”City Of Lights”
The city is never quiet. The sounds of railways and hoverbikes never stop and it smells like piss constantly.
I hate coming here, Shakk thought. Silence in the city usually meant overrated idols or corrupt nobles had keeled over. Suicide or overdose or some other shit.n the grand scheme of things who gave a fuck which way they went out. The point is they went out - and they weren’t there to annoy anyone else anymore.
He lit a cigar and leaned back in his chair - it creaked, but not in a good way. Not like your Grandmother’s chair would. It creaked like a made in China '' way. Fucking cheap assholes. He ashed the cigar and threw it over the edge of the balcony. The cherry danced pirouettes as it tumbled down the building. Rain streaked down the dark glass of the building. He watched it drop and wondered if all the shit he saw on the holo about littering still applied. But only for a moment - the thought was too useless to have on a mission and put his fists out. He opened his hands and looked down his arm as if he was holding the entirety of the skyline of Centralica in his hand and grinned. His room smelled like decorative soaps - and nouveau riche cologne. He hated the smell of artificial things.
The fragility of industrialism got under his skin. He had spent eight years gunning from planet to planet. In wars, he spent days in mud, blood, and dirt. Pretty smells and peaceful silence, with only himself for company, and a holistic lack of the booms of heavy artillery were deeply disturbing. His comm rang - loud enough that Shakk was out of the bed with his gun drawn. He’d almost chambered a bullet when he’d realized the source of the disturbance. He picked up the call, and kept silent, in a one-man war against the stranger on the other end. The voice patched through.
“Euphoria. 10 P.M.”
Click.
Shakk looked at the clock. 9:10 in the evening. He walked to the bed and flipped the mattress. He pulled out a briefcase, sleek black metal with a computer interface by the handle. He punched the code in and popped it. First his vest - his prized gem, his favorite pony. Some in Shakk’s field would argue it’s the gun that makes the man - but Shakk was of a different inclination. A gun can’t save you when you’ve got a sucking chest wound, and you’re down three liters of blood somewhere hostile. Then he snapped on his utility belt - two extra magazines, two pistols, and two knives into the back. He walked into the bathroom and threw water on his face. He looked at himself in the mirror, a colossus of a man staring back at him with the same cold, remorseless gaze that had been the last thing many men had seen before a quick departure to Hell. He made his way to the door and grabbed his jacket. As an afterthought, he tucked the vest underneath as tight as he could. No need to upset any…. third parties. were thick rubber, but shined, with military discipline. They made thuds as he walked around his apartment. Before he stepped out he left a surprise for any uninvited guests. A trip wire, linked to a nasty home brew of grenades that dangled just beyond the top of the doorframe, waiting for the lucky motherfucker that gets to test all of Shakk’s DIY engineering. As he walked down the hall towards the elevator, he caught a glimpse of that cold gaze once again.
If only this were a different life.
There are many things to be said about Euphoria. Some call it The nobility playground. Sugar Baby Depot. A place to go to get so high you can’t remember what the fuck you were so upset in the first place. The smell of perfume and cosmetics was ripe outside the club. Shakk had seen this kind of scene before. On other assignments, it looked like desperation to be a part of what city folks called living. But he knew it just meant they wanted to feel alive. He turned off his bike and took off his helmet. He crossed the street and a car railed its horn.
“Eat a dick, motherfucker!” Shakk yelled back.
Then he kept it pushing.
Euphoria's sign was bright.
Way too damn bright. He made his way up the stairs of the club, pushing past two people arguing with the bouncer. The first guy was tall and thin. Brown skin with an afro. He was also eloquent. Something about him screamed low nobility, but nonetheless, nobility. The second guy had a token white guy fade.That with the beard and the diamond chain - it just screams “I’m better than you, and I know it.”Shakk hated that. The white man stepped aside and gave the bouncer his card. The bouncer turned to the doorman to let them through.
“Jon. Let’s go,” the white man said.
Shakk had a habit of saving the names of annoying people. Just in case he got caught in the line of fire. The men proceeded up the steps and towards the door. Shakk walked to the bouncer and handed him a VIP card. The bouncer looked down, nodded, and moved out of the way. As he walked by, he looked over the bouncer's shoulder to see the name on the card the white man had given him. Case Appa. There wasn’t a person in the galactic federation who didn't know the Appa family's prodigy A doctorate candidate, a well-spoken political party leader, and a prodigy of the gift of gab. The type of person that made Shakk sick. He walked through the double doors. They were heavy steel doors covered in padding. That way they wouldn’t let the sound bleed out. It was like having stepped into a vacuum. The room was black. There was a small kiosk with pictures and a plaque stationed that read CHECK YOUR WEAPONS HERE. Shakk chuckled. He took out one of his knives and handed it to the desk girl. She giggled and looked him up and down.
“You're not from around here, are you?”
He read her name tag. April.
Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
He sighed and said, “No, April, I'm here for a meeting. He handed over the VIP card. Her face went still. She pointed in the direction of the VIP rooms and quietly walked out of the kiosk.
“Good luck,” she said, with a strangled whisper and a forced smile. Then she disappeared down the hall towards the bathroom.. He proceeded down a hallway of radiant neon doors, each a different shade of the same fucked up rainbow. At the end of the hall stood double doors covered in velvet. He knocked, and a guy dressed in a leather jacket walked out. His hair and his beard were a dark and rusted brown. He stuck his hand out with a grin and spoke.
“Name’s Nathaniel T. but most just call me Nat.”
Shakk declined to give a name. He shook Nat's hand - war calluses and hard-working field calluses colliding. Shakk stared at Nat intently, sizing him up. It was best to take care of threats early. Nat let go of his hand.
“You ready to see the big man?”
“You’re not who I’m here to see about my item?” Nat chuckled in response.
“Naw, buddy. Not really my gig - all that jazz. Usually, I do a couple of odd jobs around here. Tonight it's being the doorman. The big man handles every part of… y’all’s business.” Nat pushed open the door and the hallway was flooded with a thudding baseline. An endless sea of neon and strobe lights washed over him. is Euphoria. The bass was loud - there were people of all colors, races, and species. He followed Nat closely. Halfway across the dance floor a group of men ran up and threw their arms around Nat’s neck. Nat smiled and they talked for a second. He spun the man around as if to introduce him.
“These are my friends. Jon and Case.”
Shakk nodded.
“Your new friend doesn’t talk much,” Jon said.
“He ain’t here for me - he’s here for Hector.”
Case and Jon looked at each other and then back at Nat. Case then cut in front of Nat and gave him a light elbow in the side.
“Anyway, you can get us into VIP tonight?” Nat turned to them with a half smile.
“Hell no, y'all almost got me fired last time.” Jon then whispered in Nat's ear and Nat’s face twitched almost imperceptibly.
“Well alright. But y’all gotta behave. Can’t get me in trouble.his way.” Nat began to walk again. The duo followed and behind them, Shakk brought up the rear. He kept one hand on the pistol inside his pants. They came upon a key carded door which Nat swiped into. The door opened. The room was permeated with the smell of body oils and alcohol.
This must be the place Shakk thought. The doors opened slowly. Jon and Case ducked off into a side room, popping open a bottle of champagne into an ice bucket. Nat walked Shakk to the center of the room. There sat Hector - shortand chubby, with thinning hair.,
Great, this guy isn't gonna have little man syndrome at all.
Hector stood to shake his hand.
“My friend, sit, sit. We have much to discuss.”
“Actually, we don't. Do you have the product I need, or not?”
Hector laughed and turned to Nat.
“Sit my boy, sit. You’ve worked hard today, have a drink and bring your friends over to join us.”
Nat nodded and grabbed Case and Jon from the side room. The air was heavy and no one spoke. Hector raised his hand to the bar girl.
“Bring us five bottles - one of each. All our expensive stock.”
“True men expose their true value while drinking,” Nat began. “I don't think that would be a good id—” Jon cut him off and dove right into the first bottle, popping the top off and pouring glasses.
“Free shit is free shit, lighten up.” Case looking defeated held out his glass for Jon to pour him a drink. Hector began to speak again.
“Have any of you ever thought about what everything in this building costs? The true cost of luxury. The true cost of what freedom is in the federation.”.
Case stood to speak - the true politician.
“If I had to guess -”
Shakk cut him off.
“No one cares, do you have my item or not?” He cocked his pistol and chambered a round before setting it on the table.
“As far as I'm concerned, four dickheads in a room isn't productive. It's the opposite - and I'm all about productive. So where's what I came for?”Everyone's eyes were trained on Shakk. Case and Jon began backing out of the room. Hector stood to his feet.
“I’m sorry my friend - your item was never here. I was just after the bounty of capturing Shakk of Vizslas. You see, I'm being employed by the opposition to your mercenary corporation. And I'm told you’re dealing out more casualties than allotted for. So you see, I deal with you here, I get a big bonus. Though you die, which is unfortunate for you.”
Shakk clicked his teeth in frustration, he dove for his gun as shots rang out from the upper deck. The smell of gun smoke filled the air. Nat ran to the exit, pushing Jon and Case into a side room as the bullets ripped through the bar, shattering glass and tearing fabric. Shakk crouched behind the couch before standing to return fire. He pulled the trigger and felt his pistol explode in his hands, hitting the shooter in the top deck. His body twirled as he fell from the rafters of the bar to the ground. In the main area, folks had heard the fire exchange and began stampeding, pushing each other to try and escape the club before the unknown gunmen turned the barrels on them. Shakk fired twice more to hit Hector. Hector’s gut exploded as the rounds hit it. As Shakk sprinted towards the door, he felt a sudden burst of heat from his legs, and they buckled underneath him. He looked down to see the back of his leg turning scarlet. He crawled into a side room and began returning fire. He knew immediately an artery was hit - he didn't have long. His vision started fading, beginning to black out. It’s all over - this is how it ends, I guess. He heard whispering as his consciousness started to fade.
“Get his legs!”
“No, you get his fucking legs!”
“He’s heavy, goddammit!” Shakk opened his eyes to see the ceiling. It was blurring in and out - he vaguely felt as if he was being carried. He looked ahead to see an afro swaying back and forth. “Hey, you're awake. So, um, we could’ve left you to die - cause it’s really not our problem… but you looked like you could use some help. So why not help? But to be fair, I expect to be compensated for this at some point. So how about this - I get you out of here alive, and you do something for me in return,” Jon said.
Shakk choked in one raggedy breath and pushed out a strained “deal” before passing out.