A bad dream, that's what it felt like. Except.... It wasn't. Every night Christopher relived the same horrors, the blood on his hands, his dead comrades; he could hardly put the gun in his belt without a flashback of a face that no longer walked the earth. The cooling period is what his creator, Jim Parsons, had called it. The worst was over, but now he had to endure what was leftover in his brain.
There was a tear in his government issued police uniform. He frowned, examining the hole that had been caused by the graze of a bullet. The wound had already healed, one of the advantages of being a Variant, but the capabilities of his body could not fix thread and there was only one person Christopher knew that could use a thread and needle. Up to the Middle Ring he would have to go, it seemed.
He stopped by his house first in order to grab some money and an instant soup to compensate for the lunch he had missed. After putting in the hot water and pocketing the cash, Chris left and locked the door; heading towards the Middle Ring skybridge. Chris had been to all three of the rings, but out of them all he enjoyed the Middle one the most. It was where all of the farming was done and the trains took you past beautiful pastures and picturesque crystal lakes before you reached the inner city.
Chris stepped off of the platform, breathing in the fresh air; it wasn't anything like the freshly pumped oxygen in the Upper Ring, but it was better then the smell of sewage and piss that lingered around every corner in the bottom. A sigh escaped the male's lips as he stuffed his hands into the pockets of his red leather jacket, he had changed out of the police uniform and was carrying it in a small sports sack that was slung over his shoulder. Christopher was halfway to his destination when his phone went off, tiny vibrations running up and down his arm. In annoyance the boy whirled around to find a piece of glass. He pressed his palm against a shop window and waited for the image to transfer. "What do you want?" The officer asked while running a hand through his hair, it was one of his seniors, a cop that claimed he had seen everything and yet did nothing. "A is off tonight, I need you to fill in."
"Can't, I'm busy." The old man gave him a glare that could wither the toughest of gangsters. Chris's expression remained placid, bored even. "Come on King, it's not like you've got anything else going on." He shrugged and pulled at his shoulder, the one that was not connected to the shop front. "I told you, I've got stuff to take care of. See if Sin or Wilson are up to it." With that Chris ended the call and continued on his way to Enid's home/shop. He knocked on the door twice before seeing the closed sign and wondered if she had run out. Chris could wait here for her to get back if she was in fact gone, but he didn't want to seem like some sort of stalker.
"Neppy,"
Neptune's smile grew when he said her name. She loved the way his mouth quirked up in a dance at the edges then slowly spread to the middle; she was also glad he liked the new bow tie and reciprocated the kiss with just as much passion. There was never lust or need in Tristan's kisses, just an intense fiery feeling that Neptune couldn't quite capture with words. She remembered when there was a time every morning Neptune would wake up unknowing as to whether their lips would brush again and all that cheesy romantic stuff people thought of when they were in a relationship in the middle of a war.
"Thank you," his words were like little fireworks in her ears, dazzling and powerful.
"Don't thank me, that's what couples do. Right?" She wasn't really sure if that was true or not, but one of her comrades had always received little presents from his girlfriend when they were in Polaris. "Tristan, you can’t just storm off from this problem; getting angry about it won’t help. We need a musical act and we need it soon. What are you....oh...hi, uh, Neptune."
Neptune gave Ted a short wave, her curiosity besting her, she swiveled around on the bar stool to face the golden eyed man. Tristan was always getting angry, but if Ted was running around like a chicken without his head off then it meant that they believed their reputation was at stake. "Thanks a lot Ted. I know. I’ll think of something." The female spun around in her chair again, thinking. If Tristan would let her onto his computer (she would never invade another Variant's technology without their permission) then Neptune could most likely find someone for him. Let's see there was a dancer, a gardener, tailor, a handful of combat specialists.... A certain blonde crossed her mind, one whom Neptune had only met once and she was drawing a blank on the name.
"What about that girl that served on Nova? The blonde? I think she works at a strip club now..." Neptune trailed off, lost in thought for a few seconds. "I can find her if you'd like?" She asked Tristan, figuring that someone was better than no one.