A Clockwork Green Ch. 06

"Okay," I say to no one in particular as I crank the pressure caps back on the thermal core. "Okay." Stop saying okay, Mack. Just fucking start the thing. It's gonna fail, and I know it. No, you don't. Plus, if it fails it has safety systems. I bite the bullet.

The engine roars to life with a satisfying rumble, but I've got an eye glued on the core pressure gauge. 170... 180... 190... I take a step back and frown.

The overflow valve failing is a deafening affair. I wince and dive for the emergency shutoff lever, but the damage is done. Bits of pipe debris careen off my air compressor and shatter a window on their way to ruining someone else's day. "Damnit!" I cry, although it's totally lost in the cacophony. The pressure venting outside is thunderous, causing the whole shop to rattle. "Damnit!"

I kick a wrench across the room, and it takes a divot out of the wall. Charlotte comes darting in a second later with her index fingers shoved in her ears. She's yelling something, but I can't hear her over the ringing. I pinch an eye shut and wave her off, but she just tilts her head and repeats herself. I can see her lips saying the same thing, but it's a drop in the bucket volume-wise. Aww, now she's coming over here... I try to wave her off again but she just keeps coming.

"I SAID, ISN'T MR WHITAKER GOING TO BE FURIOUS?!"

"Yes," I yell, wiggling my pinky down in my ear. "It's not gonna be done in time because these fucking overflow valves are all fucking shit!" Fucking piece of worthless... Damnit!

"What is this thing supposed to do again?"

I slam my fist down on my bench, and Charlotte takes a step back. Fucking things are rated for 200 psi, but everyone knows they overdesign them by 20%! It should be fine at 230! It should be fucking fine!!

I need to get out of here before I break something on purpose. Charlotte is screaming behind me. I know she wants reassurances about Jonas fucking Whitaker's prototype Followcar, but I don't have anything for her right now. I throw up one of the overhead garage doors and stump across the parking lot. Something catches my eye as I hit the edge of our property, but I'm far too pissed off to slow down and process it. I get out to the street and hang a right, towards the heart of the Valhavia district.

200 fucking psi should be fine. It fucking should be. Hell, the Chimaera had a 150-rated valve operating at 200 in the #3 boiler, and don't even get me started on the port stabilizer ventilation pipes. Don't even get me started!

I become aware that I might be muttering out loud when an elderly man coming toward me gives me a wide berth and cuts out into the street. His disapproving frown is infuriating. "Oh yeah? Well fuck you too, buddy!" He shakes his head and continues on by. Fucking asshole. Who asked him anyway?

And what the fuck was with Charlotte at that fucking auction?! She looked like she would have followed that woman to the ends of the earth! They'd just fucking met! No, they've never met. Charlotte saw her walk across a Gods damned room. Is the whole world going fucking mad?!

"No, just you," yells a bewildered street vendor.

"Fuck off, asshole!" The nerve... but then I start thinking about that fucking newspaper article, and how maybe I need to try a little harder to not draw attention to myself. I reach into my back pocket and pull out my pack. The first drag is always the best...

Three blocks and two cigs later, I've quelled the inner turmoil a hair. A short and curly hair, but not none. The ringing is starting to subside too.

I've never been this deep in Valhavia before. I don't have Charlotte's sense of direction, so there's a tinge of worry in the back of my mind as I think about how I'm gonna get back, but I push it even farther to the rear. The poverty around me is staggering. Once you get past the superficial differences, it's a lot like Hollinsport here, but Hollinsport has nothing so obscene as what I saw in Elysia. To think that there are such dizzying highs and miserable lows so close to each other is sickening. Charlotte has been ranting about this stuff for months now, ever since we settled down here, but I guess I had to see it for myself to get it.

I don't know how any of these buildings retain any heat! There's not a single solid window pane anywhere to be seen. Some of them have been bricked over, sure, but even I can tell the masonry is shoddy and I know just shy of zero about brickwork. The real killer for me is that once upon a time, I bet this area was really nice. There's a lot of ornate touches in the architecture that I don't have the vocabulary to describe. Pillars, and edging, and... whatever the fuck that is. A face designed into the wall?

The eyes follow me...

Staring at the empty, gaping windows gets my mind going. I bet I could design an imbuement that reflects heat and nothing else, but it would need to be applied at every window individually... there's gotta be a better solution... If I built it into the window frame, it would be small and easy to do, but that would only cover one window. Trying to do every window in a building that size would be weeks of work... If I backed it into the room just inside the window, it would need to go all the way around the floor, walls, and ceiling. Then I wouldn't have to do one for every window, but that would be a fuckton of extra work... Backburner.

I find myself in an open air market, and not entirely certain how many turns I took getting here. I spin around and try to find The Grasp, a monolithic tower in the middle of New Verdia. It's writhing shape and absurd height make it unique enough to pick out from nearly anywhere in the city. I plot it and the Sun in my mind for a moment and try to triangulate our shop. I have no sense of distance, but I can hazard a guess at the direction. Damnit, the Sun is setting. I've been gone for hours.

Just as I'm about to start heading back, I watch a little boy, no more than 10, grab two apples from a stand and dart past me. He's around a corner before the shopkeeper knows what happened, but that doesn't stop the guy from running after him.

"Which way did he go," he shouts as he barrels around his cart.

I only hesitate for a second before pointing towards The Grasp. The wrong way. The shopkeeper lumbers off, screaming bloody murder. I can appreciate that, in this neighborhood, his bottom line is so thin that every bit of inventory counts, but that kid was skin and bone. I grin as I turn back towards what I think is home.

Two blocks down the road, the wind changes directions abruptly and it carries what I'm sure is a scream. Woman or child, I can't tell, but no one else around me reacts. It's not an insignificant number of people either. I stare at a few of them incredulously before heading south at a fast walk. The indifference is mind boggling...

I start to jog as I cross a second street, and nearly pass the alley where the scream originated. A large man in a blue uniform has the thief from before by the wrist, and he's holding the boy a good foot off the ground. His two apples have tumbled to the street.

"Put him down," I shout, turning into the alley.

"Help!" The boy twists frantically, but makes no real gains in turning to see me. "Help me!"

"G'on about your bus'ness, Ma'am. This little runt stole this food 'ere." The man in the uniform's face is calm, but the way his fist is clenched and quivering on the handle of his truncheon...

"Don't leave me, Lady!"

"Sha' Up!"

"I saw him pay for those apples," I say, continuing forward. "He's not a thief. Are you a peace officer?"

His smile turns vicious as he leers at me, and something seems to occur to him by the way his eyes flash. "No ma'am. Tru'ncy officer." He hefts his club in his hand. "I'm authorized to use this weap'n in the appre'ension of underage miscre'nts when they ought 'ta be in school."

I can feel my blood beginning to boil. 10 feet away. "Aww, big guy like you needs a weapon to beat up little kids?"

"Wait a minute," he says, squinting. "Don't I..."

I barely have time to react as the man tosses the boy to the side and lunges at me. I bring my hand up and stop his overhead swing with my palm, and flames leap up around my fist. There is a moment of shock on his face until he wrenches the club loose and takes a step back. He and I arrive at the same conclusion a moment later; I just gave him a flaming weapon.

He takes a huge diagonal swipe at me, but I back out of range. He follows with a backhanded swing, but I step away from that one as well. Barely. As he rears back for a third swing, I raise my hand, index finger extended, and bring down my thumb. A tiny Boomstick pops directly behind his head, and the concussive force sends him staggering to my left. My fist erupts again as I connect, sending him sprawling. His cheek is blackened and lightly smoking as he gets up on one knee, but when I take a step towards him, he takes off running. The boy, meanwhile, is just getting up, and running in the opposite direction. As much as I want to dish out a good asswhipping right now, I reluctantly follow the boy.

He's quick, but he's sloppy. I don't have anything near Charlotte's stamina for running, so it's lucky that he never once turns around and I can huff and puff and be pretty blatant about tailing him. Fortunately, his destination is only 5 blocks away. Or at least, I hope it is. The building he ducks into is surrounded on all sides by crowded-looking alleys. He could have gone through the building and continued past it, and I'd have lost him, but I doubt it. I circle the building, staying a block away at all times. Near the back of the building, I spot two more kids, both as shabby and thin as the thief. They each have a little strip of brown cloth tied around their arm. The thief had one just like it, but I hadn't thought it was significant.

I circle around to my starting point, and frown. My curiosity isn't sated. I dart up the fire escape of an abandoned building, and lean against the low wall at the edge of the roof to watch. Watch for what, I don't-

"Hi!!"

My head swivels. There, two feet to my left, perched on a chimney stack, is an even younger boy than the thief, wearing a combat helmet I'd wager would be too big for me. Brown cloth on his arm. "...Hello."

"What are you doooing?"

"I.. I don't know," I say.

"Oh ok!" When he turns to look out over the street, his ill-fitting helmet bobbling precariously. I feel compelled to reach out and grab it so it doesn't fall, but he slaps a hand down on top of it with practiced ease. "Were you following Scratch?"

"I didn't get his name, but I think so." I pause for a moment before continuing. "Are you some kind of lookout?"

"Yup," he says enthusiastically, eyes intent on the street. His childish, sing-song manner of speech is adorable. "Why were you following Scratch?"

"Someone, uhh, tried to hurt him... and maybe tried to make him go to school?"

"Ooooooooooh," the boy says with up-raised eyebrows.

"Is there mandatory schooling here in New Verdia?"

"Yeah, but those trooncy off'cers don't care about making us go. They're bullies who only care about hitting little kids." Something about the way he talks says he's just repeating something someone else said. That doesn't make it any less true. Suddenly, the little boy looks back at me, his helmet impossibly unbalanced. "How did Scratch get away?"

"I stopped the Truancy officer."

The little boy's eyes go as wide as saucers. "How do you stop a trooncy off'cer?!"

"Well, I... I hit him."

The boy silently mouths 'wow'. "But then won't he make you go to school?!"

"No, I'm an adult. I don't go to school." The boy nods slowly, hand holding the helmet tight as his head bobs, and he looks back down at the street. "I"m Mack."

"Tubbins."

I bark a laugh. "You have an awesome name, Tubbins." He is indifferent to my praise as he continues to watch up and down the three streets visible from his vantage point. "What are you looking for?"

"Trooncy off'cers, Pees off'cers."

"And what do you do if you see them?"

"I put up a flag and run."

"Who are you signalling?"

"The other kids."

His fearlessness as he leans over the edge of the roof of the six story building is more than a little unnerving. My brain can't handle the idea of this mini-soldier falling off a roof, so it seeks out an alternative chew toy. That thing that caught my eye earlier... It must've been a wrapper or something. It couldn't have been...

"Why do you look confused," he asks.

"I... um... I thought I saw something weird earlier. Couldn't be what I thought it was."

"Oh ok!"

"Have you ever seen grass, Tubbins?"

"What's grass?"

"Green stuff? Grows out of the dirt?" I hold one hand six inches above the other one. "Yea high?" His blank stare is an answer all by itself. "Didn't think so." I can't believe her! Right in front of me, staring like that.

"Stared at who?"

I've really gotta get a handle on this inner monologue thing. "Ju-"

"Oh No," he cries. He reaches his arm down into the chimney he's perched on, and raises up a little white flag on a mechanical arm. A twin white flag goes up on the building I'd been watching. Helmet held securely to his head, Tubbins jumps down and and scurries to an escape ladder on the far side of the building. All of this happens in a matter of seconds, and it's a few more before I wonder what it was the boy had seen. Down in the street below are seven men following the Truancy officer from earlier, and two exo-frame mech suits. Behind them is a... is that a crate?! They're gonna try to round these kids up and put them in a giant fucking box?!

I glance over at the building I'd picked out earlier. I can't make out much beyond a flurry of shadows inside, but it looks like a stirred bees nest. The officer, barking orders, grabs my attention again. They're about to spread out. Once they split up, they'll be operating independently. Before I even realize what I'm doing, I vault the edge of the roof and drop down towards the street below.

Just as I pass the second story windows, I squat into a little ball. Massive jets of fire erupt from my hands, slowing my descent more and more the closer I get to the street. All of them have turned to face me by the time my boots touch the gravel street. This is exactly what I needed.

"That's errr!" The officer from before, now with a bandage over half of his face, points excitedly at me.

"I'm a big fan of symmetry," I shout, smirking as I start walking towards them. I make a quick left jab in the air. "If you want me to, yanno, even that out, just say the word."

"We've been lookin' for yew for a woil naoh. Is the otha' one 'round 'ere?"

The realization that these men are not after those kids breaks across my face like a lightning bolt, and the eight grins in front of me deepen menacingly. Wait, wasn't there-

I only just manage to turn my head before one of the Walkers grabs me around the waist with a massive pincer. Quiet means well maintained. Quiet means deadly. I try to shout and run but the air is forced out of me, and my legs flail uselessly above the ground. I immediately grab hold of the pincers and start heating them as rapidly as I can.

"Well done, Mayt! Toss 'er in the..." He trails off as the pincers turn bright orange in my hands. With a reluctant groan, the steel bends under the sudden heat, and I drop back down to the street. I immediately spin, throw my hands together at the wrist, and put out a twin stream of Torches at the knee joint. The driver tries to back out of the way rather than flail at me with his remaining arm, and it costs him. The third step backwards rips the right leg apart, and he topples over. I glance over my shoulder. The officer and his men have started to charge me, and the other Walker is still around here somewhere. Fun.

I raise my hands and get off two Boomsticks square between the eyes of the first and second comers, but the rest swarm past them even as their comrades are crumpling. I throw a quick jet of flame at the third comer, just enough to singe his clothes and eyebrows, and spin. The fallen Walker has most of an intersection blocked off, so I break the other way.

One of them hurls his truncheon at me, and I wheel away to my left as it whizzes past my head. Down an alley I go, leaping overflowing trash piles and a terrified mutt. I'm huffing far too quickly though. Gotta find a way to give them the slip before I run out of... As I reach the halfway point in the alley, the other Walker steps out in front of me. The pincers are clenched shut; I don't think this one wants to pick me up. I skid to a stop and half turn. The five remaining men are filing in behind me. The Walker doesn't have a ton of room to swing his arms, but he doesn't need to. He can just prevent me from getting away. Fuck.

I turn towards the men. Bandageface walks at the head the pack. From just behind him, one of them raises a hand cannon and fires. The bullet rips into the top of my left shoulder, and I drop to one knee with a few choice curses. It hurts to turn and look, but there's blood on the back of my shoulder too. Feels like some of it is still stuck in there, but most of it passed through. With a grimace, I press my thumb and index fingers over the entry and exit wounds, and sear it. And curse. The man in the uniform turns and backhands the crap out of the shooter.

"The boss said aloive, ya idjit! He needs 'er aloive!"

I reach out my good arm towards the brick wall right next to them. Five bodies stiffen, and eyes widen. A Boomer. The wall erupts in a cloud of debris and flame, and I bolt for the Walker. The driver hadn't expected me to pick this option, but he immediately hunkers down and rears back an arm at my approach. I'm gonna need both hands for this, and it's gonna hurt. This is gonna hurt, this is gonna hurt, this is gonna hurt... He swings, and I jump, and curl up, and set off a Boomer below me.

I'm propelled up and over the stupefied driver, and the Walker's arm swings through the space I had occupied and into the wall. I can't quite find the form to be graceful about it, and instead find myself sailing through the air like a flailing idiot. My shoulder erupts in pain as I land and roll. When I finally stop sliding, I twist onto my back and get off another Boomer at the wall right next to the Walker. The poor guy never saw it coming, and he's toppled over in a landslide of bricks.

Delirium sets in as I stumble out onto the street and fall. I've completely lose my sense of direction, or how far I've come since we started... Gods, how long has this been going on? My shoulder is a shrieking mess. My hand doesn't pull away fresh blood when I poke at it, but I can't reach around to the back. I try to peek over my shoulder to see how bloody it looks, and immediately regret the effort. Fuck...

"There she is!" Four of them jog around the corner, but I don't see Bandageface. A few of them have some light scratches, and the one on the left seems to have finally put out the fire I started on his clothes. I wince as I stand back up, ready to face them on my feet, and immediately fall back down. Shit. Spent. Too flashy jumping off the roof...

I can barely manage to hold my head up. Charlotte's voice whispers 'This is why casters are not front line fighters.' A morbid chuckle drips from my lips, as thick as the blood pooling between my knees. Slowly, I reach my left hand up into my right sleeve, determined to take at least one more of them down with me. That's when the first brick lands.