Growing up in Area 22

Orion held his Coda pistol firmly in his hands while peering down the sights of the reflex scope in front of him, his fingers stuttering as they caressed the trigger. He took another long, deep breath.

"Shoot!" he growled.

The blast of his gun blasted open the head of the mobkuza in front of him.

Like a planet of endangered post simians going supernova while listening to dubopera.

A beam of white Shots came flying thru the window on the opposite side of Orion. With two quick counter reflec shots it was done, leaving the body of another pirate on the floor next to a pile of rubble. His face was mangled and There was blood all over the scene. He was just another one of them. Another gun trying to make a life in a cat eat cat world. Surviving in this miserable, violent, corrupt world, he thought, had been the easiest part. Now that was over. All the other parts of this life were after him. Surviving in this desperate city after the terrible war had drained him. He was tired. Like an old salty piece of liquorish on a hot Daymar day, He wiped the sweat off his face.

His eyes were cold, indifferent eyes.

He let his gun drop.

He struck a match with his thumb and waited to see what would burn.

He lit his rolled smoke, it was the finest strain of spkush from New Babage.

Even as it smoked, the faded wrappers floated in the air above him. He watched. They smelled good, and tasted better, they were meant to warm him in icy climates.

They kept him from freezing to death once on the cold plains of microtech. but that was another time, another place.....

The End