Power: This started out as the Prologue to a fanfiction series. But as I didn't know where to take out, I figured it would be best left as a one shot.
Drs. Cortex and N. Gin © Vivendi Universal.
Alfonso Rossi © Me.
The taxi driver drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. He glanced at his rear view mirror at the figure sitting in the back of his car.
"Hey, ya don't mind if turn up the radio?" he asked in thick New York accent.
"Not at all." His passenger had a foreign accent, British and possibly a Southern one. It was not strong, indicating the man had not been living in Britain for a long time. The taxi driver detected hints of a very slight American accent and either an Australian or New Zealand accent. Wherever this man was from, it was from Australia or New Zealand that he had come to New York.
Alfonso, or Alfie as his friends knew him, reached down to the volume dial on the car radio and turned it up. He spared another look at the rear-view mirror, hoping to get a decent look at whom he was chaperoning.
The Brit was staring out of his window. His features were obscured by the lapels of his brown trench coat, which were pulled up, and the low-brimmed hat he wore which he had pulled down as low as he could without obscuring his vision. His hands, presumably gloved, were shoved into his coat's pockets. Alfie could not make out any other discernable features aside from what he already knew about the man. Alfie had observed, as the Brit was climbing into his car that he was a little on the short side, had a goatee and as this was black, had black hair, yellow skin and he had briefly glimpsed eyes of a red colour.
Judging by the man's general demeanour, Alfie guessed he was a fugitive of some sort. All the more reason not to ask any questions. He turned his gaze back to the road in front of him and noticed that they had come to the Brit's requested destination. He flicked on the indicator light and pulled over. "All right, here's your stop. That'll be twenty bucks."
The stranger pulled a black leather wallet from his breast pocket and fished out a twenty. "Here you are." He opened the taxi door. "Have a nice evening."
"Yeah, you too."
He stepped out of the car, slamming the door closed behind him. Alfie smiled as he pulled out into the line of traffic. (Brits, always so polite).
The man watched the yellow taxi pull away. He glanced up at the dark sky as lightning flashed through it, heralding the beginning of a downpour. The Brit sighed, pulled his lapels up further and adjusted his hat. Then, shoving his hands back into his pockets headed into the block of flats he had been dropped off in front of.
The trench-coat wearing man stopped in front of a door with the number 112 on it. He glanced around before knocking.
A voice from inside answered. "Come in. It's not locked."
With another glance around, he opened the door and walked in. After closing and sliding the bolts across the door, he looked around the apartment. The lights were off.
"Norman?"
"I'm in here, Neo."
The voice came in the direction of the TV room. Neo took off his hat revealing a capital N tattooed onto his forehead and wild, black hair, most of which had fallen out, leaving the top of his head bald. He walked into the TV room and spotted the man he had called Norman standing at the other end of the room with his back to him, looking out of the sliding door-windows. Norman was also wearing a trench coat. This one was a dark, murky green colour and went well his ginger hair.
"Norman? I got your email, you sounded a little . . . "
"Out of my mind?"
"I was going to say desperate."
"It's awfully brave of you to come here . . . to see me."
"I know. From the tone of your email, it seemed to me I didn't have much of a choice. But why did me, why-"
"I can't go back to them . . . not like this." Unlike his friend, he spoke with American accent.
"Them? You mean Catherine and Rosemary?"
"I have no one else to turn to. No one apart from you. Can you help me?" He turned a pleading look on his friend.
"Yes of course. But has something happened? What is it? What's wrong?"
"You . . ." he frowned. "You don't know?"
It's was Neo's turn to frown. "Know what?"
It suddenly dawned on him that Neo did not have a clue as to the recent events that had occurred. "Huh. No wonder you came so readily."
"Norman? What's going on?"
He smiled weakly. "I have some explaining to do." Four long metal arms rose out from under Norman's trench coat, clicking as they moved. The arms curled round and opened their tri-clawed pincers, revealing a red light glowing in the middle.
Neo's eyes widened in horror and he took a few involuntary steps back. "Wha-wha-what . . . What are they?"
"This is what I have to explain."
Power: He he, what a place to leave off, huh?
Well this remains a one shot in the meantime. It's an interesting concept – an N. Gin Alternate Origin fic - and I would like to continue it.
If anyone has ideas for this fic, feel free to email them to me. I'll be interested to read them. I may even hand the fic over to you, if you come across well enough. :D
