Hey guys, this is my second story. Only the first chapter, would you mind giving me your impressions? It a sci-fi crime novella. The image is a cover I am having made by an artist. It still a work in process. Love you guys!

 

‘Hi, Scrappers. Welcome again to another Scrap Vulture video. Today we are going to hit the lower west side route. Should be plenty of goodies for us today.’
He readjusted the camera mounted on his mask, made sure his orb camera was still following him and the red light was on. Taking a quick look at his surroundings before mounting one of his most prized possessions, his scooter. It was old, it looked like crap, but it was his. He wouldn’t change it for the world. Well maybe add a new engine, better flight pads, it tends to get a bit rocky when he first lifts off. But these are things he couldn’t afford and let’s face it, it worked just fine the way it was. He upped the settings on his breathing mask and set the fog level to high medium. The fog was bad today, seems to be getting worse. Turning his scooter on, he turned his lights on. Pressing a small device in the middle of his handlebar, the scooter hummed and slowly started to rise off the ground. With a groan and a shudder, it reached a level he was happy with; not too high but high enough to avoid people and the trash littering the street. He grinned, this was the best part, the start of a new adventure.
‘The start of the route isn’t that far, generally, most of the routes started off in the same area. It’s where they finished that give it their name; west, south, east, north, northeast, you get the point. Sorry if I am repeating myself guys, get new viewers all the time. Always the same questions in the comments.’

His voice came through clear due to the fact his microphone was under his mask and helmet. He had to alter it a lot just to get it just right. Heavy breathing is a real turn off.
‘Right shall we begin guys? Remember my golden rule. Always be safe!’
He set the scooter forward at a speed most people would throw up at. He missed the feeling of the wind through his hair. Having pollution laced hair is a bugger to get out, stinks out his whole apartment too. Turning a corner sharply he just avoided a taxi going the opposite direction, he waves at the driver and spotted his first target. ‘Target spotted. Can you see it guys? The golden dumpster.’ He moved his camera angle to take in the big tall building in front of him.

‘The dumpster for this flat complex.’

He pulled up beside the wall, trying to avoid a puddle of God knows what. Turning his flight drive off and then his engine, he hopped off the scooter. Shaking the boxes at the back of the scooter to make sure they are secure.
‘As you can see guys, I use an old model scooter. An old-fashioned two-wheeler, a ground vehicle. It took a lot of adjustments over the years to get it to fly and to be able to use it like I do today. You see this plate here?’ He pointed to the back of the scooter, at the back end of the seat. ‘It’s a steel plate, it sits just above the back wheel. You don’t want it sitting on the wheel for obvious reasons. This plate here allows me the use of my two plastic bins. Another one of my golden rules; You can’t scrap anything if you can’t carry it.’ He smiled and looked inside the plastic bins, which were empty. ‘Then, of course, it being an older model, it’s been updated to be faster and easier to manoeuvre. Plus, harder wearing wheels, hardly get any punctures anymore.’
He walked to the big rusty olive dumpster.
‘Right enough talking, eh guys?’
He laughed and then lifted one of the lids. With a gag he jerked backwards away from the dumpster, the lid slammed shut with a bang. Leaning over he lowered his oxygen mask, he held his breath, trying not to breathe in the toxic air and to try and not puke. Desperately he needed/wanted to take several long deep breaths but knew in this area all that would result in would be him dizzy or passed out. He put his lower mask back on and breathed deeply, the pollution grease was already sticking to his chin and mouth area.
‘God damn. Why do they keep doing this?’
Grabbing onto his scooter he moved it further away from the dumpster, he put the stand down and sat down on the bike.
‘Sorry guys going to need to cut my video here. Got to wait for the Police. I’ll make sure to cut out the boring waiting.’ He looked up at the massive flat building. It houses thousands of people; it was so large he couldn’t see the top of the building from the angle down here. Like any flat building anywhere nowadays; cram as many people in as small a place as possible. He kept the camera on, he never turned it off. Even when sleeping he left it running but pointed at the front door of his flat. He sent a coded message to the police via his wristband and waited. He also sent the same message to another number. Pretending to be busy so he didn’t draw any suspicion. If anyone else had just found what he had, they would be jumping up and down with joy. Yes, the credits will be nice, he’ll be able to afford some new medication for his cats. But the whole situation was depressing and cruel. It happens more than you think, the costs are just ridiculous nowadays. An unarmed police drone arrived.
‘Police. Raise your arms.’
Scrap did as instructed, waiting while the drone scanned him. In doing so it determined he was armed, and his ID was correct.
‘Please indicate the area.’ The drone commanded in its computerized voice.
Scrap pointed to the dumpster. The drone zoomed over to the bin and lifted the lid. Even from this distance Scrap could smell it. He held his breath while the drone scanned the dumpsters interior. Closing the lid more carefully than Scrap had it, it turned to face him.
‘Please remain for the Police Officer. Failure to do so will result in a penalty and a fine.’
It didn’t wait for his reply.

Scrap stood there for over an hour trying to zone out to music while replying to comments and notifications. It was hard for him with so much background noise going on. From vehicle noises and beeping at each other above him and in the streets. To people yelling at each other. Noise of technology and machinery everywhere. Let alone the smells were distracting. He really wishes he could afford one of those fancy masks. Filter oxygen and smells. Instead of having to replace oxygen tubes, he would only need to replace the filters. Way too expensive though. He was lucky he found his mask; he can simply recharge it at home without having to use battery cells. Plus, if he was found with a high-end X-Model mask he would be murdered or mugged in ten seconds flat. People were always trying to mug him now, he didn’t need more reasons for them to try, or succeed. Shoes entered his vision; he pressed his wristband and the music stopped playing in his helmet. Scrap looked up.
‘Andy,’ Scrap smiled.
‘Hey Scrap, what pleasantness do you have for me, at this God-awful time of the morning.’
‘Aw, don’t be like that Andy. You know I must do this early before the garbage men come. No chance this morning though.’
‘Blah blah. Which bin?’
Scrap pointed at the only bin there. PC Andy Armstrong went over to the bin and opened the lid. Just as fast he closed it.