October 31st, 67AW.
REAPING DAY
LITTLE VACUO, CITY OF VALE
Lie. Cheat. Steal. Survive.
In the four years since the fall, those four words had become their maxim.
They were now thieves. They'd started small, picking pockets or shoplifting. But it hadn't taken long for them to carve out their own little niche in the Valeian Underworld. His personal penchant for showmanship had led to criminal groups hiring him to act as a distraction. A fake leader of heists to keep the VPD's eyes away from the real bosses.
However, perhaps the most useful (and lucrative) service they (or at least, he) could provide, was Aura Activation. In the months after Mountain Glenn, he had had his aura activated, ostensibly for an extra layer of safety amongst Vale's criminal element. Neah had also had her aura activated, but whether or not any of the side effects of such an early activation often caused would develop was as yet unseen.
But when he realised that he could sell activation as a service…well, the Lien had started flowing in. It might not sound like it, but it was likely the most illegal thing the pair of them did on a regular basis. Illegal Activation of Aura was a big crime in both Mistral and Atlas, and came with a longprison stretch coupled with a course of aura-dampening drugs being forced down their throats. Vacuo really didn't care, and Vale usually just enforced a fine. A large fine.
But after their treatment at the hands of the VPD that fateful day, neither he nor Neah cared about what Vale considered illegal anymore. The money aura activation brought in was enough to buy an admittedly crappy little basement apartment in Vale's Little Vacuo. It was small, and not the most comfortable, and the walls were thin and the street above was often loud..
Okay, so it had a lot of problems.
Little Vacuo was, unsurprisingly given the name, home to the majority of Vale's Vacuan population. The Vacuan mentality of "If you can survive, you'll be welcome" worked to their advantage, and the two seasoned survivors had soon been embraced by their new community.
They'd even covered for us a few times.
He and Neah had decided to stick together, as any good Glennites would. It had taken time, but he had managed to convince her to take (and stay at) ASL lessons. Atlas might be a pain in the ass most of the time, but being able to actually communicate with his silent friend was something he was eager to learn.
For a time, she had tried calling herself 'Trivia Vanile', a fake Atlesian Socialite that could get them into swanky dinners and galas (where they could pickpocket and swipe a lot of expensive shit), but given neither of them managed to keep a straight face for very long when doing so, they'd soon abandoned that plan.
She'd soon found a new identity however. That of 'Neopolitan', Roman's silent and ever present shadow. The misspelling was apparently intentional. It was her favourite ice cream back in the Glenn, one that her much beloved and missed father used to make especially for her. Roman put it down to it being one last tether to home. The only one she really allowed herself. Whether it was due to seeing the life they now led as a game, or something akin to a mental collapse, Roman couldn't be certain. He had taken to calling her 'Neo', something she clearly approved of.
And all of these jumbled thoughts that were forcing themselves to the forefront of his mind were likely the results of facing down the barrel of a cane-gun, and the sudden and very real threat of dying.
He recognised the man holding the weapon, of course. A local snatcher for the Iron Circle. Roman had done business with gangsters and smugglers, and done so with a smile. But he refused to deal with such slaving scum like the Circle.
They'd turned down an offer from the man some months before and thought no more about it. Clearly he had taken it far more personally than they first thought. Attacking on Reaping Day was smart, most people would be at the parade, and those that weren't would most likely be at home.
Leaving him and Neo at the mercy of a snatcher in a rainy alley. If he killed them, their bodies would not be found until morning.
"Shoulda taken my deal." The man sneered. "But your organs'll sell, I suppose. A profit's a profit."
"I'm sure we can still talk out a deal." Roman suggested with a hesitant smile.
"Oh? How about this for a deal!" The man swung his arm to aim at Neo, and fired...and Roman watched as his only friend in the world, the only other person on the face of Remnant that he actually gave a damn about…shattered like glass.
Both men stared for a few moments at what had just happened, before the snatcher shrugged, and returned his aim to Roman. But just as he was about to pull the trigger..Neo reappeared, and put a knife into the base of the man's neck. The snatcher let out a sound halfway between a scream and a gurgle, and fell backward onto the pavement. But Neo wasn't finished. She kept stabbing down, her mouth open in a continuous silent scream of rage. Until all that was left of their assailants head was a pulpy, pink mess.
And thus at the age of just thirteen, in a rain soaked alley in Little Vacuo, what was left of Neah Mattus finally died.
And Neopolitan took her place.