As Myron strolled down a trash-littered road in the southern slums of Darthburrough in Tenebrous Hollows, he passively observed his surroundings. On either side of him were hundreds of old huts which were stacked up on top of each other to help preserve space. Various kinds of people could be seen from their windows smoking or just aimlessly staring lost in thought.
On the ground level kids in tattered clothes chased each other and weaved in and out through narrow spaces between the towering stacked huts. You couldn’t help but feel grimy when examining the disheveled neighborhood, and even the air had a lingering sour taste which the residents had grown to become used to. Despite all this Darthburrow was still Myron’s home, and it would always hold somewhat of a soft spot within his heart.
He began to stare at his reflection in the dusty windows of the huts he passed. The dark skin on his face had an oily complexion, and his black dreads were thick and matted due to years of neglect. Myron cared little of his appearance and was only particularly fond of his light blue eyes, which reminded him of his father.
He possessed no pictures of his father, who had long since passed, which led him to often stare for hours at his reflection. Though Myron was never particularly fond of himself, seeing his cerulean blue eyes in his reflection helped him recall fond memories of his father.
His attention soon snapped back to the present once he realized he had reached his destination at the end of the street. He looked up to see a large rusty sign reading “Willy’s Wasteland”. Willy’s was one of the largest dumps in Tenebrous Hollows, which Myron often frequented when he was in search of scraps and other random discarded objects.
While entering the junkyard he spotted Willy where he usually was, sprawled out on his old rickety rocking chair next to his makeshift shack, which looked like it was on the verge of collapsing. He was snoring loudly and wreaked of cheap alcohol, which was nothing out of the ordinary. Myron casually walked up to him and proceeded to kick the chair out from under him, causing him to flail awkwardly and collapse to the ground.
“Wake up you drunk bastard,” said Myron with a little smirk on his face.
Willy looked up at him drunkenly and retorted, “Mannnnnn Fuck you and your nappy ass hairdo.”
Myron lightly chuckled. He could never take Willy seriously because he always looked so ridiculous with his frizzy white afro and round dark sunglasses that were always missing one lens. On top of that, the way his gut popped out of his hole-filled tang top made him look even more absurd.
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Myron tossed 5 Lira onto Willy’s belly. “Anything new get dropped off?”
“I ain't tellin' you shit piss boy, go on and figure that out for yourself,” Willy grumbled.
Myron ignored him and began to walk into the massive trash mountains that were laid out before him. He wasn't in the mood to bicker today and had his mind set on finding some hidden gems that he could resell for some easy money.
“You better stop doin' this shit Myron or else imma start chargin' your broke ass 10 Lira!” shouted Willy after him.
As Myron disappeared over the trash slopes he felt a sense of relief, and his breathing eased to a slow rhythmic pace. Willy’s was one of the few places where he felt like he could almost completely let his guard down and not have to worry about getting confronted by any local gangs or THCP (Tenebrous Hollows City Police). Hardly anyone ever visited the junkyard nowadays besides the occasional loners like Myron, who were also in search of a quick profit. This was likely due to there being…well… mostly what you would expect…junk. From old worn tires to cracked clay pots, it was only on occasion that someone would come across something truly interesting.
Nonetheless, this didn't deter Myron, and he remained hopeful that he would come across his big break one day. If he could end up making a big payday, he may finally be able to afford to go to the Tunnel Institute, a school his father dreamed of attending when he was younger that teaches students the skills they will need to take on The Dens and become official Rovers. Ever since he was little Myron would always listen to the old legends his father would tell him about The Dens that were passed down throughout the generations. Most of these legends described the perilous adventures of legendry Rovers who would venture into the depths of The Dens, and struck fear into Myron’s heart. However, the passion his father spoke with when telling these stories sucked him in, and soon enough he found himself imagining being one of those fabled Rovers, a slave to his own curiosity in search of the world's deepest-kept secrets.
The further Myron traveled into the massive junkyard, the denser it became. His feet began to sink deeper and deeper into the trash with each new step until he was waist-deep, and it felt as if he was wading through thick slime. Every once in a while his baggy hoodie would get caught on something in the debris, leaving holes of various sizes in his hoodie. Though traveling through this terrain was troublesome, Myron had experience doing it and knew he had to push on if he wanted to find anything worthwhile. As he was trudging along he eventually spotted a massive trash heap he didn’t recognize from previous visits. Myron grinned, he had a feeling he would come across something new today. He swiftly changed course and started to head directly toward the new trash pile without a second thought.
Suddenly, with his next step, Myron felt the earth start to slowly disappear beneath him. His stomach began to rise into his chest, and the next thing he knew he was plummeting into a dark abyss along with random pieces of trash. As Myron was falling he stared up at the jagged hole he had foolishly stepped in and observed as the dim light shining through it drew further and further away. Time slowed, and it felt like he was sinking into the depths of a bottomless ocean crevice, with no hopes of saving himself. Myron closed his eyes. You're such a dumbass, he thought to himself. Such a fucking dumbass. Just when it seemed like his agonizing descent would never end, he violently slammed into a small trash pile, rendering him unconscious.