'CHRONOLOGICAL DEVIATION - 1'

  'PERSPECTIVE SHIFT: 087-443'

  'CODEWORD: 'IRON-STOMACH'

  'NOTE: THE CURRENT PERSPECTIVE DOES NOT ALIGN WITH THE NORMAL ORDER OF DISPLAYED INFORMATION - DEVIATION WILL BE SOLVE AFTER DESIGNATED INFORMATION IS DISTRIBUTED'

  It was already a long day, and I weren't in the mood for any shenanigans at the time. But, it's one of the few days I made the exception.

  It was the end of the fiscal, that day where many of the orgs about the centre decide to have all their books properly filled out. I ain't much of an accountant, so what that entails is beyond me, luckily I don't need to do that boring shit.

  Many of the stores now are closing, when the big ones shut off everyone shuts off, that's just the way of things. I just managed to get through selling the leftover of the parts we had gotten from the previous dives into the tunnels. It's a rush, as always.

  Going about to all the different collectors, trying to get a deal which weren't straight ripping the slips out of my pocket, while also trying to be as passive-aggressively 'friendly' as possible just ain't my cup of sugar water. I'd prefer if I was able to be more blunt about things.

  The sad part is there are some pieces which just ain't worth selling on this nice day, so instead I gotta' trod my way back with a wagon of scrap metal.

  To be fair it ain't as bad as you'd think.

  The place at this time decides to light up in this greenish hue, I think it's the emergency generators as no-one is actually working right now.

  What matters is that it covers up the usual horrid blackish-brown the entire part of this tunnel section is draped in. Not to mention making everything look somewhat more spacious, though I'm the largest fellow I've ever met.

  I can barely manage to walk through this shithole without having to squeeze past people, or walk under doors, but that's the cost of being able to take a massive monstrosity of metal head on without dying of broken bones. It was worth it.

  After making it past the fourteenth door, which you gotta' count because each of the shops look the same, as do all the rooms, as do all the other things in this shithole. I've told Bel over a thousand times that we need to go somewhere more asymmetrical, but she don't listen.

  At least she ain't the only one I gotta head home to, after passing the seventh homeless podling on the way there of course.

  Just like that I've made it, home sweet home, just duck under the sharp metal doorway.

  "Try not to kill yourself Larson." Bel warned, in her usual slow monotone voice,

  "I live here, I ain't gonna' kill myself off a door. Unless you ask nicely." I mockingly reply,

  I slide the cart of scrap metal over to the little iron jaw podling we have in the corner, who had most likely spent the day attempting to talk and failing to.

  "Can you manage it yet little man?" I ask,

  I lightly toss a piece of metal over to him, he had a habit of shaping it into somewhat interesting little things. It's a good distraction, a lot of manufacturing podlings have some need for it.

  He has a metal jaw, which was rusted and slightly oversized; it was cheap don't blame me, blame Pete. He opened and closed it multiple times before attempting to speak.

  "Ki-nd of." He replied, his words getting muffled by the premature closing of his jaw.

  "Better than being mute, lemme' tell you. There's this asshole, and he don't say a thing even if it almost gets him and everyone else killed. Almost fell into a turbine cause that dick-" I began to complain,

  "Got an explanation to why you're wasting scrap metal Larson?" Bel interjected,

  "No-one's gonna' take scrap metal Bel, besides, give the little guy something to do besides sit next to an empty shop stand." I reply, somewhat frustrated by her interruption.

  There was a prolonged silence which I would've loved to drop a metal pipe in, but I ain't so lucky. Instead she slapped me across the face for my comments, fair, not like it could hurt.

  "Where's Pete anyhow?" I smartly segway,

  "I have no clue, and for your information Larson; we had plenty of customers looking for ammunition in particular, it was good business today." Bel bluntly replied,

  "I suppose this is when collectors come around ain't it. Oh well, we probably won't be sleeping tonight little man." I enthusiastically say to the distracted podling,

  I watch as the little man curved the soft cold metal into a combination if interesting shapes, until finishing it looking roughly like the outline of a person.

  It was nice, but nothing to gasp at.

  I look out the shop window to the street, there was a slow encroaching fog which was going about the place. Looks like the ventilation is acting up.

  The centre almost never gets the rain you see in the outer circles, but when it does happen it has to be pretty darn strong to reach so far in. As a result the rain makes quite the fog in the tunnel towns you get around the place, like the one we unfortunately live in.

  It just means you should be inside or have some good masks, otherwise breathing in the fog could give you some funky diseases, or just melt your organs. Either way I wouldn't recommend, I don't need no mask, my face is mostly grill after all. All I need is built into my cheeks.

  I see some people running down the street, looks like some collectors are chasing someone. The collectors are just the reavers who go about collecting whatever debt or tax someone owes to someone else. I think we just about managed to pay all of ours.

  They act like security, but they barely bother to enforce any type of law in the tunnels, they prefer just to let everyone sort themselves out. To be fair, it usually works out in their favour.

  The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  They stick out in the brown and green with their black uniforms and blue multi-vision goggles.

  "Hey, looks like the collectors are out, planning on doing anything stupid?" Bel sarcastically asked,

  "Depends on who you sold ammunition to." I reply,

  A couple of rough folks fly by the window, and the fog begins to pick up further, overall it helps the overall atmosphere. But soon we'll start hearing the bangs which come with this day.

  "We should probably close the shop, wouldn't you agree little man?" I suggest,

  The podling had managed to curve one of the pieces of metal into a crude showing of a firearm, if I had to guess a rifle. It's only impressive to me because all I could do with my large ass fingers is crush it into a ball if I tried.

  "Uh- S-hure." the little man struggled to say,

  "No. You get a few desperate ones at this point, I'm sure they'll pour in, just give them a second to realise they don't have a stockpile." Bel argued,

  "Well, I think the majority rules in this house don't it?" I say,

  "The little guy doesn't count to this houses democracy, if you want a vote try finding Pete the jackass." Bel boorishly responded,

  "I say we make an exception while Pete ain't here." I say,

  She raises an eyebrow at me, and we hear footsteps come up to the window, stopping right before it. We both turn to see no-one was even above the counter.

  Bel leans over to see a new podling who was too small to see over it.

  "Oh, hello there?" Bel greeted them,

  The podling seems to attempt to clear their throat, before attempting to look as pitiful as possible, attempting to bring as much as their body over the counter.

  "Do you have any thing to spare, Miss?" the girl podling pleaded,

  "No, fuck off." Bel bluntly answered,

  The little podling seemed distraught and went to turn away.

  I take one of the little man's creations of mangled metal, and slide it over to the other side of the counter, which was almost immediately snatched by the podling.

  She scurried away much happier than she was just a moment ago.

  "Don't give out free shit to the rats Larson." Bel immediately reprimanded,

  "Come on. No harm done, and it ends with everyone being happy. Except you, greedy ass." I respond,

  "If you're feeling so generous why don't you just go out and hand out scrap metal to every fucking podling around this shit heap." Bel frustratedly said,

  "Y'know. That's probably not a bad idea." I respond,

  At this point the podling was gone, and our metaljaw podling had been working hard at making piece after pieces out of the wagon of scrap metal I had given him.

  "That weren't a suggestion, it's too dangerous out there. Not to mention wasting good scrap metal, we can use that you know." Bel seriously said,

  I look over to the little man, he seemed fairly unbothered so far. Pete probably wouldn't be back for a while if he ain't already, maybe got caught up in some chemical storm.

  "Come on, I ain't had a chance to do anything fun with the little man yet." I say,

  Bel let's out an irritated sigh, and looks over to the little man. She knew as well as I did that he was basically our podling to, even if Pete was the one to rip him out of the gutter.

  "I mean most hubs, ports, and probably whole districts are closed. There could be hundreds of podlings just running about doing whatever the fuck." I say,

  "How many of the scruffy rats do you know out there little guy?" Bel softly asks,

  "A- lot" the little man answered,

  Bel went over to the back of the shop, kicking about metal boxes with her metal legs, and finally rummaged through one to pick out a small device and a small handgun.

  "Take these, little guy, a gun and a frequency signal." Bel instructed while giving over the two pieces of equipment,

  I look into the wagon of scrap metal, which was turned into piles of nothing worth looking at into some fairly unimpressive and shoddy creations. But, better than nothing.

  "You better keep track of that signal for your own sake Larson, or I'll have my metal foot so far up your ass you'll think you've grown a throat." Bel threatened,

  "Message received." I confidently reply.

  I put my hand on the shoulder of the little man, and pat it a few times. I grab a mask for him on one of the hooks near the door, giving him something to not choke on the fog.

  Also help me tell him apart from any others we can run into as well.

  We make our way out through the foggy streets, passing one door after another, one closed window after another. I myself managing to squeeze through smaller corridors just about.

  In between each dull corridor was a small alleyway, which led to pieces of this place you wouldn't believe. From the illegal chemical farms, to simple garbage piles, to fortresses of the destitute, the fanatic, sometimes podling gangs. All were usually targets for the collectors.

  After making our way through we would encounter a small collection of podlings who were huddled about a chemical fire, somewhat safe from the fog which was creeping in from the ventilation. But, they seemed fairly worse off than even the usual ones about.

  They scurried about for a moment, probably startled by our sudden appearance. I was quiet for how massive I was, but the arrival of the little man and the wagon of creations stopped everyone in the area in some sort of confusion luckily.

  They gathered around the chemical fire, with various pieces of improvised weaponry, which could only threaten a tunnel rat or another podling.

  "Had a rough fiscal end?" I ask with my voice booming and bouncing off the walls,

  There were six of them in total, and they seemed quite battered and bruised, perhaps they got into a scuffle with some other groups. But, I didn't really care about that stuff.

  "Who the fuck are you?" The lead podling gruffly asked,

  His attempt at being courageous or intimidating were hilarious at best.

  "A giver of gifts." I simply reply,

  I wave over to the little man and his wagon, he begins to hand out different pieces of scrap metal, some which were shaped as guns, people, even a couple of vehicles or basic shapes.

  "Gift? What is this, what does it do? Ain't nothing for free in this fucking place." The lead podling rapidly questioned,

  "It's free. It doesn't do anything. Enjoy, you'll probably never see us again." I enthusiastically say,

  I pat the lead podling on the head a couple of times, this feeling was amusing, and it was honestly enjoyable. I might as well continue it.

  The lead podling looks in disbelief as the rest of his small troop looks in awe at the new pieces of shaped metal they had.

  "What...?" The lead podling whispered,

  With that we went on our way, through the skinny alleyway which at first looked like I wouldn't be able to get through it, but with a bit of scraping I managed.

  We continued one through the sections of our tunnel town, giving out the scrap metal pieces to whoever we would run into. Mostly podlings, a lot of fucking podlings, and we would eventually make our way to a small port section of the town.

  The port sections are just where goods are exchanged out of the tunnel into the wider centre area, everyone has these sort of sections, it's where all the fucking trade happens. With a connection to the cart network, and a large road section for caravans to pick up whatever they want.

  I hate carts and I hate caravans. That's why I prefer the diving business, even though it's about as cramped, it isn't cramped while moving at high speeds, and I appreciate that.

  A collector smashes into my side, as if we was attempting to tackle me over, but failed miserably.

  "Got a problem collector?" I ask,

  The reaver picks himself up from the floor and attempts to compose himself and wipe himself off, he looked me up and down. He wasn't happy.

  "We've gotten word that illegal goods are being exchanged, you two match the description." The collector stated, two others joining him,

  They had their weapons ready, powerful pistols which had a pulse setting, but not effective against me. Never have been.

  There was a large amount of people about the area, who were witnessing the whole ordeal.

  The little man shoots one square in the eye, I didn't expect it at all, but he is being trained to be a scrapper- Pete even called him a natural shooter.

  I managed to grab one's head, crushing his mask into his face without issue, at this point there couldn't be a witness. The last one jumped back shooting me twice.

  The bullets did nothing. She shot a pulse at me, and it did the minimum. I pull out my own oversized handgun, and blast her chest open.

  I look to the little man, he seemed fairly unphased by the sudden murder episode. It was probably best we went back to the shop.

  To that end, we would slip into the dark alleyways without a sound, that was a goodnight.