Enjoy! (Starts at Red text)
CHAPTER 1
Demon Eye
July 21st, 2096
To anyone on the outside looking in, Jack didn’t have any reason to be here. It was some seedy bar in some seedy backwater city, with nobody in it that was particularly worth noticing. Jack sparked his lighter and lit his cigarette, taking a long drag before resuming his pleasant conversation with the man reading the newspaper.
“30 grand.” He said calmly before blowing a thin stream of smoke from his lips.
“They have information you might be looking for, as you’ll recall.” The man said in a voice that betrayed his outward calm. The man looked to be in his 40’s, he had no hair, and he was wearing a pair of yellow-tinted sunglasses.
“That’s why it won’t cost you 50.” Jack took another drag before crushing the cigarette into the ashtray sitting on the table between them.
“How do I know you’ll get the job done?” the man asked with only a passing glance away from his paper.
“I have an excellent track record,” Jack said after letting some smoke trail from the side of his mouth, “and you’ve seen it for yourself. You know it’s real.”
“Know what’s real?” the man asked, taking another glance away from his paper.
“My eye.” Jack said calmly, leaning back in his chair. “I saw you look at it. Twice.”
“I suppose I can’t help but be curious.” The man said, turning to a new page in his newspaper. “If you’re sure you can do it, then I suppose I can arrange payment.”
“Don’t give me that crap.” Jack said in a voice both jesting and derisive, a thin smile on his lips.
“What do you mean?” the man said with the slightest hesitation. He knew he had been caught the instant he spoke, but Jack could tell the man needed the job done and a little embarrassment wasn’t about to stop that.
“I won’t do it unless you guarantee it. Ten thousand now, the rest when the job is done. It’s a good deal. Take it.” Jack pulled out another cigarette and twirled it in his fingers.
“Fine. I’ll accept that.” A briefcase was placed on the table between them, and Jack gladly transferred it to his side of the table. “The details are inside.”
Jack smiled and stood up, briefcase in hand and cigarette between his lips. “It was a pleasure.”
He was out the door and down the street in less than 2 minutes, on his way to the motel he was staying in. The street was dark and damp, and the cloudy night sky didn’t help it look any better. Jack passed several men selling drugs, waving them off before they could even open their mouths. They’d all be selling the same thing, and he didn’t want it. He’d stick with nicotine. Thinking of which, it was time for another smoke.
Jack unlocked his room and stepped inside, flicking on the light without a conscious thought. Everything was brown and old. He wouldn’t have been surprised if he found a raccoon on his bed, even though they hadn’t bothered to bring any when they terraformed this horrible, red, space rock. Mars had been left for the dregs of society even before the Flare Tragedy on Earth. Now it was keeping to its roots while the other planets were being colonized and actually becoming useful. Of course, humankind had only gone as far inward as Venus and as far outward as Saturn, but they made good use of moons. This job would be Jack’s ticket to wherever she was. But one thing he knew for certain: it wasn’t anywhere on Mars. He used the nightstand to snuff his cig, since they hadn’t provided an ashtray. It soon joined with a small mound of similarly discarded cigarettes. The small mound of butts forming on the table was not started by Jack, however. He had found it when he arrived. He was just contributing to the monument.
He popped open the briefcase and pulled out the disc containing the information. He groaned a little, since it would mean a lot of time waiting for the stupid motel computer to read it. He slid it into the dusty slot while the terminal warmed up, and passed the time counting the cash. He was just over five thousand when the terminal finally decided to spring to life.
He slid over to the rusty can of a computer and delicately used the rust-caked control board to open the file on the disc. It was a list of instructions. The disc told him to go back to the bar the next night and get into a truck that would take him to a small compound on the outskirts of the city. Supplies would be in the truck, and so would blueprints of the compound. Jack smelled a rat. It wasn’t long before he heard it too, scratching around the room. One sudden bang later the rat was very dead, a large hole remaining where its head used to be. Jack slipped his revolver into its holster with a disdainful scowl. “Little disease bag…”
The document continued, telling him that his target was named Joseph Hook, the leader of a local drug cartel. Jack smiled to himself. “Perhaps this will get rid of the pushers around here?” He thought to himself. But then a new thought. “Or maybe he’s got info on Red Dragon?” he always thought the name of that crime syndicate was lame, but it was the last one left and was thought to be related to every speck of crime on every planet, moon, and space station. But it wasn’t a sure bet. Jack figured there was a 50/50 chance this guy was working for them.
Jack already hated this job. He knew he was probably being drawn into working for some kind of police force and wouldn’t be told until the job was done. Too bad he’d already signed the contract, and the $10,000 he had wasn’t enough to get off the planet and live anywhere else for any significant amount of time. He frowned to himself and moved back to the bed, touching the lights off before lying down and closing his eyes. He made sure to sleep on top of the sheets, since he didn’t even want to know what kind of parasites the bed had in it. He let himself drift off into the darkness, embracing the brief hours he would have away from reality. The only place he could see her.
Everything was dark, but he could hear her humming. The melody was soft, sweet, and sad. He could hear the crackling of a fire…and something else, that wasn’t quite familiar. He only knew that she was doing …something. She paused in her song for a moment. The air grew eerily empty.
“Please keep singing.” He whispered.
Jack sat up in bed, the sun suddenly glaring through the window into his eyes. He groggily picked himself up and went into the bathroom, which was as grime-covered as the rest of the room.
He stared into the mirror at his face. His stringy black hair dangled down to his chin, a few strands covering his eyes. His eyes…they were so foreign to him. His left was a crystal blue. The color he was born with. But his right was crimson. It was a post-birth genetic enhancement. It wasn’t supposed to be possible, but Red Dragon had done it anyways. They never did like being told no, even when it was reality saying it. They told him that they called it the “Demon’s Eye” and he told them to go shut their head in an airlock. Of course, being the arrogant bums they were, they proceeded to go into extravagant detail about its many uses. Apparently, it used “soft electric pulses” or something to knock out someone else’s perception of him. He could now also see things far better, and if he focused, he could actually see things in a sort of slow-motion way.
After this explanation, he changed his mind about shoving their head into an airlock, and suggested they shut something entirely different into an airlock, and they got the message and left.
Man, he wanted a cigarette. He retrieved one from a fresh carton and took a few long drags before flicking it into the trashcan and starting the shower. It took several seconds for the water to muscle past the grime in the pipes, and several more seconds to lose the brown color. Jack wouldn’t be taking off his socks for this shower.
As the disturbingly thick water hit his body, Jack began thinking again. It always scared people when he did that, but it was part of life. After he was done on Mars, where would he go? Earth was trashed, but he did remember something about a cathedral…they didn’t have many of those off of Earth anymore. Most people lost religion when they watched Earth’s moon get half blown-up and half melted into a twisted, glassy-looking ball of crap that now constantly rained small meteorites on the surface of Earth. Jack hated when he started thinking about history. That was over 25 years ago. He wasn’t even born yet.
He toweled himself off, unsure of whether he felt cleaner or dirtier after that shower. Either way, he put on some jeans, a dark red T-shirt and his coat. He slipped on his hat on the way out and immediately began wondering what he was going to do all day.
There was nothing fun about this city. The city of New Vegas was absolutely nothing like the original. It was more like New York without the soul, and with all the old mess. Jack figured it was better than, say, New Tokyo, which was hovering somewhere in high orbit over Jupiter, constantly fighting with the gas giant’s constant pull. Word was that it was the main hub for Red Dragon activity, and that you couldn’t walk 5 feet without getting mugged at least once. The thought brought a smile to Jacks face, the mere absurdity of it. Imagine being the 5th mugger in the line. Everybody would be out of money by the time they got to you.
New Vegas was rather dimly lit during the day, but it was downright blinding compared to the nights. There were no stars to be seen above, thanks to the heavy amounts of terraformic gases that were still lingering, still creating oxygen and atmosphere. For now, it just looked like smog. Too bad the scientists who invented the stuff didn’t make it pink. Then it might have made New Vegas a much more pleasant place to live.
Jack lit another cig and took a drag. He let it out slowly into the air so as not to annoy others walking down the street. Not that he cared about them, he just didn’t want any unnecessary hassle. He walked into a diner and sat down. He could at least get some breakfast.
“Late start today?” the waitress asked in a voice that was too annoying for it not to be done on purpose.
“Is there anybody else who can serve me? Someone who doesn’t make my ears bleed?” At least, that’s what came to mind first. But that would just compromise the edibility of the food he was about to eat. So instead he put on his best smile and said, “Yep. I consider myself lucky I got up at all.”
“Partying?” the waitress asked, her voice slightly less annoying now.
“No,” Jack said, forcing his smile to continue, “business.”
The waitress looked at him through one eye and asked what he wanted to eat. Jack could feel his smile wavering but forced it to stay.
“Coffee, please, and something breakfast-ish, I don’t care what. An omelet, I guess.”
“Denver omelet okay?”
“Sure, if it’s good.”
She smiled at him and walked away, leaving Jack to drop the smile with a sigh of relief. He hated being nice to annoying people. But he never knew when he could use a hiding place. This diner might be good. He would have to set up connections here in case he ever came back.
Jack shuddered at the thought.
Demon Eye
July 21st, 2096
To anyone on the outside looking in, Jack didn’t have any reason to be here. It was some seedy bar in some seedy backwater city, with nobody in it that was particularly worth noticing. Jack sparked his lighter and lit his cigarette, taking a long drag before resuming his pleasant conversation with the man reading the newspaper.
“30 grand.” He said calmly before blowing a thin stream of smoke from his lips.
“They have information you might be looking for, as you’ll recall.” The man said in a voice that betrayed his outward calm. The man looked to be in his 40’s, he had no hair, and he was wearing a pair of yellow-tinted sunglasses.
“That’s why it won’t cost you 50.” Jack took another drag before crushing the cigarette into the ashtray sitting on the table between them.
“How do I know you’ll get the job done?” the man asked with only a passing glance away from his paper.
“I have an excellent track record,” Jack said after letting some smoke trail from the side of his mouth, “and you’ve seen it for yourself. You know it’s real.”
“Know what’s real?” the man asked, taking another glance away from his paper.
“My eye.” Jack said calmly, leaning back in his chair. “I saw you look at it. Twice.”
“I suppose I can’t help but be curious.” The man said, turning to a new page in his newspaper. “If you’re sure you can do it, then I suppose I can arrange payment.”
“Don’t give me that crap.” Jack said in a voice both jesting and derisive, a thin smile on his lips.
“What do you mean?” the man said with the slightest hesitation. He knew he had been caught the instant he spoke, but Jack could tell the man needed the job done and a little embarrassment wasn’t about to stop that.
“I won’t do it unless you guarantee it. Ten thousand now, the rest when the job is done. It’s a good deal. Take it.” Jack pulled out another cigarette and twirled it in his fingers.
“Fine. I’ll accept that.” A briefcase was placed on the table between them, and Jack gladly transferred it to his side of the table. “The details are inside.”
Jack smiled and stood up, briefcase in hand and cigarette between his lips. “It was a pleasure.”
He was out the door and down the street in less than 2 minutes, on his way to the motel he was staying in. The street was dark and damp, and the cloudy night sky didn’t help it look any better. Jack passed several men selling drugs, waving them off before they could even open their mouths. They’d all be selling the same thing, and he didn’t want it. He’d stick with nicotine. Thinking of which, it was time for another smoke.
Jack unlocked his room and stepped inside, flicking on the light without a conscious thought. Everything was brown and old. He wouldn’t have been surprised if he found a raccoon on his bed, even though they hadn’t bothered to bring any when they terraformed this horrible, red, space rock. Mars had been left for the dregs of society even before the Flare Tragedy on Earth. Now it was keeping to its roots while the other planets were being colonized and actually becoming useful. Of course, humankind had only gone as far inward as Venus and as far outward as Saturn, but they made good use of moons. This job would be Jack’s ticket to wherever she was. But one thing he knew for certain: it wasn’t anywhere on Mars. He used the nightstand to snuff his cig, since they hadn’t provided an ashtray. It soon joined with a small mound of similarly discarded cigarettes. The small mound of butts forming on the table was not started by Jack, however. He had found it when he arrived. He was just contributing to the monument.
He popped open the briefcase and pulled out the disc containing the information. He groaned a little, since it would mean a lot of time waiting for the stupid motel computer to read it. He slid it into the dusty slot while the terminal warmed up, and passed the time counting the cash. He was just over five thousand when the terminal finally decided to spring to life.
He slid over to the rusty can of a computer and delicately used the rust-caked control board to open the file on the disc. It was a list of instructions. The disc told him to go back to the bar the next night and get into a truck that would take him to a small compound on the outskirts of the city. Supplies would be in the truck, and so would blueprints of the compound. Jack smelled a rat. It wasn’t long before he heard it too, scratching around the room. One sudden bang later the rat was very dead, a large hole remaining where its head used to be. Jack slipped his revolver into its holster with a disdainful scowl. “Little disease bag…”
The document continued, telling him that his target was named Joseph Hook, the leader of a local drug cartel. Jack smiled to himself. “Perhaps this will get rid of the pushers around here?” He thought to himself. But then a new thought. “Or maybe he’s got info on Red Dragon?” he always thought the name of that crime syndicate was lame, but it was the last one left and was thought to be related to every speck of crime on every planet, moon, and space station. But it wasn’t a sure bet. Jack figured there was a 50/50 chance this guy was working for them.
Jack already hated this job. He knew he was probably being drawn into working for some kind of police force and wouldn’t be told until the job was done. Too bad he’d already signed the contract, and the $10,000 he had wasn’t enough to get off the planet and live anywhere else for any significant amount of time. He frowned to himself and moved back to the bed, touching the lights off before lying down and closing his eyes. He made sure to sleep on top of the sheets, since he didn’t even want to know what kind of parasites the bed had in it. He let himself drift off into the darkness, embracing the brief hours he would have away from reality. The only place he could see her.
Everything was dark, but he could hear her humming. The melody was soft, sweet, and sad. He could hear the crackling of a fire…and something else, that wasn’t quite familiar. He only knew that she was doing …something. She paused in her song for a moment. The air grew eerily empty.
“Please keep singing.” He whispered.
Jack sat up in bed, the sun suddenly glaring through the window into his eyes. He groggily picked himself up and went into the bathroom, which was as grime-covered as the rest of the room.
He stared into the mirror at his face. His stringy black hair dangled down to his chin, a few strands covering his eyes. His eyes…they were so foreign to him. His left was a crystal blue. The color he was born with. But his right was crimson. It was a post-birth genetic enhancement. It wasn’t supposed to be possible, but Red Dragon had done it anyways. They never did like being told no, even when it was reality saying it. They told him that they called it the “Demon’s Eye” and he told them to go shut their head in an airlock. Of course, being the arrogant bums they were, they proceeded to go into extravagant detail about its many uses. Apparently, it used “soft electric pulses” or something to knock out someone else’s perception of him. He could now also see things far better, and if he focused, he could actually see things in a sort of slow-motion way.
After this explanation, he changed his mind about shoving their head into an airlock, and suggested they shut something entirely different into an airlock, and they got the message and left.
Man, he wanted a cigarette. He retrieved one from a fresh carton and took a few long drags before flicking it into the trashcan and starting the shower. It took several seconds for the water to muscle past the grime in the pipes, and several more seconds to lose the brown color. Jack wouldn’t be taking off his socks for this shower.
As the disturbingly thick water hit his body, Jack began thinking again. It always scared people when he did that, but it was part of life. After he was done on Mars, where would he go? Earth was trashed, but he did remember something about a cathedral…they didn’t have many of those off of Earth anymore. Most people lost religion when they watched Earth’s moon get half blown-up and half melted into a twisted, glassy-looking ball of crap that now constantly rained small meteorites on the surface of Earth. Jack hated when he started thinking about history. That was over 25 years ago. He wasn’t even born yet.
He toweled himself off, unsure of whether he felt cleaner or dirtier after that shower. Either way, he put on some jeans, a dark red T-shirt and his coat. He slipped on his hat on the way out and immediately began wondering what he was going to do all day.
There was nothing fun about this city. The city of New Vegas was absolutely nothing like the original. It was more like New York without the soul, and with all the old mess. Jack figured it was better than, say, New Tokyo, which was hovering somewhere in high orbit over Jupiter, constantly fighting with the gas giant’s constant pull. Word was that it was the main hub for Red Dragon activity, and that you couldn’t walk 5 feet without getting mugged at least once. The thought brought a smile to Jacks face, the mere absurdity of it. Imagine being the 5th mugger in the line. Everybody would be out of money by the time they got to you.
New Vegas was rather dimly lit during the day, but it was downright blinding compared to the nights. There were no stars to be seen above, thanks to the heavy amounts of terraformic gases that were still lingering, still creating oxygen and atmosphere. For now, it just looked like smog. Too bad the scientists who invented the stuff didn’t make it pink. Then it might have made New Vegas a much more pleasant place to live.
Jack lit another cig and took a drag. He let it out slowly into the air so as not to annoy others walking down the street. Not that he cared about them, he just didn’t want any unnecessary hassle. He walked into a diner and sat down. He could at least get some breakfast.
“Late start today?” the waitress asked in a voice that was too annoying for it not to be done on purpose.
“Is there anybody else who can serve me? Someone who doesn’t make my ears bleed?” At least, that’s what came to mind first. But that would just compromise the edibility of the food he was about to eat. So instead he put on his best smile and said, “Yep. I consider myself lucky I got up at all.”
“Partying?” the waitress asked, her voice slightly less annoying now.
“No,” Jack said, forcing his smile to continue, “business.”
The waitress looked at him through one eye and asked what he wanted to eat. Jack could feel his smile wavering but forced it to stay.
“Coffee, please, and something breakfast-ish, I don’t care what. An omelet, I guess.”
“Denver omelet okay?”
“Sure, if it’s good.”
She smiled at him and walked away, leaving Jack to drop the smile with a sigh of relief. He hated being nice to annoying people. But he never knew when he could use a hiding place. This diner might be good. He would have to set up connections here in case he ever came back.
Jack shuddered at the thought.
