Brought to You by Love Tech

"Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say. Four companions, lost in the deep dark of space, will come to understand just how isolated they truly are. Join us, as we continue to follow the epic trials and woes of Captain Wexley and crew in 'Dark Space 5'!"

Harker gave a silent "Yes!" of triumph as her Love Tech Gen 2.5 Screenmaster sparked to life.

Yards away from the city amphitheater, Harker successfully hacked into the movie stream just as the film began. While the image was fuzzy, with static lines flowing up and down over the display, it was better than nothing. Taking a wire from the screenmaster, she connected it to a Love Tech Holo-Projector. She was sure the area was secure enough to prevent any passing patrol from noticing any light.

Harker backed away slowly as the hologram flickered to life. She didn't want the already frayed wire to snap or come loose, nor did she want to cross any metal. Far too many people had been fried thanks to faulty wiring in their screenmaster, and she didn't feel like becoming one of those. Not for an episode of her favorite space drama, anyway.

Settling in among the cushions and blankets she had sequestered onto this hidden rooftop over the years, Harker settled in. Left arm kept at a careful angle, rested on top of a beer crate; she pulled a bottle of Moon Cream Soda closer. Holding it between her knees, she used her free hand to pop the cap.

The little metal cap flipped away before she could catch it. It bounced off the tin roof and rolled on its side toward the gutter. Harker held her breath. Her heart in her throat as the cap rolled then bumped into the wall before collapsing onto its side. She let out a breath and relaxed into her nest. It could have been a real issue if the cap had fallen off the roof. There was no knowing who was down in the streets. The cap could have landed on the ground around no one, a pedestrian, or the state police. The fine for being caught pirating an episode of anything was far more than she could afford.

Her peace was then disturbed by the sound of heavy boots walking on the roof behind her. Turning down the volume on the screenmaster, she listened as they drew closer. The gait was not that of the state police. There was something irregular about it, though whoever it was still held authority.

Very few people knew about this hiding place, as far as she knew. And the idea of running into any of them did not fill her with enthusiasm. Harker had few friends to speak of but plenty of enemies and rivals. It was the price the unaligned paid in the slums of East Paradise Falls. If you weren't in some kind of gang or guild, you were considered free game. Enemy or ally. Your worth was determined by skill or how generous the gangs felt that day.

Harker fell among the unaligned. Unaligned and cursed. Once part of an up-and-coming hacker's guild known as The Faceless Wardrivers, the group suffered a devastating government cyber attack that electrified any guildy plugged into the mainframe. The attack was followed by a fire that took out half a city block. Out of a group of nearly three hundred members, Harker was the only one to crawl away from the rubble, mostly unscathed. Her screenmaster cable had been unable to connect, leaving her free to flee from the destruction. Then watch as a line of police cruisers lined up in front of the building and officers shot any who escaped the fire.

This blemish in her history labeled her cursed and unable to join any guild. And being without a guild was typically a fate worse than death. She waited with the hushed voices of the Dark Space Voyager crew crackling from the screenmaster speaker whispering into her ear. The steps drew closer. It was only one person, or so it sounded. Some of the shadow guilds were very crafty in their ability to mask their numbers in careful footsteps.

The curtain to her hiding place flew open, and Harker was suddenly swarmed by four large individuals. Their faces were hidden in the shadows as they moved swiftly into the tight space. The last to enter was tall, broad-shouldered, slender with a curtain of long dark hair, shaved in a star pattern on one side. His silhouette erupted with spikes jutting from his shoulders. and right bicep. The bad in his left hand glinted with menacing intent as he strode into Harker's hiding place.

"Knew we'd find you here, Outcast." Botan's voice carried its distinctive hiss as air was forced through his throat by the tubes embedded in his neck and chest. A turf war gone wrong made an already deadly man more of a viper than he was.

Botan moved casually, walking with purpose and tapping the metal bat to the roof. The sharp ping was made dull by the wood and cloth that concealed Harker from the outside. Botan's thugs, his Inglorious Lads, kept her surrounded though none touched her. All of them were crammed tight in the hiding place. Their masked faces glowed and flickered with the light of the hologram.

Once in front of her, Botan placed both hands on the bat and peered down his nose. "Have we missed much?"

Harker grit her teeth as she stares up at him. "No," she said. Her voice was tight. "It just started."

Botan stared for a moment, then kicked the bat the toe of his boot. He swung it in a full circle before resting the end on her chest. "Turn up the volume."

At first, Harker said and did nothing. Then with a chuff, she reached over the bat and turned up the audio on the screenmaster. With their boss pleased, the Lads took their place around the tight space, and everyone fell silent as the episode continued. Botan didn't move for an uncomfortable time, establishing his dominance as he blocked her view and kept her pinned with the bat. This was a regular game between them. One Harker had long since grown tired of.

When Botan was satisfied, he removed the bat and sat behind her. Each of his long legs on either side of her with the bat resting against her back. As if she needed the reminder to be intimidated by him.

With her space invaded in more ways than one, Harker remained tense during the episode. The Lads didn't seem to notice or care about her discomfort while they ate and drank. Harker grit her teeth as they talked over the audio. Sure, she was downloading the episode to watch it later with the other outcasts, but it's the principle of getting to see it live first.

She could feel Botan's breath on the back of her neck. Smell the cigarettes, oil, sweat, and alcohol wafting off of him as he cackled with the others. Occasionally his hand would move from a casual resting place to a spot on her hip hidden under her jacket. Another game the two of them played. One she was a very reluctant player in.

It didn't feel long before the credits were rolling, and the screen faded to black as the episode ended. That was all the Lads needed to start making a real noise as they exited the hideout, whooping and loudly going on about what happened during the show. How they knew anything happened at all always surprised Harker.

Carefully moving away from Botan's clutches, Harker unplugged herself from the projector and began taking everything apart. Botan would follow his boys if she was lucky and forget to harass her further. Her feelings and sanity couldn't take much more of his attention. Part of her screamed every time he came by. Hating him more and more for dangling any semblance of belonging just out of reach. Another, one she stopped trying to ignore a long time ago, enjoyed their games. Enjoyed being the subject of his dark affection.

They had a history before the incident that labeled her cursed. Never more than a casual fling here and there, but enough for Botan to continue accosting her after the fact. Some desperate part of her wondered if maybe he loved her but was too wrapped up in being a gang boss to do anything about it. Bringing her into his fold wouldn't be viewed favorably. At the same time, Harker knew that Botan was mostly incapable of feeling anything like that towards anyone. He simply enjoyed the thrill.

Her luck showed its true colors as a hand grabbed her jacket and yanked her to her knees. Then it whipped around to grip her throat to hold her in place. The back of her head pressed painfully against Botan's belt buckle, and she felt the bat settle against her stomach.

"Thanks for letting us crash your viewing."

"You say that as if I had a choice in the matter," she responded roughly. It was difficult to speak at this angle. Harker tilted her head up slightly to see him gazing down at her. There was a dark glint in his eyes that made her shiver.

"Find anyone to get that Love-Master off you yet?" he smirked. His thumb rubbed along the underside of Harker's jaw- the pad rough on her skin.

Harker couldn't help but snort at the dumb nickname for the screenmaster. Love Tech had a nasty habit of ensuring you always kept their products with you. Not as if people had any real choice in the matter. Nearly everything was either Love Tech or a child company owned by Love Tech. Harker's Love Tech Gen 2.5 Screenmaster was, unfortunately, one that had been built with a faulty locking mechanism. Meaning, the damn thing was stuck to her and had been ever since the incident with her guild. Nothing short of breaking it would get it off. And breaking a Love Tech product resulted in T.R.U.E. Security goons showing up on your doorstep to remind you of their 'Purposefully Damaged Product' policy.

Had Harker been anyone else, she'd be able to walk into any Love Tech store and have a technician remove and replace it with a newer model. Unfortunately, any certified Love Tech technician would find out what guild she was part of by viewing activity on her device. Part of the removal and transferring data process. Without any means of bribing a tech, she'd be trapped and carted off by T.R.U.E. police in a matter of minutes. So, she had been stuck with dying equipment for months.

"No one will come within a mile of it," she replied.

"My offer still stands."

"To cut off my arm?" Harker said incredulously. "Sure. Then the heart monitor would alert the T.R.U.E. Patrol and they'd go looking for any person with a missing arm and no screenmaster. I think not."

"Coward." Botan watched her for a moment before pulling her up by her throat. "Its so annoying to keep something so useful at a distance. You'd make the Lads even more powerful if you weren't wearing that damn thing."

Harker struggled to breathe as Botan pressed his lips into her neck. Fear and excitement prevented her from fighting the pull of his hand as he forced her head to one side. His other arm wrapped around her, keeping her snug to his body. She was close enough to hear the gentle hiss and whirr of the mechanisms in his chest and neck as they worked to keep him breathing.

She swallowed. "Your followers would never allow me into the group. You'd lose a lot of people."

He wasn't listening. Typical. This was how nearly every encounter ended with Botan. With him not listening to her warnings and them in a tangle of arms and legs on the floor. She hated it. She loved it. Being an outcast with the somewhat unwanted attention of an influential gang leader was horribly thrilling. But the cost made her stomach turn.

When he was gone, she felt the same nauseating combination of ecstasy and shame. Harker dressed in silence and gathered her things before descending the rusty ladder. One of these days, she would gather enough courage to tell him to fuck off. Her mind couldn't take the back and forth of trying to understand feelings she couldn't comprehend.

In the throng of people heading home or toward their factory jobs, it was easy to avoid the watchful eyes of drones and T.R.U.E. Security officers. Not that many patrolled this part of the city anyway. Paradise Falls was the forgotten haven of innovation. Now a rotting husk of its former glory, the streets in Paradise Falls were typically crowded with drunks, trash, and human android citizens trying to survive the slums. No one paid much mind to anyone, either by keeping their eyes down or being too distracted by their screenmasters. Or the billions of pop-up ads from holosigns, billboards, or sandwich boards were everywhere.

No place was safe from some method of advertisement. The constant bombardment of sensations made the average person unobservant. Neon signs, flashing lights, and cheesy commercial jingles mixed with dozens of recorded promotions and the din of people. Even the most violent of crimes often went unnoticed by the masses of Paradise Falls.

So a person climbing down from a roof with a pack full of equipment was nothing strange.

Harker kept her head down as she moved through the crowd. Attempting to ignore the various shop owners as they barked their wares and the cold eyes of gang members as they sat along the buildings like hungry predators.