Member
TokyoPewPew
Izurich
Gerlando
Lewascan2
Danyel
Auz
It had been a profoundly humbling experience to spend the last week or so living by himself in the Lanes. Nick's first night in his small apartment wasn't so bad but time goes on and the realization that this may be his permanent home from now on begins to set in. The particularly humbling part is the knowledge that this experience isn't too uncommon, considering the other apartments in this building are identical and there are many similar living conditions across the Lanes. The community was very different from the Fields; his neighbors weren't very friendly nor did they want to get to know Nick, but at least he hadn't run into any of the bad things he'd always heard about the Lanes. No daylight robberies, no back-alley murders, and certainly no infected skulking about in the dark. But every morning when he would step outside he would stay on his guard.
Once out on the street he took a brief moment to look to the sky, attempting to estimate the time of day. It was much easier when he lived in a building with a working clock. Not quite noon, he figured. Nick adjusted the waistband on his jeans, slightly moving his hidden handgun to a more comfortable position. Until recently he had never used a gun before, but the Reapers had spent an afternoon teaching him. It'd only been a few days so he still wasn't totally comfortable in how he concealed it but he was told it was better for him to keep it unseen. Nick had never had a problem with the Militia before but apparently they don't like it when people bring unauthorized guns into the Core so it was better to be sneaky about it. Now that he was ready it was time to get something to eat. Never thought that I would miss having a refrigerator so badly.
He had learned of a place nearby that served cheap food. Of course, most places that served food in the Lanes was cheap but this one seemed to Nick to be the highest quality of the bunch. It was a place simply called "Slop" that served a decent bowl of oatmeal in Nick's experience. It was also one of the few places in the Lanes that would sell meat during its dinner hours, though Nick was apprehensive about trying it since he'd heard plenty of rumors about things labelled as "chicken" in the Lanes being anything but chicken. Nevertheless it still was finding a place in his heart. The building it was housed in was rather run-down and didn't have any windows that weren't replaced with plywood, but once Nick stepped inside it was actually kept rather clean. No dust or obvious grime on any of the tables or the floor, though sometimes the counter where they took orders was a bit of a mess. Today seemed to be a quiet day, hardly anybody seated and not a single person in line at the counter.
"Hey, boss," Nick greeted the old man behind the counter. He never knew the guy's name, but he was a thin, sickly old man with a bald head and a thick mustache. He must've had some kind of vision problems because he was always squinting too. "I'll take a bowl." Nick pulled a couple dollars from his pocket and set them on the counter, nearer to the old man than to himself. All the businesses in the Lanes accepted money but the more common transaction was usually made with bartering. While Nick still had some paper money he didn't need to barter, which was a good thing since he presently owned almost nothing of which he could even use for bartering. "Aye, take a seat," the old man spoke, slowly swiping the money off the counter with one hand and pointing to a nearby empty table with the other. As Nick began to sit down he heard the old man mutter something to himself before turning back to shout at the cooks in the back room. "One bowl! Oatmeal!" After a brief moment of silence to himself he heard some shouting from the cooks, followed by one last order from the old man. "Table five!"
A small, dark-skinned man with many scars appeared from the kitchen, setting a steaming bowl on the table before Nick. "Thank you," he appreciated as always, but like always it went ignored as the man silently retreated from whence he came. The people who have lived their whole lives in the Lanes were like a different breed, as Nick had noticed. Many of them didn't like to talk, and many of them had scars or disabilities. He had no idea why it was so common, but if he had to guess it would be from in-fighting when they were younger. Youths that grew up in the Lanes were the ones that would form gangs and commit the violent crimes, but it would seem that the ones that grow old certainly learn their lessons. The people who moved to the Lanes, whether by choice or by necessity, behaved very differently. More talkative, more friendly, but also more jaded. Nobody seemed particularly happy to be here, but as Nick began chowing down on his breakfast he felt a bit differently about it. Out here was freedom.
Once the bowl was empty he stood up from his table and gave a polite nod to the old man at the counter before taking his leave. Now was the time to head out to Deadman's Respite. Nick had been told yesterday that a raid was being organized, but he wasn't told when it would be. It would be the first raid he's been on and the first time outside the walls entirely. The other day he was taken to the walls by some senior Reapers so that he could see what it was like and see where they would be exiting from but they never actually went outside. They said that planning was one of the most important parts of any excursion outside the walls, especially since the trips would often take days. Or on the rare occasion: weeks. There weren't a lot of maps left in the city, as far as Nick knew, but the Reapers had their hands on several maps of nearby areas that were invaluable to the cause. Of course, he hadn't been allowed to look at them yet but he was assured that once he'd been around a while and they could trust him that he'd gain access.
As Nick stood outside the door to the popular saloon he noticed something was different right away, yet he couldn't immediately put his finger on just what that difference was. After stepping inside it felt so much quieter than usual, despite having plenty of people around the place. A small group was gathered around the jukebox on the far end of the bar, and upon noticing them it suddenly clicked. There was no music playing. Music machine must be broken, he thought to himself as he continued looking around the room. Unfortunately there didn't seem to be anyone from the Reapers that he recognized, which meant that he would probably wait around for a while. If nobody showed up he could ask about the raid then he would head to the headquarters, but from his own experience he already knew that most Reapers would rather be at Deadman's Respite than at headquarters so it'd be unlikely to find anyone there but the higher-ups. Maybe Simon will show up, he wondered as he sat down at the bar. I'm sure he'd be willing to tell me what's going on.
