literature

Untitled Cyberpunk Work Chapter One

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There’s a slight musk in the air of the small studio apartment, a mixture of her pre-shower workout and the spontaneous workout before that. Most of the lights are off, save for three of the four bulbs above the mirror in the bathroom. Hearing a slight groan, Five briefly looks toward the direction of the bed, though the ajar door obstructs her view. Her attention turns back to the mirror, as she peers at herself, her hair mostly. She’s not yet used to the new look, and hasn’t yet decided if it looks good on her or not.

Five stands 1.74 meters tall. Her hair, the current object of her attention, is long, black and straight with uniformly trimmed bangs that fall just past her delicate eyebrows. Five’s eyes are a warm brown, with a slight hint of epicanthus. Full, often tightly held lips rest above her pronounced though delicate chin. The new hair style helps to frame her heart shaped face, accentuating her cheekbones subtly and giving her an overall more feminine look than she is used to. Aside from a little dark eye liner, Five generally foregoes make-up. She fusses over her hair only a moment longer before checking her pearly white teeth for any errant bits of breakfast that her toothbrush may have missed before she resigns herself to the softer look.

She glances at the clock. 23:40. She’s got twenty minutes to get to work, though she’s not particularly worried about the time. Five’s body is lean, athletic, with definition in her arms, defined abdominal muscles and thick legs of a frequent marathon runner. Her skin is perpetually sun kissed, though several shades lighter than the natives of Saigon. Leisurely, she pulls on her pants in the cramped bathroom, remaining silent so as to not disturb her mate. She turns out the lights of the bathroom, blows a kiss toward the bed, and heads out of the small apartment.

Out the door, Five passes the elevator. Several of her neighbours are standing before the chrome doors, impatiently pushing at the button or checking their watch and complaining about the time. Five takes the stairs to the parking garage. Seven flights every night. Some of her neighbours are still not used to her routine, aghast at her blasphemy of not waiting for the elevator.

Several of the other inhabitants of the massive housing block, coming home from work or just leaving for work as she is, give her glances as she walks toward her car. Some uneasy, some sleazy. She’s in her black pants and a simple black sports bra, hence the sleazy looks. The open display of weaponry on her belt grants her the uneasy looks.

She slides into the white corporate car and places her thumb onto the dash to start the vehicle’s AI. The dash comes alive with green displays against LED backlighting. “Good morning miss FIVE,” the computerized voice shatters her quiet morning calm as it stumbles over her name. Opting to forego the audio-input method, she punches the coordinates into the car’s GPS. “We will arrive at our destination in FIFTEEN minutes,” the computer’s soft, feminine RP voice is again punctuated by incongruent shouts against the preprogrammed vocabulary. “Will we be making a stop at COFFEE SHOP?”

“No,” Five sighs, “just take me to work.” If the computer could analyze intonation, it would hear her seething distain for the car’s automated voice and features. Were it up to her, she would drive the car herself, but the Saigon Highway Authority, for all the power it actually has, has deemed corporate car speeds too fast for people to control. The car pulls itself out of the underground garage and slowly turns down the street until it hits the corporate highway. Once on the highway the car reaches the cruising speed of 400 Kph, blasting past all of the massive advertisements that clutter the already obfuscated Saigon skyline. The bright lights of the city blur into one long electric yellow line against the muggy Saigon night sky as the vehicle nears its destination. In the time it takes the car to arrive at the BraveStar office Five has plenty of time to get herself into her corporate security uniform and blare loud electronica as she loses herself  in thought for those few minutes. The car slows and the music automatically lowers for the computer voice.

“We have arrived at our destination Miss FIVE. Have a wonderful night.” Five shoots a glare at nothing as the dash goes blank. She opens the car door, stepping out for the first time into the muggy night air. Rain season is coming, the air is getting heavier and muggier with each passing night.

The BraveStar building is massive, modern and white washed. Even in the dead of night the lights are on in all the windows. The clacking of her high heeled black boots resounds throughout the long, open concrete parking ramp. Five has her BraveStar jacket slung over a shoulder, her pointer finger the only thing holding it.

“Hal,” she nods at the olde man sitting on an upturned milk carton, a stark contrast to the clean, pristine building.

“Morning, Five,” he breaths out half-sarcastically, smoke billowing into the thick night air.

“Those things’ll kill yah,” she smiles.

“Haven’t yet,” he smiles back, standing and checking the back of her left hand with his scanner, a blue light running over her hand, scanning an invisible ID code. The scanner beeps green and the large mirrored chrome door opens. “No coffee tonight?”

“Nah. Late enough as it is,” she smirks and walks past him, through the parking lot’s back door down the hall toward the elevator. No stairs in the building, only a complex set of elevators. At the elevator door, Five again scans her left hand before the door will open.

The ride is fast, and the doors open in time to once again destroy Five’s calm. From a quiet parking lot, a quiet hall and a quiet elevator to a packed, loud BraveStar office. She passes through the people insisting they are innocent, insisting they have been brought up on false charges, or, her favourite, insisting that BraveStar has no jurisdiction on whatever place they were in when they were picked up. They were usually right.

Her office, shared with her current partner, is kept clean and neat. Somewhat to the dismay of James, but it is Five’s office and he is, for now, just a guest.

“Five, wow!” James exclaims, looking up from the seemingly antiquated computer at his partner. “You look great. I love the new look.” He’s taller than her, about 1.8 meters. His hair is brown, parted down the middle and somewhat shaggy, maybe a few millimeters past needing a trim. He is decidedly lankier and less athletically toned than she is, though it is difficult to tell when those heavy BraveStar jackets are on. His eyes are bright blue, set against a slightly ruddy complexion. His English pegs him for a North American.

“James,” is all she offers.

“You look..,” he pauses, “cute?” He offers questioningly, seemingly worried he might either offend or enrage her.

“I suppose. Cat video?” She glances at the computer. He laughs and nods, guilty.

“Yeah, just waiting for you to get in. Odd job waiting for you. Us.”

“Oh?” She perks a brow, not bothering to sit.

“Yeah. Interrupted my video actually,” he lets out a nervous chuckle, still trying to test the waters, to understand exactly what their working relationship is. She ignores it. After a few seconds of painfully silent pause, he continues. “Business man.  Victor White, middle management with W.E.C.A.R.E., found dead by room service about an hour ago.”

“Profile says he works out of L.A. usually,” Five mentions, having taken over the mouse, leaning over James’ shoulder as she peers at the antiquated screen.

“People travel, vacations and stuff, you know,” James offers.

“Yeah,” Five stands, shrugging off his explanation. “Looks like clean up.”

“Clean up?” James perks a brow at her.

“Yeah,” she responds coldly, no explanation. Her tone changes, somewhat more chipper,” James, get me some coffee?”

“Uh.., yeah,” he nods and heads out. Five takes that time to look over the report a little more thoroughly. Clean up. That’s exactly what it is. Find out what illegal thing the business man was doing, cover it up before one of the other Corporate PR machines get any more blackmail than they already might have.
This is chapter one :) I do hope you enjoy. Comments greatly appreciated.

Prologue: [link]
Chapter One: Here
Chapter Two: [link]
© 2013 - 2024 Kythkyn
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