Day 1:Dead Fish

8:00 am

The sky was the color of a dead fish. That odd color of pink that comes when the fires raged outside of the dome. I was sitting on the roof of the lucky Merry, waiting for the hovercar. I ain't' got nothing to do but wait cigarette hanging from my lips, 18 in the city of dreams. Ain't' got nothing but time got out of school 2 months ago, discharged due to them finding a pack of Nei in my backpack. I mean, I only use when I'm fucking bored, too bad I'm always fucking bored.

Since I fucked outta that place, I've been trying to work my hustle. Doing runs through the outer markets and the slums. Working for a friend of my brothers before he went to the big dogpile in the sky, Mac he is running the Southside Bladez. Decent gang, deals in the finest of fucking candy and the flash girls. I ain't got much to do, here comes my fucking Hover, I'm out Ahab is driving and he is always good for some Kia and a little Neo both of which is in my pack, making money so early it's a good fucking day.

11:00 am

Hanging out at Sammi's again kicking up my feet smoking a black death. Knowing the world aint' got shit on me. I'm playing with his newest game, watching them pixels dance for my the Holo. Kicking ass, taking some names, doing my Caperoia, made this chick called her Crimson Dance Feet. She is pretty cool, maximum fighter is living up to the fucking name so far.

Shit man, good day. Making my list now using the dearest dairy of the product now.

8 Kia

12 Neo

15 Boomsticks

32 Tabbies

45 Neverdonein

45 big and not a dime less. I'm getting 15 big from this haul, good fucking day.

Good haul and good profit. Running it over to Mac after lunch. Wanted to let him handle his shit first, he said it was rumble town ya know. Time to murderous and to put peeps down in dem places. Aint' a fighter just a runner, and a talker, a smoother, a fixer. Ya know one in the shadows, aint' one to be found in the light. I aint' my brother, aint' need that fucking heat. So, I'll sit till the holo goes beep, and he asks for the drop-off.

Fucker on this game, playing hard and quick. Knocking me down but ya know what, that is what happens when you get distracted right. My thoughts turn watching her down, to my brother. Two years ago, two fucking years ago.

He went out to a rumble with Mac and the boys. He was running shit back then, ain't' doing much than a little dealing and wheeling, jacking and bashing. So, I looked up to Big Trever ya know, we all did everyone called him a real Street Sam, you know cause of how he used that fucking blade. In his hands, art was like poetry in motion and your blood was his brush.

Red Dawgs had been beefing trying to take the Southside, and well bro wanted to push em back. So he took his strongest and best, dropped down through the roof, and killed all of the Red Dawgs. Too bad, a cop shot him point-blank after the fight, leaving him dead as that sky today, that cold pink color of a salmon left out overnight ya know.

But we are a bit darker to be real, but when I saw him he was pale. Like you know when the inky black of night, is fading slowly to that sic pale first light. I guess back in the day they called us African-Americans before the end and the bombs, before the domes. Grandpa used to tell us stories of the before days, back when he was young but they are just fairy tales.

Ain't' nothing outside of Dome city ya know. This is it, the world ended in bombs and blood, and nuclear waste. Shit, I'm taking a fucking nap.....depressing fucking shit.