Through the Heart of Everyone (Utena and Tinus)
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		<h2 id="linktree">Play-By-Post: Bondage, D/s, S&amp;M =&gt; Bondage: Human Solos =&gt; Topic started by: Utena on 02-02-2011, 19:08:18</h2>
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				Title: <strong>Through the Heart of Everyone (Utena and Tinus)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Utena</strong> on <strong>02-02-2011, 19:08:18</strong>
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				Mara looked up at the sound of the magnarail as it hummed by overhead before reluctantly turning her attention back to the rickety wooden walkway. It would not do to get distracted and step through one of the rotting planks to the brackish water below especially now she was within sight of her destination. She double checked the address on the package latched to her wrist and glanced around once more before finally locating her target among the cluster of secured high-rises ahead.<br><br>If she had the credits to spare she would have taken the magnarail. The enclosed elevated rail linked all the secured scrapers and shuttled its privileged passengers around the walled safety of the Lower Manhattan district. If she had, this trip would have taken a mere twenty minutes instead of the four hours she had required just to navigate the rotting, partially collapsed walkway that connected the buildings of Lower Manhattan just above water level. But if she had that much credit to burn she would not have needed to take this rush delivery job in the first place. All morning and most of the afternoon had been spent on this one job, first travelling to the submerged section of Brooklyn, then the marathon trek back because of course there was no direct connection between Lower Manhattan and Brooklyn and had not been since the national guard had secured the area after the Flood.<br><br>Collecting the package from the Brooklyn tenement had been relatively easy. The hard part had been convincing the gangs who controlled the territory that despite the curves, she was not easy prey. Thanks to her expertise with the wooden baton and a few well placed bruises she had been able to negotiate safe passage to and from Howard Beach and once back, a well aimed kick to the knee and a dash to the docks blocked the mandatory double cross that seemed to accompany all gang interactions. <br><br>The afternoon sun burnished the nearby glass scrapers, the multiplied reflections adding a golden luster to her cocoa skin and setting the very air around her afire. In a way, making her way through the channels of Lower Manhattan was just as difficult for her as braving gang territory. She sighed over the extravagant luxuries and wasted resources that surrounded her. The perfumed garden terraces might be the epitome of wealth but all she could think of was the scores of families that could survive another few months on vegetables grown in just one of those terraces. <em>What must it be like to spend all your time amid such glory?</em> she wondered. Swinging her bag of scavenged mussels and barnacles more securely over her shoulder, she turned away from the enticing scene, trying to swallow the envy and continued on her way. <br><br>Gritting her teeth in frustration as she was forced to leap yet another gap in the walkway, she groaned as she clipped the edge and water splashed her combat boots. <em>Well at least I wasn’t soaked</em> she thought to herself. Finally arriving at her destination she paused to tug the light blue formfitting FleetFeet jacket more firmly over her hips and attempted a professional demeanor hoping it did not bear too close a resemblance to a scowl before approaching the bulletproof window of the security office in the lobby.<br><br>“Secured package” she informed the guard, “Needs a signature and thumbprint for release.”<br><br>The guard gave her the once over and then glanced at the package she held up for his inspection before motioning her to the electronic body scan. Once she and the package had cleared the x-ray, and apparently thinking better of the pat-down after noticing the dangerous glint in her tawny eyes, the guard led her to the bank of elevators behind the security office and keyed in the floor on the elevator pad. Apparently he’ll still look even if he doesn’t have the courage to touch she thought sourly as she caught the guard eyeing the long stretch of shapely leg her form fitting courier uniform did little to hide. The noncommittal smile deepened to a scowl.<br><br>The elevator doors finally slid open and she headed to the reception desk where she obtained the signature and thumbprint necessary to release the package cuff from her wrist. She smiled briefly at the receptionist who was already whispering into her intercom before she turned back to the elevator and the waiting guard, already considering how to stretch the credits for another few months of survival.<br>
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				Title: <strong>Re: Through the Heart of Everyone (Utena and Tinus)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Tinus</strong> on <strong>08-02-2011, 07:11:19</strong>
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				Early that morning, the far wall of Lucho’s bedroom wall shifted from its edgewater blue to the dawn of a perfect island day as the sounds of jungle life seemed to stir in the room.&nbsp; He slowly extracted his arm from under the sleeping mass of blue hair that was his limited-partner Jade.&nbsp; He tried to catch the alarm before it woke her, “Summer, set Jade alarm, plus two hours, low.” She was a diplomat for the stateless mega-corps Darnell, spending most of her time courting the UN at its new Headquarters in Nairobi, Kenya.&nbsp; “Never mind, I am up,” a bare arm waving at him, “don’t go yet.”&nbsp; They started their relationship four years prior, meeting at a conference on “The New - New York,” establishing this household in gentrifying Spanish Harlem within a month.&nbsp; After the floods, the rich migrated to the higher parts of the city. Unlike Jade, Lucho maintained only this formal limited-partner relationship. He crawled back into bed, “okay but I cannot stay long, I have to be on the Evens M-rail by 8. Summer,” he gave the home system simple tasks to shift his schedule, “cancel personal trainer at 6, have Nico’s send up coffee, push staff meeting to 8:30.” as he crawled back into bed with her, he saw the three tasks light up unobtrusively on the corner of the bedroom info display wall.&nbsp; <br><br>He wrapped his arms around her, “so you never said why you came back yearly.”&nbsp; “Maybe I missed you,” responded coyly, wrapping herself around him before coming clean “and I had a meeting with local Darnell office.”&nbsp; Odd, he thought.&nbsp; The local office had long since fell in prominence with flooding along the East Coast and the balancing of financial services throughout the world.&nbsp; Secure communication was a foundation block for any mega-corp so most meetings except for the most sensitive need not be conducted in person.&nbsp; Jade was a middle ranked diplomat, so perhaps she really just wanted to see him.&nbsp; With a grin, he turned over on top of her, “Well, this man is not complaining.” <br><br>He and Jude showered together talking about improvements they would make to the suite of apartments that they had converted to their flat on the 33 penthouse floor of the Jefferson park complex.&nbsp; Lucho had grown up here; the son of a politician mother who lived among her consultants.&nbsp; His mother, Alejandra Gonzales, had foresight while a local council representative to back the construction of the elevated magnarail along the path of the 2-4-6 subway system long before the water had broached the poorly planned protective walls around the city.&nbsp; She advocated for the creation of the 106th and 110th street and 1st ave canals, accepting the future of increasing flooding, pooling the waters into the Harlem Meer and Jefferson Park.&nbsp; She would be proud of the neighborhood now, Lucho thought in her memory.&nbsp; &nbsp;His mother, still majestic in her energy, was brutally beaten; body dumped on a construction barge on the East River.&nbsp; The police investigation lead to the arrest and conviction of four local thugs.&nbsp; Father long since forgotten, Lucho was granted the estate which paid for a boarding school, then college.&nbsp; His friends thought he lost his mind when he decided to return to the old neighborhood.&nbsp; Lucho becoming a leading developer of reclaimed real estate among East river and sole developer Jefferson park complex.&nbsp; He ran for election last year and won by a wide margin.&nbsp; She would be proud, he thought, he hoped. With the shortage of flood safe housing, Spanish Harlem had become a target for gentrification.&nbsp; &nbsp;<br><br>Jude kissed him goodbye at the door asking to meet for dinner later that night off Central Park around 8pm, which he set into his calender.&nbsp; He made it out by eight, walking along the canal crossing the bridge at first toward the 110th street station, past St. Ann’s and the power station aided in the effort to save the street.&nbsp; Lucho greeted the street vendors along the way, nuns keeping a watch on small children as they approached the school and delivery men on gondolas. Summer, his personal AI whispered in her seductive private voice in his ear, “35 dollars, day trip deducted, added to expense report.”<br><br>Lucho jumped on the first mag heading downtown, finding a seat comfortably with the other well to do passengers, reviewing his mail.&nbsp; Summer had divided it into personal, constituents, politics and other, flagging those seeming to need attention with red banners.&nbsp; Oddly one was in the others pile, so he opened it.&nbsp; A deep voice screeched into his ear before the auto-volume adjusted it, “Lucho Gonzalez, have you forgotten all that your mother stood for?&nbsp; We hope not, the evidence will come to you soon,” and the voice sounded off.&nbsp; He checked the send address but the AI claimed it came without one nor transmission detailed, and thus had flagged for inspection.&nbsp; Odd.&nbsp; He booked marked it for later.<br><br>At the office his day took on a familiar rhythm.&nbsp; The staff meeting delegated most of the action to his staff.&nbsp; His hour of correspondence guided by the AI Summer was followed with lunch with a local female celebrity, then meetings with local interest groups.&nbsp; &nbsp;Finally, getting a moment along, he slumped back in his chair when the chime of the secretary interrupted,&nbsp; “Package Mr. Gonzalez,” called the voice of the pretty pool secretary out front, “shall I send it in?” Lucho accepted the package, which had no return address, opening it confidently since the security system in the building was designed to catch any number of biological, chemical and explosive threats.&nbsp; It was a stack of papers bounded in by string with a note on top.&nbsp; “This is all the evidence you need that the Darnell Corp is acting against the will of the people.&nbsp; Your mother would have acted in the interest of the people.&nbsp; Will you?”&nbsp; A data chip was attached to it, he pressed it into his desk player.&nbsp; <br><br>The display wall shifted through a multimedia display contrasting the cities worst neighborhoods with the opulence of the rebuilt.&nbsp; Scenes flashed by of the cities worse events, food marches in Central Park followed scenes of wealthier grocery stores.&nbsp; Commercials for sky-rise condos were interlaced with a shaky camera walking tour of dilapidated alphabet city.&nbsp; <br>List of reportedly missing people ran over scenes of police making arrests.&nbsp; All the while a political diatribe of conspiracy droned on.&nbsp; Lucho had scene these propaganda pieces before, but the last scene froze him in his tracks.&nbsp; The voice narrated, “and those who rise to their duty,” a picture of his mother filled the screen, “are often those who pay the ultimate cause.” Long distance, low light scene played out, police officers kicking a body on the ground.&nbsp; The body went limp, the video speeding up as cops milled and eventually left the scene.&nbsp; Then the camera walked to the spot, speed of the film falling back to real time.&nbsp; It was dark, handlight of the camera off until it was standing over the body.&nbsp; When it cut on, his mothers beaten face filled the screen.&nbsp; “Do you think she died for this?”&nbsp; <br><br>Lucho could barely contained his anger.&nbsp; How could they be so cruel fake a video of his mother’s death?&nbsp; He signalled for the secretary, “Have security stop the courier and return them to my office...now.”&nbsp; Then he told his AI to call for police assistance and attach a copy of the video. 
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