The Market was interesting.

Stall after stall built to one side of the hall or the other. There were even some that had built out 10' by 10' or 10' by 20' rooms, leaving plenty of room for traffic to get around them. The materials use were mostly scrap metals. Though not a spec of rust to be seen.

Most of the Goods sold in the Front Hall, as it was labeled, were simple day to day goods. Though slightly more expensive here than the World above.

There were Hawkers and Criers announcing events and promoting sales. The noise of people was almost overwhelming after the quiet of earlier tunnels. It was almost oppressive.

At least there was no sign of the manipulations of sight or sound or scent.

The smell, a mix of spices, machine oil and human sweat, thankfully not the sewage smells of waste. Potent though, especially to me. The Helmet can filter it out, but my nose gives me interesting information about my environment. It was getting to the point were I could probably scent track people.

Yumi had started working some of the Hawkers and other locals, making contacts, get info. She did it with an ease I envied. I since my ex, had a hard time being friendly with new folk. You have to extend a bit of trust, and I would check my supply and come up empty.

Trish on the other hand was looking for deals, things that were cheaper down here than up top. Another skill I admired, and lacked. I hate haggling, shopping, buying, selling and my prejudice there was bone deep. Never, had I enjoyed the mercantile skills, even if I liked watching others work them. I recognized their utility, just they always felt dishonest. Heh. Better get over that.

We worked our way deeper and deeper into the Market Halls, me keeping guard over the drones and supplies, while they worked their magic. The unconventional equivalent to holding your wife's purse while she shops at the mall.

Trish found the first clue, one of the merchant she was chatting up, remember no haggling. She sort of twisted every buy, or a rare sell of excess rations or ammo, into a conversation, and picked up tidbits of news at every turn. During one of these talks, the shopkeep said that a group of three passed through, looking for a rare piece, something from the Dynamax find.

Dynamax fell during the Consumer Rebellion. The were known for their near magical energy production methods. Many of their generators still powered everything today. While servicing those machines was possible, nobody could build them from scratch any more. Even the bottom of the barrel models put out roughly 10% more energy that the best generators being slapped together today. The best they ever built, well those are in the Generational Colony Ships. Their last gift you might say.

Dynamax, was one of those warning stories about being too nice in business. They charged almost nothing, to the people, for the power they produced. Did a lot to help people crumbling under debt. Giving them work, even loans, financed from what they charged other Corps. Rumors had it that the other Corps took them down, not the Govs, or the mobs of civvies. It was said that during the last stand of their headquarters the civvies were helping them. Ah, the fairytales of a metalpunk dystopia.

Anywho, Trish found out that there was an auction later for those Artifacts. So we were sure to find the Target there. I wondered how we were gonna play it from there.

We gathered to get some food, I think we were all reluctant to try the local cuisine, but it turned out fine. They had the same kind of processing machines down here, less of them but there were less mouths down here anyway.

While we were eating we talked strategy.

"Best method would be to tail him once we can get our eyes on him, we can grab him after he leaves the Market. I don't think it would be wise to anger the locals." Trish had turned it over in her head, while part of me wanted to smash my way through the problem, but I might want to come back down here someday. Plenty of Ghouls to can after all.

"When we find the target, I can shadow them, avoiding notice until it time to strike. I'll disrupt their ISLC, and keep it contained." Yumi seemed to follow Trish's lead most of the time, she was bizarrely eager to offload planning to her friend. Made me ponder how good she would be at Smithing, as planning is a core component of their skill set. Eh, I'm one to talk, I haven't been using my brain enough either. Sometimes it sucks to think.

"No objections here. Though I have to say, nothing down here is as expected. It freaks me out more than if we had to wade through fights to get here." I never really stop scanning the surrounding, I've a history with ambushes.

If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

You know I've been remembering more of my past, becoming a little more like the old me. Since that knock on the head. Hahaha, maybe everyone should get a good wallop to the head every now and then.

Might clear up some faulty thinkin'.

"Vick, you are a much scarier person than I thought at first. Tone down the bloodlust, you are pretty likable when you just relax." Yumi said lightly, trying to take the sting out I guess. Was that how she saw me? Bloodthirsty. Yeah, I got that.

"True enough. I've been through a few things, twisted my gears up. Hard to let it go. No Worries, I've got your backs." Okay, I was starting to like them, a little bit. "Just be straight with me, no matter what. I prefer honesty to kindness."

"A good sentiment. I would like similar considerations." Trish, cool and calm. Controlled, something has her all scrudged up, but I'm not one to pry. We all have our demons, literally in some cases.

"Kindness is rare, it's sad, you ask me." Yup, Yumi was the nice one, who'd fry your Metal and stab you from behind. Layers and a mask probably. She plays at being simple. Plays. Hmm, perhaps its a game to her. That fits a Smith more than what I'm seeing. Well, I can cast no stones, I play the simpleton from time to time.

"Gets you canned. So yeah rare. But I agree it's unfortunate. People should be able to live in peace and quiet." I let out a little of my inner self.

"Vick, are you a romantic? No, I don't believe it. When did you get replaced with a double?" Trish, with a joke. Now, I have chill queen dunking on me. I take my helmet off, she deserved to see my smile. Before my face fell back into neutral.

"I was a true believer, in the power of the human spirit, in love, and even the occasional happy ending. Then I wasn't." I was making a choice, to open up. No body was more surprised than me. Scary shit. Would not recommend.

"Whoa, Vick. You I figured you as the stoic from birth, born to be a Shade type." Yumi tone was playful. I could have gotten offended, but nah. I got what she was saying, and I actively try to look the way she laid it out.

"Well you certainly do fit the stereotype." Trish too huh. Intelligence doesn't equal insight, or maybe be my act is just that good. They say if you play at being something long enough it becomes true.

I shrug inside, enough of this for today.

"Folks are a mixture of nature and environment. Things changed, and so did I. Better or worse, who can say? More survivable. I do miss the young me sometimes, he was a good person. If a bit too trusting." I put my helmet back on. Hopefully, they got the message. I was uncomfortable, sharing is torture.

"Young you? You don't look that old. Got a gleam weary soul thing going on though."

I gave a chuckle.

"I'm older than I look, good genes." Old enough to be your Daddy. Which was the wrong thought to have right now. Yeah, my brain went there. No I'm not proud of it.

There it was, those damned hormones. I was doing better, what happened? Oh, wait, I'm starting to like them. Even respect them. Ah. Work together, experience stress and solve problems as a unit. Yeah that'd do it.

I remember my young hormone driven brain was not capable of separating different emotions and feelings where the opposite gender was concerned.. Respect, admiration, friendship, comradery, all defaulted to I must want to have sweaty sex, and lots of it. Stupid young brain, have to retrain it all over again. Fucking stupid Guide and Factions...Hope my pain is enjoyable. Assholes.

"You look to be eighteen, nineteen. I know Metal and gene modding can offer dramatic results, so late thirties, early forties?" Trish analyzing everything. I wonder what she'd look like after I messed her up a bit. Could I crack that cool exterior? Nope, bad Victor, stop sexualizing your teammates.

"Older, but you are close. I'm 51, though I don't feel a day over 2000." I snickered at myself.

"That's some real Old Man Energy, Vick." Yumi digging the knife in. "Maybe even Grampa Energy!" I'll show you Grampa Energy! An entire collection of terrible naughty thoughts. Mentally punching myself. I'm in control here not you libido!

"You must of been shocked at what they did to you." Trish remembered, of course she did.

"You youngins would never understand." Giving my best grumpy old guy voice. "Yeah, it was a shock. I never would have asked for it, but having your youth back has more ups than downs." Though those downs are becoming more obvious. Thank goodness for my helmet. I'm sure they'd be able to see my dilemma on my face.

"What about you ladies, got any good stories?" Yup, change the subject, get attention off of me.

They proceed to tell me about the time they had to steal a gene-revived goat. Kept trying to eat everything, and if it wasn't eating it was humping, this went on for days, both of them thinking about cooking the goat for supper. Then when they got it to the client, on the top of the hundred story building, the client insisted on meeting they at. The Goat headbutted that asshole off.

They figured to hell with it and threw the goat out after the client and just ate the loss.

I was howling with laughter.

I told them about the time me and some buddies dressed up a dog. For the purposes, of the story I claimed it too was revived.

We had gotten a Serious, Overzealous senior specialist drunk as a skunk. We goaded him into hitting on the dog for hours. Until this Major came in and started laying into him about decorum, as if he didn't come into the bar to get his drink on. Still we managed to sneak the dog out and got him back home. And that Specialist, was ruthlessly mocked for the rest of his deployment.

Personally, I always felt bad about it.

The dog deserved better.

"You were military Vick?" Trish asked.

"Nah, Private Contractor. But we worked with a lot of those guys, I've nothing but respect, for most of them. Even if it was rarely returned." They seemed confused.

I shrugged, "I get it, we are mostly seen as people who couldn't hack it in the military. Sometimes that was true. Me, I just fell into it. Helped pay the bills."

We bantered back and forth for a couple more hours waiting for the auction. I'd say we were getting along just fine. I found I didn't want anything to screw it up.