Shattered Ladder 1-24 (Patreon)

Chapter 24

The filthy, neon-lit streets of District 44 were as packed as ever as the three of them made their way back from Jiro’s shop. Ken did his best to ignore the firm layer of dirt and filth building up on his freshly-calloused soles as he walked at Zee’s side, the same as he tried not to think of the constant wall of sound and smell that came from too many people pressing in on too small a space.

The smell was the worst part, honestly, a constant reminder that you were breathing the same air that had been through a thousand other lungs first.

But, again, none of that was really the most important part of it all.

No, things were different and he would have to be blind not to notice that subtle shift in the gravity of the street as they made their way through; .

His new C-Card hung from a cheap necklace Zee had tossed at him, the small gray square resting on his chest and stark against the dirty green of his tunic. That single dull gray node throbbed with a weak, steady light. It wasn't much, but it was enough to draw almost every eye they passed by. 

People stared. 

Of course they did, with Zee leading the way, people had always looked at the blonde in almost all-pink. Eyes were apparently another form of currency down here, and everyone was always counting. 

The eyes stayed on them as always but the glances were quicker now, not just darting off Zee but sliding off him too as he kept pace with her, like oil on water. Huh.

Three men — one skinny, one tall, one fat — and each one of them with scale-like scarring all over next to a woman with a cybernetic hand that was mostly rust, stood up against an empty shattered storefront that looked near-gutted and half-burnt. The three of them passed by at Zee’s pace, Don taking up from behind. 

Four sets of eyes saw the pink jacket and next to it, the scrawny kid in green. 

Mocking expressions tightened and fell as those same four sets flicked to the card around his neck, the faint glow on his chest drawing their eyes.

Suddenly, the grime on the crumbling pavement was fascinating as anything else as they developed a very important conversation about nothing.

Ken felt his shoulders loosen, just a fraction.

"Can't believe you didn't even tell me your name, ghost.” An elbow nudged him from the side; hard, bony and too strong for the size of it, Ken would have known who it belonged to even without the playful stab of a voice rasping in his ear.Ken looked over at Zee, the girl walking as confidently as she always did. Hips rolling with a natural arrogant swagger, her hands were in the pockets of her proud pink puffer; the blonde a bright screaming spot of color enough to stand tall against the neon glaring down from above their heads. 

A teasing grin split her face, white canines gleaming sharp as a knife edge. “Had to find out from a machine."

Ken looked down at the new card, tapping the plastic with his thumb as it swung around his neck.

Wei Kenshi.

The name was strange to look at, half of it at least. Wei.

The old man’s name. His name now.

With a frown on his face, Ken pushed the thought down as far as it could go, beneath the noise of the street as he looked back up at Zee. "...can't believe you didn’t pay attention." 

The girl clicked her tongue his way a heartbeat later, looking back up at him without that grin slipping an inch. “Told you my name. That's an invite, dummy.” She rolled her eyes. “You're s’posed to return the favor. Back and forth, y’know. That’s the way conversation works, ghostboy. Basic social skills. Day one stuff."

Ken almost matched her, his eyes barely held back from rolling too. “I told you my name.” “When?”

The look he gave her instead was full of tiredness he didn’t have to fake, the corner of his mouth twitching down as his stomach growled again. "Back at the shop. You just did like you always do and talked right past me. Like I was furniture."

Zee rolled her eyes a second time, a full dramatic loop. "Whatever, Mr. Citizen. Now…"

The short girl tilted her head up, bobbing her chin at the card he wore proudly. "So how's it feel? To be on the board? To be a real boy?"

Don leaned in, no longer trailing too many steps behind like a lost puppy. One eye squinted at the card on his chest, acting like a jeweler looking at a questionable gem. "Ahh. A GL 1, Mr. Walker. Fresh-fresh off the printer. Still warm too."

He nodded slowly, as if his words actually sounded wise. "You a real lucky one, y’know?"Zee shot him a look. “... what are you talking about, monkey?”

Something in Don’s eyes flickered, expression tightening in a way that wasn’t just his usual nerves or fear. It was only a second, almost a blink that Ken nearly missed, but he spotted it anyway, just before Don played it off with a grin that showed too many teeth as he kept his attention right on Ken.

"Welcome to the Path, friend! Officially a piece in the big-big game now, Walker man.” The burly redhead tilted his head. “The world is yours now, all that muscle and money. Don't forget the little people when you're steppin' on necks."

Ken raised the card as he raised an eyebrow at Don’s words, the weak, pulsing light staring back at him. Path. A piece.

He still wasn't sure what all of it meant, even if he didn’t really want to be a piece in anyone's game.

Either way, it still felt better than being nothing. 

“There it is.”Ken blinked as Zee spoke up again, gaze rising from his card to the building standing in front of them as the girl at his side slowed down just a bit. There… it is?

In front of them stood a residential block that looked even more decayed than most of the rest they’d already passed by, the building a tall monolith of stained rust-battered concrete weeping orange everywhere. Half the windows were either boarded up with wood or barred shut, iron grates tight over the other half

Zee didn't stop to let Ken stare, the blonde leading both him and Don past the main entrance and right around the side. All three of them walked down a narrow alley, the smell of fried garlic in the air before they stopped at a different looking door. 

Like Jiro’s door, it was thick and heavy metal, shiny looking and black but scarred deep with scratches and plenty of gouges. 

A keypad sat next to it, Zee’s fingers a blur as she punched in a code.

The door slid right open, a tight stairwell in front of them much cleaner than Ken expected judging from the outside. “C’mon.”He followed right after Zee as she took the steps two or three at a time, the girl stopping at the only landing to another door. Her hands came out of her jacket pocket with a key in her hand, Zee putting it into the first, second and third lock on the second thick metal door.

Finally, it swung wide open.“Shoes off, monkey.”Don snorted. “Yes, ma’am.”

Ken just blinked as he stepped inside after Zee, no shoes to remove, staring at the small cramped and clean insides of the small girl’s place. 

Huh. The walls were thick with pale paint — nothing crumbling, peeling or falling apart —  and the floor was a smooth, gray synthetic material that was cold onto his feet. Ken stepped further in, eyes trailing over the furniture too. It was modest furniture, nothing like the custom wood-carved stuff in the apothecary; a worn couch that had seen better days but was clearly comfortable, a couple of mismatched chairs, and a small, sturdy table.

Still, it was real furniture. Not the scavenged junk held together with tape and hope, or the crates turned upside down that he’d seen in the city outside through broken windows.

"Whoa.” Don let out a low whistle, his own dark eyes wide as he took in the place. “Knew you were a princess but damn, Lady Zee, this a big set-up."

“Don’t ever…” Zee shot him a hard look, voice a hiss as she gritted the words out. “Call me princess.”

Don put his hands up. "Done. Consider it dropped, buried, never said nothin’."

Ken said nothing, Don scooting right past him as he stood a few feet past the doorway. His eyes trailed back to the triple-locked door, the reinforced shutters on all the windows, and the wall allt the furniture was arranged to turn towards the door.

This wasn’t really a home; more a bunker disguised as an apartment.“Aye!”Ken’s head snapped up to see Zee pointing at him, the girl leaning on the wall just across the room from him. “Ghost, tunic off. Don’t want all your… y’know… all over my stuff.” She pulled a face, nose wrinkling as she let her hand drop back down to her side. “That smell sticks."

He didn’t need to sniff himself to know exactly what smell she was talking about. Ken looked down at all the dark, crusty stains that mapped the violence of the last twenty-four hours, on his skin and clothes both. Even without the blood, it’d been a full day since he got a chance to clean up, and all the smoke and sweat and dirt sticking to him was more than enough to stink up the place.

"There’s a washroom down the hall. Take care of that.” 

"...don't have other clothes." Ken’s voice came out quiet, more embarrassed than he wanted to admit.

Zee’s sigh was loud as ever. “...gimme a minute.”

Don slumped his body into a chair as Zee vanished down that same hallway she pointed down earlier, the redhead groaning out loud as he stretched his arms out in front of him. “This is… this is nice.”“Don’t get used to it, monkey.” Zee stomped right back out, some clothes in her arms; a large plain white shirt, thick and well-made, with a pair of baggy black pants with a drawstring waistband.

With a grunt, she tossed them at Ken. "Here. You can mess those up as much as you want, just change already."

Ken caught the clothes, the material soft, clean and definitely not girl’s clothes. Not unless Zee was like several sizes bigger and at least five inches taller.

He stepped forward and headed down the hallway she pointed down, empty walls staring back at him. An open door to his right caught his eye, Ken glancing at the closet she'd clearly pulled the clothes he was holding from. Other clothes hung in there, shirts and jackets way too big and way too bland for anything that Zee would wear.

This isn't her place. That was obvious. Or she's not alone.

He wasn’t sure what to do with that thought as he walked into the washroom.

The space was as cramped as the apartment itself, barely enough room to turn around. No mirror stared back at him in the dimly lit room, just a blank wall with one weak strip of light on the wall above a small sink and a simple toilet.

Least… least there’s water, though. He turned the faucet, clean water gushing out. Ken stared at it, the sound loud and constant as it poured right down and into the drain. 

His hands held the sides of the sink, knuckles tight as he gripped it tight and let his head hang down. Heh… His locs fell forward, shielding his face from the empty room as a breath shuddered out of him.

The sound was a dry heave more than anything, almost a retch as he felt his stomach clench and turn over and over. Y-you’re fine… you’re fine, you’re fine. The words didn’t do anything to help the feeling as his gut twisted, especially as there was nothing to bring up as he retched silently over the sink.

Just stomach acid and bad air.

After his stomach finally gave up trying to push out what wasn’t there, Ken let out another breath as he splashed a shock of cold water all over his face. Okay…

With his tunic off and lying on the ground, he scrubbed at his skin with fingers and nails, water managing to remove the tightly packed crust. Seconds turned into minutes as Ken watched the water turn pink, then brown, dirt and blood and ash thickening in the sink as it all swirled down the drain. Gone.

Finally…

It’s gone.

He looked at his hands, both of them clean now. 

Just calloused skin and long fingers staring back at him.

"Hurry up, ghostboy!" Zee’s voice came through the door, muffled. "There’s food and the monkey’s hungry"

Ken nodded to no one as he pulled on the clean white shirt, black pants tied tight around his waist as he finally stepped out of the bathroom.

He slid into a seat next to Don on the table in the small kitchen, Zee sitting across from the both of them, as he stared at the strange meal in front of him. It was nothing like the home-cooked food he was used to from his time with Wei; some kind of strange soft white bread with thick strips of textured orange meat he didn’t recognize that smelled a little like chicken.

“Just so you know…” Zee picked at the bread first, the owner of the house the first to touch the food. "Haven’t been down here for long, on One Forty Four, y’know?"

Don snorted into his plate of food. "Yeah, big duh."

Zee's eyes narrowed, gold danger aimed on the redhead. "What's that mean, Dong?"

The tall boy shrugged, mouth full of orange meat. "C’mooon, Zee-lady. Look at ya." One hand gestured her way. "Even the rich ones in the Dump don't dress like you, lollipop. True-true, you’re too clean for it. And colorful, smell like sweets too. You’re all neon pink and too pretty for the worst of the worst. Someone like you would be up in the tennies, at least."

He swallowed a mouthful, tilting his head at the still-glaring Zedd. "And the tennie girls wouldn’t be like you, movin’ with no crew? In this scrap-heap? Wit’ no muscle? Nah. You'd be dead, recycled or owned by now."

He leaned back, looking smug as he nodded his head slow. "Ain’t need you to say it to know you're from upstairs. Probably some big man’s little girl playin’ in the mud ‘cause she got bored livin’ the big life."

Ken looked her way, expecting something else, but Zee just rolled her eyes. A grunt of a sigh left her as Don smiled her way, not denying a word from the redhead’s lips.

"Guess you ain’t a total deadhead, right?" She took a bite of bread, chewing slowly. "I'm from One Forty."

Don let out a whistle, leaning back as he slapped the table. "Whoa. Four floors up... that's... damn. I mean, one of my bro’s got a tech job up there, fixes atmo-scrubbers... but coming down to stay?” He sucked his teeth, a sound leaving him that Ken couldn’t describe as anything but surprised. “That’s... that's a crazy-crazy move."

"I know, I know," Zee cut him off, waving a hand with a piece of bread in it. "I just like the hard life, y’know?"

“Like, I hear they got like… a sky up there," Don pressed again, leaning forward with eyes wide and eager. "That f’real, f’real? Like, a real one? Not the plate?"

Ken blinked, looking over at the awe on Don’s face, and suddenly realized how weird something like that probably was. He's never seen the sun. Not the real one. To not know what the sky looked like. To live forever under a metal ceiling, and just thinking some gray steel was the top of the world with giant lamps shining down on you.

It had already been three years since the last time he saw the sun and the sky outside in the Valley, but… A whole life like that?

“Yeah,” Zee shrugged again. “Yeah, it’s a sky. Sky’s a sky. Ain’t much more than the plate you got down here with all the gray. All the pollution, y’know? Clouds are kinda yellow, too, and the acid rain stings crazy on a bad day.”

Acid rain? Ken had to fight to keep his mouth from hanging free at Zee’s words. Wha… why it would rain acid?

As crazy as that sounded, it didn’t seem to phase Don in the slightest, his eyes just as wide and eager as ever. “...wow. Yellow clouds.”

Zee sighed, eyes down on her hand on the table; five manicured fingers clenched into a tight little fist. “Ain’t that fun up there. Why I’m here, anyway. Just… just building up something of my own, y’know? Nothin’ crazy. Nothin’ like playin’ in the mud.” She clicked her tongue. “Ain’t no daddy’s girl either. My dad’s got his world and I want mine."

"What's the 'something'?" 

Zee looked up at Ken’s question, a new light in her eyes as she stared him down. The usual edge wasn’t on her face, that normal anger almost nowhere to be seen as she allowed herself a little grin. “Y’wanna know, ghost? For real?”

Ken stared down at his still-untouched plate for a second. “...yeah?”

Zee’s grin got wide as she leaned forward, gold eyes meeting Ken’s. "I’m tryin’ to build a cew, a real one. No hired muscle-boys, just a small crew that can take on whatever.."

She tapped the table with a finger. "We don't answer to the Junkerz. We don't answer to the Scrapperz. We don't pay up to the Catz or bow to the Syndicate. It’s all about makin’ our own rules, takin’ our own share."

Ken frowned, part of him already bristling agains the eagerness in Zee’s voice. “...that sounds like a lot, I don’t kn-”

"I got you a card, didn't I, Kenshi?" She interrupted him, that edge slipping back in even when that grin refused to fade. 

Don’t… His frown deepened hearing his name on somebody else’s lips, eyes narrowing back at Zee. “I’m not Don. You don’t scare me, Zee.”“Hey…” the redhead looked up, offense written all over his face before shrugging after he seemed to think about it. “Yeah, fair.”

Zee stared back at him, the amber in her gold eyes twinkling as her grin sharpened. “Who’s trying to scare you, ghost? All I’m saying is You owe me. You’d still be hiding out in the back-sticks scared of your own shadow without me. Trade’s a trade. I don’t want your life, just your muscle."

There was no real answer for that, not one he could really pull from a head that suddenly felt empty. Ken worked his lips without sound, mouth dry as he stared back at the grinning blonde girl. I…

"Can I help?” Don piped up. “Join the crew?"

Zee’s attention slid from Ken, eyebrow rising high as she turned to the redhead. "And what can you do? Besides gettin' your ass beat and owing people money?"

"I'm good with numbers.” Don shrugged with a smile. For the first time, there was real pride in his voice, not the usual weaseling he did.

Real pride.

Ken stared at him with as much confusion as Zee. 

"No, for real!” Don tapped the side of his head, still smiling. “I ran the books for a couple bet-houses in District 42. I know who owes who, the gaps in the turf gaps, where the money flows and where it leaks."

That smile slid into a grin wide enough to match Zee’s. "Y’want to build something? Y’gonna need bricks. But ya also need builders, and y’need someone who can count the bricks before ya buy 'em."

Zee leaned back, clearly considering it as her eyes flicked over him. After a second of thought, her eyes slid back to Ken."What you think, muscle? Useful or useless?"

Ken didn't answer.

He wasn't looking at either of them.

He hadn’t been for the last few seconds, eyes firmly on the wall to Zee’s left opposite the kitchen.

Specifically, at the mirror hanging on the wall of Zee’s living room. 

A simple, framed piece of glass.

His mouth fell open as his reflection stared back at him. At the face he had seen just a day or two ago; the same dark skin, the messy locs tied back, the face that was starting to scrape away the baby fat.

But mostly, he was staring at his eyes.

Zee blinked over at him. “Ghost?”

Ken didn't move. He didn't blink as a whisper left his lips. “My eyes…”

“Yeah?” Zee frowned as she leaned over across the table, looking at his reflection. “What’s wrong with them?”

Ken leaned closer to the glass and stared at what used to be a dark brown but what was now a deep, vibrant violet; the color of a fresh bruise, and glowing. 

Faintly, just a spark in the center of the pupil.

"...they’re... they're purple?"

“...they ain’t s’posed to be?”

No, no, they weren’t.