Ace opens his eyes suddenly to the quiet... The dark, the warm ground he lays on.. It feels like crumpled up gravel, but harder, rougher... Warm, still, and black... Flakey... He pivots his head to what sounds like a distant rumbling of pipes.. Or rocks? Water..? He rolls over on his leather jacket, still in his loose jeans and falls over on his knees. He rubs off the black sediment on his grey shirt and looks up slightly.. The ground was flickering on a small slope down, like a mound, with a lake of a fiery, yet harden magma. He looks down at the soot on his fingers and stays on his knees. Up ahead he sees an amazing throne, made with ivory and gold, truly astounding to behold, and he almost has to take his eyes away, because its hard for him to look upon something so bright.. Light shines from the top.. There is somebody sitting on the throne.. They slowly rise, long flowing, but conservative white and gold robes step slowly down steps made of pearl. The light around the face becomes less and less bright, showing a face belonging to a handsome blonde man, feminine in mystique. As Ace looks upon the figure, he can see the figure's feet are dark red and black from scorch marks, and hands that are burned all the way to the middle of the arm, but with no bone to give it structure, as if the figure is simply meant to be without shape or form, but his mind gives it a body. A dark whispering can be heard from it's mouth as he steps onto the magma, walking across towards Sonny. He falls back on his hands and crawls back slightly as the figure approaches closer. The robed man is also clutching a brilliant golden staff that he holds upwright in his fist, taking step after step closer, his head upright and looking down into Sonny's eyes.
I quickly snapped out of it and rose my body up, my heart beating... I looked around for.. Cate? I hoped she was here.. I'm sure I was out of the Industrial District. I licked my lips and looked around, the visions from the dream still fresh in my mind... The son was shining through the windows, giving me a smiling reminder that I was still on Davis holy land, my haven.
I step barefooted in my boxers out into the hallway, looking at both ends, unable to see anyone. It's that feeling you get when you have nothing to do after sleeping in and having the place to yourself on a Saturday morning. My God, maybe it is, if it wasn't Tuesday. I walked past the counter and grabbed a Hershey's Kiss out of a bag that spilled out all over the bar, unwrapping it and injecting my mouth with a chocolate tide over until lunch, which was planned right across the street from my old place in the Industrial District. I left more than a few important things there, and help me if I didn't miss my .45.
Walking down the streets in the Industrial District is like smoking cigarettes through your eyes, the tall apartments mixed with the factories sandwiched in between is more like a luxury Shanty Town, but more dangerous. The temp outside was a cool 65 degrees, but around the pollution, trash, and lack of sunlight, but with all the O-Zone, made my skin feel like 98, and on the worst kind of summer day. I pushed my hand open through the door to the local cuisine across from my place that the cops still haven't taped off in the past three days. This cuisine was worth the trip, good little mom and pop place, I trusted these people. I stepped into something that looks like a cage and stuck my gloved hand out and smiled at waiter, Stacey, who was a cess pool of AIDS and hope. She walked over to the cage and winked at me, blisters still surrounding her lips aching when she smiled from the armory of STDs. Poor girl, I felt bad for her. Its lucky for her that here in the Industrial District are more than enough people with her problems, and maybe thats the bliss shared here that you'll never find in the Residential part of town. I wave to Paul Holt and he waves back, the owner and head "chef" of the burger/noodle joint. I could already smell the "usual" noodle gyro cooking on the grill.
I continued to sip on Pepsi, the cold drainage of the cola washing down my throat, as the poor lone ice cube was sacraficed to my teeth. Brutal as it may seem, the peaceful imagery on the windows of a pasture, with a pleasant stream and the happy, yet uncared for wooden fence seemed to calm my soul just a little bit. The surrounding walls were covered with road signs and old soda bottles, and maybe the celebrity or two from twenty years ago behind the cash register. The scenery on the window fizzled out and changed to an even more calming beach sunset. I dropped a couple of fives on the table, paid, and turned around to wave at Paul as he had just picked up the phone to dial, and he smiled and waved back as I let him get to his seemingly important sudden business on the phone. I look across the street at former shit hole and put my hands in my jacket pocket, walking across the cross walk. I step over the broken and shattered glass around my window, and look inside the busted down door. The house looked so out of life, just the way I had always left it.
Less than half an hour later, I was holding onto a check for another 50k for the loss of Mr. Rather's son. A smile in one hand, and a .45 in the other, my gun is packed away in a holster than my leather jacket covers up, along with the other four mags that tap lightly on my lower back with each stride. I turn the corner across the street to the metro as a city bus that never leaves the district, rolls up outside the other side of the street. The smile from the model on the side of the bus is my new date to accompany me into the local convenience store, Kum and Go. These places had never changed in the past years, except for the occasional new technology in lighters, or the new kids candy. I step through the sliding glass doors and smile at the clerk who shakely keeps his hand under the counter. Even better to this joint, they are playing the classics gold station, and "Hey Jude" by the Beatles seemed to be the most appropriate track for today by the DJs. Music has had this nasty drop off in class, and people quit caring after the late 2000s when people quit caring about originality, and the classics resurfaced. I made my way to the Yoohoos.
I popped open that wonderful bottle cap and smirked at the familiar top as finally my personality seemed to enter back into my head. I looked up at the impatient clerk who had his head lowered and eyeing my, making sure I didn't pocket the candy bar that I was standing way to close for his own good. I walked back up to the front, promising "Not to make it bad." to Paul McCartney, as the song still blared from the rippling blown speakers in the ceiling.
"Lovely weather as always here." I said with a smile to the clerk. He looked at me and quickly crunched up the numbers on his cash register, without looking up and without that smile I had been hoping for. "Twel fohti fie." He said in his Mandarin classic accent. Now I'm not a racist man, but the look I gave him for charging me so step might have made another person look twice.. "Twelve and a half credits for this? I can get it for eleven down the street, or just pull one out of my..." I trailed off, feeling rude and sighing, and just handing him my credits enlistment card as he swiped, and tapped the card of the over used smooth counter. I looked outside at the bus and sighed. My view took my over to Paul, who was standing out of the front steps of his diner, his hands on his hips, looking out at the convenience store, looking in the window from the other block over. Mr. McCartney reminded me to take a sad song, and make it better, which brought a smile to my face, reminding me that there was still some spark in the district, and that even life could flourish here, and love could still be found in the people's faces who refused to leave because of crime. That was when the two men in long coats stepped out in front of the door, white collared stays around their necks, and the crucifix of Christ himself dangling high above the shotguns that rested under their arms.
My grin turned sour as my heart started pumping as the music began to pick up. The gunmen pulled out the guns and put them up to their shoulders and cocked their guns, flicking their safety off. "Better better better BETTER BETTER BETTER!!!!" Kicked up from the Beatles and I quickly dove behind a magazine stand, covering my head from the explosion of papers blew up like confetti, landing in my hair. I pulled out my .45 and coughed out a groan from the position I was being put in. I pulled back on the chamber and registered my first bullet. The clerk was already running behind the safe far back behind the counter. I didn't move at first, but I clearly heard the glass being broken out at from the shotgun barrels and the two men stepped inside. Younger men these two were.. Fucking hated this... The Beatles seemed to feel the intensity with me as they chanted "Na na na na! Hey Jude!" I gripped my pistol hard and pushed my lips hard together as I heard one of their barrels pushing the old shell out. I moved out from around the corner and pointed out the pistol, and pulled the trigger.
Two shots rang fired into his chest, him stumbling back, but not nearly enough to penetrate the body armor that he has wearing. His partner had already cocked another shot and quickly aimed, firing. I jumped and spun around, diving somewhere next to the Mighty Bites dog food the next isle over, feeling a searing pain of two tiny pieces of lead stuck in my arm. He quickly turned around the corner and pointed his barrel at me, pushing his old cartidge out and pushing around one in. I scrambled to my feet and jumped over the Alpo, falling over the rack and causing a collapse of dog food to flood onto the next isle. I quickly pulled out my gun and fired at the other guy, still clenching his kevlar from where my hollow points hit him. A bullet rang out and his cheek exploded. I turned the gun around to the other one who had decided to pick up the pace and was running down the isle, trying to get a shot. My barrel chased his head down the pathway, settling on a can of dog food. A slug hit the side of the can, knocking it into the air and hitting the gunman in the face. I quickly rolled around in the mass of dog food can and stumbled slightly, trying to get my footing. I sprung up and barreled into him, both of us hitting the floor. I quickly grabbed the bottle of Yoohoo from the counter as he tried to fight me off.
I held the bottle up with one hand, and jammed the drinking side into his mouth breaking some teeth and pushed it to the back of his throat with my palm. He stopped moving as I spun around, still straddled on the gunman, and shot his partner in the forehead, as he was still clenching his cheek, and trying to aim his shotgun with his free hand. The Beatles had still not given up, going into the extended course. I stood up and put my pistol back in the holster before I stumbled sideways back outside. Paul had gone back inside of his diner, fine business man that he was, always going to church on Sundays, and now in the business of calling in for favors for the Catholic Church as well. The bus crowd has all been crowded up around the windows of the city transit, watching the display. The driver quickly closed his doors and a couple of switches flicked, the back end of the bus rising into the air and getting ready for take off. Even more so, behind them was an apartment building, and even scarier, an RPG missle that was being aimed at the store behind me.
My new best friend, the Roman Catholic church, had seemed to take this special liking to me, when they're willing to level city blocks to get their point across. A plume of smoke filled the apartments and spread out the windows of the room on all sides, as an RPG came barreling towards the mart. To my horror I watched as the bus, so quick to try and escape from my rampage, reared back into the designated height, and met the grenade, causing a ripple of flames to spread through the glass, and land abruptly to the ground in a fiery explosion, followed by the dark black smoke. My eyes in shock, I stumbled at as the end of "Hey Jude" began to fade out in the store's speakers. I shook my head, and quickly ran down the back alley way. There was another metro... Those people... I shook my head and lowered it a bit further down, running even faster.
I quickly snapped out of it and rose my body up, my heart beating... I looked around for.. Cate? I hoped she was here.. I'm sure I was out of the Industrial District. I licked my lips and looked around, the visions from the dream still fresh in my mind... The son was shining through the windows, giving me a smiling reminder that I was still on Davis holy land, my haven.
I step barefooted in my boxers out into the hallway, looking at both ends, unable to see anyone. It's that feeling you get when you have nothing to do after sleeping in and having the place to yourself on a Saturday morning. My God, maybe it is, if it wasn't Tuesday. I walked past the counter and grabbed a Hershey's Kiss out of a bag that spilled out all over the bar, unwrapping it and injecting my mouth with a chocolate tide over until lunch, which was planned right across the street from my old place in the Industrial District. I left more than a few important things there, and help me if I didn't miss my .45.
Walking down the streets in the Industrial District is like smoking cigarettes through your eyes, the tall apartments mixed with the factories sandwiched in between is more like a luxury Shanty Town, but more dangerous. The temp outside was a cool 65 degrees, but around the pollution, trash, and lack of sunlight, but with all the O-Zone, made my skin feel like 98, and on the worst kind of summer day. I pushed my hand open through the door to the local cuisine across from my place that the cops still haven't taped off in the past three days. This cuisine was worth the trip, good little mom and pop place, I trusted these people. I stepped into something that looks like a cage and stuck my gloved hand out and smiled at waiter, Stacey, who was a cess pool of AIDS and hope. She walked over to the cage and winked at me, blisters still surrounding her lips aching when she smiled from the armory of STDs. Poor girl, I felt bad for her. Its lucky for her that here in the Industrial District are more than enough people with her problems, and maybe thats the bliss shared here that you'll never find in the Residential part of town. I wave to Paul Holt and he waves back, the owner and head "chef" of the burger/noodle joint. I could already smell the "usual" noodle gyro cooking on the grill.
I continued to sip on Pepsi, the cold drainage of the cola washing down my throat, as the poor lone ice cube was sacraficed to my teeth. Brutal as it may seem, the peaceful imagery on the windows of a pasture, with a pleasant stream and the happy, yet uncared for wooden fence seemed to calm my soul just a little bit. The surrounding walls were covered with road signs and old soda bottles, and maybe the celebrity or two from twenty years ago behind the cash register. The scenery on the window fizzled out and changed to an even more calming beach sunset. I dropped a couple of fives on the table, paid, and turned around to wave at Paul as he had just picked up the phone to dial, and he smiled and waved back as I let him get to his seemingly important sudden business on the phone. I look across the street at former shit hole and put my hands in my jacket pocket, walking across the cross walk. I step over the broken and shattered glass around my window, and look inside the busted down door. The house looked so out of life, just the way I had always left it.
Less than half an hour later, I was holding onto a check for another 50k for the loss of Mr. Rather's son. A smile in one hand, and a .45 in the other, my gun is packed away in a holster than my leather jacket covers up, along with the other four mags that tap lightly on my lower back with each stride. I turn the corner across the street to the metro as a city bus that never leaves the district, rolls up outside the other side of the street. The smile from the model on the side of the bus is my new date to accompany me into the local convenience store, Kum and Go. These places had never changed in the past years, except for the occasional new technology in lighters, or the new kids candy. I step through the sliding glass doors and smile at the clerk who shakely keeps his hand under the counter. Even better to this joint, they are playing the classics gold station, and "Hey Jude" by the Beatles seemed to be the most appropriate track for today by the DJs. Music has had this nasty drop off in class, and people quit caring after the late 2000s when people quit caring about originality, and the classics resurfaced. I made my way to the Yoohoos.
I popped open that wonderful bottle cap and smirked at the familiar top as finally my personality seemed to enter back into my head. I looked up at the impatient clerk who had his head lowered and eyeing my, making sure I didn't pocket the candy bar that I was standing way to close for his own good. I walked back up to the front, promising "Not to make it bad." to Paul McCartney, as the song still blared from the rippling blown speakers in the ceiling.
"Lovely weather as always here." I said with a smile to the clerk. He looked at me and quickly crunched up the numbers on his cash register, without looking up and without that smile I had been hoping for. "Twel fohti fie." He said in his Mandarin classic accent. Now I'm not a racist man, but the look I gave him for charging me so step might have made another person look twice.. "Twelve and a half credits for this? I can get it for eleven down the street, or just pull one out of my..." I trailed off, feeling rude and sighing, and just handing him my credits enlistment card as he swiped, and tapped the card of the over used smooth counter. I looked outside at the bus and sighed. My view took my over to Paul, who was standing out of the front steps of his diner, his hands on his hips, looking out at the convenience store, looking in the window from the other block over. Mr. McCartney reminded me to take a sad song, and make it better, which brought a smile to my face, reminding me that there was still some spark in the district, and that even life could flourish here, and love could still be found in the people's faces who refused to leave because of crime. That was when the two men in long coats stepped out in front of the door, white collared stays around their necks, and the crucifix of Christ himself dangling high above the shotguns that rested under their arms.
My grin turned sour as my heart started pumping as the music began to pick up. The gunmen pulled out the guns and put them up to their shoulders and cocked their guns, flicking their safety off. "Better better better BETTER BETTER BETTER!!!!" Kicked up from the Beatles and I quickly dove behind a magazine stand, covering my head from the explosion of papers blew up like confetti, landing in my hair. I pulled out my .45 and coughed out a groan from the position I was being put in. I pulled back on the chamber and registered my first bullet. The clerk was already running behind the safe far back behind the counter. I didn't move at first, but I clearly heard the glass being broken out at from the shotgun barrels and the two men stepped inside. Younger men these two were.. Fucking hated this... The Beatles seemed to feel the intensity with me as they chanted "Na na na na! Hey Jude!" I gripped my pistol hard and pushed my lips hard together as I heard one of their barrels pushing the old shell out. I moved out from around the corner and pointed out the pistol, and pulled the trigger.
Two shots rang fired into his chest, him stumbling back, but not nearly enough to penetrate the body armor that he has wearing. His partner had already cocked another shot and quickly aimed, firing. I jumped and spun around, diving somewhere next to the Mighty Bites dog food the next isle over, feeling a searing pain of two tiny pieces of lead stuck in my arm. He quickly turned around the corner and pointed his barrel at me, pushing his old cartidge out and pushing around one in. I scrambled to my feet and jumped over the Alpo, falling over the rack and causing a collapse of dog food to flood onto the next isle. I quickly pulled out my gun and fired at the other guy, still clenching his kevlar from where my hollow points hit him. A bullet rang out and his cheek exploded. I turned the gun around to the other one who had decided to pick up the pace and was running down the isle, trying to get a shot. My barrel chased his head down the pathway, settling on a can of dog food. A slug hit the side of the can, knocking it into the air and hitting the gunman in the face. I quickly rolled around in the mass of dog food can and stumbled slightly, trying to get my footing. I sprung up and barreled into him, both of us hitting the floor. I quickly grabbed the bottle of Yoohoo from the counter as he tried to fight me off.
I held the bottle up with one hand, and jammed the drinking side into his mouth breaking some teeth and pushed it to the back of his throat with my palm. He stopped moving as I spun around, still straddled on the gunman, and shot his partner in the forehead, as he was still clenching his cheek, and trying to aim his shotgun with his free hand. The Beatles had still not given up, going into the extended course. I stood up and put my pistol back in the holster before I stumbled sideways back outside. Paul had gone back inside of his diner, fine business man that he was, always going to church on Sundays, and now in the business of calling in for favors for the Catholic Church as well. The bus crowd has all been crowded up around the windows of the city transit, watching the display. The driver quickly closed his doors and a couple of switches flicked, the back end of the bus rising into the air and getting ready for take off. Even more so, behind them was an apartment building, and even scarier, an RPG missle that was being aimed at the store behind me.
My new best friend, the Roman Catholic church, had seemed to take this special liking to me, when they're willing to level city blocks to get their point across. A plume of smoke filled the apartments and spread out the windows of the room on all sides, as an RPG came barreling towards the mart. To my horror I watched as the bus, so quick to try and escape from my rampage, reared back into the designated height, and met the grenade, causing a ripple of flames to spread through the glass, and land abruptly to the ground in a fiery explosion, followed by the dark black smoke. My eyes in shock, I stumbled at as the end of "Hey Jude" began to fade out in the store's speakers. I shook my head, and quickly ran down the back alley way. There was another metro... Those people... I shook my head and lowered it a bit further down, running even faster.
((The writing seems immature, in the way that's it's hard to convey music to an exciting scene without audio to help usher the feeling. Still, a very fun write!))
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