A kick sent the metal clattering and clanking down the mountain of junk, another jackpot turned...
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Scavenger's Rest (Yugioh 5D's SI)
- Thread starter ThatGuyMike
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Chapter 1: Aftermath
ThatGuyMike
That One Guy
- Joined
- Nov 9, 2020
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A kick sent the metal clattering and clanking down the mountain of junk, another jackpot turned into pot luck. It landed with a resounding clang, and the muffled sound of cardboard, so he assumed it hit his little makeshift sled. With the back of his glove, he wiped the sweat from his brow, before reaching down and hauling what was, probably, the remnant of an engine block, so he could lower his legs down, using his two boots like a claw machine, snatching up what would probably get him the most from his little excursion.
Pulling it up, he shoved the engine block back into the hole, sending a not so insignificant wobble across the entire stack, but he only gave it long enough to steady himself, before he looked at the prize for the day.
It was a dual disk, or at least, one of the oldest models he'd seen in quite a long while which sent a hit of nostalgia and a smile across his face. Using his elbow, he rubbed off the grime that covered the life point counter, set at 3200 unmovingly. "Damn, unlucky. I'll have to fix it up then." Turning it over in his hands, he checked the deck slot, empty of course, but when he checked the Graveyard, he found a nice little surprise.
"'Bamboo Scrap', huh? Strange card to play, but it ain't like I can judge."
Shoving it into his own deck case on his waist, he tossed the duel disk down the side of the mountain as well, the scattering of metal told him it landed alright.
With a sigh, he ran a greasy and grim covered glove through his hair, looking out across the similar towering hills of scrap metal and trash. It was but the foreground to the complete devastation and ruin that was the rest of Satellite. Buildings that stood by miracles rather than true construction, dust clouds constantly billowing through the streets when it gets bad enough. The only good thing about this scrap yard, it was outside downtown Satellite…
Which also meant he had a long way to walk unless he wanted to make a shake here in the scrapyard…
He paused, and actually took a long hard look at the scrapyard.
Looking back down at the pile he was atop of, he began digging once more, this time actually shoving the broken quarter of the engine block off the mountain, pushing and shoving trash and smaller metal bits out of the way. The reward for his efforts was uncovering part of a car roof, which seemed like some truck, which he began to try and dig out.
His gloves hand moved at a steady pace, even as he stopped to use the back of his forearms and gloves to wipe sweat from his brow before it would trickle into his eyes. The more he uncovered of the roof, the more he had to start moving to the edge of the scrap hill, the balls of his feet being the only thing keeping him from toppling over the side into a nasty slide that would give him more bumps, bruises, and cuts than some of the fights he got into recently.
Reaching down, he grasped the edge of the roof, gently shifting his weight, putting his feet in better spots, before he began to lift, grunting with effort, he adjusted his grip, putting his hands underneath the roof, shifting the weight of what felt like half the hill, before he crouched down and stepped underneath the roof, now able to push up.
He felt the hill move then, as the weight slid off the top of the roof and off the side of the hill, before it felt like gravel shifting and falling, and he had to swiftly shove the roof over the same side to move to stable ground and avoid falling with half the hill.
Looking down at the collapsed scrap and trash, the greased glove ran once more through his hair, following it up and out the stand's end.
"Could of been worse."
Then he turned and looked down the other side where he shoved the roof… And the things on the roof…
Right onto where he had put his sled at the base of the hill…
He ran another glove through his hair, as a sigh of frustration escaped his lips.
"That's just f—"
He hauled it slowly yet consistently, as he always did. The cardboard box that sat on a plank of wood was hardly what he would call 'quality', but damn if it didn't make his job so much easier. Much much easier to drag cardboard across a mile of half collapsed and rubble filled road than running back and forth three times to get all the scrap he found.
The desolate and ruined city was as foreboding as it ever was, a monument to the folly of men who tried to save a crisis.
"Yeah…Saved us from an Energy Crisis to a post-apocalyptic one." He scoffed, grumbling with heat long lost.
Instead, he cast his gaze to the overcast sky, frowning at the idea of packing all his things inside. Rain was a blessed curse in this day in age. He got to collect rainwater, that he would no doubt spend the next morning doing nothing but running it through filter after filter after filter again, and wasn't fixing those things a real kick in the teeth, but then he also had to go and nab all the scrap and crap he left out to avoid the water rusting all that metal… Well, more than it already had.
He was almost on the corner that had the collapsed entrance to the diner he used as a home, he could almost see the first 'markers' he left around the street when they approached.
Four of them, wearing shitty leather jackets over denim overalls, two in front, two were leaning on each side of the street against the ruined buildings behind rubble, now standing and watching him. They all wore duel disks, all serious in their looks. He took the time to take each of them, noting the markers on their faces, before he stood tall and tossed the wire onto the sled. "Can I help you guys?" He offered kindly. Making sure to keep as many in his vision as he could.
"You Mike?" One of the pair in front asked, stepping forward a bit in a swagger.
No doubt they thought themselves a gangbanger from the older movies. "Maybe. Depends who's askin'." He brought up his hands, unstrapping the velcro from the wrist of a glove. "Ya'll don't look like Security, so yeah, what can I do for ya'?"
"Heard you were good at finding things, we were hoping you would share some of that 'luck' with a few unlucky souls." The four men got closer now, their leader walking forward with wide open arms "What's a few scavenger spots to you? Everyone's seen you selling some quality things at the Bazaar, sometimes offering something extra to the less fortunate. You're probably got all the money and cards anyone could ever ask for! Help some other less fortunate out!"
He unstrapped the Velcro off his other hand, they were now dangling from the wrists from the strap he sewed into the gloves. "Look man, I don't really have anything I can offer, but I'll happily teach you a few tricks I've used to get by."
The offer went on deaf ears, they clearly were wanting something more substantial for that, so his hand moved to the duel disk as theirs move to theirs-
A hand clapped onto my shoulder, "I believe, you all should rethink that course of action."
Beside him, a man in a Biker's outfit right out of the wild west stepped up and in front. "Else, you will deal with him and me. I promise you, it will not be worth the trouble."
The four traded glances, before one spoke up "You said he was a loner."
The leader glared at the new-arivee "He was." Looking between the Biker and Him, the leader jerked his head, and the assaulters moved off, scurrying into the alleyway they apparently came from.
He looked to the Biker, who was still looking to where the men slunk off to, before putting his hands back in his gloves. "Not that I don't mind the help," The Biker turned their heads towards him, even as I continued to strap on my gloves "But this ain't exactly the neighborhood where friendly deeds go unpunished." He lugged his hands onto the wire and once more had it over his shoulder.
The Biker, for their credit at least, didn't outwardly react to his words. "I'm looking for parts, I'm in the process of building myself a duel runner and have heard many good words about your ability to supply the esoteric."
He drummed his fingers on the wiring, before casting his eyes into the still thunderous clouds, before he sighed, ran a glove through his hair, and shook his head. "Alright, we'll talk at my place." He tugged hard on the sled, pulling it forward as the Biker followed after.
Thirty feet was the totality of the distance to the entrance.
It almost annoyed him that people knew where the hell he lived, no doubt someone would try to steal something from him… Well, he kept the valuables out of sight and out of the building if nothing else.
Shoving aside the giant stone that served as a makeshift door, he pulled, and then kicked the sled inside to a clattering of cans and metals as he held up the stone. Motioning for the Biker to enter and putting the rock back in place.
The inside was gloomy, there was metal, Bittys, Bobs, and Roberts no matter where you looked or stepped. The Biker immediately started giving him a headache, kicking and clattering all the carefully laid bits he used to tell if some idiot was inside or not.
"Hold on, jeez, let me light something for you." He complained, stepping along the edge of the wall, holding onto what was once windows, and now nothing but hollow outcroppings he put tarps on. Even if you removed them, one would only see rocks, rocks, and more rocks. Thank you collapsed building.
He didn't particularly care if the Biker saw him, that was what the traps in the next room were for.
And the sheleighleigh.
Once he was across the minefield of metal, he untied his gloves once again and nabbed his lighter to ignite candle after candle after various states of melted candle, lighting the once family establishment into its rubbly glory.
It was a diner, Japanese style of course, with a counter island in the center where you would sit and eat and watch the Cook cook on the grill, with backrooms leading into bathrooms, utilities, and roof access. Though, of course, the only thing left of the counter was the grill, he stripped the wood ages ago, and the grill itself was now a table surrounded by the four stools he decided were enough to keep.
The biker took it all in, still unreadable with his face hidden, the only real attention that drew his eye, was the definition in the arms. It sure as hell were the arms of someone used to having the muscle, probably weight, could be drugs, though not enough if they were satisfied with that while hopped up on steroids.
"So," His voice caused the Biker to look over "Should I get the tea, alcohol, or a weapon for this sorta exchange?"
Whatever he thought the Biker would say or do, it wasn't just not reacting. "None is fine, I merely wish to know if you have a certain part I need, or possibly where I could acquire it and some electronics."
He looked at the biker for a long hard minute, before he looked down and once more grabbed the wire, bare handed this time, and pulled the truck roof off of it. He set it against the wall, before grabbing the box, and shoving it on the grill turned table. "Well, I can probably help with the former, definitely the later. It depends on what you're needing. Duel Runners, let alone their parts, ain't exactly easy or cheap to find or buy respectively."
The Biker looked to the stool before to him, which he motioned for the Biker to it. Sitting, the Biker leaned forward on the grill top with their elbows and their fingers locking. "I'm looking for a few things, mainly a front fork, but if you have access to pedals or an ignition system, I will of course also offer compensation for the latter two in addition to the fork."
Sorting through the crate, He scattered the duel disk to the edge, before taking bittys and bobs and roberts out one after the other, spring, wiring, bits of metal he thought he could sell, mostly whatever he thought looked good and might sell for a pretty penny. Most of it was, unequivocally, Scrap.
"Well, I definitely have a front fork somewhere, I probably have pedals, honestly can't tell you what condition they're in without checking," He took out an oil stained rag in an attempt to rub out a grime covered spring, sighing when finding it wasn't a coppery color underneath "I sure as hell don't have an Ignition system. Stuff doesn't sell, but I can send you to a guy who's far more into collecting car parts than I am." He shrugged, running another hand through his hair, before realizing he didn't have a glove on. He shook the hand with a tongue out, using the rag to try and wipe away all the grease and grime and oil off the hand.
"That will be enough for me then, how long until you have the parts?" The Biker inquired
With that, he looked up at the Biker, giving a long hard stare, before he nodded at him. "Loose the helmet."
The Biker withdrew, his helmeted head drawing back
"If someone says something, yet won't you in the eyes, its false or they're trying to scam you." He told the Biker, not unkindly. "I need to look into others' eyes when I make deals. So, lose the helmet, or no deal."
The Biker was still for a long while, no doubt thinking through the choice in their head. Finally, hesitantly, they raised their hands, and unstrapped the chinstrap and lifted the helmet from their head.
He had to admit, the Biker was definitely a looker, even with the blackish grey hair. The cheekbones and jawline alone… Maybe Biker was a model before the catastrophe?
He nodded, his blue eyes meeting the pale blue of the Biker. "I can get the parts now, so long as you have money, or better yet, something of good value for trade."
The Biker nodded, reaching into their jacket and holding up a carton of cigarettes.
"I'll get the parts then."
He stepped away then and there.
He never saw the Biker again after that. Never learned his name, never bothered. Yet, he knew the man was around.
The Biker, no doubt about it, was the same one who was said to be going about on a Duel Runner. Who had quite a following given the rumor mill in the Bazar, a man building a bridge on his own, gathering followers who shared the Biker's dream.
He never went to see it, too busy in his endless search for scrap to sell, but he did hear when Security went on a Warpath. The man's group disbanded or arrested, and the Man's legendary ride to Freedom.
Well, at least he could brag of selling parts to 'The Legend'.
He still has a drunken bet going that the man survived.
A/N: Fill free to point out corrections. I sure as hell did only a pass over for corrections.
Pulling it up, he shoved the engine block back into the hole, sending a not so insignificant wobble across the entire stack, but he only gave it long enough to steady himself, before he looked at the prize for the day.
It was a dual disk, or at least, one of the oldest models he'd seen in quite a long while which sent a hit of nostalgia and a smile across his face. Using his elbow, he rubbed off the grime that covered the life point counter, set at 3200 unmovingly. "Damn, unlucky. I'll have to fix it up then." Turning it over in his hands, he checked the deck slot, empty of course, but when he checked the Graveyard, he found a nice little surprise.
"'Bamboo Scrap', huh? Strange card to play, but it ain't like I can judge."
Shoving it into his own deck case on his waist, he tossed the duel disk down the side of the mountain as well, the scattering of metal told him it landed alright.
With a sigh, he ran a greasy and grim covered glove through his hair, looking out across the similar towering hills of scrap metal and trash. It was but the foreground to the complete devastation and ruin that was the rest of Satellite. Buildings that stood by miracles rather than true construction, dust clouds constantly billowing through the streets when it gets bad enough. The only good thing about this scrap yard, it was outside downtown Satellite…
Which also meant he had a long way to walk unless he wanted to make a shake here in the scrapyard…
He paused, and actually took a long hard look at the scrapyard.
Looking back down at the pile he was atop of, he began digging once more, this time actually shoving the broken quarter of the engine block off the mountain, pushing and shoving trash and smaller metal bits out of the way. The reward for his efforts was uncovering part of a car roof, which seemed like some truck, which he began to try and dig out.
His gloves hand moved at a steady pace, even as he stopped to use the back of his forearms and gloves to wipe sweat from his brow before it would trickle into his eyes. The more he uncovered of the roof, the more he had to start moving to the edge of the scrap hill, the balls of his feet being the only thing keeping him from toppling over the side into a nasty slide that would give him more bumps, bruises, and cuts than some of the fights he got into recently.
Reaching down, he grasped the edge of the roof, gently shifting his weight, putting his feet in better spots, before he began to lift, grunting with effort, he adjusted his grip, putting his hands underneath the roof, shifting the weight of what felt like half the hill, before he crouched down and stepped underneath the roof, now able to push up.
He felt the hill move then, as the weight slid off the top of the roof and off the side of the hill, before it felt like gravel shifting and falling, and he had to swiftly shove the roof over the same side to move to stable ground and avoid falling with half the hill.
Looking down at the collapsed scrap and trash, the greased glove ran once more through his hair, following it up and out the stand's end.
"Could of been worse."
Then he turned and looked down the other side where he shoved the roof… And the things on the roof…
Right onto where he had put his sled at the base of the hill…
He ran another glove through his hair, as a sigh of frustration escaped his lips.
"That's just f—"
He hauled it slowly yet consistently, as he always did. The cardboard box that sat on a plank of wood was hardly what he would call 'quality', but damn if it didn't make his job so much easier. Much much easier to drag cardboard across a mile of half collapsed and rubble filled road than running back and forth three times to get all the scrap he found.
The desolate and ruined city was as foreboding as it ever was, a monument to the folly of men who tried to save a crisis.
"Yeah…Saved us from an Energy Crisis to a post-apocalyptic one." He scoffed, grumbling with heat long lost.
Instead, he cast his gaze to the overcast sky, frowning at the idea of packing all his things inside. Rain was a blessed curse in this day in age. He got to collect rainwater, that he would no doubt spend the next morning doing nothing but running it through filter after filter after filter again, and wasn't fixing those things a real kick in the teeth, but then he also had to go and nab all the scrap and crap he left out to avoid the water rusting all that metal… Well, more than it already had.
He was almost on the corner that had the collapsed entrance to the diner he used as a home, he could almost see the first 'markers' he left around the street when they approached.
Four of them, wearing shitty leather jackets over denim overalls, two in front, two were leaning on each side of the street against the ruined buildings behind rubble, now standing and watching him. They all wore duel disks, all serious in their looks. He took the time to take each of them, noting the markers on their faces, before he stood tall and tossed the wire onto the sled. "Can I help you guys?" He offered kindly. Making sure to keep as many in his vision as he could.
"You Mike?" One of the pair in front asked, stepping forward a bit in a swagger.
No doubt they thought themselves a gangbanger from the older movies. "Maybe. Depends who's askin'." He brought up his hands, unstrapping the velcro from the wrist of a glove. "Ya'll don't look like Security, so yeah, what can I do for ya'?"
"Heard you were good at finding things, we were hoping you would share some of that 'luck' with a few unlucky souls." The four men got closer now, their leader walking forward with wide open arms "What's a few scavenger spots to you? Everyone's seen you selling some quality things at the Bazaar, sometimes offering something extra to the less fortunate. You're probably got all the money and cards anyone could ever ask for! Help some other less fortunate out!"
He unstrapped the Velcro off his other hand, they were now dangling from the wrists from the strap he sewed into the gloves. "Look man, I don't really have anything I can offer, but I'll happily teach you a few tricks I've used to get by."
The offer went on deaf ears, they clearly were wanting something more substantial for that, so his hand moved to the duel disk as theirs move to theirs-
A hand clapped onto my shoulder, "I believe, you all should rethink that course of action."
Beside him, a man in a Biker's outfit right out of the wild west stepped up and in front. "Else, you will deal with him and me. I promise you, it will not be worth the trouble."
The four traded glances, before one spoke up "You said he was a loner."
The leader glared at the new-arivee "He was." Looking between the Biker and Him, the leader jerked his head, and the assaulters moved off, scurrying into the alleyway they apparently came from.
He looked to the Biker, who was still looking to where the men slunk off to, before putting his hands back in his gloves. "Not that I don't mind the help," The Biker turned their heads towards him, even as I continued to strap on my gloves "But this ain't exactly the neighborhood where friendly deeds go unpunished." He lugged his hands onto the wire and once more had it over his shoulder.
The Biker, for their credit at least, didn't outwardly react to his words. "I'm looking for parts, I'm in the process of building myself a duel runner and have heard many good words about your ability to supply the esoteric."
He drummed his fingers on the wiring, before casting his eyes into the still thunderous clouds, before he sighed, ran a glove through his hair, and shook his head. "Alright, we'll talk at my place." He tugged hard on the sled, pulling it forward as the Biker followed after.
Thirty feet was the totality of the distance to the entrance.
It almost annoyed him that people knew where the hell he lived, no doubt someone would try to steal something from him… Well, he kept the valuables out of sight and out of the building if nothing else.
Shoving aside the giant stone that served as a makeshift door, he pulled, and then kicked the sled inside to a clattering of cans and metals as he held up the stone. Motioning for the Biker to enter and putting the rock back in place.
The inside was gloomy, there was metal, Bittys, Bobs, and Roberts no matter where you looked or stepped. The Biker immediately started giving him a headache, kicking and clattering all the carefully laid bits he used to tell if some idiot was inside or not.
"Hold on, jeez, let me light something for you." He complained, stepping along the edge of the wall, holding onto what was once windows, and now nothing but hollow outcroppings he put tarps on. Even if you removed them, one would only see rocks, rocks, and more rocks. Thank you collapsed building.
He didn't particularly care if the Biker saw him, that was what the traps in the next room were for.
And the sheleighleigh.
Once he was across the minefield of metal, he untied his gloves once again and nabbed his lighter to ignite candle after candle after various states of melted candle, lighting the once family establishment into its rubbly glory.
It was a diner, Japanese style of course, with a counter island in the center where you would sit and eat and watch the Cook cook on the grill, with backrooms leading into bathrooms, utilities, and roof access. Though, of course, the only thing left of the counter was the grill, he stripped the wood ages ago, and the grill itself was now a table surrounded by the four stools he decided were enough to keep.
The biker took it all in, still unreadable with his face hidden, the only real attention that drew his eye, was the definition in the arms. It sure as hell were the arms of someone used to having the muscle, probably weight, could be drugs, though not enough if they were satisfied with that while hopped up on steroids.
"So," His voice caused the Biker to look over "Should I get the tea, alcohol, or a weapon for this sorta exchange?"
Whatever he thought the Biker would say or do, it wasn't just not reacting. "None is fine, I merely wish to know if you have a certain part I need, or possibly where I could acquire it and some electronics."
He looked at the biker for a long hard minute, before he looked down and once more grabbed the wire, bare handed this time, and pulled the truck roof off of it. He set it against the wall, before grabbing the box, and shoving it on the grill turned table. "Well, I can probably help with the former, definitely the later. It depends on what you're needing. Duel Runners, let alone their parts, ain't exactly easy or cheap to find or buy respectively."
The Biker looked to the stool before to him, which he motioned for the Biker to it. Sitting, the Biker leaned forward on the grill top with their elbows and their fingers locking. "I'm looking for a few things, mainly a front fork, but if you have access to pedals or an ignition system, I will of course also offer compensation for the latter two in addition to the fork."
Sorting through the crate, He scattered the duel disk to the edge, before taking bittys and bobs and roberts out one after the other, spring, wiring, bits of metal he thought he could sell, mostly whatever he thought looked good and might sell for a pretty penny. Most of it was, unequivocally, Scrap.
"Well, I definitely have a front fork somewhere, I probably have pedals, honestly can't tell you what condition they're in without checking," He took out an oil stained rag in an attempt to rub out a grime covered spring, sighing when finding it wasn't a coppery color underneath "I sure as hell don't have an Ignition system. Stuff doesn't sell, but I can send you to a guy who's far more into collecting car parts than I am." He shrugged, running another hand through his hair, before realizing he didn't have a glove on. He shook the hand with a tongue out, using the rag to try and wipe away all the grease and grime and oil off the hand.
"That will be enough for me then, how long until you have the parts?" The Biker inquired
With that, he looked up at the Biker, giving a long hard stare, before he nodded at him. "Loose the helmet."
The Biker withdrew, his helmeted head drawing back
"If someone says something, yet won't you in the eyes, its false or they're trying to scam you." He told the Biker, not unkindly. "I need to look into others' eyes when I make deals. So, lose the helmet, or no deal."
The Biker was still for a long while, no doubt thinking through the choice in their head. Finally, hesitantly, they raised their hands, and unstrapped the chinstrap and lifted the helmet from their head.
He had to admit, the Biker was definitely a looker, even with the blackish grey hair. The cheekbones and jawline alone… Maybe Biker was a model before the catastrophe?
He nodded, his blue eyes meeting the pale blue of the Biker. "I can get the parts now, so long as you have money, or better yet, something of good value for trade."
The Biker nodded, reaching into their jacket and holding up a carton of cigarettes.
"I'll get the parts then."
He stepped away then and there.
He never saw the Biker again after that. Never learned his name, never bothered. Yet, he knew the man was around.
The Biker, no doubt about it, was the same one who was said to be going about on a Duel Runner. Who had quite a following given the rumor mill in the Bazar, a man building a bridge on his own, gathering followers who shared the Biker's dream.
He never went to see it, too busy in his endless search for scrap to sell, but he did hear when Security went on a Warpath. The man's group disbanded or arrested, and the Man's legendary ride to Freedom.
Well, at least he could brag of selling parts to 'The Legend'.
He still has a drunken bet going that the man survived.
A/N: Fill free to point out corrections. I sure as hell did only a pass over for corrections.
legendarygamer
Your first time is always over so quickly, isn't it?
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- Aug 21, 2023
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First 5ds fic I've seen. Thanks for the chap!
havefeith
Cute Haru is cute.
- Joined
- Feb 11, 2021
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My first one was a 5D's and Worm cross on Spacebattles. Can't recall the name, but it hasn't updated in a while, as best I can tell. It had Taylor having had her dad killed and her memories wiped by Contessa before being dumped on Satellite, on an Earth classified as Earth Yota.
AnthonyDrdn
Getting out there.
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- May 22, 2017
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if you mean the one I think you do then I'm fairly sure it actually ended, there's not a lot of yugioh fics in general to be fair XD
either way, bit of an interesting fic so far mike, look forward to seeing how it develops
Chapter 2: New Home & Old Friends
ThatGuyMike
That One Guy
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- Nov 9, 2020
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The day was bright in its dreariness.
Thunder clouds overhead, yet still had the sun peaking through enough it was a good enough day. No rain was always nice, despite how essential it was to life in Satellite he did not enjoy filtering it over and over again. No rain also meant he could actually go out and salvage what he needed rather than twiddling his thumbs inside trying to figure out how the hell he was going to sell anything.
No, today he was doing something he should have done the moment he found the Scrapyard.
He shoved the tip into the dirt, before his boot shoved it deeper down, before he lifted, tossing the displaced dirt into its nice pile, before tossing the shovel like a javelin, stuck fast with a twang! Ignoring the shovel for a moment, he positioned the aluminum sheet of metal he stole off the back of a truck carefully, checking the edges and the small trench he dug in the dirt. After considering it, making minute adjustments, he nodded his head.
Holding it up with one hand, he ran a glove through his hair, sighing. "Well, it's good enough. I'll have to no doubt find something to bolt things onto it, but this is a good start if nothing else."
Shoving the sheet metal in he nabbed the shovel and began to cover the base of the sheet in dirt. Stomping and stamping in the dirt in a vain attempt to solidify it enough to hold the sheet. With that done, he repeated the process, making yet another trench and placing a bay window frame in its place. Probably going to be the door in all honesty.
He made two more trenches, but shoved the dirt to the side since he didn't even have anything to put in place for the moment. With any luck, by the end of the day he'll be able to sort that problem out.
Planting the shove in the ground, he ran a hand through his hair, rubbing away the sweat and vainly trying to get his scalp some breathing room. Looking across the small clearing he made, it was the only place of the scrap yard to actually have dirt you didn't have to dig down to find. Took him all morning to come out here and clear away the trash and scrap, but now he had his own little courtyard.
Looking up to the piles of trash, scrap, and junk surrounding him on all sides, his lips quivered into a small smile, "I got my own little Castle." Kicking a piece of pipe into one of the surrounding hills, he smirked "A castle fit for a King alright. Walls as strong as steel."
Looking at the buildings in the distance past the hills, he sighed again. "Best to not wait." Turning his head, he shrugged his shoulders and moved to the closest hill and began to climb. There was both an ease and difficulty in climbing through these things, though he supposed you could say that about any pile that wasn't dirt… Anyways, atop this newest hill, he took to peering out across the scrap yard. It was a vain hope, admittedly, he would find what he was looking for, yet look he did.
Turning his gaze away from the hills surrounding him, he instead looked up to the sky. He'd long lost track of what the actual seasons were, yet he couldn't help but think it was getting colder in the world. The wind chiller, the air colder, the days… Well, in truth he couldn't track that and to be honest he hadn't paid much attention to them. If they were getting longer or shorter, he definitely couldn't tell. If it was actually getting colder, he feared how in the world Satellite would be able to handle it…
He sighed, rubbing his scalp. "I can barely help myself here."
Getting to his knees, he began to dig.
Who knows? Maybe he'd find something he could sell.
The worst thing about living outside of Downtown satellite, is the travel distance. While he would be more than happy to bemoan the constant walking and dragging of his sled, if he had the strength for it that is, that wasn't what he was referring to here.
The desolate streets are full of rubble and destroyed cars, the buildings around lean every which direction, none of them safely. Several streets had collapsed buildings on the road, so you either had to climb over the dangerously unsafe rubble or go around. Of course, treacherous streets and paths aside, you also had the normal problems when strolling through Satellite. The Dueling Gangs generally had run of the places they held up. They were small things, barely better than scavenger's with duel disks really, yet they would still take your things if you couldn't show your own strength.
To him though, it was the silence which got to him. The mirror image of what a downtown metro area should look like, if given into destruction. There's no people, there's no sound of moving cars, let alone animals that might actually sound out. Rats existed within the subways, birds didn't exist except in the rarest of cases or in books, everything above ground? Left for the worms.
How do you describe a vibrant city reduced to wind? Once, he walked down these streets, laughing and talking to a friend without a real care, only the next time he got to duel someone. Living life paycheck to paycheck as he always had. Now? Now, every crack, every pile of rubble, It was a concrete jungle with none of the wildlife and dead trees. It was depressing.
He handled it as he handled a lot of things in his life. He shoved it from his mind, did not think of it. It became background noise he saw but didn't see. Being tired, exhausted, and hot only made the task so much easier.
The silence only lasted for another block, when the sound of explosions filled the air alongside cheering people. He came around the corner to watch a Blue armored, white coat centaur absolutely covered in pristine white feathers slice across with their sword. The strike obliterated a horde of goblins, sending their controller to the ground from the resultant solid vision explosion. The cheers of the spectators were rapturous, as with all duels that involved duel disks.
Ever since the Incident, the Satellite has had a distinct lack of the almost mythical Duel Disks. Despite the fact the ground they walked on was the very bones of Duel Monsters, duel disks were a rarity in and of themselves. If you had one, you were someone. People traded arms and legs for these sorts of things. One only needed to look at the duel gangs, who made themselves at home wherever they could keep. One need only look to sector security, who even now imposed themselves as the end all be all of Satellite. They were almost a direct cause for the shortage, but that was a different matter.
Of course, you could also look at the one on his wrist. But it'd be a bit foolish in his opinion.
He slipped past the crowd, hauling his sled behind him, attempting to make it past and away from the colloquial 'dueling alley'... Were it so easy.
From the blind, a series of curses, before a weight slammed into his shoulder that made him half stumble out of surprise. "WELL, WELL, WELL!" a hand grasped his other shoulder, while an arm pulled him close into a half hug "If it isn't Mr. Scavenger himself! After your last visit of kicking me up and down the Alley, I thought when you said you were done you weren't gonna come back!" The laugh that followed irked him beyond measure "HEHAHA! I KNEW YOU COULDN'T STAY AWAY!"
He glare down at the speaker with the same vitriol one gave an annoying younger brother. "Seamus, for the last time," He grasped the side of the younger man's cheek with his glove, before shoving him away and on his butt.
'Ack! You got muck all over my face!'
"ask before you start getting huggy! I swear, you don't learn ANYTHING I teach you!" He spat through clenched teeth "I'm hot, tired, and not in the mood to deal with you right now!"
He grasped his wire once more, giving a more forceful yank than he really needed, he barely took a step before Seamus was once again standing before him with his arms wide open like he was begging. "C'mon Mike! It's been WEEKS since anyone's seen you! Last anyone heard, you were moving out west away from downtown! Even your old place in the restaurant had all your stuff gone and was trashed" Seamus showed honest concern across his features, putting his hands together in a prayer for forgiveness "Look, I'm SORRY I got ahead of myself man, I really really am, but I was really worried for ya' man!"
He sighed, running a hand through his hair, glancing at the watching crowd, before sighing again and hanging his head with a shake. "Alright, it's fine,-" - He couldn't even finish his exasperated sighing words before Seamus gave a fist pump - "I'll talk to you while I go set up my stall and get news."
The younger man was opening his mouth, no doubt to spew something obnoxious, before a voice piped up from the crowd "Hey Boss, whos the homeless lookin' guy? Should we knock some sense into 'em?"
Almost instantly, Seamus' concerned yet happy demeanor turned furious, rounding on the poor sod "Watch your mouth, you idiot! You might not realize it, but this 'Homeless lookin' guy' made me the guy I am today! He taught me everythin' 'bout Duel Monsters and even made me this duel disk I use now!-" He didn't, he found it, fixed the cracked display, and gave it as a birthday gift - "Not only that, but he's easily the greatest player I've ever met, probably in all of satellite-" It was literally just Seamus who said that - "So you will show my Teacher some respe- Where'd he go?"
Seamus finally noticed he didn't stop while he was busy yelling at whatever groupie, underling, subordinate, whatever that person was to Seamus, and instead kept pulling his sled along.
"H-hey, wait up!" The sound of pounding steps was behind him, before it momentarily stopped as the fool bounced on one foot, the other raised in the air as he hollar'd back "Y'all get goin"! I'll come back 'round later!" Before Seamus caught up with him again. "So how's the best Teacher in the whole wide world doin' nowadays, eh?! Eh?!?!"
He could only sigh.
There was a saying that cropped up, almost as soon as people began gathering to sell things here. He certainly didn't know who started the saying, people he asked didn't know, so he assumed it was lost to the wonders of time. 'If it exists within satellite, you can find it in the Market'. It was the words of people in desperate need of hope after surviving a cataclysm. He remembered the earliest days when those words were spoken, the Market being a gathering place for the lost and destitute they had all become. People searched for family, for what they've lost, even just searching for something to cling onto.
Very very few found what they were looking for.
Now, it was a flickering torch amidst the cold ruins of Old Domino city, existing as a gathering point for anyone and everyone that had no place to call their own and from where Scavengers sell to what could loosely be called Traders. Barter was the king of the Land in this Market, you traded something you had for something someone was offering. If you couldn't find what you were looking for, you either left or hiked up and waited for the trader to come to you.
And what was traded for these items? The most stable thing that existed in Satellite.
"Whell, what do we have here? That no good, town skippin' Scavenger!" The fogey which stood behind a stall on a stool "Thought you was gone for good, leavin' fer as long as you did. Almost gave up your spot ya' know." The man who looked right out of an old folks home looked him up and down judgmentally, as the few sparse scraggly white hairs on his chinny chin chin only sold the judgmental look on his face.
Before the old man took the time to insult him further, he unhooked a glove from its velcro strap. With the newly freed hand, he nabbed the two particular cards from a slot on his belt and slapped them down on the counter of the old man's stall.
Without wasting a moment, the old man swiped them from where they lay to inspect them. The old man's smirking smile split into a grin "Whell, whell, whell! Sure looks like you're still as good as you ever were!" The man showed off the Millennium Shield and Millennium Golem cards like the prizes they were.
He could feel Seamus drool behind him, even if he couldn't see it. "It's a gift for how long I've been gone… And for keeping my spot clear." His 'spot' being basically an extension of the old man's own little shack they called a trader's shelf. Old Man was a doorway away from where he actually slept and lived, practically mocked him for having to travel so far to reach here in comparison. "Anything change since I was last here?"
The old man chuffed at that "What hasn't? The security folks almost finished their big construction project. It's only a matter of weeks before Satellite becomes the City's dumping ground. The new factories are already done and waiting."
Wasn't that the truth. The City spent more money making that giant pipeline than they ever did to help the people of Satellite recover from the explosion that rocked the city. They through their backs into enlarging the gap between Satellite and New Domino, let alone the fact it was already turned into an island by the explosion. With the added Factories that will probably be mandated by New Domino to be worked by the people here? It will be a bigger mess than it has any right to be.
"Grrr, New Domino has no right to be doing what its doing, man! Bad enough they leave us out here to fend for ourselves, now they're gonna make us work?!" Seamus popped up, out of his drooling over a couple cards. "C'mon Mike! You're the best duelist around! Surely we could go show Security what for!"
Already he had half of the scrap off his sled, making it look nice enough in presentation. The shinier bits he polished with a grease rag to catch the eye, the more useful in the back for those who come to investigate. Lightbulbs, wires, hotplates that would probably work, scrap parts he ripped from broken generators, the whole shebang. Even a couple car parts, though those rarely sold unless he went out of his way to go see Victor.
He shook his head at Seamus' words. "You already know one man can't fight an entire city, Seamus. Thought I beat that into your head enough when I taught you how to survive in the Satellite."
"Yeah, but the Legendary Man-"
"Was a Man who failed." He turned and looked hard down into Seamus' eyes. "He didn't fight because he knew it was a pipe dream. So, he took the route available to him."
Seamus tried to hold his gaze, before they eventually wavered and then looked to the asphalt, kicking it in frustration. "There's gotta be some way to fight back…"
He shrugged his shoulders, sighing and running his gloved hand through his hair. "Keeping your deck and becoming a strong duelist is already enough. Win, gather people who believe in you and maybe one day you'll have a force Security can't reckon with. Winners control everything in this world." It was a pitiful offering to a frustrated youth. But, Seamus needed some vague words like that, to direct his need to do something if nothing else.
He looked to the old man, who was scratching their scraggly thin beard as he watched the exchange, before he nodded and the Old Man huffed yet continued
"Besides that, you gave the Market quite a scare with ya' disappearin' act. Had people hounding me for days lookin' for info." The old man grouched, harrumphing many harrumphs. "People thought one of the gangs nabbed ya, or maybe Security finally decided to lock you up for somethin'. Especially when people found out your place was emptied and trashed."
He shrugged at the news. "I found a new place out of Downtown. Punks were sniffing around anyhow. Better to get while the getting was good." He looked down at the still unmoving life point score of the Duel Disk, before placing it behind the counter. He could work on it as he was trying to sell.
"Kage's gang was also lookin' for ya' again."
For once, the old man's words gave him pause. He stopped arranging his stock to stand still for a long few moments, before he slowly began to continue what he was doing. "I… See… Did you tell them anything?"
The Old man smiled at that "Heh, who do you think I am?"
He sighed, running his glove through his hair-
"Oh yeah, I was meaning to ask. So what's with the whole dyed hair?" Seamus interjected, pointing at his own hair for reference "You trying to hide from someone, Teacher?"
He blinked once, then twice, then looked at Seamus for a long hard moment. "...What?"
"You hair." Seamus pointed again, eliciting his point "It's all dark and greasy and stained. Are you trying to dye it or something?"
He didn't say anything at that as he processed through the words. Then he picked up the car wheel he shined to attract customers and look at himself through the reflect.
At his near pitch black hair, showing none of the natural blond he was.
He groaned at the unfairness of it all.
A/N: Corrections are always welcome.
Thunder clouds overhead, yet still had the sun peaking through enough it was a good enough day. No rain was always nice, despite how essential it was to life in Satellite he did not enjoy filtering it over and over again. No rain also meant he could actually go out and salvage what he needed rather than twiddling his thumbs inside trying to figure out how the hell he was going to sell anything.
No, today he was doing something he should have done the moment he found the Scrapyard.
He shoved the tip into the dirt, before his boot shoved it deeper down, before he lifted, tossing the displaced dirt into its nice pile, before tossing the shovel like a javelin, stuck fast with a twang! Ignoring the shovel for a moment, he positioned the aluminum sheet of metal he stole off the back of a truck carefully, checking the edges and the small trench he dug in the dirt. After considering it, making minute adjustments, he nodded his head.
Holding it up with one hand, he ran a glove through his hair, sighing. "Well, it's good enough. I'll have to no doubt find something to bolt things onto it, but this is a good start if nothing else."
Shoving the sheet metal in he nabbed the shovel and began to cover the base of the sheet in dirt. Stomping and stamping in the dirt in a vain attempt to solidify it enough to hold the sheet. With that done, he repeated the process, making yet another trench and placing a bay window frame in its place. Probably going to be the door in all honesty.
He made two more trenches, but shoved the dirt to the side since he didn't even have anything to put in place for the moment. With any luck, by the end of the day he'll be able to sort that problem out.
Planting the shove in the ground, he ran a hand through his hair, rubbing away the sweat and vainly trying to get his scalp some breathing room. Looking across the small clearing he made, it was the only place of the scrap yard to actually have dirt you didn't have to dig down to find. Took him all morning to come out here and clear away the trash and scrap, but now he had his own little courtyard.
Looking up to the piles of trash, scrap, and junk surrounding him on all sides, his lips quivered into a small smile, "I got my own little Castle." Kicking a piece of pipe into one of the surrounding hills, he smirked "A castle fit for a King alright. Walls as strong as steel."
Looking at the buildings in the distance past the hills, he sighed again. "Best to not wait." Turning his head, he shrugged his shoulders and moved to the closest hill and began to climb. There was both an ease and difficulty in climbing through these things, though he supposed you could say that about any pile that wasn't dirt… Anyways, atop this newest hill, he took to peering out across the scrap yard. It was a vain hope, admittedly, he would find what he was looking for, yet look he did.
Turning his gaze away from the hills surrounding him, he instead looked up to the sky. He'd long lost track of what the actual seasons were, yet he couldn't help but think it was getting colder in the world. The wind chiller, the air colder, the days… Well, in truth he couldn't track that and to be honest he hadn't paid much attention to them. If they were getting longer or shorter, he definitely couldn't tell. If it was actually getting colder, he feared how in the world Satellite would be able to handle it…
He sighed, rubbing his scalp. "I can barely help myself here."
Getting to his knees, he began to dig.
Who knows? Maybe he'd find something he could sell.
The worst thing about living outside of Downtown satellite, is the travel distance. While he would be more than happy to bemoan the constant walking and dragging of his sled, if he had the strength for it that is, that wasn't what he was referring to here.
The desolate streets are full of rubble and destroyed cars, the buildings around lean every which direction, none of them safely. Several streets had collapsed buildings on the road, so you either had to climb over the dangerously unsafe rubble or go around. Of course, treacherous streets and paths aside, you also had the normal problems when strolling through Satellite. The Dueling Gangs generally had run of the places they held up. They were small things, barely better than scavenger's with duel disks really, yet they would still take your things if you couldn't show your own strength.
To him though, it was the silence which got to him. The mirror image of what a downtown metro area should look like, if given into destruction. There's no people, there's no sound of moving cars, let alone animals that might actually sound out. Rats existed within the subways, birds didn't exist except in the rarest of cases or in books, everything above ground? Left for the worms.
How do you describe a vibrant city reduced to wind? Once, he walked down these streets, laughing and talking to a friend without a real care, only the next time he got to duel someone. Living life paycheck to paycheck as he always had. Now? Now, every crack, every pile of rubble, It was a concrete jungle with none of the wildlife and dead trees. It was depressing.
He handled it as he handled a lot of things in his life. He shoved it from his mind, did not think of it. It became background noise he saw but didn't see. Being tired, exhausted, and hot only made the task so much easier.
The silence only lasted for another block, when the sound of explosions filled the air alongside cheering people. He came around the corner to watch a Blue armored, white coat centaur absolutely covered in pristine white feathers slice across with their sword. The strike obliterated a horde of goblins, sending their controller to the ground from the resultant solid vision explosion. The cheers of the spectators were rapturous, as with all duels that involved duel disks.
Ever since the Incident, the Satellite has had a distinct lack of the almost mythical Duel Disks. Despite the fact the ground they walked on was the very bones of Duel Monsters, duel disks were a rarity in and of themselves. If you had one, you were someone. People traded arms and legs for these sorts of things. One only needed to look at the duel gangs, who made themselves at home wherever they could keep. One need only look to sector security, who even now imposed themselves as the end all be all of Satellite. They were almost a direct cause for the shortage, but that was a different matter.
Of course, you could also look at the one on his wrist. But it'd be a bit foolish in his opinion.
He slipped past the crowd, hauling his sled behind him, attempting to make it past and away from the colloquial 'dueling alley'... Were it so easy.
From the blind, a series of curses, before a weight slammed into his shoulder that made him half stumble out of surprise. "WELL, WELL, WELL!" a hand grasped his other shoulder, while an arm pulled him close into a half hug "If it isn't Mr. Scavenger himself! After your last visit of kicking me up and down the Alley, I thought when you said you were done you weren't gonna come back!" The laugh that followed irked him beyond measure "HEHAHA! I KNEW YOU COULDN'T STAY AWAY!"
He glare down at the speaker with the same vitriol one gave an annoying younger brother. "Seamus, for the last time," He grasped the side of the younger man's cheek with his glove, before shoving him away and on his butt.
'Ack! You got muck all over my face!'
"ask before you start getting huggy! I swear, you don't learn ANYTHING I teach you!" He spat through clenched teeth "I'm hot, tired, and not in the mood to deal with you right now!"
He grasped his wire once more, giving a more forceful yank than he really needed, he barely took a step before Seamus was once again standing before him with his arms wide open like he was begging. "C'mon Mike! It's been WEEKS since anyone's seen you! Last anyone heard, you were moving out west away from downtown! Even your old place in the restaurant had all your stuff gone and was trashed" Seamus showed honest concern across his features, putting his hands together in a prayer for forgiveness "Look, I'm SORRY I got ahead of myself man, I really really am, but I was really worried for ya' man!"
He sighed, running a hand through his hair, glancing at the watching crowd, before sighing again and hanging his head with a shake. "Alright, it's fine,-" - He couldn't even finish his exasperated sighing words before Seamus gave a fist pump - "I'll talk to you while I go set up my stall and get news."
The younger man was opening his mouth, no doubt to spew something obnoxious, before a voice piped up from the crowd "Hey Boss, whos the homeless lookin' guy? Should we knock some sense into 'em?"
Almost instantly, Seamus' concerned yet happy demeanor turned furious, rounding on the poor sod "Watch your mouth, you idiot! You might not realize it, but this 'Homeless lookin' guy' made me the guy I am today! He taught me everythin' 'bout Duel Monsters and even made me this duel disk I use now!-" He didn't, he found it, fixed the cracked display, and gave it as a birthday gift - "Not only that, but he's easily the greatest player I've ever met, probably in all of satellite-" It was literally just Seamus who said that - "So you will show my Teacher some respe- Where'd he go?"
Seamus finally noticed he didn't stop while he was busy yelling at whatever groupie, underling, subordinate, whatever that person was to Seamus, and instead kept pulling his sled along.
"H-hey, wait up!" The sound of pounding steps was behind him, before it momentarily stopped as the fool bounced on one foot, the other raised in the air as he hollar'd back "Y'all get goin"! I'll come back 'round later!" Before Seamus caught up with him again. "So how's the best Teacher in the whole wide world doin' nowadays, eh?! Eh?!?!"
He could only sigh.
There was a saying that cropped up, almost as soon as people began gathering to sell things here. He certainly didn't know who started the saying, people he asked didn't know, so he assumed it was lost to the wonders of time. 'If it exists within satellite, you can find it in the Market'. It was the words of people in desperate need of hope after surviving a cataclysm. He remembered the earliest days when those words were spoken, the Market being a gathering place for the lost and destitute they had all become. People searched for family, for what they've lost, even just searching for something to cling onto.
Very very few found what they were looking for.
Now, it was a flickering torch amidst the cold ruins of Old Domino city, existing as a gathering point for anyone and everyone that had no place to call their own and from where Scavengers sell to what could loosely be called Traders. Barter was the king of the Land in this Market, you traded something you had for something someone was offering. If you couldn't find what you were looking for, you either left or hiked up and waited for the trader to come to you.
And what was traded for these items? The most stable thing that existed in Satellite.
"Whell, what do we have here? That no good, town skippin' Scavenger!" The fogey which stood behind a stall on a stool "Thought you was gone for good, leavin' fer as long as you did. Almost gave up your spot ya' know." The man who looked right out of an old folks home looked him up and down judgmentally, as the few sparse scraggly white hairs on his chinny chin chin only sold the judgmental look on his face.
Before the old man took the time to insult him further, he unhooked a glove from its velcro strap. With the newly freed hand, he nabbed the two particular cards from a slot on his belt and slapped them down on the counter of the old man's stall.
Without wasting a moment, the old man swiped them from where they lay to inspect them. The old man's smirking smile split into a grin "Whell, whell, whell! Sure looks like you're still as good as you ever were!" The man showed off the Millennium Shield and Millennium Golem cards like the prizes they were.
He could feel Seamus drool behind him, even if he couldn't see it. "It's a gift for how long I've been gone… And for keeping my spot clear." His 'spot' being basically an extension of the old man's own little shack they called a trader's shelf. Old Man was a doorway away from where he actually slept and lived, practically mocked him for having to travel so far to reach here in comparison. "Anything change since I was last here?"
The old man chuffed at that "What hasn't? The security folks almost finished their big construction project. It's only a matter of weeks before Satellite becomes the City's dumping ground. The new factories are already done and waiting."
Wasn't that the truth. The City spent more money making that giant pipeline than they ever did to help the people of Satellite recover from the explosion that rocked the city. They through their backs into enlarging the gap between Satellite and New Domino, let alone the fact it was already turned into an island by the explosion. With the added Factories that will probably be mandated by New Domino to be worked by the people here? It will be a bigger mess than it has any right to be.
"Grrr, New Domino has no right to be doing what its doing, man! Bad enough they leave us out here to fend for ourselves, now they're gonna make us work?!" Seamus popped up, out of his drooling over a couple cards. "C'mon Mike! You're the best duelist around! Surely we could go show Security what for!"
Already he had half of the scrap off his sled, making it look nice enough in presentation. The shinier bits he polished with a grease rag to catch the eye, the more useful in the back for those who come to investigate. Lightbulbs, wires, hotplates that would probably work, scrap parts he ripped from broken generators, the whole shebang. Even a couple car parts, though those rarely sold unless he went out of his way to go see Victor.
He shook his head at Seamus' words. "You already know one man can't fight an entire city, Seamus. Thought I beat that into your head enough when I taught you how to survive in the Satellite."
"Yeah, but the Legendary Man-"
"Was a Man who failed." He turned and looked hard down into Seamus' eyes. "He didn't fight because he knew it was a pipe dream. So, he took the route available to him."
Seamus tried to hold his gaze, before they eventually wavered and then looked to the asphalt, kicking it in frustration. "There's gotta be some way to fight back…"
He shrugged his shoulders, sighing and running his gloved hand through his hair. "Keeping your deck and becoming a strong duelist is already enough. Win, gather people who believe in you and maybe one day you'll have a force Security can't reckon with. Winners control everything in this world." It was a pitiful offering to a frustrated youth. But, Seamus needed some vague words like that, to direct his need to do something if nothing else.
He looked to the old man, who was scratching their scraggly thin beard as he watched the exchange, before he nodded and the Old Man huffed yet continued
"Besides that, you gave the Market quite a scare with ya' disappearin' act. Had people hounding me for days lookin' for info." The old man grouched, harrumphing many harrumphs. "People thought one of the gangs nabbed ya, or maybe Security finally decided to lock you up for somethin'. Especially when people found out your place was emptied and trashed."
He shrugged at the news. "I found a new place out of Downtown. Punks were sniffing around anyhow. Better to get while the getting was good." He looked down at the still unmoving life point score of the Duel Disk, before placing it behind the counter. He could work on it as he was trying to sell.
"Kage's gang was also lookin' for ya' again."
For once, the old man's words gave him pause. He stopped arranging his stock to stand still for a long few moments, before he slowly began to continue what he was doing. "I… See… Did you tell them anything?"
The Old man smiled at that "Heh, who do you think I am?"
He sighed, running his glove through his hair-
"Oh yeah, I was meaning to ask. So what's with the whole dyed hair?" Seamus interjected, pointing at his own hair for reference "You trying to hide from someone, Teacher?"
He blinked once, then twice, then looked at Seamus for a long hard moment. "...What?"
"You hair." Seamus pointed again, eliciting his point "It's all dark and greasy and stained. Are you trying to dye it or something?"
He didn't say anything at that as he processed through the words. Then he picked up the car wheel he shined to attract customers and look at himself through the reflect.
At his near pitch black hair, showing none of the natural blond he was.
He groaned at the unfairness of it all.
A/N: Corrections are always welcome.
Last edited:
ThatGuyMike
That One Guy
- Joined
- Nov 9, 2020
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- 60
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Apologies I can't write a better story right now, but I'll try to go above Okay in the future.
Thank Yous for catching that tag mistake, though I'm unsure how to fix that tbh.