#futdrabble

The storm gave a mighty thunderclap and the dust swirled in the sunset, surrounding us entirely. I hated this planet and did not intend on dying here. If the outlaw wanted to give me mercy, I thought I might as well make him regret that decision. With what the fellas on the station like to call gusto.

The only one left is the shrill barista, screaming. But she’ll be consumed soon, too. No one escapes. Not when someone explodes.

A small deposit of khyber laid in the crater, a vein that one day a desperate and maniacal man snatched. He mined it till it was just enough to forge a light saber, the first one made in the system since before Order 66. When he first activated it, however, it was pointed the wrong way and put a hole in his head. That’s how the tale of the curse began.

It was a will that Felken questioned for the first time in his life.

“Don’t open the door,” the voice whispered quieter than before. Ellen stared at the barrier that had kept her trapped in the room for almost two weeks. A new understanding at the dread she felt in its proximity dawned and in the silence of the room, she could practically hear her hairs standing on end. In the dim light from the lamp in the corner of the room, the door seemed to shift in abject directions. Distortion of matter and space is what she thought it looked-no, felt like. As if things were tearing into the world, that the door was no longer able to bar entry into this room, into this world. At that realization, Ellen reached up and felt for the ghost’s arms around her and held tight. She silently thanked the woman who had tried to keep the beast at bay. And then watched through half-shut eyes when the door tore apart and the beast between worlds bore itself into our world.

Tinn strained hard, clenching his teeth, feeling the bite of the ropes in his hands. He pulled as best he could, the fibers starting to crackle. No, he thought, it was going to break. He would lose the barrel, lose the gems inside, and they would be scattered below for grubby little goblins to find and covet. Then he’d be broke, in further debt to Zarkand, and would have to go running to the next country over. Wait, he was already wanted in that country, too. He’d have to go to the next country after that. Curses. The barrel was stuffed to the gills, to the point that any bit of moonlight that poured through the caverns caused it to shine and give off a kaleidoscope across the cave walls. With another heave, Tinn was able to pull the barrel higher and it caught one of these moonbeams, shining in his face. He winced, shut his eyes, pulled harder. No snags, aye, maybe there as luck still left in this adventure. A few more feet. Almost there. The shine went away, good sign. He was about to be out of debt and into the happy times. It was the cry that made Tinn open his eyes. A screech that was too damned joyful. He gasped and across the chasm, on the opposite side and just a few feet higher than he, were two goblins. One a pale blue and the other a fierce red. The blue one had made the sound, for its eyes were twinkling with the inner magic all goblins seemed to have in these mountains, and looking straight at the barrel he was lifting up. The red goblin as looking directly into Tinn’s gaze. Oh, great, he thought, perfect ending to this damn tale. He could almost hear the ballad that troublesome bard would tell, about how Tinn was dragged under and made a good splat on the rocks, each and every single one, in Tchai’s Cave. Was it worth it? He had to think fast. The blue one was almost ready to jump on the barrel. The red one licked its lips. Well, at least his corpse wouldn’t be wasted. Realizing that he’d better learn the dialect of whatever country was two over from the Yarghun Mountains and get himself some summer clothing to replace the coats he’d stocked up on, Tinn made a snap decision. The barrel was released, the rope cutting at his gloves and whipping his legs as it went down. Gravel spat up from behind him with the speed. And he heard the breaking of the barrel below, the chimes of the gems and jewels collapsing and striking each other in a cacophonous dance. Tinn sighed relief. The goblins turned their heads down and leaped into the chasm, climbing its rough walls with clawed hands and feet. It would have been majestic if it weren’t for their monster wing-wangs flapping everywhere as the did so. They disappeared and screeched happily at the glorious treasures they could now amass at the expense of Tinn’s labor and his two weeks spent in this pit of cold and coarseness. Collecting what tools he still had on him, he checked to make sure there as still enough rope to climb out the way he’d come in. Part of him wondered if an alternative route wouldn’t be a bad idea, but that would lead him to the Saltfrost Lake, which, sure, eventually hit a hot spring. From freezing to death to roasting into Tinn soup… the ballad of the gems wold have been a better fate. With pack ready and slung over his shoulder, Tinn adjusted his leather Kobold-hide cap and trekked back towards the entrance to Tchai’s Cave, poorer than he entered, hungrier than he’d ever been, and about ready to be a wanted man the rest of his life.

The sheet on the couch gets tangled as we shuffle closer. It feels odd, being almost on top of you, leaning, but there's a pull in how you ball fists on my shirt, drawing me closer. I wrap my arms around you, feeling the lavender sweater you're wearing tickle the skin on my forearms, and your long hair tangles in mine, colors blending together. I hear your breath close, primal, and mine is just the same. Something raw and physical, but not sexual. It's so warm. Soothing. Can't remember how we got here. We were watching tv together, unable to sleep. You had wanted me to stay or maybe you're in my place, but it feels good here. I love you. And I tell you, pulling a little sigh from your body. "I'm so tired," you say, and it's true, we're exhausted, from a long day so far away ago that I can't remember anymore if it was one long afternoon or many rolled into one. We both call for sleep but as nothing else has worked, here we are, snuggling right like cats, the floral print sheet wrapping around us awkwardly and my shoes still on and your belt digging into my belly, and it's so... "I love this," I say. "Why?" You ask. "Almost every night when I go to bed, I want to roll over and hold you, just like this." You laugh a little, exasperated maybe. You're so much more tired and beyond drained than me. But when we just let our bodies hold on, embracing, tender and free of shame... It starts to beckon me, too. The fatigue becomes a blanket over me and us both. Slowly we roll, bit by bit, until it's more snug and comfy on the couch, and our heads aren't going to rest terribly. I can still hear the tv blaring colors and cartoons at us just before my breath slows and I drift. And in my dreams, I hear you say I love you.

The sun wandered further towards some other place past the horizon, illuminating another part of the world and abandoning the city Eli resided in and leaving him to the night that could kill or consume him. He watched it go, though it was a mirage amongst garbage. The screens at Xavi's monitor shop were another commercialism nightmare, packed with advertising and shows that were secret advertising, but in the middle of it - there was a camera's view of the upper city. And once every sunny day, you could see the sun that was practically invisible in Gutter Town, a glimpse of a life no one there could have. Eli planned his weeks in summer around it, but in autumn he got rare glimpses like this one. It made the clouds into a wonderful array of colors that felt somehow more legitimate than the dyes and pixels that populated the alleys of Gutter Town. Eli thought he could tell the difference. He felt somewhere above the the worlds of cables, scaffoldings, and concrete splashed in paint.... Somewhere there was reality. Real meatspace, not just the version he existed in. It was the dream of something more, a place that most in the gutter didn't believe in anymore, and his mother had chided him immensely for such fancy. At last the glimmering dot was past Kyrietech Tower and night had come to the world above as well as the world below. The environment lights on the buildings, powered by ReDynamics, changed their hue and brightness, and speakers chimed to indicate that the night had begun. Eli stared at the feed on the monitor for a little longer... then threw his hood back over his face and walked away. He reached under the hoodie's collar and felt for a glowing blue button, hitting it with his thumb and sending the illuminated visor down over his face. It looked ridiculous, people said, but Eli knew better. It was cool, hiding his face with a glowing mask only he could see through, made of a mesh that reflected light from an LED fixture above his forehead. He was a real cyberpunk, with a dream of a better tomorrow and the skills to take down somebody big. He ignored the snickering shop keepers that he passed by in their cart units on Water Ave. They didn't understand the biz like he did and tonight was his biggest yet. Dominic DieHard would pay him big bucks for a hack that would rip apart Gutter Town's branch of WellsFarg and then he'd finally get an in with one of the major groups, freelance no more and he'd never have to go back home to the druggie mom that made him want memory erasure more than anything. Yeah, Eli thought, I'm gonna get free. Tonight. He passed the threshold into Pinky, the best club for getting your teeth knocked in by either the bouncer or the drinks. That same bouncer gave Eli a smirk at his glowing visage of aqua-blue, like he was just another script kiddie. Before Eli could process that expression, he heard Dominic across the room shout, "Yo, Meatsy! You're late!" Eli crossed over at the sound of his code name, not his choice but it made sense, and greeted the man with glinting teeth and wearing the most insanely colored faux-snakeskin jacket with purple base and a sheen that reflected way too many clashing colors under the lights in the club. He took Eli's hand with his own prosthetic one, a decent replica of a ReDynamics T-48, and shook vigorously. "You ready to start some shit, boy?" Eli felt for the thumb stick in his pocket. Yeah, he was ready. Dominic led him back to the restrooms and making sure no non-regulars were around, popped the secret door for the "back room" open. Eli ducked his head when he passed under the sliding door, as if the vertical lock would give and it'd crush him suddenly. Dominic chuckled. The back room was the sort of thing that could either be for storage, torture, or planning. Today, it looked like all three. The left wall had stacks of boxes, likely empty, with labels for other countries and QR codes that Eli recognized as shipping destinations. The back wall had blood and a crimson baseball bat leaning against it. The center had a table, three decks, and two more guys that Eli recognized from around town. Dominic crossed to the circular table of plastic-painted-granite and sat at the last available table. Eli avoided a few splatters of blood on the far right wall and settled into a nook in the shadows, letting his blue glow linger. One of the other two guys snickered at him, but Dominic slapped his arm with the T-48 hand, getting a groan and the guy to shut up. "All right, we here," Dominic said. "Mr. Meatsy has our stuff and he ready. You good on the coordinations, Mr. Selfie?" Eli stifled laughter as Mr. Selfie was obviously the name of the big guy who hadn't snickered, but who had the vain appearance of a pop star, skin either painted daily or dyed permanently in homage to some movie or cultural icon from the 21st century. He looked ridiculous. But the big guy with the painted face, Mr. Selfie, nodded and baritoned, "Yeh. We ready." Dominic DieHard turned to the snickering idiot. "How bout chu, Mr. Snickers?" And Eli grit his teeth to resist laughing then. But Mr. Snickers frowned at his new name. "Man, that's fucking cold." Dominic glared, as if to press the initial question. Snickers frowned. "I'm good." Dominic grabbed the first deck, a sleek purple-lined black rectangular thing with built in keyboard and holoscreen. When he flicked it on, the thing started shimmering and the purple was a light that shifted colors. Chameleon shades again. He pulled the data jack out of it, extending the cable to his neck and plugging it in through the slot in his custom jacket and into the port in his flesh. Snickers pulled his deck, which mimicked the appearance of the spaceship Dover, and repeated the power-on and data jacking gesture, placing his jack into the port on his chest. Selfie was last, and when he had his port on his arm slotted, he looked up at Eli. "Coming, Meatsy?" And so Eli pulled the thumb stick from his pocket and walked to the table, extending it to Selfie, when Dominic stopped him and grabbed his hand, prying it open and placing a opal-shaped thing. Rubberized and dark gray, with two covered needles and a USBX port on the outer side. "Plans changed. We need you in the drop. I'll lead you in, but you gotta run the script yourself. On the inside." Eli nearly shook with panic but kept his cool. He hadn't done it before, and somehow he figured Dominic knew this. It was that moment of heightened senses that he realized the smell of blood was recent. They'd killed the guy who was supposed to run the script, whatever stupid nickname he'd been given, and now it was down to him. They didn't want the risk. And from the look in the glazing violet eyes of Dominic DieHard, a man you did not screw, it was, "do it or we'll make you," and so Eli took the divepod, and the cable that Dominic gave him. "Chair?" Eli asked. Snickers once more snickered. "You on the floor, unless you want the wet one." It was a harder decision than he thought, but he sat down on the floor with the extended cable, plugging it into the pod and then his thumb stick into that. He pulled the plastic off the needles, able to practically smell the metal and sedatives on them that would help send his body into the dreamlike state between waking and dream, and guide him to piggyback into cyberspace. It was now or never. And as never likely meant his body scrapped for organic parts in some fucked up part of town, he figured now. Eli popped the pod behind his head and slammed it into his neck, sending him collapsing to the floor. But his mind found a new world and a dream far bigger than the primal desire to see the sunlight.