Eclipse

NYC. A three letter abbreviation. Could mean a lot of things for some people. Could mean a popular T-shirt saying "I [HEART] NYC" or a popular abbreviation for something else, like a part of the name of a merchandise store or a location. What it really means is New York City. And in 2047, it didn't really matter if people called it NYC or New York City. People called it NYC anyway, more so than the Big Apple. But it was still New York City.

2047. Technology was starting to marvel around its impending peak. Corporations like Samsung and Apple were still around, but someone called Alchemy was coming around the scene. Population was still growing, almost around 8 billion but it seemed that 7 and 8 were eating each other. Architecture and new 'holographic' screens were all around the place. Still, these holographic screens were not truly holographic; they are rather a mix of 3D and hidden illusionary sensors in the circuit boards that gave its contents a bit of a push onto the stage — as always, these were giving everyone's eyes the colourful orgasm they needed. Neon lights are also all over the place, with light fixtures improved to the point that there are no wires. Clever engineering.

There is no sign of an apocalypse happening in America. There are signals, however, that it is becoming the modern Neo Tokyo. The city looks rather dark with the dim blue blanket of an atmosphere and the monolithic, detailed skyscrapers. The government, for some reason, is in lockdown. And waves of police are patrolling everywhere, with the city and most of the America — probably some of the world — in primal state. Crime and vigilantism pays coins. But it is not apocalyptic, it is somewhere between pleasant and controlling. This feeling is the ever rising bile to the everyday civilians. And this reason is why the town is insomniac. This painted everyone in colour, akin to the ones in their carbon drinks.

In this sense, all they could to was gulp. A group of four were in a bar called Nightsky, full of mostly pinkish-red neon. There were three boys, one girl. They were all wearing at least a hat and some sneakers. Probably a new pair of Vans or some old Converse All-Stars. One was quiet, drinking a carbonated drink that is emanating neon blue coloured light from a transparent Solo cup. A good choice, indeed. Her eyes are quiet and active. They are not scouting the area or mapping out imperfections; they are introverted. Everyone else's eyes were nearly identical, save for the more energetic activity between the rest.

The rest of the nightclub is a phantasmagoria for the liberated side of people. There is a DJ performing music on a collection of mixers, turntables and Launchpads, connected to a single slim Tabloid. Out on the dance floor, everyone was wearing a variety of clothing and garments. Some were wearing skin-tight or loose jeans and shirt — the majority. Yet, some people are also wearing blazers, leather jackets, striped trackers that could be from Adidas. A majority of the females were wearing revealing clothing that helped the neon attach itself to the physical beauty of the plump breasts and thicc asses. One particular girl's top were covering her nipples and pussy, nothing else. People were doing it on the walls, fucking on the tables.

But on the bathroom, there is red neon everywhere. A bright red that pierced the eyes of anyone. There, energy is going back and forth from two people. The girl, small and petite, has her back pushing against the wall, legs swallowing the other one with purple hair thrusting into and rubbing against her. A rhythmic dance between the duo, with timing perfect and effective to the repetitive beat. Dicks flopping around and the smoke exchanged harmoniously from the two was repetitive, but oh so enjoyable. Cum was dripping and oozing everywhere, specifically the clothes dangling off shoulders and legs and they were getting ready for the finish.

Oh wait, that's the girl's? Damn, I forgot about that. Shit. Guess that concludes everything.

But the group of four are not dancing, are not ganging up on another, are not doing anything at all other than sitting around and waiting for the time to pay and depart towards home base. They are all silent; the girl, for sure, is not the one not enjoying it for what it is and is the one wanting to go home. So she broke the concentrated gaze and started looking at the other guys' drinks. They also were bright neon colors: green and red. But one of the drinks is clear. Not neon coloured or luminescent; clear as the night. And with a more prominent micro-squint of the right eye more than the left, she respected his choice and left it alone from her prying eyes.

"'Lright, y'all good?" The man with the goatee requests, standing at the table quite pissed with a slim-jim in his left hand.

The leader, the one with the clear beverage not halfway there in his flask, grunts a small yes and took out his. He takes his slim out for the man with the goatee, seemingly for him to take it. But the goatee didn't take it, a swivel from his palm to the tip of his fingers came Jim. And near the proximity of each other, they tapped the corners of theirs against the corners of theirs. Mr. Anderson showed on the screens, dissolving and reeling for each. It deceased from 45₿ to 30₿ for the leader and increased from 4₿ to 19₿ for the man with the goatee.

"C'mon" said the leader, signaling everyone with a simple clap. Everyone stood up and pushed in their chairs and left the littered table with the leader. Though, not perfectly. From the lobby, they entered a light blue lobby that shaped itself like a tunnel full of neon instead of lamps. Clumped up together instead of a rhombus, they waited for the leader to open the banged up plate of metal that, alongside its partner, guarded reality. But it couldn't stop them, so they let them go outside.

To be blunt, the leader slipped out a roll and a lighter. He lit the fresh end, it was sparking with joy over the attention it received from the fire. Inhale, exhale. Simple nature, yet to relax and tolerate it was a mastery almost all people couldn't handle in the first try. And everyone else smiled. Even the girl, who tried to initiate a conversation but had a lump in her theist and started coughing it up a bit. Her stomach felt weird.

One of the men there clutched his stomach, feeling something weird and painful there, and slumped over onto the floor out there in the alleyway. The three musketeers looked over at the guy and worried about wine. No, blood. Blood. Gunshot. And then, there was a clap. Everyone looked at the leader, but the last man slumped instead to the ground. The girl, defensive and loyal to her friends, whipped out a piece of metal and switched out the blade. And just as her friend fell, she stepped up to the perpetrator. With a jacket. She charged towards him, knife in hand and slashed as the leader fell. A dodge, a miss. And it proved to be her last. Easily, the man, a feminine twink easily, aimed his right arm at the girl's left leg and tapped, from his halfist, his pinkie against his palm. A bullet fired from the depths of his jacket, punching itself through the special material and gouging itself into her leg. A massive blood spurt erupted like Vesuvius on a hot day, proving it to be her last day in Italy. Falling back towards the wall, the boy kicked her square in the wound, causing her to collapse on herself. Merely, the boy stepped back and, in time with her descending jaw, he swiveled his arm in conjunction with momentum and let it fall down. The floor of her head was punctured with a needlesque object from his jacket and fell back onto the walls, incapacitated. Without remorse or a flinch, he shot straight through the pocket in her pelvic area. Hole in one.

He looked around everywhere to see if there was someone. His eyes were showing a bioluminescent neon blue in the darkness and then dissipated into nothing. Going to the leader, in pain and gasping for smug, he took out a device in a form similar to the slim-jims, but different in material and build. The boy's breathing was forced and heavy, his cuspids were showing. They were inhumane. They were analogous towards that of cats, his eyes showed more. He pressed the Harmonia against the other slim he found in the leader's pocket and never let it go. Anderson showed until the screen until the numbers reached the end for the leader and 52₿ for the boy.

A feeling on his wrist. The boy looked at his left arm, rolled up the sleeve. There was a ramshacklesque round watch there, connected wirelessly to an electric pad on the side of his head. On the screen were a couple of weird symbols, with dashes, lines and dots. They soon deciphered themselves into a single word.

"Sophie?"

"What?" Sophie asked.

A few more seconds. More Lucy. "Nothing."

And then, gone. Sophie left and dashed down the streets of a dim NYC. Worried about anyone tagging him, he ran for his fucking life. He thrust each leg after the other into air, bumping into people but he let everything take him as far as possible. But he decided fuck it and got out a long, narrow cylinder. It read Ayanami on the top half.

"Do you have the location?" Sophie asked out loud.

More Lucy. "Yes."

Immediately, he twisted the Ayanami and an orange LED illuminated the middle of it. With a heavy breath and a shaky hand, he jump. A 3 meter wide field enveloping him. 15 feet of pulsating blue with orange rings every 3 seconds after. And just like that, up he flew at such a high speed that he was scared fuck. Still, he was still feeling uncomfortable. Not his first time for sure, but he was going up around the height of the skyline but not there yet. And there was the paranoia of someone finding him.

Someone did find him. The guy shot first, but the field kept going up to the skyline and beyond towards somewhere that the watch knew. They grazed the right shoulder area of his jacket and the bullet exited out of the selectively permeable membrane. Sophie, instinctively, turned around the zero gravity space and shot back from his wrist. His pinkie didn't touch and he tried again. He missed. The guy shot two times at the guy with white hair. One time, it hit him in the leg. In pain, he grabbed it, turned back at the guy and shot again. Another shot. No, that's stupid. He rolled up his right sleeve in retaliation and there, the contraption was. A slingshotesque machine with a True Sight screen showing the stats of the ammo in the wrists. On the blue screen, it read in Magnavox the number 9, followed on the bottom right corner the symbol of infinity, small; three-quarters filled in and the rest was outlined. But it quickly filled in and then it was full. Seeing the needleesque object, the lever, he pulled it and the number 15 showed up. But then, he pulled it back until it clicked twice and then he bopped it down to the right side. A Triforce pulled up on True Sight and the head of a contracted harpoon pulled up. He aimed carefully and fired.

Bullseye. The head hit him in the chest. He swung his arm back and the wire also retracted back from the distance it travelled. The guy was finally in his face and coagulated his serious expression into a seriously pained one. Sophie, with a kick and enough anger, propelled him out of the field and into the open space. He was then a shadow, a speck and then a martyr, a mere shell. And finally, he was above the skyline and lowering down onto the roof of a building. What a short ride. But the view was kinda amazing and scary, but shit....

Sophie was almost upside down and the feeling was crazy and weird. So, using all the strength he could, he tried to turn himself right side up. He could only succeed in getting there with his stomach facing downward and the floor coming up towards him at such a high speed. He couldn't stop it in time. And it hurt a little like heaven, mainly in his stomach. His leg was.... fine. And once he got up onto his feet, he check the leg that was affected. Only a bullet hole and nothing else. Skin perfect, no scar or anything else. Pulling up the right sleeve of the jacket, he saw the Triforce on True Sight and pulled up the lever. A pullback, then it went straight up towards her wrist. True Sight then switched back to Magnavox. Pull up the sleeve, there existed a door in front of him. He walked through it and closed it.

The elevator took a bit of a long time, for sure considering that he was out of it. In the lobby, there wasn't any sign of neon or something like that. It was a regular, lamp-lit hallway full of rooms and more rooms. There were more or less rooms. A simple knock. Shave and a haircut, two bits. The locks unlocked, yet nobody was there behind the door. And simply put, there was no room full of people. So was this room. And in the living room, there was nothing except a TV, two beds and a desk. On the desk were a couple of equipment, such as a laptop and other Tabloids. Then, a small girl rushed up to him and hugged him quickly. Surprised, he took a step back and looked at the girl's white hair, petting her comfortably. She relented.

The girl was small and beautiful, about two inches shorter than him. She had a small petite frame and, unlike the girl at the red sea, she was fully female. She was wearing a long shirt and nothing else. But she had short white hair, with side bangs much like those in anime overlapping her ears. And her skin... was unfairly white. Her eyes had no color other than an unknown shade of grey-blue. It was a messy color. Nothing else. And there was something else off about her. She had... cat ears sticking out on top of her head.

"Can you hide them, please?" Sophie asked.

A vibrant movement on the left, more Lucy. "Ok."

Her left twitched. And then they were gone.

"Are you hungry, Aria?"

More Lucy. "Yes."

Barefoot, Aria walked towards Sophie and looked back at the space. The latter walked to the laptop and closed it. Then, he hurried to the door, where Aria was waiting for him outside. Some noise. Ears.

Close.