Fight against Time | Remy & Dex
Day had turned to dusk not that it was possible to tell within the warehouse. His only indication was the clock that ticked on one of his screens, a necessary way of keeping tabs on what was buzzing through the net without being fully immersed. Windows long boarded up before he’d arrived but the harsh light from his flickering screens were enough. Lit up the light coating of dust as if it were a blanket of snow and cast a harsh light across half of his face. The rest of him sat within the shadows as if he’d been born from them. Fingers toyed with a thickly braided cable as he finished off his dinner—another damn milkshake. He’d have to slip out of here at some point to attempt to find something else, but eating when his throat felt raw and alive seemed infeasible. Even his favourite diabetes inducing candy had lost its allure.
He replaced the mask over his face and sucked in a sharp long breath. The screen flashed through the local news reel but Dex paid it no mind. They’d been repeating the same news story for hours and it was growing tiresome. No panther stalked across the screen, today the presenters were ambling on about the latest fiasco downtown—something to do with a rogue fixer and a pissed off nomad. Dex was just glad to be out of the spotlight. He hadn’t dived into any of the news bulletins in the net for the very simple nauseating and overwhelming weight of guilt the stories produced. The thought that his brother had so candidly proposed to him that was ground-shaking enough to make the ‘runner stop and think.
Not a feat that someone had achieved before.
Head snaps around as the heavy door grates against the concrete flooring, whomever had built the place had done a poor job—or the entire building had simply sagged with age. Dex didn’t rise nor move to assist his supposed newcomer and instead remained in the middle of his organised chaos, swirling of heavy wires and empty milkshake cartons. But he remains vigilant, on edge with the remaining muscle he’s been left with are held taut, body still mostly wasted no helped but his complete lack of appetite. He relaxes as a familiar face is picked up by the sensors plugged into his temples, deadened green eyes flicker away and he fumbles with his mask to call out to her. “Normal people knock.” Normal people didn’t hide out in warehouses.