The Creed

Sir Diesal0t · Post by **Sir Diesal0t** » Wed Mar 03, 2004 9:51 pm

Written by my cousin who is practically my brother ------------------------------------------------------------ Chapter 1: Third District City In a dark quiet room somewhere in the Third District, everything seems so silent. It’s so quiet one could hear a roach breathe if they tried. On the corner table by the window the clock reads 4:59 a.m., the only thing “moving” in these humble quarters seem to be the blinking dots between the hour and minutes. The lights suddenly turn on automatically as they always have at 5:00 a.m. sharp. They’ve been programmed by the alarm clock to do so and they’re dim from years of service, faithful or otherwise. The clock then proceeds to destasis a man who until now was enjoying his escape in dreamland. Stasis in itself is bliss since it guarantees rest for even the most tormented and hyperactive mind by cryogenically freezing particular nerve points on the skull. This results in nearly instantaneous unconsciousness that’s equivalent to a very deep sleep. Modern Stasis devices use headsets and most are integrated into an alarm clock system that can be set to any given time to destasis (which is simply the “thawing” of the nerves that returns the body and mind back to a less comfortable “normal” awakening). But not even modern technology can turn back time using cryogenics or anything else for that matter, and the man groans pitifully in frustration at this fact as he gets up for another morning in his life. “If only these things could provide some entertainment for you if your brain doesn’t come up with anything.” He said as he took off the head set and made his way to the shower, kicking clothing and trash out of his way as he went. Shortly after turning the water on, the phone starts to ring. After a few rings, the machine takes the call and turns on the speaker. “Sigurd, this is Lodges, I wanna see you in my office after your first chalk. There’s a few things we need to discuss. Hope you had a good reason for not picking up…*click*.” After finishing his shower, the soggy ensemble begins to talk to himself in the mirror. “Well Sig… another day huh?” He looked down from his face to the reflection of the pendant on his chest. He caressed it with his hand intently as it slowly rekindled the memories of a painful past. “Another day…” he spoke softly as he gripped it more tightly. Sigurd continued with his morning routine and opened the closet to find his work uniform. This was the part of his day he typically disliked the most, his uniform symbolized the majority of what was mundane and miserable in his life. Only one of the three layers of chemical and radiation protection that he needed just to stay alive in the nature of his work he had to keep at home, the other two weren’t trusted to the personal responsibility of Drillers such as himself. Just after putting his uniform on, he started looking around for the rest of his stuff when the room intercom startled him. “Hey Sig! Where are you man? Hurry up or we’re gonna be late!” Sigurd raced to the intercom speaker to respond. “Just a minute I’ll be right out!” “You fall asleep in the shower or somethin? It’s not like you to hold up the show, you know we still gotta pick up Jones on the way sleeping beauty.” Sigurd tried to make the last minute count while the voice on the intercom rambled on. He threw on his jacket and after making sure he had his work badge, ID, credit chip, and spare clothes, he grabbed his room key and yelled at the speaker one last time before heading out the door. “Very funny Vinny, I’m on my way down!” The door slid down and locked behind him leaving an empty room. The lights turned off automatically and the only light to be seen was the numbers on the clock and a blinking light on the phone. Downstairs a man named Vince Doro waited in his grav-vehicle, He’d been Sigurd’s best friend for many years. Even back when Sigurd fell out of tech training and was out of work Vince pulled some strings in human resources to get him a Driller position at Hammerthorn & Lodges Inc. where they currently work. That was nearly 3 years ago just before Sigurd’s father, who had a higher office position there, disappeared in a “terrorist attack” on the company. After the damage of the incident blew over, the company merged with Genotech Systems and became a powerful economic presence in the Third District city and all over the planet Cirion. But after everything was said and done Sigurd’s father, Largo Knightheart, was presumed dead after the post-attack search failed to turn up his body among several others involved in the incident. Vince knew Largo for many years before then and being about Largos age, became a father figure for Sigurd, and they took to each other pretty well. “26 years old and you still can’t keep track of time?” Vince said with a large yet conservative grin, making no attempt to hide the fact that he was only half patronizing and half joking. “53 years old and you’re still driving this antique? If we’re ever going to be late it’ll be because this poor old machine finally decided to bite the dust.” Sigurd said while jumping in the back seat. “What are you talking about? This here faithful machine isn’t any more ready to quit than I am, and I assure you old Vinny ain’t giving up anytime soon.” “Still, you should’ve gotten a “mid-life crisis” grav-vehicle back when you had yours.” “Ha ha ha ha, you’re a funny guy Sig. I’ll let you know if I decide to lose my mind like all those crazy kids about your age. None of them have any heart anymore, they just float through their lives wondering why they’re so miserable. It’s just like I always say…” “One can only make it through when the mind pushes, and the heart pulls” Sigurd interrupted Vince and finished his sentence for him. It was a phrase that he had heard hundreds of times before and Vince always held it in high regard. “Just so long as you remember that Sig, when the mind pushes the body and the heart pulls the soul, you can always make it through.” Most of the time Sigurd and Vince spent together was in conversations much like this. A volley of humor and current affairs that helped them forget everything else and find a little peace in an otherwise rough place to live. ---Vince drove down the street cautiously. Although he’d been through this part of town time and time again, one could never be too careful in an area notorious for gang warfare and noteworthy drug-traffic. Unfortunately, for most people, you would have to be either born rich or join the military to avoid living here. The Third District didn’t have much for business besides H & L inc. (which everyone knew as “The Hill”), so housing development never reached past the aging structures that were home to every common thief, working stiff, and “average” citizen. Nearly 80% of the population lived in a decaying apartment or a filthy alley. “Every time I look at this place it seems more miserable and gray than it did last time” Said Sigurd with a sigh. “It does, but believe me, as bad as this place is it ain’t no nightmare.” “For some maybe…” “You’ll know Sig…” Vince raised his voice. He always seemed most upset whenever his opinion on just how “bad” things were was questioned. “Say whatever you like now, but just from a guy who’s been there… you’ll know the meaning of miserable when you’ve lived through days of pure hell just to live it again and again no matter how hard you try to get away.” For as long as they’ve known each other Vince had always talked about what real pain was, what real horror was, and the many grim details of battle. It was like an unwritten rule that outside of recent or immediate history that neither of them would ever dig up the past, but Vince felt compelled to dig up the emotions, the feelings of some dark past he knew. The stories he would tell about this horrible darkness would seldom make any sense for lack of details, and sometimes they would seem so surreal that most anyone would pass him off as old and crazy, but they all shared one thing in common. That Vince Doro, as old as he may be, still remembered every scream, explosion, and drop of sweat he’d ever known from those days long ago like they were in his nightmares every night. Yet as bad as they may or may not have been he remained quite strong, the memories didn’t tear him apart and turn him into a vegetable like a few of his friends that he would describe from time to time. He shared his stories full of war, chaos, and misery hoping to enlighten and strengthen those around him, especially Sigurd since he was always the most willing to listen. They stopped in front of an old house, not too far away from Sigurd’s apartment. Keeping a house in the middle of an apartment network was nearly impossible anymore but a few brave souls found it worth the risks. After he gave the horn a few good blasts Vince continued with his story. “Only one way to know when things have really gotten as bad as they can get Sig, it’s when you’ve been feeling that fear and anxiety and hopelessness so long that it finally happens… you don’t feel it anymore, and what that does to a man is worse than all the panic in hell.” Sigurd listened intently wondering how it could ever be possible for one man to endure so much torment. Even after listening to Vince for years, he couldn’t help but feel like everything he said had a purpose, and that somehow Vince was trying to pass on something more than wisdom to him. It was obvious that he had seen his fair share of battle, but Sigurd gave up trying to figure out how and where some time ago (The last actual war recorded in human history ended over a century ago). “Hey Vinny!” Hadar Jones jumped in with his usual boisterous and cheerful attitude. Jones was known best for his big mouth and his brash approach on everything even though he was nearly 40. It was often said that the only thing as big as his mouth was his sense of humor, but Jones was also a hard worker and could be serious at a moments notice… if he should notice the moment in the first place. He worked the same shift at The Hill and was a long time friend of Vince so they brought him in the car pool with them every day. He fumbled around in the front seat a little before he continued. “How you doin’ Sig, this old scab cheering you up with more of his stories?” “We’re running late Jones so do us a favor and shut up, all that hot air blowing out your mouth might slow us down.” Vince answered for Sigurd with a big grin on his face. “Ah well, if I were you Sig I’d listen to what he has to say. He knows what he’s talking about and he’s even nice enough to tell us all about it” sensing a little sarcasm near the end of Jones’ comment, Sigurd decides to join in the joking duel. “You make it sound like he has a bigger mouth than you do Jones.” “He does even though he won’t admit it, I’ve learned even more than you have from this old fossil and he’s loaded with wisdom and bullshit alike.” Waiting for the laughter to die down for timing, Vince makes his comeback. “As if you’d know the difference, coming from a guy who’ll probably end up testing armor durability and toxin repellant, amazing you aren’t already dead!” “Awwww you know there ain’t no difference with you Vinny, and it’s so sweet how you care about us and nurture us with your knowledge, you know we love you.” as he was talking Jones actually reached over to Vince and gave him an obnoxious wet one on the cheek. “Uck!! Get off you fool!” Vince pushed away Jones unable to keep from at least grinning at his comic gestures while Sigurd laughed out loud in the back. “Not for you old man, you’re not my type.” Jones said with a funny look on his face and after a little while, Sigurd stopped laughing long enough to make his own comment. “Please don’t, besides, you don’t know where that’s been.” “Actually it’s worse, cause I do know where it’s been! Hopefully you won’t find out.” Jones made his comeback and by then, they were all laughing hysterically. One would be hard pressed to find closer bond between three men in the Third District. ------------------------------------------------------------ Chapter 2: “The Hill” On the way to The Hill, the route that Vince used to get the carpool to work had a few “hotspots” in it, places where the gangs and drug runners would commonly do their open battle either over its territorial value or some other dispute. This being the case Vince didn’t need to say anything to the others to get them to quiet down, they had all gone through this many times before. It didn’t matter who you were or what you looked like, the grunts of the gang warfare factions shot at just about anybody or anything if they drew any excess attention to themselves. But, in theory, if you just act normal and pass through without stopping you’ll never have any problems. Vince had done this with Sigurd and Jones for years and never once ended up getting on someone’s bad side (they did however witness many gunfights over time, sometimes with violence one would normally only expect to see in gory action films). Jones as usual, was the first to break the silence. “Hope there weren’t many slaughters scheduled today, I’ve got a headache.” “What amazes me is how they can find so many people that willing to die in such short amounts of time” Sigurd replied. “I mean you’d think that since it takes at least 15 or 16 years for a kid to grow up into fighting material for these guys that the shoot outs would slow down with so many dying nearly everyday.” “I think it’s a safe assumption to believe that not all of them are actually with the mafia or a gang.” Vince opened up with a low voice. “You’re right, after all, who wants to loose so many men that it starts working up into the hierarchy members.” Sigurd listened intently somewhat surprised, Vince would normally never be concerned with the how or why when it came to organized crime. He would usually pass them off as common crooks or just regular low lives that killed each other out of stupidity. “That would seem likely, but I thought you didn’t care either way,” said Sigurd. “I don’t, but after seeing shoot outs and fire fights at least twice a week coming through here, there’s no way you could ever keep up with those losses.” Vince’s tone began getting lower, with each passing sentence his voice came closer to a whisper. “The number of fights has gone up in the last few months, it would seem they have other sources of manpower besides the cheap punks you see everywhere around here.” Sigurd could tell that Vince was trying to get at something and made a quick response. “You feeling alright Vinny?” “I’m fine…” “We’ve been through here hundreds of times together and you’ve never let any of that get to you, you sure you’re ok?” Sigurd tilted his head to try and see a little more of Vince’s face, or the side of it at least since that’s all he could see from the back. “I said I’m fine, it’s not me I’m worried about now cut the chatter.” Sigurd stared at Vince as if his thoughts were written on the back of his head, but whether they were or not one thing seemed obvious, something had Vince spooked. Sigurd started to look around, in a casual manner, but in a serious nature, hoping to pick up what made things different now than it was any other day they came through these streets. Jones who didn’t have anything to say during the discussion suddenly decided to speak. It was obvious to him that Sigurd was looking for something, and Jones knew what it was. “Try a left here Vinny…” “I was thinking the same thing” said Vince. Sigurd looked at them both confused, the street they were on went straight to the access gate for The Hill, turning left here would only lead them away from the gate and deeper into gang territory. Before he could say anything Jones spoke to him in a quiet voice. “When we make the left, check the six.” Moving slow and casual Sigurd tilted his head off to the left, when they turned he saw another vehicle following them. “He’s been following us since a few blocks after my place… that area’s a little remote for any gang members to be picking up targets.” It was still very early and quite dark, most of the streetlights in this part of town were shot out either by age, accident, or design since the muggers and gang members found them annoying. The vehicle didn’t have its lights on like most would at this hour and was almost invisible in the twilight. Sigurd faced forward again so as not to draw attention to his observations. “Maybe he’s just another guy going to work” said Sigurd. He knew fully well that his suggestion was unlikely, but he was trying to find a way to ease the tension of the situation. They were following from a distance of nearly 30 meters, and hover noise of Vince’s grav-vehicle would easily be enough to block out theirs. It was blowing his mind to think that both Vince and Jones knew all along, but it did explain why Vince was acting weird. “If he follows us down this way we’ll eliminate that possibility” said Vince a little sarcastically. “I’d be more uncomfortable with it if he didn’t” said Jones in a seemingly hopeful response. “Speaking of uncomfortable…” Sigurd leaned forward until his head was nearly right between the others. “Where is everyone?” They looked around at the streets and sidewalks that would normally be occupied by hobos, thugs, and killers even in the dark hours of the morning. “I don’t see that grav-vehicle anymore either” said Vince. “Well how nice of them, they left us a whole street to ourselves” Jones said with disturbing cheerfulness. Vince suddenly hit the brakes, a man in dark clothing had run out of an alley right in front of them. As the hover-boosters blasted in reverse they heard a loud *Clunk* as the man disappeared under the front of the vehicle when it stopped. “Dammit… not quite, Jones go check it out” Said Vince as he reached under his seat. Jones was digging in the glove compartment and had just pulled out a frag-pistol. “I’m on it” he responded quickly as he cocked the gun and jumped out quickly. He leaned on the vehicle as he checked his surroundings and slowly crept forward. Vince sat up and tossed Sigurd a frag-pistol. Sigurd looked at him with a half focused half confused look on his face. “You’ve always been prepared for something like this?” said Sigurd. --“They’re outdated but they’re a lot easier to buy and hide than most of the modern hardware, Except for maybe these.” Vince handed him two concussion grenades and got to work loading his gun. Sigurd was almost speechless by now, watching the way those two were handling the situation it seemed so fluid and normal, it was a scary to think that maybe they’ve done this before. After he examined and stared at the gun for a little while, the fearful thought of never having fired a gun before started to sink in. Vince cocked his pistol and looked at Sigurd through the rear view mirror, he could tell by the look on Sigurd’s face his mind was going somewhere else and started to talk to him. “Just point and shoot until it won’t shoot anymore, it’s semi-auto.” Sigurd looked up at him trying to hold back his anxiety. “There’s still a chance we may not need these, but in case we do you gotta stay focused Sig.” As Sigurd listened to him he suddenly didn’t hear Vince’s voice anymore, it somehow had transformed into a voice he hadn’t heard in a long time. As he looked at Vince, he could hear his father’s voice coaching him, encouraging him, and building him up. Vince said “Cover Jones, I got your back in case this goes bad” and with that Sigurd put the grenades in his jacket and turned the safety off as he got out and crouched near the back well behind Jones. -------------------------------------------------------- more coming...... eventually... probably... i hope.