After Schlatt left, Droj followed behind.

“Before you go, Droj. How much for a phone with Wi-Fi connection?”

This time, he kept an eye around and lowered his voice to a whisper.

Droj noticed and smirked, “Fast learner. You lucky it was Schlatt, he’s too loyal to fellow gutter dwellers. Phone for 2000 credits.”

Lothar didn’t even know how much one credit was, but if he compared it to one dollar, then the price was ludicrous.

“Okay, thanks.” The man walked away, and Lothar ended up sitting alone, staring at the table.

He cursed his luck; he knew prices were high in prisons but this was crazy. Maybe it would be wise to check Vols’ account.

His mind went back to the conversation the men had and Vols’ first journal entry.

He worried about who those ‘Fanes’ were and what their deal was with the agents that were coming.

Lothar also wondered what Droj and Schlatt did to get themselves here—He wondered what Vols did to get here, and how long his sentence was.

The psychiatrist might tell him. He sighed, scratching his neck in annoyance.

Worm, did you hear their conversation?

A system message appeared in front of him.

None of that. I can’t look like I’m reading the air. People already think I’m one step away from swallowing my tongue.

The message disappeared.

Can you tell me more about those agents?

They handle everything related to Soulbounds. >

Okay then. Let’s focus on me, how do I get stronger? Do I need to farm Exp?

lothar sighed.

Do I get rewards if I complete quests?

Lothar shuddered.

Tink made things really messy. The first two quests are a trial to test me, aren't they?

Fuck you. And what happens if I fail one?

Delightful.

He shook his head and stood up, walking towards the viking dude. The latter was doing some pull-ups when Lothar stopped.

“How long have you been doing calisthenics?”

The guy jumped down and wiped the sweat off his face with his sleeve. Lothar was a bit jealous of his physique.

He used to have decent muscles before he began drowning himself in alcohol. Now he looks like a malnourished beanpole.

“Since i came here, so three years.”

“Self-taught?”

Viking dude nodded. They walked between the lines of men towards the benches. None of the prisoners acknowledged them.

Some, however, looked at the Viking with anger and disgust.

“Were you a body builder or something before?” Lothar dusted his seat, then made himself comfortable. He hated how dirty everything was here.

He looked up and caught the viking guy, giving him a weird look.

“What?”

Lothar was surprised to see the man smile, then burst into laughter. It was a deep and jovial sound. He frowned, feeling a bit embarrassed. Did he say something stupid?

After sobering up, the man sat next to Lothar and responded as he pointed at his tattoos.

“I am a ka’ishi.” He said.

“You’re saying this as if it explains anything.”

The Viking man sighed “You forgot everything?”

Lothar shrugged in response.

“I used to be part of a tribe called ka’ishi. We have different customs than city people. One of them is the importance of maintaining a robust physique. A ka'ishi who has a weak body is killed or exiled.”

Lothar frowned “Jesus, what a terrible place.”

Viking nodded with a faraway look in his eyes.

“That’s why I got out. My brother was born ill. Father was the one to slit his throat when it was clear he couldn’t be cured. Only 13 he was.” He mumbled that last part.

Lothar cringed “Holy fuck, that’s awful. I’m sorry, man.”

He felt uncomfortable with the direction this conversation took. He was never a good comforter or sympathizer but he tried hard not to seem awkward.

“Didn’t mean to over share, I just felt like telling someone before I go. Get it off my chest and shit.” Lothar’s breath hitched. The Viking guy still was looking at nothing.

“Before you go?”

His eyes met Lothar’s. They looked tired.

“Yeah. There are lots of places between here and there” He pointed at the sky then continued,

“ Maybe I’ll bring you a new face, the one you have is quite hard to look at.”

Lothar blinked in surprise “What the hell?”

Viking guy chuckled, then slapped his knees. “Time’s almost up. I’ll go before they come drag me.”

Lothar looked up and saw the prisoners starting to assemble near the doors. He stood up and followed, his gaze briefly catching the eyes of the same man who had glared at him before.

He weaved between the crowd, towering over almost all the prisoners, and walked up to him. He stopped and looked down with an easy smile.

“Dickins, lovely seeing you here.”

Dickins frowned. Lothar thought he looked like a penguin. He had a large head, short neck and walked funny.

Like his first gamble, it was merely a guess he took about the man’s identity.

“Chathier.” Words barely sounded over the gritting of Dickins’ teeth.

Jackpot

Lothar hesitantly continued, “I would like to get down to the meat of our minor disagreement and sort it out.”

He needed boosters and knew Dickins used them. Well, that’s what the viking guy said, and he didn’t have any choice but to ask. He was tight on time.

It was a wonder, seeing Dickins’ face morph from annoyance to rage in mere seconds.

Lothar reckoned he could have used better phrasing, but he was never good with words, like his mother, or communication in general.

“Sort it out? You son of a bitch.” Dickins moved fast.

Lothar barely registered the punch. It came and went, leaving a sting less painful than the guards’, without his notice.

Feet planted on the ground, he wiped his nose with his sleeve. Lothar was a bit in shock, if he was honest, and briefly disoriented.

“The only reason I’m not having someone gut you is ‘cause I'm lying low for now. Watch yourself, Chathier.” He walked away with a slight limp.

Prisoners stared at his back and whispered. He ignored them and shook the embarrassment off.

I can safely assume Dickins will not help me obtain boosters for now.

Lothar sighed. A drink would be nice right about now. It would make things easier to ignore.

Don’t judge me. You were the dumbasses who chose an alcoholic for your stupid mission.

Lothar chuckled. The worm started to sound too much like Chris. Speaking of the condescending bastard, what would he find once he barged into Lothar’s apartment for his daily lecture on sobriety?

Would he notice something wrong with the man who took his place?

He let go of those thoughts. It wasn’t his style to dwell on things that made him fell less than shitty.

Lothar cackled to himself. A worm wanted to fix him.

He had prettier things telling him the same.

But they're all gone now. Everything is.

.....