Shattered glass• Show poetry

The derivation of "shattered glass" is a story that Becky (ahou) wrote.
Here's a passage from it (featuring Katze, the GOD OF RED LEATHERY HOTNESS):

Then I spotted him.  First the pile of scraggly red hair—not true red, like Arch’s, but a deep, obviously dyed, crimson.  Red seemed to be Katze’s color of the month.  In fact, he came bouncing up in a pair of tight red leather pants.  A pair of suit-clad women moved out of his way; casting scornful glances at his back.  “Hazer!” Katze squealed; enveloping me in a hug.  The two women’s eyes grew wide in shock and I shrugged at them apologetically.  The older of the two stuck her nose in the air and marched off towards the cafeteria.  Her companion followed after; still with a look of shock on her less-than-appealing features.  

“Katze,” I greeted back, with slightly less enthusiasm.  I tried to pry his arms from around my waist.  He squeezed me one last time and let go.

“How’d it go?” he asked excitedly, fingering the end of his sleeve.

I shrugged, trying not to become too annoyed with his act.  “How we expected it to go.”

“Good!” he said and, after latching onto my arm, led me down the hallways towards the upper level rooms.  After we had passed out of anyone’s earshot Katze leaned over and whispered in my ear, “I got the disks.”

“Both of them?” I whispered back.  We pulled apart as a man passed.  I smiled at the man and he returned the smile, if reluctantly.  Damn Katze and his reputation.

“It wasn’t that hard,” Katze said at last, absently twirling a lock of his hair about a slender finger.  

“That isn’t always a good thing,” I said with a scowl.  Whatever rumors were going to be floating around the next morning would not be in my favor.

He shrugged.  “I know.  But it doesn’t matter now, we’re both safe.  I could burst into Maratus’ office, beat the living shit outta that damn butt-ugly lamp, and he couldn’t do a thing about it.”  Katze had a point.  Maratus had left the link open.  We were protected by his stupidity.  

“What is it with you and that lamp?” I asked casually as a small group of techies passed.

“The thing is so fucking ugly!” he half-yelled.  “I mean, have you seen it?”

“You have to let me join you when you decide to put it out of its misery.”  

Katze grinned; pleased that someone saw his point of view.  We had reached his quarters by now and he quickly typed in his password with one hand.  The keypad beeped and he knocked the door open with his hip.  Against my better judgment I followed him in.  I nearly cringed as I heard the group of techies pass us again.  It would be better if I never got up at all tomorrow.  By now I’d be pegged as either Katze’s pimp or his lover.  At least Arch would get a laugh out of that.  I could swear that was the reason he had paired me with Katze for this little traitorous mission.  Never mind the fact that the three of us had been friends for the five years Katze had been working for the BLO.

Katze danced over to his dresser and began tossing his clothes behind him.  More pairs of multi-colored leather pants, and god knows what else, flew across the room.  “Aha!”  Katze cried happily.  He turned with the two disks in his hands.  He hopped over to me and placed them in my open palm.  Beaming proudly he plopped down on his cluttered bed.  “Well?” he asked as I scrutinized the disks.  They fit the description Arch had given me—smaller than usual with the black band circling the bottom.  

“Computer,” I said without looking up.  I heard Katze scramble off the bed and the hum of the computer as he turned it on.  He then led me over to the revealed screen that had been previously covered with bed sheets.  

I took a seat in the clothes-covered chair and slipped one of the disks into the tray.  It closed, drawing the disk inside, and whirred as a list of the disk’s contents was brought on-screen.  It was what Arch needed.  I closed the list and traded the two disks.  The second one was right as well.  I pocketed the disks and turned to Katze, who wore a look of worry, or something close to it.  “Are they right?” he asked.

“Yep.  Just what Arch wanted.  I’ll send them to him tonight,” I said as I started to get up; the sooner I got out of Katze’s room the better.  Not just because of what rumors would be circulating, but because the stench of cheap cologne was making me sick.  The worst part was that Katze didn’t wear cologne.  

The red-head let out an audible sigh of relief.  He fell back onto the bed.  It was then I noticed the bags under his eyes and the bone-weary look about him.  His overly cheerful façade hadn’t just been an act for any on-lookers, but for me as well.  He had clearly lost sleep over this mission.  I patted him reassuringly on the shoulder.  “You did great, Katze,” I told the fatigued form.  He smiled at me through half-lidded eyes.

“But we have to leave tomorrow,” he quietly reminded me.  “Our shuttle leaves at dawn.”  

I nodded grimly.  “Yeah, but the sooner we get outta here the better.  Besides, you’ve never been on a shuttle have you?”

He shook his head, red-dyed locks swinging back and forth.  “Well,” I continued, “You won’t wanna miss tomorrow.”  I half-suspected he’d try to back out of the whole thing.  Katze was barely out of his teens and had never been completely assured by our promises of safety.  Then I felt a bit guilty.  I had only just stopped hating him for what his damned-awful reputation would do to my own.  It made me think back to one of our planning sessions.  Arch typing busily at his laptop, with a carrot sticking out the side of his mouth.  Every so often he’d a take a bite of it and then rearrange it so it wouldn’t fall to the floor.  Katze was lying lazily on the futon in the corner as we were meeting in the top-floor lounge.  And I was pacing uneasily back and forth, sure that we would be caught.  

We had been talking about which shuttle service would get me and Katze to the moon the quickest when one of us, I couldn’t remember if it was Arch or myself, brought up the reason behind Katze’s outfit.  He was wearing black leather pants a white sleeveless muscle shirt, though he sported no muscles.  He had taken off his knee-high boots which he had been complaining hurt his feet.  I, for I do believe it was myself, asked him why he wore the boots at all if they hurt his feet.  He had replied that he had to preserve his reputation.

“Why,” I asked, “would you want to preserve a reputation like yours?”  He frowned at me, a bit ruffled.

“Because, unlike some people,” when he said this he glared accusingly at Arch and me, “I’m not some muscled grunt.  Without my ‘Fuck everything that moves’ reputation, I’d be trashed every chance one of those bastards got.”  He sighed and ran a hand through his currently dark purple hair.  “But see, if people, especially straight brainless grunts, believe that if they come near me they just might wake up with me next to them in bed, they stay away.  That’s my insurance.  That’s my muscle.”


Um, okay, that was more than just a passage.  But I heart Katze!!!

-Peace out, Angela/Silver/Aunt Sheila/Schlampe/whatever else anyone might call me