Santa Barbara
13-03-2004, 02:04
[OOC: 1. This is rated S for seriously disturbed. So yes, graphic content, rated R probably, but its not what you think! Or maybe it is... 2. This is actually taking place in the PAST, but it will merge with the present in conjunction with all my other internal storyline threads.]
Sonya closed the door to her flat.
A modest, orderly yet interesting parlor stands before her. The main 2-d set, two Panorex speakers, a classic VHS video tape module, two EmGee home computers, a large, old beanbag sofa she inherited from her mother, a black reclining leather chair by Mako Furniture (a subcorp of GladBurger), her bar, stocked with everything from Moonsap to McCloskey's, an integrated HPDS holographic communications system, and an MP1 node complex console all inanimately awaited her touch.
"Lights," she said. On they came, a soft medium level that the node complex knew she liked.
Sighing, she flopped down on the sofa, enjoying the feeling as her body pressed crunchily into the bags.
Channel surfing.
She laughed derisively at the moronic general access channels, stuff she knew the Conglomerate used exclusively to lull consumer-citizens into a comfortable numbness. Right now, the evening sitcoms were coming on, but these she passed quickly. There was little worthy of her attention on the tube.
She grew uncomfortable, as she tended to do whenever idle. Life wasn't as simple as it had been, growing up. Then it was all about getting there, about beating the competition and suceeding. Later she had had to find ways around the stupid, leering and drooling manboys who seemed to populate the world. But now she was set, and there was often times when she had nothing to do, no further business that day, and could lord over things if she so chose.
These times were a new thing to her, still.
Ignoring the television, she caught glimpse of herself in the mirrored wall to the east, lying on the sofa, her short skirt riding up her thigh; light coconut skin. She quickly looked away, but couldn't help herself from looking again.
The female form was more interesting than the male.
Embarassed, she stretched and stood up, deciding to fix herself some tea.
No, she realized. She couldn't just lord over everything. Several powerful individuals didn't much like her, and a few hated her with an intense passion. "President" Abadas was one of them. He was "elected," though, which put him under scrutiny, making his actual power seemingly limited. Given the chance he'd probably burn her at the stake or something, though he still managed a perfectly genuine smile at her each Board meeting.
Besides that, there was the whole Neo-Feudal Party. What nonsense. She snorted derisively at the manboys and their habit of giving themselves ridiculous names to make themselves feel better. They already had the power, why purposefully grow decadent?
The real question was Bob Pratt. The old bastard is reportedly growing crazy up there in his office, ever since liquidating his brother.
Sonya didn't feel too sad when she learned of "the General" Toby Pratt's death. In fact, she had restrained a bray of unladylike laughter upon hearing of how he supposedly died, some 'communications error.' She couldn't fault the saps for not knowing, or not wanting to let on the truth of the matter. She herself only guessed that Gonzalo Tzu was involved, and had pulled some impressive tricks to exert power over the Supreme Strategic Core Commander of the entire ITDO, even as he lorded it in his ironically named Impunitas battlecruiser.
And someone had convinced Bob to pull the trigger. Maybe Bob convinced himself, but she did not think this likely. Gonzalo Tzu was an icy man, whom she never trusted and had learned over the years to respect his professional, inscrutable nature to do what was best for himself. And he perhaps stood in line, if Bob were liquidated.
After Abadas and Fernando and herself, that was. Perhaps the others. She had the feeling the man was plotting some sort of regime for himself, other times she suspected him of only wanting to control from behind the scenes.
Worrisome. Yes.
But he wasn't head of the Overwatch Program, that was for sure. Toby Pratt had been succeeded by one of Heinrid Abadas's puppets in that department. Abadas was undoubtedly first on Tzu's list.
She realized the whining, whistling sound as the tea kettle after two seconds of complete indifference. Quickly but steadily, she poured the water into a rounded but hefty tea cup and began stirring the bag.
Suddenly, The Voice spoke to her.
Sonya closed the door to her flat.
A modest, orderly yet interesting parlor stands before her. The main 2-d set, two Panorex speakers, a classic VHS video tape module, two EmGee home computers, a large, old beanbag sofa she inherited from her mother, a black reclining leather chair by Mako Furniture (a subcorp of GladBurger), her bar, stocked with everything from Moonsap to McCloskey's, an integrated HPDS holographic communications system, and an MP1 node complex console all inanimately awaited her touch.
"Lights," she said. On they came, a soft medium level that the node complex knew she liked.
Sighing, she flopped down on the sofa, enjoying the feeling as her body pressed crunchily into the bags.
Channel surfing.
She laughed derisively at the moronic general access channels, stuff she knew the Conglomerate used exclusively to lull consumer-citizens into a comfortable numbness. Right now, the evening sitcoms were coming on, but these she passed quickly. There was little worthy of her attention on the tube.
She grew uncomfortable, as she tended to do whenever idle. Life wasn't as simple as it had been, growing up. Then it was all about getting there, about beating the competition and suceeding. Later she had had to find ways around the stupid, leering and drooling manboys who seemed to populate the world. But now she was set, and there was often times when she had nothing to do, no further business that day, and could lord over things if she so chose.
These times were a new thing to her, still.
Ignoring the television, she caught glimpse of herself in the mirrored wall to the east, lying on the sofa, her short skirt riding up her thigh; light coconut skin. She quickly looked away, but couldn't help herself from looking again.
The female form was more interesting than the male.
Embarassed, she stretched and stood up, deciding to fix herself some tea.
No, she realized. She couldn't just lord over everything. Several powerful individuals didn't much like her, and a few hated her with an intense passion. "President" Abadas was one of them. He was "elected," though, which put him under scrutiny, making his actual power seemingly limited. Given the chance he'd probably burn her at the stake or something, though he still managed a perfectly genuine smile at her each Board meeting.
Besides that, there was the whole Neo-Feudal Party. What nonsense. She snorted derisively at the manboys and their habit of giving themselves ridiculous names to make themselves feel better. They already had the power, why purposefully grow decadent?
The real question was Bob Pratt. The old bastard is reportedly growing crazy up there in his office, ever since liquidating his brother.
Sonya didn't feel too sad when she learned of "the General" Toby Pratt's death. In fact, she had restrained a bray of unladylike laughter upon hearing of how he supposedly died, some 'communications error.' She couldn't fault the saps for not knowing, or not wanting to let on the truth of the matter. She herself only guessed that Gonzalo Tzu was involved, and had pulled some impressive tricks to exert power over the Supreme Strategic Core Commander of the entire ITDO, even as he lorded it in his ironically named Impunitas battlecruiser.
And someone had convinced Bob to pull the trigger. Maybe Bob convinced himself, but she did not think this likely. Gonzalo Tzu was an icy man, whom she never trusted and had learned over the years to respect his professional, inscrutable nature to do what was best for himself. And he perhaps stood in line, if Bob were liquidated.
After Abadas and Fernando and herself, that was. Perhaps the others. She had the feeling the man was plotting some sort of regime for himself, other times she suspected him of only wanting to control from behind the scenes.
Worrisome. Yes.
But he wasn't head of the Overwatch Program, that was for sure. Toby Pratt had been succeeded by one of Heinrid Abadas's puppets in that department. Abadas was undoubtedly first on Tzu's list.
She realized the whining, whistling sound as the tea kettle after two seconds of complete indifference. Quickly but steadily, she poured the water into a rounded but hefty tea cup and began stirring the bag.
Suddenly, The Voice spoke to her.