"Almost Green"

Rock the Casbah

first of all, sry for no updates, had a week long trip with friends to the countryside and my opel's wheel popped on the highway when driving back home + lazy :P bleeghh (dc link https://discord.gg/qJAuGPD2dM)

enjoy, love you all !!! 

The slums weren't so bad after all.

The images of rough-sculpted glass giants beaming with neon lights had the boy's brain oftentimes screaming for solace in the form of some momentary recluse. Klaxons shouted, people beeped, worries weighed heavy. Out there, the Union dogs roamed free and played the city by whatever rules Duflot made up – out there, Andy played a faceless delivery boy for a faceless delivery company with a faceless anthill of cargo that needed to be delivered to a faceless mass of customers and handlers alike. Lacking in faces. Lacked tact and manners, too. People lacked proper etiquette in the outer shell of Lungmen, but funnily enough, it was the brutish slums that have proved much different.

"Please." The old man graced Lizzy with a helping hand, when passing a fence torn apart by his cane. His withered claws stilled the steel net in place, allowing the rest to waddle on through.

"And thank you." She beamed bright back, with a smile radiant enough to light even the dead-est of night aflame. Croissant and Andy dragged on behind, one holding up the other. It was a procedure that required often turn-switching and shoulder bumping to keep the soul awake – and walking. Tumbling forward, in their case. Mind-arts-fibers still ran their course through Pacific Empire's ranks, numbing the brains and lowering morale. Like a groggy Monday morning, spent licking the floor clean off a hangover - wasn't pretty.

"... Thanks."

One mumbled to the other. It could've been Andy, it could've been Croissant. Their shared conscience had reached a somewhat subliminal height at this point, melting their minds together. Trawling through the higher slums came as a perpetually shared motion, teeming with numb acceptance, led by the tapping of a heavy cane. They were moving, fine. Croissant looked at Andy, and there were no graceful mannerisms in her eyes. Are you moving? He was moving. Are you? She was moving, too. Sluggishly, but forward. It was important to keep moving forward. Slow, sure. But forward. Croissant for once was glad he understood the simple task.

Shoulder to shoulder, chest to chest, arm to arm, hand in hand. Two soldiers bound by skin, thoughts, and feelings, marching onward to the Grand Acceptance beyond the veil of grim whatever. The words sparked no thoughts.

Andy liked having Croissant by his side. That's what a part of his brain had told him, then and there. Another one crumpled the thought into a neat paper ball and flung it into a crimson flame's burning heart. A red heart. Red, red like her. The other her.

"There are lots of things to fix and change, yes. I'm not one to worry about the outer world, however– mostly. All the ins and outs of corporate paperwork, the grueling hours spent planning large events for the rich and poor masses, the Yanese festivities, the annual music fest... Gods, with that guitar-clown Newmaker as the opener – I don't prod." Rat-man explained to a bleary-eyed Lizzie. Andy perked up at the mention of a "guitar-clown", but couldn't quite put a finger on where he had heard the name before. A flash and a beep of Lizzy's recorder put his mind back to rest. It ran wild, jotting down each huff of the rat's monologue. "Out there, up there, that's where your Kazimierz is headed, from what you've told me. Correct?"

"Uh-huh, Mister Lin."

"Of course. Would be a shame, a major, crying shame. It takes a strong mind to whip an unruly place into shape. Somewhat akin to a shape, at least, as places such as these buried, "deep" slums as they call themselves, they still escape my old, tired eyes."