Disclaimer: this is a work of fiction. It is a draft; there are mistakes, many misspellings and sometimes long periods of no updates. copyright: ion fyr 2025
The seconds moved quickly then. Orders were sent, Get us out of here…spool the time mechanism to 1890 [?] …
Luc yelled for someone to get the thing that only he and Nila even new existed and then, frustrated that noone listened, or heard him, or cared, did it himself.
Luc looked at the bloody, mangled hamburger of Nila’s stump, assessed the blood loss, quickly did a panoramic glance at the visible crew—they were too caught up—fuck . He touched the tournequette on Nila’s upper arm, making sure it wasn’t going to start gushing in the next few seconds, looked at her face—repairable, but still, seeing your best friend mangled….his heart sunk even lower.
He let her settle gently—there was screaming and shouting elsewhere in the airship. Luc ran in three heavy strides, boots against the floor grates—to the wreckage of his crashed car.
He dove inside. Headfirst.
The interior was shattered and covered in Nila’s gore. Bone and flesh sprayed and splayed acrosse the interior consoles. That’s not what he was here for. Medkit.
The car was fucked up and angled at, he guessed 60 degrees up on the axis aand 45 on the beam [?] Under one of the seats.,,, He scooped away a slurry of something…flesh and plastic and nylon fabric and carbon fiber…from behind the “first’ row of seats. It was not a “big” car, but it was a comfortable one. When Luc had first seen it first hand, he had already seen the same model broadcast in the Netstream simocrolives where wannabe gansters -not him— dump bodies in the trunk. Why do they have a trunk? Because noone wants to sit with a corpse in the seat next to them, dumbass.
But Luc is and never was a ‘gangster’ like on those lazy cinemategraphs of Etelka’s [date night…we’ll get back to that…[get back to Etelka and Luc’s date night]]
Luc was an entrepreneur. That being said, Luc had shit to do.
10 seconds later, an unpleasantly gummy red box, he pulled out from under a first tier chair—gods it is gross and dusty under here.
Backl outside the car, barely 3 meters away, he threw the box at the floor next to Nila.
Luc, runnign on adrenalyn, triagged the contents half a second.
Wraps, antiinfection salves, and that sort….
I know I bought it…Oh, fuck …here…
Luc ripped open the container, looked at broken Nila splayed out, unconscious, not good, Blue, he thought.
Luc thought he was tossing the packet at Etelka, but she was shouting in Hunnish up the central corridor of the Hut,
Beatrix the mechanic of the HutI, caught it, using her own, gear-driven arm, to stem Nila’s loss.
“The packet marked something like ‘stifl’,” he yelled.
Beatrix tried to hold up said packet, but Luc wasn’t looking.
Ion Fyr 