The pitch black obsidian sky was littered with the carbon-black towers of the corporations and their artificial advertisement lightning. Heavy rain draped a blurry veil over the urban sprawl's ugly picketfence. John sighed and tilted his head back.
"No can do, buddy", he said. The handle of the high caliber pistol felt cold in his hands. The connection of the wire leading to his head, cold. The touch of the toxic rain on his skin, cold. John flicked up the collar of his jacket and looked at his former friends. The Thermal Vision Implant painted them in funny red and orange warm colors. Against the cold blue background noise, they looked like parasites, intruders. They were shivering, shaking, their heartbeat thumping violently, Amateurs trying to outsync, outlive and outsmart the city.
"I told you, you're not cut out for this", John tossed himself a cigarette, the hand holding the gun wasn't even moving. He inhaled a sharp breath, the self igniting cigarette sparked into life. After the first cough, John chuckled.
"Look John, we jus' want ze money. We want ze better live, ja? We want out of here!", one of his former friends said. Now he was just another lifeless shape holding a sawn off shotgun.
"You can have your money. But I want mine", John started playing with the gun's safety switch, idly twiddling his thumb over it. It felt cold. The metal cock making clicking alien noises that blended into the cities soundscape of whining and buzzing engines, mixing with the distorted voices of some random Video Suit Anchormen repeating the latest bullshit.
An acoustic warning, directly fed back into his brain caught John's attention again. Two at the front and one goddamn lousy punkhead sneaking up from behind, he interpreted the feedback. Several thoughts passed his mind, none of them centered on the current situation and most of them where of explicit nature. Man, you're a sick puppy, he thought. The cold touch of reality's door slamming his behind through the means of a shouted "Now!" brought him back to his consciousness.
Something glowing hot carved its way through his right shoulder, pieces of flesh and metal flew past his eyes, loose wire stuck from the wound. He sighed, the pain editor nullified the wound immediately while Father Adrenaline pumped up his system.
"Come on! Give me a break, do you have any bloody frickin' idea just how expensive implants are?", John shouted. He was shaking. Damnit, he thought, calm down. The smile creeped back onto his face, pale argon light from a nearby "phallic enhancement device" advertisement tainted his head into a ghostly light. It was cold.
Inhale. Let's get things started then. Breathe. Cuddle the trigger, sweet baby. Count to three. Ah fuck that, just shoot already. Exhale. Listen to the music. John smirked and tilted his head. A wail of agony was coming from behind him. Pictures of a derelict opera house flooded his head, memories, dancing corporation marionettes - figures of soulless slaves, he had pinned them up on electrically charged bolts during one particular job and watched them do the dance macabre. In his memory, they smiled. The drugs he gave them made sure of that. He smiled too. No drugs though.
"Your finest card just died", John said, not without a certain tone of amusement in his voice. A little spark jumped from the wire hanging from his shoulder. Rain poured into the wound and left it again, crimson red water. His blood formed a sharp contrast to the black and blue background. He flicked his Thermal Vision back on. Dear gummybears, he thought, their hearts were about to burst. The two shapes were scared stiff. They had seen the bullet pass through his shoulders, without effect, they had seen the insane smile on his lips. They saw the blur of his arm as he shot their friend dead without even looking. John was way out of their league. The wrong punk to piss off. You're a sick puppy, John.
"Well John. Considering it, forget it. I'd rather take ze 10.000 Credits and leave, ja? I mean its your money!", one of the shapes said.
"Sure thing, buddy. Can't blame you for trying", John put up another smile, it was a cold one. He knelt down and grabbed the cold handle of the suitcase. He flicked it open and picked up exactly 20.000 Credits, one bundle for each of them. He casually tossed it in their direction and as they ran for it, they smiled. He smiled too. Two silenced gunsnaps, his finger had squeezed the trigger twice.
"I just can't stand greedy people", he explained, looking at their bodies. The rain already cooled them down. Following a twisted urge, he knelt down and spread their arms. "Beautiful, you two look like angels. God will pick up his angels anytime", he said and moved over towards the Ledge, glancing a look down "And angels oughta fly, don't you think?".
John raised his head and looked upwards into the night. The sound of their bodies falling down several hundred meters had been entertaining, partly because they were still somewhat alive.
A heavily armored Mitsukimaki Gunship was flying patrol duty, it too had been bombarded with advertisements, leaving a rainbow colored smeary shade in the clouds. With another sigh, he reached into his pockets and pulled out his mobile phone.
"Hey, Janine!"
…
"Is that really you?"
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"Good to hear your voice again"
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"True, I'm fine"
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"No, really? Cool"
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"Something else, lovely"
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"Well listen, I know you're down low on money"
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"I'm not blind?"
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"Okay, okay damnit, calm the fuck down"
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"That's better"
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"Listen up sister, you want on my team?"
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"New positions are open as of now!"
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"You're in"
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"No clue where they're now"
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"We divided our money and parted ways"
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"What? Oh, didn't know that"
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"Yeah they wanted to get away from their lives here"
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"Haha. Well I reckon they succeeded"
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"So you in sis'? Great, kisses. See you".
