WilyRiley
Super-Earth
- Joined
- Feb 14, 2015
The street lights had buzzed to life, bathing the streets in a myriad of pale yellows. The streets had cleared out, only a few stragglers still milled about the sidewalks, most likely heading home for evening. It was still an hour before curfew, after which you would need proper clearance to be wandering about. The rules were strict, but most of the populous fell in line with the rules. The belief was that the rules protected them, kept them safe...kept them happy.
Beneath the streets however, a whole new city was springing to life. The basement of The Junebug, which by day was a quaint diner, had a very different underbelly. Here you could find homemade booze, drugs, and every other vice under the sun. The biggest draw however was the jukebox. Jack would never say how he managed to get his hands on it, but most of the seedy patrons didn't seem to care.
This night was no different. It was fairly busy, most of those who came in would leave shortly after, pocketing whatever contraband they had purchased and heading home. Most used the back alleys and cover of darkness to make the trek to and from, but the more paranoid would traverse the cities sewer system. To be caught out past curfew by a Peacekeeper was bad enough, to do so with something naughty tucked away in your pockets was a million times worse.
Dylan had decided to stick to the streets, seeing as how it was still early she wouldn't need to worry about the Keepers until she was on her way back home. Long dark red hair bounced behind her, pulled up in a high pony tail on the back of her head, swaying back and forth to the sound of her sneakers on the pavement. There was a soft chill in the air and she couldn't help but think back to when she had decided to leave her jacket at home, picturing it just lying on her bed...mocking her.
With a heavy sigh she crossed her arms, the palms of her hands moving to try and warm her bare arms. It was summer, but it had been a fairly overcast day, causing the temperature to dip as the sun made it departure. The white tank top and green cargo shorts were doing little to protect her. Even the ripped up stockings clinging to her legs offered little relief. Still, she trekked on.
This wasn't about booze, or drugs, or even the soothing melodies of the jukebox...this was about a boy. Jack Kerry was what one would easily label a 'bad boy'. A very vocal member of the underground, willing to do anything and everything in order to 'stick it to the man'. To some he was an immature idealist, and to others he was a shining beacon of hope. To Dylan, he was an attractive guy who made her laugh. Granted they did believe a lot of the same things, she was hoping that maybe tonight could be about something other than rising up against the system and making a change.
Beneath the streets however, a whole new city was springing to life. The basement of The Junebug, which by day was a quaint diner, had a very different underbelly. Here you could find homemade booze, drugs, and every other vice under the sun. The biggest draw however was the jukebox. Jack would never say how he managed to get his hands on it, but most of the seedy patrons didn't seem to care.
This night was no different. It was fairly busy, most of those who came in would leave shortly after, pocketing whatever contraband they had purchased and heading home. Most used the back alleys and cover of darkness to make the trek to and from, but the more paranoid would traverse the cities sewer system. To be caught out past curfew by a Peacekeeper was bad enough, to do so with something naughty tucked away in your pockets was a million times worse.
Dylan had decided to stick to the streets, seeing as how it was still early she wouldn't need to worry about the Keepers until she was on her way back home. Long dark red hair bounced behind her, pulled up in a high pony tail on the back of her head, swaying back and forth to the sound of her sneakers on the pavement. There was a soft chill in the air and she couldn't help but think back to when she had decided to leave her jacket at home, picturing it just lying on her bed...mocking her.
With a heavy sigh she crossed her arms, the palms of her hands moving to try and warm her bare arms. It was summer, but it had been a fairly overcast day, causing the temperature to dip as the sun made it departure. The white tank top and green cargo shorts were doing little to protect her. Even the ripped up stockings clinging to her legs offered little relief. Still, she trekked on.
This wasn't about booze, or drugs, or even the soothing melodies of the jukebox...this was about a boy. Jack Kerry was what one would easily label a 'bad boy'. A very vocal member of the underground, willing to do anything and everything in order to 'stick it to the man'. To some he was an immature idealist, and to others he was a shining beacon of hope. To Dylan, he was an attractive guy who made her laugh. Granted they did believe a lot of the same things, she was hoping that maybe tonight could be about something other than rising up against the system and making a change.