Fuzzy, Rat Man and Marco - Sunday, August 19th - Late Evening – Blake Island

The doors to the school had been unlocked upon Marco's request. It was dark inside, though the big troll moved as if he could see in the dark, which he could. It was really only humans who couldn't see in the dark. Elves, dwarves, orks and trolls could all see either in low light or in the dark. Though Marco was aware enough of his human company that he waved his hand in front of a sensor bar and the lights of the empty lunch room flickered on.

"It's just through there," said Marco.

Off to one side was a door, easily overlooked and unassuming with words written on it in actual paint. There was just the one word, but she stopped to take a look at the letters that she'd learned about today. There was a T at the front, then an E and then...She lost it, getting a little flustered because she and Marco were moving fast. But she did manage to read it with her app which told her what it said in her ear.

"Terminal," chirped her commlink in her ear.

They passed into a small room with a single, battered chair in front of an odd looking device. In fact, this chair and that device looked like the only devices in the entire school with any significant wear on it. Fuzzy had seen the wrecks of these things out in the barrens, gutted by scavengers that had arrived long before she'd been born. The terminal looked something like a chromed out arcade machine with a keyboard, though the chrome had been tarnished and the touch pad screen had been smudged by greasy fingers.

"You just need to make a comm call, right?" asked Marco.

Fuzzy did and though she could make a comm call on her commlink, not that she could call off the island with it, she didn't know how to use a terminal. So Marco walked her through the steps. Booting it up, because it was off and then navigating to the correct program. Fuzzy had a crumpled piece of paper with Rat Man's comm number on it and she began to carefully punch in the number.

"You think you got it?" asked Marco.

"I think so," said Fuzzy, "He said it'd take a few minutes of ringing. Comm calls are hard to get out in the barrens. Also it's kind of late."

"Want me to wait?" asked Marco, "In case you need to call again?"

"If he doesn't answer he doesn't answer," said Fuzzy, "And I'll call tomorrow."

"Okay," said Marco, "Hey, thanks for the pheasant. It was great. And um...Sorry that the alfredo didn't turn out so good."

"I liked it a lot," said Fuzzy.

It'd been so creamy. Never in her life had she had anything with that much sauce or cream in a meal. She would've killed for a jar of Alfredo's sauce. Marco on the other hand hadn't seem pleased with his creation and had considered it mediocre at best.

"It could've been better," said Marco, "Anyway, do you know what you'll be doing with the rest of your week?"

Classes hadn't resumed yet and wouldn't until next Monday. So Fuzzy had quite a bit of time off and she had no idea how to spend it.

"Learn how to read, I guess," she said, "The rest I don't know."

"How about lunch?" asked Marco.

Fuzzy smiled.

"Lunch is good," she said, "Oh, and can I get some of that sauce like you did?"

She felt bad for asking, like she was about to steal something precious, but Marco nodded.

"There's a big fridge if you're hungry at night," he said, "Um...Wait..."

Fuzzy's heart sank as Marco realized something.

"I think they actually do charge you," said Marco, "Usually no one here thinks about it but...Sorry. I can get you some if you like. It's no problem."

Fuzzy sighed. Of course free food that she could just take home with her was too good to be true. And she didn't want to rely on people to pay for her. All of her instincts screamed at her that it'd be a bad idea to rely on the charity of others, no matter how well intentioned.

"It's fine," said Fuzzy, "I'll get it myself if I want it."

She was already in debt for the spearknife and she didn't want to spend more. Not at least until she found some sort of steady stream of income. Even then, that much cream and fat certainly wouldn't come cheap.

"You just treated me to a great meal," he said, "And the company was fantastic too. Just let me know if you need a late night snack, okay? My treat."

He looked like he needed this but Fuzzy's instincts were not to accept gifts for nothing.

"Please?" he asked.

Marco was just so lonely. It hurt too much to say no, so she hedged.

"If we're both hungry, sure," she said.

That got him nodding and she sighed internally in bittersweet relief. He headed towards the door.

"You know the way back to your cabin at night, right?" he asked.

"Yeah," said Fuzzy.

The nearby lights on the trail would light up if someone was nearby. Good for seeing by night and not so good for sneaking around.

"Okay," said Marco, "I'll um...I'll see you soon. For more lessons. Lunch. Maybe a midnight snack. More barbecues. Whatever you want. I'm mostly trying to be a friend to Julie right now because she needs one but um...I'd always like more friends."

"Friends," repeated Fuzzy.

He seemed like a good guy, even if he was awkward. And Fuzzy did need friends in this strange place with all of these people that were mostly indifferent to her. So Marco smiled and seemed reluctant to go, but he did with a wave of his enormous hand, which Fuzzy shared with her much smaller one.

Fuzzy completed the call just as Marco showed her and the comm call began to ring...And ring...And ring...There was no answering service, so she just had to let it ring. Part of her wanted to investigate the fridge to see how much food cost but she decided to give it at least ten minutes, maybe fifteen. And she figured it was fine to call Rat Man this late because he normally worked late anyway.

She decided to take a quick peak at the refrigerator anyway as she was pretty sure which one it was. After all, the only good matrix spot was outside of her old house and it'd take Rat Man a minute to suit up to go out. She waited a moment for Marco to leave and then headed into the empty cafeteria. There it was, a fridge in the corner next to what looked like a pantry of non-refrigerated food and the noodle extruder machine which would quickly make hot or cold noodles on demand. She used her app to read the sign above it.

"Keep the after hours refrigerator closed. I mean it. - Mother Bear," her commlink chirped in her ear.

Fuzzy was delighted that she'd found the spot so fast and started looking for prices. Not because she wanted to buy anything but because she was curious. She had no idea how much food actually cost in Seattle. And while she found a lot of fresh food and pantry food, including a few jars of Alfredo's sauce that Marco hadn't taken, she found no prices on anything after three minutes of searching. None.

This bothered her because not only did she not know how much food cost but because a lack of a price didn't mean that the food was free. It just meant that people here didn't think about how much things cost. Sasha seemed singular in that she worried about how much things cost at all and that didn't keep her from buying things. And there was no one here to tell her how many new ends something swapped for. There was no one to bargain with. The price was the price, which was what it was regardless of the fact that it wasn't listed. All of this deeply irked her. Not that she was going to buy anything right now, but she had a better idea of how much bullets cost in the ACHE over food.

Fuzzy sighed and made her way back to the terminal room where she waited for Rat Man to respond. And to her surprise, he actually picked up the comm call some five minutes later, audio only. He responded not in English, but in Spanish, his native tongue.

"Hey Fuzzy," he said.

And so Fuzzy responded in Spanish as well. Hers was just about as good as his, though obviously she couldn't read Spanish either. She wondered how hard it would be to learn how to read both English and Spanish at the same time.

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"Rat Man," she said, "How are you?"

"Working late and then I get a call from a ghost," he said, "It's been a month."

Fuzzy flushed as he laughed through his gas mask, as if he could see her. She could almost see him as well. He was outside of course in the only good spot for reception, near the fence made from scrap metal and she imagined him leaning against it.

"I've been busy," she said, irritably.

"So I figured," he said, "Just giving you a hard time. It's good that you call home. I even got your present. Where did you get it?"

His tone didn't seem entirely approving. In fact, he sounded like he was about to give her a lecture.

"A gun store," hedged Fuzzy.

"Uh huh," he said, incredulously, "Where?"

"I can get more," she said, "I know the ghouls will start sniffing around more when it gets cold."

She heard a muffled sigh.

"That's not the point," he said, "And fine, keep your secrets. Just be careful. Most places won't sell a bullet such as this to someone like you and the ones that will are full of dangerous people. And when you send it, don't send it straight here by drone. We didn't know whose it was. I almost ripped it out of the sky."

And here came the chastisement, but Fuzzy really should have known better than to send him something by an untrusted source, meaning Kenji. She just hadn't known how to contact him. Not exactly, though she could have if she'd tried harder. Comms barely worked in the barrens, to the point where she hadn't owned a commlink until recently. And it only worked where they lived because they lived at the top of a hill.

"I'm sorry," she said, "I just wanted to send something home."

"Which is good," he said, his tone softening, "And we appreciate it. This is useful. I just want you to be safe and for you not to advertise where we are, okay?"

Fuzzy nodded, though neither could see the other.

"Okay," she said.

The nod was felt though by Rat Man, who softened his tone.

"If you want to send more, you can do so through the Petrowskis," said Rat Man, "They have a stall in Pike Place market. That should be very close to you."

Fuzzy was taken aback by this information. She knew that the Petrowskis sold their produce in the city, but she'd never really paid attention to where. But there was also something else to Rat Man's tone. He'd let her know by mentioning sending things home that things might not be okay. Sometimes he'd ask those he'd raised to send home necessities during times of hardship when they could. Not all of them did or at least not all of them were in a position to, but some did and some sent a lot. After all, the children he took in likely would have died in their little corner of Puyallup without Rat Man.

Still, she couldn't just ask him if he needed help and he wouldn't ask her. There was too much pride involved. Though she sometimes blundered her way through conversation in the metroplex, she generally understood how this worked as she'd sometimes sent home food for free when she had extra to spare.

"How's Iggy?" asked Fuzzy, instead.

Ignacio was Rat Man's grown son. While Rat Man focused on meat, leather, children and magic, Iggy helped keep the house, which was always falling apart, from fully falling apart. Last she heard, he'd been working on the roof again as it'd been a problem for years. So if something was wrong at home then Iggy was likely working on it.

"Working on the roof," said Rat Man, "Keeping watch, minding the children when he has the time. He has a few helpers he's been teaching but neither of us will put children on the roof."

"How is the roof?" asked Fuzzy.

It was a direct question and even though there were subtleties to how she'd talk to Rat Man or anyone from Puyallup, she wasn't great at navigating around anyone's pride. Part of her wondered if he'd say it was fine when he needed help, but instead, he grunted once in displeasure.

"How's hunting going?" she asked again, "Are they bringing home kills? Are they safe?"

Again, a grunt, as well as the wind and the soft sound of the ash being blown about. It was oddly comforting.

"There are some problems with the Chulos gang out east," said Rat Man, "They've been more aggressive lately. They haven't touched the kids so far but they've had a few vehicles following them. South is fine, but the Salish are strict about their borders so there's not a lot of south to hunt in. North and west are just bad lately. No problems with ghouls, but no kills either."

Fuzzy suddenly felt guilty for her easy life while Rat Man and his kids, all of them younger than her, found less and less and dealt with their sinking, damaged roof. She checked her commlink for her notes. Or at least the assortment of numbers she'd written down with no context about this thing called "hunting season" that was coming up.

"One second while I check something," she said.

She poked at the commlink on her ear and clumsily navigated to the file she'd created. Then she opened it and there were her notes, which helped jog her memory.

"I can hunt, but only on the weekends," said Fuzzy, "Unlimited pheasant, but some of them are going to taste really bad come winter so I'm on a time limit. Duck and goose season is in September. Julian said I can take fifteen of each. Also I can take two deer in either September or November, but I don't know how to butcher a deer yet."

This was everything that the island had to offer as far as hunting and she held nothing back. She had no idea how much she could get for the meat, but it'd certainly be a lot compared to barrens bush meat. Part of her had been counting on that meat for building up her own stash of gear and new ends, but home was home and Rat Man needed the help.

"Too rich for us," said Rat Man, eventually, "I'd need to find all new buyers. No one in Puyallup can afford them."

"How rich?"

"Thirty-five a pound for duck or goose," said Rat Man, "If I sold it direct, which I can't. I'd get maybe ten or fifteen a piece. Deer would be on average fifty a pound if I sold direct, but that's a specialty market. I'll be lucky to get twenty."

It was telling that Rat Man was talking in terms of money instead of what meat would swap for. He wasn't kidding when he said none of this would swap in Puyallup. All of that money would be a problem. Finding new markets, buying bulk in the city and especially transporting bulk goods home might bring the wrong kind of attention.

"Pheasant I don't know," he continued, "Rich people food. At least a hundred nuyen per bird, probably more. No idea how much I'd actually get."

The bottom dropped out of Fuzzy's stomach as she realized what she'd done. A hundred new ends each? She'd really only eaten one full bird and her smaller portion of the pheasant with noodles, vegetables and Alfredo's sauce that Marco made, but she had no idea that such a little bird would be so expensive.

Marco had only really been pleasantly surprised by the enormous bounty that she'd presented to him. In Puyallup, that kind of meat wouldn't swap for anything material at full price because no one could afford that kind of luxury. That kind of meat would be used for gifting, to make or reinforce friendships or to make peace.

On the other hand, Marco seemed happier for the company than for the birds. Between the meat that they'd shared and her previous trip to the Ares arcology mall with Sasha and how much she'd spent there, this helped Fuzzy really begin to grasp just how wealthy everyone actually was. Up until now, security teams, personal cars, spell books and well fitting, soft and comfortable clothes had barely seemed real, but meat and leather she understood.

"Can the Petrowskis move the meat at their stall?" asked Fuzzy.

"They might be able to, but they barely break even selling at Pike Place."

"Isn't that for really rich people though?"

Fuzzy had been in the area and those people seemed happy, healthy, well dressed and well fed.

"It is," said Rat Man, "The problem is rent. It's too high across all the city."

Fuzzy furrowed her brow in confusion.

"What's rent?" she asked.

Rat Man let out a long, muffled sigh.

"You know when the gangs try to shake people down for protection money?" asked Rat Man.

"Yeah," said Fuzzy, "But only the weak pay protection money."

"If you want to do business in Seattle or even just live there, odds are you're paying someone rent money," said Rat Man, "Once a month, every month. It's why I don't try to do business in Seattle's markets. The Petrowskis have a big enough farm that they can't only sell direct, so they sell what they can direct and what's left they sell in the market for much less. You have too many people with their hands out with no expectation to give you much of anything in return. Well, not too many people, too few. Almost all landlords are the megacorps now and rent has never been higher. So many people are in horrible, horrible debt right now with no chance of paying it off."

Fuzzy knew that Rat Man had opinions on the city. He was staunchly anti-corporate and anti-government and would let you know his opinions in detail if asked. Still, rent wasn't a thing people paid in her part of Puyallup. There was only protection money paid to local gangs and people only paid if they were too weak to defend themselves. Perhaps she'd ask Kenji about it sometime for another perspective.

"Why do people pay?" asked Fuzzy, confused.

"It's custom," said Rat Man, "And everywhere that isn't the barrens is owned by the corporations, so you can't just leave so easily. And violence. You stop paying rent and someone comes by to boot you out. You try to resist leaving and then that boot becomes a lot more real. People just accept that. Except the people who didn't. There was a big migration of people into the Puyallup and Redmond who didn't care for getting squeezed even harder by the corps after the second Crash."

It was odd. Fuzzy had heard these stories before. The people who'd come to Puyallup and taken too much and caused so many problems. Most either left or died in the end, but a few had stayed and found their place. It's just that when Rat Man talked to her before, these had been stories meant for children. Now he was being more frank about the situation because he was treating her more like an adult. It was a little flattering, a little confusing and a little sad all at the same time. She wasn't that same little girl anymore.

Still, that was all beside the point. There was a problem. The roof wasn't getting any better and their hunting prospects to get meat and leather to swap just wasn't enough, it seemed. The roof needed real repairs or the ash would blow in and make the entire place unlivable which was a problem because Puyallup was unlivable in general. She had access to high quality meat, but Rat Man couldn't sell it for anything near its actual value. And then she remembered the offer that Kenji's cousin made to buy from her. An offer that certainly came with problems but she hoped that those problems would be manageable.

"I'll figure something out," she said, "And I'll be sending new ends home. It won't be a lot, but hopefully between the birds I get and both deer it'll be enough to help."

There was a silence then, save for the wind and shifting of ash. She could almost hear Rat Man swallow his pride.

"Thank you," he said, quietly.

It was a sobering feeling as she felt all of this weight of responsibility settle onto her small shoulders. Life at school had been difficult and certainly not carefree, but her worries had been about her education and trying to find a place here. But it seemed like she'd never fully left behind Puyallup despite no longer living there, which was reassuring in a way. She'd hunt to provide for the people she cared about. There were expectations involved for her to send back resources, there was pride involved, a feeling of debt and obligation and whole lot of feelings that were hard to untangle.

"You gave me a home," said Fuzzy, "I'll do my part to keep it standing. For you, Iggy and the kids."

"Yeah," he said, his voice strained by emotion.

She gave Rat Man a few moments to compose himself, though it felt awkward. He'd been the most solid figure in her life and he'd never heard or seen him break down in the slightest. Though perhaps that was what growing up meant too. But soon enough, very soon in fact, because Puyallup rarely afforded the luxury of sentiment, he was back to his normal self.

"Now," he said, with a happier note in his voice, "Tell me about your school."