Oriphiel

After getting fucked up on swedish meatballs and listening to Turbo by Judas Priest like ten times in a row, I decided to start writing a story to go along with the album. Yeah, I know, it was a really weird day. I also decided that it would be a good idea to write a romance, since I've never written about that sort of thing before, and also that I should write a story with no direct dialogue, since I rely too much on it, and it kinda bogs my stories down. So not only is this gonna be a story about Turbo, it's gonna be an experimental story about Turbo. I can already tell that this is gonna turn out perfectly. Anyway, let's do this shit.

The soldier squinted as he looked up at the swelling sun, smiling as the warm and comforting light reflected off of the visor of his helmet. His mind wandered away from his work, as he entertained thoughts of taking his family to the park later in the day. A cool breeze rushed by, kissing his un-gloved fingers, and his smile widened. However, a nearby scream brought him back to reality. His work was still unfinished. Regaining his composure, he picked up a box filled with vinyl records, and carried it to a military transport vehicle. As he slid it in the back alongside dozens of similar boxes, yet another scream broke through the air. The soldier glanced over at the building, and the people lined up outside of it. The pirates were becoming violent, pushing the soldiers away and shouting obscenities. One of the pirates was lying motionless on the ground, a small pool of blood forming under his head. Most likely, he had been clubbed on the back of the head after trying to escape. The soldier looked away. He had always found it to be a shame when people had to die over such foolish matters.

To drown out the noise of the swelling violence, the soldier tapped a button on his helmet, and a visual display appeared on his visor. Of course, he could have used a verbal command to call up the display, and eye movements to navigate it, however he was an old fashioned sort, and such gimmicks never seemed to work properly for him anyway. With a few more button presses, he began looking through lists of recommended songs, until he found one that pleased him. Selecting it, a calm tone indicated that his account had been charged for the privilege of listening to it, before the song began. Smiling, he returned to his work. In front of the library, the mass of soldiers had quelled the detained pirates, and began escorting them to the transport vehicles for processing. On the side of each van was written IME, an abbreviation that stood for “International Music Enterprise”. After a series of mergers twenty years ago, they had become the only record label in existence, using their money and influence to become not only a monopoly but an autonomous government, one that had long since attained mandates from all of Earth’s nations granting them ownership of all music. And they demanded complete control of their property.

This raid was one of many in a campaign to finally put an end to all unmonitored and unauthorized music. Physical media, such as records and CDs, allowed lawbreakers to play songs without paying the proper fees for each use, as well as allowing them to acquire music that had been deemed offensive by IME and erased from their database and digital store. Until all such artifacts had been seized and destroyed, IME would never have absolute dominion over their charge. And so, with the support of all governments, they exercised their right to enforce their intellectual property laws across all nations, with whatever force they deemed necessary. With such power, controlling the exchange of music across the internet took very little effort, and illegal downloading soon faded into non-existence. Now, the only reliable way to acquire music free from the grip of IME was through physical exchange. However, with the number of pirates and bootleggers dwindling under such a hostile assault, the day was fast approaching when IME would finally drag music out of the chaos of the past, and into the order of the future.

The sun gave out a deep red light as it rose above the city. Two figures, a man and a woman, watched it intently as they leaned against a concrete wall. Both were wearing black leather jackets, and red motorcycle helmets. The man’s jacket was covered in studs, as well as band patches spanning a variety of genres. The woman had rolled the sleeves of her jacket up, and she adjusted them as she looked towards the sky, her bright red nails shining like neon diamonds. The man turned away from the sun, looking at the woman’s face through the tinted visor of her helmet. She looked back at him, as his eyes told her that it was time to go. Though he couldn’t see it, she shot him a smile.

Racing through the streets on their motorcycles, streams of light passed by as they weaved effortlessly through traffic. Behind them, their competitors tried desperately to catch up to them, each now having more adrenaline pumping through them than blood as they indulged in their insatiable hunger for the prize. Swerving to the side, the man and woman narrowly avoided a car as it changed lanes. Unfortunately, the racer behind them was not as quick, his reflexes betraying him as he crashed full speed into the back of the car. His body and motorcycle became a cloud of metal and blood, shimmering under a rain of sparks. The racers behind him soon passed him by, their neon-lit jackets speeding ahead like shooting stars. Though they refused to slow down and risk losing the race, each silently honored their fallen comrade in their pounding hearts.

Days later, the two found themselves on that same road. This time, however, there were black assault vehicles behind them instead of rival racers. Each bore the IME logo, and they worked tirelessly to keep up with the two motorcyclists, knocking other vehicles off to the side in their desperate pursuit. The woman saw them bearing down on her in her mirrors, and pulled a gun out from under her jacket. Turning on her motorcycle’s stabilizers and auto-drive, she then turned around and opened fire, aiming for their windshields. At first, the soldiers ignored her fire, as their windshields were protected against projectiles. However, as holes began to melt in the treated glass, they soon realized that the woman was using an illegally customized overcharged laser pistol. The assault vehicles swerved wildly to avoid her fire, crashing into each other in a heap of metal and glass. Putting her gun away, the woman caught up to the man, and the two continued to speed forward. Using his free hand, the man tightly gripped the strap of the duffel bag slung across his back, anticipating the wonders that it’s contents would surely hold.

Somehow escaping death once again, they returned to their apartment and emptied the duffel bag on their bed. As the woman picked up an interesting looking record and examined it, the man simply ran his fingers across the pile of music, his heart beating faster as he took in the beauty of it. The cover art of each album seemed to tell a story, and the plastic cases of the CDs shimmered under the bright neon lights scattered across the apartment. Even the beat up tapes with handwritten labels held a sort of charm to them, and the many mysterious unmarked flashdrives promised hundreds of digital songs free from IME’s watermark and formatting. Eventually, they put one of the records on, and the charged sound of Heavy Metal began to pulse through the apartment. As they embraced, the beating of their hearts began to merge with the rhythm of the song. Their love for each other was matched only by their love for music, a powerful addiction that ensured their self-destruction. However, though they knew that in the end their actions would have little impact, and that the forces they stood against would ultimately claim victory, they were nonetheless determined to make an adventure out of what little time they had left.

Weeks later, they found themselves in an unmonitored alleyway, buying a large quantity of rare music from a contact. The deal was soon interrupted by a hail of gunfire, as the contact and his associates decided that they could take on the two of them, so why leave without taking both the money and the music? Without hesitating, the man avoided their gunfire by falling to the ground, instinctively pulling out his gun and returning fire. The woman leapt to the side and withdrew her pistol as well, laughing as a shot from a laser gun ricocheted off of her tempered motorcycle helmet. Between the two of them, they made short work of the contact and his associates. Standing up, the man unzipped his jacket and examined the laser-proof vest underneath. While most of the shots had simply left singes here and there, one from an overcharged pistol had managed to pierce through, leaving a small cauterized wound on his side. The woman examined her own vest, finding that all the shots that had struck her had luckily been of the glancing variety. However, one of the shots had hit her wallet, melting it and all of the contents within. Pulling it out, she and the man couldn’t help but laugh. Throwing it to the side, she stepped towards the man and put a hand on his wound, and their gazes locked through their visors.

Later, the two of them returned to the concrete wall, watching a particularly striking sunset that blanketed the city in a sea of inviting orange. Being in a rundown and secluded part of the city that IME soldiers rarely cruised through, the two felt little apprehension in playing music publicly. The man withdrew a CD from his jacket’s inner pocket, a favorite that he often carried with him for luck, and one that had somehow survived all this time without being destroyed by a laser blast. The woman removed a piece from the frame of her motorcycle, revealing a hidden music player decorated with USB ports, as well as slots for CDs and tapes. She took the CD from him and removed it from it’s case, sliding it into the music player and turning up the volume. As the music washed over the two of them, they held each other tight, staring forward silently at the sunset. Before long, however, they saw smoke start to rise from a section of the city in the distance. Just then, small LEDs on their motorcycles began to glow red, a signal indicating that friends of theirs were being raided. Without hesitating, the pair withdrew their pistols and briefly inspected them, readying themselves for battle before setting off. Within the minute, they were racing through the streets once again, speeding past traffic with expert skill.

Riding alongside each other, their hearts beating in unison, both accepted that this could very well be their final hour. However, even if their lives were to be cut short, neither could complain, for both had desired little more in life than to become lost in their passions, a desire that had long ago been fulfilled to satisfaction. Their speed increasing, and the engines of their motorcycles screaming ever louder, their fears and doubts found it quite difficult to keep up. And, in time, they were left behind altogether, simply one more mark in a section of the road that had been passed long ago. As the lights and cars around them became little more than a blur, all that remained now was energy, determined to stay in motion until the curse of inertia finally brought it to a halt.

As they sped past a police car, it turned on it’s sirens and began to take chase. Gingerly maneuvering past other cars, it briefly managed to pull up behind the two motorcyclists, before the pair noticed their tail and increased their speed. The cop sped up as well, however his driving skills were not up to par, and he clipped a large truck that wasn’t fast enough to move out of his way. Though the thought of ignoring the truck and continuing the pursuit of the speeding motorcyclists was a tempting one, the officer forced himself to give up the chase and come to a stop, making sure that the truck driver was unharmed. Ahead, the motorcyclists saw the spectacle in their mirrors, and both shot each other a glance, laughing all the while as they continued to race down the highway, eventually fading into the blinding orange light of the sunset.

__________________
----------------------
|---Mic's Albums---|
----------------------
-----------------------------
|---Deafbox Industries---|
-----------------------------