where to?"

"First stop is The Red Canary," says tourist in a kinda foreign voice.    Needless to say, I's take off at a decent speed only to make the mistake of turning down torwards Ashlin.  Next thing I know about a dozen damned gangers are standing in the road about a hunderd yards ahead. I'm stuck betweem tryin to either gun it through em, which I figure is a death wish as a few of em know me and might notice it's my ride; or turning around and takin another way, but that'll put a good dent in ma eth tank.  Fuck it then.  I pull slowly to a stop and then I hear alotta whisperin back in da back seat.  The money bags is gettin nervous.  Ma chummer is tryin to cool em down, but ain't helpin none.  

"Here take this and put it under yer seat.  And hurry da fuck up, " says am fella da guide as he hands me that briefcase.  "Figure we'll hold it for him jus in case they try somethin.  

The other guy is all freaked out now, "I'll pay you three grand to get me the fuck outta here!  Or four, make it four!  Get me the hell out of here!  They'll kill me!"

I take a deep breath and unlock the doors right after I stash the case under my seat.  The Arts surround my ride now and I'm wonderin what they'll do.  Then I spot one of my regulars.  Didn't know he was an Art.  Ritzy type that always pays decent to get somewhere quick.  He flashes me a grin which eases ma nerves alittle.  I roll down ma window as he walks up to it.

"What's goin on bossman?" I ask as he leans down.

"Well ya see Mitch man,  ma ace was on da same lev as dis tourist and gave us a heads up.  Figure we's wanna show em a real good time."

I swallow alil hard knowing dey prolly know about that case too and dat I ain't had a clone update in about a month.

"Take em den.  I's got a few more clients I needa run before I crash fer da night."  I dig the briefcase out and figure it's better to not even get too involved. Not worth it.  

The fellow in the back starts freakin out as he sees me givin da case over and my chummer back der gets all pissy too.  He yanks out a sebby and aims it at me, "GET ME THE FUCK OUTTA HERE!"

Well I about pissed ma pants a few minutes ago, but now I'm really tryin to hold my bladder closed.  I have to reach up and wipe some sweat from gettin in ma eyes.  Just den a loud CRACK rings in my ear.  I close my eyes and drop as low as I can.  I hear nothing now.  I know I ain't been shot cause I's feelin no pain.  A few moments later I feel a tap on ma shoulder and look up to see my Art regular motionin g me up.  His mouth is moving but I can't hear nothing.  I look back and see some others pullin the tourist out and it looks like he's screamin.  Then I look over and my chummer is dead in ma back seat...blood everywhere.  Better him than me I guess, although that blood'll be a bitch to get out.

Finally my hearin starts coming back, alittle anyway.  My Art chummer, Tick's his name I remember now, well he's talkin still, "and ya know, normally we'd take you fer da same ride as dem but you's alright."

He looks around quickly and reaches into the briefcase and pulls out a decent little stack of bills, which he slips inside my shirt as he leans closer and whispers, "Here mano.  Dis outta cover yer troubles and dat seat.  I'll get a few fellas to grab dat other fella out of da back and you's be on yer way.  Ya ain't seen shit remember dat."

"Yo..yo..you got it," is all I can manage to say.

I look back to hear my back doors close and the empty bloody seats. As I'm surveryin the damage I hear "And ya owe me good mano."  I turn around to nod but they're gone.  It's just me in my cab in the middle of the street at night now.  I take a few deep breaths and start the engine then take off.  I drive a few blocks to regain my composure before I pull into a parking garage.  I lock my doors and pull the notes out of my shirt. I make sure no one is around and start counting. Twelve grand.  Holy shit.    Well I guess I do owe Tick now.  He covered my debt, plenty enough to clean ma seat, and now to spend some on my own joygirl and some booze.  I guess tonight wasn't too bad at all.  With that I start up, pull out of the garage and start trying to find me my own long-legged big breasted toy for the night, eh or the next hour anyway.

#2

Limbo.

Johns fell into the vast, empty quiet that was death with little remorse, his body and its final painful throws a distant roaring, beating surf.  Looking up, he saw light, as though he swam far below the surface of an ocean, warm rays of bright sunlight streaking down into the ink-black abyss that threatened to pull him deeper into its crushing embrace.  He floated, motionless, pondering and indecisive, knowing that the undertow would drown him, but that the light, for all its enticement, held in itself something equally sinister.

�Can't decide, can you?� a voice, deep, laughing, and melodic, declared from the darkness.  �Most people can't at first, but the will to live, it's a strong one.�

Johns peered into the abyss, and the interloper's features slowly resolved themselves.  He was tall, gaunt, skin as black as the ether around him, his smile broad and grim as he smoked a thin, black cigarette.  An antiquated top hat crowned his head, the rim of the hat cocked high on his forehead, revealing jet-black eyes couched in white grease paint, his face dolled like a bleach-white skull. He was bedraggled, wrapped loosely a wrinkled, grime-strewn burial shroud that was pulled back to reveal his skinny, almost skeletal black chest, a small fortune in gold and silver amulets hanging loosely into the hollow of his naked sternum.  He held a bottle of cheap rum in one ring-encrusted hand as he flicked ashes into the nothingness with the other.

�Samedi.� Johns murmured.

The Baron's smile inched up fractionally. �The one and only.�

�What the fuck do you want?�

�First, I want you to drink with me,� laughed the loa, �Then we'll talk business.�

Samedi took a swig from his bottle, then tossed it through the murk into Johns' outstretched hand.  Johns drank deeply, thirstily, the cheap boozer's rum tasting far greater than anything that had ever passed his lips. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, resisting the urge to take another drought of the thick, black rum as he pressed the bottle into Samedi's long, slender fingers.

�Molasses and ashes,� Samedi explained, pulling a deep lungful of smoke from his cigarette.

�What?� Johns barked hoarsely.

Samedi eyed the dead medtech with casual interest, smiling as the smoke wreathed around his head. He flicked the cigarette away, sending it sailing off into the darkness.

�The bones of the dead, Doctor Johns,� he continued.  �Make for a sweeter rum by far, don't they?�

�What are you getting at, Samedi? I thought we'd been through this crossroads shit before.�

Corking the bottle, the loa pulled aside his shroud, burying the bottle into its folds.  �So predictable, Doctor Johns. So, so predictable. You always get straight to the chase, don't you?�

Johns crossed his arms, glaring angrily at the loa as he kicked his feet, treading limbo.  �Spit it out.  I'm dying here.�

�We had a deal, Doctor,� Samedi declared. �I saved you, and in return, you'd be my agent, keeping the balance, sending some people to the crossroads while keeping others from knocking at my door too empty-handed.  Remember?�

�Yeah,� muttered Johns. �I remember, but I can't do that now, can I?�

The loa glanced up into the brilliance of the sun as it pierced the ether overhead.

�No clone?�

Johns nodded. �They got me good, this time.�

Samedi sighed. �You know something, Doctor-Man?�

�What?�

�I fucking hate clones.�

�I don't.�

�You wouldn't,� replied the loa. �But the damned things throw it all out of whack. People do not die when they're supposed to. Dead men keep coming back from the dead without my permission. It's a fucking catastrophe.�

Patting himself down, the loa extracted a silver lighter and crumpled pack of Black Deth cigarettes from his shroud.  Flicking the gunmetal lighter into motion, Samedi shook a single cigarette between cracked brown lips, igniting the tip with spectral blue flame.  Breathing deeply, he leaned back, reposing restlessly in the emptiness.

�You're lucky fucking Papa Legba owes me one, Doctor.�

Johns stared for a long moment at his personal embodiment of death. Flustered, he growled, �What the hell does that mean?�

Samedi leaned forward, smiling around the lit-black cigarette between his teeth. �You get a reprieve. But you gonna pay it off by doing me a favor.�

�A reprieve?�

�I know you aren't that dense, Doctor-Man,� laughed Samedi as he shoved Johns down into the darkness.  �Papa Legba got you a new body. And me?  I'm kicking your ugly white ass back into the land of the living.�

�Give me a god-damned break,� barked Johns as he flew quickly into the depths.  �I'm sixty-two years old.  What more could I do for you guys?�

�You gonna wake up from your vat nap, and you are gonna go looking for San Mara,� Samedi replied, his features slowly becoming indistinguishable as Johns sank further and further.

�And then?� Johns shouted above the sound of the growing surf.

In the distance, Samedi laughed heartily.

�You gonna find something I lost, and shove it in the ass of that man people call Dee.�

(Edited by Grim at 10:24 pm on May 9, 2007)

(Edited by Grim at 10:26 pm on May 9, 2007)

Never heard of it. :boom:

"Fuck man, they're gettin in...fuck.." Drake called as he chambered a round into his tactical shotgun.
"Just focus on the door...fatal funnel man...just rip on the trigger and don't let em push past..." Martinez replied, dual wielding .44 revolvers. �B was in the back, trying to work the amp on the radio. Scott stood behind Martinez, cool as ice. His arms were crossed, pistols holstered.
The door buckled and gave way. The freaks came funneling in. None of them smaller then six foot, 250 lbs, their faces lined with scars of radiation and life in the badlands. The team began to light them up with small arms fire. the initial push only dropping a few of them.

Jones peeked down the ladder and saw his team being over run. There was nothing he could do. He threw his last frag down the hatch then slammed it shut.

"This is Baker 55. We're fucked. Over"

(Edited by Biohazard at 8:01 pm on June 15, 2007)

(Edited by Lillith at 3:27 am on July 1, 2007)

It's 4:45, I decide to finally get up off my ass after takin to the needle. I'm high as fuck, seein leperchauns with shotguns, hookers ten feet tall, the occasional jesus surfing down the road. Fuck, I can't jack a ride like this. Need to calm down. Need to light up another joint.

It's 7:30. I'm mellowed out. Fuckin drugs. Need to steal this ride. I'm drained though. That shit took alot out of me. I'm pretty hungry too. Fuck. I got this pipe filled with angel dust though, and baggie of pixie poweder. This should do the trick. I'll do a line. There we go…

I walk outside, and what do I see? A mixer slippin. He's dustin some trash off his windshield, a 2088 Hondamitsu Maxima. I bury my sebby in his spine and tell em to unlock it and start it up. Fuckin wilson, he does just as I says and I push him out the way and hop in. I look in the rear-view and see him pullin his own gun as I speed off. His shots hittin nothin but air. Ha. Oh man, Fuckin powder is wearin off. I'm crashin hard. Need to light this pipe of dust and ride it out. Yeah there we go...

It's 2am. I finally made it to crows. Got lost on the way here, roads kept turning into magical rainbows and shit. Somehow I got a twelve year old hooker caught in the under carriage. Kro paid me 40k for the rig. I went to the park and scored 20k wortth oh smack, 10k of weed, and another 10 of powder. It was gonna be a good week.

It's 4:30am and I just realized I spent all my chy on drugs and forgot to pay the rent. The landlords bangin on the door threatenin to call the law. I laugh and light up a jay. I tell him I'll have the rent for him tommorow.

Gotta jack another ride.