“Name, Reiter Des Skays. Hight, six foot one. Age, twenty-seven. Eye color, Ashen Grey. Hair color, black. Nationality, unknown. Allegiance, Central. Profession, Military. Rank, classified. Deployment, Deep. Charges, Mass genocide; fifty-eight thousand, four hundred thirty-five counts of murder in the first degree. Disregarding of orders, one count. Act of terrorism, one count. Destruction of planetary necessity, one count. Plea, insanity, disregarded.”
After the bench clerk gives his spill of war crime against me the judge motions me to his stand, “Reiter, you were once called the Predatory Dragon, one of the heroes of the frontier, were you not?”
I stare at the man with my ashen grey eyes, “since when did I ever plea insanity?”
The judge sighs, “you are diagnosed with a severe case of split personality disorder, which has since been disregarded as it formed when you destroyed an entire kingdom. Do you have nothing to say for yourself?”
I chuckle at this farce of a trial, “say for myself? What does it matter what I say? If this trial was about what I did to that place, it would have been held three years ago when I destroyed their air systems and poisoned the lot of them.”
“I wonder Reiter, do any of the voices in your head actually regret what you have done?”
“One might, I suppose. The other enjoyed doing it. Personally, I couldn’t care less.”
The judge shakes his head disappointingly, “I should have you executed for endangering the lives of every person on this planet, but at least you left the terraformer in repairable condition, and in light of your contributions to this state, I hereby sentence you to a dishonorable discharge and a stripping of your citizenship. You will lose all protection and privileges of a citizen, including access to the prime towers and official central residency. Your rank and pay will be stripped as well as all holdings seized.” The judge pauses for a while and waits for any reaction from me. It does not come. “Reiter, you will be nothing but a slum rat from this day on. You were, are, one of the most admired and respected people in the military. Do you not even care?”
I laugh at the questions, “You people ripped out my soul when you assigned me to the deep. So, do I care? I not only don’t give a shit; I have no emotions left to give at all. The deep made sure of that.”
* * *
Since I was a part of the deep much of my gear and resources do not exist anywhere on paper. So, most people don’t even know any of it exists, including the judicial system. Even if they took everything officially mine, they missed quite a bit. These include a large chunk of obtained currency as well as my sky board and gear. The gear is not so usable in a civilized area. Military grade super weapons are quite overkill for a mugging, and it’s not like they would be easy to sell either. The money and the board I can at least use.
After picking up my stash from hiding I make my way into the slums. Bleak, tall, and small. That would be the most fitting words for the slums. No color besides the grey of the housing spires. Only a few thousand square feet in diameter and over a thousand stories tall, the place looks like a needle farm. Even the streets are a maze of confusion. The place was built as a defensive “last barrier” against any invaders before the outer wall was established. For years, the place remained as it was, until some do gooder official had the idea to put floors and walls into the hollow spires and turn this place into a refuge for the poor and unwanted. Turned out, the place became a refuge for a lot more than just them. After the official fell from grace no one cared for this place anymore, and it fell into the state it is in today. At least the rent is cheap and no one asks questions. The apartments have water and power as well as an actual complete set of walls. Compared to some of the places I have had to stay in, the place is a palace. The best part, no one is trying to kill you, most of the time.
After wandering around the streets for several hours I finally find what I am looking for. A teenage gang brat. “hey, bring me to your handler, I need a place to sleep.”
The gang brat comes directly up to me with his posse that proceeds to surround me. “Well, well, if you want to see the boss, your ganna have to pay the entry fee.” Why are kids so stupid?
I un-holster my energy revolver and gouge out a small crater between the kid’s feet when I fire it. “Kid, if I shoot you with this, it won’t end with just a limb.”
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While on his butt and piss dripping down his leg he rapidly stutters, “y-ya, I, I getch ya. My h-handler is at his h-house.”
I shift my aim to his knee, “if I knew where he lived, why would I be taking to you?”
Eyes full of terror the boy can barely speak, “h-h-he is-s-s . . .”
Fed up I switch my target to the kid at my side, “this is taking too long, just take me to him.”
The boy backs up a raises his hands, “hey man, why are you pointing that at me I . . .”
Before he can finish I interject his excuses, “don’t think your stupid little deception is working, by the way you all were sitting you are the leader not this buffoon.”
The brat smirks, “well aren’t you the smart one, then . . .”
I shove a small candy into the kid’s mouth and he chokes before being forced to swallow it. The other kids ready to attack me, fear evident in their eyes but also stupidity and foolhardiness. “What the hell did you make me swallow?! Boys kill . . .”
“poison.”
The kid’s face goes as white as a ghost, “w-what did you say?”
I glare at the kid, making him even paler, “poison, I said, it was poison. If you want to know the antidote, then take me to your handler. Now.”
Pure panic is now across his face, but he does not speak, so I egg him on a little, “I can always just kill you all now and find another group of toss-a-ways.”
From my threat the leader finally wakes from his terror, “NO! u, I’ll take you to her right now. This way.”
I holster my revolver and leave behind the group of gang brats as I follow their leader. After about half an hour of walking we enter a residential spire and proceed to clime the floors. Eventually we reach a small apartment. The kid knocks on the door and a woman answers. I step forward and introduce myself, “hello madam, I am Reiter, I would like to have a discussion with you.”
The woman looks a bit surprised but then comes to some kind of realization, “Oh, might you be here to see my husband?”
In response to her question I inquire on my assumption “Pardon me mam, but am I mistaken in believing you are the regional handler for the local pizzo payments?”
The woman glances over to the idiot gang brat before turning back to me, “so you’re here for that kind of discussion. Come inside.”
As I start to enter the doorway the kid stops me panickingly, “w-what about the poison, the antidote!”
I turn back to him, “poison? Oh ya, too much sugar is bad for you, go brush your teeth.” Leaving him standing there dumbfounded I enter the house.
* * *
Inside the house I sit down at a small table and lay my bag next to me. Off to the side are two small children playing with each other in what appears to be a play area for them. The woman sits down across from me, “my son and daughter, while my husband is at work I take care of them. So, what is it that you came to bother me at my home for?”
I look over to her, “I would like an apartment, a private one.”
She glares at me, “What? You think you can just walk in here and demand a private apartment? Who the hell . . .”
Before she can finish talking I take out a stack of cash from my jacket. She looks down at the stack and slightly makes a face, “foreign currency? What are you, some kind of bandit running from your home after getting kicked out?”
I glare right back at her, “like I said, I like my privacy.”
She gives a slight nod, “I get that, and its fine by me, I don’t care what you did before. I don’t care who you are. All money is good here, even the ones covered in blood. But the thing about blood is that it attracts flies. And we don’t want flies looking around here and causing trouble.”
I release my gaze from her and look back down at the stack, “there are only two kinds of people that would come looking for me, the ones that put me here, and since they put me here they know right where I am at.”
She twists her head to the side, “and the other kind?”
I look back up from the stack to her, “long since dead.”
She gives a sigh and takes out a small box from a nearby cupboard, “just remember, if the dead come asking, well, I have no desire to anger the dead.” She tosses over an ID coin with an apartment address on it and takes the stack of money.
I take the coin and stand up, “I wouldn’t expect you to. Have a nice day.”
She waves me off as I leave, “ya, ya, and since you like your privacy, keep out of our business and we’ll keep out of yours.”
* * *
After several hours and searching through the spires looking for the right one I finally find the one my apartment is in as the day starts to come to a close. In the mostly unoccupied upper portion where there are no windows and even smaller rooms lies my apartment. Private, just like I wanted. Neighbors can be annoying, and after my hell in the deep I just want some peace and quiet.
My apartment only has one bedroom, just big enough to hold a small bed and a dresser. It also has a living room that doubles as the dining room. The kitchen is in the corner of the room with just a small sink and a space for a small fridge. Not even a full size one either. There is no stove and the counter space is only one cabinet big. The bathroom is along the same wall. At least, unlike the kitchen, it has a divider that separates it from the rest of the house. Inside is also a shower head above the toilet and a drain below. The door and inside is plastic to prevent water from getting everywhere. The rest of the apartment is bare hard composite. It isn’t much, but it works just fine. There even is a small closet for storage on the same side as the room. I store my gear inside while I leave my board out in the main room. Tonight, I will sleep. Tomorrow I will find a job, blood money may work for the shadier side of the slums, but regular businesses won’t take it and the black market just doesn’t have the regular stuff to furnish a house.