Penumbra Dreams

Story by Jinx Curi on SoFurry

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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.