Delphine had been clear on the challenges of their new way of life. Bottom feeders in this town didn't survive long without a certain attitude. Arrogance got you killed, so did excessive deference. Ideally, of course, you avoided notice, but you avoided overt challenge.
First issue for today was to successfully get to the work station. Deepground bottom feeders slunk through the streets in small groups, head down and quiet. No one started trouble –these labourers had abandoned any efforts to seek power.
That did not mean there was no danger. There was a hundred yards of open ground between the wreckage where the bulk of the DGs lived and their work station, and some of the local snipers apparently liked to use it for target practice. The good news was that they usually shot at guard hounds, because they moved faster than the human DGs and made better targets. The bad news was 'usually' and anyone acting complacent went up the priority list. The other bad news was that as a SOLDIER, Gaspar was quite a fast runner.
They waited for stragglers in a way oddly reminiscent of Midgar commuters. Running together made it less likely that you specifically would be picked out of the crowd, while increasing the odds that somebody would take the shot.
Delphine's crew split up for running, as apparently clumps drew attention.
She had made introductions over the past week, inasmuch as there was any. She was the only member of the crew apart from him to have a name. DH-3313, DG-1714, and DS-2419, and DG-1184. They were DG-born, never given names. This morning commute was what they knew, and somehow, they'd survived it this long.
No one gave a signal. The DGs suddenly made a break, and then there was a sudden flood, accompanied by the distant crack of rifles. He had lost his new friends in the crowd, Delphine had set up a meeting point near a particular set of broken pipes on the other side, but the run was better split up.
That presented a problem. As a SOLDIER, Gaspar was fairly fast. Moving fast meant potentially standing out, drawing the attention of the shooters. He didn't know how good these people were, a SOLDIER at full speed was not an easy shot, but he wasn't the only mako enhanced person in town.
Arrogance had not got him far since his arrival down here.
He set off in the middle of the pack, and immediately broke into a cold sweat. SOLDIER training involved a fair amount of exercises dedicated to staying calm under stress, but knowingly running at less that his capabilities while under fire was easily the most stressful thing he had ever done. At first, the impacts were simply making the runners aware they were being watched, sparking off the ground near the leaders and stragglers. The local equivalent of a hello.
Then some bullet impacts started edging closer, impacting off body armour relatively harmlessly, or minor flesh wounds from richochets. One shot sparked off the ground near Gaspar's own ankle.
He managed a temporary speed burst to imitate panic, and then forced himself to slow. Then a shot fifteen paces in front of him took out someone's knee. The soldier fell with a scream, and the pack of sprinting soldiers flowed around and over them.
No one slowed, so Gaspar followed their example.
By the time he was In cover on the far side, he was sweating in sheets, and by the time he found the meeting spot, he was dizzy and breathing hard, arriving last. Physically, he was a match for any of the challenges of the run, but
DG-1714 smiled, shaking her head. "Surface borns. At least you didn't stop for the wounded."
"I was in a war," Gaspar reminded her, between breaths.
"Not like down here." she said, eyes bright.
"Enough games!" Delphine said, over their shoulder. "Newbie, congratulations on surviving your first commute. When the shift ends we have to do it again, so spare your strength. But now we have to go to work.
The screams of the fallen man were still audible as they walked away. Just before they moved into their squat place of work, the gunshot reports suddenly picked up in intensity.
Gaspar looked a question at Delphine, who had developed the skill to read emotions through helmets, it appeared.
"The Guard Hounds've come out to play. If he survives the day, he might get to crawl to cover and his gang might take him home. If not, well…" She shrugged. "Let's go to work."
000000
The sanitation plant had the considerations towards health and safety that one would expect from a secret Shinra black site designed to weed out the weak.
There were harnesses, but no one cared if they were in good repair except the person using them, so the only safety standards were the ones you imposed yourself. Gaspar's physical abilities made things easier for him than most, but easy the work was not. Shinra facilities often involved a good deal of clambering around on precariously exposed piping, and the sanitation plant was no exception. There were also gas masks of dubious reliability over the settling tanks, and considerable hard labour in pushing around large tanks of sediment and purifiers.
As a SOLDIER Gaspar was expected to match the strength of the heavy armoured DGs in pushing around heavy trolleys. He could not match their speed or precision, and it was useless to try, so he concentrated on keeping a steady pace and not causing a catastrophe. Easier said than done, but at least doing this he didn't have to crawl around on the pipes over the tanks.
His rhythm only broke once. There was a sudden ominous crash from somewhere skyward, and then, some creaking. DGs were by nature unflappable, but gradually the work slowed as the workers began directing their eyes skyward. The labourers on the pipes were mostly flung free by the impact shock, but this once all the harnesses held.
There was no way to tell from here, but the most likely explanation was that Meteor had obviously arrived. Everyone was still, then, waiting for the bulge that would collapse the ceiling of Deepground and kill everyone within.
Perhaps the Tsviets were quailing on their thrones, having spent their lives attaining supremacy only to be snuffed out by random chance mere days after achieving it. No mako enhancements could keep you alive after a Meteor fell.
The creaking continued, but this was not the kind of place that had gatherings in the streets. They had to get back to work, and the only real information they had was that they were still alive when their shift ended. If the leadership had information on what was happening on the surface, the labour gangs would never hear it.
Mako enhancements or not, Gaspar was exhausted by the end of the day. No snipers took shots in the way back, as slow moving exhausted crew would not be fun to shoot. The ravaged body of the man shot that morning was still there, however, along with bodies of the hounds drawn to his screams and the scent of blood. Hounds bred quicker than humans, and so DG etiquette was broadly in favour of culling them as appropriate, while killing of humans still required some restraint, as they took longer to replace.
The ominous creaking continued for the rest of the day, while what passed for DG engineers swarmed ceilingward to assess potential damage. Once out of the sniping alley, Delphine's gang were attacked by a swarm of guard hounds, which broke and fled after they cut down three. It might be possible to cook them, if they were on the surface, but open fires underground was one of the few things the DG overlords were strict on. So they had to go find MREs from a vending machine on the way back.
There were no orderly queues. Delphine pointed out an apparently deserted vending machine, and the gang took up defensive positions around her as she paid for their evening meals. Gaspar elected not to ask any questions about how they were restocked. Wondering was not something encouraged down here, it took concentration away from staying alive. All that mattered was that it worked.
Obviously, there was no day or night down here, but they got back to their blasted shopfront before the next shift was over. With a jerk of her head, Delphine directed Gaspar to take point on clearing the building when they got back, ensuring no squatters had taken residence when they were gone. Gaspar might have objected, but sadly it made sense, as he was the member of the gang that could be shot the most times without lasting harm. No one was there this time, and after setting guards for the off shift time, the four not on guard settled in to eat and rest.
Delphine was sitting across from him- no chairs, they were sitting on pieces of stone debris. They were both still wearing helmets, so there was no eye contact, but he had the impression she was looking at him.
"Congratulations," Del said, the first unnecessary words spoken on the entire journey home. "You survived Day One. Maybe you'll be some use after all."
Gaspar shrugged, not bothering to reply. Maybe he would, maybe he wouldn't. It was a waste of time to think about. He was learning.
