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+--- Thread: Homo Ex Machina (/showthread.php?tid=147993)
Homo Ex Machina - Kaze - 02-17-2017
Homo Ex Machina
Hykarsis. A bustling city, the heartbeat of Guadalajara, the bastion of the Commonwealth.
![[Image: scificities_2.jpg]](https://blog.threadless.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2016/04/scificities_2.jpg)
Meallan Dagon left the starport, duffel bag over his shoulder, sporting the flaming skull in his flight jacket, branding him a Legionnaire. The marine security detachment quickly verified his credentials, and allowed him entrance into the city. He looked at his wrist-pad as he waited for the taxi-bus.
1714.. Damn. I'm late.
Those numbers made him queasy.
Knowing that Avril Parker was alone, in his workshop, doing something stupid, like plugging that old JFA-2 engine to one of Liberty-made XFusion units. Imagining it, Meallan sighed. The blast would be sufficient to put the whole city in alert, which it wasn't. The grey taxi-bus arrived and Meallan hopped on, hoping for a good seat. Not that it happened. An old refugee woman, Bretonian by the looks, needed it and he obviously gave it to her. Manners, even with his fame of half-rebel, half-playboy, are important. Especially in these conditions. Thirty minutes later, he finally approached the small building, in the suburbs of Hykarsis. Utilitarian in form, but strong enough to withstand a pounding, it was perfect for him. Two storeys high, it contained everything Meallan needed for his work, and then some more.
As his feet brought him closer, the sound of a most hideous music started to grow. He quickened his step, and has he reached the main door, the sound was deafening. It was coming from inside and not even a thick metal door and concrete walls contained it. The image of bleeding from his ears as he opened the door came to him.
What in the...
He punched in the code and the door opened, with the sound coming out with the strength of a rhino, hitting him head-on.
GODS, WHO IN THE HELLS LIKES THIS?
He shouted as he walked in, hands covering his ears. The image in front of him was enough to make his stomach turn.
A red-haired woman, tiny, had to be tiny to fit in inside the exhaust of the JFA-2, lazying around with a console in her hand. He shouted but no recognition of him being there came from the woman. He looked to the side and saw the main power cable in the wall. Without thinking, he grabbed his sidearm and shot. The whole grid went down, as well the music.
It was bliss for his ears. Like the soft touch of a warm bath after a whole day inside a cockpit. He never knew silence could be so good. The red-haired woman raised her head in his direction and was about to start talking when he raised his finger in anger and started to walk in her direction.
Before you go around meddling my things, how about you meddle your finger in honey, stick it up your queester and then go sit on an anthill?
He swore that she grinned at his remark. And that made him even more furious.