XXWe The Scavengers

Protea

I had left the vacant lot for fear of being discovered. I'm not sure how long Kruger stayed there for, but I know he stayed long after I had gone.

From here, I had no idea what to do. I would have to find shelter for the night until I could make a permanent residence somewhere. Being back in the slums of LA made an arrogant part of me once again yearn for Elysium's rolling hills and fresh air. Fortunately, the thought of Delacourt snapped me out of my delusion. This was my home, just as it had been for the last three years. I had been through hell to get back here, and for what? I was useless here. There was no way I could fund anything, for I didn't have a penny to my name.

I would have to find Spider. He would help, and if not him, his men.

Tracing the streets with ingrained familiarity, I tracked my way through throngs of people to a shabby old pawn shop. Above it, I knew lived one of Spider's own, who also happened to be a good friend of mine. I rapped on the shop door, which had a sign with the words CERRADO/CLOSED on it. A voice from inside shouted in Spanish, then in English, that the shop had just closed and that I should come back tomorrow. When I didn't stop, the source of the voice came thundering over to the door to silence me. When the owner arrived at the door, she cursed angrily once more in Spanish and told me to fuck off.

Shit. I forgot.

"Get out of here, rata. Shop's closed! Cerrado!" She was about to walk away when I remembered the pivotal mantra we all shared.

"El cielo a la tierra, tierra a la cielo," I said through the glass. It was Spider's personal motto, which he had taught to us all in training: "heaven to the earth, earth to the sky". It marked our goal to bring down Elysium and deliver it to those who needed it on Earth. Rosa Belliros, the shop owner and my friend, was suspicious now but gave me a second shot.

"Who are you? How do you know that mantra?"

"It's me, Rosa. Protea."

"Protea, huh? What's the name they call my mother?"

I laughed, remembering vividly why Rosa's mother was referred to as "the Bulldozer".

"Excavadora!"

With wide eyes, Rosa unlatched the door. She stood studying me for several long moments before I asked if I could come in. She nodded briskly and showed me in. The shop was air-conditioned and smelled of cured leather and old metal. The door clattered shut behind me and Rosa rushed over to grasp me. She held me at arm's length with a confused scowl on her face. "How it that you, Protea? Dios mio… Why do you look calente all of a sudden, eh?" She gave a strained chuckle as her eyes began to tear. "I thought you were dead. When they cornered you… I thought they had… Ah…"

"It's been a long couple days, Rosa, I'll say that much. Listen, I need a favor. I'll explain the facelift after," her horrified face told me she would not let me sleep until I did, "but for now I just need a bed. Please, can you help me, Rosa?"

She looked hard at me, trying to decide if it was really her old friend behind such a different visage. She paused before she spoke. "I really do think it's you, Protea. I just can't understand how you're here."

"Neither can I," I admitted honestly, "I've seen a lot of things, and been through hell. It's a fucked up world I live in, Rosa…" I choked up and fell into her arms, utterly exhausted. She stumbled slightly under my deadweight, but I knew she could support me with her strong and slender frame.

"Chicka… Relax!" she soothed, slinging my arm over her shoulders. "I'll let you have the couch for tonight, and you can explain to me tomorrow what you have been through, okayee?"

Eventually, we made it up to her apartment. I collapsed on the couch and shortly after, she threw a blanket over me. She offered me water, which I accepted gratefully. Water dribbled down my cheeks and mixed with my tears. Rosa sat down beside me and rubbed my shoulders as I cried. She soothed me, and eventually, I was able to relax, finally feeling safe.

As soon as my head hit the pillow, I fell into a deep sleep. Just before I drifted into a deep slumber, I realized I could still taste Kruger's lips on mine. Even though it was imagined, the taste of blood reminded me to stay away from the cobra for as long as possible.

I awoke to the aroma of breakfast burritos being cooked with bell peppers, a smell I learned well when I was living with Rosa before. The alluring smell of breakfast lifted me out of my swath of blankets and into the tiny apartment kitchen. Rosa was busy cooking and didn't notice me until I sat down at the tiny two-seater table.

"Buenos dias, rata callejera," Rosa teased good-naturedly, no doubt referring to my street rat appearance. It was true. I really did need a shower.

"Hey, Rosa, could I—"

"By all means, use all the soap!" She laughed and expertly flipped the burrito in the frying pan. "What do you plan on doing now? I mean, you can stay as long as you need to, but… Is there someone after you?"

"No! Rosa, no! Of course not!" I half-lied, "if there were someone after me, I wouldn't put you in danger by coming here."

"Gracias, mi amiga," she sighed. "But what happened? Start from where we got separated at the base."

I regaled her with my journey in the last several days, subtly censoring the bits about my flighty emotions and raging libido. Even hearing it from my own mouth made it sound more like a bad science fiction tale. I should get a movie deal for this shit, I thought grimly. Rosa's reaction shifted from horror to disbelief to grief to humor and back to horror as I recounted everything I could remember. She didn't ask any questions, as she was often the strong-and-silent type, but her face said it all.

When I finished, her eyes lit up. "So you just walked away? Like that? And he let you go?"

I looked at her solemnly. "Yes. I stole away when no one was looking."

"What about the kid? Will he be okay?"

"I hope so. I think he actually saw Kruger as a role model." I made an overdramatic face of disgust, and Rosa laughed.

"Maybe he'll come to his senses, eh? Man… Your life is loco, amiga… But what are you going to do now? Are you going to Spider?"

"I was thinking of that, yeah." Maybe if I tried hard enough, I could get my old job of hacking into military bases back. Yeah, like I'll make that mistake again, I thought sardonically, making a mental note to stay as far away from the military as possible. "Do you think he'll take me back? I mean, will he even believe that it's me?"

"If he doesn't, I'll make him believe it!" Rosa flexed her arm in a show of dramatic macho flair. We laughed and organized to leave for Spider's at noon. I finally showered for what felt like the first time in a week. I had been tentatively washed by one of Marcel's regular Armadyne bots, which had felt more like a steaming than a cleaning. But not even a hearty shower could wash the feeling of Kruger from under my skin. I imagined that I could still feel his breath on my skin, and the taste of his lips on mine.

With a loud groan, I titled my head back and let the water fill my mouth before I coughed it out. Now the only thing I tasted was the chlorine-tang of LA house water.

We arrived at Spider's precisely at noon. I felt a shudder of discomfort being back here at the underground lair. Though it was the middle of the day, I could see into the dimly lit, cloaked alleyway filled with an array of people dancing, doing drugs, and other obscenities. Neon lights illuminated the alley with pink, purple, yellow and blue patches. I knew the lights acted as a cover for Spider's high-tech nest hidden deeper inside.

Rosa and I waded through throngs of people. I was jostled and pushed around as I made my way through to the guarded entryway. I could hear a familiar voice booming over the music the nearer I got.

The man in charge stood out like a sore thumb. He was nearly three hundred pounds, with a face like a dog's ass. He sported a long scar that ran down the length of his face to the edge of his furry collarbone. He had a voice like thunder and an attitude like lighting. This was Rodrigo "Spider" Sanchez-Mendita, the vainest and most selfish philanthropist I knew. He stood looming in front of a large monitor glowing orange with the blueprints of a military storehouse. He was barking at others gathered around, discussing the possibility of breaking in and stealing materials. One of the men with him piped up about how breaking into the militia would be impossible, and that they could get the same parts they needed by scrapping cars.

"No! No! We need the reinforced hulls! Those, we can only find on those ships! How the fuck, are our crafts supposed to last a minute in space, without a reinforced hull?!" He smacked the poor, wise man. "Figure out another way in."

Rosa chose now to approach the fuming beast. He noticed her and changed his demeanor immediately. "Rosa! My dear! I hope you have brought me some good news."

"Yeah, Spider," she began confidently. "I got some new information about another storehouse just two miles from this one," she gestured to the prints on the screen, "that has more stuff and less man-power."

Spider smiled widely. "That is good news. And who is this plus one of yours? How did she make it past the gate?" He glared suspiciously at me now.

"She knew the mission code. This is Protea Angelico."

The boss man looked from me to Rosa without changing his hardened expression. "Do you expect me to—"

"PROTEA!"

A happy, high pitched squeal came from somewhere behind us. Out of the darkness came a young boy, about six years old, with a crutch and brace around his skinny leg. He bore a striking resemblance to his father, only a hundred times cuter. He hobbled forward excitedly, glittering eyes trained on me. When he reached me, he flung himself into my arms and gave me a might bear hug.

"Protea's back! Protea's back!" he yelled happily, hugging me tighter.

I was shocked. I knew this boy well. He was the bright and shining heir to Spider's technological underground kingdom, Antonio. But I was confused as to why he was showing me such affection when I looked completely different.

The others were shocked as well. "Antonio! Get away from her! Vamanos, niño!"

"But it's Protea! She's finally back!" he squealed happily, hanging onto me.

I was flabbergasted. "H-how did you know it was me, Antonio? How are you so sure I'm Protea?"

He looked up at me with big brown eyes. "Su sonrisa," he purred. I understood that. My smile… I took the boy up in my arms and spun him around, utterly grateful there was at least one person who had boundless faith in me. The sentiment agitated Spider further, as he was unsure of what was actually going on.

"Who are you," Spider demanded fiercely, glaring at me like I was truly a rat. His suspicion hurt me. Seeing him turn his keen interrogation skills on me was awful. I had become good friends with him and his boy over the last three years, and now I felt utterly alone under his murderous gaze. I wish he would just believe me, but it seems I have to prove myself.

"It's me, Spider. I'm Protea Angelico."

"It's true," Rosa chimed in, "it's a really long story, trust me, but it's worth the time to listen."

She began to tell my story in rapid Spanish, unable to control herself. I stopped her with a hand on her shoulder, holding Antonio in the other.

"I'll tell you myself, but you must believe that it's me. Please, Spider, I'm begging you."

He gave me a curt nod and told me to sit in his office with Rosa. She would vouch for me. Antonio insisted on staying clamped to my chest, so I let him hear my tale as well. When Spider finally graced us with his attendance, I began to sow my story yet again. And again, I left out all the close encounters of the romantic kind. Spider listened intently with a grim expression the entire time.

When I finished, Spider looked blankly at me and the profusely nodding Rosa. Suddenly, he chortled loudly and waved a dismissing hand. Rosa and I looked at each other confusedly before leaving the jiggling bowl of fur in his office.

We sat anxiously awaiting the boss' verdict. I sincerely hoped he would believe me and my story's authenticity. My future depended on it.

Finally, Spider re-appeared in the doorway. He wore a dark, grim expression. I was about to be thrown out by three heavily tattooed, muscled men into the gutter, I knew it. So I waited with a knot in my stomach for the order to be given. I looked pleadingly at Spider again, praying to whoever was listening. Spider looked at me, as well, the same dark and scary mask on his face.

Maybe mask was the right word.

Spider suddenly swiped upwards with his hand across his face. Immediately, the fury had disappeared and was replaced by a friendly, even goofy, smile. It was if he wiped the anger from his face.

Of course, this act was supposed to be comical, but I found it at the very best, repulsive.

He knew it was me all along!

"You son of a bitch! Fuck you, Rodrigo Sanchez!" I fumed.

"Actually, it's 'Sanchez-Mendita' now. Got it hyphenated for Maria's sake—"

"You scared me to death, you lard-ass! I thought your bulldogs were going to rip me apart!" I roared at him, fists balled tightly. He must have enjoyed his joke, for now he was doubled over in laughter, shaking like a bowl of gelatin.

"Ah ha! I knew it was you all along, Protea, I… I… I… I just wanted to… to… get you going!" He could hardly string a sentence together, he was laughing so hard. "Your face! Priceless!"

I shook my head in fierce disapproval. "Poepol," I muttered, making no bother with volume restriction.

He quieted for a moment. "What did you call me?"

I smirked. "Asshole!"

He broke out into another bout of laughter. "That's a good one! Where did you learn that?"

"Picked it up in my travels…"

The afternoon passed with the crew asking questions about my absence and clanking beers with me whenever I said something remotely adventurous. Questions like, "how did you get out then" and "well, how did you get out that time" were among the most popular inquiries. I tried to answer as best I could with the tequila flowing through me and the beer bubbling in my bloodstream. I hoped that when I began to get really chatty, I didn't reveal too much about my journey.

I remembered talking about Delacourt, Marcel, and Tweedy and Crowe. Even Drakey made the marquee sometimes. But the subject that obviously dominated my conversation was Kruger.

Whilst the crew drank and celebrated my return, I managed to slink away out onto the balcony I so often enjoyed. I gazed out over the main street and into the distance. The bigger, wealthier city of Los Angeles, what I had heard was once the entire city, glittered like stars on the horizon. A musky purple-pink hung over the city in a blanket of smoggy light. I was reminded of the view I had beheld that first night of being rouge, the night I had fallen asleep in Kruger's arms. The setting sun had struck the glass of the habitat in a way that a flare shone through it, across the suburbs. It seemed strange to me that such an artificial thing could behold so much natural beauty. But it seemed that beauty could be found in nearly anything, even the deepest fathoms of a black and broken heart.

It felt normal for Kruger to be lolling about in every concurrent thought of mine. Even things that had nothing to do with the mercenary, I always seemed to find a way to link it to him. Now that I was free, I was trapped even more.

I resolved myself.

I had to find his good side again, and stay there.