Late Shift - A fanfic
Bear in mind that I've not written stories in a long, long time.
Some Skleros antics (I plan to develop her beyond a simple RP character)
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In the murky darkness of the boardroom chamber, something clicked and whirred. Then came the scream of metal against metal, a deafening noise that could only signify one thing.
Skleros was in the boardroom again. Few would guard it at night, and few knew the real reason for this fear. Whether it be ghost tales, the rickety platforms being prone to collapse or some other story she hadn't yet heard, she cared not. Moolah was involved.
The light of her visor cast a bright red beam against the dust particles and smoke in the room. What little other light there was filtered down from the small amber bulbs in the ceiling, barely illuminating the metallic weapon of mass destruction she held in her hands. The ultimate fate of many in a place such as this; she held the power to deliver it. And did so with ruthless efficiency.
Her orders had been given, and she would follow them through as she did every night - Shoot any intruders on sight, be they Muds or Sligs. Only when her shift was over was she to relinquish her post to another, and only then would she lower her weapon.
Just outside the massive blastdoors, a Mudokon walked by with a floor buffer. Skleros glared and fished around in her ammo box for a cigar.
Stinking Muds... Ahh, there we go. Was saving this for later, but at this rate I'm going to need it. Dying of frickin' boredom here-
She was about to light it when she noticed the Mudokon talking with another who had been assigned to clear the walls of graffiti. The cigar was dropped, a fresh clip of ammunition slapped into the bottom of the gun and three warning shots fired in their general direction, hitting the wall behind them with a metallic ping. The buffer Mud fled the scene, whilst the wall scrubber cowered in fear.
"Get back to work, next time it'll be your head that pings!" She screeched.
Smug with the fact that she had asserted her authority, Skleros giggled quietly to herself. And soon realised that her last cigar had rolled away. Her gun clattered to the boardroom floor and down on her knees she went, fumbling for the Lungbuster in low light.
Shit, shit, shit, where is it- OH! OH SHIT!
She scrambled for the rolling cigar, but her hand fell short as it tumbled from the platform to the depths below.
"FUCK!"
The profane scream of anger rang out in the cavernous room, causing the Mudokon outside to flinch.
Above her, the dusty lightbulbs began to flicker, before they died out altogether. She froze. The blast doors at the entrance of the room screeched shut, and the room was consumed by total darkness.
"Fucking Muds, messing with the electric..." She grumbled, pulling her discarded gun up from the floor. The joints of her pants screeched and whined as she straightened herself, and then nothing. Silence, save for the distant whirr of the ventilation system, grinding machinery and her own breath. Trying to leave the room without any light would surely mean her falling to her death, and so she stood perfectly still. Waiting. The other sligs would know what was going on soon enough, right? They'd restore power to the room, right?!
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I'll write more soon, but for now I want to know what you guys think.
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So many things are only here to be hated No need for love when the world is sedated Beautiful to be the joker Cursed by an all-too human future The world burns with death as a lover It's systematic for the coming new order
I'm the politically incorrect one.
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