[][][0X8] Zero End Switch

We Have Moved Here

Tue, 02 May 2006 17:59:13 GMT

http://community.livejournal.com/0x8zes/

Act One|Scene Four

Mon, 27 Feb 2006 22:47:12 GMT

Act One, Scene Four: Reunion, Reconciliation and Retaliation

The dance hall starts to dwindle in population. After the last person is escorted out by the bouncers, Calle Toretsa opens the door from the brothel area and sits on the stage at the end of the hall. He picks up his bass guitar and starts to strum a few notes. He’s not trying to play anything, as his mind is elsewhere. He looks into the shiny gloss of his bass and looks at his reflection.

Calle: This is bullshit. (He looks into his face and visible right eye.) You know that it is. (He slowly brushes his hair away from his left eye, revealing a severely mismatched iris from the right. His left eye is wild and red, looking more like a cat’s eye than a human’s. As he looks into his left eye, his reflection changes to looking like a madman, grinning sadistically.) And you love it, don’t you?

He blinks his eyes hard and pats his hair down over his eye again. He shakes his head violently and haphazardly throws his bass back on the stage. He stands and stretches, heading back toward the brothel door. He opens the door slowly, hoping to creep past the receptionist.

Clerk: Hiya!! (She watches as the door inches open and speaks when Calle’s head appears behind it.) Come over here, ya? I wanted ta ask you something before, ya know?

Calle: (He cringes at the thought of having to socialize, but he puts on his best fake smile.) What, did you want my autograph?

Clerk: Cha! You read my mind! (She hands him a piece of paper and a pink pen with feathers on the end) Just like, say; “To my prettiest fan, Pelmet”!

Calle: That’s your name? Pelmet?

Pelmet: Ya! Do you like it?

Calle: No, I think it’s one of the silliest names I’ve heard. You should go home and slap your mother next you see her. (He signs the paper and notices the clock on the wall.) Isn’t it past your bedtime?

Pelmet: (She giggles) Always such a kidder, Mr. Toretsa! (She looks at the clock, too.) Ooh! I’m done with my shift! (She shuffles a few things behind the desk, shuffling papers, moving wires and various other things.)

Calle: (He taps his hand on the desk, watching the door to Big Jimmy’s office. Even though it’s muffled, he can hear clear screams from behind the door. He looks back to the desk and Pelmet, who is now standing frozen, staring at Calle’s hand.) What? Did you forget something? Get out of here, kid.

Pelmet: You’re a… (She gasps for breath, never taking her eyes off of Calle’s hand) you’re… you’re a… incu… sera… you’re a… (She keeps repeating herself.)

Calle: (Looking at his hand.) Oh shit. (His fingernails have turned black and grown about 5 centimeters, resembling talons. His veins run black, as well. He retracts his hand from the desk and steps toward the clerk.) Look, I can explain…

Pelmet: Explain… seraph… incub... expl… eeeeeee!!! (She starts to shriek uncontrollably.)

Calle: Stop it! Just shush! I’m not going to hurt you, just shush. (He grabs her by the shoulders and looks her in the eyes.) Please, just calm down. Don’t tell anyone, okay?

Pelmet’s eyes roll back into her head and she passes out with Calle holding her up.

Calle: (He rolls his eyes.) Oh what the fuck ever. I don’t have time for this.

He lets go and she falls to the floor with a thud. Calle massages his left hand with his normal right one, trying to get it to go back to normal. A crash and a man’s yell are heard upstairs. Shortly after, the door bursts open and the redhead in the black uniform he had seen before hobbles out with bloodied legs. He watches her scramble down the stairs and toward the exit, but doesn’t do anything. He hears the outer exit door open and close. He closes his eyes and sighs.

Calle: Good luck, kid. (He takes a deep breath and turns to the dance hall doors once again. He slowly heads over to the stage and lethargically picks up his bass and slings it over his back. He lurches to the front door and grabs the knob. Before he can turn it though, a tall, orange and white haired girl crashes through it and bounces toward the brothel doors.

Calle: (Recovering from the impact of the door hitting him in the face) Hey, we’re closed, you know?

Girl: Sheetmayon. Ayewazdatlate? Ayemgunbeasewkeelhauled!!! (She disappears behind the brothel doors)

Calle: What? (He yells after her) I SAID WE’RE CLOSED FOR THE NI- OOMF!

Before he can finish his sentence, the front door swings open again, smacking Calle in the back.

Calle: Damn it! What the hell is the big id…? (He turns around and is face to face with Hawke. He’s never met him before, but like Bidelle, he knows what he’s there for.) Through those doors, then to the left.

Hawke: Who are you? (He steps around Calle and into the hall)

Calle: Just a kid in the wrong place tonight. (He steps out the front door and closes it.)

Hawke hurries to the door and opens it again to ask more questions, but Calle has disappeared. He shakes his head and turns back to the hall, hurrying through the hall as fast as he can. He remembers the layout as if he had never left. The posters, the art, and the wings on the walls… everything was exactly the same as it was when he was there last. He pushes the brothel doors open and scurries to the left hallway, just as Calle had said. He didn’t even see the clerk lying on the floor; his eyes are transfixed on the trails of blood that lead outside. He dashes to the exit and is greeted by the dark night of Colter Harbor’s enterprise district.

Girl: Homahgah! Comahnwebelatekuzzau! (She waves his necklace at him and runs ahead into the darkness.)

Hawke: Wait! Come back! (He watches the ground glisten as the city lights make the blood on the pavement shine. He follows the trail cautiously, while still trying to keep up with the girl.)

Up ahead, the girl stops and stands next to the source of all the blood. Bidelle lies on her back, eyes closed and barely breathing. The gash in her leg pours out the most blood, while the hole in her hand seems to have stopped bleeding for the moment. The girl doesn’t look at Bidelle though. She stares straight into the eyes of a young man crouching next to Bidelle.

The man stares back intensely, as if he knew the girl would come, but was shocked that she had.

Man: No. No, you can’t be here. Get out of here, quickly, don’t lead him here! (He waves his arms at the girl, trying to shoo her.

Girl: Doodutollmetucom! Uneedtumaekupurmine, KAY?

Man: (He looks behind the girl and sees Hawke stumbling in the darkness.) Shit. Thank you very much, Kay. Just act like you don’t know anything, please.

Kay: Yugotit, yo. (She salutes to him and crouches near Bidelle too.)

Man: We have to bring her to safety. Help me pick her up. (As soon as he reaches over to prop Bidelle up, Hawke reaches them.)

Hawke: Give it ba- (Before he can finish, Kay throws his necklace high into the air. He jumps to catch it, and puts it back on his neck.) Thank you! Now I can get home! (He turns around and walks a few paces.)

Man: (mumbling to Kay) Alright, he turned around. Maybe you didn’t fuck up too bad, eh? Come on, let’s go. (He props Bidelle up to a standing position and uses himself as her crutch. Kay does the same on the other side.)

Hawke: Wait a minute! Bidelle!? (He pivots quickly and runs in front of the group.) What did you do to her!? (He quickly looks the man over, seeing if picking a fight would be a stupid idea.)

Man: Shit. You know her?

Hawke: Of course! I saved her this morning! What happened to her? What did you do? (Hawke takes a knife from his pants and points it to the man) Answer me!

Man: (He winces at the thought of Hawke saving her earlier but chooses not to say anything about it) I just found her like this! Get out of the way! (He starts walking with Bidelle and Kay further into the Enterprise district.)

Hawke: Don’t move! (He tries to keep himself in front of the group.)

Man: I told you, get out of my way! (He kicks Hawke in the stomach with the leg he’s not using to support Bidelle.)

Hawke: (Winded, gasping for breath) Where… are you… taking her?

Man: Go away! (He continues to walk, leaving Hawke behind.)

The man, Kay, and the unconscious Bidelle continue to a large tower filled with apartments. The lobby is dimly lit; as if the power cut out and only the emergency generator was working. Hawke follows slowly, still injured. The group reaches an elevator and takes it up to the eighth floor. Hawke misses the lift and takes the stairs, which vastly slows his pursuit. The group of three reaches the man’s apartment. The man lets go of Bidelle for a moment, fiddling with his contents of his pocket in the dark hallway. He finds his key and lets himself into his apartment. He guides Kay to set Bidelle on his bed to the left of the room. The entire back wall of the apartment is a window to the outside, showing a beautiful view of the city. The man finds some candles in a cabinet and lights them all with a lighter from his pocket. He places the candles around the room strategically; making sure to get the most light generated as possible. He helps Kay situate Bidelle on the bed and instructs her to take Bidelle’s boots off and get something to clean her wounds. Kay disappears in the next room for a few minutes, gathering washcloths and bandages and other medical supplies.

The man sits back and lights a few more candles, placing them around the bed so that Bidelle is slightly more illuminated.

Man: Damn power failures…

A constant thudding noise is heard out in the hall until the door to the apartment bursts open.

Hawke: (panting) Damn it! I won’t let you take her!

Man: (He smashes his face with his hands.) You fucker! Don’t come in without knocking! (He slams the door in Hawke’s face.)

A knock on the door is heard.

Man: (He opens the door slowly, trying not to laugh.) What the hell do you want? Can’t you just leave us in peace?

Hawke: But that’s my friend you have in there! (He points to Bidelle.) She’s wearing my sweater still! Look!

Man: (He notices the sweatshirt and gently takes it off of Bidelle’s shoulders.) This ugly thing? Take it, then. Now get out. (He throws the sweatshirt at Hawke’s face and begins to shut the door.)

Hawke: (He catches it before it hits.) No, wait. (He puts his hand up to stop the door.) Can I… please come in? I want to know what happened. I couldn’t rest without knowing.

Man: Not my problem, is it?

Kay: Ubetaletamin! Unohebetudeepnao! (She pulls Hawke over the threshold and into the room.)

Man: Kay! What the hell are you doing?

Kay doesn’t answer him. She simply sticks out her tongue and guides Hawke to a chair near the large window. Hawke sits down and gazes over the city in amazement. The man takes a chair opposite of Hawke and watches him. He then reaches into his pocket and retrieves a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He takes one from the pack and holds it in his mouth as he lights it. The lighter illuminates his face enough to finally make out some features. Kay brings a few candles over and sets them on the table between the two men. Hawke can finally see well enough to get a good look at the man.

The man has wild, dark brown hair that reaches various lengths, but at the longest, reaches his shoulders. His eyes are a glowing red, resembling red snake’s eyes. He has a small nose, long eyelashes and full lips. His bottom lip is pierced with a ring in the center. The ring has a steel captive bead on it. His right eyebrow is also pierced; instead of a ring, a simple curved barbell with two red spikes on either end is seen. His left upper ear is pierced with a thick gauge ring with a captive bead like the ring in his lip. Both lower lobes of his ears house a large red and black nautical star earring. The man yawns slightly and a stud in his tongue can be seen as well.

Hawke: Damn, got enough metal in your face? (He looks slightly disgusted)

Man: That’s one hell of a thing to say to someone when you just met them, especially when you’re in their house. (He gives Hawke a stern look.)

Hawke: Ah… sorry. I’ve just never seen anyone with so many piercings, or your kind of clothes. (Again, he looks somewhat disgusted.)

The man does have a unique fashion sense. He wears a grey ribbed turtleneck that is missing the tops of the shoulders. It’s also a good three sizes too large for him. He wears dark pants with nautical stars for buttons and decorations. On the pants are two straps, crossed in the middle, connected at his belt loops in the front and back of his pants. He wears leather boots with large flame decorations on them. From under the pants, Hawke can see red and black striped socks leading from the boots.

Man: It takes a certain kind of person to be able to look like I do and do it well. (He has a clear tone of arrogance in his voice.)

Hawke: What’s your name, anyway? (He pauses, but the man says nothing.) I’m Hawke. Hawke Kitagawa. (He extends his hand to the man.)

Man: (Looking at Hawke’s hand questionably.) Tsunami Riyushi. (He takes Hawke’s hand weakly and shakes it briefly.)

Hawke: Tsunami? That’s an interesting name. But then again, you seem like an interesting person.

Tsunami: (Ignoring Hawke, he gets up and sits on the bed next to Bidelle.) Bidelle…

Hawke: So you know her? (He moves the chair close to the bed.)

Tsunami: (He looks at Hawke as if he were an idiot.) Gee, what made you think that?

Hawke: Sorry. I just met her this morning… she seems to be skilled at finding trouble.

Tsunami: (He looks offended.) So you met her this morning and you’re already following her around? I’m sure that’s just what she needs; a stalker.

Hawke: It’s not like that! She was knocked out against my room’s outer wall! I took her inside, out of the rain and I made her some food. I told her that she should probably come here, since she’s dressed like that…

Tsunami: Wait, you told her to come where?

Hawke: Here, the Enterprise District.

Tsunami: …and where in particular?

Hawke: Big Jimmy’s, I suppose.

Tsunami: (He stares at Hawke as if he just told him something totally unbelievable.) You’re kidding. You told her to go to Big Jimmy’s, of all places!? Are you completely retarded?

Hawke: What? Look, she was dressed in the damn uniform! She wanted to go, so I told her where it was!

Tsunami: And you didn’t think at ALL that you should probably escort her through the city, or perhaps OPEN YOUR DAMN EYES?

Hawke: What?

Tsunami: Fuck, man. It’s all over the news, haven’t you heard?

Hawke: Heard what?

Tsunami: The dancers! He killed ALL OF THEM. I was so fucking worried, do you know that?

Hawke: Who killed who? What? What are you talking about?

Tsunami: (He closes his eyes, collecting himself, trying not to escalate his anger.) That… that “King”, King Solarin of Ceria. Jimmy sent him his best girls. All of the black levels, and not a one of them came back. Solarin told the authorities that they never even showed up to his city, but when 4 of their bodies were found in Ceria, Solarin paid them all to keep it all hush-hush. I was hoping day and night that Bidelle got out of that; that she was the survivor…

Hawke: (He pauses, trying to take it all in.) Wait, so… why did he kill them?

Tsunami: (He bows his head and mumbles slowly.) You wouldn’t believe me if I told you, kid. (His eyes look filled with hatred… not hatred toward Cyrus or the situation, but strangely enough, toward Hawke.)

Hawke: (He sits and watches as Tsunami takes a few last drags from his cigarette, and then observes as he lights another one. He looks over to Bidelle, who is being cleaned by Kay.) …whatever. (He moves to the wall parallel to the bed and sits on the floor.) So what now?

Kay: Unowearwegoddagu, Tsutsu.

Tsunami: (He groans at Kay, looking at her angrily.) We!? I’m not taking his ass with us.

Hawke: (Confused) Wait, where? And what’s so wrong with me? I’m involved in this too, you know.

Tsunami: Shut up, you don’t know anything about this. You need to just go back home and forget that you ever saw us! (He takes a long drag from his cigarette and readies another for when he finishes the current one.)

Hawke: (He stands up, almost beckoning Tsunami to pick a fight with him.) I’m not leaving Bidelle! I found her first and I care about what happened to her!

Tsunami: (He stands as well, his eyes barely reaching the bottom of Hawke’s nose.) Found her first? What is she, some kind of property? I’ll have you know that she and I happen to know each other quite well!

Kay: (She stands up quickly and puts herself between the two men, glaring at Tsunami furiously) Uspoiltboi, ubetr talemtetroof!

Hawke: (Backing up and leaning against the wall) Do you?

Tsunami: (He sees that Hawke has basically conceded.) Yeah. (He gets a smug look on his face) In fact, she just happens to be my fiancée. (His arrogant smirk stretches across his face. He sits on the bed next to Bidelle and continues to clean the blood from her wounds, which seem to have stopped bleeding, mostly.)

Hawke: (His face runs pale as he hears this, realizing all of his assumptions were wrong.) Oh... um... (He faces the wall and swears to himself, making sure that Tsunami cannot see his emotion.) I'm sorry, Mr. Riyushi. (He turns around and bows slightly.) I have no right to be here, I'll be going. (He starts to walk toward the door.)

Tsunami: Good riddance. Have fun, good luck... no rematch for a hundred years, all the stuff.... thanks for playing, please try ag-

Bidelle: (Through a gurgle of blood and other fluids) Hawke.... please... don't go... (Tsunami and Hawke both turn to look at her, completely startled. Tsunami just sits there, while Hawke rushes to the side of the bed.)

Hawke: Bidelle... you're awake!

Bidelle: Hawke, don't go... (She starts to cough. Hawke helps her quickly into a sitting position, which is quickly modified by Bidelle, as she leans over the side of the bed and vomits on the floor.)

Hawke: Bidelle... (He holds her hair back and inadvertantly pushes Tsunami out of the way a bit. Kay grabs a washcloth from the bathroom and moistens it with water from the tap. She cleans off Bidelle's face and starts to clean up the floor.)

Tsunami: (He grabs the mop away from Kay and speaks something in the language she speaks.) U ainoslayf. Bakof, godusumtinelz.

Kay: Pshuackliekidunodat. Ujussgunfuxit, soitrihalpowtk?

Tsunami: Whatever. (He throws the mop angrily back to Kay and sits down at the table near the wall again. He pulls out another cigarette and lights it, sucking a long drag from it and readying another before the current one is even halfway finished.)

Hawke: Bidelle... (He laughs slightly when she looks at him.) This is the second time I've ended up helping you after you've ran into trouble and the second time I've seen those green eyes so close. (He eases her back into a laying position and fixes her dress for her.)

Tsunami: (He stands up and points at Hawke) Watch those hands, buddy! (He pushes Hawke out of the way and sits down on the bed next to Bidelle. He sets the cigarette in an ashtray near the bed; then looks into Bidelle's eyes.)

Kay: (Looking at Tsunami and Bidelle) Dudmangoi. Unosheaingunnou.

Tsunami: (He looks up at Kay with a disappointed look on his face and then back down at Bidelle.) Dearest... I'm so glad you're okay... (He tries to give her a kiss, but she reels back violently and pushes herself against the wall. Tsunami looks utterly confused and heart broken.) ....what's wrong?

Bidelle: ....I don't know who you are, so please... stay away!

Tsunami's face turns from simple heart break to gut-wrenching despair. His mouth hangs open slightly, unable to say anything. Behind him, Hawke turns around again to face away from the group.... and cracks a wide smile.

Act One|Scene Three WARNING MATURE CONTENT

Mon, 27 Feb 2006 22:03:37 GMT

WARNIGN MATURE CONTENT DO NOT READ IF UNDER 17 YEARS OF AGE

Act One, Scene Three: The King of Kings

Bidelle pushes the black door open and steps into a room only lit with the glow from a monitor on the back wall. On the monitor is a fat man with orange, stringy hair. He wears a white top hat and suit, and is sitting comfortably on a black leather couch. He listens to the voice of a man hidden behind the back of a chair, behind a long black desk.

Man in the Chair: So, how are you feeling, Jimmy?

Man on the Screen: Not so good.

Man in the Chair: Oh?

Big Jimmy: It’s all that fighting for my money, your Highness.

A man with long orange dreadlocks steps out of the darkness to the side of the chair. He is shirtless, his body covered in scars. He wears only a pair of jeans and fingerless gloves. He has many small whips tied to his belt. He speaks quickly, with a heavy accent.

Man with Dreadlocks: Aye, ye can still fight for yer dreams!

Big Jimmy: Yes, that’s not too bad. (He shifts uncomfortably in his suit) I’m glad I spoke to you, your Highness. It’s good to see that you’re taking care of things so well, given the recent events.

Man in the Chair: Well, it’s not your fault. You sent me your best, how were you to know?

Big Jimmy: Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. I should be getting to sleep now; I have to leave early in the morning if I’m going to get back to Colter Harbor by the week’s end.

Man in the Chair: I understand, Jimmy. Take care, I shall see you soon.

The monitor flickers off and red lights in the corners of the room replace the light. The room glows with the light of candles, even though the lamps are obviously muted neon. The chair swivels around to face the door, which Bidelle has been standing by ever since she arrived. In the chair sits a very handsome man with golden eyes and golden hair. He has most of his hair pulled back into a ponytail, but two thick strands fall to the sides of his face, which are dyed a dark red. The man smiles at her slyly, and the door opens and shuts behind her. The blue haired boy from the stage has entered the room and gently takes Bidelle by the elbows. He leads her into the room and sits her on a large circular cushion in the centre of the room.

Boy from the Stage: I’m sorry I’m late, the crowd wanted an encore. I see that I’m right on schedule though. (He eyes Bidelle closely and brushes her hair out of her face) Welcome, lovely. (He smiles warmly, and then takes his place on the left side of the desk, opposite of the man with dreadlocks.)

Bidelle tries to speak, but the man in the chair rises and speaks instead.

Man: We’ve been waiting for you, Miss Bidelle. (He walks around the boy with blue hair and sits on the desk in front of Bidelle.) You gave us quite the slip back in Ceria; I’ve been so worried about you. I thought I’d have to come and find you myself. Who would have thought you would have come back of your own volition, and so quickly too! I’m pleased.

Bidelle: You know who I am? That’s great!

Man: (He looks confused.) Don’t you know who I am?

Bidelle: (She thinks hard for a while, but can’t recall a thing.) No, I’m sorry. I can’t remember anything; I must have gotten hit on the head or something.

Man: Heh. How… fortunate. (The man unbuttons the top button on the long red cloak he is wearing, and then unbuttons the cuffs on his wrists.) Well, let me re-introduce myself and my associates. I am Cyrus Solarin, King of Ceria. (He leans in and takes Bidelle’s hand) It truly is a pleasure. (He kisses her hand, and then releases it softly.) To my right is my bodyguard Spaidre Loveless.

Spaidre: Dunnt be fooled, mate. Me name may be Loveless, but I am anythin’ but, dearest. Burs’ing with love, I am.

Cyrus: To my left is my muse and hired hand, Calle Toretsa.

Calle: I’m just a musician; don’t let his highness give you that crap about us being buddies.

Spaidre: Show some respec’! If I t’weren’t in front of the lass, I’d gut ye like a pig.

Cyrus: Men, please. Quiet down.

Bidelle: Nice to meet you all, I suppose. (She smiles to each of them, which seems to confuse Cyrus more.)

Cyrus: So, where are your friends? (He’s starting to get frustrated) Is this act just to be cute?

Bidelle: Act? Friends?

Cyrus: Your travel partners. Did you come alone? No one escorted you? (He mumbles to Calle to recheck the hall and to lock the door.)

Bidelle: I don’t know who you’re talking about, really, sir. I came here alone; I told you I can’t remember a thing. I’m not putting on any act.

Spaidre: I think she be tellin’ the truth, mate. Mayhap the powers that be got to ‘er.

Cyrus: Oh ho, you might be correct, my dear friend! Kain works in mysterious ways!

Bidelle: Kain? (Her memory drags slight recognition of the name, but no details.)

Spaidre: Aye! He put one o’er on ye yet! She can’t recall anythin’, sire. She musta got to ‘im in Ceria when ye weren’t lookin’! Oh, what a shame ta be put back in a jam! Someone warnt thinkin’, or else they be wantin’ her dead! Wahoo, what shame, what shame!

Cyrus: Silence! (He snaps at Spaidre and turns back to Bidelle) How would you like to hear a little story, lovely?

Calle returns from the hall and shakes his head at Cyrus. He locks the door and dims the lights so that the only illumination in the room is behind the desk. The room glows a dark, sick red.

Cyrus: It starts a few days ago, at my 27th birthday party. Big Jimmy has always been a good friend to me, so I requested the best of the best from him. He sent me five of his best girls, the only black level dancers he had left. (He leans in close to Bidelle and traces his finger down her corset and lifts the tassels gently.) You see, as a gift to my precious dancers, I gave them these lovely tassels. Not only are they for decoration, but if used correctly, they can be a deadly weapon. They are very prized in Ceria; they’re the best weapon we’ve managed to engineer. (He laughs and sets the tassels down.) Of course, without training, they’re just pretty little things. That’s why you have them; I would never fear you using them.

Bidelle: So you’re saying…

Cyrus: You were among the five dancers, yes. In fact, you just had gotten the black rank a few days prior to our meeting. How lucky, Miss Bidelle, how lucky.

Bidelle: So why are you looking for me now?

Cyrus: Ah, yes, the fun part. (He kneels in front of the cushion and takes Bidelle’s hands)
You see, my birthday was incredibly fun. The other four girls danced for me with joy, very happy to be servicing a King. But you see, you were injured that day and you had to be left in your room while I partied with the others. My messenger had told me how much you regretted not being there, and as soon as you were healed, you’d head down to the ballroom and join in the festivities. (He sighs deeply) But alas, my lust could not wait. You see, being a King, you would think that you’d have your choice of women and be in such company consistently… but no, this is not the case. I get so lonely sometimes.

He gently pushes Bidelle back against the cushion, placing her hands to either side of her shoulders. He lowers his face very close to Bidelle’s, so much so that she can feel the warmth of his skin. He looks directly into her fearful eyes, and then releases her hands. He stands up straight, still looking into her eyes.

Cyrus: The girls were wonderful, just as I imagine you should be. But you see, once in a while… I get a little carried away. I was looking for you to finish my work!

Bidelle: (She looks around frantically.) You don’t mean… (She makes a break for the door but stumbles over her own feet. She falls back into the cushion) No! Please!

Spaidre takes his whip from his belt and in a flash of leather and blood; Bidelle’s left wrist is ensnared and pulled taut. He secures the end to the leg of the cushioned chair she rests on. Bidelle yells for help and uses her right hand to try to free herself, but the whip is riddled with sharp barbs. Spaidre quickly pushes Calle out of the way and uses a second whip to trap her right wrist. He ties it to the opposite leg. He continues this process with her legs, while dodging Bidelle’s kicks. After having her trapped, Spaidre holds a knife to her throat. Bidelle is frozen in fear, just looking at Cyrus in front of her. Calle mumbles a silent protest and leaves quickly.

Cyrus: You see - I’m not only a King of Ceria. I’m also the King of the Archaceans. (He pulls his robe from his shoulders to reveal his bare body. From her vantage point, she can only see his chest and face. Even so, she can see that every muscle is placed perfectly, and not a scratch is on him. Behind him, two large golden feathered wings spread to a wingspan of over six feet.)

Bidelle’s memory drags again, but she cannot remember why she fears that word as much as she does. Her heart starts to pound rapidly as she thinks of what could possibly happen next. She starts screaming again, but no one can hear her.

Cyrus: Please quiet down. It’ll be much more pleasant for you if you don’t fuss. (He places his wings directly behind him and leans over Bidelle, placing his hands on either side of her face.) You see, Archaceans are known for having violent tendencies, despite their angelic appearance. The other girls just couldn’t keep up with me, you understand. I guess I like it a little rough. (He smiles wickedly and looks at Bidelle as if she was a toy.)

He licks Bidelle’s lower lip and forces his tongue into her mouth. She squirms and bites down as hard as she can. Cyrus reels back, his bottom lip bleeding. The blood quickly runs down his chin and neck, gathering in the bends of his collarbone. He smiles wide and licks the blood from his mouth.

Cyrus: (He sounds giddy and boyish) Silly girl, it only excites me more if you pull a stunt like that.

Spaidre pushes her head up so that the knife he holds cuts into her jaw. She can see Cyrus’s entire body now. True to his word, Cyrus is obviously excited. She tries not to look, but something shiny catches her eye. She stares at whatever it is that is shining in the low light and notices that it’s a piercing. Or rather, it’s two barbells that intersect directly behind the head to form an X. Cyrus notices where she’s looking.

Cyrus: Ah, never seen that before, I take it? Well, not only is it somewhat religious, but it’ll feel amazing for you, I guarantee it.

She struggles frantically and inadvertently pushes Spaidre’s blade deeper into her lower jaw. She backs up quickly, pushing herself into a slightly sitting position. Spaidre moves onto the cushion, holding the knife to her throat with his right hand and holding Bidelle by the waist with his left. He sits behind Bidelle, holding her hips still with his legs.

Spaidre: ‘unnt be squirmin’! Ye’ll get hurt more if’n ye choose ta be a bitch about it!

Spaidre lowers his head to Bidelle’s ear and kisses it softly.

Spaidre: Too bad ye ain’t bein’ willing, lass. Both of us can show ye a real good time, ya. (He licks her ear) Ain’t that right, highness?

Bidelle: Get away from me! (She struggles slightly and Spaidre cuts her collarbone)

Cyrus: Heh, I’ll give you a choice Bidelle. (He signals for Spaidre to lower the blade) If you’re willing to cooperate with us, we’ll stop being so violent. I guarantee you’ll enjoy it. I’ll even untie you. What do you say?

Bidelle: (Through whimpers and cries) Please untie me! Please! I’ll do whatever you want! I promise!

Cyrus: You promise to do whatever we want?

Bidelle: Yes! Please! Anything! (She stops screaming and quiets down to a somewhat calm whimper) Please… I promise… (She keeps crying, but she has calmed down.)

Spaidre: Aw, ain’t that sweet? I haven’t been able ta team up with yer highness in months!

Cyrus nods to Spaidre to cut the restraints. Spaidre takes his hat off and places it on a bust of some forgotten emperor in the corner. He pushes his large dreadlocks behind his shoulders and cuts Bidelle’s legs free with his knife. As he passes Cyrus, Cyrus brushes his hand over Spaidre’s chest. Spaidre smiles at him widely, and then starts to cut the restraints on Bidelle’s wrists. After she is freed, she closes her legs quickly and stiffens up.

Cyrus: (He eases her back into a laying position.) Oh come on now, we didn’t hurt you that bad! (He leans in and licks the blood from her jaw and neck.) Now let’s see if you can keep your promise. I’ll start off small.

Bidelle: What do you want? (She closes her eyes tightly and holds back more cries)

Cyrus: (He slides his hand in between her thighs and begins to fondle her) Spread, please. (Bidelle spreads her legs about two inches. He picks up the pace a little.) Wider, please. (She inches her legs open slowly.) A little more, please. (She does so and lets out a slight whimper.) Thank you. (He leans in close to Bidelle’s face.) Isn’t that better? Does it not feel good? (She whimpers in reply.) Can I trouble you for a kiss, Miss Bidelle?

She hesitates, and then lifts her head slightly to meet his lips. She doesn’t make any effort to kiss him, but it seems to be alright with Cyrus. He pries her mouth open with his tongue and uses his free hand to hold her head up. He slowly moves himself over her and uses his hands to reposition her dress up and over her hips without breaking his kiss. Bidelle tries to think of something else, but Cyrus bites her bottom lip hard and brings her back to what really is going on. Her heart starts to race when she feels his hips lower onto hers. She starts to panic. With a rush of adrenaline, Bidelle swings her right leg high and kicks Cyrus in the face. She quickly rolls off the cushion and gains footing on the ground. She runs for the door, but slips in some small droplets of her own blood on the floor. She falls to the floor with a crash, knocking over some priceless antiques and landing on her stomach. She scrambles to her hands and knees and tries to stand. A loud whip crack echoes through the room and Bidelle falls to her stomach again, her back split open and bleeding, filled with pain.

Cyrus: (He quickly recovers from the blow to the head and walks over to where Bidelle lies on the floor. He kneels beside her and claws the wound in her back.) How clever! You truly thought that you could get away? We’re not finished yet! (He laughs loudly.) Even if you made it to the door, Mr. Toretsa is standing right outside. You’d just be right back where you started.

Spaidre: (He walks over and drags Bidelle away from the broken antiques to the middle of the room) T’was a nice shot! But ye know what this means, eh?

Cyrus: You broke your promise, Bidelle. That means we get to do this our way.

Bidelle silently whimpers on the floor, knowing that she has no hope of escaping and no energy left to try to scream for help. Her back is burning with pain as she struggles to her hands and knees.

Spaidre: Ah ah ah! Stay righ’ there, lass. (He throws his knife to the floor, impacting in the middle of her left hand. She screams in pain; the knife pins her hand to the floor.) If ye move from that position, I’ll be puttin’ another mark across yer back! (Bidelle groans in pain and cries feverishly.)

Cyrus: This seems to work out well for the both of us.

Cyrus takes his robe and places it on the floor. He kneels on the robe and places himself behind Bidelle. He runs his hands up and down her inner thighs. He pushes her legs apart, lowering her to just the right height. He pulls her dress up violently and backs off slightly, admiring the view.

Cyrus: Spaidre, you were correct. She is a true redhead. (He laughs wildly. Bidelle whimpers again.) Well, Bidelle, you are truly a prize. I’m so sorry this couldn’t be as good for you.

Bidelle: (almost inaudibly) No, please… stop…

Cyrus: What’s that? I can’t hear you; you’ll have to speak up. No? We’ll if you’ve got nothing to say… (He moves his hips forward a little. Bidelle jumps with the feeling of cold metal on her inner right thigh.) Oh? Did you feel that? I apologize; they do get quite icy sometimes. Here, let me warm them up for you.

With little warning, Cyrus pushes himself inside Bidelle violently and deeply. Bidelle lets out a scream and collapses to the floor. The knife in her hand sends a twinge of pain down her left side, while the feeling of cold metal and violent thrusting courses through the rest of her. She struggles to push herself up again so the knife will stop cutting into her. Cyrus gets progressively faster and more violent with each thrust, and Bidelle shrieks every time.

Cyrus: (He speaks calmly, as if he were bored) Spaidre, do me a favor and shut her up? I’m trying to concentrate.

Spaidre: Gladly, sir. (He moves in front of Bidelle and leans down to look her in the eye.) ‘Ey, lass. Are ye gunna keep quiet, or do I have te force ye to silence yer face? (Bidelle keeps shrieking as Cyrus starts to drag his fingers inside each cut on her back and legs.) I’ll be takin’ that as a “no”.

He sighs and pulls off his jeans. He pushes his dreadlocks behind his shoulders and kneels in front of Bidelle. He only wears his scars now, and with his jeans removed an entire new batch is shown. He has two deep scars on either thigh. On his left, the scar is a large circle. On the right, there are two smaller circular scars stacked vertically. The width of the scars makes it look as if they were cut into the skin slowly and deliberately.

Spaidre: Open up, swee’heart. (He taps her on the chin with his right hand. She still shrieks, even with her mouth closed, and does not move. He sighs with frustration.) Okay, if ye dunnt open yer pretty lil’ mouth… (He rips the knife out of Bid’s hand and holds it in front of her face) ye ‘ill have ta suck on this instead! (He pushes the blade to her lips and she opens her mouth.) Now don’t ye bite me, or else I’ll be havin’ ta knock yer teeth out!

Cyrus slows his thrusts generously so Bidelle can stay still. Spaidre tosses the knife to Cyrus. He catches it and starts to trace the tip across Bidelle’s skin on her lower back and legs. Spaidre pushes himself into Bidelle’s mouth, cringing a little from her teeth scraping him the entire way. Cyrus watches Spaidre’s face and knows what’s going on. Cyrus takes the knife and stabs it deeply into Bidelle’s right leg. She screams loudly, which makes her mouth open wide. Spaidre takes the initiative and starts to thrust at the same pace as Cyrus. They both speed up at the same time; when one retracts the other proceeds.

Cyrus: (Still sounding bored.) Now you keep your mouth open that far and treat him nicely, or I’ll immobilize your other leg, dearest.

Bidelle gasps for breath when Spaidre retracts, but gags when Spaidre thrusts again. Spaidre, obviously not having the amount of control that Cyrus has, starts to pant and moan like an animal.

Cyrus: Mmm, like music to my ears. Keep it up, lovely. (He blows a kiss to Spaidre)

Spaidre nods back to Cyrus, but he can hardly keep himself in a kneeling stance. He starts to push himself more ferociously into Bidelle’s mouth. He goes faster and faster until he can’t even move. He lets out a loud moan and finishes as quickly as he started. He falls backwards and lies on the floor, panting. Cyrus utters a small noise and finishes as well, making Bidelle shake in disgust and lose consciousness. She falls to the left and Cyrus catches her before she can hit the floor completely. He picks her up and places her on the cushion.

Cyrus: Mmm, that was anticlimactic. (He steps over to Spaidre and offers a hand to help him up. Spaidre lifts himself up and places his arms over Cyrus’s shoulders.)

Spaidre: I thought it was quite pleasant, mate. (He puts his forehead against Cyrus’s and looks into his golden eyes.) I dunnt know what I would do without ye, highness.

Cyrus: (He places his arms around Spaidre’s waist and pulls him close.) You’d be denied the very best of life, my dear friend. (He kisses Spaidre’s nose and turns to Bidelle.) What a mess. Can you do me a favor love?

Spaidre: Name it, highness.

Cyrus: After you’re done cleaning up in here, take her somewhere and kill her. I would like to get to sleep soon. We leave early in the morning for Kada and Ceria and I’d like to be rested. (He starts picking up pieces of broken antiques and various other artifacts that are strewn about on the floor.)

Spaidre: Will do, mate. (Spaidre smiles to himself and finds his jeans. He dresses again and uses Cyrus’s robe to clean up the fluids in the room. Finally, he returns to Bidelle and turns her onto her back.)

Bidelle’s face is swollen with bruises and her jaw is still bleeding. She breathes slowly, in a comatose like state. Spaidre traces his finger around her face and wipes his own fluids from her lips.

Spaidre: No wonder ye are a black rank, ye’ve got lips of the angels.

Spaidre leans in to kiss her. Feeling his warm breath on her skin, her eyes flash open and in an instant, she retrieves her fan from her boot and flips a switch on the bottom. The spokes of the fan increase in length and resemble spikes. She stabs the fan spikes deep into his collarbone and he screams in agony.

Cyrus: Spaidre! (He pivots quickly to see blood gush from a wound near Spaidre’s neck.)

Bidelle pulls the fan from his collar and runs to the door. Cyrus rushes over to help Spaidre, holding his hand to the wound and telling Spaidre to keep still. Bidelle stumbles often due to the stab wound in her leg, but makes it down the stairs in a hurry. Calle stands in place of the clerk, who now lies on the floor motionless with her eyes wide open. Calle watches as Bidelle hurries past him to the back door of Big Jimmy’s. He doesn’t move; he just watches her go.

Cyrus: Are you alright? (He sits Spaidre down on the cushion and kneels in front of him.)

Spaidre: Aye, aye. (He takes his hat off again and pushes his hair back with the hand that isn’t covering the hole in his neck) It ain’t nothin’ I haven’t done worse ta me ‘self.

Cyrus: I was sure she’d be near death from all that we did, I’m sorry I wasn’t paying attention. I could have stopped it. (His voice shakes slightly and a look of sincere worry covers his face.)

Spaidre: Highness, I’m fine. Jest a scratch! (He removes his hand and blood comes pouring out. He winces in pain.)

Cyrus: Spaidre! (He fetches a priceless silk tapestry from the wall and tears off strips to form some makeshift bandages. He ties them as best he can around Spaidre’s neck and shoulder, effectively slowing the bleeding.) Relax, lie down. (He eases Spaidre into a lying position on the cushion and pushes Spaidre’s long dreadlocks out of the way.)

Spaidre: Thank ye, highness. (He closes his yellow eyes.) I’m startin’ ta feel a lil dizzy.

Cyrus: (Resting his head against Cyrus’s chest, he uses his wings to cover both of them. He curls up tightly next to Spaidre and whispers to him.) I will kill that woman for what she did to you. I swear it on my life. I won’t let anyone hurt you again. (He yawns, checking that his bandage is still doing its job. Spaidre has had many worse injuries, so Cyrus deems this as just what Spaidre said it was; a scratch.) Alas, her slaying will have to be some other day. (He closes his eyes and concentrates on his plans for the next day, holding the unconscious Spaidre.) Sleep well, dearest.

Spaidre: Eh, ye aren’t goin’ after ‘er?

Cyrus: Not when you’re injured, even if I’m sure that you’re okay.

Spaidre: That’s jest silly, sire. Ye shouldn’t give ‘er such mercy.

Cyrus: She’s slipped from my grasp once before. Something tells me she’s supposed to live for something that I’ve been looking for.

Spaidre: Nother… Kain… thing, sire? His prophecies, eh? Silly soothsayer, I say. (He gets more incoherent as he falls to sleep.) Can ne’er trust them Kadanis. Kittens, aye.

Cyrus: Goodnight, Mr. Loveless. (He kisses Spaidre’s shoulder and rests his head against Spaidre’s scarred chest.)

Outside, Bidelle limps far away from the clubhouse. Her eyes are swollen with tears and she can’t see where she’s going. The wound on her leg bleeds steadily, as well as the cut on her jaw.

Bidelle: (She cries out into the darkness.) Help, pleasssssssse! Anyone…

With her last word, she falls to the ground in front of a tall building with glass windows for walls. From the top of a much shorter building across the street, a young man jumps down to the street and runs to her side.

Man: Bidelle!? Bidelle, can you hear me? Bidelle!!

Bidelle loses consciousness, thinking she heard a voice that was familiar. She continues to lose blood while she falls into a deep sleep on the street.

Act One|Scene Two

Mon, 27 Feb 2006 22:01:55 GMT

Act One, Scene Two: Right Place, Wrong Timeline

Hawke stares at the girl completely dumbfounded. He has an uneasy feeling in his stomach, and he doesn’t know from what. The girl continues to talk gibberish to him, even though he cannot understand her words.

Even so, her tone is clear- she’s in a hurry, and she’s upset.

Hawke notices something that makes him even more uneasy. The girl has long, pointed ears.

Hawke: What the hell… Are you a… (His eyes go wide as he steps back a few paces) are you… a Cerian? (He backs himself out the door, as the girl still paces around in his house, eyeing him fervently.)

Girl: Ocamon! Yunodat! Lezgo! Yerdragonass!

Hawke: Look, just… leave me be, please? I don’t want any trouble! Please don’t kill me!

The girl gives him a look of utter defeat. She stops talking and grabs his necklace off his collar and starts taunting him with it.

Hawke: No wait! My mother gave me that! Give it back! You can take anything else!

Girl: Taykitbak! Comgitet!

The girl skips away from Hawke’s house in the direction of the Enterprise District. She looks back every few seconds to make sure that Hawke is following her.

Hawke: Please! Come back! We can talk this out, if it’s money you want, I don’t have any! Please! (He has to run to keep up with the girl’s long skips and jumps)

After thirty minutes of running toward the Enterprise District, Hawke and the girl pass the gates at the border. The scenery change is drastic and cutting to the eye. Instead of run-down buildings, shabby houses and unpaved streets, the Enterprise District sports incredibly tall buildings, black pavement and neon lights. The sun has long been set, and the lights of the city shine in the sickly colored pollution of the sky. Easy to spot, Big Jimmy’s Chick Shack stands a few hundred yards from the border, brightly glowing with red and pink neon lights. He doesn’t know it, but he’s exactly 21 minutes and 13 seconds late for what he was supposed to witness.

Thirty Minutes Ago.

Bidelle walks up to the line getting ready to enter the clubhouse called Big Jimmy’s. Many people stare at her as she passes. Even though she has Hawke’s sweater tied around her shoulders, it’s hard to miss the clothing she wears under it. Various whispers are heard going around the crowd as she passes.

Man: A black dancer! I thought they sent all of the black ones to Ceria for King Cyrus’s birthday!

Woman: Oh my, maybe she was sent back?

The whispers circulate until they reach the front door. The bouncer working the velvet rope hears of the presence of Bidelle and calls out to her.

Bouncer: Hey, dancer girl! (He catches Bidelle’s eyes for a second) Yeah, you! Get up here! The boss has been waiting for you! (Bidelle looks away, not realizing he means her)
You, girl, don’t you look away from me!

The near 7 foot tall, muscled bouncer bounds toward Bidelle, stopping inches away from her. He grabs Bidelle’s arm firmly and turns her around as if she were a piece of cloth.

Bidelle: Ouch! (She squirms in pain under his tight grip) Let me go, I did nothing wrong!

Bouncer: Girl, I was calling out to you and you ignored me. The boss would like a word with you, so come on inside, you can skip the lines.

He guides her through the crowd, violently pushing people aside as he makes his way to the front of the building. He opens the large metal doors and gently pushes her inside.

Bidelle: But wait, who am I looking for?

Bouncer: The boss, just head on back, you’ll know exactly which one he is when you see him! (He closes the door quickly and pushes some patrons waiting in line back a few feet.)

Inside the club, the ceilings are high and the walls are covered in old posters, lights and new wave art. Also lining the walls are scaled wings, evenly spaced and stretched as if they were flying. It looks like a hundred demons were slain and the wings were taken as a decoration. People fill the hall for the most part. There are at least 50 people on the balcony overlooking the dance floor, with another fifty surrounding the bar area. There are about 100 to 200 people on the dance floor, gyrating to pulsing techno music. Past the mass of dancing people, an elevated stage is shown, holding three people and their instruments. The person to the right is manning a large set of turntables. He has black hair and wears all black clothing with oversized headphones on his ears. To the left is a girl seemingly floating in the air, wearing all pink and holding drum sticks. Around her are black circles, each one creating a different pounding sound when she strikes them. Centre stage features a young man, barely in his twenties, with blue hair that covers his left eye. He wears a black shirt with a grey vest and dark grey pants. He carries a simple bass guitar on his back, but his music comes from his booming voice. He holds a neon blue microphone stand and sings amazingly well with the music. His voice is soft and low; a surprise for what he looks like. He spots Bidelle in the crowd and makes eye contact. He holds out his hand toward Bidelle, then makes a long sweeping movement to point his hand to his right, to a door about thirty feet from the bar area. He winks slowly and continues his song.

Bidelle inches her way through the crowd, making her way to the door. Again, many people in the crowd notice her and stare as she passes. She doesn’t give them much notice, and finally reaches the large iron door with gold handles. She pushes it open and is greeted with a bright, warm light from a chandelier on the ceiling. The room appears to be a large lobby, with a clerk behind a desk to the left and two hallways on either side of the room. There is a large central staircase leading to black doors at the top. The clerk looks to be a teenager and is wearing only a few bits of cloth held up by belts in strategic places. Her bright pink pigtails sway as she bounces to the muffled music coming from the dance hall. Without looking up from the magazine she is reading, she goes through her normal receptionist routine.

Clerk: Please have your identification and your invite or cash ready, please. Would you like our premium package tonight? Three white or yellows of your choice, ready in your room in ten minutes or it’s free. We have a special on Corinthia, our last red dancer. After this weekend, she’ll be promoted to black, so there are only a few days left! (She giggles softly and holds out her hand to receive Bidelle’s I.D. and money.)

Bidelle: Um, excuse me.

The clerk looks up and quickly replaces her glee with shock. She starts to twirl her pigtails with her fingers and chews on her tongue loudly.

Clerk: Um, um! This is a shock! You’re a black dancer, yes?

Bidelle: (Slightly miffed.) Does it look like it?

Clerk: Oh! Yes madam, I’m sorry madam, of course you are! Um, um! Let me see…

Bidelle: If you could just direct me to…

Clerk: Oh! You’re probably the one they’ve been waiting for! Please, go straight up the stairs and into the room up top, don’t bother knocking, they’ve been expecting you!

Bidelle: Oh… they?

Clerk: Yes yes, hurry along now! (She gets up from her chair and pushes Bidelle gently to the stairs and watches as Bidelle slowly ascends them) Take care, have fun now! (She giggles and shuffles back to her desk quickly as Bidelle reaches the top of the stairs.)

Bidelle places her hand on the cold black door. She can hear voices behind it, all talking fairly happily. She sighs in relief, knowing now that she can finally find out where she is supposed to be.

Act One|Scene One

Mon, 27 Feb 2006 21:59:49 GMT

Act One, Scene One: Déjà Vu

It’s been a few hours since the young man found the girl outside his home. After much struggling, he managed to get her inside of his tiny, decrepit room. She had no visible wounds on her, and the young man had no idea why she was unconscious. The rain has subsided for the moment, but the clouds have not left. Distant thunder can be heard, as well as a low bubbling coming from a pot on a run down stove. The man has hung his sweatshirt from a wire strung between two walls of the room. He now stands between the semi-broken stove and a tap that runs grimy water. In place of his sweatshirt, he wears a black tank top undershirt that shows a large tribal tattoo on his back, underneath the cloth. The design stretches over part of his shoulders, arms, and sides. It’s a black tribal star, but far more simplified than the one on his sweatshirt.

The man cracks an egg and pours the contents into the boiling water. He takes dried seaweed and rips it up and also mixes it into the boiling water. The smells seem to stir the girl, who had finally started to wake after a few hours of being knocked out.

She opens her eyes slowly, having absolutely no clue what to expect, nor really seeing anything more than a blur.

Girl: uuuuuungg….

The man jumps, burning his hand on the stove and swearing loudly. This prompts the girl to jolt, pushing herself as far against the wall as possible. She opens her eyes wide to see a tattooed man standing near an open fire and a kitchen knife, swearing loudly and looking completely angry.

Girl: (Whimpering) Oh god…. Please don’t kill me! (She holds her arms up in front of her face in a pathetic attempt to block in case the man attacks her.)

Man: (Turning around and seeing that the girl is finally awake.) Hey! You’re up! (He sees that the lady is looking at the knife in his hand.) Oh! Oh jeez… (He puts the knife down and holds his hands behind his head.) No no, you have the wrong idea! I’m not going to hurt you… please, calm down… (He walks over and gently pulls on her arms to see her face.) As a matter of fact, it’s the exact opposite. I saved you.

Girl: (Finally realizing where she is and everything in the room) wait… you… saved me?

Man: (Looking up, confused) Yes, you were unconscious on the side of my house… What happened? (He pulls out a few cushions and places them on opposite sides of a low table on the edge of the room. He motions for her to sit down.)

Girl: (Sitting down slowly) I... I don’t know.

Man: (He grabs the soup from the stove and spoons the contents into two bowls on the table. He sits opposite of the girl and starts to eat.) What do you mean, you don’t know?

Girl: (She warily lifts her spoon and fidgets with the soup.) What is this?

Man: Egg and seaweed soup. It’s supposed to be good for you. (Soup falls out of his mouth while he talks) But seriously, can you not remember?

Girl: (She takes a bite and deems it to be fit for consumption) Well, no. I guess I can’t. In fact, I can’t really remember anything… I could have sworn I was on my way to see someone… but I don’t remember who. (She looks around the room in somewhat of a daze. She thinks as hard as she can, but can’t remember anything about where she was heading or how she ended up in the worker’s district.)

Man: Do you at least remember your name?

Girl: Oh! Oh yes, my name is Bidelle. Bidelle… why does that sound so strange?

Man: Any last name to go with that?

Girl: Oh, yes! It- (She tries to remember but she has no idea what her name could possibly be.) Um… well, I guess I can’t remember.

Man: (He leans over and looks into her eyes.) So maybe you were in a lot of trouble… losing your memory isn’t just something that happens, you know.

Girl: Well, what am I supposed to do? Thank you for saving me? I can’t even remember my whole name… for all I know; you might have been the one to knock me on the head.

Man: (Ignoring the slight insult.) Your eyes are so very green. (He smiles warmly.) I like them.

Girl: (She blushes a little and diverts her eyes, turning her nose up in the air.) Hmph. What’s your name, then?

Man: My name is Hawke. Hawke Kitagawa. It’s nice to meet you. (He smiles warmly and extends his hand across the table, leaving his spoon in his mouth.)

Bidelle: (She shakes his hand gently) Heh… Here we are, eating together like we’re old friends. Somehow it doesn’t seem strange at all, does it?

Hawke: (He thinks about this for a moment) Huh, if you say so. I guess you might just feel comfortable because of some worse circumstances before.

Bidelle: True. (She thinks hard, but still can’t remember a thing) Hawke, can I ask you a few things?

Hawke: Sure, what do you need to know? (He spoons himself some more soup and Bidelle does the same)

Bidelle: Well, for a general question, where are we?

Hawke: Ah, we’re in my humble house in the Worker’s District of Colter Harbor.

Bidelle: Colter Harbor? Where is that?

Hawke: You’re in it. It’s an island city, north most island of the great waters and west of all the dead cities. To the west of here are forest towns reserved for the rich living areas of the High Council. South of those are mountains and other cities. Mainly they have markets there, since it’s so close to Ceria.

Bidelle: Ceria? (She feels that she’s heard the name before)

Hawke: Yeah, it’s the biggest city in the world. I don’t know a thing about it other than that, though. You see, I’ve never left this city my whole life, except for when I was born. I was brought here from a town called Kada. It’s right in the middle of all the dead cities. This is a nice enough town though- if you exclude the part where you’re from.

Bidelle: Where I’m from? I didn’t say where I was from. I don’t even know where I’m from.

Hawke: Oh! I’m sorry… I just kind of assumed. It’s your dress. Well… it’s a uniform.

Bidelle: A uniform?

Hawke: Yeah, Big Jimmy’s Chick Shack in the Enterprise District, to the west of here.

Bidelle: What the hell…? Chick Shack?

Hawke: Heh, just like the name states, it’s basically a brothel. The entire harem wear dresses similar to yours, just in different colors, based on their “ranking”.

Bidelle: Ranking?

Hawke: Oh jeez. How do I say this without sounding bad… well...? (He holds out his hand and reaches for Bidelle’s dish) Here, hand me that if you’re done with it. (He takes the empty dishes to the tap and washes them the best he can) A ranking is basically how wanted the dancer is to the customers who come by. White is a starter, then it goes yellow, green, blue, orange, purple, pink, red, and finally black. Black is the highest a girl can get, and I’ve only seen one or two ever, even when I worked there.

Bidelle: (She laughs a little) Wait, you’re telling me that I’m some highly prized whore?

Hawke: (Blushing) No, please, it might just mean you’re a very good dancer. I left there maybe a month ago, I might have it wrong. I only worked there a short while before I quit.

Bidelle: Hmmm. (She fidgets with the corset a bit) Why did you quit?

Hawke: Heh, well… (He moves the cushion away from the table and places it near the bed. He sits down with his back against the bed, leaning his arms on the top edge) There’s this… policy. Most new workers are expected to start fitting in immediately with the rest of the workers. They’re supposed to socialize to become more familiar with each other. It’s a way to make friends and be comfortable with each other, something like that.

Bidelle: That doesn’t sound bad. Are you antisocial?

Hawke: No, it’s not that. Well… it’s hard to understand. Let me put it this way- normally when they hire, they only hire in even numbers. They have a certain number of men and a certain number of women. The number always matches up. Do you see what I’m saying?

Bidelle: Uh… I’m afraid I don’t quite follow you.

Hawke: (He blushes a bit) Mmm. (He takes his sweater from the wire and plays with it nervously in his hands) They hired three women and three men that time. After working there for two months, Big Jimmy told us that it was time for initiation. The other two guys couldn’t wait for it. They make it a big event, and everyone who’s anyone in the enterprise district comes out to witness it. The women they hired had already been given their uniforms, one was white, another was purple, and the third was red.

(He puts the sweater over his shoulders and pulls his knees up to his chest. He places his arms on his knees and tries to hide his face behind them.) The white and the purple were paired up with the other two guys. They seemed so happy, too. I was scared to death; I was paired with a red. There were three reds in all, out of the two-hundred or so girls that worked there…

Bidelle: So what happened? Do you suck at dancing? Did you make a fool of yourself?

Hawke: (He pushes his knees into his chest a bit more and hides his face completely.) They didn’t want us to dance.

Bidelle: (A stroke of realization hits her) OH! They wanted you to initiate the girls! OH! I understand now! (She sits at attention, interested in what else he has to say) So… what happened?

Hawke: (He blurts out nervously) NOTHING! Nothing happened! I couldn’t do it! I just couldn’t! (Behind his knees, his face is a blazing red)

Bidelle: What… you couldn’t… you know… bring yourself to perform? Problems of that sort?

Hawke: ARGH. (Embarrassed beyond belief, he pushes his legs down and looks her right in the eyes) No! I have no problems of that sort thank you very much! I just couldn’t do that with some whore. A red one at that! I have no idea how many people she had been with, and I care far too much for my health to put myself at risk like that! Furthermore… (He cuts himself short)

Bidelle: Furthermore?

Hawke: Forget it.

Bidelle: No, please, I want to know. I won’t judge what you say, really. I’m truly interested in what you’re telling me. Please continue.

Hawke: (He looks at her, thinking for a while as to why he should or should not tell her) Fine… I’ve never… done that. Ever. Before. Not once.

Bidelle: (She looks at him confused) Wait, what are you saying? You’re… a virgin? Really?

Hawke: YES OKAY PLEASE JUST SHUT UP ABOUT IT

Bidelle: Wait, how old are you?

Hawke: 23.

Bidelle: You’re 23 and you haven’t…

Hawke: YES! I’ve had other things to do with my life; I don’t need girls to mess everything up.

Bidelle: So… what happened when you refused?

Hawke: They were shocked. No one had ever turned down something like that. And the dancer… she was so shocked. She was about to be promoted to black, and because I refused her, I heard she was demoted down to purple. Out of embarrassment, I left and never returned.

Bidelle: Harsh.

Hawke: Tell me about it. (He turns away, feeling better about coming clean to someone, but worse because he hardly knows this girl.)

Bidelle: It’s best not to worry, I guess. (She fiddles with her tassels a bit more) So... this “Chick Shack”... it’s in the Enterprise District? Just straight west of here?

Hawke: Yeah, you leave my house and it’s a fairly straight shot when you turn right. (He ponders her words for a second) Wait, don’t tell me you aim to go there!

Bidelle: Well, you said I look like one of them, right? I can’t remember a single thing about what I’m doing here or even who I am, so I figure that if anyone knows me, it should be there.

Hawke: But... (He starts to protest) I guess... you might have a point. It’s just not the safest place for women to be walking around, you know?

Bidelle: Then why not come with me?

Hawke: To Big Jimmy’s? Yeah, right. If I show my face there again, I’m sure I’ll be tortured to no end.

Bidelle: Then I guess you don’t think it’s too dangerous for me to go, then, eh?

Hawke: Oh come on now, it is dangerous. Especially the way you’re dressed.

Bidelle: (She pretends not to hear him) Look, thank you for the food and shelter. I owe you one, really. If you’re not going to be coming along, then I guess I’ll catch you sometime in the future. (She smiles warmly) If I find what I’m looking for-

Hawke: If you find anything or even if you find nothing, please come back and let me know. You’ll have a place to stay, no matter what.

Bidelle: (She smiles again) That’s very sweet of you. I should be back in a little bit then, eh?

Hawke: About an hour, if you make it quick.

Bidelle: Okay, if I’m not back in an hour, then I’ve found where I’m supposed to go. May our paths cross in the future, Hawke. (She starts out the door)

Hawke: Wait! It’s raining! Take this! (He hands her his hoodie)

Bidelle: (Taking it slowly from his hands) Are you sure?

Hawke: Yes, but be sure to bring it back. I’m only lending it to you.

Bidelle: I will. (She nods to Hawke and steps out of the door frame.)

She keeps walking until she’s out of Hawke’s sight. Hawke stands at the door in the cold rain, wondering if letting her go alone was the right choice. He steps back into his room and closes the door. He turns around to be greeted by a tall, pale skinned girl with whitish purple eyes and short white pigtails with orange highlights in them.

Girl: HIGHTUYUUUU!!!!!!

Act One|Prelude

Mon, 27 Feb 2006 21:56:38 GMT

Act One: Eight; Never Forget Who You Are
Prelude

It’s a very dull, grey day. In this part of the world, there is no telling whether the season is summer or winter. About 20 minutes ago, a steady rain started, soaking a young man in his late teens/early twenties. He wears a green hooded sweatshirt with a black design of a tribal sun on the back and arms, as well as long shorts that are the same color as the sky. He walks in soaked navy boots, which match the color of his now drenched hair. He weaves in and out of alleyways in a familiar neighborhood. He was in the area of the city they call the “Harbor District”, but he cannot remember why he was there. His body feels like a large iron weight as he drags himself through the streets to his run down room in the worker’s district.
He stumbles continuously careening through the narrow pathways between homes.
He may not realize it, but it’s been 2 days since he left the Harbor District.

Man: My eyes…

He blinks over and over, but can’t seem to focus very clearly.

Man: Damn this weather. I have to get back home.

He picks up the pace ever so slightly, and trips over his own feet, falling to the ground with a thud.

Man: Ugh. What a splendid morning in Colter Harbor.

He pushes himself into a kneeling position and cups his hands to catch some rain. He uses the rain to rinse his hands and face. But when he opens his eyes, he notices something a few alleys away, fairly close to his home. Slumped against a wall is a girl that looks to be very close to his age. She’s wearing the black dress worn by the entertainers at Big Jimmy’s hot shack in the Enterprise District, which is a short distance to the east of the worker’s district. Other than the dress, boots and stockings that are characteristic of the dancers, she also wears a very dark pink half corset around the middle of the dress. Even more strangely, attached to the corset are 5’ long ribbons which are part of the uniform and arsenal of the entertainers at Ceria, a secluded city, rumored to be very militant. Her hair is long, red and half held up in two large, loose twisted knots. Her eyes are closed and she doesn’t look like she’s breathing.

Man: Oh damn! (He picks himself up and jets over to the girl as quickly as his body would allow.) Miss, are you okay? Are you alive? Please say something!

The woman doesn’t react at all.

Man: Oh please don’t be dead. Just hang on; I’ll take you somewhere safe! (He props her up slowly and attempts to carry her to his room which is a few feet away.)