Axton had, unknowingly, given the Orphans a bit of room to breathe. When he removed his shackles, Stebbs suffered from his typical short-sightedness and, less than five days after ordering his men to monitor the Orphans with all their might, he altered their orders and sent his goons, almost to the last, to comb the scrap yard for any sign of Axton. This, of course, turned up nothing, but not for a lack of trying.

Stebbs’ men were not the brightest bunch, nor were they geared towards doing anything but the acceptable minimum. Sure, they had all the coordinates of where Axton had been to over the course of his ‘incarceration’, but all they did when there was look around, pick up a few pieces of scrap and then move on. They knew that Axton would not be there, but they were ordered to look for him and every moment they were ‘searching’ was a moment that saw them earn some credits.

So, in a way, they were ‘looking’ for Axton with all the intensity they could muster, but they also were not putting their backs into it by any stretch of the imagination. Of course, that truth wasn’t what their daily reports said, but it wasn’t like anyone really read those things anyway. Eventually, the number of men assigned to look for Axton dwindled, and the ones left to search the yard began to work out a patrol schedule that would let them ‘work’ without really working. This was, unbeknownst to them, a win-win for both themselves and Axton.

Axton was smarter than the mayor and his goons gave him credit for. It was simple enough for a veteran of many MMORPGs and other games to form a kind of internal schedule that let him know when and where each ‘search party’ would be at any given time and how he could exploit gaps in their patterns. As each in-game day passed, Axton amassed more and more salvage, doing so right under the noses of those sent to capture him.

But Axton was not content to simply build his new toy just yet. After all, he had a debt to pay to the gang that had given him so much. He figured that now was as good a time as any to try leaving the ‘starting zone’ he had been forced to slave away in. Besides, the yard wasn’t doing much for his sanity and he really, really wanted to put some food and water in his Avatar’s stomach. He may have had that AI to thank for not needing to eat and drink just yet, but a man can only go so long without feeling rather weary of having a full stomach and no need to eat, drink or sleep.

…

Axton kept the raggedy cloak around him as he snuck past the sleeping guards that were supposed to monitor the entrance and exit of the scrap yard. It would only be a few more steps until he was outside of their detection range and he would be damned if he let himself get caught so soon after having his freedom returned to him by his own hands. With those last few steps trodden out, Axton let the tension in his body cease and he began to walk like a normal person. He had played enough of those Murderer’s Doctrine games developed and published by Ubihard to know about Social Stealth, and it was time to see if that mechanic was in this game as well.

Axton shifted his path to mesh himself in with a group of NPCs that were walking together. He was not a fool, though, and he stayed just on the outskirts of the bunch of seven NPCs, hanging just behind them and, for the most part, matching their steps. He saw Wanted Posters with his name and face on them posted throughout the colony as he walked with the NPCs, but even though he passed by people who could easily see his face beneath his hood nobody seemed to notice that he was even there to begin with.

Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

Axton left the group and began to shift from place to place. He was acting as normal as he could, all while making sure that nobody saw his movements as ‘out of the ordinary’. This wasn’t a Murderer’s Doctrine game, so rapidly shifting from cover to cover and climbing buildings was clearly a no-go. Still, while engaging in Social Stealth he had mapped out nearly the entire colony, including where Stebbs’ goons hung out and where he could hide from them.

Regardless, he had exited the yard for a reason, and he was now on a mission. It was time to get some food in his belly!

…

The first floor of the ‘Steelree Bar and Inn’ was bustling. Unfortunately, the majority of the people inside were not the pleasant kind. It was, however, filled with drunks and even a few of the Mayor’s men. Those latter louts in particular were nothing but trouble, constantly flexing their position and using it as an excuse to drink and eat as much as they wanted without paying a single credit. Worse still, they started bar fights almost every single night, and they were never the ones hauled off to spend a night in the drunk tank afterward.

The first floor was already a mess, with the sand and dirt that covered the floor already infused with spiled food and drink that had long since been crushed into the ground itself. Those Stebbs goons in particular were making a hell of a racket, going on and on about how they needed to find some Outworlder or another and how they were on thin ice and such.

They were so into their endless drunk ramblings that they did not notice the front door open and close, just as they did not notice the man they had likely been looking for walking in and taking a seat at the table not even three meters away from them. Everyone else, however, were not drunk enough to fail to notice this, but they were also not dumb enough to believe the words that the Mayor had told them about how they would be rewarded with a one-way ticket off this rock.

Well, they didn’t doubt that Stebbs would get them out of the shithole they were in, they just doubted that he would not sell them into slavery in the Andromedan Empire, which had happened every other time someone had been ‘rewarded’ with a chance to leave the colony. Hence, they kept their mouths shut and pretended that the Outworlder wasn’t there.

Actually, there were some that wanted to talk to him, but the presence of those drunken idiots made that impossible. The minions of Stebbs tended to have a nasty habit of sniffing out ‘enemies of the colony’, after all, and everyone feared that talking to the Outworlder would be the impetus that would lead to a bunch of non-drunks coming in to bust shit up.

And so, the only person who approached the Outworlder was the barkeep, who cautiously asked what the order was.

“I would like whatever you recommend and also a room for the night.” The Outworlder said quietly while passing a few credits towards the barkeep.

The barkeep looked at the credits and then back to the Outworlder.

“It’s thanks for not raising a fuss.” The Outworlder said curtly as he tried to make himself smaller and more unnoticeable.

Unfortunately, the drunken fools that worked under Stebbs had already smelled the presence of a ‘new person’ and were stumbling over to the Outworlder. One of them pulled off the Outworlder’s hood, and everyone else thought something along the lines of “This is the end!”.

But the face of the Outworlder had changed. It had somehow shifted from what it was just moments prior to something entirely different and looked… remarkably similar to a certain Mayor’s…. All but the goons breathed a sigh of relief but said goons didn’t stop their harassment. The Outworlder, however, did not pay them any mind and continued to wait quietly for his meal. But, when the drink came, the hoodlums grabbed it and poured it out onto the Outworlder’s head.

At this, the Outworlder stood up, grabbed the metal flagon, and smashed it across the face of one of the thugs.

“I have been waiting for So. Fucking. Long to get something to eat and drink! Now you asshats want to deny me that?! You won’t be walking out of here intact! Nobody, and I mean NOBODY will deny me food, drink, and sleep this day! Not you, not Stebbs, and not that bastard who dropped me into this mess! Turn on the music, barman; it’s time for some good old fashion tavern brawling!”