Imperium City

In order to keep my creative juices flowing a friend sent me the image below (artist linked in the image) and asked me to write 10 sentences to describe the image.

Well I wrote 10… ideas, some of them grew to be more than a sentence. Some might turn into stories themselves…

Anyway in preparation for Nanowrimo I wanted to post this and we will see if they will become more than the short glimpse they are now or whether the idea will bloom and grow into something.

lms_imperium_city_by_andreewallin-d2zt7h0

They call it the dark zone, as if there was no light down here, it was true there was never any sunlight, yet I never knew a time when there was no light.

Maybe fifty years ago the Ressha was ‘whisper quiet’ like the faded advert said, yet Tarquin always wore his headphone on the commute from work.

The hotel was nestled amongst a jumbled assortment of bars, clubs and strip joints, Jamison knew they would not look for him here, he paid cash and headed to blissful oblivion.

Imperium City. Indistinguishable from the any part of this continent. Another five blocks of different colour wearing thugs. A temporary home to drink and forget.

Jonas grinned wild and wide. The bustle of the street flowed around him as he stared in wonder at the lights, sounds and movement around him. The cab drove off, its engine’s buzz adding to and becoming one with sounds around him. Stirring from his wonder Jonas turned to find a way into Peter’s apartment.

She watched him as he hurried down the near deserted street, his eyes wide in fear. He turned and she saw the line of blood on his shirt where the arc of spray had ended. She had dropped her guard on the first one, had been distracted by the thrill of the kill. Yet she was amazed how easily she had caught up, how easy it will be to take him. She smiled again, and stepped out of the shadows. She would take her time with this one. She would feast long and slow.

“I.. I.. I got n.. n.. n.. nothing” stammered the drunk “I.. I .. GOT NOTHING!” yelling to everyone and no-one. Travis watched for a moment as the drunk stumbled and bounced off the wall of the alley. His mutterings slowing fading as the darkness of the alley closed in. Travis turned to the camera held by his assistant. “I know we can’t help everyone, but I will make it my mission, if elected, to help those we can”. His pale blue eyes sympathetic in the harsh LED light. “And done” said the assistant with a grin only a 20-something-recent-graduate can muster. “Coffee?” “Sure, my shout”. Travis looked back down the alley thinking of some way to rid his city of the filth.

It pulsed with the traffic the hum of lights and whirls of colour flashed and flared. The competing sounds from the open doored clubs merged and flowed into the street. The suited people morphed into night mode with less cloth and more stumbles. This place never slept, the movement never ceased. The city fed off the people casting them free only as dry empty husks.

Ten thousand credits. Ten thousand credits. The thought thundered through Bevan’s mind. What would he do with that much? He smiled and slipped another cred into the slot. Maybe this time. He thought. Maybe this time.

“Another quiet run.” Simone said to her co-pilot. “Affirmative” replied the neutral flat voice. Simone enjoyed the android’s minimal conversation, it allowed her to concentrate on her instrument panel. Unlike a few of her peers Simone trusted her co-pilot to the scanner. “Operative 576 identified at 40 degrees to port” the calm unemotional voice said. Simone slowed and turned the craft to the new heading. “Target is locked, confirm fire order”. “Confirm civilians are clear” Simone ordered. “Negative” came the response. “Track and wait” Simone countered the fire protocols, “Request ground forces, we are going to be the eyes for this one.” A pause. Simone saw the communication indicator light up and die. “Affirmative orders confirmed and ground crew dispatched”. Simone kept the craft aligned with the target, allowing her co-pilot to guide the ground forces in to capture position. All the while a nagging thought picked away at the back of her mind, what if the co-pilot had refused to wait, what if it had fired on the civilians? What was really sitting beside her?

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