Zeirdin sat leaning against the wall of the alley, feeling awful. The rusty sheet metal creaked under his weight. Zeirdin punched the ground and steeled his resolve. He couldn’t get this hung up over self-defense if he wanted to avenge his clan. He couldn’t waver in the face of anyone. Jeltu, a Battle saint who had destroyed his home included. He had witnessed much worse things in the internment camps of the Bloody Meadows.

There were no actual laws on the first floor, so unless he was on someone’s turf right now, there would be no repercussions. This wouldn’t be the case on all floors. He had heard that on Floor 8, the gang in control had evolved into a full-fledged government with elections.

Zeirdin searched the man, avoiding the blood on the ground as if it were lava. The vibroblade could sell for a decent sum, but it would also be useful. Keeping it felt like bad taste, though. Zeirdin shoved it in his backpack. He could sell it later if he wanted to. The man also had a few jammer cartridges which he swiftly pocketed. He hadn’t seen them sold anywhere yet, and they were invaluable against androids. Zeirdin gently pulled the armored gloves off the man’s hands. They were clearly made for close-quarters fighting. The fingertips were very rough like sandpaper, while the front sides of the fingers had metal plates. The knuckles had extra thick metal plating. They were made for brutality. He would need them for when his zinnium Gun wasn’t an option.

Pulling the Biotablet out of the man’s belt, Zeirdin transferred all the man’s dynats to his own account. Then he shoved the Biotablet into his backpack. He had no idea how to use a Biotablet, but from the prices he had seen in the shops, they were quite useful. Apparently, the network knew whether the owners will alive or not and removed all safeguards for the deceased. This was probably intentional, to create conflict between people who wanted to ascend the tower. The man, in total, had 56 dynats. Zeirdin was at a loss as to why this man was mugging people. He had been carrying enough money to live relatively comfortably in Splinter for a month. Zeirdin continued on his way toward the plaza, hands still shaking slightly.

After making it out of the slums, Zeirdin found the plaza quickly. The bustling atmosphere and constant visual stimulation helped him forget that he had just shot someone in the throat. Zeirdin looked for a general gear store. It took him a while of meandering to find a store that had reasonable prices. Sweat from his back soaked into his shirt, backpack pressing it against him. Finally, he found one called Crut’s Gear in an alleyway a few streets down from the main road. The alley was lined with junk and trash bags. Like the rest of the town, Crut’s Gear was dirty and a combination of concrete and scrap metal. The neon sign flickered constantly. Zeirdin hoped he could find a floor manual or tower manual. A floor manual focused more on the intricacies of a floor, while a tower manual was more general information.

Zeirdin pushed aside the fabric entrance flaps and entered the “store”. It was more of a shack with stuff lined up everywhere. It was only a small room, and at the back, there was a burly man behind the counter. Zeirdin guessed it was Crut. He looked like someone who would be named Crut. He was easily 6’4” and had no evident will to live. Crut lifted a massive fuzzy arm to his mouse as he yawned, “How can I help you?”, In the most lethargic manner possible.

“Do you sell tower manuals here?” Zeirdin asked trying not to look or feel intimidated. Crut rubbed his eyes and looked around. Zeirdin was probably one of his only customers today. Looking down at the counter he picked up the bottle of alcohol and handed Zeirdin the pamphlet he had been using as a coaster.

“’ Ere this one’s on the house.” The pamphlet had a wet ring on the cover and was quite dirty. Zeirdin reluctantly took it.

Zeirdin awkwardly shifted his weight. “Would I be able to buy all the necessary supplies for climbing the tower here?”

Crut took a swig of his drink. “Nah, don’t bother, it’s all way cheaper on floor two. Th’ Black Hoods. They’re a huge guild. Well, a faction at this point. They’re gonna make a cargo shipment to floor two soon. They can take a couple of hundred people up with them since they have a relatively safe cargo route through the red zones.”, Crut scratched at the stubble on his chin, “If yer quick, you could probably get a spot for 30 dynats. Pretty good deal if you ask me. Guaranteed passage with a smaller chance of dying.” Zeirdin thought about it and nodded. It was an amount of money he would’ve never thought of spending before today, but now the thought wasn’t so ridiculous anymore. He had heard that the first floor had one of the highest mortality rates, especially due to inexperience. Maybe he could learn something by traveling with a large group.

“Where do I signup?”, Zeirdin asked. It wasn’t his money originally, so he didn’t feel bad spending the equivalent of 900 corgals.

Crut sat down on the chair behind him with a squeak, “Go to the main road from here and turn left. They have an old branch here, it’s the only black building on the street.” Zeirdin thanked him and turned to leave.

“If you need gear, go to Gear7 on floor two and tell Gindos that I sent you. He’ll set you up.” Zeirdin thanked him again and Crut waved him off.

Zeirdin found the building quite easily thanks to Crut’s simple instructions. The Black Hoods’ branch building stood out like a sore thumb, even in the grimy city of Splinter. It was a multi-floored concrete building covered with cracks, the usual pipes, and a couple of windows. All of it was painted black, even the pipes. Zeirdin hoped he wasn’t getting involved with shady people, but Crut didn’t seem to think they were.

There were a few bins on either side of the door, and a small line barely reached the gravel road where Zeirdin stood. He jogged toward the line, his huge backpack bumping up and down. He wanted to get it over with so he could look at the tower guide. There were seven people between him and the registration desk. The room was slightly bigger than Crut’s store, with doors on either side of the reception desk. They probably lead upstairs and to the rest of the building. The floor was mostly covered by a thin dusty green rug. Zeirdin had to admit that It was one of the ugliest ones he had ever seen. After twenty minutes of waiting, it was his turn.

After the relatively painless sign-up process, Zeirdin headed back towards Joe’s house for the afternoon. A lot had happened today and he needed rest. He would have to wake up at dawn tomorrow and make it to the front gate where the caravan was meeting. They would be leaving an hour after dawn. If he missed it, he could just catch the next one in a month, since he had already paid the full amount.

It was hard to tell that it was late afternoon. The sky was still gray, just slightly less bright than during noon. Maybe if Splinter had true sunlight, even artificial sunlight, maybe the grimy city could be beautiful sometimes. But there was no evidence, from what Zeirdin had seen, of that ever happening.

Finally, Zeirdin made it back to Joe’s House. Joe was sitting on his red stool behind the front desk, book in hand. Joe nodded to Zeirdin and he walked up the creaking metal steps. He stopped at the third room on the right and unlocked it before throwing off his pack and boots and collapsing face down on the bed. The warm embrace of sleep quickly took him away.

Zeirdin woke up chilled and disoriented. He slowly opened his eyes, shivering slightly. Zeirdin jerked upright at the unfamiliar ceiling, before remembering where, and who he was. He had passed out before he could get under the blanket, he recalled. The barren concrete room he slept in only had one window, but it wasn’t open. The cold was a result of thick concrete walls with no insulation or heating. Zeirdin was coming to realize that he had never been anywhere as devoid of beauty as Splinter. Even the early morning sky that peeked through his skylight window was just dark gray. What a shit hole.

Zeirdin had a light breakfast of the remaining dried rations he had in his pack and left Joe’s House to go to the city gate. A thin fog hung in the deserted streets of Splinter, with the shutters closed on all the shops. There was an eerie atmosphere, with the only noise coming from his footfalls on the gravel. Zeirdin had butterflies in his stomach and couldn’t stop mulling over all the things that could go wrong on the journey to the second floor. Ultimately, he decided he should just be grateful to leave the dump that was Splinter.

Unlike the rest of the town, the front gate was full of life. Four MagFreighters hovered on either side of the road with many people running around loading boxes like ants. Zeirdin didn’t know where he should wait. Most people wore a black coat with the Black Hoods’ insignia on it. The Black Hoods looked busy and Zeirdin didn’t want to bother them, so he found a group of people who had also arrived early. He joined the group that stood around the fountain, out of the way. Most wore a tired expression. Zeirdin exchanged a quick ‘good morning’ with the dark-skinned man standing next to him, but no conversation started. It was too early, and Zeirdin was too shy to keep one going. He didn’t mind the silence. To others, it might feel awkward, but to Zeirdin it was perfectly fine. There was no need to make it feel awkward by thinking it was awkward, or, by annoyingly pointing out the awkward silence aloud.

More people gradually arrived. Some joined the fountain group with Zeirdin, while others just sat on the ground. The dark gray sky slowly turned lighter and conversations slowly started breaking out. Zeirdin learned that the dark-skinned man’s name was Filip and he was a baker. He wondered why someone who wasn’t looking for money or power would come to the tower. It WAS a death trap essentially because you couldn’t leave if you wanted to, and it had an overall mortality rate of 45%. The conversations started to become hard to follow, with too much chatter making it hard to understand, so Zeirdin started reading his tower manual. According to the manual, it was possible to leave the tower without beating all 108 floors, but you would never be allowed back in. On floor 27, you could obtain the central processing unit of a powerful war machine and exchange it for a one-way ticket out from Ike, the overseer’s catalog. It would start to appear on terminals on floor fifteen, and sold incredibly useful things in exchange for items that could be found around the tower. Even with most of the subfloor 30 items and their locations being discovered, obtaining them would still be difficult. Zeirdin was starting to see how invaluable this manual was to anyone in the tower and internally thanked Crut for providing it free of charge.

Zeirdin also learned that each floor cleared would net store credit. There was a tower store that was separate from Ike’s catalog that took dynats or credit from clearing floors as payment. Items from painkillers, to travel rations could be purchased. However, there was a cool down to prevent exploitation. Clearing a floor was quite simple, one just had to reach the end zone and scan their hand chip in the terminal. The challenge was in the survival of the many, many obstacles, from old autonomous war machines to smaller battle androids, neofauna, and environmental obstacles. One could also travel between all floors they had cleared via gates, but this was limited and not realistic for large-scale transportation of the spoils taken from the red zones.