# Penumbra Dreams

Author: Jinx Curi
Tags: Dream, Male, Penumbraverse, Shark, Violence, blood, cyber, cyberpunk, sliver

Okay, second 'chapter' in this particular Penumbraverse tale, and one in which we get much more to grips with Sliver's character and past. I'd advise you to take a look at some of the artwork uploaded and particularly my 'Penumbra Prologue' intro, either before or after reading this if you haven't done so already, and please feel free to leave a comment for me; suggestions and criticisms are most welcome and will be read and responded to.
Marked Adult for some mild gore and suggestive sexual themes and content.

Pain.  
It crackled spitefully through every nerve in his body.  
Agony.
He cried out - unrecognisable howls of anguish torn from his
lips.
Blood Red.
Through the blur of his failing vision, trails of glowing
scarlet, emanating from his assailant, streaked across Sliver's vision.  Air gushed out of his maw as a powerful and
connecting kick to the stomach sent him reeling backwards.  A barely functioning mind tried in vain to
send the impulses to grab onto something to limbs that were no longer attached
to his body.  His arms lay in a pulpy,
bloody mess upon the alleyway decking; rendered from his torso by razor-sharp
claws.  He fell heavily backwards; tripping
over the body of his equally luckless companion, and landed heavily on the
harsh metallic grilling that formed the floor in this part of the station.  He gritted his teeth in an effort to maintain
his gossamer-fragile grip on consciousness. 
Lifeblood oozed thickly from his ragged stumps as Sliver kicked frantically
and fitfully at the ground in a futile effort to wriggle away.  Pitiless laughter rewarded his efforts to
escape.  
"Sliver..."
The voice was artificial, robotic, but still managed to
convey a multitude of demonic emotions and intent.  
"I have been waiting for this, for a long, long time..."
The rolling burst of static that functioned as laughter
followed, sending a chill through the Shark's tortured spine.  As the monstrosity that was Shade loomed
above him, Sliver closed his eyes and waited for the end.  He dimly felt a prickling sensation across
his chest, as if clawed fingers were caressing his body.  
"You will not go
so easily, I will ensure that your death will come only after many, many agonies have been inflicted upon
your limbless corpse, Sliver."
The voice was little more than an ecstatic, sibilant hiss;
it's tone promising torments beyond imagination.  Sliver screamed incoherently; as his mind
collapsed, and then halted in his outcry as the soft tones of a female voice
echoed in his ears.
"The time is
zero-seven hundred, local Penumbra calendar."
The fragments of his mind rallied together for brief seconds
to ponder of the meaning behind this cryptic message.  Shade had paused in his assault, a rending
claw raised and a look of confusion in his eyes.  
"The time is
zero-seven hundred, local Penumbra calendar."
With a barely perceptible shrug at this repeated intrusion,
Shade raised his claw higher, eyes flashing his hissed his triumph and brought
the claw down.
With an anguished moan, Sliver bolted upright in bed.  He heaved, as his mind righted itself to the
waking world and conscious thought.  He
shuddered and clutched his arms across his chest, each hand clinging onto the
opposite forearm, as a low moan hissing from his lips. The relief that he could
feel them was verbally palpable.  He sat
there for long minutes, rocking slowly in that comforting position, the scene, highlighted
by the band of dim light that filtered into his apartment through the
blinds.  
"The time is
zero-seven hundred and four, local Penumbra Calendar. "
"OFF!"
His voice was thickly hoarse as he barked angrily at the
calm voice; the alarm app chimed in response to the command to
discontinue.  Sliver wiped a cerametal-cool
hand across his sweat-beaded face and the back of his neck, dimly feeling the
clamminess there through the fingertip sensors, as he rubbed and massaged the
soreness he felt.  The bed sheet lay
crumpled on the floor; no doubt as a result of his thrashing around during the
nightmare.  His mind and stomach lurched
as a handful of remembered scenes flashed through his conscious thoughts; he
squeezed his eyes shut and ground his teeth down as he fought against the wave
of panic and sickness that bubbled up within him.  Sliver rolled and blindly fumbled amongst the
detritus atop his bedside cabinet, scattering data-cubes and hardcopy print,
until his fingers closed around the cylindrical form of a capsule
dispenser.   Shaking, he pressed the button on the top, and
a garishly pink pill rolled out into the palm of his open hand.  Closing his eyes, he dry-swallowed it, and
lay heavily back against the bed.  The
wave of euphoria that the anti-anxiety drug bestowed almost instantly helped
calm his immediate nerves, though he knew it would be some time before the full
effects kicked in.  He hated taking them,
and knew he ran a dangerous risk of addiction to the quasi-legal drug.  
I will not go down
that road again. 
He knew though, that on the days when the nightmares came,
he needed it.  He basked in the
soporific warmth that chemically coursed through his system; ragged breathing
slowing to its normal rate and his mind clearing from the fog of panic.  He pushed himself forwards from his bed,
swinging his legs in one-smooth motion to stand naked upon the carpeted floor
of his apartment.
"AC 4"
  He sighed softly and
pleasurably, as the air-conditioning system engaged to a higher setting at his
command; tendrils of chilled air coiling around and stroking across his lithe,
but well-toned form.  He took several
deep breaths and held them, searching for his calm centre, as he released them
slowly through flared nostrils.
His breathing exercises over, he pulled open the linen
drawer of the spartanly appointed wardrobe and retrieved a clean towel from
within.  He swung it over his shoulder in
an almost jaunty fashion as his mood and nerves began to bounce back and
normalize.  The events of the night, of
the dream, began to fade into hazy half-remembrance, where they belonged.
Steaming hot water helped banish the last whispers of
anxiety from his mind, as the shark showered. 
He hummed the tune of a meme-song that had become popular again across
the Hyperweb and refused to leave his brain as he rubbed soap and cleansing
oils across his silk-sleek light-blue and white hide.  He bared his teeth in a grin as he languidly
stretched, pleasurably gasping as the tension ebbed out of his bones and he
stroked and rubbed soap suds into sensitive spots.  He wished he had more time to stimulate those
areas, as he knew he would find it most
relaxing.  Showering was one of the
personal pleasures he most looked forward to, and never failed to arouse him
either.  He chuckled to himself as he
pondered that fact for a moment, but there was just something about the sensation of water sprayed against his skin,
and the steam, that he found intensely erotic. 
He knew that many other sharks felt the same way; most shark pornography
on the slashfic Hyperweb sites and sensa-chips featured a shower scene or two,
even if there was no actual sex involved. 

 Reluctantly, he waved
a hand across the shower sensor, and frowned despondently as the spray of water
sputtered to nothing.  He pushed his way
out of the shower stall and padded across the bathroom floor and out into the
main room of his modestly spacious apartment. He rubbed at his damped torso
with the white-cotton towel, until he was comfortably dry.  His cybernetic arms, tail and fin still
glistened with moisture, but he paid it no care; such limbs were proofed
against exposure to liquids, even when directly submerged.  He hummed and clicked to himself as he
critically picked through his wardrobe, emitting a soft 'ahh!' when his eye
caught sight of the perfect casual outfit. 
He still had several hours to kill before his next meeting with Ms Helene;
his stomach growled responsively as he thought about food and breakfast.  He pulled on the white nylon t-shirt and
tailored jeans, some articles of clothing
never seemed to go out of fashion, he mused to himself as he padded back
over and critically examined himself in the bathroom mirror.  He combed his mop of blue hair, opened his maw
wide, and carefully brushed his twin rows of long, razor-sharp teeth.  He nodded in satisfaction has his morning
cleanliness routine came to close and shrugged on his boots and pulled on his
visor.  Sliver stopped as he made to
swipe the door sensor, and turned to stare at the bed once more as his clock app
chimed eight.  Feelings of anxiety
bubbled up within him again, before he forcefully shrugged in a dismissive
fashion.
Such thoughts and feelings belonged there, not here, at the
beginning of a new day.  
Back there, in the past, and in the world of dreams.
 

Source: https://sofurry.com/view/573199