บท 8: End Marks
Ori reaches the outskirts of the DTR Shipping Factory, the burnt wreckage of gang vehicles littering the place, along with corpses that were already in the process of getting devoured by rats and cockroaches.
A few homeless people lingered around, some scavenging while others simply just wanted to take one last look at their 'home' before moving on. Ori ignores them, marching through the entrance, over the corpses, and towards where he'd lost consciousness. There, he found them, his family.
What was left of his father and Rick, his cousins, even those who'd been adopted into the clan. He grabs a sturdy piece of metal and begins the laborious process of digging graves...
"Hey, isn't that-" one person starts but their friend stops them.
"Leave it, kid's been through enough. Doesn't need us gawking at him, 'specially' now."
It takes two whole days to finish everything, digging graves, gathering what was left of their corpses, and finding adequate trinkets of theirs so he could abide by Quadrano tradition. He hadn't spoken a single word to anyone, merely pointing his gun at them if they got too close to him or his project.
Thankfully or not, he hadn't found Cat's body anywhere in the tunnel, hopefully meaning she was still alive somewhere. Problem with that though is the fact that there were worse fates than death...
He swallows the last of the flavourless protein bar and pockets the wrapper as he looks down at the line of graves, all marked solid pieces of metal or stone with their respective names inscribed on them.
He tosses away the metal he'd been digging with and sits on the ground before them, just blankly staring, idly fiddling with the gun in his hand.
"Dad... Everyone..." he starts, trying to force out some words to commemorate the lives they lived, to honour the sacrifices they made for the 'betterment of everyone', to help those who needed it... But nothing came out. Anything positive he might've said was soured to him.
Everything they worked towards ended in ashes. The people they gave homes to and protected had already forgotten about them, looting what was left and moving on to some other slum.
"You each devoted your lives to each other, held strangers close and family closer... You dedicated everything to what you thought right, held firm to your beliefs... That's all that mattered, in the end." he stifles a sniffle, his eyes dry, already bled out of tears.
He stands and scratches one last message into his dad's grave before walking away.
Here lies Emmanuel Quadrano
Loving father to a son and daughter
A man who died righteously for his beliefs
In hell, good men suffer the worst ends
--------------------------
Ori visits the burnt of his house one last time, intending to never return to this place as long as he lived...
Suddenly, without even a moment's notice, he draws his gun, points it at his temple and fires... Or tries to, his finger locks in place, his arm refusing to move at all.
"That's what I thought you little assholes." he growls, "You wouldn't want your precious meat suit damaged, would you?" he makes to holster the gun and his arm allows it. "Was that why you stopped me from moving? 'Playing dead' the best method of survival? Cigs too, fucks up the lungs..." he wets his lips as a faint buzzing occurs in his ears. As if a million tiny bugs were crawling under his skin.
He shakes his head from the discomfort that was enveloping him and throws his sack of goodies across his shoulder. During his time here he'd looted anything of worth, shit was only worth around a thousand Eddies, but it should be enough for now.
----------------------
*Creee!*
Ori steps into Bats apartment, ignoring the man Ripperdoc almost falling over himself to reach him.
"Ori! You're alive! Where have you been!?" Bats hurriedly asks.
He shows his filthy hands, "Digging."
"D-digging? You spent two days digging... What?"
"Digging graves." he curtly answers, causing the man to go silent. He heads to the bathroom to clean up and once he's done he finds Bats sitting down in the 'main room' of the place. "Have you got your shit?"
"Meaning?"
"Ripperdoc shit. I want to deal with these Nanites."
Bats sadly shakes his head, "I told you before, there's nothing I can do..."
"No, I mean 'DEAL'."
"Like, bargain or something?" the man confusedly questions, "That's not how this works, they're robots, they're programmed to do something and that's it, there's no 'dealing' with them."
"In your opinion." Ori retorts, "I for one think they're smarter than we both think. So, help me with this." he presses.
...
"I don't have the equipment for that-"
"Sell this shit." he drops his sack on the floor, "Pawn the smart gun too, everything should net around six to seven thousand Eddies if you don't get scammed."
Bats sighs, "Even then, I still wouldn't have enough, the equipment we need costs five, maybe even six figures to get."
"Then. Rent. It." Ori spits, "Feels like you aren't even trying to help me, Bats. Have you even done anything since I left two days ago? Have you even started the search for Cat?" he grouses.
The man goes silent, looking at the floor despairingly.
"Get your shit together." he slaps his chest, "I'm fifteen years old and I'm holding up better than you, fucking waste of space!"
"O-Ori-"
"No. No excuses! What did you say last time!? We're the only ones left!? If you really believed that, you wouldn't make yourself MY burden. Now, I'm going to find Cat, and you're going to do as you're told. Understand!?" he loudly questions.
"... Yeah... I got it..." he despondently responds.
Ori eyes him for a couple more moments before eventually relenting. He wasn't his babysitter, it was him he should've been the more responsible one outta them anyway. "You handle that, I need to go out."
"Again?" Bats perks up and raises his head.
Ori nods, "We're alone here, and I can only think of a few people who might help... I'm gonna go visit the Mox."
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บท 9: Mox
Lizzies Bar, the main base for the Moxes wasn't all that far from the Kabuki Market, and only took thirty minutes of walking to get there. The former brothel had become a Braindance club after the Tyger Claws had brutally murdered its owner. The Mox was formed not long after, a group started to protect the prostitutes of the city.
Ori wasn't exactly 'dressed' for the occasion however, his ragged clothes and weathered appearance instantly had the guards at the door stopping him from entering.
Most of them were women, all with sleek and shiny skin that was reminiscent of old plastic doll designs. Strange as it was, it also served to act as armour, far tougher than ordinary organic material.
A short woman with skimpy clothing, brightly coloured hair and a nailed baseball bat held over his shoulder steps in front of him to block his path. "Hold up there, place ain't a charity so unless you got the Eddies the spend, you're better off elsewhere." she firmly states.
"I've got biz with Q." Ori responds, the Quadranos had actually been quite close with the Mox, since their intentions aligned in some ways, it wasn't strange to see either group cooperating with one another.
Ori was actually kind of pissed that the Mox hadn't lifted a hand while Casinha got shot up. Three gangs were there if you didn't include the Scavs, yet not a single Mox.
The guard sniffs at him, taking a once over at his sorry appearance, "What biz does Susie have with a kid like you?"
"Ask her later and find out."
"Whatever, I'll look forward to draggin' your ass out." she relents, allowing him to step inside.
Despite it being near midday, the club was already quite busy, lights flashing and music booming. Men and women sat around the place, drooling as they enjoyed their respective Braindances, and pornographic virtual realities.
He makes his way to the bar and takes a seat, waiting for the barman to finish serving some other customers, "What can I getcha?" he asks as he steps over, idly cleaning a glass.
"I need to talk with Susie, she busy?"
"Probably, who's askin'?"
"Ori Quadrano, Emmanuel's son."
...
"Eman's...? Hm, he never spoke of you." the man asks, surprised.
"Yeah well, like it matters anymore, he's dead." Ori grouses at his dad's nickname, "Which is what I need to talk to Susie about."
"You have my sympathies kid but, if you're here to ask for help I doubt the boss is gonna care."
Ori shrugs, "We'll see when I ask her."
...
The barman just sighs, "Aight, I've sent her a text, she'll be here when she can." he slides a drink in front of him, "On the house, for your dad."
Ori just huffs humorously in response, looks like his dead's life was worth at least one drink. Shaking his head, he steeples his fingers and glances over his shoulder, noting a group of Mox in the corner all wearing BD headsets. Judging by the serious expressions under them, they weren't getting their rocks off... Probably military sims if he had to guess by the preem guns sitting next to them.
He lets out a sigh and rests his forehead on his hands, despite having two days to himself alone, his head was still a mess. As if barbwire had been wrapped around every thought and memory, poking him whenever he broached them.
*Thunk!*
The double doors of the backrooms slam open as two figures step out, one pursuing the other. "I mean it Q, we can't lose ourselves on this. Asking for protection money, refusing to help those outside our territory. Just yesterday I got a BD of two guys abusing one of our own, Kacey, just snatched her right off of the street!" a heavily tatted-up woman with blue and purple hair exasperatedly states.
"And? What do you want me to do about it? We're barely holdin' on as it is and you want to start another war? We fuck up now and we'll help nobody!" Susie Q retorts, her heavily modded body drawing Ori's attention, though, her large 'assets' appeared to be catching everyone else's eyes.
"I'm just askin' we do what the Mox was founded for in the first place." Susie turns to face the arguing woman, "Protect the people who can't protect themselves."
"Enough, we have this same fuckin' argument day in and day out, you wanna get in trouble on your own, go head, but don't drag the rest of us with you." Susie states before turning to Ori and sitting herself down next to him.
"Vodka, hit me." she orders the barman, "Now, whaddya want, kid?" she asks, turning to Ori.
"I want help. And you're the only person I could think to ask."
"He's Eman's kid, apparently." the barman adds while sliding her drink in front of her.
"Eman? Can't you just ask your old man if you want some pocket money?" she sarcastically drawls.
"I would if he wasn't five feet in the ground. Woulda thought you'd have heard the war that went on over at Casinha two days ago, gunfire should've reached here. Had Maelstrom, Animals, and Tyger Claws shooting the place up." he explains, quickly catching her attention.
"That lot? The fuck would they want there?" she wonders aloud while sipping her drink, "I know Maelstrom had been botherin' you, but Animals and Tyger Claws? Who did your dad piss off?"
"Don't know, all I know is the Mox weren't anywhere around 'spite it being barely out of Kabuki." Ori retorts, eyeing the woman.
"Ah, I get it, you wanna guilt trip me into helping your sorry ass. Well newsflash kid, I don't owe you shit." she declares, "So unless you've got something to offer, we're done here."
"I've got nothing but myself, I'll join your gang or whatever you want, I just need your help finding my sister. Those fuckers kidnapped her, and I'm getting her back no matter what it takes." he asserts, leaning toward her with his hands planted on the bar.
She waves him off dismissively, "I don't need your skinny ass in the Mox, I'm sorry for your sis but we've got other, bigger problems to deal with. Just get it through your head that she's gone, and your luck in findin' her is a million to one. Unless you think you can take down the three gangs who might have her solo?"
...
He lowers his head slightly, pride irrelevant at this point. "Please. I'll do anything, just help me out here... Please. She's all I got left..."
Susie's eyes soften momentarily, before hardening as she gets to her feet. "Sorry, can't help you kid." she states as she enters the backrooms of the club, leaving Ori in a whirlpool of despair.
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