A kick sent the metal clattering and clanking down the mountain of junk, another jackpot turned...
-
An addendum to Rule 3 regarding fan-translated works of things such as Web Novels has been made. Please see here for details.
-
We've issued a clarification on our policy on AI-generated work.
-
Our mod selection process has completed. Please welcome our new moderators.
-
Due to issues with external spam filters, QQ is currently unable to send any mail to Microsoft E-mail addresses. This includes any account at live.com, hotmail.com or msn.com. Signing up to the forum with one of these addresses will result in your verification E-mail never arriving. For best results, please use a different E-mail provider for your QQ address.
-
The rules regarding NSFW links have been updated. See here for details.
Scavenger's Rest (Yugioh 5D's SI)
- Thread starter Maybe Mike
- Start date
- Created
- Status
- Incomplete
- Watchers
- 79
- Recent readers
- 0
- Threadmarks
- 3
-
Statistics (3 threadmarks, 10k words)
User Total Maybe Mike 3
Chapter 1: Aftermath
Maybe Mike
Maybe He's Born with It, Maybe its Mike
- Joined
- Nov 9, 2020
- Messages
- 70
- Likes received
- 563
A kick sent the metal clattering and clanking down the mountain of junk, another jackpot turned into pot luck. It landed with a resounding clang, and the muffled sound of cardboard, so he assumed it hit his little makeshift sled. With the back of his glove, he wiped the sweat from his brow, before reaching down and hauling what was, probably, the remnant of an engine block, so he could lower his legs down, using his two boots like a claw machine, snatching up what would probably get him the most from his little excursion.
Pulling it up, he shoved the engine block back into the hole, sending a not so insignificant wobble across the entire stack, but he only gave it long enough to steady himself, before he looked at the prize for the day.
It was a dual disk, or at least, one of the oldest models he'd seen in quite a long while which sent a hit of nostalgia and a smile across his face. Using his elbow, he rubbed off the grime that covered the life point counter, set at 3200 unmovingly. "Damn, unlucky. I'll have to fix it up then." Turning it over in his hands, he checked the deck slot, empty of course, but when he checked the Graveyard, he found a nice little surprise.
"'Bamboo Scrap', huh? Strange card to play, but it ain't like I can judge."
Shoving it into his own deck case on his waist, he tossed the duel disk down the side of the mountain as well, the scattering of metal told him it landed alright.
With a sigh, he ran a greasy and grim covered glove through his hair, looking out across the similar towering hills of scrap metal and trash. It was but the foreground to the complete devastation and ruin that was the rest of Satellite. Buildings that stood by miracles rather than true construction, dust clouds constantly billowing through the streets when it gets bad enough. The only good thing about this scrap yard, it was outside downtown Satellite…
Which also meant he had a long way to walk unless he wanted to make a shake here in the scrapyard…
He paused, and actually took a long hard look at the scrapyard.
Looking back down at the pile he was atop of, he began digging once more, this time actually shoving the broken quarter of the engine block off the mountain, pushing and shoving trash and smaller metal bits out of the way. The reward for his efforts was uncovering part of a car roof, which seemed like some truck, which he began to try and dig out.
His gloves hand moved at a steady pace, even as he stopped to use the back of his forearms and gloves to wipe sweat from his brow before it would trickle into his eyes. The more he uncovered of the roof, the more he had to start moving to the edge of the scrap hill, the balls of his feet being the only thing keeping him from toppling over the side into a nasty slide that would give him more bumps, bruises, and cuts than some of the fights he got into recently.
Reaching down, he grasped the edge of the roof, gently shifting his weight, putting his feet in better spots, before he began to lift, grunting with effort, he adjusted his grip, putting his hands underneath the roof, shifting the weight of what felt like half the hill, before he crouched down and stepped underneath the roof, now able to push up.
He felt the hill move then, as the weight slid off the top of the roof and off the side of the hill, before it felt like gravel shifting and falling, and he had to swiftly shove the roof over the same side to move to stable ground and avoid falling with half the hill.
Looking down at the collapsed scrap and trash, the greased glove ran once more through his hair, following it up and out the stand's end.
"Could of been worse."
Then he turned and looked down the other side where he shoved the roof… And the things on the roof…
Right onto where he had put his sled at the base of the hill…
He ran another glove through his hair, as a sigh of frustration escaped his lips.
"That's just f—"
He hauled it slowly yet consistently, as he always did. The cardboard box that sat on a plank of wood was hardly what he would call 'quality', but damn if it didn't make his job so much easier. Much much easier to drag cardboard across a mile of half collapsed and rubble filled road than running back and forth three times to get all the scrap he found.
The desolate and ruined city was as foreboding as it ever was, a monument to the folly of men who tried to save a crisis.
"Yeah…Saved us from an Energy Crisis to a post-apocalyptic one." He scoffed, grumbling with heat long lost.
Instead, he cast his gaze to the overcast sky, frowning at the idea of packing all his things inside. Rain was a blessed curse in this day in age. He got to collect rainwater, that he would no doubt spend the next morning doing nothing but running it through filter after filter after filter again, and wasn't fixing those things a real kick in the teeth, but then he also had to go and nab all the scrap and crap he left out to avoid the water rusting all that metal… Well, more than it already had.
He was almost on the corner that had the collapsed entrance to the diner he used as a home, he could almost see the first 'markers' he left around the street when they approached.
Four of them, wearing shitty leather jackets over denim overalls, two in front, two were leaning on each side of the street against the ruined buildings behind rubble, now standing and watching him. They all wore duel disks, all serious in their looks. He took the time to take each of them, noting the markers on their faces, before he stood tall and tossed the wire onto the sled. "Can I help you guys?" He offered kindly. Making sure to keep as many in his vision as he could.
"You Mike?" One of the pair in front asked, stepping forward a bit in a swagger.
No doubt they thought themselves a gangbanger from the older movies. "Maybe. Depends who's askin'." He brought up his hands, unstrapping the velcro from the wrist of a glove. "Ya'll don't look like Security, so yeah, what can I do for ya'?"
"Heard you were good at finding things, we were hoping you would share some of that 'luck' with a few unlucky souls." The four men got closer now, their leader walking forward with wide open arms "What's a few scavenger spots to you? Everyone's seen you selling some quality things at the Bazaar, sometimes offering something extra to the less fortunate. You're probably got all the money and cards anyone could ever ask for! Help some other less fortunate out!"
He unstrapped the Velcro off his other hand, they were now dangling from the wrists from the strap he sewed into the gloves. "Look man, I don't really have anything I can offer, but I'll happily teach you a few tricks I've used to get by."
The offer went on deaf ears, they clearly were wanting something more substantial for that, so his hand moved to the duel disk as theirs move to theirs-
A hand clapped onto my shoulder, "I believe, you all should rethink that course of action."
Beside him, a man in a Biker's outfit right out of the wild west stepped up and in front. "Else, you will deal with him and me. I promise you, it will not be worth the trouble."
The four traded glances, before one spoke up "You said he was a loner."
The leader glared at the new-arivee "He was." Looking between the Biker and Him, the leader jerked his head, and the assaulters moved off, scurrying into the alleyway they apparently came from.
He looked to the Biker, who was still looking to where the men slunk off to, before putting his hands back in his gloves. "Not that I don't mind the help," The Biker turned their heads towards him, even as I continued to strap on my gloves "But this ain't exactly the neighborhood where friendly deeds go unpunished." He lugged his hands onto the wire and once more had it over his shoulder.
The Biker, for their credit at least, didn't outwardly react to his words. "I'm looking for parts, I'm in the process of building myself a duel runner and have heard many good words about your ability to supply the esoteric."
He drummed his fingers on the wiring, before casting his eyes into the still thunderous clouds, before he sighed, ran a glove through his hair, and shook his head. "Alright, we'll talk at my place." He tugged hard on the sled, pulling it forward as the Biker followed after.
Thirty feet was the totality of the distance to the entrance.
It almost annoyed him that people knew where the hell he lived, no doubt someone would try to steal something from him… Well, he kept the valuables out of sight and out of the building if nothing else.
Shoving aside the giant stone that served as a makeshift door, he pulled, and then kicked the sled inside to a clattering of cans and metals as he held up the stone. Motioning for the Biker to enter and putting the rock back in place.
The inside was gloomy, there was metal, Bittys, Bobs, and Roberts no matter where you looked or stepped. The Biker immediately started giving him a headache, kicking and clattering all the carefully laid bits he used to tell if some idiot was inside or not.
"Hold on, jeez, let me light something for you." He complained, stepping along the edge of the wall, holding onto what was once windows, and now nothing but hollow outcroppings he put tarps on. Even if you removed them, one would only see rocks, rocks, and more rocks. Thank you collapsed building.
He didn't particularly care if the Biker saw him, that was what the traps in the next room were for.
And the sheleighleigh.
Once he was across the minefield of metal, he untied his gloves once again and nabbed his lighter to ignite candle after candle after various states of melted candle, lighting the once family establishment into its rubbly glory.
It was a diner, Japanese style of course, with a counter island in the center where you would sit and eat and watch the Cook cook on the grill, with backrooms leading into bathrooms, utilities, and roof access. Though, of course, the only thing left of the counter was the grill, he stripped the wood ages ago, and the grill itself was now a table surrounded by the four stools he decided were enough to keep.
The biker took it all in, still unreadable with his face hidden, the only real attention that drew his eye, was the definition in the arms. It sure as hell were the arms of someone used to having the muscle, probably weight, could be drugs, though not enough if they were satisfied with that while hopped up on steroids.
"So," His voice caused the Biker to look over "Should I get the tea, alcohol, or a weapon for this sorta exchange?"
Whatever he thought the Biker would say or do, it wasn't just not reacting. "None is fine, I merely wish to know if you have a certain part I need, or possibly where I could acquire it and some electronics."
He looked at the biker for a long hard minute, before he looked down and once more grabbed the wire, bare handed this time, and pulled the truck roof off of it. He set it against the wall, before grabbing the box, and shoving it on the grill turned table. "Well, I can probably help with the former, definitely the later. It depends on what you're needing. Duel Runners, let alone their parts, ain't exactly easy or cheap to find or buy respectively."
The Biker looked to the stool before to him, which he motioned for the Biker to it. Sitting, the Biker leaned forward on the grill top with their elbows and their fingers locking. "I'm looking for a few things, mainly a front fork, but if you have access to pedals or an ignition system, I will of course also offer compensation for the latter two in addition to the fork."
Sorting through the crate, He scattered the duel disk to the edge, before taking bittys and bobs and roberts out one after the other, spring, wiring, bits of metal he thought he could sell, mostly whatever he thought looked good and might sell for a pretty penny. Most of it was, unequivocally, Scrap.
"Well, I definitely have a front fork somewhere, I probably have pedals, honestly can't tell you what condition they're in without checking," He took out an oil stained rag in an attempt to rub out a grime covered spring, sighing when finding it wasn't a coppery color underneath "I sure as hell don't have an Ignition system. Stuff doesn't sell, but I can send you to a guy who's far more into collecting car parts than I am." He shrugged, running another hand through his hair, before realizing he didn't have a glove on. He shook the hand with a tongue out, using the rag to try and wipe away all the grease and grime and oil off the hand.
"That will be enough for me then, how long until you have the parts?" The Biker inquired
With that, he looked up at the Biker, giving a long hard stare, before he nodded at him. "Loose the helmet."
The Biker withdrew, his helmeted head drawing back
"If someone says something, yet won't you in the eyes, its false or they're trying to scam you." He told the Biker, not unkindly. "I need to look into others' eyes when I make deals. So, lose the helmet, or no deal."
The Biker was still for a long while, no doubt thinking through the choice in their head. Finally, hesitantly, they raised their hands, and unstrapped the chinstrap and lifted the helmet from their head.
He had to admit, the Biker was definitely a looker, even with the blackish grey hair. The cheekbones and jawline alone… Maybe Biker was a model before the catastrophe?
He nodded, his blue eyes meeting the pale blue of the Biker. "I can get the parts now, so long as you have money, or better yet, something of good value for trade."
The Biker nodded, reaching into their jacket and holding up a carton of cigarettes.
"I'll get the parts then."
He stepped away then and there.
He never saw the Biker again after that. Never learned his name, never bothered. Yet, he knew the man was around.
The Biker, no doubt about it, was the same one who was said to be going about on a Duel Runner. Who had quite a following given the rumor mill in the Bazar, a man building a bridge on his own, gathering followers who shared the Biker's dream.
He never went to see it, too busy in his endless search for scrap to sell, but he did hear when Security went on a Warpath. The man's group disbanded or arrested, and the Man's legendary ride to Freedom.
Well, at least he could brag of selling parts to 'The Legend'.
He still has a drunken bet going that the man survived.
A/N: Fill free to point out corrections. I sure as hell did only a pass over for corrections.
Pulling it up, he shoved the engine block back into the hole, sending a not so insignificant wobble across the entire stack, but he only gave it long enough to steady himself, before he looked at the prize for the day.
It was a dual disk, or at least, one of the oldest models he'd seen in quite a long while which sent a hit of nostalgia and a smile across his face. Using his elbow, he rubbed off the grime that covered the life point counter, set at 3200 unmovingly. "Damn, unlucky. I'll have to fix it up then." Turning it over in his hands, he checked the deck slot, empty of course, but when he checked the Graveyard, he found a nice little surprise.
"'Bamboo Scrap', huh? Strange card to play, but it ain't like I can judge."
Shoving it into his own deck case on his waist, he tossed the duel disk down the side of the mountain as well, the scattering of metal told him it landed alright.
With a sigh, he ran a greasy and grim covered glove through his hair, looking out across the similar towering hills of scrap metal and trash. It was but the foreground to the complete devastation and ruin that was the rest of Satellite. Buildings that stood by miracles rather than true construction, dust clouds constantly billowing through the streets when it gets bad enough. The only good thing about this scrap yard, it was outside downtown Satellite…
Which also meant he had a long way to walk unless he wanted to make a shake here in the scrapyard…
He paused, and actually took a long hard look at the scrapyard.
Looking back down at the pile he was atop of, he began digging once more, this time actually shoving the broken quarter of the engine block off the mountain, pushing and shoving trash and smaller metal bits out of the way. The reward for his efforts was uncovering part of a car roof, which seemed like some truck, which he began to try and dig out.
His gloves hand moved at a steady pace, even as he stopped to use the back of his forearms and gloves to wipe sweat from his brow before it would trickle into his eyes. The more he uncovered of the roof, the more he had to start moving to the edge of the scrap hill, the balls of his feet being the only thing keeping him from toppling over the side into a nasty slide that would give him more bumps, bruises, and cuts than some of the fights he got into recently.
Reaching down, he grasped the edge of the roof, gently shifting his weight, putting his feet in better spots, before he began to lift, grunting with effort, he adjusted his grip, putting his hands underneath the roof, shifting the weight of what felt like half the hill, before he crouched down and stepped underneath the roof, now able to push up.
He felt the hill move then, as the weight slid off the top of the roof and off the side of the hill, before it felt like gravel shifting and falling, and he had to swiftly shove the roof over the same side to move to stable ground and avoid falling with half the hill.
Looking down at the collapsed scrap and trash, the greased glove ran once more through his hair, following it up and out the stand's end.
"Could of been worse."
Then he turned and looked down the other side where he shoved the roof… And the things on the roof…
Right onto where he had put his sled at the base of the hill…
He ran another glove through his hair, as a sigh of frustration escaped his lips.
"That's just f—"
He hauled it slowly yet consistently, as he always did. The cardboard box that sat on a plank of wood was hardly what he would call 'quality', but damn if it didn't make his job so much easier. Much much easier to drag cardboard across a mile of half collapsed and rubble filled road than running back and forth three times to get all the scrap he found.
The desolate and ruined city was as foreboding as it ever was, a monument to the folly of men who tried to save a crisis.
"Yeah…Saved us from an Energy Crisis to a post-apocalyptic one." He scoffed, grumbling with heat long lost.
Instead, he cast his gaze to the overcast sky, frowning at the idea of packing all his things inside. Rain was a blessed curse in this day in age. He got to collect rainwater, that he would no doubt spend the next morning doing nothing but running it through filter after filter after filter again, and wasn't fixing those things a real kick in the teeth, but then he also had to go and nab all the scrap and crap he left out to avoid the water rusting all that metal… Well, more than it already had.
He was almost on the corner that had the collapsed entrance to the diner he used as a home, he could almost see the first 'markers' he left around the street when they approached.
Four of them, wearing shitty leather jackets over denim overalls, two in front, two were leaning on each side of the street against the ruined buildings behind rubble, now standing and watching him. They all wore duel disks, all serious in their looks. He took the time to take each of them, noting the markers on their faces, before he stood tall and tossed the wire onto the sled. "Can I help you guys?" He offered kindly. Making sure to keep as many in his vision as he could.
"You Mike?" One of the pair in front asked, stepping forward a bit in a swagger.
No doubt they thought themselves a gangbanger from the older movies. "Maybe. Depends who's askin'." He brought up his hands, unstrapping the velcro from the wrist of a glove. "Ya'll don't look like Security, so yeah, what can I do for ya'?"
"Heard you were good at finding things, we were hoping you would share some of that 'luck' with a few unlucky souls." The four men got closer now, their leader walking forward with wide open arms "What's a few scavenger spots to you? Everyone's seen you selling some quality things at the Bazaar, sometimes offering something extra to the less fortunate. You're probably got all the money and cards anyone could ever ask for! Help some other less fortunate out!"
He unstrapped the Velcro off his other hand, they were now dangling from the wrists from the strap he sewed into the gloves. "Look man, I don't really have anything I can offer, but I'll happily teach you a few tricks I've used to get by."
The offer went on deaf ears, they clearly were wanting something more substantial for that, so his hand moved to the duel disk as theirs move to theirs-
A hand clapped onto my shoulder, "I believe, you all should rethink that course of action."
Beside him, a man in a Biker's outfit right out of the wild west stepped up and in front. "Else, you will deal with him and me. I promise you, it will not be worth the trouble."
The four traded glances, before one spoke up "You said he was a loner."
The leader glared at the new-arivee "He was." Looking between the Biker and Him, the leader jerked his head, and the assaulters moved off, scurrying into the alleyway they apparently came from.
He looked to the Biker, who was still looking to where the men slunk off to, before putting his hands back in his gloves. "Not that I don't mind the help," The Biker turned their heads towards him, even as I continued to strap on my gloves "But this ain't exactly the neighborhood where friendly deeds go unpunished." He lugged his hands onto the wire and once more had it over his shoulder.
The Biker, for their credit at least, didn't outwardly react to his words. "I'm looking for parts, I'm in the process of building myself a duel runner and have heard many good words about your ability to supply the esoteric."
He drummed his fingers on the wiring, before casting his eyes into the still thunderous clouds, before he sighed, ran a glove through his hair, and shook his head. "Alright, we'll talk at my place." He tugged hard on the sled, pulling it forward as the Biker followed after.
Thirty feet was the totality of the distance to the entrance.
It almost annoyed him that people knew where the hell he lived, no doubt someone would try to steal something from him… Well, he kept the valuables out of sight and out of the building if nothing else.
Shoving aside the giant stone that served as a makeshift door, he pulled, and then kicked the sled inside to a clattering of cans and metals as he held up the stone. Motioning for the Biker to enter and putting the rock back in place.
The inside was gloomy, there was metal, Bittys, Bobs, and Roberts no matter where you looked or stepped. The Biker immediately started giving him a headache, kicking and clattering all the carefully laid bits he used to tell if some idiot was inside or not.
"Hold on, jeez, let me light something for you." He complained, stepping along the edge of the wall, holding onto what was once windows, and now nothing but hollow outcroppings he put tarps on. Even if you removed them, one would only see rocks, rocks, and more rocks. Thank you collapsed building.
He didn't particularly care if the Biker saw him, that was what the traps in the next room were for.
And the sheleighleigh.
Once he was across the minefield of metal, he untied his gloves once again and nabbed his lighter to ignite candle after candle after various states of melted candle, lighting the once family establishment into its rubbly glory.
It was a diner, Japanese style of course, with a counter island in the center where you would sit and eat and watch the Cook cook on the grill, with backrooms leading into bathrooms, utilities, and roof access. Though, of course, the only thing left of the counter was the grill, he stripped the wood ages ago, and the grill itself was now a table surrounded by the four stools he decided were enough to keep.
The biker took it all in, still unreadable with his face hidden, the only real attention that drew his eye, was the definition in the arms. It sure as hell were the arms of someone used to having the muscle, probably weight, could be drugs, though not enough if they were satisfied with that while hopped up on steroids.
"So," His voice caused the Biker to look over "Should I get the tea, alcohol, or a weapon for this sorta exchange?"
Whatever he thought the Biker would say or do, it wasn't just not reacting. "None is fine, I merely wish to know if you have a certain part I need, or possibly where I could acquire it and some electronics."
He looked at the biker for a long hard minute, before he looked down and once more grabbed the wire, bare handed this time, and pulled the truck roof off of it. He set it against the wall, before grabbing the box, and shoving it on the grill turned table. "Well, I can probably help with the former, definitely the later. It depends on what you're needing. Duel Runners, let alone their parts, ain't exactly easy or cheap to find or buy respectively."
The Biker looked to the stool before to him, which he motioned for the Biker to it. Sitting, the Biker leaned forward on the grill top with their elbows and their fingers locking. "I'm looking for a few things, mainly a front fork, but if you have access to pedals or an ignition system, I will of course also offer compensation for the latter two in addition to the fork."
Sorting through the crate, He scattered the duel disk to the edge, before taking bittys and bobs and roberts out one after the other, spring, wiring, bits of metal he thought he could sell, mostly whatever he thought looked good and might sell for a pretty penny. Most of it was, unequivocally, Scrap.
"Well, I definitely have a front fork somewhere, I probably have pedals, honestly can't tell you what condition they're in without checking," He took out an oil stained rag in an attempt to rub out a grime covered spring, sighing when finding it wasn't a coppery color underneath "I sure as hell don't have an Ignition system. Stuff doesn't sell, but I can send you to a guy who's far more into collecting car parts than I am." He shrugged, running another hand through his hair, before realizing he didn't have a glove on. He shook the hand with a tongue out, using the rag to try and wipe away all the grease and grime and oil off the hand.
"That will be enough for me then, how long until you have the parts?" The Biker inquired
With that, he looked up at the Biker, giving a long hard stare, before he nodded at him. "Loose the helmet."
The Biker withdrew, his helmeted head drawing back
"If someone says something, yet won't you in the eyes, its false or they're trying to scam you." He told the Biker, not unkindly. "I need to look into others' eyes when I make deals. So, lose the helmet, or no deal."
The Biker was still for a long while, no doubt thinking through the choice in their head. Finally, hesitantly, they raised their hands, and unstrapped the chinstrap and lifted the helmet from their head.
He had to admit, the Biker was definitely a looker, even with the blackish grey hair. The cheekbones and jawline alone… Maybe Biker was a model before the catastrophe?
He nodded, his blue eyes meeting the pale blue of the Biker. "I can get the parts now, so long as you have money, or better yet, something of good value for trade."
The Biker nodded, reaching into their jacket and holding up a carton of cigarettes.
"I'll get the parts then."
He stepped away then and there.
He never saw the Biker again after that. Never learned his name, never bothered. Yet, he knew the man was around.
The Biker, no doubt about it, was the same one who was said to be going about on a Duel Runner. Who had quite a following given the rumor mill in the Bazar, a man building a bridge on his own, gathering followers who shared the Biker's dream.
He never went to see it, too busy in his endless search for scrap to sell, but he did hear when Security went on a Warpath. The man's group disbanded or arrested, and the Man's legendary ride to Freedom.
Well, at least he could brag of selling parts to 'The Legend'.
He still has a drunken bet going that the man survived.
A/N: Fill free to point out corrections. I sure as hell did only a pass over for corrections.
Chapter 2: New Home & Old Friends
Maybe Mike
Maybe He's Born with It, Maybe its Mike
- Joined
- Nov 9, 2020
- Messages
- 70
- Likes received
- 563
The day was bright in its dreariness.
Thunder clouds overhead, yet still had the sun peaking through enough it was a good enough day. No rain was always nice, despite how essential it was to life in Satellite he did not enjoy filtering it over and over again. No rain also meant he could actually go out and salvage what he needed rather than twiddling his thumbs inside trying to figure out how the hell he was going to sell anything.
No, today he was doing something he should have done the moment he found the Scrapyard.
He shoved the tip into the dirt, before his boot shoved it deeper down, before he lifted, tossing the displaced dirt into its nice pile, before tossing the shovel like a javelin, stuck fast with a twang! Ignoring the shovel for a moment, he positioned the aluminum sheet of metal he stole off the back of a truck carefully, checking the edges and the small trench he dug in the dirt. After considering it, making minute adjustments, he nodded his head.
Holding it up with one hand, he ran a glove through his hair, sighing. "Well, it's good enough. I'll have to no doubt find something to bolt things onto it, but this is a good start if nothing else."
Shoving the sheet metal in he nabbed the shovel and began to cover the base of the sheet in dirt. Stomping and stamping in the dirt in a vain attempt to solidify it enough to hold the sheet. With that done, he repeated the process, making yet another trench and placing a bay window frame in its place. Probably going to be the door in all honesty.
He made two more trenches, but shoved the dirt to the side since he didn't even have anything to put in place for the moment. With any luck, by the end of the day he'll be able to sort that problem out.
Planting the shove in the ground, he ran a hand through his hair, rubbing away the sweat and vainly trying to get his scalp some breathing room. Looking across the small clearing he made, it was the only place of the scrap yard to actually have dirt you didn't have to dig down to find. Took him all morning to come out here and clear away the trash and scrap, but now he had his own little courtyard.
Looking up to the piles of trash, scrap, and junk surrounding him on all sides, his lips quivered into a small smile, "I got my own little Castle." Kicking a piece of pipe into one of the surrounding hills, he smirked "A castle fit for a King alright. Walls as strong as steel."
Looking at the buildings in the distance past the hills, he sighed again. "Best to not wait." Turning his head, he shrugged his shoulders and moved to the closest hill and began to climb. There was both an ease and difficulty in climbing through these things, though he supposed you could say that about any pile that wasn't dirt… Anyways, atop this newest hill, he took to peering out across the scrap yard. It was a vain hope, admittedly, he would find what he was looking for, yet look he did.
Turning his gaze away from the hills surrounding him, he instead looked up to the sky. He'd long lost track of what the actual seasons were, yet he couldn't help but think it was getting colder in the world. The wind chiller, the air colder, the days… Well, in truth he couldn't track that and to be honest he hadn't paid much attention to them. If they were getting longer or shorter, he definitely couldn't tell. If it was actually getting colder, he feared how in the world Satellite would be able to handle it…
He sighed, rubbing his scalp. "I can barely help myself here."
Getting to his knees, he began to dig.
Who knows? Maybe he'd find something he could sell.
The worst thing about living outside of Downtown satellite, is the travel distance. While he would be more than happy to bemoan the constant walking and dragging of his sled, if he had the strength for it that is, that wasn't what he was referring to here.
The desolate streets are full of rubble and destroyed cars, the buildings around lean every which direction, none of them safely. Several streets had collapsed buildings on the road, so you either had to climb over the dangerously unsafe rubble or go around. Of course, treacherous streets and paths aside, you also had the normal problems when strolling through Satellite. The Dueling Gangs generally had run of the places they held up. They were small things, barely better than scavenger's with duel disks really, yet they would still take your things if you couldn't show your own strength.
To him though, it was the silence which got to him. The mirror image of what a downtown metro area should look like, if given into destruction. There's no people, there's no sound of moving cars, let alone animals that might actually sound out. Rats existed within the subways, birds didn't exist except in the rarest of cases or in books, everything above ground? Left for the worms.
How do you describe a vibrant city reduced to wind? Once, he walked down these streets, laughing and talking to a friend without a real care, only the next time he got to duel someone. Living life paycheck to paycheck as he always had. Now? Now, every crack, every pile of rubble, It was a concrete jungle with none of the wildlife and dead trees. It was depressing.
He handled it as he handled a lot of things in his life. He shoved it from his mind, did not think of it. It became background noise he saw but didn't see. Being tired, exhausted, and hot only made the task so much easier.
The silence only lasted for another block, when the sound of explosions filled the air alongside cheering people. He came around the corner to watch a Blue armored, white coat centaur absolutely covered in pristine white feathers slice across with their sword. The strike obliterated a horde of goblins, sending their controller to the ground from the resultant solid vision explosion. The cheers of the spectators were rapturous, as with all duels that involved duel disks.
Ever since the Incident, the Satellite has had a distinct lack of the almost mythical Duel Disks. Despite the fact the ground they walked on was the very bones of Duel Monsters, duel disks were a rarity in and of themselves. If you had one, you were someone. People traded arms and legs for these sorts of things. One only needed to look at the duel gangs, who made themselves at home wherever they could keep. One need only look to sector security, who even now imposed themselves as the end all be all of Satellite. They were almost a direct cause for the shortage, but that was a different matter.
Of course, you could also look at the one on his wrist. But it'd be a bit foolish in his opinion.
He slipped past the crowd, hauling his sled behind him, attempting to make it past and away from the colloquial 'dueling alley'... Were it so easy.
From the blind, a series of curses, before a weight slammed into his shoulder that made him half stumble out of surprise. "WELL, WELL, WELL!" a hand grasped his other shoulder, while an arm pulled him close into a half hug "If it isn't Mr. Scavenger himself! After your last visit of kicking me up and down the Alley, I thought when you said you were done you weren't gonna come back!" The laugh that followed irked him beyond measure "HEHAHA! I KNEW YOU COULDN'T STAY AWAY!"
He glare down at the speaker with the same vitriol one gave an annoying younger brother. "Seamus, for the last time," He grasped the side of the younger man's cheek with his glove, before shoving him away and on his butt.
'Ack! You got muck all over my face!'
"ask before you start getting huggy! I swear, you don't learn ANYTHING I teach you!" He spat through clenched teeth "I'm hot, tired, and not in the mood to deal with you right now!"
He grasped his wire once more, giving a more forceful yank than he really needed, he barely took a step before Seamus was once again standing before him with his arms wide open like he was begging. "C'mon Mike! It's been WEEKS since anyone's seen you! Last anyone heard, you were moving out west away from downtown! Even your old place in the restaurant had all your stuff gone and was trashed" Seamus showed honest concern across his features, putting his hands together in a prayer for forgiveness "Look, I'm SORRY I got ahead of myself man, I really really am, but I was really worried for ya' man!"
He sighed, running a hand through his hair, glancing at the watching crowd, before sighing again and hanging his head with a shake. "Alright, it's fine,-" - He couldn't even finish his exasperated sighing words before Seamus gave a fist pump - "I'll talk to you while I go set up my stall and get news."
The younger man was opening his mouth, no doubt to spew something obnoxious, before a voice piped up from the crowd "Hey Boss, whos the homeless lookin' guy? Should we knock some sense into 'em?"
Almost instantly, Seamus' concerned yet happy demeanor turned furious, rounding on the poor sod "Watch your mouth, you idiot! You might not realize it, but this 'Homeless lookin' guy' made me the guy I am today! He taught me everythin' 'bout Duel Monsters and even made me this duel disk I use now!-" He didn't, he found it, fixed the cracked display, and gave it as a birthday gift - "Not only that, but he's easily the greatest player I've ever met, probably in all of satellite-" It was literally just Seamus who said that - "So you will show my Teacher some respe- Where'd he go?"
Seamus finally noticed he didn't stop while he was busy yelling at whatever groupie, underling, subordinate, whatever that person was to Seamus, and instead kept pulling his sled along.
"H-hey, wait up!" The sound of pounding steps was behind him, before it momentarily stopped as the fool bounced on one foot, the other raised in the air as he hollar'd back "Y'all get goin"! I'll come back 'round later!" Before Seamus caught up with him again. "So how's the best Teacher in the whole wide world doin' nowadays, eh?! Eh?!?!"
He could only sigh.
There was a saying that cropped up, almost as soon as people began gathering to sell things here. He certainly didn't know who started the saying, people he asked didn't know, so he assumed it was lost to the wonders of time. 'If it exists within satellite, you can find it in the Market'. It was the words of people in desperate need of hope after surviving a cataclysm. He remembered the earliest days when those words were spoken, the Market being a gathering place for the lost and destitute they had all become. People searched for family, for what they've lost, even just searching for something to cling onto.
Very very few found what they were looking for.
Now, it was a flickering torch amidst the cold ruins of Old Domino city, existing as a gathering point for anyone and everyone that had no place to call their own and from where Scavengers sell to what could loosely be called Traders. Barter was the king of the Land in this Market, you traded something you had for something someone was offering. If you couldn't find what you were looking for, you either left or hiked up and waited for the trader to come to you.
And what was traded for these items? The most stable thing that existed in Satellite.
"Whell, what do we have here? That no good, town skippin' Scavenger!" The fogey which stood behind a stall on a stool "Thought you was gone for good, leavin' fer as long as you did. Almost gave up your spot ya' know." The man who looked right out of an old folks home looked him up and down judgmentally, as the few sparse scraggly white hairs on his chinny chin chin only sold the judgmental look on his face.
Before the old man took the time to insult him further, he unhooked a glove from its velcro strap. With the newly freed hand, he nabbed the two particular cards from a slot on his belt and slapped them down on the counter of the old man's stall.
Without wasting a moment, the old man swiped them from where they lay to inspect them. The old man's smirking smile split into a grin "Whell, whell, whell! Sure looks like you're still as good as you ever were!" The man showed off the Millennium Shield and Millennium Golem cards like the prizes they were.
He could feel Seamus drool behind him, even if he couldn't see it. "It's a gift for how long I've been gone… And for keeping my spot clear." His 'spot' being basically an extension of the old man's own little shack they called a trader's shelf. Old Man was a doorway away from where he actually slept and lived, practically mocked him for having to travel so far to reach here in comparison. "Anything change since I was last here?"
The old man chuffed at that "What hasn't? The security folks almost finished their big construction project. It's only a matter of weeks before Satellite becomes the City's dumping ground. The new factories are already done and waiting."
Wasn't that the truth. The City spent more money making that giant pipeline than they ever did to help the people of Satellite recover from the explosion that rocked the city. They through their backs into enlarging the gap between Satellite and New Domino, let alone the fact it was already turned into an island by the explosion. With the added Factories that will probably be mandated by New Domino to be worked by the people here? It will be a bigger mess than it has any right to be.
"Grrr, New Domino has no right to be doing what its doing, man! Bad enough they leave us out here to fend for ourselves, now they're gonna make us work?!" Seamus popped up, out of his drooling over a couple cards. "C'mon Mike! You're the best duelist around! Surely we could go show Security what for!"
Already he had half of the scrap off his sled, making it look nice enough in presentation. The shinier bits he polished with a grease rag to catch the eye, the more useful in the back for those who come to investigate. Lightbulbs, wires, hotplates that would probably work, scrap parts he ripped from broken generators, the whole shebang. Even a couple car parts, though those rarely sold unless he went out of his way to go see Victor.
He shook his head at Seamus' words. "You already know one man can't fight an entire city, Seamus. Thought I beat that into your head enough when I taught you how to survive in the Satellite."
"Yeah, but the Legendary Man-"
"Was a Man who failed." He turned and looked hard down into Seamus' eyes. "He didn't fight because he knew it was a pipe dream. So, he took the route available to him."
Seamus tried to hold his gaze, before they eventually wavered and then looked to the asphalt, kicking it in frustration. "There's gotta be some way to fight back…"
He shrugged his shoulders, sighing and running his gloved hand through his hair. "Keeping your deck and becoming a strong duelist is already enough. Win, gather people who believe in you and maybe one day you'll have a force Security can't reckon with. Winners control everything in this world." It was a pitiful offering to a frustrated youth. But, Seamus needed some vague words like that, to direct his need to do something if nothing else.
He looked to the old man, who was scratching their scraggly thin beard as he watched the exchange, before he nodded and the Old Man huffed yet continued
"Besides that, you gave the Market quite a scare with ya' disappearin' act. Had people hounding me for days lookin' for info." The old man grouched, harrumphing many harrumphs. "People thought one of the gangs nabbed ya, or maybe Security finally decided to lock you up for somethin'. Especially when people found out your place was emptied and trashed."
He shrugged at the news. "I found a new place out of Downtown. Punks were sniffing around anyhow. Better to get while the getting was good." He looked down at the still unmoving life point score of the Duel Disk, before placing it behind the counter. He could work on it as he was trying to sell.
"Kage's gang was also lookin' for ya' again."
For once, the old man's words gave him pause. He stopped arranging his stock to stand still for a long few moments, before he slowly began to continue what he was doing. "I… See… Did you tell them anything?"
The Old man smiled at that "Heh, who do you think I am?"
He sighed, running his glove through his hair-
"Oh yeah, I was meaning to ask. So what's with the whole dyed hair?" Seamus interjected, pointing at his own hair for reference "You trying to hide from someone, Teacher?"
He blinked once, then twice, then looked at Seamus for a long hard moment. "...What?"
"You hair." Seamus pointed again, eliciting his point "It's all dark and greasy and stained. Are you trying to dye it or something?"
He didn't say anything at that as he processed through the words. Then he picked up the car wheel he shined to attract customers and look at himself through the reflect.
At his near pitch black hair, showing none of the natural blond he was.
He groaned at the unfairness of it all.
A/N: Corrections are always welcome.
Thunder clouds overhead, yet still had the sun peaking through enough it was a good enough day. No rain was always nice, despite how essential it was to life in Satellite he did not enjoy filtering it over and over again. No rain also meant he could actually go out and salvage what he needed rather than twiddling his thumbs inside trying to figure out how the hell he was going to sell anything.
No, today he was doing something he should have done the moment he found the Scrapyard.
He shoved the tip into the dirt, before his boot shoved it deeper down, before he lifted, tossing the displaced dirt into its nice pile, before tossing the shovel like a javelin, stuck fast with a twang! Ignoring the shovel for a moment, he positioned the aluminum sheet of metal he stole off the back of a truck carefully, checking the edges and the small trench he dug in the dirt. After considering it, making minute adjustments, he nodded his head.
Holding it up with one hand, he ran a glove through his hair, sighing. "Well, it's good enough. I'll have to no doubt find something to bolt things onto it, but this is a good start if nothing else."
Shoving the sheet metal in he nabbed the shovel and began to cover the base of the sheet in dirt. Stomping and stamping in the dirt in a vain attempt to solidify it enough to hold the sheet. With that done, he repeated the process, making yet another trench and placing a bay window frame in its place. Probably going to be the door in all honesty.
He made two more trenches, but shoved the dirt to the side since he didn't even have anything to put in place for the moment. With any luck, by the end of the day he'll be able to sort that problem out.
Planting the shove in the ground, he ran a hand through his hair, rubbing away the sweat and vainly trying to get his scalp some breathing room. Looking across the small clearing he made, it was the only place of the scrap yard to actually have dirt you didn't have to dig down to find. Took him all morning to come out here and clear away the trash and scrap, but now he had his own little courtyard.
Looking up to the piles of trash, scrap, and junk surrounding him on all sides, his lips quivered into a small smile, "I got my own little Castle." Kicking a piece of pipe into one of the surrounding hills, he smirked "A castle fit for a King alright. Walls as strong as steel."
Looking at the buildings in the distance past the hills, he sighed again. "Best to not wait." Turning his head, he shrugged his shoulders and moved to the closest hill and began to climb. There was both an ease and difficulty in climbing through these things, though he supposed you could say that about any pile that wasn't dirt… Anyways, atop this newest hill, he took to peering out across the scrap yard. It was a vain hope, admittedly, he would find what he was looking for, yet look he did.
Turning his gaze away from the hills surrounding him, he instead looked up to the sky. He'd long lost track of what the actual seasons were, yet he couldn't help but think it was getting colder in the world. The wind chiller, the air colder, the days… Well, in truth he couldn't track that and to be honest he hadn't paid much attention to them. If they were getting longer or shorter, he definitely couldn't tell. If it was actually getting colder, he feared how in the world Satellite would be able to handle it…
He sighed, rubbing his scalp. "I can barely help myself here."
Getting to his knees, he began to dig.
Who knows? Maybe he'd find something he could sell.
The worst thing about living outside of Downtown satellite, is the travel distance. While he would be more than happy to bemoan the constant walking and dragging of his sled, if he had the strength for it that is, that wasn't what he was referring to here.
The desolate streets are full of rubble and destroyed cars, the buildings around lean every which direction, none of them safely. Several streets had collapsed buildings on the road, so you either had to climb over the dangerously unsafe rubble or go around. Of course, treacherous streets and paths aside, you also had the normal problems when strolling through Satellite. The Dueling Gangs generally had run of the places they held up. They were small things, barely better than scavenger's with duel disks really, yet they would still take your things if you couldn't show your own strength.
To him though, it was the silence which got to him. The mirror image of what a downtown metro area should look like, if given into destruction. There's no people, there's no sound of moving cars, let alone animals that might actually sound out. Rats existed within the subways, birds didn't exist except in the rarest of cases or in books, everything above ground? Left for the worms.
How do you describe a vibrant city reduced to wind? Once, he walked down these streets, laughing and talking to a friend without a real care, only the next time he got to duel someone. Living life paycheck to paycheck as he always had. Now? Now, every crack, every pile of rubble, It was a concrete jungle with none of the wildlife and dead trees. It was depressing.
He handled it as he handled a lot of things in his life. He shoved it from his mind, did not think of it. It became background noise he saw but didn't see. Being tired, exhausted, and hot only made the task so much easier.
The silence only lasted for another block, when the sound of explosions filled the air alongside cheering people. He came around the corner to watch a Blue armored, white coat centaur absolutely covered in pristine white feathers slice across with their sword. The strike obliterated a horde of goblins, sending their controller to the ground from the resultant solid vision explosion. The cheers of the spectators were rapturous, as with all duels that involved duel disks.
Ever since the Incident, the Satellite has had a distinct lack of the almost mythical Duel Disks. Despite the fact the ground they walked on was the very bones of Duel Monsters, duel disks were a rarity in and of themselves. If you had one, you were someone. People traded arms and legs for these sorts of things. One only needed to look at the duel gangs, who made themselves at home wherever they could keep. One need only look to sector security, who even now imposed themselves as the end all be all of Satellite. They were almost a direct cause for the shortage, but that was a different matter.
Of course, you could also look at the one on his wrist. But it'd be a bit foolish in his opinion.
He slipped past the crowd, hauling his sled behind him, attempting to make it past and away from the colloquial 'dueling alley'... Were it so easy.
From the blind, a series of curses, before a weight slammed into his shoulder that made him half stumble out of surprise. "WELL, WELL, WELL!" a hand grasped his other shoulder, while an arm pulled him close into a half hug "If it isn't Mr. Scavenger himself! After your last visit of kicking me up and down the Alley, I thought when you said you were done you weren't gonna come back!" The laugh that followed irked him beyond measure "HEHAHA! I KNEW YOU COULDN'T STAY AWAY!"
He glare down at the speaker with the same vitriol one gave an annoying younger brother. "Seamus, for the last time," He grasped the side of the younger man's cheek with his glove, before shoving him away and on his butt.
'Ack! You got muck all over my face!'
"ask before you start getting huggy! I swear, you don't learn ANYTHING I teach you!" He spat through clenched teeth "I'm hot, tired, and not in the mood to deal with you right now!"
He grasped his wire once more, giving a more forceful yank than he really needed, he barely took a step before Seamus was once again standing before him with his arms wide open like he was begging. "C'mon Mike! It's been WEEKS since anyone's seen you! Last anyone heard, you were moving out west away from downtown! Even your old place in the restaurant had all your stuff gone and was trashed" Seamus showed honest concern across his features, putting his hands together in a prayer for forgiveness "Look, I'm SORRY I got ahead of myself man, I really really am, but I was really worried for ya' man!"
He sighed, running a hand through his hair, glancing at the watching crowd, before sighing again and hanging his head with a shake. "Alright, it's fine,-" - He couldn't even finish his exasperated sighing words before Seamus gave a fist pump - "I'll talk to you while I go set up my stall and get news."
The younger man was opening his mouth, no doubt to spew something obnoxious, before a voice piped up from the crowd "Hey Boss, whos the homeless lookin' guy? Should we knock some sense into 'em?"
Almost instantly, Seamus' concerned yet happy demeanor turned furious, rounding on the poor sod "Watch your mouth, you idiot! You might not realize it, but this 'Homeless lookin' guy' made me the guy I am today! He taught me everythin' 'bout Duel Monsters and even made me this duel disk I use now!-" He didn't, he found it, fixed the cracked display, and gave it as a birthday gift - "Not only that, but he's easily the greatest player I've ever met, probably in all of satellite-" It was literally just Seamus who said that - "So you will show my Teacher some respe- Where'd he go?"
Seamus finally noticed he didn't stop while he was busy yelling at whatever groupie, underling, subordinate, whatever that person was to Seamus, and instead kept pulling his sled along.
"H-hey, wait up!" The sound of pounding steps was behind him, before it momentarily stopped as the fool bounced on one foot, the other raised in the air as he hollar'd back "Y'all get goin"! I'll come back 'round later!" Before Seamus caught up with him again. "So how's the best Teacher in the whole wide world doin' nowadays, eh?! Eh?!?!"
He could only sigh.
There was a saying that cropped up, almost as soon as people began gathering to sell things here. He certainly didn't know who started the saying, people he asked didn't know, so he assumed it was lost to the wonders of time. 'If it exists within satellite, you can find it in the Market'. It was the words of people in desperate need of hope after surviving a cataclysm. He remembered the earliest days when those words were spoken, the Market being a gathering place for the lost and destitute they had all become. People searched for family, for what they've lost, even just searching for something to cling onto.
Very very few found what they were looking for.
Now, it was a flickering torch amidst the cold ruins of Old Domino city, existing as a gathering point for anyone and everyone that had no place to call their own and from where Scavengers sell to what could loosely be called Traders. Barter was the king of the Land in this Market, you traded something you had for something someone was offering. If you couldn't find what you were looking for, you either left or hiked up and waited for the trader to come to you.
And what was traded for these items? The most stable thing that existed in Satellite.
"Whell, what do we have here? That no good, town skippin' Scavenger!" The fogey which stood behind a stall on a stool "Thought you was gone for good, leavin' fer as long as you did. Almost gave up your spot ya' know." The man who looked right out of an old folks home looked him up and down judgmentally, as the few sparse scraggly white hairs on his chinny chin chin only sold the judgmental look on his face.
Before the old man took the time to insult him further, he unhooked a glove from its velcro strap. With the newly freed hand, he nabbed the two particular cards from a slot on his belt and slapped them down on the counter of the old man's stall.
Without wasting a moment, the old man swiped them from where they lay to inspect them. The old man's smirking smile split into a grin "Whell, whell, whell! Sure looks like you're still as good as you ever were!" The man showed off the Millennium Shield and Millennium Golem cards like the prizes they were.
He could feel Seamus drool behind him, even if he couldn't see it. "It's a gift for how long I've been gone… And for keeping my spot clear." His 'spot' being basically an extension of the old man's own little shack they called a trader's shelf. Old Man was a doorway away from where he actually slept and lived, practically mocked him for having to travel so far to reach here in comparison. "Anything change since I was last here?"
The old man chuffed at that "What hasn't? The security folks almost finished their big construction project. It's only a matter of weeks before Satellite becomes the City's dumping ground. The new factories are already done and waiting."
Wasn't that the truth. The City spent more money making that giant pipeline than they ever did to help the people of Satellite recover from the explosion that rocked the city. They through their backs into enlarging the gap between Satellite and New Domino, let alone the fact it was already turned into an island by the explosion. With the added Factories that will probably be mandated by New Domino to be worked by the people here? It will be a bigger mess than it has any right to be.
"Grrr, New Domino has no right to be doing what its doing, man! Bad enough they leave us out here to fend for ourselves, now they're gonna make us work?!" Seamus popped up, out of his drooling over a couple cards. "C'mon Mike! You're the best duelist around! Surely we could go show Security what for!"
Already he had half of the scrap off his sled, making it look nice enough in presentation. The shinier bits he polished with a grease rag to catch the eye, the more useful in the back for those who come to investigate. Lightbulbs, wires, hotplates that would probably work, scrap parts he ripped from broken generators, the whole shebang. Even a couple car parts, though those rarely sold unless he went out of his way to go see Victor.
He shook his head at Seamus' words. "You already know one man can't fight an entire city, Seamus. Thought I beat that into your head enough when I taught you how to survive in the Satellite."
"Yeah, but the Legendary Man-"
"Was a Man who failed." He turned and looked hard down into Seamus' eyes. "He didn't fight because he knew it was a pipe dream. So, he took the route available to him."
Seamus tried to hold his gaze, before they eventually wavered and then looked to the asphalt, kicking it in frustration. "There's gotta be some way to fight back…"
He shrugged his shoulders, sighing and running his gloved hand through his hair. "Keeping your deck and becoming a strong duelist is already enough. Win, gather people who believe in you and maybe one day you'll have a force Security can't reckon with. Winners control everything in this world." It was a pitiful offering to a frustrated youth. But, Seamus needed some vague words like that, to direct his need to do something if nothing else.
He looked to the old man, who was scratching their scraggly thin beard as he watched the exchange, before he nodded and the Old Man huffed yet continued
"Besides that, you gave the Market quite a scare with ya' disappearin' act. Had people hounding me for days lookin' for info." The old man grouched, harrumphing many harrumphs. "People thought one of the gangs nabbed ya, or maybe Security finally decided to lock you up for somethin'. Especially when people found out your place was emptied and trashed."
He shrugged at the news. "I found a new place out of Downtown. Punks were sniffing around anyhow. Better to get while the getting was good." He looked down at the still unmoving life point score of the Duel Disk, before placing it behind the counter. He could work on it as he was trying to sell.
"Kage's gang was also lookin' for ya' again."
For once, the old man's words gave him pause. He stopped arranging his stock to stand still for a long few moments, before he slowly began to continue what he was doing. "I… See… Did you tell them anything?"
The Old man smiled at that "Heh, who do you think I am?"
He sighed, running his glove through his hair-
"Oh yeah, I was meaning to ask. So what's with the whole dyed hair?" Seamus interjected, pointing at his own hair for reference "You trying to hide from someone, Teacher?"
He blinked once, then twice, then looked at Seamus for a long hard moment. "...What?"
"You hair." Seamus pointed again, eliciting his point "It's all dark and greasy and stained. Are you trying to dye it or something?"
He didn't say anything at that as he processed through the words. Then he picked up the car wheel he shined to attract customers and look at himself through the reflect.
At his near pitch black hair, showing none of the natural blond he was.
He groaned at the unfairness of it all.
A/N: Corrections are always welcome.
Last edited:
Chapter 3: A Helping Hand
Maybe Mike
Maybe He's Born with It, Maybe its Mike
- Joined
- Nov 9, 2020
- Messages
- 70
- Likes received
- 563
Dueldisks were always something that kept his attention whenever he had one under his hands, fixing and adjusting wires, fiddling with screws. It was one of his first jobs within the Old Domino City, a card shop with duel disk repairs. Well, it was more succinct to call it a duel disk shop that sold cards. The act of putting together computer parts like they were on giant puzzles was always one of the favorite parts of his job. To then see said computer turn around and unleash giant monster holograms made it feel like he was some sort of master wizard, granting children magical power to summon monsters from the void… Honestly, it wasn't even that far off knowing about spirits…
The screen of the duel disk was removed, letting him mess around with the deteriorated wiring within. These older models usually had problems when it came to the wires, more than any version that came after the things. But that was only because the things were next to indestructible. Whether it's wet or dry, come rain or shine, these things won't care. The only mechanisms on these things that will be are the launchers, the clasps, and, of course his current problem, the wiring.
If nothing else, it gives him a wonderful excuse to ignore Seamus gut busting laughter.
"Y-You- BWAHAHAHAHAHA!" He carefully ignored Seamus, even as the idiot found the entire situation far more hilarious than it should have been. "Youhuhuhu d-didn't even notice!" The pointed finger was ignored as he finally found the frayed wiring causing the problem. "For all that you tell ME to pay more attention, you sure are-GAH!"
"Quit yer' belly achin'!" The fogey's hand raising from where it whacked the top of Seamus' head, who was already trying to rub the pain out of it. "Man's already worryin' 'bout 'nough people as is!"
"Grandpa." The old man looks up from where they were chastising Seamus to him in no small amount of surprise, looking up from his work. "Leave him alone. I don't hit my students, you shouldn't do it on my behalf." He bit back, focused on gently disconnecting the wiring without breaking or messing with more than he had too.
The fogey frowned for a few moments meeting his eyes, before turning away in a huff. "Yer, always so soft on kids. Just like before! You need to teach 'em hard and proper! None of this coddling."
He didn't bother to respond, too busy trying to carefully snake the increasingly annoying wire out of the duel disk, but that didn't stop Seamus from speaking up from where they were crouched behind the counter. "Wait, Teacher had other students? I thought I was the only one."
"BAH! The previous one had a real mouth on 'em! Then there was all those lil' brats that he-"
"Shut it, Old Man!" His voice came as a shout, explosively standing up from where he was hunched over the open guts of the duel disk, glaring. "That's the past, and I know I told you not to mention her again!" His white knuckled fist surrounding the screw driver slammed down butt first onto the counter.
The oldest man there hesitated for a moment before giving him the evil eye and spitting on the ground, "Bah! Promise is a promise… All you's gotta know, is there's only another runnin' round best o' mah knowledge."
Seamus looked between them, clearly itching to ask what exactly the Old Man wasn't saying and why exactly that mattered so much to him. Nevertheless, with his glare turning to regard Seamus with a very clear 'drop it' in his gaze, the youngest man there held his hands up in surrender.
He sat down back on the stool, and balefully turned his heated stare towards the mess of wires, and began to work out his frustrations there.
"Well…" Seamus started, awkward and unsure about how far the temper on their old mentor was. "Since you're back, you remember that one really annoying guy you dueled who summoned a bunch of tokens? Tall, bald, had the meanest look on his face?"
He paused for a moment, before looking up to with a deadpan, "You mean Nick, who had all those children following him about? Who you immediately started to fight and lose to? That Nick?"
It was Seamus' turn to scowl, grumbling "It was only because I wasn't done with my deck…" shaking their Head, Seamus snapped their fingers before pointing them as a gun towards him "Exactly! Well, he showed up the other day, coming right through Duel Street. Had that same group of kids with him."
He set about threading a new wire throughout the casing of the duel disk, even as he nodded his head along. "Don't tell me you dueled him. I can't imagine what that would have done to your ego."
Seamus reeled back like they were hit with a physical blow, hands clasping over their heart as their entire body drooped over ha. "Gah! Don't you have any faith in me?!" At his complete lack of response as he filled around with a few spare electronics he brought along for parts, Seamus' seemed to melt onto the floor. Regardless, he managed to find one that was vaguely the same from a broken down digital clock and was going about comparing the two.
Seamus picked themselves up eventually and continued, their upper half splayed across the counter as they mourned. "A few found family, but he settled with the rest out near the old school house."
He actually perked up at that, his hand fiddling with the wires until they were twisted together like thread. "The one that's half collapsed? I thought it wasn't safe enough."
"Nah, the actual main building wasn't, but apparently the gym supply shed is working well enough…" Seamus trailed off, watching as he begin to tie off the wiring with electrical tape. "Say, how come you never taught me to mess with electrics?"
"Electronics." He corrected, painstakingly threading the wire in the same path of the original. "Because it'd take too long, and I wouldn't have anything on hand a lot of the time. It was a lot easier to teach you how to duel instead."
Seamus pounded his fist on the counter, earning another evil eye from the Old Man. "Hey! I could duel well enough! Why do you think managed to get-"
"Hey, Boss!" Summoned like the devil at its mention, one of the ones who followed his protegee around the dueling alley ran up to the counter. "There's a guy over at the Dueling alley who's challenging everyone! Trying to throw his weight around! Need you to come back around and show him who's the top dog."
Seamus looked at him smugly, but he ignored it. More concerned with making sure to properly twist the wiring into place before he would move onto applying electrical tape. Seamus huffed, straightened his jacket as he hopped up. "Right, The Boss of Duelist Alley will be back soon as I show whos boss!"
"Beat 'em dead!" Foogie waved happily
"Good luck with that." He responded simply.
He watched the smiling Seamus run off, making sure his protegee was well and truly off, before digging into his pocket and withdrawing the cigarettes he got ages ago. Tapping it against his palm, he withdraws the last one and nurses it between his lips.
The 'Feh.' drew some annoyance from him, glaring over to the old fogey from the corner of his eye as he batted at the various ratty, worn, and dirty pockets of his outer coat. "Screw off." he retaliated to the old man. "You agree that I should be out hucking rusted metal about irregardless if I'd catch tetanus, but disagree about smoking?"
"You're wearin' gloves!" The old man baah'd like a goat as he went back to reclining on his stool and heckling the good people of Satellite Market. God forbid anyone be happier than him. "Sure ain't got nothin' in that throat o' yours fer smoke!"
His very mature response was to chuck the empty cartoon at the old man's head, only to mild disappointment when it was blocked by wrinkled hands. His irritation only grew as he had to shake out more than one pocket to find the bang, bruised, and grease stained lighter. He took the cigarette out of his mouth, holding it between two fingers, as he gestured at the old man. "As if THIS will be the thing to put me in the ground. Collapsing buildings, duel gangs, sector security." He listed off the ways he could die like they were the weather, trying to flick the old lighter's starter for a flame to many irritating sparks. "Besides, since THIS won't be the thing to kill me, I make sure I don't smoke around kids. That's good enough for me."
The old man harrumphed hard enough he thought the fogey would have a bone jut out. "When yous hackin' up a lung, I'll be sure to remind ya' of what you said then!"
"HA!" The flame flicked to life, he put the filter back between his lips as he cupped the flame. "I'll tell you now, I'll tell you again, and I'll tell you then. Smoking will sure as hel-"
"Hey Mister!"
The kid's voice spooked him hard enough he fumbled the lighter, sending it falling through his fingers. It bounced from his hands once, sending him standing halfway off his stool to find the old man's hand trying to nab it from the air, before finally catching it just before it hit the OILY and WOODEN stall top.
Him and the old man shared a sigh of relief. Their shared heads locked onto the smiling child who clearly did not have a lick of a clue to the fact they almost caused a fire. They both sighed again as their heads drooped.
The girl started to giggle. "You guys are funny!"
They looked at each other, before frowning in annoyance, then incredulity, before both threw their hands in the air with a ""BAH!"".
That this sent the girl into even more voracious giggling was graciously ignored.
"'Funny' she says…" Fogey grumbled as he stomped back over and onto his stool.
He ignored the older man as he turned away to face the girl, instead leaning onto the counter as he put the cigarette and thankfully closed lighter into his closed hand, smiling light heartedly. "Happy to give you a laugh. Were you looking for something?"
She nodded, before fiddling with her baggy pant pockets, before pulling out a couple dozen cards that had him blinking in surprise. "My mama said you have ALL the cards!" She gave a teeth filled smile as she offered up her cards "So, I came to see if you could help me with my deck!"
He had to admit that it sent him scratching his beard in confusion as he accepted the deck, yet humored her nonetheless, shifting the deck hand to hand as he spread out the back of the cards. "Why'd your Mama tell you that?"
"'Cause," She started, beaming. "She saw you selling cards the other day. She was telling me about it, so I came over to see if you could help me!"
He could feel the old man's eyes spear into his back, but he rolled his shoulders and flicked the cards over in his hands. The moment of panic that shot into the girl's eyes as she started slightly as it looked like he was about to drop the cards as he did it more than revealed what he needed to know. Nevertheless, He couldn't help the fond smile that overcame him. Allure Queen, Dark Lucius, Dark Mimic, Mystic Swordsman, Level up, and a few more. "Where'd you get these? I haven't seen level monsters in an age and a half."
The girl, who couldn't be more than ten really, bounced between her heels and toes, hands held behind her back as she cast her mind back. "Well I had them before, but I never really dueled or anything but I just couldn't get rid of them because they were a gift." She stopped as she leaned forward in a toothy smile. "But I'm trying to finish the deck!"
His eyes hazed over slightly as he idly went through the cards in his hands, each one well cared for despite everything he thought. These weren't the cards of someone who clearly cared for them irregardless of their circumstances… Well, it wasn't as if he was one who could judge another who had been chosen by their own cards. Regardless of whether or not he was being lied to or she genuinely did hear these things, the fear for and well beings of her card proved her in his eyes.
Not raising his eyes to meet the girl's, he reached past his first coat, into his far more personal and thinner coat and pulled out a deck of cards that was by far too thick to be a playing deck. Unlike his previous life, if he wrapped these ones in a rubber band, it'd more likely kill the rubber band than be helped by it. Waste not want not… Plus, those bands are valuable after all. Flicking through the cards with an experienced hand, soon one card was joined by two, three, jutting out towards the girl from where they lay in the stack of cards as he continued scanning through his cards. By the time he went through the entire stack, five cards were what he drew out of the pile, slipping them atop the cards in the deck she handed him before he returned it to the clearly stunned girl.
"These should help you." He sighed, rubbing his temple as he suddenly felt exhausted. "The Sword of Concealing Light for your Swordsmen. Stygian Dirge and Demotion for your Allure Queens. Finally, Opti-Camouflage Armor for Dark Mimic, Armed Changer for your Dark Lucius." He gave her a wearied smile as she looked up at him. "I tried to make sure they all had one to themselves… Though it looks like the Queen got two."
She slowly looked from him back down to the cards in her hands. "Y-yeah…" She looked down for a few moments, but when she looked back up at him it was with the warmest and most genuine smile she had shown yet. "Thank you, Mr. Icecream!"
He nearly fell off his stool at the sudden new name he had been given, wheeling his arms for a moment to stabilize, his smile fell as exasperation took over "'Mr. Icecream?!"
"Yeah!" She laughed at him, before pointing at his hand "You have brown hair," His hands went up to the mop-water blonde turned oil slick blackish "you got those yellow eyebrows and mustache," they fell to his lips and eyebrows, dread rising with every word "then you have a big red beard! You look like neapolitan ice cream!" his hands grabbed the full cheek to cheek scruffy red beard.
He sat there for a moment simply absorbing this information, before his eyebrows met as he realized what exactly- "But- wait- that's- Neapolitan is brown, white and pink!" His fingers pointed at his face "How am I neapolitan?!"
She squinted at him like he said something stupid, before laughing again. Right to his face even! "Whatever you say, Mr. Icecream!" She took off running, leaving his confused gaping mouth behind. She only took the time to slow down for a moment to wave behind her "Thank you for the cards!" Then she was gone.
He'll admit, he felt a little warm and happy inside from that.
"I can't believe you not only got lied to an' robbed by a little girl, but let it happen." The older man huffed, chin in hand as they leaned onto the counter, hand waving away
"The happy feeling was succinctly ruined. Coldly and brutally as he was forced to remember which spiteful old bag he shared space with. He turned to look over at said old bag "What's it to you? If I can help someone by just giving away something minor, why shouldn't I?"
"So you can buy something to EAT while you're here?!" The pessimistic man spouted back "Cards are worth more than whatever scammer is trying to take them off you."
He took out the cigarette again, bit crumpled, and began flicking the lighter for a spark. "Better to get cheated then to possibly reject someone in need. What's a few cards anyway."
It was the Old man's turn to scoff "A meal? Probably a nice blanket 'n pillow? How about gettin' yer clothes cleaned?" The older man responded, chin in hand as they leaned onto the counter, hand waving away. "There's a million things you 'round 'ere with a few good cards. Rather then give 'em ta' some rotten brat who probably stole 'er cards."
"Hrmmm-" I did the very mature thing, and shoved the old man, sending the foogey's arms swinging wildly to try and maintain balance. "And what do you know, you card hoarder?! This is why you're a spiteful old man."
The old man latched onto the counter with his finger tips, pulling themselves right and stable yet again. With a sigh of relief, before an abrupt sneer towards him, the old man hacked a loogie onto the ground "Okay, 'Mr. Icecream'!" Foogey's voice was sickeningly sweet.
He paused mid lighting, before his head turned to look into the reflective wheel on the counter once again.
His head fell, dejected, as he whined in lamentation.
The old man's cackling gave him the urge to huck the hubcap right into his stupid face.
"Why did I ever bother to put up with-"
Seamus appeared, no doubt out of spite, cutting him off as the younger man conjured himself seemingly from thin air, forearm landing on the counter as the younger man leaned over towards him, "Like I was saying before I got-"
"HRAAAAAH!"
Two weeks ago, was the one year aftermath of the Zero Reverse explosion.
One year, two weeks. He had counted them.
He looked up from the ground he mindlessly glued his eyes to. Mercilessly, the hard labor of hauling dozens of food cans did nothing to let his mind go into autopilot. When hucking steel or scrounging through heavy debris like rocks or concrete, it was so much easier to enter a zen state. No thoughts beyond the most tertiary, no worries, nothing but the exhaustion and sweat of work.
How he longed for it now.
Looking towards the sky, it was clear it would be raining either today or tomorrow. He certainly smelled the rain. Fitting, he supposed. If he was in a movie, no doubt this would be far more romanticized.
He hated it here.
Here, above all else in satellite, is the place he hates the most. It's also where he is the most hated.
In other places, it is dreary and a ruin. Rubble and destroyed buildings litter every corner of the Satellite, inescapable except for a singular patch of greenery far enough away from downtown it reminded you of what was gone. The rest of the once fine city of Old Domino, could still be seen in your mind as a ruined wretched eulogy. He often caught himself standing, caught in a stupor as he looked down one street or another, and remembered how mundanely his days passed by… Nothing remained of that pretty suburb now.
But this part of Satellite had a much deeper and real sadness to it…
His sled scraped on concrete and he saw them. The people who haven't left… There were over a hundred last he had heard. The men, women, and children who simply… Had nothing. They had clothes and they had shelter… But they lost everything else… Most had no families any longer… Lost when the reactor blew up. They were as directionless as the Satellite itself.
Some… Some very, very few, found families. Some made them amidst refugees. Whether it solved the problems of their heart or not, he had no say in the matter.
You don't heal a wounded heart by dripping your own blood into theirs.
"Have you seen him?"
He looked down to the old woman who now stood beside him, staring up at him.
"Have you seen my Son?
Their eyes met, his lifeless and dull, her grieving yet hopeful.
He shook his head. From his cart, he held several cans in his arm. "I brought you some food. I was gone for some time."
"Have you seen my Son..? Nick brought some here… Some found each other… You travel often, have you seen him?"
He didn't respond. There was no way to respond.
Her eyes turned angry, as frustration and grief gave way.
She took a can from his hand, before bashing it into his chest. The pain was dull to his mind at this point, but his lack of reaction did nothing to stop her from raising it and bashing it into his shoulder this time. Then his arm. Then his thigh. Then she fell to her knees and sobbed.
The pain in her voice also made a dull pain come to mind.
Another came forward, rushing to the side of the aged woman. This one was younger, though not by much. She murmured to the older woman, comforting her…
He wondered how he must seem to them… A looming tall man, delivering food and clothes and other items they require by selling cards… Was he a caregiver, or was he just a damning reminder of it all…
He set down the cans beside the older women and the younger one.
Rubbing his gloved hands together, he grabbed the wire and hauled his payload onward.
The scene repeated before his eyes many times… Far, far too many times…
Men, women, children even asking if he had seen a brother or sister or mother or father or son or daughter… He never answered them. He never did more than deliver them the food they'd need to last through the week until he could return again.
Some got violent. Lashing out at his silence, lashing out for his persistence in feeding them, lashing out because he was a silent wall that they could vent out their emotions. He didn't complain. Couldn't. What right did he have to deny them this small comfort, when their emotions are spent and they can collapse in exhaustion to sleep easier that night.
Even if it caused him to stagger or limp away afterwards, he did not show the pain.
It was on the edge when he met the last person that he could find.
He stopped there, just off the step towards a tall collapsed three story building to look at the listless, long haired, unruly face. The man looked down at the ground, unseeing and uncomprehending the world around them. Slowly, and gently, he set down three cans for the man, before he started along once more.
He heard the shoes sliding on concrete and knew what would happen before the clattering of cans sounded across the near empty street. "You think I'll accept a thing from the Murderer." The man spat, vindictively spitting onto the sled of identical cans.
I stood there for a moment, before dropping the wire. I was gingerly placid as I walked about retrieving the scattered cans. From my sled, I silently gathered two more cans with the same gentle movements before stepping up before the man. One by one, each was set down softly on the step the man laid against. It wasn't until I spoke that the silence broke."No. The Murderer died with the city… But your loved ones wouldn't want to see you like this."
"And what would you know." The man demanded.
I looked up at him, the haggard expression, eyes narrowed, red, and puffy renewed anger and grief. I was far too familiar. "I didn't know them… but I wouldn't want to see my family like this either." He watched me as I stood up
I took up my reins, before leaving the man to the sounds of my scraping sled. Feeling only numbness as I heard the man break down behind me.
I went through the motions in an idle fugue, avoiding stepping on crack, using the sheet I left earlier to climb over a car, tossing my sled across a ravine before following over. The rubble haunted my steps and never seemed to end, each collapsed building and ruin of vehicles sent my shoulders hanging lower. By the time I returned to my home in the scrap yard to find the hill had collapsed atop my lean too, I felt nothing but numb grief.
On my sled I collapsed and sat. The shiny hubcap was in my hands again, as I looked down. Gone was the amused face of a man who was compared to ice cream. Now, I saw the bleeding wound on my temple from where a can should have killed me. I saw laugh lines fading from disuse. I saw a sad, stupid fool of a man who doesn't even know why he bothered to wake up that morning.
Just yet another misfortune in this Hell I made.
AN: Originally had a much bigger AN, but then got rid of it. Tldr; instead of a targeted counter point to a lot of other yugioh fics I read, It took me 8 months to re-write my entire plot to be something more than a counter argument. Its really hard to write sad scenes when your natural state as a person is happy… I hope a lot of the more morose sections came off well. Be a bitch to re-write em.
Anyway, corrections are welcome.
The screen of the duel disk was removed, letting him mess around with the deteriorated wiring within. These older models usually had problems when it came to the wires, more than any version that came after the things. But that was only because the things were next to indestructible. Whether it's wet or dry, come rain or shine, these things won't care. The only mechanisms on these things that will be are the launchers, the clasps, and, of course his current problem, the wiring.
If nothing else, it gives him a wonderful excuse to ignore Seamus gut busting laughter.
"Y-You- BWAHAHAHAHAHA!" He carefully ignored Seamus, even as the idiot found the entire situation far more hilarious than it should have been. "Youhuhuhu d-didn't even notice!" The pointed finger was ignored as he finally found the frayed wiring causing the problem. "For all that you tell ME to pay more attention, you sure are-GAH!"
"Quit yer' belly achin'!" The fogey's hand raising from where it whacked the top of Seamus' head, who was already trying to rub the pain out of it. "Man's already worryin' 'bout 'nough people as is!"
"Grandpa." The old man looks up from where they were chastising Seamus to him in no small amount of surprise, looking up from his work. "Leave him alone. I don't hit my students, you shouldn't do it on my behalf." He bit back, focused on gently disconnecting the wiring without breaking or messing with more than he had too.
The fogey frowned for a few moments meeting his eyes, before turning away in a huff. "Yer, always so soft on kids. Just like before! You need to teach 'em hard and proper! None of this coddling."
He didn't bother to respond, too busy trying to carefully snake the increasingly annoying wire out of the duel disk, but that didn't stop Seamus from speaking up from where they were crouched behind the counter. "Wait, Teacher had other students? I thought I was the only one."
"BAH! The previous one had a real mouth on 'em! Then there was all those lil' brats that he-"
"Shut it, Old Man!" His voice came as a shout, explosively standing up from where he was hunched over the open guts of the duel disk, glaring. "That's the past, and I know I told you not to mention her again!" His white knuckled fist surrounding the screw driver slammed down butt first onto the counter.
The oldest man there hesitated for a moment before giving him the evil eye and spitting on the ground, "Bah! Promise is a promise… All you's gotta know, is there's only another runnin' round best o' mah knowledge."
Seamus looked between them, clearly itching to ask what exactly the Old Man wasn't saying and why exactly that mattered so much to him. Nevertheless, with his glare turning to regard Seamus with a very clear 'drop it' in his gaze, the youngest man there held his hands up in surrender.
He sat down back on the stool, and balefully turned his heated stare towards the mess of wires, and began to work out his frustrations there.
"Well…" Seamus started, awkward and unsure about how far the temper on their old mentor was. "Since you're back, you remember that one really annoying guy you dueled who summoned a bunch of tokens? Tall, bald, had the meanest look on his face?"
He paused for a moment, before looking up to with a deadpan, "You mean Nick, who had all those children following him about? Who you immediately started to fight and lose to? That Nick?"
It was Seamus' turn to scowl, grumbling "It was only because I wasn't done with my deck…" shaking their Head, Seamus snapped their fingers before pointing them as a gun towards him "Exactly! Well, he showed up the other day, coming right through Duel Street. Had that same group of kids with him."
He set about threading a new wire throughout the casing of the duel disk, even as he nodded his head along. "Don't tell me you dueled him. I can't imagine what that would have done to your ego."
Seamus reeled back like they were hit with a physical blow, hands clasping over their heart as their entire body drooped over ha. "Gah! Don't you have any faith in me?!" At his complete lack of response as he filled around with a few spare electronics he brought along for parts, Seamus' seemed to melt onto the floor. Regardless, he managed to find one that was vaguely the same from a broken down digital clock and was going about comparing the two.
Seamus picked themselves up eventually and continued, their upper half splayed across the counter as they mourned. "A few found family, but he settled with the rest out near the old school house."
He actually perked up at that, his hand fiddling with the wires until they were twisted together like thread. "The one that's half collapsed? I thought it wasn't safe enough."
"Nah, the actual main building wasn't, but apparently the gym supply shed is working well enough…" Seamus trailed off, watching as he begin to tie off the wiring with electrical tape. "Say, how come you never taught me to mess with electrics?"
"Electronics." He corrected, painstakingly threading the wire in the same path of the original. "Because it'd take too long, and I wouldn't have anything on hand a lot of the time. It was a lot easier to teach you how to duel instead."
Seamus pounded his fist on the counter, earning another evil eye from the Old Man. "Hey! I could duel well enough! Why do you think managed to get-"
"Hey, Boss!" Summoned like the devil at its mention, one of the ones who followed his protegee around the dueling alley ran up to the counter. "There's a guy over at the Dueling alley who's challenging everyone! Trying to throw his weight around! Need you to come back around and show him who's the top dog."
Seamus looked at him smugly, but he ignored it. More concerned with making sure to properly twist the wiring into place before he would move onto applying electrical tape. Seamus huffed, straightened his jacket as he hopped up. "Right, The Boss of Duelist Alley will be back soon as I show whos boss!"
"Beat 'em dead!" Foogie waved happily
"Good luck with that." He responded simply.
He watched the smiling Seamus run off, making sure his protegee was well and truly off, before digging into his pocket and withdrawing the cigarettes he got ages ago. Tapping it against his palm, he withdraws the last one and nurses it between his lips.
The 'Feh.' drew some annoyance from him, glaring over to the old fogey from the corner of his eye as he batted at the various ratty, worn, and dirty pockets of his outer coat. "Screw off." he retaliated to the old man. "You agree that I should be out hucking rusted metal about irregardless if I'd catch tetanus, but disagree about smoking?"
"You're wearin' gloves!" The old man baah'd like a goat as he went back to reclining on his stool and heckling the good people of Satellite Market. God forbid anyone be happier than him. "Sure ain't got nothin' in that throat o' yours fer smoke!"
His very mature response was to chuck the empty cartoon at the old man's head, only to mild disappointment when it was blocked by wrinkled hands. His irritation only grew as he had to shake out more than one pocket to find the bang, bruised, and grease stained lighter. He took the cigarette out of his mouth, holding it between two fingers, as he gestured at the old man. "As if THIS will be the thing to put me in the ground. Collapsing buildings, duel gangs, sector security." He listed off the ways he could die like they were the weather, trying to flick the old lighter's starter for a flame to many irritating sparks. "Besides, since THIS won't be the thing to kill me, I make sure I don't smoke around kids. That's good enough for me."
The old man harrumphed hard enough he thought the fogey would have a bone jut out. "When yous hackin' up a lung, I'll be sure to remind ya' of what you said then!"
"HA!" The flame flicked to life, he put the filter back between his lips as he cupped the flame. "I'll tell you now, I'll tell you again, and I'll tell you then. Smoking will sure as hel-"
"Hey Mister!"
The kid's voice spooked him hard enough he fumbled the lighter, sending it falling through his fingers. It bounced from his hands once, sending him standing halfway off his stool to find the old man's hand trying to nab it from the air, before finally catching it just before it hit the OILY and WOODEN stall top.
Him and the old man shared a sigh of relief. Their shared heads locked onto the smiling child who clearly did not have a lick of a clue to the fact they almost caused a fire. They both sighed again as their heads drooped.
The girl started to giggle. "You guys are funny!"
They looked at each other, before frowning in annoyance, then incredulity, before both threw their hands in the air with a ""BAH!"".
That this sent the girl into even more voracious giggling was graciously ignored.
"'Funny' she says…" Fogey grumbled as he stomped back over and onto his stool.
He ignored the older man as he turned away to face the girl, instead leaning onto the counter as he put the cigarette and thankfully closed lighter into his closed hand, smiling light heartedly. "Happy to give you a laugh. Were you looking for something?"
She nodded, before fiddling with her baggy pant pockets, before pulling out a couple dozen cards that had him blinking in surprise. "My mama said you have ALL the cards!" She gave a teeth filled smile as she offered up her cards "So, I came to see if you could help me with my deck!"
He had to admit that it sent him scratching his beard in confusion as he accepted the deck, yet humored her nonetheless, shifting the deck hand to hand as he spread out the back of the cards. "Why'd your Mama tell you that?"
"'Cause," She started, beaming. "She saw you selling cards the other day. She was telling me about it, so I came over to see if you could help me!"
He could feel the old man's eyes spear into his back, but he rolled his shoulders and flicked the cards over in his hands. The moment of panic that shot into the girl's eyes as she started slightly as it looked like he was about to drop the cards as he did it more than revealed what he needed to know. Nevertheless, He couldn't help the fond smile that overcame him. Allure Queen, Dark Lucius, Dark Mimic, Mystic Swordsman, Level up, and a few more. "Where'd you get these? I haven't seen level monsters in an age and a half."
The girl, who couldn't be more than ten really, bounced between her heels and toes, hands held behind her back as she cast her mind back. "Well I had them before, but I never really dueled or anything but I just couldn't get rid of them because they were a gift." She stopped as she leaned forward in a toothy smile. "But I'm trying to finish the deck!"
His eyes hazed over slightly as he idly went through the cards in his hands, each one well cared for despite everything he thought. These weren't the cards of someone who clearly cared for them irregardless of their circumstances… Well, it wasn't as if he was one who could judge another who had been chosen by their own cards. Regardless of whether or not he was being lied to or she genuinely did hear these things, the fear for and well beings of her card proved her in his eyes.
Not raising his eyes to meet the girl's, he reached past his first coat, into his far more personal and thinner coat and pulled out a deck of cards that was by far too thick to be a playing deck. Unlike his previous life, if he wrapped these ones in a rubber band, it'd more likely kill the rubber band than be helped by it. Waste not want not… Plus, those bands are valuable after all. Flicking through the cards with an experienced hand, soon one card was joined by two, three, jutting out towards the girl from where they lay in the stack of cards as he continued scanning through his cards. By the time he went through the entire stack, five cards were what he drew out of the pile, slipping them atop the cards in the deck she handed him before he returned it to the clearly stunned girl.
"These should help you." He sighed, rubbing his temple as he suddenly felt exhausted. "The Sword of Concealing Light for your Swordsmen. Stygian Dirge and Demotion for your Allure Queens. Finally, Opti-Camouflage Armor for Dark Mimic, Armed Changer for your Dark Lucius." He gave her a wearied smile as she looked up at him. "I tried to make sure they all had one to themselves… Though it looks like the Queen got two."
She slowly looked from him back down to the cards in her hands. "Y-yeah…" She looked down for a few moments, but when she looked back up at him it was with the warmest and most genuine smile she had shown yet. "Thank you, Mr. Icecream!"
He nearly fell off his stool at the sudden new name he had been given, wheeling his arms for a moment to stabilize, his smile fell as exasperation took over "'Mr. Icecream?!"
"Yeah!" She laughed at him, before pointing at his hand "You have brown hair," His hands went up to the mop-water blonde turned oil slick blackish "you got those yellow eyebrows and mustache," they fell to his lips and eyebrows, dread rising with every word "then you have a big red beard! You look like neapolitan ice cream!" his hands grabbed the full cheek to cheek scruffy red beard.
He sat there for a moment simply absorbing this information, before his eyebrows met as he realized what exactly- "But- wait- that's- Neapolitan is brown, white and pink!" His fingers pointed at his face "How am I neapolitan?!"
She squinted at him like he said something stupid, before laughing again. Right to his face even! "Whatever you say, Mr. Icecream!" She took off running, leaving his confused gaping mouth behind. She only took the time to slow down for a moment to wave behind her "Thank you for the cards!" Then she was gone.
He'll admit, he felt a little warm and happy inside from that.
"I can't believe you not only got lied to an' robbed by a little girl, but let it happen." The older man huffed, chin in hand as they leaned onto the counter, hand waving away
"The happy feeling was succinctly ruined. Coldly and brutally as he was forced to remember which spiteful old bag he shared space with. He turned to look over at said old bag "What's it to you? If I can help someone by just giving away something minor, why shouldn't I?"
"So you can buy something to EAT while you're here?!" The pessimistic man spouted back "Cards are worth more than whatever scammer is trying to take them off you."
He took out the cigarette again, bit crumpled, and began flicking the lighter for a spark. "Better to get cheated then to possibly reject someone in need. What's a few cards anyway."
It was the Old man's turn to scoff "A meal? Probably a nice blanket 'n pillow? How about gettin' yer clothes cleaned?" The older man responded, chin in hand as they leaned onto the counter, hand waving away. "There's a million things you 'round 'ere with a few good cards. Rather then give 'em ta' some rotten brat who probably stole 'er cards."
"Hrmmm-" I did the very mature thing, and shoved the old man, sending the foogey's arms swinging wildly to try and maintain balance. "And what do you know, you card hoarder?! This is why you're a spiteful old man."
The old man latched onto the counter with his finger tips, pulling themselves right and stable yet again. With a sigh of relief, before an abrupt sneer towards him, the old man hacked a loogie onto the ground "Okay, 'Mr. Icecream'!" Foogey's voice was sickeningly sweet.
He paused mid lighting, before his head turned to look into the reflective wheel on the counter once again.
His head fell, dejected, as he whined in lamentation.
The old man's cackling gave him the urge to huck the hubcap right into his stupid face.
"Why did I ever bother to put up with-"
Seamus appeared, no doubt out of spite, cutting him off as the younger man conjured himself seemingly from thin air, forearm landing on the counter as the younger man leaned over towards him, "Like I was saying before I got-"
"HRAAAAAH!"
Two weeks ago, was the one year aftermath of the Zero Reverse explosion.
One year, two weeks. He had counted them.
He looked up from the ground he mindlessly glued his eyes to. Mercilessly, the hard labor of hauling dozens of food cans did nothing to let his mind go into autopilot. When hucking steel or scrounging through heavy debris like rocks or concrete, it was so much easier to enter a zen state. No thoughts beyond the most tertiary, no worries, nothing but the exhaustion and sweat of work.
How he longed for it now.
Looking towards the sky, it was clear it would be raining either today or tomorrow. He certainly smelled the rain. Fitting, he supposed. If he was in a movie, no doubt this would be far more romanticized.
He hated it here.
Here, above all else in satellite, is the place he hates the most. It's also where he is the most hated.
In other places, it is dreary and a ruin. Rubble and destroyed buildings litter every corner of the Satellite, inescapable except for a singular patch of greenery far enough away from downtown it reminded you of what was gone. The rest of the once fine city of Old Domino, could still be seen in your mind as a ruined wretched eulogy. He often caught himself standing, caught in a stupor as he looked down one street or another, and remembered how mundanely his days passed by… Nothing remained of that pretty suburb now.
But this part of Satellite had a much deeper and real sadness to it…
His sled scraped on concrete and he saw them. The people who haven't left… There were over a hundred last he had heard. The men, women, and children who simply… Had nothing. They had clothes and they had shelter… But they lost everything else… Most had no families any longer… Lost when the reactor blew up. They were as directionless as the Satellite itself.
Some… Some very, very few, found families. Some made them amidst refugees. Whether it solved the problems of their heart or not, he had no say in the matter.
You don't heal a wounded heart by dripping your own blood into theirs.
"Have you seen him?"
He looked down to the old woman who now stood beside him, staring up at him.
"Have you seen my Son?
Their eyes met, his lifeless and dull, her grieving yet hopeful.
He shook his head. From his cart, he held several cans in his arm. "I brought you some food. I was gone for some time."
"Have you seen my Son..? Nick brought some here… Some found each other… You travel often, have you seen him?"
He didn't respond. There was no way to respond.
Her eyes turned angry, as frustration and grief gave way.
She took a can from his hand, before bashing it into his chest. The pain was dull to his mind at this point, but his lack of reaction did nothing to stop her from raising it and bashing it into his shoulder this time. Then his arm. Then his thigh. Then she fell to her knees and sobbed.
The pain in her voice also made a dull pain come to mind.
Another came forward, rushing to the side of the aged woman. This one was younger, though not by much. She murmured to the older woman, comforting her…
He wondered how he must seem to them… A looming tall man, delivering food and clothes and other items they require by selling cards… Was he a caregiver, or was he just a damning reminder of it all…
He set down the cans beside the older women and the younger one.
Rubbing his gloved hands together, he grabbed the wire and hauled his payload onward.
The scene repeated before his eyes many times… Far, far too many times…
Men, women, children even asking if he had seen a brother or sister or mother or father or son or daughter… He never answered them. He never did more than deliver them the food they'd need to last through the week until he could return again.
Some got violent. Lashing out at his silence, lashing out for his persistence in feeding them, lashing out because he was a silent wall that they could vent out their emotions. He didn't complain. Couldn't. What right did he have to deny them this small comfort, when their emotions are spent and they can collapse in exhaustion to sleep easier that night.
Even if it caused him to stagger or limp away afterwards, he did not show the pain.
It was on the edge when he met the last person that he could find.
He stopped there, just off the step towards a tall collapsed three story building to look at the listless, long haired, unruly face. The man looked down at the ground, unseeing and uncomprehending the world around them. Slowly, and gently, he set down three cans for the man, before he started along once more.
He heard the shoes sliding on concrete and knew what would happen before the clattering of cans sounded across the near empty street. "You think I'll accept a thing from the Murderer." The man spat, vindictively spitting onto the sled of identical cans.
I stood there for a moment, before dropping the wire. I was gingerly placid as I walked about retrieving the scattered cans. From my sled, I silently gathered two more cans with the same gentle movements before stepping up before the man. One by one, each was set down softly on the step the man laid against. It wasn't until I spoke that the silence broke."No. The Murderer died with the city… But your loved ones wouldn't want to see you like this."
"And what would you know." The man demanded.
I looked up at him, the haggard expression, eyes narrowed, red, and puffy renewed anger and grief. I was far too familiar. "I didn't know them… but I wouldn't want to see my family like this either." He watched me as I stood up
I took up my reins, before leaving the man to the sounds of my scraping sled. Feeling only numbness as I heard the man break down behind me.
I went through the motions in an idle fugue, avoiding stepping on crack, using the sheet I left earlier to climb over a car, tossing my sled across a ravine before following over. The rubble haunted my steps and never seemed to end, each collapsed building and ruin of vehicles sent my shoulders hanging lower. By the time I returned to my home in the scrap yard to find the hill had collapsed atop my lean too, I felt nothing but numb grief.
On my sled I collapsed and sat. The shiny hubcap was in my hands again, as I looked down. Gone was the amused face of a man who was compared to ice cream. Now, I saw the bleeding wound on my temple from where a can should have killed me. I saw laugh lines fading from disuse. I saw a sad, stupid fool of a man who doesn't even know why he bothered to wake up that morning.
Just yet another misfortune in this Hell I made.
AN: Originally had a much bigger AN, but then got rid of it. Tldr; instead of a targeted counter point to a lot of other yugioh fics I read, It took me 8 months to re-write my entire plot to be something more than a counter argument. Its really hard to write sad scenes when your natural state as a person is happy… I hope a lot of the more morose sections came off well. Be a bitch to re-write em.
Anyway, corrections are welcome.
Last edited: