Heart of Iron

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Heart of Iron

Postby Realto » Sun Jan 29, 2006 10:13 pm

The same streets, the same people. For god's sake it was the same air. Every day Callum awoke with that digging pain in his heart. No. It wasn't the emotional pain that most stories begin with. This was real pain.

How long had he been living with this? Nails. Liquid iron nails swimming through his blood, only becoming solid once they'd passed into the aorta. And why?

Why was a question not easily answered. Like the helix puzzle that could be found in the local tabloid on page six, there was more than one way of beginning...

This was just one beginning...............
Just imagine there's something witty here for now. I'll get back to you later.
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Postby Realto » Mon Jan 30, 2006 2:18 pm

Fayhale was not the largest of the cities on the Gray Plains, but it was by far the most densely inhabited. What had once been verdant green vales, was now mile after mile of stone and steel carving it's way high up into the clouds. Scattered lights flashed rythmically, and a screen on the side of one glittering building marked the time as eleven thirty-six in numbers twenty metres high.

A lone man stood on one of the many walkways that connected each tower, one arm holding his weight against the cold rounded safety rail, whilst his other hand idly flicked away a long black cigarette. Almost in response, the digital six on the billboard clock flashed and was suddenly became a seven and the man cursed quietly.

This kind of work was always dangerous. He dealt in the priciest commodity, which in turn had the heaviest penalties if he was caught. But then he hadn't lasted this long without taking precautions. He always used one of the walkways, changing the location each time and only notifying a particular client at the last possible moment. A bribe ensured that a security technician would lock the doors on either side, allowing only his I.D and the one he had sent off to open them.

But just in case, he came armed. He stood straight, his right hand delving beneath the folds of his black Kafta, a kind of cloak that was tied loosely at the waist, until his fingers touched cold metal. The weapon was also illegal in FayHale, but it's brutal stopping power made it a much loved accessory amongst the underworld members who had the money to pay for such a device.

"Nice night for a stroll eh?"

The dealer spun about, his hand tightly gripping the revolver, but not quite drawing it from the holster.

Before him a youth with spiky blond hair leaned casually on the rail, his red jacketed arms crossed, smiling a friendly full toothed grin, whilst his eyes betrayed a hint of blue eyed malice.

"How did you get out here?"

"A good question. How did a young handsome guy like me get through a locked door and creep up on a guy like you... yes.. a good question." The young lad stepped away from the rail and turned about, letting his arms fall to his sides. "But the real mystery question mark is yet to come. The one that surrounds your death."

The dealer went for his gun, but before he could pull the trigger the boy had brought his hands up.

An instant later there was a sickening crunch and the boy had broken the older man's arm. Then before he could scream there sounded a crunch, followed by gurgling as the youth punched into his throat.

It was over in moments. Coming down to one knee beside the broken corpse, the kid rifled through the man's belonging and pulled something from a pocket in the Kafta.

When security arrived, there was nothing but the sigh of the wind, and a bloody lifeless mess. The boy was nowhere to be found.
Just imagine there's something witty here for now. I'll get back to you later.
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Postby Realto » Thu Feb 09, 2006 3:59 pm

The further below the walkways you travelled, the cheaper life became. At the ground, amidst trash heaps and oil-drum fires, the gangs ran amok, killing each other over patches of land. The few bits of land that still sustained organic growth. Those without it starved and those with it would defend these 'hallowed' places to the last.

Callum was a runner. His task involved scouting the slums until he spied a target and then waiting until the guard was at a minimum before firing off a flare to call for backup. He then fulfilled his namesake, for the enemy would quickly try to take him down, this would usually pull further guards away from the target, making his allies' attack more succesful.

If the foe could not be overcome, then the attack became a raid and Callum's next task would be to come about and try to steal any organics he could get hold of.

Of course it was dangerous, but what wasn't down here? Life was cheap, and in comparison to a pound of Cathari Leaf, his life was expendable. Without organics, they would all starve.

Today he'd hit the jackpot, or at least Jokko, his boss, would think so. It had taken all day, slowly making his way through to the western side of the slums, where old warehouses that had once been grainstores were now all but abandoned. Jokko had once said that the reason the gangs kept away was that occasionally the walkway dwellers sent down hit squads out of a hidden lift near here. It was the 'sky people's' way of keeping the slum dwellers in check.

Of course the hit squads would never go too far from this area, that would have been deemed risky, any ganger would be assured respect if he could take down one of the armoured killers, and the forays were infrequent at best. Still, it was enough to ensure that people did not try to settle in those big sheltered buildings.

Anyways. Here he was, behind a huge industrial machine that had once been an incinerator, but now lay in the deep rust of decay. He peeked round the corner once more to ensure he had not been imagining things. There, alongside a wall of stone, stood a small wooden shack, a 'shed' he had heard the older ones call it, or at least it fit that description, and next to that, a square of earth with tall poles cross tied at the tops with pieces of thin white material.

But it was what was growing on these poles that made his find all the more spectacular. Runner beans. Long and broad pods. Organics. Food. Enough to feed the gang for a few days, maybe a week. And there were signs of other shrubs growing beside the poles. He couldn't quite make them out, but food was food.

He was about to make his way back to his own land, when the door of the little shack creaked open. And nothing he had ever seen in his life down here had ever prepared him for what he would now see.
Just imagine there's something witty here for now. I'll get back to you later.
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Postby Realto » Wed Mar 15, 2006 3:22 pm

A girl... or the slender human that stepped out through the door looked like he imagined a girl would. Long brown hair, smooth looking skin and a shape to the body that no ganger had ever possessed. He guessed she was about perhaps eight or nine years old, but he couldn't be sure.

How he even knew this was a girl confused him. He'd never seen one down here before, and his memories of the upper world were vague at best. He only knew that he had not always lived down in the slums. But then he was not alone in that idea, the rest of his gang shared his view, and Jokko sometimes spoke of the skyworld as if recalling some memory or another, though usually when inebriated on Cathari Wine.

((Will continue later on...))
Just imagine there's something witty here for now. I'll get back to you later.
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