[REVISION] Welcome To The Gutter (pt.1)

The most Ash had seen of The Gutter was in pursuit of fleeing suspects or perpetrators and in most cases suspects were the perpetrators. He had to say it looked much better when it was passing by at high speeds. Even then, the chases were through the upper tiers of it all where there were roads and air-routes for vehicles, this place was buried under infrastructure. 

Law enforcement wasn't a science, really, but tags (or 'chips') had really helped to track or identify crimes in progress. They certainly let you know if your fleeing suspect had any criminal history with only a seconds time spent scanning their birth tag. When convicted and sentenced your chip was updated and a lot of places above The Cloud flat-out refused to admit anyone with anything more than mild criminal charges on their tag, and good luck moving up in the workforce.

Before him he saw darkness barely lit with flickering lightrods, enormous pillars and columns, and nothing overhead except the constant drip of fluid and a deep darkness that swallowed up any hope of actually seeing past the first five tiers above you. There were spots that were completely uncovered, where one could almost see the sickly coloration of The Cloud in the daylight. The same Cloud that drizzled a constant rain of poisonous chemicals absorbed from the pre-regulation power-plants still chugging along, this was not that part of The Gutter. 

Just how toxic that fluid was was up for debate but he was sure it would burn a hole through his arm. The power-plants were long-since brushed off by The Obelisk and served more to power the lower tiers and The Gutter. A rough cycle, it was power and pollution or giving up almost everything in hopes the air-scrubbers would be able to filter out The Cloud over some reasonable amount of time.

The air here was perpetually damp and smelled quite a deal worse than anything Ash had experienced. Fluid ran down every column, pillar, and building, glistening in what little light there was. Mold grew copiously and strange fungi and fat-capped mushrooms grew along the ruined streets as the fluids ran along toward some spot ahead. 

The elevator had placed him at the corner of what was once a street, kept in better condition as it rarely brought anyone down except JPD equipment or forces and the two mounted sentry-guns were also a good deterrent for anyone thinking about attacking law enforcement or Juno personnel within the large range of the weapons.

Ash sighed, looking around and finding himself with little choice in which direction he traveled as the other had been barricaded by walls of JPD barriers. Walking along the remains of what was, at best, a path Ash sidestepped and jumped breaks in the cement and asphalt, he didn't want the pooling of those fluids to ruin his boots. He was moving toward the JPD outpost, guided partially by a map he had checked on his hub and signs spray-painted onto the large pillars, high and out of reach of those who tagged all the empty space there was. 

His shoulder-lamp helped expose the graffiti, some of the work was impressive, actually. He had seen some incredibly realistic work along a cement wall, it surely took someone months to complete. He wasn't sure how you managed to stay in one place so long and stay alive, here. Ash wondered, faintly, if Marie had ever seen the work of the young artists here. He had a fleeting thought of the two of them coming up with some sort of education scholarship for gifted artists trapped down here since birth, but with the direction things were heading with 'art' these days he wasn't so sure that would be a good idea. High up, the pillar markings guided him down the road.

Ash had to remind himself that this place was nothing like the other tiers of the city. There was a dramatic change between The Bottom Rung and the second tier and up that he had experience with. This was the the worst part of the worst tiers, this was where savagery was as common as everything else. It was not a stretch for people to be slaughtering each other here, JPD never touched it. Once the Ob' realized that The Gutter was completely useless and stopped observation and patrol. People often fled here in hopes of escape but they never seemed to understand that just because they had come here that JPD would not pursue them.

 In quite a lot of cases the fleeing suspects were killed by the people that lived in The Gutter. You can only run so far through the poorest part of the city in your nice clothes and accessories before you were robbed of them, usually without bothering asking before they just killed you. As awful as it was, it was pretty damn convenient when it came to wrapping things up. No one had to go to jail, no one had to be interviewed, so much of the paperwork vanished when the suspect was murdered in The Gutter. Ash and Phoenix had seen horrible things here but they had not been to the Bottom Rung where sense was apparently absent from everyone-- or so the stories told.

It took several minutes of walking before he finally began to encounter people-- and they were barely that. The whine of the spinning barrels on his weapon had kept the smart ones away, those that remained were incapable of fleeing. The first man had been half-slumped against a pillar with vomit in his lap an a busted bottle of liquor that Ash was pretty sure was home-made. The man bled slightly from his mouth as he leaned there and his unfocused eyes followed Ash as he passed. 

The man did not make any moves so Ash was comfortable passing him even though he figured a bullet would be a more human solution for improving the mans life. He had come across junkies and addicts cooking up extremely crude forms of Spark, named so because it was very easy to explode if one was cooking a potent batch. The smell was what gave it away, it was an acrid thing that was distinct and left you wanting to spit until the taste and smell of it were gone. The barrels of the ScumThumper apparently did not reach their ears or they were just more interested in the Spark.

Looking at them briefly he could see that each of them had their eyes open wide as the one man worked on cooking the batch up. Hungry faces, desperate to escape their surroundings no matter how much it damaged them. Some time down the line they would die from their addiction but that wasn't a bad option in this place. The most clear symbol of addiction was the perpetually dry mouth. Lips cracked constantly, bleeding from the tears in the skin and their tongues were like dry sponges in their own mouths. 

Their speech would be affected by it and their teeth were quickly worn away as the drug wore the enamel away and then the teeth until they were completely gone. Recovered addicts could not eat solid foods well, if at all, and if they didn't have the money to have their teeth replaced they just lived that way with their scar-strewn lips and damaged brains.

The most unnerving part of this all was just how dark it really was. There were lightrods overhead but they lacked the power to properly illuminate anything. It was constantly dim and every line of lightrods seemed to be illuminating to a different degree than any of the others. Commonly he would come across the putrid smell of decay and rot where he was sure there was a corpse somewhere-- if he bothered to look for it. He didn't. 

Graffiti was exceedingly present and some of it was clearly the brown stain of dried blood. The gangs here had skirmishes and he could see the (poorly done) symbol of the Acid Eaters. A mouth full of sharp teeth cracking their way through a pipe or other object that was always marked with the common cautionary labels for dangerous chemicals. He had seen it done much better than this, this was just crude and off. If he was in the territory of the Acid Eaters he could expect to run into the Rabid Fangs who were constantly fighting over the eastern reaches of the seventh sector.

Ash was aware of every major gang that operated in the gutter and Espher as a whole and there were more than he could ever count. They constantly changed loyalties and territory, fought endlessly, and had the luxury of doing most everything without worrying about the JPD. It just made killing people too easy and he had been told in the Academy, verbatim, that the people in the gutter were lost and not worth the money the citizens of Espher paid them. Those in the Gutter did not pay, they did not get the protection of the JPD. Murder, here, was without penalty.

If you owned a weapon you could, in theory, come to the Bottom Rung and kill everyone you saw and then go home and wash the blood off of your hands and then never worry about any charges. In the government's view, it seemed, killing off people in the gutter could only benefit the city. They did not pay in to the city but the conditions they lived in were hardly a tax upon the city. Almost all of The Gutter was self-sufficient, running on ancient powerplants that were usually under the protection of larger gangs. The powerplants spewed pollutants into the air while being operated by the best people that could be found by the gang in control.

Ash soldiered onward, his eyes constantly observing his surroundings, receiving no help from the piss-poor lighting. Reaching up, Ash turned on the light mounted on the stock of the ScumThumper and was given at least a bit of ease being able to stab it into the darker areas. Most of what he saw was just as disgusting or unimpressive as the rest of the areas he had been. He began to hear the faint sounds of life scuffling around as he continued along the busted path. He killed the spin on the gun to listen more closely and began to furrow his brow. The scuffling was not a promising sound. Shutting off the light on the gun he moved further in, drilling one fact into his own head. Survival. He was not a cop here, he was going to be fighting to survive this. He could not be kind and gentle, he could not be a good guy, he could not survive this unless he killed all the parts of him that exposed weakness or vulnerabilities. It was a lot harder than he expect.

As the sounds of scuffling feet increased, he began to hear a faint gurgle that promised nothing pretty. Ash began to slowly stalk through the near-darkness, his feet placed carefully as he slipped around a pillar, listening. Whatever was going on was behind the pillar opposite of the one he had taken cover behind. There was a muffled curse and a clatter of metal on the dirty cement, he carefully looked around the pillar but could only see a pair of feet kicking weakly at the ground. Furrowing his brow, Ash went against his better judgment and slipped around the pillar he was at and carefully covered the distance. 

It took a decent amount of time before he could get close enough to put his back to the pillar. Listening, he could hear the gurgle much more clearly, he could muttered words and then the smell of blood hit him. Gritting his teeth and wishing he could just move on, Ash leaned his head out for a brief moment before common sense kicked in and he brought the weapon up. Carefully he began to side-step around the pillar, the scene unveiling itself. A pool of blood was on the ground and in it, propped against the pillar, was a youth who stared out with broad eyes.

Propped there, he was obscured partially by the crouching form of a man who was busy carving a line down the young man's chest with a knife. One arm was off to the side, torn open around the wrist where his chip was likely torn out and checked for any valuable information. The youth had a gag shoved in his mouth and suddenly his eyes found Ash. Standing there with his weapon ready, Ash must have looked like a savior but he was hardly feeling that way.

Ash watched in morbid fascination as the street surgeon began to tear flesh away to expose muscle and bone. He moved the knife down and plunged it into the youth's abdomen causing his eyes to widen in shock as he stared at Ash, pleading with his eyes for help. It was not until he youth's abdomen was cut open wide that the sense of decency in Ash clicked and he brandished the weapon, curling his finger over the trigger and pulling it just a bit.

The barrels on the ScumThumper began to wind up and spin and the street surgeon whipped around, drawing an older model pistol from his coat. As the street surgeon brought the pistol toward Ash he squeezed the trigger. In a storm of pellets and furious thunder, the weapon bucked violently in Ash's gripped. Ash watched in awe as the body of the surgeon was chipped away with intense speed. Shapes of anatomy were blasted apart, pellets obliterating flesh and bone at such range. The Surgeon's face was stripped away with one blast and then the remains of bone were ripped to shards as pellets tore through his skull. 

The contents of the surgeon's head were quickly scattered across the ground several feet away, along with the majority of his shoulder and chest. The surgeon fell back and began to twitch, headless and missing half his torso, his disconnected arm still brandishing the pistol. Ash held the trigger down a couple seconds longer before releasing it and letting the barrels wind down. His eyes examined the abstract, grisly work of art the ScumThumper had made of the street surgeon's head and torso. It was much more devastating and violent than he had imagined it would be.

Curiosity had been indulged and Ash turned to regard the youth bleeding out. Lowering the gun, Ash looked the youth over. Slowly he knelt down, carefully avoiding thee pool of blood with his knee, and looked into the youth's eyes. There was no telling how he got here, he was dressed well for the area and he must have had some sort of implant if the surgeon was harvesting him right here... or maybe things had become so nightmarish that the street surgeons just did it all in plain sight. 

The young man stared at Ash, eyes still pleading and there was a sting in Ash's gut as he read every word in the young man's head. 'Help me. I'm going to die. Please help. I don't want to die here. Call for emergency medical attention. You're JPD, save me. I don't want to die here. I don't want to die here.' Ash's face twisted up in anguish and the weight pulled down on him.

“I can't do anything.” Ash forced out, his eyes looking away. “Even if I could get you emergency transport you would be dead before you got to the hospital.” he sighed, and grit his teeth. Many thoughts swept through his head and he began to observe the cuts and bleeding wounds. He could not have much blood left. “I... I can't help you. Not like that.” Ash muttered, reaching up to pull the gag from the young man's mouth. Ash stood up and looked down at the mess, reaching behind him to wrap his fingers around his sidearm and pull it free of the holster. 

“I can make it stop or you can bleed out.” Ash said, his voice dry of any emotion. “Just... It's all I can do for you.” he explained. The youth nodded and Ash raised his pistol to place the barrel against the youth's forehead. “Just nod.” Ash whispered, his eyes looking away. He felt the youth nod against the barrel of the gun and closed his eyes. There was a crack that split the air as the gun fired and blood flecked Ash's uniform. Ash's arm went limp and let the weapon hang at his side. Slowly the youth's body slid to the side and then slumped over and hit the ground.

Survive seven days and you can go back to your life, Ash. Survive seven days and you can be with her again. Ash raised his head and began to walk away. He didn't look back to see what he was imagining in his head. He couldn't do more than that, as selfish as it was this was -his- life and Marie was -his- … something. Girlfriend? She was waiting at the end of this hellhole and Ash holstered the pistol at his back and took the ScumThumper back in both hands. 

Ash wasn't sure how the youth had ended up here but at the least, Ash saved him a few minutes worth of bleeding out and dying. The shot killed him instantly and freed the youth from the pain, Ash tried his best to make that sound like he had helped the youth in some substantial way. If Ash had been quicker to investigate maybe he could have done more but... once more he hammered the words home. You must survive, Ash.

Walking with his eyes somewhat unfocused, Ash followed the ruins of the street toward distant lights and sounds. Perhaps it was a bit of a settlement, somewhere alive, somewhere he could immerse himself in and forget the gurgling sound of the young man while he had hid behind that pillar. He wanted to scream at himself and scold his mind for dwelling on it. The kid was dead the moment he entered the Bottom Run. Healthy bodies, decent clothes, that made you a target. 

“It was all I could do...” he muttered, his eyes moving to focus on the distance where the sounds of life were originating and began to move swiftly toward it, something to distract his thoughts as he told himself to be cold, to not care, to worry only about himself after spending so much of his career doing the exact opposite. It was a brutally opposite way of thinking but this life was -his-, Marie was -his-. It was selfish but it was the only way he was sure he could get out of this alive.

The Prelude to The Gutter

Ash pondered his fate in The Gutter. Would it be one man or would they run in a group? He wondered if shock would set in, if he would go numb before they started to cut into his chest, flaying his torso. He was morbidly curious just what that would be like, watching as some street surgeon methodically cut him open. If he couldn't feel the pain, would he really care? The image of the dull knife forcing itself through his skin was all too vibrant. Would he last long enough to watch them harvest any of his organs or would their search for cybernetic implants kill him first? Try as they might, they would find nothing aside from his law enforcement and birth tags.

That morbid curiosity turned to sudden rage as images of Marie flooded his mind. He had spent those last weeks drinking himself half to death and then waking up the next day to do it all again. Sitting in that corner, shelling out money to kill himself shot by shot. He had lost faith in everything he had believed in when he took his job. He wanted to help keep people safe, he wanted to stop the innocent people from getting caught up in firefights in the low tiers, to stop black market trades, the very harvesting he had just been imagining. He wanted to be respected and lauded for his work, was that selfish?

He served happily, he felt satisfaction as he brought closure to every case, caught every thief or murderer, brought a missing child back to their parents, chased down a fleeing criminal, brought in rapists, gave testimony to ensure that those who had done wrong were punished as severely as the law dictated... and it had all just become a joke in Zero-Five. All the respect and dignity that kept him standing upright with pride was dashed upon the orders he was given. If he had shot that child he would be without all this bullshit pushing down on him? The image and act of killing the child would follow him to his dying day, and that was much worse in some respects. At least he got to fight for his life, right?

"Damnit!" Ash screamed, grabbing the bottle by the neck and hurling it across the kitchen where it busted upon the wall and fell to the floor in a puddle of alcohol and broken glass, streaks of the alcohol running down the wall. He had to force himself not to grab more items to begin wrecking his home with. He could, honestly, knock the walls down with his bare fists if they wouldn't crumble into bloody ruin along the way. He felt he suddenly had an idea of what it was like to live with terminal illness or to be living on borrowed time as some gang kingpin gave you so many days to pay back the money you borrowed before he broke your kneecaps and then let you die on your own in a fucking waste drain.

It was unfair, that was a major factor but the largest part of it all was her. Marie had taken him from the bottom of his depression in one evening and thrown him into orbit. Looking into her eyes, there was nothing that could get him down, the smell of her banished bad memories, her words drowned out all negativity and it was all true. She had just been the right woman in the right place to save him and the fact that he would not likely survive the night made it all the more bitter. He wanted to throw a tantrum like a child and scream about how unfair it was but... he'd just be wallowing alone on his kitchen floor. He didn't have a parent to sway into doing what he wanted, here.

Ash exhaled raggedly and braced himself with his hands on the edge of the counter, hanging his head down between his arms. He could smell the alcohol on himself, now, and sighed. He was sure that was a thing that dickhead Vanderbilt had mentioned. Somewhere in hell there was a spot reserved for him and Ash would find a way from his own spot in hell to kick the living shit out of that asshole. Hell was an outdated concept, honestly, but it remained in the human lexicon for figurative purposes. It had left with the Christians when they had made their march for war. Ash had always known that Juno hid things from the public, every government does because, on the whole, people were panicky animals and the smallest hint of bad news could cause some ridiculous riot. From that riot would come claims of police brutality and from that would come very clear messages from Juno that the citizens chose to be there-- they were welcome to leave if they had issues with it.

Ash couldn't count how many things that had been swept under the rug but he acknowledged some of them were for the good of the city, items not quite worth mention because they would be more trouble than they were worth. For a long time he had only heard of Gutter duty as an outdated thing, some ancient practice too barbaric for the civilized, modern people of today. The fact was, though, troublemakers ended up disappearing and he had not gone on without noticing the mysterious absence of certain people over the course of a night. Some were murders that Juno fast-tracked and declared were simply unsolvable and every bit of evidence collected was suddenly gone. Espher was certainly a damn sight better than living in the outlying settlements but there was no question that when the citizens had voted to bring the Obelisk to a government level they did so without knowing what exactly it could do.

It was funny, really. The city-- at the time it was a large city slowly growing outward to begin consuming surrounding cities-- had lost all faith in human decency (in politicians, at least) and Juno had so reluctantly pushed their candidate to the fore. It was programmed to be perfectly logical, incapable of being bribed, unable to be intimidated, never to be found in a sex scandal, always weighing the city and its population and doing this or that. Everything from public transport schedules to allocating police forces as needed per sector, all the way down to what was or was not available  to experience in the form of art. Countless albums, paintings, sculptures, books, pictures, and other forms of art had been confiscated, put into the vault of Lucretia (or the Library of Lucretia, alternatively) deep in the core of the Lucretia sector, near the Obelisk and heavy guard. People realized, then, they had only traded one devil for another.

Ash sighed as he pulled his shirt off over his head, not wanting to both with the buttons, and entered the bathroom. He looked at the mirror set flush with the wall and appraised himself. He needed to shave, he needed more sleep, he needed to brush his hair, he needed to figure out just what Marie saw in him when it came to looks. He was certainly not ugly but he was certain there were much more handsome men she met on a daily basis, that hit on her or offered her ridiculous endorsements and sponsorships for a date. At least that was how he saw it. Maybe it was different, he could see men being far too scared to approach her. With a heaved sigh, Ash stepped out of his pants and boots until he was naked and stepped into the shower. The pane on the wall immediately lit up and he selected one of his custom entries that set the water temperature and pressure just how he liked it. Then the display shrunk down to the bottom left corner and the pane displayed telepane channels. He wasn't terribly interested so he changed the channel and subchannel to one of a few hundred music stations before he turned and embraced the warm embrace of the water.

Hanging his head beneath the showerhead, holding himself up with his palms against the wall, Ash breathed slow and stead, wanting to wash the situation away like the water running down the drain, to see it all just go away... but things were never that easy. He had just finished lathering his hair up to place it under the showerhead when the pane chimed. His head went under the wash and he blindly tapped the pane. "Yea?" he called out, working his hands through his hair. The voice from the pane excited him and he was instantly free of worry. "Guess who." Marie said, winking at the camera. Ash slung his head out of the wash and looked at her, his face creasing into a smile despite his poor spirits. "The stripper I ordered?" he teased, looking at her, she could see a small vision of him adjacent to the camera and she shook her head. "I put her out of a job. Now are you going to let me in or do I need to break your door down?" she inquired, tilting her head. "Yea, let me key it." Ash spoke, typing in a sequence of numbers on a pad to the left of the pane and unlocked the door. "Thank you, now you better take care of that." she said before moving in.

Ash began to ask her what she meant but the sudden sting in his eyes answered him and he quickly shoved his head back under the flow of water, rinsing his eyes thoroughly and washing his hair thoroughly. The rest of his shower was hasty and bare-bones, wanting to be next to her as soon as possible. He heard her heeled boots clacking against the floor  toward the bathroom. He swept the shower curtain open and stared right into her eyes-- well, he had to look down quite a bit but he made eye-contact. She was wearing a smart black blouse and coat... with denim jeans that looked as if they were molded just for her. "I missed you." Ash said, water running down his form and thumping quietly against the bathtub. She placed a hand on his chest and smiled, running her fingers down, letting her nails scrape his skin. Ash was about to stop her from moving below his hips but she stopped on her own, fingers tracing left and right. "Looks like you need a shave." she spoke, smirking.
"Yeah? Where?" He inquired, grinning.
Marie laughed and shook her head "Honestly? Both."
"Oh yeah? Well I was going to grow it out down here and shave your name into it. Thought you'd be flattered."
"You know, I have to say that is something I've never had a man do for me."
"Yea, it's gonna stay that way." Ash teased and she grinned up at him.

As Ash leaned down toward her she sighed  and placed her hands on the sides of his neck and they kissed for several moments before it broke away and he looked at her with a completely different look on his face. He was happier, brighter, more responsive. She was about to speak but Ash flicked his fingers at her space and sprinkled it with water. Her face scrunched up and she laughed before her hand shot for the pane and she tapped her finger against the pane, rapidly lowering the temperature before slapping the on button and giving him a soft shove to make sure the spray of cold water caught him fully. He cursed and sputtered, shutting the water off with a touch of his hand. "You need a warning label." Ash said, shaking his head so that his hair whipped water in her direction. "You ass!" she shouted, laughing with him as he stepped out of the shower.

"So... you said you needed to see me, your tone was pretty... grave. I was worried if something happened at work." Marie spoke, watching Ash towel off.
Wiping his face with the towel, Ash nodded "Yea, something all right."
"Don't leave me in suspense, Ash. What is it? I'm guessing its the reason there's a busted bottle in the kitchen floor?"
"Yea, I... just kind of threw a fit. Look, I don't know exactly what we have, you know, us... but I had to see you before I went into work."
Marie seemed to weigh his words, not quite sure what they were, herself. "And I'm here, Cherub. Tell me what happened."
"You ever go to The Gutter?"
"I've... been a few times, yes. It was all for charity donations and benefits."
"No, the -real- gutter, the bottom rung."
"I... No, I never have."
"Well, I'm being posted there tonight and for seven days after. I won't be coming home, they've got bunks down there."
"Isn't that place pretty awful?"
"Yea, yea it is. It's been about six years since anyone posted there came back and when they showed up they weren't all there. Literally, like missing limbs and bodyparts."
"Who is going with you?"
"No one. It's just going to be me. I can sleep during the day when patrol runs through regularly but at night I'm going to be the only cop in the sector working in The Gutter."
"This is why..."
"Yea, I … like I said, I don't know what this is but I want more of it, I want to follow it all the way to wherever you and I end up."
"It's only been a day, Cherub but... I know what you mean. We fit very well with one another."

It was true, Marie felt like she fit perfectly into every recess and hole in Ash's life as if she had been made just for that. It was a wonderful feeling, to know someone so well in so short a time. She knew what he was thinking every time he opened his mouth. In all his awkward stories and tangents and difficulty to convey details on certain things correctly, she knew what he meant and it wasn't without it's strange nature, it was very weird but it worked. Ash finished toweling off and dropped the towel in a hamper while Marie forged the path ahead into the bedroom. Ash got his underwear on and sat down with her on the bed, his hand grabbing her own and lacing his fingers with her's. She turned and smiled at him, moving to kiss him for a moment before shoving him onto his back and climbing on top of him. She nestled in against the crook of his neck and he hooked his arm around her slight frame, his free hand holding one of her own. If only he could freeze this moment, to exist here forever...  but the fact was that this might be the last time he ever got to feel her nestled against him, smell the scent of her skin or shampoo, to hear her voice, her laugh-- that laugh that was infectious and almost always present, as if she were in the best mood all the time.

"I just... if there is something I want to do before I'm basically put to death I want to spend time with you. The Gutter is where they put you when they want you to die. I guess the reward of surviving it is keeping your job."
"I'm not going to worry about you." Marie whispered in his ear.
"What does that mean?"
"I'm not afraid you'll die. You'll survive it, Ashley."
Ash was surprised that he didn't flinch reflexively at being called by his full name but she said it with a clear, caring tone. "I'm glad someone believes I will." he muttered somewhat darkly.
"If you just sit there and thing about how awful it's going to be it's just going to be awful. Keep your head up-- well, I guess down is wiser here but just think about everything we'll do when you get back."
"That's a way to look at it."
"That's how -you- should look at it. Listen to me, Ashley, I'm not sure what we have here, either, but I want it just as much as you. I have so many things to show you and things I want to do with you—"
"You're not talking about the same things that your words are putting in my head."
Marie grinned "Bear with me, Cherub. There is a lot to do and I'm certain you'll make it out and come back to me."

Hours passed between the two in conversation and for those hours Ash had completely forgotten the fear he had facing down his own execution. He had curled up with her, embraced her, kissed on her flesh for what seemed like an age. Marie had been growing more bold by the minute and there was a fire in her he hadn't seen before. Looking into her eyes she was hungry, she was ferocious, there was such determination. She had a hidden animal in her somewhere, he could remember seeing it that night they met, not realizing quite what it was until now. There was something coiled in her, ready to strike and it was vicious. Of course, this wasn't something she aimed at him, but he supposed in growing up she had learned a lot about how far people will go to screw you over, how petty and violent they were. He couldn't say that it was something that calmed him but it had been dominating the way toward sex, pawing at his chest, shedding her coat. Much to her surprise, as she went to take the waist of his boxershorts in her hands he stopped her. The look in her eyes could've broken his heart. She was confused, almost hurt.

Ash immediately took hold of her head and pulled her into a kiss. "Not like this I..." Ash sighed, pressing his forehead to her own and closing his eyes. "Not this way, not when I'm facing this. I know it's not some kind of pityfuck or last act of kindness, I know that, Marie. I just... I want to be there to enjoy it, all of me to be there, not to have half my head worried about the next week. I just want to be able to be there completely."
Marie's expression softened and she nodded with understanding, contenting herself to trail her fingernails along his abdomen. Honestly he wasn't sure what her fascination was, he hadn't had an etched abdomen in several years, it'd gone a bit soft. "How much longer?"
Ash craned his head to look at a clock mounted on the wall and sighed. "Five minutes, pretty much."
She nodded and slowly uncoiled herself from him, sitting next to him on the bed. "I mean it, Ashley, you're going to get through it fine."
Ash nodded "I know, I believe you. I need to get to Sector HQ and check in with the Sector Chief. He said something about giving me suitable firepower to hold my own if a group of psychos start shrieking and charging at me."
"Ooh, big guns. Sounds interesting."
"I kinda feel like shit for wanting to have an opportunity to use whatever I get."
"Oh, I totally get that. You're fine."

Ash spent the next few minutes pulling himself away from Marie and getting dressed, she had insisted on buttoning up his uniform so he let her have at it as he began to put on his gear, complete with his hat and recovered badge. He stood and looked at her, looked her over, absorbed every detail he could hold about her in silence. She seemed to understand what he was doing, she was smiling and looking into his eyes with her own. Perhaps she was doing the exact same thing he was? The communication hub chimed in a slot on his belt and he pulled it out, opening it. "That's all the time I have." he said, looking toward the door and then back at her. She nodded and walked with him to the door. "Listen, you can stay as long as you want. I don't care. There's probably food that will be going to waste anyway. "
"I have a lot of things I need to do now that I have the time for them but I'll gather my things and leave a note for you to come home to in seven days, hm?" Marie offered.
"Sounds good. I need to go but I'm going to miss you, Marie. A lot."
"Me too, Cherub. Me too."

Ash kissed her hungrily and embraced her with strength that threatened to practically snap her into pieces but she enjoyed every second. He had said his goodbyes to her as he ascended to the parking structure and fired up his patrol car. The ride to Sector HQ was quiet, he was trying to remember something his dad had said once when he was a child. About how death smiles at everyone and you just had to do the same. It was as relevant as he figured it would ever be. He had to get all senses of compassion of his head for this one. He had to kill all of his kindness, he had to be cold, cruel, brutal. This was a gauntlet to getting back to living and the life waiting for him was worth carving a path through the people of The Gutter should he be in doubt of their intentions. He had to be a monster to stand in a place of monsters, he felt.

Checking in, Ash had eyes on him and re-emergent whispers circulating around. He was without room to care for it now, though. He had met the Sector Chief in the armory and, true to his word, The Chief had a table spread with assault weapons. Rifles, shotguns, grenade rifles, rotary cannons, and dozens more. Frankly, explosives were too likely to harm innocent bystanders so they were right out. Rotary cannons were just too bulky to use in close quarters-- at least for him. He knew there were plenty of muscular and massive officers who could wield them effectively but Ash wasn't able to do that. Ultimately Ash had come down to a ScumThumper, it was a shotgun with a rotating series of four barrels and a large drum magazine. In riots it was idea when packed with non-lethal ammunition, you could spray down an entire crowd with one magazine and have them disperse. He wasn't sure what happened when using lethal ammunition but he expected it to be ugly and messy.

Ash had spoken with The Chief for a half hour before he was ten minutes from his post. With the ScumThumper slung over his shoulder he stood in the core elevator, riding it down until it reached the bottom level (as far as the Obelisk was concerned). As one rode down the tiers of Espher, the differences in the tiers was extremely apparent. Clean and bright slowly gave way to dirt, grime, and unpleasant smells.  He was at least ten tiers from The Gutter now and had to navigate his way to a special freight elevator to resume his descent. In this elevator he could not see outside, he just waited, watching the tier indicators flash by. As the elevator slowed to a halt, Ash took hold of the weapon and disengaged the safety switch, his thumb flicked a switch that caused a quiet whine to spin up as the barrels on the weapon rotated. Bracing himself for some manner of ambush, he held the weapon at his hip and kept his finger flat along the weapon, just above the trigger. The doors groaned and opened suddenly, leaving The Gutter open to see.

Ash Meets Marie (First Revision)

FIRST REVISION, oh boy. I took a look at the scene of Marie and Ash (which has not been posted to this blog, not the original rough draft) pretty thoroughly and changed a lot, added more character to the scene, I feel. Helped to grasp why the two of them just connect.

So, here you go:

---
Ash looked back to his fondest memories of her, when he had first met her. She was the most beautiful creature he had ever known. He had no idea why she actually came in to that bar (which he was pretty sure was being kept afloat by his patronage alone), she didn't belong there. It was like putting a ruby in the a puddle of sewage. So out of place that he actually forgot himself and just stared at her. She was not tall by any means, he was certain she wasn't even five feet tall and she could not have weighed more than a hundred and ten pounds and that was pushing it. She was mostly swallowed up in a freshly unbuttoned beige-colored coat of NoSoak material and her red hair was tucked down her back and under the it.

A slim, perfect-fit t-shirt covered her torso this only helped to show her chest was not devoid of endowment but she had a more than modest bust. The words upon her shirt were currently too hard to decipher with what little of his brain was not completely drinking her in. Tight jeans ran down right into a pair of beige boots, no doubt they were NoSoak as well. The coat by itself cost more than it would cost to demolish this dive and that was exactly why she boggled him. There was more to her than he could see there, but everything he saw he liked. What he did not like was the risk she took in wearing such an expensive coat in this part of Espher. She bobbed a bit on her heels and scanned the room carefully as if she were here to meet someone.

No doubt an Adonis by means of cosmetic surgery and implants but why would he want to come here? Maybe he had grown up here, in the bottom tier of what was essentially Espher's totem pole in the just-above-The-Cloud list? There was almost no way to discern her age but her brilliant green eyes showed she had been around long enough to know when to be on her guard.

So vibrant was that green that he had dismissed them as implants or augmented with some manner of expensive magic that could be had for the right price. In his head he had been peeling her clothes away and lost in the lurid, beautiful thoughts so intensely that it never registered that she was approaching him.

"It says 'Art is all we have left'." she spoke, shattering his dream-scape with harsh reality. The good thing was that reality was almost better.
His silence prompted her to respond "Saw you eyeballing me when I came in.". Her voice was just as beautiful as the rest of her.
"I-- Shit. I didn't mean to... Fuck, you know... I couldn't help..." he paused, sighing with defeat. "Yea, I admit I was staring. A little."
"Oh-ho, just a little?" She spoke, her smile exposing teeth that were a dazzling white.
"Okay so... maybe a lot. I didn't mean to offend you--"
"Hush. Stop worrying and just relax."
"I... okay." This would have to be the first time he had ever been caught ogling a woman and not been shot a disgusted or angry look. Even before his hair had changed.
"See? Is it that hard to stay calm?"
"Not when you're telling me to." he admitted, flat-out.
She laughed, he smiled involuntarily, and she shook her head. "Why are you sitting in this dirty corner by yourself?"

Why she was interested in him at all was confusing for him. He had to look like a train-wreck. "It's pretty much how I spend all my time off these days."
"Drinking in a dirty corner in a dirty bar just above The Cloud?"
"... Yea, pretty much." he conceded and looked down at his drink. It was much more depressing when said aloud.
"You must be an officer." She said with laser-accurate certainty, raising one brow just a bit.
"I... yeah.," he looked at himself to see if something gave it away but that was not the case, he wore a plain outfit that didn't stand out at all. "That obvious, huh?"
"You have body language a lot of other people don't so you are either a soldier or a an officer of the law. Either way I hear it's pretty much a hell you can't get out of."
"Just where do you hear that?"
"Places."
"Clean bars in clean parts of Espher?"
She smirked "Why haven't you just asked me to sit down already?"

The thought had never even crossed his mind, inviting her to sit down. He was sure she was just wasting time waiting on a boyfriend or fiance. Moving to clear the table (or at least wipe up what he had spilled over the evening) he pushed the empty ash-tray aside only to have her take his hand and guide it right back to the table.

She sat down with a grace he had never seen so close. In fact, this whole situation was surreal to him. She pulled a silver case from her coat pocket and thumbed the latch that held it closed. She pulled a long cigarette from the case and placed it between her immaculate lips. Her eyes flicked upward to look at him expectantly. He stated into them, this close he could tell that they were either complete biological replacements or natural.

In sudden realization he scrambled from pocket to pocket to find his lighter. After a few awkward moments he pulled the thin metal rectangle from his pocket and flicked it open, offering it to her. She leaned in just far enough to place the tip of the cigarette above the lighter. A flame sparked and burned blue, igniting the tobacco as she took her first drag of the cigarette. She exhaled to the side out of courtesy and eyed the three-quarter-full bottle on the table while he put his lighter away.

"How are you not a complete drunken mess right now?" she inquired, laughing in a way that made it impossible for him to be less than cheery.
He grinned and shrugged his shoulders "Maybe it's my form of artistry."
"Oh, I bet. The hangovers must be beautiful to watch."
"Only when I'm smart enough to cut myself off from finishing the entire thing."
"Doesn't look like you're smart tonight, Cherub."
"I'm usually not, no."
"Then you won't mind me helping you finish it?"
As if there were some possibility he could deny this woman anything but his still-beating heart-- and that was just because he was pretty sure blood wouldn't suit her. "Oh ye-yeah, go ahead, it's already paid for."

She reached toward the wall and plucked a glass from a stack recessed in the wall and took the bottle to pour her drink. "Oh, good, that means I don't have to pay anything, right?"
"Wouldn't dream of asking."
She grinned broadly and delicately tapped her finger on her cigarette, sending ashes into the glass tray. "I think you're setting a record, here."
"A record for what?"
"For how long it has ever taken a man to ask me my name."
He had been so caught up in the moment he hadn't even thought of it. "I... err, sorry, what is your name?"
"Marie."
"It's really nice to meet you, Marie."
Marie shook her head and then made an unfurling flourish with her hand just before her chin as she instructed him "'And my name is...'"
"Ash." he said
“Oh, is that short for something?”
“,,, Ashley.”
"Oooh! I bet you got a lot of shit for that in school!" she said, her excitement infectious.
"You have no idea how many times I asked my parents -why- they chose that name. They didn't even bother with a middle name."
She laughed, it was so easy, it seemed, to bring that laughter from her and spread its warmth around. "I like it. It's unusual. Like me. Ashley--"
"Ash, just call me Ash."
"Ash, I really am curious about something but you can't be mad when I ask, all right?"
"I ... guess." he had a feeling which question she wanted to ask.
"What's with the hair?"

He was right and he went on to tell her the truth. Ash had, a few years after puberty, inexplicably had his raven black hair go shock-white. There was no mental trauma in his life outside of dealing with being stuck at the bottom class for the middle tiers. Money was a bit tight in his home but his mother managed to save up enough to take him to a doctor of reasonable standing.

Through testing and examination they had written it off as just some extremely rare genetic fuck-up. What followed for about six years was constant color treatments that never managed to stick. They did, however. slowly manage to darken his hair to something of a deep gray with random streaks of black where some of his hair had actually been successfully treated. He was far ahead of everyone else at the irony of his name and the way his hair had turned out.

“It's like they knew.” Marie said, her smile far too warm for her to be rude.
"I... it's some kind of genetic thing, my mother nearly worked herself to death working odd jobs to get the money for the color treatments and they just didn't really work. Used to be as white as snow." Ash spoke, although it was pretty much a miracle if snow ever fell in any part of Espher, much less being pure white.
"I see... and your name..." she began.
"Yea, I got more hell out of kids for the hair than the name. It was just another place for them to pick at me."
"You could do a scalp replacement, you know. I hear they're pretty well priced now, especially since they've been having to compete with NeuTek's fiber-optic jobs." NeuTek had been transplanting scalps of fiber-optic hair that could adjust color as often as someone desired.
"Eh, everyone already knows me this way, if I change it, it'll just be weird, you know?"
"Aha. So now you're a masochist"
"I live in Espher, don't I?"

She laughed again, taking a drink and smiling at him with blinding cheer. Ashing her cigarette, she looked into his eyes deeply. There was a rush of heat in his cheeks that he hadn't felt since he was in his last relationship... and that was many years past. She crossed her legs and reached across the table, taking his hand which he had no objections to. He was still worried that he was flushed, that he were embarrassed but instead he felt like he had been talking to an angel.

She tilted her head slightly "You have questions, don't you, Cherub?"
Ash furrowed bis brow, "I... well, yeah. I have no idea why a woman so beautiful would ever bother to come to this place at all.".
"I came here, Ash, because I remember how it was when I was a child. I was very lucky to get out of there. I also miss the times when people didn't recognize me."
“Recognize you? Are you famous for something?” he was sure it was modeling of some sort.
“I was wondering if you knew, that explains something ”.
Ash frowned, immediately struck by curiosity "I... I'm sorry but I don't... really know who you are?"
"Oh, go up a dozen levels and you'll see something of mine eventually."
"What do you do?"
She simply shrugged off her jacket and pulled her tee-shirt taut to make it perfectly readable... and her chest all the more apparent. "I'm an artist."
"That's a pretty broad term."
"I do a bit of everything. Music, painting, I've written some things, and I've done a fair share of modeling--"
"I feel like an asshole for not knowing who you are-- wait, I know! I've definitely seen you modeling something... I can't remember but... it was an advertisement...” Ash muttered to himself
"Well, I did do an advertisement for Genetic Cosmetics. When I create my art. I go by Anna. I came in here because something told me to do it and it led me to you. There is something about you that just pulls me in and I can't place my finger on it."
"My winning personality?"
She laughed and gripped his hand tightly. "No, but I can see you as a person. Who you are, I know you're a good person and I see that less and less as days go by.”
Ash wondered, immediately, if she were on the run from someone, if perhaps her last work had been too far over the line and had provoked some sort of threat “I don't know what to say.”
"You don't need to say anything, I know how you're feeliing."
“If that is the case then you've got a really good poker-face going on.” he spoke, self loathing perhaps a bit exposed within his own words.

They continued to drink, she smoked a few more cigarettes and conversation had shot all around various topics but every time he was left feeling a bit better about himself. Ash has began to think she were some sort of roaring, inviting flame in the middle of a very cold world.  Something he would be hate to be without. The fact she was so beautiful was secondary.

She laughed almost every time she spoke, she was so enthusiastic that it was strange. She seemed to just love the moment, to be having a great time just... talking. He had not, before his ex-fiancee had cheated on him, felt so happy in quite a long time. It felt so good to be able to escape the world and curl up next to this source of warmth. It had, however, been four or five hours and last call had been announced.

“Would you like to come to my place? Talk some more?” Ash asked, no idea where his sudden confidence had been born.
“I think that would be all right but you sure aren't going to drive.” Marie said, concern in her voice.
Ash laughed “No, no... I call for a cab. I know the driver for this area better than I knew my cousins.”
“Just ride with me.” she said simply.
“That sounds nice.”
“Come with me, I'm parked over here,” she indicated, pointing “It's the red one.”
Ash looked at the car and widened his eyes a few moments. “You drive a Nexus W-X?”
“Yea, I love it, it's like my baby.”
“Classy car... damn. I was never able to ride in one but we sure as hell gave their drivers a lot of tickets. I always loved this damn car. The design just works for me. Price? Not so much.”
She grinned and keyed small device in her hand, the doors opening slowly. “The prices dropped -a lot- when the W-X-Squared was released.”
“How much?”
“Enough for me to afford it, I forget the price but it was about half of the value it was when they were fresh off of the assembly line.”
“The W-X-Squared looked so stupid. The way they changed the front end. It just looked wrong.”
Moving to slip into the driver's seat, Marie turned her head to Ash as he carefully got in. “We have a similar kind of taste.”
“I guess we do.”

The Nexus automobile company was almost always creating the newest, hottest cars that all the rich people could afford. Their ads made no attempt to appeal to less wealthy individuals and they didn't even bother advertising beneath the cloud. Several years previous the Nexus W-X has been the top of the line, it had been the thing of dreams for several people and they had reduced production upon it due to a financial scandal that had blown up during the time. If there were any sharp angles on the car then one would be hard pressed to find them. It was all curves, even the windows and it seemed as if it had been carved from a solid block of metal, it had no seams aside from the doors, hood, and trunk. Even then those has been almost invisible on the machine.  It was definitely one of his favorite cars.

Marie slipped the ID-stick into the ignition port and it confirmed her thumb-print before it brought the car to life.  “You're off duty, right?”
Ash was so absorbed in looking over the car that he took a moment to answer. “Yea, they, well they don't like us doing anything remotely fun in uniform.”
“Good. Now, if you'll put on your seat-belt, I'll show you a few reasons why I love this car.” Marie said with impish delight.

Ash did as he was told, grinning, and buckled in. The car had come to life but it was impossible to feel, it retracted its landing struts and glided out of the parking slot and headed for the skyway. Ash couldn't even feel the turns she made but dampening devices helped a lot with that. As did the alcohol. What would follow would be more traffic violations than he could count (or remember) but it was one of the most exciting nights of his entire life, escaping notice of police forces because he knew their patrol patterns and happily passed along that knowledge.

Riding shotgun in this beautiful car with this beautiful woman and worrying about exactly nothing at all, Ash was free. He was able to shed all the burdens on his shoulders and exist, for that time, purely to enjoy life. No concerns that existed outside the two of them in that car. It was amazing and it was the first time in his he had ever felt this way.
---

Shadow of a Dead Star and an update on the Prequel

I just finished Shadow of a Dead Star by author Michael Shean. You always hate when a book you enjoy is thinning out. You notice when you're half-way through it and as the pages tick down and the ending nears you start wondering just how much more story there is and if it really can fit those pages. You find yourself wishing there were more pages (at least with a good book) to keep yourself in the story longer but they have to end some time.

I -really- liked Shadow of a Dead Star and I thoroughly recommend it if you've got the slightest shred of noir or sci-fi or cyber-punk within you, others might have to adjust but it's a great read.

I don't think I had even heard of the term 'bio-punk' before this book but I can completely see the genre now. The book, and its author, will have a noted impression upon my own work but as I have finished it I am going to revise some of what I've already written just in case I may have carried some of his writing into my own. It's not really a bad thing but I'd like to make sure my work does not seem as if it were piggybacking another person's own writing. This could also be a complete non-issue for some people (I certainly enjoy his writing) but part of me is just really dedicated to try and see if my style, as it is, works and compels others.

As for the prequel-with-no-name, I have had a friend read over it and corrected some grammatical errors (damn you spellcheck) and some decisions to alter how things play out to be a bit less... overt. I intend to actually give CO Green a rank and make him seem like less of a psychopath. Which might or might not work. Time will tell as I juggle bits and pieces around.

I urge you to go take a look at Michael Shean's work, there are some free short-stories on his site and even a small Shadow of a Dead Star journalism excerpt on what exactly those 'Princess Dolls' are all about, mentioned in the blurb on the back of the book.

A piece of work from my upcoming RFTA prequel.

And here is where you start reading....

Part One

The sirens howled as the lights in the corridor went red and began to rotate, the crimson washing over the body armor of the soldiers as they rushed along, all with one destination. It had taken Ash under ten seconds to put on his gear but Phoenix took twice as long and only when Phoenix sharply nodded did Ash proceed. Running along the back of a line of other men with their rifles and their armor toward the octagonal platform on the roof. Set well above The Cloud and unobstructed by nearby structures, it served as the landing pad for the Espher military. Each platform held a somewhat ovoid tilt-rotor aircraft that all cried out with the same shrill sound of their engines coming to life. Squads were assigned specific landing pads and Ash and Phoenix hooked sharply to the side to rush up stairway to pad six, Haborym squad, as their commanding officer shouted hoarsely hanging off of a tilt-rotor and standing on the skid. It had been a fairly innovative and useful design but it was not the cutting edge of what the military had in their possession. Its body had been painted black with Juno stencils showing its designation in white. Housing three primary weapons, the tilt-rotor's left wing kept a massive Vulcan cannon beneath it while the right held a broad case of missile pods under its own. The chin of the tilt-rotor had two long barrels on a mount that enabled rotation to any direction. The barrels had thick, armored hoses that connected to a recessed pair of openings. The weapons had been dressed up, like all the other tilt-rotors. Haborym squad's paint-job had been stylized with the face of an angry man on the left side of its body that resembled no-one. Upon the right there was the face of some vicious, feline creature was upon the right. Upon the from of the craft a serpent had been painted, maw open around the chin-mounted weapon while its body curled around the length of the aircraft and terminated at the tail of the craft.

"GO, GO, GO, WE ARE IN THE AIR IN SIX SECONDS, GET YOUR ASSES IN GEAR! MOVE!" he yelled even as Ash and Phoenix made it to the tilt-rotor and climbed in to strap themselves into their harnesses. "BAKER, YOU ARE CLEAR, LIFTOFF!"

"Where are we headed?" shouted Martin, just loud enough to be heard over the engines spinning up.

"We are to sweep and retrieve all firearms from Oscar-Sierra-Zero-Five. Straight up the chain of command!" the CO responded.

Their CO, Devon Green, did not begin to climb into the aircraft until the skids had left the landing pad. The soldiers stomachs collective lurched as the vehicle took swiftly to the air, climbing high before the wings at either side began to rotate forward and send them on the path to their destination. Outlying Settlement Zero-Five, one of the many clusters of structures that still stood in the outer range of Espher's full breadth. They were hardly ballsy enough to try and attack Espher. Even if they had the weapons they did not have the sheer amount of people needed to get past the fourth gate into the city.

"Sounds a bit off, we sure that Zero-Five has firearms?" Smith inquired, leaning toward the CO.

"Intel says that they have been procuring firearms from the caravans that go between the settlements."

"For what? They couldn't put a dent in us." Smith responded, tilting his head.

"Raiders?" Watanabe offered, looking toward Smith and then the CO.

"Not this close to Espher. They're far out there but the raiders wouldn't do shit to them when they can see The Ob' from the settlement itself!" Cortez interjected.

"Some kind of civil war between the settlements?" O'Neil offered but the look he received from everyone made him hunch and try to shrink into his seat.

"The reason is irrelevant, we are in the business of following orders! We have received orders and we are following them, questioning them will fast-track you to a life in The Gutter's outstanding military." Their CO yelled, ceasing the discussion.

The Gutter had no military, at least not for very long. Initially there were small groups who operated gates and watched the ins-and-outs of the city and more importantly all the ways upward. The soldiers stationed there had been executed and left on display, the Obelisk's neglectful eyes had no video of just what happened. Every soldier stationed there since then had somehow met a painful end, punctuating the statement where The Gutter declared just how much they hated everything above The Cloud, and even some who weren't. It had led to being a post for soldiers put in disciplinary positions to teach them whatever lesson command had expected them to have already learned. Before the reserve was tapped for military action Ash and Phoenix were not strangers to passing through the streets of the gutter, rarely finding reason enough to stop. Still, it was always worth it when they could save lives by culling the psychopaths that tended to come out of the woodwork every so often.

"Baker! E-T-A!" CO Green shouted to the cockpit.

"We are within range in two mikes!" he responded, his bulky helmet covering his head with wires and various connected to matrices of ports that gave him full awareness and ability to fly (and fight) in the machine as if it were his own body.

"Give me a warning when we've got one mike to go!" Green yelled back and regarded each of the men in their battle-armor with their assault rifles housing caseless ammunition.

"Sir, are we expecting resistance?" Phoenix inquired.

"Negative, Stonewright, command says this is a straight search-and-confiscate operation."

"What happens if they see us coming and fear we're going to destroy them?"

"Did you really just ask that question?" Ash said with a mild bit of surprise. It was pretty clear what would happen.

"Shit happens, you know things can turn into a clusterfuck if even one damn round is fired!" Phoenix barked, his hand moving to emphasize his words.

"Don't pretend to be so naive, you're not a complete idiot or I'd have ditched you a long--" Ash was responding before being cut off.

"Scarborough, Stonewright, stow the bullshit for when you go back on reserve, you'll have plenty of time to talk there, now shut the hell up and get focused! We will respond to any threat of force with a show of equal or greater force. We do not flinch in the face of any danger, we are soldiers and we don't back down!" CO Green shouted, shutting down the conversation.

"CO!" Baker yelled from the cockpit "We are E-T-A one mike!"

"Acknowledged!"

"Say again, command?" Baker spoke, his head turning toward the front, his words hard to hear from the bay where the soldiers were strapped in. "Confirming Sierra-Echo, Command? Understood! Altering mission parameters." Baker turned to look at CO Green and half of the soldiers in the bay that could actually see them from where they were secured.

"Don't be in a rush to fill us in, Baker!" Green shouted "We love the suspense! Relay that change in orders to me!"

"We are Sierra-Echo on Oscar-Sierra-Zero-Five. Straight down the chain, we now have a hot L-Z, I am disengaging the safety locks on all weapons as commanded, sir!" Baker spoke as the Vulcan cycled a few times and the missile pods began to click and spread slightly apart.

"How the hell did we go from search-and-procure to kill the fuck out of everything in one and-a-half fucking minutes?" Ash shouted toward CO Green.

"I don't know, Scarborough, but we -will- follow orders. They may have been scoped by another tilt-rotor that passed within range and be preparing an ambush. We're going into a combat zone, make no mistake! Eliminate any and all threats!" Green replied, sounding pleased with the change in orders.

Ash and Phoenix looked at one another with similarly confused expressions before looking back to CO Green. He had a grin forming on his face-- but some men just loved the feel of battle. The fact that his body-armor was likely beginning to inject stims into his system was also likely reason. Ash released the magazine from his rifle and looked in it before slotting it back in position and re-gripping at an angle more ready to respond to incoming fire. There was not much the people could really do to warrant such a retaliation. Sierra-Echo, Scorched Earth, meant the entire razing of the settlement and leaving it to burn for days, leaving only ashes. It was hardly something he or Phoenix could rationalize although no one else really seemed to care as much-or they didn't manage to show it if they did.

"Visual confirmation, Oscar-Sierra-Zero-Five, altering course to lay down a strafing run and then provide covering fire as you rope out, Haborym Squad." Baker shouted as the craft angled sharply and and angled downward. The soldiers all braced themselves in expectation of incoming fire. The tilt-rotor soared down like an angry hawk, closing the distance in seconds. The whine of the Vulcan spinning up drew Ash's attention and he watched as the barrels cycled. Baker yelled out something Ash couldn't make out while next to the Vulcan but it quickly began to pour bullets down into the settlement. Ash risked leaning out to look at the settlement but he could see nothing that resembled even a moderate threat. As the rounds began to stitch across the dry, cracked earth he saw bodies blown apart as if being cleaved in half by some massive blade. The bullets that did not hit anyone were easy to forget about as the pods on the right wing as the caps upon them began to eject and fly away in the decent. Bright flares of light followed by a loud hiss was all he heard as the missiles soared ahead and arced in the air. The aircraft began to pull into an upward turn and Ash turned to the right with all the rest of the soldiers and watched as the missiles split apart and exploded, throwing untold amounts of shrapnel in large bursts. Phoenix saw a man turn to run but he was quickly shredded by steel fragments whickering through the air.

The lights above the doors on either side of the tilt-rotor went from a quiet red to a bright green as the tilt-rotor was maneuvered into drop position, the Vulcan laying out arcs of covering fire while the barrels mounted at the chin of the craft began to spray enormous gouts of flame across the rear of the settlement, cooking people alive, burning up the oxygen before they could use it to scream. Flaming bodies fled in all directions, tripping and falling or rolling in attempts to just put the flames out. Those who could scream were already doing so even before the soldiers freed themselves and hopped off the skids, riding down lengths of rope as if in free-fall only to have their harnesses automatically slow them almost to a complete halt a few feet above the ground. The soldiers unhooked their harnesses and dropped to the ground. The squad dashed in toward the walls of the settlement. It was not particularly large but it would still be extremely risky to try and handle if there were opposition that were waiting to ambush them.

The tilt-rotor overhead began to circle, cutting arcs through the settlement and perforating buildings and people just the same. Ash was hunting for any sign of resistance or hostility but every body he saw was dead, dying, or running for some sort merciful cover from the fire. In the rear of the settlement some flammable container exploded and sent a hard-thumping explosion across the settlement and into the diaphragms of the soldiers who were stalking in with their weapons at their shoulders. A few minor explosions followed before a stream of people fled from a building that was soon demolished by a solid strike by a missile. Debris shot outward and knocked several of the fleeing people to to the floor, mostly the children. Ash furiously searched for some threat, some sign of intent to retaliate, seeking a logical reason the settlement was being torn to pieces.

"CO... I... I'm not seeing any hostiles, sir." Ash spoke, feeling the adrenaline charging through him and completely welcoming the sensation... if only he could find a reason.

"They are -all- hostiles, Scarborough, take your shots!" CO Green shouted at Ash. It was not a second later that others in the squad began to fire. The targets were clearly being picked off in terms of threat level, men were being shot and sent to the ground, a few women caught in the fire either by accident or deliberate intent among the soldiers. The CO's teeth were set tight in a vicious grin as he fired out bursts of ammunition at the people pouring forth from buildings. It was not until minutes after the firefight had begun that Ash saw anyone carrying a weapon and the first was a man brandishing an axe better used upon wood. He was taken down by eight shots nearly in complete unison, his head gone in a mess of gore and holes shot through his chest before he fell to ground, twitching, while blood poured generously into the hungry earth.

Sweeping for targets, CO Green suddenly jerked back, hissing as the impact of solid rounds dissipated across his armor and removed his grin from his face. He began to rapidly search for anyone in his line of sight, the barrel of a rifle, a glint off of a scope, a puff of smoke lingering in the air, a shell casing hitting the ground, anything. He did not find what he was looking for and it seemed that whoever had shot him had either given up or moved somewhere else. The sound of the fight was deafening but among the explosions and gunfire all that Ash could focus on were the screams of those being cut down needlessly. Finally the sounds of opposing fire began to surface and it brought Ash back to focus instead of staring with eyes gone blurry. "Three o'clock high!" someone in the squad shouted and Ash snapped his rifle to the exact direction, hunting down the sights for targets. It was slightly hard to make out but there was half-destroyed building of three stories and in the shadows cast by the sun they had managed to sneak into a fairly well bit of defensive cover.

Shots were exchanged back and forth, rounds bounding off shoulder armor or helmets, sending the aim of soldiers wide or too high as they felt the impacts. As the squad began to focus their fire there was a heavy crack in the air and a faint tingle all around. O'Neil staggered backward, looking down at his chest and found a steel bar sticking out of his chest. It was just as far out of his back, as well. He gasped and tried to find words as he fought for balance but a well aimed shot went right between the armored collar on his body armor and his helmet, tearing his throat out and sending him to the ground. Upon impact the steel bar buried itself in the earth under him and he tried to cover his throat with his hands in some vain hope that the wound was something less than lethal. Ash and Phoenix stared at O'Neil as he looked around, gurgling and gasping, making mortifying sounds as his life was slipping away from him. His hand reached desperately toward Phoenix as if he could somehow help to save him but Phoenix shook his head slowly with an apologetic look on his face before he turned back and began to fire at the hostiles taking cover in the remnants of the building. Another arc of gunfire from the tilt-rotor crawled across the settlement but largely did nothing else.

CO Green was the first to capitalize on the angle O'Neil had been struck from immediately after changing out his empty magazine for a full one. Three rounds sank into the gunman's face and sent him down limp. Going onto the offensive, the squad collectively began to push back the hostiles, working their way into the settlement and beginning to split up. Ash and Phoenix, together as always, ran with Watanabe, checking corners and buildings for any signs of resistance. Out of nowhere that same crack pierced the are amid the gunfire and Watanabe was instantly nailed against a concrete wall. Held fast by the length of steel sent through the side of his head his body twitched and went into spasms as his body hung from his head. The angle of the shot arrived in Phoenix's head before the horror of the sight did and he quickly turned to empty his magazine into the side of an ancient motor vehicle, punching holes through it in hope that he might wound or outright kill whatever the hell was sending these lengths of steel at them, it went through their body armor effortlessly, it seemed. Ash shouted and cursed as he stumbled upon Watanabe and ducked as he saw Phoenix do the same.

“What the fuck is that!?” Phoenix shouted, ejecting his spent magazine and fumbling in a pouch at his side for a new magazine.

“I don't know! For fucks sake it's just shooting steel bars, they're not even fucking sharp!” Ash replied as he had the fortunate position of being able to see the bar on the other side of the wall where Watanabe hanged.

“Where the hell do they get a weapon like that?”

“Espher.”

“You sure it couldn't be improvised?”

“No, there's not shit here they could have to make something like that.”

“But they still have it!”

“They had to have gotten it from Espher.”

“That would make the most sense.”

Maybe someone in intel had caught wind of some black market sale of such a weapon, that made the initial moments of the battle much easier to stomach even as he heard the weapon fire again. Whoever was firing it was moving fast, changing positions immediately after firing or even firing on the move-- but that seemed a bit ridiculous. He had heard of weapons that used magnetism to fire metal projectiles but he couldn't imagine anyone making one unless they were connected in Espher in some degree. Perhaps it had been stolen somehow or maybe someone had actually managed to rig one together out of junk found in the outlying settlements.

“You ready to move?” Phoenix asked, looking at Ash.

“Yea, just... I'm taking a mag from Watanabe, you should too.”

“Good idea... damnit, I'm sorry, man...” Phoenix muttered at the dead body of Watanabe

“As soon as it fires again we're moving.”

As if on command the crack burst into the air again and the clarity of it made Ash realize how little gunfire there was now. Distantly someone was screaming but he could not be sure who it was or what side of the battle lines they were from. Ash and Phoenix dashed down an alley between ruined concrete buildings and came to a fork in the path. Phoenix instinctively went right and Ash followed, watching behind them as they moved. His back collided with Phoenix's own and he turned around in surprise.

“I hate this.” Phoenix admitted, shaking his head.

Ash turned to look in front of Phoenix to find what had clearly been a little girl before shrapnel had rendered half of her into a crimson mess that pooled around her and soaked through her dirty clothing. He held in his words but was no less disgusted.

“Fuck, just-- just go back, go the other way.”

“Yea.”

Ash and Phoenix turned around and jogged their way down the alley as gunfire continued to pop intermittently amidst the mostly silent settlement. A majority of the noise was the crackle of flames burning man and structure alike. Moving down the alternate path in the alleyway Ash brought his sights up and swept the large open area of what was likely a small market before missiles and bullets had torn it all to hell. Looking back to Phoenix, Ash nodded his head and broke into a sprint across the open area as Phoenix angled his rifle around the corner, looking for any sign of movement in the light of the setting sun. Nothing. Ash brought his rifle up in a similar manner to allow Phoenix to break across the open area and then duck into cover with him. As the ache in Ash's muscles began to surface his armor was already on the task. A faint prick into his arm and he was almost instantly able to ignore the pain as his armor injected the stims into his blood.

“How many do you think are left?” Phoenix asked.

“What?”

“How many of us do you think are still alive?”

“Fucking hell, don't go asking shit like that.”

'What? Why?”

“Because it's fucking depressing!”

“And watching all those people burn to death wasn't?”

“I--” Ash began but the crack entered the air again and they both instinctively ducked.

“How the -fuck- have we not found him yet?”

“I don't know but I'm getting really fucking sick of this.”

“Come on, we gotta move, see if we can't find this son of a bitch.”

Running along between ruined and burning buildings (as well as corpses) Ash and Phoenix passed a building where they heard the gasps of others. Stopping instantly they flanked the half-covered doorway and listened. They could hear the breath of at least three people as they panted and did their best to remain silent. Phoenix reached up and turned the light mounted on the side of his right on, kicking the door in and sweeping madly. Ash was right behind him but what they saw was nothing they wished to ever see again. Three children were clinging desperately to the corpse of what was likely their mother before a bullet went through her head. Two little girls shuddered and recoiled in horror, gripping their mother tightly for the fading sense of security it might bring. The little boy looked around franticly before diving into the next room. Phoenix moved to follow but Ash placed a hand on his shoulder, halting him.