“Marley’s dead.” Soune started, getting back into her vehicle. Slowly attempting to process and unpack what she’d seen.
“Who?” Rhapsody
“She sold me bullets, got a few of your parts from her too.” Soune deflated down into the seat, remembering all the times Marley seemed to acquire the impossible, all the times she’d absolutely ruined Soune on a deal for them.
“Good.” Rhapsody commented, and Soune shot up.
“Good? How is it good?” She barked, baulking at the robot's reaction.
“You always told me how much you didn’t like her. Old fleecing cow was repeated in particular.” Soune sighed, he just didn’t get it. He couldn’t, not until it was explained. She patted his housing as she thought, relishing the rough, warm metal.
“I didn’t like her, she was a miserable old bitch who squeezed every Regent and Oz out of me she could… But I respected her.” Soune paused, giving Rhapsody time to process what she was saying.
“...Why?” Rhapsody asked, requiring more information.
“Because she was crafty. Don’t know how she did it but could find anything I needed. Maybe not for the right price but, she still found them… She was old, too. Never asked but at least seventy, You need to have a good head on your shoulders to make it that far… and now I’ll never get to tell her ‘thank you for everything’ and ‘fuck you for everything’.”
Soune’s eyes didn’t water at the thought of the old miser, but something angry and empty still built in her chest.
“...I see.” She’d question him on if he really did later, just needing the vent for now. “...How did she die?”
Soune wiped her face, realising she’d skipped over that detail. She relayed what she saw to the machine.
He was quiet for a while afterwards, lights blinking in rapid processing.
“...Soune.”
“Yeah Rhap?”
“I think there is more to this place than just a quarry entrance.” Completely earnest, after everything she said and saw, that was the utter truth of it. The bluntness of it made her choke laughing.
“Yeah Rhap, I think there is.” She managed to articulate after the painful laughter. “Let’s get home and figure out our next step.”
“No body then...Still immobile.” He noted.
“Nah, sorry but this quarry deal might be a dead end. Between the turrets and whatever King’s up to down there. Too much heat for me.”
“Unfortunate.” A short and sour reponse.
“Yeah.” Soune tempted fate and began powering the damaged vehicle up. “That about sums it up, huh?”
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It was approaching dark by the time Soune made it home. Aside from waiting an hour for any sign of King to well and truly clear out, Rhapsody was painfully right about the damage done to Trudge from their hill climb. A fact Soune was reminded of many times. It took several stops to let the injured vehicle rest and recover, and all the spare water she’d taken for the excursion to douse overheats. Eventually, steaming and hacking, the Lightfoot had faithfully brought them home.
About an hour after they’d crawled back to safety; after Rhapsody was connected back to his bench to sleep and Trudge’s engine was no longer hazardous to the touch, Soune had gone to work investigating what she could of the vehicle. In the dimming light, she could only manage so much, instead offering the machine platitudes and promises.
“You did so good today. It’s gonna take more than this to kill you, right?” A coolant hose came off in her hands, several holes burned through it. “...right?”. The machine was silent in response, even the faint hiss of steam faded away into the night. Soune placed her head against the frame, whispering into the engine bay. “...Please Trudge, not yet…” The machine was a part of her childhood, one of Ariel’s first purchases in their new life. Something reliable, something hardy, something inconspicuous.
Fifteen or so faithful years of service to Ariel, five to Soune. Five years of breaking and battering work, of electronics massacred and mutilated to interface with another machine. Soune found her eyes watering at the memories and guilt, thumb stroking the metal frame.
“Come on girl, one more year then I’ll give you a proper retirement, I'll do what I can tomorrow.” Soune closed the engine bay, letting her hand linger on the warm metal for longer than necessary before heading into the workshop. At the controls to the shop's doors and lights she paused.
Trudge was in a bad state, the old rifle was in pieces along her workbench, the bayonet to it chipped and dull. It clicked with her just how close they were to their last days. The last phantoms of Ariel, decaying by the day. She shook the thought away, they were usable still, they’d carry her through this last year, they had to.
The roller doors shut, the lights hissed off and a loose door was forced shut. Ditching her coat and scarf on the floor, Soune collapsed onto her couch. Too exhausted to make her way upstairs, too exhausted to shower away the dirt and grime of the day, too exhausted to even wipe away the grease from her face and hands, too exhausted to be caught in nightmares as hollow sleep quickly followed.
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“How is it?” Rhapsody asked his handler.
“Not great.” Soune murmured, wiping away grease and sweat as she entered the workshop. “The MMD seems alright, electronics a little toasty but intact, the engine though…” She looked back out to Trudge. The mover’s guts were splashed out onto the dusty ground, baking in the mid-morning sun.
“All the coolant pipes are a bust, any spares I could get from the wrecks around won’t last too long either. Fuel feed is burnt up too, I think the solids caught a spark, lucky we didn’t end up in a flaming wreck to be honest.” She sighed, the extent of the damages becoming more and more clear. “I haven’t even been under to look at the drives or suspension, don't really think I want to.”
“The other mover Kirche left for you. Use it instead?” Soune winced at that, having moved the machine somewhere out of sight and mind in the yard.
“I’d really prefer not to. I might be able to take a part or two from it for her but that’s about it. I’m trying to keep that hidden and intact as a…” She wasn’t even really sure, struggling to find a term that might not exist. It was an asset she didn’t want to use. She didn’t want Kirche to have the satisfaction of seeing Soune desperate enough to accept her loaded gift.
“Backup plan, failsafe, fallback. Something like that. Don’t use it unless we have to.” Soune tried to shrug off the subject, but her machine wasn’t dropping it yet.
“What about for salvage?”
“Some parts maybe, but it’s mostly incompatible, new gen parts or just a different, heavier size.” A greasy hand rubbed uncomfortably at her neck. “Just forget that thing for now, Rhap. It’s useless.”
Rhapsody paused for a while, trying to process if there was any suggestion or advice possible.
“Is it beyond repair?” He finally asked, the speaker cutoff seemed to mute the world around Soune.
“...No, I can fix her. Somehow, for just a little longer.” Soune fell onto her workbench stool, turning to the disassembled rifle. “I'll wait for the heat to pass a bit then get to work cleaning everything. The dirt that got into her is packed together with the coolant and fuel leaks, wouldn’t be surprising if that’s most of the problem.”
“There’s four days until the Ingram operation.”
“Yeah…Can’t do it in time for that I think, I’ll have to ask the others for a lift. Might be for the best anyway if we’re there to just investigate what’s wrong we don’t really want to show up in a convoy.” She swivelled to the rifle. “Being armed will be bad enough.”
After the convoy assault, between the Mongrels and bad ammo, Ariel’s rifle was in bad shape. Soune had already sawn a decent amount of the barrel off, leaving it flush with the ammo tube, there wasn’t much she could do about the receiver damage aside from hope it held together for as long as possible. She doubted she’d make it all the way through the thirty bullets left. At this point it was splayed over the bench to give her a wind down from Trudge, filling and sanding the teeth marks in the wooden body relaxing by comparison.
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“Four days huh.” She switched on a disc player and plugged her earphones in. Staticky music sealed away the outside world for a while.
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Most of the collapsed Ironworks was sealed away or used as storage for King, a few of the original workers' amenities however still saw use for his citizens. There were a few functional showers still able to dribble out rust-tinged water, beds without all the springs exposed, electricity for various appliances, all available for nominal fees through King’s office for his favoured citizens.
Chief among the remains was a mess hall, a murmured din of kitchen work and conversation constantly keeping it alive in comparison to the rest of the soulless building. It was about the only place within King's claimed capital that provided food that was both not out of a chemically cooked packet or from a don’t-ask-don’t-tell source. Dense soda-bread and oversalted cured Bov meat was on offer today. Rock-like carbs, dry, fatty protein with the faint aftertaste of rot, all washed down by infused water. Infused by what was anyone's guess, though Kirche always assumed it was some mix of grass and dirt they’d claim as tea leaves.
She sat silently in a corner of the mess hall, slowly picking at her bread while thumbing through a yellowed, schlocky romance novel. Spending the last few nights with the office clerk in the room upstairs of Kings office had made it convenient to hang around the area throughout the days, comfortable even. A soft smile was on her face, enjoying the moment of peace.
“Ah, Kuvie, found you.” Scirocco’s voice pierced through that moment, killing it instantly. The chair legs scraped loudly as he sat across from Kirche.
“Oh wow! And here I was worried my meal would go down easily! I was missing a good dose of nausea.” Kirche didn’t take her eyes off her pulpy story, wondering if by some miracle he’d get the hint and leave.
“Shut up, King needs to know how the preparations are going-is that Bov? Love the stuff.” A wiry hand plucked a few strips of the meat from her plate. Kirche’s lips tightened, and she pondered how loose the definition of a demon was.
“It’s going fine, we all know the date and plan, everyones got their tools, Silver needs a lift but that’s about it and makes it easier-”
“Why does she need a lift?” Scirocco added through a dry mouthful. Kirche slammed her novel shut, saving it from the flying specks of meat. A quick fantasy ran through her head, knocking the annoying man out, painting some black lines on his arm, quick stab to the chest then claiming she was just doing her duty as a Red Shoulder and exorcising the corruption of humanity.
“I don’t fuckin’ know, something about her Lightfoot, doesn’t surprise me the things older than I am.” She snapped, her voice rising over the quiet hall.
“Alright, no need to go all feral on me save it for Ingram.” He coughed, gesturing to her water. Kirche tamped down the quick urge to splash it on him, or simply hold it out of reach and let him choke. She rolled her eyes and moved it to the man who sculled it down. “Gross, dunno how you drink this shit.”
“Well I apparently don’t so-”
“What happened to her Lightfoot?” She threw her hands up at the interruption, making her annoyance clear but ignored.
“How should I know? Do I look like the sort of freak who would ask the nitty-gritty about machine troubles? Raz and her do that enough for the four of us. She just left a message on the comms that it had broken down and needed a lift on the day. Didn’t have a chat, didn’t ask for the details, didn’t get to have any fun with her.”
The entire hall was staring daggers at them now, mainly at Scirocco. His reputation was widespread among King's closer contractors, none of them blamed Kirche for losing her patience.
“Fuckin’ watch your volume. I get it then, see you on game day.” Scirocco raised from the table, scraping the chair again on the way. Something rubbed Kirche the wrong way about his interest in Soune.
“What’s the deal anyway? Silver’s transport isn’t exactly thrilling news. You’re being sketchier than usual.” She leaned back and crossed her arms. “If you’re planning something creepy please go through with it, I’d love nothing more than hearing about how that went. A broken jaw, gouged eyes and castration would be my guess.”
Scirocco chuckled uncomfortably, trying to think of a way to regain control of the conversation, and to shift the judging eyes of the hall of him.
“Just King wanting to make sure everything goes right, and that he’s getting his money's worth with you lowlifes.” He spat, pocketing his hands and turning to leave.
“Well hello there kettle, meet my friend pot.” Kirche whispered, trying to resume her novel despite the ruined meal. She only managed a few minutes before storming away from the table.
“Fucking scumbag…ruin my nice, calm day…” Kirche simmered, leaving a five-piece coin on the counter between the kitchen and hall.
“Gonna kill him, find my chance next week, nice and alone and kill him. Blame it on whatever his disturbance is, kill that, win win for me.” She continued steaming as she made her way to the upstairs of the ironworks, passing another five-piece to a tired attendant for access to the communications room.
The offices contents were dominated by the slab of an old comms array, several screens and keyboards each with a handset beside it, four sets in total. She keyed in her frequency number, nothing but the message from Soune yesterday. She tabbed down to it and hit the reply key, picking up the receiver and checking the door was closed.
Kirche looked down to the ironworks floor while the connection was established. The dying smelter struggled to spread an orange glow over the dull ashes, only kept awake and running because nobody knew how to start it again. It was odd to her, she’d never actually seen anyone working the floor since she’d returned around a year ago. At the start of King’s campaign it was bustling with the production of Regent’s and brutish weapons. It was good money to work the floor too, even better if you could pilot one of the power loaders well enough to not spill molten metal on your coworkers. Even those machines seemed absent now. The dying heart alone amongst suffocating ashes.
A low beep brought her out of her thoughts, confirming the recording had started.
“Oi, It’s me. I don’t know what you did and I don’t really care, but the prodigal son of scumfuckery is asking about you. Really hung up on your Mover breaking down, says it was for Simon but who knows. I only told him that you had some kinda trouble with it and needed a ride. Just watch yourself, see you on mission day Silver.” She thumbed a button, waited for the beep to confirm it was sent and slammed the handset down.
With any luck, maybe Soune would be upset enough at the intrusive man to take him out, save her the effort and fallout. Kirche held a hand over her shoulder pad.
“O’ holiest Presence, as the lance in the your hand, I invoke you to smite the betrayer, the heretic and the corrupted, the fucking annoying would be a nice bonus too.”
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“Do you want me to repeat the message?” Rhapsody asked, speakers having crackled back into his control.
His handler sat in thought, biting at a thumbnail and violently bouncing her leg. A boot heel clacked out a panicked tempo on the concrete.
He knew.
Of course he fucking knew.
He looked right at her.
“Soune?” Rhapsody asked again.
She’d clearly seen something she wasn’t meant to.
So why hadn’t he killed her yet?
Sent Kirche and the others to tear down her house and life.
“SOUNE!” The speakers blared. Breaking her from the trance.
“Oww, fucking hell Rhap.” Soune rubbed her ears, the ringing pain clearing her thoughts. “Thanks though…” She murmured.
“What do we do?” We. The small oddities in the things he said, even more than the usual quirks told her all she needed to know. He was scared, a bodiless construct that would be taken, destroyed, or used if everything went downhill.
“For now, nothing…” Soune answered, biting her thumb again in thought. “Let’s look at the facts.”
“We’re not being attacked.” Rhapsody offered, and Soune nodded.
“Good start, so either hes playing some sick game, doesn’t have the means to attack, or…”
“Or he’s not sure. Evidenced by Reyar asking about the vehicle.” Rhapsody finished, not letting his handler leave the path of logic.
“Yeah, so if he’s not sure. I’ll just keep my nose down, do my job, act the loyal servant.” A heavy sigh, she didn’t like the idea of sucking up to him in any sense but needs must. “Or at least not cause any more trouble or suspicions.”
“And if we’re wrong? If he does know and is waiting for some reason. What then?” The machine's output turned a little faster, panicking through playback. “...I’ll be here alone while you are at the Ingram operation.”
“If we’re wrong…Then we do need a failsafe.” She stood from the workbench stool, walking over to Rhapsody and placing a reassuring hand on the heating housing.
“Don’t worry. I won’t let anything happen to you. You might just have to have a rough week or two.”
His camera sensor narrowed, worried and curious.
Soune moved away, grabbing the key to the evidence mover and opening the roller shutters. She’d been zoned out into her work long enough it ticked past midday into the dusk quarter of the day. She rolled her neck in preparation.
“Three days and an afternoon. It took me and Raz a couple weeks last time to get you prepped for Trudge. Have you still got the logs of that?”
“Yes. I will begin to extract them.” Rhapsody was a step ahead of her, already digging through his archives for any information on the times he’d undergone transfers or versions of his portable build.
Soune flipped the key in her hand, thinking a silent apology to the gutted vehicle outside. It’d have to stay that way a bit longer than Soune hoped. She’d have to find the time to move the rust-prone parts somewhere safe while she worked on the other vehicle.
“Alright-” Soune stepped out into the brisk night, cracking her knuckles.
“-Let’s get to work.” Rhapsody finished.