RULE #22

Never enter a bar with a loaded weapon! Never! There is no if, no nothing! Something sharp or blunt, on the other hand, is perfectly fine.

~ The Scavenger’s Handbook

“I fucking saw it! Say one more time I did not and I’ll blow your fucking brains!”

“The hell you think you’re doing?! I saw you stash that card!”

“Top quality second-hand rad pills! Only today – half price!”

“You put that knife down, boy. Before I shove it up your ass…”

The cacophony of Leeroy’s Bar & Exchange was as loud as usual. Perhaps a little louder, since the word had spread out that the main reactor of Sector 5 was cycling down. Less automated defences, from before the world went down the drain, meant that a lot of people would be rushing to plunder whatever valuable loot was left...

Wait, did that guy say he was selling used rad pills? Ok, the news attracted all sorts of idiots and wannabe vultures, but no one could be that stupid to buy those. Best case, they were way past their expiration date, and although useful, the upset stomach was definitely not worth it. Anyone with at least two working brain cells knew as much. That said, grey matter was a deficit commodity with this crowd. The majority of them were mixing cheap booze, loaded guns and gambling. Grey was willing to bet his last fifty bucks that a lot of them would end up with a severe case of a bullet to the face by tomorrow morning.

Speaking of money, he had a slight problem. The three notes in his pocket were not enough to buy him a drink, let alone get additional supplies for another run on the other side of the wall. He was hoping that he could pawn a few items here, but there were too many people and too many new faces. And his goods were of a peculiar origin, which prevented him from selling them at the trade station at Overpass Lake. In other words, illegal as hell, and without a valid salvage permit, he was going to get arrested for sure.

“Hey, Leeroy,” Grey waved at the fifteen-year-old bartender only to be ignored in favour of other customers. It couldn’t be helped, the placed was packed and there were a lot of fires to deal with. In some cases quite literary.

“That’s it!” Leeroy barked like an angry puppy and pointed at the large board behind the bar and the rules painted on it. “No setting the furniture on fucking fire! Get out!”

“Shut it kid,” the leader of the sub-human group sitting around the burning table. Calling them that had more to do with their intellectual capacity than anything else. After all, no mutant could get this far in the Véi Dron safe zone. And by the looks of it, they were not regulars here, otherwise, they would know better than to mess with the pipsqueak.

“Now, be a good little boy and bring me and my friends a bottle of Old Blue.” The brute with pox-marked face spat and smiled, revealing a row of crooked black teeth. His finger dancing around the trigger of his modified shotgun revolver. “And don’t forget to say sorry, for disturbing our game.”

“You tell him, Raffa.” One of the cheerleaders at the table laughed. A gaunt fellow, afflicted by the same skin disease as his leader. The same black teeth too. Grey made a note to never get near them without a fresh mask filter.

That didn’t stop Grey from chuckling. Poor Leeroy looked like he was about to blow a gasket, the way his pale face had turned red. A few of the more familiar faces had noticed it too and were holding their breath for the show.

“Jenkins!” There it was. The boy’s scream quitted down the spacious bar, the terraces of the second floor too. Now everyone was looking at the four men sitting around the burning table and smiling awkwardly.

A second later and the patrons of this fine establishment could hear the heavy stomping coming from the back rooms and the telling whine of a malfunctioning hydraulic arm. While people waited for the door to open, bets were going on how long it would take Jenkins to deal with these idiots. His money was on thirty, but alas, he did not have the notes to join the pool. What most people didn’t know was that the bouncer had a strict time limit encoded in his circuits and that was twenty-eight seconds. If a stop command was not issued from Leeroy, then it would activate all of its weapons systems.

And there it was. The iron door’s rusty hinges screamed in protest, but there was little they could do to stop the construct from entering the main area of the bar. Standing at three meters tall and weighing well over a ton, the combat unit was fashioned to resemble a mix between a man and a horse. Grey had read about such creatures in a book once, Centurions they were called if he was not mistaken. The thing had gone through so many repairs, that it was hard to tell what its original shell was made of. Now, it was a walking heap of homemade iron and steel plates and a lot of weapons.

A light machinegun on each shoulder, an improvised flamethrower where its left arm used to be, a saw attachment for its right one and a dozen more hidden on its torso. The kinetic gun secreted in its belly was the most dangerous one. It required no ammunition as long as there was enough charge in Jenkins’ micro fission reactor and unlike the other guns, it could not jam. Not to mention that it packed enough force in each shot to tear off a limb and a hit to the chest would break a lot of bones and rupture organs. Bulletproof-vests and armour provided no to little protection against, truly a deadly weapon. Grey winced at the memory of the glancing hit he received before disabling the damned thing. But selling it to Leeroy was worth the nine months he spent recovering.

“A glass of Silverline and a minute of your time,” Grey used the fact that everyone was busy watching the four idiots getting the shit kicked out of them. At least this time, he was not ignored, instead, the boy picked up a long cane and pointed at the top of the board. Specifically, at the line that read face must be visible to get service.

“Three letters for you, my friend – V. I. P.” He placed a plain white plastic card on the counter with Leeroy’s stamp clearly visible on the smooth surface.

“Nice try,” the kid was not amused. “It’s been revoked.”

“What? When?” This was rather unexpected. Grey had worked really hard to get on the boy’s good side to get special treatment.

“Enough, Jenkins. Throw them out and you can go back to play with your dolls.” Leeroy turned to the Centurion, who was close to turning pox-face and his cheerleaders into tonight’s mystery surprise menu set. Not that Grey would ever touch the stuff, but meet was rather hard to come by and there were plenty of customers who preferred not to ask questions.

“As for you,” the boy turned to look at him, “from now. You own me ten grand for food, sixteen k for water, that’s ten thousand for two gallons of clean water and another six for eight gallons unfiltered and another seventy-two thousand three hundred and fifty for supplies. That comes to a total of hundred thousand you own this month, including interest for being overdue on clearing your tab.”

“Wow! I’m impressed you remember every single tab…” Grey whistled after the end of the recital.

“I don’t, because you are the only one who gets stuff on credit.” Leeroy crossed his skinny arms in an attempt to look intimidating. “In other words, pay up or I’ll collect it by other means.” He jutted his chin towards the flickering screen where the wanted info played on a loop. “There are a lot of people who are itching to know who Number 1 is.”

“Wait, you can’t be serious.” Grey smiled and removed his gas mask to get a better look at the kid. “You are going to sell me out for a mere hundred k supply tab? That’s a little unfair, considering you’d be collecting five million.”

“Mate, I’d sell you my mother, if you had the money. Those leeches from Axion are bleeding me dry every time I make a purchase.” Leeroy dropped his head in defeat and picked a dirty bottle of Silverline from under the counter. He placed two glasses and poured a decent amount into each one.

“What can I say?” He shrugged. “I have a few things that might cover my debt, but Sector 11’s been picked clean. Give it another couple of years for the toxic cloud to disperse and it’ll be good for resettling. As long as you don’t mind the wildlife.” Grey placed a small circuit board on the counter, which was immediately stashed away before anyone else could get a better look.

“Look Mr G, I know you are a man of your word and if you say you’ll pay, I know you will. But you are also the reason why my pockets are being drained.” Leeroy downed the glass closest to him and picked the other one from Grey’s hand before he could take a sip. “You order some really expensive shit. What the hell is even petraclycloxin?”

“Ugh… It’s a pill for infections.” He sighed, not bothering to correct the boy for getting the name wrong.”

“Well, there is your problem. Use some of that blue moss that grows all over the tunnels. It doesn’t cost five hundred a pill. And don’t get me started on that paste thing. Ten thousand for a small tube! I got to ask, Mr G, are you insane?”

“A, the moss is an alga and the pills work way faster. And two, the paste is a life saviour. It’s perfect for cleaning the filters and can be used for teeth as well. So yes, they are worth their price” This time Grey held firmly to his glass.

“Right…” Leeroy scoffed and scrubbed his chin with his palm, imitating the hardened men who frequented his establishment. “And it has nothing to do with bypassing the locks at Sector 7. Because I spent three hours being interrogated about that since I’m the only idiot that buys the bloody thing.”

“No one is stopping you from saying that.” Grey smiled and sipped his drink, taking a moment to appreciate the rough taste. “I take it you got everything then?”

“Yes.” It was the boy’s turn to shrug and look at him uncomfortably. “The AP rounds are two boxes short, but everything else is in there.”

“Leeroy? He looked at the kid sternly, dreading that he was not going to like the answer to his question. “What are you are getting at?”

“It’s upstairs… with my mum.”

“Shit!” Grey downed his drink and rubbed his eyes. “Is she?”

“Yep, as usual. Started to drool the moment she learned it was all for you.” The boy poured him another glass and whispered a few things to one of the other bartenders.

“Kid, you promised you were not going to tell her.” He had to be careful with his words, despite the disappointment he felt.

Although young, Leeroy was a smart young man and very resourceful, he was running this place ever since he was ten years old and had buried everyone that tried to push him around. Not without help, hell, even Grey had blood on his hands from the time the Markus brothers attempted to take the bar and the water pumps in the basement. But that was just it, the boy knew how to make connections and how to use them. At this point, Leeroy was irreplaceable and nearly untouchable.

“As I said, you are the only one who orders certain things. There was no way she was not going to learn.” The kid shrugged and poured him another glass.

“Leeroy, look… Your mum is a good woman, but…”

“She is a perverted freak. Yeh, I know.” The two of them shared an awkward smile. As the pause between them stretched on, Grey noticed that the people had gone rather quiet. Although entertaining, Jenkins’ show had dampened the mood a little.

“I mean, that too, but it’s not as big of a drawback as you may think.’ He finally offered, just to keep the conversation going and delay heading upstairs.

“It’s all the baby shit and the violent outbursts, isn’t it?” Leeroy looked at him pleadingly.

“It’s all the baby shit and the violent outbursts. Yes.” Grey was pulling no punches. The sooner the boy came to terms with the truth, the better for the lot of them.

Cantina used to be a decent woman back in the day before Leeroy was born. Damn it, Grey had learned a lot from Barracuda when she brought him to their hiding spot one night. It was them three that had started the creation of the first safe zones around Véi Dron. However, they had paid quite the price for their efforts. The day of their triumph was the day everything came crumbling down. Grey shivered involuntarily at the memory of the acid cloud meting Barracuda’s legs they got the water pumps running. The scream of despair that came from Cantina still woke him up in the middle of the night. And the sight of the then-pregnant woman rushing to help her lover as he was slowly dissolved was enough to turn even Grey’s strong stomach. He couldn’t help but think it was partially his fault that that bright, cheerful girl turned into the crazy woman that waited locked in her room on the third floor.

Grey had done all he could to save her when the acid began eating from the protective suit, but the area around her groin had been turned into something horrific. Because of panic, he had submitted to her requests to save the child in her belly. He, a man who didn’t know how to treat a wound, was forced to operate on a woman he had secretly loved. By some miracle, Leeroy was born alive and healthy amidst that nightmare. However, Grey had messed up. Perhaps it was something in the air, or perhaps it was the sealant he had used to stop the bleeding. Or it could have been something else altogether., but Cantina’s mind broke.

Her descent into madness was not slow. Only a few days later and she was in heat, a constant heat, and a desire to replace the baby she had lost, despite the fact that it was suckling on her tit. To this day, she refused to acknowledge that Leeroy was her son. Her mad obsession was impossible because she lacked the womanly parts with which to reproduce, which caused her to violent episodes after every time she was with a man. And for the last fifteen years, Grey avoided her, out of shame and out of guilt.

He downed his drink to clear his mind of that unpleasant memory, knowing that he was not going to get any sleep tonight. Yes, he wanted to explain everything to the boy, but for the hundredth time, Grey concluded that it wouldn’t help. It would only reopen old wounds. So, he chose the safe option, like the coward he was.

“Your mum’s just not right in the head and I don’t want to hurt her.” He finished his drink and made to leave. “Forget it. I’ll come back for my things later.”

“Yeh… I know.” Leeroy said with a shaking voice, the pain in his eyes undisputable. As if a switch was flicked in his mind, the ever-present condescending smile returned to his face and he leaned over the bar. “You should stick around. Wait half an hour, she should be boozed up and asleep by then. I had Loui bring a few bottles upstairs.”

“Isn’t that a surprise,” Grey laughed. That was very well played by the pipsqueak, which meant he had something he was going to ask or demand.

“As I mentioned earlier, I know you are a man of your word Mr G. And I’m also in need of cash. That said, there is a way to make that debt disappear…”

“I’m gonna stop you right there, Leeroy,” Grey raised his hand and pushed back the offered drink. He was not good with alcohol, that’s why he was very careful about how much he ingested. And he was not blind to how the kid was nonchalantly slipping him free drinks during their chat. “I’m not killing anyone. You want someone gone,” he waved his hand at the full bar, “there are enough trigger-happy idiots around.”

“It’s…”

“No, this time you listen and listen good,” he grabbed the boy’s shirt and pulled him closer, making sure that people thought he was making an order. “You and the few lucky bastards have it good here. Véi Dron is an oasis that takes care of you. Out there, we don’t have the luxury of killing each other. Those Axion cunts may think they are restoring civilization, but they are only bringing out the worst we are capable of when survival is not at the top of the list of priorities…”

“First of all, don’t touch me, fucker,” Leeroy pushed away his hand and dropped behind the bar. “Second, you got it wrong Mr G. I’m asking you to meet some people. They offer good money to hire you as a guide.”

“What now?” Grey was caught off guard and froze on the uncomfortable stool.

“You heard me. A bunch of softies came here a few hours ago. Caused a bit of a ruckus and I had to put them out back before people lost their shit.” The boy fixed his shirt and flashed him an angry look. “They want to hire the man who has been inside Sector 7.”

“You can’t be serious, Leeroy. You are smarter than this.” He was torn between punching the kid and legging it for the door.

“Please, have some trust. I did the Francis test. They’re not lawmen, just tourists…”

“Then have Bunny take them around, show them the sights and tell them to fuck off at the end of the day.” Grey felt his anger building up. This was foolish beyond belief.

Every now and then, people came down from Axion to pretend they were treasure hunters or something like that. The lucky ones made it back to their floating city with at least two limbs intact. The others, those that were found at least, got a little marker as a reminder that once they lived. Grey had heard enough. He stood from his chair and started walking towards the door.

“They have a valid permit,” Leeroy shouted and continued in a quieter voice when Grey returned to the bar. “Old world master card too. Hundred k just to hear them out.”

It was a tempting offer; a month’s worth of supplies to go to the backroom and turn them down. And with the stuff the boy had prepared, it meant he could get away from this place for quite some time. If he was careful and rationed properly, he could reach the wall that separated the known sectors and the basin of the mega-city proper. Grey meant what he said. Leaving under Axion’s shadow had turned them into animals, feeding on the leftover scraps the privileged sent their way. The mortality rate had increased quite a lot since the floating city had arrived nearly three decades ago. But people just didn’t want to see the truth, preferring to think that things had never been better.

“So, Mr G, do we have a deal?” Leeroy asked with a calculating look that told him, that the tourists had offered significantly more.

“Yeh,” Grey placed the gas mask on his face and pulled the leather hood of his jacket over it. “I’ll hear them out.” And I’m never coming back, he added in his head, his mind finally made.