From: JACEN <>
Newsgroups: talk.bizarre
Subject: A Bit Slow
Date: Thu, 02 Dec 1999 00:58:13 +0000
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Note: This is _not_ posted under the aegis of FTSD as I'm not sure it
does fail to suck. If you received it under an FTSD subject then some
server along the line ignores cancels.


I feel slightly out of place standing next to Lucan in the bar. People
are looking at us strangely. Yeah, so I'm twenty years older than him
and the alluring "older woman" but hah, fuck you, so's his mum. He
holds himself well, the alert posture of one raised in combat since
infancy. Fluffy blond hair, hazel eyes and lean teenage physique. The
priviledged child of a feudal planet, material wealth in his society
of birth was gained by combat, with the winner stripping the loser of
the spoils along with his life. His coming-of-age present at fifteen
had been the first in a set of exo-skeleton armours, growing as he
did. At eighteen he had a cervical shunt implanted re-routing his
voluntary nerve fibres to a socket on the back of his neck. Now his
reflexes are digital and he can move like a panther. I once saw him
punch through a brick wall, too. Heard me scream out, and came to save
me. Let me tell you, being saved was the last thing on my mind just
then, but it was kinda cute. And he makes a mighty fine shape
shilouetted against the light in nothing but his boxers.

Only drawback with the system, take him out of the exo-skeleton and
he's quadriplegic. Completely helpless, and all mine. Maternal
instincts? Yeah, but I don't let them stop me. I tell you, there's
some nerve fibres they don't re-route... I nudged him.

"Someone's heading your way."

"My way? Only one of us is wearing a skintight crop-top and leather
fuck-me boots, and I'm tellin' ya, they ain't my style."

"Hey, I may be wrong but somehow I don't think that's what he's

The local was elderly, and dressed strangely even to my cosmopolitan
eye, though perhaps typical for these parts. Wide-brimmed hat with a
curved brim, red and blue criss-crossed shirt and blue denims. Boots
almost as tall as mine, with spurs, and, hey, a belt buckle so large
I'll bet he never gets past metal detectors. He peered, intrigued, at
Lucan's exoskeleton, poked out with his stick to rap on a joint and
blinked in surprise as he found himself knocking on empty air. Lucan,
was standing on my other side now. I coughed to get the guy's
attention. He looked me up and down, eyes lingering on thighs,
cleavage and, yes, plasma pistol and comms block. A baffled expression
crawled over his face as words struggled to queue up behind his mouth.
Working his stubbled jaw, he spat out a wad of noxious brown weed he
had been chewing, and inquired, in what I understand is known as a
Texan Drawl:

"You folks, you're not from 'round these parts, are ya?"

Rob (JACeN)

Just Another Cave Newt <>
Last Cereal: New Blood, Old Wounds