2017-05-08: Tales from the Gutter I
- Cutscene: Tales from the Gutter I
- Cast: Jedan, Cetiri, Sedam, (Riesenlied)
- Where: Photosphere Gutter
- Date: 5 May 2017
- Summary: We take a look into the bowels of the Photosphere where the Tainted live...
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The Photosphere's 'Gutter', as it's rather impolitely named, are where the dregs of the Metal Demons gather. It is a slum, a dead end where failures go to be forgotten. Located at the very bottom of the sphere, below the sea line and sustaining much of the hull breaches and internal failures that the metallic ship has sustained many years ago when it crash-landed on Filgaia, it is home only to the most desperate and powerless, and almost never by choice. The floor is nearly covered in the scraps of dead Beasts and other Demons that have fought each other over the centuries, left to rot there and be forgotten. Down here in the myriad hallways of sloshed ice, dirt and other unmentionables are squatters, mindless beasts and and the discarded, barely worth a spare thought to the Demons in the higher decks.
This is the home of the Tainted.
Tucked on Seventh is a shack with a ratty neon sign that reads 'VAL-HALLA: CHEAP MEALS AND DRINKS' blinks and hisses, its power line clearly not hooked up well. It's garishly metallic pink and exudes an aura of seediness that... perhaps is rather different with the rather unkempt, but strangely homely atmosphere inside. A little CRT TV hangs on one of the upper corners, largely forgotten. A long countertop seats six, the cushions long dilapidated and its upholstery unreplaced. A row of various kinds of bottles filled with different mixtures of metal and quicksilver line the shelves, none of them particularly top-shelf material.
"What'll it be today, buster?" asks the Tainted bartender, a mostly humanoid-looking woman... if it weren't for the fact that her torso was an off-model fridge, and her eyes have been replaced by a pair of binoculars that've been DIY-ed into her head. Do they even work as sensors?
A heavyset man stands at the entrance, walking in with a measure of familiarity as he sloughs his coat and sits down. His face was chiselled and hard, with a square jaw and small eyes that are hidden behind opaque lenses.
"Mm. The 18/10. No, wait, 18/8," he corrects himself. "Not feeling like a dime today, much less a nickel."
There's a snort from the fridge-tender, as she reaches to the back for two bottles, one reading 'CHROMIUM', the other 'NICKEL'. "Anyone ever say you should try comedy, Jedan?"
The large man with the white ponytail turns to face the 'tender. "Only all the time, Val. But there ain't exactly a line of work for that here, is there?"
"Dunno 'bout that, I hear Frankie's been makin' a killin' upstairs with his act." "He makes people lose their heads, Val." "Yeah, and it's a hoot with the bloodsports crowd."
There's another snort of distaste. "Not a physical guy. Where's the rest of the Ebon Wings?"
"Trainin'," Val points towards the back, where there's a clash of noise. There's a robotic snarl as the view pans in on a four-limbed beast, clad entirely in metal as she squares off against her opponent: an obviously metallic-looking woman with a gaudy maid's outfit and drills for arms. They charge at each other, drill clashing against metallic tail-whip, their metals sparking against each other. "The commander's still out in Ignas, but you knew that."
"Tryhards..." Jedan grunts again, and watches as his drink is mixed. He knocks it back. "Mm. Fifty percent iron. Not too magnetic, either."
"We'll try to sneak in some 200 series next week, Jed," Val smirks. "You know how picky they are about food grade steel upstairs."
"Really? The flatware?" "Mm-hmm. Could even try lacing it with teflon." "Ugh, I hate that synthchem shit. Not for me."
There's silence. "What's going on with you guys, Jed?"
"The Commander's stepping up the game," Jedan answers in turn, dropping the glass, empty. "We've been asked to move out early next week. Looks like the plan's a go."
"Really? So she's committed, then," Val chuckles. "That Riese seems to love humans so much that I wouldn't have been surprised if she just up and turned and left us--"
The glass is slammed against the counter. "You don't mean that. Not after all the shit we've been through. So take that back, Val."
Val pauses, the lenses of her binoculars whirring for just a moment. "You're right. Been a long while since anyone else came here strollin' in givin' half a shit 'bout us. But it's been too long. I'm cold. And not because I got pair of fridge coils where my 'eart should be."
"We'll make it," Jedan grunts again. "I believe in the boss. Haven't stuck with her this long for nuttin'."
"And to think you were just a washed up has-been before..." "You're sassy today." "I'm frigid, baby."
He holds the glass up and squints into it, seeing into his reflection. "'m just here to make sure she doesn't go dyin' on whatever cross she puts herself on next. 's all. Fill me back up, Val."