I'm wary to put this in science-fiction, but I wasn't really sure where else to put it. I wrote this about a year ago, and while it's set in the future, it's not really supposed to be too serious. I've just looked back at it recently, there's lots of problems with it and I was wondering if you guys could offer some assistance to help me improve it.
Anyway, without further ado:
Chapter 1 Deep Trouble
Security officer John Thompson was having a bad morning. It wasn t just the fact he d got up late, missed out on breakfast, missed the airbus and been berated by his boss. He also had a gun in his face.
It was being wielded by a large, skin-headed man built like a large bull. He probably weighed about the same too. He was an amateur obviously. The hand holding the gun was shaking nervously, and a small sweat drop ran into his eye and he wiped it impatiently. He had large growing sweat patches under his cheap ripped shirt and his pupils were diluted.
Hand ova yer shockgun or I ll make a bleedin mess of yer face! he blurted out shakily, unintentionally using the pun.
Look, lad, do you really think this is wise? I ve been an officer for over fifteen years. Don t you think I get this is a lot? And every time the guy thinks he s a wisecrack trying. This won t get you anywhere. John talked calmly from behind his desk. Though from the apparent situation would suggest he was in a disadvantageous position, he was steadily confident.
The man had taken him by surprise. By now, from his experience, he should always be on alert for these sorts of robbers. It was incredibly common since the collapse of any vague official law. Sure, Thompson was a badged officer; it didn t mean he had any sort of true power. Apart from his shockgun.
The gangs in the city valued the guns beyond reason. Several of the bloodiest gang battles had been fought over the guns. This man had probably been hired by one of them offered a lot of money. They were smart. Lots of gang members had been killed attempting to take them from security officers in recent times. It was a suicide job, in general, to try.
This man probably needed the money; otherwise he wouldn t be so desperate. His family was possibly starving in the Deep City. John felt a glimmer of sympathy emerge, but quickly pushed it back. It didn t help to feel sorry for these sorts of people, even if he wanted to.
I ain t got much patience with yoo. Hand it ova! Believe me, I ll I ll do it! The man s fright was noticeable even in his voice now.
John rocked slowly on his chair, keeping his eyes on the target, I don t believe you laddie. I think you re a coward. You d as much pull that trigger as you d kiss your own gran.
A red flush lit up in the man s cheeks, Yoo won t get away with dat! I ll bleedin throttle ya! Who needs a gun! Yoo don t even deserve a propa death! He angrily tossed the slugger to one side, threw himself across the table and tried to grab Thompson s throat. However all he grasped was some air.
As soon as the man had finished talking, he d managed to slide downwards on his chair having prepared his body for the manoeuvre earlier. This took him underneath the desk and so he quickly implemented a perfect front roll, taking his gun as he finished and switching round with the shockgun aimed directly at the back of the struggling man on the table. Too easy, he thought.
The man whimpered as he turned his head round for the inevitable. His shoulders shrunk inwards and his face cowered into his body. What a wimp, John thought. He killed men who had fought him before, true men, fighting men, who gave him a challenge. This excuse for a criminal was hardly worth the effort.
Get up and stand there, laddie. No, by the far wall. If you even think about turning your head round . hands behind your back or you ll get a shock you won t soon remember.
John reached for his receiver, it had moved away from his mouth in the .he couldn t even think of a word to describe the events, Gary, I ve got a 216 in here. Code Yellow.
Another one? There ain t any space in the fridge. You ll have to let him go.
We re gonna let this scum out? John was raging. It was happening more and more. They released all but the ones that had killed.
Sorry, mate. Orders from up top. Any persons not involved in the killing or torturing of another human person is to be released in the Deep.
Some more bollocks from up top, he thought. Okay, but he s not going easily. Get me some electro-cuffs, he said, and then added, And some Deep gear. He was going to have some fun.
* * * * *
New London has several layers. The very bottom was known as the Deep, the filthiest and had the worst conditions. The poorest lived in here amongst the wreckage of the ancient ruins. The air was smoky and smelt rotten. The gangs ruled here. The layer above was known was the Medium, which although still poor, was glorious in comparison to the town below. It had aspects of the Techno-Revolution, though against the standards of the high levels it was archaic. Security was limited, and there are still a lot of crimes carried out. But it is a decent place to live for any humble worker in the city, and the majority of the work-force took residence here. The air was clean, mostly due to the large fertilisers installed recently.
Above the Medium was the level known only as Three. The main buildings and structures of importance lay here, such as the Security HQ and City Hall. Air traffic was allowed, albeit it heavily restricted by taxes and authority. It was dangerous to have air vehicles not in open air but it was needed due to the incredibly crowded streets. The shopping centres, entertainment centres and the affluent few took habitat.
But of all the levels none were as exclusive or as luxurious as the top one, known only as the Sky. Very little was known of it. You needed a pass card to enter, and they were only given out to the lucky few, vouched by the Mayor or Security Chiefs. Of what went on up there, there were only rumours. The only concrete facts were that the robot factory and techno-labs were up there, constantly churning out new and fantastic computerised gadgets to satisfy the population, and that the richest of the citizens took up residence there.
Even John Thompson, Security officer for a whole fifteen years, couldn t get close to the elevators, the only transports between the levels. It was locked down by robotic turrets in a half mile area. Something goddamn important better be going on up there, he hoped, because it sucks down these honest people s moneys quicker than you can say unfair.
He was on the security elevator down to the deep, exclusive to the security forces and their unfortunate prisoners. It was approximately a fifteen minute journey down to the Deep. It used to be quicker, but the collapse of security within the city meant attacks on the power grid were frequent. The elevator was powered by the back-up system now, an archaic system featuring mechanical pulleys and such nonsense. John always crossed his fingers in the hope it wouldn t break down again.
For the first time in months it didn t. Fifteen minutes late he stepped out in full Deep gear. Black headgear hid his face and dark body armour strapped around his chest giving him the protection he needed. Gangs were getting more adventurous recently. A total of ten security officers had been killed in the last few months, and so he was wary as he stepped out to be greeted by the familiar nods of the elevator guards and their precious robotic turrets.
Watch yourself, officer, He nodded towards the carcass of a young lad, only seventeen at the most, He got a bit excited. Had to do it. Never seen that before. Something s afoot, officer, so I d watch yourself.
He couldn t quite recall the guard s name but he thanked him all the same and convinced him that he would be quite alright, and then led the prisoner, electro-cuffed into the smoke, out of the safety of the guards.
He turned on his smoke-vision from his cybernetic-analyzer and immediately his eyesight was increased ten-fold. The prisoner meanwhile stumbled forwards, not being able to see anything unless it moved. John hadn t been down for a few weeks and he could see the carnage had increased. He was on the main street, which led to the largest gang s area he knew. Their name was the Smoky Bandits, and he was gonna cause a little trouble.
It was a long time since he d had this feeling in his system, the adrenalin, the anticipation, the blood rising. He was alert, his right lingering across his body to the tip of the shockgun, watching and expecting. To his front was the ongoing road, covered in flaming litter, and rubble. To his sides were wrecked buildings from centuries before, when their ancestors lived in stone buildings. John had laughed out loud when he first learnt this.
But his concentration was on his goal. He reckoned the central area, was about a half-mile along this road. However no maps still existed of the old city and he wasn t totally sure. This was the main road from the elevator so he safely assumed it would carry him to the centre, hopefully anyway. Otherwise he d just let the guy go and leave it.
The prisoner whimpered as he stepped in something foul and sticky but carried on from a vicious kick by the officer following him close behind. John was hoping he could exchange him for one of the rumoured officers to be locked in the buildings on the Smoky Bandits, or just cause some carnage and get out of there.
He zoomed in his vision and saw the first signs of life. An old man was struggling on the ground as if he was looking for something that he d dropped. He was moving his arms frantically across the ground, in all directions. He was really frantic.. He got up and started shouting something, and suddenly John realised he was shouting for help.
But before he begin to move closer, a young man appeared behind the man and appeared to laugh. Taking out a gun, he pulled the trigger. The sound bounced off the surrounding buildings, disturbing the quiet atmosphere.
Wait here for a minute, lad, he said politely to the prisoner, before slamming the butt of his gun to the man s head. He dropped like a stone, Thanks for your cooperation, he added.
John sprinted, desperate to bring justice. The Deep really was a place of no rules. To do that to a person for apparently no reason apart from fun disgusted him, and this guy was gonna get what was coming for him. Being athletically shaped, running fast was second nature to him.
Just as the killer noticed his presence he called out, You are under city arrest for the killing of another human person. Kneel down and put your hands behind your head and you will not be hurt! he shouted, in an official sort of tone.
The man, a skinhead wearing the black leather of the Bandits, laughed, Yoo re a goddamn fool if yoo think dat the bleedin fuzz scare us lot! At that, two more Bandits stepped out of the smoke and stood beside him, Now clear off or will bleedin kill ya!
He raised his gun and laughed as he unleashed a round of badly aimed shots at Thompson, most skimming over his head. He dropped instinctively to the floor and reached for his gun, switching it to paralyse. It took just half a second for him too take aim and pull the trigger. The shockwave flashed across through the smoke, hit the old man s murderer, electrocuted him and threw him backwards.
The other two were reaching for their sluggers when John shot again. Two flashes and two more stunned. He got up and placed the gun back in its holster. He walked over, and kneeled beside the old man s body. His skull had been ripped to pieces by the slugger s blast. The weapon that did it lay just beside the body. John sighed. The slugger was a primitive weapon, favoured by the gang because it was widely available and devastating at short distances. It wasn t an energy weapon, but an ancient mechanised recoil weapon that fired large shells, deadly in the hands of a good marksman. But it was not in the same league as the police shockgun.
He left the other dead bodies and went back to the unconsciousness prisoner. Stupid, he thought. Should have kept him awake, now I ve got no chance of his trade. Not that there was much chance anyway. The Bandits were violent, sometimes beyond belief. They shot but didn t even ask questions later. Anyone not wearing Bandit gear on their turf was instantly destroyed. Now there s an idea .
He left the prisoner to his slumber and went back to the dead bodies of his Bandit attackers, and slowly took the clothes off the one that looked about his own height, just over six three. The leather jacket fitted badly over his body armour, but he wasn t gonna risk going into the centre of the Deep unprotected. It was signing your own death certificate with permanent marker. The trousers were an entirely different matter. He had to discard his leg guards altogether, meaning any slugger shots to his lower limbs would be deadly, but it was worth the risk.
A few minutes later, with no headgear and no leg guards, he messed his well-combed hair in imitation of the Bandits he had killed and made an effort to make himself a bit dirtier. However at close inspection he wouldn t stand a chance, he d just have to get in. Now he considered it, he wasn t even sure why he was doing this. It was either to save the rumoured captured officers or just for revenge. The latter being more probable.
His wife had been brutally murdered in a random attack just two years ago. He tried to tell himself that any sort of revenge attack would never take away the torture that played on his heart, the part that made him want to kill himself and join her, but just increase it. But his thirst for revenge was unassailable. He wanted to bring the Bandits down, and watch their ashes fade away into the sky. Because it was the black leather that several eye-witnesses saw on that fateful day, as one robbed her and the other shot her in the back. From behind, like a goddamn coward. He d have his revenge. He d get inside, play his way along and kill their leader. Then, and only then, would he finally lay the pain aside and move on.
He whispered her name in the wind Jade. I ll be with you soon, lass.
* * * * *
A bearded man slumped in his decrepit chair in a damp room. It wasn t the best place to live, but for the Deep anything involving furniture and shelter was regarding as royalty. And that was exactly who he was royalty. To the population down here anyway. Some said he was the most powerful man in New London, which wasn t any sort of understatement. The Mayor was really only a position of tradition, and held no power. The Government was no more. He ran the biggest gang in the city, and could practically do as he wished.
His name was Sapphire and he was chief of the Smoky Bandits.
In anybody knew his real name, they didn t use it. Most of the gang members called him Boss. His word was blood around here. You didn t argue with Sapphire. It wasn t just the extraordinarily ugly scar that ripped diagonally across his face that gave him such a dark appearance, or his god-like strength. It was because every man that had ever crossed the path of Sapphire had died. Well, nearly. Apart from his brother.
He sighed. It was ten years to the day that his brother had tried to stop him joining the gangs.
It s a death wish, he had said, And I won t let some scum live in my house, he added decisively. And that was that. He had left Sapphire to scrounge for himself on the streets. Ten years later and look where he was.
It had definitely been an eventful ten years. The ugly scar permanently ruining his good looks had been the handiwork of the former chief, when he had challenged his rule. He hadn t expected the fat old man to be so darn quick. His hand reached up and caressed the burnt crust of a cheek, up to the robotic nose implant, over it and just under his eye. He d lost the sight in his left eye later on. He had made a mental note to never fight a man who owned an electro-sword.
The man got his comeuppance though. As the blow smashed his face in, he had made a left slice into the man s throat, the killing stroke which had taken him out as he fell unconscious. The throne passed to him. That was three years ago. Since then the gang under his leadership had flourished. He d make significant gains in turf, expanded the gang to number almost a thousand. And he d built the Smokescreen.
She was a beauty. No other building within the Deep had managed to disperse the ever-present smokescreen that plagued its inhabitants, but the Smokescreen had diffuse vapourisers built-in. State-of-the-ark too. Okay, he admitted, he d stolen them. But it was the fact he had the insight to do it.
She was totally hidden from anyone not a Bandit. In fact most Bandits didn t really remember where she was. Sapphire had taken the idea of one of the underground scavenger vehicles that managed to move securely under the ground and emerge in a totally different place. Smokescreen could do that. So each week, she was somewhere else. That kept them hidden.
And from there Sapphire had begun to make the Bandits more organised. No longer were attacks sporadic and random. Sure, they could still have fun once in a while, but he wanted more. He set up a command structure gang members were sorted into squads of about twenty, and each squad were commanded by a sergeant. These squads were then grouped into companies of five squads, one hundred men. These were under the leadership of a Lieutenant. Sapphire currently had seven companies Red, Blue, Yellow, Green, Orange, Purple and Black. Gang members had insignia with the colour of their parent company.
Yellow were currently employed as scouts. They were the eyes and the ears of the whole set-up. They didn t necessarily work in squads they could work alone or in pairs. They spied on important citizens, they investigated potential strike-points and they gathered information.
Red, Blue, Green and Purple were the main companies. These were used for attacks on the power grid, the power plants and for defending the base or attacking other gangs. Currently, although it was switched regularly, Purple and Blue were defensive companies and Red and Green attacking.
Black and Orange were the mobile companies. They were slightly smaller than standard about seventy men at full capacity. They deployed on airbikes, fast manoeuvrable vehicles that were excellent for hit-and-run attacks, for stealing and sabotage. But they were notoriously hard to keep control of, so only the best-skilled ever got in.
These seven companies made up the grunts of the gang. Sapphire smiled to himself. In the last couple of years he d doubled the Bandit turf through strength of numbers and cunning tactics. A favourite tactic of his was to order squads to operate in pairs out of their company. One squad was issued with a few flamers small mobile weapons that threw out extremely hot flames brilliant for fishing out the enemy holed in a fortified building. The other squad was issued with extra rapid-firing weapons such as the Lachermeier, invented by a scientist of the same name. It could unleash a horrifying amount of energy in a short amount of time before overheating (which was why the gun was so cheap), easily pinning down the enemy. The second squad was also supplemented by specialist grunts armed and trained in the use scoped slugger rifles, which increased the pinning ability of the squad.
The general theory was the second squad would deploy on an adjacent building laying down fire to put the enemies head s down. Squad one would then quickly close in to the building, use flamers to burn all inside and then move inside and mop up any survivors. So far it had been successful enough.
There was one last company. It was deployed only in the Smokescreen and formed the personal guard of Sapphire and the inner council, the intelligence, research and technical departments. It was known as Grey. Anyone outside the Greys knew very little. They were a closely-guarded secret, and for good reason. There were plans down here that Sapphire didn t want any old grunt getting hold of. Only the members he could trust were ever allowed in, the one s that wouldn t open their gob every time it was wetted with a little ale by a friendly stranger.
He was burst from his thought by a furious knock on the door. Whoever it was didn t wait for him to answer; instead he pushed the door ajar and came in. He saluted quickly.
Sir, Yellow Five found three stunned Bandits on the outskirts he started nervously, but was interrupted.
You burst into my private room to tell me that? Get out of my sight.
But But, sir... sweat trickled onto his brow.
Something to add? Spit it out you pathetic creature. He said distastefully. The young man was already beginning to irritate him. His name escaped him, as he pondered how such a weak lad could ever have made it into the Bandits.
Sir, the men were paralysed by .by electrocution. A tracker assures me that that they were hit by a gun or a rifle, not by a a melee weapon."
Sapphire s jaw dropped, but he quickly controlled his excitement, Why didn t you say? Inform all squads from Red Company to scour the area at once. Let s just hope another gang hasn t got its hands on one. I want that gun!
*****
So far, so good. He d made past two Grunts who d questioned him. Luckily for him, they were too far away to notice his discrepancies. They d called out to him, asking what he was doing on his own. A bit of quick thinking I ve got a message for someone at the base, and then a bit of luck just after he finished replying sporadic fire started a few blocks away and his questioners ran off to investigate.
That was ten minutes ago. Now he was hiding inside an abandoned building, about ten metres away from a large band of Bandits congregating. From his view point on the top floor of the building, he could tell from their actions and formation they were definitely searching for something. They d already checked out this one before he went in to avoid capture. His sharp eyesight had noticed each man carried a red insignia on their right and left shoulders. Strange he d never seen that before. Probably had no relevance, he concluded.
He waited a few more minutes and then they left. He decided quickly it would be his best chance to follow them. Otherwise he hand no real chance of finding the base. He ducked and weaved slowly out a door less frame and take advantage of any cover as he followed the footsteps of the Red squad.
Their progress was slow as they searched every building they passed. But after a long wait, perhaps two hours, of following, the Red squad at last made a sudden left and stopped searching. They made a much quicker pace and soon they came to a clearing where, strangely, no smoke existed. Intrigued, John had a feeling it was going to be the base, and stopped some distance away to gather his bearings. He wasn t going into this unprepared.
Something he definitely hadn t prepared himself was the harsh grip of a familiar hand on his shoulder. The shock sent him off his feet and onto his back. Embarrassed by his weakness, he instinctively went for his gun.
Don t even try it, lad.
He looked back to find the nozzle of a large slugger almost in his eye.
-END-
To be honest I don't like it that much, but I thought I'd share all the same. Comments appreciated. Note: It's not supposed to be scientific, so I don't care about the shockgun and all the other names I made up.
. I'm looking forward to reading more.
. No wonder they have so many problems.
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