KEPLER IX

Lyra Moore a Prologue

The back fire of an old N-6 woke me from a deep slumber. It's fumes seeped through the open screen just above my bed creating a pink, swirling haze. Holding my breath, I rushed to the living quarters. Personal cruisers weren't allowed to fly at that altitude within the Compound for this very reason. I leapt onto the grand, bay window that sat facing the Intell. Through it's frost bitten panes, I could still make it out.
"3 - AF0"

Outlining the I.D. number in the condensation, I let out a deep breath warming the glass making the information more visible. "There."

Even with the neon water droplets dancing down the window panes, I could still follow the perp's tail lights towards the city limits until they were finally out of sight.
Stretching out from my position, I fidgeted around looking for my notebook. 

Where was that stupid thing? I was sure I had left it on the end table- Ah! there you are.

"Three, dash, A, eff, zero." I thumbed through the pages, perching on the arm of the couch. "Mhm, must be new." I scribble down the I.D. number and small description.

3-AF0
Red Body
Single Seat
Double Tail Engine
Tail Wing
Back Fire

The simulation wasn't scheduled to begin for a couple hours, so I had time to catch some more sleep, I thought to myself jumping back from the couch, swinging on the doorframe of my sleeping quarters, I silently landed back on my bed. 

I couldn't tell you what I had been dreaming when the engine woke me earlier but my heart had been pounding in my throat and all the hairs on my body were on edge. Usually I have vivid dreams but this, this one was different. It felt...different.

I laid there for a moment lost in past memories, when suddenly a sense of dread filled the air. I couldn't pinpoint the scent at first but it left a bitter taste in my mouth. It reminded me of a childhood full of rough housing and scraped knees.

Snapping out of it, I could hear quickened footsteps rounding the corner of the alleyway. Harsh breathing echoed off the empty building beside ours through my still opened screen. I poked my head up for only a spilt second but I knew it was him, "Mifune."

His brassy, iron door slammed shut my under my feet, rattling the floorboards. Mifune was the older gentleman that lived on the bottom floor of our building under mine. He was an average height and build, for a male mammal, with light brown hair that he slicked back behind either ear. A rugged and dirty beast yet always sporting clean cut.

I could hear the steamy water rushing through the chilled pipes down to his floor. Mifune comes and goes for extended periods of time, but without a doubt, no matter what, he always takes a shower the moment he arrives home. If the water doesn't start within minutes of someone entering the room, then I know it's an unwanted guest and let me tell you about his guests.

"Mifune, you sons of ah bitch!" 

A large male throws a bolder at Mifune's window, missing. "I'm gonna fuckin' kills ya if you don't have my credits!" Throwing another patch of gravel and missing yet again. "You hear me, boy?!" The silver-tongued male in a purple suit howls as he bites down on his gar letting out a cloud of smoke from every hole in his face.

His goons bang on the door once more before entering. Their boss threw his gar on the ground and returned to his escourt cruiser parked in the alleyway, where he waited until they were fished ransacking Mifune's place. At this point, I can't imagine Mufune owning anything of value with how many times it's been broken into like this.