Futuristic

Characters
Begins in 2120 with Elijah's birth.
 * Elija Ash'ett
 * Katya

Arc One (v.I)
There were clouds in the sky, as the sky had been hidden behind a hundred miles of soil and bedock for the past seven centuries, whenever people in Terak looked up, all they saw was a cavern with ends unknown.

The atmosphere on Phaeda's surface had suffered tremendously from nuclear war seven centuries past and while some natives left the planet, many stayed behind, terraforming the subterranean. The only way in and out was the Skyhook -- an immense elevator lift to mainly ferry goods to the docking port above the atmosphere.

At the moment several families of the native Phaedans were gathering at the Skyhook, most tired of living underground like vermin, others had their own reasons. When called by their family names each collective unit stepped in.

Six-year-old Elijah was among those already inside with his mother when he noticed another family struggling with an elder member, the mother and father talked while their young daughter stood idle. What's she doing? He thought.

The elder was as stubborn as they came, visibly always furrowing his eyebrows, presumably mad at the world. "I'm not going and that's final."

"Pari, please. Just get on the lift." Said the father.

"You know he's not changing his mind, let's go." His wife insisted. She didn't seem to care much.

He looked at his wife and daughter then at his father again. "You sure?"

"I'm sure, I was born here and I want to stay until I die." He declared. "Bring me back something nice when you visit."

"Sure thing, ." With a loving family hug, the elder backed away as the family piled into lift, the daughter stood next to Elijah. Close-knit. Perhaps too close. She was about his age, probably a year older at most. A STAND CLEAR warning flashed above and the doors shut, within seconds it began elevate, the strong vibrant movement pushed the children into each other. They looked at one another oblivious to who the other was. Maybe she was in his class at school, he'd never know, he hardly paid attention in class. If he had seen her he would've remembered her pale green eyes.

Prologue (V.I) (Thought up: 4/18/15) (Started: 5/23/15) &dagger;
The air in the room was thin and heated leading to the perspiration that accumulated on her body. It was disgusting but at the moment it was the last thing on the forefront of her mind, her eyes closed and she could still see the battlefield at Adashur, defending the city from a relentless enemy as a soldier of the Galactic Federation nearly four years ago. It was difficult and it pained her immensely each time one of the soldiers she fought with was gunned down: Vashek, Spacek, Sezar. . . one by one they went. . . One, two, three. She counted and after a moment she felt relief, and the sound of a baby crying. Her baby. A few minutes later the doctor called for her and she opened her eyes and saw that the infant took after her species' genetic makeup as it sported her bronzed skin and green eyes. The doctor handed the infant to her. "It's a boy. Congratulations, ma'am." She said with a smile. Tears began to formulate in her eyes as the baby bawled in her arms, he did so for several minutes then opened his eyes and stared at the woman holding him, curious.

A sudden ping of happiness swept through her.

Lewd
In a flash, he remembered her. The girl in the elevator during the destruction of Phaeda. It was (Danae).
 * Pale Green Eyes

Characters

 * Abaddon
 * Laron Zane
 * Michael Matteis
 * Danaë

Prologue (1st try)
Emile Played and Strummed his refurbished 1984 acoustic guitar, playing a beautiful ballad. His smooth yet masculine voice reaching even the farthest corner of Omega's finest night club, Paradise. Operated by Khary, a Reki member of the feline Pasaar, but like everything else in the Chandril district Michael Matteis owned and frequented it often, having his own personal table reserved indefinitely; no one dared try to take it, as on Omega the one and only official law was "Don't fuck with the Shadows".

The club was packed tonight, just as it always was but one of the regulars was not in attendance, Laron Zane, a despicable man in the employ of his superiors; Emile surveyed the scene and couldn't find a trace of him. That is until he found himself staring at a woman clad in a black dress came in, arm coupled with Zane's. She was truly a sight to behold; her hair was dark as Derelict Row in a blackout, long and curly, full pouty come-hither lips with the top one being two shades darker than the bottom. Latté colored skin and a seductive dancer's body.

He saw a waitress show them to a table he reserved for the night, it was directly under the skylight and in front of the stage.

He watched as they sat but quickly looked away when the woman caught his eye. "... betray at your own accord." he said as he let his fingers fall from the chords and a brief silence ensued, followed by a round of applause. "Thank you." he waved a hand moving off the stage to make room for the regular band. His eyes never left Laron who was gawking at the woman next to him, honestly he couldn't blame him, she was a looker, but he on the other hand was not a very attractive man; a rather dwarfish and corpulent individual instead. Emile thought it was a good thing that he was going to die tonight, and by his hand no less. He never really liked him because he talked too much, but the real reason behind the ordered execution? He didn't care to ask.

When he looked up at Matteis, his eyes spoke loud and "Get it done," were still his orders.

After a second he decided to walk over to Zane with the guitar still in hand, as he was whispering in the woman's ear, from the way he was grinning and the eager expression on his face it was likely something sexual. "Hello, sir. Ma'am. How are you enjoying your evening?" He interrupted, purposely.

"It was going quite well until you disturbed us, mister..."

"Edward Thatch, sir," he lied and the woman gave a him a sly smile, like she knew he was.

"Well, Mister Thatch, you mind leaving us so we may resume our conversation."

"Actually, sir. I do mind, and can I have a moment of your time over there," he knew what the answer would be, but no harm in asking anyway.

"No."

Ding-ding. "You don't wanna make this harder than it needs to be. Trust me."

"What are you gonna do, kill me?"

Emile cracked his neck and clinched his hand into a fist. "Pretty much, yeah." He then noticed Zane's hand moving under the table. Don't try it, Zane.

Emile jumped back, dodging the swing to the face with the switchblade his quarry had. Bad move. Emile swung the guitar and struck him in the back of head as he tried, knocking him to ground and breaking it in the process. He took the wire and wrapped around Zane's neck, like a garrote. He protested, like they all did and once again the man wasn't having it.

He pulled on the opposite ends of wire, tighter and harder with each passing second, at one point blood began to seep through the small incisions the wire was making. He pulled until the protests stopped and watched as Laron's arms dropped, limp. He was dead. The contract had been fulfilled.

Emile exhaled softly then looked around at the audience he'd gathered, no surprised expressions were among their gaunt faces, that's how it was on Omega. No matter what: no one fucked with the Shadow Collective.

Part I
Emile unwrapped the guitar wire from around the dead man's neck and turned him on his back. He analyzed his body and removed his ring from his clinched hand. It had a cross pattée on it. Weird. Emile shrugged it off and looked at the lovely woman.

"I'm sorry I had to do that, but he just wouldn't cooperate." He said standing up.

"Did you really expect him to. Being threatened with death and all, no sane person would sit idly." She said, her voice was soft on his ears.

"Oh, I wouldn't say that." Emile looked up at Matteis who nodded in approval, then back at the woman. "Death lurks, you don't know where it might strike nor who might deliver the blow."

She stood there, her high heels made her nearly as tall as him.

"I regress. I'm Emile."

Lewd
"Emile." He heard a voice say before turning around and being kissed by Danae. She pushed him against the wall then to his bed.

"What are you doing, you're Matteis' girl. He'll kill you if he finds out you're here, and I'm sure he'll send an army after me."

Danae didn't say a word, she just removed her weapons, mesh, undergarments. Her body was fantastic, mouth-watering even. Abaddon got a hard-on just from looking.

"Damn it. Might as well." He pulled off his pants and shirt. Danae came over and helped remove his underwear. She smiled at the unwrapped package: twenty-five centimeters long, several inches wide.

She nibbled and licked the tip before placing the whole thing in her mouth. He quivered in pleasure.

Prologue (2nd try) (Started: 5/10/15)
Emile Played and Strummed his refurbished 1984 acoustic guitar, playing a beautiful ballad he had recently learned. His smooth yet masculine voice reaching even the farthest corner of Omega's finest night club, Paradise. Operated by Khary, a Réki member of the feline Pasaar, but like everything else in the Chandril district, Michael Matteis owned it and he frequented it often as it was his favorite, having his own personal table reserved indefinitely; no one dared try to take it, as it was on Omega the one and only official law was "Don't fuck with the Shadows". The meaning was obvious to those who crossed paths with members of the Shadow Collective, but every so often some new idiot came along did something stupid to piss them off, and they'd eventually turn up dead somewhere. Emile usually tried to stay out the way and just do his job, it was decent pay, and he didn't want lose what he little he had. . . not again.

The club was packed tonight, just as it always was, but one of the regulars was not in attendance, Laron Zane, a despicable human being and a pretty decent tipper; Emile surveyed the scene and couldn't find a trace of him. That is until he found himself staring at a woman clad in a form-fitting black dress came in, arms coupled with Zane's. She was truly a sight to behold; her hair was dark as Derelict Row in a blackout, long and curly, full pouty come-hither lips with the top one being two shades darker than the bottom. Latté colored skin and a seductive dancer's body. He saw a waitress show them to a table he reserved for the night, it was directly under the skylight and in front of the stage.

He watched as they sat and quickly looked away when the woman caught his eye, continuing on singing

The Amazon
Freighter, Ebon-class&mdash;the Autumn's Night trembled vigorously after being hit by a large meteor fragment knocking it off course.

"Someone get a handle on this boat."

Lewd
The Amazon was tall, near six-eight in her primitive foot wrappings same height as Rex.

Shocking, Isn't It?


Excerpt: Jamie used the suit's jetpack propulsion to launch himself at the helo, only to miss by inches; instead he charged weapons systems and allocated it to his left arm, an electric current built up quickly and then he aimed at his target ahead and released.

The blast struck its mark and in a matter of moments forced the vehicle to hurdle toward the surface in a burning heap.

Better be breathing. he thought, almost aloud.

The Fallout (Renamed: Noble - 1/31/15)
The Hijackerz stood there in his path, menacing; their hygiene was God-awful, it made him want to vomit, their rotted breath and fiendish appearances made it worse and when the leader ordered to hand all he had, that was it. A.J. threw up directly in front the leader, some of the cat giblets splashed on his shoes, he backed away disgusted.

"Fuck this! Lorenzo take the fuckin' bag." He ordered, as A.J. wiped his mouth.

The one called Lorenzo stepped forward and tried to take it by pulling of one strap, but before he got to the other, three of his fingers were missing, it took a few seconds for him to go into shock after screaming.

"I said no one was taking the bag." He said, sternly while wiping the blood off his machete with his sleeve.

Noble (v.II)
The lone wanderer. That's what people called him whenever he would pass through a town or village

"A Short"
Calleigh

Bubba


Bastion. It's a big place, easy fer one to get lost if not familiar.

"Coalition" (Started: 3/4/15)
There were no clouds in the sky, just a trio of full moons and the illuminating brilliance of laser fire and explosives. The battle of Persephone was still raging on all over the planet after a fifty-two day standstill between the (Galactic Federation Alliance) and the (Coalition of Independent Republics)

"Soldier Boy" (4/28/15)
The hour was late and it was sure to freezing outside when the recruiter came

Synopsis
(When Black Operatives are abandoned in middle of a meaningless war deep in the Middle East, they return home only to be sent back as private contractors.)

(Abandoned again, these contractors become disillusion with their governments, believing the world would world far better without the needless idiocy of politics.) ....

Chronicles .... (Started: 5/1/15) (For Supposed "Anniversary" 5/14/15
It was cold and damp in the living room, the grotesque sensation of moist sweat clung to his chest, crust in his eyes and drool making an unpleasant seam of dribble around his mouth. Disgruntled, he peered at the clock, 06:30, it read.