My Archives: August 2004
Saturday, August 28, 2004
If Evelina was hoping for something resembling the Chatrani, she was sorely mistaken. After the American guarding the exit had let her through, Eve realized that the only resemblance the Subterranean bore to her home was the architecture—it vaguely resembled a mall. Whereas the workers at the Chatrani sold common wares, this was another market altogether.
One might, in fact, call it a meat market. Evelina couldn’t help but gape as she walked down the wide steps leading further underground. The hallway she’s previously navigated had nothing on this: along with the inevitable prostitutes and strip clubs, there was a veritable smorgasbord of unsavory shops. Nobody bothered her, but she didn’t need to be harassed or haggled to feel out of place—their looks said it all.
Fetishists wandered into sex shops that featured chimeras, not typically welcome in normal cities. Cyber-punks perused storefronts full of electronics, which, although spendy, had mostly all been stolen or acquired through otherwise shady means. Those with a passion for body art didn’t have to look very far to acquire a new addition to their canvas of flesh. For anyone feeling braver, there were actual body alterations to be had. Androids—albeit low quality ones—were readily available. Evelina furrowed her brow and stuck out her jaw, exhaling in a quick burst to blow a strand of hair out of her eyes. She thought to herself how the Subterranean had just about everything in life she didn’t need.
A pair of dark blue eyes startled Evelina. She blinked, stopping in her tracks and gazing perplexedly into them. The eyes stared back, unmoving as they sat floating at the top of their liquid prison—a jar in one of the body alteration shops, this one specifying in brand-new eyeballs. A wave of nausea washed over Eve as she thought “Julia. Those eyes look just like Julia’s.” They weren’t, of course, but it unnerved the young woman nonetheless, which is why she nearly had a heart attack when someone’s hand touched her shoulder.
“You have beautiful eyes,” hissed a man, perhaps the owner of the shop. He seemed to be fond of changing his own eyes, because although they were a brilliant purple, they seemed a bit too small for his own head. The man grinned, revealing his rotten, crooked teeth. “Care to make a trade?”
“Ugh, no!” Evelina shouted, yanking her shoulder out of the man’s grip. Severely unsettled, she broke into a run, away from that creepy man and his creepy store. She shuddered, wrapping her arms across her chest as she ran, eyes downcast. A moment later she slammed into someone’s shoulder, muttering a brief apology. That would have been the end of the encounter was it not for a glimpse of long brown hair, a familiar jawbone, and—could it be? —those dark blue eyes…
“Julia?” asked Eve, turning to get another look at the woman. Where was she? Frantically Evelina scanned the crowded underground, but the familiar face had vanished. It was completely improbable, as they had touched shoulders just seconds before, leading Evelina to believe that somehow she really had seen her friend. “Julia, get back here, dammit!” Now she was yelling, oblivious to the stares she was receiving as she turned around and ran past the purple-eyed man and his customers, past all the cyber-punks and the chimeras and the sex fiends until she had reached the stairs.
“Where are you…?” she whispered, resting her hands on her knees and panting. She knew how illogical and crazy it was to think she’d actually seen Julia, but in Evelina’s mind she accepted that she just might be going crazy. Better to be a little loopy and see her friend than to not see her at all, and it had to mean something…
Tears were streaming down her face, leaving a trail of black mascara, and she silently cursed herself for crying in public. Evelina had no idea what to do next, and so she was actually thankful when the gate lifted and Marena and Dante rushed down the stairs to meet her.
* *Two small, pale hands with chipped blue nail polish fumbled with a set of keys, finally managing to open the car door. Kaori Matsuya was in the garage behind the Mezzanine, a small, four-car deal. She had snagged her suitcase from Eve’s bike, and now tossed it into the car where it landed with a bounce on the passenger seat.
“It is my fault we lost Eve. I wish I could do something right. I can't mess this up. I'm not going to mess this up.” Kaori thought to herself before sitting down, then cursed audibly: there was water on the seat, and it had already soaked through her pants. “Of course, thanks to our new outlaw friend and his aquatic skills.” Before she could insert the key into the ignition, the garage door farthest from her began to open. Several policemen walked in, shining flashlights around.“Crap,” she muttered, briefly contemplating driving straight through the closed door behind her. It would open, normally, if the car moved slowly enough, but not if she backed out quickly, as she was considering. Instead she opted to squeeze down beneath the dash on the passenger side, keeping her head low and praying they wouldn’t notice her. A few moments later, her worst fears came true when there was a rapid knocking on the passenger side window.
“Ma’am?” said the accented voice. “Ma’am, what are you doing hiding there? Get out of the car, please.”
Sullenly she hoisted herself up and over to the driver’s side, then opened the door to stand beside the car.“What’s all this about?” asked one of the men.
“I was scared,” she said, making her voice high-pitched and sweet sounding. She kept her left hand on the roof of the car. “I heard there were some dangerous people in the club so I went out here to hide. When I saw you guys, I guess I just panicked.”
“Uh huh,” he replied skeptically. “Is this vehicle registered to you?”
“Yes.”
“License and registration?”
“…I left them at home.”
“Ma’am, I’m going to have to ask you to step away from the car,” he announced, and when she didn’t move, he grabbed her by the wrist. Another policeman had opened the passenger door and was now rummaging through the glove box. “Bingo. This car is registered to Dante Lamoroch. You’re mixed up with some bad company, little girl.”
Kaori deeply resented being called a little girl, but most of all she was angry with herself for getting caught. Everything she could have done differently over the past several minutes flashed through her mind, going back even further to how they lost Eve in the first place. The awkward motorcycle ride from earlier was starting to seem like an impossible dream, that she had ever been in Evelina’s presence.
“Let go of me, you jerk!” she exclaimed, wrenching herself out of the man’s grip. He seemed surprised by her strength. Moments later his shocked expression turned to one of severe annoyance, and he made another lunge for her, which she deftly avoided. “I’m not going to mess this up,” she thought again, feeling a sort of disconnection in her mind. Although Kaori feared what her power could do, there was very little alternative with so many policemen to take out, and she didn’t think she could do it with her fists alone. Manipulating the earth was becoming more automatic; an instinct that would ensure her survival—one she wanted to know more about, despite her fears.
A barely perceptible growl started deep in her throat. Fifteen minutes, Dante had said, and she’d already wasted at least ten. Her fists clenched as her growl became louder. Kaori didn’t realize that her eyes were glowing green, but the police looked at one another warily and even took a few steps backwards.
“Now hey, little girl, just calm down...”
“I’M NO LITTLE GIRL!” Her scream echoed eerily through the garage before she slammed her fist down into the concrete floor. As the ground trembled, a wave of earth rippled forward from where she crouched, breaking the concrete into large, dangerous chunks that went flying through the air. The policemen went flying as well, slamming bodily into the closed garage door. When the wave reached the door, there was a loud splintering of wood and a crack shot up through the center. So great was the upheaval that the door broke into pieces and fell to the side, allowing for the policemen (badly injured, but still alive) to crawl to safety.
“Safety,” unfortunately, was a busy parking lot, and they were nearly run over on the spot. They had barely clambered out of the way when Dante’s sleek white sports car went barreling through the broken garage, struggling to back over the cracked cement and spraying the crowd with debris. Behind the wheel, one very determined Kaori Matsuya grinned wickedly, put the car into drive and spun out into traffic. Instinctively, her hand reached up to clasp the emerald necklace at her throat, and she found that it was warm.
* *
Further, if Evelina had been hoping for a chance to catch her breath and calm down, she was mistaken there as well. Dante wasted no time in catching her by the upper arm and dragging the black-clad woman through the Subterranean at a breakneck pace, Marena in tow.
“Excuse me, what…hey, what’s going on?!” she demanded, scowling at Dante.
“Just…run,” he said, never once looking at her.
“I’ll thank you to stop…manhandling me.” Evelina pulled away. She was getting really sick of people randomly grabbing hold of her.
“Whatever, just run!” Dante said impatiently, glancing back over his shoulder. Evelina did the same, taking note of the stream of policemen who appeared to be chasing after them. “And don’t shoot any of ‘em, either. They’re just doing their job.”
“Fantastic,” muttered Eve, shoving her way through a particularly crowded section of the underground. Everyone was in an absolute panic, not wanting to be caught doing anything illegal, but they had nothing to worry about: Dante and his accomplices—but mostly just Dante—was the big prize, and the police chased him with fevered single-mindedness.
“So where are we headed? This had better not lead to a dead end.”
“Oh ye of little faith,” said an out-of-breath Dante, still managing to grin slyly over at the females, who both looked at each other and rolled their eyes. The group had just clambered up some rusty metal stairs and through a doorway leading to the subway station—evidently this was some kind of secret entrance, and very well hidden behind a large pillar in the corner. “See?” said Dante suavely, though the beads of sweat on his forehead betrayed his nerves. “I know my way around a few places. Now, if that kid got out of the Mezzanine okay, my car ought to be waiting—“ he motioned to a crowded set of stairs leading up. “Right out there.”
Peering out across the noisy station, Eve looked down at the several rows of train track before them—all four lanes of it. In between each was a narrow strip of concrete where passengers congregated around ticket dispensers and waited for their train.
“And what if she’s not?” asked Marena.
Dante’s reply was blunt. “Then we’re screwed.” Motioning for them to follow, he started across the tracks. Marena, who was still fairly tipsy, fearlessly ambled along after him and had soon made it all the way across. Evelina paused halfway across—a train was pulling up, and there was no way she’s make it in time. As the train slowed, she stood directly in front of the doors as they parted, hoping to use it as a shortcut. However, she was greeted by policemen who, anticipating something like this, were waiting inside.
Eve hesitated, knowing that if she ran, they’d shoot her. She wasn’t too keen on having assault charges against her, either. Luckily, as the police were pulling her onto the train, Dante appeared behind them and expertly knocked their heads together. They slumped to the ground, motionless, as the train doors started to close. Dante jumped over their unconscious bodies just in time, though his coat was caught in the door and the train was beginning to move.
“Um…this is not good,” he said, grinning nervously over at Evelina. Some teenagers inside the train, sporting the ubiquitous cyber-punk look, had grabbed hold of his long coat and refused to let go. They laughed gleefully, pointing at him.
“Just take off your coat, moron,” Eve suggested, crossing her arms.
“No way! Do you know how much this thing cost?!” Dante yelled a few choice words at the teenagers, trying to free himself as he ran alongside the train.
“Do I care? No. You can’t wear your expensive coat to prison, Dante.”
“Tch,” he replied, looking defeated. “Fine, you win. Christ…lemme get my cell phone first.” Mournfully he wiggled out of his coat, which dangled on the outside of the train momentarily before one of the punks yanked it inside, promptly trying it on. The teen pressed his face up against the window and inflated his cheeks most unflatteringly before the train vanished into the tunnel.
Still seething, Dante hurried across the tracks along with Evelina and toward the staircase.
“What happened, you guys?” asked Marena, tugging drunkenly on a strand of hair.
“You don’t wanna know,” said Dante curtly. They jogged up the stairs to the busy streets of London. Evelina noted how cool and refreshing the night breeze felt on her skin after being in that musty, dank underground for so long. “I don’t see any more police,” added Dante, looking back down the tunnel. “But you can bet they’re not far behind.”
“Aren’t the London police supposed to be faster than this? I heard they use jetpacks or something.” muttered Evelina.
“No, those are the American authorities,” spat Dante, clearly letting his anxiety get to him. “The London police are hilariously under-funded. And what’re you so sulky about?” he added, looking critically at her tear-stained face for the first time. “That wasn’t the smartest thing, running off like that. And where’s that kid? Dammit, we’re gonna get caught…”
“Hey, leave her alone,” said Marena, interrupting what would have been a very rude comment from Eve. “We found her and that’s all that matters, Mister-Let’s-Leave-Evelina-Behind. All you care about is yourself, Dante, so don’t start on Evelina.”
“Psh, whatever,” he replied, craning his neck to look down the busy road. “Who saved her skin back there? Me. I know, I amaze me too. And you seemed to be quite a fan of The Dante yourself, Marena.”
“Oh my God, shut up!” Marena, crimson, turned the other way.
“Ugh!” exclaimed Eve, lowering her head into her hands. “There’s no words.”
“Well, we have Kaori to thank for ending this awkward moment,” said Dante. Indeed, the young woman was veering through traffic at breakneck speed and somehow avoiding injuring herself and others. She pulled over, several people honking and yelling as they sped past the idling vehicle.
“You’re late,” said Dante, hopping in next to her. Evelina and Marena clambered in next, and the car began moving before they could even close the door. With only two seats, it was a tight fit.
“Shove it,” replied Kaori, smiling sweetly. Dante nodded, unusually silent, perhaps because he was squeezed between her and Marena and knew he was outnumbered.
Tower Bridge Road lead naturally to the dazzling Tower Bridge, which was lit up at night to showcase its sheer architectural brilliance. Two tall, elegant towers made up the central part of the bridge, bookmarked by a smaller tower on each side that served as an entrance or exit to the bridge. Several beams connected the main towers, and they glowed blue and green in the night with a golden crown at the very center.
“Tone it down, Kaori,” said Dante, who quickly explained himself after she gave him a withering glare. “You did a great job getting us out of there, I just don’t want to attract any more attention, you know.”
“Got it,” she said, shifting to a lower gear. She relaxed in the seat, driving as if they were on some pleasure cruise. “We’re outta here.”
“Thank God,” said Evelina. She squirmed uncomfortably; Marena had fallen asleep on her shoulder. She was used to traveling alone, and that’s when she thought of her bike for the first time since she’d left it behind. “What about my bike?”
“What did you expect me to do?” asked Kaori, shrugging. “This car isn’t practical, but your bike would be impossible.”
Evelina moaned sadly and pressed her forehead to the windowpane, staring dejectedly into the water below. “See if I ever try and take a vacation again.”
Posted by Sylpheel @ 09:57 PM CST [Link] [Karma: 0 (+/-)] [No Comments]
Saturday, August 21, 2004
Sofiya, Bulgaria
15:30“Do you need anything else, sir?”
Her words had marked the third time in the hour that one of the younger waitresses had approached his small table, inquiring as to whether or not the silent man was satisfied with the coffee he had ordered. She was petite, no older than her late teens, blonde and Bulgarian.
The young man could tell the latter from her accent; her English was weak, and he felt tempted to start speaking to the woman in her assumed native tongue. Watching her neutrally with his hazel eyes, and sitting down the pen in his hand, he instead insisted that the coffee was fine.
He was partially lying. A fact she was also keen to but spoke nothing about. The man had not touched the coffee since he had asked for it an hour ago. The look on her face was slightly perturbed as she left. The customers in the small, roadside café were few and far in between, fading in and out of the bar like shadows cast by the lighting of diminutive shop in the night.
Her voice itself had a story to tell, the strained anxiousness in her tone when she spoke to him, pink lips carefully producing each word with a most subtle grace, and an impeccable sense of manners. The virtually imperceptible tremble of her upper lip during her last visit suggested she had almost been inclined to start a true conversation with him – though her body language already had.
The dark haired man looked back at his small yellow notepad, situated next to his cup of coffee – which he usually took black, with the occasional packet of sugar or two, and he began to write. Every few moments or so he’d glance back over to the waitress, then to his passport and the variety of previously crumpled papers and photographs also sprawled on the table top.
Random notes of the areas he had been, a crudely drawn map of his destination, and train schedules had found themselves onto the paper via his difficult-to-read handwriting. His penmanship was not bad at all – but what was put on these pages were of no use to anyone else anyway.
He had time to spare. He leaned back in his chair and reached into the pocket of his coat, searching for a cigarette. In the back of his mind he hoped the waitress would not mind the smoke.
If it was a problem, he would put it out without much thought. Smoking for him was never a necessity. It kept him awake during the moments when he didn’t need to sleep.
Striking a match, lighting it, shaking the flame from the match and taking in his first draw in the last few hours, he made eye contact with a new woman from across the room, just now entering the café.
The other patrons had come and gone like shadows, but she was different; pale and modestly tall with blonde hair and imperceptible eyes. He took an extended period of time to take in her features. She was beautiful. She was also accompanied by a man, not much taller than she, who stood close by her. Both of them looked out of place.
The thin plume of cigarette smoke veiled her like grain on an aging film, and she quickly averted her eyes. From the glimpse that the young man had gotten of her, he could not tell her age; a simple fact that bothered him ever so slightly. He chose not to dwell on it too long, though. He was never mindful of his staring.
The time spent at the quiet, almost bucolic European café was rather relaxing. Running a hand through his short, under-combed hair, he eventually ordered a warm cup of coffee (actually drinking it this time), while rereading the letter that had stayed put in his right coat pocket for the near entirety of his trip thus far. It was somewhat strange knowing that in the same coffee bar just weeks prior, she had penned it.
Skye was close. He would find her.
17:00Quickly gathering his things, the man left his seat. In his wake: a used napkin, an empty coffee cup, and a sketch of the waitress who served him, that was done when she was attending to something behind the counter. His name was written at the bottom.
He was leaving the café, briskly, and soon, pushed through the door in exit. From this action, above the door, there was a chime. It was not the only noise he heard – the young woman whose eyes had met his earlier, was at the counter, conversing with an older man, and inquiring about the no-longer-existent airways.
The streets here were cold, foreign, and wet. It showed signs that it had rained earlier – even thought he wasn’t present in town for too long. The smoking man knew exactly where he was going, but that wasn’t why he was following the ground with his eyes as he walked. The sidewalks weren’t exactly the cleanest, and he liked his boots clean. They were logo-less; faux recreations of American footwear that he had scored alongside various other paraphernalia in Moscow.
By his side was a leather trunk, swaying back and forth with each step in complete sync with his coat. Its contents, unique and important, but it’s exterior, no different from that of the instrument case of a musician. He was not a musician.
He turned his head to the side, looking between the bars of a gate like barrier as he passed by it. He saw the station and the people standing around it in strobe, the effect seemingly slowing down time. Seconds later, he stepped up onto the train platform.
He had already purchased his ticket before he had even gone to the café. Until then, he had been traveling non-stop for the last few days. The break was long overdue. He had once heard a theory on jet-lag that intrigued him; that souls were not particularly fast and that they needed time to catch up after the person reaches his destination. The young, dark haired man didn’t know how fast his soul was, but the pause was nice.
Onto the train, into his seat, head against the window, and a sigh. He pulled out a cigarette and looked at it in his hand, carefully, for just a second. The man wondered how many he had smoked that evening. He couldn’t remember, though it couldn’t have been more than a few. Looking at it stirred from the dark a happy memory with an old friend. The reprieve of the moment was strange for two reasons. The memory was the last time they had kissed, and her lips tasted like cigarettes, though it did not hamper her kissing technique. It was also sad, because she was gone. But it made him smile, thinking about it.
The train shifted and the hiss of smoke and the churning of machinery and steel against the tracks broke him from the moment, almost as if he had fallen away from the woman again, hitting the ground of reality hard, but alive, all over again. He put the cigarette to his lips and lit it quickly.
He exhaled. And he stared. And he was quiet. Those same eyes from the café were looking elsewhere, her head slowly coming to rest against the shoulder of her companion. Now they were looking at him.
2:00The man sat up slowly, abandoning this pointless parody of sleep. The unlit-cigarette that had been between his lips fell silently against the sheets. He groped around for his coat in the dark, which lay half on the bed, half astray down its side. It was nowhere to be found.
Coughing quietly in the shadows and running a hand through his messy hair, he pondered for a moment. He was still thinking about them, and her. He regretted leaving. It wasn’t his false – it was circumstance. It was an accident that had changed his life, for better or worse. The young man was never really sure. But even if he didn’t quite regret the change, there would always be compunction towards the woman who was left behind, and what it must have put her through.
He reached over blindly to the bedside table in the room. He turned on the Italian lamp, after finding it. The switch felt foreign. In every room, in every country, they held back a different voltage. The sound was different. Never as memorable as home – and even stranger, that such a sound could be so distinct in one’s mind, even though it’s hardly ever directly thought about.
Knowing he’d need room and board for the evening, he got off the train outside of Prague, checking in at the ‘Avalon Inn’, an aging and not-too-frequently occupied hotel. The room in the inn was small, burgundy like the train, and slightly unclean, but he didn’t pay, nor ask, for much anyway. There were no suites of any kind outside of places like Prague. Just hotels like these – where he could tell the earlier occupants were a 40-something man and a 20-something women just by the smell and the items they left behind.
He could see his book of matches now. The small, folded paper was on the floor; discarded. He had used them all and forgot.
Turned off the light, fell back into the pillows, reached into his lap, and took hold of the cigarette. Noah Maxwell put the bent, worn, and unlit cigarette between his lips. He told himself he didn’t need to smoke, and maybe he didn’t. Or maybe he just didn’t want to remind himself of her.
He always left them. The ones he loved.
‘Sorry Dom… Forgive me, someday.’
It was going to be a long night.
[more]Posted by Jubilation Link @ 03:04 AM CST [Link] [Karma: -1 (+/-)] [No Comments]
Friday, August 20, 2004
Evelina leisurely continued to wander down the snaking passage, wading through faint, hazy scarves of smoke that seemed variably strewn in the air and suspended indefinitely. The air tasted of cigarettes, liquor, and sex – the nicotine-mist visibly parting around her and wafting through her locks of dark hair that spilled over the tops of her shoulders and caressing her cheeks with each step. The area was dim and felt slightly cluttered – not to mention warm. The right hand side was followed by a pair of glowing, tubular neon lights that stretched down along the curving hall and spilled an erotic crimson across to the expansive sheet of velvet that was the opposite wall. Her leather shared this same unnatural glow; maroon now, and she did not need to look at herself to realize this fact, for unfortunately, as many of the other occupants of the corridor shared similar tastes.
It was an indoor alley of prostitution, drinking, and making out between men with women, women with women, and men with men. Droves of others seeking semi-privacy had sought refuge against the walls, either standing or sitting, completely aware of everyone else either doing the same or just passing by and they hardly cared. Evelina noted that the noises the passageway’s patrons were creating were minimal at the most. The few sounds that did exceed calm whispers and fervent kissing were muffled by the techno-funk rhythms blaring throughout the above section of The Mezzanine, which she had recently learned was the name of the London club, overhead. While the music was not being projected directly into the hall itself, the bass was vibrating stoutly and intermittently through the walls.
The scenery was interesting, and in actuality, she wasn’t even that sure where she was headed. Eve had been lucky enough to stumble upon the channel after wandering through the innards of The Mezzanine, quickly having become bored with the club and wanting to temporarily ditch Kaori and the others on impulse. After all, she wasn’t much of a dancer, and standing amongst the crowd unmoving and attempting to look alluring wasn’t exactly what it used to be.
As she curiously ventured onward down the zigzag, scarlet tunnel, Eve noted the volume of the music had lessened, as if she was slowly distancing from the club, and by the time this understanding had struck her, she came to what could only be the exit.
A Caucasian woman stationed at the end of the hall casually yanked the steel handle of the metal gate downward, and with metallic snap that sounded of a heavy lock snapping shut, the exit was closed. The attire of the female was interesting indeed; though the lighting had thrown her off for a moment, the young woman wore an unmistakably bright green tank top that seemed to complement her short hair, which was an equally bright emerald, with wicked long, jet-black bangs. Her short skirt was a strange combination of leather, metal sheeting, heavy steel clips, and straps that hung high and low all around her waist. Combined with the fishnet stockings and knee-high leather boots, she was definitely something. For a moment, Evelina couldn’t quite put her finger on that ‘something’. Instead of browsing her vocabulary for a suitable, cliché term such as ‘cyber-punk’ and its many variants, she eventually just settled on the assumption that the woman was an American.
The stranger at the gate met Eve’s glance and stood back straight, adjusting her bra and watching the dark-haired motorcyclist with slight ambiguity. “I haven’t seen your face before.”
Evelina looked at the woman blankly, and then fixed her eyes on the heavy steel gate, which seemed to show nothing of what lie behind it, aside from a small, rectangular slot at the eyelevel of the woman with the prevailing style of jade. Her long, sickle-like bangs swung from side to side as she tilted her head and stared at Eve, as if expecting some kind of response. Eve’s initial reply changed the subject entirely.
“This must be the ‘London Underground’, right? I’ve heard about it.” Her eyes darted about, curiously. The woman soon interjected.
“You’re kidding, right? Listen, no one calls it that.” She practically laughed at Evelina’s comment and leaned back against the door, looking bored. “You some kind of tourist? You must be.”
She sounded American, but oddly enough, Evelina was the tourist here. The Nightrider commended herself for being half-right.
Evelina shot her an intensely negative look and rolled her eyes, semi-indifferent as always. “I just want to know if I’m at the right place.”
“Oh, you are. This is the only place.” The young woman said, eyeing her intensely and with a smile – as if she had been waiting for an opportunity to say that, or just liked the shirt Eve was wearing.
Evelina raised in eyebrow in slight confusion. The nameless girl took a glance at her own fingernails before speaking again, this time, her voice just as indifferent as Eve’s, as if she had to say this all the time and it was beginning to be redundant. “So you’re goin’ down? Alright,” She reached down and lifted a small lever at the base of the floor. There was a loud snap, and she yanked at the handle upwards, sliding the gate vertically as she spoke. “You should know, though: If you decide to come back up this way, you had best not bring anything too-illegal with you.”
“Steven wouldn’t like that, right?” Evelina said cynically, saying his name slowly and deliberately, as the gate began to rise. Seeing as how this was still part of the Mezzanine, Evelina assumed she worked for him just like everyone else. She mentally crossed her fingers, hoping not to seem like a foolish tourist again, as brilliant, shining neon lights spilled onto Eve’s apparel, no longer shielded by the steel barrier.
“You’re right, he sure wouldn’t.” The jade-bathed girl extended her arm and the gate high above her head and locked it back into place, and glanced sideways at Evelina, one of her bangs veiling the better part of her face. “So, d’ya got a name?”
There was a slight pause. “Evelina,” She answered far too lethargically, with a detached look on her face. Apparently, it was humorous for the young woman, who began to smirk.
The girl nodded, and slowly slid out of the way. Eve started to walk past her, only to have the stranger’s hand come up to her shoulder, pausing her for a moment. She grinned, and looked at her coyly as she spoke, putting the same emphasis on her name that the Nightrider had on the owner of the Mezzanine.
“Well then, Evelina… Welcome to the Subterranean.”
* * *
Marena stared vacantly across the bar, swaying slightly to the music as she had been. She had taken to shots instead of mixed drinks now, out of impatience, and was on her fourth by the time the pause broke and Dante began questioning her again.“Did you even hear the question?” he asked.
“Of course I heard the question. I‘m not deaf.” Marena answered angrily. Arrogant little prick thought he had the right to do whatever the hell he wanted. He was probably used to getting everything, living off his daddy’s money while decent, hardworking people like herself were in fucking gutters trying to make a little money so they could have a place to stay. Nothing was ever fair.
“What the hell are you talking about?” Dante yelled at Marena, even though he was only a few inches away.
Marena turned and faced him, only then realizing that the better part of her internal monologue had been more of a mumbling, external monologue, and that she was slightly more drunk than she thought she was, or wanted to be. She simply stared at Dante for a few moments, before replying, calmly, “What are you talking about?”
Dante returned her stare with equal confusion, but rather than respond, he simply rephrased his question. “Would you like to dance, then? Seeing as the last question threw you off a little.”
“Nothing threw me off, Mr. Lamoroch. I just suppose you’re just not used to people questioning things you ask of them.” Marena said, staring into his privileged eyes with contempt.
“No, I’m not.” He said, and with that forcefully grabbed her arm and pulled her down into the mob. The music once again surrounded her and pounded in her ears, yet now it seemed even louder, even richer, even more brilliant than before. She found herself caught in the rhythm, the noise, the heat of it all. She could feel Dante in front of her, just there, and then again as he began touching her, with his golden fingertips and diamond lips.
Lips. It had finally registered that he, in fact, was now kissing her neck and her shoulders, lightly, as if to show some restraint. If she didn’t know any better, she would have thought they actually knew each other, or at planned on sleeping together, neither of which were true, not on her part anyways. She was, however, too intoxicated to truly care enough to protest.
This...whatever it was, continued on for a while (Marena simply assumed it had been a while, as her feel for time had gone straight out the window). Suddenly, Dante raised his head, startling Marena. Now instead of being everywhere, Dante was right there, staring at her. His face was now only a few inches from hers, and she could smell the alcohol on his breath. She may not have heard what he had ordered earlier, in that plain little shot glass, but she certainly knew what it was now: vodka. Of course, it had to have been better than anything she had ever had; rich little fuck and his expensive liquor that, when you really got down to it, was technically the same rubbing alcohol shit you could buy in Prague, but better made, in a prettier package. The rich kid of the hard liquor world.
Dante shifted unexpectedly and moved his face in closer to Marena’s, foreheads touching, and made like he was about to kiss her, but hesitated. Marena realized that he was waiting for her to move, waiting for her to answer whether she wanted him to kiss her. She paused, because she knew in her mind that she did not like Dante. And not even him, really, but what he stood for, and what he had. An impersonal hate.
However, despite all of this, she still felt an urge to kiss him anyways, for all she could think about was the €200 shot on his lips, and how the smell was making her even more intoxicated. She moved her face in closer to his, breathing in the scent on his lips. She then ran her lips over his; not kissing him, just a gentle brush. But it was enough to cause Dante to inhale sharply and make an audible moan, as if he was doing all he could not to just take her right then and there. Marena smiled; she was pleased with his reaction, but not surprised. After all, she had done this for a living.
“What are you smiling about?” Dante asked Marena, but with no malice in his tone; it was too saturated in lust to convey anything else.
Marena was going to say something, but instead closed the gap between herself and Dante, throwing him slightly off guard. He didn’t even hesitate in kissing her back though, running his hands through her hair and grabbing a fistful of it in one hand while the other ran along her body wherever it pleased, and Marena did nothing to stop it.
The smooth transition from the previous song into the next prompted a change in Dante as well, as he broke from Marena and began kissing her neck once again, biting softly at it. Marena let out an involuntary moan and closed her eyes as she pushed back his suit jacket and untucked the back of his dress shirt, running her nails across his lower back. She felt him shudder.
The music boomed as their moves became more frantic and their clothes became more annoying. Marena couldn’t tell who was kissing who anymore, or where; she was too caught up in the moment. Her ears were ringing with the music, or something - they were ringing at any rate. Well, something was ringing, she knew. Maybe in the music? But it wasn’t with the music. It was more like...
A cell phone.
Her eyes snapped open and she saw Dante in front of her, yelling into his headset, looking every bit the same as he had at the bar, and most definitely not all over her. She wasn’t even sure he had ever been kissing her at all; not like that anyways. In fact, she wasn’t sure if most of the past 10 minutes of her life had really happened at all.
God, she was so drunk. And she absolutely loved it.
* * *
“What the fuck are you talking about? Steven, seriously do not fuck me here, I can’t afford to be fucked over tonight.” Dante snapped, swiftly looking over his shoulder. The now intensely pissed blonde began peering over the sea of men and women clamored together, rocking in unison to the blaring techno. The dimly lit, turquoise tinted exterior did not lend much to his vision, but he was able to make out the sleek, jet black uniforms and distinct helmets of the London police, if only for a second. All Dante got was a mere glimpse, however, as two dancing girls in front of him raised their slender arms in response to the heavy bass. A cool, almost amorous female voice began moaning with the electronic music, her enigmatic pleas thundering through the speakers, and making it that more difficult for Dante to understand the Mezzanine’s owner clearly.Clasping his hands over his ears, he ‘politely’ shouted at Steven to repeat what he was saying while Dante was momentarily distracted by the presence of law enforcement.
“Dante, I’m buying you a little time. The police have been going around to all the hot spots and they have an ID on you and the women and they know you were a part of what went down in Wonderland. I had no idea you had half the fucking syndicate after you, Lamoroch! You think you’re going to pull that kind of shit in my club? ‘Cause I’m not having it.” The owner continued; his voice stern and his point clear. It was turning out to be another one of those days for Dante, and he sighed deeply in frustration and almost anger, not quite sure at what. Marena, still dancing in front of him (whereas he had ceased), began to look at him slightly worried. Though only slightly – the woman was smashed like she just got into an accident with a steamroller.
“I didn’t tell anyone I was coming here, Steven,” Dante finally said, collecting himself. “I’ll be out of here as soon as you tell me where the hell to go. Is my car still outside? Is it fine?” He inquired, while the understandably buzzed Marena started slowly moving back against him, an indiscernible look in her eyes. They seem transfixed on him, on his… lips? He shook his head gently, her arms moving up and down his shoulders. Either she was too hammered to give a damn about whatever was happening, or she hadn’t gotten her fill of fun yet.
“Your car is fine – all they got were your faces on camera.” That sentence provoked a groan out of Dante almost instantly. “But there’s no way in hell you’re getting to it. They’re coming in from every entrance now, as far as I can tell. They asked me a few questions; I told them I haven’t seen you, so they decided to scan around. Now, get your friends and go through the Subterranean and be a little hasty about it, before you make a scene in my goddamn club. You do know where the Subterranean is, right?” Steven said, impassionedly. It was obvious he was through giving favors for the night. The tone didn’t surprise Dante, since he heard it a lot.
“Yeah, I know... Thanks for helping me out Steven, I owe you one.” It wasn’t the best thing the blonde could have said, but it didn’t much matter to him.
“You owe everyone one.” Steven replied quickly, before hanging up, and Dante could have sworn he heard the sound of eyes rolling in the background. The call over, he glanced back at the newly arriving cops, before shifting his focus back to the tanned beauty, his eyes looking concerned.
‘Okay, think fast… Shit, I seriously don’t need this right now,’ He groaned once more, and Marena responded with a tug at his collar.
“What’s wrong, I was starting to have a good time.”
“Well… Sorry. We need to go. C’mon, hurry, we have to find the others.” He took her by the wrist quickly and started into a brisk walk past her.
“Hey, what the- wait a second…!” She protested, as the sudden motion almost caused her to fall, though what would have been a shout instead seemed more like a meek whine. She trailed after him, almost stumbling and caught at the hand, but doing her best to keep up.
His first priority was to get her, the others, and the suitcase out of the lounge room they had been allowed to stay in for the night. Dante figured that as long as they kept their heads low, weaving through the crowd without getting found would be no problem – and he turned out to be right. Within no time, he had leaded the younger women to the thin, staircase hallway, and the two quickly rushed into the VIP lounge. Closing the door behind them, Marena stared at him, puzzled at his behavior. “What’s the deal, rich boy?”
Already, Dante was shaking Kaori from her sleep; the young girl coming to with a startled, perhaps even angry, look on her face, and the blonde directed his answer at the both of them. “I got a call from Steven. We need to leave now, they found us, so we have to head to a place of mine really fast. It’s not as nice as this, but it’ll do.”
“Oh.” Marena replied, slightly dumbfounded. “I really don’t think we want to get arrested.” She continued, her voice much more bubbly than usual. Dante flashed her a smile.
“We’re leaving now? Fucking hell…” Kaori cursed at the air, sitting up swiftly and rubbing her eyes.
“If we don’t leave now, it’s going to be Wonderland all over again--” he muttered, snatching up the suitcase he had wisely brought in with him, freezing in his tracks as a realization suddenly struck him. “Wait. Where’s Eve?”
The two oldest people in the room looked at Kaori silently. Her shrug suggested both a ‘fuck-you’ attitude and having absolutely no clue where she went.
‘How the hell are we going to find her here?
Dante didn’t have time to play hide and seek – he was already doing that with the police. Gritting his teeth, he quickly came to a conclusion to the question he had asked himself. “Evelina can take care of herself. We have to hurry.”
“What?! We can’t just leave her here alone; you’ve got to be kidding. The woman brought me here. I’m not just going to ditch her, even if she isn’t the liveliest company.” Marena said firmly, glaring at him with a not-so-friendly expression. The idea of leaving Evelina seemed to have sobered her up rather quickly. Dante was quick to retort, however.
“Do you have a better idea?” He said, knowing there wasn’t much of an alternative, even if the only choice was a rather fucked one, at that. Still, Marena remained silent, and Kaori continued rubbing her eyes. In an instant, the two who had just previously been coming on to each other were now exchanging very serious looks at one another.
And it was pissing Dante off. In his mind, a clock was ticking. If he wasn’t quick about things, he was going to get arrested. Or rather, since Dante didn’t like the thought of getting arrested, he’d be forced to shoot people instead and make another rowdy escape and get into even more trouble - and he really didn’t want that.
“No… but…” Marena stammered a bit under her breath. She was still looking at him, but her expression was now suddenly fading into wary agreement. Looking off to the side and letting out a sigh that suggested she had serious regrets about what she was going to say, Marena finally spoke. “You’re right. We should… Go.”
Dante seemed out of reassuring smiles; nodding only slightly in response before turning to Kaori, who was coming to her feet and watching them both indolently. “I left my stuff on her bike.” She said, moving her eyes back and forth between them.
After a few seconds of thought, Dante reached into his coat pocket and tossed her his keys suddenly, and she caught them in a single hand, looking slightly confused. “All right, then. Go out and get it, see if you can find Evelina, and put it in my car.” He said, moving past Marena and to the door, suitcase in hand.
“Evelina— you want me to go outside? Wait, you said the police are looking for us--” Kaori interjected, only to have the well dressed blonde cut her off.
“No, they’re looking for us, but not you. You were never ID’d at the casino, so there’s no reason for them to be after you.” As he turned back to look at her, his teal eyes seemed confident he was right. Well… pretty confident, anyway.
Kaori quickly found another excuse, glancing at Marena as if she’d help. Marena was giving her a rude stare, as if to suggest it was her fault Eve had separated from them to begin with. “I… I was in the same room as Evelina. I passed all the cameras, they had to see me.”
Dante flashed her reassuring a smile. “You’re right. But judging by the mess the Agency made over there, they probably haven’t figured that out. Now if you hurry, they won’t.” He opened the door, letting a familiar rush of cool air and thundering techno spill into the lounge. “Take my car and meet us at Tower Bridge Road, about five blocks north of here. We’ll be at the station there in fifteen minutes.”
“How are you going to get there?” She said, puzzled, heading for the door as well. Marena, though still noticeably buzzed, seemed to be concerned about the same thing herself by the looks of her eyes.
“I know a shortcut…” Dante answered, looking at the leather case in his hand in thought. Watching Marena for a second, he continued. “And I think I know where to find Eve.”
Posted by Liz @ 06:32 PM CST [Link] [Karma: 0 (+/-)] [No Comments]
Saturday, August 14, 2004
The long awaited site update has finally arrived! By now you've already noticed the beautiful new layout, courtesy of Liz, as per usual, as well as some additional sections soon to be loaded with content. The new design of Eternal Twilight is very important because it should allow readers interested in jumping into the story, without all the hassle of reading -all- of the 100+ pages of posts and whatnot. Here are some of the new features, either already on or to be implemented rather soon:
THE CAST: 3 New Characters have been added to the secondary cast! Julia Parrish, Andrea Dash, and Mika Asagi, who, while not terribly important just yet, they will begin to play an increasingly deep and important role in the story as things progress. One you should already be very familiar with, another has yet to even be seen and I'm sure you'll all enjoy, and the other... Well, she's the reason Psyche's still alive and able to move junk with her thoughts. See if you can remember... Also, all of the characters who don't have bios at this point (even the angels), will be given brief mini-bio's so that you don't lose track of who's who. Expect that all very, very soon.
CHRONOLOGY: Some of you may have noticed a few inconsistencies concerning the psuedo-science present in Eternal Twilight. No need to fret - explanations will be added to the timeline of events before the story to help fix any misconceptions you might have. (Ex. Like, why the rain isn't super icky and shit.)
SETTINGS: Yeah yeah, we'll have the places and stuff about the places up soon enough, you know, writing a bio thing for a city is kinda tough, okay?! *laziness*
INFO: Secret government docs, the Dynatech weapons database, information on the various factions...? Overkill? Perhaps. Sexy? Now do I even have to answer that question...?
SYNOPSIS: Here it is, the biggie of version 3. Tired of skimming through post after post just to get up to speed on the goings on in Twilight? Worry no longer - thanks to our very own Erin, a short synopsis of each and every post so far will be made and updated as often as possible, to ease the pain. We'll even try to update them pretty often. Not! =D
SOUNDTRACK: "This story has a soundtrack?!" Yes little Shirley, you bet your preschool ass it does. As the story goes on, more tracks and character themes and the lyrics and playlist of themes and music set to specific events will become unlocked for your viewing (not downloading, unfortunately) pleasure. Pirating is so not welcome. Haha. No, I'm serious, don't steal songs. It's not cool. Haha..hehe...ahh... I'm going to hell.
WRITERS: Writer bios! Yep, now you'll get to know the envokers (is that a word?) of all this noir action madness, assuming you even care who we are. You should.
ARCHIVES: We will post stuff soon. I promise. Like, actual story.. progressing stuff. Now, when I say soon, I mean months, so keep that in mind.
Once again, a super special thanks to Liz for making the awesome (boobies!) new site layout, and a special shout out to Erin! Check the extended text for -that-. [more]
Posted by Jubilation Link @ 06:51 AM CST [Link]