Chapter 1: Chikou the Cunning, Chisatsu the Searching

RING! RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIING! RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIING!!!

The unfortunate young man, probably more dead than he was alive, tumbled in his shredded bed as the annoying sound of an alarm clock buzzed in his sleepy ears. With crusty, bloodshot eyes, he examined the clock, yawned once, and feebly reached under his pillow for a gun. In the darkness of the morning, his numb fingers found the weapon, and lazily pulled it out to attack the offending alarm clock. With a nerve-shattering explosion, the bullet smashed the alarm clock into smithereens, and the ringing abruptly died.

“ ... I hate that thing,” moaned poor Gregory as he gazed at the spot his clock formerly occupied. Now, of course, there was nothing left except for useless debris, smoke, and a tiny black spot that had been charred on his reading desk. He moaned in a weak victory, then slumped down on his pillow again to try and recover his sleepy mood.

Gregory J. Rodriguez, born on Earth and raised everywhere else, had not seen much of King Morpheus since his arrival on Saturn Space Station 02. It was true that he had been quite the busy fellow, having to perform “errands” for other people, and it was true that he liked his job well, but at seventeen years old, even his energy had to fade sometime. Case in point: last night. He had just gone through an arduous “negotiation” with some drug shippers, and had ran into some “problems” while engaging the leaders. Thankfully, he had escaped with nothing worse than a few bad scratches and a deeply-bruised arm; his first mission cost him a finger and a whole pint of blood.

Waking up at 5:45 in the morning was not Gregory’s idea of a reward for his job. Not even the payment he received, 5,000 units, satisfied the pain he felt across his body. Of course, things could have been worse. He could have been stuck with her (then again, he did regret asking to go on that mission by himself, eventually). Gregory moaned and tossed in his bed, wishing that he hadn’t thought of her at such an early hour.

Suddenly, the door to Gregory’s room opened, and a tall and slender woman slipped inside. She had been wise enough to leave the hall light off; otherwise, the gun beneath his pillow would have been used again--and again. This woman, dressed only in a silky negligee, slinked inside the room and gazed down at the half-awake young man.

“Morning, lover,” she whispered huskily. “Did you enjoy last night? I know I did...” Gregory moaned, and rubbed his weary eyes as he adjusted to the morning.

“ ... Do I know you from somewhere?” he asked. The woman scoffed and clicked her tongue in irritation. The way she stood and crossed her arms indicated irritation from her part.

“Ugh, morning yourself,” she muttered. Gregory’s face grew bright, reasonably enough (considering the hour was so early that not even the morning paper had arrived), and he smiled as he recognized the voice.

“Oh, Dana, it’s just you,” he sighed, slumping back to his pillow. “I thought I was being attacked by a succubus.”

“Hmph,” she snorted, “you would have been better off if you did. Admit it, Shifty, you’re glad to see me.”

“As glad as a lobster is when he sees melted butter,” mumbled the tired young man. Dana let out a halfway-bitter chuckle, and bent down to shake her partner awake.

“C’mon, Shifty, you can’t stay in bed all day.”

“Why not?” he mumbled. Dana pouted and shook him harder.

“Because adventure’s calling, that’s why!”

“So let the answering machine get it,” he mumbled. Dana snorted, raised her leg, and slammed the heel of her foot down on the poor man’s body. She kicked him until he begged her to stop, then to make sure he didn’t go back to sleep, she flicked the light on and tore the covers off his bed.

Gregory, or Shift as everyone seemed to call him, hissed like a vampire being exposed to the sun once his room lit up. Thankfully, he was a little more presentable than the woman in his room; otherwise, a scene would have ensued. Mumbling in irritation, he finally slipped out of the bed and made a show of stretching.

“Now that you’re awake, maybe we can accomplish things,” said Dana as Gregory scratched his head. “You’d better wash up, or else I’ll never let you downstairs to eat.”

“Ugh, no fair,” grumbled Gregory. He leaned over slightly, rubbing his back and popping the air out of his fingers. Gregory normally wasn’t so haggard-looking: he was usually average in appearance, not too tall nor too weighty (he had a problem with food--that is, he ate whatever was placed before him), and neither handsome nor unattractive, just a pretty average, everyday Joe. He had the kind of hair and eyes that suggested a much more laid-back style than even this early morning grogginess, and although he never could stand out in a crowd, he was indeed a very unique, albeit sleepy character.

Sleepy Gregory eventually obeyed his “partner in grime” (as he called her) and took his usual shower and shave. Gregory J. Rodriguez had made a habit of waking up early so he could snoop out the best jobs while everyone else was still asleep. Usually, though, these jobs would be held at night, so he was almost always a zombie in the morning.

When people first met Gregory, and plenty already had, they usually asked him one of two questions. “Why don’t you sleep during the day?” was the most popular; the second was “Where did a guy like you pick up a beauty like Dana Withers?”. Believe me, he would reply to the second, if I knew that, I’d be a lot happier than I am now. The answer to his first question was easy: nobody posted jobs at night. Morning was a prime time to look for the next big payoff; evening was usually reserved to actually carry out that specific job.

As to how he met Dana ... Well, that was a little more delicate (Gregory never could piece together the entire scenario, no matter how much he tried or how much Dana told him). When Gregory first arrived at Saturn Space Station 02, one of the oldest pseudo-colonies floating around the gaseous planet, he had came with a minimal amount of income, among other things.

Try not to dwell on the past, his father once told him. It’s lost forever and there’s no use worrying over it. In fact, not even the future is worth the effort. Try focusing on what’s happening now, because that’s the only thing you can control.

“Thanks, dad,” he said as the spigot soaked him wet. Gregory was smiling, but it was more nostalgia than anything else. His father was right, of course. The past was gone already, and no one knew the future, so why put forth the effort to bother over it?

It kills the boredom, he had suggested. Gregory shook his head, sending droplets of water flying, and tried not to jump from topic to topic. He had difficulty staying on one subject for very long, even if it was one of great interest. He sighed, and began thinking how he had met Dana...

Chapter 2 »