Post by s4g on Dec 11, 2006 14:44:20 GMT 1
Here is Chapter 3. The readership here is a little low, but that's ok. I hope you all enjoy the 'saga'. 
Ian walked the streets of Hive City with no destination in mind. He couldn’t go back to his apartment since the bounty hunter would take his father there first, and he could not head to Team Delta’s house as he was not a member of that gang yet. That would be determined in the days ahead.
Searching through his pockets he pulled out the last of his stashed credits. Five credits were all he had to his name, that and his las pistol and knife. The last was a gift from his mother upon his ascension to manhood. He thumbed the pommel absent mindedly as he stood outside the “Bifrost”. It was a Van Saar drinking hole set upon a bridge across a cavernous gorge nearly a hundred stories deep. A hive quake from before anyone currently alive could remember had ripped open the gorge causing a ‘natural’ division between areas of the hive and being on the fringe of hive city made it a low priority to reoccupy or repair. As a result the owners of the Bifrost made a handsome sum of credits to those wishing to pass beyond. There were other bridges to be sure, but none as wide as to allow the transportation of anything more than what one could carry on their back.
Just standing outside the door Ian hesitated to go in. He was new to the area, he had never really participated in such revelries before, and he was obviously green. As he juggled those thoughts he was knocked to the floor as a trio of gangers barreled their way past him.
“Watch where you’re going runt,” mumbled one of the men, not even turning his head to address the juve now sprawled out in the gutter.
Ian stood up and dusted himself off. ‘Well, if I am ever going to get used to living out here on my own I had better get used to going into such places,’ he thought to himself, and headed straight through the swinging doors.
The din was mind numbing. Countless conversations all vying to be heard over the others, some kind of music blaring from a band on stage in another room, over the bar were several monitors of hive sporting events – one had the picture of a fighting pit with several pit slaves engaged in a fight to their deaths, another several large rats navigating a maze, and the last had a game of slaughter ball. Ian had to step back into the shadows to avoid from being bowled over once again as patrons came at went at their leisure.
Ian blended in well enough. Not too tall, not so small as to get lost, and his envirosuit looked like any other. Most of the patrons had some form of weapon either strapped to their back or slung over their shoulder. Very few were as inadequately armed as he was. Looking around he decided to head to where the music was blaring from out of the back room.
As he crossed the smoke filled room he noticed several other sizable rooms. All of them filled with denizens of other houses, where this mix-match came together was in the hall in the back. There was no other place like it in hive city. At least not that Ian had heard of. The close proximity to hive city, and the bridge being a jump off point to places beyond, brought several of the houses together. Realizing that their mutual support of this resource was in each of their best interest, even if the Bifrost was Van Saar owned and operated. Each house had a piece of the pie and saw to it that none of the others tried to take more than their fair share.
Once in the back room the music was loud enough that Ian felt the vibrations in his teeth. On stage was a pair of Van Saar, one Escher, and an Orlock. The Orlock was playing a percussion instrument that had some form of fabric stretched across several steel drums of varying size. The Escher appeared to be the vocal ‘talent’ of the group as she was screaming into some form of microphone, but she was being hopelessly overpowered by the sound of the others. The pair of Van Saar appeared to be playing synths with keyboards. All four of them were pounding out a rhythm that had the whole room gyrating and pounding to the beat.
As Ian’s eyes adjusted to the flashing lights he caught site of an Escher making eye contact with him. Not knowing what to think Ian looked back over his shoulder into the common room, but with no one following behind him he looked back. The woman winked at him and went back to her conversation. Ian felt his face flush and ducked into the crowd.
Finding a small table with no one sitting at it Ian sat down where he could just enjoy the music for a time. Out of nowhere a waiter shows up from among the crowd. The man’s face was slightly disfigured and a Van Saar model bionic eye stared down at him with a cool blue light.
“What’ll it be?” The man asked.
Now knowing what to say Ian replied, “Um, water?”
The waiter burst out laughing so loud as to be heard over the music by several nearby. “Let’s see your credits!”
Fishing in his pocket he pulled out all that he had.
“You couldn’t buy a cup of water with ten times that amount! Here ya go – a nice glass of second best for the young lad!” With that the waiter placed a glass of some murky liquid heavily down on the table spilling most of its contents, and scrapped every last credit into his hand and disappeared before Ian could protest the loss.
Lifting up the cup to his nose Ian sniffed at the contents. The odor curled the hairs in his nose and caused him to twitch involuntarily.
“It’s better if you just down it,” came a voice from the crowd.
Ian looked up. It was the Escher from before. She wore black leather pants with a holstered auto pistol along her right leg. Across her shoulders was a plain looking sword, cutting across an orange shirt that left her mid drift exposed. Her red hair was pulled back to a pony tail. Her eyes locked once more on Ian’s.
“People actually drink this?” he asked.
“Only if you want to forget something, or gain some instant courage,” she replied. “You’re not from around here are you?”
Ian thought quickly, but had nothing better to reply. “No. You?”
She ignored the question. “So what brings you to the edge of the underhive, Mr. …?”
“Ian, just call me Ian. Let’s just say I am getting away from something. What about you, Ms … ?”
“Amber, my friends call me Amber. And so, what are you doing here? Are you with one of the local gangs?”
“That is as of yet, to be determined. I apparently have to prove myself before being fully embraced as a member. What about you?”
“I run with the ‘Black Cats’. I’m not a full fledged member yet. I have a few … initiations of my own to complete. What do you say we get out of here so we can talk a little easier?”
Ian hesitated, visions of being ambushed a left in some sewer drain flashed through his mind. “I think… I think I’m fine right here.”
“Suit yourself,” Amber said as she got up to leave. “But I have a small room right here in the Bifrost if you should change your mind.”
“And if I should follow you?” Ian stammered. “What will you do to me?”
“That, is as yet … to be determined,” she grinned back at him as she slowly walked through the crowd back towards the front room.
Ian gulped down the glass of second best and stood to follow the Escher. Fortunately for him the waiter had spilled most of it and his head swirled for only a moment. Leaving the glass behind Ian faded into the crowd in pursuit of his host.
-=-=-=o=-=-=-
Ian walked the streets of Hive City with no destination in mind. He couldn’t go back to his apartment since the bounty hunter would take his father there first, and he could not head to Team Delta’s house as he was not a member of that gang yet. That would be determined in the days ahead.
Searching through his pockets he pulled out the last of his stashed credits. Five credits were all he had to his name, that and his las pistol and knife. The last was a gift from his mother upon his ascension to manhood. He thumbed the pommel absent mindedly as he stood outside the “Bifrost”. It was a Van Saar drinking hole set upon a bridge across a cavernous gorge nearly a hundred stories deep. A hive quake from before anyone currently alive could remember had ripped open the gorge causing a ‘natural’ division between areas of the hive and being on the fringe of hive city made it a low priority to reoccupy or repair. As a result the owners of the Bifrost made a handsome sum of credits to those wishing to pass beyond. There were other bridges to be sure, but none as wide as to allow the transportation of anything more than what one could carry on their back.
Just standing outside the door Ian hesitated to go in. He was new to the area, he had never really participated in such revelries before, and he was obviously green. As he juggled those thoughts he was knocked to the floor as a trio of gangers barreled their way past him.
“Watch where you’re going runt,” mumbled one of the men, not even turning his head to address the juve now sprawled out in the gutter.
Ian stood up and dusted himself off. ‘Well, if I am ever going to get used to living out here on my own I had better get used to going into such places,’ he thought to himself, and headed straight through the swinging doors.
The din was mind numbing. Countless conversations all vying to be heard over the others, some kind of music blaring from a band on stage in another room, over the bar were several monitors of hive sporting events – one had the picture of a fighting pit with several pit slaves engaged in a fight to their deaths, another several large rats navigating a maze, and the last had a game of slaughter ball. Ian had to step back into the shadows to avoid from being bowled over once again as patrons came at went at their leisure.
Ian blended in well enough. Not too tall, not so small as to get lost, and his envirosuit looked like any other. Most of the patrons had some form of weapon either strapped to their back or slung over their shoulder. Very few were as inadequately armed as he was. Looking around he decided to head to where the music was blaring from out of the back room.
As he crossed the smoke filled room he noticed several other sizable rooms. All of them filled with denizens of other houses, where this mix-match came together was in the hall in the back. There was no other place like it in hive city. At least not that Ian had heard of. The close proximity to hive city, and the bridge being a jump off point to places beyond, brought several of the houses together. Realizing that their mutual support of this resource was in each of their best interest, even if the Bifrost was Van Saar owned and operated. Each house had a piece of the pie and saw to it that none of the others tried to take more than their fair share.
Once in the back room the music was loud enough that Ian felt the vibrations in his teeth. On stage was a pair of Van Saar, one Escher, and an Orlock. The Orlock was playing a percussion instrument that had some form of fabric stretched across several steel drums of varying size. The Escher appeared to be the vocal ‘talent’ of the group as she was screaming into some form of microphone, but she was being hopelessly overpowered by the sound of the others. The pair of Van Saar appeared to be playing synths with keyboards. All four of them were pounding out a rhythm that had the whole room gyrating and pounding to the beat.
As Ian’s eyes adjusted to the flashing lights he caught site of an Escher making eye contact with him. Not knowing what to think Ian looked back over his shoulder into the common room, but with no one following behind him he looked back. The woman winked at him and went back to her conversation. Ian felt his face flush and ducked into the crowd.
Finding a small table with no one sitting at it Ian sat down where he could just enjoy the music for a time. Out of nowhere a waiter shows up from among the crowd. The man’s face was slightly disfigured and a Van Saar model bionic eye stared down at him with a cool blue light.
“What’ll it be?” The man asked.
Now knowing what to say Ian replied, “Um, water?”
The waiter burst out laughing so loud as to be heard over the music by several nearby. “Let’s see your credits!”
Fishing in his pocket he pulled out all that he had.
“You couldn’t buy a cup of water with ten times that amount! Here ya go – a nice glass of second best for the young lad!” With that the waiter placed a glass of some murky liquid heavily down on the table spilling most of its contents, and scrapped every last credit into his hand and disappeared before Ian could protest the loss.
Lifting up the cup to his nose Ian sniffed at the contents. The odor curled the hairs in his nose and caused him to twitch involuntarily.
“It’s better if you just down it,” came a voice from the crowd.
Ian looked up. It was the Escher from before. She wore black leather pants with a holstered auto pistol along her right leg. Across her shoulders was a plain looking sword, cutting across an orange shirt that left her mid drift exposed. Her red hair was pulled back to a pony tail. Her eyes locked once more on Ian’s.
“People actually drink this?” he asked.
“Only if you want to forget something, or gain some instant courage,” she replied. “You’re not from around here are you?”
Ian thought quickly, but had nothing better to reply. “No. You?”
She ignored the question. “So what brings you to the edge of the underhive, Mr. …?”
“Ian, just call me Ian. Let’s just say I am getting away from something. What about you, Ms … ?”
“Amber, my friends call me Amber. And so, what are you doing here? Are you with one of the local gangs?”
“That is as of yet, to be determined. I apparently have to prove myself before being fully embraced as a member. What about you?”
“I run with the ‘Black Cats’. I’m not a full fledged member yet. I have a few … initiations of my own to complete. What do you say we get out of here so we can talk a little easier?”
Ian hesitated, visions of being ambushed a left in some sewer drain flashed through his mind. “I think… I think I’m fine right here.”
“Suit yourself,” Amber said as she got up to leave. “But I have a small room right here in the Bifrost if you should change your mind.”
“And if I should follow you?” Ian stammered. “What will you do to me?”
“That, is as yet … to be determined,” she grinned back at him as she slowly walked through the crowd back towards the front room.
Ian gulped down the glass of second best and stood to follow the Escher. Fortunately for him the waiter had spilled most of it and his head swirled for only a moment. Leaving the glass behind Ian faded into the crowd in pursuit of his host.