Volume 1 Chapter 3: Uninvited Hosts, Part 4: Oren's Perspective_Unknown Past

How many times does this make it? Twenty? Thirty? Truth be told, I'm surprised there were even thirty jobs in this city! And I still can't get employment! But...looking at myself and my surroundings, I should have expected this.

It's been five days since I've been looking for a job, even despite Sueka's pleas for me to be resting. I knew that New Vegas economy was in a rather poor state, but I never would have expected this from the news I looked into in Terraz. Rather than focusing on just the comatose cases in the news, you would think that what I'm seeing now would have at least been somewhere in the news or on the front page of newspapers. As I continue to look around, I commonly see more paupers huddled together outside of a business, begging for money, compared to the number of locals actually in the stores. Though the age range varies quite a bit, the majority of the people I see are surprisingly young. At least under 40 for most of them.

"Please, I need...food..."

I hear what sounds like an old man coughing, followed by the painful gasping for breath. I turn to my left to see that this supposedly "old man" is actually in his early 20s.

"Who's the new guy?"

"Great...another mouth to feed."

"I heard he's from Terraz."

"Please...tell me he brought food..."

Even after a whole week, I cannot say that I've become comfortable with this unwanted attention. Many consider me a sort of savior. Others see me as competition. Some even think of me as some parasite. And the comments I've heard during the first few days about my figure... I know that this cloak isn't very fashionable, but many of these folk looked at me as if I was some freak show. I even had some children shouting that I was Selot and throwing trash at me. Selot. ME!! What is the resemblance anyway!? It's because that bastard Hunter did what they did! Why am I here? Why is Sueka here, working harder than she should, while I'm unable to find a job?

"'Three more bodies found near Central Rock Garden!' You heard right! Three more found!"

And there goes another newspaper boy for the "Fifth Age Informer." Truth be told, they're arguably the only ones with energy around here. And there's so many of them, too! I really don't understand how such a profession can be profitable around here, but every time I hear their voices, I end up seeing them being surrounded by many locals taking their papers off their hands. Why are newspapers so popular here? Shouldn't they be saving their money for food? I doubt I would make it as a newspaper boy, considering the competition. Still, it's a disappointment that I, even when crippled, have a harder time finding employment than all these starving people.

"EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!"

OW! Is that guy around this block again!? Must the girls always squeal like that, whenever he's around!?

I look across the street and, sure enough, there he is, looking handsome, leaning against the brick wall closest to a recently bankrupt real estate agency. He looks about my age, so about 16, with a similar height of around 170 centimeters. Once again, he's wearing his usual jeans, a white T-shirt, and what I'll assume to be some sort of motorcycle jacket. I guess he's attempting to go for a First Age American look, but is that really necessary for a newspaper boy!? He has short, untamed hair that seems to give this wild vibe to his figure, but he's got a suave smile that somehow seems to go well with his hairstyle. I know he isn't a plant or animal tone, given both his average height and his rather slim build. Even so, he looks like he's in the peak of health, hardly emaciated like the many locals riddling the streets around here. Nice to know somebody isn't suffering.

"Alright, ladies," he says with his usual cool demeanor, "Take your time. I'm not going anywhere. Anything to lift your spirits."

(What is this, some sort of cheesy high school anime!?)

I've learned to leave this guy be. Trust me, if a guy tries to get near him at a time like this...those girls... And I thought Sueka had an intimidating glare!

Gu! Gu!

I turn to see a little girl pulling my cloak and slowly beginning to wrap herself in it. I want to say it's cute, but...

"Mister?"

Looking into her eyes, I see my own reflection. The reflection of a sinless boy whose existence was the cause of an unnecessary atrocity. To see someone so innocent look at me like this. I don't know what to think.

"Mister?" she says again, continuing to wrap herself and tug at my cloak.

I look around to make sure I don't draw any unwanted attention. The pretty boy is getting the majority of it, and I think this will be as good a time as any.

Piri!

I rip off a part of my cloak and give it to the little girl. Luckily, smiling at me, she leaves before seeing that my cloak repairs itself. Despite all the trouble it got me into in Terraz, I'm still a little glad that my cloak continues to function this way. But, even so, I cannot deny that the repairing process is delayed by a good number of seconds and takes longer when it actually does start to repair itself. And my visions. Sure enough, I haven't had any for some reason since I woke up. Though they were always random, I can almost guarantee I would have had some by now.

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

"AA!!" I hear the little girl scream in the distance.

Looking back in the girl's direction, I see her at the feet of a towering, muscular figure. I'll assume he's an animal tone, as his body is more muscular than tall. The man's clothes are practically rags, much like the attire of every local around here.

"Watch where you're going, pipsqueak!" the man bellows.

As the man looks down at the girl at his feet, she simply clutches the shreds from my cloak tighter to her body, as if it's some sort of blanket to comfort her, faced with some nightmare. At this, the man's agitated demeanor fades, showing only a rather tired, sympathetic face in its place.

"What's all this then?"

Judging by how everyone attempts to clear the path through the street out of fear, I can guess who asked the question. The police force of New Vegas. Or rather, the "lapdogs of the rich." There are two of them, clad in their usual blue uniforms. Both men seem well fed and have distain on their faces, as they look through the crowd of the poor.

"You there!" the fatter of the two says, pointing at the muscular man.

The muscular man points to himself to confirm it's him they're talking about.

"What were you doing to this girl?"

"I didn't do anything. Nor did she."

"Can you testify to that?"

"On what charges?"

"It's our job to clear the streets of your filth. Whatever charges our bosses choose afterwards will suffice."

"You know that not all of your 'bosses' agree to these actions, right?"

"Talking back to a cop, eh?"

The muscular man backs off at this, and says nothing. In the distance, the song "Drastic My Soul" by Mikio Sakai of the First Age is playing.

"He does have a point," the other cop says. "The last thing I want is to get in trouble with any of the higher ups, even if one of them encouraged this order."

"Look, majority rules, okay? We were given a life off the streets, we might as well pay back our debt in full!"

(To turn traitor to those you once sympathized with. Money really changes people.)

Much as I hate to admit it, I really don't understand the full situation with the economy here. I can see the side effects, but, as a former local of Terraz, an Agriculturalism based society where money wasn't usually part of everyday life, I doubt I understand everything.

"Sorry, but you're coming with us," the fatter cop says. "The higher ups are paranoid after what happened in Terraz. The less problems here, the better."

The two begin to approach the muscular man who, despite looking as if he could easily beat them single-handedly, cowers back towards one of the windows of a nearby grocery store. Everyone else continues to watch but refuses to make a move. I look around and see that the little girl from before is nowhere to be found.

"You can't do this to me!" the muscular man pleads. "I have a family! I have rights!!"

"Can't be helped. Just doing our job."

"You sold yourself to the highest bidder! Where's your morals?"

At this, the fatter policeman seems to get angry, and the other one shows signs of guilt.

"Stop making this difficult!"

He pulls out some circular object with his right hand, and yellow rhime begins to engulf his arm. Not every day you see a fat electric tone. But the amount of rhime...to say the least, it isn't natural. Whatever he's doing, he's emitting large amounts effortlessly!

"Desist!" I hear another voice yell.

Coming out of the grocery store, with the little girl from before holding his leg, is another teenager. Unlike the newspaper boy, this one looks to be around the age of 18, with short, somewhat spiky brown hair. He's actually quite tall. I would gauge around 180 to 185 centimeters. His small bifocal glasses definitely give him an intellectual air. Despite his stern statement, his face doesn't show any anger. Guess one might consider him to be more of an "older brother" or "role model" figure under these circumstances. As soon as he leaves the store, he puts down the groceries and, after the little girl lets go of him, rushes between the muscular man and the policeman, spreading out his arms to stop the situation.

"Get out of my way! Don't interfere with police business!"

"This 'business' is nothing more than assault! You'd be more guilty of a crime here than this individual!"

"Tell him, sensei!" the girl yells.

(Sensei?)

I still see an 18 year old boy in front of me, not a teacher. Rather surprising to hear him be called by such a term.

"The laws must be followed!"

"No laws were broken!"

The electric rhime in the policeman's hand rapidly intensifies. For some reason, the expression on his face grows more...feral.

"Silence!