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A Story by LoperForLife
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Hey! I need some honest criticism on this... Just an idea so far, but I hope to develop it into a story. I'm also searching for an editor to help contribute chapters and do what editors do! PM me

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He leans his head against my shoulder, and I smile and inhale his earthy, clean distinctive scent of waterfalls, fresh cut grass, and an underscore of vanilla. Firelight dances off his impossibly long eyelashes, and with a serene light in his ice blue eyes and softness to his unclenched jaw, he almost seems boyish, vulnerable. These moments are rare, and as I run my fingers through his soft, unruly hair, I can’t help but marvel at how easily his powerful build can relax into something so seemingly innocent.

                Flames flicking their fingers around foraged logs and twigs, the crackling of fire is the only sound hanging in the house besides our soft breathing. The rug we sit on is threadbare, and the wooden floors beneath it well aged. The wind presses against the sides of the house, yet its hungry reach bounces harmlessly against the solid oak panels, dancing away into the night.

***

                “Are you kidding me?” I snap, and I struggle to keep my tone from sounding desperate, “I’m being taken out of the rotation? You know…” I’m cut off by deep, sarcastic tones that emanate throughout my being, rumbling deep in my eardrum.

                “What do I know, Calista? That you’ve been constantly blowing our cover? Straying from your post? Calista, we’re in a war here, and we can’t have people like you put us in worse positions than we already are,” a pause, and the tension on the intertenna’s line is nearly tangible before his voice, angry and tired, resumes, “what exactly is the reason you’re so desperate to stay on rotation? Especially at Delta 0?”

                I bite the inside of my cheek, gold tipped teeth ripping into flesh, and blood flows freely before I feel nanos scrambling to patch up the small incision. One perk of many that the Remake us spies went through came with. “No reason, but you know I was on a case, and,” I protest, blinking before his face pops up in the corner of my vision.

                “Calista, we both know why you insist at staying at Delta 0,” his nearly pitch black eyes are serious, softening a bit, “but we both know he’s not going to be there,” his chiseled jaw relaxes slightly, eyes almost apologetic.

                “That’s not the only reason,” I nearly whisper, swallowing a small, choked lump in my throat before standing up. Rolling my shoulders back, I shut off any escape route for tears. With another blink of my eye and a twist of a ring on my finger, his voice and face disappears instantly. I’m going to be in trouble later. Lots of trouble. But we’re both used to it by now.

                Letting a small cough out of the deep confines of my lungs, I squint against the weather, wind whipping across my face and stinging my skin with thousands of ice crystals, and I take a final glance around me. Nothing but abandoned buildings and silent ally ways. It’s been the same for the eight years I’ve been serving. I know the roof I stand on used to house thousands of Intercity members, used to be apartments. All its inhabitatns moved as soon as the Great War blossomed into a full-fledged fight and realized they would be the first to be touched by the outer districts.

                Cowards, the whole lot of them. But they did leave me a great post for watching the city.

                Nothing new to report today, but the sight is fantastic. A slick sheet of deadly ice clings to every surface of the shining, rich city. Everything seems to thrive. The lights never flicker once, thousands of people merrily go on their way, ensured by the presence of Troopers clad in solemn white armor, helmets enclosing their faces with a deceptively simple bullet proof visor. Impressive stun guns and electricity laced paralyzers hang off of belts, and I can’t help but compare our technology to theirs.

                The war isn’t going so well for the Rebels. It’s been nine years since the Outerdistricts rebelled against the Intercity’s rule, trying to deter their ironclad grip on the slowly failing districts. The outerdistricts were used for defense against other countries by the Intercity, and the lack of fair treatment eventually got to us. Now, we live in one big district on a strict itinerary, and everyone does their part. Sometimes, though, I question the validity of the war we’re fighting. It’s been nine years and going nowhere, and has been at an essential standstill. Our technology struggles to keep up with theirs, and our Leading Commander, John Payne, refuses to make any advances, as does the Capital. The result is an increased wartime, limited resources, and lack of other countries interested in an alliance. Oftentimes, I wonder if he really has our best interests in mind.

                With a wistful glance back at the city, and still not seeing the man I’m looking for, I shake the sleep out of my legs, Smartscales coiling together into a warm insulator the color of the grey sky. Rolling my shoulders back, I take two large bounds across the roof towards a grey and white veil of twirling, dancing crystalline figurines. Then, I’m flying.

***

                “Where have you been?” My mother frets as she meets me at the door of our small one storied flat. Wringing her hands anxiously in her ragged apron, I’ve caused enough another few threads strain against their companions in an ugly stretch of soft fabric.

                “Sorry to worry you,” I say, cautiously brushing by her. Her green eyes follow my progress across the flat into the kitchen, where a small mound of gathered potatoes sits, uncooked, next to a slab of venison. Pumping a small stream of water over my hands, I set a pot of water to boil over the well-tended fire in hearth, “where’s Dad?”

                “Out, again,” Mom says evasively, aged hands efficiently twisting greens into the pot.

                “You mean with the Rebels.” I state, eyes carefully settled on the potatoes I’m chopping, and my knuckles turn white with the grip I have on the ragged knife.

                “Calista, your father’s going to be,”

                “Home.” A gruff voice finishes her sentence, and my father steps into the room, out of the wind, “Have you practiced on the range today?” He asks briskly, not bothering with hello’s and typical greetings, as is his nature. Relief washes over me. Every day he associates with the Rebels is another nail in his coffin.

                “Yes, papa,” I say, voice light and serious to hide the smallest inkling of irritation I have with my artfully scheduled life, and relief that makes me vulnerable to criticism, “I just missed one.”

                “Keep shooting,” he says vaguely, before turning away. Mom meets my eyes, and with what’s supposed to be a reassuring smile, turns back to fiddling with the wilting greens.

                I walk into the Complex’s training center, out of the cold. I haven’t turned on my intertenna since Payne’s allocution, and I stare straight ahead, ignoring the amazed, irritated, and awe struck gazes shot my way. I’ve become used to it. Their gazes intermingle with chipping paint on the once-white, now yellow floor and weak fluorescent lights. It’s a depression combination.

                I try making a beeline across the cold gym floor to the punching bags, but a heavy hand lands on my shoulder. I tense in aggravation and yank myself from the tight grasp.

                “What do you want?” I ask belligerently, rubbing my shoulder as I whirl around to confront Payne. His eyes are filled with sparks of agitation, nearly igniting into an angry inferno. I see a flash of biceps flexing, before he delivers a swift slap to my face that sends me sliding sideways to the ground, and my vision is filled with splotches of black.  

                “I told you to never turn of your intertenna,” his soft voice says menacingly, the assertive murmur seeming to echo around the now silent gym, “if you’d have been caught, or run into trouble, you’d have put us all in trouble. Never mind you,” his imposing stature towering over my own.

                I prop myself onto my elbow, catching my breath with a deep inhale, and my vision slowly returns to me. Ignoring the smarting on the side of my face, I push my hair back and glare up at him, “What’s it matter,” I say bitterly, “I’m getting taken off that rotation anyways.”

                He seems to be fighting back a smartass comment, characterized by a deep sigh, and eyes upcast towards the flickering fluorescents, “It’s just how it has to be, and we both know,”

                “he’s not there,” I finish for him, glaring at the intricate scrolling tattoo on his neck, the pitch black ink rippling with agitation.

                “it’s true, for God’s sake, Calista, it’s no use,” he’s nearly yelling now.

                “Is it really so bad that I keep after my own cause?” My tone nearly matches his, and I stand up, bristling in fury, “that I keep hope, even after my family was killed, that one person I love is still alive?” I step forward, anger urging my feet to move, until I’m standing less than a foot away from him, glaring up at his tense jaw. His strong, masculine scent washes over me, and he shakes his head in some sort of emotion before turning away and walking through the sea of silent eyes.

 

***

                His grin is a façade of confidence, masking a sad glint in his eyes, yet I know his mind is set as he squeezes my hand for the last time. His fingers slide away, and his ice blue eyes are set with determination and never leave mine.

                “I love you,” he says softly, just within my hearing. He shifts his green canvas knapsack up his SmartScale clad back, and turns slowly, walking with his shoulders thrown back and chin up, towards the waiting train. The smoke from the train mingles with the icy sleet pattering wickedly against the ground, yet I feel nothing. He disappears into the metal beast, and I’m still overcome by numbness as it pulls away.

© 2013 LoperForLife


Author's Note

LoperForLife
Please critique and leave suggestions!!

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To be honest, this is really good. Continue with the story! Good job at keeping the "cliffhanger" ending here, by the way. I feel that this is going to be an interesting story. Just a couple capializing errors.

Posted 11 Years Ago


LoperForLife

11 Years Ago

Thanks! Wish I would just get up the initiative to actually work on it now -_-

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Added on November 27, 2013
Last Updated on November 27, 2013