Point of Documentation: Cadence, Crew of HMW Betty
They left the strange guard’s house a few hours later, their plan laid out between them. Each of them had their parts they had to follow through with, and sticking together would just cost more time in the end. Valentine volunteered to scout out the areas with his thugs, which he wanted her to call ‘less skilled business associates’, and search for the place they were holding Marshall. Fielding left to get a couple of his subordinates together who had an issue with Petrov and his gang. That and apparently he hadn’t gotten an all-green for this little outing from his own boss and had to work out why they were getting involved. Arnold… Well, he said something about needing to ‘get more equipment for a mess this big’. Whatever that meant.
For Cadence’s part in all this: she was heading her way over to a place she had visited in the past in this town. Whilst the towns each had their own way to stave off Voidlings from getting closer, some being things like Scrubbers, Disruption Towers, or even carefully cultivated patrols and soldiers, this town had an unknown way to do it that had made it a popular stop for those going out into the lands beyond. Because of this: her father had set up a safe-house in this town where they could lay over for a little while. Mostly because of the distance they had to travel, but scrap can sometimes draw in some nasty attention depending on what it is.
Since they had been so quick to enter into the city and rush to Valentine’s shop, she hadn’t taken a moment to take in the layout of the town since the last time she was here. The place where they had entered was the merchant district. That place held all kinds of stalls in a large square that was surrounded by streets and alleys of shops and wares. The ones they had darted through were some of the more abandoned ones, but most held vendors on them that would spin you a tale of why their wares were better than the man just across from them.
The merchant district was surrounded on all the non-walled sides by three other districts: the residential, the bureaucratic, and the reclamation districts. The first one was easy to explain: residential was a place where people lived. Most of the populace that didn’t live in their shops or businesses lived in apartment buildings here or houses that shared walls. A smaller section of the district held more influential residents with their own homes and even yards around them. They were closer to the center of the town than the rest and even had their own personal, well maintained road that ran between the most important sections of the town.
The bureaucratic district was the center of the town, and rightly so. The mayor, their advisors, and lots of business regulations were based in that district and exerted their influence from it. It held a small standing police force that was based there as well in the case that it was needed for internal affairs and riots. There was also an embassy there that was actually from the remnants of a luxury, old world hotel, but it barely saw any real use.
The reclamation district was its own monster to describe. Scrappers, building guilds, and a slew of more adventurous groups based themselves there. The district was built on an old mine that was rumored to be one of the original foundation points for The Wall before it got more farther inwards. It was carved down and had its own exit out into the wilds of the Badlands, but was harder to get to from where they entered down south. It fed out almost directly north-east, and required special permission to enter from.
Past each of these sections, and farther north than the bureaucratic section, was the militarized zone. The town’s power came from there, and was the only place an active military presence was located. This was where Fielding went to after their departure, and it was not a place that accepted those not approved of by the Mayor or the Guard Commander. So not a place Cadence wanted to be at all.
There were also some places outside the walls of the town that existed, but it was mostly used by the more seedy types. Which was prime real estate for a holding place for a friend of hers. These were mostly remnants of living places before the Voidlings overran things or business based on lumbering or mining.
Cadence made her way half a kilometer down the merchant district towards the reclamation district. The roads eventually tapered off into less pavement and more gravel and broken stones, and showed how heavy vehicles had moved across this area in the past. Judging by the fact that entering the district immediately greeted her with two large omni-haulers with beds filled with parts and pieces of archaic vehicles? Yeah, that would be some of the on-the-nose culprits right there.
She approached a building that looked like a small warehouse. It was taller than it was long and looked like it hadn’t been visited by anyone in some years. It was right on the border between the two districts, but the building itself sat firmly in the reclamation district. The yard around it was a mess with equipment that had rusted away and rotted without a caretaker or operator. The building itself was also quite dilapidated with holes in the roof and a large dent on the front door warding off use or entrance by anyone that values their safety.
Cadence didn’t mind that; instead going through a dilapidated side door that gave way after a few pushes. Inside was an office space that held within it a half dozen desks with the work that was on them dusty and rotted. She didn’t care too much about that, but rather cared about the array of devices against the far wall. She approached them and blew off the dust that coated the displays on it. A couple pressed buttons hidden under grime and buildup and the machine started to whirr to life. Its resurrection shook the office like a monster ramming against it. This thing was ancient, even in terms of when they found it back in the day. She was just a young girl at the time, but her father swore that an array such as this was an artifact of previous value to those that lived before The Fall.
The machine barked out a few piles of dust from its vents and started its operations in earnest. The displays all lit up with blank screens or screens spitting out garbage that meant nothing short of ‘I’m alive’. However, the display she stood before gave her exactly what she needed.
“Please Input Transmission Frequency | __ “
She nodded at this. Yes, it’s at least well enough to still detect the connections. She input her short-range frequency onto the machine and waited as it calibrated. The dish that was hidden atop of the warehouse should be moving about–
“Frequency aligned… Message awaiting decoding… Decode? | __ “
Surprise colored her face as she typed in a confirmation. First for the decoding and, after a minute, to play it. It was a short text-based message from the Captain.
“We haven’t heard from you in a while. We’ll be heading in your direction come morning. I know you’ll be listening to this shoddy thing you built. Please respond.”
Visible relief washed over her and Cadence confirmed that the machine she wired up on Betty actually did its job. It was never tested, and never needed to be, until this very moment. After patting herself on the back, both metaphorically and literally, she typed a response.
“Captain, situation is dire. Marshall has been captured and need assistance. Status on Betty?”
After sending the message, it took nearly half an hour before it chimed again. In that time, she had started rummaging through the desks and papers left on them. Reports of scrap and artifact deposits she knew were either picked clean or marked off by now. Yet she dug for anything that could be of use to her. When the chime rang out, she rushed over to view what had been communicated back.
“Betty is bitchy, but Betty. Most sections still functioning. Hate your wiring job. What do you need?”
Whilst Cadence hated the idea of Captain digging into the bowls of Betty without her, the fact that the beast was still running well was a testament to both Betty and the Captain. To be without a mechanic for this long in the Badlands was not a good situation. Yet Betty would be crucial to her plan as a whole.
She typed a lengthy reply back, sending it when it nearly hit the character limit. She waited for a much shorter time this time around. Within a couple minutes the Captain sent back a reply.
“Understood. It will take us a few hours to get close enough. Edge of forest. You’ll be fronting the cost for the mail.”
The smile on Cadence’s face twitched, slowly falling. Yeah, that was gonna cost a bit. She replied with a confirmation, powering down the chugging machine. Even the powering down process was rough as the engine that kept it running had to cycle-down and move rods into place. She hated how slow the thing was, but having a high-powered communication machine was invaluable at times.
She worked on getting one of the scavenging skiffs in the warehouse running afterwards. That ended up being a job in and of itself as the things were one of the casualties of time. It barely functioned as a machine, but the major issue was the fact that the floor of the open-air skiff had holes in it from the weather dripping through the roof. That and the gravity-propulsion drives on it were now uncalibrated and more or less was set to something akin to the Moon’s gravity. The thing drug across the ground the first time she turned it on and nearly broke the stabilization fins on the back of it.
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As she was working on getting the skiff running she heard a noise at the door to the garage. It was like a banging or loud, rhythmic crashing that kept hitting against the metal in a pattern that sounded like… wait, why did that sound like someone knocking to the beat of a song she knew?
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At the heart of trade in the Reclamation district was a family of scrappers known as the Durans. A Spanish-leaning lineage of tanner skinned individuals who had a penchant for brutality and over-the-top results. They held onto shipping with an iron fist in most parts of the Reclamation district, but their influence was so subtle that most newcomers would have to actually look to see their presence. It was no wonder then, as Martinez was wading through the sellers and buy-back vendors on the main thoroughfare of the district, that no one called out to the individual in question or really noted their importance.
On their way to deliver a package; Martinez found themselves having to push through the throng of early morning. There were a couple wrecks and a battle found just outside the territory of the village, and the loot coming in from that was quite impressive. An entire Mule-variant transport vehicle was recovered as well as a few buried vehicles that were uncovered from the battle. That alone caused the entire Reclamation district to mobilize and send out scuttlers and skiffs in the droves.
Yet, even as Martinez pushed through the crowd, there seemed to be some other sentiment hovering above people’s heads. Martinez pushed their way up to their destination: a little shop with a massive warehouse attached to its back. Military vehicles seemed to almost fall out of the back of the shop, barrels and ammunition poking and spilling out respectfully.
The door swung open and what looked like the ugliest elf stepped out of it. Ugliest being a gradient, as even the most mundane elf held a lithe beauty above the normal human. This elf looked more like they had purposefully spread grease and oil over themselves just to look that much more commonly. Martinez raised their hand in a greeting wave. “Heimdall! Package for you.” Their voice was somewhere between masculine and feminine. It radiated over the throng of movement and seemed to catch the ear of the elf.
Heimdall gave a wave back and motioned them over; Martinez rushing through the people and landing their feet on the doorstep of the shop. “Martinez. A pleasure. How is the family?” A Russian drawl came from the elf, a violently stark contrast to how the man looked and sounded not seeming to faze the Spaniard.
“The family is good. Sales are up and trouble is down. Nothing troubling there.” Came the reply. “I have the package you needed. Mother included a little extra on top for your good work. The gauss-cannon on the skiff you retrofitted was able to stave off attacks better than the more expensive cannon-mount the Redraffs offered. She wanted me to also pass on that she welcomes not having to buy special ammo from you.”
The elf nodded, looking the package over before taking it. “Tell your mother that our deal stays. Hoarding sales drives away customers. Slugs are cheap and easily made. Quality is our motto, not quantity.” He opened the box’s top, giving an approving nod. “Good. Payment is acceptable.”
With the package delivered, Martinez took the response message and left. Their feet lead them from the shop in a direction that would take them to neither home nor the job-board at the guild’s office. Instead, it would take Martinez along one of the lesser used paths back towards the merchant district. A fancy had taken him to possibly check out some of the baked goods that would be on sale at the shop at the corner of the district. It was a nice place with a comfy vibe that allowed one a respite from the outside pressure and people.
They were making their way there as they came across some kind of commotion at the front of a warehouse. It was set a little back into the lot that it was in, but that lot hadn’t been in use for some years and hadn’t been touched by any since the owner bought the place. Yet there was a group of people standing at the front of the warehouse with nasty looks on their faces and weapons in their hands. Mostly bladed and blunted weapons like knives and bats, but weapons alone spoke of trouble happening on that lot. They seemed to be preparing to do something, huddle up like football players at the entrance they so noisily broke down.
Martinez Duran was not a head of any part of the family, and in fact could be counted amongst the lower and less influential members of their family. He couldn’t throw any weight around to get them to bugger off that way, and so saw conflict as really the only solution. Even as he thought that, though, he wondered why he even should. He wasn’t part of the enforcers that wandered around this district, and he sure was no friend of them. Maybe he should just…
“I’m telling you, there’s only one girl in there. We grab her, rough her up a little, and then deliver her to that mad doctor. We had to wait for her to leave Valentine’s claim for this, so we might as well get some fun in in the meantime.” The voice was from a male that seemed to be the leader of the group from the way that the others just seemed to nod and go along with his words.
A woman in the group of seven did speak up, her voice a bit unsure. “But boss, if you rough her up, won’t Sinclair be mad at her state?” A couple of the others nodded, prompting the bigger man to huff in annoyance.
“She just wanted her back alive. The state didn’t matter. She needed her to get info out of that Templar.” The man shook his head. “I’m getting my full pay out of this one way or another. You all can stand there if need be, or fuck off. Petrov pays my bills, not Sinclair.”
Footsteps heralded someone approaching as the brute turned his head towards the one approaching. Martinez had made their way up to the gate that separated the warehouse’s compound from the rest of the plots around. The brute stared for a moment before calling out. “Oi, fuckface. This is private property. Why don’t you–”
His words were cut off as Martinez raised their hand up and their sleeve fluttered violently. From the sleeve came a small metal rope-like material at high speeds towards the man. The single claw-tipped metal rope snapped to the man’s face with a forceful grip. The brute swung at it, missing the clamp before it landed, before swinging even more trying to remove the claw. An arc of electricity traveled along the metal to the man and began electrocuting him.
The others began raising their weapons with one of them trying to help the brute get the claw from his face. That man was flung back slightly from the volts going through the metal. At the same time he was flung back, the claw released, letting the brute fall to the ground as his limbs unlocked from the jolt.
The others looked to Martinez with a mixed bag of fear, rage, and confusion. The moment of locked-action was broken as Martinez spoke. “I’m not sure who you all are, but I will let those who want to leave the option to do just that. All others will get their asses handed to them.”
Around ten minutes later, a pile of people lay at the side of the main warehouse door like a pile of old clothes. Two had opted out, one being the woman who spoke before, and a man who had thrown his hands up immediately. Both of them had taken off as the fighting started and left their companions to fight in their stead. The brute had started to stir at the end of the fight, causing Martinez to finish a bit quicker and messier than they liked.
Once things were done Martinez reached down towards the brute. As their hand made contact with the man, his eyes opened wide and glowed slightly. “Gotcha, tramp.” The man spoke through gritted teeth as Void Essence coalesced around the hand touching his head.
Martinez staggered back as the entire world around them rocked back and forth. It was some kind of power that allowed them to mess with Martinez’s senses. Something really dangerous in this situation with a larger man now able to move without care of reprise. That fear was realized as Martinez felt a fist slam hard into their stomach. It launched them backwards towards the warehouse and skidded them along the dirt to the large door.
It seemed as if the only sense he didn’t mess with was hearing, unfortunately, as the man started to brag. “A little thing like you was not something I was told about… but I can make use of you. People pay a lot for a body like yours.” Martinez lifted themselves up enough to be in a sitting position. With that, they moved backwards on their rear till their back hit the cold wall next to the main door. “Running won’t do you any good, tramp. I’ve got your number now. And that number is about to be called.”
Martinez swung their head back and then forth again, seeming to try to get a grasp on something. Then they stopped and looked forwards. “Why… were you waiting for me?”
This caused the man to fully stop in place. “For you? Tramp, I don’t even know your name. Though I’m sure that won’t matter soon anyways. We’re after some mechanic girl who’s inside. She caused us a lot of trouble… kind of like you. So just come quietly and–”
Martinez picked up the wrench they had blearily spotted next to them that one of the goons dropped. They held up one hand as if to fire the claw again towards the man and tapped the wrench with the other hand loudly against the main door. They did it in a rhythmic manner, yelling at the end “Skiff!”
The man looked confused, then worried, and finally furious as he stepped to the side of the aim of the one on the ground. He went to get closer and–
Yet again his attempts were cut off as the main door slammed up in a quick manner and a half-dead skiff rocketed out at high speeds. The sparks of it scraping along the ground and the fins disintegrating in its wake. The metal, grav-assisted platform slammed directly into the man and sent him with it into a building just off the compound’s property. Martinez winced at the crashing noise, their senses starting to come back to them.
They heard boots on dirt as someone else stepped over them. Martinez held their breath as the person loomed over them for an extended period of time. Did they make the wrong choice and it wasn’t them?
“Martin, why the fuck did you chop your hair so short? It makes you look like a punk, not a dumbass. And where are the earrings I got you? Did you sell them you walking-tsunami?” The words came out like a mother scolding their children who had gotten their hands caught in the cookie jar at 1am.
A smile spread across Martinez’s face as they looked up and the blurry shape of the woman he thought stood there. “Nice to see you again as well, Cad. What trouble have you gotten into this time?”
Her image was starting to sharpen, the details on her face becoming more and more evident. She seemed much older than the last time they had met. It had been some years, but she looked even older than those years should credit. Her sigh she released showed how her shoulders had broadened more since their last meeting as well.
“I haven’t brought anything, it just won’t stop following me when I’m in this dump. Petrov’s gang, by the looks. They must have been following my friends and I. Which doesn’t bode well for any of the plans.” She said this last part as an ever-dropping mumble that trailed off. “Is the reason why your eyes are pale and regaining color because of the fuck that I hit?”
Martinez nodded, then followed her finger as she pointed. The skiff slowly scooted out of the building it crashed into. It removed itself at the behest of the massive pair of arms pushing it from its new and shapely housing. “Yeah… that guy is one of the bad muscles. Void-Scourge survivor by the looks of it. A powered. Not high in power, but not a pushover either. Something about messing with senses and being a powerhouse of strength.”
As they said this, the skiff was lifted up into the air with great strain by the man. When he had it fully in the air he tossed it back into the compound with a heave. It landed on its side, flipped due to the grav-assisted engines, and tumbled into one of the scrap piles outside the warehouse. “If you’ve about finished talking, Tramps, then come quietly. Or don’t. I don’t mind when they fight back.”
The two normal people looked between each other and the powerhouse of a man now just outside the gate. Without more pause: Martinez got up and loosened his arms while Cadence pulled her rifle out from behind the large door. The smile on the man’s face fell to a line as he scowled. “Tramps never play fair.”