Cyan Falling

A New Dimension

The Kratos Lounge. That was where Cyan had arrived only moments ago, parking his bike down on the street and climbing his way up a fire escape to get to the top of the building where he was perched, looking across the street to the busy venue on the other side of the road.

The sky had become dark as the sun dipped below the horizon, neon lights shining bright enough to compensate in its absence. Still, it left rooftops and alleyways dark enough for him to stay undetected as he scoped out the building and made note of all the entrances and exits. 

There was a nip in the air that evening. He didn't know if it was the weather, or just the weight of such a heft job hanging over him that prickled against his skin, but he certainly felt the sensation raising the hairs on the back of his neck. He had done big jobs before, but this was in a completely different league.

There were a few blacked out windows along the top of the building, about a foot tall and two feet wide. The entrances that he could see from his position were the front doors, where people were being let in procedurally by two large bouncers, and a fire exit around the left side. The only other exit was a back door behind where the bar and staff changing room must have been.

He had seen a man dressed like a bartender, with a black waistcoat and a t-shirt with the lounge's logo on it exit through the door to put out a bag of rubbish into the large trash cans outside. The exit lead onto a small alleyway that ran behind the lounge. It could act as an escape route if he really needed it. It wasn't ideal, but it would be less crowded that the front and easier to get to through the crowd. 

Cyan fiddled with the settings on his visor and zoomed in on the front entrance. The people going inside definitely seemed to be on the richer side of the spectrum, dressed in expensive brands and decked out in various jewellery and tech. 

He pulled up some descriptions of the man he was looking for. He figured that he would be easy to spot once he had scoped out the inside of the venue. He didn't usually make a habit of getting up close and personal with his targets, but on this occasion, he didn't see himself having much of a choice in the matter. He would need to go inside in order to figure out the man's location. 

He pulled back for a moment, weighing his options. He couldn't go in through the back door, he would immediately be called out by the kitchen staff, which meant that the only way he would get in was through a bathroom window or by walking in through the front door. He didn't exactly have many brand items on him and he would have to attempt to smuggle his weapons in past the bouncer, so the front door was definitely out. 

He supposed that that left him with the bathroom window. He could spot it if he zoomed in, the only window that was smaller than the rest and propped open. It would most likely be a tight fit, but he'd spent his whole life getting himself out of tight spots and fitting through a small window was definitely one of the easier ones to navigate.

Cyan zoomed back out on his visor and took a stand from where he had been crouched at the edge of the building's rooftop. He moved back to the edge and swung himself over the edge, making his way down the metal fire escape. As a random thought, he noted to himself that the council or landlord really ought to do something about the amount of graffiti that covered the walls and railings, and the black paint that was flaking off in rusted chunks.

When his feet finally met the ground of the alleyway, he walked to the edge and peeked out between the two buildings, checking his route before making his way across the road to the lounge.

When Cyan shimmied through the window, cautious of his weapons and buckles snagging on the frame of the hatch, he landed soundly on the tiled floor. It had been uncomfortable, but he figured the bright side was that he was lean enough to fit through the thing in the first place. He had almost thought that his shoulders wouldn't fit through, but he had just about managed it.

He was just grateful that by some miracle he was the only one in the bathroom. He didn't want to think about the possibility of an awkward encounter with some poor i***t caught with his trousers down. 

The bathroom had a white tiled floor and black marble walls and counters, only stopping where the mirrors above the sinks were. Everything about the place looked uncomfortably expensive and lavish for a simple public bathroom. It was better than some of the dingy places he'd seen though, and he wouldn't expect any less from a man as rich as Belvarrian Callus. 

He could hear the deep bass of the music playing throughout the lounge thrumming through the walls and floor. The bathroom must have had some thick walls, or some kind of noise cancelling insulation built in for the loud music to be coming through so muffled. He knew that it would be much, much louder once he was out in the middle of it. So, without wasting any more time, Cyan poked his head out through the door and surveyed the crowd for a moment before stepping out into the midst of them. 

He watched around for a bit from the side-lines as the people moved together on the dance floor, while others sat in booths or at the bar with their fancy cocktails. He eyed the upper floors, behind a metal fence, noting that the VIP area was sectioned off by a velvet partition and a security guard. 

Still, all Cyan had to do was to find a good vantage point and get in one good shot, and he'd have Callus out for the count. If this didn't work, he'd have to leap the barrier and possibly get physical. He was definitely strong enough to take on the guard, but if Callus managed to slip away in the fray of things, it would be a living nightmare trying to follow him or track him down again. 

He had to be fast. 

Cyan walked carefully over to the bar, careful not to bump into anyone on the dance floor as he went. The bar itself was made from some kind of frosted glass with an ambient white glow, while the neons all around were a blood-like red. He supposed that the colour was fitting for a place made for the uber-rich by a major crime boss.

The bass thumped through Cyan's ears as he turned his attention back to the VIP area, eyes locking onto where Callus should be sitting with his lackeys. In the low lighting he managed to catch a glimpse of the man. His hair was slicked back and jet black, he looked young, but unnaturally so, like someone who had  been through his fair share of mods and genetic enhancements. There was something about the man that was just eerie, strange even for the kind of person that came to a place like the Kratos Lounge. He supposed that it was fitting for the owner to be a lot more disconcerting than the patrons.

Then again, half the people in that place looked like they were the waste products of their own frivolous spending. He couldn't entirely blame them for their trend-following mentality. It was the age of technology after all, so why not play the peacock, flashing their money with their own bodies on top of their lavish possessions? 

Callus was talking to at least three other people at his table. They were talking amongst themselves in what looked to be secretive, hushed tones. There were various drinks on the table in front of them, but Callus had such a stereotypical drink in front of him (a whiskey on the rocks) that Cyan almost laughed under his breath.

Cyan moved, keeping his eye on the target, behind the edge of the bar, between the shelves of alcohol and the wall with the metal railings of the upper floor. From there, he was low, but had a good view of the target. He knew that he would be able to hit him from there, he just had to line up the shot and get it down quickly, or he might lose his opportunity.

Cyan pulled out his pistol and aimed down the barrel, between the bars of the railing, straight between Callus' beady eyes. 

He lined up and got ready to take the shot. This was a big job, bigger than anything he'd ever pulled off before in his days as a soldier or a mercenary and that was saying something. He took in a breath and as he let it out, he pressed down on the trigger. 

The bullet left the chamber and the bullet cut through the air, but at the last millisecond, Callus moved and the bullet clipped the side of his temple. Callus grabbed the side of his head as his eyes darted around furiously and Cyan may have felt his blood run a little cooler when they locked eyes. Callus got up from his seat and said something to the guard that he was too far away to hear.

"Shit." Cyan cussed under his breath, holstering the pistol and running around to the steps. He had to get to Callus before he had the chance to disappear.  

He vaulted over the barrier and ran towards the booth. The guard lunged at him as he went, but Cyan was quicker. He jumped up, using the wall of the booth for momentum and landed a sharp punch across the guard's cheek, sending him reeling backwards. The man spat his blood onto the floor and squared up again, but again he was too slow. Cyan had fought too many men like him before and knew exactly how to use their size and weight against them. Before the guard could react, Cyan had climbed up onto his shoulders and brought one of his moonblades down to slit his throat.

A spray of blood splattered against the red and black leather of the booth seats and the glass table. 

Ignoring the distant scream of horror coming from one of the many patrons behind him, Cyan turned on his heels and ran after Callus as quickly as he could. He had seen them disappear through a door in the back of the lounge. He tore after them, yanking open the door to find a long, white corridor, red fluorescent lights lining the ceiling. He ran, paying no heed to  the doors at the sides and aiming straight for the one at the end. He knew that Callus would be looking for a quick getaway and the fastest way out was through that door.

When Cyan pulled open the door at the end of the hall, he was smacked in the face with a blast of cold air. The inside of the lounge had been way too hot, the air filled with smoke machines and packed bodies. He looked around frantically and saw Callus getting into a hover-car and speeding off. 

Cyan had to attempt to go after him on foot until he got back to his bike. Luckily, the car was headed back out towards the main street that ran adjacent to the lounge's entrance. Cyan pushed himself into a full sprint, legs moving so fast he barely felt like he still had control over them, breathing harshly. 

Reaching the end of the street, he made a sharp turn to where his bike was parked and hopped on, starting the engine and linking up his visor in what must have been record time. In a matter of seconds, he was tearing down the road after Callus' vehicle.

The two weaved in and out of the traffic at high speeds, shooting at least three traffic lights as they went. Callus almost managed to slip away a couple of times as he made sudden turns and moved from back roads to the main ones with seemingly no pattern, but still, he was unable to shake Cyan's pursuit as he raced behind, hot on the crime boss' tail.

The neon lights of the streets whizzed past in an erratic blur and the wind whipped past Cyan's face. The shine of the billboards lining the buildings and the headlamps of cars became a whirlwind of glowing colours all around. Cyan could hardly register the honking of car horns and the shouts of angry drivers as he dodged around them, focusing down on Callus, who wasn't all too far ahead of him anymore.

Cyan quickly opened a compartment on the side of his bike's tank and pulled out a small tracking device, one that was light and had its own internal cloaking device, so that once it was attached, it would be almost undetectable. Just as he started gaining on Callus, Cyan threw the device forward and up into the air at full force.

The device landed squarely on the roof of Callus' car, but before it could latch on, it started to slide backwards, tumbling over the edge of the back windscreen. Cyan watched with baited breath as it teetered on the brink of falling to the street, but released a relieved sigh when it managed to latch itself onto the boot of the car, just under the windscreen and activated its cloaking system, vanishing out of sight. 

At least now, he would be able to track Callus' getaway vehicle if he managed to dip out of sight again. 

All of a sudden Callus' car pulled into a tunnel and Cyan raced after him. The tunnel was black apart from from the cat's eyes speckled along the middle of the road and the corresponding fluorescents that travelled along the ceiling. It was like going through a wormhole, black as ink but for the spiralling lights.

It seemed to go on forever, until finally something appeared in the distance. There was some kind of swirling, multi-coloured circle filling up the entire width and height of the tunnel, leaving no space at the edges. 

Cyan didn't have too much time to think as it came further into view. Callus drove his car straight through it without slowing down and it was too late for Cyan to back out now. As Callus disappeared, Cyan realised that the swirling surface was a Vortex Portal. 

Vortex Portals, otherwise known as Vortex Gates, were exactly what they sounded like; they were gates or portals into different areas of space or, more often than not, into different dimensions. They were used frequently by traders and political factions, as well as military units to get from A to B. It was the fastest way to get across massive spaces without the innate danger of uncontrolled wormholes. 

Cyan braced himself as he sped through the portal after Callus, at top speed. 

For a moment, everything was spinning, flipped on its head and stretched out in unnatural angles. Cyan revved the bike's engine, an exercise in futility, and the whole place around him made him feel like he was trapped in some wild, surrealist fever dream. The tunnel around him was endless, weightless, constantly fluctuating and moving, and then it was propelling him forward at a break-neck speed. 

Before he knew it he was catapulted through the exit of the Vortex Gate. His bike flew ahead of him with more momentum and broke apart in the sand with the force of its entry, while Cyan landed heavily on his side, arm twisted back at an angle that shouldn't be possible for anyone who wasn't a contortionist. 

He lay still for a moment, face and body pressed into the hot sand. At least he knew that he was somewhere dry. He allowed a few seconds to lapse before lifting his head and attempting to sit himself upright. He yelped out in pain as he moved his damaged arm and sucked in a seething breath through his clenched teeth. It was definitely a dislocated shoulder and possibly a broken wrist. He considered himself lucky that it was just that and the rest was just a few scuffs and bruises. 

He groaned as it settled in that he would have to pop his own shoulder back into place. It wasn't impossible to achieve, but it was going to hurt like a b***h when he did it. Cyan gritted his teeth and moved it back with all his might, shouting in pain as it snapped back into place. 

He took a few deep breaths and finally looked around. He was in some kind of desert, the heat from the two suns beating down on him and in his tight gear, he felt as though he was boiling alive. He took in a few more deep breaths and the air scorched his throat and lungs to the point that he felt like he was choking on it.

Something inside of him was burning.

Something was wrong. 

Something was very wrong.

All of a sudden it was like his insides were turning into molten magma. Cyan fell back into the sand and writhed in agony, unable to hold back the scream that forced its way past his lips. His voice barely even registered as his own, sounding foreign to his own ears. 

His veins felt as though they were on fire, as though his blood was acid and his internal organs were about to explode out of his body. Cyan kept screaming, physically unable to stop as he choked on his own voice and tortured sobs wracked through his body like tempestuous waves. 

He curled in on himself, almost in the foetal position as his whole body shook from the intensity of whatever was happening to him. His vision blurred and went unfocused, head pounding and pulsing. As his vision cleared momentarily, he pulled one of his gloves off and saw that his skin was agitated and covered in red blotches, and his veins were visibly pulsating and glowing a strange bright orange colour.

He felt himself panicking, his heart rate skyrocketing as he hyperventilated, coughing and sobbing still as he tried to comprehend what was going on. The burning, acid-like feeling crawled its way through all of his limbs and travelled up through his chest, causing him to convulse. Suddenly is was tearing through him and in a searing pain that hit him like an avalanche, a bright orange light burst out from his body in a tremendous shock wave. 

Cyan breathed, spasms shaking him and he reflexively managed to get himself up on his knees and forearms, the pain from the rest of his body masking the pain from his shoulder and wrist. His body shook again as he got up, just in time to vomit all over the sand.

Cyan took in a few heavy breaths and turned himself over, away from the vomit before collapsing. Whatever energy he had, left him in an instant and his limbs were as heavy as boulders. 

Cyan closed his eyes.

When he opened them again, there was much less light, the two suns setting over the sand dunes. He could hear growling coming from somewhere off to the left of him and whatever it was, it sounded big.

Cyan struggled to lift his head and when he did, what he saw really made him wish that he had never accepted the job to go after Callus. 

Six dog-like creatures stares at him with glowing, purple eyes. They were massive, at least seven heads taller than himself and built like tanks. When he moved, they snarled viciously, baring their uneven, sharpened teeth, frothing at the mouth as the growled lowly in warning.

His breath caught in his throat and he froze in his spot, not wanting to move again lest they choose that moment to leap towards him and bring his life to a abrupt and messy end.

Before he had much time to think on it though, one of the dogs lunges for him anyway and he quickly threw himself to the side. Luckily some of the survival instincts he'd built up in the Space Force were still with him despite his ragged and exhausted state. Callus was long gone too, but it was the last thing on his mind when there were much more urgent matters to attend to.

Cyan grabbed his gun out of its holster and fired at the mutt that had gone for him. The first five bullets simply bounced off of its thick hide before the gun itself jammed and fizzled, sending a plume of smoke from its side. Cyan huffed and threw the gun at the dog instead, knowing that it was the only use the weapon had left in such a state. 

In that moment, Cyan was endlessly grateful that his visor had survived the force of his fall after going through the Vortex Gate or it would have been far too dark for him to be able to see anything with the two suns already having set. Luckily, though, his visor had a night vision mode that automatically adjusted to light levels. 

The dog creature shook it's head when the butt of the gun hit against its muzzle. It glared back a him though with so much venom and hunger that a chill ran down the middle of Cyan's spine. The sand shifted beneath his arms and legs as he shuffled back desperately and the beast threw itself at him again, this time two others joined in, coming at him with gnashing maws. 

Cyan, unable to grab for his moonblades, threw his hands out in front of him, swinging his arms out and suddenly he felt a surge and bright orange energy shot forth from his palms in a massive blast of energy and sent the dogs flying backwards into a sand dune, landing unceremoniously in a heap.

Cyan felt drained, fatigue overcoming him and he stumbled back again, landing to sit on the sand, legs tangled in front of him. His vision was getting blurry again, fading in and out of focus, when he heard the distant sound of someone yelling.

"Get back! s**t! Hold on okay? Stay with me! I'm going to get you to safety, I promise!" The voice shouted out as bright yellow laser blasts shot across the scene, knocking down the dogs until they were no longer moving. The voice was soft and light, but urgent in its tone and Cyan found that it was the only thing that he was able to really latch on to as his vision failed him.

"Hey! Hey there! How did you get here? s**t, you came through the gate, didn't you? You don't have a mask..." The voice trailed off and he was faintly aware of something cold being placed over his nose and mouth, something that made it a hell of a lot easier to breathe.

"Don't worry, okay? I'm going to get you out of here..." The voice said.

Cyan felt an arm curve around his shoulders and under his knees. He tried to open his eyes and focus and for a brief moment he could see almost neon-yellow hair and the most stunning set of eyes he had ever witnessed. The left eye was a warm honey-like deep brown with flecks of gold and the other was a piercing sky blue with icy grey near the inner iris. It was gone almost as soon as he managed to focus on it though, his vision slipping away once more, along with his consciousness.