Dream Simulator {Discontinued}

CHAPTER 3 - The Black Market Brawlers

"How much?," the stranger asked, pulling the hood of the well used sweatshirt over their face.

Fugitive, she thought to herself. They'll pay almost any price for their safety.

"Five hundred Castellans to get an ID replacement," she said, slamming the microchip onto the wooden counter of her booth.

She could hear the scowl in his voice as he stood up a bit straighter, trying to intimidate her. "That's a knock off price".

"Is it? I suppose you can go talk to Sunto over there," she pointed to the booth across from her. His small booth was as busy as it had been yesterday, with thirty people crowding around it, holding up money and shouting out their desired product. After he got a new shipment of circuit boards and other prosthetic parts, his business skyrocketed. "He's selling them for seven hundred if you think ours is a knock off price. And if you have extra Castellans to blow".

There was a pause of silence between them as the fugitive looked to his booth, then hers. Right now, he was the only customer, which meant that it would be a much shorter wait.

"And what's the reason that people buy from him?," he asked, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "Why don't they just come to you since it's cheaper?".

"Oh, well, you know," she shrugged as if it were nothing. "Ours is more painful. His is less painful. So, what's it gonna be?".

The stranger growled, pulled the money out of one of his pockets and slammed it onto the worn counter with a scarred hand.

Smirking, she took the money and put in the rusty strong box on the shelf beneath the counter.

"Micah!," she called behind her. "ID chip customer!".

In less than half a second, her brother opened one of the tattered curtains that led to the back of their booth, and he beckoned the customer in. The fugitive and opened the small wooden gate beside her that led into their booth, and it only took him two strides of his long legs to walk past the curtains. When he walked past her, she smelled his strong scent of smoke and almost gagged, even though she was used to the smell. It always smelled like smoke and trash down in the sub levels of the sewers.

Her brother's gentle voice beckoned the man into a well used wooden chair and began to explain the process of inserting a new ID chip. The man had already removed his previous one, which was lucky for Micah. There would be less blood today. He had started to explain the use of the clamp as she heard him snap the new ID chip onto it. The man let out a tiny whimper when Micah had used the words "And it'll snap down onto your wrist".

Not so tough now, she thought, a smirk finding its way onto her face.

"Ah!," shouted the fugitive in pain as the clamps came down on his wrist. His cry of pain was almost drowned out by the rest of the chatter, shouts, and laughter from the market surrounding them.

She heard Micah laugh as he put the clamps back on the metal shelf with a clank. Its metallic sound echoed throughout their cramped booth.

"Sorry about that," he laughed as he handed the fugitive a piece of paper with his new information.

Having watched this process a million times before, she mouthed the obvious question their customers always ask when they receive their new identity. "Is this my new name?".

"Yep. Best of luck to you, sir," he said as he helped their customer up to their feet from the demolished wooden chair.

The smell of smoke past her once more, and she forced herself to keep her face straight as she bent over and rummaged through the shelf underneath the counter; ID chips, wires, various tools and rusted scraps of metal lined it. In the middle was the strong box that contained all of their earned money from that day.