The place bore not resemblance to the gold painted landscape he had remembered, reminiscent of some 14th century painting of a black plague outbreak. It was calm like a dock on an early morning day, teal blue light poured in from the massive ajar hangar door painting the exposed half of the gray labyrinth of towers with it’s color. Chassis town was now a calm meditative pool of reflection, flooded with fog from outside. It had an aesthetic somewhere between an vine infested Mayan temple, and Miami Florida with Tether Root Palms sprouting from anywhere they could grasp an angle to binge drink the sunlight, with their tangled roots knotted around everything feet could not touch.
The platform made the sound the loud bellow as it forced the air below it out before locking into place. Geoffrey was mesmerized how familiar yet foreign a place could feel. With real light and real air he only experienced a couple times a year when visiting the outer deck prairies.
“Damn a man could get lost here and, and never want to find himself again.” he recited to himself as took in the city on his decent, considering himself perhaps retiring there one day. Flickering yellow lights, the bustling of human traffic, in the sea of blue buildings that looked like they had been submerged underwater in the current lighting. The elevation hangar fully docked upon a maintenance bay platform, a wide-open plateau that was still elevated higher than most of the buildings, it was essentially an aircraft carrier, that seemed to go along the entire interior mouth of Chassis Town. This docking bay was hoisted upon several ridge-like towers connected together along the wall making it aptly named ‘Super’ Force Base: Dragon Killer.
The massive wall of glass rumbled as it raised before him. He inhaled deeply through his nostrils soaking in very essence of the fresh air along with the radioactive exhaust odor that laminated everything in the city, which somehow made him feel more at home that the sterile scentless metal in his normal operating areas. Geoffrey walked out on to the bridge of infinitely chained together rooftop helipads, maintenance workers could be seen moving around the platforms, each running an inspection of some sort, if not wrenching on the aircrafts, which were an amalgamation of different models like some jury-rigged collection of a hoarder, giving them no uniform presence of intimidation. He wondered if some of them could even function safely, or at all.
A sharply dressed man stormed towards him, not fully dedicated to running but maintaining an unusual stride with a sense of urgency made him more noticeable from a mile away. His pristine suit even more lavish than some he had seen in the bridge city. His clean look was however interrupted by his dingy brown leather brimmed officer cap, that made him look more like a lad of ancient time about to solicit you for a shoeshine, made it know he had been an officer for a long time. His thick oversized rounded glasses took over his face, some custom welding goggles improvised for more casual daily use. A large, rounded steel bowl of a pauldron wrapped around the shoulder of one his glossy chrome robotic arm. Once in within about 5 yards of Geoffrey, he extended his human hand for an awkward left-handed shake and yelled “Jayce Vayne!”. Said the man yelling loud enough to wake a deaf man in space who was definitely accustomed to talking over aircraft engines, and perhaps was hard of hearing himself.
“Geoffrey!” he replied and immediately began clenching his teeth while attempting a smile, as the tight callus grip of a grease monkey began constricting his nimbler hand. He always was abrasive to the gung-ho types, considering himself more of a sleuth operationist.
“So you're the new sacrifice sent to the thicket?!”
“Sacrifice?” Geoffrey quarreled, with a, look that called the man’s judgement into question.
“Yeah, you know when lone stragglers, get sent down here for things, they usually don’t come back, at least now who they were before. But I guess it’s easier than the difficult conversation of firing someone I suppose!” Geoffrey did not doubt the man’s words, he knew Greis wasn’t always known for his pristine ethics, but it still didn’t make any sense to him, he made himself a reliable asset. Was he too reliable? Was he a threat in some way? The answer still seemed to be “No”, Greis was reasonable, and he had given no indication of disloyalty, or taken no actions of superseding his authority, no matter how unconventional it seemed. He always saw Greis as some sort of slightly eccentric uncle or something, ever since he made his way to the bridge. No it must be something different. He speculated. “So what brings you down to my lair of despair, Mr. Geoffrey?”
The man’s charm had worn off, his pleasantries now seemed more like a condescending antagonistic death wish.
“Crucial Business. I’m on assignment to assail the captain himself, I presume inconspicuously.” Said Geoffrey firing back with a stoic authoritative answer that he was more important than some dumb young man in a sweat tainted tank top.
“The Captain” he said, tilting his head away as if something had erupted his train of thought momentarily, before his two placid black lake goggles back toward Geoffrey. “Now there’s an interesting man! Very Unusual. Doesn’t come through here very often, not that he would have great reason to. Been years in fact since I’ve seen the man, and I rather wish I hadn’t.” He Said lifting flipping open his goggle chambers revealing his eyes sockets. One of which looked more normal, the other looked very abnormal, but Geoffrey recognized the half mountainous gold crescent moon shaped iris that was common among “The kin of the captain” as they were often called. The bottom half of the skin surrounding the eyes was several shades lighter than the darker skin color that completely encircled his normal eye, making it look like a brown and white ying-yang sign, with the white part full of lightning bolts made up of varicose veins. The crescent stood out on the black surface of his moon eye. but curiously the eye with a traditional Iris, still surrounded by white, was a crystal blue color that seemed to be being overtaken by the black color which had already turned his whole other eye into some inhuman insect pupil. Geoffrey stared perplexed in disbelief, as is whatever the captain has, or was contagious rather than the rumored genetic anomaly or mutation.
“Damn! You some sort of cousin of his?” Geoffrey dredged for any ounce of details he could discover.
“Not as far as I know! Maybe now I am, who really knows to be honest. They say the man can kill you with just his eyes, and I can’t say I don’t doubt it. But I looked him strait in the eyes, caught his gaze, I think I caught him by surprise, he gasped at he looked at me. Then it felt like a demon crawled into my soul through my goddamn eye sockets, like I was staring into the sun, my eyes burned for days afterwards. It didn’t kill me. But some rank foul power that is, maybe a curse, maybe I will die sooner than I should. All I know is the light burns my eyes now, gotta where these goddamn ridiculous glasses everywhere. And all I can remember the prick saying afterwards was ‘Sorry.’ If I didn’t have good life, if I wasn't who I was, and he wasn’t who he was, if were strangers in a dark alley I think I’d let the instincts take me over.” Sid the man with a tear, perhaps of anger welling in his still more human eye. Geoffrey stared back empathetically, know that the world was pain, some people could avoid a lot of it, as he tried to do with his catlike reflexes, and supernatural intuition, and cold calculated algorithm of reasoning. Those were his shields, his devices, his weapon against the world. But he knew sometime no matter how high you build your tower; pain will find a way to you.
“How could this happen? He’s clearly not lying; something must have happened. I've never seen anyone be stricken down by pure eyesight, that’s ridiculous. He had seen the captain briefly, numerous times, always vague, mysterious, brief, definitely introverted, but never even remotely intimidating to anyone. Something didn’t add up, something wasn’t making sense. But I’m on the case now, maybe that’s why Greis chose me.” He speculated to himself while gazing upon the man’s transfigured anomaly. He had never even heard of anything like this happening, and he heard a lot, this must be some deeper secret, and he would find it. He did recall a “Lightning Face Jayce” name he had overheard somewhere before suddenly came crawling back into his memory. It made sense now.
“So be careful out there Mr. Geoffrey, might find more than your looking for.” He said his pompous cynicism replaced by genuine interest and concern. “Got the requisition for your suit, it’ll be waiting for you down in the infantry arsenal maintenance bay, take the ellie down to the 52nd floor. Semper Fi, Mr. Geoffrey.” Geoffrey nodded back in concurrence.
He made his way over to a building that looked like a large utility shed, which did have a small outlet attached for exactly that, but was predominantly stairwell and elevator access. He made his way inside greeted to a brass lined stairwell with a beige mosaic tile pattern on the floor before the almost-gold brass elevator doors. A darker bronze metal made up the rails and the bars of the stairway system with the same beige design somehow overflowing on to the walls making the concrete slab staircase seem more inviting than any traditional military would have. “We are pirates after all.” he told himself upon inspecting the bronze chandelier that gave the room an inviting aura to traverse even for mundane tasks, Implying that financial incentive was ultimately what kept this flying fortress lubed up and running as opposed the to the malignant variant of patriotic rhetoric used to inoculate the denizens of the Federal Consortium. The ellie doors slid open to a rounded chamber looking more like a glass paneled, iron bared bird cage, with a continuance of beige tiles running inside with a browned yellow version of the “Dusk Skull” insignia on his jacket sleeve. He could see the entire city with a better view than the one he already had on the roof. “Damn, they did not slack when they designed this place!” he said aloud, “they” meaning the precursors of humanity during the Apocalyptic wars some nearly 300 odd years ago. He was impressed but somehow uneasy to feel himself hovering above the city, as if the curved wall of glass between him and a 100 story fall might be imaginary all together. He dialed 52 followed by the # sign in the elevator keypad to take him to his destination, a common insurance tactic to avoid some miscreant nuisance from slathering their hands over the buttons of all the floors at once. He did wonder if there was also some secret code, he could enter to perhaps take him to a restricted access floor, but he didn’t not let the thought continue to invade his mind. The door sealed behind him sealing him inside the tube. The elevator began to sink, as he stood hooked on the intangible view that he could not get anywhere else aboard the ship, or earth. His orange hazel eyes in the yellow light of the elevator seemed to clash against the frozen blue silver city. He watched as the city seemingly grew larger as he was taken downward, with a black steel shackle passing over the elevator window glass with each floor, obscuring his laser focus from drilling through the glass and into the city momentarily, the only thing reminding him he was still in his body and not some celestial entity descending upon the city. The elevator came to halt with a slight tremor followed by a curious chime played as the doors began to slide open, sending Geoffrey back into his body, begrudgingly. The door opened to a hallway thick with the scent of burning and metal, a gristly chasm of machinery haunted by grease drinking ghouls that seemed to nimbly crawl around whatever machine they were working on. A hallway of some nocturnal cluttered with generous sized cubicles, for assemblers and maintenance men to each have their own territorial domain for individual projects. On this floor the windows to the city were replaced by thick blankets of steel, maybe to stave away the ballista of light from their sunshine allergic skin, or perhaps to stop their catacomb of machinery colluding with the lesser mortal caste. The beings that dwelled here relished the dark and savored the sanctity of their seclusiveness. He stepped out into the T intersection of the hallway, that looked like it could have been a forsaken dentist's office, that had now become a labyrinthine machine shop tunnel. Geoffrey stared down one side of the hallway that was roaring with any kind of took that could be heard. The darkness ruled area was lit by a dim amber cone of scattered light pouring from a bar grated panel on the ceiling along the walkway area, with flashes of light occasionally splashing out of the breaches in the cubicle courtyards, with one even spraying a fountain of sparks into the interior walkway, like some malfunctioning sprinkler of fireflies spraying the sidewalk instead of the lawn.
He had only turned his back for about half a moment when a station attendant slithered up behind with an unpronounced speed that couldn’t be entirely human.
“Welcome sir.” the screech of the voice said like it was metal scraping metal.
“What?! the F…” Geoffrey for a brief moment startled by the unpredicted visit, that even his ultra keen senses could not detect. Geoffrey flicked himself around to see a sliver of man hovering just below his elbow.
“Minister Geoffrey, yes?” Said the abbreviated man like creature, draped in black suit coat that made its gray hands and face seem more human. It’s two beady glints for irises, like a neon signs mostly submerged in black tar syrup staring back up at him, inspired by some uncomfortable eagerness.
“Minister, huh?” He thought. That was a new one. “Some damn mutant, aberration of humanity.” he speculated staring down at the half man, briefly wondering where the elevator had actually taken him, as if in his trance he had somehow slipped into a new dimension inhabited by these elegant goblins. Once the shock of intrusion had fully discharged, he could more clearly assess the being before him. The slender angled chin of cunning negotiator, with some rock like cheek bones hoisted above his shallow cheeks. Its narrow-focused gaze made the luster in its nearly devoid eyes more prying with its lack of eyebrows. Its lightning blonde seemed to actually glow against the cacophony of its dark features and concrete complexion. If it was a normal human Geoffrey entrained, he could perhaps have been a celebrity model, among the mundane citizen world.
“Yeah…, I see you were expecting me.”
“As is my duty and my pleasure.” Said the elf like creature with it’s ear littered with gold piercings and the tops of it’s ears wrapped around like a tail hanging just under it’s earlobe, while giving a glimpse of his gray rusted metal teeth as he spoke.
“Here for a suit. Going outside the ship.”
“Yes we have one prepped for the specifications Greis personally requested, hopefully it will serve you and your mission well. Please follow me to the equipment bay.” said the nimble creature drifting in front of him toward one side of the hallway.
“Sure.” he replied and began tailing the creature who seemed to hover in front of him with its coat masking the rhythm of its soundless footsteps. He followed down the long canal pathway that ran along the interior side of the hallway. The path was a mosaic of flat symmetrical “L” shaped polished metal plates, with seems between where excess fluid could drain. As he passed every so many cubicles, he noticed a warped curvature in the floor with a circular drain sloped next to the path he was on, like a public communal shower one would preferably not walk barefoot in. He noticed black rivers of presumably, oil funneling into the orbit of the drains. Some of them pooled into big puddles that hid the drain and the curvature of the floor, that made it look more like a river basin swamp, that was in fact draining, just not at a pace fast enough to deal with volume of fluids. Peering into the cubicles he could see more creatures like the one before him, that seemed vastly more primitive than the one escorting him, like gray hairless monkeys driven mad by malfunctioning machinery. They did have some notion of human modesty most of them wearing some kind of clothing over their lower half, one hanging upside-down from a machine carcass with it’s iguana like feet, as it furiously cranked it’s wrench with a spiteful fanged grimace. His boots clanged against the metal plates on the ground but were mostly drown out by the sounds, rivets guns , saws drills and welding torches. “So if you don’t mid me asking, what exactly are you guys?” He said raising his voice to a shout loud enough to be heard over the droning of machinery. He remained quiet not sure if his words had made it to the beings ears, not wanting to repeat himself, Maybe it didn’t matter anyway.
“We’re a class of human, mostly. Just a product of the wasteland, an adaptation of The Annihilation Era. What’s more remarkable is that you’re still around, you know, traditional mankind. We call ourselves ‘Ayrvelen’ a kind of word somewhere between revenant and survivor. We unlike fragile humans are sturdy, inoculated to radiation, as a human’s skin would tan in the sunlight ours hardens in the fallout. There are stories of the early tribes unifying, making war with the beasts, as they inheritors of the surface. But legions of traditional humans did rise again as if in hibernation, with weapons of the old world.” The creature continued forward speaking in a very clear loud tone like a proper tour guide.
“Radiation Immunity is quite a gift, wouldn’t need a suit at all if I had that, but I’ve never heard of these creatures. A secret weapon against the Federal Consortium? That would seem too easy, they must have their own equivalent, if not a fully automated repair system. Definitely useful for us though.” he thought as he marinated on the words he had heard. “But what about you? The ones aboard this ship, what brings you here?”
“Same thing that brings everyone aboard The Mordant Despair, sometimes just a fresh start, but more likely revenge. The rise of governments saw us as something to be tamed, if not outright destroyed, we were hunted alongside the greater mutant beasts that had evolved to conquer the landscape. But the worst perpetrators were the ones know as ‘Game Wardens’ they took sport in hunting us watching us suffer, burning us out of our warrens, not even to just gun us down, but to laugh as we suffered as if lesser beings. For a time we hid, we ran, we survived, but now most of us have partnered with the “Selectively Secret Sovereignty (of Separatists)’ though the any nation would have us dumbly labeled a ‘pirates. One need only hiss the S.S.S. sound to another member to verify membership. But surely a minister of the top deck must be familiar with this?”
“Clever, trying to pick my mind too I see, I guess information is closely guarded on all parts of the ship, but maybe it’s not always best if the body knows what the arms are doing. Must be curious to hear about top deck affairs, can’t say I wouldn't.” Thought Geoffrey now calculating a worthwhile response. “That’s definitely more of the sentiment aboard this ship. I’ve been to Pisswash Cistern, for our biannual dock there, A marvel of malice that floating island of scrap out in the middle of the Pacific. There is the whole ‘honor among pirates’ jargon some people throw around, but calling it an actual origination, is hopeful at best. Even the “Good” pirates are usually just out for themselves, meeting their status quo for survival, and the bad ones will cut a man down for a handful of Abes (pennies). It’s a rickety alliance at best, wouldn’t trust half the lot myself with my own fate much less the fate of humanity. But I am a betting man, And I’m doubling down on the ‘Holy Trinity’ so to speak. The Mordant Despair, The Cardinal Seance, and The Albatross Atrocity, the only pirates I know on an actual mission, ‘Rebuild the world, end the wars, stifle the Federal Consortium, or any government trying their hand ant global conquest. That’s something I can get behind, and the warring nations yeah they’re powerful, but they’re blind with top heavy leadership that even sabotage each other from within. In my opinion the whole state of the world is a castle on cliff with a crumbling foundation, ‘Death by a 1000 cuts’, I’m just making sure when the world does fall into chaos, someone is there to pick it back up again.” The two made their way around the corner of the building, to a break in the conundrum of cubicles. Passing an empty corner lobby area wedged between two cubicles itself with some benches and tables for reprieve, a coffee table overloaded with weathered magazines, the only new glossy one being, the monthly ‘Mordant Chronicle’ printed and distributed onboard. With a few ash trays filled with cigarette burial mounds on the end tables wedged between the benches. All pasted with the blue glow from the cornered windows giving an actual view of the city with a reprieve from the endless metal.
“Glad to hear you’re a man of integrity and Ideals, the world seems to be running short on those at the moment, at least the ones brave enough to act on them. I do agree we are in a tumultuous time, feel like the fate of existence is hanging on a coin flip.”
“Yeah that’s why I’m going to influence the coin flip if I can, or make sure, we’re the referees catching it.” The two approached a massive double sliding door with an adjacent kiosk.
“Well we’ll have you on your way minister Geoffrey. Here we are, the main sanctum requisition depository.” the being said as it flicked it’s had over the keyboard, entering the keys as if it had 6 finger on it’s hand casting the spell to open the door. The giant metal doors began sliding apart revealing a huge chamber reliquary arsenal. The two entered into the forest of machines, a labyrinth of 4-way intersections divided by refurbished weapons of war, that only a person familiar with them could actually find what they were looking for. “Ahhhh suits, I think there yours is here in this section.” Sounding just barely less certain about things than he had been maintaining before, straining to recall exact details. They approached a docking rig holstering the suit with arms and legs spread wide, for clinical detail inspection.
“Oh! She’s a pretty girl huh? That’s a mean piece of machine right there.” He said somewhat excited to not see something half baked cobbled together for his expedition. Probably one of the newest ones they have. He assumed, marveling at the sleek cobalt blue rounded muscular shell design, fully knowing it was more of a foraging model than combat one, lacking a bulky back thruster pack for independent flight, with forearms to sleek and rounded to house and major weaponry other than a standard wrist vulcan.
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“It should suit you and your cause well! Get inside so it can run diagnostic size adjustments.”
“Don’t gotta tell me twice.” Said Geoffrey discarding he suit jacket he had tucked around his waist. He climbed up the docking rig, hoisting himself up with his upper body strength and a foot pedestal built into the side, definitely an obstacle of hostile architecture for the physically unfortunate. He relaxed back into the open suit shell with his arms spread wide for about a minute as several mechanical spider arms made adjustments to joint segments between plates. Metal cords slithered and tightened over the boxy skeletal frame Geoffrey was inserted into, like metallic muscle fibers weaving themselves around by some alien spider web. Once the size adjustment was completed the blue plates enclosed around him into a seamless veil, like a flower going into hibernation. The glass visor radiated with yellow glow from within the helmet, revealing every texture of his face, replacing the black tinted mirror that was previously granting him complete anonymity.
“The vocal controls will adjust to you after awhile, you can test it by adjusting you’re face recognition. Just say ‘Recognition mode:’ then, either ‘Anonymous’ for blacked out visor, ‘Normal’ to display your true face, or ‘Alias’ to generate a randomly generated impostor facial projection.”
“Think I’ll keep it simple for now. Recognition mode: Anonymous.” Yelled Geoffrey louder than he had to forgetting the suit could easily hear him. Th visor reverted to it’s previously black reflective state. “Very Nice!” The holstering rig then immediately ejected him with a thrust of steam, that continued to roll off the suit as landed clumsily fumbling for stability. “It feels weird, surreal actually, like the suit is almost weightless the metal fibers, moving almost in sync with my own.” He thought, only feeling the slight resistance of gravity when he remained still or when part of him changed direction of motion. He stood for a few seconds stretching , hunched over, wiggling his fingers, astounded by the range of motion and flexibility he could still fluidly achieve in the suit. It felt like a second set of skin had been painted over mine. After another moment he regained his posture.
“Everything satisfactory?” asked the ayrvellen.
“Oh yeah I think this will suffice!” said Geoffrey shoot a couple swift jabs through the air at imaginary opponents.
“Excellent, head back the way you came, and there should be a shuttle waiting for your departure. Godspeed Minister.”
“Thanks! Appreciate the sentiment. I didn’t catch your name?” asked Geoffrey curiously. The creature seemed confused for a moment, most passed him by as if he was another piece of machinery, and the personable sentiment was not lost on him.
“It’s ‘Maln Orst’ , Maln for brevity sake. Should we not live long enough to see each other again, or achieve our cause, Semper Fi brother.”
He seemed to dance out of the room throwing his knees up to his waist and then slamming his foot on the ground with each step, not accustomed to the motion assisted movement of the suit, like his own limbs somehow had a higher sensitivity input. By the time he was at the corner of hallway around the central chamber again, about halfway to the elevator, he managed to get his steps into a more regimented pace, not quite a as natural as normal walking but close, with softer stomps like someone intentionally making louder footsteps. He made his way back into the elevator cylinder, with a slight unsettling tremor as it adjusted to his densely weighted body, as if he were now an oversized frog trying not to submerge a lily pad. He walked over to the keypad terminal now feeling noticeably taller, the keypad seem slightly off from where his impeccable memory told him it should be. He took extra care not to break the buttons with an accidental overpowered jab from a fatal plunge of his finger, like some newly acquired Midas touch. He typed in “00#” as soon as he entered it a message flashed where the numbers used to be, saying “ground floor ” before returning to the input he entered. “Let’s go!” he said slightly excited to return to his window view. He could tell some time had gone by, the dark blue foam of mist had become a lighter shade of blue, signaling the sun had fallen father breathing more into side hatch of the hangar city.
The elevator glided down its rail, faster than he liked. He sank into the city, as the buildings grew larger around him, the lights grew brighter painting the fog with their amber burn, and his telescopic view was seized by teeth made of buildings in the mouth of some gasping mechanized eel like leviathan. “Chassis Town.” He muttered as the elevator slowed down before integrating with the ground level. The capsule doors slid open like some rapidly dissolving pill in stomach acid, as he left the exterior “High Common” military access channel elevator. “Damn one of the few times I can get some fresh air , and I cant even feel it!” He said to himself already missing the burst of air that had blasted him on top of the building. But there would be time to take in the sights and a maybe a brief respite of radioactive air when he left the ship. Imagining himself indulging in the breathing in of tampered air, like a forbidden lust for cigarettes. With every breath he exhaled could hear his helmet flush out the condensed air preventing his visor from fogging up, but still drops of dew settled on the exterior. He crossed the flat barren of plane of concrete that surrounded the building, that was clearly more of utility entrance than a high traffic loading zone. It a repeating diamond shaped squares divided X shaped grooves to give the empty recess between buildings that seemed to stretch on forever some character, the wet gray stone seemed to glow several shades brighter surrounded by the building eating blue darkness that the elevator had submerged into on his way down.
He could make out the black pill shaped silhouette amidst the gaze of blue shadow. As he grew closer, he could certify that it was not some apparition, or delirium derived from his weary eyes. “A levicar.” he said half impressed that it wasn’t some rolling rust bucket. He investigated as he got closer. He could hear the dull hiss of what sounded like a strong breeze holding the vehicle in place above the ground, with an eruption of splattering water and mist as the drizzle was exiled away from it. “They spared no expense I guess.” he said noting that aboriginal sleekness and sophisticated simplicity of the design “Even the newer levicars still looked like traditional bodied cars.” He thought with slight sense of unease approaching the alien vessel, as the door slid open revealing the lounge like seats of all black upholstered interior. He lodged himself through the small square shaped opening and cast himself into the couch like seat. As he adjusted his posture he could see there was a small derelict are where a pilot could sit, perhaps the size of an Ayrvellen, but none was there.
“Welcome! Please scan ID to begin transit” a voice said that came from a terminal built in front of him with a digital green sphere that illuminated like some kind of eye staring back at him. “One second!” he said, fidgeting with his suit until a curved plate above his thigh flipped open, allowing him to access his ID card in his pocket. “There we go!” he said bestowing it in front to the eye for analysis. A green projection of light spewed from the eye and crawled all over the surface of his ID card and part of his gauntlet. “Identification Qualification met. Welcome Mr. Geoffrey! Beginning transport protocol, Destination ‘The Miscreant Mercantile Corporation’.” the voice said in a more cheerful tone. “Never heard of it.” he thought. The bullet vehicle shot itself down the street with a cloud of densely atomized mist. “I guess we’re in a hurry.” he noted as the vehicle ripped through the air at a wicked speed. His eyes scurried to take in as much of the magnitude of the city as he could, with water droplets slashing across the outside glass as soon as they could be accumulated. The altitude of the vehicle shifted higher into the air as it rounded it’s first building corner, giving it a generous distance above the traffic below, of which a standard bodied levicar could not accomplish without a large ramp to leap from. His eyes struggled to focus on the shadowy blurs prowling the sidewalks, occasionally locking his eyes on one long enough to reveal its human features. The silver cerulean buildings could more generously be identified blazing with their amber torches reaching up into the trench of blue that obliterated any chance of seeing their where their true height ended. “Seemed so much smaller from above.” He noted opening his visor to get his face as close to the window as possible to inspect any vantage point he had. He gazed forward into the same absorbing wall of blue that seemed to crawl down from the sky between the buildings in front of him. He stared forward absorbing the view for a few minutes, awaiting any sign of his destination, but just as he almost tried to snap himself out of his laser focused trance, he noticed the blue wall of fog change. It grew lighter every few seconds, less blue more yellow, greener. Suddenly he could see the full aisle of buildings he was about to shoot between, with a fuzzy teal filter over them. He could actually identify differentiating architecture in the buildings now with more time to analyze on before it leapt past him.
The teal had become more green than blue now with streaks of lime piercing through it. He could see it, strait in front of him. The actual real wilderness of earth exposed before. “Damn, it feels like it’s been forever.” Forever being only 3 years, 3 years since he last set foot on actual terrain. It was a weird feeling a feeling he never expected to feel in his life, not unwanted, just unnatural, like he was some kind of alien invader on his home planet. Even staring into blur between buildings at the fuzzy dark towers bathed in green, that he assumed to be the black atlas spire pines, just knowing what he was looking, the real outside world he had forsaken, at sent a chill of excitement mixed apprehension. Would he be so easily allured back into it’s grasp, would he be so quick to embrace it as he was start his new life aboard the ship? Would he be tempted to just leave? He wondered. Perhaps, he could not be trust himself. With the sound of a firmly funneled burst of air, the kind that can extinguish candles on a birthday cake, the ship suddenly came to an abrupt halt. It began reorienting itself as it descended next to the curb, until it was once again about a foots height off the street, and a foam of rolling mist was erupting from beneath the vehicle, being dragged along by the inconsistent death feigns of the wispy breeze, like some more pure version of an Ancient New York city manhole in the cruel reach of winter.
There he arrived at the wide building medium height brick building, with silver beams reinforcing its edges, clearly emblazoned Miscreant Mercantile Co. ,in bold letters just above the entrance. The building had several balconies on what looked like the 3rd, 4th , and 5th floors made of the same lustrous silver color metal as the supports. He could see a couple black trenched figures peering down at him, one of them sheltering their cigarette. “This is the place I reckon.” Geoffrey said, catching a stiff wave of mist on his face, before sealing his visor again. He walked inside the building’s wide rounded entrance, to a roar of chatter, a third of the lobby was wood finished tavern where he could hear a loud table of degenerate gambler roaring over one another. The other 3rd of the main floor was office space, housed by diligent frail bodied correspondents, furiously clicking away at keyboards, or locked in to a conversation on their headsets, scanning different channels while giving updates to field operatives. The office side was a lounge with a war ridden carpet that could never be entirely cleaned all at once, with two different small lounge areas, each with a couch facing away from the reception area toward a coffee table, and the phalanx of offices attached to wall. One of the somewhat younger workers sat nervously hunched over on the couch, mumbling to himself, as he shakily overcame the turbulence of his arm to shove his cigarette into his mouth, which judging by the ashtray before him could have been his seventh one of he day. He looked as if he had seen a ghost, or maybe several, or perhaps he knew death was imminent if not for him than some one he felt responsible for, or as if he had failed to meet some quota numerous times as was on the the precipice of a furlough. Geoffrey approached the registration desk, a big aisle of what used to be white tiles that were now yellowed beige with fine cracks running through them, separating the other two side areas of the bottom floor lobby. He navigated past a couple squads of loitering gangster posies, someone within which commented as he passed by “Oh, clean suit!” he paid him a brief glance of acknowledgment with no words as he passed, uncertain if it was a derogatory slur, or a genuine compliment. It was not his ambition to squabble with low lives, he was here on duty.
“Fucking bay me my damn money, I got the damn bulk quantity specified in the contract!” Said the badger like man, with burned streak of white torn through his hair
“Sir this is your payment. You entered into a malleable contract based on the going rate for the materials, and you were already paid extra for the ‘bulk collection bonus’.” said the clerk, who was a man of average height of about the same build as the other man yelling over the counter, but without a rugged edge to him, wearing a pleated oversized white shirt with a balck vest over it.
“My partner is right our expenses weren’t adequately compensated.” said the slightly taller more imposing figure standing next to him in an older rusted but comparable suit to Geoffrey’s, with a voice so deep it was most likely modified by a device in their helmet.
“Hold on let me check!” said the clerk as his glasses slid down his face throwing his baggy ill fitted white sleeves of his shirt on to the keyboard as the pretended to begin typing into the screen before him, while keenly watching for the to make any attempt at violence. The antagonizing man tilted his shoulder down, as if reaching for a weapon of some kind, snarling his teeth as if in anticipation for a recitement of displeasing answers he had already received. With lightning quick slice of his arm through the air, the clerk fired of a blinding ray of red light reconfigured one of his hands into the nozzle of a gun barrel by blasting it off from within.
“GAHHHHHHHHHAAAH” the man in front of the counter yelled as the well-placed shot in his shoulder caused his arm to boil off from the socket into a stew of magma, before it splashed on the ground billowing with steam. “Fucking piece of shit androids.” said the man having rotated falling face first after the beam had sent him backwards, now laying with his face against the floor staring at the fuming caustic ooze that was once his arm, before he passed out.
Picking up the nearby phone he dialed quick sequence of numbers simultaneously with his one functioning hand. “Going to need medical pick up. Again. _____ (a brief pause) Yes, Miscreant Mercantile. ____ Ok , good. “He said confirming with voice on the other side. “ I hate when this job gets messy, I just cleaned the floor.” The man’s suited accomplice walked over to him laying on the ground and glanced down at him. The suit man squatted down to investigate his incapacitated partner. He shuffled his glove somewhere near the man’s waist after flipping over part of his trench coat. Geoffrey caught a glimpse of a credit chip he slid into his palm with his two fingers.
“Most friends don’t steal each other’s money. do they?” Commented Geoffrey letting the man know that his slick movement had not gone undetected.
“Most ‘Friends’ don’t last too long around here. But my price is my price, and I’m collecting it before he get’s the chance to try to weasel out of the agreed amount. ‘Alliance’ is usually the soft term thrown around here to describe how the loyalties among expeditionary companies are arranged. You would know that instinctively if you’ve spent any amount of time around here. I’m guessing by your clean suit, you’re new to the job, which is weird because most of the fresh meat recruits, can’t afford a suit for at least 2 years, and definitely not a new one at that, if they choose to ever invest in one at all. But a word of advice to you, keep your mouth shut or you’ll end up like this idiot.” Said the deep hollowed out voice that echoed as if if it was in a tin can, while letting Geoffrey know it wasn’t his place to scrutinize someone else’s ethicality in world he was clearly not familiar with.
“Guess I’ll keep that in mind, friend.” Said Geoffrey as both of their helmets stared back at one another.
“Can I be of some assistance?” Asked the clerk intervening between any further incitement of violence on his premises.
“Yeah, actually you can.” He said checking the wrist of his armor that was now a touch screen linked to his device within the suit, scrolling through his mission update details. “Yeah says here I’m supposed to deploy with ‘Reservoir Company’ scheduled to depart at 16:00.”
“let me check my itinerary. Name please." clicking a few keys on the keyboard with it’s operational hand.
“Geoffrey, Wilkes, W-I-L-K-E-S.” he replied
“Yes, you’re here scheduled to depart at the expected time. Welcome to Reservoir Company Mr. Wilkes. Your squad should be prepping in the basement level garage.”
“Guess I’ll go scope it out then. But just curious, what made you take the plunge? You’re full android? I couldn’t even tell, normally you can spot them a mile away.”
“I made a good living up until my nearly untimely demise, my human body was failing so I chose life, perfection, error free anatomy. And this body was absolute top of the line, probably cost me more to defend myself than that man’s entire life was even worth. But desperation is desperation.”
“Guess sometimes path chooses us and not the other way around.” he nodded and continued past him to the basement elevator lodged in the back of the building. The fairly large unimpressive elevator slid down about two floors into the main basement sub level chamber. He walked out into the wide open expanse of machinery and ground vehicles. “Guess they do things the old fashioned way down here.” Admiring the adjustable appendage like treads of the ‘Crawler Tanks’ that after 200 of retirement from the governmental collapse in AE era, were still a suitable means for domestic conquest. He surveyed the variety of crews each loading their own unique vehicles. Like magnetic leeches clinging to their metal host. He noticed one ragtag crew that rather ragged and uncoordinated perhaps homeless, loading up in front of the myriad of individual garage door ports. There was an illuminated sign above the bay with the text “Company: Reservoir.” “Of course! It figures. They Greis would put me with some lowly fumbling bafoons.” Is this an elaborate prank, or some elaborate mastermind scheme to keep a low profile? He didn’t really like either option. “This batch of fools better not get me killed.” Geoffrey thought before walking over to assess his crew. He approached them loading the most improvised version of an excuse for a crawler tank, the looked like it had been refurbished from tractor parts. It looked like more of crew carrier model, designed to house the most people, or junk it could possibly fit. The main body of the vehicle was like a reinforced school bus with plates welded either entirely over the windows or into small slits that a firearm could poke out of. It was worn brown red color made of calcified layer of rust, with some mud probably baked in it as well, with splotches of green and orange, giving a it a lightly fall camouflaged aesthetic. It was hoisted about 8ft above the ground by a series of robotic arms that maintained stability over any terrain, the one part of the vehicle that was new enough not to be the victim of the crusade of rust plaguing the other parts. The machine arms were attached to four different sets of treads, currently forming a rounded hexagon that could assumingly ,If in proper working condition, retract and condense as necessary for almost any terrain even the vertical hike up the wall of a tree or building. Burned above the back hatch, where people were loading cargo up a ramp as the jaggedly carved inscription, perhaps by a welding torch, “Menace of Grief’ “More like Dumpster of grief if you ask me.” he thought upon inspection. He walked over to the squad of men prepping the vehicle, none of which even had an armor suit like his. “So, who’s in charge of this outfit?” he said announcing his presence. One of the more ailing members of the team, short a fat man who should probably be retired already sat on one of the metal crates that was yet to be loaded. He looked at Geoffrey for a moment, coughed, took a brief pause in enjoying his cigarette long enough to point to another individual while releasing another gaseous chronic cough, the lung aspiration device protruding from the man’s back could be heard drawing in clean air. Geoffrey looked over at the man who he thought he was pointing at with some uncertainty. But it was too late, by the time he turned back to ask the man directly, he had already bitten back into his cigarette again, sending off a stare that he did not want to be bothered. He walked over to a man observing the loading process, who seemed to be more inspecting than physically aiding in the loading effort, and he was dressed in a long brown leather trench coat, like a biplane pilot headed to the Siberian wastes or trying to be eccentrically fashionable. He stood out from the other people either wearing black combat fatigues, or red maintenance jumpsuits. “You wouldn’t happen to know who is in charge of this outfit would you?” Geoffrey said trying to break his concentration on the loading process.
“Well I guess that would be me! Chashe Garamfield, at your behest!
You must be the big gun they sent to escort us.” Said the unreasonably joyful man slapping the back of Geoffrey’s suit.
“Um not sure about the ‘Big Gun Escort’ you’re looking for, I’m here on private business but I was told to deploy with ‘Reservoir Company’.”
“Well then happy to have you aboard! And you definitely are in the right place. The Intel Greis sent me said a Geoffrey … Wil-pes, Minister of Weaponry, Ammunition, and Field Administration Abomination Suppression, would be arriving as a detail escort.” Said Chashe with a pleasant overload of glee.
“Minister of Abominations of what?!” The whole slew of titles came as a complete shock to him. “Obviously he was somehow in close contact with Greis all the way in this corner of the ship And was apparently bolstering my resume with some superfluous mumbo-jumbo?!” How could someone affiliated with this barrel of monkey’s even know Greis? “I guess that’s me… last name Wilkes by the way, no ‘P’ in it.”
“Oh sorry must have been a typo! Well happy to have you Wilkes.”
“You know Greis?!” Geoffrey probed.
“Unfortunately, you could say that I tried not knowing him! But one way or a another that man has way of weaseling his way into places he shouldn’t. He stinks to holy hell of mischief like a goddamn ferret cage! But he is a man of his word, and a good person most of the time, I think. But he owed me one, so I'm cashing it in! As you can see were pretty hard up at the moment, so we could use a big win at the moment. To be honest I didn’t know if we’d even be approved to deploy in our current condition, and I didn’t know if my message would get through to Greis, or that he would even respond so fast, but he is a kill two birds with one stone type of guy. But you probably know him better than me these days!”
“Do I really?” Geoffrey wondered.
“But don’t mind me or the crew too much we will consider you an honored guest, we should depart in about an hour. So feel free to relax, get antiquated with the crew, or the equipment, but frankly I don’t give a fuck really, I’m just happy to have ‘Suit’ with us! The wildlife is one thing you have to worry about out there, but it’s the other pirates that might shake you down and take a cut or just sabotage your whole operation.”
“I’ll do what I can if things go to shit, I won't leave you for dead, at least not without a fight.” Replied Geoffrey with his more intimidating metallicized voice, knowing that he was really no elite combat specialist, detective maybe but not warrior. “Any one of them, except for the old fat one could probably do just as good a job as him if not better if they had their own suit.” he reluctantly considered. “Are you sure we should be bringing that guy with us though? He might be liability.” Geoffrey said pointing towards the old frog shaped man perched on the crate.
“Who? Koff? He’s the only engineer who knows this bucket of bolts inside and out, that’s actually in our pay grade, if anyone’s a liability it’s us to him. Man’s practically a wizard of metal.” Explained Chashe.
“Oh my mistake, just checking, no complaints from me then. Guess ill take a look around till we’re ready to bump out.”