[H2] Vagrant Forge - D16[/h2]

"Godammit..." 

In one of the more tucked-away back-alleys of the District, Vagrant was rifling through her backpack with growing urgency. It was aged and worn, but she'd always had faith in the bag. Sure, the leather was scuffed and wearing thin. But until today, the stitching and closures had always held up. Always. But at some point during the morning, the side pocket had let go. A scrap of leather was now dangling uselessly along the left panel of the bag, held on by only a few small stitches at the bottom. 

"Useless...piece of...frickin' garbage....[i]argh![/i]" with a frustrated yell, she finally threw the bag against the opposite wall as hard as she could. Which was quite hard. 

Her wallet had been in that outer pocket. A wallet containing a digitally-encoded cheque (courtesy of a less-than-legal smuggling deal involving some less-than-legal firearms) for more money than she would probably see in the next month. "Aaaaand now it's gone." 

With a dejected sigh, she set about picking her belongings up off of the alleyway floor. Change of clothes. A small pouch containing a beloved photo. Her brass knuckles and handwraps. Two cans of ravioli, and a bag of crackers. Finally, she snatched up the shoulder-strap of her bag and threw everything mercilessly back inside. 

With approximately the same demeanor of a small child denied a cookie before dinner, Vagrant stomped off down the alleyway towards the main road. 

[hr]

Her intention was to retrace her steps. 

And she tried to. She walked down the road, past the small convenience store that was short-stocked on just about everything except for canned tuna, hand sanitizer, and fishing bait. "Where do you even go fishing in Beta?" she grumbled to herself. Past the noodle restaurant that had nearly burned down last week. Past boarded-up window after boarded-up window, the torn pocket of her backpack flapping uselessly in the breeze the entire while. 

But she quickly realized just how useless it was going to be to try to track down the cheque again. The amount of foot traffic in Sixteen today was ridiculous. By now, someone had undoubtedly either picked up her wallet, or kicked it unknowingly into the sewers. 

She had reached Sixteen's District Hall by now, and resigned herself to flopping down angrily on a bench outside. There was nothing that helped a bad mood like wallowing in it. Her mood was sour, and her expression evidently irate enough that nobody dared to approach the glowering redhead. Her day had barely even started, and it had already gone to shit. Her backpack was shit. The last remnants of her food were shit. Hell, this district even [i]smelled[/i] like shit. 

She frowned at that realization, and inhaled again. Sure enough, there was a powerful scent of excrement. Nose wrinkled in disgust, Vagrant looked around to find the source. She quickly spotted it - a man who had just walked out of the District Hall. 

The second she saw him, her bitter mood dissipated. For a small moment, Vagrant stared. The man was covered, absolutely [i]covered[/i] in what she could only guess to be a mixture of various forms of human waste. The second the image registered, a laugh erupted from Vagrant's mouth. She made no effort to hold back, laughing loudly at the poor individual in a situation far worse than her own. "What the [i]hell[/i] happened to you?" she called to him, getting up to approach.