“I don’t want to leave Luxholme,” a tiny voice said. A Tinny voice, more accurately.
While the group had been negotiating goods and delivery, Berg had been doing the same, trying to get her and Tinny out of the city.
“What?” Berg asked, flabberghasted as she looked over from where she was haggling with a driver. “Girl, what are you saying?”
“That’s not Linnea anymore,” Tinny said, inclining her head towards Cora. “You’ve seen it too, haven’t you? That isn’t her.”
Berg glared at the girl, then at Cora, then back at Tinny, where the heat left her gaze.
“I–, Tinny, I don’t know. You may be right. If she’s acting, it's the finest job I’ve ever seen of it, and I have no clue why she’d do it,” Berg said, before tears began to form at the sides of her eyes. “But you haven’t been there, as long as I have, girl. Even if the Mistress changes, the place is the same. I–, I can’t go back.”
“You don’t have to Berg!” Tinny comforted, “but you’ve seen how it is out here. If I wasn’t so sure I was right, I’d risk it, but I am sure, and I won’t. It’s terrifying. I understand your perspective is different, but I believe Luxholme can be a good place!”
Berg looked at her long and hard, face stony despite the tears that made their way down her cheeks.
“Tinny, I can’t…”
“Can I make a suggestion?” Cora interjected. She’d had an idea bouncing around in her head since Jonah’s shop.
“Aye,” Berg said, happy to have anything to take her focus off the girl.
“I think we’re gonna be coming back here a lot. It’s a long road ahead, and it's gonna be paved by the corpses of some very bad people,” Cora explained. “Turns out, those corpses are lucrative as all hell. We’d almost certainly get a better price selling them ourselves than we would hocking them at Jonah’s.”
“True enough,” Berg said, wheels visibly turning in her head. Cora respected the woman’s gumption, and that was why she was even about to suggest this.
“Why don’t you take your thousand, and Tinny’s, find a place to stay for a bit, and ask around about setting up a shop for us? There’s gotta be an inn or something, right? We’ll provide you with goods courtesy of the Chain’s generosity.”
Berg nodded slowly.
“My daddy were a merchant,” she said, then spat to the side. “I hate my daddy, bastard sold me. Might be nice to beat him at his own game, though. Aye, I can do all that.” She laughed. “Hah! Look at me! Ol’ Berg, off to become a free merchant! Never thought I’d see the day!”
“Excellent. Meet back here at the Depot in three days, okay?” Cora said, assuming 2000 ‘trish was enough to rent a stand and 3 days safe lodging. And hoping that Berg survived that long. The woman nodded, then ran off to find a new way for herself.
Cora smiled at Tinny, and helped her up onto the cart, while their group of mercenaries looked on in awe and confusion.
Tinny, you beautiful miracle, you just advertised life at Luxholme better than any effort I could have made.
They got out of the Bazaar easy enough. The logistics were interesting to Cora, every cart exiting through one of 6 thoroughfares that ran through the bazaar like the spokes of a wheel. No turns or detours allowed until outside the barricade. She didn’t expect any trouble here, there was no place to get them alone. Plus if the Chains had any kind of communications system, and it seemed like they did, then they’d know Cora’s group had bodied them just as easily without guns as they had with them.
At the edge of the barricade, another set of lockers waited as promised, and Cora hopped off the cart to retrieve their weapons. She handed Jonesy a carbon copy of Dip’s AK, and upgraded Tallboy to a significantly less beaten and battered version of his glock.
She noted this barricade had considerably more guards than the last, but watching Iain look around forlornly, it was easy to figure out why. Ingrid in her Legate armor was nowhere to be seen.
Cora cuffed him lightly on the arm.
“Gonna be volunteering for a lot of supply runs, huh buddy?” She teased, while Iain waved her off.
“Maybe so, maybe so,” Iain laughed, “Dinnae ken what it is, never even seen what she looks like under that armor. Not even sure I want to now, not really. Almost certain ter be disappointin’.”
“Ahhhh, no,” Cora chuckled, “don’t think like that! It’s rare any of us humans look better with our clothes off, don’t be blinded just cause her clothes are 12 ft of steel.”
Iain smirked at her, but then they were past the barricade, and he was on alert.
He’d established their formation before they ever started moving. Iain himself sat beside Andy on the driver’s bench and had tried to direct Tinny on hiding, but she’d disappeared into the supplies before he’d even begun to speak. Trish sat in the back, rifle steadied against the cart side.
She’d protested that, some kind of soldier's pride telling her she should lead from the front, but Iain pointed out that her rifle was a semi-auto Marksman’s model, similar to a DM10, and would do them a hell of a lot more good if she was in a position to stabilize it somewhere. Plus, unless Trish had some cybernetics she was willing to tell them about, a single bullet was all it would take to end her.
It was for that reason Cora had fought down every instinct she had screaming at her to also ride in the back, in favor of walking ahead herself. With her shield back up and durability boosted, it’d actually be beneficial if the first shot came her way. It was all but bound to be ineffectual, and would give them some warning.
Hawk served the same function at the back, while Dip, Jonesy and Tallboy were positioned around the sides.
At first glance, Dip seemed to be alone on his side of the cart, but Cora’s HUD painted Kyra’s lithe form prowling behind him. Cora must have always been looking away before, but it had still made her jump when Kyra dissolved into the barest shimmer in the air.
[Voidblack Bodyglove]- +20[Dex][Agi], +5[End][Vit]. In addition to physical boosts, allows the user distortion-based invisibility. Time Limit: 1 hour, disabled upon dealing or taking damage.
Her crew had some gooooood kit, that was for sure. She imagined Iain’s was likely army issue, and wondered if that army wanting it back was the reason Iain was hiding out as a slave in a country he’d apparently been fighting against. Hawk reminded her of a particular kind of poor person back home, the kind that drove the newest massive truck with all the bells and whistles, but went home to a doublewide with a hole in the roof. Only for Hawk, the truck was her body, and the doublewide was… her mental health? The metaphor broke down a bit.
Kyra was a bit of a mystery. To be frank, that bodyglove didn’t seem like something the Lights could afford. Kyra didn’t seem like something the Lights could afford, issues with obedience or not. It was also not something Cora was going to question. The ice was juuuuuust starting to thaw between her and Kyra, she didn’t want to do anything to endanger that.
The cart trundled down the road behind her, and as it went, it found itself more and more alone. Not every street was designated for cart use, but the further they travelled, the more they passed, losing travelling companions with each tributary. It wasn’t long before they were alone.
That was when the walls began to feel like they were closing in on Cora. She breathed deep, calling on Cadey to help her keep her head.
‘Those walls are exactly where they should be Cora’, her own voice said, so subtly shifted into Cadey’s, ‘you’ve got sightlines, you’ve got backup, you’ve got goddamn superpowers. The Chains should be scared of you.’
She smiled to herself. It might be burgeoning schizophrenia, sure, but if it was, the voices gave a damn good pep talk.
Still, every shadowed pair of eyes peeking out from behind a curtain started to look like a potential sniper. Each alleyway held untold legions of Links laying in wait just out of sight. Keeping a cool head didn’t stop her from noticing the potential for trouble, it only stopped her from panicking before it actually happened.
Those worries, thus far, had always proved to be unfounded. The curtains would close without a gunshot. The alleyway would be empty of anything but trash or the occasional broken soul.
No, it was no sniper or even a Link that announced the beginning of this trip's troubles.
It was the howling of throats so tortured, they could only barely be recognized as horrifyingly human.