Mr.Shadowfax's Story

The all-powerful king of The City called Dark sat upon his throne - a modest, black-leather office chair; estimated at over two thousand dollars. Outside of his window, the entirety of Upper City stretched out before him, glistening in the moonlight. He sipped the champagne - roughly five thousand dollars in a single glass - and sighed softly, resting his chin on his knuckles "A dreary night, Mr.Shadowfax." He smiled lazily.


The phantom of the night entered the room, seeming to step from shadow itself, and knelt in front of Alois Scratch's desk, staring at the floor. "A dreadful boring one, sir" The empty, lifeless voice that was a result of filtering said monotonously. "There is uprising in the bowels, sir. I've sent for mercenaries. would you like to meet them?"

Circe Marks
She leans against the wall in the darkened hallway, one bent knee allowing her foot to rest flat against the cream colored wall. Spacing out, her vibrant blue eyes close as she is consumed by deep thought, completely ignoring the other human in the hall way. Is this the right way to go? Acting on the behalf of the rich again? came the swarm thoughts, flooding her brain before being pushed out again with the voice of reason You are doing what you need to survive. Stop thinking like that. Teacher Marks would be disappointed in you for being weak minded! But what if...

Her head suddenly snaps up causing her black twin tails to fly with the sudden motion, the cold blue eyes look around warily hearing I've sent for mercenaries. would you like to meet them? She gets off the wall, moving her foot down to the floor before glancing at the closed oak doors, eyes almost challenging .

The oak doors opened to reveal the alabaster-skinned girl. "May I present Circe Marks. She's a renowned Gunslinger and, well..." The phantom walked over, silent as death, and rapped her girl on the cheek, making the biomechanics in her clink. "she's a cyborg. Marks trained her - hence the name. She's completely grade-A. Cheap too, though that shouldn't matter for you."

---

Alois turned and smiled softly at the beautiful work of art before him, swishing the champagne in his mouth back and forth in thought. His eyes darted from Circe to Mr.Shadowfax. "Please tell me that this piece of shit pile of machinery isn't the only thing you have for me."
A sadistic grin played across his face as he said this, knowing that it would offend the poor girl. Alois kicked his feet up on the desk and leaned back. His Poleaxe rested between the cyborg and he, a subtle warning that she shouldn't try anything.

Mr.Shadowfax

---

The phantom shut the oak doors behind him as he stepped out of the office, the mask on his face conforming its mouth to a grin. "You'll be the next one to enter, Mr.Wells. Right after the robot gets put in her place" The insubstantial man sat beside Wells, sighing softly. "Chances are that he's going to split you two up, you know. It makes sense. Don't put freethinkers together." The man's eyes fell upon Carson's. "Are you a freethinker, Carson?"

Snatch

---

Alois Snatch leaned forward and gently put a finger upon the gleaming Poleaxe. Suddenly, every joint in Circe's body locked up, filling her artificial nervous system with agonizing pain. It shook her systems, getting into every nook and cranny of her body. He stood slowly as the pain pulsed through her. It was as if the finger of god was pushing her into the lush carpet below her. "A mechanical. Pile. Of. Shit. Repeat that."

An alien but wonderful sight greeted Circe when she stepped into the tiny apartment she called home. Upon the metal table sat a vase filled with water as pure as crystal. Twelve slender, green stems shot out of the water like pillars of some ancient forest, topped with blood red roses. The thorns of the roses were all perfectly jagged, like the teeth on a saw, and the leaves were the richest green imaginable. There was a card just beneath the base of the vase, and her name was inscribed upon it in bright gold calligraphy - actual gold plating, not just colored ink. Alois Danube Snatch did, in fact, have more money than God.

---

As the city called Dark aged another day, with the turning of time and the ending of the solar cycle, the sun dipped below the far off smokestacks of restless power plants. Clouds of poisonous rain gathered over head as the marred moon came into view, the various mining operations upon its surface visible by the scars that cast no light. Slowly, the noise of traffic died down and the upper city came to a rest. In only a few hours, the top of the world resembled nothing more than a gilded ghost town of old. Silently, new figures - rejected by the light of day - crept from the monasteries which they had paid for. Their faces were cloaked in macabre masks of tormented faces; wearing the guise of sinners. In unison, the mothers of solas began to sing their banshee song and move from door to door, ready to send any who opened up for them to meet their lord.

Roughly an hour after night had fallen, a mother of solas made to knock on the tiny apartment door of Mister Shadowfax and Carson Wells, then thought better of it and moved along.

Carson

Carson sighed, smiling inwardly. Suddenly very aware of the fact that he was still wearing his clothes from the day before, he began contemplating if he would be getting another set any time soon--after all, he wasn't about to wash his only set with Shadowfax around. He watched, closely, as she opened the refrigerator, and cocked his head at what she had pulled out. The carton was almost alien to him, as there had been none like it in the lower city. "You can afford milk? Really?" He laughed softly in wonder, making sure to give her plenty of room as he did so. He didn't intend to be taught any more 'lessons' before he had even gotten breakfast.