Excerpt: Ode To Jace

“I feel like shit…”
Sweat beaded on his red skin, soaking the straps that held him to the wall. He breathed short shallow breaths in the coffin sized room. Red light flooded in from the fixture above. A small blue screen hung inches from his nose, symbols and pictures flashed across it. His fists clenched and relaxed in sync with his breathing.
“Why…? Did I deserve this…?” the man moaned. His discomfort showed on his face.
“It’s time to do your duty,” A crisp female voice answered. “Don’t worry, it will all be over soon. It’s time…”
“Don’t do this Jen!” The man demanded as he pulled at his restraints. He flexed until his nails made his hands bleed. It was too late, a clunk and the room fell. He took a deep breath as the room spun and his heart pounded in his throat. He tumbled, he knew that he would soon hit and that filled him with adrenaline.
This wasn’t his fault, he reassured himself. The pod shuttered as it slowed its descent, jerking and bouncing wildly. The man winced at the bone jarring force of the crash. The door blew off the front. Rays of sunlight pierced the forest canopy. A cool breeze teased the man’s nose.
Slowly the restraints loosened and fell away. He stretched his muscles carefully, and then began pulling equipment off the walls. The last two pieces of equipment he took were the assault rife and sniper rifle.
He slipped carefully out into the world; everything was green, everything except for him. His crimson skin glowed in the mid morning light, all of him that wasn’t covered by his body suit.
He scanned each section of forest for movement. He moved silently, half crouched and ready to pounce. Reaching a trunk he quickly took hold of a branch and lodged his clawed foot into a knot hole. Soon he stood atop the tree, gripping it with his talons.
With care the man extended a pair of wings from his back, boney and leathery wings only slightly lighter color than his skin. Then he dove off the tree and glided away to the west.
He flew leisurely, catching updrafts with ease like he had always had wings. What men could do, he thought. On his sky the only noise was the rippling of the wind. The world below was serene, even the city.
The city, a concrete monster like all the others, was broken and crumbled. It was a scar, a gash in this planet consumed by war. The planet was named Choka, for its occupants had their hand at the others throat. All except the few free cities, the long dead city-states.