Part 02 - Streets of Rage

Part 2 - Day 1 (Continued)

Local

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“Hey! How do you mine for concrete ore?”

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Local

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“Why isn’t this joystick moving my car?”

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Local

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“Can I have money? I want money!!”

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My ears were bleeding.

Hordes of loud masses chattered incessantly, begging, griping or just being totally lost. The sound was deafening and I felt my intelligence draining every second I was exposed to this wicked, unholy sound.

But I was not without a means of defense! Utilizing lightning reflexes, I tried to roll up my windows as a defense against the noise… but all I got was a faint ‘This automatic window is already in the process of activating…’ whispered to me by some disembodied female voice.

Before I could enjoy her pleasant tone or wait for my damneed window to even begin the process of rolling up, my thoughts were once again cut off by something terrible. A shrill cry, which had to have been the strange lovechild of an epileptic seizure crossed with the noise one makes when struck in the solar plexus.

Local

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“Join murderdethkorp! It’steh superuberleet!”

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A shudder filled me at the shriek, that terrible sound emerging from the window of a lopsided Thorax, which in itself was perhaps the most horrifyingly shaped car known to mankind.

I screamed in terror. I screamed in confusion. I screamed for the sake of hearing my own screams block out such unholy words, spoken no doubt from the lexicon of an ancient and long dead lovecraftian death-cult. Reflexes kicking in again, I stepped on the gas pedal and gunned my Ibis’ underpowered engine, driving as fast as I could through the heavy traffic. Though I swerved through traffic, a curious observation dawned on me while the shrill cries of the locals died down.

In this city, dozens of discarded yellow crates littered the streets everywhere, advertising different companies. Each of these seemed to claim association with the number ‘1337’ in a cryptic manner in which I could not understand.

Even more bizarre than the inane local chatter and streets littered with empty advertisement crates, the design of the other cars on the road made my head spin. A great number of them were completely asymmetrical, in manners in which no automobile could operate. My rusted old Ibis felt a little heavy on the left side, and always had issues turning the other way, but some others exhibited a great deal of fault.

While driving my way to some place safe to find work a pair of new model ‘Moa’ pulled over on the lane to my right, before falling over and crashing into a hideous fiery wreck along the side of the road. I wondered if this was thanks to the brilliant Caldari Automotive Corporation’s idea of only putting wheels on one side of the car. This was a different and terrifying world.

The wrecks didn’t stop me from running by them of course. I drove right out of downtown, to find a nice safe spot to settle down and catch my breath. A sign caught my eyes while I parked and stretched, posted high above a building adjacent to me. It was called the ‘Barnes and Noble Logistics Center’, and a broad ‘now hiring’ sign seemed so alluring to my miserably poor self.

As I stepped out of my little Ibis, I took a big stretch, kicking aside another inconveniently placed yellow advertising box.

“Get yourself together. This can’t be as bad as Jita Ave...” I told myself. As you can see, I was quite good at the art of the bold faced lie.

I clicked my heels heels together and began to walk forward, one step at a time. Entering through the doors to the front desk, I couldn’t have expected the shocking response….

(To Be Continued)