Saturday, January 31, 2009

IMPOSSIBLE GIRL - 12

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When she woke he was sitting beside her, still dressed from wherever he had been the night before. Alcohol and cigarettes emanated from his clothes and there was a vague whiff of perfume. He looked tired but his eyes were clear and his skin radiated.

Blood had oxidised in the corner of his mouth. IGirl had no idea where he had been but she knew exactly what he had been doing.

‘You’re here,’ he said.

‘I got back last night. I left messages.’

‘I didn’t think you would. Come back I mean. ’

‘Why wouldn’t I?’ she asked.

Another pointless conversation to add to their tally.

‘Thought you’d be too busy with the fashion prince, but I suppose you got hungry.’

‘Fuck off,’ she said and looked away.

Five minutes later she heard the shower running and got up. Joining him without resolving the Mark issue would just exacerbate the screwed up state of their relationship but she doubted it mattered. All trust had been shattered eighteen months before. Neither of them could bring it back. Now there was only need.

She stepped into the shower recess and felt him hard against her hand. There was release in this, release from all the anger and frustration. And pleasure. His chin stubble tickling her thigh. Surely she was owed that.
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Thursday, January 29, 2009

EVINRUD - 6

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Three shots of caffeine to shake the last of the zombie sensation and I’m ready to work. My new boots are designed for optimum flexibility and function… plus looks. Hugging the calf just right, slinking up over the pant leg, they look as good as they feel.

According to Evinrud we’ve got twenty minutes to rendezvous point.

Our connection is strong. The last two weeks has been worth it, there’s zero static in the pulse. Evinrud senses every tilt and lean of my body and moves with me. He adjusts speed according to my will. The dash and engine controls are nothing more then props, a public fa├žade in case we’re noticed.

We ride the service elevator to the roof. The smog is thick and rancid. I can barely see my hand in front of me. and retch a bit as I pull the 02 tube up to my nose.

Evinrud’s sonar picks out someone else on the roof. It’s Bin. He knows we’re there but says nothing.

Impatient, I ignore the old man and we take off. Rising fifty metres and heading east.

I can’t see a thing through my goggles but the connection with Evinrud is as good as having my own radar. Opposite of slowing us down the smog acts as a cover. We weave anonymously through the city’s airspace, dodging buildings even this high up. Pushing acceleration from already impossible speeds. This is what I get off on, the speed and adrenaline. And in fucking great boots too. Shame about the smell but you get used to it.
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Sunday, January 25, 2009

Title - H

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Wednesday, January 21, 2009

Title - G

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EVINRUD - 5

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M was relieved to find his shoes untouched on his feet. Getting a new pair in this settlement would be impossible. And he refused to wear another brand. His suit pants were shredded along his thighs where the healer had tended to wounds already near disappeared.

Despite feeling like hell, he swung himself off the high bed, needles and tubes popping from his skin as he reached the floor. What was he, a fuckin’ pin cushion? As expected, the Verag had already switched on beside the bed. A true soldier . Mercury pinched on the leg rope and let the machine share his blood. He and felt a little woozy. He already knew the machine had the prize. They could kill the old man. They had used him too often perhaps…

The rattling cough behind him made him sigh.
“Physician, heal thyself,” he smirked as he turned around to face the old man. “Good job, your services are impeccable as always. How long have I been out?”
The old man was sensibly wary of the cruel machine, giving it a wide berth as he approached M.
“You need longer. It’s only been two days.” He tentatively prodded the fused wound on his patients side.
“Want to bleed the bank account as well, old man.” The cruel smile on his face, reached his eyes. “Just give us the drugs. We have new games to play.”

Fussily sorting through the drawers of pills and liquids, the old man risked the question. “Do you know where he is? Are the trees back.......” he trailed off as M’s burning anger tore up the room. The bottles were snatched from the table and a wad of crumbled money tossed in their place.
“You should know better, old man.”
He stalked to the door with the Verag in pursuit.
“We’ll see you only when... “
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Placing his exquisite black shoes on the counter, he smiled down at the sweet face, undoing his buttons as he appraised the plump lips. Dropping his useless pants to the floor, he now stood naked in the shop and spread his arms wide.
“My Dear, what size do you think I am?” he laughed as the girl pressed the button under her finger and shut the door behind him.

When he emerged half an hour later, a freshly tailored suit covered his body like a second skin. He was still adjusting his belt as he swaggered into the first bar. He leaned over and plucked the bottle from the bartender, “thanks,” and found a chair in the back corner. When would they come looking for him?

He was surprised it took them until half way through the bottle. Loosing their touch perhaps, or just scared? Both likely. The drone looked disdainfully at the bottle sitting on the table.
“Drink?” Mercury inquired.
“They’re expecting you.” The voice was slightly metallic. Funny how they could make them so human, but not get the voice right. Ever. Even the sex bots had crap voices. And they just panted mostly.

“I’m not finished.” A human would have backed off from the warning in his voice, but the drone was unperturbed. It turned and walked toward the door. When opened, it revealed three more of him waiting outside.
“Bringing it with me then,” M grinned, slinging up the bottle as he filed out with his own machine.

Mothers’ even the devil must deal.
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Writing by Jodie DeDauton.

Monday, January 19, 2009

EVINRUD - 4

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Darkness shot him like a bullet down the long slick corridor. Feeble moonlight flashed off spinning, lethal blades. Forever slashing. Carnage lay unmourned in his path. By now, the endless killing motion was beyond his control. He just needed to get back.

Silent attacks continued to launch from behind the cargo stacked in the gloomy warehouses. Automatically he carved a path through their neat rows perched next to the docks and it’s tainted water. Slight cover was better than none at all. His connection with the killing machine weakened as the blood drained from his injuries. Face clenched into a mask. Hands unable to loosen their grip on the throttle. Blades propelling him forward in a tail of severed enemy limbs.

Deep within the pockets of his suit jacket lay the prize of the night. His raiding party most successful. Thick layers of catalyst lay in a folded sheaf against his breast. At least 6 months for he alone and another six to trade with. At least one already gone to stem this fucking blood flowing from the punctures in his arm and leg. He pictured the healers face and urged his machine gain haste to the old man’s side. With his mental strength focussed on the lined face in his head, the machine coursed uncontrolled through the wharf buildings heading straight for the tunnel entrance under the city. All caution taken by his human rider forgotten in the drive to reach the image in the masters head.

It would seem no enemy could be alive in their path, but the enemy had new resources Mercury was beyond caring about. With more blood in his system, he would have noticed.
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The Verag turned off the spinning blades as they entered the tunnel. The spinning noise of death abruptly ended in the low brick tunnel stretching ahead. It’s pilot light switched on in this safe place, bouncing a path off the brick and earth walls. Even here, it was best not to touch the edges. The corrosive outside could have penetrated here close to topside. A quiet, cruising speed pushed them toward the healer.

The symbiote could not see Mercury sprawling prone across it’s crown. It could, however, feel their connection stretching tight and was consumed with delivering him safely. All energy was focussed on one man, ahead in the tunnels. The Verag probed for his location among the hundreds of kms of hidden civilisation masked behind brick and lead walls. Eventually it locked on. So close.

Without his master, the machine was useless. The blood and mind link so important, it forced the machine to lay servitude at human feet. The Verag had had previous masters. Weaker, moral men. It wasn’t letting Mercury go without a fight. He was the perfect fit.

The blood connection was weakening fast as the duo swung through the healer’s camouflaged door. The old man struggled to release the blood grip between them. Even though the Verag withdrew his connector spikes from Mercury’s ankle, his cold grip remained tightly clenched around the throttle. If traces of blood had not still been in the symbiote, the healer would simple have broken it off. With the machine still functioning at his side, he dared not further hurt it’s master.

Despite his middle age and depleted condition, Mercury was a fine specimen laid out on the healing bed. A sinewy vigor held his muscles and plumped the veins in his hand. Money would be in this job. The old man busied himself with attaching the healing machines, cutting away the three piece suit and exposing a body strong and wiry. With the last of it’s blood strength, the Verag smoothly slid over to the abandoned jacket and vacuumed it in the under-compartment. Then turned off.
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Writing by Jodie DeDauton
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Sunday, January 18, 2009

Sketchbook - 4

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Monday, January 12, 2009

Title - F

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Friday, January 9, 2009

IMPOSSIBLE GIRL - 11

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It was good to be back... home….where her things are…where everything is her choice. That was a joke. She learned long ago that was bullshit. There is no such thing as choice, simply easy decisions or hard decisions or not making a decision at all.

She checks her cell. No answers, no replies.

The taxi stinks of sweat and cigarettes but in the fading sunlight the city is breathtaking.

Stopped at an intersection in Woolloomooloo a different taxi driver had once said to her ‘Every time I stop here I am amazed that I live in such a beautiful city’. She had forgotten.

Like everyone around her she had been looking for beauty on a designer rack or framed by an architecturally designed aluminum bifold. That taxi driver had found it looking out his grimy window.

A kilometre away the homeless drug addicts, prostitutes and criminals were mixing it up with the city’s most stylish. The dirty ugly and the shiny ugly….that’s our focus…what we want. The splendour could wait.

As she walked up to the apartment she was fantasizing about him lying on the bed naked with food. But he wasn’t home, probably punishing her for the tabloid gossip. His things were still here though and the dogs bowl, which was a good sign. He would be back.

IGirl was hungry, too hungry to wait. She dropped her bags, grabbed the GHB from the bathroom, stowed it in her Gucci and left the apartment. She noticed her reflection in the glass of the elevator, distended gums. Tonight she would have to scavenge for herself.
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