Shattered Ladder 1-20 (Patreon)

Chapter 20

“Any, anything but that!"The redhead’s words hung in the air of the grimy little shop as Don shook his head like he was being threatened with death again, the yell vibrating against the thin metal walls of the shipping container. A single work lamp on the half-scattered counter cast a long shadow across the dim back-alley shop interior, piles of stripped wires and cracked gizmos almost twitching with each surge of electricity that went through them. Even with half the bodies gone, the space inside was heavy and hot, overworked metal and the scent of ozone from sparking electronics only making it worse. Ken stood there, blinking slow in the stretched-out silence as Zee stared a silent threat right past him. His eyelids drooped, heavy with dirt, grit and so much dried blood he had no chance yet to clean.  

The ice that had been in his veins in place of blood — the same strange cold that made his body strong and his thoughts quiet — had left him almost a full minute ago and even the last little bits of it were receding now. The numbness dissolved, and in its place, the world rushed back in too loud and too bright. 

Pulling back like the tide, it just left… him.

Just fifteen years of skinny, hungry aches and a body that felt like it had been tossed in a trash can and shaken up.  

Just Ken.

I really need… Ken pulled in a breath, a deep one as slow as his blinks, and shook his head as he gathered himself again. I need to get that under control. Like… like soon. That whole fight, if he could call it that, was even messier than the one of last night. Half of it, he didn’t even realize what had happened until he was already moving onto something else — someone else — and leaving broken battered bodies between one blink and the next. Need to get that under co-

One hand went to his stomach, his thoughts sliding away and back as his gut made itself heard, another heavy growl that echoed nearly as loud as Don’s voice. Hungry.

Hungry was putting it lightly. 

It had been almost a whole day since he’d had anything to eat. After three years of filling regular meals, he just wasn’t used to going without anymore. Yeah, need to fix that.

He looked around the shop one more time, Don still half-rambling under his breath as Zee stared him down without a word. 

Man, this place is a mess. Being as real as possible, Ken couldn’t really say if it had been much better before those Junker thug guys decided to bust it up. His eyes traced a bunch of already-beaten shelves bowing under their own weight, right above a bunch of screens that looked like they’d been ripped out of the wall and stomped on. A scowl slid its way onto his face at the sight of a soldering iron left on the table, the tip blackened and crusted. 

Bad maintenance. Wei would have lectured him for hours if he left a tool like that. 

Granted, as bad as it could have been, the place was a graveyard of tech now and that was what mattered. Dust motes danced in the cone of light from the lamp, swirling around Don’s head like a halo of filth as he pleaded his case to the scary blonde girl. 

The redhead was sweating, moisture slicking down those thick sideburns and greasing his bruises. More than anything, the tech-guy just looked kind of sad.

Zee didn’t seem to care about that, empathy clearly not something the pink girl placed all that highly. No, she stepped forward, the sole of her sandal cracking the screen of another device as she shot Don another look that promised all the violence she could bring if he didn’t hurry up and give her what she wanted. "You got five seconds.”

“L-lady Zee, I d-””

"Five seconds to start makin' sense, Donny-boy,” Zee clicked her tongue as one thumb jabbed its way in Ken’s direction, “before my angry friend here gets iffy. And he punches harder than he looks."Me? Ken pulled a face. Wha-

Even though Ken had just helped him, Don seemed to buy the threat, face going even paler than before as that fake grin peeled right off. All of a sudden, the redhead seemed to shrink even further down, looking smaller than before even with his big arms. 

Those same big arms came up a second later, waving in front of his chest like he was trying to physically push Zee’s words away and out of the air. "Okay, okay, l-look, listen, yeah, listen!" If the guy sounded frantic before, now he was almost panicking as words tumbled out and stumbled over each other with nowhere to go. “I play up for business, but your man’s not a real Cardtech, yeah? Not official-like. Nothin’ like that, no coin for that yet, yeah?"

Don took a breath that was more of a wheeze. "I mess with cards, sure, sure. Get you a fake that'll get you through a ration-check, maybe transit gate if scanner’s off it. But connect to the main-sys? The Grid? Nah, man, nah. That's a whole different level of scrap. Suicide work if ya don’t got the juice."

Zee let out a noise that was half-groan, half-growl, the girl dragging a palm down her cheek like she was trying to wipe off the stupid. Her foot swung out, a loose pile of wires on the floor getting the worst of her temper, that and a spray of copper connectors skittering across the concrete. "’Course you’re a glitchtech. Why’d I…”

The girl bit down another growl as her fists clenched tight at her sides. “Scrap it."

Don only offered her another weak smile, expression wobbling as much as his legs were. His eyes darted over to Ken, clearly begging for help that Ken wasn’t sure he could really give. 

Hold up… One word rolled around his brain, failing to find a spot to slot into until it finally found its way to his tongue. "...uh, glitchtech?"

Zee’s gaze went up, the girl glaring at the ceiling like it had personally offended her. “Scrap techs. Usually good enough to do most anything else — fix a comm, splice a line — but they ain’t much and the much they are…” She let out a low sigh, letting her head drop back down again. “Usually ain’t worth it. Half-likely to scrap your piece and glitch it up and charge you double for it." Zee shook her head, blond hair whipping into her eyes. "Pisses me off havin’ to deal with ‘em. More of ‘em than the real thing down here."

"Wait, no, ay, hold on!" Don’s hands went up again, voice squeaking. "I was goin' straight, I promise!” A shaking finger went to something in the corner, a sparking slab of technology that looked more smashed up than everything else in the alley shop. "I had a C-Console, the real thing too. Salvaged it from a drop-pod over in 39! But those idiots — the Fists — they broke it! I was tryin' to get 'em their money with it, and they smashed it!"

Smashed.

The heat flared up in his chest again, the hot, bitter bile of memory. People with power who broke things just because they could. Just because you were small and they were big.

Just like the apothecary. Just like the jars of herbs shattering on the floor. 

Just like W- Wait…

Ken’s jaw tightened, teeth grinding together as something else made him forget his hunger, something else Don just let slip. His voice came out sharper, pitched a fraction lower than usual,

"One sec." He cut through Don’s babbling, voice landing heavy in the cluttered space. "You said they were lying. That you didn't owe 'em anything."

Don froze, mouth half-open as both Ken and Zee joined together in staring him down. “Y-ya see, that’s true, but…” As if he’d just wiped his bruised face clean, the smile snapped back into place terrifyingly fast. “Y’see, a man only owes so much, yeah? To others, y’know.”

“...what.” Zee blinked his way.

“Way I see it…” Those big hands came back up, clasped together like he was about to lead them all in prayer as his voice smoothed itself back out. "...we don't owe nobody but ourselves. Not really." 

Ken stared at him, mouth open.

"Debt's fluid, friend. Changes dependin' how you look at it. All up here." One of Don’s hands went up and tapped three times on the side of his head as the tech nodded slowly. "Mind stuff."

This guy.

Guy… guy was being nice. This was a clown, a waste of time and space and…

Ken didn’t know what else, what other words to describe what was running through his mind as his right hand flexed into a fist again; a mountain of noise crowding out the rest of Don’s words as his brain buzzed again.

Mind stuff.The taste of grief rotting in his gut, the smell of smoke still thick in his locs and the image of his grandfather’s burning body were all stuck inside him, mixed in with the fear of the whole last day of his life. All of it a roaring engine in his chest that wouldn't turn off. 

And on top of it all, this… this liar thought he could play them with word games?

The words in his head didn’t leave him, nothing out of his mouth in a whisper or a yell. Yelling took energy, and he didn’t feel like using all that much right now. No, he just took a slow step forward, the action deliberate as the metal floor of the shop creaked just a bit under his foot. 

Donny’s mouth suddenly snapped shut as Ken reached up, quiet and casual, and pulled up the right sleeve of his tunic.

His forearm, freed of cloth, was open for everybody in the room to see. Dark skin stood out smeared and crusted with long-dried blood, none of it at all his. It almost looked painted on, thick as it was, several layers of life’s fluid hideous and stark against his skin.

Don’s gaze dropped down, eyes not moving from Ken’s arm as the redhead pulled in another breath. That smile broke apart like glass, cracking to nothing as a different kind of fear took its place again. "W-woah!" 

The glitchtech scrambled backward, heels catching on a spilled toolbox. Noise echoed off the metal walls again as wrenches and so much more spilled out, the sound like ugly fireworks in the quiet. He tripped again before another full second went by, Don catching himself on a table as Ken stared at him.

Finally, Don stood up again, palms raised and shaking so hard his fingers looked like they were vibrating. "Ay, ay, ay! Friends! We all friends here, brother! Friends, close friends, real cl-"

Zee threw her head back again with a bark of a laugh, the sound enough to shut Don up. "You keep sayin’ that. Who told you that, Dong?"

The shaky, fragile grin turned her way, then snapped back to Ken, eyes snapping right back to the blood-stained arm. "...me?"

Zee crossed her arms as Ken blinked.

"W-w-wait, wait, wait!" His gaze bounced  between Zee’s crossed arms and Ken’s dead-eyed stare. "C-card, card, what you're lookin' for, friends... I can... I can help with that. For real. No glitch, no scrap. Real deal."

Ken took another step forward. "...how?"

The single word was quiet, almost soft, as he flexed his fist again. Ken somehow knew, in the back of his mind, that even with Don being bigger and taller than him, he could probably break Don’s arm.

Without trying very hard, too. 

He’d hit bigger people harder without even meaning to. 

I could…

As much as he could, he didn't want to. 

But Don didn't know that.

"I know a guy, yeah. A r-real Cardtech,” Don cleared his throat, breaths coming quicker and heavier. “Pro's a pro, y’know? Guy on the edge of the 43 sticks. 'Bout two, three dozen stacks that way, bit more than a push, yeah?" Zee clicked her tongue. “A push? That’s half the day.”A shaking finger gestured vaguely toward the door, into the neon-smeared maze of the city. “Big Jiro owes me a favor, big one. Saved his... his data-rig once. Just... just tell him Don Lee sent you. Tell him Donny sent the word. He got you like I got you. Whatever you need."

Ken looked at the finger, then up to Don’s sweaty face, before sliding back over to Zee as he let out a long weary sigh. The girl didn’t bother saying anything, the frown on her face tight as she stared back at him.

“...okay, fine.” Shoulders slumping, he rubbed the back of his neck. “One problem down, I guess.” Go to Forty-Three. Find the guy. Get the card. 

Simple enough, right?

Once he figured that out, he’d deal with whatever the hell came next.

"Nah, problem not frickin’ solved."

Zee stepped forward, kicking off the wall hard enough the shop shook. The blonde moved fast as always, her pink puffer jacket blurring as she stomped forward. By the time Ken blinked, she was right in Don’s personal space, a nail jabbed hard right into Don’s chest.

Don flinched like he’d been stabbed.

"This scrapsneak," Zee hissed the word, golden eyes boring deep into Don’s soul, "He’s tryin' to send us deep into Junker turf. Nothin’ like a favor here, ghostboy. That's an execution."

"...Junker Fists?” Ken blinked slow. “You mean, the same g-”

“Yeah, thickhead.” Zee slapped a hand to her forehead, dragging it down her face as she groaned out loud. “The same Junker Fists, like the crew you just sent cryin’. The same crew whose teeth you just bare-knucked out. He's sendin' us into their main hive to get killed or stripped for parts even.

"...oh."

Ken turned back, eyes narrowed at the sweating redhead with the shaky smile. The flickering neon light from outside filtered through the cracks in the walls, glinting off Don’s big forehead like oil.

"No, no, no, I'm real right now, swear it!” Don insisted, voice cracking so high that it was almost painful to listen to. "Yeah, it's their turf, I know, okay, b-but he's there, promise! Tech's there, too! Owes me a favor, real favor, and he's neutral! Totally neutral!"

"Ain’t no thing as neutral, Dong.”

"He's protected! He's too valuable to touch!" Don was practically vibrating. "You just gotta get to him! In and out! Quick slip!"

Zee’s expression shifted.

It was instant. One moment, she was a storm cloud. The next... sunshine.

Her angry scowl melted like it had never been, dissolving into a smile that was bright, sweet, candy-coated, and absolutely, utterly terrifying. It was the kind of smile a shark would give you right before it bit your leg off, if sharks had lips.

"Is that right, monkey boy?" 

She stepped in even closer, one arm swinging wide as she draped it all the way over and around Don’s shoulders and pulled him right into a one-armed hug. 

It looked friendly. 

Except for the way her bicep bulged under her jacket, tightening around his neck until — before Don knew it — the redhead was latched tight into the pinkest armbar Ken had ever seen.

"Then you can come with us," she said, voice dangerously cheerful, dripping with false sugar. "We'll all go see your friend. Together. Since it's so safe. Since he owes you such a big favor."

Ken watched the color drain from Don’s face. It went from flushed to pale gray in seconds, the older boy’s head trapped tight under Zee’s arm with his cheek squashed right up against her pink puffer jacket. His eyes were wide, darting frantically, looking for an exit that didn’t exist. 

Don opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.

Finally, a weak, strangled squeak found it’s way free

"I... uh..."

Ken looked at the mismatched pair. The terrifying girl in pink. The sweating scammer in the headlock.

He felt the corners of his own mouth twitch, just a little.

"...good plan."