Jasin Fayble

@jasinfayble.bsky.social

421 Followers 427 Following

Greetings and Salutations! I'm Jasin Fayble, a writer. Next step Author. Books are the gateway to civilization. Good writing is Ego Death. - David Foster Wallace Will refollow those of the #writingcommunity

Fluffy white and brown cat rolling around on his back in play.
The American Declaration of Independence with the statement "the merciless Indian Savages" highlighted and zoomed in on.
Chicken Bacon Ranch Stromboli Pizza Dough Cooked Shredded Chicken Cooked Bacon Pieces Ranch Dressing Mozzarella Cheese Cheddar Cheese
“Ma’am?” Miriam remained stoic. “May I enter?” Jen’s mind wrapped around an infinite number of possibilities both terrible and benign. “Miss, uh, Miss Nim. How uh, yes! Oh, forgive me, yes of course, come in. I wasn’t uh, expecting, you coulda called.” The clatter and creak of the storm door echoed in Miriam’s ear as she swallowed a dry throat. Her shy foot stepped onto the doorframe with a clack. She focused on breathing. Her eyes fluttered. A failed swallow and she stepped into the house. Mother Johanson smiled politely from her rocker as daughter giggled and whispered stories in the other room. Miriam’s heart sank and buoyed into her cracked throat. Tears shrink wrapped Jen’s eyes as she stumbled backward in slow motion. Miriam pointed at the couch. “I need you to sit please.” “No, no, no.” Jen’s frantic hand waved Miriam off as if to make everything all right. “No!” She stomped on the carpet. Mother gasped and covered her mouth. Daughter, covered in innocence, zipped into the room and hugged her mother’s waist. Miriam nodded at the couch. “Please, sit.” “Go see momma sweety.” Jen sent her daughter deeper into the living room and floundered backward toward the couch. Miriam somberly removed the jar of ashes from her pack and gingerly set it on the coffee table. Green eyes locked onto Jen’s, darted to her mother, and back to the broken sister. “It was an accident. Shooting. Clean and quick.” A confused daughter felt the room and collapsed into crying as mother sobbed in the background while Jen balled her fists to fight the news to the death before she screamed at Miriam. “No! Don’t you say that about my sister!”
A medium brown, black, and white house cat sitting near his nest of brown paper and glaring his disapproval.
Imhotep shot into Jakob’s personal space and growled at the larger demon. “Can’t or won’t?” Swagger swallowed fear. “Get your sub out of my face please.” Jakob cringed, tightened his jowls, and stood firm before his queen against her lover. Imhotep snarled at the insult but refused to enact any vengeance while Leto slowly and elegantly approached. “I see your heart young Jakob. I see you fighting your fear.” Her soft form pressed against his hardened body when she wrapped her arms around him. Delicate whispers graced his ear. “I know where your heart lies. I’ll not ask you to kill. I know you won’t cast yourself from the Sebitti, my Sebitti. You don’t want to risk it alone in this harsh world. You believe as we do. Heaven has denied us. I can change that. I need you to make this thing reach Tartarus to prove how pure she is,” Leto pulled her head back to stare into the Incubus’ apprehensive eyes, “or isn’t.” Lips gently brushed and teased. The taste of her sweet breath thrilled and frightened him. Jakob swallowed and concentrated on the reduction of his arousal. “I can never love, never forgiven.” Tears swelled in his lovely red tinted eyes as they pleaded for his queen to release his burdened heart. “Let me handle that.” She whispered as her hot lips delicately grazed his neck. The taste of her gentle breath intoxicated the vulnerable Incubus. The lonely pain intermixed with deep sexual desire disoriented him. “I’ll try.” He whispered. Leto watched Jakob as he crouched before the blubbering woman. He inhaled deep and slowly released his woeful sigh. “She’s not susceptible. I can’t” “She resists? Could she be pure enough to resist?” Leto’s excitement flashed across the room.
BAM! The motel room door flew open and crashed into the wall along with Miriam’s shuttering orgasm. A nude Jakob landed on his feet at the foot of the bed in a defensive posture and growled. “Incubus!” The assailant readied his cudgel and settled into a martial stance in the doorway of the ignoble secluded lodging. Miriam yanked the comforter over most of her naked form and aimed a holstered pistol at the intruder. “What the fuck!” Her thumb disengaged the safety as she mightily shook the encased weapon in the direction of the robed middle-aged man holding a stick in her room’s entranceway. “Holy God protect me.” The man swung at Jakob who scrambled backward and grabbed a hairbrush from the counter. The television crumpled under the mighty cudgel. “Freeze! I have a gun!” Miriam scooched back against the headboard and threatened both men in the room. “Jakob! Briefs!” She repositioned the comforter to cover more. “An Oracle?” Jakob’s stiff member bobbed about as he waived the hairbrush threateningly. “Incubus no threaten her.” The Oracle’s broken Italian accent poked through as he repugnantly angled away from Jakob’s angry erection. “Get the fuck out of my room! Jakob! Pants!” The holstered pistol rattled. “Oh no! You two is-a one?” Marco took a step back toward the door. “My vision, it’s here, but where?” Jakob menacingly waved the brush in the air. “Don’t listen to him, he’s dangerous!”
“She’s mine.” Imhotep growled and clenched his fist as he paced the opulent room of the mansion a fifth time. “Do I leave? I don’t, agh! Respect, is that too much to ask for? Maybe I should leave. Let her figure things out on her own. Yeah, how long before she, no, she wouldn’t. Damnit to Hell!” Beige plaster exploded when the son of a Titan punched a hole in the concrete wall. “I’ll, I’ll put her in her place.” A dusty finger bounced off wicked lips. “No, no, no. Don’t be stupid, don’t play her game. What shall I . . . ?” A sly grin crept across his beautiful soft bronze face before he stormed out of the private chamber. Imhotep found Leto on the generously sized balcony overlooking the glistening salt scented sea. A servant gently fanned her impossibly perfect body as she sipped on a crisp alcoholic beverage and stared out into the deep blue expanse of her thoughts. The demon queen’s vast mental acuity worked possibilities of a plethora of futures when her lover approached. Without a glance, the corner of Leto’s plush lips curled into mockery. “Convinced yourself to confront me, have you? What’s on your shallow mind Imhotep.” “Shallow? That’s exactly it! Respect.” He snarled and sat on the padded teak beach chair opposite hers. “Always on you, always on me, always on us, your mind isn’t as deep as you pretend. Know your place child.” Ice clinked as Leto casually sipped her libation and placed it on the exquisitely carved table. A graceful hand waved, and the servant vanished into the house. “I saw you and Samyaza! That night at the mixer in LA in the park.” Imhotep growled through shiny white ivories. Leto swept soft black strands behind bejeweled ears and chuckled at the memory and result. “His sin is lust! The idiot fell from Heaven, a place neither of us were ever allowed because he couldn’t keep his dick in his pants. How else do you suggest I control him? He’s very well endowed. It’s as if his purpose is to fuck. Would you rather he fucks you?”
The Incubus sulked and closed the door behind him. She glared at Jakob. “It’s uh, complicated.” “Then uncomplicate it.” Doaks crossed thick dark arms over a barrel chest. Miriam’s forehead puckered as she tried not to chew on a fingernail. “We need your help. You got any of the case file here?” “You know I’m not posed to take the file home.” The detectives gaze never left the strange man in his kitchen. “Yeah, but.” “Whose he and what the hell happened to you?” Doaks noticed a cringe, a lean, and a series of glue spots across her face and arms. “Hi. I’m Jakob.” The incubus grinned and shoved a hand at the detective who glowered and narrowed an observant eye. The detective flicked the light on and clenched his jaw at Miriam. “You look bad. Can’t see a doc huh?” She gently shoved Jakob back and inserted herself in between them. “I’m fine.” “Course you are. Never hurt are ya?” Doaks shook his head, snorted, and flung the fridge door open. “Well, he’s uh, my partner, I suppose.” She winced. “We’re working the case together because we both got wrongly accused.” Doaks tossed Miriam and Jakob each a beer before he opened one for himself, downed a mouthful, and wiped suds from his thick lips. “Cop killers, yeah. In my fucking house. If it wasn’t for the code Nim.”
Jakob’s second track suit itched. He scratched. “Find anything in there?” Miriam smirked as the jalopy creaked along the road toward the marina. He lifted his butt off the seat to dig deeper. “Hey, what exactly are we doing now?” “Gotta try to find the body. Long shot but could break the case.” She waved at the driver at a four way stop to go already. “A body? In the ocean? You sure this’ the right move?” The passenger seat creaked as Jakob leaned back and stretched the polyester cotton blend of the suit to air out his junk. Miriam laughed. “No! This is all new territory. You know how we can convince a judge that Pollux convinced a cop in love to shoot her partner and then commit suicide?” He settled into the seat. His lips curled in frustration. An I-told-you-so finger shot up between them before she hung a hard right. “Exactly. Your truth won’t fly. We need more evidence, whatever we can find.” He grabbed the overhead handle and braced the forces of gravity as the clunker bounced around the corner. “But I thought the case was over, we did it.” The rough patch in the road caused the radio to come on. “One leads to the other. Motive is a powerful thing in court and maybe we can find a way to convince a judge to lock up Pollux on the murder suicide if we can’t get him on the mass shooting in the park.” Miriam banged on the tune machine and made it stop playing a commercial. “Oh.” He went quiet with his chin locked between curled fingers. “What?” “Nothin.” “What?” Agitation grew in her voice.
Alen Tudyk as Harry Vanderspeigle in Resident Alien
A medium fur length white, brown, and black cat on his back playing with a red and white spiral colored ball.
Brown and white medium length fur cat on a window sill hiding behind leaves from a viney plant.
William Gibson is one of the most exciting writers to hit science fiction in a long while. His first novel is an event I've been eagerly awaiting. -Robert Silverberg NEUROMANCER WILLIAM GIBSON
Two medium length fur cats in a giant bright green tree house.
To the confoundment of those present, a shirtless man covered in egregious tattoos depicting an assortment of violence intermixed with burn welts, gouges, and scars who wore baggy black jeans, topped with a World War One face mask stopped welding to confront Acsel’s plea. Upon recognition of the cons, he dropped his stinger onto a steel table with a loud series of clacks, tossed heavy gloves atop the tool, and worked his way across the steel platforms to the group. The chromer, tagged Fix, joined the escort to the main structure in the middle of the nest. Miranda and Tune wordlessly expressed concern to their friend at the sight of Fix. Acsel replied with a calm wink. A pair of crumbled factories reinforced with steel and rusted iron haphazardly welded together surrounded them. Despite the magnificently competent work done, no clear vision of the final project existed. Once inside, the cacophonous clamor came to a drastic halt. Fix turned Acsel to face him. “I thought you died!” The muffled voice and the gasp of air from the filter made Fix appear to be a villain or mutant or mutant villain. No proper doors and many ins and outs dotted the warehouse full of crates and supplies. The salvaged goods varied in age, condition, and brand. Some scavenged and others stolen or otherwise acquired from corporate stores and vendors. In the opposite corner beyond the gathered gang a locked down steel cubicle protected the most precious of all the Slammers possessions, the sound system and the node loaded with all of Slam’s music, even the rare tracks, the remixes, and the underground album Frag the G from way back when they rocked in New Chic. The rest of the room cluttered itself with pneumatic tanks to run power tools, a huge battery station for the battery-operated equipment, and spare parts and bits for continued operation.
Leather bound The More Than Complete Hitchhiker's Guide by Douglas Adams Complete and Unabridged. It includes all five books of the trilogy.
“Likewise, China.” Acsel returned the kindness and escorted his yuyu out of the apartment. The rain swept in as Acsel stopped at a vendor near the entrance to the Piazzu. “Yep, figured.” He acquired three disposable masks and raincoats from the boxes on the vendor’s table as he typed a number into his credstick and held it out. “Two Ninety.” The old man revealed a devilish grin. “Was two fifty last week!” Acsel snarled and adjusted the number on his credstick. The money transferred from one to the other. “Fraggin gannet bastard.” The cons handed out the gear which he and Tune immediately donned. Miranda scoffed and held the two items with reluctant fingertips. “What’re these for?” Acsel hailed a cab. “Rain and can’t catch a sherbert wifout masks. Put it on.” “A what?” Tune stepped in and raised both eyebrows. “A sherbert, short for sherbert dab, Brit slang for cab.” “Why?” Miranda looked up at the dreary red and orange sky, beyond the neon of the skyrisers and holobillboards where no star could be gleaned. “What’s wif all the questions?” Acsel dared to spit out. “What? Am I whining too much for you?” The now out of her element Miranda mocked. Tune stepped in between them while Acsel worked on their ride. “Because sweetheart, the rain here is acidic and the plagues are everywhere. Can you imagine what would happen if a single cabbie caught it? C’mon now, let him do what he does best, and we’ll all be better off for it, just like you the past few days. Actual?”
“More equipment for Shun.” The only explanation required thanks to Acsel’s pass cards and uniforms. One of the guards offered to help with the trolley but Remi politely declined. With the number of guards and high alert status maintained for the past several days, no one would be foolish enough to break in. “All right, I’ll take these.” Einnar stopped the cart deep within the nest of the laboratory and lifted the two cases of water bottles. “And you take that to the . . .” “I know where I’m going Einnar.” He frowned. “Be safe. That skiff will set off the alarm as soon as . . .” “Einnar! Babe, I know. Let’s get a move on so we can get the frag out of here.” The second interruption accompanied a gentle smile and a soft rub against his massive frame to comfort and point out the seriousness of her statement without harm to a fragile ego. “Okay, love you babe.” He sauntered across the main floor to the lab itself. She strolled past the bathrooms to her target. Remi’s key card opened the heavy security door and allowed her into the man trap, or the tiny room in-between two heavy security doors. The virtually indestructible doors could be opened only one at a time. A guard politely assisted the slight woman with the weighty pushcart. She sent him a smirk and swiped the pass card a second time. A panel appeared on the wall from an overhead projector. The nine-digit password provided by Acsel worked. The door hissed when it opened into the airtight skiff. She wheeled the cart into the data center and stole a glance at the time on her node. Eighteen minutes remained before the first set charge would blow. Remi left the skiff.
A pile of perfectly crisp bacon
Brown, black, and white medium length fur cat on a cat tree playing with a dangling ball and ignoring me.
X-Men (1991) 1-D By Marvel Magneto Cover
“I’m counting on you.” Rache finished the virtual box he sealed the team in. “No good! Damn mummy Virizzed me. Need to free some space. Going for Rushgrams and more MUs.” 5p00k returned his attention to Sasquatch. “Try it now Sas!” The syscrak activated his Real World Window to reconnect and use his body while he remained within the red. Encased in a silicone trode suit, his hands, guided by senses thrust through the red, looped into the program, and returned to his body via remote worked on the node attachment. He swiftly applied rushgrams and additional Memory Units to his red node at the cost of programs no longer needed. Sasquatch returned high caliber bullets into the smoke. Pungent sulfur spoiled the palette and clogged sinuses. “Rebooting! Mister Tac, I’ll be bouj in twenty.” “System stalled, ready for power out.” Alone, Lorelei scanned the dark and serene room of desks and research equipment. Stray bullets ripped through a wall nearby. “Contacts confirmed, falling back.” Kreep checked on the next room and grunted. “These guys are droppers.” He flung a sticky tracker onto the sliver of a window in the corner of the massive room and retreated to the commander and Sasquatch. “Lori, tracker up.” “Three contacts approaching through conference room d twenty.” TS416 announced as it assisted 5p00k with the connect to the power grid within the development room. “Lori go.” 5p00k cut the power. “Oh yeah! Up and running!” Sasquatch stomped through screams of the injured in the direction of the room with the droppers. “On it.” Kreep sprinted to the west door and into a conference room off the side of the office.
Kane waited inside the main door to the club and monitored the street. His contact arrived in an MFC Street Prowler. Immediately, the civil servant whisked out the dark doorway, into the rain, and down the busy neon washed street. Acsel noticed Kane’s approach and actively scanned the area for any escape route before he decided against instinct and stood his ground beside the bottom feeder of a roller. A disappointed snarl crawled across Acsel’s face. “What the frag you want chota?” Acsel spit at Kane when his rival approached. The cons had to be tough, especially in the face of a cop, even a former cop. No matter how strong the desire to not get his head smashed in, he had to save face in front of the numerous streeters in proximity. “Not a cop.” Kane grinned as he invaded Acsel’s personal space. “You of all people should know that.” He knew how to strike the perfect balance between sufficient fear to force the streeter to talk but not enough to cause flight. The former cop recognized the value of a good cons on the street and decided not to rough Acsel up and damage his reputation in front of the nearby punks. “Barmy gettin in me face. Find some other mothah’s suckah for that, yeah? I know what you want. Don’t ’ave nofin to do wif me, yeah?” Acsel’s smart mouth defied the vastly larger Kane. “Right now, it has everything to do with you.” The slight agitation in his voice grew. He wanted the event to be concluded. The thump and stench of streeter parties weighed on him. Acsel’s rebellion crept him a step back to his roller to create space. Kane sharply huffed over Acsel’s expensive cologne as he slid in closer to eliminate the new expanse. “Tell me where Marty is.” “Ain’t seen ’im in yonks. Why?” The little slag’s bravery pushed annoyance to its brink. Kane snatched Acsel’s shirt by the chest with both hands and pressed him against the pathetic little Prowler. “Because I fragging asked nicely and I’m tired of you streeter punks jerking me off.”
The stink of sexual sweat glued to his body as Jakob casually strolled nude across the huge clean-cut yard, past the elevated bushy eyebrows of the landscaper, and to the metal gate at the end of the long driveway. A pristine suit wrapped him in a tight package along the route. The tall, embroidered gated wall did nothing to slow a quick climb and hop over. Sprung free of the mansion compound, and onto the feral street lined with extravagant homes Jakob sighed, slipped on polished black loafers, and rubbed sharp jowls. A black and perfectly trimmed ten o’clock shadow gently veiled his chiseled face as he gnashed perfect teeth at the luxury sedan across the way. A pure white soft cotton button down draped the shoulders and extended sandy golden locks of the small intense man opposite Jakob. Tight olive-skinned muscles rippled through an open shirt and across the man’s frame as he leaned over the vehicle. “Get in.” The velvety steel voice grated on Jakob’s intricate palette while too many bracelets and accessories clattered across the delicate paint of the opulent white automobile. A frown accompanied Jakob’s narrowed reddish orbs as they sought refuge and a course of retreat in any direction. No get away this time. The trapped deviant let loose a deep exhale before a sultry and detached utterance as he returned focus to the man across the street. “Which one are you?” “Get in now.” Dark hazel eyes and a snarl beckoned his cooperation. Jakob sighed, gave into temptation, and climbed into the affluent vehicle.
Medium brown and white furred cat attacking a window with a grasshopper on the other side.
Already on it, Isla spun the cruiser’s laptop toward Marek. “Officer Hoight. Her and Jim must be . . .” Marek stopped her with a finger in the air. “Got it. Does the guy sleep with everyone?” “Not everyone.” Isla threw a thumb in her own direction before she leaned under Marek, opened the glove box, and retrieved binoculars. Marek’s nostrils caught a pleasant scent. Without consideration he breathed it in fully. “That’s nice.” The statement sprung forth without intention. “What?” “Oh, uh, your uh, perfume. It’s nice.” He turned to the side window with a cringe. “Cherry blossom.” She hid a grimace at her window. Let’s put some body spray on and see if he’ll notice. Well, he noticed! Now what? Stupid! Way to be subtle Isla. Now you’re a third grader with a crush. “It’s nice.” The lame response choked him. You sniffed her perfume! What was it? Rule number three? Don’t get caught smelling the woman you’re attracted to! Or any woman for that matter. You idiot! Way to be subtle Marek. Real smooth. Now she’s gonna hate you again and it’s all your fault! Marek unwittingly inhaled strongly a second time. Mortified, he returned a terrified gaze to the side window. Several long minutes of silence passed as Marek wandered between embarrassment and the case before an idea spawned. “Why would he do it? What’s his motive?” The question provided enough courage to glance at her. Isla shrugged.
Imagine you and your team sticking together through strategy meetings and film watching. You fight hard every day in practice to make everything perfect. You play through injury, blood, burning muscles, dripping sweat, and exhausted lungs. The game finally arrived. Your brothers go to war, side by side. You encourage one another to battle through it, keep the moral high, we can do this. They lift you off the ground through every weary pain. The opponent is winning until your team overcomes the struggle ties the game with one second remaining. You lose. There's nothing you can do, because that guy over there can kick a ball really well.
Two medium fur length brother cats. One mostly white with brown and black fleking on his back being cute and the other in a pile of packing paper he uses as a nest. The second is black and brown with a white face and chest. He's waiting impatiently.
A list of all 14 #vss365 prompts from the past two weeks.
A medium fur white, brown, and black cat sitting and glaring at you.
The veteran returned with a paltry amount of brackish water. He laid with her, the hot sand, and chilled winds. “Babe!” Einnar whispered as he nudged the motionless Remi. “Wha.” She stirred and barely moved. “Drink this.” Einnar offered the hat. Remi lifted her head and opened her mouth while he poured the murky fluid. She jerked from the taste. He grasped her jaw and prevented her from spitting any out. “No, babe, drink it.” She swallowed. “It’s not clean.” The whisper forced its way to him. “Could kill us.” “We’ll deal with that after we get out of here. Right now, you need water. Drink.” Her refusal died along with any remaining energy. He gave all the gathered water to the nearly expired fleshtek. She fainted. He licked the moisture from the hat and awaited dawn. At sunrise Einnar whispered to not attract any unwanted predators and shook Remi to no effect. “Babe! Babe!” She remained still and silent. “Stay here, I’ll be back in a few hours.” He relented and staggered off in the direction of the vulture’s last travel. The safari hat hung from his belt as he ascended the scorched rocks. Einnar discovered the vulture retirement spot to be not as distant as he’d believed. A pothole of collected rainwater and scattered bird feces awaited his arrival. The scant few birds hidden in the rocky shadows dispersed from the giant’s approach. He hesitated not, filled the hat, and drank the remainder himself. Somewhat renewed, Einnar scrambled across the rocks to the campsite. Remi’s fever raged as she moaned uncontrollably. As delicately as possible he fed her the water. “I’m sorry babe. There’s nothing more I can do. I don’t have the strength to try anymore.”
Nine Inch Nails is bringing their Peel It Back Tour with special guest Boys Noize to BOK Center on February 27!
Three foot skeleton decoration in a washing machine.
“Sons of Samyaza, I give to you our fourteenth meeting with our brother Mikael. Remain pure of heart and thought for he shall forgive and welcome our return.” Jowl’s clenched with pride and Samyaza tapped a fist to his heart as he stood before the Sebitti. “Five nineteen approaches.” The second Iblīs in command opened golden eyes and looked to his leader. “Yes, brother Azazel, I can feel the Thin Viel weakening.” Samyaza’s Olympian musculature and ancient athletic frame clenched as dark eyes widened. “I sense him, he returns to us!” Powerful hands nervously probed tightly knit black hair and gently patted a thick short box beard to be assured of his appearance before he turned away from his siblings and rested his spear on the ground in submission. In unison, the entire Sebitti dropped to a knee and bowed to the inner circle of the sacred Stonehenge. Perfect illumination formed the being of Mikael and lit the field for miles. An exquisite incarnation of man appeared within the bright light and took shape as a godly creature. Three pairs of wings unfolded, slithered, and wrapped about the stonework of the sacred place to anchor the angel on Earth. Soft brown locks stretched across the flawlessness of his nude form as he floated before the cowed crowd. Pure brilliant white eyes sought purity within the presented hearts as they bore into each of the fallen one by one in absolute silence. Samyaza’s firm soft-spoken voice broke the pact of mute stillness. “Brother Mikael. Welcome to Earth. We served fourteen millennia, pure and loyal, watched and not touched. We’ve allowed fate to take the humans as it will. Redemption my most sacred brother for myself and my flock. Please, brother, we beg of you to return our wings so we may cross over and feel the light of Heaven anew. Punish us no more for our transgressions.”
The prisoner seeped out a heavy breath. “Then we caught a break. Hirotomi didn’t realize the threat the Vice President, uh, frag, what’s his name? Of Uraguay.” He snapped his fingers to remember. “Well, anyway . . .” “Perez.” “Yeah!” Kane snapped his fingers one final time, pointed at Oliver, and gleamed. “Uh, yeah, Perez was under threat of a coup from his cousin, I think it was, so this guy was paranoid right? He recorded everything, everywhere, all the time. Hirotomi didn’t realize this when he went to the guy and threatened him to cooperate. We had the recording.” “This wasn’t in your trial.” “Yeah.” Kane laughed mockingly. “Funny how it works huh? Damn thing got itself erased. Don’t know who done it. Got me good with that slag. I still have my doubts about the Sanders guy.” He drifted off into deep memory. “What do you mean?” Kane snapped awake at the question. He shrugged and held his hands innocently aloft. “Well, c’mon. Smells like a setup to me.” “An elaborate one perhaps.” “Yeah, that’s what they said.” “At your trial.” “Yeah.” “What happened?” “At the trial? You’ve got a copy of it, I’m sure.” “Yes, I mean no, tell me what happened at Hirotomi’s Tower.” Oliver corrected himself to stay on topic.
The bike rocked madly when Miranda fired the stolen booster auto-shotgun. Massive recoil from the immensely powerful weapon sent the firearm into Damien’s back before it bounced out to the side and reflected off the handlebars. She rotated her shoulder and grimaced at the new bruise. “Ow! What the hell! That fragging hurt!” His desolate glare calmed when she looked him in the eye and grinned. Even with plush swollen and split lips, both eyes blackened, and blood matted hair Damien found himself entranced by the untamed nomad woman. “Can’t be helped!” She fired a wild shot and barely controlled the recoil. Preparedness for the heavy weapon did little for him as the dual-roller wobbled and damn near wiped out. Damien scowled, bruises and cuts from head to toe amplified the whacks in the back. Miranda’s high-speed beauty and adrenaline from the race of certain death wrestled with new-found courage. He grabbed her filthy tangled hair and slammed a huge kiss onto cracked lips. “Ouch! You fragnut! Can’t you see my fragging lip is busted open?” “Can’t be helped!” Damien gunned the bike to maximum throttle and settled into full combat drive mode. The real-life high-speed chase led them to dodge grifters, potholes, trash, burned out vehicles, rubble from fallen architecture, and skeletal remains of the wars. Damien masterfully zipped through all of it with a super-hot woman on his lap. “This is the best video game ever.” He slipped into a relaxed focus on the race as they tore through busy decayed streets before he remembered her question. “Yeah, I know where you’re talking about. What of it?”
'em instead of ‘em
Bright green eyed medium length brown and white furred cat being silly on his back on a chair.
Medium black and brown furred cat on a nest of packaging paper.
Remi inspected the door, squatted, and removed picks from within her right arm. A few moments later she pulled the handle with success. As the door swung open Einnar grabbed her hand and the door latch. Both held firm. He closed it and ushered Remi to back off. “Wait.” He sharply whispered and gently shoved her away. She curled a lip mid grimace. “Okay.” The experienced dropper leaned in to listen at the door. Einnar shushed her with a waived hand, unlatched the handle, and slowly pushed it open a tiny smidge at a time. The movement ceased when he spotted a hook and line at the corner above the doorway. “Slag.” He narrowed his eyes and motioned for her to hold the door handle. “Hold this, don’t move it. Not at all, you vibe?” A finger shot into her face. “I vibe geez. What is it?” He scoured the trash in the area, found a piece of metal, and polished it against his vest. “Probably a trap.” “A trap!” Remy flailed and squawked. “And you casually got me in the way of it?” Einnar seized her hand and the door latch. “No, I told you to stay still. Now move, I got this.” He looked at his left arm, the one with no power and released a disappointed tsk. Her eyebrows sailed as she returned her hand to the latch. “You were rudely saying?” Einnar smirked and accepted her help. He gently poked the polished metal sliver into the crack of the door. The makeshift mirror revealed enough of the room to cause him to slouch in dread. “Damn. It’s a claymore.” His head drooped in disappointment. Einnar retracted the mirror and tossed it aside. “Hold still.” He lapped the miniature property a second time.
A list of all 14 prompts from the past two weeks crossed out.
Marek followed her to the hood of the cruiser where she hopped onto a spot of rust to eat the meal. “Are you mad at . . .” “What’s there to be mad at? Go on your stupid date. Sheesh! Why’s everything gotta be about you? Like I care if you go on a date.” Marek rubbed his jaw and let slip a single quiet laugh of disbelief and agitation. He watched Isla handle the burger with both hands, not fingers but full-on hands. Sauces squished everywhere when she crammed immense bites into her mouth. Confusion mixed with a tinge of disgust when her chaws and smacks overtook any realistic conversation. “Could you, uh, give me a ride back to the station at least?” He scratched the back of his neck. She pointed at the burger. “Onsh I’m finish.” Marek blinked at her. “Okay. Thank you.” “No probsh.” Isla expressed along with a ‘no big deal’ shrug and sucked in a tremendous bite through the middle of the U-shaped banquet. He stared at Isla as she crammed the succulent sandwich into her face with unabashed resistance to shame. A reddish white mixture caked to her cheeks. Children don’t eat this poorly. She so, so, I don’t know, it’s fascinating. She truly doesn’t care what people think of her. I wish I could be like that. His doubt in her angled toward appeasement without his permission.
“Maybe, you should listen to the two of us! He’s using you!” “Look! He bailed me out in Brazil, and I owe him for it. Besides, it’s good money and most of the time the info’s good.” “Most of the time? You’re putting both of your lives, Remi’s life at risk for ‘most of the time’? You told me, you got them out, doesn’t that repay the supposed debt?” His head rocked to the side as if she punched him in the face. “I get it!” Einnar’s fist clenched as muscles rippled. A furious whisper chased her words back to the source. “Do you have any idea how fragging hard it is to get anywhere in this slagfest of a fragging life, much less get ahead? Soon as you catch up on your bills and get the rare chance to celebrate with real food at a real restaurant, boom! Something goes wrong. Then you’re right where you were a few weeks before, screwed, with no money and no means of paying off whatever the frag just happened. If it’s not my leg, it’s Remi’s school loan, or they’re increasing the rent, or you get laid off, or something’s wrong with the roller again, or one of us got sick, or last month this can of chow was only thirty-nine cents and now it’s a credit fragging fifty! Frag!”
The swirl of abyss and black nightmares ceased. Damien found himself on the cracked concrete floor of a former nightclub. Moisture and rank sewer filth covered his person. He spit out congealed blood and examined the sparse room. A mob of cyber laced, steeled-out, juiced to cyb-heaven boosters relaxed, carried on, and slam danced to the hardcore and overtly loud metal music. The boss and de facto leader of the gang dragged a slave girl by the hair closer to Damien and lorded over the diminished syscrak. A plethora of the warboss’ many tattoos glowed neon, one of which displayed the number seventeen as a kill counter. If Damien had such a counter, it would read null. The beast of a man commanded great respect from the horde, due in part to his fanatical aggression but also for the rare talent and capacity for coherent thought amidst the haze of incredible drugs. Despite the dangerous position Damien found himself in, the nomad girl caught his attention. The normally attractive fit figure and lovely façade diminished at the sight of long wavy brown locks caked with blood. Fortunately for the lady, the boosters held aloft reckless violence, hate, and drugs as the ultimate get off, the concept of woman abused in that way held no appeal. “So yuyu. What tha frag yous is doin in my bat’room, huh?” The deafening concert and associated amiable attitude dimmed when the warboss interrupted the chaos of the slam dancing masses in the graffiti coated room. Damien broke from his daydream of the captive woman and cringed when the crowded room of junk head gang members notorious for violence all turned their attention from the party to him in expectation of a prompt answer.
Fallen skyrisers and old skyscrapers littered the ruins. Scattered among them a graveyard of twisted vehicular remains and craters from age-old bombs. Wear from the irradiated sand on the wind aggressively attacked the broken concrete landscape. Domiciles, factories, and more created piles and resembled clawed protrusions amid the dismal darkness and wasted remains akin to ancient angry gods who reached out from below the wretched earth. Others crumbled low and created deep and wide chasms, the likes of which spanned miles and resembled giant cracks in dried mud. Miranda led them as if she’d been in that decayed place before and indeed, she had. The dread determination in Miranda’s face as they worked quickly along the fractured terrain instilled silence upon both men. Approximately an hour scrolled by when Tune increased his stride to trek alongside her. Secondhand terror and weary legs had worn thin. “I’m deathly tired and so thirsty.” Tune whispered. Emphasis on his immediate pains plagued any reluctance to break the silence. “Push through it. We have to . . .” Tune interrupted first. “But . . .” Acsel interrupted the interruption as he rushed closer. “What we runnin from anyways? Why’re you so scared? You’re scarin Tune, 'ell, you’re scarin me.”
Brown, black, and white medium length fur cat leaning awkwardly on a blanketed pedestal while he lays across a window sill.
The band blonde
Fuzzy medium length brown and white fur cat laying on his back with his front paws tucked around his chest.
“Understood. A few more minutes. Over.” Miranda reduced the radio receiver volume for her long-awaited private moment with Damien. Affection and a smatter of mental fatigue covered her face. “You gonna come see me when this is done?” A hopeful smile warmed him. Explosions and screams of combat in the middle distance forced their way into the conversation. “Definitely.” He followed his boyish grin with a short, sweet kiss. “You’ve got this right? I mean it’s right there.” She pointed at the police station less than a block away. “Be safe, you’re in the right Damien.” With impish charm Damien tilted his head and sent a comforted smile her way as he etched every little detail of Miranda’s face into his mind. He stood; she followed. Briefly they held hands to continue the moment for as long as possible. Eventually, she bolted in the direction of the main combat and the Aerodyne Sinetic’s office. Damien watched her perfect body speed through the shadows of the fiery night for only a moment before Miranda stopped and turned. “I think I might . . .” “Yeah, me to.” “I’ll find you! See ya when I see ya!” A modest unit of police officers chased after her as she disappeared into an alleyway. Damien hustled to the outer gates of the heavy bunker of a police station. He paused with trepidation at the discovery of the police dispatch of multiple air and ground units to deal with the incursion into the Corporate Zone. The idea of an NFPD and SecurCorp joint operation against Miranda’s family unnerved him. No time to dwell on the subject, he eased it out of his mind.