This is a new story of which I wasn't quite sure which category to put it under. It's more or less writing itself at the moment and I'm also not sure how much sex there will be. (At this point it could go either way, so for the quick and dirty this may not be suitable and there is no gratification unfortunately in this submission.)
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For a long time people had found amusement in urban legends of bodies in bathtubs. What they didn't consider was the plausibility of black market organs. Nothing had changed. Well almost nothing, except for the organs. Lexa looked over the body in disgust. This wasn't some poor or homeless person that had been lured here for the intention of having their organs stolen or under the misconception they'd actually be able to sell their one of their organs for a hefty price. This was a well-dressed man left to bleed out on the dank concrete floor in the carpark of a deserted building. Her boot stood just shy of the pool of blood on the ground, as the metallic and fecal smell invaded her nostrils. They must've been particularly ruthless with this one for him to let his bowels go.
"Anything?"
She shook her head. Six months in this deadbeat part of the city, another week, maybe less and she'd move onto her next destination. Wherever the hell that was.
"Call it in?"
Lexa nodded, looking at the body. Not that anyone would care, but you never knew and no matter how many dead bodies she saw, she couldn't shake the feeling that it was the right thing to do; to give them a final resting place, when so many others didn't. Lexa's body suddenly leaned as if she were about to jump back, but her feet stuck fast and her hand ripped the gun from her holster, her finger trembling against the trigger.
"Chrrrist!" Sterling gasped behind her.
The man on the floor twitched and rasped, an undecipherable sound coming from his throat.
"Are you kidding me? He's still alive?"
She slowly holstered her gun and a took a step back. "Not for long, but call it in and tell them to call the medics."
* * *
Looking up at the sky, Lexa emerged from the shadow of the building into the sunlight and shivered. Places like that should have given her the creeps, and one time they did but that was long ago. She curled her fingers into her palm and pushed her fingernails into the flesh wondering why it just didn't hurt anymore. They'd be gone by the time the police and medics arrived. She zipped up her jacket and continued down the road. She'd been in this place a thousands times before, if not here, in a hundred other cities. Places that once had a history, but no one remembered anymore, once it had outlived it's usefulness.
The human race just never learned. In their quest for power and longevity, they left destruction and ruin in their wake. There was no such thing as long term planning, it was patch it up or sell it off, leaving the mess for future generations to clean up. By the time that generation matured, the vicious cycle simply repeated itself. Governments in bed with conglomerates, law and religion to control the masses. There was no apocalypse, doomsday, or 2012, and what was that person's name... Nostradamus? And the saviour? It didn't matter what belief system it was, the more vocal ones simply modified their texts to suit their purposes. If it wasn't the fear that controlled, it was the unknown that people probably should've been more afraid of. Big brother is watching you? You bet. The only people that did a better job that those who could slice your throat open from the other side of the planet were the online companies, tracking your every click, keystroke, or transaction. Anonymous surfing? Doesn't exist. Cookies tracking you when you log out and leave? Absolutely. Want to leave the rat race and slip off the grid? Near impossible now. Most people were microchipped, one way or another. The government made sure of that, and how did they sell it? Ease. Ease of use. Making life easier. You no longer needed credit cards, or to fill out medical records, hell you didn't even need a passport anymore. It was all there, wirelessly updated, your life in one tiny bit of plastic. The thought made Lexa shudder hard as she walked along. Thinking about the world's history over the last forty years was like watching a car wreck. It was horrifying but you couldn't look away. All the ideas of rights and independence, free will and other stories that humans told themselves were suddenly no longer important. What had happened? They would never come back from this, no revolution or coup in a million years could turn them back from where they were and what they had become.
* * *
With all that had happened, it was almost laughable that some things had never changed. Despite the fact that the humans had either forgotten or paid little heed to their past, there was so much sentimental stuff that they insisted on hanging onto. Nothing but a purple neon light indicated there was any life in this part of the old industrial area, streets lined with rows and rows of hovels and factories clad with corrugated iron. It wasn't a place for anyone in their right mind. A minute into the area and it was likely you'd get robbed or killed for less. Lexa pushed through the single mesh door and looked around: booths, the obligatory scratched checkered vinyl floor, an old dusty jukebox and a couple of worn pool tables decorated the room. The place was a dive. Sterling was already sitting in a booth with Max, Tanner and Winton. They were all expressionless. She knew that look, because she wore it herself. Days rolled into weeks, months into years and so on. Life was a journey of restlessness, boredom, weariness then nothingness. Time had a way of doing that to you, until you didn't have the energy to care anymore. She slid into the dilapidated booth next to Winton, feeling the torn vinyl scratch against her pants. They all looked at her and nodded, nursing their beers.
"How is it?" She motioned her head towards the beer.
Winton stared at the bottle for a moment and then turned to her, his silver hair falling over one dark eye. "It's passable. I've had worse."
Max grinned and chuckled. "Are you talking about that shithole outside of Sandston?"
Sterling groaned and slapped a large hand against his forehead. "Don't fucking remind me."
"Well if it's good enough for you..." Lexa rose from the table and went to the bar, which was more like a literal hole in the wall. It reminded her of those food trailers at the fair when she was a child. The man who turned to serve her looked like he'd once seen better days. His emaciated appearance would have been startling if Lexa hadn't seen so many like him. Long stringy, greasy grey hair, balding at the crown, dull sunken eyes and deeply grooved, weathered skin. His overalls looked as though he was simply a hanger made of skin and bone.
"Beer... please."
The man studied her for a moment before his gnarled hand slid a brown beer bottle towards her. Lexa pulled some crumpled notes out of her pocket and pushed them along the counter towards him. He smoothed them out and then lifted a blacklight from under the counter and ran it over the bills on both side before putting it away.
"Thanks... love."
She flashed him a small smile before grabbing the bottle and turning away to find herself facing a plaid shirt. One sniff was enough, the body odour from this guy was rancid. She attempted to go around him but he sidestepped and blocked her path. Lexa sighed quietly, feeling her shoulders drop down.
"How's about a little fun?"
