Street Level
“Identification please.”
Darc let out a loud, audible moan, causing the elevator worker to raise one disapproving eyebrow. He rummaged around in his pocket, glancing up and down the marble-white hallway. Several desks like the one before him were situated up and down the hallway. Of all ten or so terminals in the hall, Darc’s was the only one monitored.
Lucky him.
He pulled the dog tags from his pocket, and slid the chain across the counter. “When did they start checking people at these elevators?” Darc asked, nodding at the sliding doors behind the desk. “What’s the world come to when you can’t trust the people going down? Seriously…”
“Standard procedure,” she replied dully, taking his ID and holding them under the decoder. A single red line flickered across the barcode, and she consulted the screen before her.
“It’s new to me.” Darc leaned an elbow on the desk. The worker flinched, and kept her eyes on the screen. With a ding the 300-SL glowed yellow on the doors in front of him. Down the hall, pedestrians shuffled in and out of the elevators, but all of them were going up, and Darc was on his way down.
“What’s your name?” he asked, glancing at the open sheet of her blouse collar. She didn’t answer. “This whole society is such a hierarchy. Even the floors fall victim to it. The higher level you live on…” He gestured up lazily. “The better off you are. What level do you live on? You know what, forget that. Did you know that there are only metal detectors on the top 500 floors? Me, well, I’m not coming from that high…”
The elevator worker didn’t reply. Eyes, heavy with makeup and late night shifts, scanned the screen before her. Most of the information was trifling.
Name: Sebastian Forest
Gender: /M/
D.O.B: 12-3
Blood Type: X2
Color: 003300
Current Residence: Unknown
__Scan Check: Floor 100 -
Occupation: Unknown
__Scan Check: Negative
Felonies:
The worker bit her lip. Although it said that the teen had not been convicted for any crimes, he was listed as “Suspect in Questioning” for a few crimes. Petty crimes. And violent crimes.
__Scan Check: Demographics: Floor 200-
That explained it. The police force on the lower levels was non-existent. Another quick scan showed that most of those cases were “pending” and over two years old— before the police force gave up entirely on the street levels.
“Is this going to take much longer, babe?” Darc tapped his fingers on the counter impatiently. “I got places to be.”
“Just a moment, ple––”
Her hands froze over the keyboard. Her eyes widened, and reflected in their shining glass glowed the text MENTALLY UNSTABLE, POTENTIALLY VIOLENT.
“Something the matter?”
She glanced up at him— her eyes got caught in his dark green, nearly black irises. “Wh-where were you headed again?” she stuttered, wrenching her gaze from his and pretending to type.
“Street level. Is there a problem with my identity––”
“No, nothing’s the matter.” She shoved his dog tags back at him, and the elevator doors open. “Have a nice day!” Her voice cracked. She flinched.
For a moment, Darc didn’t move. He picked up the dog tags, and let the chain drag against the counter. “No,” he said. “You have a good day.”
Smiling, Darc entered the elevator. Before the doors slid shut, he caught a glimpse of the computer screen past her shaking shoulders.
“Mentally unstable?” The elevator began to move downwards. “But the Doc says I’m making such progress!”
Darc shrugged, and removed his tall hat, revealing the two goat horns and a mess of hair. Next he ditched the grey-brown sweatshirt and began tightening the straps on his flying leather, adjusting the pads of armor around his shoulders, elbows, and ribs. The elevator finally came to a stop, and with a beep and a shhk the doors split open, and the green teen stepped through to the other side.
On the ground floor, or Street Level, there was no waiting elevator worker to check his identity. There was, in fact, not even a terminal. The elevator opened to the cracked, upturned cement and rubble from the corpse of a building. The steel planks from what was left of the foundation were rusted, and overrun with wild wires of bitmite-infected machinery. Dust and dirt from where the fallen building pierced the desert floor scattered this half of the street.
Darc moved through the rubble, hopping over a fallen beam and kicking aside chunks of concrete. The street beyond was entirely hidden in shadows as the skyscrapers above blocked the sunlight. Here, unlighted day was darker than the illuminated neon night. Darc paused before a stream of sunlight that had snuck its way past the buildings and bridges above, and stepped into the dusty light. Even here, the sun warmed his face. He squinted his eyes, trying to catch a glimpse of that golden star.
“Now, where did I put my bike?” He looked around the rubble for a telltale shine of metal. He found the machine leaning against a wall, hiding in the shadows. As he approached, reaching out with his green energy, his true identity, the bike began to glow with life. A whirling hum sounded from beneath plates of metal, where green patterns flickered with life.
“That’s my baby.” Darc patted the sky bike, and grabbed both handles to mount. “Let’s go home.”
“AAAHG!”
Darc flinched as the cry hit his ears. What are the Blues doing up so early? He wondered, lifting the bike up into the air slowly. “Not your business, Darc,” he hissed as more cries of help came from around the corner. “Fly on.”
He hovered in the air. A dusty breeze stung his cheeks. The crying was now replaced by laughter.
“Aw, fuck it,” Darc said, pulling on his gas mask and revving his engine.
----------
Jack felt the spit and blood slide along the contour of his lip. The taste of it made him nauseous, and he heaved dry, stomach clenching. Blood from his nose flowed into his mouth, adding another wave of dizziness.
“You think he’s a White Light?” one of them said above him as Jack shook and clawed feebly at the blue burning on his skin.
“Dunno. I never saw one. Are they all motley like him?”
“No you moron! They look all regular colored. Bet he’s an OD.”
"Check him for 'shock."
They flipped Jack over roughly, and rummaged through his pockets. Don’t touch me! He thought. Don’t fucking touch me! Foreign fingers brushed bruises and lit new fires of pain within Jack.
“Nothin’. Found this card though.”
“The fuck we do with a card?”
Something white fluttered before Jack’s face. He reached to it, extending bloody fingers.
Vrrrrmmm!
"Da fuck is that?!"
“Hey baby blues, eat this!”
Something went crack and a flash of green light pierced Jack’s eyes. A wave of toxic smoke filled the air, and Jack covered his eyes as the blue people shouted and stomped around him. On arms and knees, Jack began to crawl away, begging his body to work, just a little longer!
Someone fell beside him. His eyes were closed, and his face was splattered with green… light? A blue glow from around him faded and died. Shit! The gas crept into his eyes, made his nose ache with the blood that fell from it.
The shouting stopped.
Jack covered his face.
Slow footsteps.
His arms were pried from his face, and Jack looked up at a monster. Above a bulbous green mask two coal colored eyes shot an intense gaze his way. Devil’s horns glared green down at him. The smoke around him was illuminated emerald, the color seeming to come from the skin of this figure.
Jack’s vision blurred with tears, and his eyes swelled shut.
“Identification please.”
Darc let out a loud, audible moan, causing the elevator worker to raise one disapproving eyebrow. He rummaged around in his pocket, glancing up and down the marble-white hallway. Several desks like the one before him were situated up and down the hallway. Of all ten or so terminals in the hall, Darc’s was the only one monitored.
Lucky him.
He pulled the dog tags from his pocket, and slid the chain across the counter. “When did they start checking people at these elevators?” Darc asked, nodding at the sliding doors behind the desk. “What’s the world come to when you can’t trust the people going down? Seriously…”
“Standard procedure,” she replied dully, taking his ID and holding them under the decoder. A single red line flickered across the barcode, and she consulted the screen before her.
“It’s new to me.” Darc leaned an elbow on the desk. The worker flinched, and kept her eyes on the screen. With a ding the 300-SL glowed yellow on the doors in front of him. Down the hall, pedestrians shuffled in and out of the elevators, but all of them were going up, and Darc was on his way down.
“What’s your name?” he asked, glancing at the open sheet of her blouse collar. She didn’t answer. “This whole society is such a hierarchy. Even the floors fall victim to it. The higher level you live on…” He gestured up lazily. “The better off you are. What level do you live on? You know what, forget that. Did you know that there are only metal detectors on the top 500 floors? Me, well, I’m not coming from that high…”
The elevator worker didn’t reply. Eyes, heavy with makeup and late night shifts, scanned the screen before her. Most of the information was trifling.
Name: Sebastian Forest
Gender: /M/
D.O.B: 12-3
Blood Type: X2
Color: 003300
Current Residence: Unknown
__Scan Check: Floor 100 -
Occupation: Unknown
__Scan Check: Negative
Felonies:
The worker bit her lip. Although it said that the teen had not been convicted for any crimes, he was listed as “Suspect in Questioning” for a few crimes. Petty crimes. And violent crimes.
__Scan Check: Demographics: Floor 200-
That explained it. The police force on the lower levels was non-existent. Another quick scan showed that most of those cases were “pending” and over two years old— before the police force gave up entirely on the street levels.
“Is this going to take much longer, babe?” Darc tapped his fingers on the counter impatiently. “I got places to be.”
“Just a moment, ple––”
Her hands froze over the keyboard. Her eyes widened, and reflected in their shining glass glowed the text MENTALLY UNSTABLE, POTENTIALLY VIOLENT.
“Something the matter?”
She glanced up at him— her eyes got caught in his dark green, nearly black irises. “Wh-where were you headed again?” she stuttered, wrenching her gaze from his and pretending to type.
“Street level. Is there a problem with my identity––”
“No, nothing’s the matter.” She shoved his dog tags back at him, and the elevator doors open. “Have a nice day!” Her voice cracked. She flinched.
For a moment, Darc didn’t move. He picked up the dog tags, and let the chain drag against the counter. “No,” he said. “You have a good day.”
Smiling, Darc entered the elevator. Before the doors slid shut, he caught a glimpse of the computer screen past her shaking shoulders.
“Mentally unstable?” The elevator began to move downwards. “But the Doc says I’m making such progress!”
Darc shrugged, and removed his tall hat, revealing the two goat horns and a mess of hair. Next he ditched the grey-brown sweatshirt and began tightening the straps on his flying leather, adjusting the pads of armor around his shoulders, elbows, and ribs. The elevator finally came to a stop, and with a beep and a shhk the doors split open, and the green teen stepped through to the other side.
On the ground floor, or Street Level, there was no waiting elevator worker to check his identity. There was, in fact, not even a terminal. The elevator opened to the cracked, upturned cement and rubble from the corpse of a building. The steel planks from what was left of the foundation were rusted, and overrun with wild wires of bitmite-infected machinery. Dust and dirt from where the fallen building pierced the desert floor scattered this half of the street.
Darc moved through the rubble, hopping over a fallen beam and kicking aside chunks of concrete. The street beyond was entirely hidden in shadows as the skyscrapers above blocked the sunlight. Here, unlighted day was darker than the illuminated neon night. Darc paused before a stream of sunlight that had snuck its way past the buildings and bridges above, and stepped into the dusty light. Even here, the sun warmed his face. He squinted his eyes, trying to catch a glimpse of that golden star.
“Now, where did I put my bike?” He looked around the rubble for a telltale shine of metal. He found the machine leaning against a wall, hiding in the shadows. As he approached, reaching out with his green energy, his true identity, the bike began to glow with life. A whirling hum sounded from beneath plates of metal, where green patterns flickered with life.
“That’s my baby.” Darc patted the sky bike, and grabbed both handles to mount. “Let’s go home.”
“AAAHG!”
Darc flinched as the cry hit his ears. What are the Blues doing up so early? He wondered, lifting the bike up into the air slowly. “Not your business, Darc,” he hissed as more cries of help came from around the corner. “Fly on.”
He hovered in the air. A dusty breeze stung his cheeks. The crying was now replaced by laughter.
“Aw, fuck it,” Darc said, pulling on his gas mask and revving his engine.
----------
Jack felt the spit and blood slide along the contour of his lip. The taste of it made him nauseous, and he heaved dry, stomach clenching. Blood from his nose flowed into his mouth, adding another wave of dizziness.
“You think he’s a White Light?” one of them said above him as Jack shook and clawed feebly at the blue burning on his skin.
“Dunno. I never saw one. Are they all motley like him?”
“No you moron! They look all regular colored. Bet he’s an OD.”
"Check him for 'shock."
They flipped Jack over roughly, and rummaged through his pockets. Don’t touch me! He thought. Don’t fucking touch me! Foreign fingers brushed bruises and lit new fires of pain within Jack.
“Nothin’. Found this card though.”
“The fuck we do with a card?”
Something white fluttered before Jack’s face. He reached to it, extending bloody fingers.
Vrrrrmmm!
"Da fuck is that?!"
“Hey baby blues, eat this!”
Something went crack and a flash of green light pierced Jack’s eyes. A wave of toxic smoke filled the air, and Jack covered his eyes as the blue people shouted and stomped around him. On arms and knees, Jack began to crawl away, begging his body to work, just a little longer!
Someone fell beside him. His eyes were closed, and his face was splattered with green… light? A blue glow from around him faded and died. Shit! The gas crept into his eyes, made his nose ache with the blood that fell from it.
The shouting stopped.
Jack covered his face.
Slow footsteps.
His arms were pried from his face, and Jack looked up at a monster. Above a bulbous green mask two coal colored eyes shot an intense gaze his way. Devil’s horns glared green down at him. The smoke around him was illuminated emerald, the color seeming to come from the skin of this figure.
Jack’s vision blurred with tears, and his eyes swelled shut.