Shattered Ladder 1-30 (Patreon)

"Yeah, that body armor was a bad idea." 

Ken bit back a sigh, teeth pulled back as he stared straight ahead.“Cus you look like a turtle.”

The smell of melted plastic and fried electronics filled the atmosphere, his nose screwed up as Ken did his best not to cough or sneeze. It wasn’t a unique smell. The last week and a half of getting used to District 44 made him well aware of the constant ozone-heavy, grease-slathered, copper-thick cocktail they called breathing air.

“No, you look more like a fat turtle.”

With all the sparking wires and half-broken drones buzzing overhead, Ken was just surprised there weren’t more fires.Still, the smell was stronger here, trapped under the flaking tarp he stood under that passed for a roof.“I said, you look like a f-”“And I heard you the first two times.” Ken’s words left him through gritted teeth, cutting through the market noise and Zee’s sharp, bright candy-sweet voice. One hand went to his hair, pulling back a loose loc as it drifted over his face. “Honestly, how could I not hear you? You’re right there.”

Purple eyes snapped to his right, locking on to where his blonde boss was perched atop a crate of what looked like stripped circuit boards, legs dangling and pink boots kicking a rhythm against the plastic. "Stop slouching, Kay. You're supposed to be the heavy."

Ken immediately ignored her and leaned against the back pole, rough metal biting into his shoulder through the green tunic and the padded armor he’d worn under it. All of this was Zee’s idea in the first place. Their first job, something she managed to pull out of nowhere one day, and she was already trying to make sure he looked the part.So, the body armor, the body language; it was supposed to cultivate his ‘rep’, and make him look menacing.

Or mysterious.

Or whatever it was Zee wanted him to look like.But apparently, I’m just a fat fricking turtle. Ken bit back the words, arms barely managing to stay crossed over the bulkiness of the cheap padding, as he watched the flow of the crowd moving past the stall. “Turtle’s got a shell anyway.” 

Eyes half-lidded, the words came out slow and heavy, almost a drawl. “Shells are good. Hard to break."

"Yeah, well, turtles don't scare off grab-hands.” She popped another mouthful of the pink gum she always seemed to have. "Shoulders back. Look mean. Like you're gonna pull their heart out and eat it with beans."

"...Don't like beans.”

"It's a metaphor, genius." Zee rolled her eyes, turning back to the street. …that’s not how a metaphor works. Ken stared over at her for a few seconds, wondering if it would be worth it to correct her. Does she even know how a metaphor works? I…Ken shook his head as Zee’s posture shifted again as eyes drifted her way, her spine straightening and chin tilting up. Sitting higher up, unbothered, and in the brightest colors anyone in this market was wearing, she looked more a predator sunning itself on a rock than anything else.She’s loud. Everything about Zee was loud and not just her voice. All her pink clothes, the blonde hair, the gold eyes, the attitude. Dealing with her was like a flare to the face in a dark room.

Honestly, she had him so distracted that he wasn’t sure what to say or do half the time. 

Wait… He blinked, looking back at Zee. That’s kind of her thing, I guess? It was pretty much what she did, even down to the way she talked and fought. Keep ‘em distracted and hit them hard with all the eyes on her. Makes it hard to see what she’s doing or anything else.

"Ay, ay! Fresh tech! Clean tech!” Speaking of loud…“No rust, no dust, no fuss!"

Don's voice had volume and speed where Zee usually did one or the other, managing to blast  through the thick air of the market with pure force. "You, sir! Lookin' for a buzz-bot?” Their resident redhead was out in the flow, blue shirt dull and ratty enough to make him not stand out as he moved like water between the press of bodies. He clapped his hands, a grin plastered on his face that looked as real as all the others he gave. “Got a Gen-3 back there, barely used, looking for a new sync-up!"

Don was busy doing what he called… filtering.

He didn’t really describe it all that well when they’d started the job a few hours back, but watching him now — the way the redhead patted a big guy on the shoulder, steering him toward the stall with a laugh and a joke, while at the same time blocking the line of sight for a group of shifty-looking kids — Ken was pretty sure he got the point of it. Interference...

"Is… is he supposed to be selling?" The merchant, a twitchy little man with more wrinkles than skin on his face, was wringing his hands behind the counter. Beady eyes behind half-cracked glasses darted between Zee and Ken as he tried to figure out who he could direct the question to. "I hired guards. Not… not partners."

Golden eyes flicked Ken’s way, a message in there for him to pick apart.

…fine. Without a word, Ken turned to look at the man. 

The silence stretched. One, two, three…

Before five passed them by, the merchant swallowed hard, Adam's apple bobbing with unspoken words as he turned his attention back to his inventory list.

Strong and silent, huh?

"He's adding value." Zee called over her shoulder, finally choosing to answer the merchant’s question without even a look back. "You pay for protection from two Walkers, you get the special upgrade included. Be grateful."

"Gr-grateful!" The word came out a squeak. "Yes. Right."

Ken kept his face as flat as he could, fighting off a snort as he kept looking at the moving crowd in front of him. The market was a living thing, a beast of a thousand bodies cycling through every few seconds. Metal clashed off in the distance, steam hissing from vents just above them, and so many voices it felt physical.

It was pretty much overwhelming if you tried to take it all in at once. 

So Ken didn't. 

No, he focused on the details.

Like the way a man in a gray coat kept circling back, eyes on another merchant's coin box, or the group of heavies pushing their way through the crowd, shoulders checking anyone too slow to move, even the glint of a knife — small and roughly made — tucked into a woman's boot.

"Hey, boss-lady!" Don popped up at the side of the stall, breathless but grinning, as two sets of eyes turned his ay. "Heads up. Three o'clock. Got a cluster of uglies incoming. Look like Chrome Hounds, but… knock-offs. Cheap paint."

Zee’s clicked her tongue. "Really, the Hounds? Those wannabes?"

"Wannabes with weapons, boss." Don took a quick swing from his water bottle as he answered back. "No tags on’ em, though, so might be knockoffs."

Ken pushed off the pole, the air in his lungs thinner and sharper as he felt the cold ease back into his veins. It had been a little while but he still felt… Ready.

The group Don had spotted broke through the crowd, the same ones Ken had seen a good bit back. Heads shaved, chests bare but covered with tattoos, all five of them weren’t nearly big enough to look scary on their own.

So, it made sense they moved in a pack.

At once, five sets of eyes turned their way, attention focused on the merchant as the man to his side froze up. Oh… Ken almost rolled his eyes. So, that’s why he hired us.

One of them walked up, a scar running across his eyebrow above a nose that had been broken a good few times. "Rent's due, little man.” He leaned forward, hands loose at his sides. "Space tax. You know the rules."

"I… I paid!” The merchant shrank back, clutching a datapad to his chest like a shield. “I paid the Fists last cycle! I have the stamp!"

"Fists ain't here. Hounds are.” One hand reached out, aiming to swipe the display packed with sensors and small electronics. The tattooed arm froze, going no farther as a dark hand gripped it tight around the wrist.The leader of the five blinked, brown eyes meeting purple as Ken stared into his, the teenager occupying the space beside him. “You heard him.”A slight push and the Chrome thug went stumbling back, clearly confused at the idea that anyone was interrupting his business. “He said he paid already.” 

The man moved forward, arms already up. "Move, runt. This ain’t none of y-"Two hands shoved Ken.

At least, they tried to.

His weight shifted on its own, hips dropping slightly as he inched just a bit lower to the floor. As soon as the shove hit his shoulder, it slid right off and the thug stumbled, off-balance. "Don't touch.” His voice was barely audible over the market noise but Ken was pretty sure the man in front of him heard it well enough. "Not yours."

"You think this a game?" The thug stood up straight again, bald head flushed red as he pulled back a fist, metal-plated middle finger shown off like it was a ring. "I'll break yo-"

Ken stepped in — inside the guard, inside the reach — as his palm shot out.An open hand thudded square in the center of the Chrome Hound’s bare chest, as much force as he could deliver as quickly as he could manage it.

Air whooshed over Ken’s face as the man folded over the heel of his palm, lungs emptied in a wet sound. Eyes bulging from his face, the Hound dropped to his knees, mouth opening and closing like a fish.

Choking on air that wouldn't go down.

The other four thugs froze as their eyes dropped to their leader on the ground, Ken standing there above him with his hand still out.

Then they looked up.

“He warned ya, didn’t he?” A pair of pink boots landed next to Ken, Zee’s bored voice speaking for him. A hand rested on his shoulder as she leaned in, bright pink nails tapping away. “Mr Ghost here… see, he’s new to being a Walker and doesn’t really know how to control his strength.” She clicked her tongue, head tilted to the side. “You best get your man here to a sump-doc real quick or his ribs might take out his heart.”No… Ken blinked down at the groaning man, staring at his hand even as he stayed still. I didn’t… I didn’t hit ribs. Dead center in the chest, he had probably hit the… solar plexus? Yeah, i hit that. He knew Zee didn’t know anything about medicine, but he doubted the guy was in any danger of dying, not unless… oh, oh no.“No.”Several eyes snapped his way as the word left his lips. Ken blinked and stared back. “I… I mean, it’s not the heart and not the ribs, but there’s a possibility his liver could be punctured by the xiph-” He bit back a sigh and grunted, folding his arms across his too-thick chest. “It doesn’t matter but you should get him medical help, like… right now. Please.”

"Mmmhmm, one down," Ken almost flinched as Zee’s grip tightened on his shoulder while she counted softly. "Four to go. Math is fun."

Don popped up on Ken’s other side, spinning a screwdriver in his fingers. "So you know, big guy’s nice. He has manners. Boss lady here likes to go for the kill."

The thugs looked back down at the leader, blood pouring from his mouth as he inched backwards and away from the three teenagers. 

They made a choice.

"This ain't worth it.” The one who spoke grabbed the leader by the shoulder, the downed man wheezing as he stood up on wobbly legs. 

"We're leaving.” Another spoke up next, as they all backed away with their hands up. "Wrong stall. Mistake."

"Big mistake," Zee called after them. "Huge. I see you again, I'm taking toes next time!"

All four of them dragged their gasping boss into the crowd, quickly disappearing into the press of bodies that made up the market.

Ken let out a breath he didn't know he was holding, tension in his shoulders easing free as he stood up straight again. He made to lean back up against the pole only to see the merchant man staring at him, mouth open and eyes wide like the thug he just dropped.

"You… You hit him… just once."

"...yeah." Ken wasn’t gonna argue with what he did. He still wasn’t sure how he knew how to do it, but he definitely could pull it off at least. "That I did, sir."

"And you!" The merchant turned to Zee. "You… you scared them off!"

"I have a scary face.” Zee jumped back up onto the crate, landing light with a single hop as she dusted off her hands. "Plus, the pink freaks them out. Even when some idiot apologizes like a little kid…”Ken kept his head down and to the ground, a few of his locs falling forward to hide his eyes.“It still does the job.” Zee clicked her tongue as she resumed her reclining perch. 

“What the boss-lady said.” Don sidled up to the counter, the redhead snagging up a small battery pack and tossing the thing in the air. "We the full package, man. No extra charge for beating down the wannabes too."

"Yes. Yes. Good job.” The merchant was nodding, the man jerkily pulling two pouches from under the counter. “Very good. Here. Payment. Full payment. You take extra."

He tossed the bags up at Zee, both snatched from the air with a movement that almost blurred even as Ken watched close. "Heavy." Zee smiled, weighing them in her hand. “I like it heavy."

Ken blinked, hand snapping out as something blurred his way. What the-

A pouch, the smaller of the two gray ones Zee had been holding, sat in his palm. “The extra’s for you.”What? Ken blinked up to see the girl smiling down at him.  "Me?"

She shrugged. “Even though you’re an idiot, you still did good. Don't lose it."

"Good." Don snorted, still spinning his screwdriver. "I could do real good too if I could stop a guy's heart with a high-five."

"Quiet, monkey," Zee’s words might as well have poked Don in the ribs the way he flinched. "We did good. Teamwork. Yay us."

Ken allowed the corner of his mouth to twitch up. “Yay us.”"Yeah, yeah," Zee waved him off, face turning back to the crowd. "Now, shoulders back and look mean again. We got four more hours."