[Taurus Yards, Stronghold Of The Ran Crime Syndicate]
Rust, where Atlas City proper stood bright, clean, and white, the Taurus Yards were rusted, in disintegration, and disrepair. It was here the first newcomers to Fountainhead came to colonize before the city of Atlas had grown to reach skyward. In time the Yards had become slums, riddled with old spacecraft which had been permanently grounded, and reconstructed to serve as homes for the new arrivals. As people moved into Atlas in order to take advantage of the city’s high-end technological, egalitarian lifestyle, the rebuilt vessels were left to crumble.
In the Taurus Yards very little remained automated – Which brought an advantage to the crime lords who could go about their business dealings without constant surveillance from Fountainhead’s busybody government, ‘just trying to help out’. Here the crime lords knew there to be true freedom, even if they had to manage it with muscle, as well as savvy.
Dashscare Ran was a Falcanian. Typical of his kind, he was winged, a great armored Garuda mounted to his back supported translucent teal, mammalian style wings, and tapered into a flat, plated pincer-claw. He was very proud to be a Falcanian. Given that Falcanians had been fashioned from out of human genetic stock, they generally resembled their cousins, but for oval pointed ears. Like many males of his kind, Dashscare wore facial hair, in his case, a simple handlebar mustache.
“Keshla!” Spat Dashscare. “That flying freak,” he exclaimed not concealing his ironic tone. Only Falcanians were supposed to rule the skies he believed. Yes, it was a prejudice on Ran’s part. “Arrested Esai.”
“Esai Anthropos won’t spill boss.” Assured Kiraader Dak, Dashscare’s flat faced henchmen. “Our lawyers will have him out by sundown. Even the police don’t officially recognize Javelin’s authority – they only tolerate his interference… good connections. Javelin’s still a vigilante.” He sneered. The Skatha were an offshoot of Falcanians, hideous and broken things. Gargoyle creatures, who, unlike their bright cousins, were considered feral. Grotesque bone colored flesh concealed a dark fire. Flat nostrils, and red slit eyes peered out at the world from cockatrice crested heads that functioned to mark clutch brothers, each born from out of a kidnapped Falcanian maiden, for no females could be found among the Skatha Horde.
Dashscare grinned at Kiraader, slapped his shoulder fondly. “Of course he won’t. We’re going to bring that city to its knees. They claim within Atlas’s walls everyone is equal, but they are not, they are but cogs serving others whims. Therein rests perverse wealth, and concentrated power. If it truly were such a noble place, I would never have so easily been able to purchase Martin Wellington’s election. Yes, that cost us much. Though the result will give us Atlas City’s wealth.” Joyful at that thought, he envisioned the bringing low of the wealthy. “We’ll break this Corporatocracy which rules this planet, and regulates our lives.”
“I believe you will Dashscare.”
“It is the same elitism that keeps our kind at war, Falcanian, and Skatha – You my poor hunted cousins. In good time we shall see to your liberation as well.” Dashscare sighed, looked out over the necropolis of rusted ships, which were once homes. “This place should have been a historic district, instead the rich, and powerful leave it to decay as though it were mere junk.”
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