[IC] Incarceron - The Tales of New Ancora

[Delta44]

"Ugh...! This job stinks! Literally..."

Markus was currently in what could only be described as the worst place to be in the entire set of Beta Districts:

District 16's sewer.

And just what was he doing in such a place? Well... you probably wouldn't want to know, however it was a pretty shitty job, that was for sure. Though, there was a lot more than just faeces clogging up this sewer tunnel. Seems just about everything you could classify as junk or worse was compacted in this blockage, and it didn't help that on the other side there was a metric ton of unpleasantries waiting to be flushed at a moment's notice.

And Markus was the one to do the dirty work.

Even with the provided suit to help keep the stink and refuse out, it was horrible. First he needed to clear out most of the tunnel so the flush would be a smooth and simple process. The amount of crap he found when ploughing through the miscellaneous junk there was severe enough. And now he had to link up a cable and let the blockage loose! Of course, things could be worse, but this was the fastest way to make 1000 credits without doing something shady.

Speaking of which, he hoped the guys he passed when walking through the tunnel didn't mind. He made a bad enough impression, at least he assumed, and wasn't prepared to beg for mercy just yet, not that those guys looked like they were capable of giving it. He sighs as the cable was coiled tightly about one of the larger pieces of blockage: a shopping cart.

"Seriously, how the Hell does someone flush a shopping cart down the toilet?" The Outsider sighs as he tests the resistance of the cable. "Alright, looks good. Time to move to a safe distance..." Jogging back down the tunnel, Markus makes it to the outside of the pipeline, before leaping across the river of sewage to reach the other side. He would've used planks, but they didn't look very... safe.

Turning back around, Markus pulls on the chord connected to the cable until it's nice and taught, mentally preparing himself for the worst possible situation. "Alright, if it turns out to be an overflow, just leg it to the ladder. You'll be alright. Just... uh... don't look back. Yeah, good idea."

He gulps and nods to himself. "Alright... One big tug... One... Two... Three!"

... The tug of war battle was off to a terrible start. Team Markus was pulling with all his might, yet team shopping cart wasn't moving an inch. No matter how hard he tried, the cart would not move. Hell, Markus even slipped at one point, almost falling into the flowing river of bad stuff right in front of him. A little annoyed, Markus resorts to his secret weapon: the pipe behind him.

Wrapping one arm around the pipe, Markus pulls with all his might, trying to get the damned thing to at least budge. However, this shopping cart was more like a tank with the rest of the blockade on it's side; in the fight of man against metal (as well as a bunch of random items), man was quite clearly losing.

Yet, hope was not lost! For the man's relentless efforts were beginning to pay off, with the shopping cart weakening in resistance, until finally it and a bunch of other junk came flying out!

... Only to reveal more blockage in the way...

"Argh! Are you freakin' serio-"

Before Markus could continue, though, a small leak made itself apparent, trickling slightly. Steadily. Then came another. And another. Only when the whole section where the cart previously was began gushing out water that Markus knew he had won! Not only that, he had to run. Fast!

The rest of the blockage gave way to a jet mixture of lethal substances. Had Markus not moved, the sheer pressure could've killed him! Hence, he began running as fast as he could to avoid this flood of sewage, which was hot on his tail as he navigated his way through the sewers.

"Ohfuckohfuckohfuckohfu-" Markus' shoutings echoed throughout the sewer as the tsunami of the sewers trails right behind him. Up ahead, a holy light shone brightly upon a wall ladder - his escape, and the only way Markus knew out of this stink hole. In one last, desperate sprint, Markus legs it to the ladder and begins to climb...

... though soon comes to regret not having not looked behind him at least once as he ran...

---

About an hour later...

---

... Splat!

The desk lady looks up and gasps seeing a rather... chipper-looking Markus covered in the sewage courteous of District 16. "I suggest you hold your nose, miss. I made a couple people puke on the way here. I just hope they didn't get any on me..."

"Oh my god, what did you do?!" She exclaims in utter shock. Markus simply smiles and produces the 1,000 credits he had just earned. "I think I earned myself that map, yeah?" He asks with a stupid grin, causing the desk lady to rile up, for whatever reason. "Answer my question, please!" She orders.

Markus simply sighs and scratches the back of his head. "Well, I just went down and cleaned out the sewers. The job was simple enough, and I wasn't looking for too much money." The Outsider shrugs.

"You cleaned the sewers? Seriously? It's disgusting down there! At least tell me you're going to get washed up!"

"Well... That depends if I can afford a hotel 'round these parts and score a shower. How much is it for a decent place?"

"Oh my god..."

Markus appears confused by the woman's reaction, and makes no effort to hide it. "Look," the desk lady says, "I'm only doing this because you seem a lot nicer than most of the people I've met so far and you're paying extra. I get off work in thirty minutes - I'll show you to my place, you can get washed up, we can get you some new clothes, and I can give you the map. You can also stay the night if you want, since washing all the stink off your existing clothes might take awhile. Does that sound alright with you?"

Markus was rather surprised that the woman would do something so straightforward. As much as he wanted to object, the look in her eyes told him all he needed to know: this girl wouldn't be taking no for an answer. With a reluctant sigh, Markus nods. "Alright, alright, I'll take up on your offer, then. I need the sleep, anyway."

The desk lady nods in return. "Thank you. I'm Cecile, by the way."

"Markus." Replies the Outsider, offering a hand to shake. "Markus Jones." It takes him a moment to process that shaking hands with this lady probably wasn't the best of ideas right now. "Ah, right. Let's save the handshakes for later then, 'kay?"

Cecile couldn't help but giggle somewhat in agreement. "Sure, sure, at least until you're sanitary. If you don't mind, could you please wait outside? I don't mean to be mean, however I don't think anyone would appreciate the boogeyman running around the lobby area."

"Good idea. I'll just, uh... sit on a bench or something." Markus responds, before exiting the District Center, sighing. A faint shade of red covers his face beneath the muck.

"Jeez... Doesn't this girl know you don't invite people round to your place unless you're, like, close to them? This is embarrassing..."

[Dark Light]

CLAYTON RADSHAW
District 12.

The bright light of a rising morning pieced the thin flesh of Clayton's eyelids. Groggily he shook his head trying to hide from the sun as the cool crisp outside air ran along his skin. Shit, he was outside...

It seemed to have gotten much brighter by the time Clay opened his eyes again, he squinted as he looked around trying to assess his location and situation. He was by no means feeling ok, but there had defiantly been occasions before were he had woken up feeling much worse.

His head was splitting with a pounding headache, he had poor recollection of the night before, the strong residual smell of whiskey hung on his breath and he had the faint taste of blood on his lips. No there was nothing unusual here.

Despite all reasonable logic and indicators he still prayed to find himself in a large soft bed with luscious white sheets and an exotic strange girl wrapped in his arms.

As his eyes adjusted to and filtered the piercing painful light he quickly looks around and lets out a deep loud long disappointed sigh, reality hit him hard and confirmed the initial thoughts he wanted to hide from. Clay lay outside amongst a rubbish heap in a dirty small back alley.
Surprisingly, even though the odds were against him, he was still both saddened and disappointed by this, as it meant there would be no breakfast or morning sex today.

With a groan he picks his battered, bruised and injured body off the floor and recollects the night before....

---

Last Night
unnamed pub

---

There it was, once again, that all too familiar taste of blood swelling within his mouth.

"Mother fuc" he had began to slur before another fist came violently crashing into his face. His head snapped across sending the growing pool of salivate blood splattering across the floor. There came a deep guttural growl from the back of his throat in reply. Clay slowly lifted his head back up so that this punk may see the predatory rage burning within his eyes.
"Not a smart move" a maniacal smile of perfect white teeth follow his words.

Clay who was kneeling on the back of some big up-tight tavern regular, releases the the mans head to fall to the floorboards with a heavy thud.
Only moments ago Clay had been pounding his head into the ground and now the mans face was silhouetted by a smeared pool of his own blood. Clay turned all his focus to the punk kid who blind sighted him. Ignoring the man at his feet and the other laying on the pool table clutching his leg as he grunted in agony over the half protruding broken pool que.

Had there been the only three in the tavern that day, Clay would have walked out a happy man. But NO. Not even nearly. At least sixteen people had squeezed themselves into this little corner pub to celebrate some sporting victory, and nearly all had enough comradery to get involved instead of watching a few of their team mates get the shit kicked out of them. Well at least it felt like all sixteen of them to Clay.

-------

Broken bruised and bloody he came crashing into a pile of rubbish as he was thrown out the back door into a dirty old alley way. "Fu'en puthies" he yells back defiantly through a broken jaw, at what must have been the teams pitcher. The coffee pot that came flying at him next was thrown hard enough to have him seeing black.
With a sputter he painfully laughs at his own misfortune before passing out.

---

[Dark Light]

@FantasyChic

Dorian was not so naive in the ways of seduction or the subtle psychologies of lust that he should fail to understand the desiring allure of forbiddance.
But there it was.
His eyes were transfixed as a taunting desire burned lively through his static veins.
A beauty and innocence radiating with such a purity that the touch of his hands could only spoil or stain it.
She was heavenly and therefore many leagues from his own.
He stood so close yet felt as though they were worlds apart.

Elevation's packed dance floor and the many busy moving bodies around him fell away as he slid through the crowds towards the stage, totally entranced by her vision and deeply enthralled by her voice as it resonated throughout him like a sweet symphony.

Every corner of thought and shadowy doubt began to surface itself from deep within and tell him that this is a place he doesn't, and will never belong.
These feelings, considered friends through distant familiarity, have plagued and taunted Dorian his whole life.
Maybe he didn't belong here, but here is where he had got to and it was a lot further than the slums where he started.
It was his first time in zone Alpha, maybe all that excitement and nerves helped build his light infatuation with the singer.

Amongst a sea of motion Dorian stood deathly still, his fine black fitted suit probably more expensive than most other attire found amongst the establishment yet he failed to capture and incorporate the latest fashion and trends, maybe he just didn't care to.
He held his own suave persona and style, a rustic elegance which he wore so well. His mesmerising hazel eyes were glued to the beauty on the stage where they remained until he captured hers.

As soon as that moment happens his lips curl into a devilishly playful accomplished smile. He gives her a gentle acknowledging nod before turning away and disappearing into the ocean of people.

Back at the bar he chuckles to himself as he examines more closely the quantity of emotional tea in his drink. "Should'a known."
The drinks name as well as his actions now made more sense.

Clearing his head he focuses on other things as he flicks through an array of photos sent to his phone.
A secret meeting, a new gang, many people already.
Dorian replied with a single message.

'Stay close, stay undercover.'

The performers song came to an end and the crowd cheered, Dorian simply continued to enjoy his drink and the music, talking to no one, yet silently observing. He observed something interesting, a connection between a waiter and the singer.

[Mach2]

Vagrant Forge - D16

"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....argh!" 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.

---

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 smelled 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 covered 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 hell happened to you?" she called to him, getting up to approach.

[Delta44]

Almost as soon as Markus had stepped outside, he was met with the most unexpected sound coming from nearby:

Laughter.

It was odd. He couldn't quite recalling hearing anybody he'd met laughing so hard, yet this woman, sitting on the bench which he was planning to take his seat, was making no effort to disguise the fact she was indeed laughing at him. "What the hell happened to you?" The woman spoke, approaching in a casual manner that seemed rather friendly. It sure as Hell beat most of the folk from this District, anyway.

Brimming an earnest smile, the man was about to offer his hand, though remembering his current situation simply nods courteously. "Name's Markus! Just doin' my part, tryin' to get an honest day's pay for an honest day's work. Thousand credits ain't bad just to clean up the sewer, don't you think? At the very least, it's enough to get me by." Jones chuckled somewhat and continues. "Oh, but to answer your question, I kinda got hit by a tidal wave of -- and excuse my French -- shit as I was climbing out the exit. I mean, it's bad, but it's not that bad, right? Could be worse. Well, it was outside, at least."

The woman before him was... rather pretty, at least to Markus. Somehow he found himself drawn to her smile. Even if it was at his expense, that laugh and grin was simply intoxicating.

'Snap out of it, man! You don't even know her name!'

Mentally slapping himself, the Outsider stares toward the sky, the sun that beat down on him seemingly amplified from the human waste which stuck to him so. "B-but yeah, uh, this heat is kinda killin' me... Probably all the crap. This is one of those times I wish I owned my own shower..." With a sigh, the man continues smiling, his gaze returning to the young woman. "Nice bag, by the way."

'You, my friend, are hopeless...' He thought to himself.