A Night In The Western Wastes - Part 7 (Short Story)

Here we are, another day, another piece of this latest serialised short story following the antics of three friends.

I have a general idea of how this is going to pan out, but the more time I spend with these characters, the more I find out about them. It's one of the best things about writing these longer stories in multiple sections. Each part allows for time to breathe, think, and discover between parts.

Here's The First Part of The Story -

Here's The Second Part of The Story -

Here's The Third Part of The Story -

Here's The Forth Part of The Story

Here's The Fifth Part of The Story

Here's The Sixth Part of The Story


       Mari rummaged through the pockets of the dead Mulu, talking to herself quietly while taking things out. "Here, you can have this Andron," she said as she handed him the Mulu's weapon; a pistol with no discernable markings. It was a scrappy little thing and had accumulated a lot of grime in the hands of its previous owner.
       "Thanks," Andron said quietly as he took it, and he figured the least he could do was hang on to it. At the least, it would be a ghoulish memento of this night.
       "Are you going to name it?" Mari asked in a low mumble.
"Scrappy would probably be a good one," Andron replied as he planted himself on the ground and thrust his hips in the air to put it in his waistband.
       Mari started at the body once more as she finished ransacking it, and without saying a word Andron climbed over the barrier to give her a hand.
       The body was heavy, but between the two of them, they managed to lift it with ease. As they had a grip on it, the barrier disengaged allowing for the rain - which was much heavier now - to land on them. With one slow heave, the body was hanging over the side and a final push saw it being dragged down by its own weight to the street below. Again, the barrier engaged and they were once more protected from the environment as a dance of light tapped across the the top of it.

       The altitude dropped quickly, while the three of them remained silent. There seemed to be nothing more to say on the subject, or perhaps M'Trada just needed to process what Andron just told them. Mari, on the other hand, was too busy messing around with the datapad she swiped off the corpse before it was tossed out the transport.
       Now at the lower level Andron stared at the buildings. They were stacked on top of each other in dense pockets of civilization. There was no order or style to it, it was just messy. Messy or not though, people used the place which was apparent by the lights, and street art - rubbish too - they were the main signs of life in a place like this. Wall scratchings, someone's name, two people who loved each other, a gang sign, a slogan. All of this helped to show someone was here once, and while they could be gone, the colourful nothing written or painted - although faded - remained for all to remember those lost moments.
       "Death to the Confederation!" One piece of 'art' said. The Confederation was long gone. That tide washed away what was once here, and everything and everyone that crawled out of the ruins of the old world will always remember what they had done. A piece of graffiti wasn't necessary to help them remember, because all they had to do was look around. The people wore the atrocities on their faces, and the buildings themselves wreaked with the stench of the events back then. The Western Wastes smelled especially putrid.

       "Here we are," M'Trada said as he took the transport down for a landing in a large dockyard, fit to burst with many other ships both large, smell, new, and old.
       Beyond the dockyard was a building that seemed to be amassing people from all over the industrial wastes known as home. Sin was written above it in huge red glowing and seldom shimmering neon lights.
       "Nervous?" Mari asked close to Andron's ear. So close in fact that he could feel the warmth of her breath.
"Should I be?" Andron asked quietly as he turned to look into her dialated eyes.
       Rather than reply she started laughing, as she stood up and straightened up her clothes. "Maybe keep that weapon at hand," she said with a grin.
       "Just don't take it out for no reason and we'll all be fine," M'Trada said as he switched the engines of the vehicle off. "Security is pretty laxed in here, but that doesn't mean it's a free for all." He continued in a stern voice as he got out of the transport.
       Andron followed suit and got out to walk around the ship slowly, and as he reached the other side Mari stepped up on the rim of it and hopped down. She then proceeded to lead the way with a skip in her step, leaving Andron and M'Trada staring at one another.
       "You okay?" Andron asked him, trying to fill the void with anything.
       "I'll survive," he said in an even tone. Then he reached into his pocket and looked at something he took out. "Here," he said as he tossed the thing, and Andron caught it.
       A small capsule, red and yellow, one colour on each side. He stared at it for a long moment and wasn't sure what to think of it, he felt nervous about going inside and figured that it could probably help.

       "A little going away gift," M'Trada said as he threw something into his own mouth, presumably the same thing he just tossed over. "One cap to see you off," he continued as he started walking toward Sin.

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