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+--- Thread: Cat o' Nine Anodyne (/showthread.php?tid=18060)
Cat o' Nine Anodyne - Tarkis - 03-19-2009
Ethel Bastion Bevareux sat on his squeaky mattress, the only thing of worth in his broken down apartment, quietly considering the rust colored stains on his floor. He turned his head, not so much seeing as just facing in the general direction of his smudged and scratched up window. The whole place was a dilapidated mess, really. Broken bottles and empty liquid cardamine vials strewn across the floor, with the occasional fork or article of clothing. The floor itself was simple steel, covered in dents and scrapes, unmarred by any flashy pieces of furniture or rugs. Ethel wasn't a fan of rugs. They sat there with no real purpose, collecting filth and attracting all those tiny bugs you hear about but never see. He could imagine the sound of those bugs up close. All the tiny legs clicking against the tiny threads of synthetic material, scraping against each other as each moved to cause forward motion for the insect. Ethel shuddered and took a long drag on the cigarette loosely wedged between his index and middle finger.
*Beep-boop, swish...*
The motion-sensitive door to his apartment slid open, letting in a rectangular ray of retina assaulting light in the middle of which stood a tall, slender figure. She leaned against the side of the doorway with a seductive look and a big ear-to-ear smile that could melt chocolate. Or so Ethel took the luxury of imagining. In reality he knew she was probably standing there with her arms crossed, her foot firmly planted on his hard concrete floor with a frown that'd turn chocolate to mud, but he couldn't tell through that blinding light.
"What the hell are you doing, Ethel? Thinking your life away again, wasting both our lives?"
She definitely wasn't smiling.
"Oh shut it, Rhonda. You know damn well that you're just as responsible for this mess as I am. Look at this place, covered in your expensive liquid cardi vials. It might make you live longer but damn, we need food too! We're broke and you still take twice the dosage of anyone else on the station. Why don't you jus-" *Clunk*
Startled, Ethel dropped his cigarette, sending bits of the the ashen tip out in a fan-like pattern on the floor.
"What the hell was that?..."
"Shut up, Rhonda..."
*...tic...tic...tic...*
They both turned towards the dingy window overlooking the station's bio-dome, towards the spear-like hunk of metal embedded in the now cracked and cracking shell of the dome. A trail of smoke was still visible, curling out into the void of space.
*...tic...tic...tic...
"Rhonda, move!!!", Ethel yelled as he pushed her out into the hallway. He didn't stop to check if he'd hurt her, he just ran. He ran faster than he'd ever run before, and then even faster when he heard Rhonda scramble up off the floor behind him.
*...tic....tic......tic......click*
The timer-delayed torpedo burst into thousands of tiny, razor sharp splinters, followed by a feverishly expanding cloud of 300,000 degree Celsius flame, product of the former nuclear warhead encased within. The flames quickly blasted through the fragile shell of the bio-dome, expanding into space and the inner workings of the station.
Ethel got through a reinforced doorway and turned around just as the undulating cloud of flame flooded out from his apartment into the corridor. Time seemed to slow to the point that the flame was no longer moving, and all he could do was stare in awe at it's terrible beauty. His vision panned over Rhonda who was still running towards him. Time sped back up, and she was yelling for him to wait. He could have; she was close and the fire was still a ways behind her despite the incredible speed of it's expansion... but what good was she to him?
Ethel slammed his hand against red emergency close button and stood motionless and unfeeling as the doors shut in front of him. He watched without a flinch through the foot-thick transparent window as the flame engulfed his sister, snuffing out her life before he could blink. Just as quickly as it had come the flame dissipated and retreated out into the vacuum of space, and Ethel turned away from the heat-warped door. A crowd had gathered behind him, all apparently there to check if the emergency door was closed. The first few had gotten there just as Ethel was admiring the deadly glamor of the flame, and they had seen everything. Ethel just stared, not in fear, regret, or embarrassment, but anticipation. They stared back in startled and speechless disgust at what he'd just done.
Cat o' Nine Anodyne - Tarkis - 04-04-2009
"Stupid!" Ethel grated through clenched teeth as he slammed his hand against the nearest hard surface. The rusty wall of his cell reverberated with a cacophony of tinny clamor, made more unpleasant by the moans of his fellow cellmates who he'd been forced to subdue. Ethel nursed the bruise on his cheek, and silently cursed the benefactor, a man that was now lying either dead or unconscious on the rusty floor. He was on a slave ship of some sort, one of the largest he'd ever seen. Unfortunately, he was seeing it from the inside this time, rather than his usual safe view from the back of a slave line, prodding them along in a march to their new owner. His fellow residents of Niverton Station had been quick to judge when they'd seen what Ethel had done, and quicker still to tie him up and sell him along with the latest batch of goods. The guy who bought him, the captain of this vessel, had greeted him personally. He remembered the event vividly...or, hazily, rather.
"'Ey, get your sorry self off my floor!"
Ethel forced open his eyes, ignoring the pain of the light. Sitting up, he looked around. The ship was worse off looking than his apartment, sparks were regularly coming out of random gaps in the walls, and it seemed the doors were in a perpetual state of being half-open. Trying over and over to close, but only making it about an inch before they were blocked by a hunk of warped flooring or loose piece of scrap. His self-tour of the area was abruptly brought to a halt by massive hand grabbing his neck. He stared in terror as the massive figure lifted him to his feet with ease, then further into the air until they were eye to eye. His eyes were the darkest brown he'd ever seen, almost black, and sparkled with something that could be considered admirable, if it was known. The eyes narrowed and lost their luster.
"What's your name, addict?" The man demanded with a deep-toned rumbling voice.
"B-Bastion Bevar-r-reux..." Ethel stuttered and choked, desperately grabbing for the man's arm.
"Bahaha, I'll ask again, and this time don't lie!" The man lowered Ethel slightly, just enough so he could stand tip-toe on one of the many massive hoses running along the corridors of the ship.
Ethel gulped ina few breaths.
"It's Ethel, sir, but they c-"
"Bahahahaha! Ain't that a woman's name, Ethel!?"
Somehow, even in this situation, Ethel was irritated.
"I hate that name! People call me Bastion!"
He immediately regretted his outburst, and closed his eyes, waiting to be beaten or killed.
"Bahahaha! I like you, Eth!" A thoughtful look crossed the slaver's face, then suddenly an ear-to-ear grin that Ethel knew meant nothing but trouble. "How would you like to be my...lets say...little helper? In return, I'll not sell you to the Outcasts, I won't kill you, and I'll remove the explosive I have tied around your neck here." He gestured, with a broadening smile, towards the heavy metal collar loosely hanging around Ethel's neck. He hadn't noticed the heavy thing before; he reached up to grab it.
"I wouldn't do that, friend..."
Friend?! This guy was crazy, he needed to get outta here! He pulled harder. Panic was setting in, and he tried one last time to yank the damn thing off. It started beeping. He was beyond panic now.
"Oops...look's like you made it mad. Better get it off quick before it explodes! Bahahaha!"
The slaver held up a a small device behind him and just out of Ethel's reach.
"You have about...eh...half a minute to decide if you want to work for me. After that you'll be painting my walls a wonderful rusty-red color. Interested yet?"
"Yes! Yes I'll work for you! Get it off me!" Ethel screamed as he squirmed around in the man's grip, still just barely able to touch his toes to the floor. The slaver dropped him and activated the device, which in turn deactivated the explosive accessory. Ethel sighed in relief, then sucked in a surprised breath as he was again picked up and thrown in a cell. The bars were slammed shut behind him.
"You're lovely new home here is my ship. She's called The Broken Butterfly, beautiful eh? My name is Raum, you'll call me nothing else or I'll jettison you into space. Understood?" Again, Raum didn't wait for an answer. "This is a tough choice, you see...I could just sell you anyway and get nearly three-thousand creds in the process, but maybe you'd make a good thief...I'll sleep on it. In the mean time, you sit here and get acquainted with some of those slaves you and your friends at Niverton have been selling to me for so cheap. I'm sure they'd love to meet you! Bahahaha!"...
He'd been sitting in this cell ever since, which seemed like weeks.