JAN/FEB SHORT STORY COMP (WITH PRIZES) - "TALES FROM CITI DEF"

[Alski]

Maybe we could merge the comps, print up previous winners and have them drawn up!

[redbaz]

I do like the idea of having a bunch of Citi-Def centric stories to draw up, would make a nice little anthology.

[Alski]

Let's hope we get some more entries then

[smiffy]

Tales from Citi-Def: The Carousel -- set during the Apocalypse War.


"The last bullet?"

"Yes," he said.

"But you said you'd save that for me," she replied. "Big romantic gesture, remember, sir?"

"I know but—"

"—but we've a job to do, right?"

"Right." He had tried to kill her a week earlier but now the former shuggy hall waitress in the Richard Widmark Citi-Def helmet was the only person he knew who was still alive. He patted his pockets for more bullets even though there weren't any there before closing one eye and looking through the sight of his rifle.

"I used to batglide from here when I was a girl, sir. Bad crosswind over there, above the pedway. And I'd land in the playground next to the Bedford Square parkarama"—she zoomed her scope in, focussing a mile and a half down—"where those Sovs are."

"Four Sovs, one bullet—who gets it?"

"The one on the left—the tall one—the one who's standing right where I used to stand, sir, when I was waiting for my daddy to collect me after I'd landed."

"So this is personal, then?"

"As good as, sir."

"Consider it done."

"Sir?"

"Yes?"

"Try not to blow his brains out over the carousel. Juves'll never play there again if there's been brains on the carousel."

"Are you serious?"

"Never been more serious, sir. That's why I joined Citi-Def—to protect the city."

"One moment. My eyes are tired." He rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands. He'd only joined Sidney Poitier Citi-Def because he liked holozines featuring women with big bazookas. But to be confronted by real women with big bazookas when his platoon stormed the foyer of Widmark was a different matter—it was all a blur—screams, explosions, the wet, slapping sound that half of his corporal made as he landed next to him, the churning in his stomach and the dryness in his throat when he realised that he was the only one who retreated when he gave the order, the stench like rotten Munce when he skidded on someone's spilt intestines—and what made it worse was that he couldn't remember why they'd attacked in the first place.

"And," she went on, "I know the cavalry aren't coming—we've not seen a Judge in two days—but we can't give up; not now, not ever. It's our city down there. Citi-Def's all that left, sir. We clear the playground first, then—" She shrugged. "We have to hold out until the Texans or Brits get here—and they will, trust me, because we'd do the same for them."

"We're fighting a war with one bullet between us."

"I know, sir."

He looked back through the sights. "Call the shot."

"Wind speed: eight knots. Distance: 2,657 yards. High humidity. Aim high and to the left. No, farther to the left."

"We run for cover as soon as I fire".

She nodded.

He pulled the trigger.

He was running before the Sov fell but she waited to check that there was no blood on the carousel.

[smiffy]

Gosh darnit -- I can't re-edit my post above. Sorry for the sort-of double-post.

The below-the-word-limit version is below:



"The last bullet?"

"Yes," he said.

"But you said you'd save that for me," she replied. "Big romantic gesture, remember, sir?"

"I know but—"

"—but we've a job to do, right?"

"Right." He had tried to kill her a week earlier but now the former shuggy hall waitress in the Richard Widmark Citi-Def helmet was the only person he knew who was still alive. He patted his pockets for more bullets even though there weren't any there before looking through the sight of his rifle.

"I used to batglide from here when I was a girl, sir. Bad crosswind over there, above the pedway. And I'd land in the playground next to the Bedford Square parkarama"—she zoomed her scope in, focussing a mile and a half down—"where those Sovs are."

"Four Sovs, one bullet—who gets it?"

"The one on the left—the tall one—the one who's standing right where I used to stand, sir, when I was waiting for my daddy to collect me after I'd landed."

"So this is personal, then?"

"Yes, sir."

"Consider it done."

"Sir?"

"Yes?"

"Try not to blow his brains out over the carousel. Juves'll never play there again if there's been brains on the carousel."

"Are you serious?"

"Never been more serious, sir. That's why I joined Citi-Def—to protect the city."

"One moment. My eyes are tired." He rubbed his eyes with his palms. He'd only joined Sidney Poitier Citi-Def because he liked holozines featuring women with big bazookas. But to be confronted by real women with big bazookas when his platoon stormed the foyer of Widmark was a different matter—it was all a blur—screams, explosions, the wet, slapping sound that half of his corporal made as he landed next to him, the churning in his stomach and the dryness in his throat when he realised that he was the only one who retreated when he gave the order, the stench like rotten Munce when he skidded on someone's spilt intestines—and what made it worse was that he couldn't remember why they'd attacked in the first place.

"And," she went on, "I know the cavalry aren't coming—we've not seen a Judge in two days—but we can't give up; not now, not ever. It's our city down there. Citi-Def's all that left, sir. We clear the playground first, then—" She shrugged. "We have to hold out until the Texans or Brits get here—and they will, trust me, because we'd do the same for them."

"We're fighting a war with one bullet between us."

"I know, sir."

He looked back through the sights. "Call the shot."

"Wind speed: eight knots. Distance: 2,657 yards. High humidity. Aim high and to the left. No, farther to the left."

"We run for cover as soon as I fire".

She nodded.

He pulled the trigger.

He was running before the Sov fell but she waited to check that there was no blood on the carousel.

[Beeks]

Tales From The Citi-Def - I hate You Butler by Beeks

Blakey had never been the most popular of Citi-Def Commanders, but then he never wanted the role in the first place..I mean who would? An unruly, uncouth ill disciplined rabble is the only way he could describe the citizens of the Olive Rudge Block and although he had resigned himself to this life since he failed at the academy of law..it was still a bitter pill to swallow

He perused the latest judge report on the crime figures in his sector and frowned..it was up..0.38736% since the last quarter and coincidentally since Butler Bartholomew and his family of fatties had moved into level 347

Food crime, communal damage, unexplained citizen flattenings, castor wheel theft..it all pointed to Butler..he just had to catch him in the act..

It wasn't just crime that Butler seemed interested in..a steady stream of street juve girls were always round his apartment.,it made Blakey's skin crawl at the thought

'I think it's time I paid you a visit Butler..' He whispered to himself..

10 minutes later he was rapping at the door with his holo torch

The door slid open and Butler rolled into view, 800lbs of fat propelled by a mechanical belly wheel

'Whachew want Blakey? Shouldn't you be out hunting chump dumpers?'

Butler grinned mischievously..a twinkle in his pudgy eye..

'I'm onto you Butler'

The comically gaunt figure of Blakey retorted

The door slid shut in his face leaving the City-Def man staring at bare metal..

The  fat man in the apartment turned his attention back to the Umpty he had secreted in the wall compartment..He made a guttural noise from his throat.  He pushed his belly in and out from the  diaphragm

Near him the young juve girl looked out of the barred window..already delirious from the effects of the candy..

She threw her head back..looking from  the periphery at the headphones the fat man wore on his  ears.   It  wasn't the headphones but the streamers  from  them of all colors- the kind of thing her youngest brother might  stick on the handle bars of his  bike.

Then she heard what sounded like a voice. She was  not  preoccupied  at the moment but soon enough would be and until that time became fascinated by the  fact  that  the  fat man was mumbling to himself  or  she  believed  it  to  be  mumbling- a  distinct  mumble   without  words  or several words  hunched  together  like oversexed  perps..frozen in a voyeurs camera.   A  small grin crossed her pretty,  oval face.   It was  unpainted and pretty, early exotic but plain too as  though  she  had tried many things but had  finally  given  up out of failure to live up to  a  fleeting image of herself years before.   She dropped to the floor..

The fat  man  turned..The words were forming at his lips hobbling..he swallowed the Umpty..His eyes shut  and  he  seemed  to  grip  inside  himself with  a  kind  of  frenetic  tension that was unnoticed unless  they  looked up closely and for a long time,  looking  at his neck  quiver and bulge..

He took out the cleaver and began the dismemberment..

On the other side of the door Blakey turned to walk away..just another humiliation in a line that stretched all the way to his youth and the hall of justice..but just as he made the first footfall a sound..

An unhinged yelp of glee eminating from Butlers residence..followed by a hack hack hacking sound..

Blakey pressed his ear to the door..something wasn't quite right..he rapped on the door once more..

'Butler! What you up to you orrible little fattie?!'

*silence*

'Butler I've got a security pass..I'm coming in if you don't open your door immedia...'

*Swish*

The door slid open and Butler buried the cleaver into Blakey's neck severing it virtually clean through..crimson patterned the air..he fell forward into the welcoming arms of the fattie..

'I ate you Butler' Blakey sighed in his last breath..

'No Blakey..I ate you'

The door slid shut

[Alski]

Well done guys, more the merrier.

i need to write a better one myself.

[Karl_A_Russell]

Here goes:

Merchantable Services

We all knew something went on in 3615, but not what.

Whenever you were on the main desk, day or night, you'd see a stream of visitors stopping on 36. Rosakis, my CitiDef commander, thought it was just regular slab walkers, making a few credits without having to worry about Weather Control screwing up again. The client demographic seemed off to me, too constant and diverse for a couple of walkers in one small apartment, but he got annoyed whenever I said anything. I guess demographic is pretty fancy talk for an unemployed robot repairbot repairman.

Still, I was curious. When we heard about an upcoming inspection, I volunteered to go and evict them, at least temporarily. Rosakis just shrugged and returned to his sandwich.

I met a few of the regular clientele on the way, but they didn't seem embarrassed. One juve even waved as he passed.

I found the door to 3615 wide open and walked in. The main room was empty.

"Hello? Anyone home?"

"In the bedroom."

She sounded a lot older than I expected, even for a specialist, and I wondered if I'd got the wrong apartment.

"Ma'am?"

"It's fifty credits for ten minutes dear. Come through when you're ready."

That settled it. I pushed open the bedroom door and walked in, steeling myself for whatever obscenity might be waiting.

It turned out to be an old lady, sitting on a floral couch, her knitting on her lap. When she looked up and smiled at me, I felt like a child.

"Would you like a cup of tea dear?"

She patted the seat beside her and I found myself sitting automatically.

"Um. No. Thank you. Ma'am, I'm with Gideon Osbourne Block CitiDef."

She clapped her hands, beaming.

"Wonderful! I hoped you'd come and see me - You boys must have such a terribly hard time."

I tried to think of an answer, but before I could, she slipped her arms around me and pulled me to her meager bosom.

"There there, it's alright. Granma loves you."

I wanted to speak but all I managed was a strangled sob. I couldn't remember ever being held by someone who didn't want anything in return, someone who would hold me like a baby and love me just as I was. If this was what she offered to the citizens of Gideon Osbourne then no wonder she was doing such a roaring trade; basic human tenderness was the rarest commodity in the place.

Tears streamed down my face as she sang a half remembered lullaby and stroked my hair, and I clumsily folded my arms around her tiny form, holding on for dear life.

Half an hour later, I made my way back to the main desk and checked in.

"Gone already?"

Rosakis frowned at me.

"Yeah, guess they got word too. Place is deserted."

He shrugged.

"Fair enough. Quitting time then. Another heavy night of book learnin'?"

I shook my head.

"Not tonight. I've got my granma staying at mine."

[Alski]

Thank you karl - a late but welcome entry!

Will get the voting thread up tomorrow if I remember 

[Viking Justice]

Redbaz, sorry to bother you, mate, but I have an idea for a script that I'd like to run by you, see if you think it's make a halfway decent strip worth drawing up? It's set in the 2012 Dreddverse...