Hayen Mill - Hall of the Future - Fiction (w/Illus. by Stefan)

For this entry, our friend Hayen Mill gives us an action-packed tidbit with a noir edge. Part II is in the first reply to this post.

Illustration by Stefan

The body lay still with splashes of blood all over the wooden floor. The back of the guy was facing me, and I could count at least three holes. It wasn't a pretty sight. Suddenly I wished I'd skipped breakfast. Next to the bed, a small, almost shy wisp of cigarette smoke kept slowly rising. I leaned forward. What a waste of perfectly good tobacco. One of the young forensic policemen hurried towards me. You could tell he was young by the way his badge was polished. It shone even with the dim light that came through the blinded windows.

'Sorry, sir. That's a piece of evidence.'

I leaned back and took a cigarette out of my trench coat. I lit a match, and then the cigarette. I exhaled right at his face, smiling.

'Shame.' - I said.

I headed closer to the body, when one of the overseers came closer. Measle was his name. He was the one charged with keeping an eye on my progress. Something felt wrong with calling me here, to this bloodshed, to discuss other things. But I don't make FBI protocols.

'So, Theon, how's wife and kids?' - asked Measle.

'It's Mr.Mill. Why did you have to meet me in this place?' - I replied, coldly.

'Just a standard procedure for covert operations of this kind. I hope you don't mind the sight' - Measle said, with a strange smile.

I took another smoke while looking around the place. The forensic team had brought one of their DNA-collector robots, which looked more like a coffee machine on wheels than anything else. It went around the floor, snooping the wall between the two windows.

'So, what news do you bring?' - interrupted Measle, impatiently.

'I've heard some talks about a big trade that's gonna happen soon, but I need more time. The family hasn't let me up on the ranks for a while.'

Measle stood looking at me for some seconds, then tightened his shoulders, while looking even more miserable.

'One would think that after two years undercover you'd be able to get us some more intel! After all, it's not that hard to gain the trust of some mindless thugs.'

'I guess that's why you feds have always failed in your previous covert missions, then. You lack the attention to details necessary when dealing with mindless thugs.' - I said, scornfully.

'Oh, shut it. Just remmember where your bread is coming from. Let me know the second you find something!' - yelled Measle, and then turned away, heading towards the building's elevator.Was I doing it for the money? I wasn't sure anymore. It gave me more pleasure to annoy Measle than to get paid twice as much as I would in an ordinary case. Still, my hands were tied. And I had a job to do.

I took the stairs in the building and headed towards the nearest taxi stop, on the 30th floor. Somehow I still felt a dim sense of nausea with heights. I should've taken the morning pills. The taxi came flying through the corner of the 23rd avenue. It had very flimsy lines and a worn yellow paint with streaks of black. From behind, a cloud of dark brown smoke kept choking off the exhaust. As I entered, the hot air from the hover system almost flew my fedora out of spot. I had to be careful; I was still paying interest on that hat. Fashion had become expensive, these days.

'Where to, buddy?' - asked a chubby middle-aged figure holding the steering wheel.

'E. Chestnut Street, and step on it' - I said.

Those were the magic words between a pleasant trip and a rush of adrenaline. With the touch of a crank, the taxi driver turned off the hovering system and we began a free fall, flying through the chaotic invisible roads where rows of other flying vehicles rushed through. Around a 5th floor height, the taxi driver turned the hover crank back on, stabilizing the taxi in a jolt, while pushing me hard against the seat. Thank God for seatbelts, I thought.

I paid and left the cab. E. Chestnut Street was just outside of Chicago, close to the Outer Harbor. In the distance you could hear a distant buzz, and a huge set of skyscrapers elevating themselves to the sky. There was a slow steady rising fog of burnt petrol, not of a city on fire, but as if it was the tip of a cigarette on the mouth of an industrialist. I walked until a grimy old warehouse close to Lake Michigan. Its entrance seemed abandoned, but I knew better. I rang the bell on the main entrance.

'Who is it?' - said a deep voice, as the black and white video conference inter-communicator turned on, allowing the other voice to grasp a view of the visitor.

'It's me, Petrucci. Open the gate.'

With a click, the magnetic mechanism of the steel gate opened, and I started heading towards the building. I hated walking that muddy floor, especially when I'm wearing Dr. Martens. Luckily they had a robot cleaner just outside of the door of the warehouse. Two bodyguards stood there looking at me, holding their United Defense M42s, while I tried to find a couple of cents to pay the machine.

I finally entered. The place still looked pretty empty, apart from a couple more containers with the stash since last time I visited. There were a couple of office tables scattered around, one in particular being in the middle, with about 8 chairs. Filberto was sitting there, casually smoking a cigar while playing some cards with three other family members. Tammaro wasn't there, which got me feeling all kinds of uneasy; he was the one who trusted me the most.

'Theon, about damn time!' - said Filberto, while lowering his cigar and exhaling a deep grey smoke.

'Where's Tammaro?' - I asked, looking around. I was halfway expecting all of them to grab their machine pistols and fill me up with holes. I can be overly paranoid at times. Thankfully they remained still, smoking and playing poker. One of them even folded the nuts. What a rookie.

'He was caught covering up for a thief. I had no choice but to take him out in the woods. You know we can't afford to lose any more stack; restrictions on transportation have been stricter than ever, since that French upheaval took place.' - Filberto had said it while keeping a close eye to my reaction. But there was none.

'I see. Is that all?'

'No, and you better pay attention. The big deal is gonna happen tonight. Call Alessandra at once, she'll bring the truck to transport the product. Make sure you don't fuck up; we don't get many of these 'clean' deals often.'

That is, except the deal last month where we traded some of the stash for a couple of M1941 Johnsons LMG, no launder required. But I wasn't looking for a quarrel. I just nodded and headed towards the door to get a better signal. I took my pocket shortwave radio and dialed to Alessandra. After doing that, my eyes rolled over the display bar. No one was around, and Filberto was dead. Maybe the feds weren't so bad after all. There was no point on remaining loyal to the family if you get shot in the back for trivial shit like a petty theft. I dialed Measle.

...continued in comments...

Tags: Athena Exhibition, Hayen Mill, Stefan, fiction, future

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Permalink Reply by Athenaprime on August 2, 2010 at 10:14am

...continued...

The truck came from the thick sky and hovered over the ground for a second, before resting upon it. Its intense orange paint and streamlined lines greatly contrasting with the distant fog of the city. Alessandra came out, wearing blue overalls and a green G.I. jacket.

'What the hell are you looking at, boy?' - she yelled, aggressively.

'The stash is in the left corner. Hurry up and meet me in the front gate in 15 minutes' - I replied, coldly. She seemed especially tense that afternoon. I guess I would feel tense too; I hate overalls.

We finally arrived at Montrose Harbor, north of our warehouse, into a gloomy factory. It was abandoned, but it still kept a pretty good shape. Some of the windows had been broken by some young punks. Kids these days. The orange truck I was in followed the white car ahead, where Filberto and some of the others were. They scouted the area, making a circle above it, and then descended towards one of the lateral entrances, making it obvious that the path was clear. We followed, though Alessandra miscalculated the drop, making the landing itself somewhat harsh. For seconds I was tempted to do a sexist joke, but I figured she was too tense already with me bossing her around.

She remained by the truck, drinking a coke, while me, Filberto and some of the boys entered the place. Inside, the whole place was filled with steel containers, of all different businesses and trades. In front stood a man dressed in a lab coat and with a dubious hairdo. There were about four thuggish man standing around, moving some wooden boxes from one of the containers to the floor. We approached the Einstein wannabe.

'Joseph Mengel, I presume?' - asked Filberto, slightly bending the front of his fedora down, in greeting.
The scientist turned around and smiled faintly. He picked a box and placed it on the table between us and him. He opened and made a gesture with his hands, as if he was carrying something heavy, though we could not see anything. He then made the movement of placing something in the table, next to the box.

'Here she be. Remarkable piece of engineering, ain't she?'
Filberto and I looked at one another, and moved our hands an inch closer to our holsters.

'Is this a joke?' - asked Filberto

'Of course not!' - shout Joseph. He pulled a small remote out of his labcoat pocket, and squeezed it gently. Before us, the invisible object started to catch some sort of interference, its color swiftly changing, until it finally appeared as a spider-shaped steel robot, roughly the size of a football. Its silverish steel casing was so polished I could even see my reflection. As Filberto was leaning forwards to touch the spider-robot, it moved away from his hand.

'You must forgive her; she is still hardwired into obeying me exclusively. Once we finish the deal, you will gain exclusive control.'
Filberto turned around and snapped his fingers to one of our boys. He left the door and few seconds later Alessandra came driving the orange hover-truck through one of the lateral garage doors.

While two of the thuggish scientists unloaded the stash for count, I start getting this weird spine feeling. Skeevies as I call it. I looked around slowly, but everything was going smooth. That's when I notice Filberto. He seemed to be trying really hard to get my attention with his eyes alone. We cross our eye contact, and he hints that I should look at the backdoor, carefully. The boy who was guarding it had disappeared. Something was wrong. I didn't even think of the feds no more. We had to do something.

Filberto made another glance, this time towards the back of his hover-car, which was also inside the factory. I knew what was in the trunk. And I knew why Filberto wanted me to get it. In the briefest of moments, I dive for the floor, leaving one of the thuggish guards, who was leaning against the wall, exposed to Filberto. In a quick holster flick, Filberto puts a thunder in the guard's chest, while I roll around the flat, grey, dusty ground, until I reach the trunk.

Now, thing is I wasn't expecting the scientist to press his remote device meanwhile I had been crawling. So when i turn around with the M1941 from the trunk, all the spider-robots had already become invisible. I manage to spot one through the corner of my eye disappearing late enough that I knew where she was. I'm able to take it down, but it took a whole magazine. Those things were hard as hell. Filberto, however, didn't notice one coming close him, as a speck of dust approached his left side while he was taking cover behind crate. I couldn't reload, but I still had my pistol left. I ran towards Filberto, and as soon as I approach the spider-robot, the damn thing turns around and shoots a .44 caliber round right at my chest, right before I hit it with my electromagnet pistol. I fall hard on the ground, and I wasn't able to breathe properly; I think I had a perforated lung. Filberto approaches me, with horror in his eyes. I wasn't able to listen to what he was saying, but I managed to apologize, even though he didn't understand. As my last breath came, I suddenly thought of my brother. Maybe I was going to see him soon.

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Permalink Reply by Hayen Mill on August 4, 2010 at 9:04am

Anyone got any comment to make...? Any criticism whatsoever...

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Permalink Reply by Athenaprime on August 4, 2010 at 11:33am

Hayen, I liked it. It has a gritty, honor-among-thieves feel to it. I like the hints of weird tech and would like to read more about the weirdness. I also want to know the aftermath, and more about Filberto. Also, somebody needs to do a pin-up of Alessandra.

It's a great start, and I wouldn't mind reading more. In action scenes like this one, you sometimes have to sacrifice interesting backstory for the sake of pacing, but with a longer piece, there's time to get that sense of the world when the action takes a lull. (I did a short story for this expo, instead of a vignette from a longer piece, and it wasn't easy keeping the description and the action balanced enough to give the reader a sense of place. I still don't know if I pulled it off.)

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Permalink Reply by Hayen Mill on August 4, 2010 at 4:10pm

Well I intended this to be a story in itself, with Theon Mill dying in the end. And I had a certain limit of the number of words. I see now that there is indeed room to further explore Filberto, which I will add in the next story. Don't worry, I will make a "tease" of what I am planning of the next story soon (I already started writting it). Thank you for the kind words! And maybe i'll see if I find someone to draw Alessandra, although I didn't intend to explore her more, but thanks to your words an idea is forming in my head as I type =]

Athenaprime said:

Hayen, I liked it. It has a gritty, honor-among-thieves feel to it. I like the hints of weird tech and would like to read more about the weirdness. I also want to know the aftermath, and more about Filberto. Also, somebody needs to do a pin-up of Alessandra.

It's a great start, and I wouldn't mind reading more. In action scenes like this one, you sometimes have to sacrifice interesting backstory for the sake of pacing, but with a longer piece, there's time to get that sense of the world when the action takes a lull. (I did a short story for this expo, instead of a vignette from a longer piece, and it wasn't easy keeping the description and the action balanced enough to give the reader a sense of place. I still don't know if I pulled it off.)

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Permalink Reply by Athenaprime on August 4, 2010 at 4:19pm

One thing I always find sad about noir is that it doesn't really explore the female characters nearly as often as I'd like. So yeah, run with it!

Hayen Mill said:

Well I intended this to be a story in itself, with Theon Mill dying in the end. And I had a certain limit of the number of words. I see now that there is indeed room to further explore Filberto, which I will add in the next story. Don't worry, I will make a "tease" of what I am planning of the next story soon (I already started writting it). Thank you for the kind words! And maybe i'll see if I find someone to draw Alessandra, although I didn't intend to explore her more, but thanks to your words an idea is forming in my head as I type =]

Athenaprime said:
Hayen, I liked it. It has a gritty, honor-among-thieves feel to it. I like the hints of weird tech and would like to read more about the weirdness. I also want to know the aftermath, and more about Filberto. Also, somebody needs to do a pin-up of Alessandra.

It's a great start, and I wouldn't mind reading more. In action scenes like this one, you sometimes have to sacrifice interesting backstory for the sake of pacing, but with a longer piece, there's time to get that sense of the world when the action takes a lull. (I did a short story for this expo, instead of a vignette from a longer piece, and it wasn't easy keeping the description and the action balanced enough to give the reader a sense of place. I still don't know if I pulled it off.)

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Permalink Reply by Cap'n Tony on August 4, 2010 at 8:50pm

Sorry for the delay in responding...time, you know.

Anyway.

I liked it! Dark, gritty, and with a twisted ending. Very noir. The dialog was properly clipped and to the point. My major correction would be in tense. It slides back and forth between present and past tense, sometimes within the same sentence. Since he dies in the end, I advise going with the present tense as first person past tense in a "he dies at the end" only makes sense if written from the afterlife.

Otherwise well written and excellently paced. I'm waiting for the upcoming project now!

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Permalink Reply by Tome Wilson on August 4, 2010 at 10:46pm

I agree with the Cap'n regarding the tense changes. Give it a good white wash in the present tense and watch how it really punches up your style.

http://www.be-a-better-writer.com/passive-verbs.html

Also, try reading your dialog out loud. It really helps you get into a character's head, and helps you develop a unique voice for everyone on the page. It also helps you keep the dialog from getting too authorly or wordy. People don't throw paragraphs at one another; they speak in clips, even in noir. The only time this rule should be broken is during a monologue or soliloquy. That's when writers like Chandler would replace half the keys on their typewriters with commas and semicolons.

Above all, I love knowing that you're back in the saddle. It's been a year since you first said you wanted to write a solid dieselpunk piece, and this is a big step down that dusty road to the future.