Platinum Star – this city is the proof that darkness can glimmer. All the rot and filth in its oily slums and daily electric buzz, all the mutilated people with their fashionable prosthetics. The thin layer of chrome conceals the Iron tooth of time chewing on mankind ever faster as we're shifting to higher and higher gear to escape it...
As I was spacing out, rambling among my past experiences, Chastity's fair countenance slowly warped into the abominable face of a bat, or maybe a pig – I couldn't really tell. My world's been falling apart ever since my operation; as if the clockwork monster I've become was reflected through my world. The absurd and grotesque irrationality of the dreamworld has become a regular guest in my eyes destined to never shut. It is not a question whether I'm insane or not anymore – only my regular drug shots prevent me from losing at least my pragmatism. Not that I wouldn't be glad to finally lose it and forget this whole torment in my delightful stupor.
"Green, are you even plisken?" the woman said, and added "Are you alright?"
I've been dead tired for some time now. "What plisken?" I thought to myself – Chas was talking nonsense again.
"You look awful, you know," she prompted bluntly, "You should really get some rest," It's funny how my spontaneously developed split personality still sees me in my human form, with my human expressions on my face. And it has become ironic that she's become my secretary, a most dependable imaginary friend who keeps my imaginary documents of my imaginary cabinet of my imaginary office somewhere in my subconscious – not that I don't need to keep a physical copy of them at the real one, though.
Rambling around among these thoughts, I suddenly noticed that my glass was empty. I detached the injection tube from my shining, metallic forearm, and gave them back to the bartender.
"Would you like another one?" he asked casually. I was a bit tipsy, a good deal away from passing out. "No, thanks," I replied. I didn't want to pass out, but my brain felt like sponge lately.
I took a case last week in my private office from an old lady trying to find her son, who had joined an occult sect and went missing. Of course, I don't know much about it, but the clues have lead me to the El Nino Congregation, a covertly operating anti-technologist separatist group.
I think I'm pretty flexible; I've survived writing a few chapters for the Odyssey II commie project before realizing it's going to be a cheesy piece of shit that I wouldn't want to give my name to.
This whole realm and Mr. Green are essentially your idea, so you probably have a few things in mind about them. I wouldn't want their character to deviate from what you had in mind, so I'm open to adapting to what you have in mind.
So it'll be a comic noir sci-fi with quarter-page description blocks of Green's monologue? Should I write it more like a script, or stick to the novel-style paragraphs?
Maybe we should put down some cornerstones for the realm first, so that I don't begin a story that would build on an atmosphere or an idea you don't like. For example, if I planned to involve taffy-pony worship as a religion and you found that way too ridiculous, or you'd like a more jolly-insane protagonist, and my idea was grimdark.
Or maybe I could first write a synopsis of each part, then you'd review it and we'd discuss your concerns with it.
Note me, the Synopsis of each part and what you had in mind. I'd like to get what your first impressions of Mr. Green and I'll either point you in the right direction or just mix mash what you have and what I have for him.
I do want to do it in a comic form, so a script.
I can give you my thoughts on Greens world and what I have in mind for the themes and feel for his future stories. Come up with ideas and just throw them all in the melting pot.