“What do you want to do about it, Tate? Rat us out? Sorry, you can’t.” The guffaws spilled out from the sky-alley.Of course, he remembered that name. The fake guy: that was how he recalled him. He was pretending to be someone else he was not. “Sons of bitches! You all owe me at least ten grand.”They were talking over the phone. And yes, that was him. Blaise could recall images and voices in detailed precision. Besides, their conversation was clear and loud. There was nobody else around this corner: not above him, not under him. He took a glance at the street on the ground. It was empty except for a long shape on the dirty asphalt near the trash bin. Probably a person, but he might as well be dead.Blaise wanted to take a peek at the four behind him, but they might catch his movement. They were right around the corner.“Chill. Why you have to be so goddamn serious about everything? I’ve already told you like two fucking minutes ago. We searched for him everywhere. He was so slick.”
The plan went south when Blaise tried breaking his thumb and it didn’t work. By that, he didn’t mean his thumb didn’t break. It did. What didn’t work was he could not get out of these cuffs, which had gone tighter automatically after he had snapped his own finger.Needlessly to say it hurt like…‘what was the word for that?... right… hurt like a bitch. Wait, it didn’t sound right. It didn’t hurt ‘much’ but try breaking your own finger with another hand of yours without a tool, and you might have an idea of what it felt like. As they had secured his one hand to the side of the bed, he had to turn sideways for his other hand to reach it while he was acting as though his hands were itchy.He had been here for eight hours. There was no clock or nothing here to show him what time of the day it was, but he had checked his wristband about ten minutes ago. This place was located in a warehouse station, 15 km above the earth. As he had assumed, still in Paradox City.Here, they didn’t starve p
For the most part, the city sky was clear of traffic; few vehicles were racing to get to their destinations through the downpours. Rays of light were waving through amidst the buildings. Fifteen minutes to midnight: while it should be an uneventful hour, a group of vehicles was spotted to have gathered in one particular spot, near the Black Tower. NO TO CURFEW! STOP THE CURFEW! The signs were glowing on the clothing and on the bodies of the vehicles. Despite their shouts, this wasn’t an angry mob; rather they seemed to be enjoying what they were doing.Nearby, a documentary about automobiles was playing on multiple skyscrapers; a late-night program, a boring one, the stuff everybody had known for ages. Hundreds of vehicles flashed one after another, depicting the evolution of transportation over the last millennium. From shapes and designs up to the fuel and the driving systems, everything had transformed. A thousand years ago, people had to take three types of vehicles for land, m
((Playlist: The Sound Of Silence by Disturbed))The gun at his forehead should have frightened him. Death was familiar and almost a numbing face. Every day, he had seen the fear that had rooted in the danger of losing one’s own life. Before, he had been surrounded by the muted and subtle kind despite its horrid nature. After, he had got to see the more obvious kind, like in the eyes of people who were contained and tortured here.“I asked a goddamn question!” The cold muzzle knocked his head.“I hate stupid people.” Someone laughed in agreement. “What do you want to know?” he asked back.The eyes before him narrowed. They looked clouded and red, but the man looked sane enough. He threw a sweeping glance throughout the room, to his subordinates. Behind him, a container covered in unreadable small numbers and letters was gliding, quite close to the building. Somebody in a jumpsuit was sitting on top of it, seemingly aware of what was happening on the other side of the glass wall. “S
((Patient Number 9 By Ozzy Osbourne))The ignorant raindrops tried to fall straight into the swimming pool adjacent to the house till they got prevented by the protective bubble around. Without angles and the lack of reflection from the surrounding lights, the room didn’t seem to exist until the water splashed against it. The rain stopped abruptly, just like when it started. Smoothly, the swimming pool detached itself from the house, floating into the more open space, as a connecting corridor sliding out. Hovercars flew above and beneath the building and the pool area although some of them couldn’t get close, for this was a private zone. As a shape exited the house onto the adjoining corridor, what seemed like liquid silver filled up the clear material. At the end of the corridor, Dr. Aber stripped the bathrobe. Without the lines on his face created by his moodiness, he was still young. At most, in the mid-90s or the early-100s.From the inside, the walls still stayed invisible c
((Into The Fire by Asking Alexandria))Every minute, every second counts. Even a decisecond can decide between living and dying for someone like Blaise DaSilva. The end was unexpected, had never been in scenarios he had imagined, though maybe it was too early to be described as an end. It was a matter of seconds before he was discovered. The dead man in the stall, the blood, and the gun lying a few feet away; he could rash into one stall to hide but it would be useless. The bathroom didn’t have a door; nothing was there that would separate it from the corridor. Like the room where the kidnapped were placed, it had very basic functions. The computers along with other devices embedded around the bathroom had been carved out; the slots the size of two fingers were empty and broken. He had checked them so he knew. Something beeped, but before he could find out what it was; he heard a shout from the open entrance. “Bast!” He was yet to see the person but he recognized the voice. The
For the first time since his escape from the abandoned city, he was in a real life-threatening crisis. He had defined this outcome, more or less, when he chose to gamble his life half a day ago. They wasted no time before opening fire. If it were both sides, Blaise would be left with little to no chance. But for some reason, one side was only watching. What changed his mind?As usual, life flickered before his eyes as he waved through the brief period of time whose minute details were ever changing with his movements and choices. Time had passed five minutes since the last starting point when he was selecting a duration for the virtual key. That was the only saving grace for him. The battle was very short-lived. In less than ten seconds a dead body decided a conclusion that was unexpected for everyone except one person, the shooter.The shot came from the opposite direction. Instead of him who should be lying there, the bullet penetrated one of their own. Their attention immediate
Noah didn’t recognize him until it was too late. ‘What’s wrong with this kid?’ was the gist of his thought process when he noticed what he was doing. He gave off a bad vibe that made people want to avoid him, normal citizens like himself at least. He couldn’t speak for the villainous people who kept them here.Most teenagers had rebellious streaks, and some went to the extreme lengths, wearing phosphorus tattoos on their faces, cutting their flesh, and doing suicidal stunts such as jumping off their hoverbikes without anti-gravity shoes. ‘Was he one of them?’ the question flew out of his mind as quickly as it entered, at the time.Slowly, he tried to turn on the bed as hard as the concrete floor, the pungent smell flooded into his nostrils. His ribs hurt him. A groan escaped his mouth. It must be late or even the next day; this felt like such a long time after the last meal. He tilted his head to check the bed next to his; his face also hurt. Daniel was asleep, as well as several othe