REDNER - Dark, Philosophical Sci-Fi Series

I've just started publishing a new dark sci-fi series on Archive of Our Own called REDNER. Expect weekly updates to the story, and feel free to let me know what you think!

Excerpt: ACT ONE

FADE IN:

EXT. DREARY ALLEYWAY—MIDNIGHT

REDNER (V/O): There is a great sort of power, in caring for nothing. Without it, what can anyone else do to you?

We see the main title, then the chyron, "2174, Il-Dahla".

REDNER, lanky-haired, disturbed, young adult, sits miserably at the doorstep. They can hear their relatives argue about them inside. Apparently, REDNER's been getting into a lot of fights, and what's worse, they're losing all of them.

ERIK: They're so weak! They won't fight back against anyone!

They decide to walk out towards the end of the street, as far as they're allowed, and watch the occasional shuttle go by, their welcoming port/starboard lights flashing across the gloomy alleyways.

The final shuttle disappears, leaving a furious REDNER alone in the darkness. Their face feels twisted and painful. They wish that they could bottle up the feeling and smash it to pieces.

They notice a small flash of white light in the distance. Without thinking, they race towards it. Following their gut. It’s the only thing that they've felt good about doing in a long time. The snow fills their shoes quickly, but they keep their pace all the same.

They stop before they run into a wall, and carefully look around the corner of the block, and through a filthy window: Crouched low inside an old factory building are two MERCENARIES, one of them surprisingly large, and bleeding uncontrollably. It looks like most of his hand was shot to pieces.

The other sets to work instantly, and stamps a glowing-hot ring around what remains of the larger one’s wrist, but the large MERCENARY makes no sound.

Instead, he watches carefully at the hallways beyond them. The horrible scent of burning flesh extends to the street corner where REDNER watches, but they are not noticed by either one of the MERCENARIES.

REDNER: M-m-m-m-m.

REDNER suddenly experiences a sick feeling of fascination as they see what was being attached to the larger MERCENARY's wrist. The MERCENARY brings himself up to impressive height and gives his crudely-fashioned prosthetic hand a try. It looks as if the fingers were made with some particularly rusty metal blades.

Just then, two police OFFICERS rush into the room from two hallways, their shotguns at the ready. The first OFFICER shoots the smaller MERCENARY in the back, pins him to the ground, and fires a slug into his head, spattering everyone with fine red drops.

The larger MERCENARY, however, was not seen by the OFFICERS. When their backs are turned, the larger MERCENARY creeps up to the OFFICERS.

The MERCENARY grabs one of their throats with his new hand-blades, which cut through the flesh horribly fast. The OFFICER notices his partner’s head roll across the floor, and stops cold.

MERCENARY: Go. Tell them about me. I want a real challenge...

The OFFICER slowly sets his shotgun down, and leaves the building. He walks out the back door, and out towards the corner of the block, where REDNER is still watching. REDNER was nearly seen by him before they backed into the darkness of the street.

When the OFFICER is out of sight, they peer around the corner again, this time seeing the larger MERCENARY staring directly back at them. Worst of all, he was smiling for some reason.

The MERCENARY beckons REDNER with his original hand, who finds themselves walking forward right away.

The building looks like several people have been living here for some time; every surface is covered with emergency survival equipment such as thermal blankets, lighters, oil, dried meats and fruit.

It took a while for their eyes to adjust to the near-darkness of the room, which, somehow, showed no hint of any blood ever being there.

MERCENARY: Hey there, kid. My name’s Ten.

REDNER: I know, I see you on the news all the time. You’re part of an old MERCENARY group, right?

TEN: (Nods) You like what you saw back there?

REDNER: (Stutters) I’m not sure how I feel about it.

TEN: You do. You wouldn’t have had that look if you didn’t.

When REDNER doesn’t answer, TEN continues.

TEN: That's how I felt when I was recruited by the Council. Like I was good at something, and I wanted to be. I had a cause to devote my life to. The fine man you’ve just seen take a bullet from that officer was my brother.

REDNER's gaze wanders to the travesty of sharp objects currently functioning as TEN's hand.

TEN: I'm not with them, anymore. I killed someone I was supposed to take prisoner. I lost control.

TEN thinks back. He wonders if he could've done anything else to prevent his being cast out.

TEN: They don't protect me, but at least I'm free to make my own decisions.But what do you think? Is mine the kind of life you want?

REDNER: I don’t know what I want.

TEN: Ah, that’s the worst thing in the world, kid. You gotta do something about that.

REDNER is reminded of the surge of pleasure they felt when witnessing TEN'S blades at work. They speak quietly, pointing to TEN'S weaponized hand.

REDNER: ... I was very impressed.

REDNER continues, their own deep tone of voice unsettling themselves.

REDNER: I want to learn how to make something like that.

TEN: I should tell you that this wasn’t a pretty job, it’s normally a lot cleaner-looking than this.

REDNER: Good, there are a few guys I'd like to speak with.

TEN: Can you say for sure that you’ve been wronged?

REDNER answers bitterly.

REDNER: I just want to defend myself.

TEN nods. He understands, unfortunately.

Over the next few days, REDNER is taught some very advanced knowledge on bionic attachments, most of which REDNER got to perform for themselves. They sit at a workbench while TEN watches, operating on their own left hand, cutting pieces out of their finger’s ligaments, replacing them with deadly bionic attachments.

TEN, his cruel mentor looks proud. If there's anything he likes to see, it's another poor soul following his same path. What a morally sick individual.

TEN rewards REDNER with a small Shamshir, one of his spoils of war.

TEN: A little present for you, Red. You did a good job.

The steel is blank, as of now, but REDNER quickly gets to engraving it. REDNER is grateful as they hoist it on to a display rack. It would appear that REDNER has found themselves in a place where his strange abilities are appreciated.

 

INT. TEN'S FACTORY-MADE HIDEOUT – NIGHT

REDNER is modifying their metal wrist one night, their computer monitoring the results. On the desk next to them, is a glowing glass case of jellyfish. They look at the screen, and notice their cells multiplying at an incredible rate.

REDNER: How the hell?

REDNER types in a few commands, and receives the response, "Cell Production has reached maximum."

They look beyond all belief. They type again, receiving, "Aging ceased. Life expectancy undetermined."

REDNER stares blankly at the screen.

REDNER: So, I can't die?

TEN walks by, holding a drink aloft.

TEN: What are you talking about? Of course you can die. Just not from old age.

REDNER: You know? That-that this is the key to eternal life?

TEN: Yeah. And it's gonna stay with you. We can't keep it.

REDNER: Can't keep it? What does that mean?

TEN: It'll just be stolen by the Council. They'll sell it to their friends, and only their friends. It'll be like a fun joke. Not only do they get everything, they get to keep it forever. They laugh last. That's their code.

REDNER shakes their head in disbelief.

REDNER: It's something to fight for. You can't just keep this to yourself.

TEN: Listen, Red. I don't care, anymore. It's up to you where it goes from here out.

( More to come! Link to REDNER on Archive of Our Own: https://archiveofourown.org/works/65366173 )