"Unholy Union"
Disclaimer: See chapter 1
I was designed to be a runaway. That was blatantly obvious in the first ten
seconds of my new found freedom. The Post-Pulse world was different, more dangerous. I liked it better that way.
God bless the Pulse. It saved my life, I know it. Everything that Manticore
had to try to track me was gone in an instant. All the techno-babble bullshit was worthless. Any data he had on me until then was worthless. I left Texas
as soon as I could.
California became my new home. It was hot and corrupt, I hated snow and needed money. It worked. And thus was our unholy union.
I learned the ways of the street kid fast. I knew what to do when and how to get what I needed. Like news. People always wanted news. Twenty-five cents would open the paper holders and you could steal all of the papers inside and charge whatever you wanted. With no TV's, Internet, or radio, people would pay to find out what was going on outside of their own bubble. Their desperate need for information was how I ate.
Sleep? I didn't need to. If I had to, absolutely HAD to sleep, the most I could pull is an hour. And that will get me through months, if not longer. I was able to stay awake to guard my stuff so no other kid could steal it.
Once I perfected the paper scams, I moved up to pan handling. Kids like me rake in the money. I'm adorable, I can look horribly pathetic and women line up to give me money.
Men saw something else they would pay for when they looked at me. My hair was growing out and even unwashed it was elegant. Men saw it. Saw my piercing blue eyes, my lips, they wanted it, wanted me. I was still only a kid but I
was more beautiful than most women could hope to dream. I lost my naietivity quickly. I didn't *do* anything but after a few weeks on the street, I knew
every slang word for sex, oral sex, and everything else. Hell, most of it had been offered at a high price and if I had been desperate...
Men don't like pretty girls with morals. Men think along the lines of want,
take, have. And some baffoon's thought I applied to this law of their nature. I broke several hands, a couple legs, and a few arms and shoulders of men who thought that I was theirs for the taking.
One guy tried to touch me and I dropped him like a bad habit. Then I picked
him clean. Watch, money, shoes, belt buckle, jewelry. When I had taken everything of his of worth I stood up. Someone started clapping.
Behind me was a girl, she was older than me by atleast double of my age. She was blonde and pretty for an ordinary. She looked tough. I liked her straight off. "You're good kid." She said to me.
"I know." I say and I move away from the guy.
"You got a name?" She asked me.
"Jondy." I reply.
"I'm Madeline. I go by Line. You run with anyone?"
"Nope." I say.
"You want to?"
"Nope."
"I know a kid like you. Acts like he's tough as nails. He's even got the same tattoo."
It's hard to act like your not interested when someone says that. Normally I strive to hide my barcode but since taking residence on the street I haven't paid as much attention to it as I should. I look at her, my eyes blank. "Yeah so. What's in it for you?"
She smiled, "You got skill, I could use kids like you on my team."
"What's in it for me?"
"We work alone and share everything. You always get food, we got a house with heat and running water."
"What if I want to leave?"
"No one holds you down." She said.
I nod, "I'll check it out."
Honestly, I amaze myself that I didn't start begging to see the kid with the tattoo. I played it off cool, like it was no big deal.
She led me to the house. Inside was at least half a dozen kids, some younger than me and none older than her. I look around, it looks bearable.
She moves up to a guy that is obviously the oldest guy in the house, "You seen Mecha?"
"He's down in the basement fixing the heater again." The guy says with a thick New York accent. Or at least what I think is a New York accent.
Line come back over to me. "He's downstairs."
"His name's Mecha?" I ask.
"Everyone here has a code name, a street name. I'm Line. And the kid, he's an all star. He fixes everything. Mechanic shortened to Mecha."
I nod. "I'm gonna go introduce myself.
She waved me off and I headed down the stairs silently. I saw a guy about my age with a tuft of jet black hair and a barcode. I knew the numbers instantly. The hair was a surprise, but then again so was my probably. I cleared my throat, "Am I supposed to call you Mecha or will your real name work, big brother?"
He stood up, frozen. Slowly he turned, he didn't recognize me at first. I smiled and then his emerald eyes lit up. "Jondy?"
We hugged, how could we not. It had been months since I had seen him. I didn't even know if he had escaped or not. We pulled back and I looked at him, he was crying. I couldn't hide my surprise, "Zane, soldiers don't cry." I said softly.
He smiled bitterly, "Newsflash Jondy, we're not soldiers anymore."
Holy shit, call that the one thought I never had. We weren't soldiers anymore. It took a long time to absorb that concept.
Then something unexplainable happened. My eyes started leaking. I was scared, I couldn't explain what was going on. I looked to Zane. "What's happening to me?" I asked.
He smiled softly and dried a tear with his thumb. "You're crying."
I had never cried before. Not when siblings would get dragged off to Psych Ops, not if I was in Psych Ops, not when Jack was dragged off, not when Eva was shot, not when Zack got captured for me and Max, not when Max and I got separated. Never! But for Zane I cried, everything was looking good for me for real this time. I found one sibling. Come on, how hard could it possibly be to find the others?
Disclaimer: See chapter 1
I was designed to be a runaway. That was blatantly obvious in the first ten
seconds of my new found freedom. The Post-Pulse world was different, more dangerous. I liked it better that way.
God bless the Pulse. It saved my life, I know it. Everything that Manticore
had to try to track me was gone in an instant. All the techno-babble bullshit was worthless. Any data he had on me until then was worthless. I left Texas
as soon as I could.
California became my new home. It was hot and corrupt, I hated snow and needed money. It worked. And thus was our unholy union.
I learned the ways of the street kid fast. I knew what to do when and how to get what I needed. Like news. People always wanted news. Twenty-five cents would open the paper holders and you could steal all of the papers inside and charge whatever you wanted. With no TV's, Internet, or radio, people would pay to find out what was going on outside of their own bubble. Their desperate need for information was how I ate.
Sleep? I didn't need to. If I had to, absolutely HAD to sleep, the most I could pull is an hour. And that will get me through months, if not longer. I was able to stay awake to guard my stuff so no other kid could steal it.
Once I perfected the paper scams, I moved up to pan handling. Kids like me rake in the money. I'm adorable, I can look horribly pathetic and women line up to give me money.
Men saw something else they would pay for when they looked at me. My hair was growing out and even unwashed it was elegant. Men saw it. Saw my piercing blue eyes, my lips, they wanted it, wanted me. I was still only a kid but I
was more beautiful than most women could hope to dream. I lost my naietivity quickly. I didn't *do* anything but after a few weeks on the street, I knew
every slang word for sex, oral sex, and everything else. Hell, most of it had been offered at a high price and if I had been desperate...
Men don't like pretty girls with morals. Men think along the lines of want,
take, have. And some baffoon's thought I applied to this law of their nature. I broke several hands, a couple legs, and a few arms and shoulders of men who thought that I was theirs for the taking.
One guy tried to touch me and I dropped him like a bad habit. Then I picked
him clean. Watch, money, shoes, belt buckle, jewelry. When I had taken everything of his of worth I stood up. Someone started clapping.
Behind me was a girl, she was older than me by atleast double of my age. She was blonde and pretty for an ordinary. She looked tough. I liked her straight off. "You're good kid." She said to me.
"I know." I say and I move away from the guy.
"You got a name?" She asked me.
"Jondy." I reply.
"I'm Madeline. I go by Line. You run with anyone?"
"Nope." I say.
"You want to?"
"Nope."
"I know a kid like you. Acts like he's tough as nails. He's even got the same tattoo."
It's hard to act like your not interested when someone says that. Normally I strive to hide my barcode but since taking residence on the street I haven't paid as much attention to it as I should. I look at her, my eyes blank. "Yeah so. What's in it for you?"
She smiled, "You got skill, I could use kids like you on my team."
"What's in it for me?"
"We work alone and share everything. You always get food, we got a house with heat and running water."
"What if I want to leave?"
"No one holds you down." She said.
I nod, "I'll check it out."
Honestly, I amaze myself that I didn't start begging to see the kid with the tattoo. I played it off cool, like it was no big deal.
She led me to the house. Inside was at least half a dozen kids, some younger than me and none older than her. I look around, it looks bearable.
She moves up to a guy that is obviously the oldest guy in the house, "You seen Mecha?"
"He's down in the basement fixing the heater again." The guy says with a thick New York accent. Or at least what I think is a New York accent.
Line come back over to me. "He's downstairs."
"His name's Mecha?" I ask.
"Everyone here has a code name, a street name. I'm Line. And the kid, he's an all star. He fixes everything. Mechanic shortened to Mecha."
I nod. "I'm gonna go introduce myself.
She waved me off and I headed down the stairs silently. I saw a guy about my age with a tuft of jet black hair and a barcode. I knew the numbers instantly. The hair was a surprise, but then again so was my probably. I cleared my throat, "Am I supposed to call you Mecha or will your real name work, big brother?"
He stood up, frozen. Slowly he turned, he didn't recognize me at first. I smiled and then his emerald eyes lit up. "Jondy?"
We hugged, how could we not. It had been months since I had seen him. I didn't even know if he had escaped or not. We pulled back and I looked at him, he was crying. I couldn't hide my surprise, "Zane, soldiers don't cry." I said softly.
He smiled bitterly, "Newsflash Jondy, we're not soldiers anymore."
Holy shit, call that the one thought I never had. We weren't soldiers anymore. It took a long time to absorb that concept.
Then something unexplainable happened. My eyes started leaking. I was scared, I couldn't explain what was going on. I looked to Zane. "What's happening to me?" I asked.
He smiled softly and dried a tear with his thumb. "You're crying."
I had never cried before. Not when siblings would get dragged off to Psych Ops, not if I was in Psych Ops, not when Jack was dragged off, not when Eva was shot, not when Zack got captured for me and Max, not when Max and I got separated. Never! But for Zane I cried, everything was looking good for me for real this time. I found one sibling. Come on, how hard could it possibly be to find the others?