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 In the Midnight Hour, She Cried... [PC Story - Lux]

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TheDiddler
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Join date : 2014-09-12
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Location : Cheyenne, WY

PostSubject: In the Midnight Hour, She Cried... [PC Story - Lux]   Thu Mar 23, 2017 5:39 pm

In the Midnight Hour, She Cried...

A high whine announced the too fast turn of the Featherlight bike. Tires screeched with the unsubtle wobble of inexperience masked as showmanship. Golden glitter exploded in a shower of light from the mufflers, a recent addition from star designer Ami Feather.

The sleek figure dismounted with a bow. A slick gold suit outlined every line of muscle. The helmet fell away to a bared grin, smooth skin, and flirty wink.

The elf moved with grace and style up the walkway to the club, tossing his key back to a valet. A familiar beep announce a grand tip given. Golden hair spiked and framed the silvered features. He caught every eye as he sauntered past the big ork bouncer and into the packed club.

Music blared, the trans-echo beat of electro-dance thump-thump-thumping like a heart nervous and on drugs. The glittering elf slipped between the sweaty bodies flashing smiles and glamour. Fractured light reflected from the crowd, steel limbs and plexi-glass eyes sending the colors dancing a hundred different ways.

A woman at the bar, human, her legs like a runway up her molded form, gave the elf the once-over that was all he needed to make a landing.

He walked up bold and beaming. One hand slapped the bar, the too-thin credit stick rang out with Nuyen. His other arm was around her in an instant, thin elvish lips pressed against her neck with an exploratory tongue. Her head fell back in ecstasy as his free hand traced her form.

From beside them, her husband, a big ork businessman trying his level best to fit into the youthful crowd. “Yo you fuck, that’s mine.”

A wet, heavy thud followed by a cracked jaw and the ork went down. The tremendous troll behind him lowered the police baton back into his overcoat and sneered at the elf, flipped him the bird, and said "This is dumber every time you do it."

*****

Lux yanked the BTL free from its socket.

“Unskilled heavy trog waste of a good stunt man piece of shit ass troll.”

He sat up from the overstuffed chair, slick with sweat and wearing last night’s clothes.

“Have to talk to him. There’s nothing to it. Can’t go ruining the show like that, it takes the buyer out of the sense of power, out of the real.”

Lux droned on and on, talking and talking to a seemingly empty room. Any who took note of his focused eyes and patterned speech would realize however that he did not consider himself alone.

“You know what I mean, right? You go to all that trouble, stick the landing on the bike, get the crowd just right, even the hired girl did her part. And it’s ruined by a sneer of disbelief. There’s nothing to it,” he coughed heavy into his hand and wiped away stuck snot on a pleather sleeve. “Nothing to it. I have to talk to him.”

Lux caught himself in the mirror and stopped. His nose and forehead crinkled, fists clenching and releasing. He hated seeing himself in Better Than Life, but even self-reflection outshone the real. Beetles were necessary and as The Real Andromeda constantly reminded him, elves were sexy and sold.

“Shut your hole, you invisible meatsticks.” Lux spat. “You’re not real. You’re not real. You’re not fucking real no matter how much sense you make. I know he’ll turn my bones into his stew if I poke the fucking troll. You don’t’ have to tell me.

He sneezed, coughed, wiped it on the side of the chair and fell back into its soft embrace.

“Let’s jack it back in. A few hours ahead this time. They’ll love the sex scene. Scenes.” He plugged the BTL into its slot and let his mind go blank. Slack jaw, relaxed body, and an instant later he was in the dream world.

The real world.

This simsense of himself was better than the land of meat and pain. Lux forgot all about the heavy trog and his disdain for the sim world. Somewhere in the back of his mind he told himself he would talk to Grimm, but only after he secured another run.

He was running low on funds and this latest batch of reruns was already getting old.




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C Thomas Hand
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The wisest words fit into pithy sayings.

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