The purpose of this blog is to provide a place for me to express the stories that boil out of me. Feel free to comment, critique, congratulate, or hate. To create is to live.

May 25, 2014

A Simple Job - Part 2

(For New Readers: See where it all started!)

2. It Starts With One
“So, the Hive is 14 levels of dedicated shady dealings filled with everything from recreational pharmaceuticals to kidnapping and ransom. All of that run by the Crusher and his Bug family.”

“Yeah, we know that bit…”

The Crusher wasn’t technically a member of any of the Council Megacorps but it exerted so much influence in Angel Down that it was effectively a Corp with all the sovereign rights and obligations anyone could ask for. Those that worked for it got protection, health care, even a pension if they didn’t screw up or get too greedy. That kind of support bought the closest thing loyalty in Angle Down.

Its minions were in everything and its influence could be felt in the other rings if you knew where to look. Angel Down might have been the least opulent of the rings in Angel’s Torus but in a lot of ways it was where the real power lay, regardless of the average credit rating of the residents.

Trevor paid his “rent” to one of The Crusher’s men so he was intimately familiar with the lay of the land. The other bosses hated the situation, of course, since most of them were humans, or near enough, and working with a Bug tended to rankle.

Since the Ordo had managed to win their war with the Bugs years before, the insects were generally polite about it and tended to keep to themselves. Generally.

“It’s thought to be impregnable, all those layers built in the district wall, right next to the diamondoid partitions. It would take so much heat to melt through the wall that the whole ring would go up and decompress into space before you got through the first layer. So we can’t just blast in. However we could walk in like we own the place," said Vance.

He reached into his jacket and pulled out 4 Idents, each ringed with alphanumerics and each containing who knew how many nanoscale security encryptors.

Trevor reached down and gently held one of the cards between his fingers. It was lighter than he expected and warm to the touch, warmer that it should have been for coming out of Vance’s pocket.

“How the fukk did you get Idents to The Hive?”

Vance leaned back from the table, his mouth twisting into that smug grin.

“The less you all know the safer you’ll be, you know that.”

Bradley make a coughing sound, “Oh here we go with your vaunted immunity. I bet you’ve never met a real mindbender. That guy was probably just shining on the idiots...like you!”

“Think whatever you damn well like furball, I’m just saying that if Crusher has hired a psychic you’ll want the guy that can’t be read to hold the best cards.”

“Aren’t Bugs immune to that kind of stuff anyway?” Trevor asked as he put the card back on the tiny table. “I mean they’re aliens right? No offense Brad.”

Bradley let out a low growl before spitting on the floor, “Lord save me from ignorant fukkin hick assclowns too lazy to pay attention to the learning software piped into every forsaken hovel in this rat nest. Nekko-Jin are chimara you fukkwit, my great grandmother was as hairless as both of you morons.”

“Look, let’s get back to this ‘clever plan’ you claim is rattling around in the echo chamber you call a brain,” Trevor said. "Some Idents alone won't be enough to get you know what from you know where."

“Fine, so the next step…”

(Continue to Part 3)

May 13, 2014

A Simple Job - Part 1

1. Out of the Frying Pan
The Karachi Arms Hand Cannon clicked empty as the panel next to his head shattered, spraying him with flecks of molten metal and shattered composite. Trevor pulled back behind the relative cover of the damaged rear door panel as more shots slammed around him. On reflex he triggered the clip release and slid in a new magazine, knowing it would be utterly useless.

“We’re so fukked!” he shouted in the general direction of the transport’s forward engine compartment. He was pretty sure that Bradley wouldn’t be able to hear him over the wind blasting through the open roof of the transport’s rear section no matter how acute those tufted ears of his were.

The incoming fire tapered off and he heard a wail from behind the transport. “Oh shi…”

He shoved a blood crusted hand through a rail and tried to brace himself. The transport lurched roughly to the side and rolled. He found himself suspended over the long concave arc of a night cycled Angel Down, thousands of lights peeking through a smoke clogged patchwork of hab units and dark industry stretching into the far distance. Absently he wondered what was keeping him attached to the transport but a dull pain above his head gave him the answer.

He looked up from the cityscape and the universe seemed to slow down. A bright shape was speeding toward him, a smooth cylinder of reflecting chrome riding an inferno of channeled violence. The moment extended and he found himself thinking of the darkness of the club, the sweaty desperation of the coffin motel, the bad drinks, the sound of breaking bone, an emptiness that swallowed every bad decision he’d ever made.

As he looked at what he was pretty sure would be the last thing he’d ever see, a deep part of him swore an oath to a power that his younger version self was sure didn’t exist.

If I somehow make it through this I promise that the I will tear out Vance’s spine and shove it down his throat...amen.

The world turned a brilliant gold as he was thrown back into the transport and blessed oblivion.


“It’s a simple, no nonsense, easy smash and grab job. Nothing could possibly go wrong,” Vance said to the tiny room.

“Well: One,” Bradley held up three fury and repeatedly broken fingers. “You want to hit The Crusher. Two,” and a finger went down, “if it was so fukkin easy any crap stain would have already done it. Three,” and another finger went down leaving only a single bent central digit with a tiny curved claw at the end, “fukk you and your stupid fukkin fairy plum spinning ‘easy no nonsense’ plans.”

Vance sputtered, his face turning a deep red, his hands balling into firsts on the table. Trevor reached forward and put his palm on his friend’s shoulder pulling the man’s gaze to his own.

“Look, Vance, Brad might be 40 kilos of furry pessimism in a 1 kilo bag, but those are some valid...concerns.”

The room was close, hot, and echoed horribly, but at least it was safe. Trevor had swept it five minutes previous for the techno crap that the criminal scum of Angel Down used to keep track of each other and the place came back clean.

“‘Valid concerns’? Really?!?,” Vance yelled as he shrugged off Vance’s hand and tried to stand away from the tiny table between the three friends. His foot slipped as he straightened and he only succeeded in stumbling. His arms came forward to try to catch himself but he landed awkwardly, keeping his ass off the floor but knocking their drinks into a dark corner instead.

Bradley rolled his slit pupiled eyes, his long ears twitching forward, as he waited for Vance to regain his footing.

“Wow, just...wow...and they say we’re the emotional species. Next round is on you by the way” There was a gleam Bradley’s eye and his whiskers sat relaxed on his muzzle. Vance looked back and sighed loudly, his ego now deflated and some of the tension flowing out of his body along with it.

“Look, Vance, I know you think this score would be sweet, I can see that,” Trevor coddled, “but I’m not seeing an angle. How do we get in The Hive, grab the thing, and get out before Crusher or one of its goons kills us and comes after everyone we ever loved?”

Vance looked up and Trevor could imagine tiny fires igniting in his eyes, the antics of a few seconds ago forgotten in a sea of enthusiastic hope.

“See, that’s where the clever bit comes in…” Vance leaned in and for a moment he looked more feline than Bradley ever could.