Chapter 11—News

So much for preaching patience, you hypocrite.

Marco took in a fresh breath of sewage air with a hand over his eyes, massaging his forehead. He’d actually snapped at the girl. He just wanted to make sure she understood. It was supposed to be a solemn talk, but seeing her glad and relieved got him all riled up. She'd had two days to think about what happened, but she slept on her failure as if she’d succeeded. Did she really not understand, or did she care for her life that little? Her story was bound to end in tragedy if she continued like this.

New message received.

From Keyn Orland.

Maybe he should just use her before that happened. Let her scout everything he needed ahead of time and then discard her. It seemed much better than keeping a ticking time bomb around. Marco sighed and put up the message. Best to divert his thoughts to other things for a while. After some messaging with Inky, he arranged another meeting at their usual spot.

“Got a rat up your bum?” When Inky arrived he was out of breath and covered in sweat. “What’s got you all jumpy?”

“Good, good stuff.” He rubbed his hands, his eyes turned to smiling slits.

“Has it got anything to do with my request?”

“Yes, and no. Look at this picture first.”

It was difficult to make out any of the details. The photo was heavily pixelated, a token of Inky’s poor investment into the camera function of his chip. Marco made out one man surrounded by others that followed him like an entourage. His face was hard to decipher, but his colorful and festive attire shone through the poor quality.

“And?”

“This is Ulrich Rewig.”

Rewig? That was not a name he’d have expected to hear around here. For starters, Inky gave him a surname. Anyone from the Overworld (the man clearly wasn’t a denizen of Junkyard looking like that) had their family name redacted. Junkyard was a ‘second chance’ for rejects. Losing your surname was supposed to mean losing your past, allowing you to start over from scratch. Even if you leave this place, you’d never officially regain your lost name within the system. A societal rebirth of sorts. How much of that was true was open for discussion.

“How sure are you?” Marco bit his lip unbeknownst to him, trying to contain his shock.

“I only overheard it.” Inky hurried with his explanation when he gave him a look. “Everyone he talks to calls him by name. I know it could be fake, but he’s definitely a new arrival from the Overworld and he wasn’t banished. He’s an official. You probably can’t make it out, but the people behind him are Obelisk Sentinels.”

The sentinels usually only guarded the giant obelisk that connected Junkyard to the Overworld. It was the only physical connection between the two places that allowed passage, divided by layers of earth and steel.

“That’s not everything. I saw this Rewig going on a stroll around District B with my own eyes before entering one orphanage there. He hasn’t been seen or heard from after that.”

“...Is this the first time something like this happened?”

“I reckon, no.”

“So you’re guessing?” Marco frowned. The taste of blood filled his mouth and he realized he was clenching his jaw. “I have no use for guesses.”

“No, no, wait, listen.” Inky stumbled over his words, afraid he would lose interest. “Is this the first time an official came to Junkyard? No. But one that is escorted by sentinels out in the open? Big yes. Usually, no one ever gets wind of this stuff, but this Ulrich Rewig guy didn’t seem like he cared much. He talked like normal, instead of using communication channels. He walked the streets, almost parading like a king in front of his subjects. And then he vanished into the orphanage as if suddenly remembering he wasn’t supposed to show himself. Here’s where it gets interesting for you, Marco.”

The picture disappeared, replaced by another.

“Jeanne Teller. She was fourteen when this was taken.”

Marco handed over a few pellets as he studied the photo. She looked different with her shoulder-long hair. Her eyes weren’t as slanted, yet to be disfigured by her constant wariness. It didn’t take long for the face in the picture to overlap with the one in his memory. It was easy to draw the connection.

Another heavy sigh escaped him. Did this make Jeanne more useful? Or more dangerous? The scales tipped in either direction, telling him both to keep her around and to stay away from her. It wasn’t too much of a surprise that she was raised in an orphanage. Some junkrats had that privilege and it might explain the foundation for her success.

“What else did you find out about her?”

“She’s spent her entire life in the orphanage until she was fourteen.” Inky read off his notes only he could see. “After coming of age, the orphanage kicked her out, leaving her to fend for herself. Nothing unusual. But one warden there told me she returns once every quarter. For three years, almost without fail. I asked around District B, and it’s not a common policy among the orphanages. In most cases, they’re supposed to close the door on you forever. That’s all I got for now.”

“Immediately tell me whenever you find out something else.” His hand caressed his chin and the cogs in his mind turned. “Also, keep an eye out for this Ulrich Rewig. But be careful. I have no use for you dead or crippled in the gutter. ”

“Shouldn’t be too hard,” Inky turned, already preparing to leave as if he hadn't heard his warning. “The guy is practically begging to be noticed.”

“How much do you know about ‘Rewig’?” His question made Inky halt as he’d hoped.

“...I might have heard it mentioned somewhere before.”

“It’d be strange if you didn’t.” Marco gave a hollow smile, knowing he was trying to play dumb. But he’d give him exactly what he wanted. Information to sell. “Rewig is one of three Crown-Ranked guilds. Joining them means accepting their name. And did you know they are not allowed to interfere with anything that happens in Junkyard?”

“That... is that true?” Inky furrowed his brows; it didn’t look like he believed him.

“The same rule applies to the Council. It's not public knowledge, but if any of them are caught in the act, there will be severe punishment and no one is exempt from it. This is supposed to be a place void of favorites, after all. But you didn’t hear that from me.”

Inky soaked up the information, trying hard to hide his interest, and with both parties satisfied, they parted ways. This little bit should help start the rumor mill, bringing new information to light, but overall, Marco considered this report bad news.

He didn't want to get involved in this, but he needed to know. How much was Junkyard going to change in the future? Ulrich Rewig was now the second occurrence of something not seen before in recent times. He didn’t like that. With every change that was out of the ordinary, the future became harder to predict, raising questions bundled with problems that might not have an answer.

He needed to know more about Ulrich and his intentions. Best case, it was something he could just ignore. But already, he doubted that. Also, why did still no one compete with Holden? Maybe it was just one of his flight of fancies, but either way, Marco wanted none of that. He just wanted to sit back and wait until his plans could come to fruition. Why couldn’t life just leave him alone and let him do his thing in peace? There was only so much he could do to prepare for unexpected change.

Don't start doubting yourself now. He had his strategy. They were working on it ever since he came to Junkyard four years ago. His shop was rising in popularity. He had a decent cash flow. Now all he needed was the time to execute it. He was set on the right path. But before all of that, he had to decide what to do with Jeanne.

...Who was he kidding? The matter had been settled long before. It was just like his sister had always fancied saying about him. He was too much of a nice guy. Forcing himself into a better mood, Marco went back to his hideout, humming a tune to himself as he splurged on a healing elixir on the way home.

Time to put his slave to work!

“Never... I’ll never drink this... again.” Jeanne held back another gag, her head hanging above the toilet where she looked down into the bowl at the black sludge of tar. Had that really come out of her body? How did that much even fit into her stomach? She couldn’t believe her eyes when Marco came back with one of those ridiculously expensive elixirs. She should have known something was wrong with it. How long had it been since she started hugging the toilet for dear life?

“Medicine never tastes good, you know.” He said from behind her, acting as if nothing had happened. Just who had she gotten involved with here? Some emotionally unstable sociopath? Gob tried to support her up once she felt a little better, but his tiny frame failed him. He looked down because of it, so she patted him on the head. The bugger was the nicest fellow she’d ever known, and he wasn’t even human. What did this grinning devil do to make Gob stick around?

“Oh, wow, that is a lot of... The guy who sold it did look kind of shady... But who doesn’t around here? I’m not one to judge by appearances.” He put one of his hands on her shoulder. “I’m sure you’ll be fine after stretching your legs. Now let’s get moving.”

“Where are we going?” Jeanne asked as they left, taking Gob in tow. “Are we trying for the natural-grade item?”

The idea made her a little excited. Marco seemed to have some great idea for her that had been worth using a tracker, so she figured he was planning a heist of some sorts. She’d often wondered about what it could be. He led them through the twisting alleyways and if they turned here, they’d head for ‘D’. Or here... Or here... Her hopes sunk with each crossroad they passed.

“Don't you remember a single thing we talked about?” He asked over his shoulder.

“Nope.”

“No hesitation. Like talking to a brick wall.”

She expected him to press the issue further, but he didn’t. She thought about annoying him until he got sick of her and let her go free. It was a promising idea and that would allow her to stalk out Holden’s place by herself. But she accepted her fate as his handmaid instead. For the time being. His threats aside, she was grateful to him. The greatest chance to get the natural-grade item had already passed anyway. It was difficult to accept that, but the timing had just been the worst.

They walked into District F. Ever since ‘D’ fell into chaos, the district was plagued by an outbreak of refugees. Before the incident, few scavengers ever frequented ‘F’. The factory halls were hardly different from regular open space and the items that dropped into the scrapyard of this district had the least value on average. It’d become a district for chipless junkrats and a retirement home for failures who couldn’t afford another chip after losing their previous one.

“You want to scavenge here?” Jeanne asked with a frown. “I don’t know about you, but I’m sure with the little guy and I, we can more than handle the one in ‘B’. I've heard some phoenix-guy is paying above market price for black powder. We can also go for springs in ‘A’, they always sell well. I know a spot and-”

“We’re not here to make money.” They stopped in front of a random factory, or rather the husk of what was left of it. They were far out where the masses had thinned out a little. She wondered what made it different from the rest when she thought she heard Gob screaming.

“It’s Marco!” But it wasn’t him. The voices spread like a cascade, coming from the moving shadows in the distance. Her hand reached for her dagger when Marco held her back.

A horde of people came over from the shadows of discarded metal. The first to arrive were children that shoved her away as they jumped at Marco, filling the area with cheerful laughter. Behind them, people of all ages created a circle around them, watching Marco tangling with the children.

Jeanne took a few steps back, walking over Gob, who ducked out of her way just in time. Forty... Fifty..., she gave up counting as even more followed the ruckus. They joined the circle around Marco as women and men in common, grey clothing plucked the children off him like fruits, nodding to him in greeting. She had seen such groups all too often, but the sight left her speechless. There was no meat to their limbs and their deflated skin was draped over them like loose blankets. A group of haggard skeletons compared to both her or Marco, but she’d also seen worse.

She knew well what life was like in ‘F’. That’s why she could have never imagined such smiles possible on the faces of people who had been discarded like trash in a place filled with nothing but trash.