by A. R. Crebs
“Not every woman! Only the hot ones. I haven’t slept with you yet.” He shrugged.
“Oh, my God,” Aria groaned, closing her eyes tightly in irritation.
“Hey! I have an idea!” Troy grabbed the woman’s shoulders. Aria limply moved with his arms. She sighed heavily. “Chester’s?” He persuaded her.
Aria gave a small smile. If there was anything she liked, it was Chester’s Bar and Grille down the street. They served her favorite drink and also had the best chips and dip of all the City of Fountains.
“I lost, so I’ll buy.” Troy fed her a boyish grin.
Aria’s smile only widened. “Yeah…I kicked your ass bad.” She snorted out a laugh.
“Okay. Stop rubbing it in, or I’m not buying your drink.” He roughed up her black hair, smearing the paint a little into her blue-dyed streak.
“Are you going to wear that?” The woman eyeballed his military uniform, ignoring what he’d just done to her hair.
Troy shrugged. “Thought it’d catch the ladies’ attention.”
“At least get rid of the helmet; it makes you look like a ‘tard.” Aria smirked. The two continued down the bright white hall.
“Okay…mom.” That received him a punch in the arm. “Ow.”
Music droned in a low tone in the background of the bar. Aria’s dainty fingers lifted a glass to her lips; the glowing blue concoction shimmered light against her face. Troy eyed her, watching the gleaming liquid and the bouncing light dance across her smooth features and dark hair. It was like drinking radiation he had always told her, but it was her favorite drink. Neither one wanted to know how nor why the beverage looked like a child’s glow stick.
“Cancer….” Troy pointed at Aria’s glass. She glared at him, taking another sip.
“Likewise,” she replied, flicking her finger against the tip of the man’s cigarette. She thought it was disgusting that Troy smoked, but, at the very least, he did smoke the pure stuff. It didn’t have any of the toxins, narcotics, and hallucinogens the other types had. She held her drink up next to the man’s burning ash. “You think they are both made of the same stuff?” She smirked.
Troy glanced down. Sure enough, the blue glow of her alcoholic beverage matched the blue embers of his cigarette. “Well, I assume that’s the secondhand smoke eliminator.” He grinned with the stick between his teeth. “What’s yours for?”
“Just a pretty light to play with her pretty eyes,” a male voice intruded on the couple’s conversation. Aria felt an arm snake around her waist and lips press against her cheek. She rolled her eyes to the side as the man dropped into the seat beside her. No matter how hard she tried, Aria couldn’t hide the smile that crossed her face. “Or to match the pretty blue streak in her hair.” He swiped a finger through her electric-blue tresses.
“Hi, Gavin.” Aria swirled the liquid in her glass. He gave her a colossal grin, showing off his perfect pearly-whites.
“Where the hell have you been?! I haven’t seen you in ages!” Troy handed his friend a cigarette.
“Ah, you know; been busy with the ladies. Was double-booked for a week!” The man chuckled, reaching across Aria to grab Troy’s gift. The woman closed her eyes in annoyance. “But you know what? None of them were as cute as this gal here!” Gavin placed his arm around Aria’s shoulder and shook her gently.
“And I’m so special that I’m never included on your schedule?” She raised an eyebrow.
“Uh. Oh…well,” Gavin stammered. He grimaced a little, running a hand through his shoulder-length brunette hair. The ends touched the leather collar of his pilot’s jacket.
“It’s okay Gavin; I’m not your type.” Aria lifted a finger, ordering another drink. She suddenly felt a little sour.
“Uh-oh. Now you’ve done it; she’s ordering another one.” Troy snickered, winking at his friend.
Gavin grabbed Aria’s waist again. He slowly moved his lips to her ear. “Aria, baby! My beauty! My–” she fed him a nasty glare, “–sassy cat.” He yowled like an angry feline in return and quickly pecked her on the cheek to try to appease her in some way.
“You two are the same,” Aria murmured. She reached for a chip and dipped it in the creamy cheese sauce, suddenly wanting to be far away. The two men laughed to themselves. Aria only frowned, not finding it funny to be surrounded by lewd boys.
Gavin and Troy weren’t only similar people, but they were best friends, much to Aria’s dissatisfaction at times. The two men had first met years before in Special Ops training. They both were chasing after the same girl. At first, the macho men debated on fighting each other but then found that it was much easier to work together to get one girl and her friends together for a night of fun. The two were cursed, as Troy would say it, with amazing charm and good looks. Sadly, Aria had often been subjected to the two’s flirtations, especially Gavin’s.
Being a pilot, Gavin was hardly around. He was swooning over ladies all across the continent, and the women fell for him, too. There’s nothing like a man in uniform who can maneuver one of the best military fighter jets. Gavin was one of the elite, one of the top five pilots in the world who could fly one of those machines. The military said he was gifted with quick reactions, adaptive tactical skills, and high IQ. Aria often debated the latter.
Aria remembered reading a scientific study that concluded a man’s IQ temporarily dropped when a gorgeous woman was in the room. She didn’t doubt that at all. She also thought that since Gavin considered every woman a sex object, he was a complete idiot.
“Oi! What are yuh doin’?!” someone in the bar shouted suddenly. The man’s accent was so thick with its trilled ‘r’s and clipped word-endings, one could choke on it.
“I’ve had enough hearing you talk!” another man shouted.
“Oh, great.” Troy leaned back on his barstool.
The two men began arguing. The man with the accent was obviously a Scotty judging by his deep inflections. Aria turned around once she started hearing punches being thrown and people hollering. The clash seemed to be spreading fast. These types of fights usually got out of hand as soon as they started. It was complete ignorance, she thought.
“The guy should have just kept his mouth shut,” Gavin murmured, shaking his head. “You can’t be running your mouth with an accent like that ‘round these parts.”
“I’m wondering how he ended up in these parts to begin with,” Troy added.
“There was a surveillance intelligence trade earlier this week between MacMurry & Scott and our largest trader, Agricon. Perhaps he’s one of the spokespeople,” Aria suggested, grimacing as the foreign man blocked a punch and retaliated with a hard blow to the other man’s jaw.
“An’ I’m tired of lookin’ at yer dark-skinned scadge of a lass!” the Scotty yelled, running a pale hand through his redder than considered normal hair. Everything about the strange man was deemed reason enough to be killed over.
“Scadge! What the hell is a scadge?” Troy asked, sharing a quiet laugh with Gavin.
“Nobody can even understand what you’re saying!” The local man held his chin, his girlfriend patting him on the back. “The damn freaks in the Underbelly wouldn’t even want you!”
The Underbelly, a separate city beneath Fountains, was dirty, poor, and full of the strange and outdated of society. Anything that didn’t meet the middle ground of the majority in civilization was often frowned at. If the designer genes used during pregnancy didn’t do the trick, a person was either killed for their differences or they were moved to the lower level of the city to take their chances at survival there.
“My skin isn’t even all that dark! It’s called Mocha Divine! I paid a lot of money for this color!” the dense woman rambled, waving a finger back and forth.
The Scotty looked repulsed. “Only a used up, numpty wench would pride ‘erself in coverin’ up ‘er scabby, coital stains.”
Troy gasped, enjoying the Scotty’s language. “So much awesome wrapped up in that one sentence!”
> “Are you taking notes?” Aria questioned, watching the fighting men with keen interest.
“That does it!” the local man growled, lunging forward to tackle the foreigner into a table, the girlfriend ignorantly cheering for her significant other.
After a couple of mugs shattered against the floor, the bartender became riled up, bellowing noisily for the men to stop.
“Should we do something?” Gavin finally asked once the Scotty broke the other man’s nose.
“No.” Aria shook her head. “Let the Lowers take care of it.”
Lowers were the average cops, lowest on the military totem pole. Lowers always got a hard-on for taking care of all the petty jobs.
A couple chairs got turned over, a table smashed into pieces, and more blood was spilled before a knife was pulled and thrown. It flew past Aria’s head and landed only a couple centimeters from the bartender.
“That’s it!” Aria and Troy both grabbed their handguns at their waists. Before they could do anything, however, sirens began blaring, and the front door was carelessly wrenched open and snapped from the side of the wall. A dozen officers swarmed into the dark bar.
“Everybody on the floor!” A rookie cop had his weapon drawn. Everyone in the bar quickly dropped to the ground, save the three militants. Aria rolled her eyes. “I said on the floor!” Now the handgun was pointed at the three standing by the bar. Gavin raised his hands into the air. Aria just frowned at the cop, her hand still gripping her weapon.
“Easy, Nancy.” Troy showed the man his badge. “Class A-4.”
“And what would you have done if I shot you?!” The cop slowly lowered his weapon.
“Shot you before your brainstem could fire its first synapses,” Aria spat spitefully.
The police officer gave her a loathing look. “If you’re so high and mighty, then why didn’t you break up this fight?”
“Figured you might need some help getting it up,” she snarled.
“Just shut up and do your job.” Troy pointed at the officer. “We were just about to break it up before you broke down the door. It’s just a bar fight, not a murder.”
Aria glanced at Troy. She wasn’t so sure about that. The victim had an accent. With the hate people had, having an accent was worthy of being killed over if you were in the wrong place at the wrong time.
“Had a guy murdered yesterday for having blue eyes,” the officer said. He, along with two others, began cuffing those involved in the brawl while a few others questioned the bartender.
“Happens all the time,” Troy stated.
As the rookie led the men out into the streets, he added, “His eyes were brown. He was wearing blue optic enhancers.”
“Damn,” Gavin scoffed. “You’d think people would be tired of fighting with all the war.”
“Hardly,” Aria said, glaring. “These idiots can’t stand people who are naturally different. Growing up in war, sometimes it’s all people know how to do. It’s like a part of nature now. Find a reason to hate and kill.” The idea of it all depressed her.
Outside of the petty civilian lifestyle, there were people like Aria and Troy. They lost their parents at an early age and were raised within the military. Anymore, orphans were given to the armed forces to be raised as soldiers. They grew up in the corporation, military owned by business owners who were the political leaders for the city-states. Corporations often fought with one another, not just over products and enterprise, but for land and ownership of small countries. Soon, the battles were no longer about political ideals, but for the buying and trading of businesses and claiming each other’s scientists and manufacturers. The elitists traded lives for goods, technology, and the profiteering through consumerism. It was always about money, but Aria didn’t care. As long as she had a home and something to do with her life, she was okay. If it weren't for the military, she wouldn’t be alive. But then again, if it weren't for the military, her parents would still be alive.
Growing up surrounded by war and the constant training had taught Aria and Troy how to watch their backs, and typically they were never bothered thanks to the high-class symbols on their weapons and jackets. If it weren’t for the military status, Troy could’ve possibly been killed as a young adult for being so tall even though he was ‘normal’ in every other way with his tan skin and brown hair. Aria also could have been left for dead in the streets for having raven-black hair. In fact, she had been stabbed once. Troy had lectured her for days, and that was when she decided to add the neon-blue streak to her hair, to use that as an excuse to claim that the color wasn’t natural. It did help, but she still was given some crap every now and then.
“Hey, you guys watching this?” The bartender’s voice interrupted Aria’s thoughts.
The small group turned their attention to the vid screen above the bar. It flashed a ‘breaking news’ headline across the display. Static streaked the screen before revealing a reporter outside a destroyed military base.
“Turn it up,” Aria ordered.
“This just in. We have reporter, John Monroe. John? Can you hear me?” a female voice asked off screen.
“Uh…Uh, yes. Yes, I can hear you….” The man on the screen was ragged and trembling. His whole body was covered in grey dust and what appeared to be blood. “The 66th Intel Reconnaissance Base was attacked only twenty minutes ago. I…I was here earlier to report on the latest Missile Tracking and Defense System when…we, uh, we were attacked. I, uh…oh, God!” Static rolled over the screen. “Not…uch time….They….”
“John?” the news anchor questioned.
“Oh, God!” John screamed through the static. There was no visual.
The camera flashed back into the main studio of the newsroom, showing a wide-eyed female anchor. “We seem to be having technical difficulties. We’re switching to audio only.”
“So fast. They were so fast. Susan!” John’s voice was heard.
“Yes, John?” The woman’s voice broke. “Are you there?”
“AHHHH!” the man screamed; his shrill shouts distorted the sounds through the television. “They’ll kill us all!” There was a dull vibrating noise followed by a low hum. All audio abruptly went to white noise.
“What’s going on?!” Susan had shouted before the whole station went blank. Aria lifted her head, looking from side to side as the lights flickered inside the bar.
“Freaky….” Gavin gaped at the screen, his cigarette barely clinging to his lower lip.
“Troy.” Aria instinctively grabbed her weapon.
“EMP disturbance,” he suggested.
All at once, the three’s personal alarms went off.
“Time to go!” Aria swiped her wrist across the bar register’s checkout screen. The laser light read the DNA Identification System chip embedded into her skin, retrieving the accurate credits for the bill before she headed for the exit. “Bring your sunscreen; looks like we’re headed for the desert!” Troy and Gavin put out their cigarettes, swiped their wrists, and quickly followed behind the woman.
Heavy footsteps trudged through thick mud.
‘Where is she?’ he thought.
He looked at his surroundings, feeling detached from his body as if watching from the outside.
‘Don’t look. Don’t look.’
He couldn’t help it, seeing the bodies all around. He had to find her. She was somewhere in the pile of thousands. His eyes stung with tears he tried to hold back. The freezing rain slowed him down, adding weight to his clothing and thickening his steps. All around there was crimson and armor. Bodies covered the earth, some looking up at him with blank expressions. The smell of grime and rusty metal burned his nostrils. He tore his gaze away from one particular body, a child’s. He had wanted to forget those precious eyes.
‘You did this….It’s your fault,’ he accused.
Then he saw her and shivered as the chill air wrapped around his form. The gusting wind pulled him towards her gracefully resting dead body atop a small hill of soldiers. He dropp
ed to his knees and grabbed her, hugging her tightly. Looking down, he gaped into her white orbs staring up at him. Then a smile crossed her face.
“It’s the day you’ve been waiting for,” her voice whispered in his mind. It haunted him.
There was an explosion. Bright blue light flooded high into the air and mushroomed out, covering the continent and swallowing him and the rest of the dead population whole. It ate everything—soaring and burning and annihilating, spreading over oceans, consuming all the lands, covering the planet, tugging the whole world into a bright light before disintegrating all that was ever known into a dust that would forever soar through the vast dark abyss of the universe. He screamed.
Flying up from his makeshift bed, the man shouted. He was wet; a hole in the ceiling had ever so graciously poured rain all over his body while he had been asleep. Thankful to have woken despite the reason why, he stared at the small puddle on the floor, his reflection glaring back at him with narrowed and glowing eyes.
“Is it really that time already?” he whispered to himself, holding a hand to his head. And then he sobbed, his shoulders shaking. “Will they be ready?” The quiet sobs turned into a small laugh, mixing with the thunder far off in the distance.
"Troy’s Portrait"
Chapter 2
“The attack occurred at approximately 1800 our time, 0330 their time. You need to deploy immediately. Gavin will take you by the Hawk 90. It’ll be a three-hour flight, but it’s the best we can do. We’re not expecting many survivors if any at all.” The President, James Clarke, clicked on his digital keyboard. Aria noticed the military ring on his finger, a metallic eagle sitting upon an amber jewel. There was a patch that hung over the right shoulder of his pristine charcoal-grey suit. The black piece was covered with military pins presenting his elite status and accomplishments while on duty as a younger man.
A screen above the President’s head flickered on, revealing an inverted image to Aria, Troy, and Gavin.
“Intel mission?” Aria suggested.