Author's Note: Yes, I know it's been a long time since I've updated
Rebirth, and I know I said I was going to update Crimson Wings next, but
I've had some serious problems with writer's block. I really haven't had
many problems with writer's block before now, but this time it's serious. I
cannot for the life of me think of what to write. The frustrating thing is,
I only need Chapters 71 and 72, and then I can produce 73-77 about two days
apart, because I know exactly what I want to happen in those. The trouble
is getting there. Bleh.
Anyway, I could have written up Chapter 2 of my Zeig fic, considering I know what's gonna happen there, but for some strange reason I decided not to. I decided instead to start a new fic, adding to my 13 other unfinished stories. Yes, my mind works in mysterious ways sometimes. *blink* On second thought, scratch the sometimes. But I thought this up in Math when I finished the incredibly easy test early and thought what the hell and decided to try it out. I figured there aren't many other futuristic fics to compare it to, so I can't be criticized that much. Enjoy.
Chapter 1
A shrill beep sounded in the interior cabin of the ship, and a powerful aroma wafted into the open air as the police sergeant withdrew a freshly roasted cup of coffee from the machine. He sighed and sat down heavily in his swiveling chair in the cockpit. "What's the report?"
"Well, sir, the station sent out a distress call shortly before commencing a total lockdown. Then, of course, there was the explosion. Nothing seems to be malfunctioning, except for the slight detail that there's now a gaping hole that's slowly sucking out all the oxygen."
The case was relatively simple, a rich family barricading themselves inside their space station when under attack from an outside attack and waiting for law enforcement to arrive. "Typical hit man work."
"I agree, sir. A hired assassin is about the only plausible explanation I can think of."
"Well, he'll have to come out sometime, or he'll run out of air. We just have to wait until he does."
"That won't save the family, sir."
The officer took another sip of the scalding rejuvenating liquid, and put his hand to his face. "I know, but sending troopers into a station losing air in the middle of a lockdown is never a good idea. There's nothing we can do for them. We can just prevent this guy from attacking anyone else, and there's something to be said for that."
In the meantime, the assassin was walking down a corridor in the heart of the space station, his breath rattling eerily as the carbon dioxide was filtered out of the mask that supplied his oxygen from the tank on his back. The metal boots of his suit echoed hollowly against the steel floor of the hallway, while the glowing strobe lights on the ceiling cast patterns on his visor. He stopped at the computer console outside the center nexus. He had no doubt that the family would be in there. In these stations, the central area was often the only place in the entire home where you could initiate a lockdown. One would think that more resourceful people would increase their chances of self-preservation by hiding somewhere less obvious, for the center of the station was the first place assassins checked for their victims, but he had found from experience that these people rarely broke the mold.
Sure enough, as soon as he accessed the computer and did away with the first level of encryption, he read the nexus for vital signs and detected four healthy human beings, with a fifth smaller reading that he suspected came from a pet. His fingers danced along the keys as he hacked through several more layers of security coding, and he eventually found what he was looking for. He calmly pressed the key that would cut off the air from the nexus, sealing the hapless inhabitants' doom. In a few moments they would asphyxiate. Suffocation was a nasty way to die, slow and painful, but it couldn't be helped. The blast doors were probably buried beneath several more levels of encryption, and the police were probably on their way, so he didn't feel like he had enough time to get into the chamber itself and give his targets a swift death.
He didn't consider himself a criminal, even as he waited for the family inside the chamber to run out of air. Far from it, actually. The system nowadays was a web of corrupt political favoritism, and the police was only deployed when someone with high wealth or social status found themselves in a sort of difficulty. The povertized were spurned, while the middle class was left to fend for themselves, which they did, albeit with some grumbling. Those that were considered 'criminals' were actually two groups, actual villains and vigilante cops, crusaders of the downtrodden who took it upon themselves to protect the poor. He, of course, belonged to neither group, merely making his living by striking back against the pampered scum at the top of the economic ladder.
He turned on the outboard cameras, getting a glimpse of the situation as it unfolded. Four police cruisers pulled up, but they stalled. He realized what they were doing with a shock. They were stalling, waiting for him to attempt to escape! Apparently, they thought the family was already dead, and they didn't want to risk any officers. Very well then, if they were giving him the time he needed, he would open the blast doors. Might as well make a clean job of it if given the chance.
His fingers walked like spiders along the rows of keys, the gloves making sure that he would leave no evidence for the investigators to pick up on, at least none of the obvious things one would look for. After a few minutes the doors slid open, revealing the dead bodies inside. Among the four humans there lay a dog, the fifth vital sign he had found on the computer. He felt sorry for the animal. If they had left it to roam in the corridors, it would still be alive right now. The investigators would probably have found it before all of the oxygen drained out of the spacious station.
He calmly pulled the wallet from the patriarch, flipping it open. Identification cards. Perfect, the card was the best evidence for him to prove he had done his job. The identification cards were the first thing taken by the killer; they were a way of proving they had gotten there first. Even if it were a murder by a common thief, they would have taken the wallet with them. This would be good enough for his employer. He trudged out of the room, not bothering to dispose of the bodies. He had left no evidence on them, but if he tampered with them he would leave clues behind. Better to leave them as is.
But he stopped suddenly as he thought he saw something glinting among the dead. He turned around, his curiosity piqued, and bent over to examine it. It was a circular faceted gemstone, he assumed it was an amethyst from its rich violet color. It was probably worth a fortune. He might as well take it. If nothing else, it would get him a couple of extra bucks.
The moment he touched it, it burst into radiant purple light. Lightning crackled around him, surging through the conductive walls. He dropped the stone in surprise, and the strange display dimmed. Damn! That gave away his position. Well, it didn't make much difference. He would have to leave eventually anyway. After a moment's hesitation, he picked up the gem again. This time, it only glimmered at his touch. He was grateful for that much.
He returned to the console, calmly typing up a basic virus. He sent it to the police cruisers' onboard computers and headed for the docking bay. He would have to hurry, there wasn't much air left in his tank. He reached the launching pad, only to be met by another locked door. Not willing to expend the time to hack into the code system, he whipped out his blaster and fired a burst at the keypad. The door slid open, and he strode through it quickly. Never mind that the investigators would be able to figure out the kind of weapon he used. There were only several hundred thousand other people who owned the same kind of gun, they wouldn't be able to track him down with that evidence alone.
The police did indeed get an eyeful of the impressive show of electricity. The sergeant gaped, jumping out of his chair to get a better glimpse. "In the name of the bleeding Divine Creator, what is that?"
"Doesn't look like anything I've ever seen, sir."
"Well, we now know the family's dead, and he's on his way out."
That was when the virus hit. "Sergeant, we've lost all communication, and the generator's down."
"Damn, the little bastard must have scrambled our computer!" This was not good. They would have to run their engines on the emergency combustible fuel, and they would only be able to use the weaponry that wasn't hooked up to the power system, which was in short their limited supply of impact missiles.
But then he spotted something coming out of the launching bay. An escape pod? This meant there might be survivors! "All ships, rendezvous with the escape pod!"
Too late, he saw the image shimmer and melt away. The assassin had used a simple hologram shield to project the image. There was no time to change course. In a split second, the enemy ship fired four short bursts, one at each cruiser. Expecting the ship to go up in flame, he was surprised when nothing happened. As he opened his eyes, he saw a blue crystal forming outside the ship. Stasis field beams. They would be immobilized for several hours.
Even as the killer's ship turned and sped off full throttle, and as he slammed his hand against the ship's control panel in frustration, the sergeant could not help but be amazed by his opponent's simple yet brilliant tactics. The hit man had supplied a simple illusion, but he had fallen for it, hook, line, and sinker. Although he felt the usual frustration of failure, he wept no tears for the dead. He was paid well for his job, but that didn't mean he liked it. He was well aware of the injustices that the political system forced on the unfortunate, but he did not think there was anything he could do, at least right now. However, he had considered the idea of quitting the police department and joining a vigilante band more than once. Regardless, the man had gotten away, and would soon be cutting another rich man's throat.
And though he would never admit it, the sergeant hoped someone else was on duty then, so that he could cheer him on.
The assassin slumped in his seat as he put the ship on automatic pilot. He felt the usual half elation, half exhaustion that came at the end of a successful hit. However, this one was different. The strange purple gem sat beside him, dull now. He would have to figure out what that was, and what made it light up like that. But first he would get the latter half of his payment, and his new assignment. All in all, just another day on the job.
Author's Note: Well, that's done with. I kind of like it. It's special. Even though the whole hit man thing has been done to death. -_- Ah well, I needed an interesting origin, so I just picked that. How unoriginal of me. Anyway, I avoided using names on purpose. I don't know why, I just did. I had trouble deciding whether to make the main character (yes, he is the main character) Violet or Dark, but I decided with Violet. Just because. Anyway, I hope you people liked that. Otherwise, you're stuck with it. Well, actually you aren't, because nobody's forcing you to read it. Unless there's some very weird blackmail going on... *smacks self* Shut up!
Anyway, I could have written up Chapter 2 of my Zeig fic, considering I know what's gonna happen there, but for some strange reason I decided not to. I decided instead to start a new fic, adding to my 13 other unfinished stories. Yes, my mind works in mysterious ways sometimes. *blink* On second thought, scratch the sometimes. But I thought this up in Math when I finished the incredibly easy test early and thought what the hell and decided to try it out. I figured there aren't many other futuristic fics to compare it to, so I can't be criticized that much. Enjoy.
Chapter 1
A shrill beep sounded in the interior cabin of the ship, and a powerful aroma wafted into the open air as the police sergeant withdrew a freshly roasted cup of coffee from the machine. He sighed and sat down heavily in his swiveling chair in the cockpit. "What's the report?"
"Well, sir, the station sent out a distress call shortly before commencing a total lockdown. Then, of course, there was the explosion. Nothing seems to be malfunctioning, except for the slight detail that there's now a gaping hole that's slowly sucking out all the oxygen."
The case was relatively simple, a rich family barricading themselves inside their space station when under attack from an outside attack and waiting for law enforcement to arrive. "Typical hit man work."
"I agree, sir. A hired assassin is about the only plausible explanation I can think of."
"Well, he'll have to come out sometime, or he'll run out of air. We just have to wait until he does."
"That won't save the family, sir."
The officer took another sip of the scalding rejuvenating liquid, and put his hand to his face. "I know, but sending troopers into a station losing air in the middle of a lockdown is never a good idea. There's nothing we can do for them. We can just prevent this guy from attacking anyone else, and there's something to be said for that."
In the meantime, the assassin was walking down a corridor in the heart of the space station, his breath rattling eerily as the carbon dioxide was filtered out of the mask that supplied his oxygen from the tank on his back. The metal boots of his suit echoed hollowly against the steel floor of the hallway, while the glowing strobe lights on the ceiling cast patterns on his visor. He stopped at the computer console outside the center nexus. He had no doubt that the family would be in there. In these stations, the central area was often the only place in the entire home where you could initiate a lockdown. One would think that more resourceful people would increase their chances of self-preservation by hiding somewhere less obvious, for the center of the station was the first place assassins checked for their victims, but he had found from experience that these people rarely broke the mold.
Sure enough, as soon as he accessed the computer and did away with the first level of encryption, he read the nexus for vital signs and detected four healthy human beings, with a fifth smaller reading that he suspected came from a pet. His fingers danced along the keys as he hacked through several more layers of security coding, and he eventually found what he was looking for. He calmly pressed the key that would cut off the air from the nexus, sealing the hapless inhabitants' doom. In a few moments they would asphyxiate. Suffocation was a nasty way to die, slow and painful, but it couldn't be helped. The blast doors were probably buried beneath several more levels of encryption, and the police were probably on their way, so he didn't feel like he had enough time to get into the chamber itself and give his targets a swift death.
He didn't consider himself a criminal, even as he waited for the family inside the chamber to run out of air. Far from it, actually. The system nowadays was a web of corrupt political favoritism, and the police was only deployed when someone with high wealth or social status found themselves in a sort of difficulty. The povertized were spurned, while the middle class was left to fend for themselves, which they did, albeit with some grumbling. Those that were considered 'criminals' were actually two groups, actual villains and vigilante cops, crusaders of the downtrodden who took it upon themselves to protect the poor. He, of course, belonged to neither group, merely making his living by striking back against the pampered scum at the top of the economic ladder.
He turned on the outboard cameras, getting a glimpse of the situation as it unfolded. Four police cruisers pulled up, but they stalled. He realized what they were doing with a shock. They were stalling, waiting for him to attempt to escape! Apparently, they thought the family was already dead, and they didn't want to risk any officers. Very well then, if they were giving him the time he needed, he would open the blast doors. Might as well make a clean job of it if given the chance.
His fingers walked like spiders along the rows of keys, the gloves making sure that he would leave no evidence for the investigators to pick up on, at least none of the obvious things one would look for. After a few minutes the doors slid open, revealing the dead bodies inside. Among the four humans there lay a dog, the fifth vital sign he had found on the computer. He felt sorry for the animal. If they had left it to roam in the corridors, it would still be alive right now. The investigators would probably have found it before all of the oxygen drained out of the spacious station.
He calmly pulled the wallet from the patriarch, flipping it open. Identification cards. Perfect, the card was the best evidence for him to prove he had done his job. The identification cards were the first thing taken by the killer; they were a way of proving they had gotten there first. Even if it were a murder by a common thief, they would have taken the wallet with them. This would be good enough for his employer. He trudged out of the room, not bothering to dispose of the bodies. He had left no evidence on them, but if he tampered with them he would leave clues behind. Better to leave them as is.
But he stopped suddenly as he thought he saw something glinting among the dead. He turned around, his curiosity piqued, and bent over to examine it. It was a circular faceted gemstone, he assumed it was an amethyst from its rich violet color. It was probably worth a fortune. He might as well take it. If nothing else, it would get him a couple of extra bucks.
The moment he touched it, it burst into radiant purple light. Lightning crackled around him, surging through the conductive walls. He dropped the stone in surprise, and the strange display dimmed. Damn! That gave away his position. Well, it didn't make much difference. He would have to leave eventually anyway. After a moment's hesitation, he picked up the gem again. This time, it only glimmered at his touch. He was grateful for that much.
He returned to the console, calmly typing up a basic virus. He sent it to the police cruisers' onboard computers and headed for the docking bay. He would have to hurry, there wasn't much air left in his tank. He reached the launching pad, only to be met by another locked door. Not willing to expend the time to hack into the code system, he whipped out his blaster and fired a burst at the keypad. The door slid open, and he strode through it quickly. Never mind that the investigators would be able to figure out the kind of weapon he used. There were only several hundred thousand other people who owned the same kind of gun, they wouldn't be able to track him down with that evidence alone.
The police did indeed get an eyeful of the impressive show of electricity. The sergeant gaped, jumping out of his chair to get a better glimpse. "In the name of the bleeding Divine Creator, what is that?"
"Doesn't look like anything I've ever seen, sir."
"Well, we now know the family's dead, and he's on his way out."
That was when the virus hit. "Sergeant, we've lost all communication, and the generator's down."
"Damn, the little bastard must have scrambled our computer!" This was not good. They would have to run their engines on the emergency combustible fuel, and they would only be able to use the weaponry that wasn't hooked up to the power system, which was in short their limited supply of impact missiles.
But then he spotted something coming out of the launching bay. An escape pod? This meant there might be survivors! "All ships, rendezvous with the escape pod!"
Too late, he saw the image shimmer and melt away. The assassin had used a simple hologram shield to project the image. There was no time to change course. In a split second, the enemy ship fired four short bursts, one at each cruiser. Expecting the ship to go up in flame, he was surprised when nothing happened. As he opened his eyes, he saw a blue crystal forming outside the ship. Stasis field beams. They would be immobilized for several hours.
Even as the killer's ship turned and sped off full throttle, and as he slammed his hand against the ship's control panel in frustration, the sergeant could not help but be amazed by his opponent's simple yet brilliant tactics. The hit man had supplied a simple illusion, but he had fallen for it, hook, line, and sinker. Although he felt the usual frustration of failure, he wept no tears for the dead. He was paid well for his job, but that didn't mean he liked it. He was well aware of the injustices that the political system forced on the unfortunate, but he did not think there was anything he could do, at least right now. However, he had considered the idea of quitting the police department and joining a vigilante band more than once. Regardless, the man had gotten away, and would soon be cutting another rich man's throat.
And though he would never admit it, the sergeant hoped someone else was on duty then, so that he could cheer him on.
The assassin slumped in his seat as he put the ship on automatic pilot. He felt the usual half elation, half exhaustion that came at the end of a successful hit. However, this one was different. The strange purple gem sat beside him, dull now. He would have to figure out what that was, and what made it light up like that. But first he would get the latter half of his payment, and his new assignment. All in all, just another day on the job.
Author's Note: Well, that's done with. I kind of like it. It's special. Even though the whole hit man thing has been done to death. -_- Ah well, I needed an interesting origin, so I just picked that. How unoriginal of me. Anyway, I avoided using names on purpose. I don't know why, I just did. I had trouble deciding whether to make the main character (yes, he is the main character) Violet or Dark, but I decided with Violet. Just because. Anyway, I hope you people liked that. Otherwise, you're stuck with it. Well, actually you aren't, because nobody's forcing you to read it. Unless there's some very weird blackmail going on... *smacks self* Shut up!