Climbing Out 2
There were several benefits to being inside a building: most cabal are too fat to get through a door, and there was the good benefit of being able to raid people's home for anything I could find remotely useful. Amongst them: Clothes, a nice blue and black backpack, a poncho, some pants… I can't believe fallen don't use pants. Just… why?
So, I finally had somewhere else to keep my stuff, which in turn, meant less back and forth trips, and considering the list, I had received and the two invisible behemoths that had chased me all the way here, maybe that was for the best. A trek upwards was always more painful than one downwards. And in this case, I actually meant "painful" as in "causes pain" rather than "being annoying".
The apartment, for all that was worth, was pretty decent. It was definitely nicer looking than my prior home, back when I still had pink-ish skin. The way it seems to have been done, they tried to maximize space, which was reasonable, all things considered, but it made for a very cramped home with an incredibly cramped staircase in comparison with everything else. In spite of this, everything was used: the kitchen's fans also made for some neat cabinets, which I had no clue how they had managed to do that without blocking any venting ports. Even the bedrooms, which I had counted to have been two, one for what seemed to be two kids, and one for what seemed to be someone else.
There was also a camera by the front door, that had somehow survived having said door be blasted open by what I assume to have been a rogue explosive.. I made sure to take care of it quickly, but I already assume it had spotted me.
But what would anyone around do if they were still around? Scream for help? It was going to do them no good. Plus, they were probably dead.
I sure hope that was the case. For as much as I loved having clothes once more, I absolutely despised having to steal, this might still be someone's home. Still. Bio-generator with a label, and a scanner to check for spoiled food in the fridge. I reckon they were standard technology by this point, but I certainly did not expect them being in the kitchen. The bio generator might be slightly clunky, as it was, essentially, more or less a more rectangular blender, and the scanner? That was smaller, certainly, and it was surprisingly easy to pop off from the back wall of the fridge. Nice fridge too, and surprisingly, the polished metal did not contrast that much with the rustic style of the home.
And so, inside of the backpack they went. I made sure to pack a vest around the biogenerator, just so I didn't have to make the return trip to the city.
And so, with a renewed determination and a more stylish outfit, I waited until the next patrol passed by. The clothes were not exactly form-fitting, but it sure as hell was less likely to have me being spotted with the greyer and in the case of the pants, browner colours. I'm uncertain that this will beat military level camouflage any day, but as long as it stopped anyone from looking back, I was all for it.
Eventually, I could progress back into the rubble of the streets below, and in doing so, I quickly proceeded along the wall, until I came to a back alley. I hid, not because there was a patrol nearby, and I liked roaming around in trash and faeces, but because I'd rather not take a risk with being caught by a patrol.
What most amazes me, really, is how little trash bins have changed. They're still green, rectangular metal boxes with black lids. I wonder who did trash collection around here because they were overdue for sure.
In due time, another patrol passes by. I reckon I could have managed to reach the building with a collapsed wall before that, but it was better to be careful than to be dead.
The marching abruptly stops, and I silently panic.
But they retrace their steps shortly thereafter, after muttering something in an incomprehensible language.
Letting out a mental sigh over just having them change patrol groups, I quickly limp over to the building with the collapsed wall and the mustard coloured paint.
White walls on the inside. A small foyer. A door to the kitchen, and a claustrophobic staircase to above. To the left of the stairs, I found a jackpot.
I was unsure where I was going to find a teleporter of small size, but I think I hit the jackpot on the hover unit: this house's garage. Unlike the clothes, I was sure I could find a way to pay for this speeder(?). I never really cared for the name of these things, I only constantly remembered that the name of the one with guns was a Pike. And as overwhelming as they were, pikes were a blast. Why guardians didn't have sparrows with guns was something beyond me. Slap a rifle on the thing. It isn't too hard.
Anyhow, I was unsure, where this hover unit was. So, as methodically as I could, I removed the external pieces of the machine, then turned it on. I was worried about any sound it could have produced each time I turned it on, but it always kept hovering, at least, until I removed what I assumed it to be nothing other than a sort of electronic box with holes. Satisfied with this, I just leave the sparrow behind, as even attempting to rebuild it was not only cruel but likely impossible, considering all of the mess I've left of the thing. After dumping it on the backpack, I remove what seems to be two small oxygen tanks from the wall, and slightly open their valves.
As I expected: gas. Flammable gas. I reckon this guy enjoyed the taste or going out on barbecues. Maybe, just maybe, he was planning on going full "freedom fighter".
The marching comes by and leaves once more. Second patrol group, I assume. By that time, I simply manage to have another two vats of empty gas that I can make use of as storage for more Ether. I hated to admit it, but I already craved the thing.
So those were two other items off the list. I don't think this ease of finding items would continue for longer. There is a chance there was also a garage in the other house, and maybe, the kitchen ran on gas as well. But this one? It showed promise. And getting too deep into the city was bound to be particularly bad for me, considering the cabal occupation, so maybe I should just shut up, and accept that something good is happening for the first time in particularly long.
And so, I go up the stairs.
I don't mind the hole in the celling, even if it meant that the floor above this one could be considered practically gone, but I am instead drawn to the small living room, armed around a table that has seen days where a large piece of concrete wasn't sitting on it, or rather, on it's remains. What interests me the most, however, is the shotgun on the wall, on a frame.
It's not worn, but well kept. It could just as likely be decoration, as it could be…
The frame breaks under having the shotgun pulled, and while a wince is in order, I have managed to get it free.
Going back to the garage. I check how many rounds it has. I begin pumping the shotgun.
One round falls out with the first pump, and I have to insist, I was not expecting it to be this hard to pull the slide back and forth.
Four rounds later, and I really regret having checked.
One more round falls, and the next pull has nothing drop. Taking an actual breath, then regretting doing so due to the gas in the room, I begin the arduous task of re-loading the damn thing.
Pulling the lever back, in go the six rounds. The lever returns to its original location, and the light blue shotgun has a round in the chamber. I dislike the fact that has no strap or anything of the sort. So either I went with this at hand, or suffer the fact that I only had 43 bullets left in the handgun.
I knew what I picked.
So, now armed with a shotgun, a little more confidence, and the taste of gas in my mouth, I go back up.
Turns out, either the people in this house left in a hurry, or were complete slobs. The beds were a mess in the only bedroom. The study was ransacked before I got here, and the room that seemed to be some sort of workshop, it too, was devoid of nearly anything. They left some sort of wire-like things behind, plugged to the wall. Judging by how they scorched the wood, I reckon that I only need a cooler, a valve, a teleporter to engage in tele fragging, and a matter processor, whatever that was. I reckon it meant a 3 d printer or pen. But just to check...
Guest_001>What parts do you think you would be missing, were you ransacked?
Guest_001>I mean, if you had the parts that produced ether removed.
Emergency_074> A BIOGENERATOR, MATTER PROCESSING UNIT, COMPARTMENT FOR STORAGE, CHEMICAL HEATER, SCANNER, A COOLING UNIT, AN ELECTRONICALLY OPERATED VALVE, A TELEPORTER OF SMALL SIZE, AN ELECTRONICAL HOVERING UNIT.
Guest_001>What counts as an appropriate replacement for the matter processing unit and the cooling unit? |
Time to wait for an answer once more, but meanwhile, I wait for the marching cabal to pass by one more from the safety of being behind the stairs with a shotgun. Due to their body mass, I still reckon I should be safe if I get caught up here, but not guaranteed.
They pass by, and I wait an extra moment, just to be sure.
I nearly suffered a heart attack when I peek over the corner and spot a Psion inspecting the house.
That isn't good. But I'll maintain my composure. He… or she, hasn't seen me yet, thus, leaving the door open for a well-timed escape.
I wait until it checks the garage before carefully trying to sneak past the hole in the wall.
I somehow manage to cause some rubble to tumble over, which, while it notices it, based on the way it's footsteps sound, and how it passes back to the living room. Unfortunately for it, I have already begun my trek to the next alleyway.
I don't know how I feel about that, but frankly, I consider it an absolute success. Now to wait for the Psion to report back this abnormality, and increase the overall security on this area.
I reconsider having not slit it's throat while he was in the garage.
Soon enough, I begin to listen to the results of not taking the Psion out. There's the marching of the cabal once more, and considering the number of steps, it's hard to consider that they probably number in the dozen, if not slightly more. It's only when I listen to a gas explosion when I realize what they were doing.
They were torching the house! The absolute mad lads, they were not even risking a fight, and frankly, I can't blame them, any fight could end badly.
My foot stumbles on something as I accommodate myself behind the trash bin.
A weird thing I stumbled upon one of these.
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Spoilers: It's dead.