~*~Aftershocks: Chapter One- Tough Transitions~*~
~Silverium~
Disclaimer: I'm a poor University student. I don't own anything more valuable than KD.
The TV cast a pale blue glow over his face, highlighting his eerie pale green eyes even more than usual. Jean-Paul surfed the channels idly, barely paying attention until the ten-o-clock news came on with a startling loud introduction that made Jean curl his lip in disgust at.
"…The new representative for WAR stationed at Ganymede is Milano Steele. The 35-year old kick-boxer won the final tournament last night, in a breathtaking battle against Jean-Paul's Shadow 'bot. As of now, the rep for WAR is headed to Jupiter's moon, here's what newscaster Michael Winston had to say…"
Jean-Paul abruptly turned off the television and rolled his eyes. Breathtaking. It was so much more than that! The jacking in, the feeling of Synthoil replacing your blood; the power inside you, the power of a 90-foot robot, all of it was much more than breathtaking.
"It's power." Jean-Paul murmured
He felt empty, devoid of life. He had spent the last months battling almost every night, training when his HAR was being repaired. He had spent each day since he was 14 and working for WAR training for this moment. Suddenly it was all gone and now there was…what exactly?
"Milano." There was that name again.
They weren't the best of friends, but close enough. The man would be fine with letting Jean-Paul keep his job, or at least give him a new one.
"They never let the smart ones leave." He whispered, "We know too much."
That Jean-Paul had assimilated every word of information that passed his eyes was one factor in his staying in WAR. The other was that they needed him, no one else was as intelligent. Jean-Paul was an enigma. One with the capabilities to destroy. Surely Milano would keep him.
"If he were president." Another blank statement.
It was no joke, however, Jean-Paul was almost certain that Milano would end up taking over the company. He had the desire to do it, and knowing Milano, that's all he'd need. It almost hurt to think about it.
Thirsty for something more than a drink, Jean-Paul left his apartment and ignored the looks he got. They had seen his face, on massive screens, glimpses of him as he walked to his Shadow and got ready for every fight. They all knew who he was, and they all knew he had failed. Failure tasted horrible, and he wanted it out of his mouth.
"Look, that's Jean-Paul! I wonder if he's going to see her in the café!" a whisper hissed out
Hiding his surprise Jean-Paul wondered who this 'her' was. He looked around casually for the café they had been talking about and noticed one with a crowd of people hovering nearby. Slinking past them was easy, and inside it was rewarding to have the cool air-conditioned building suck the heat off him. He watched the customers inside size him up, stare openly at him. Then as one their eyes all shifted to his left, to a small table. Jean-Paul followed the look and saw a hunched over woman, her blonde hair creating a veil in front of her face.
"Hn." Jean-Paul muttered, but it was inevitable,
He pointed a finger to the woman behind the counter, a coffee, two fingers up for milk and sugar. This done he strode purposefully to the table where she sat and silently slid in to the bench across from her.
Fiery blue eyes jerked up immediately, but then her ire was replaced by shock, then suspicion. Jean-Paul almost smiled, but not even she could crack his icy exterior.
"What are you doing here?" She demanded
"Trying to adjust,"
"No, here, with me," Crystal said in a hard tone,
"Makes it easier for the civilians." Jean-Paul said dryly, "Otherwise they'd have to look in two directions."
Crystal stared at him for a moment, then a small smile quirked up on her face and she shook her head, "That's the most I've ever heard you say." She commented, "But you have a point. I suppose they've been watching you too,"
"We're losers," His eyes burned into hers,
"So we deserve to be watched like animals in captivity?" She cried angrily,
"Isn't that what we are?"
Crystal opened her mouth, but shut it instantly.
The crowd had dispersed somewhat, but their eyes still fell upon the two ex-fighters. Slipping to their side, the waitress placed the coffee down with a red face and then skittered away as Jean-Paul's eyes seared into her.
"So what did you do with it?" he asked her,
"The Jag? I have it curled up in my backyard in the same position as 'The Thinker'." Crystal stared at him flatly, "I have it in the garage, where my brother's HAR is,"
"I see," Jean-Paul fell silent,
"What did you do with yours?" Crystal asked, "Surely you haven't sold it—"
"No," Jean-Paul shook his head in a slight movement, "It's in my own garage,"
"Are you…?"
"Why?" Jean-Paul asked instantly, "So I can feel alive again?"
"Still feeling the aftershock." Crystal observed.
Hearing Crystal use the term he had thought of only moments before made Jean-Paul falter. He realized that here he had a perfect empathetic being to his cause. Of course she knew what it felt like, she had lost too. She would never know the truth about the fate of her parents.
"It's been a day," He said in a hard tone,
"It's over," She said, matching the anger in his words,
"A day!" He ground out, then visibly he calmed, "The transition is…"
"Discomforting." She mocked him by using an emotionless tone.
Jean-Paul sipped at his coffee pensively. His pale eyes watched her silently, and he noticed the tired rings under her eyes. Her hair had been combed, but in a rush, and she wore no makeup. It had affected her worse than she let on.
"What of your parents?" He asked softly,
Her face jerked up from staring at the table. Pale fingers dropped a packet of sugar she had been pressing in between her index finger and thumb. Crystal's troubled blue eyes looked at his with a mixture of anger and defeat,
"I don't know," she said guardedly,
"Right," Slender crimson eyebrows rose,
"You know." She accused,
Jean-Paul shrugged. He wore a dark brown button-down shirt, the collar was brushing against his neck causing him to let go of the warm coffee mug and scratch at his nape. Crystal's eyes never left him while he did this, nor when he drained the last of his coffee. Well. Coffee done, why bother staying? He almost got up but Crystal's hand shot over the table and snatched him by the wrist,
"Tell me!" She commanded,
"So your agility is really that good," He observed, he had always known it, but the statement filled up space,
"Tell me what happened to my parents," She sizzled,
"There is nothing in it, for me." Jean-Paul whispered,
He pulled away from her and stood up, throwing down a couple bills and some change on to the table. Barely acknowledging the sound the coins made as they rolled around before spinning to a stop, Jean-Paul trudged out of the café like a solider coming off a bloody battlefield.
