Tri
Drake
Prologue:
Long ago there was a world in danger. It was on the verge of a technological cliff and was driven towards the edge by the everlasting push towards perfection. Humanity was, apparently, flawed. Only machines could make humans perfect, make them right. The truest fault of humans was in believing that they needed machines, or anything, to make them better when they had survived for centuries as they were. Romanticists would assume that a brave and dashing hero would come to the rescue and save the world like the clichéd plot in so many novels the newly "perfected" humans read. The reality is that it was that very hero who initiated the fall. Gregory Meters, creator of the problem, was nothing more than a computer freak in his youth. Now? There are statues celebrating his "genius". Of course, the statues are not of his human body, but the one he paid the plastic surgeons so dearly for. No one knows who Gregory Meters was, but the world still followed his every commandment as if he were the new messiah.
The world changed after its fall. Cosmetic surgery and genetic mutation for the purposes of science have become the norm. Humans, while still the dominant race, were not alone in their conquest over Earth. Cybernetic humans and genetic mutations were slowly replacing humans. Few had been left unchanged, either from lack of money or lack of interest.
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Run, the one word that was in Domina's head. Run, run, run away. In this world of technology, the doctor and professor of modern communication was relying not on brilliant design of mechanics but on the brilliant yet flawed design of a human being. She does not know who or what she is running from except the amazing stupidity of man kind. To fight or flee, to stand or run; these natural reactions in an unnatural world drive her on. She is in a world of machines from which she must delete herself permanently. She must leave everything she knows and everything there is. Dr. Domina Raven is no more, and so she runs.
And so she runs. She runs all the way from her laboratory in the rich part of the city to a small flat in the slums. She collapses when she finds this flat, hoping some for it to be empty and some for it to hold someone to help her. She knows neither is likely. Her last conscious thought is that the silver haired man in the window does not look as old as he should by his hair.
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Domina wakes and cannot see. She feels cloth surrounding her, maybe sheets, maybe a shroud. She sits up and hears the cloth fall from her weary body. Am I dead? Can the dead feel? I don't think so. The room smelled musty and she heard a fan on in a corner. As her eyes became more accustomed to the light she could see the vague outline of a door across from her and some furniture of some kind to her left. Where am I? Maybe my assistant came looking for me and brought me home, though this does not look like my apartment. She is startled out of her wondering by a light coming on outside the door. She turns her head away from the light. She hears the doorknob turn and the door open. She is momentarily blinded by the bright light and sees a dark figure standing in the doorway. She can see what looks like a huge pistol at the figure's waist, who she can now tell is a man.
"So, you're finally awake?" the man asks in a low voice. He shifts something in his arms and steps farther into the room. Domina panics and tries to shrink into the darkness.
"Are you going to answer me?" he asks as he flips the light switch inside the door. Domina squints and shades her now sensitive eyes from the light until they can adjust.
"I guess not. In that case I'll just have to guess why you turned up unconscious outside my house." She just glares at his attempts at getting her to talk. How dare he come near her while armed?
"Maybe you'd prefer I just kick you out on the street. Unless you're mute, in which case I can understand your silence," he laughs quietly to himself.
"Please don't. I'm just nervous," she whispers.
"Terrified is more like it. Here," he takes out his pistol and throws it onto the bed she's laying on, "that any better Drake-girl? Now you're armed and I'm not." She picks up the pistol and finds it very heavy. It would be impossible to aim with it.
"What did you call me?" she asks after a pause.
"Drake-girl," he says, indicating the dragon clip she has in her hair, "you have a drake in you hair," he adds helpfully. She rolls her eyes.
"That would be a dragon. I don't even know what a drake is."
"Nope, it's definitely a drake, here," he holds out his hand for it. She unclips it letting out her long, straight brown hair and gives it to him. He sits down next to her, putting down the blanket he had been holding.
"See, its muzzle is longer than a dragon's muzzle and its tail is far too long for it to be a dragon. Plus, its wings are shorter and the membrane is thicker. They're better for swimming than flying which would make it a drake, not a dragon," he nods triumphantly.
"Well, sir, you certainly know your reptiles," she laughs. He grins and hands her back the clip. She pulls her comb from her breast pocket and pulls her hair up again.
"So, what are you doing here? Oh, and by the way, my name's Silver Fox."
"Nice to meet you, I'm Dr. Domina Raven. And for my reason for being here, I don't really know. I guess I just got fed up with the great human drive towards perfection. It never interested me much," she smiles grimly.
"And you're a doctor?" he asks.
"Of communication, not cosmetic surgery."
"Well, you can stay here until you get a place of your own. You may have some trouble getting a place if you look and sound like a techie, Drake-girl," he offers. She smiles and shakes her head.
"You're going to call me that for as long as I know you, aren't you? Well, thank you for your offer and I will take you up on it."
"Sure, no problem, and the name Drake will get you farther than "Dr. Domina Raven". It's more common."
"Alright, so I need a new name, a new life—"
"And a new weapon," he cuts in.
"You're going to teach me to use one?" she asks.
"Bloody techies don't even know how to handle a weapon," he mutters to himself, "yeah, I'll teach you. We can work on that later. First you have to get a job. Comm-techs are desperately needed so you shouldn't have a problem."
"Comm-techs?" she asks.
"Communication technicians, you basically. I'll talk to some people and see where you're needed. If all else fails, I'll hire you for my garage," he says. Okay, so he's a mechanic. That would explain the huge pistol.
"Thanks Silver, I'll repay you some how," she smiles.
"Ah, no need Drake-girl. Besides, if you work for me you'll more than earn your stay." His grin makes Drake very nervous for some reason. She rolls her eyes at him.
"You get some sleep and I'll look around for you, 'kay?" he leaves the room and shuts out the light without waiting for her answer. She smiles to herself. All my life no one has cared anything for me and yet this perfect stranger… Drake drifts off to sleep, feeling safe for the first time in her life.