Fiction Post - Writer's Block

Elliot put on his writer's mask and glared at the computer monitor. The text cursor blinked in and out of existence, demanding additions to his opus. Squinting, he typed in a small bit “The man reached for the pistol, his hand shaking.” Sighing, Elliot deleted the words. All the text tonight was just coming out crap after all. Leaning back, he pushed the chair back and spun it around. Maybe the nausea would give him some inspiration.

Fiction post! - Fixed point in time

Ricky spun the bottle out of his hands. It spun out and upwards in a lazy spin. It slowed as it rose to the top of its arc and hung there, floating freely like the other five bottles he threw previously. He sighed, tapping them one after the other. Each fell to the floor on contact, though they again slowed down and landed gently on the ground. The sixth bottle had spun higher than the others, and had slowed to a stop at knee height rather than on the floor. Ricky tapped it again, and this time it dropped and broke into three nasty shards. He grinned sadly, "That's a good fightin' bottle now. Maybe someone here will need it."

Fiction Day! - Session #1 of Android RPG pt.1

Sci-fi Noir Fun times!

Ding! Icarus pulled out his pad from a pocket. The message notification light shown a dull red. "Seraphina has a job for me, Nice." She wanted him to come down from level 55 where he roomed in an apartment with no questions asked to the park down on level 5 where she built up her market. It comprised a collection of stalls and merchants who sold legally questionable merchandise and information. Icarus bought and sold there frequently, they didn't mind his clone heritage. There were 2 other names on the message Icarus didn't know. "This must be important. She knows I work alone." One check on his watch confirmed it, there wasn't time to kill.

Fiction Day! - Android: Net runner fun times, character study.

Icarus watched the guard and waited. The Guard’s lazy patrol meandered from the front entrance to the alley on the right side of the building. To an unassuming observer, he looked alert and ready for anything. However, on closer inspection one could tell the earbuds the guard used spouted some atrocious audio book, and he kept checking his Pad for his step count. Icarus checked his watch too, out of habit. It took the man 145 seconds to make the lap. “Time to go.” Snatching the curriers hat off the trashcan, Icarus started on a brisk jog #3 towards the doors. The guard still needed to travel half way back to the doors. Icarus stood, waiting at the door and fidgeting. The performance would be noticeable to any other Hermes, but the guard surely would just see another messenger clone waiting to move.

Fiction Day - These story chunks are becoming increasingly out of order

The stars outside sparkled and streaked, flying past the view port. Gaile watched the passing glinting lines contemplatively. She fought the urge to yawn, brushing her red hair away from her eyes. Soon, the ship would land in Buenos Sochi. Gaile flicked her eyes to the camera screens. The boxes of goods in storage sat unmoving. The last few hours of a transport job always bored her out of her mind. "Ugh, When do we arrive again? This is such a pain." She tapped the navigation screen on the control panel. "I don't know how you can read this thing."

Fiction Day

( Note This happens duringa  break between sections of the last entry.)

The streets seemed to be uneven as Gaile walked back in the direction of the docks. She took an uncertain step grabbing Wesks arm for support. Wesk slowed down a little, giving her a chance to get her balance. "Gaile, why do you do this?" Wesk sighed, "Obviously, the asshat deserved it. Just one of these days... I worry about you, yeh know."

Fiction Day! - Trigger warning!

Wesk sat in his cabin, tinkering with his pistol. It looked like the springs needed to get replaced soon. The sound of the Ship at dock, quiet and morose tempered his good mood from the delivery. The ship was almost quiet like a tomb when it was powered down. Destro was off doing some maintenance and Gaile should be back soon. You could always hear the past too well in the quiet. The screams and gun-fire snuck in slowly, almost unnoticed until it was pounding in his ears.

Fiction Day!

Lacona's screen was taunting her. The thrice damned blinking cursor just sitting there not giving her any ideas on what to do next. "Maybe coffee will help." She brushed the hair out of her eyes and looked over to the station coffee station. The pot was full, and it didn't look more than 3 or four hours old. "That will do." Standing, she stretched her lower back. Yep, still not very helpful. The walk to the pot needed to be quick and purposeful. Otherwise, someone was going to try to interrupt her thought proce...

Fiction Day!

"This is literally the worst." Gaile looked at the pile of scrap formally making up the engine to the ship. "All I have to do is just repair the whole thing and we will be good. It's only the main component to get us airborne again so we can start making more money."

Wesk looked the scrap over, and tapped the side. A broken bolt shifted, then fell off with a loud clank. "I dunno, this looks like we need to go find a new one. The holes we got during the last dust up look like they went in some pretty important places." He picked up a catalytic converter and peered through the misshapen bullet hole on the side. "This seems kinda dead."

Fiction Day

This was going to take not giving a shit to a new level. Fred looked at the orders sheet from corporate. It looked like they wanted nothing more than to pretend that the economy was still in one piece and they still made some money.

Sighing, Fed set the sheet down. The office he was standing in didn't really belong to anyone, but the staff was required to come in and do some reports every day. On yet another day, the store was understaffed by people who didn't know how much effort was required to do the jobs they asked for. He hurriedly filled out some reports, showing he did close out the safe correctly, watch the cameras, and pulled some boxes from the back. Finally, he went out and pulled the lever behind the counter. It was big and silver with a red handle. It could have come from a cartoon, it was so out of place on the wall. Fred hung out while registers came online, avoiding the eyes of the customers outside the store.

"The store opens at 10, they can just freaken wait." Fred mumbled to himself. It probably wasn't smart, the systems were coming online, and the mics could come online at any point. The high-pitched dings of the registers sounded as they came online one after the other. Fred quickly wound his way out from behind the counter, it wasn't goo
d for him to stay back there. He checked his watch, looking to see how much time he had. The time said 9:57, just enough for him to run down a few aisles making sure there was nothing on the floor. He would never hear the end of it if a customer got stuck halfway through the store. The loss in profits alone would endanger his job.