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[url=https://youtu.be/EONn2gj1ngA]High above the threats of the UnderCity,[/url] in the beautiful, thriving Arcology, through a wide-paned window, bathed in glorious sunlight - a man and his wife were enjoying a lazy afternoon in the kitchen.

His eyes gazed over the rim of a mug of black coffee, to observe the way her hips swayed to a tinny recording of Ritchie Valens. Tight, bright orange curls bounced on her shoulders and a checkered yellow skirt twirled around her ankles. Her hand delicately stirred a spoon in a pot on the stove. She tossed her head over her shoulder to meet his eye. Her front teeth tugged on the skin of her lip when she smiled. Her lipstick didn't stain.

"Oh, I love the way you watch me, Charlie," she cooed, in a breathy, girlish voice. "But you won't only watch me, will you? Won't you dance?" She turned from the pot, and swayed, trying to coax him over. "Well, say something, Charles! Don't leave me dancing alone."

He shook his head, fixated on her. "You're just... perfect."

A tinkling laugh. "No. The sun is perfect." She moved back to the stove to continue stirring, turning her doe-like eyes towards the window with a wistful sigh. "Thank you. For bringing me up here."

There was a creak as he lifted himself up from his chair and walked to her. The man reached his arm around her, to place his hand on the oven near her side. The wife smiled, letting out a sweet little hum.

A nerve on her jaw twitched.

After a time, she turned and pursed her lips into a little kiss that just missed his jaw. "Now now, I won't get supper done at this rate." She warded him off from her with the spoon, threatening to poke his chest with it. "But after, let's dance how we used to. The way we danced all night in the club we first met." ẅ̶̻r̴̤͂o̸͇̽ǹ̴̖g̶͍̈  "On the cruise, silly me." The wife laughed vapidly and returned to cooking.

The man watched his wife. He watched how one of her orange curls became unstuck.

He began to reach out to her.

The man's hand sunk through his wife's [url=https://youtu.be/2juKqjxNREA]head.[/url]

She froze. The golden sunlight streaming through the window grew cold and colourless. Her entire body had seized up, her eyes stuck wide and pupils dilating. Then there was a split second of a scream he didn't hear the end of as she was erased right in front of him.

That hair-raising, [i]agonized[/i] scream continued on in the depths of the UnderCity. A woman pawed at her head, shrieking. She stripped away wires and tape, and [b]slammed [/b]her side into a wall. She held her head as she slid down it, the fucking residue of fingerprints still smeared all over her [i]fucking neurons -[/i]

Gone. 

She slowly helped herself up and walked across the room calmly as though it had never happened. A cellphone lit up on her mattress with a chime. It illuminated the rundown studio apartment - a losing battle with black mold on the ceiling, exposed plumbing, sections of wall just replaced with metal scrap, a vast array of candy wigs on foam heads scattered over the floor - and the inhabitant: [color=#A4303F][b]UMBRI.[/b][/color] A young woman in underwear and a tank top, with tattoos coiling around her shins and hair too closely cropped to even be considered a pixie cut. She walked over to the device, glimpsed the message, then held it to her mouth.

[color=#A4303F][b]"First and only warning. No touching, or I can't see you again."[/b][/color]

[i]Beep.[/i] She looked back down at the cell. This time she saw figures. She leaned to speaker, and cooed in a lovely voice, [color=#A4303F][b]"We'll set a date soon, Charlie."[/b][/color] [url=https://youtu.be/9imCm6CrNZ8?t=10]She dropped the phone,[/url] and kicked over the foam head wearing a curly, orange wig. [color=#A4303F][b]"Fucker,"[/b][/color] she said, a whole octave lower.

The top came off. Rippling along her spine with the lines of her musculature was a metal implant. It reflected the flashing lights, blasting through the poorly boarded up windows from the billboard next door - [color=red]RED[/color] [color=blue]BLUE[/color] [color=hotpink]PINK[/color] [color=green]GREEN[/color] [color=yellow]YELLOW[/color] [color=red]RED[/color] [color=hotpink]PINK. PINK. PINK.[/color] Tonight was pink. She fused the hot pink wig to her scalp and married it with make-up that could cut. The garnish was a shade of violent blue lipstick she smeared with her thumb. She looked in the mirror. A dangerous fantasy glared back. Red eyes rimmed with black shadows.

Umbri threw a puffy pink and green jacket over metallic lingerie. Her heels were plastic, clear and nine inches high. She slipped out the window and onto the balcony, sliding her hands along the railing to gaze upon NORTHBRIDGE.

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At this time in the afternoon, the Settlement was finally waking. Shouting, clanging, machinery, a mugging down the street, all sorts of noise pollution began to fill the air as thick as the smoke. Tendrils of it coiled around the woman's face, turned toxic pink from her neighbor's billboard. She breathed it in and blew it away.

Tastes like home.




[hider=art credit]https://paulchadeisson.com/projects/EEz4[/hider]