After Loss
By K Industries
()
About this ebook
Mark Stanford comes to Cria to escape his loss and drown his sorrows, straight into the world of conspiracy. Becoming an unintentional ally of a human woman.
Her plight becomes his distraction as he goes along for the ride, that uncovers the sordid and corrupt elite that have held the world in its grip for hundreds of years.
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After Loss - K Industries
After Loss
A metropolis that reached beyond the mist and cloud, with cars that flew between advert ridden skyscrapers and the pouring rain covering the space between. The ground hustles with people of mainly three races. Paper and trash drifts across the wet streets. Signs told of shops; dress, pawn, porn, furniture, antiques, food and drink, bars and brothels. The lower levels for those that could not afford the luxury of the above.
People cross as traffic is forced to stop. Green and blue skins like reptiles, another race bulkier and taller with skin softer than humans. And robots that cleaned the streets poorly. Taxis to collect, and buses to travel the great urban country of Cria. Children and adult, cleaners, engineers and plumbers. Aliens that came for work and money; like everyone who heads for the city thinking to find a life for financial gain. Not realizing the rat race will swallow your soul.
He walks with patting feet and departing puddles, along the pavement drifting between people. Most stood a foot or two feet higher. Alien to his eyes, and he a foreigner to them, he had seen it all before and did not care what they were. He walked hungry and looked for something to break his need for food, and something to drown his sorrow.
Naked green skinned aliens, male and female pose in a window, for those with the money who could afford. But his interest was not taken by either. Not many Ketarians would. He was slim, but with muscles of an athlete. His hair under his hoody was short and rough. He hadn't bothered to wash it. He had no one, or reason to wash it for him to appease. He was light skinned, and the skin soft over those light muscles. His mind was clouded with depression.
An open kiosk that sold fried foods was before him, and a few seats were emptied by those just finished. It was inviting enough, quiet, solitary. He stepped in under the cover from the rain and took a seat. And the Large blue Dextren asks him what he wants. His slanted eyes sizing the newcomer, looking over the tight black hoody with a simple K-shaped necklace at the t-shirt within, and black skinny jeans of the same colour told him of another off-worlder. He could recognize through the smaller stature, the adult attitude and regarded him as just another customer.
Ramen,
He answers looking over the small menu as he leaned his elbows on the counter. A drink, spirit; brown liquid.
Coming up!
The chef replied and got on with his new task.
The rain started to become another heavy downpour and another vehicle rushed passed with an electric hum, to a spray of water that went over the floor of the kiosk's edge.
Behind him a new set of wet footsteps came into the little kiosk, a human female, with a firm and strong figure, with breasts that held up without a bra under her dress, having watched him from the edge she found him curious, and she went to sit beside him parting her long dark hair from her eyes.
A reptilian male steps before her. Want a good time,
The green skinned Venetian says purring his lips. She ignored him without care for his words, and glances at the off-worlder as she sits.
He looks sideways at her and her watchful and curious eyes, then his meal was place before him. A brandy coming after. Meat sat upon vegetables in a thin soup, and he looked at it without intrigue.
Never seen a Ketarian down here,
she said. Believing, though similar, that he wouldn't be a human male on this world. She ordered a drink of Marlica.
No,
he simply answered. A police car beeped its sirens, and drifted passed. His mind was mostly elsewhere, uninterested in the world behind and around him. Not too many humans either.
He zips at the brandy, and digs his chopsticks into the dish.
A TV was turned on at another customers request. The news of the city carried across. He turns his head to see what was happening. Then lifts the chopsticks and takes a bite. He struggles to swallow, his past closing his throat and stapling his stomach.
She took a gulp of her transparent drink. It's been so long since I saw a light skinned person, human or Ketarian,
she said. Wondering what he was thinking about, seeing a soul troubled.
Yeh? Why don't you just go? If you miss them.
He took another bite, and forces himself to eat.
Not hungry?
She asked.
Can't eat,
he said. And gulps the brandy. It goes down easier than the food, even with the hard hit at the back of his throat. Well?
She looks into her glass. No money to,
she answered. Do you find women attractive? I'm not expensive, and I'm sick of all these Venetian reptiles,
she says with a sigh of frustration and disgust.
He raises a fake and small smile. No thanks. I have no interest.
He looks behind him and watches the water pouring into the drains. And the rain charging down to bounce off the roof of cars. His hunger had subsided. He glimpses a memory, and rubs his eyes to get rid of it.
The street seems to be filled with the voices of hundreds, as a taxi stop beside them. A tall lanky man with bones down the sides of his head, steps out from it and is covered by the downpour.
She saw him turn back to his food, and grab another chunk of meat.
She notices his eyes have turned red. You look sad.
He turns his head away as his eyes begin to brim, and he brings his elbow up to wipe away the fallen tears. She said nothing until he gathered his thoughts. She downs her drink, then calls for another, and chucks two krendars to pay for it. Where about you staying?
She questioned, then heard another cop car. Which landed across the street.
I've rented a room a few shops down from here,
he answers hovering the brandy before his lips. What you doing when you finish your drink?
He asks. And it momentarily surprised her.
She looked back to the two cops running scanners at boxes that sat between signs above the shops. You looking for company?
She asks unsure of his needs.
He swallows the rest of the brandy and signals for another. I'm just... I don't think I should be alone.
His eyes swell up. The tears desperate to fall and escape.
She hadn't seen such need for a long time. I'll stay with you,
she says. And raises her Marlica, taking down another mouthful.
He said nothing and turned in his stool. The cops were talking away on their comms.
What do you think those bastards are up to?
She asks.
He looks curiously across. While trying to remain focused on reality. I don't know.
They're checking the Person safety protection scanners, or P.S.P.
The bartender told them. The government of Cria had no belief in freedom. Someone must be blocking them,
he added uninterested, and then left them for another customer.
Shall we wander?
He suggests. While leaving his hoody down; the rain having soaked completely through.
Yeh,
she said softly to the rain's heavy fall almost drowning her out.
He stands up leaving his hardly eaten ramen, and heads out on to the path to the surrounding coverage of rain soaking into his clothes, walking along and allowing the rain to drench them, it was less than comfortable but not unbearable.
The shops didn't seem to change. The porn shops seem to be as numerous as the bars and cheap restaurants. With nudity adorning most of the eateries and bars, it made it look like one long red light district.
His body starts feeling the chill of rain embracing his skin through his wet clothes. He has to blink to clear his eyes, and walks uncaring to his apartment. As the many people force him to weave or weaved around him.
They came to a coloured red steel door, larger than both of them, that sat between two bars. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his card. He swipes it into the reader above the handle. It goes blue, and he grabs the large handle with two hands and pushes it down. Then heaves into the door. He lets her enter passed him and he closes the door behind them. The stairway went silent as the world was cut off. Just the dark steps to look eerie before the elevator.
She waits for him to lead the way up, as only the dripping of the rain drops from their clothes and falls to the solid stairs. He leads her up, and scans the reader of the lift. It opens automatically and they step in. Once again swiping his card.
Welcome Mark Stanford!
The computer voice said.
She looked down at him. Mark,
she states. He just hmms. At least you don't have to introduce yourself.
The lift climbs. Trapped in the elevator, an advert for freeze enterprises tells them they could be frozen, and come back in ten thousand years, as the universe's problems are solved. All for a small fee.
And they solve how to bring them back without their cells being shredded by the crystallize ice,
he said.
The elevator slows to a halt, and the door opens. A single metal door stands before them. A potted plant sits against the wall, with a height that stretched as high as he. He swipes yet again for his apartment, and turns the small handle down and walks through.
A fish tank that flickers blue light into the room sits high beside the open shower. A king's bed with a light blue quilt was to their right, and two plump pillows rested at its back. A gun and sabre had been dumped upon the bed. A basic kitchen was along the left wall until it hit the shower. A kettle beside the sink. The carpet white, turned blue by the light. A vehicle shoots passed sending a yellow echo of light through the room.
After slinging off his shoes, he takes his shirt off, having to struggle at the clinging weight. His necklace with a single K attached to a gold chain left hanging. And she watches him, surprised that she was. It made her feel comfortable to see human-like skin of his body. For so long she had not seen light skin.
You can get your clothes dry if you wish,
he says without looking at her. He throws his shirt into a built in the wall washing machine; a single plate of steel as its door. And then forces his soaking skinny jeans off. Again she found herself watching his naked body. It was the second Ketarian she had ever viewed naked, and she knew he was beautiful, appreciated his beauty and form. But she did not desire it like she would a human. She threw her own clothes into the wash, and beside her he presses a button to start the machine. It purrs into life while he goes over to the kitchen side and into the cupboard above the kettle and reaches in for two glasses.
She looked at the gun on the bed, and the torch-like object beside it. Why you not carry your weapon?
He opens another cupboard beneath the kettle's place on the counter. He pulls out a bottle of rum; a third had been drunk. Because I didn't,
he answers. And pours with little accuracy. He holds up both glasses and passes one to her. She takes it. He did not run his eyes over her body, something so many of her clients have done. And she wonders why he wants her here.
This is a nice room,
she says, and strokes the soft silky bed.
He heads to the shower, and grabs up a towel and throws it to her, and then picks up one for himself, and takes a gulp of rum, then goes to the window that looks out to the dim view of the opposite skyscraper. He could barely see the ground below. But could make out the street of ants crossing under the falling rain. He downs the rum, almost choking as he holds the glass covered by his hand at his lips. The towel still held at his side.
She had dried herself and ran the towel back over the rack. Then looks over at him. You keep dreaming-
He raises a finger of silence to his lips. Holding back those dam breaking tears.
She finishes her drink and puts the glass down. Got any music? Or do you want just silence?
She asks moving to the fish tank, and watching the black and yellow stripes darting away from her.
He shook his mind back to the present. Um... Music's activated by the remote, by the end of the bed,
he says and heads over to the counter, he places his glass down and takes hold of his towel in both hands to dry himself. What is your name?
He questioned, and faces her, not even slightly bashful.
She seem to not want to say as she lay on the bed, and took hold of the remote.
He stares between her legs, with thoughts of the girls back home. At least something to name you by,
he says. He went back to the bottle of rum, and she could tell his drinking was starting to affect him. He reaches for the bottle and fills both glasses then takes them over to the bed. She stretches out an arm while leaning closer to take one. With his now free hand he picks up his gun and sabre and takes them over to the dresser, placing them on top. He takes his gold necklace chain off and leaves it beside them. He goes back to the bottle.
She looks at the remote, working out the little symbols. She finds TV placement and presses. It comes arcing down from the ceiling. She smiles at him. My name's...
She waits as he lays on the bed beside her. He looks her as he waits for an answer. Cecilia.
He smiles, knowing she's lying and leans onto the headrest. What are you hiding from?
He stares at the blank TV. A rum hovering at his lips, the hazy state was already coming over him.
She turned her head away. My past,
she answers vaguely. What about you?
She questions and his eyes swell again.
My past,
he laughs and causes her to smile. He stops after a couple seconds and takes in the alcohol, and drops it down his throat.
She turns on the TV to her favourite channel.
He thought the music sounded hazy, and drugs came to mind as the singers used an array of drums, keyboards and guitars to their music. He sinks into the bed, and again she looks over him grateful for the company of someone similar to her own.
The light of a police car sent red and dark blue through their window, while she with nervous eyes watched till it faded away and then reached for her glass and drank the rum till it was empty. She smiles as his eyes grow heavy; the grip on his empty glass slanting upon its side.
She gently lifts it from his fingers and places it by her own glass, and looks up at the TV, and began dreaming of the land she once knew. The band played a soft melody, entwined with a drifting drum beat and background world that shows oceans and white sand dunes of immaculate beaches. Great chestnut trees that over-looked vistas and gardens that most people upon the planet will never see.
She looks down at him as he soundly sleeps, with thoughts of her childhood. A tear forms in her eye, as she imagines herself back in the village she grew up in. Slowly she gets up and with her empty glass, walks around the bed, looking across at his gun, and shaking off the thoughts of taking it and running. It was the first night she had shared a room with someone who didn't want her in exchange for money, and she didn't feel like ruining it. She reaches out with her left hand and takes up the rum and fills her glass. Downing it in one go. Then refills her glass and places the bottle down upon the side dresser. She moves over to the fish tank, and stares at the longest fish within. It gulps aimlessly out the window. She ponders on the its glass cage, wondering what it would be like to see the world outside and not be able to grasp it. She turns and sits at the end of the bed, looking back at the Ketarian. What do you run from?
He wakes to the sound of an advert calling people to buy the exciting new product from Triacon; Leader of the world's fastest growing security firm. He presses hands against his head as the world of dreams fades, and his head throbs with both last nights alcohol and his own tormenting past. He turns to his side and looks at the woman that shared his bed then rolls over to the edge, to where he thought his glass would be; An empty surface. Instead he flops over the edge of the bed and stares at the floor, his shoulder and head hovering over. After allowing himself to wallow in unhappiness he turns over and sees the bottle and two glasses; both stained and over Cecilia's side. He crawls nearer and reaches over grabbing the bottle and dropping it by his pillow, then takes a glass and sits back on his side. He pours a glass and gulps it down, and sticks out a tongue at the venomous taste; Too early in the morning for him. He collapses back awkwardly strewn into his bed. His head feels only slightly better. He forces himself up and walks unsteady to the sink. Then ponders with effort where his toothbrush was. He hovers at the sink, leaning his hands on the counter's edge. His mind clicks into place and he remembers that the brush was not a brush, and more like a scanner. In his frustration he wanders over to the shower and slaps his hand on to a button at the side. It throws the shower into life, and the spray powers out. He heads to the rack at the side of the shower, with his memories so clear, his hand stops before it reaches the stick that would remove any plague. Instead he brushes his face with his hand, and then runs his fingers through his short hair.
Her dream was filled with a waterfall that rushed clear fluid, that her body reacted soothingly to. A man walked naked toward her, and she smiled as he knelt at the water's edge. Seagulls shot like bullets across, and the sky turned from blue to red blood.
Her eyes snap open, and she takes in her surroundings. Her heart thumping, she looks at him through the fish tank, his frame wobbled through the glass, dropping to the floor of the shower. She shoots off the bed and hurries around the tank and into the shower area. He's sitting there under the running water, with a gun in his hand, nuzzle at his temple. His eyes red with tears and finger around the trigger.
Mark. Don't!
She leans toward him as she lowers into a crouch.
He was filled with the despair of loss, the desire to rid the pain. Just one squeeze, one pull of the trigger. Then the visions of what he ran from, so prominent in his mind, would be gone. Her hand reaches out to the gun. He wanted to resist, he also wanted to let her take it. He didn't want to see any more. The blue light flickers across his face, sparkling against the water running down over him. Her hand wraps around the gun, and even she felt the passing fear, that those eyes would go vague, and the blood would splatter against the wall. She feels no resistance to her prising. The shower water hiding the tears. The sad eyes showing only sorrow. She places the gun on the tiled floor. The water splashes against her skin, and she pushes the gun further away.
He stares ahead lost in the world so daunting with tears falling continuously. She couldn't think of anything good to say. But it was an experience she had been close to herself. I tried to kill myself once,
she said. He looks at her with wet red eyes. And she stares into his. I ran away instead. At first it was great. I've seen some beautiful places. But now I dream of going back,
she told him. Surprised by her own tears falling. She wipes them away with a delicate finger.
He leans his head back against the tiles, and closes his eyes. The running water a sound soothing to hear. What do you run away from now?
She smiles at his avoidance to his own problem that eats at his soul.
She said nothing. A light beams in before a police car drifts passed.
He looks at her again. You miss home?
I don't have a home,
she stated.
You miss the place you grew up?
He rephrases.
She smiled at his persistence. Sometimes,
she answered. Do you?
He looks away. I hadn't thought about it.
Who are you?
She asked, and instantly thought he would avoid it. What... Are you?
A... Ketarian,
he smiles and sniffs away the tears.
You always avoid people's questions?
Depends on the question,
he smiles. And it gave her comfort to see it.
Where do you come from?
He thought of his home; a house by the river. A swinging deck chair. A barbecue at the patio doors.
Ketar Tercero," he answers.
She looks up at the ceiling as she took his answer in. You don't run from home,
she looked at him.
No,
he said and he held back the tears, and shifted how he sat cuddling his knee. While his other leaned against the sleek wall. I love my home...
She let the silence drift. Buy me some food!
She suggests with a smile.
He nods and slowly forces himself to stand up. She looked up at the fish swimming in circles. The tooth scanner hummed quietly into life. While she just stares at the floating fish.
In a mumble he asks.Where do you live?
She smiles at him again. I have a tiny room, just big enough for a bed in a friend's squalid apartment. I can't afford anything better.
He slaps the button to turn the shower off, and grabs a towel off the rack. The sound of an advert calling the potential earning of investment into robotic engineering. Do Ketarians have robots?
She asks.
He shook his head as he went to the washing machine. Pulls it open and separates the clothes and takes out his black top. She turns the shower back on as he puts his clothes on. He pulls the skinny jeans tight and looks at her. We have some. But not many because we have an abundant amount of loyal Ketarians willing to share the work... Know where we can get some food. That actually tastes good?
He asks and she smiles at him.
Of course! I know everywhere in these districts.
He finds his pair of socks and sits on the bed to put them on, reaching down he puts the right one on first. The shower stops and she takes up a towel, grateful she didn't have to put up with Venetian's decaying skin. She wraps it around her body. While he puts his other sock on,