Joined: Aug 2006 Gender: Female Posts: 585 Karma: 2
TV Shows « Result #2 on Aug 26, 2009, 5:42pm »
Ok. Here is a list of TV Shows that you HAVE to see. If you don't see them, you're a loser. Totally. *points* I know who you are if you don't see them.
Castle - Best. Show. EVER. (I LOVE YOU NATHAN FILLION!!!!!!) Burn Notice - Second Best. Show. EVER. House - First and a half Best. Show. EVER.
There's more, but those three are a must. At least for now.
Joined: Mar 2008 Gender: Male Posts: 104 Location: Michigan... or am I... Karma: 0
Tattered Skies - Part Two « Result #6 on Mar 25, 2009, 11:01pm »
It only took us about ten or so minutes to make it back home. It might have taken me the better part of several hours to make it back there on foot, or at least an hour maybe by taxi. There were serious advantages to being able to fly anywhere you wanted to, in a straight line, above the buildings and the ruined streets and all that bullshit. Suchara could have made Selkass go faster, sure, but I probably would have gotten blown straight off. Selkass had four fingers per hand instead of five, and not much in the way of a palm. Besides that, the fingers were way too long, angular, and didn't press together well, being angular as opposed to soft and pliable like human fingers. All of which meant, while I was damn glad not to be in the fucked up position I had been in, I was by no means comfortable.
Flying, in general, is fun. Flying while being carried by a machine that couldn't keep a good hold of you without crushing the life from your body, and whose smooth armor plates left very few places for good handholds to hang onto (probably intentionally now that I thought of it, to keep off the pesky infantry) was goddamn terrifying.
After the mercifully brief flight, Suchara swept down on the warehouses and eased into a stop near one of the larger buildings, just in front of a largish (and by that I mean HUGE) door, which she set me and the whore-bot down next to. I lifted 'her' up over one shoulder again, wincing at the weight, and looked up a moment as Suchara slipped a couple of those almost bladed-looking fingers through the space between the door and the wall, and pulled it open with a deep rumble and a shriek of ill-lubricated bearings.
I really had to get around to fixing THAT one of these days, too.
"You okay?" Suchara's amplified voice asked, and I nodded.
"Yeah, waiting for the feeling to come back into my extremities, but yeah, I'm fine."
"Whiner..."
"Shut it will you? Not everyone has a climate controlled metal she-" I cut myself off before I was able to finish the sentence, but we both knew what I'd been about to say, and I felt bad immediately. Suchara was silent, and moved the mech inside, each step shaking the floor slightly, even with the heavily reinforced floor in this place. "I'm sorry, sis..." I said quietly. I knew the mech's sensors could pick it up, but she was still silent for a moment before she spoke.
"It's alright, Al... sorry I went so high."
"Its fine... thanks for saving my ass."
"Again."
I grit my teeth, carrying the android in and hitting the switch that slid the door closed again - it would close on its own, just not open. Another machine going to shit even WITH my attention. Okay, so I'd neglected it. "Yes." I finally said, terse, "Again."
She sounded much cheerier when she spoke next, and I almost held it against her. "Anytime, little brother." She moved the titanic machine smoothly into the gantry where it usually rested, and four massive clamps locked it into place. There was a whine that steadily decreased in pitch, then died out, and the mech went perfectly still. Suchara, for now, stayed inside. I set the android down on a good sturdy metal table I had for that purpose, and rolled my neck around a bit, trying to work out the kinks in my muscles, what of them could kink at all.
There was a mirror across the table from it, and I glanced up for a moment at my reflection, watching the man in the mirror for a moment. I'm no looker, and I've never tried to be. I have too-long and far too unruly black hair, I'm about as pale as one expects from a tech-geek and recluse like me, and I'm both too tall and too skinny all at the same time. Not in the usual sense, either, I've always thought my arms were too thin in an almost unnatural sense, they just don't have the same proportions they used to, as though I've been tragically underfed. I haven't been, by the way - I may have mentioned I actually make pretty good money, and I don't go hungry. All the same, the whole emaciated idea isn't quite as far off as it might have been.
I pulled my long black coat off and tossed it on the couch, walking over to the shack that was in the one corner of what I usually just called The Hangar. Yes, I mean there is a building inside a building, call me crazy but the hangar building has a ceiling that's about fifty meters high and is the size of ten or twelve football fields, I can't sleep in a room that big. It's damn eerie. So, there's a kind of 'living room', which is an assortment of scavenged couches and armchairs we've dragged in from the junkyard at one point or another and cleaned up a bit, a table or two, etc. The kitchen is 'outside' too, a nice enough electric oven and fridge. The shack is just where I sleep, and there's another small building where I keep... well, all kinds of things really.
The shack was also where I kept the medical kit, though, and I grabbed that, wincing at how stiff my hand already was before I walked back out and sat down heavily. Suchara's voice came out of the mech again. "How's your hand...?"
"Not sure." I said, only half lying, and pulled my glove off. I regretted it immediately - whatever material had stopped up the bleeding on the way over was ripped straight off with the glove. My hand was swollen, an angry red, and covered in blood, both dried and flowing again, from several tears in my knuckles and a few on my palm.
Note to all of you there who want to be strong enough to put a serious dent in an alloy plated android with your fist alone: Just because you can doesn't mean you should. It hurts like hell. Maybe not right away, but I promise you it does later. I let out a hiss of pain. "Yeah... not good." I pulled my other glove off, having to use my teeth rather than my wrecked right hand - it was a little banged up, but all in all in much better shape. I'd wrapped the stab wound on the way over - I'd deal with that in a bit. I disinfected the rips in my skin, then wrapped the hand as best I could, tying it off around the wrist. I did the same, but with smaller bandages for my other hand, then wrapped the left arm a bit more professionally, and all the scrapes and cuts got a bit of a healing ointment that had a few mild nanite enhancements - would get me healed up in a day or two, I was sure.
I suppose here is where I explain a few things, right? Well, if you punch something really hard, human skin sometimes isn't up to the challenge, and that's why punching something with a closed fist is among the worse ideas, a lot of the time. You do more damage that way, sure - but not just to what you're punching.
That's not what the weird part is, right? Right.
I mentioned myomer before, to that syndicate goon, when he stabbed me - that's because most of my skeletal muscles aren't human muscles at all. I was born with a condition called Vailan's Syndrome. Pretty common around here actually, it's a disease that attacks muscle tissue, makes it nearly impossible to repair. See, when someone lifts weights, or runs, or something like that, they put little rips in their muscle tissue, which get rebuilt by the body in a day or two with new and stronger tissue. That's how people get stronger, faster, etc. But for those of us with Vailan's, it doesn't exactly work like that - our muscles take a lot longer. For some, its only a week or so. They're more frail, can't take a lot of strain or train up and get tough, but they live more or less normal.
My muscles take months. IF they heal at all. As you can imagine, childhood fucking sucked. My muscles didn't grow with me properly, my coordination sucked most of the time... I learned to walk alright and everything - Vailan's doesn't usually set in till about four, but after that it was all downhill. By eight I was in a wheelchair, twelve I couldn't even lift my arms anymore. I made a bit of money between those years, fixing shit - I was always good at that, even back then. Wasn't enough for treatment - you have money, you can treat Vailan's pretty effectively. We didn't. Mom even died when I was ten. Suchara's my big sister - and not just because she has the big armor. She took care of me when I could hardly move, and she was the one who eventually found what saved my life.
She got a doctor to replace something like half my skeletal muscle with myomer fibers. I have to get them replaced every now and then, but it's a hell of a lot better than immobility, and I'm actually stronger than normal people - by a hell of a lot - with them. Took a lot of getting used to, I guarantee... going from a guy who a two year old could beat the shit out of to someone who can punch through a wall is... an adjustment. My bones had to be hardened heavily as well, but my skin is more or less plain old vanilla normal - hence I still have to hold back if I don't want to be nursing wounds. And, since one needs a lot less myomer (not only is it expesive, but if I had enough to look buff, it would snap even my bones), I look like a guy who's never lifted a dumbell in his life. Which actually makes my strength funnier. Once I got my coordination down, though, my skill with fixing things took care of us both.
I never asked what Suchara did to get me the first set of myomers. She never said. I owe my big sister everything... so now I take care of her.
The major downside are the scars - putting the shit in and replacing it is a month long set of ugly surgeries by android, and the wounds don't always heal properly, which means I have a mess of fairly thin scars crisscrossing my body - it puts a lot of the ladies off. So does having a big sister who could tear apart your average skyscraper. I don't complain. All things considered, life hasn't been so bad to me. I won't say something idiotic like "Can't complain". I won't complain, but I could.
Joined: Aug 2006 Gender: Female Posts: 585 Karma: 2
Chapter Six « Result #9 on Nov 8, 2008, 2:36am »
Chapter Six
Marcus lounged in his study, a snifter of brandy held in one hand while he stared at the flames in his hearth. He took his time, lifting the glass for a sip before glancing over toward the chair in front of his desk.
“You are absolutely sure that what you have said this night is true?” he said casually, swirling the alcohol within the crystal glass lazily. The man in the chair nodded.
“I saw it with my own eyes, this I swear,” he said, his voice much deeper than Marcus’, smooth like caramel and at odds with his short frame. It was Marcus’ turn to nod then, taking another sip of brandy. The two men were silent for a long time, the fire popping mutely in the background.
“Should I—”
“No,” Marcus said quickly, interrupting the other man before he set his brandy down on a side table. “They knew well enough this would happen. Your orders still stand. Keep me informed if anything else should take place on your watch.”
The other man nodded without protest and rose from the chair in a liquid movement, leaving the room without another word. Marcus continued to stare at the fire, the flames reflected against his dark eyes as his expression remained unchanged.
The prophecy had begun and there was much to do before it came to fruition.
Outside, the other man paused at the bottom of the front steps, looking up toward the sky as if expecting something. When nothing came, he walked away at a brisk pace, his shoes echoing slightly against the quiet of the evening until he reached the outstretched arms of an oak tree, the circle beneath it black with shadow. Then the footsteps stopped abruptly and the man disappeared.
* * * * * *
“Breathe, Rachelle, breathe,” Gabriel pleaded as he held her in his lap, one hand set against her throat to feel for a pulse. When he found one, he breathed a Thank God under his breath and eased her down until she lay flat on the ground before bending over her, his ear held close to her lips.
Swearing, he gently tilted her head up, keeping it steady with one hand while he bent over her again, intent on breathing for her.
“Don’t you even think about it,” a man ordered from behind him just before Gabriel felt the cool slide of metal against his neck. “You just leave that lady alone or I’ll make sure ya regret it the rest of yer life.” Gabriel froze and took an incredibly calm breath…right before he kicked back, slamming his foot into the man’s leg. There was a grunt of pain even as Gabriel felt the blade at his throat bite for an instant, but he was already standing and twisting, pushing at the other man with little mercy. With a single swing of Gabriel’s fist, the knife went flying and the man held his arms up in a sign of surrender.
“She’s not breathing and I don’t have time for heroes. Leave or help but the next time you put a blade to my throat, I will kill you,” Gabriel said in a deadly voice, his hand wrapped around the man’s throat while he held him in place with a fistful of his coat.
The man nodded emphatically and Gabriel let him go, going immediately back to Rachelle and repositioning her head which had fallen to the side. He felt his chest constrict at how pale she was, her lips nearly blue, but he set his mouth against hers and breathed out.
Dear god in heaven her lips were cold.
Taking another breath, he repeated the process three more times before he paused, checking her pulse while he watched for any signs of life.
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, what happened? I never should ‘ave let her go walkin’ by herself,” the man said, moving to the other side of Rachelle and kneeling down though Gabriel noticed it was with some degree of difficulty. The man had his hat in his hands and he was currently wringing the life out of it as he look down at Rachelle with overwhelming concern.
“Breathe,” Gabriel ordered, taking another deep breath and filling her lungs with it. Another three more times did he breathe for her before stopping again. It seemed to go on forever. Four breaths, pause. Four breaths, pause. Gabriel forgot completely about the other man, forgot everything but the woman he would have done anything to protect. And yet still she remained limp and unresponsive.
Desperation made his hands shake but it was grief that had him shaking her.
“Come on, damn it, breathe!” he choked out, picking her up and cradling her against his chest. Her head fell forward heavily so that her face sat against his throat.
Gabriel closed his eyes for a moment, holding her tightly as he turned his face into her curls. They smelled of ripe apples and cinnamon and he whispered against her ear so quietly he could barely hear himself.
“Do not leave me too.”
Loosening his hold, he made to lay her back down when he felt a sharp sting from the cut at his throat. The movements had pulled her face across his neck and his blood stained her lips and part of her cheek as a result. He would have wiped it away immediately, but it was in that moment that she gasped, her spine arching up as if her body couldn’t get air in fast enough, followed instantly by a fit of coughing.
The darkness had been almost comforting. It was cold, but it was quiet and soft and she felt like she was floating; floating away from her body, from life. All the pain from moments before, both the physical and emotional, was gone and she wanted to embrace that. It had been so long since she was truly at peace and though she knew the darkness held worse things for her, right now it felt quite nice. For what seemed like hours, she let herself drift, unable to see or hear or feel anything but this cool darkness.
Of a sudden she tasted blood, coppery and sharp, and she imagined herself touching her lips. Wetness greeted her and she licked her lips in unconscious reaction.
In an instant, the darkness was swept away in a whirlwind and she was hurtled back into her body so quickly she wondered if the descent back to life wouldn’t just kill her again.
Everything hurt and at first all Rachelle could see was blurry darkness, all she could hear was the pounding of her own heart in her head, and all she could smell was the crisp, spicy scent of a man’s cologne. Someone was holding her tightly and she clung to them, feeling very much like she were riding Sir Hughes’ famed wild stallion as she gasped for air.
“Oh Lord, it’s a miracle!” she heard from her left. Turning her head, she saw Brian kneeling on the ground, wringing his hat and looking ready to nearly pass out, his cheeks shiny with what looked suspiciously like tears.
“What—” she started, only to dissolve into more coughing. The arms holding her tightened and she looked up. Gabriel’s face filled her vision and she had to blink several times, her mind suddenly racing, replaying everything that had happened inside the book shop.
Mr. Ramsey…the chest of books…the attack…Gabriel…
Oh God…
Her next cough was nearly a sob and Gabriel would have cursed if he’d had the breath. This had been too close. Way too close.
Without a word, he picked her up, holding her against his chest.
“Thank you, my lord, thank you. You saved her,” Brian said, in awe a little of Gabriel it seemed. He rose too, favoring one leg quite heavily, and Gabriel nodded in acknowledgment.
“We need to get her safe,” Gabriel said. Brian nodded instantly.
“O’ course. Got the carriage jest over here. I’ll be sendin’ for Dr. White as soon—”
“No,” Gabriel interrupted though he was already moving toward the carriage. “A doctor won’t be able to help her, but I know someone who can.” Brian’s eyes widened a little, but he nodded and moved to the horses.
“Wait.” Brian stopped and turned toward Rachelle, but Gabriel didn’t, though he did glance down at her. He thought she looked incredibly fragile, like bone china. One wrong step and she would shatter to pieces. And she sounded like death warmed over.
With a nod from Gabriel, Brian climbed up onto the driver’s seat while Gabriel swept them both into the carriage, despite Rachelle’s weak but continued protests.
“Really, Gabriel, is this necessary?” she asked, feeling her cheeks heat as he settled her on his lap inside the carriage. This was certainly not appropriate, not one bit, but he didn’t seem inclined to let her even sit on her own.
“Yes,” he said simply, looking out the windows carefully before pulling the curtains and swamping them both in darkness just as the thing lurched forward and headed down the lane. Rachelle glared at him for all the good it would do. He was acting quite brutish at the moment and she was sure he was angry. The muscles in his jaw were tight and he wasn’t smiling. Those green eyes of his that she remembered so well held not a single thread of laughter or mischief and they were currently as hard as diamonds.
And yet she couldn’t help but feel safe, which didn’t make any sense to her at all. She’d just been attacked and something terrible that she couldn’t explain had happened to her.
She shivered, feeling cold from her bones out. Gabriel shifted, pulling off his jacket – not an easy feat in the small space – and wrapped her in it. The warmth of it cocooned her almost instantly and she all but snuggled into it, letting the scent of clean soap and Gabriel flavor every breath.
Her relaxed sigh was the best thanks he’d ever received and he continued to hold her silently, still convincing himself she was alive and breathing, albeit a bit worse for wear. He closed his eyes for a moment, running through the battle and its aftermath in his head. He should have seen the signs, should have kept her safe even if she frustrated him beyond his limits. He should have—
Something touched his face and he jerked up, startled. Rachelle was staring at him, her hand lifted and barely touching against his jaw.
“I am sorry for hitting you,” she whispered, her hand dropping back into her lap but Gabriel caught it first. His palm was warm and hard; completely different from the hands of the other men she’d known, including her brothers who liked to boast about their time spent in the stables with their horses. Suddenly exhausted, she let her head rest against Gabriel’s shoulder.
“Why did you hit me?” he asked. When she didn’t answer, he tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear and twisted his neck to look at her. “Rachelle?”
She was sleeping.
With a wry expression and a quiet sigh, he leaned back a little and let her rest for the remainder of the carriage ride.
Joined: Aug 2006 Gender: Female Posts: 585 Karma: 2
Re: The Sword of Truth « Result #11 on Sept 4, 2008, 12:02pm »
They're making a TV series out of these books! It's called Legend of the Seeker and if you go to Terry Goodkind's webpage, he's got links and little promo videos and stuff on it. It airs Nov 1, apparently. I haven't read the books yet (YES, I plan on it and NO I haven't had time because I'm freaking moving *grumbles*) but from what I can see it looks pretty good.
Yay! Altair kicks ass. I like him. He's snarky with attitude. But I want more backstory! Why is the world all crumbling apart and what's with this floating city you speak of? ^_^
MORE!
What the Chelley lady says!
Sorry I didn't get to your book last night but I was busy and exhausted. I'm good to go now even though its like almost 1 am. -_-
And um... Altair had me from the first 'two' paragraphs. Heh... "fuck off" got me. LOL
Joined: Aug 2006 Gender: Female Posts: 585 Karma: 2
Re: Feedback « Result #13 on Aug 29, 2008, 7:14pm »
Yay! Altair kicks ass. I like him. He's snarky with attitude. But I want more backstory! Why is the world all crumbling apart and what's with this floating city you speak of? ^_^
Joined: Mar 2008 Gender: Male Posts: 104 Location: Michigan... or am I... Karma: 0
Re: Feedback « Result #14 on Aug 29, 2008, 6:44pm »
Oh, so, a little background... I didnt do this as a 'me too!' for chelly's book, haha, but at her prodding I decided it had been a long time since I wrote just for its own sake, and so... here it is! Hope everyone likes
Re: Feedback « Result #16 on Aug 29, 2008, 6:31pm »
So far, I like it. You've got a smooth writing style which makes it easy to follow and I'm not constantly guessing whose POV the story is being told from.
Joined: Mar 2008 Gender: Male Posts: 104 Location: Michigan... or am I... Karma: 0
Re: Tattered Skies - Part one - « Result #18 on Aug 29, 2008, 12:07pm »
- Chapter 2 -
I made an effort to look like I had to make an effort to hold the girl up. It wasn't that hard, because the pressure on my shoulder still hurt a fair amount, even if the weight itself wasn't nearly too much to bear. The guy in the suit didn't seem to think there was a whole lot odd about me, and the two huge cronies at his back seemed similarly disinterested. They stood back with the perfect disaffected bodyguard expressions - which made me a little nervous. Like I said, anything perfect in this city probably isn't what you would rather hope it was.
Hamilton, for his part, played the stammering, shocked idiot part very well. Typecasting always results in a great performance, especially when the guy doesn't know he's supposed to be acting. Sheesh.
"Hamilton... Jason. Now what would possess you to think you could take our lovely gift and use it for your own purposes like you have been?" the man said, his voice sickly sweet enough that it made me want to gag. "This was to be used for your business, not kept at your home for yourself."
Hamilton's eyes widened, and now the whole thing was starting to make sense. Sure explained why he was so emotionally invested in the android, he probably thought he was in love. I'd seen the phenomenon a couple of times, and with a lonely escapist like this guy... Well, I probably should have seen it coming. What I hadn't seen coming was the fact that he'd gotten her from the mob, and that was the sticking point that was about to make someone in this room quite deceased, if all things went as I suspected.
I didn't have any plans on letting myself be one of the people who wound up dead there. Make no mistake, when one of the enforcers shows up like this, and brings friends, he means to kill someone, and while Hamilton kept stammering for his part, I didn't have any illusions about that fact, which meant... well. Time to do something stupid.
"Hey, sleazeball."
My words cut through the air in the room like a vibroblade - and so did the vibro-knife I used my free hand to throw into the bodyguard on the left. The weapon buried itself to the hilt in his chest, and broke the man's stoic facade quite handily, cutting free a mangled scream as the blood filled his lungs. The lead man's eyes widened, shocked. I loved that expression - still do, actually. It was always great to see the man who thought he was in control of a situation realize just how badly he had miscalculated. Comedy gold, I say.
Lacking any other handy device for getting rid of the other two, I did the only thing I could think to do at the time. I braced, leaned forward, and heaved the android over my shoulder as hard as I could at the two men left standing. The man in the expensive suit crumpled under the weight almost instantly, falling back into the second man, who barely moved at the impact. Shit. Alright, one man, one android.
"Kill him!" the suit cried, and the hulking figure behind him vaulted over the bodies on the floor, flying straight at me. My luck it would be a combat model, none of the commonly available units could pull off that sort of agility. I didn't have enough time to get out of the way, and the thing's fist took me full in the chest, knocking me clean through one of the poles on Hamilton's four-poster bed, and landing me quite unceremoniously on the floor beyond, stars in my eyes.
I started to get up, but the machine came around the corner of the bed, faster than I'd ever seen an android its size move, hand outstretched for my throat - I didn't think so. Aborting the getting up thing, I rolled back and kicked out with both feet, catching the machine full in the chest with both boots. The impact was probably worse for me than for the machine, given its weight and how the action slammed my back into the floor, but it gave me enough force to rock the thing back on it's heels, and gave me enough time to roll back forward, push up, and strike back.
As I pushed hand forward, I pulled a catch at my wrist, then slammed my palm into the android's throat while my secret weapon went to work, firing the small explosive charge and punching the slender alloy spike through the armor covering, where it slipped through wires and nerve clusters, discharging the series of parallel capacitors I had wired into it. There was a bright flash of arcing electricity, and a puff of the 'magic smoke' I usually hated to smell so much before the machine simply continued its fall to the floor, crashing down on one of Hamilton's tables and shattering it easily.
Unfortunately, the suit seemed on the ball, and I barely had time to see him out of the corner of my eye and lift my arm to keep him driving the knife he was holding into my side. Instead, he just got to drive it into my arm. I don't think he expected the sharp blade to only go in about half an inch, though, and while it hurt like hell, I forced myself to hide that fact as I looked at him, with as much dispassion as I could muster.
"Sorry, sleaze. Myomer doesn't cut so well." His expression changed slightly as the truth dawned on him, but I didn't give him the time. Instead, I twisted around and gave him a right cross to the jaw. I could feel the bones give way slightly as they cracked under the blow, and that, plus the way his head snapped around and cracked into one of the few exposed wooden portions of Hamilton's bed, putting him down and out - permanently, part of me hoped - was actually quite worth the wound to my arm. The blood was hot on my skin, and already dripping down onto the floor, but I had bigger problems at the moment. "Hamilton!"
"You... you threw her..."
I crossed the distance to him in two long strides, grabbed him by his collar, and pulled him a couple inches off the ground, locking my eyes on his. "Listen to me, you fat piece of shit, if you have any interest at all in living through this, you get the fuck out of here before any more come, got it?"
"But my-"
I dropped him, letting out a breath in exasperation, and pointed for the door. "Move it already! Didn't I say I'd fix the damn toy!?"
"Altair, I-"
I ignored him, grabbing my duffel off the floor and pulling the female android back onto my shoulder. Her heaviness was a lot more pronounced with the ripped flesh in my left arm, but, hell, whatever my other qualities, I try and keep my word about things. Even if I was starting to think I was getting fucked on this job.
While he scrambled about, trying to collect whatever it was he thought was important, I kicked the remnants of the door aside and stepped out into the hallway.
"Hey!"
The voice came from another suit, and this time one with his gun drawn, and I didn't bother to swear out loud - I thought it was rather implied by the way I suddenly sprinted around the corner, barely avoiding the bullets that blew still more chunks out of the failing plaster in the building.
I took as many turns as I could, making my way for the stairwell on the other end of the building, which I hoped wasn't currently blocked by gun-toting hitmen or androids. Now, I don't avoid carrying a gun out of any misplaced sense of chivalry or anything like that, or because I think guns are wrong - almost everyone in this town has one. I don't carry on some days because it makes certain of my odder clients edgy.
And today, I forgot mine.
I got to the stairwell to hear the pounding of very heavy footsteps on their way up, and hit the stairs as fast as I could, not waiting to see what was on its way up. I hit a button on my watch as I ran, though, and spoke.
"Sis, I could use a little shock and awe, here."
"What!? How did you manage to get Hamilton to try and kill you!?" The words that came back over my earpiece were appropriately incredulous, and had just a hint of the odd edge of a synthesized voice.
"Suchara I don't need your shit right now, Hamilton's in deep and I got caught up, just show up and save my ass, will you!?"
"Oh, fine, if I have to. Again."
"Oh fuck off..." I muttered, coming to the last door, the one that led to the rooftop. It was locked and bolted, but I wasn't in the mood to screw around, so I just kicked it. Once was thankfully enough to snap the flimsy bolt and padlock away from the doorframe, and the door slammed open with a sound that sounded louder than a gunshot, echoing across the city surrounding the vast, open expanse of the roof I ran out onto. This building wasn't the tallest around, only about twenty stories or so, but it was one of the ones in better repair, or at least it seemed that way.
Suchara didn't say anything else over the link, I imagined she was a little busy. So I just ran. Had to get as far away from that doorway as I could before they made it up here - oh, shit.
Something smashed into my back and threw me to the ground again - hard. I saw the 'girl' rolling across the concrete out of the corner of my eye, but the android that hit me filled my vision suddenly, and even I had to pale a little at the sight. It wasn't an anthropomorphic model, just an amalgamation of metal and terror covered up with a trenchcoat and hat - it was a little funny, actually - or would have been, if I didn't know what it meant. This was a straight combat model from the war, and these weren't the sort that were programmed to take anything but killing into account. Apparently they wanted the other android alive, or this one would have killed me outright with the first blow...
One thing a lot of people misunderstand about androids is that most of them can't react a whole lot faster than people, if the person in question moves their ass. It takes them time to absorb information, process it, and act appropriately. Most of the servos androids like this one use have a slight operational delay, too. Of course, if they use myomer all bets are off, its just as fast as human muscle, which is why I have a load of the stuff in my body, actually.
The practical upshot of all this, is I know exactly how to stall an android, and while you can't stun one like you can a human, knocking it is usually not such a bad idea. Fast as I could, I laced my hands together, and smashed both hands into the side of it's head, hard enough to put a decent dent in the plating, and snap it around to the side, hopefully doing some servo damage. I used the rest of my momentum to roll away from its shadow and get back to my feet, just in time to see its fist coming for me. I twisted away from it and clamped down on the wrist, then brought my other arm up into its elbow, hitting the side of it with my open palm. There was a shriek of tortured metal as it bent on an axis it was never intended to.
Unfortunately, while such a blow would put most humans on the ground in agony for a good while, you don't get that when you fight an android. While I'd disabled that arm for now, the other came around quite nicely, and - not for the first time, I'm sorry to say, nor the last - I felt cold metal fingers close around my throat.
"Wait!" A suit ran out onto the roof, grinning triumphantly, and I rolled my eyes, even as the thing lifted me off my feet by my throat - which, for anyone who's ever wondered, happens to hurt considerably, thank you. "I don't want his neck broken. If you do that, we can't pay him back for our brother." He was accompanied by the usual pair of guards, though I imagined both of his were similar to the one that had me at the time, if better concealed.
"Oh, that guy who'll be eating through a str-ACK" The machine tightened its grip at a nod from its master, and the suit grinned even wider. I laughed. His grin faltered slightly in confusion, and I got to be the one grinning, even if my vision was starting to gray out.
"What's so funny!?" the man demanded, but I didn't have to answer his question. It was answered quite nicely with an earthshaking crash, and a massive, black shape that blocked the roof from the sun. As the suit staggered back, his mind still trying to absorb the size of the machine that looked malevolently down on him, its synthesized voice rang out.
"Let go of my brother, you piece of shit." There was a sharp crack sound, and the android that had me by the throat shattered, broken in half and more by a single hypervelocity round from the mecha's anti-infantry railguns.
I hit the ground, and tore the fingers from my throat before dropping the now severed arm. The suit finally got a hold of himself, and lifted his arm - and the pistol he held in his hand - towards me. "Shoot!" Both of the figures behind him, androids after all, lifted their arms, and I felt a stab of fear as they split open, revealing the weapon barrels they had been concealing.
The asshole had been playing with me, leaving the machines to bare hands. Actual armed androids weren't as common as they once were, since people who could calibrate their fickle targeting systems were so rare, and the fact that this group had them only made me worry more about what they might be capable of.
Luckily, at this point, he'd spent too long playing to have a chance.
"I don't think so." The mecha had drawn back its fist, now it pushed it forward, and crashed it into the roof atop both the androids, driving them into and through the concrete roof, while the buckling surface threw the suit's aim off more than enough that his shot went nowhere near me. Suchara pulled her fist back out, and opened it, holding it out palm up near me. "You okay?" She could actually sound gentle when she wanted to, despite the 34 meter high death machine she inhabited...
I shook my head a little, smiling and grabbing the singular android that hadn't tried to kill me yet today before I climbed on. "Yeah, hold on a second." I walked over to the hole in the roof, where the suit was trying desperately to pull himself back up. "Hey."
At my voice, he looked up, and his eyes widened.
I grinned. "No licking your lips in front of a kill next time." With that, I brought my boot down into his face, crushing his nose and a good portion of his face before casting him back off into the rubble. Satisfied, I walked back to the only android that hadn't yet tried to kill me today, pulled her up onto the hand, and climbed up myself. "Mind giving me a lift home, sis?"
Joined: Mar 2008 Gender: Male Posts: 104 Location: Michigan... or am I... Karma: 0
Re: Tattered Skies « Result #19 on Aug 28, 2008, 7:45pm »
- Chapter 1 -
Three Days Earlier
The place is pretty much a dump.
To understand what I mean by that, you have to realize that the city in which I live has been falling apart, one chip of concrete or plaster at a time, for somewhere in the realm of four decades. Not a nice place. This apartment is one of the not-nicest. Oh well. Not like my place is much to look at either.
The walls were a gaudy red that made it look like a cheap brothel, and that is by no means the only part of the place that give that impression. Everything was somehow fluffy and scented in the usual not-quite-flowery aroma I connect with the same sort of place as the wall color. The mostly naked female body I was knelt beside didn't dispel the image in the least. To be perfectly honest, it was probably that part that got my mind on that particular track in the first place, but far be it from me to admit something like that when it's so much more fun to ridicule my customer's interior decorating choices. I certainly can't fault him for his taste in women, I suppose. Actually, I can, hold on and I'll get to why.
It isn't how she looks, she was something cut from the fabric of men's fantasies, the exact right size in all the right places, not a blemish on her perfect skin, which is exactly the right color to keep her from being 'too white' while still leaving her in the porcelain goddess category, paradoxical as it might sound. Her hair - blonde of course, but a pleasant darker golden sort - was just barely curled and hung down around her curves in the perfect framing manner to accentuate the whole package. Not at all a bad catch. Except, of course, for the one reason I CAN fault the sweaty asshole behind me for his taste.
She may sound too good to be true, especially to be in a dump like this, and if you think that you're quite right, because the 'lady' is an android. The sort that can fuck, actually the sort that was built specifically for that purpose, which explains how she looks, and how she would be acting if I didn't have the inhibitor pins in the back of her neck, and half her back ripped open so I can access the diagnostics.
"Is she going to be okay?" The man asked, a significant amount of fear in his voice. I turned and looked up at him, lifting an eyebrow in what I hoped was a sufficiently not-amused manner to put him off asking again. It was.
I looked back to the pad in my hands, tapping at the lower right corner of its screen with my thumb to scroll down through the various diagnostic info scrolling across it, flowing from the 'girl' through the wire I'd jammed into her spine earlier. It took me a few minutes to get through it all before I set the pad down on the small of her back, and looked back up to the man. "I can fix it." I let the man's expression go from one remarkably similar to a five year old boy's waiting to hear from the vet about his injured puppy to the same boy hearing he was fine, then dropped the other shoe. "It's gonna cost ya."
His smile froze. He knew well enough what I meant when I said that. I wasn't cheap, everyone knew it, if I said something like what I had just said it meant 'not cheap' was going to be significantly more painful than they had imagined. "Altair... look... we go back a long wa-"
"No we don't, Hamilton." I said, sighing and pushing a hand back through my hair. "We've been over this. I deal with your shit because you don't fuck with mine, and this has always gone smoothly, but your little playboy bunny here has lost half her secondary logic array, how I don't feel like asking because I happen to believe it has something to do with one of your odd fetishes, and that's molycirc, Hamilton, even I don't have that much blank molycirc template laying around."
He paled just a little more as I explained. Molycirc was slang for molecular circuitry, the highest point of electronics miniaturization yet achieved. Even before the collapse the shit hadn't been cheap, and since then it cost most people an arm and a leg to get at it, sometimes rather literally. I still had both arms and both legs, but that was only because I had other ways of getting at the stuff than trying to buy it from the few remaining people who'd gotten their hands on the fabricator units. Unfortunately, molycirc was a primary ingredient in any sort of high end android, I had to admit, this plaything of Hamilton's was a top quality model. Probably refuse from the Cloud, but in damn good condition. Models like her just weren't seen around anymore, they required too much maintenance, and frankly there weren't enough of me to go around working on them. Most failed somehow, like this one had, and just never woke up again.
When I was younger, I felt sorry for them. Some seemed so human, knowing they were just going to die because noone could fix them seemed so sad. I know better now. Molycirc looks kinda like brains, that doesn't mean it is. Of course, knowing all the people that die too around here actually dwarfs the number of sophisticated androids shutting down, and the fact that that doesn't faze me much anymore either puts that in perspective. Not much does.
"Alright... alright" the man sighed, shaking his head. Hamilton was good for it. Sleazeball that he was, he made an alright living too, so I didn't feel too bad doing a little gouging. "How long?"
"Eh. Couple days. I'll take her back to my place, I'm not walking around out here with molycirc in a case, I get mugged enough as it is." Usually unsuccessfully. Most people knew what going after me meant.
"Alright. Need help carrying her?"
I lifted my eyebrow again, giving him an even firmer 'what are you, stupid?' than before, and he shook his head, laughing.
"Right, sorry, I forgot."
"No problem." I sealed up the parts of the girl I'd opened, then picked her up and put her on my shoulder, pulling the pad out and onto my pocket as I did. Hamilton's eyes widened just slightly. Knowing intellectually what I was and seeing a normal looking guy lift what was actually a very heavy girl, despite her slender waistline, were two different things.
About then, there was a knock on the door, but before Hamilton could move to open it, a deafening BOOM filled the room, and the whole lock mechanism was blown straight out of the wood. The door slammed open from the rest of the impact, and three men stepped forward through it. The one in front smiled. "My dear friend Hamilton... and is this your customer?"
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