Grade 9 - 2; Believe You Can and You're Halfway There
- Location
- Earth
[] Scare them off
Your heart beats heavier with each step. The moment you stop they will pounce. You could explode down the street without warning, but no. You are not a Rat anymore. You will not run from danger, not when you know you can face it instead. You know how Rats work. There is no threat here.
Even though you try to tell yourself that, it takes repeating this mantra several times in your head until the pounding in your ears relents. Adrenaline hits your system and time seems to go slower. Your steps feel longer and the absence of people becomes more apparent. This street is not deserted, everyone is just at work. The buzz of noisy crowds is not far, though.
Remembering the Purple Tear, you reach a hand to your pipe and stop. One could hear a pin drop in the silence as you try to steady yourself.
"I'm right here," you speak to no one, your soft voice almost echoing in the otherwise silent street. Then you turn around, pipe clasped tightly. One pursuer is peering out of a sidestreet, surprised as they meet your gaze. Dishevelled hair and old, worn clothes confirm what you already knew: Rats.
"Come and get me," you challenge them, sounding more brave than you feel.
Maybe if you not surprised them, they would hear the waver in your voice. Perhaps they could have spotted how white-knuckled the grip on your pipe really is. You know these signs of fear as well as they do, false bravado meant to intimidate a real threat. But they miss them. They outnumber you, but you are no longer just a Rat without a pack. Perhaps they can even tell that much.
Whatever the true reason is, the head vanishes behind the corner and you can hear the swift sound of footsteps, all fleeing away.
Exhaling the breath you were holding, you touch your hammering heart. A trace of joy follows even as you try to calm yourself. You did it! Alone and afraid, you scared away a group that outnumbers you! Even if they are Rats, this means something in this moment.
You give the street one final look before reattaching the pipe to your back and moving on, back that little bit more straight. You still shuffle along into the crowd as soon as you can, but your wariness of the area has lessened ever so slightly. Confronting those Rats only took a minute but felt like an hour; you almost forget there is still a delivery to make.
Fortunately, the rest of the journey is calm. You deliver the parcel to the address given, collect the reward, and move on home. As much as it can still be home, that is.
The nights have become a little easier this past week, but you still miss the warmth of your pack. Even an extra blanket and pillow do not compare to being surrounded by living, breathing bodies. But you need to sleep so you can work, just like you need to eat. Through work you earn money and raise your Fixer Grade, and through both of those you can climb higher. Work will make you free.
It is not too different from being a Rat, as much as that irks you. There are a lot more safe but boring jobs, which you do appreciate. You are still intimidated by the combat-focussed requests, so you stay away from them for now.
Another week passes like this, nice and boring. You could almost get used to this if it were not that boring. Your wallet slowly fills back up, already matching what you need for rent. You even have a little more for food to treat yourself, getting used to the new lifestyle bit by bit. Regular meals were not always a thing, but as long as there is work you can do it.
Having work is the problem, though. The open requests on the Office board shrink day by day, to the point you complete four over two days just in case. More come in, but Dexter hired another handful of Fixers in the meantime. Two others were kicked out, too. You only noticed because the man himself discussed it with Rookwood while you were there.
"Bit of a slow week," Dexter tells you in passing. A knowing look goes to the underfilled board. "Looks like we're up to capacity on staff for now. You're doing good work so far, Ciel."
"Thank you," is really all you can say to that. His praise helps you deal with the worries as well, though you end up glancing back to the board. "Is it likely that we will run out of jobs?"
He hums in thought at that, absently fiddling with his metal fingers. A studious look is thrown at the job board, then to Rookwood. "Hard to say," Dexter finally admits. "I saw it happen before, but not where I was working. Rocky once told me that the Hana spread out whatever Grade Nine requests they get evenly among the local Offices. Most of it is people who approach us on their own, so you never know if requests suddenly run out. A friend higher up the ladder told me not to hire too many, too. Guess we're hoping that a few more drop out."
He chuckles a little awkwardly, but you can not quite laugh with him. It is not particularly funny, so you just nod. Dexter clears his throat and turns around to look closer at the jobs on the board. "But yes, it could be a problem if more of my new hires are as productive as you. We will have to see."
"Don't forget that good work increases our reputation," Rookwood drawls without ever looking up from his desk. "The more jobs we complete satisfactorily, the more people will hear of us. On that note, Dex, there are a few combat jobs nobody wanted so far. Need to do those soon."
"Good point, good point." Dexter nods sagely before pausing and glancing your way. "Say, do you happen to be interested in one of those?"
Your first instinct is to deny him outright, but you bury it somehow. Not a Rat. You can at least take a look. "May I see them?"
"Of course, let me see. You didn't put them on the board, Rocky?"
"Only the two without classification. The rest are Urban Myths."
The air changes notably with that. You know it and you see Dexter hesitate. His furtive glance your way says just as much, though you share his feelings on the matter. Urban Myths may be the lowest actual Hana classification for issues, but you do not feel ready for them yet. Shaking your head, you let Dexter know that and step to the board to help find the combat jobs.
Maybe it was the reminder how weak you still are, but you do not end up taking any. Maybe next time, you tell yourself. Maybe once you have a good weapon or a second augment. Either of those are some time off, though. For the time being you just work as usual, earning money where you can.
Sadly, your thus far perfect streak of completed jobs is ended by another lost pet two days later. You fail to find the dog before the Sweepers come out; the rest of the night is spent trying to figure out where you did not check or what could have happened, but there are too many possibilities. Who knows, maybe you found nothing because someone ate the mutt before you even started to look?
At least neither your boss nor his partner seem too upset. "It happens," is all Dexter says with a pat to your shoulder. "Just send in the report as usual and keep on going."
For their part, Dexter and Rookwood are out of the Office on occasion. The operator asks you to man the desk and take calls for him while they do some work of their own that day; it feels weird answering what few calls come in, but you note down messages and answer as best as you can. It is a nice change of pace after a night mostly spent brooding.
You talk more to most of your coworkers than you have during the past two weeks, too. Which is kind of sad, considering most of them just ask how it comes you are holding down the fort. One of the people who come in that day talks a bit about this neat new restaurant they spotted sometime ago, another shows off a brand new halberd made of chainlinks; the materials vibrate and tear far deeper wounds than they otherwise would. You congratulate them, even feeling the tiniest bit of awe. Then you think of your wallet and have to suppress a sigh, well aware it will take a while until you can afford a Workshop weapon.
Overall, you find you kind of like talking to people. It is something you mainly did by necessity, but listening to what others have to say has helped you a lot thus far. By the evening you try to prompt another coworker about her day, which she gladly tells you about. Nothing deep or personal, but it seems she cooks the meals for her older brother and younger sister.
Dexter and Rookwood only return when it is almost time to close up shop. The sight of them surprises you, though: the giant of a man who still intimidates you a little has his right arm in a bloody bandage. He grumbles into his beard while Dexter leads him along, as mellow as always.
"Hey there," he greets you with a wave. "We got into a bit of trouble when we looked into The Undulating Ribbon. Got Rocky good from below the floor before we figured out what's going on."
"O-Oh." You glance between the pair and hold open the door. Each of them is stronger than you, this is just a reminder even they are just small fish. But you are also curious what an Urban Myth is like. "What exactly happened?"
Dexter waves you inside and you follow; there is still time enough to buy groceries and get home. Once inside he plants Rookwood at his desk and starts rifling through a safe. "We never figured out what exactly the ribbon was, but it kept growing. That request was a little older, so it grew across the entire house. In the walls, under the floor, above the ceiling, everywhere. A bit like a spider's web, if that's familiar to you?" He barely leaves enough of a pause for you to nod, not that he sees it. "It didn't have any sort of core, so we just chopped it up until it stopped moving and burned the leftovers."
"We need to send the report soon," Rookwood adds, already in the process of stuffing some papers into a bag. "That house was in the residential district. I don't think the ribbon just pushed the plaster aside."
You shudder at the implications. The residential district is off-limits in the Backstreets unless one wants a visit from the Head. Nobody is allowed to just force their way into a building regardless of circumstance; the same goes for damaging them. Doing it anyway is a good way to get hit with draconian fines.
It never happened to you, but you heard about it once. Apparently, the offender could not pay even though they sold everything they owned and their body on top. After two warnings, the Claw paid them a visit.
"But you didn't damage the house yourselves, right?" you ask quickly into the pregnant pause.
Dexter looks up from where he is spraying something onto Rookwood's arm. He huffs and quickly shakes his head. "Not that I noticed, it was all the ribbon. For a piece of cloth that thing was wickedly sharp."
In the meantime, whatever healing solvent he put on his partner closed up the wound. You already spotted the K-Corp logo, but quickly notice that it is one of the somewhat cheap cans from the shelf. Seeing your gaze, Dexter holds it up with a grin. "Always pays to be prepared, I always got two of these babies ready. Maybe I'll make it three soon, just in case. They won't help if you get a limb cut off or a broken bone, but any flesh wound is nothing."
"Sucks for my shirt though," Rookwood grouses. At this point you can recognise there is little heat in it; maybe he just likes to complain.
"But I guess it's better to just lose a shirt than the arm," you answer diplomatically. Dexter huffs and Rookwood grunts in assent. That does tell you he has none of the fancy cloth from an actual tailor, but you did not really expect him to.
"Either way," he continues with a frown at his arm while flexing and relaxing the healed muscles. "That thing may have been on the verge of becoming an Urban Legend. Maybe higher than that if it had torn down more than the one house."
Dexter nods along, but the comment has you confused. "How would it just skip a grade? Was it really that dangerous?"
"'s not about how dangerous it is. It's about how much people will pay for someone to get rid of it."
"Oh. I see. That makes sense."
You stand there a little awkwardly while the pair finishes up; Dexter goes through the notes you left him and organises everything while Rookwood finishes packing his things. When they make ready to head home as well, you follow outside after them. That is when you remember your previous thoughts.
"Say, Dexter?"
"Hm?"
You hesitate, unwilling to even ask yet aware you can not really progress on your own. "Do you know anything about fighting with your legs?"
He nods idly and pats one of his legs for emphasis. "A bit. I like to stay mobile, so I focus on agility. It complements Rocky's strength well," he adds even though his partner already vanished into the descending night. "Why do you ask?"
"Well, could you give me a few pointers sometimes? I was thinking it would be useful to know more than just swinging a weapon around."
Silence follows, at least between the two of you. The crowd is still there, if swiftly diminishing. All pretenses of civility vanish once dark falls on the Backstreets. Dexter still takes his time to mull it over and hum in thought. Then he snaps his fingers. "Tell you what: you take an hour or two to help out in the Office this next week, I give you those pointers. Sound fair?"
A bit of tension fades from you; you did not even realise it was there. A deal is better than asking for freebies, much better. "Sure, sounds good. Thanks."
"Don't mention it. See you tomorrow."
"Yeah, bye."
You separate like that, feeling a little better about yourself. A burst of speed carries you down the street and to one of your preferred supermarkets; they will close soon, but you already know what to buy. A few cans of juice, some jerky the label says is not sourced from District 23, and to the register you go. At least until you reach the sale rack.
It's a small thing, mainly filled with stuff that went past its expiration date. You have many memories of checking through these to find food when money was tight. At this time of day there is nothing edible left in it, though. You do not even know why the singular item still on the rack makes you stop; maybe because it is all alone just like yourself. Maybe it is the faded image of a half-created tablecloth that draws your attention.
A beginner's knitting set. A number of needles, several balls of yarn, safety scissors, measuring tape, stitch markers, stitch holders, and a crochet hook. A few simple items, yet something about them intrigues you.
You stand there for the better part of a minute, trying to convince yourself you do not want it. That the money is better spent on important things. But your feet do not move and somehow your heart is not in it.
Despite all misgivings and pragmatism, you end up picking it up. The cashier does not even bat an eye, probably too busy thinking of their imminent end of work. You pay silently and force your gaze away from the spontaneous purchase; the first you ever made. Never before did you have enough money and a stable enough job to even consider something like this. It feels nice.
After a quick walk home, careful to avoid deeper shadows and circumspect alleys, you close the door behind you and finally relax. All the tension bleeds away; empty your place may still be, but it is safe.
You let out a deep breath, then glance at the clock. At least two hours until you can consider turning in, dusk is a bit too early for that. Normally you would turn on the TV; it was always a favourite pastime for the pack, what with L-Corp's energy being so cheap. Even if you have only one channel, the motion and noise helps drive away this sense of desolation. Today you do it too, but pay no attention while rifling through your new purchase.
And as you do so, you think about how to go from here. The next week will see you more at the office than before, which is work but also an opportunity. With Dexter already willing to engage, you could try learning more about him along the way. You could do the same with Rookwood, maybe without talking to both of them at the same time for once.
Alternately, there are a number of Fixers you hardly even know the names of. If you gave it a little more effort than "hello" and "goodbye", maybe you could find a new acquaintance or two. Perhaps even a partner, like Dexter and Rookwood are. That would be nice to have, despite how unlikely it is.
Or, the pragmatic part of you reminds, you could instead spend more time on work. More money means more opportunities, not to mention that you want to get out of Grade 9 as soon as possible.
As you slowly begin reading the manual on how to knit and prepare all the things, these thoughts fall away. How you spend your time is for later to decide.
[] Try to get to know Dexter better
[] Interact more with Rookwood
[] See about getting to know your coworkers
[] Do some extra jobs
-Ciel's Wealth changed from "Barely Afloat" to "Afloat"
