One could peer straight into Heaven, it seemed, the sky was so clear, casting the richest blue Sector One had seen in awhile. The week prior had been muddled by overcast skies and scattered rain showers, but today, it was simply exquisite, if not a little humid. The orchestras of birds and bugs sang aloud from the trees densely packed all around, and small animals could be seen scurrying freely from shrub to shrub, looking for food on another peaceful day. In the villages nestled in between the sprawling forests, foot traffic was bustling, as everyone wanted to get out and enjoy the first clear day the Sector had seen in awhile. Amongst the humble yet scenic small buildings of the Sector’s towns, villagers filled the sidewalks to the brim, smiles plastered over all their faces, waving at every person they recognized. Children and their parents ran amok in the forested hills outside the cities, the elderly ventured out to tend to their plants and water their gardens or do other elderly people things. Everything seemed so picturesque, straight out of a movie made for the same kids that were currently running around the Sector, far detached from their holo-screens and media sets. The entire Sector seemed to be out and about, enjoying the view. Except for one man. This man was roughly nose deep in the dirt, slightly confused as to why his vision had suddenly gone black. Somewhat moist and pungent soil rubbed off on his clothes and face, its cool embrace lingering for a moment, before he finally stood. He wobbily lifted himself from the ground, taking a moment to regain his balance before wiping the dirt off his clothes. [color=coral]”God [i]fucking[/i] dammit.”[/color] Amias’ hand brushed off his designer jacket, and then moved upwards to wipe his face off. He squinted perpetually, hiding his eyes from the obnoxiously bright sunlight that moistened his skin and made his head pound in pain. [color=coral][i]”Buncha fuckin’ bullshit, uneven bullshit path…”[/i][/color]The man muttered angrily to himself.[color=coral][i]”....know why I even live all the fuck way out here, bullshit fuckin’ sector…”[/i][/color] Unsteadily, but determined, the man continued forward, eyes squinted towards the ground, indifferent to the blooming spring flowers and radiant green trees around him. The few strangers that crossed his path simply walked around, not wanting to bother the angry looking man in a staring contest with the ground, who was covered in dirt and smelled like a cheap strip joint. After what felt like a walk through a room full of never ending flashbangs, Amias finally stumbled his way to the steps that led up to his front door. Stopping, and taking a few deep breaths, Amias prepared him for the hardest challenge he’d faced in many ages. One more large exhale, and he began his ascent. One foot in front of the other, he took his steps slowly. Oops, he didn’t lift his foot up high enough and nearly ate the step in front of him. This was going to take a bit. Everest had been conquered, and the painter had finally reached the summit: his front door. Something resembling a smile crawled across Amias’ tired and weary face as he began reaching in his pocket, searching for his keys. His hand struck something moist, which made Amias immediately withdraw his hand in horror. Swallowing his fear, he reached back in, pinched the moist item between two fingers, and yanked it out. In the artist’s hand sat a pair of frilly pink thong underwear, which were still considerably wet and smelled of something close to death, but also not too detached from sweaty sex. Amias shuttered and gagged as he threw it into the bush besides his porch. He didn’t want to look for his keys anymore. Instead, he began banging on the door. [color=coral][b]”Bules!”[/b][/color] [center][b][u]---[/u][/b][/center] Stepping into his cool, air conditioned home, Amias sloughed off his jacket, and it landed in a pile on the floor around his feet. The door of a small cabinet adjacent the door opened as he reached inside it without looking, grabbing a few dryer sheets out of a small cardstock box. With a grimace, he rubbed the scented sheets all over his body, making sure to get all of his clothes, and even most of his skin. [color=RosyBrown]”You can’t magically erase the smell of hooker and sweat with just dryer sheets, you know that, don’t you Amy?”[/color] Spoke up an amused Bules, as he leaned over to pick up Amias’ jacket. [color=coral]”Fuck off, old man, can’t you see I’m in pain? I thought you liked Lavender and Orange scent, anyways?”[/color] Amias muttered as he gave up trying to smell good, and simply began slipping his pants and shirt off, his shoes already lying toppled over in front of the door. Bules laughed heartily, and reached in his pocket, pulling out one of Amias’ cigars. [color=rosybrown]“Need one of these, you lightweight?”[/color] He rumbled in his deep, Eastern American voice. [color=Coral]”Christ, no, you goddamn sadist. Where are my opiates?”[/color] Amias replied, walking over to his medicine cabinet in the center of the entrance hall, between the first steps of two grand spiral staircases on each side. Opening the doors to this cabinet introduced Amias into a whole different world for a moment. He was a child in a freshly opened candy store. Encompassing all of his vision were different color vials, syringes, prescription bottles, large baggies and small baggies of pills and inhalant tubes. The bottom shelf was lined from edge to edge with boxes of his favorite Cubans, all of them still sealed except for the one he was currently using. The top shelf held multiple beautiful bottles of amber shaded liquor, and in the mix were a few dirty bottles of core shard alcohol. [i][color=coral]For special occasions, of course.[/color][/i] Sat directly in front of his nose was the shelf containing his favorite pills. Uppers, downers, pain medications, sleeping aids, anything the heart could yearn for, it sat in this cabinet. Amias quickly snatched a bottle of opioid painkillers, downing two of them with a quick swig of whiskey from the shelf above. He grimaced a bit at the discomfort, but let out a refreshed [color=coral][i]”Ahh![/i][/color] when he felt the pills reach his stomach. [color=rosybrown]”Wow, ten years, and now, ya finally grow the balls to kill yourself. Glad ya finally found the courage, Amy.”[/color] [color=coral]”Yeah, yeah, shut your mouth before I take you with me.[/color] Amias smiled. Remembering he was still only in underpants, Amias continued onward to his bedroom, making for one of the large halls. Half way painted canvases and broken or old easels lined the hallway on the walk there, and even more paintings adorned the walls, with the occasional ornate statute in a glass case. The walls surrounding him were a shade of off-white, splattered all over with different color paints, some places even entire pictures were painted. Scenes of people standing among clouds, reaching the Heavens they were never meant to reach. Amias enjoyed viewing the old paintings, they were the products of a happier time in his life. [i][color=coral]Forget sleeping, I feel like painting.[/color][/i] With Bules in tow, Amias passed his room up, opting to go to the end of the hall, where two large Mahogany doors sat. Amias took a hold of the gilded door handle, and turned to Bules before he opened it. [color=coral]”If you’d be so kind, I’d like a plate of fruit and about a gallon of cranberry juice.”[/color] [color=rosybrown]”Look, you’re not the one who’s gotta clean the toilets, kid. Why don’t you take it easy on the diuretics, eh?”[/color] Bules replied with a chuckle. [color=coral]”Ah, shut up, grandpa. And come here.”[/color] Amias laughed, motioning for Bules to come over to him. Bules took a few suspicious steps forward, getting within arm’s reach of Amias. Amias turned around, sticking a hand in Bules’ vest and pulling the cigar out of his inner pocket. [color=coral]”And please no canned fruit this time. Just the fresh stuff.”[/color] Amias said with a shit eating grin. [color=rosybrown]”Right away, sir.”[/color] Bules replied sarcastically. Smile on face, Amias turned back around, and finally thrust the doors to his art room open. The morning light flowed in freely, as all of the windows were open, with the curtains flying and flirting with the breeze that flowed in. Amias felt the warm breeze embrace him, but, slowly, his body took a warmth of its own. The opiates were beginning to kick in. Amias gave a nice warm smile to himself, and noticed himself in a mirror on the opposite side of the room, clad only in his striped boxers and patterned socks. He posed and oogled his own body for a moment, before chuckling and moving into the rest of the room. The artist, in an attempt to clear his mind, walked out into the patio, enjoying the view his elevated mansion allowed him. He could see miles of sprawling forests, with small pauses in between for villages and small clearings. In the distance, the massive walls around the Core could be observed, small dots of APD Interceptors and other aircraft buzzing around like flies to a corpse. The skyscrapers of the Core could barely be seen past the wall, shrouded in the clouds and mist. Content to wait here for Bules to arrive with the fruit platter, Amias took a seat in one of the comfortable patio chairs he had out, and leaned back, taking in more of the view. He took his cigar, and stuck it in the small port in his hand that opened on command. With a quick flex of his palm, the cigar was cut, and was into the next opening port in his hand to start the lighting process. Amias’ chin sat on his chest as he peered down, watching the cigar slowly light and burn, the end of it getting black in a few spots faster than others. With his nimble robotic fingers, he slowly twisted and turned the cigar, trying to get a nice ember going. Round and round the cigar went, the sweet smell of lit tobacco filling the air. Amia’s breathing slowed, and his eyes fluttered a little. A feeling of unbelievable comfort washed over Amias, and he leaned back, laying the cigar in his mouth and taking a mouthful of smoke. For a moment, he had found his paradise, but with his exhale, his eyelids finally lost their fight, and fell closed. [center][u][b]---[/b][/u][/center] After what seemed like an eternity of sleeping like a rock, Amias’ eyes finally opened, and Amias immediately knew what he felt. Sober. The mid-morning had turned into early evening, and the sun was making its descent downwards. The glow of the Core could now been see over the walls, which were still bustling with all sorts of traffic. Spotlights of Interceptors could be seen floating all around the city, just like usual. It was a sight that never ceased to amaze Amias. It was one of the most beautiful things about the Core. It’s neon dripping, authoritarian front, only shrouding it’s rotten and dying inner core. Beauty in it’s purest form. [color=rosybrown]”Ah, you’re finally awake, huh, sleeping beauty?”[/color] Amias nearly jumped out of his seat as the gruff voice came from behind, startling him like a sleeping cat. He stood and faced Bules, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. [color=coral]”God, I would say I need to give you one of those bell collars, but I know even that shit wouldn’t help with you sneaking up on me.”[/color] Amias smiled. [color=rosybrown]”Well, I had to put up the fruit before it spoiled, but there’s still that.”[/color] Amias turned to the patio table Bules was pointing to, and there sat a bottle of store bought cranberry juicy, sitting haphazardly in a champagne bucket it was a little too large to fit properly. Bule’s usual sense of humor. Amias let out a laugh, and grabbed the juice, wrenching off the cap and taking a few good swigs. The ice had almost completely melted, but the juice was still pleasantly cold. A bit of the dark crimson juice spilled down his chin, and he stopped to wipe it, remarking [color=coral]”But Christ, am I hungry!”[/color] [color=rosybrown]”Should I rev up the fryers for ya?[/color] [color=coral]”No, that’s alright. I’ll grab something to eat when I head into town.”[/color] He said, motioning towards the brightly lit Core behind him. [color=rosybrown]”Two nights in a row? That’s a rare feat.”[/color] [color=coral]”What can I say? I feel like a chipper little squirrel, only, instead of packing my cheeks with nuts, I’m packing my body with bullshit that shaves a few years off my life everytime I use it![/color] Amias replied before taking another swig from the cranberry juice. [color=rosybrown]”Try to get the stick out of your ass [i]before[/i] you get home this time, eh?”[/color] Bules said, a smile on his face as he took off his suit jacket, signifying he was to begin relaxing for the night once Amias left. [color=coral]”Ha. Ha. Ha. I think I’ll keep it in there, let you use it as a cane so you don’t have to struggle up those stairs so much, huh?”[/color] Bules gave Amias a light, friendly few slaps on his face, like a father would his son. [color=rosybrown]”Is all you got old jokes, you little shit?”[/color] Amias gave Bules a brotherly pat on the back as he walked back indoors to go get ready for another drug run. [color=coral]What can I say? They’re easy![/color] [center][b][u]---[/u][/b][/center] [color=aqua]”That’s what I think it is. We’re on the cusp of something….something… larger than us. I mean, it’s gonna be fuckin’ crazy. Like, some Judgement Day level shit. Chaos everywhere, people dyin’, all that good shit! All thanks to all this damn drug running and shit.”[/color] [color=teal]”Oh, you’re so full of shit! The only reason the Core is still around is [i]because[/i] the crime! We keep this fuckin’ place afloat! Without us movin’ this shit in and out on a daily fuckin’ basis, the Core would go down in flames! [i]We’re[/i] the ones keepin’ this place alive, not the goddamn APD!”[/color] [color=coral]”Ah, you’re both full of shit! It’s the balance, man. The balance. You know, that thing they say… ah shit what was it… Ah yeah! Without Chaos, peace cannot exist, and vice versa. If you didn’t have the crime, you wouldn’t have the cops, you wouldn’t have the core, but if nothing was illegal, you couldn’t make money off of it, so you need the law, too, you see?”[/color] [color=cadetblue]”I don’t give a shit about any of this, if you three don’t stop killing my high, I swear to God, I’ll kill you.”[/color] Silence took over the room as people further elevated into their highs. It was one of the clubs quiet nights, where instead of partying and hookers, druggies could come to enjoy some silent space to experience their high. Of course, the party still went strong a few doors down, in case any of them got bored. Following the rager the night before, Amias was slow to take his usual dosage. To keep from getting too sick, he had limited the amount of shard powder and inhalants, meaning his high was already starting to weaken. [color=coral][i]Time to take my walk, while shit is all still wonky[/i][/color] Amias stood, unsteadily at first. The room was dimly lit by a red light in the center of the room, and Amias was barely visible, yet drew no attention. Everyone was too busy soaring to pay attention to him. Slowly but surely, Amias stumbled his way out of the club, still visibly drunk and high. It was now, though, when his high was beginning to go away, that he liked to take walks through the Core and let his imagination go wild at all the sights he was sure to behold. Was it safe? Probably not, but Amias had made a good name for himself with some of the local bosses, so most criminals were smart enough to leave him be if they saw him waddling around late at night. The artist was also bound to see something crazy enough that he’d have to paint it the next day, but it was mainly for the experience of it all. Neon lights and hallucinogens were a great combination. Step by step, Amias walked down the ever familiar street behind the bar that lead to a small town square where it was usually busy at night. What he remained oblivious too, though, were the small trails of blood and footsteps that he walked in tandem with. All the bright blurs and waves of warmth washing over him were to distracting, almost so much so that he didn’t notice that when he would lost balance and fall into a pile of trash or the random light pole. What [i]did[/i] occur to him was the unusual silence that had overtaken the street. Usually, at the very least, couples in the nearby apartments could be heard either vigorously arguing or vigorously having sex, but neither could be heard now. The only thing that Amias could hear was ragged heavy breathing and uneven footsteps, approaching his position quickly from around a corner. Instant, heavy paranoia took over Amias, and drove him to duck in a near dead end alley, and wait for whatever was approaching to pass. Around the corner came running a lone woman, half way crying, half way moaning in pain from the wound she seemed to be clutching on her shoulder. Amias watched in near disbelief, wide eyes following her until she was nearly out of sight, when suddenly, a second set of footsteps, more ragged than the last could be heard. Amias remained still and silent in the alleyway, blinking hard, trying to stay alert, as his high continued to make it hard to concentrate. Finally, the second body rounded the corner, but, this body was [i]different[/i]. It was distorted, and glowed blue from his skin, and dragged one of its legs raggedly behind it as it ran. Amias felt panic immediately rise in his throat, as the blue light distorted in his vision, blurring an already unnatural body. His lungs couldn’t steady themselves, and he felt his breaths begin to shake, as his chest tightened and his legs began to shake. Was this all a bad trip? The creature suddenly stopped in it’s chase, standing and observing the area around it, seeming to look and listen all around. Amias felt his fear overwhelm everything in his body, and, without thinking, dashed from the alley way, some soberness being knocked into him. He began running as fast as he could towards the plaza, praying someone there could help him. Before he knew it, he could hear the footsteps of the monster following behind him, and it only made him want to run faster, but his weak and drunk legs were already pushing their limits. His hands shot to his hip, and scrambled to find their way through his fancy outfit to his waistband, where his handgun sat, stashed in case of emergencies, and this certainly qualified as an emergency. Finally, his fingers found the pistol grip, and Amia’s yanked the laser pistol from his waistband, pivoting around clumsily one his foot. Pulling the pistol up with shaky hands, Amias tried his best to steel himself, dragging whatever frightened voice he had to shout at whatever was chasing him. [color=coral][b]”Look, you sunuva-”[/b][/color] Amias’ shaky voice stopped in his throat as the creature hurtled towards him, it’s single large mouth wide open, blue light emanating from inside it’s body. His eyes widened, and he felt his legs get even weaker than before. His finger squeezed and squeezed, getting faster and more frantic as the creature neared, but it was no use, his weapon wouldn’t fire. Amias’ finally legs gave out from under him at the perfect moment, sending the monster lunging right past him, as it lost its balance and fell over, same as Amias. The artist, his eyes, in horror, still locked on the monster, began kicking and dragging, trying like a desperate trapped animal to get away from whatever demon it was that wanted him. [color=coral][b]”Help! Oh fucking God, someone help me!”[/b][/color] Amias called out, nearly in tears as his legs continued to be uncooperative with him. The monster steadily regained his footing, and turned to face Amias again, taking another charge. With shaky hands, Amias scrambled to flip the safety on the pistol before his sure demise. Switch flipped, gun ready, Amias began to shoot, bright lasers beginning to illuminate the darkened plaza he had run himself into. Most of the shots did not meet their target, yet the creature still flinched with every shot, even those that missed. It covered its face, letting out a feral screech that stung Amias’ ears, and made him shoot even more frantically. The bright lasers of Amias’ gun were beginning to hit their targets, as intense fear and panic made Amias force his hands steady. Shots to the legs of the stunned creature did not phase it, as it tried to take a step closer between every shot that Amias fired. With another screech and it’s face covered, the creature charged Amias, who returned with his own terrified yell, spastically pulling the trigger, with shots landing all over the creature’s chest and arms, as well as the walls behind it. Suddenly, one shot seemed to hit it’s mark, and sent the creature crumpling forwards, landing atop the crying high mess of a man that had shot it. Amias yelped in terror, thinking the creature was about to eat him, but still fairly horrified to find it had died, slowly bleeding it’s glowing blue fluid all over him. Wincing in terror and disgust, Amias began trying to wriggle himself from under the bleeding corpse, which proved to be no easy task. Suddenly, his vision turned white, as some sort of bright light shined directly into his sensitive eyes, blinding him and sending him back to the ground, covering his face, still stuck under the corpse. [color=gray][b]STAY INDOORS, THE SITUATION IS UNDER CONTROL.[/b][/color] The Interceptor flew over Amias, taking a few moments to scan the plaza, only noticing the two dead bodies, before continuing on, its message still blasting from its speaker. Once the spotlight stopped assaulting his eyes, Amias uncovered his face, discovering that he was not, in fact, having a drug induced nightmare. Whatever was going on, it was big, and it was very real. The only sounds that pierced the silence that laid like a blanket over the plaza were now panting, wincing in disgust, and grunts of struggle as Amias tried vehemently to free himself, as he was now being thoroughly covered in sweat and thick blue blood. [color=coral][i]”Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh God, please God, if you’re up there, help me out man, I swear I’ll throw out all my pills, all my booze, all that shit, just don’t let me die.”[/i][/color] The artist’s whispers went unheard in the dark plaza. And to make matters worse, he was still starving.