Fuzzy, Dave, Rider, Big and Little – August 24th – Saturday - Afternoon – Near downtown Tacoma in an alleyway

Fuzzy the scrounger, Fuzzy the huntress, Fuzzy the SINless barrens urchin would’ve just left this man to die. The old her would’ve viewed this in another light. He was weak, they were strong and risking injury to herself could mean death out in the barrens. After all, injury was a serious concern when trying to scratch out a living in a lean and hostile environment like the barrens. She still would've felt horrible, but life in the barrens was frequently horrible.

So as she headed down the alley towards them, some fifteen feet away, that part of her that was concerned only with survival screamed at her to go back. But something else tore at her heart when she thought about leaving him and the cries of the man made clutch her black spearknife. She knew that this would certainly go badly for her if she lost, but if she walked away she didn’t know if she could live with herself. She wasn’t that old Fuzzy anymore. She was different now. She could read, she could use magic to heal with a touch and unlike most of the time spent at school, she was armed.

And she had friends. Friends that she would have to look in the eye if she left this man to die. She didn’t want to disappoint them and she didn’t want to disappoint herself now that she felt she could actually do something about something horrible instead of just averting her eyes and looking out only for herself and those closest to her. There was no time to wait and call for help, which might only accelerate the murder or leave them to pick another target later. There was only time for action. She had the power to change things. Not a lot, but far more than before.

As she stole down the alleyway, she got a closer look at them. Since this was a gang initiation, only Rider was going to do the killing. Big and Little, the full gang members, didn't have their weapons out and it was gloomy in the alley due to how narrow it was. And as she crept closer she felt like she could get the drop on them due to their distraction, her silence and the relative darkness of the alley.

She pawed furiously at her AR goggles and in a stroke of luck they flashed a word "Recording" three times in red, though she didn't spend time to try and read it. Time was something she did not have as Rider continued to tease the whimpering ork with the blade while Little sat on his haunches, close to their victim and Big stood behind, supervising, arms folded, his back to Fuzzy.

"Barely put up a fight," sneered Rider, "I was hoping for a fight."

"Trogs got all those muscles but no fight in them," drawled Big, "Dumb animals."

"They're all cowards," teased Little, "And you're going to die a coward, trog. You're gonna die real bad."

Fuzzy stepped a few feet closer, almost there, close enough to see the odd little patch on Big's shoulder. In the center of the patch was a rounded ear, which was struck her as strange, but she didn't have time to dwell on it. Her weapon was at the ready, but untested. And it was currently in its blunt staff form. While she had killed her share of animals in the ash wastes of Puyallup and now on Blake Island, she'd never killed a person. She didn't want to stop a murder only to make a murderer of herself. Still, she figured the staff should do the trick if she was fast. There were plenty of unarmored bits on the gangers to strike at.

“I think I'll cut his face," said Rider, nervously, "I think it’d improve his looks."

The ork was no longer defending himself, however weakly, like he did during the beating. The knife was far too close to his face and he didn't dare move.

"You don't have to do this," said the ork, voice low and desperate, "Please."

Rider seemed eager to hurt someone, but he was unsure if killing the ork was what he wanted to do. Unluckily for the ork, those with Rider had already made up their minds.

“How about you just kill his ass instead of being a little bitch about it?” snapped Big, ignoring the ork.

“Yeah, bitch, cut his trog throat. Kill his ass,” said Small, his voice excited, "I want to see that tusker blood flow."

“Do it. Do it now,” ordered Big.

“Fucking do it," begged Little, "I want to see him bleed so bad…”

“Please no…Please…I have a wife and children. Please…” wept the man.

“How about…” began Big.

What Big was going to say was lost as Fuzzy drove the staff up and into his unarmored groin from behind. It was a quick strike that caused his knees to instantly buckle. It was dirty, but dirty strikes are also effective and she was starting outnumbered. He couldn't do anything but groan and hadn't even finished falling when Fuzzy hit him in the head with a second sweeping strike which knocked him to the ground, unconscious.

"The fuck?" asked Little, as his head whipped around, "Shit!"

Little and Rider scrambled back at the sudden presence of their unexpected attacker. Little reached for something in the back of his pants, but was fumbling with his weapon and stumbling backwards as he'd straightened up. Rider stood up and backed away as well, but his unbloodied knife was close to his body. It seemed that he knew just enough about how to hold it that Fuzzy couldn't just strike an outstretched hand to disarm him.

Fuzzy was already advancing, but in two short seconds the situation had changed. Little had struck her as the real coward her, or at least the most cowardly as the brave rarely jumped someone someone who was unarmed, three on one. But cowards could still have guns. Rider was prepared to fight and this was a problem because Rider was between her and Little, who held his ground. Little struck her as exactly the kind of person that would start shooting no matter who was in the way, friend or foe.

So she leaned into Little's cowardice. After all, they were in Tacoma's magical district and she knew a spell. Not the right kind of spell to put him down, but odds are Little didn't know that. Magic was something many were both terrified of and didn’t understand. She so pulled her staff into one hand and thrust her open palm forward. She visualized the healing spell and filled it with magic. In the dimness of the alleyway, her hand burst into light.

“Face me!" she snarled, as she advanced.

Little stopped reaching for his weapon and his eyes, already wide, seemed to bulge as Fuzzy's hand began to glow. His resolve broke and he began to run.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck, maaaage!” screamed Little, "Kill her ass, Rider!"

Life has a sense of humor it seemed. He turned around to sprint but almost immediately stepped on the bottle of wine from the deliveryman's gift basket, which didn't break, but held under his foot and he lost his balance. Between his own speed and the added forward momentum as he tripped, he hit a nearby dumpster at full force with a hollow clang. The ganger bounced off the dumpster and hit the ground, momentarily stunned as he groaned in agony. The gamble had paid off and so Fuzzy pushed it as she leveled her glowing hand, full of nothing more than healing magic, at Rider.

“And you, Rider? I know your name," growled Fuzzy, "Stay and bleed."

Rider hesitated, ignorant that the spell could not harm him in the slightest. So he took a step backwards and then another. Fuzzy advanced with him in the off chance that he had a gun. Rider, realizing that his attacker was armed, armored and was an awakened gave up as well. Not immediately fleeing in panic, but instead Fuzzy saw all of the fight leave him by the sudden slump in his shoulders.

"Fuck this shit," said Rider, "Not fucking worth it."

He dropped his knife and turned tail. The would-be gang member abandoned the men whose gang he wanted to join.

"Fucking coward asshole!" groaned Little.

The fight wasn't over and she had a choice to either run down Rider or finish off Little, who might still have a gun on him. And Little, who noticed that Big was unconscious and Rider had fled before he could, threw up one of his hands in front of his face in surrender, his other on the ground to keep him stable as his body swayed.

"I give up!" squealed Little, "No more!"

Little, in the now dirtied white armored jacket made a big show of giving up as he propped himself up against the old dumpster, arm stretched as far as he could. However, Fuzzy could see how his hand on the ground kept reaching towards where he'd reached before, behind him into the back of his jeans.

"I give up," said Little, his voice high and pleading, "You don't have to..."

The fight had never been over and Fuzzy knew that. In fact, as soon as Rider had fled, she stalked right back over towards Little, weapon still raised.

"No, wait!" exclaimed Rider.

This wasn't Fuzzy's first fight. It wasn't even her first fight where someone pretended to give up. All she knew was that any mercy she had would be reserved for after the fight and that the fight was only over after everyone was either unconscious, curled into a ball of pain or had fled. Little was down, but not out. Showing mercy before a fight was truly over was just asking to get shot.

So she smashed her staff into his armored arm, pushing away his only means of defense and then rammed the blunt tip of her staff into his armored gut in a quick combination. It probably wouldn't have been enough in a stand up fight to really injure him as that armor looked thick, but he wasn't standing up. As he doubled over, he wheezed out a few final words.

"I'll get you..." wheezed Little.

Fuzzy cocked back her foot and rammed the tip of it into his teeth, which weren't armored in the slightest. There was audible crunching sound as his teeth broke and the back of his head bounced off the dumpster with another clang. Little went limp and slumped over.

“You got your ass kicked by a fifteen year old girl,” mocked Fuzzy, “Fuck you.”

Her foe dealt with, she gave a final look down the alleyway and saw that Rider was truly gone. The fight was over, at least for now. Then she turned back to Little who was unconscious, bleeding from the mouth and splayed in an awkward way that spoke of unconsciousness. She saw a suspicious shape in the back of his pants and pushed his armor up with her staff to reveal a small pistol.

"Yep," she said, "Like I thought."

Which is why fights are meant to be finished, Fuzzy assured herself. Then just to be sure, she roughly jabbed her staff into Little's unarmored thigh. He didn't move or cry out and so she was satisfied that he was no longer a threat. She reached over, grabbed the gun opened the dumpster and chucked it in just in case he woke up and also so she could find it later in case she figured she could sell it. Weapons were worth plenty to swap for.

Then she walked over to Big, jabbed him in a soft part of the thigh with her staff. He was unconscious too, taken out with her first two strikes. Then she quickly found his gun which was down the front of his pants, grabbed that and chucked it into the dumpster as well.

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The fight now over and with her enemies disarmed of any firearms, she took stock of herself. There were no wounds she hadn't noticed as you might not notice one during a fight through all of the adrenaline. Though her foot was covered in blood and as she took a closer look at the tip of it where she'd kicked rider, she noticed a broken tooth embedded there.

“My boot,” she complained, "Gross."

She wiggled her foot and tried to get to get the tooth out before she poked at it with her staff. But that tooth was really in there.

“So gross,” she complained louder.

It finally came free after a few more pokes and now satisfied, she turned to the ork who'd just been staring at her in awe. She went to the man whose brightly colored outfit was dirty, bloody and ripped and he'd been beaten badly. His face was a mess and there was blood on his teeth. Though unlike Little, he still had all of his.

“Grabbed me out of my truck,” he said, and coughed, “I just deliver flowers…Jesus…You okay kid?”

“Yeah. You’re not. Hold still,” she said, “I’m going to heal you.”

She cast her only spell and her hand glowed white again. For a moment, he pulled away in fear, but Fuzzy didn't press and the man relaxed and then nodded to her.

"Yeah, okay," said the ork, "Whatever you say."

She put a single hand to his face as she concentrated on the spell and hoped that she didn't mess this up. This was only the second time she'd used this spell on a living being and it was the first time on a person. She wasn't ready for his gasp of pain as she heard the low groan of broken bones grinding back into a place before knitting together. For a moment she wondered if she'd done something wrong but the ork sighed in relief. She smiled a little, glad that it had worked.

“Holy shit, wow. Out of no where," he said, amazed, "Holy shit. Holy shit…Ahhh….That’s a lot better, I can breathe without hurting, wow."

Despite his pain, the ork seemed to feel a kind of euphoria from the sudden cessation of the worst of the pain. His battered and bruised face was still grimacing in pain, but it was also mixed with relief.

"Sorry about your face," said Fuzzy, "I couldn't get it. First time healing a person."

The ork touched his face and winced. Fuzzy's spell hadn't healed his face at all which she felt a little bad about. Mother Bear had told her that heal spells couldn't target specific parts of the body. It just healed damage in order of most catastrophic to least catastrophic, and only new wounds, those received in the last hour. Fuzzy's spell just hadn't had enough power so it just took care of the worst injuries.

"Better than I was," said the ork, "Way better."

"Can you stand up?" asked Fuzzy.

The ork attempted to and only groaned in pain as he tried, though he was able to sit up.

"No, no I can't," he said, "Can you hit me with that spell again?"

Fuzzy shook her head no.

"One and done," she said, "It'll only work again on a new set of injuries. Sorry."

"That's fine," he said, "We should really get out of here in case any more of them come."

Fuzzy nodded and though her instincts told her to get him and leave, her instincts also told her to go inspect the defeated gangers. In Puyallup, getting injured could mean death as surely as death by violence. It was just a slower way to die. The weapons, armor, commlinks and credsticks that were on the two gangers represented wealth that could be used to get food, fresh water and medical supplies for the injured ork.

This was a sort of quirk of growing up in the barrens. It simply made no sense to save someone's life and then leave them heavily injured with no help because she might as well have left him to die. Nor did it make sense to leave behind good gear. She was a huntress, but she wouldn't turn her nose up at anything she could salvage.

"Gonna shake these guys down," said Fuzzy, her tone calm and businesslike, "One second."

The ork's good hand shot out and attempted to grab her. She didn't let that happen but she turned back to him.

"You're going to rob them?" he asked, in disbelief, "I mean, screw them but we don't have time. We need to get out of here in case the one that ran away gets more of them."

Fuzzy frowned. This was a good point and one she'd already considered, but she didn't have the nuyen to swap for everything he needed to recover. So she pointed to Big.

"That armor coat alone will pay for medical supplies. Good ones too, which you need" she said, and then pointed to Little, "His isn't as good, but that's worth plenty of food and fresh water which you'll also need. Plus the guns. They'll think I just stole them. They probably won't even look for them. The armor can go in the dumpster too. Real simple."

The ork blinked a few times, caught off guard first by her strange priorities about fresh food and water, then his eyes opened in realization that she was going to steal their gear not out of greed, but on his behalf because he was injured.

"No," he said, slowly, pained in an entirely different way, "We really need to go. You've done enough. Help me up?"

She hadn't really wanted to shake them down because despite two being down, Rider was still out there and he might have a change of heart. It pained her to leave all of that wealth on the ground but the ork had decided to protect her in his own way, which she respected. So she helped him up to his feet and either one of his legs was broken or at least hurt badly enough that he couldn't walk on it. And he was heavy, so it was slow going as they made their way down the alley. Though Fuzzy kept her gaze backwards just in case more gangers shower up. Forwards too. Everywhere really. The alley hadn't stopped being dangerous.

"Thanks," he said, voice tinged with pain through gritted teeth.

"Yeah."

And then she remembered something as they moved down the alley.

"Hey, do you know how to turn off a recording?" she asked, "I'm new to commlinks."

The ork just looked at her as she helped him slowly limp down the alleyway, with her shoulder under his armpit. He smelled like blood, sweat and dirt."

"You recorded that?" asked the ork, "All of it?"

"I think so," said Fuzzy.

"You think so?"

Fuzzy only shrugged and gave the ork the commlink off her ear, which he looked at. He accessed it with his AR glasses, both lenses cracked but functional and his eyes widened again. Then he used his good hand to hand it back to her.

"You get them trying to kill me?" he asked, his voice a little distant.

Fuzzy's face hardened.

"Yeah, I did."

Shuffle. Step. Shuffle. Step. He leaned almost his full weight on her as he used her as a crutch.

"Normally I wouldn't say this," said the ork, "But if you've got proof, then we should call the police. If you're good with that."

Fuzzy remembered that Sasha knew police and that her dad was police too, though Fuzzy still wasn't sure what police actually were exactly. Just in a kind of vague sense.

"How do you do that?" asked Fuzzy.

"You've got proof, so I'll do it," said the ork, taking her question as assent to involve her further, "You're some sort of thrill junkie though, aren't you? Beating up gangers, robbing them and filming it? Well...You didn't actually rob them. Worked out better this way. Probably. Maybe Knight-Errant is better. Lone Star cops wouldn't have given a shit if you killed someone in front of the cop shop."

He laughed a little, his laughter bitter and paid the price for it as pain wracked his body. Fuzzy didn't respond and instead kept her gaze back towards the other end of the alley, then front again. They were almost out.

“Hello, 911? Fuck this hurts,” groaned the ork, “Some gangers tried to kill me. Got it on record. I’m limping out of an alley with someone’s help. Two of the men are down and another ran away. I need help bad. They might be back with more. Please hurry. Fuck, kid, where are we?”

“Twenty-seventh place,” said Fuzzy, “We’re near a big lot with cars.”

She remembered. After all, she’d been read street names and business names all the way here. Partly to revel in her new ability to read and partly because she loved how it helped her better orient herself. It seemed so silly, but she fully knew where she was due to her ability to read.

“Twenty-seventh place near a car dealership,” he wheezed, “Yes. Yes, I’ll stay on the line. Thank you.”

He muted the microphone on his half-busted smart glasses and looked at Fuzzy as she helped him move to the end of the alley.

“You want to get out of here, kid? You might get in trouble," he asked, “I mean, I could say I was the one who did it. I don’t think they’ll believe me, but you probably don’t want to get wrapped up in this.”

She looked at him with a small, lopsided grin and shook her head. This place was obviously dangerous and she wasn't done saving his life just yet. She'd assumed responsibility for his safety and he'd repaid her by insisting they should leave, which she appreciated.

They left the mouth of the alleyway, turned left and she planned on moving him further away but the last of his strength left him. His one good leg wobbled, faltered and it was all she could do to lean him up against the side of a building before he collapsed.

"Sorry," he groaned, "Beat up way worse than I thought."

Fuzzy looked for help and tried to signal down someone who was driving a car, but they didn't slow down at all. In fact, the car sped up. It probably didn't help that she waved her spearknife around, though she was still annoyed. Looking back later, she would kick herself for not calling Sasha for help, but using her commlink just didn't occur to her since she was so new to it. Otherwise there were only two more wheeled delivery drones riding on the sidewalk. So she turned around and looked at the ork.

"Think it's just us," said Fuzzy.

While Fuzzy tried to signal for help. the ork had been talking with the 911 operator in low tones. Then he looked up at Fuzzy, really looked up at her, with that mix of gratitude and pain through brown eyes, one swollen shut, he suddenly gaped at her in confusion.

“Holy shit, are you really fifteen? I thought you were…” he coughed, and the coughing fit and pain that came along with it cut him off.

Fuzzy wasn't sure about her actual age and so she just shrugged. Not knowing how old you were exactly was pretty common in the barrens.

"I don't know," she said, "Maybe. Probably."

"They could've killed you," he said, after he managed to catch his breath.

Talk of death made her look back down the alleyway. Big and Little were still lying there, unconscious and unmoving. Something about that made her itch. Not just the wealth that they had on their unconscious bodies, which was considerable, at least to her, but the fact that she had no idea the condition they were in.

“I’m going to go back and heal them,” she said.

She had no idea why she said it. She did not like them in the slightest. In fact, she hated them. The man’s eyes flew open and he unmuted the microphone on his glasses.

“Whoa kid, that is not a good idea," wheezed the man, "Stay safe. They don’t deserve you sticking your neck out. Leave that to the police. Yeah, operator, there’s someone else here with me. A kid with some sort of stick saved me.”

Fuzzy heaved a sigh.

“I don’t know how bad they’re hurt," she said, supremely annoyed with herself, "Fights are messy. I don’t want them dead. I can’t make them alive again. I hit that big guy pretty hard and his head hit the concrete. I need to make sure he’s okay.”

Despite his protests she entered the alley. It was still dark and still deserted save for the hopefully unconscious bodies. All the while she cursed herself for this supremely stupid act. Once there she cast her spell. Once on the Big, who thankfully was still breathing. The small pool of blood that had come from a head wound sealed up without issue. She jabbed him with her staff to make sure he was still unconscious and yes, he still was as she'd only done her spell at minimum power.

Small got the same treatment and wounds that she couldn't see mended as she felt but didn't see the spell work. That last spell caused a slight headache for her and she was glad that she was done. Part of her really wanted to at least shake them down for any portable wealth: Credsticks, commlinks, jewelry, something. It felt like abandoning a kill on a hunt, but these police people were coming and she didn't want trouble. Though she wondered if maybe she could convince the police that their stuff was hers because she'd beaten them or maybe they wouldn't look too hard for the guns.

She left the alley, annoyed that she'd gone in a second time and come back out yet again empty handed. Then she posted up near a wall and kept watch until these police people arrived.

“Watch the street and I’ll watch the alley,” she said, “Don’t let anyone jump me.”

“Sure kid,” he said, deeply confused, but resigned to it, “Whatever you say.”

There were sirens were already blaring in the distance. Soon enough the police arrived in their intimidating black and yellow vehicles. Out stepped two people in full body black and yellow body armor, including helmets that she couldn't see through. They had nasty looking fully automatic weapons in their hands and raised, but not pointed at her at least.

“Knight Errant! Drop your weapon!” one yelled at Fuzzy.

The officer’s gun was drawn, but not pointed at her as he slowly advanced while the other stayed near the car. Fuzzy looked to the ork for guidance, unwilling to drop her weapon and half intending to run.

“Better do it kid," said the ork, "Don’t worry, we’re safe now."

Feeling a bit angry at having to drop her weapon despite having been the good person here, she sighed and dropped it. Then as ordered she went to her knees and put her hands behind her head. After the high of battle her adrenaline was souring and that usually made her moody. The treatment she got didn’t help her mood either. Spearknife was a solid weapon though. Maybe she might even name it.

“What’s your name, kid?” asked the ork.

The police officers approached. Two more cars were on scene now, sirens blaring. The light hurt her eyes. It was growing dark not just in the alley, but the sun was setting.

“Fuzzy,” she said.

“I’m Dave. Nice to meet you,” said the ork, “You saved my life. Thanks kid. Hey um, officers? She’s with me. Those fucks in the alley tried to knife me.”

“Human Nation fucks,” said Fuzzy, “I beat them up.”

The police officers approached and didn't seem to care. They only slapped restraints on Fuzzy. Fuzzy fumed but stayed still as ordered because now there were way, way too many of these police people and they all had guns. She’d be released later when the police officers secured the scene and found the two men in the alley beaten, but alive, though she’d need to give a statement. Dave the flower truck delivery man was alive. Fuzzy was alive. She hadn't gotten any of the ganger's stuff though.

“Hey Dave? You deliver flowers, right?," she asked, face on the ground, "Do you think I can get some flowers?"

The pavement was cracked and cold. Despite that she winked at the man as she tried to keep his spirits up.

“I’ll buy your weight in flowers, kiddo. It might set me back a bit. At least twenty nuyen," he joked, “You don’t look like you weigh that much.”

He laughed, but grabbed his side and groaned. Someone else approached. A woman, not police, but in a white uniform began to quietly speak to him and ask him about his wounds. The danger was finally over.

Despite the life or death situation, despite her lack of wounds and despite the fact that she’d saved someone’s life she thought flowers might help her friends understand if she could get some. She’d give them all away save for one. She would take choicest flower of them all for her very own. After all, her cabin was bare. What kind of huntress would she be if she didn’t take a trophy?