Dream Simulator {Discontinued}

CHAPTER 12 - The Apprentice

"You're not doing it right," he sighed, running a hand through his shaggy black hair.

"Sod off," she growled, angling the screwdriver.

"How can I when you're holding it the wrong bloody way?".

Rolling her eyes, she re-angled it once more, and he growled in frustration, pacing around his crowded workshop.

It was probably the wrong angle again.

"You're not focusing".

"I hardly got any sleep last night and you expect me to focus?".

"Oh please. I only get two hours of sleep a night and still manage to get all of this done". Sunto gestured to all the mechanical parts stocked on the dusty shelves.

"Yeah, well, I'm not you".

Nobody could be like Sunto Akaiyama; the boy was a genius mechanic. Even at the age of nineteen, he was the most popular seller in the Black Market System in the Cities. Buyers from all over the four Cities came to him whenever they needed something.

He was stocked full of parts; prosthetic limbs, eyes, and hearts, and even android parts. Sunto often liked to boast that he collected some of his parts from Official Cars, which was impossible. Nobody even knew where they kept their cars; probably locked up somewhere near City Hall. If no one knew where those cars were, there was no way Sunto would know.

Arabelle had told him that countless times to cease his egotistical rants, but he still promised to take her there someday to gather parts.

Ever since she became his apprentice, he was full of empty promises.

"I'll teach you how to make prosthetic limbs".

So far, she was just fixing them.

"I'll show you where to gather the best parts".

She and Micah were still stuck working with scraps.

"We'll go together and steal some parts from the Official's Cars".

That'll happen.

The boy was as cocky and arrogant as he was a genius, which made him a total pain to train under. Micah never approved of Arabelle apprenticing Sunto, but she had always told him that it would be helpful to know some techniques from a professional.

She had even tried to get Micah to apprentice for him, but neither of them would allow it. They were rivals, and they absolutely despised each other. Watching them argue was like a childish war.

"Don't go talking big, Sunto! I bet me and my sister have made more money than you have!," Micah shouted one day in the middle of a busy market. All heads had turned to look at him.

Sunto had glared at him with dark blue eyes, and waved his hand, as if Micah was nothing more than an annoying fly. "Yes, money from when you still had customers".

That shut her brother up for a week.

Everyone's business had been going downhill lately. Customers had been coming less and less, and even vendors stopped selling and disappeared completely.

Some of the best vendors had vanished without a trace: Charlotte Enomoto, Natasha Wright, Rowan Elliott, and even Garrick Stone, whom could have bought the entire System if he wanted to (he was just that rich).

As soon as those four were out of the picture, the hundreds of buyers that used to wander around the market had only turned to about fifty people not willing to buy a single thing. Now, Arabelle normally gets around ten customers, and Sunto fifteen.

There was something off about those customers, though. All of them covered their faces and spoke in quiet but quick voices, as if they were desperate to leave. Almost none of the buyers covered up their faces; they were proud to show that they were illegally buying and trading things daily. The only people that covered their faces were criminals or people wanted by Society, but even they were hardly seen.

It was odd.

He sighed in frustration and she met his sharp gaze. "How can you be that stubborn, Arabelle?".

His handsome grease stained face took on a scowl as she replied "It's not my fault".

"I suppose it's my fault then?".

"Yes".

Sunto laughed wryly, and there were vibrant, purple bags underneath his eyes. "How, in the name of Eden, is your lack of skills my fault?".

"You're a bad teacher," she replied, shutting the tiny panel door on the freshly polished  prosthetic leg she was working on.

"You're probably one of the worst students I've ever had".

"I thought I was your first".

He groaned in frustration again and peeked out the curtains that led to his workshop. If there were no customers outside, his face showed it as his scowl was replaced with a pout.

"That's true. But, if I ever start teaching more people, you'll probably be one of the worst".

"Good to know," she sighed, putting his rusty screwdriver back on the crowded shelf.

Arabelle had enough of his arrogance for one day, and desperately wanted to leave, even if it meant returning to the hell called Society. It felt like she and Sunto were the only two down in the sub levels of the sewers, and it scared her. She always hated being alone in the big and empty market place, even when she was with Micah.

"Woah," he said, putting up a hand to stop her. "What are you doing?".

"I'm leaving".

"We're not done here. The wires to that leg are still shot, and the hard drive is just about d-".

"I have homework," she lied. She had already finished it all when she was on the train back home, since Micah wasn't there to distract her.

The two of them had been completely avoiding each other since the night before. They didn't say anything to each other in the morning, and he didn't even bother sitting with her at lunch or on the train home. For once, she had the train car all to herself.

She even had the entire lunch table all to herself. Where Ray and her friends went, she didn't know or cared. At least they were smart enough to stay away from her on one of her worst days. Maybe her talk yesterday actually did some good.

"You're still going to that high school?". He sounded disappointed, and it annoyed her.

Crossing her arms, she rolled her eyes. "What do you expect me to do? Fake my death, move into my booth and become a full time vendor?".

That's what Sunto had done three years ago: he had faked his death just to get away from Society and had been making a living ever since in the Black Market.

He even slept in his booth. His disgusting cot was stuffed in the corner of his overflowing workshop, and was completely ridden with grease stains and mold.

She had no idea how he even slept in those horrible conditions, but she knew one thing: He couldn't return to Society even if he wanted to.

Once you die, you die.

Or in his case, once you fake your death, you're dead. To everyone except yourself you're dead.

"It's the best thing ever," he once told her with a grin on his face. "No one even bothers to look for you. You just completely disappear, and everyone gets over it eventually. Try it. You'll be glad when you're free from the Society's chains".

It was a tempting offer.

Sunto snorted and graciously opened one of the ripped curtains that led to the outside of his booth with his arm. "I don't care what you do, as long as it's not anything that'll get you killed".

"Great. Thanks for the concern".