How far would you go to NEVER fail again?
This question will push Noche L. Grim to the test as she attempts to join the Cross Military. With their resources she intends to find DeathTech and recover her memories.
However, when she lives on a conti...
Rusty, red, and abandoned, the ferris wheel stood out under the peaches and cream-colored sky. Out of commission for quite some time, it stood motionlessly against the morning sun and nearby ocean. The air was dense with the smell of factory smoke, rotting fish, rusted metal, crude oil, burning diesel, and smoldering coals.
TICK.
Next to an adjacent warehouse were metal shipping containers full of cargo. As well as factories of aged brick, barely held together by metal bands; and bolts the size of a thumb. Antiquated windows, covered in slimy green moss, stood massively in the mortar. Industrial towers reigned the sky with billowing clouds of white smoke.
TOCK.
It was inside one of these towers, behind the massive wall of glass, that the silhouette of a man lit a cigar. The rising sunlight had yet to reach the dim room he stood in. Letting out a large puff of smoke, he watched the wisps slowly fade and fuse into the factory smog. As he inhaled again, a woman in red picked him up off the ground by his neck.
TICK.
He stared at the woman, her eyes bandaged and a big malicious grin on her face. This blind girl pressed him against the glass wall, cracking the decades old pane, as the clock tower stood in the distance.
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On the distant clocktower sat a crow. It had a glint in its eyes, and spread its wings, but didn't caw. Past the clock circlet and massive gears was a small wooden room; residing atop some decrepit wooden stairs. The wooden room was musty, and the smell of fungus filled the still air. On a bookshelf was a photo frame. It showed a middle-aged man standing next to a young boy in spectacles, and brown clothing, who was playing with firecrackers.
TOCK.
There were two recently used beds, a nearby table with an old wax warped candle, a bookshelf with many photo frames, and a medium sized dresser. On the bedside table was a cracked glass, half filled with water, and a piece of moldy bread. On the dresser were some envelopes and papers, most of which were overdue bills, that were being held down by empty orange transparent pill containers.
TICK.
The door on the ground floor unlocked and a much older version of the man from the photo stood in the doorway. He was now shorter and required a cane, but otherwise looked the same; if slightly older. Holding a paper bag overflowing with groceries in his left hand, he approached the stairs. In his old age, they seemed to trail up infinitely to him. With a sigh, he began the trek upwards.
TOCK.
Halfway up, a wooden plank broke under his foot. The old man stumbled backwards in the worst way possible. He glided above the stairs before hitting the wooden floor below. His grocery bag contents scattering to the winds. Reds, greens, oranges, a glint of yellow, some brown, and other colorful objects moved about in a blur. Apples splattered, oranges bounced, and a bag of bread slid on the ground. As everything settled, the paper bag slowly floated down and made a soft crumpling noise in the now nearly-silent clocktower.
