Shattered Ladder 1-36 (Patreon)

Smoke poured down from another part of the district, the haze in the air melding and merging with the thick fog that came from a hundred thousand vents all around. The combination was a concoction that hung low to the ground, a thick humid nearly-liquid mix that somehow managed to smell worse as it picked up a thousand other smells and cooked it like a soup of industrial exhaust.

After almost a full two months, even the worst day was almost breathable now.

Which was a blessing?Sure, if you could call it that.

Ken didn’t call it anything at all, suffering in silence with a wrinkled nose as he made his way through the chaotic mid-day march. Cloth sandals slapped softly against the cracked asphalt, as he strode around with a quarter of the confidence Zee seemed to have been born with. He didn't normally hunch his shoulders the way the scavvers did, but the way she talked about it, he might as well have been one of them. 

No point in swinging my arms like that anyway. Honestly, that just seemed like looking for an excuse to start a fight. Not that anyone seemed to be interested in picking one with him, anyway.

His C-Card stood out as it hung around his neck, the single light a weak gray pulse against his chest. He could feel the eyes on it, the thing magnetic to anyone brave enough to look. 

But, as usual, nobody made a move.

Maybe it was the tunic, the old-fashioned bright green. It could have been the eyes, the bright purple he hadn’t seen shared yet.

 Or maybe it was the simple fact that Ken hadn’t seen a single person with a light on theirs other than him and Zee in the last two months he’d been out of the apothecary. I know it’s rare, but how rare? 

Zee hadn’t exactly been specific with numbers past the amount of people in this district but that was a math problem on its own. If there’s like a billion in Four-Four, then there’s gotta be at least a couple million Walkers here. He frowned at the thought, eyes still roaming the crowd for any proof of that. Or… maybe they’re in other districts?

Questions to bug with Zee later slid into a mental folder packed to the brim as his eyes focused forward on who he was out here to meet up with anyway. Half a street ahead, Don leaned against the corrugated metal wall of a stall that had seen better decades, rust already streaking against the back of his hoodie but the redhead didn’t seem all that bothered. Arms crossed, and grinning easy, Ken could almost believe that Don looked as relaxed and as in control as he wanted to seem.

But that almost was still there.

The tension in his jaw said otherwise though and, most importantly, the way his finger tapped against a bulge the front pocket of his gray hoodie told a whole other story.

He didn’t have to guess to know that Don definitely still had the iron somewhere on him in the most obvious of places, the thing like a security blanket since last week. Considering Don didn’t have much going for him in terms of force, it made sense. Still…“You trying to pull that thing out or what?”

Don blinked dark eyes Ken’s way as soon as he walked up, mouth moving silently for a few seconds before a laugh finally burst free. “...’m that obvious, huh, bro?”“Just a lil bit, Donny.” Ken snorted. “So, we good to go?”“Yeah, we good.”

Their plan for the day was simple.

Not stupid. No matter what Zee felt like chiming in with, it was simple work.

They were going to ask around about Old Man Wei, mostly to find out who might’ve wanted a quiet old herb-master put down. The odds that they would really figure out who had the high-end gear and the motive to torch his shop was rare, but no point in not trying, right? It was Ken’s idea, of course, pushed through the morning’s usual convo.

Don had quickly agreed to join up with him, mostly because the alternative was sitting alone with Zee in her apartment while she sharpened various pieces of scrap metal. The odds that she would want a testing dummy were high, and Ken knew that Don was good at getting himself out of potential danger.

Besides, out here in the noise and the dirt, Don was useful. He knew the streets, at least, and he knew the players. 

Most importantly, he knew who knew things.

Which made their first stop highly confusing to Ken for many reasons, least of all the simple fact that it was a place Don clearly didn’t want to go into.

"The House Shōten.” The redhead jabbed a thumb at the bright neon sign as soon as they got close, the thing glowing strong above the door. “Biggest happy house in the district. Not the best,” he clicked his tongue, “but Mama Wan definitely made sure it’s the biggest.”

House? Ken blinked up. Calling it anything close to that was… generous.

It was a building, sure, the main one still in a pretty solid state, but the sides and the top of it wasn’t exactly fitting the vibe. Mostly because someone had decided attaching a bunch of half-rusted shipping containers stacked high to the building and reinforcing them with iron girders was a good idea. 

He wasn’t sure why they thought it was a good idea, but they definitely had.

Eryebrows high as he held back a sigh, Ken pushed through the door behind Don, immediately poking his head through the clattering beaded curtain at the entrance.

The smog of the district outside vanished, the air suddenly thick for an entirely different reason as Ken breathed it in.  Sweet and cloying, it was different and headache-inducing, smoke trailing off various sticks and merging with the heavy perfume that coated the whole place. Oh God, how is the outside better than this?

He almost opened his mouth to groan, but an elbow to his stomach had him look up at Don shaking his head. “You get used to it…” 

Ken stared back. “I don’t want to.”Don smirked. “You say that now. Come on.”An arm grabbed his shoulder and pulled Ken forward as they walked up to another door and as soon as they stepped through that one— oh.

A woman stood behind a bar, tall enough that Ken knew the top of his head would barely reach neck. An older woman, her face was painted with makeup that looked more like war paint than anything to pretty you up, heavily pale and drawn on like she’d used herself to make art. 

As interesting as her face was, Ken could not focus on it all that much, his gaze stuck explicitly at eye-level. The woman wore a crimson kimono, the outfit decorated with flowers, but she seemed to be wearing it incorrectly, considering her very large chest was prominently aggressively on display. 

More than that, it seemed like she had gone to the trouble of oiling it too, the candle-light in the lobby almost reflecting off her skin. 

Don't look. Don't look. Don't look. Violet eyes snapped away instantly, fixed firmly on a row of bottles of… of oil on the shelf to the side of her. Heat rushed to his cheeks, the spice-smoke making it so much harder to focus as the woman’s dark eyes landed on him with an expression as flat as he had ever seen.

She turned around, the haze of smoke seemingly doing nothing to her as she polished a glass clean with a cloth as red as her kimono. A slow, highly amused smirk spread across her red-painted lips as her attention lingered on Ken, the fifteen-year-old boy taking the time to study the architectural integrity of the ceiling.

Then her eyes slid to Don, the smirk vanishing to nowhere as Don seemed to find it and plaster it across his face. "Mama Wan, lookit you. Stunning, absolutely radiant, as always. Is that a new body oil? Perfumed? It’s working for you."

‘Mama Wan’ didn't smile back. 

“Don Lee.” Her voice was a low husky thing that somehow felt like the sweet-smoke that filled the space.“You remember me, Mama?” A hand went to his heart, Don gasping softly in a way Ken would have bought if it wasn’t Don of all people. “I missed you too.”“I remember you’re supposed to be dead, yes.”Again with that. Ken frowned at that as Don snorted, a laugh escaping the redhead as he scratched the back of his hair. What did you do, man?

“People keep trying to kill me for no reason, Mama.” Donny shook his head slow. “I don’t understand it either. The Four-Four’s crazy like that, but people really gotta stop betting against the Don, y’know.”

Dark eyes narrowed. "I do seem to lose bets when it comes to you, don’t I?" “Well…” Don laughed again, the sound petering out as Mama Wan refused to even lift her lips the slightest bit. Finally, he cleared his throat. “...yeah.”"What do you want, boy? Why are you in my dollhouse?” She put the glass down on the polished wood of the bar with a simple click. “And who’s this little Southchild you dragged in behind you?"

Southchild? Unsure what to say to that, he looked over at Don and got nothing more than a jerk of the head over in the big woman’s direction. Okay, then. Keeping his eyes as high as they would go, Ken closed the distance towards the bar. "I’m looking for some information.”“If it’s rates for a good doll, I could do a new customer deal. Twenty gray for a stretch.” She pursed her lips as she looked him up and down, taking in his clothes with a little hum. “You want a good night, a full stretch, we’re talking one Iron, Southboy.”

Wha-huh? Ken blinked at the big woman, eyes dropping low for a second before he shook his head and looked away again. “N-no, I’m… no. I…” 

A pale hand, manicured and painted as red as her clothes, roamed upwards as Mama Wan adjusted the necklace that hung low as Ken felt his mouth dry up.“No.”Don leaned in, nudging his side. “I’d take the deal, honestly. I’ve never gotten half-off here before.”Mama Wan snorted. “And you never will.”Purple eyes fixed Don with a punishing glare, the other boy stepping back. “Shut up.” Turning back to the woman behind the bar, Ken shook his head. “Look, first of all, no. Thank you, but no thank you. I need info about an old man.”The woman raised an eyebrow. “Plenty of those here.”…ew. 

“Again, no.” Ken stared at the woman in silence for a good second before he finally spoke again, pushing that image and several others out of his head first. “I need to know about an herbalist named Wei. We heard his shop was burned down."

Mama Wan’s hard expression shifted; a flicker of something that, on a normal person in a normal place, might have been called sadness. But on the big woman, in the candle-lit smoky space, it lasted for less than a breath. "Wei…" 

The name left her painted lips as a soft exhale. "That was a shame. A real shame."

Red-painted hands cradled the already-clean glass, red cloth polishing slower as she stared off at nothing. "Wei was a good man. Better than any of the sawbones or brew-hacks working Four-Four. Fixed up my girls when they caught something and didn’t charge much or take a stretch for free. A few of them would have done it, no question too. But no…"

She paused, dark eyes distant. 

"Kindest greybeard in the whole Sump, I swear." The crimson kimono opened up a bit as Mama Wan leaned forward over the wooden bar, enough to make Ken’s eye twitch while Don didn’t even bother pretending. "You ask me, though? He couldn’t be from the Sump. Not manners like that, or his words… Too clean, that voice. Only met one other who spoke like that, and they were up from…”The woman frowned, eyes dropping back down to both boys. “Well, I don't know where exactly, but they had to be from way up. Maybe One-Twenty."

She shook her head, heavy earrings chiming against her jaw. "Wish I knew who dropped the old man. Whoever brought me their teeth would get a free night with one of my silks, even.” As if remembering she wasn’t alone with her thoughts, her eyes narrowed at Ken this time as she stood up straight. “What you wanna know about Wei for?"

Ken worked his throat, swallowing a mouthful of nothing as he started to talk about the old man to this woman who seemed to know him longer than he did.

"This here’s Kenshi Wei.” Don didn't even give him the chance to try as he snorted out his name, elbow leaning against the bar as he jerked a thumb back at Ken. "Old Wei was his gramps. Raised him."

Mama Wan stilled as she stared at Ken with new eyes, a sudden noise too close to a moan for Ken’s comfort leaving her throat. The woman leaned over the wood counter before Ken could even twitch backwards, violet eyes wide as she grabbed him.

She pulled him forward, almost over the counter completely, the big lady wrapping him up in a suffocatingly soft and heavily scented embrace.

“You poor poor poor boy!” Mama crooned, rocking Ken slightly as his arms were pinned to his sides. Face smashed directly and unavoidable into the cleavage he’d spent the last few minutes actively avoiding, he could only do his best not to breathe in too much. "I didn’t even know Wei had a boy. Kept you hidden away, did he? You must be struggling."

Ken made a sound, a muffled squeak that went unheard as Mama Wan only squeezed tighter.

A full thirty seconds later, the dollhouse owner finally let go of him.Ken stumbled backward, gasping in a ragged breath of sweet air as he tried his best not to wipe at the red lip-prints sitting dead-center on his forehead, burning like a brand.

Judging from the red-faced look Don was aiming his way, it was as obvious as it felt. 

– o – o – o – o – o – o – o –

They left the happy house a few minutes later, Ken stepping quickly out into the relatively breathable soup-air with absolutely no solid answers. Don kept pace with him, still side-eyeing the remaining red stain on the boy’s dark skin, shoulders shaking as he managed to get words out past all the laughter.

"…you know something?”“No.” Ken took in a breath. “I don’t know, Donny. I don’t wanna know either.”“I’ll tell you anyway.” Don hummed, kicking a can down an alley. The metal clattered against the road as the redhead boy looked back up at him. "Some guys would pay good, solid Iron money for that exact treatment. They call it mommy service in there. Usually goes longer but you got the real thing, so…"

Ken just raised the rough sleeve of his green tunic and furiously scrubbed at the last bit of lipstick stain on his forehead, jaw locked so tight his teeth ached. “I will get Zee to dropkick you in the chest.”

Both palms went up in the universal gesture of innocent surrender, Don still unable to hide that stupid grin. "Just talking market economics, Ken-bro."

Market economics, my ass. 

Ken forced himself to calm down as they kept walking, Don navigating market after market as vendors yelled a thousand different things at ten thousand different people. Ken was the first to break the silence, desperately trying to change the subject before Don made another joke and he had to figure out how to explain to Zee how the redhead ended up dead.

"What's it like?" Ken finally landed on an option. "Having four twin brothers."

“First of all, we not twins.” Don snorted. “We’re quins.” He kicked at a loose piece of jagged scrap metal protruding from the grated ground. “Second, what's it like being an only child?" 

Ken was quiet for a long moment, eyes fixed firmly on flickering neon as he thought back to the years without Gram in the Wastes, and living off the villagers who didn’t want him dead. “I dunno, really.”Wow, you can hold him but not a convo you started. Great job. Ken shook his head, pushing the mean voice away. "Quiet, I guess."

"Yeah, well…" Don clicked his tongue once. "Pretty much the exact opposite of that. Never had a single moment or thing to myself. Five of us crammed into a two-room, so someone was always shouting, someone always stealing your rations or wearing your damn shirt before you could grab it."

The redhead shook his head. “A whole damn crew just by ourselves. A walking riot."

Ken looked over at him again. "You said they all moved up.” 

It wasn't a question.

"Yeah…” Don’s grin fell away all of a sudden, just leaving behind a smile Ken didn’t fully buy at all. “They're smart like that. Lee got a sponsorship with a mid-tier tech guild on Floor 140. Bee’s a junior engineer in the factory districts up on 133. Zay, and Shaw…” The smile edged a little lower, even less real than before. “Honestly, I don’t really know where they went, but they all found someone bigger to pull them up the ladder. They send money back down, though. Good sons."

"You seem pretty smart too.” It wasn't a compliment, as much as it was a simple truth. "Why didn't you go with them?"

Don stopped walking for a second, forcing Ken to pause as the other boy stood there, watching a holo-sign buzz violently above a stall and slowly flicker out. 

“...never tried.” He shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his rust-stained hoodie, shoulders hunched. "Never… uh… just wasn’t for me, I guess."

He looked down at his boots. "I was the one who got them out of trouble when they mouthed off to the wrong Junker. But up-floor? Up floor’s got rules and standards. It’s not made for mouths like me, y’know. Can’t talk your way out of everything up there."

He let out a shaky laugh, grin forced back on his face as he looked back at Ken. "Also, real-real, Ken-bro, you Martials scare me like… Like, Zee-lady could break my spine in half. People stronger than that up there? Real demigods with real Gear? Nah, I’m good down here."

Ken didn't say anything, just filing all that away as the other boy dragged him deeper through the District into the underbelly of Four-Four.

– o – o – o – o – o – o – o –

"Wei… ol’ purple eyes… yeah, I knew ‘im." It didn’t take too long before they found someone willing to talk that wasn’t lying out of their ass for a chance at some coin. Kiri was that someone, the older lady a gaunt-looking scraptech with oil-stained fingers and a low-grade clunk-part for an eye that whirred too loudly to be installed anything close to right.  

Working out of a ltieral hole in the wall right under a massive vent, Ken had to wonder if the woman still had her hearing. Either way, she had enough of it left to answer questions.

"Yeah, he bought parts off me. Too-broken, too-old or just so weird no one knew what to do with.” She wiped her hands on a filthy rag, mechanical eye dilating with a click. "Never asked questions about where I found it but paid well, though."

An hour later, they found Erk, the guy a too-tall salvager with a face too worn-out to be only twice Ken’s age. Either way, the man sat like a king on a pile of rusted engine blocks, chewing on a piece of dried meat like it was fighting his teeth.

"Hoarder," Erk spat out.Literally.

A thick glob of brown hit the dirt inches from Ken’s sandals.

"Always buying up the weird scrap before anyone else could get it. Kept asking around for things with a 'stable matrix.' Whatever that means." Erk waved his remaining arm around, gesturing across the entire market of scavengers.

"Kept the best salvage for himself like a selfish old bastard.” Another glob hit the ground. “Good riddance."

As the artificial suns of Floor 144 began their dimming cycle, bruised shadows cast orange across the grimy streets, both boys began making their way back to the sector that held Zee's apartment.

Ken's pockets were empty now, the few chips he’d brought to buy information gone, while his head was full of conflicting stories. He stared up at the nearly-dim metal sky, a heavy sigh leaving him.

"Hey.”

Ken kept his eyes up even as Don spoke.

"We'll figure it out, man.” Don offered him a crooked smile that was actually genuine. "And when we find them, I’ll try really hard not to throw up when you inevitably gut them like fish."

Ken finally looked down, nodding at the other boy as he tried to fight a smile.

"...Yeah.”