Shattered Ladder 1-21 (Patreon)

Chapter 21

Big.

Ken thought he knew big from years in the Waste Valley, staring at the junk-mountains and the trash-dunes rolling out in waves until they hit the edge of the world. He figured big was big and that was that.

But no, apparently things could be bigger.

It wasn’t just the city, this giant place inside the Wall. No, it was this entire damn district.

Zee wasn’t very big on answering questions as they walked, the girl in a bigger mood than normal as she stomped her over-pink butt through the crowd with a scowl on her face. So, she wasn’t much help, but Don — surprisingly — was.

The guy was apparently not just some kind of techhead, but he was also something called an info-broker, meaning it was his job to know things. Granted, most of what he knew was supposed to be for sale, but with Zee holding his arm instead of Ken’s, the redhead seemed to be in a very generous mood.

Just like that, question after question, Ken learned more with every few steps.

And what he learned was that this place was so big that it made even less sense with actual measurements. Two full days walking to cross just one district?

Even if their measurements were weird — span, push, stretch? — it didn’t do much to change the fact that it was still an insane distance just to leave a ‘district’. More like a whole city, honestly. 

Yeah, it did seem like that, but luckily for Ken, they didn’t have to cross a whole city’s worth of space to get to where they were going. No, this cardtech guy was apparently just on the edge of the next district and they weren’t too far from that edge themselves.

They’d already been walking for what felt like an hour, Ken’s bare feet slapping against the grime-slicked pavement as he slowly started to get used to the lack of shoes. He didn’t have much to say, not after almost a whole hour of whatever question he could think of. 

His stomach, on the other hand, had plenty to say as another gurgle from his gut ripped through the humid air, angry and wet.

Don flinched, skipping a half-step to the side as Zee just let out another one of her barks she called a laugh, the girl tossing her hair back. "Beast in the belly, huh?" She didn’t look back as she shook her head. "There’s streetmeat if you’re ready."

“Yeah, I’m not there yet.” Ken’s sigh was punctuation, breath rattling in his chest as he kept pushing. Donny had tried to be ‘nice’ and push some of that "street meat" on him about a half hour ago —something charred that smelt exactly like burnt hair on a stick—but the way Ken’s gut was rolling as he looked at it was stronger than the hunger. Not yet.

The three of them turned a corner, finally leaving the main streets behind for an alley that was damp, dark and smelled not much different than old iron and liquid waste. “Almost there!” With a grunt, Don swept his arm out wide as he stopped in front of a metal skeleton clinging to the side of a building that went up until it vanished into the smog. "Express route."

Ken stared up at what had possibly once been a proper functioning and well-maintained fire escape. Maybe even as soon as a couple hundred years ago, being generous.

Now, though… You’re joking.

Flaking metal peeled from the structure in reddish-brown scales, rusted metal bleeding down the side of the concrete. Ken didn’t need to look all that close to see several bolts missing from the anchor points, more than a few gaps where the frame pulled away from the wall, shuddering every time a too-thick burst of steam shot from a nearby pipe.

"You want us…" Ken started, his voice trailing off as he craned his neck back to look straight up at the vertical collection of rust and prayers. "…to climb that?"

"Fastest way up, friend!" Don’s grin was almost an insult, the info-broker slapping a hand against the railing.

Ken blinked at the redhead. “Fastest way down, too.”

As if to make his point for him, the whole structure groaned as a piece of metal the size of Ken’s thumb broke off from three stories up, the thing clattering against the bars before smashing into the pavement a foot from Don’s boot.

The techead didn’t so much as blink. "See? Solid."

Ken blinked between the rust and the rust-head. "You’re trying to ki-"

"Don't worry 'bout it!” Don didn’t even bother to argue, the redhead already scrambling his way up the first few rungs with a monkey-like quickness that spoke of too much practice running away from people. “Just step where the rust ain't too deep yet!"

Ken almost let his mouth hang as Don kept moving. Shaking his head, he turned to his other travelling companion. “Can you belie-”

A gold glare drilled into him, Zee somehow managing to pull off both boredom and impatience as she leaned against that damp brick wall, her pink puffer the only thing protecting her bare skin and white tank top. 

A bubble of pink popped out of her mouth — she had gum? — with a wet snap that matched the restless rhythm of her tapping foot. She didn’t say a word, the girl not even looking up at the ladder. No, those eyes were still on him.

One neat little eyebrow went up, her face saying everything her mouth didn’t. 

Ken looked back at the ladder, Don already twenty feet up and his blue-shirt already going gray in the haze of the vent steam filling the air. 

The apprentice could only sigh. "Fine." Ken grabbed onto the cold railing, pulling a face at the metal somehow feeling both gritty and greasy under his skin. How?

"If I die," he pulled himself up with a grunt, "I’m haunting both of you."

Zee’s laugh followed him up, sharp and bright. "I hear ya, ghostboy."

– o – o – o – o – o – o – o –

The climb was not fun.

Almost five minutes later, they were finally able to get off the “express way” and leave the falling-apart fire escape behind. Both of Ken’s palms were stained the ugliest orange from all the rust-dust — enough of it to coat his clothes in a new layer as he gripped tight to it to keep from falling off — and his heart had done it’s best to remind him he was still alive every single time the metal screeched under his weight.

More than anything, he was just happy to no longer have to be on that thing.

But Ken wasn't exactly excited to find out how they would be traveling from here on out.

"No." 

Wind whipped his locs across his face as he stood on the edge of the roof, Ken only having one word on his lips.“Ah, c’mon, ghostboy, it’s just a bridge.”

His eyes slid from the ‘bridge’ secured atop and between the next building to the person who said that, Zee popping another bubble too close to his face.

“...define bridge for me.” If he was being mean, he could honestly call it just a bunch of planks. A series of metal slats laid end-to-end, the whole thing sweating from the steam rising from a hundred pipes just below. “And no jokes.”

No rails, too. 

No ropes, either. 

Just some strips of metal over a drop that would explode a human body like a too-fat bloat-rat.

Zee popped another bubble. "No jokes, Outsider. These the hi-lines. Fastest way to move in the Dumps and only way to cut to 43 without payin' the Fists."

...I hate this place. It was a simple fact that ran through his mind as he looked down to the too-noisy street hundreds of feet below, and as true as anything else. It was a whole different world up here. Down below, the streets were a clogged artery of noise—shouting vendors, thrumming engines, the wet slap of feet on pavement. 

Up here, it was just the wind.

The wind, and the hum.

Huge, black pipes, wide enough to drive a cart through, snaked between the rooftops, vibrating with the flow of whatever sludge kept the city alive. Rusted metal walkways crisscrossed over alleyways like spiderwebs, hundreds of others in the near-distance traveling across the same upper pathways of the city without looking back.

 I really, really hate this place.

The first step onto the metal was honestly the worst part. Ken expected his legs to shake, that familiar weakness flooding him with the tremble in his knees that always came when he pushed his body too hard. 

It didn’t come.

Weird.

He took another step. Then a jump, hopping over a gap where a sheet of metal had rusted away entirely.

He landed light. Silent.

His bare feet found purchase on the slick metal with an instinct he didn’t know he had, more stickiness than balance; like his center of gravity was a heavy lead ball located perfectly in his gut, anchoring him to the world.

In no time at all, he was across the other end completely, a smile on his face as he kept on moving. The slats didn’t scare him the way he knew they should. Part of him wanted to question that, but he knew that probably wasn’t the best idea.

Jumping between rooftops, also, wasn’t the best idea. However, those were easier than he expected too; even the jumps a good ten feet across.

A laugh spilled out of him as he just… leapt.

Again, no wind-up, and barely even a run-up, as his body just carried him like he’d done this forever instead of the first time a few minutes ago. Over and over, his body would just cut right through the air like he weighed nothing, landing steady every time.

It felt wrong, like wearing someone else's skin.

And he loved it.

Zee was a blur of pink and blonde ahead of him. The angry girl moved with a fluid grace he couldn’t match, never once looking down as she hopped over pipes, darted over gaps and ducked under wires like she’d memorized where everything was in advance. 

"Wait, w-wait up—agh!"

Don, on the other hand, was a total disaster.

The redhead was panting loud enough to be heard over the steam vents; face pale and slick with sweat that wasn't just from the humidity, one hand clutched a stitch in his side, fingers digging into his ratty shirt.

"Woah, woah, easy now!" Yelps left Don’s mouth like a small dog as the burly teen slipped on a patch of grease. One hand lashed out, the techhead grabbing a wire to steady himself, the cable already sagging under his weight.

Zee stopped on a wide, flat rooftop, gravel crunching under her thick sandals as she turned around. “Yo, monkey-boy, you good? Thought you were a pro at runnin'.” Hands on her hips, she wore a mean little smirk, popping another bubble of gum as she watched Don struggle to catch up as his arms windmilled for balance. "That your whole thing, ain't it? Runnin' your mouth, runnin' away?"

She leaned back, weight on one leg. "Or you only fast when I’m comin' to collect?"

Don finally made it across the gap, the redhead collapsing back against a large, rusted fan housing. He held up one finger as the metal groaned under him, a wheeze leaving him as loud as the steam vents.

After a second, he managed to speak, voice a wreck of exhaustion as he forced the finger into a thumbs-up. "Everyone…" He wheezed again, loud as ever. "...got their own path… in life, yeah?"

He gave Zee a shaky grin, wiping sweat from his eyes with the back of one bandage-wrapped hand. "Yours was… to dress like a piece of candy… and mean-mug the world. Mine’s is… strategy and… p-pacing."

"Pacing for what?" Zee’s face twisted enough that she almost looked ugly. "Y’look like you're dyin' of old age."

Ken barely heard them, all the back-and-forth little more than just static and steam in the background as he made his way over to the nearest edge. The gravel pressed into the soles of his feet, sharp and real, but not enough to even make him wince. Can’t believe it…

The apprentic alchemist looked down at his hands, once again surprised that nothing was shaking. Each and every one of his fingers were just as steady as the rest of him.

Just as steady, sure, but like the rest of him, nothing about them was clean.

It had been almost a whole day since and he hadn’t washed any part of him, not that he’d had a chance to.

Blood.

Wei’s blood.

Ken rubbed a thumb over a particularly dark flake on his wrist, not even blinking as it barely even came off. It wasn’t just the blood even; the strength in his legs, the way his lungs weren't burning, the balance he’d never once had.

Like the blood, it wasn't his.

It's a gift.

That's what Wei had told him barely a week ago. It will change your life.

He closed his eyes, images already flashing in the darkness as they cut through his thoughts like a fresh razor. Wei stumbling through the door. The impossible hole in his chest. The purple light in his eyes fading to gray. The smell of the fire; bitter, chemical, consuming the herbs, the books, the life they had built.

Ken clenched his fists tight enough that it hurt as the candle flickered in his gut. I didn't ask for this. 

It felt like he stole something, like he was eating the old man's life to fuel his own.

Ken took in a breath, a painful rasp that pulled in steam as a vent burst free to his right with a gust of heat. The world suddenly tilted, gravel under his feet giving way as momentum betrayed him.

The edge of the roof was right there, the drop a full canyon of steel and neon spiraling down into the dark as the gravel slid away beneath him. Gravity reached up, grabbing him by the chest, and pulling him down.

Old Man…

Fingers, strong as iron clamps, grabbed the back of his green tunic before he could close his eyes and finish that thought. A yelp left his lips as he was yanked backwards with a force enough to make his neck whip. Pulling in another breath, the teenager stumbled, feet scrambling on the stones again, before he landed hard on his ass in the gravel.

Ken blinked, heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird, as he looked up.

Zee was standing over him, pink jacket fluttering up in the wind and expression unreadable as she stared down at him. Her hand—the one that had just saved his life—was resting back on her hip, casual as anything. "Focus up, Mr. Outsider."

Her voice was sharp, cutting through his daze like a slap. "Daydreamin' up here gets you recycled for fresh parts. Gravity don't care if you're sad."

Her hand left her hip, both of them clapping together as she dusted her hands free of the dried blood that came off his tunic. "What's goin’ on up there? Ain’t every day y’see someone try to pull a dead man’s drop."

The giant fans whirred rhythmically, a loud thump-thump, thump-thump on the windswept rooftop. Don was still panting as he did his best to catch his breath, muttering something that sounded like “lung rot”.

Ken pushed himself to his feet, brushing the gravel off his trousers as the stones clattered free and clear. He looked at Zee, staring at those impatient gold eyes with a lie already waiting on his lips; maybe just answer her with a simple 'nothing' or 'a hungry' or 'tired.'

And it wouldn’t even have been completely a lie.

But the words had a mind of their own, his mouth already moving before he could stop it. "...my master died." Four syllables tumbled out quiet and heavy, wrapped in the slow, rounded cadence he’d picked up from three years of listening to an old man talk to plants.

The wind seemed to suck the sound away instantly as Zee’s mocking smirk vanished, eyes going wider just for a second. "Oh."

The word was small, as Ken nodded back at it. 

He looked back down at his own hands again. "Yeah. The one who brought me in from the Outside way back when. Took me in when I was… small."

He swallowed, throat thick like he’d swallowed a handful of that gravel. "Some… crazies, I don’t… I don’t know who but they killed him. Yesterday. Right before I met those Scrapperz."

Zee’s eyes flicked down to his tunic, as if just now recognizing those dark crusted stains that had become almost a second skin. "...so the blood?"

The question didn’t need to be asked, and he was pretty sure she knew it too; the grimace that flashed onto her face for all of a second told him that much before she pushed it back down.

"...his."

For the first time since he’d met her, the blonde girl seemed to have run out of words to throw back at him as she just stood there, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. She looked at the ground, then at the shining plates in the sky, then back at him.

Awkwardly, stiffly, she reached out.

Ken blinked slowly at her hand as it… patted his shoulder.

It was more awkward than anything, like the kind of unsure touch you give a strange dog when you're not sure if it bites. Everything about it was clumsy in a way he didn’t expect from Zee.

“...right.” With a grunt, she pulled her hand back like his shirt was hot. "Right," she looked away with a cough as she echoed herself.. "That's… scrap. Real scrap, ghost."

Don finally managed to catch his breath as trudged over to them, wiping his forehead with those darkening bandages he wore as sleeves. "Hey, thanks for the wait-up, friends!” The redhead looked between Ken and Zee, reading the room about as well as a blind man could read a sign as one more of those shaky grins plastered itself across his face. “Legs were burnin', yeah?"

Zee didn’t even look at him, her voice ice. "We didn't."

Don’s grin didn’t fall, but Ken didn’t miss the way it got a little tighter at the corners.

"Well," the redhead shrugged anyway, "thanks for nothing then. We still move, yeah?"

Ken rolled his eyes as he pushed the memories back down where they belonged, deep in the back of his mind buried under everything else he had to take care of first. Not now.

There was no time for it. If he stopped to feel it, he’d fall off this roof for real.

Shaking his head as a sigh left him, Ken turned to face Don, a question on his lips.

"So, how close is this guy?"

That grin came back full force, not a hint of shakiness in it as Donny flashed it his way, the techhead ready and eager to be useful again. He bounded to the edge of the rooftop, leaning dangerously far over the one railing that wasn’t a hazard.

"Right down there, friend."

He pointed a finger down.

Down past the pipes, past the wires, and all the way into a particularly dark, narrow street fifty levels below them where a single, flickering holographic sign pulsed in the gloom. It cast a sickly green light onto the wet pavement. 

"The Green Room," Don folded his arms. "Best tech in the 40s. We move, yeah?"