[FIC] "Steel Messiah" Intro, Cyberpunk AU, Gen, PG for language
i am one of the worst people in the world to write cyberpunk PoT fic.
but lyntek gave me the motivation, idea, and everything else, while petronia gave me the extra kick.
...okay um, my literary background really isn't cyberpunk. it's trad-sf. see username. we're talking robert heinlein, ray bradbury and theodore sturgeon; the expert dreamers, as i've come to recognize 'em. i WILL screw this up big-time. i want you guys to know that before anything else.
also want you to know that sanada is not a cyberjock, no. but you know i fuck around with his character anyway, so why not try to pull this off?
i'm sure someone will be able to do this better than me. this intro is badly rushed. wherefore it is locked. but i'll work on improving it, and if there are any major corrections, will repost.
i like to make things simple. though there ARE extra notes at the end.
The man ran down the street, stumbling through alleys, swerving blindly around corners, running with his eyes shut and his tightly clenched fists hitting the cold midnight fog.
The man was tall, bony, emaciated. He must not have eaten in days. A world away, you could see him as an entirely different creature: a short, thin line, flickering between colors that said "here" and "not here," in tones that said he was getting ready to die.
Two trodes stood out sharply on either side of his head. In other circumstances they would be better hidden, by hair and by skin. The unfortunate flitted in and out of the lamplight, moving through the gold-paved streets of Trace City with the grace of a moth with both wings burning.
There was gunfire.
The man cried out, and fell face forward onto the synthetic asphalt.
He was alive. The Sentinels knew that he was. They approached him, their black hardwired full-body armor absorbing all light, their metal boots clacking ominously as they moved like great weighted shadows. They -- and the fallen stranger's moaning -- were the only sound.
If the residents of that area of Trace City sensed what was going on, they gave no notice. Only the intricate gold-foil streetlamps were lit: in all the buildings, the lights were shut automatically by a local power management center, as the residents could not afford to pay for their own power usage. It was a bad part of Paradise.
The armored Sentinels stopped a few paces away from the man writhing on the road, stood still as death itself. A voice from the heart of another reality issued from one of them:
[ You have the right to remain silent. ]
The man knew what these words meant. His arms flailed weakly all round himself, shielding his eyes, his ears, his chest.
"Please...no...don't kill me..."
[ Anything you say can and will be used against you. ]
"I beg you! I have a family!"
[ As you are not a certified resident of Trace City, you are not entitled to an attorney. You are not entitled to a fair trial. This ends all your transactions, legal or otherwise, with the Atobe corporation. Thank you for your patronage. ]
"Please!! I'll talk!! I'll -- "
The gun fired.
A world away, there was the sound of a snowflake touching earth.
This was what the Steel Messiah heard.
(To Be Continued)
**********
REFERENCES:
Am in no shape to even try and make this piece original. Will at least try to acknowledge all my direct and indirect sources.
* Title came from Pierrot's "Mad Sky: Koutetsu no Messiah," which I listened to on repeat while working out the outline in my head. Pierrot and the rest of my angry!rikkai playlist are a huge influence in the making of this story.
* why "Trace City" = I think I'll tell you later.
edit: wtf did i just write up there? @_@ <-- hung over
but lyntek gave me the motivation, idea, and everything else, while petronia gave me the extra kick.
...okay um, my literary background really isn't cyberpunk. it's trad-sf. see username. we're talking robert heinlein, ray bradbury and theodore sturgeon; the expert dreamers, as i've come to recognize 'em. i WILL screw this up big-time. i want you guys to know that before anything else.
also want you to know that sanada is not a cyberjock, no. but you know i fuck around with his character anyway, so why not try to pull this off?
i'm sure someone will be able to do this better than me. this intro is badly rushed. wherefore it is locked. but i'll work on improving it, and if there are any major corrections, will repost.
i like to make things simple. though there ARE extra notes at the end.
The man ran down the street, stumbling through alleys, swerving blindly around corners, running with his eyes shut and his tightly clenched fists hitting the cold midnight fog.
The man was tall, bony, emaciated. He must not have eaten in days. A world away, you could see him as an entirely different creature: a short, thin line, flickering between colors that said "here" and "not here," in tones that said he was getting ready to die.
Two trodes stood out sharply on either side of his head. In other circumstances they would be better hidden, by hair and by skin. The unfortunate flitted in and out of the lamplight, moving through the gold-paved streets of Trace City with the grace of a moth with both wings burning.
There was gunfire.
The man cried out, and fell face forward onto the synthetic asphalt.
He was alive. The Sentinels knew that he was. They approached him, their black hardwired full-body armor absorbing all light, their metal boots clacking ominously as they moved like great weighted shadows. They -- and the fallen stranger's moaning -- were the only sound.
If the residents of that area of Trace City sensed what was going on, they gave no notice. Only the intricate gold-foil streetlamps were lit: in all the buildings, the lights were shut automatically by a local power management center, as the residents could not afford to pay for their own power usage. It was a bad part of Paradise.
The armored Sentinels stopped a few paces away from the man writhing on the road, stood still as death itself. A voice from the heart of another reality issued from one of them:
[ You have the right to remain silent. ]
The man knew what these words meant. His arms flailed weakly all round himself, shielding his eyes, his ears, his chest.
"Please...no...don't kill me..."
[ Anything you say can and will be used against you. ]
"I beg you! I have a family!"
[ As you are not a certified resident of Trace City, you are not entitled to an attorney. You are not entitled to a fair trial. This ends all your transactions, legal or otherwise, with the Atobe corporation. Thank you for your patronage. ]
"Please!! I'll talk!! I'll -- "
The gun fired.
A world away, there was the sound of a snowflake touching earth.
This was what the Steel Messiah heard.
(To Be Continued)
**********
REFERENCES:
Am in no shape to even try and make this piece original. Will at least try to acknowledge all my direct and indirect sources.
* Title came from Pierrot's "Mad Sky: Koutetsu no Messiah," which I listened to on repeat while working out the outline in my head. Pierrot and the rest of my angry!rikkai playlist are a huge influence in the making of this story.
* why "Trace City" = I think I'll tell you later.
edit: wtf did i just write up there? @_@ <-- hung over