As the door of the new apartment opened, the pleasant smell of cleaning product wafted into stitches nose. He tossed the briefcase onto a table surrounded by polished wooden chairs and decided to have a look around.
The apartment had a living room with a couple couches and a coffee table that attached to a kitchen with a counter lit up by hanging lamps. He checked the fridge but it was empty as well as the drawers he tried afterwards. He examined the two bedrooms finding them to be identical, with comfy looking beds and enough furniture to make it look invitingly homely. He checked the restrooms, finding an appealing shower but decided he’d have one later. The last door he opened was a closet with a laundry machine inside. He made a note in his head to buy some more clothes when he got the chance.
He flipped open the briefcase and began to count out money. He turned to a page in the manual on equipment purchasing. Unlike the previous pages, many of the past owners had differing opinions on which sellers were rip offs and their own take on the debate of cheap vs pricy.
He decided to ignore their advice and pick on his own, “Y4”. From what he read he discovered that the retailers in the compound included Prospector brand sellers but also outside dealers that bid on buildings marked for private use. The buy in was expensive, but having a stake in Prospector salvaging was very lucrative.
Stitches pocketed the money, thought for a minute and then pocketed a bit more just in case. He searched around the room and used his knife to remove the panel on the ventilation system and placed the rest of the cash inside.
He removed his body armor from the briefcase and separated the harness attached before tossing the armor to the table. He clipped the harness around himself and tightened it snugly before wrapping the bands over his shoulders and tightened them as well. He took his sheath and holster and attached them to the harness by his waistline then pulled up the tied portion of the jumpsuit to conceal his weapons.
He kicked away the dirty rubber prison slippers he’d been wearing and slipped on his old running shoes. They’d been modified by him to synergize with his armor and assist in maneuvering through city alleyways and buildings. His fingers fixed the leg portion of the harness to the backs of the shoes and he stood up to do a couple test movements checking if everything sat in the right place. Satisfied, he pocketed the money he’d sorted and left locking the door behind him while thumbing through the manual for the map.
As he left the front door of HQ he was delighted to find it a bit warmer than it was earlier. He hadn’t seen a clock anywhere from the time he arrived here but it felt like it was sometime close to the afternoon. There was a lot more movement than there was earlier, with trucks parked in the dirt lot unloading and loading boxes as well as a flow of traffic through the compound consisting of metamorphs and humans alike. Stitches started on his way towards what he’d found to be known as ‘the marketplace’ where most of the retailers resided.
Y4 had decent upkeep save for an extension on the building that was allowed to crumble away. Across the wall above the door a hand painted sign read “Bandoliers”. He entered finding the inside to be a mostly emptied room, save for a couple chairs and benches that looked brought in from outside. In the back, human clerks stood behind barred off counters offering service to a line of customers. He took his place in line and had a look at the wall behind the cashiers. It was a display full of weapons and ordinance that surprised Stitches by the sheer variety they had catalogued. They had everything, in all ranges of form vs function; even a couple of intriguing looking equipment that Stitches had never seen before. On a big sign above the retailers, a message read, ‘ALL PRICES FINAL NO NEGOTIATING’. The prices in question were neatly listed underneath the weapon displays. By black market standards they were very cheap, but by civilian retail values they were on the expensive side. Even the knives and swords that seemed to be placed there as an afterthought were a little pricey.
As his turn came up, he was waved in by a large bearded man “What’s your poison?”
“45 uhhh…” Stitches thought for a moment “hollow point”
The man scribbled something onto a clipboard “What’s your brand?”
“Huntsman”
The man left towards a room behind him “Ah a man of class”
Stitches chuckled and counted some bills in his hand before placing them on the counter.
The man came back with 3 boxes and slid them under the bars of the counter while taking the cash.
Stitches stuffed two into his pocket and carried away the third “Later”
The man grunted a response and waved for his next customer.
Stitches sat onto a bench and immediately loaded a bullet from the box into the chamber of his pistol before setting it on his lap and loading the magazine. As he loaded, his peripheral vision picked up on someone approaching, he put his hand on the weapon and looked up.
A scraggly man with spines growing from his face in lieu of hair stepped towards him. “You must be pretty well off to get your hands on a gun your first day huh?”
Stitches used his ‘don’t screw with me’ look and snarled a “Fuck off!” while slamming the magazine into the pistol.
The man took a step back sizing him up before walking away “fuckin stripes” he mumbled.
Stitches satisfied at the reaction he got, pulled the magazine back out and continued to load it.
Good, that still works, he thought.
Finishing the load, he slid the magazine into the pistol and placed it back into the holster. He reached into his pocket and retrieved a backup magazine he found left in his body armor and began to load that as well. He felt the presence of someone walking towards him, sighed and reached for his knife, “I won’t warn-“
To his surprise it wasn’t the spiny guy, but the antennae girl from last night. She wore dark grayish sweats and a bulky hoodie securely tugged over her face. Her dark green eyes stared down at him over a black spotted handkerchief tugged over her mouth and nose. In the bottom corners of her hood, Stitches could see the tips of her antennae peeking out just enough to sense the air.
She must’ve wrapped them behind her head.
He was impressed by the lengths she went to avoid drawing attention.
“Why are you still wearing your jumpsuit?” she asked with a cold tone.
“Why would I take it off?” Stitches continued loading the magazine, “The others from the bus know the pecking order and the people here know I’m not a pushover.”
“You’re making a target out of yourself dumbass,” she crossed her arms, “all the psycho ones that want to hold onto their position in the hierarchy are going to line up to take a shot at you,” her eyes took an angry shape, “Is it an ego thing or something?”
Stitches smirked, “Maybe it is. What’s it to you?”
“Whether we want it to or not, we’re all being associated with each other as an invading faction. I’d rather not shake up everyone the moment I get here, so I sold that prison issue stuff.”
Stitches eyebrow raised
“Nn! Not like that!” she tugged at her hood.
Her hands looked like she was wearing armored gloves but he realized that they weren’t artificial. Portions of her skin were covered in hard black plates save for areas needing flexibility like the knuckles and palms.
She buried her hands in her hoodie pockets noticing his stare, “They’re collectors that came here to put together something for a museum,” she sighed, “probably”
“Well, I didn’t mean to screw yall over,” He offered a handshake, “Apology accepted?”
She kept her hands in her pockets, “It’s fine, just be more careful. I didn’t think the people here needed an outlet so bad,” her eyes narrowed.
Stitches finished loading the magazine and attached it to his harness “you with a group yet?” he didn’t know what she was capable of, but being a red stripe he knew she could deal some damage on a level close to his.
“Are you recruiting me?”
“maybe, depends on what you can do.”
“I’m a dark conduit and I can handle long blades.”
“that it?”
Not falling for his trick, she pulled a hand from her pocket and conjured a black ball of flickering fire “Do you want to see for yourself” her eyes hardened.
“That won’t be necessary,” he laughed it off, “I’m Stitches.”
“I’m… uh…” she paused and thought for a moment, “Witch.”
“Where’d you get that name?”
She looked away, tugging up her handkerchief, “It’s better than Stitches,” she mumbled as she walked towards the line.
