[REVISION] Firefight/Zero-Five

It had only been a few days since Ash and Phoenix were notified, with enthusiasm, that they were being pulled into the Juno Military Division for an anonymous operation. The Sector Chief, Matthias Anderson, had held a meeting with unrestrained excitement. “We're not cops today, we're soldiers.” he had said as if he had spent time coming up with that sentence. He was right, however, and all standing officers in The XXXXXX Sector (#) were quickly tossed into the military ranks. There was one full day of training and proficiency exams but it was not much of a chore as the law-enforcement training was not far from military training under Juno command. After all officers had cleared their training and exams they were swiftly packed into the bunks at the Demons Nest. The name came from the fact that all of the tilt-rotor aircraft had been named after demons in old texts but whatever importance those texts really had was quickly forgotten. It was an intimidating name for an intimidating craft and the things it could bring along with it.

The bunks weren't actually that bad, the air was a bit stale and reeked of oil and metal but the beds were somewhat comfortable. Many of the officers Ash and Phoenix were fairly good friends with, the ones who weren't complete dicks and seemed to have a bit of humanity left in them, somewhere. Phoenix hunched over, sitting on the edge of a bunk as he told a story about his high-school Magnaball career (bending truths as far as one could without lying) that he gave up on and occasionally those gathered would laugh as he recounted some stupid stunt. That was what Ash felt about Magnaball, it was just full of stupid stunts. It took skill, intelligence, and endurance but it was also far more complex than it needed to be. It was the the sport that dominated Espher and every sector had their own team to compete. Phoenix was about to go into the story about the full-field charge that had won the next-to-last game of his high-school career, by the sounds of it, when the lighting in the room flickered red.

Sirens wound up and began to howl out from myriad locations, the call to scramble and assemble, and the room exploded into life. Everyone hastily grabbed their gear and checked their weapons before dashing out into the hall and joining the chain of soldiers on their way to the landing pads. Phoenix managed to beat Ash out of the door by only two seconds but he caught up and ran beside him. “Any idea what we're doing?” Phoenix asked, shouting over the sirens. Ash shook his head and tightened one of the straps on his assault webbing. As they flew out the door they stood upon the roof of the The Demons Nest, nine large octagonal pads connected to the roof, each supporting a large, intimidating tilt-rotor armed and ready to go.

“Haborym! Pad five!” Shouted one of the military officers, directing soldiers (drafted and enlisted alike) to their crafts by the insignias on their helmets. Ash and Phoenix dashed along with their rifles slung low and approached the Haborym tilt-rotor. The tilt-rotor was not the cutting edge of military technology but it was a solid machine. It was capable of adapting to innumerable roles from air-support to personnel carrier to medevac duty and a dozen other tasks. Haborym was equipped with a chin-mounted flamethrower, a large Vulcan cannon under its left wing and a missile pod that promised to rain hell beneath the right wing. Ash and Phoenix dashed up the steps to the landing pad and climbed in, sitting down and immediately strapping in alongside other members of Haborym Squad.

The members of Haborym squad had assembled and Lt. Green stepped onto the landing skid and banged his hand against the hull of the aircraft. “We're clear, Baker, lift-off!” and with that the turbine blades whirled into life, whining as they increased in power and began to pull the heavy craft from the landing pad. Lt. Green climbed in and strapped himself down in the middle of the squad, his eyes watching a monitor set in the roof just before him. The craft angled and gravity tugged hard as the tilt-rotor wings began to angle forward, dipping the nose of the aircraft downward as it began to accelerate forward.

“All right, listen up. I don't care if you're new to this, I don't tolerate fuck-ups! We have orders and we carry them out, we do not hesitate, we do not have mercy, we follow our orders to the letter and that is how we get back home alive.” Lieutenant Green began, eyes scanning the lot of them. Watanabe was an enlisted soldier and a demolitions expert who had a face like it was etched in granite. O'Neil was another enlisted soldier, a heavy-weapons specialist with rust colored hair and an enormous model 33A Heavy Support Weapon cradled in his arms.

The next enlisted soldier was 'Prizrak', a man with an uncanny ability to disappear from sight, his Russian blood had influenced his nickname and he had long-since given up on writing it in Russian, he stuck to phonetics. The specialist Shaina Oaks was a last-minute addition to their roster, she had a record (and kill count) that did not let one think she was anything but magic with her rifle and she cradled it affectionately while wiping down the barrel out of some form of habit. The non-enlisted, law-enforcement officers on the team were few/ Cortez, a decent cop but a bit of a slacker, Martin, a mussy-haired youth who had just recently graduated to becoming an officer. Then there was Ash and Phoenix.

The staggered, high-reaching layout of Espher began to expose itself as the craft shot out of Espher airspace and toward the outer lying settlements that existed mostly on small trade companies moving food, water, and other goods to the settlements for barter. “All right, listen up. We are on a search and retrieve mission at Oscar-Sierra-Zero-Five. We have received information that indicates possible illegal weapons manufacture. We will turn over every single rock until we are sure we have obtained every suspicious item and firearm above Oscar-Sierra defense rating.” Lieutenant Green explained. Put simply, they were going to take any firearm or other weapon that was capable of being used as what was labeled an assault weapon. The bands of raiders made settlement defense mandatory but sometimes the residents got a bit overzealous with their weaponry.

“Zero-Five? Making weapons? The last time I was there it was basically a fence around a pile of dirt.” O'Neill spoke, shaking his head at the thought.

“Correct, our intelligence is solid on this, we have satellite imaging to back this up. Doesn't seem like we get the luxury of seeing them going on what I received in my briefing.” replied Lt. Green, rubbing his jaw.

“Crazier shit happens.” spoke Watanabe, double-checking his kit and adjusting his combat augmentation brace around his right wrist.

“Sounds like a pretty easy operation. Where the hell did everyone else scramble to, Lieutenant?” Cortez inquired, his hands resting on his knees.

“On their own operations, we were briefed separately,” Lt. Green spoke and then craned his neck to look toward the interior of the cockpit. “Baker! ETA!”

Baker turned his head, looking far too large with the helmet that sealed around his head. He spoke with a hiss of static over the com-buds in their ears. “ETA Two mikes.” .

“I want a report when we're thirty seconds out!” Lt. Green shouted.

“Yes, sir, Lieutenant Green.” Baker responded, turning back around to face forward, the cables running from his helmet and to the various parts of the cockpit making a somewhat odd move.

“What kind of weapons are we talking about? Are they still using cartridges or did they manage to find a way to manufacture caseless ammunition?” Marin inquired, nodding toward his rifle upon mention of the latter type of ammunition.

“They didn't say but given how urgent these orders were marked I'd say it's something big, something bad.” Lt. Green responded.

“We haven't heard a word about any tech going missing.” Ash chimed in.

“Yea, it must be under-wraps if anything. I don't think they'd publicize it.” Phoenix spoke.

“You would have only been notified if the missing tech had been discovered before it left the city. They neutralized the tracing chip just a bit outside the city. We don't know which way they went, that's got to be the reason they're calling us all in.” said Lt. Green as he looked up at the pane displaying mission objectives.

“We'll have this done in no time.” Piotr spoke with only the vaguest hint of an accent, inspecting his knives for any hint of nicks or scratches.

Shaina, it seemed, was fine staying silent. In fact, her eyes were closed in what could only be assumed to be some sort of mental preparation for the operation if things went south.

“Thirty seconds, Lieutenant!” . Baker spoke, his eyes obscured by dark tinted, bulbous curves of a visor. “Hold on that, Lieutenant. I'm being told that the operation has changed, HQ wants to make sure you acknowledge it.” . The lot of them moved to angle their heads to look up at the pane but few had a good enough seat to see what it said entirely. After a moment of thought Green nodded “Tell them I recognize the change in the operation and it will be done as commanded.”

“Yes, sir.” . Baker said, swinging his head back to the front and speaking into the microphone adjacent to his mouth.

“Listen up!” Lt. Green barked. “We have a change in plans. This is no longer search and retrieve, Zero-Five is hot. Scout drones have confirmed other settlements have engaged the squads designated to them. Weapons at the ready, we're going to soften Zero-Five up a bit before we drop!”

“What the hell? They're -engaging- Juno Military?” Shaina said, incredulous, breaking her long silence.

“Command confirms it. We do not know their full capability so we are treating them as if they are capable of taking down Haborym, here,” Lt. Green said, nodding in indication of their transport. “I don't think they have anything but this isn't Magnaball, we don't gamble on one soldier carrying the entire squad to victory.”

“We have visual, Zero-Five nearing combat range.” , Baker hissed into their ears.

“Lock down your weapon and grab your braces.” Lieutenant Green ordered, motioning with his hands in case he was not audible.

“Cycling Vulcan” static spat in their ears ad the large rotary gun on the left wing began to spin up and whir. “Breaking the seals on the pod and arming missiles.” Baker continued, the three rectangular boxes under the right wing blowing the protective covering off to expose dozens of angry missiles. “Test burst on the flamethrower.” there was a pause “Engaging strafing run.”

The rotary cannon began to angle and track as the craft accelerated to attack speed. The Vulcan came to life with a meaty growl as the barrels rotated, spitting death upon the settlement. Vulcan rounds stitched their way across the settlement and cut people apart as they flew through. Delayed explosive rounds quickly began to detonate behind them as they moved to make another pass. Ash could not help but realize how little resistance he could see in the settlement. Perhaps somewhere under that corrugating, rated metal lurked anti-aircraft or anti-personnel weaponry, maybe they didn't have enough time to fully ready their defenses. On the second pass two missiles hissed and shot forward before angling sharply and accelerating with large bursts of flame behind them, sending them swiftly to their targets.

The Vulcan cannon once more stitched across buildings and everything in the settlement. Ash could see blood in the dirt, a lot. As they neared he realized the blood was the upper-body of a man who had been blown into two pieces by a delayed explosive round. As the craft hooked around sharply, Ash and Phoenix as well as Shaina were treated to the view of two missiles impacting the bases of watch towers that were unmanned. They fell quickly and another buzz of chain-explosions went off as the delayed explosive rounds lodged in the buildings and ground began to detonate. Hooking back in, Baker brought them in low, the chin-mounted barrels of the flamethrower spewing fire along their path. Missiles began to emerge from the missile pods just an inch as they were locked onto targets. The Vulcan continued spraying as they moved through the settlement and the weapon tore a line straight across the settlement.

“Missiles locked, cover-fire for the drop!” Baker yelled.

“We appreciate it!” Lr. Green shouted back and began to retrieve his weapon, everyone else following his example.

“Sir I don't see any dangerous weapon installations.” Ash spoke, squinting and trying to make more detail of the settlement as they curled around it.

“Just waiting for us to drop,” Lt. Green replied “That cover-fire is going to shit all over their plan.”

“If you say so, Lieutenant, I don't see anyone armor at all.”

“Noted, Scarborough. Get focused. Everyone make sure your combat augmentation brace is in the right place!”

Following the command they all aligned their CABs with their wrists and then stood up, hooking themselves to the tilt-rotor in preparation to drop. From the right side of the craft eight to ten missiles fired off in the same instant. Missiles shot down and then arced up sharply before pin-pointing their targets from their locked-in angles. The missiles hit simultaneously and explosions tore through the settlement, sending shrapnel, earth, and human debris into the air. As the explosions began the team leapt from the craft and rode their rappel lines down, slowed sharply as the automatic system minimized the impact before releasing them. Six hit the ground in the first descent, followed by three more in the second and they rushed to the walls of the settlement, ducking behind cover as explosions pounded through their bodies and the heat rose before them. A rain of whickering shrapnel and remains begin to fall as a woman's scream was cut short by the last missile hit. Falling debris rained over the settlement and the squad alike, their kinetic barriers causing it to deflect and fall elsewhere.

“Let's go!” shouted Lieutenant Green, shoving his fist forward through the air.

[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.

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.
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