'Just' Jackie

[archimage_a]

Hey just wanted to get some feedback on this story, what I could improve...what was good...thats sort of thing.

 

Also if any of the words stand out as being 'unamerican' then please tell me, trying to go from an American point of view.

 

There is one exception to that and that is Lanalen, which is a future car. :o

 

Please enjoy.

 

Poll on this story

 

 

 

 

 

Name: Just Jackie.

 

Country of Origin: American

 

 

 

The following file is based on the real events of the early morning of the 23rd of August 2066, as described by Greg Rhodes, head storage clerk at the Nevada Memory Bank, dated 2090. Jackies synapses were read in in 2088 after she was injured during a fire fight, earlier readings include 2083, 2082 and 2072. The first paragraph, the preambe, is the summery of data from dates predating this, including external source material, for further information on Jackie access referance code 2PP0001. All data is correct at time of input, in accordance with the Special Services Act 2040.

 

This file is classified, if you are reading this without authorisation then cease doing so now and you will not be held accountable, by starting to read this file you have surrendered your right to deny synapse scan, also in accordance with Special Services Act 2040. The contents of this file are not to be discussed with anyone lower than Level 6 clearance. You have been warned.

 

 

 

Preamble.

 

Our character, Jackie, was twenty five. Her mother is on benefits, her father died six months before she was born. It all comes down to her father really, before she was born her mother had been a high school teacher, on her way to becoming the headmaster. Her father was a professor at some distant university. They had met quite by accident. Two years later she was pregnant with his child. Things were going alright, she had to put off her promotion to head but it was ok. Then he died. She was at home, looking though a catalogue for baby things when she got a call. Seven months later she gave birth, took extended leave from school for a year. Then she hired a nanny, her husband had left quite a substantial savings plan. It continued like that, she got promoted three years later. Then Jackie was ten, her mom left the room and the TV switched on by itself. She had heard about this before, it was the early onset of Psionics. She went out the next day, brought the video that was supposed to protect against it, put in in the player and that was that. A week later Jackies school got a visit from a Government official. They did a blood test. Jackie came back P-Positive. Two days later Jackies mom lost her job, her blood tested and found negative, then questioned on the father. She got a letter back three days later. He had been a British spy, there was no record of a Professor at his given University, never was. The rest was clear. There was probably some secret facility nearby, she didnt really care, she just settled into a life on the dole. Jackie left school, all As except social studies, she got a B, she was less friendly that she should have been. She applied for university, her mom advising against it. She was turned down. She applied over and over, always rejected. The semester started, she accepted her position in society. She took a job at a local laundrette, the others gave her a wide berth. Being P-Positive had a stigma, she wasnt attacked in the streets or anything so open, but she was always suspect if something happened, always given the worst jobs. It wasnt anyones fault, the Government sent out adverts warning against the Psi-Threat, against people using their unnatural advantage to get ahead in life, over the hard working, decent, normal, people. She didnt blame the Government either, she blamed the British, for her father, for tampering with his DNA. But life goes on. Her job is near a Library, so she carries on learning, on the off chance that they find a cure, a proper one. The Library is next to a gym, so she trains an hour there too, it passes the time and gets her out of the house. Her mom isnt bad, but it isnt a life she leads, if anything it leads her, each day just merging into a stream of eating, sleeping and TV watching. She is twenty five, working late, when one night changes her life forever.

 

 

 

23rd of August 2066:

 

The coo-coo clock chirped merrily that it was one am. She flicked the page in the book, it was a novel, better than reading the trash magazine. A soft Pu-tuf catches her attention. Looking out of the big window, a car rolls to a stop. A large car, not electric by the looks of it, its a matte black stubby limo. It sits there for a moment, her eyes watching it for a sign of life. The window is tinted, preventing her seeing the driver at all. She marks the page in her book, locks the till and opens the door, muffling the bell as she goes. A cry of pain comes from inside the car, it sounds like a man. Its followed by laughter, but not from the same place. Two distinct laughs, a female and a male. She feels in her pocket for her mace can. The head lights are on low, casting her in a large shadow as she crosses them. She sees them, one, they guy, is holding a wand like something, its end glowing with electric blue. Stop what you are doing! The words echo from TV drama. The girl turns her head to face her, the guy presses something on the wand, it sparks more purple and the man cries out in pain again. Its a Quark Gun, she recognises it now. In her mind she curses its inventers name Frekop without her What about me? The guy gives it a last jolt before turning to face her too, the man whimpers lightly. They both start laughing at her, the girl with her arm wrapped around the guy who is holding the gun. Her hands slipping around his waist, unbuckling the belt. She stops, a faint smile enters both of their faces, the guy steps back, she can see his face, she can see they are Canites.

 

 

 

Her mind races, Canites, people who take Cane. A Drug that looks like a sugar cane, contains blood that has been laced with Dopamine, Endorphins, natures pain killers, pleasure givers, everything like that, then another bunch of chemicals to get it into the brain. The upshot is increasing sensations, colours, emotions as well as boosting the bodies production of...everything, a wonder drug. But at a price. Once it is take the body is dependant on it, and it isnt enough the second time around. Another shot on top is an option, but expensive. Then there are the vampiric options, drinking the blood of someone who is in ecstasy, not just happy, but pure ecstasy, sex high or completely spaced, that doesnt last long though, a few shots maybe, then it isnt enough any more. Then there is this, the blood from someone in extreme pain, not someone beaten to a bloody pulp, more someone who has had their fingers chopped off, electrodes attached to what is left, then being hooked up to the mains, with a limited of course. She lets the Mace go in her pocket, pain wont stop them. Not the long term users like they are, no first timer would go after a car.

 

 

 

The girl motions provocatively to come closer. Jackie finds herself unable to resist, her body overcome by the pheromones. She tries to fight it but her body does not respond, it moves without her direction. But at the same time...what would be so bad about going clos...NO! But she still gets closer, her mind fights the losing battle as her feet get more defiant, planting themselves boldly, as though she want them to do it. The girls hands have dropped away from the guys belt, does she...No way. The images of the girl flash though her mind, part of her getting turned on by the perverseness of it, the part that is receptive to the pheromones. The man whimpers on the seat, the guy has turned to face Jackie again, she didnt notice him turn away, her mind captivated by this temptress, this sick individual that was so He was watching her body, following the contours of her body. She wants to hit him...Embraces him...Hit...Embra...The girl is pushed from her mind, it acting against itself, giving itself up to this new person, preserving what is left of its morals. He is attractive in an odd way. Her mind fights it, his eyes are almost complete red, his pupils are dilated far beyond what they were designed for, his skin is too red, his hair is matted, are his incisors longer than usual, is his tongue, longer, split? Why hisHer mind couldnt blank it. He licks his lips, he was thinking of her, a smile threatened to break her solid face or perhaps that girl next to him...Cow, and going to kill...No, what am I saying! His tongue isn't split but is redder, longer, than it should be. She is only a half-meter away now, the pheromones pushing her mind into a darker, darker corner.

 

 

 

She had read about this moment, it meant they had Cane on them, they were looking for someone like her, someone that they could seduce, someone who would go out, commit the crimes, while they waited back at wherever they lived, when she returned they would climb all over her, their pheromones enticing her, forcing her to degrade herself, then they would open an artery, suck out the sweet, dopamine-enriched blood, enhancing the levels further by exposing themselves to pleasure, and her to pain. The Cane effect would mean that the brain would produce more dopamine, sending it surging though their veins, bringing the pleasure level higher and higher, out stripping the intelligence boost, the sensation boost, just matching pleasure levels. Then she would weaken, her blood drained by maybe four pints, they might lose interest, letting her regenerate some for awhile, before sending her off again...or they might just suck her dry, killing her while she loving gave everything she has to them.

 

 

 

The girl grabs her wrist, flicking it down and to the side, sending her body hurling towards the guy on the seat. She lands with her elbow in his bottom rib, as she moves she feels the bone come away, it must have snapped clean in half, he needs medical...Whats the point... She looks back at the pair, her mind confused by this, their pheromones...and she...but they...Realization came as the girls fingers slipped back on to the guys belt. They would harvest her while she was experiencing a sex high, the guy too probably, taking only a few pints from her, killing the guy, taking her back to their den. The broken rib would detract from his pleasure high, but the pain would make up for that loss. He moaned weakly as she placed her hand around his trouser waist, her mind submerged completely, she was docile as possible...They could run a knife down her body, they could get her to run a knife down her body, she would do it, do it with a stupid smile on her face.

 

 

 

Something snapped inside her. Her mind losing its final vestige on the world, withdrawing the taboo web that covered her Psionic self, the web that was created by that video back when she was ten. The colourful characters made it easy to focus her mind, follow the patterns in her head. Then her Psionic self was turned off. But now that was gone, her Psionic self turned on once more. The Pheromones retreated in seconds, their grasp over her higher functions being purged. Their tendril infection withering.

 

 

 

Her hand withdrew from the waistline of the man, her fingers sparking, she clicked them. The pair heard the sound over their pants and groans, the girl still had her hand resting on the belt buckle, though it now hung open. They were savouring the moment, maxing their own output of Dopamine, millimetres from each other, their tongues poised like dogs, the tongues werent longer, merely further out, the stretch marks visible, the lacerations were they have split and healed. Now they hung, lolling as the pair look on in puzzlement, but also aggression. They were going to leap though the door, pin her down, they guy will exploit her while the girl exploits the man, she could hear their thoughts, they were the same, as if they share one mind...which isn't a side effect of the drug...or at least not in any book she has read.

 

 

 

The flame that emerges at her fingertips catches their eyes, they follow it as one as it explodes away from her and into them. Their hair is blackened comedically, but no one is laughing. Their tongues blister with the invisible heat that outlives the flaming effect. Jackie watches on as their noses blacken, become crisp and then ash. Their faces first show some sick pleasure, but quickly it is obvious that the pain level has surpassed their ability to enjoy. Jackie holds the heat there long after their eyes have evaporated away, long after their hair and skull have become ash as well. She does not intend to, she is frozen with wonderment of her powers. The man's head lulls back, striking the door armrest as he goes. He was watching her. Her mind reasserts itself; she stops the heat with the same unfathomable skill that she moved her fingers in the first place. She sits the man up, inflating the safety harness in front of him, as well as attaching the old fashioned seat belt to the clip in the centre of the car. She moves round to the front of the car.

 

 

 

There is another man; his face has imploded into his brain and then into the seat. The layer of Carbon-Coat over a titanium alloy had absorbed the rest of the impact. It was high velocity. She looked at the top left corner of the windscreen, military grade safety glass. This pair was really longer term users. She detached the seatbelt, silenced the alarm with a cursory nod, not even realizing her employment of Psionics until after. He was dead, that much was certain, in his holster was a Werks Laser Pistol, illegal in the United States. Her mind did a double take, this car was only semi-legal, limos had gone out with skyrocketing oil prices and the introduction of energy tracks, the government putting a surcharge...The Government! He wouldn't carry a card, they never did. They just appeared. She opens the drivers side door, leaning across him. Her feet, in Nike Airs, making a soft tap on the ground as she pivoted around the door, her eyes catching sight of the Quark Pistol, if, when it had fallen into the wrong hands. She picked it up, placing it back in the door holder. Then closed it, her eyes flicking the lock down as she went, this time not noticing.

 

 

 

She skirted the back bumper, sliding her fingers into the now narrow gap between door and car, pulling it open. Her other hand entering the car and taking the man by the scruff of the neck, almost throwing him over her shoulder. She blinked without a clue where to put him, should he put him in with the man, would that scare him if he came to. The trunk, disrespectful but there was nowhere better. She slammed it, cushioning the sound with her thoughts, catching herself this time. Her mind moved on, the driver's side door was still open. She stepped around the trunk, taking four short steps and then climbing into the seat. The belt activated automatically, then registered that she was not male and was not the driver. A bolt of electricity surged though the circuits, her thoughts diverted it with her realising it, acting like a guardian angel. The car was simple to drive, like her old Lanalen, but more responsive, more often than not she turned too early, eased the clutch up too slow or braked too hard. The inertia compensators did their job inside, but from the outside she looked like a beginner in a sports car.

 

 

 

The Hospital came up to her right. The car trying to stall as she swerved across the other lane and tried to slow for the pavement, an ambulance had parked across the main entrance. The front right tire spun off, the axel snapped and the car jolted right, the remaining front wheel lifting off the ground. She felt the car try to jack-knife as the wheel arch hit the tarmac. Something, and it wasn't her, kept it down. She had slammed down on the breaks the moment she heard the wheel snap, but there was no reaction, the steering too had jumped out of her control. She kicked open the door, the handle being too slow, the belt lifted off of her without her thoughts registering its movement. The car stopped all too suddenly and she came into heavy contact with the open door. It pushed back against her as the hinges screamed at the injustice of it all, her left leg coming up into a step, followed by her right leg, careening her into a walk which stopped at the back door.

 

 

 

The handle opened, her eyes flicking the lock catch, the man's body was upright, with his neck was taut against the rest of his body, as though he was travelling at some speed. There was a cracking sound, his head fell towards his chest. She undid the belt. Her mind telling her that someone had noticed her arrival, more than one someones. She pulled him free of the car, there was more cracking, and the back tire lifted off the ground fractionally. She carried him in her arms like some giant baby. The bystanders comprised joggers and medics, none wanting to get involved, happy with just watching. She was a few metres away when the car shot back and to the side, the sound of exploding glass making the people run. Jackie turned towards the entrance hall. She took the a few steps, feeling her muscles being to burn, even when she was driving they were shaking, now her mind could not ignore them.

 

 

 

The door swished open with their patented 'Private Hospital' swish, an alarm blaring, she looked at it but it just blared louder, a matron, a burly looking bloke more like, stepped towards her "No Freaks." He spat at her. "He isn't. I am. Look I'll admit it! But you have to do something for him, he's Government." The guy continued forward, but more timidly, "Government, you say... Paul!" Another burly chap came out of a cherry tree door, the patients in reception had already regained their ability to stand and watch, all forgetting their so-called conditions.

 

"What!" His voice was almost identical to the first guys.

 

"He looks Government." He pointed at the body in her arms.

 

"Get her away from him then!" Jackie felt the strong arm of someone behind her, someone in a black suit like the man she was holding was in.

 

"I'll take care of this." Jackie felt the presence of a hand on her shoulder.

 

 

 

She was lying on a bed. The spread was rich, probably cotton or something like that. The cover was silk, with a sewn diamond pattern. Something was terribly wrong here, she shouldn't be here, and every fibre in her body told her that she was not the sort of person that should be here. This was a normal person's world, a rich normal person's world. She was neither.

 

 

 

Her memories flooded into vision, images of the nights events. They cleared, the ceiling was like something out of the Sistine Chapel, and she smiled at her knowledge, where had that been last night? Was it the same night? Morning? She looked left for a window, the curtain was drawn, around the edge there was a faint light. "Its around five."

 

She jumped with the sound; it was followed by a chuckle. She turned to face the guy she had rescued; he was sitting in a high backed armchair. He smiled at her, "Sorry, I had to try that before you were awake properly." She looked at him for a moment, her eyebrows furrowing, his suit was the same, though it now wasnt creased, and he wasnt looking half as bad as when she had almost straddled him. Vomit rose in her throat, her head whipping round, spraying it over half the room. She was about to use the quilt to wipe her mouth when she thought better of it in this mans presence. She turned further round, a box of tissues, freshly opened with a lavender scent. She cleared the corners of her mouth carefully, she had eaten lavender before. She had had it forced into her mouth by the school bully, but that wasnt the point, it wasn't something she wanted to repeat. "Who are you?"

 

 

 

She turned around to face him, wondering if she would get in trouble for making a wise crack about them already knowing the answer to that question.

 

"Jackie."

 

"Just Jackie?"

 

"Just Jackie." She expected a silence or him to leave, instead he started to speak.

 

"Well 'Just Jackie' you saved my life, broke one of my ribs in the process but whats a rib between friends." He smiled hollowly, she had been dumped by one too many guys and seen one too many smiles like that, he wanted something and whatever it was she would probably not like it. I know you are P-Positive, and I want to offer you a job. It was the last thing she was expecting. I appear to have a vacancy, and you seem to be able to handle yourself under pressure. His smile suddenly looked a lot more sincere, whether because she wanted to believe or because he was actually being honest with her she wasnt sure, she didnt care either. Long hours, lots of danger. You would have to leave home

 

What is it? The words, like when she had told the pair to stop, came out before she had thought about saying them. His mouth was open, his legs crossed and had been counting the things off on his hands as he listed them, his body was frozen as if he was trying to comprehend what she had said.

 

You want the job?

 

You guys put my life on hold for the past nine years, sorta poetic that you are the ones to put it back on track. He grinned, getting up from the chair and coming over to her.

 

You wont regret it.

[Hawks]

Mum currently stands out... Americanized it should be mom.

 

 

 

I dunno, good story. :thumbsup:

[issy2]

Hello! Long time no read!

 

Well I quite liked it, it certainly does immerse you in a different world. There's a handful of s/g mistakes and I think you need to have longer clauses, will make it flow a bit more, only use short sentences when it's necessary and for effect. I LOVE the first couple of paragraphs about the classified file, what a great opener, its so realistic and really sets the stage for something spectacular :)

 

 

 

The next bit, though, Preamble; is it supposed to be the file itself? As in, is this "Our character, Jackie, was twenty five. Her mother is on benefits, her father died six months before she was born..." in the file itself? I'm assuming it is. If so it's a little hard to know whether its actually a story, written by someone/Jackie about Jackie, or whether it's a police file written by the authorities, for the authorities?

 

It's very scientific, impressive :) Nice one

[Hawks]

It's background information... for the readers of the file. It's by the government, for the government.

[archimage_a]

Ok changed the opening to make it clearer what the preamble is. :D

[Bluejayfan94]

Oh jeez, He's back. I guess I have to be good now :|

 

On-Topic: I do really like the story. Continue it please :D

[archimage_a]

He's not back properly, he is just posting this story :oops: . I don't know if there will be a continuation of THIS story, but there should be others in the same timeline, all part of a bigger project...and such.(they got rid of the shifty eyes smily...)If anyone wants to help then please PM me for long hours, lots of abuse and generally no thanks. We already have 2 people so it can't be a bad as it seems...can it?

[Hawks]

It's not that bad... If you keep saying that you're not gonna get anybody to help you.

[Bluejayfan94]

He's not back properly, he is just posting this story :oops: . I don't know if there will be a continuation of THIS story, but there should be others in the same timeline, all part of a bigger project...and such.(they got rid of the shifty eyes smily...)If anyone wants to help then please PM me for long hours, lots of abuse and generally no thanks. We already have 2 people so it can't be a bad as it seems...can it?

 

 

 

Awww really it's gone! Waiiiit... This one? :anxious:

 

 

 

Long Hours, Lots of Abuse, and No Thanks... Do we get paid? :pray:

[Hawks]

Only in the Falador Libraryers' undying gratitude... If it's a success.

[kam42705]

Another great post by Archimage...

[The Dark Lord]

I scanned through. I personally think you should Americanize the spellings.

 

savour -> savor

millimetres -> convert into US customary system -> ...OR change it to millimeters.

 

If it's a government body or agency, they are more likely to use the metric system. If it's a common, everyday person, they will definitely refer to measurements in inches. 1inch = 2.5cm

 

It looks like a good story, though.

 

Headmaster -> principal

[archimage_a]

Thank.

 

That was professor Sere from the Falador Institute of Americanized Grammar. =P

 

Thanks Sere, I think I have an Americanised version of it somewhere, bigger project and all that, just didn't update this one. :thumbsup: