[Fan Fiction] A Dancer's Trust

Zayne 07-28-2006 07:01 AM
Background for this fanfic:
In summer school, my mind often wandered. One of said wanderings found me thinking about the fact that the whole of Paradigm was afraid of the Underground. I asked myself if that might be true about the ocean. Then, during swimming (where I could go underwater and not hear everyone else's useless chatter), I thought up a blonde girl with ebony eyes. Her mother was a hooker, and no one knew who her father was. A native to Paradigm, and yet the only one who could swim. I called this girl Allison. The rest, you'll have to read to learn more.
Please read and leave me a review.

A Dancer's Trust

Summary: Consequences catch up with Roger when he meets a teen dancer. She had to get those eyes from somewhere...

Allison Brookes: http/i22.photobucket.com/albums/b305/Suzaku18/Avatars/allison1.png


The day was sinking away into night as I watched through my window in my room. I considered why I was there, in the brothel where I grew up. My blonde hair was in a ponytail, ready to hit the mattress, but my attention was focused on my reflection in the window pane. My left eye was bruised and swollen, a side-effect of rubbing it so hard and so often. My right eye was blood-shot; I had been crying. I always wondered about my eyes; why were they black as pitch when my mother had green eyes? I supposed my father had given me these eyes, but no one knew who my father was. My mother had died before I was born; I was delivered via emergency C-section. The over-seerer of the "comfort women", as they preferred to be called, took me in, being my mother's best friend. Her name is Michelle, and she's a pretty brunette with blue eyes.

I'm called Allison Brooks, but in this line of work, I've been dubbed "Dancer". I hate the implications of my other name. That's why I begged Michelle to let me "work" only three days a week. I worked hard in my High School courses and found myself in an ironic position: a member of the school's dance team. I didn't hate that at all. In fact, I prided myself in being a leader.

Still, as I stared out my window, I asked myself, "Where did I get these eyes? Who sired me? Is he still alive?" Those words swimming in my mind, I lay down to sleep. "Micah," I said to the cat on the dresser, "light please."

The black cat reached out a silken paw and batted the switch, plunging my room into darkness. I felt the creature leap to the pillow beside me, yellow eyes gleaming in the light through the window, and he curled up. He was a rarity in Paradigm, and that was why I never let him outside and always locked my bedroom door.

"Good night, Micah," I said and let myself drift off. I didn't dream, but that was as I expected. The only dreams that ever invaded my mind were nightmares. Horrible scenes of death and destruction. It was nothing I had ever known. Not in this lifetime anyway.
Chitter-Box-Kat 07-28-2006 12:08 PM
This is very cooly! Big Grin I wanna see where this is going. It sounds like it has potential to be something very cool and fun to read. Continue Zayne!
Shadow dorothy 07-28-2006 12:29 PM
Zayne-san this is a good piece so far.
Zayne 07-28-2006 06:31 PM
Thankies much.
Zayne 07-29-2006 10:27 PM
A Dancer's Trust
Chapter 1: Society Rejects

Roger had come to detest the annual carnival. It wasn't that the event wasn't for a good cause; it was more the accidents, abductions, and molestation that ensued. A stickler for women's and children's rights, the Negotiator couldn't help getting a little angry when kidnapping cases were stack on top of him the following days. Normally, he avoided the congregation at all costs. However, this year Dorothy insisted on joining to see just what happened in the crowds. So the pair found themselves walking along a road blocked to traffic and lines with stalls on both sides.
The chatter was beginning to make the man's head throb when the shops became scant, and a stage appeared in front of them. Upon it stood five teenagers, two girls and three boys. One of the boys was setting up drums in a dirty white T-shirt and baggy khaki shorts, long brown hair in a ponytail. The other two were tuning guitars and warming up, dressed similarly to the drummer. The girls, a blonde and a light brunette, were talking as they adjusted mike stands.
As Roger and Dorothy neared, they could hear the blonde girl saying, "A Woman's Work might scare them a little, Nicole. I still say we don't do it."
"Oh, and One Step Closer won't? C'mon, girl! We're supposed to spark interest." Nicole turned to the boys. "All right, guys! Allison doesn't want to do A Woman's Work. All with her?"
"Aye," said Allison.
"Aye," said the drummer, now turning with a small metal tool in hand.
"All opposed? Neigh." Nicole gave a thumbs-down.
"Neigh," said one of the guitarists, combing his fingers over his shaven scalp.
"Thanks, Zell," Allison shot at him sarcastically. "You're the tie-breaker, Dante. Speak up."
The other guitarist, tucking his shoulder-length rusty brown hair into a ponytail, took on a classic thinker's pose, considering the blonde. Roger could tell by his posture that the look was just a show; he'd probably already made his choice. "Sorry, Al." Dante said at length. "I'm with Nicole and Zell."
The drummer snapped his fingers, and Allison smiled at him. "Thanks anyway, Thomas." She ruffled the top of his head. "All right. Dante, Zell, you and Thomas go change. Nicole and I will do the same after you return."
Once the boys were gone, Nicole turned to see the android and human couple. "Oh hi. Sorry, but we don't start for about half an hour."
"Not a problem," Roger responded easily. "I don't think I've seen you around the city before."
"Well, your identity's no secret," was the comment from Allison as she wrapped her blonde hair into a bun. "Paradigm's Negotiator, Roger Smith." In a single fluid move, she had knelt at the edge of the stage, shifted her weight onto her arms, and swung down from the platform. She held out her hand. "I'm Allison Brooks. My band-mate is Nicole Gaines."
Nicole grinned. "We're Society Rejects. Nice to meetcha!"
Roger shook Allison's offered hand and turned to his companion. "This is R. Dorothy Wayneright."
Allison nodded and looked back up at the stage. "That's the other half of Society Rejects. Our drummer is Thomas Fields. Lead guitar is Dante Adams, and bass guitar is Zell Perry."
"Zell?" Roger let the question slip before he realized he had.
"His real name is Caleb, but he asked us to call him Zell."
Dante Adams gave a nod. His rusty-brown hair was now brushed and down. The hair surrounding his face had been cut to prevent it from interfering with his vision. His eyes were gray with a pattern of spider webs; contacts. His attire now consisted of a red muscle shirt, a red bandana around his left bicep, black dress boots, and black leather jeans. As Roger discreetly scrutinized him, Dante produced a red wide-brimmed hat and put it on, pulling the brim down to cover his eyes.
Thomas Fields wore the same boots and jeans, but for the red Dante wore, he had dark green. He had a camouflage kerchief around his head, bands of black leather around both wrists, and a dog tag at his neck. Zell Perry replaced dark blue with black.
"Excuse us," Allison told Roger and Dorothy. "Nicole and I have to change. It was nice to meet you two. Are you going to stick around for the concert?"
"Yes, we will," Dorothy said before the Negotiator could open his mouth, earning herself an irritated look.
"Great! See you in a while!" Allison easily hoisted herself back onto the stage and ran back behind the curtain; her over-sized T-shirt and jeans seemed to hide a strong, almost cat-like body.
"Why the change of pace, Mr. Smith?" Dante asked, taking a seat at the edge of the platform. "Isn't this the first year you've joined us?"
The manner in which Dante peered at him from under that wide brim reminded Roger of Alan Gabriel. Repressing a shudder, he jerked his head at Dorothy. "Dorothy got curious about what happens down here."
"You can't say in complete honesty that you yourself were never curious, Roger," Dorothy rebuked.
The red-clad guitarist smirked. "Miss Dorothy, you sound like Allison when she's in a debating mood which, of late, is quite often." Dante looked at Roger, examining him. Something about the Negotiator bore a striking resemblance to Allison. What it was exactly, he couldn't place. Aha! The eyes! Roger Smith's eyes were the same ebony as Allison's, with the same steely glint of determination.
Dorothy looked back at him, suspicion in her eyes. He reminded her a little too much of the psychotic cyborg who had gone after her and Roger. To his credit, Dante seemed to have a soft spot for the lithe Allison. "You are quite eloquent for a human," she said flatly.
Dante grinned. "I thank you."
"How old are you?" Roger asked, now curious about the articulate guitarist.
"I'm 18," was the answer. "I just graduated from Paradigm City High School. Allison is the youngest of our group at fifteen. Thomas and Nicole are seventeen, and Zell is sixteen. A child of the Advent," Dante added dramatically, swiping his hat from his head and looking grave. "As was dear Allison."
"Cut the sob story, Dante," Nicole shot at him. "They don't wanna hear it."
The graduate turned and grinned widely. "Ah! The leader of our miniscule band! The mistress of the microphone! The – "
"Yeah, yeah, shut up. Who are you? Michael Seebach?" Allison asked, crossing her arms. Like her fellows, she wore black shoes and leather jeans, and like Dante, she wore a red kerchief around her arm and a red top. However, as with Nicole (though the elder girl's was dark blue), it was a tube top with red mesh over her shoulders, forming an indirect strap and mesh covering her torso. Her shoulder length blonde hair lacked restraint and hung straight, her bangs positioned more to the left side. The ebony pencil that lined the ridge of her eyelid and the silver dusting of shadow brought out the stark black of her eyes. Not for the first time, the others of Society Rejects wondered who had sired their lead singer.
Roger was right: her clothing did hide a lithe and amazingly strong body. She was too thin to be an athlete, which meant she was probably a dancer. She carried herself with the confidence of one who had never lost a fight and wore her sharply cut features like a soldier would battle scars. He could literally see the strength in the tone of her muscles as she turned and walked back to center stage.
"So what first?"
Roger was surprised with the teenagers. They had genuine, raw talent. Allison was in fact a dancer, as was demonstrated while Dante took the mike for a song called One Step Closer. Even as the crowd thinned out at the close of the concert, he waited. His interest had been piqued by this quintet of independent teens.
"I vote we do Cool Rider next time," Allison said as she unplugged various pieces of equipment and put them away. "I always have fun with that song."
"And you give all the teenage boys listening nosebleeds," Nicole teased. "I've gotta go, guys. My grounding for my grades starts today. I'll see you in three weeks."
"See ya!" chorused the four remaining, and Nicole vanished into the streets.
"I'm impressed," Roger said, approaching the stage.
"Well hey," Allison said, smiling. "I didn't think you'd actually stick around."
"I'm a man of my word."
She rolled her eyes. "Well, Mr. Negotiator, I leave you to my band-mates. I have to go home." She waved to the boys. "Room 45 will be free tomorrow, guys. We can work there." That said, she leapt down, nodded to Roger, and left.
"You're curious about our little Allison," Zell said, plopping down on the edge of the stage beside Roger. "Ask away."
"Who are her parents?" Roger asked, considering the retreating form of the fifteen-year-old singer.
"Her mother was a hooker," was the prompt reply. "No one knows who her father is, but she doesn't let it weigh her down. If anything, it drives her to prove she's as good as anyone with both parents. Next."
"Where does she live?"
"Chained. It's a brothel near the entrance to West Dome #5."
"She lives in a brothel?" Roger couldn't believe that fact; a teenage working the streets just wasn't right.
"Yeah. After her mother died, the over-seer Michelle took care of her. Those women are actually really intelligent women. It's just they didn't make some of the best decisions. Allison's one of the luckier ones; she's going to school and is planning to get out of this city when she can. Gonna take Dante with her. Wel'p!" Zell got to his feet. "I got work to do. Nice talkin' with ya."
The Negotiator stood there for a moment longer before shaking his head free of a memory. It wasn't one he was proud of and chose to forget. Still, he thought there might have been a connection to that event in his past and the society reject chained to Paradigm.
-End Chapter 1-

Note: The mentioned songs are:
A Woman's Work by SHeDaisy
One Step Closer by Linkin Park
and Cool Rider from Grease 2
Chitter-Box-Kat 07-29-2006 11:59 PM
Oooooooooooohh! @o@ I likey! Big Grin I likey muchy! More pwease!