Color dances at the edge of Jasmine’s clear coated goggles, the luminescent buttons lining its strap gleaming in the streams of color emanating from the HoloGRAPHs steaming above her. She lands on the stain laden tiled floors that stretch across the first level of hospice, holding the butt of her 204-1-Ouster. The night was deep and stretched void in an endless ceiling above her. Tonight was supposed to cover her, keep her hidden against the all-consuming tide.

She ran, wind whistling through her hair as she dashed across floor of hospice to a docking ramp, bordered with clear plastic and stretching over into the vast expanse of the LOADingLEVEL, the gigantic elevator that stretched partway into the enormous cylindrical chamber. Looking over this drop, she sighed softly, the crisp air yielding a cloud of frozen exhalation.

“It’s too late in the Unit to obtain credits.”, her AI blurbed quietly in her ear, emitting several quieter whirring sounds.

Jasmine stood up straight, facing away from the relentless drop before her. Her hair, stark in its color versus the gray, featureless surroundings, glowed blackly in the light. Her thick burlap coat, pockets outstretched and holding her hands, tumbled down to her holster, held in place by a thick fauxLEATHER belt. Her shirt, grey and worn, showcased English lettering in the form of RESCUE KID, proclaimed in a fashion along her chest. Her roughly used jeans stretched down to work boots, battered and showing years of continual maintenance and hardcore self-perpetuated usage.

A thump within the hospice center grabbed her attention.

Jasmine stepped forward, grabbing her pistol. Flipping a switch, the 204-1-Ouster jumps to life, scanning her surroundings with calculating swipes. The air freezes around her, paving every movement of her feet with the crunch of frozen humidity.

A figure strikes someone ahead of her, partially masked behind a corner.

“You worthless DiGit. Get out of my way.”

The sound of bone against flesh snaps through her ears again, causing her to wince.

With a leap of motion, Jasmine dived past the corner, deep into the dark of the corridor. Her hand slipped on a pool of reddish blue, seeping into the cracks of the tiled floor.

Two men struggle above her, taking little notice of her entrance. One is bandaged heavily, his head covered with white cloth that extends around his outstretched mouth, skewered into a cruel grin. He grasps the other man with a black, gloved hand, clenched tightly on his arm.

The other man falters, arm twisting wildly as the bandaged fellow pushes and squeezes, dressed in a dark leather jacket, grey in over-line, tapering off in black, finger-less gloves. He clutches a woman clad in a t-shirt, void against the void that surrounds the scene. On her shirt, moving alongside the fight as a rippling portrait, is a group of four people draped over each other, highlighted by a red sun, which threw light over a figure standing in attention in a far-off hill. All the nudity is censored, whether in black lines along the upper halves of both the females facing the viewer, or the pixilated upper half of the women beside the figure in the toga.

Jasmine strikes, her pistol barking and launching several hot pieces of Auriums laced lead into the bandaged man’s head. He collapses beside her, the women he was fighting gasping for breath.

“Who are you?

Jasmine pauses, shifting slightly in response to the women’s question.

“A keeper of sorts.”, Jasmine purrs.

“He is not ready yet, and this one bullet will not keep him down long. Hopefully we can get him finalized soon, so there will be no more need for further bloodshed.”

The women coughs, and grimaces at her words. “Who is he? Why would he hire a hunter?”

Jasmine laughs softly, and shrugs.

“Who am I to speak for the Weaver?”

With a measured boost, Jasmine pulls the body over her shoulder, and starts walking hesitantly towards the LOADingLEVEL. The weight of the body lies unnoticed to her.

Twas not the weight of the body on her shoulders that stressed her, its sinewy arms draping down her back.

No.

The hesitance came from the ripples that would emerge from this moment.