I wrote up a bit of Evy's story today. I decided I'm going to post it up in little chunks as I do them, mainly because if I leave it until it's finished it'll be a massive long piece to read in one hit and secondly because this way I can get feedback as I do it. *hinthint*
I knew it was going to be a bad day when I woke up at some insane hour of the morning to the sounds of a brawl in the alley just outside the smashed glass of my window. I rolled over, pulling my blanket tightly around my ears, but it was useless. The Tert never really slept, and it seemed wherever I went it was determined not to let me either.
Any other time I might have been inclined to throw something highly acidic out the window and go back to sleep in peace. Instead, I threw back the blanket and paced to the corner where I had dumped my meagre belongings.
At least it was better than Muenoville, I reflected as I hunted down some vaguely clean pieces of clothing. I’d spent a very short time hanging around the place before the noises and the smells and all that blood got to me. The advice that Torley’s had good pickings for somebody willing to work was the last excuse I needed to get out of there.
By the time I got dressed, the sounds in the alley had died away. I glanced down in the hopes that maybe the loser was still there so I could scavenge something to add to my armoury from them. No such luck. I could really have used a new gun, having managed to lose two of my three in as many months. I did a quick stock take before I ventured out. One handgun that I couldn’t for the life of me identify with only four bullets in it, one rather large and nasty looking knife that I could just fit into a compartment on my right forearm if I tried, two shuriken I’d scrounged up somewhere (useless because I couldn’t throw for shit, but they were pretty, and sharp enough if I was desperate for something to cut with), and one long sharp needle I figured would kill someone if you jabbed it far enough into their eye.
I sighed. There are plenty of Pets that are walking wars in themselves, but I don’t happen to be one of them. Sometimes even I’m surprised by the fact I’m still alive. With my degree of weapon and street savvy, I sure don’t deserve to be.
It took me ten minutes to traverse the dilapidated stairwell to the ground floor. I didn’t trust the stairs at all, but I couldn’t throw out the gaggle of feral kids that had made the ground level their home. So it one of those things I just had to deal with.
I have quite a few of those things.
I was hoping that maybe one of them might be inching a bit closer to resolution.
You see, there was actually a reason why I bothered dragging myself out of bed several hours before I’d usually even think about it. I’d gotten a message just before bedtime from the only acquaintance I’d made at Torley’s so far—a funny little man called Guazo. I’d hunted down the seven escaped monkey-toad hybrids he was watching for a friend on my first night in the area, and in the few weeks since then he’d gone out of his way to help me out. Keeping his ears open for me, looking people up, telling me interesting little bits of information. He’d told me to meet him on the corner just down from my condemned apartment building at three. Something about only being able to leave when the toad-monkeys were asleep or they’d stage another escape. At first I told him to get stuffed, but then he held out the best possible bait.
He’d found a tekboy who was interested in working on me in exchange for a bit of general labour.
He didn’t have to tell me twice. So that’s how I ended up on a disgusting street corner, in possibly the scungiest place on earth, at three in the morning.
I could only imagine what my mother might think if she knew.