The smell of steak and bell peppers permeated the small dining room. That day, when the sun set on an old European town, a long awaited guest arrived at a home he hadnt seen in a long time. He was a traveling artist, wandering from colony to colony, taking in the most exotic sights known to man, tending to his muse. The girl who cooked it for him was a childhood friend, his neighbor. When the door bell rang, and she flung the door open, he looked dead and blank.
Her name was Celia. His, John.
Celia quickly pulled John aside and relinquished his coat and hat. His hands shook. John wanted something to say. Something nice to tell her. He wanted a fond nostalgia. The cost of war remained too much.
Itsbeen a long time. Celia placed her hand on Johns back, guiding him to the dining room. I made your favorite. She pulled his chair and he sat down. He stared at his food, looking for reason. I guess you finally found time to pull away from your parents, right? I was worried theyd keep you all to themselves! But its been such a long timewe all sobbed for days when we heard about the bomb in Maria.
A breeze lifted Celias brunette locks from her forehead. Celia politely got up from her chair and went over to close the open window in the room. She pushed it downwards, but couldnt get it to budge. John analyzed the food on his plate. His steak meat was dark brown, and the peppers a gushing red. Celia got frustrated; she wouldnt let this damn window hinder the night she planned for John. She struggled with the window. The smell of burnt meat was distinct to John. Celia finally got angry. The window slammed shut, the sound of the burst resonating through the air. The peppers looked very red.
NO!!! NO!!! John screamed, collapsing from his chair and slamming his fist on the floor. I COULDNT STOP THEM!!! He cried long and hard that night. I was a burdentill the end, Celia. I shouldve died there. I hope you never know what its like to watch heroes die.
John
There were guys, barely older than me, getting executed by people barely older than our friends. I saw young girls, barely older than fourteen, blowing themselves of for the ideal of justice. I saw children in the hollows of the armories. How can I go back to this?!
Celia tried to sit beside him.
~o~
Wherere we going? Index let Savior borrow her car, learning she didnt have her own transport. She figured she had the right to know.
Im looking for a motel called The Dragon.
what kind of name for a motel is that?
well, its got this Chinese kung fu motif. Really cool. Savior zipped down the citys entertainment district, at its most lively in the latest hours of the night. She barely avoided careening into the other vehicles in mid-air space.
What the hell are you doing?! Havent you ever driven before?!
Umsorry. Im not used to the atmosphere. Savior apologized, but it didnt stop her from narrowly escaping bodily harm. Index knew that she was a Law, and interplanetary exploration goes along with the job of a Class C. She felt a little envious, because she knew she would have given anything to spend another day adrift in orbitIndex just let her eyes absorb all the whizzing lights.
I should cite you for all these traffic violations.
I wouldnt have had to knock the old hag over if you dicks at Traffickers made it illegal for grandmas to drive!
Thats beside the point
Good. Here we are. Savior parked the car on the street beside a large, Oriental-decor motel. In the front of the site was a large, open pagoda made of wood, with the receptionists to the side, and a large dining hall taking up most of the floor. The Dragons rooms surrounded a tranquil pond littered with lotus lily pads, and the curved bridge that was built above it. Yeah, I know, it looks like the kind of place that gets trashed in the movies. The Dragon was empty this late at night, with its patrons snug inside their rooms and a sleepy receptionist drooling on the counter.
This place looks gorgeousis it expensive?
Maybe. But it doesnt cost anything to just hang around the pond, take pictures, send them off to your folks, and tell em how pretty your neighborhood is. Savior then coughed. Ahem, hint hint.
But my mom shouldnt be worried about m-
Right, Savior interrupted. Anyway, were here because I know a guy staying at Room 6. Savior pointed at the said room, which was across the bridge. She walked across it, Index following. Savior then knocked on the door. Sideburn. Sideburn! The door creaked open, revealing an afroed man wearing sunglasses.
Yea?
I came to check my inbox.
Dubya-tee-eff girl. Its like, three in the morning. Sideburn Cool stepped aside, allowing the girls in. It became quickly apparent to Index that he was Saviors contact, a shady yet valuable personality to be acquainted with. Hows the apartment?
It was fine and rocksors, until I locked the door and left my key inside. But none of that mattered anyway because I was bugged the whole time.
WHOA! What the hell are you doing here for?!
You can relax. I washed up, dumped my clothes, everything.
Fine then. Whos your lady friend? Sideburn cocked his head at Index, who bashfully cupped her hands behind her back and leaned against the corner.
A neighbor of mines. She got caught up in this real badI need you to help get her out of here. Savior turned towards Index, looking directly at her. You do want to leave, right?
Um Index wondered out loud. Iwow, this is a nice room. Index was referring to the beautiful paper lanterns, red silk bed sheets and antiqued wooden furniture which decorated the surroundings. Its so neat, and clean
Its just that way because he hasnt gotten any action lately, Savior explained.
You need to chill with that bullshit. Sideburn snapped at Savior, before his attention returned to Index. Whats your name?
UhIndex Iness.
Im Sideburn Cool. From the look of that uniform, Id say youre atrafficker?
Dont be so quick to judge there. She could be a cop too. Savior warned.
No way shes a cop. If she were, you wouldnt be trying to smuggle her out of the city. That, and all cops look like fuckin elephants. Shes cute.
well, uhwhat-what are you? Index stammered. What-what are you-do?
You might wanna sit down for this. Index sat on the silk bed sheets while Index sat at a computer desk in the corner, checking her inbox as mentioned earlier. Im an interplanetary arms smuggler. Her bounty Helmholtz is a friend of mine, but friendship and ideals never paid the bills, which is why Im on her team.
Youre an asshole Side, Savior interrupted.
I know, Mountain. Anyway, this is only a temporary gig, knaamean. Ive only been a smuggler for two years. I spent the last ten years in the business.
The business? Index asked.
The entertainment business. I was an executive producer, cutting deals for shit on the big screen and the home screen, sometimes on the radio and the net. You know, I saw girls like you everyday in the business, but I think youdve had an edge on them.
Uhwhat do you mean by that?
Youre no industry baby. You lived outside the glitz, kiden. Youre real, and youd be surprised how many of them in Hollywood arent. If youre smart as well as cute, youll go far.
Wa-wa-wait, wait waitI dont know much about movies and stuff like that, but I know that you at least have to have famous friends if youre a nobody, right?
So what? Were acquainted, arent we? If you really wanted to, I could probably squeeze you incourse youd have to join the guild, cant do anything without your membership.
Im flattered, but-
We could use more real people like yourself. The average executive is stupider than the average person, and I can just look at you and tell youre a smart girl. See, I can tell because youre quiet. You pay the fuck attention, you shut the fuck up, and you listen. Thats good, thats great. Now I dont mean to be more coarse than I have to be, but in the superstar boondocks, you pay attention so that you observe the unwritten rules.
Hold it. These ideas are just whooshing over my head here! I would hate stardom. All I care about is relaxing and-
See, I knew you were perfect. If you were meant for success, youd know that being a goddamn star was the shits. Youre a puppet if youre a star. The real moneymakers, the real pwners are the boardroom sweaters. They make the shit go down. Im talkin, everyone from execs to directors to writers and the artists. They make the movies and the TV shows, and they get a big piece of the pie in the end too. Sure, theyre not making billions like the stars, but the stars live in tabloid aquariums that the public gets to visit whenever they want, so who gives a fuck about the stars? Point is, if youre a decent writer or something, and you wanted to, you could probably get into the business and make your money in a couple years flat.
why are you telling me all this? Indexs head started to hurt, trying to absorb all the information she was being dealt. Im trying to understand your view on the industrybut its kind of different from what I always thought of it.
So its a damn good thing youre hearing it from me now. First thing you gotta learn about the industry is that all those folks I told you about, the execs and everybody, they make you and break you. Theyre the Republic, the newbs are the bills that have to be passed. Because the constitution of the business is unwritten, you basically gotta listen and adhere to everything they say. If the industry says, ‘please suck this guys dick, hes good press,’ you suck it twice. If the industry tells you, ‘you better suck this guys dick,’ you suck it three times. Dont ask for shit, not until you know you got pull. You know you have pull when you get attached to a moneymaker project, like a hit movie or some shit, and afterwards people ride your nuts. Thats when you can start asking for shit, and theyll give it to you.
"But remember, thats because the industry LOVES to suck cock too. They wanna eat you out because your TV show won an Emmy, then you go to their parties and let them eat you out. You appear on the cable trade shows, you let them ask you the twenty questions in front of the college kids, and you let them clap a thousand times whenever your name is said. Because if you dontwell, then they wont. They wont, ever again. Even when youre at the top, you pay attention to the rest of the industry because theyll eat you alive.
wow. So you know a lot about making entertainment. I can see why youre so tired and weary of it.
Tell me about it kiden. I got a little too hot, so I decided to cool off and take a sabbatical. See, a lot of top players in the industry, they dabble in illegal shit too. Most of the time, they run drugs, maybe counterfeit shit. But me, Im a pioneer. Thats why I know the shit I know. Im a fuckin arms dealer, taking advantage of a fuckin civil war in outer space. The dumb fucks in the business are fuckin Cro-Magnon compared to me.
If youre a smuggler toothen why hasnt Savior caught you yet?
I willwhen one of his loser friends coughs him up to the Feds and a bounty is placed on his ass, Savior interrupted again, before closing her browser and getting up from her chair.
Savior, fuck you. By the way, one of these days I have to show you my kung fu.
You think you can beat me? I watched, fuckin, all of the Blood Tiger series."
Bitch, I green lighted Blood Tiger. At least the second one.
Umwould it be safe of me to say that neither of you know any martial arts at all? Index interjected. From the sound of it, you both think all its cracked up to be is a movie genre.
lol, she just wishes she had my Rising Dragon Kick. Savior waved a print out in front of their faces, and lopped on a chair. Hey, you mind if we stay over the night? Tomorrow morning Im gonna meet up with this one guy.
~o~
Ah, damn, a man mutters to himself after spilling a dab of roasted black coffee onto his white trenchcoat. The diner he waited in was clean and quaint, and he could taste the preparation in every bite of his egg & cheese bagel. He was nervous, feeling time and life slip from his shaking fingers. His expression refused to show what his body did, however, and he just kept on smiling. He smiled at the pretty waitress who offered him the napkins to clean his self, he smiled at the little boy no older than five who asked him what time it was, and he smiled at the free coupons he got from his newspaper.
Thank you miss; oh, its 7:30; sweet! he said respectively. But at the end of it all, he began to knock his knuckles on the table again. He watched the clock and could feel each tick of a second constrict his spine. This is when she finally arrived; or they, as it seemed.
Index, come in. I still dont know why you decided to tag along. The woman he was waiting for, the Law Savior Mountain, went to a waitress and asked her something quickly. Soon, Savior was sitting in front of him. But I just hope you dont break anything, or get any boo-boos.
I asked you nicely to stop treating me like a toddler.
Ill go rent you a cartoon movie as long as you behave, okay?
Okay, Index exasperated in sarcasm.
So youre Savior? he asks, cautiously, still with a nervous smile.
Just so long as youreleesee Savior unfolded a piece of paper she pulled from her pocket. Sword Godspath, right? The man nodded. Then Im Ms. Mountain.
Great! So I said before that there was a woman in this city that Im looking for
Excuse me, Index interjected, but if all youre looking for is one person, why do you have to go and hire a Law to do it for you?
Because shes not registered, Savior and Sword replied, simultaneously. Sword went on. Shes a refugee.
Itll be kinda tough, since refugees usually cant find sunlight work. Sword here would have to go through illegit guys, probably street bookkeepers, to find a specific one, and thats just tame. Do you understand Indie? She nodded. Good. Nowwhat was her name again?
Celia Karen.
