November wonderland
November 1, 4987 the leaves were turning red, the color of blood and pumpkins, the air carried frost but not the kind that was so cold you looked like you pissed your britches but the kind that made you hate the idea of going outside. Just a few weeks prior it had looked like a wonderland, bright and full of rainbows that made you want to go looking for leprechauns, which had been proven to be nonexistent by the Reverie Investigations Center or RIC. It’s actually called the RI center but everyone just enjoys calling it RIC, like Rick or Ric; I don’t think anyone really cares. Anywho… in the recent years and these current months a lot of things have changed…like more than normally. RIC has been conducting far more searches than it has ever before in 10 years. No one is quite sure why they have been doing this, but the public has been spreading rumors of a mass invasion of aliens. That’s just what all of the geeks are saying though. Highly annoying and crazy people that no one really cares about, and yet people listen to them whenever they make more sense than the government. Today is a search day and our first main character is getting kicked out of one of the many apartments he’s been thrown out of in the past year.
“Get out of here! I’m not harboring some freak that was ejected from some random lab in the middle of nowhere!”
“Are you kidding me?! I’ve already paid my rent, asshat!” He yelled out. The landlord disappeared and he put his hands on his hips. “That’s what I thought; you better get me my money…”
The landlord came back with a worn black suitcase and threw it at him. This shocked him quite a bit, and he toppled over on the dirty side walk. “Well sorry to burst your bubble, but you didn't pay anything! “
Veran Silva growled and spit at the ground, cursing in Russian. “Chert pisaka tort ...”
Veran picked up his suitcase and looked through its contents, checking that the important things he could not live without weren't missing. He was relieved to find anything expensive still present. He went through a tiny check list in his mind.
• C.T computer tablet
• PDA/Cellphone
• Passport
• Identification
• Sweet stuff…
Giving a sigh of relief he closed his suitcase and stood up with a smile. “At least that cake stuffer put all my necessities in here.” He looked away with tears in his eyes and muttered random things about burning down buildings, naked fat people, and how apple jacks don’t taste like apples. (They really don’t… I’m eating some now, what a coincidence!) He tended to mumble strange things when he was highly upset or pissed off. He’d gotten kicked out of many buildings before but he had to admit this man was much crueler than the other landlords he had met before. He looked through the contacts of his phone for possible places to move into. He moved the address of this place to his list of never to call or visit again. Now that he noticed, this list was almost comically long, so much so that it could bring you to tears. Suddenly his ringtone wailed through his noisy moping, and he nearly dropped his cellphone. As he looked around, he discovered he’d wandered into some crappier looking slums than where he’d first been. Yes, it was almost amusing how frequently he got lost. Softly in the background of his current surveying of his surroundings, his ringtone chimed again in the distance. ‘Nobody cares…nobody cares…nobody cares… nobody cares…nobody cares about you...’ His eyes slid to his side to glare at his phone and he picked it up staring blankly at a heap of trash discarded in an alleyway.
“Yes…?” he sneered, his eyes passing over a dead raccoon among the rubble.
“Hey you cunning little butt monkey, there’s a crowd outside the parlor, and people are starting to get angry. Get your crazy ass over here, I don’t care if you’re lucid or not! I’m sick and tired of crowd control, and I don’t think these freaks like me very much either.”
“First off, don’t be mean to the clients. Second, tell them I’m coming shortly, and third, please don’t be so hard on me today. I just got kicked out again and I’m kind of in a bad mood.”
“Wow…with you getting kicked out as much as you do, you’d think that you would adjust to the feelings of rejection once in a while. Stop acting like a toddler who just got his toys ripped away from him.”
“You’re cruel…do you know that? You’re a very, very cruel human being.”
“Yes, because that makes it easier for you to understand what I’m saying.”
“You’d make a very good mother one day. I remember my mom used to make me feel like I was the most worthless scum in the world.”
“And she was right.”
“Why do you hate me so much?!”
“Good question…why does everyone despise you?”
“At least my lovely clients adore me !” He yelled and hung up crying softly. Then he leaned against a large wall covered in graffiti saying FREAK and began to call back his assistant.
“I’m sorry…”
“Good, now come back home and get to work so I can get back to being my regular flowery self.”
Veran coughed roughly and said a few insults in his mind. ‘That’s not even half true…’ “Okay…I guess. I’ll be on my way as soon as possible, so please don’t yell at me.”
“I don’t make promises I know I can’t keep.”
This time he hung up for real and went to find a nearby train station. It was very uncommon to NOT find one of these illegal modes of transportation for secret travel around in the underground. These modes for traversing are highly used and highly illegal because of accident rates of these literally underground deathtraps, however of the authorities have been capable of finding them, and if he remembered correctly there was one in this area, but it was cleverly disguised as a trash can by an old tattoo parlor. It was safe to say this area was one of the creepiest places around because of the old blind man who would sit in front of the glass windows, tapping his foot to some music that only he and Veran could hear. Although Veran was perhaps a little bit senile, this wasn’t the reason he heard the music. Even he knew it was quite impossible for non-mutants to hear music in another person’s head. He and the old timer were called Haze Projectors. They are very uncommon mutants with the ability to project hallucinations into the minds of other people through a type of venom they secrete onto their nails which naturally grow long and sharp. From that point of contact with the venom and their victim on, they could hack into the victims’ minds and place any image into their heads from then until the hackers’ deaths. Veran was about 18, the current legal age to use your powers had been changed several times in the past couple of years, from eighteen, to twenty, and then to a large leap of sixteen. Everyone ignored the changes, so it didn’t really matter much anyways.
Veran’s silver feather filled hair reached down to his waist, and danced seductively in the breeze as his eyes met the old man’s. They were golden and unseeing. Compared to Veran’s eyes which were bright sun filled orbs of beauty; the elder’s eyes were the color of misty honey.
“Sorry friend, I can’t stop to listen to the music. Traci’s gonna drag me to the parlor if I don’t get over quickly.” He waved his hand and trudged over to the trash can next to the elder.
“It’s fine.”
Veran nodded and slipped on some gloves. He felt around the top of the lid for a small hidden button the size of a little doorbell. After hearing the bell he removed his hand as the lid descended to a level where he could hop in and stand on it. He got in, and a clear glass cover moved in a foot over his head as he was sent flying down a shoot. It jolted to a stop and he had to put his hands on the sides to steady him out, and then came the annoying elevator music…
He squinted, his eyes annoyed as the supposedly entertaining sound of a piano played around him. “Kill me now…, “he whispered to himself softly. It stayed like this for a few mere seconds before he was plunged even further into the darkness, and the tiny shoot was only illuminated by flashes of bright yellow lights. “Dear gods kill me now!!” He screamed as he felt like his face was going to get ripped off by the violently rapid speed he was picking up. The deathtrap slammed to a stop and he ended up banging his head against the plastic wall. The door slid upwards and he stepped forward with a pale green face.
A man in a hazmat suit and handed him a paper bag, “I hope you’ve enjoyed your use of our pods, please contain any vomit in the paper bag.”
Shakily reaching forward he grabbed the bag and walked off to a secluded place to regurgitate his breakfast in privacy. On his way into the train he threw his disgustingly soggy paper bag away and stepped onto his train, destined for the outskirts of Traverse City. He had never truly felt comfortable in the trains. There was always this creepy homeless dude who would stare at him, whistling creepily. He had this weird aura about him and he always permeated a strange scent… which sort of smelled like potatoes. It made the man indescribably unsettling to be around.
“You that boy who plays ‘round with people’s heads?"
Veran became stiff as a nail and turned to look at the creepy man, “W-wah…?”
“Yeah, they been callin’ you the King o’ Diamonds.” He mused with a toothless smile. “They all say yer as evil as the devil’s eye.”
“Sir… I have no clue what in the hell you’re talking about.”
“Course you don’t! Yer evil, and the evil folk don’t even know they’re evil most of the damned time! But I know ‘em when I see ‘em.”
“Yeah…I have to go now.” The man sniffs him with a hungry look in his eyes.
“You smell like peaches.”
“Yeah, I REALLY have to leave now.”
“Smells nice...”
“Leave me alone you smelly potato eater!” He stood up and moved to the other side of the train. Thankfully he wasn’t bothered anymore by the homeless guy for the rest of the train ride. But every once in a while when he would go to take a quick glance, the creep would look back up at him with a smile. He shivered and looked at the window.
Finally it came time for him to get the hell of the train. As he exited the train he was surrounded by the sounds of loud banging and clanging of the above-ground. And technically he was now in the slums of Traverse City, so right above him was the factories that dumped all the pollution still remaining in the city into the outskirts. It was sad but also pretty great for Veran’s job to create fantasies, the fantasies were highly addictive and would sometimes take great tolls on the health of his customers, and he really didn’t care too much except for when they died. Souls had a tendency to stick in his fantasy world if they died in the dream or the real world. It was quite uncomfortable to have dead people floating around in your head.
He chuckled at how badly he’d get his butt handed to him by Traci when he got into the parlor passed through his head. He was well known in the slums for his services in haze making. Very few haze projectors would get in this line of business since too many things could go wrong. RIC had trackers for haze projectors. For some odd reason they were considered ‘potential dangers’ to the community.
No one ever understood why. Haze projectors were just generally avoided and disliked. Perhaps it was because they were the most like predators out of all of the mutants. They had many distinct traits unlike humans. It was said that feathers are entwined with their hair because they are the “Children of the shadow angels”. Shadow angels preyed upon humans and fed on their life force, similar to the way haze projectors drew in human life. The shadow angels are completely extinct now. The haze projectors, which are more professionally called Angels or Blissed, are their only living descendants.
Veran looked up as he came to a large poorly lit tunnel. To the outside there was a light at the end of the tunnel, but it was weak because of the heavy smog covering the skies. He slipped on a gas mask to avoid the sickening air. It was criminal how the government would just let it get this bad. For Veran it was discomforting to inhale the odor of even small heaps of the vile trash in this place into his healthy strong lungs.
“Air tastes great…” He murmured sarcastically.
The air was truly nauseating. It emanated the stench of old socks and rotting cabbage, a truly revolting smell. Even the children he passed were wearing mini gas masks. Those unfortunate enough to be without one seemed to have strange deformities, no nose, or sunken in eyes. Large bumps on their faces, legs, and arms. Dismembered body parts littered the trash heaps, some chewed on by other deformed children, who could no longer find food than they could buy gas masks. He looked up at the smog filled sky that blocked out the sun. How humans could live in conditions like this was appalling. The ground was soaked with weird yet foul pollution puddles. He coughed roughly and gagged in response to accidentally stepping in one of them. It stuck to his platform boots like muck, then liquefied and gathered together to form another separate puddle. His eyes bulged from their sockets in wonder and disgust at the caliginous fluid/muck, gagging slightly he shook the rest of it off his boot.
“If that stuff is alive I’ll kill myself for stepping in it.” He murmured in disbelief before continuing on his merry way to the parlor.
From the outside the parlor looked like an old warehouse with fancy blacked out windows. There was a slight crowd in the front of the warehouse blocking the front entrance. You could even see Traci kicking ass and keeping the crowd under however much control could be kept as possible. At the back there were two relatively buff bodyguards named Loki and Genim. They were twins and Veran’s friends since perhaps grade school, and were extremely skilled in ken do. They were unusual but easy to invest his trust in. They waved when they saw him coming and turned to each other to whisper about Veran’s recent outfit. He was wearing his punk rock skirt again, and admittedly he looked actually pretty good in it, so they complimented him as he entered the building. Not exactly all too quiet about their opinions on looks they became known as the fashion guards of the parlor. They assisted in creating the name of their establishment, because they had insisted that the name should be fashionable and pleasant to the tongue and ears. So they named it Devil’s Heaven. It became quite popular and rumors caught and latched onto people’s conversations somehow.
The name was forbidding yet, oh so enthralling.
However they would never speak above a whisper, not with RIC peering over them, waiting to catch an Angel involved in some nefarious deeds and plots.
Veran smiled back at them and walked into the dimly lit building. There were strobe lights of red and purple bouncing off the mirrored floors and black glitter saturating the atmosphere of the walls with fancy and gothic wall paper. All in all, it looked like a little Goth girl’s dreams. There were three flights with the top as more of clubhouse for Veran and his closest friends and employees. This is where he would rest upon an actual throne, Veran was perhaps a bit egocentric. Perhaps just a bit.
Second floor was just a place where the lifeless and more overt about their addiction to the accumulation of fantasies would hide out for the day and stop to eat and have drinks before submersing themselves back into their own little prisons in their heads.
And first floor was for the temporary customers or less frequently visited of Devil’s Heaven; the air was humid and chased away any cold. As much as Veran appreciated both humid and cold, Traci was quite the queen of magma and felt it her required job to boil the blood of all those who encounter her. It was assumed her life long dream was to destroy the dreams of all she came across.
Veran kicked himself mentally from his thoughts and got ready to greet his ‘precious’ guests, of course though they were not as awesome as himself. Loki and Genim called on Traci to inform her of Veran’s arrival. The doors opened and she stepped aside for the people to go in. The crowd was bustling and excited, laughing and smiling happy to be back or arriving for the first time. Many of the customers were young and in their teens. Veran greeted them as though he had known them his whole life and those that had just arrived he pushed his nail into their skin fast for the least amount of pain as possible.
‘Blond girl is cute…,' h
is monologue inwardly commented as he smiled and greeted her.
As the last of the crowd filed in, he went upstairs with Traci. She didn’t look all too happy either. However, she did look quite prettied up today, so Veran just nodded to everything she said without really listening. By the gods she has such pretty locks of chestnut brown hair. Her hair was short with it stopping just above her shoulders and revealed her golden earrings. He really wanted her earrings…
“Veran!” She yelled knocking him out of his stupor, “Listen to me for once would you?”
“Why would I? You’re always saying mean things to me.”
“Well, I was going to ask if you thought of staying here untill you found a place instead of sleeping on the streets.”
Veran’s eyes lit up and he wagged a figurative tail in excitement. “Really? You’re letting me stay here?”
“Well, yeah. I have been noticing that your visual skills go down more when you get kicked out of your apartments. If you had a more permanent residence then it would probably increase your performance.”
“You should have just stopped where you were…” Veran moaned, conflicted with his decisions of if he should ever completely trust Traci again. He took in a breath and decided to just ignore what she said.
Taking out a large folder labeled Veran, she opened the elevator to the third floor with a key that she kept nestled over her chest and the button lit up. They stepped into the large elevator unaccompanied and she shut the doors. Instead of crappy elevator music they had rock music playing at speaking level. A few silent and awkward moments passed as they reached the empty third floor, “Veran. I’ve been meaning to speak to you about something anyways.”
Striding over to his thrown he crashed down into it, he crossed his legs and looked up with a smile. “Yes? “ He asked with tone of uncaring boredom.
“Death toll is rising, I can’t keep RIC out of this any longer, and we may need to move locations. Perhaps even out of the city completely. “
“Really? Don’t you think this is a bit rash to be acting so early?”
“Our other locations have already been dug up.” She stated sternly and passed Veran a blue folder.
Taking it with a questioning glance he flipped it open to go through images and news reports, pictures and articles showing the most recent of busts, reaching so far as to go into the outskirts.
“There is a large chance that we’ll be tracked soon.”
“Then why say I can stay here?”
“You can, but we’ll be conducting our business elsewhere.”
He squinted his eyes in confusion and threw the files on the floor and paged for a milkshake, “Okay, I’m just going to assume there is a difference and nod my head like I care. Anyways… I have clients to attend to at the moment.” He saluted her and closed his eyes with an exhausted smile. He let his head drop down, eager to create.
“Veran listen to me for once in your god forsaken life, would you?! I care about this business, and if you get yourself executed I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. “
“Live your life making an actually legal means of pay? Because as far as I’m aware, this isn’t legal at all.”
“Does it seriously seem like I care even just one bit? It’s more amusing than any other option.”
“Ah… so I am amusing to you?”
“It’s only enough to not make me want to blow my brain all over my curtains, but seriously Verna, you’re not getting off the hook by distracting me.”
“You know I hate change, so why are you trying to force me to do this? And don’t call me that!” He yelled angrily.
“I’m not joking.” She stated smiling and picked up the files.
“When do you ever joke?” He asked slyly which promptly got him hit upside the head with a shoe.
“When will you ever learn to shut up and take what options you have?”
“Okay, okay, I’ll do what you want. Just let me get to work.” He said shutting his eyes again and putting his hand out for a milkshake.
“You are so annoying!” Traci shouted before storming off shaking her head as to why she ever decided to work with this insecure angel. ‘At least he’s interesting.’ She reasoned with herself.
Veran after getting his milkshake, he raised his glass in mock acknowledgment, “Good night dear.” He said resting his eyes again.
Letting his environment melt away he let thousands of images race into his view; settings, sounds, and smells, graced his senses as he embraced the fictional worlds of his clients. It was as if watching more than a hundred movies at a time. It made him feel as if he was a god. Choosing a single dream to hang about in while he connected and corrected dreams and made them easier to comprehend, keeping complete control and spinning the threads into the finest silk of the mind. Like paint, splatters of color washed over the blank canvas that was this one particular client’s mind, shades of darkness and light spread and engulfed all of the white. A forest sprung from the blank white floor, and came out of the canvas flooding around Veran and the client; it was silent for a few moments before the noises of the forest took place like a thin veil sweeping across the fantasy land. It was almost breathtaking and increased Veran’s pride in him self tenfold.
“Wow. Looks like I’ve really done well this time, huh?” He asked the client though in truth he was in actuality speaking to him self.
The client turned around and jumped in surprise at seeing Veran standing behind him with such a glossy look in his eyes. “You’re the one who made this place?”
“Not exactly, I take the image in your mind, give it a body and more detail and… Bang! The world becomes a little more understandable and easier to run around in with little to no consequences.”
“So…I could jump off a building?”
“Sure…if you want to go brain-dead.”
“Oh…that doesn’t sound nice.”
“For you, no, as for myself… I could kind of care less. More conversation buddies for me!” Veran said rudely.
“Wow, how offensive.”
“Yeah, but that’s just the way I am, I’m a tad bit crazy. Anywho, would you like to have a tea party?”
“Excuse me?”
Veran turned around gesturing to a large table to the left of them in a great open flowery clearing, there was a group of people conversing with each other whilst passing around tea cups and sweets and having a merry conversation among them selves.
“It tastes just the same, and my most sincere apologies for interrupting the dream you had wanted, in fact you can have your dream I’ll just rest a while here.” He said, ignoring the client completely. “Go on.”
The client shrugged and walked off into the forest. Waving as he left, he saw the group out of the corner of his eye. Just a bunch of dead people having a tea party, “Trippy...”
Just outside of the warehouse a large team began to organize. Traci looked down at the growing team and texted the twins. ‘Start an eviction. Someone tracked us.’
‘Snap, really?’
‘Why else would I tell you? Get to work while I wake up Veran.’
She turned her phone off for the moment and ran up the stairs to the third floor; it wasn’t really an impossible feat seeing as how she was already on the second floor. Not even bothering to open the door with her keys, she kicked in the door. In the middle of the room, Veran was resting on his chair arm happily drooling. Taking a moment to rub her temples in frustration at Veran’s peaceful and unpreventable calmness in a situation like this, she slapped Veran across the face for her own personal amusement. Smiling she took her mini Taser out of her back pocket. She pressed the button, and jabbed it into his stomach. Veran’s eyes snapped open, his dreams abruptly terminated.
“What are you doing? We just started our tea party, and now you have to ruin it??!” He yelled. But as soon as he became aware of his surroundings, he saw the serious yet concerned look in her eyes. “What happened?” Traci pointed to the window, and stated,
“Somebody tracked us. We need to start an eviction. Now.” Veran looked out the window, and glared at the armed force outside of the building.
"Oh...that looks bad."
"Looks?" She dragged him to the elevator and threw him inside, just as it closed she shouted she was going to get some files and ran off. Veran blinked and shrugged tapping his foot bored waiting for the elevator door to open, the metal box julted and he slammed his head against the floor as he fell.
"Damn...," he muttered in pain at the sudden sting in the back of his skull. The world blacked out for a long moment as he recognized a loud ringing in the back of his mind. "Damn." He said for extra emphasis before the world dropped out underneath him.
November 1, 4987 the leaves were turning red, the color of blood and pumpkins, the air carried frost but not the kind that was so cold you looked like you pissed your britches but the kind that made you hate the idea of going outside. Just a few weeks prior it had looked like a wonderland, bright and full of rainbows that made you want to go looking for leprechauns, which had been proven to be nonexistent by the Reverie Investigations Center or RIC. It’s actually called the RI center but everyone just enjoys calling it RIC, like Rick or Ric; I don’t think anyone really cares. Anywho… in the recent years and these current months a lot of things have changed…like more than normally. RIC has been conducting far more searches than it has ever before in 10 years. No one is quite sure why they have been doing this, but the public has been spreading rumors of a mass invasion of aliens. That’s just what all of the geeks are saying though. Highly annoying and crazy people that no one really cares about, and yet people listen to them whenever they make more sense than the government. Today is a search day and our first main character is getting kicked out of one of the many apartments he’s been thrown out of in the past year.
“Get out of here! I’m not harboring some freak that was ejected from some random lab in the middle of nowhere!”
“Are you kidding me?! I’ve already paid my rent, asshat!” He yelled out. The landlord disappeared and he put his hands on his hips. “That’s what I thought; you better get me my money…”
The landlord came back with a worn black suitcase and threw it at him. This shocked him quite a bit, and he toppled over on the dirty side walk. “Well sorry to burst your bubble, but you didn't pay anything! “
Veran Silva growled and spit at the ground, cursing in Russian. “Chert pisaka tort ...”
Veran picked up his suitcase and looked through its contents, checking that the important things he could not live without weren't missing. He was relieved to find anything expensive still present. He went through a tiny check list in his mind.
• C.T computer tablet
• PDA/Cellphone
• Passport
• Identification
• Sweet stuff…
Giving a sigh of relief he closed his suitcase and stood up with a smile. “At least that cake stuffer put all my necessities in here.” He looked away with tears in his eyes and muttered random things about burning down buildings, naked fat people, and how apple jacks don’t taste like apples. (They really don’t… I’m eating some now, what a coincidence!) He tended to mumble strange things when he was highly upset or pissed off. He’d gotten kicked out of many buildings before but he had to admit this man was much crueler than the other landlords he had met before. He looked through the contacts of his phone for possible places to move into. He moved the address of this place to his list of never to call or visit again. Now that he noticed, this list was almost comically long, so much so that it could bring you to tears. Suddenly his ringtone wailed through his noisy moping, and he nearly dropped his cellphone. As he looked around, he discovered he’d wandered into some crappier looking slums than where he’d first been. Yes, it was almost amusing how frequently he got lost. Softly in the background of his current surveying of his surroundings, his ringtone chimed again in the distance. ‘Nobody cares…nobody cares…nobody cares… nobody cares…nobody cares about you...’ His eyes slid to his side to glare at his phone and he picked it up staring blankly at a heap of trash discarded in an alleyway.
“Yes…?” he sneered, his eyes passing over a dead raccoon among the rubble.
“Hey you cunning little butt monkey, there’s a crowd outside the parlor, and people are starting to get angry. Get your crazy ass over here, I don’t care if you’re lucid or not! I’m sick and tired of crowd control, and I don’t think these freaks like me very much either.”
“First off, don’t be mean to the clients. Second, tell them I’m coming shortly, and third, please don’t be so hard on me today. I just got kicked out again and I’m kind of in a bad mood.”
“Wow…with you getting kicked out as much as you do, you’d think that you would adjust to the feelings of rejection once in a while. Stop acting like a toddler who just got his toys ripped away from him.”
“You’re cruel…do you know that? You’re a very, very cruel human being.”
“Yes, because that makes it easier for you to understand what I’m saying.”
“You’d make a very good mother one day. I remember my mom used to make me feel like I was the most worthless scum in the world.”
“And she was right.”
“Why do you hate me so much?!”
“Good question…why does everyone despise you?”
“At least my lovely clients adore me !” He yelled and hung up crying softly. Then he leaned against a large wall covered in graffiti saying FREAK and began to call back his assistant.
“I’m sorry…”
“Good, now come back home and get to work so I can get back to being my regular flowery self.”
Veran coughed roughly and said a few insults in his mind. ‘That’s not even half true…’ “Okay…I guess. I’ll be on my way as soon as possible, so please don’t yell at me.”
“I don’t make promises I know I can’t keep.”
This time he hung up for real and went to find a nearby train station. It was very uncommon to NOT find one of these illegal modes of transportation for secret travel around in the underground. These modes for traversing are highly used and highly illegal because of accident rates of these literally underground deathtraps, however of the authorities have been capable of finding them, and if he remembered correctly there was one in this area, but it was cleverly disguised as a trash can by an old tattoo parlor. It was safe to say this area was one of the creepiest places around because of the old blind man who would sit in front of the glass windows, tapping his foot to some music that only he and Veran could hear. Although Veran was perhaps a little bit senile, this wasn’t the reason he heard the music. Even he knew it was quite impossible for non-mutants to hear music in another person’s head. He and the old timer were called Haze Projectors. They are very uncommon mutants with the ability to project hallucinations into the minds of other people through a type of venom they secrete onto their nails which naturally grow long and sharp. From that point of contact with the venom and their victim on, they could hack into the victims’ minds and place any image into their heads from then until the hackers’ deaths. Veran was about 18, the current legal age to use your powers had been changed several times in the past couple of years, from eighteen, to twenty, and then to a large leap of sixteen. Everyone ignored the changes, so it didn’t really matter much anyways.
Veran’s silver feather filled hair reached down to his waist, and danced seductively in the breeze as his eyes met the old man’s. They were golden and unseeing. Compared to Veran’s eyes which were bright sun filled orbs of beauty; the elder’s eyes were the color of misty honey.
“Sorry friend, I can’t stop to listen to the music. Traci’s gonna drag me to the parlor if I don’t get over quickly.” He waved his hand and trudged over to the trash can next to the elder.
“It’s fine.”
Veran nodded and slipped on some gloves. He felt around the top of the lid for a small hidden button the size of a little doorbell. After hearing the bell he removed his hand as the lid descended to a level where he could hop in and stand on it. He got in, and a clear glass cover moved in a foot over his head as he was sent flying down a shoot. It jolted to a stop and he had to put his hands on the sides to steady him out, and then came the annoying elevator music…
He squinted, his eyes annoyed as the supposedly entertaining sound of a piano played around him. “Kill me now…, “he whispered to himself softly. It stayed like this for a few mere seconds before he was plunged even further into the darkness, and the tiny shoot was only illuminated by flashes of bright yellow lights. “Dear gods kill me now!!” He screamed as he felt like his face was going to get ripped off by the violently rapid speed he was picking up. The deathtrap slammed to a stop and he ended up banging his head against the plastic wall. The door slid upwards and he stepped forward with a pale green face.
A man in a hazmat suit and handed him a paper bag, “I hope you’ve enjoyed your use of our pods, please contain any vomit in the paper bag.”
Shakily reaching forward he grabbed the bag and walked off to a secluded place to regurgitate his breakfast in privacy. On his way into the train he threw his disgustingly soggy paper bag away and stepped onto his train, destined for the outskirts of Traverse City. He had never truly felt comfortable in the trains. There was always this creepy homeless dude who would stare at him, whistling creepily. He had this weird aura about him and he always permeated a strange scent… which sort of smelled like potatoes. It made the man indescribably unsettling to be around.
“You that boy who plays ‘round with people’s heads?"
Veran became stiff as a nail and turned to look at the creepy man, “W-wah…?”
“Yeah, they been callin’ you the King o’ Diamonds.” He mused with a toothless smile. “They all say yer as evil as the devil’s eye.”
“Sir… I have no clue what in the hell you’re talking about.”
“Course you don’t! Yer evil, and the evil folk don’t even know they’re evil most of the damned time! But I know ‘em when I see ‘em.”
“Yeah…I have to go now.” The man sniffs him with a hungry look in his eyes.
“You smell like peaches.”
“Yeah, I REALLY have to leave now.”
“Smells nice...”
“Leave me alone you smelly potato eater!” He stood up and moved to the other side of the train. Thankfully he wasn’t bothered anymore by the homeless guy for the rest of the train ride. But every once in a while when he would go to take a quick glance, the creep would look back up at him with a smile. He shivered and looked at the window.
Finally it came time for him to get the hell of the train. As he exited the train he was surrounded by the sounds of loud banging and clanging of the above-ground. And technically he was now in the slums of Traverse City, so right above him was the factories that dumped all the pollution still remaining in the city into the outskirts. It was sad but also pretty great for Veran’s job to create fantasies, the fantasies were highly addictive and would sometimes take great tolls on the health of his customers, and he really didn’t care too much except for when they died. Souls had a tendency to stick in his fantasy world if they died in the dream or the real world. It was quite uncomfortable to have dead people floating around in your head.
He chuckled at how badly he’d get his butt handed to him by Traci when he got into the parlor passed through his head. He was well known in the slums for his services in haze making. Very few haze projectors would get in this line of business since too many things could go wrong. RIC had trackers for haze projectors. For some odd reason they were considered ‘potential dangers’ to the community.
No one ever understood why. Haze projectors were just generally avoided and disliked. Perhaps it was because they were the most like predators out of all of the mutants. They had many distinct traits unlike humans. It was said that feathers are entwined with their hair because they are the “Children of the shadow angels”. Shadow angels preyed upon humans and fed on their life force, similar to the way haze projectors drew in human life. The shadow angels are completely extinct now. The haze projectors, which are more professionally called Angels or Blissed, are their only living descendants.
Veran looked up as he came to a large poorly lit tunnel. To the outside there was a light at the end of the tunnel, but it was weak because of the heavy smog covering the skies. He slipped on a gas mask to avoid the sickening air. It was criminal how the government would just let it get this bad. For Veran it was discomforting to inhale the odor of even small heaps of the vile trash in this place into his healthy strong lungs.
“Air tastes great…” He murmured sarcastically.
The air was truly nauseating. It emanated the stench of old socks and rotting cabbage, a truly revolting smell. Even the children he passed were wearing mini gas masks. Those unfortunate enough to be without one seemed to have strange deformities, no nose, or sunken in eyes. Large bumps on their faces, legs, and arms. Dismembered body parts littered the trash heaps, some chewed on by other deformed children, who could no longer find food than they could buy gas masks. He looked up at the smog filled sky that blocked out the sun. How humans could live in conditions like this was appalling. The ground was soaked with weird yet foul pollution puddles. He coughed roughly and gagged in response to accidentally stepping in one of them. It stuck to his platform boots like muck, then liquefied and gathered together to form another separate puddle. His eyes bulged from their sockets in wonder and disgust at the caliginous fluid/muck, gagging slightly he shook the rest of it off his boot.
“If that stuff is alive I’ll kill myself for stepping in it.” He murmured in disbelief before continuing on his merry way to the parlor.
From the outside the parlor looked like an old warehouse with fancy blacked out windows. There was a slight crowd in the front of the warehouse blocking the front entrance. You could even see Traci kicking ass and keeping the crowd under however much control could be kept as possible. At the back there were two relatively buff bodyguards named Loki and Genim. They were twins and Veran’s friends since perhaps grade school, and were extremely skilled in ken do. They were unusual but easy to invest his trust in. They waved when they saw him coming and turned to each other to whisper about Veran’s recent outfit. He was wearing his punk rock skirt again, and admittedly he looked actually pretty good in it, so they complimented him as he entered the building. Not exactly all too quiet about their opinions on looks they became known as the fashion guards of the parlor. They assisted in creating the name of their establishment, because they had insisted that the name should be fashionable and pleasant to the tongue and ears. So they named it Devil’s Heaven. It became quite popular and rumors caught and latched onto people’s conversations somehow.
The name was forbidding yet, oh so enthralling.
However they would never speak above a whisper, not with RIC peering over them, waiting to catch an Angel involved in some nefarious deeds and plots.
Veran smiled back at them and walked into the dimly lit building. There were strobe lights of red and purple bouncing off the mirrored floors and black glitter saturating the atmosphere of the walls with fancy and gothic wall paper. All in all, it looked like a little Goth girl’s dreams. There were three flights with the top as more of clubhouse for Veran and his closest friends and employees. This is where he would rest upon an actual throne, Veran was perhaps a bit egocentric. Perhaps just a bit.
Second floor was just a place where the lifeless and more overt about their addiction to the accumulation of fantasies would hide out for the day and stop to eat and have drinks before submersing themselves back into their own little prisons in their heads.
And first floor was for the temporary customers or less frequently visited of Devil’s Heaven; the air was humid and chased away any cold. As much as Veran appreciated both humid and cold, Traci was quite the queen of magma and felt it her required job to boil the blood of all those who encounter her. It was assumed her life long dream was to destroy the dreams of all she came across.
Veran kicked himself mentally from his thoughts and got ready to greet his ‘precious’ guests, of course though they were not as awesome as himself. Loki and Genim called on Traci to inform her of Veran’s arrival. The doors opened and she stepped aside for the people to go in. The crowd was bustling and excited, laughing and smiling happy to be back or arriving for the first time. Many of the customers were young and in their teens. Veran greeted them as though he had known them his whole life and those that had just arrived he pushed his nail into their skin fast for the least amount of pain as possible.
‘Blond girl is cute…,' h
is monologue inwardly commented as he smiled and greeted her.
As the last of the crowd filed in, he went upstairs with Traci. She didn’t look all too happy either. However, she did look quite prettied up today, so Veran just nodded to everything she said without really listening. By the gods she has such pretty locks of chestnut brown hair. Her hair was short with it stopping just above her shoulders and revealed her golden earrings. He really wanted her earrings…
“Veran!” She yelled knocking him out of his stupor, “Listen to me for once would you?”
“Why would I? You’re always saying mean things to me.”
“Well, I was going to ask if you thought of staying here untill you found a place instead of sleeping on the streets.”
Veran’s eyes lit up and he wagged a figurative tail in excitement. “Really? You’re letting me stay here?”
“Well, yeah. I have been noticing that your visual skills go down more when you get kicked out of your apartments. If you had a more permanent residence then it would probably increase your performance.”
“You should have just stopped where you were…” Veran moaned, conflicted with his decisions of if he should ever completely trust Traci again. He took in a breath and decided to just ignore what she said.
Taking out a large folder labeled Veran, she opened the elevator to the third floor with a key that she kept nestled over her chest and the button lit up. They stepped into the large elevator unaccompanied and she shut the doors. Instead of crappy elevator music they had rock music playing at speaking level. A few silent and awkward moments passed as they reached the empty third floor, “Veran. I’ve been meaning to speak to you about something anyways.”
Striding over to his thrown he crashed down into it, he crossed his legs and looked up with a smile. “Yes? “ He asked with tone of uncaring boredom.
“Death toll is rising, I can’t keep RIC out of this any longer, and we may need to move locations. Perhaps even out of the city completely. “
“Really? Don’t you think this is a bit rash to be acting so early?”
“Our other locations have already been dug up.” She stated sternly and passed Veran a blue folder.
Taking it with a questioning glance he flipped it open to go through images and news reports, pictures and articles showing the most recent of busts, reaching so far as to go into the outskirts.
“There is a large chance that we’ll be tracked soon.”
“Then why say I can stay here?”
“You can, but we’ll be conducting our business elsewhere.”
He squinted his eyes in confusion and threw the files on the floor and paged for a milkshake, “Okay, I’m just going to assume there is a difference and nod my head like I care. Anyways… I have clients to attend to at the moment.” He saluted her and closed his eyes with an exhausted smile. He let his head drop down, eager to create.
“Veran listen to me for once in your god forsaken life, would you?! I care about this business, and if you get yourself executed I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. “
“Live your life making an actually legal means of pay? Because as far as I’m aware, this isn’t legal at all.”
“Does it seriously seem like I care even just one bit? It’s more amusing than any other option.”
“Ah… so I am amusing to you?”
“It’s only enough to not make me want to blow my brain all over my curtains, but seriously Verna, you’re not getting off the hook by distracting me.”
“You know I hate change, so why are you trying to force me to do this? And don’t call me that!” He yelled angrily.
“I’m not joking.” She stated smiling and picked up the files.
“When do you ever joke?” He asked slyly which promptly got him hit upside the head with a shoe.
“When will you ever learn to shut up and take what options you have?”
“Okay, okay, I’ll do what you want. Just let me get to work.” He said shutting his eyes again and putting his hand out for a milkshake.
“You are so annoying!” Traci shouted before storming off shaking her head as to why she ever decided to work with this insecure angel. ‘At least he’s interesting.’ She reasoned with herself.
Veran after getting his milkshake, he raised his glass in mock acknowledgment, “Good night dear.” He said resting his eyes again.
Letting his environment melt away he let thousands of images race into his view; settings, sounds, and smells, graced his senses as he embraced the fictional worlds of his clients. It was as if watching more than a hundred movies at a time. It made him feel as if he was a god. Choosing a single dream to hang about in while he connected and corrected dreams and made them easier to comprehend, keeping complete control and spinning the threads into the finest silk of the mind. Like paint, splatters of color washed over the blank canvas that was this one particular client’s mind, shades of darkness and light spread and engulfed all of the white. A forest sprung from the blank white floor, and came out of the canvas flooding around Veran and the client; it was silent for a few moments before the noises of the forest took place like a thin veil sweeping across the fantasy land. It was almost breathtaking and increased Veran’s pride in him self tenfold.
“Wow. Looks like I’ve really done well this time, huh?” He asked the client though in truth he was in actuality speaking to him self.
The client turned around and jumped in surprise at seeing Veran standing behind him with such a glossy look in his eyes. “You’re the one who made this place?”
“Not exactly, I take the image in your mind, give it a body and more detail and… Bang! The world becomes a little more understandable and easier to run around in with little to no consequences.”
“So…I could jump off a building?”
“Sure…if you want to go brain-dead.”
“Oh…that doesn’t sound nice.”
“For you, no, as for myself… I could kind of care less. More conversation buddies for me!” Veran said rudely.
“Wow, how offensive.”
“Yeah, but that’s just the way I am, I’m a tad bit crazy. Anywho, would you like to have a tea party?”
“Excuse me?”
Veran turned around gesturing to a large table to the left of them in a great open flowery clearing, there was a group of people conversing with each other whilst passing around tea cups and sweets and having a merry conversation among them selves.
“It tastes just the same, and my most sincere apologies for interrupting the dream you had wanted, in fact you can have your dream I’ll just rest a while here.” He said, ignoring the client completely. “Go on.”
The client shrugged and walked off into the forest. Waving as he left, he saw the group out of the corner of his eye. Just a bunch of dead people having a tea party, “Trippy...”
Just outside of the warehouse a large team began to organize. Traci looked down at the growing team and texted the twins. ‘Start an eviction. Someone tracked us.’
‘Snap, really?’
‘Why else would I tell you? Get to work while I wake up Veran.’
She turned her phone off for the moment and ran up the stairs to the third floor; it wasn’t really an impossible feat seeing as how she was already on the second floor. Not even bothering to open the door with her keys, she kicked in the door. In the middle of the room, Veran was resting on his chair arm happily drooling. Taking a moment to rub her temples in frustration at Veran’s peaceful and unpreventable calmness in a situation like this, she slapped Veran across the face for her own personal amusement. Smiling she took her mini Taser out of her back pocket. She pressed the button, and jabbed it into his stomach. Veran’s eyes snapped open, his dreams abruptly terminated.
“What are you doing? We just started our tea party, and now you have to ruin it??!” He yelled. But as soon as he became aware of his surroundings, he saw the serious yet concerned look in her eyes. “What happened?” Traci pointed to the window, and stated,
“Somebody tracked us. We need to start an eviction. Now.” Veran looked out the window, and glared at the armed force outside of the building.
"Oh...that looks bad."
"Looks?" She dragged him to the elevator and threw him inside, just as it closed she shouted she was going to get some files and ran off. Veran blinked and shrugged tapping his foot bored waiting for the elevator door to open, the metal box julted and he slammed his head against the floor as he fell.
"Damn...," he muttered in pain at the sudden sting in the back of his skull. The world blacked out for a long moment as he recognized a loud ringing in the back of his mind. "Damn." He said for extra emphasis before the world dropped out underneath him.
