Hear ye! Teaser Tuesday
I have two entire weeks off in December. That is 14 days of pure, beautiful, snow-filled time to write!
And let me tell you, I need it. After filling my life up once again with busy busy busy, nothing is more appealing than falling back into my pages with Piper and Asher and getting this new draft done.
For your time, Tuesday Teaser!
Avoid the Harpy Threat, Live in an underground Elder compound. Safe, secure and radiation free- guaranteed.
The thing about harpies is you can’t tell what they are until you’re being torn apart and eaten alive. Years of evolution have allowed harpies to keep their identities secret. In the times just after the war they’d cut holes in their backs, their rapid cell regeneration covering the folded wings. Now it’s evolved into just another skill to add to the list.
For years the eyes were a problem, these incredibly bright eyes that glowed in the dark, but as science reinvented itself, so sprouted some of the simpler inventions of the past, like coloured contact lenses. It’s almost too easy. The Elder touters, those hard-core fundamentalist preachers praise Elder Corp like rabid dogs, thanking the hunters for protecting humanity from those monstrous harpies. But it’s really not that simple. Hunters aren’t super-human. Sure, our reflexes are faster and our eyes are sharper, but the real difference is in the blood. In hunters exists a harpy allergen, which left alone would leave the enemy with a bloody nose and a sore stomach. But, augmented in labs all throughout the Elder Empire, that blood becomes a weapon, the only way to make a sure-fire kill.
I never said hunters were perfect, powerful beings. Even I’ve been guilty of letting a harpy escape alive, but that’s something I can never tell anyone. Ever.
*
As a joke I nearly suit myself up in Shelley’s new pink rad suit, but decide that humour probably isn’t the most appropriate thing right now. Instead I lace up in my old gear; worn in black leather pants, dark brown combat boots and a white long-sleeve anti-rad shirt. I stuff my bags with pills for radiation sickness and a rad mask- just in case. I lock the door before I leave, my stomach flipping from nerves and who knows what else. It’s always before a big event that there’s the most tension. Once it’s begun, you just have to follow the wave until it’s over.
The streets are quieter in the evening, the holo-sky fading into the same deep sunburnt pink as yesterday and the day before that. I could go on. I hop on the streetcar and ride near the back, hand gripping the cold metal bar until I reach the underground Elder Corp building. Glancing up at it, it’s obvious that it’s the only building that surpasses the sky, the grey bricks seemingly rising forever. Even though it’s Ichten and the Corp knows where I am, I still keep my face down as I enter the building.
As usual the main lobby is swarming. Some older people with radiation sickness hold up protest signs asking for a cure while young Corp initiates pass out flyers outlining their latest projects, always asking for money. To think that after years of war, we still can’t figure out money. I make a bee-line to the elevator, thankful that when the doors slide open, most of its inhabitants scurry out into the lobby. There’s a sign above the doors that reads: Please be courteous and let passengers exit before boarding. As soon as it’s clear I shuffle in. A young girl stands next to the button controls, and looks at me patiently as the doors slide shut. I fumble around in my pockets until I find the address.
“Umm, A7 please,” I mumble. She presses the button, but her gaze doesn’t waver from me.
“So you’re going above ground?” she asks. Her long black hair is tied in pigtails and her denim shorts are covered with cheap plastic gems.
“I guess so,” I reply vaguely. I’m not good with kids, never have been. She tilts her head and smiles at me.
“Don’t worry, it’s not so scary up there,” she says. Then the elevator stops just before we breach the surface and everyone but me steps off. As the doors close I watch the girl’s pigtails bounce away among the crowd.
And let me tell you, I need it. After filling my life up once again with busy busy busy, nothing is more appealing than falling back into my pages with Piper and Asher and getting this new draft done.
For your time, Tuesday Teaser!
Avoid the Harpy Threat, Live in an underground Elder compound. Safe, secure and radiation free- guaranteed.
The thing about harpies is you can’t tell what they are until you’re being torn apart and eaten alive. Years of evolution have allowed harpies to keep their identities secret. In the times just after the war they’d cut holes in their backs, their rapid cell regeneration covering the folded wings. Now it’s evolved into just another skill to add to the list.
For years the eyes were a problem, these incredibly bright eyes that glowed in the dark, but as science reinvented itself, so sprouted some of the simpler inventions of the past, like coloured contact lenses. It’s almost too easy. The Elder touters, those hard-core fundamentalist preachers praise Elder Corp like rabid dogs, thanking the hunters for protecting humanity from those monstrous harpies. But it’s really not that simple. Hunters aren’t super-human. Sure, our reflexes are faster and our eyes are sharper, but the real difference is in the blood. In hunters exists a harpy allergen, which left alone would leave the enemy with a bloody nose and a sore stomach. But, augmented in labs all throughout the Elder Empire, that blood becomes a weapon, the only way to make a sure-fire kill.
I never said hunters were perfect, powerful beings. Even I’ve been guilty of letting a harpy escape alive, but that’s something I can never tell anyone. Ever.
*
As a joke I nearly suit myself up in Shelley’s new pink rad suit, but decide that humour probably isn’t the most appropriate thing right now. Instead I lace up in my old gear; worn in black leather pants, dark brown combat boots and a white long-sleeve anti-rad shirt. I stuff my bags with pills for radiation sickness and a rad mask- just in case. I lock the door before I leave, my stomach flipping from nerves and who knows what else. It’s always before a big event that there’s the most tension. Once it’s begun, you just have to follow the wave until it’s over.
The streets are quieter in the evening, the holo-sky fading into the same deep sunburnt pink as yesterday and the day before that. I could go on. I hop on the streetcar and ride near the back, hand gripping the cold metal bar until I reach the underground Elder Corp building. Glancing up at it, it’s obvious that it’s the only building that surpasses the sky, the grey bricks seemingly rising forever. Even though it’s Ichten and the Corp knows where I am, I still keep my face down as I enter the building.
As usual the main lobby is swarming. Some older people with radiation sickness hold up protest signs asking for a cure while young Corp initiates pass out flyers outlining their latest projects, always asking for money. To think that after years of war, we still can’t figure out money. I make a bee-line to the elevator, thankful that when the doors slide open, most of its inhabitants scurry out into the lobby. There’s a sign above the doors that reads: Please be courteous and let passengers exit before boarding. As soon as it’s clear I shuffle in. A young girl stands next to the button controls, and looks at me patiently as the doors slide shut. I fumble around in my pockets until I find the address.
“Umm, A7 please,” I mumble. She presses the button, but her gaze doesn’t waver from me.
“So you’re going above ground?” she asks. Her long black hair is tied in pigtails and her denim shorts are covered with cheap plastic gems.
“I guess so,” I reply vaguely. I’m not good with kids, never have been. She tilts her head and smiles at me.
“Don’t worry, it’s not so scary up there,” she says. Then the elevator stops just before we breach the surface and everyone but me steps off. As the doors close I watch the girl’s pigtails bounce away among the crowd.