A Rat's Guide to Glory

Your skin is dry from the heat, but you can tell something important by now: Samuel is strong but not good. He keeps himself protected by being too hot to touch, the matchstick is swung haphazardly to send gouts of flame your way. Fireballs home in but are dodged while you all try to get at him.

"I'll make an opening!" you call to the others who hold back while you dash away. Samuel tracks you and swings his weapon again with that delirious grin.

"Liar liar, pants on fire!" he shouts, aiming for your legs.

In turn you punch the air and unleash a gale from your gleaming ring that clashes into the flame. It balloons up- and outward, growing to several times its previous size while being stalled. You and Samuel both stare at it for a moment, then at each other; your smirk fails to scare him for some reason, though.

"Huh, not a liar," he mutters before cranking up the heat and forcing your allies back. Nobody wants to risk third degree burns just for a single hit. But you also notice the beads of sweat on his brow before they evaporate; this is too hot even for him, so he knows he is in a bad spot.

You pre-empt Samuel the next time he winds up for a swing. The gale tears at his clothes and comes away tinged black by soot; it fans the fires behind him some, but those are not your problem. Samuel grunts and clutches the matchstick protectively, which lets Monroe slip into his guard. Their glaive slices into reinforced skin and lightning arcs across it, right into the target.

Samuel starts spasming, but the air grows hotter in response and forces Monroe back; you want to capitalise but decide against the risk and reposition instead. Gleaming rifts open across the arm Samuel holds his matchstick with, expelling even more heat that distorts the air around him. He roars and makes for an overhead swing, bracing against the next gale you send his way.

His grip holds and you start running, much like the rest. A wall of flame follows hot on your heels, too large for your ring to affect in full. Your group wheels around once it covered some ground to counter it; a powerful swing from Leon and your wind disperse the flame before it can reach you all.

"This isn't working," Harumi complains while you all watch your enemy; he was struck at center mass twice but keeps moving as if boiling blood were not trickling down his body.

"It is!" Leon shouts back over the roar of fire and screams. "He's getting tired, keep going!"

You can see what he means; Samuel is panting, somehow still unburned by the heat but clearly unable to keep throwing out so much power willy nilly. You have no idea why it tires him, maybe that is the heat speeding it up. Either way you raise a fist and dash away from the group again; he aims for them, which you disperse into empty air with another gale.

The glowing cracks widen a little further and his matchstick's tip gleams as he turns your way.

"Let me cook you already!" Samuel shouts and swings wide, but this time you are prepared.

A punch into empty air sends your gale forward just as his attack is halfway complete. It crosses the distance in a second and connects just as fire blossoms from the matchstick. The wind reverses its direction right into Samuel, who shrieks in surprise as the flames cover him much like they did his victims before.

"Cook yourself, asshole," you mutter back; nobody hears over the commotion as Samuel tries to get the flames off him by scraping with his matchstick. He clearly burns much slower than everyone else, maybe he could have even done what he tries there... if four Fixers were not after him and his distraction made the heat die down.

Harumi charges in the moment his protection wavers, ramming all three bionic weapons into his gut. Leon follows right after and cuts the head right off while Monroe takes care of the arm holding the matchstick. Samuel's corpse drops and is stabbed several more times just to make sure.

You approach slowly and pick up his matchstick on the way. It has no buttons or anything, appearing like a supersized tool by all accounts. When you squeeze however, what feels like wood does not give an inch under the force. It seems more like some specially treated steel.

And then the matchstick melts out of your grip for no discernible reason; some sort of black sludge plops onto the ground, little different from some of the coals left by the inferno. You stare after it with abject confusion, then look to your allies; they just got done making sure Samuel is dead, so they missed it.

A few looks are exchanged before Leon orders the retreat. Nobody objects as you let other Fixers deal with the fire and lick your wounds.

The adrenaline was all that stopped you from really feeling the rashes all over your body. Skin peels off everywhere on everyone, though the entire team miraculously escaped worse injuries. The first stop on the way to String Office is a drug store for some painkillers and skin restoratives. It feels kind of frivolous to buy those things instead of just toughing it out, but they are... cheap.

You mull over that odd realisation while applying the stuff. Things that felt like incredible luxury a year ago are suddenly perfectly affordable. You did not have to compromise on meals or went hungry in months, either. The danger is the same if not worse, but such is life in the City.

"That wind trick of yours was pretty convenient," Harumi says once you get going again. "Where did you get it?"

You briefly show her the hand with your ring in response. "Jewelry store, that one caught my eye. I guess it already paid for itself today." You pause there, thinking back to Samuel. "Will we get paid for that guy?"

"Probably not," Monroe grouses. "I doubt anyone put a bounty on him in particular."

"Good thing we only lost some time," Leon chimes in. "That could have gone a lot worse. You three are doing better than I expected when the boss shoved you at me."

He then pauses to look around; his gaze narrows while the crowd avoids it where it can. Leon stops in his tracks and turns around to you, suddenly sheepish. "Do you know where we are?"

Nobody laughs; the Backstreets are never easy to navigate, especially in an unfamiliar District. Now you got lost in District 23 of all places. Leon may be in charge, but everyone could have spotted your taking a wrong turn somewhere. Monroe grumbles a little while you all scramble to find the way back.

First you try retracing your steps, find the correct path you left while talking. That is a massive failure and leaves you further in the labyrinthine area, completely unable to find the way. Next you take to asking the locals, most of which quickly walk the other way when a group of visibly armed Fixers comes their way. The few who do talk to you do not know the way and neither do the corpses you pass. Every single one was long stripped clean of belongings and organs, some even miss chunks of flesh.

The sight itself is nothing new, though it has you on edge far more than at home in District 9. You know the streets there and which gangs own them, in here you are blind in any sense except the literal one. There could be a Thumb or Middle hideout just around the corner and you would only know after potentially pissing them off. The countless neon signs, restaurants, and shops surrounding you do not help calm your nerves either.

"This isn't working," you finally say after an half hour of fruitless searching. "Let's take the rooftops and see if we can find it from there."

Monroe makes an agreeing noise, but Leon shakes his head. "We'll be much easier to spot up there. Gotta keep our heads down just in case."

While he has a point, you still worry for a moment; being out during Night in the Backstreets is a bigger risk than a sudden Urban Plague and up Syndicate picking you off from the rooftops. Moreover, the way he looks over his shoulder seems familiar in the sense that you feel he does that a lot.

Still, Leon is in charge and so you keep going for another ten minutes or so. Harumi eyes the crowds warily much like they eye your group, but nothing happens. A few stabbings and a pack of Rats harvesting guts in one corner, quickly packing them in their bags with cautious looks your way. The sight feels nostalgic more than anything.

Then one of the Rats' gazes turns behind you and they freeze in place. You need a moment to realise everyone facing that direction does. A palpable aura of dread follows, almost smothering you; it is just as strong as the day you met the Purple Tear yet completely different in all other aspects. There is nothing graceful or serene about it, just the cold promise of death.

There is no panic, no screams, just mute fear and the hope that whatever the predator at your back wants is not about them.

You are the first of your group to turn around thanks to spotting the Rat's reaction. Seeing who appeared behind makes you understand.

Every contour of their body seems to be heavily shaded, especially the six eye-like slits in their iron mask. In turn the five clawed fingers on their mechanical hand seem to gleam in the neon light. It is so quiet you can almost hear the brightly coloured concotions bubble in the containers along that arm and their spine.

Somehow you know that the Claw is looking at you. Their attention alone almost sends you to your knees begging for mercy, well aware that flight and fight are equally meaningless. For a moment you are that Rat again, standing helpless as the Proselyte murders everyone you hold dear before your eyes.

Then their gaze wanders along. You expell the breath you were holding but can not quite get your limbs to move just yet. The Claw walks closer with measured steps that echo in the dead silence, coat fluttering lightly in the breeze.

"Leon Bastia," they, he addresses your superior in a smooth baritone, followed by a number that you belatedly realise must be his citizen ID.

All heads turn to him, though your gaze quickly begins alternating between the two. The other Fixers make way for the Claw, just as aware he can end you all with a twitch of his finger.

Leon shudders, but ultimately nods and takes a shaky step back. "W-Wait," he begs, "I paid my taxes, I know I did! It's all there, you don't have to-"

The Claw waves his mechanical limb and Leon falls silent as if his sentence has been literally cut off. You take a few steps further back, well aware of a tax evader's fate.

"Your taxes were paid in full," he agrees evenly, "yet the payment was two days late. In addition to this being your third offense, you have also attempted to avoid punishment for breaking the Head's law by deploying into another District. Please do not resist."

Leon's mouth opens and you see him twitch away, half a second from turning to flee. The Claw's motion is barely a blur, followed by a headless corpse falling. Leon's eyes roll around, staring in shock while kept in the enforcer's grasp. You meet his gaze silently pleading for help and look away; there is nothing you can do, he should have paid his taxes on time.

At the same time he is in charge of you. Losing your highest ranked Fixer on a mission will not look good at all. You know you should stay silent and hope the Claw goes away without punishing you as well, but the memory of Hana makes you take a single step forward.

"U-Um, excuse me?"

His head turns so smoothly that you feel he was always looking at you, though the intensity of his gaze is lesser now. "Is there an issue, citizen?"

You almost swallow your tongue, scared out of your mind despite knowing you followed the law properly. Leon's now dead eyes stare at you almost accusingly while you weakly motion for the head the Claw still holds.

"W-Well, Leon w-was our l-l-leader," you stutter, amazed that you are still alive. "I just, just wanted to know what to write. I-In my report, I mean."

The Claw looks at you silently for a second, long enough to make you feel like an absolute moron. Nobody laughs, though; the entire street remains frozen in awe and fear while the Claw focusses on you. He reaches into his jacket with the normal hand, but the motion alone makes you flinch in expectation of death. All he does give you is a business card, though.

"Explain the incident as normal in your report and refer to my C-Corp ID. The actions of lawbreakers shall not reflect on the standing of law-abiding citizens." So saying he offers the most minute of nods, places the head in some sort of bag, and blurs away into the sky far too fast for you to follow.

Your mouth is completely dry as you peer at the card in your hand, almost unnaturally smooth. 'Claw Agnus' it says along a six-digit ID and contact information, 'C-Corp Tax Consultant'.

The tension slowly bleeds from everyone. Many make themselves scarce but some small groups start talking about what they just witnessed. You somehow manage to breathe properly again, but it takes a moment to pocket the card with your shaking fingers.

Then a strong clap to your shoulder makes you jump and whirl around. Monroe raises their hands apologetically.

"Sorry about that. You sure got guts, Ciel. Took one for the team."

You can only nod, uncertain if your voice will hold and unwilling to risk it. Harumi thankfully saves you with a question of her own: "So what do we do about Leon?"

She nudges the still warm body that you now realise must have several augments and maybe other stuff including his sword. The adrenaline pounds through your system as you gauge the other two Fixers, both of which do much the same. Leon was Grade 6, he must have had a decent amount of money.

"Sell the stuff we don't need and split the difference?" you ultimately suggest to end the standoff. Fighting over his stuff is really not what you should be doing right now. "Let's just grab it and get going, we still don't know how to get back."

Monroe hesitates longer than Harumi, but both agree eventually. By some unspoken word you are in charge after daring to address a Claw and living through it, so they leave rifling through Leon's pockets to you. He has a cellphone and some stuff; food rations, dry water tablets for a quarter litre each at a marble's size, and a gas grenade. His wallet has some cash that you do not count out in public because you are not suicidal. And then there is a little sphere with G-Corp's logo but no manual. You pocket all of it and put his scabbard on your belt, well aware of the cautious looks your allies throw you.

The people still milling around watched as well, though a number of them seem more interested in Leon's remains. Especially the Rats. You wordlessly pull his corpse aside and leave it slumped against a wall; he will be picked clean before the hour is up.

Then it is back to wandering and asking people about the way to a landmark you recognise. String Office, your hotel, the WARP train station, you are not picky anymore. The last one at least helps because everyone knows where it is, but you are already quite a bit off course and still need to navigate these winding streets.

Unfortunately, a chorus of human and inhuman screams announces new trouble just a few minutes later. Civilians start running and you take cover in an empty alley to watch; your team follows without a word, wary of what may be coming your way.

The answer is pigs.

Mutated, furred, three metres tall pigs that ooze some sort of liquid from cracks in their bodies. A half dozen of them stampedes through the street with ungodly noise, trampling foodstalls and pedestrians with wild abandon. It takes a moment for you to notice that they have saddles on their backs and riders mounted up. A moment longer to realise several of those riders are bleeding and snapping the reins in a bid to make their steeds to run faster.

The reason for their headless flight becomes obvious right quick; they do not even make it past the alley you hide in before their pursuer catches up. She announces herself by bludgeoning the lastmost rider with a gaudily painted pipe or metal bar; their head explodes and the corpse flies off its saddle, prompting the pig to stop and start eating it. Another mighty swing of the pipe pulps its head, too.

She barely even stops her awe-inducing display, so fast you do not even see how she catches up with the next riders. They do not stand a chance as she kills them one by one with mighty swings, her long ponytail swaying with the high-speed motions.

Twelve corpses line the streets when all is said and done. Their killer seems perfectly at ease and has not a single speck of blood on her clothes, a striped shirt and puffy shorts. She flicks her weapon to get the crimson off before attaching it to her back, no holders required.

You have trouble taking your eyes off her. There is something more vibrant about her, a little like the Claw, like Samuel, like the Purple Tear. She is mesmerising, pale, pastel, blue, and vibrant where the grey City around you seems so faint and dreary in comparison.

"I heard about those guys," Monroe whispers urgently. "The Hog Riders, an Urban Plague class Syndicate."

That breaks the spell, but it leaves you befuddled; there is no Color you heard of who fights like this woman. What is more, she smiles and cheers about a job well done before shuffling the hog corpses around.

"Must be a Feather," Harumi comments upon seeing the frankly alien behaviour. You can only nod your agreement.

"Oh, hey there!" And she saw you. "Are you guys alright?"

The group as a whole flinches into formation, wary and alienated in equal measure. The woman who is probably a Fixer skips closer to you with that same smile in place. Her blue hair bobs with each step, immediately drawing your envy for how voluminous and shiny it is. You barely swallow those feelings to talk to her, well aware of Harumi's and Monroe's stares burning into your back.

"Er, yes, ma'am. We're alright. Are you a Fixer?"

"Yep, a Fixer I am! The name's Maria, Grade Seven. And you are?"

A notably long pause follows while you all gape at her. A Grade 7 who can fight an Urban Plague solo, she must be joking. Or maybe Feathers can just afford so many powerful augments that they can do that. The unfairness of it grates, but it is how it is.

You make introductions after picking your jaw from the floor: "I am Ciel, these are Harumi and Monroe, all Grade Seven."

"Nice to meet you all!"

She snatches your hand faster than you can blink, shaking vigorously. The process repeats with your companions who are just as confused. Maria, who you remember Leon mentioning now, beams brightly; not the dumb smiles of the Enkephalin addicts but something kind and cheerful. It puts you on edge, nobody is that nice unless they hide something.

"That was some impressive fighting out there," you compliment in a bid to buy time and keep her entertained; whatever her deal is, you do not want to be part of it. Maria thankfully bites, puffing up and preening.

"Thank you, Ciel! I'm not completely happy because that lot got into the streets before I finished them, but I took down the rest before they could do any more harm today." She frowns for a moment, but goes right back to beaming. "It was a tough fight, though. I can tell you all about it if you want?"

"Oh, I would love to," you say on reflex to not annoy her, hoping against hope she will not take what follows badly. "But we're kind of in a hurry. We got lost and need to find the way back to our hotel before nightfall."

Maria is taken aback, her cheer diminished for once. "Oh no!" she cries and grabs your hands again. "I get it, I do; the Backstreets are super duper complicated. But don't worry, I'll help you find the way back! Where do you need to go?"

You can only stare at her. Nobody else knows what to do with her either. Are Feathers just like that?

Is saying no worse than letting her know where you live? Then again, she is supposedly helping with the Highlight Heroes from what you remember. So you switch tracks and nod.

"Well, we can find the way just fine from String Office. Or the WARP train station, if that helps." You add a quiet "Thank you for your help" after a short pause; she hears and waves it off without hesitation.

"It's only right to help when I can."

And every time you think you start to understand Maria, she comes out with something like this. There is no time to be confused either, seeing how she tugs on your hand. "Come on, String Office is this way!"

The next thirty minutes are weird and overall awkward. You really do not want to entrust your life to a weirdo like her, but there is little choice; even if she made no indication that she kills people who annoy or refuse her, you do not want to risk it. What is more, Maria is a chatterbox and talks the entire trip. Where you are from, how you find District 23, the Highlight Heroes and her own issues finding the leaders, great excitement when hearing about Samuel, and so on. The only time she immediately changes the subject is when Harumi carefully asks about her own home.

But in the end you reach familiar streets and String Office from there. Maria leads you all the way inside and then goes to talk to the Operator for her own reasons first.

"She's off her rocker," Monroe summarises. You and Harumi both nod at that, though neither of you says anything.

"Absolutely," one of the String Fixers agrees in passing. "But she's also one of the best in the area. Hasn't been around long, but she takes on Urban Plagues and Urban Nightmares on her own. So we don't say anything and play along."

Hearing this makes your throat feel dry again. Just who is she to go against Urban Nightmares at Grade 7? How much do Feathers make to afford these augments?

Unfortunately, you do not get an answer to that question; Maria skips out of her meeting and waves your group in to explain what happened. She is gone by the time you finish explaining Samuel and the Claw killing Leon. That last part annoys the Operator, but he simply tells you to keep going as planned.

"The number of junkies has dropped rapidly thanks to our work the last few days," he explains while showing you a map that was drawn on with various colours. "Our next goal is to find the Highlight Heroes' hideout and their Enkephalin trade routes. Both are important, but we need the Syndicate gone as soon as possible. You three will gather information about them starting tomorrow."

You can only nod and accept it. "Okay. Do you have any suggestions where we can start?"

"If I did, we wouldn't still be looking for them." He rubs his face after that and taps the map with a sigh. "We still doubt they're smart enough to mask their Enkephalin dealing, so the fact most junkies are in our area should mean the Highlight Heroes hide out around here. Our best guess is somewhere within fifty kilometres of String Office. We tried probing the local Syndicates but got nothing out of them. Who knows, maybe they change their tune now that their 'friends' start drugging and killing other criminals."

"Did you try the Rats?" you ask back but only receive a raised brow, which means no. You still follow the unspoken request to elaborate: "From what I know they have some underworld contacts more often than not; sometimes they pay protection money, sometimes people to sell their harvests to. Those things. Some of them may know something."

A thoughtful noise follows, then the Operator nods. "Interesting, I didn't think of that. You can take a look at that approach if you want, if nothing else I'm curious if it works."

In other words, he does not want to bother and does not care enough to tell you no. You suppress a sigh at the response and finish the meeting.

"Do you really think Rats can work?" Monroe asks on the way out. "From what I know they're backstabbing opportunists, so we gotta watch our backs."

That hurts a little even though you are not one anymore. He is not wrong either, so you nod. "Kind of but not really. We can kill any Rat that comes our way, the bigger problem will be getting them to talk to us at all."

Being at the bottom of society means they know best how small they really are. Few Rats will even just take the risk of talking to someone stronger than them unless they have no other choice. You still remember those times, even if they feel old and stale in comparison to your current life.

Monroe hums thoughtfully and nudges your shoulder with a conspiratorial grin. "Ah well, makes sense. Those guys need to think about themselves first. You and I do, too."

Not only is he kind of wrong, you have no idea what he means to tell you. Monroe does not elaborate and trots away, following after Harumi who already is several dozen metres ahead.

The next two days are spent following clues and stalking Rats; some you approach openly and tempt with money, others you stalk and corner into spilling. It is nowhere near as easy with actual Syndicates, but some of them talk to you as well. Nothing incriminating, some comments about exchanging favours for the knowledge, so you go back to the Rats.

One of them actually has what you seek; you pay him a day's wage to spill the beans, well aware how 'generous' the sum looks from a Rat's perspective. He quickly tells you about the little hidey hole he knows about.

"Pretty sure it's not the main hideout, but that's where me'n my friends go to sell, er, stuff." He pauses, clearly worried you will kill him and relieved when you just motion to keep going. "So yeah, there's definitely Enkephalin there, too. Maybe that's where they keep the stuff?"

"I see. Thank you."

You hand him the money and say goodbye, clearly blowing his mind with just a bit of politeness. Then again, you were where he is once. Few people are even just accomodating to Rats.

Evening soon falls and you reconvene with the others; String Office already took over staking out the safehouse by then, leaving your group to take the evening off.

"And that's almost it for our stay in District 23," Monroe says while raising a can of beer. They seem to toast toward you more than Harumi who sits to the side with her own can. You nod absently and take a sip of your beer, still pouring over the report.

Leon's belongings you took are piled in the corner; you already split the rations and what was in his wallet three ways, which leaves the G-Corp gizmo, the gas grenade, and Leon's sword. All three of you have eyes on the Workshop weapon, well aware it is the most expensive piece. The grenade is last in your considerations, though there is a silent agreement to wait with dividing the loot until you know you all survive.

When a stray noise wakes you in the middle of night, you know someone is taking matters into their own hand. Your eyes snap open ever so faintly and you find a figure standing over the couch you know Harumi sleeps on. Faint light shines through the window behind them.

The almost innocuous comments Monroe made the last few days return to your mind as it begins to race. They only ever talked to you about these things, never Harumi. This is only against her, but why? And why did they wait till close to the end of your stay? To make everyone else lower their guard?

You only have seconds to decide what to do here. You barely know these two, so whatever issues they have are really not your problems. But should you not intervene when it regards your coworkers?

---

[] Intervene

[] Pretend to be asleep

---

-Removed Contact: Leon
-Added Contact: Maria (Solo Fixer, Grade 7 | Relation: You met and she creeps you out)
-Added Contact: Agnus (Claw | Relation: you have his card and somehow survived)