Shiden (Kathari)~

I head into the marketplace. Thompson's pouch is heavy in my pocket. What should I do? I can take it and run now. I owe nothing to him. Or I can do what I said I'd do, buy what he and I need, and take myself back to captivity. Freedom? Or honesty?

I close my eyes and think. If I go back, what will the other kids think? With an Enforcer's pouch of money... no. I won't do that. I'll keep my promises. I'll return. 

I walk first to a stall selling biscuits and pottery. Even with the heavy pouch, I look for the best bargains -- only three motes for five pounds of biscuit, and five for three good, strong, glazed flasks of water. I buy a rough peasant-looking smock and a blanket for five motes each, plus a coil of very strong ranth rope for just two motes. Finally, at the edge of the market, I spend two glimmer each on two auths -- beasts of burden. Slinging the blanket over one's back, I wrap the biscuit and flasks in the smock and tie it down with rope.  I use the rest of the rope to lead the auth with the cargo as I ride sidesaddle on the other. I set out to the Badlands again, hoping to find Thompson.

I meet Thompson, running in the direction of the market. 

"I have your pouch, and the supplies we need. Did you think I was a thief?"

Thompson frowns and without a word swings up onto the back of the auth, leaving me with the one with cargo already on it. "Let's go. Junkyard." 

Don't die, RP! This is a great idea!

Shiden (Kathari)~

By evening, we reach the Junkyard. Hills of rusty metal and piles of trash are everywhere. Rumor is it that the Junkyard was built before the Badlands became Badlands. We ride silently through a jagged hole punched through the wire fence, rusted and barbed. I get off my auth and lead it. Everything is eerily quiet. 

Thompson doesn't say anything, but his hands are clenched on the reins of the auth -- he's nervous. 

We pass mounds of old gadgets -- chrome tablets and earpieces, tarnished and rusted steel boxes. I almost reach out a finger to stroke a beautifully crafted curved tool, but stop. Something seems wrong about everything in this place. 

"Who are you looking for?" I ask Thompson. 

Just then, someone jumps from the shadows of the junk piles out towards us. 

Sorry it took so long to post! 

-Thompson-

"Strange," says person before us. She's standing in such a way where I can't see her face, but the metallic quality of her words tells me that she's the Cyborg, even though her robotic limbs are hidden by the sleeves of a jacket, and her robotic fingers by a leather glove. 

In her natural hand, the one of flesh, she held a file. My mind begins to stray to what it might contain, and what it will mean for me.

"Strange," she repeats, "that for backup you bring a kid. Why not one of your Enforcer buddies? Or a hired gun? Why her?"

"That's exactly what I've been wondering," says Kathari coldly, casting me a steely look.

"Quiet," I snap, then run my fingers through my hair. "Kathari, go . . . look around. Or something. I don't know, just go." The girl throws her hands up in the air, and stalks off, her expression nevertheless revealed that she was somewhat pleased by this order. "But don't run off!" I hastily add, stretching my neck to see past a particularly large broken down Hovercraft. The girl is already out of sight.

Then I hear her voice, calling over the piles of discarded junk "Why would I? I'm not stupid. You're still taking me back to the Marketplace. And by the way," she raises her voice, "I'm keeping that Auth!"

I sigh.  

"This way," she says, spinning on her heel and leading me with brisk steps towards something or other. Even though my instinct tells me to do otherwise, I follow her.  

After about ten minutes, she stops suddenly. At first I don't see why; it doesn't seem like there's anything here, besides the regular hills of garbage. Then my eyes adjust, and all the sudden I realize that one of the aforementioned hills has a door. And a porch, complete with a lawn chair, potted plants (these were dead), and a porchlight. It was a home-- in a manner of speaking.

"In," said the woman. 

This is too much. I'm in strange territory, following a Cyborg with unknown motives, I have no backup besides a teenage girl who is absent, and what's more, I gave up my job for the honor. I'm not going to enter her house. I have a little common sense. 

"No. Whatever we talk about can be said right here. You have the documents with you." I reach out my hand. "Give them to me." 

The Cyborg turns her face towards me. My heart jumps.

My weapon, already drawn, drops from my trembling fingers and falls to the ground with a thunk.

Where's my training now? I think to myself, hatefully. All those duels. The Stress endurance Courses. Useless! Because in action, I still freeze up. I drop my weapon. Stupid! 

"Y-you're not," My fear shows through in my speech. My voice is trembling, and I hate myself for it. I draw in one, long, shaky breath, and begin to back away.

"You're not her."

The woman takes one menacing step forward, and bends to pick up my gun. 

"Oh," she says sweetly, "that depends. This is a pretty decent blaster you got here. What is it, mark V? IV?" 

She lifts up the weapon, and points it at my chest. "Good sights, too."  

I open my mouth.

"You talk, you die. Follow me." She circles around behind me, presses the gun to my back, and prods me forwards.

I take a deep breath.

"KATHARI! GET THE AUTH AND RUN! IT'S A TRAP!" I shout suddenly, and as loudly as I can. If I'm going to die, why not be the hero?

I feel something hard hit me in the back of the skull, and I black out.

Shiden (Kathari)~

"KATHARI! GET THE AUTH AND RUN! IT'S A TRAP!" Thompson's yell breaks the air of the Junkyard. Instantly, instinctively, I duck, behind the mountains of trash. 

Silence.

What to do? Thompson owes me -- I'm not leaving. But he seems honestly caring -- he says it's a trap, it's a trap.

I grab my knife from my pocket. To be completely honest, it's a terrible weapon: it's a multitool with a short knife blade, but its main, best function is a rotary blade, for cutting cloth. Also terrible at cutting people. Or throwing. Or anything involving fighting.

The auths are about 10 feet away, tethered at the edge of the Junkyard. With all the food, water, and other supplies. If something is where Thompson's voice came from, it can clearly see, shoot at, and kill me if I go over there. But I have to.

I steel myself and click my knife closed, keeping it in my fist.

I duck to the ground and run. 

Shiden (Kathari)~

I slide into a pile of junk next to the auths. Nothing's shot at me yet, so I think I'm safe... enough. My auth makes a whinnying noise and noses over to me. I pet its nose and creep over to its side. Hopefully no one heard that whinny. If I can just get the saddlebags, I can hide out in the junkyard safely enough.

"Stop!" Someone's heard me. Then, a bang of metal on dirt. A weapon? I'm not sure, but I whip the saddlebag in my hand away and dive behind the junk pile. I draw my knife.

"Who are you?" I ask.

Metal scrapes on dirt. "I could ask you the same thing," I hear.