The bazaar was a menagerie of oddities. Pulled from the most ruinous recess within the city, crafted by the artisans of the Crumb Kingdom, they sat and hung and leaned in makeshift stalls as vendors barked out the variety of wares as a stream of humans meandered through.

Most of their functions eluded KD greatly: A bladed flower trapped within a circular cage, a plastic baton with bristles on one end, a ticking contraption that pointed to a circumference of numerals, pantaloons. Truly, a testament to the bizarre machinations of humankind. So much unnecessary clutter.

The only thing of intrigue within this market of refuse were the exotic meats sweating in the sun. Ribs, wings, thighs, steaks, all freshly chopped from the carcass. KD marvelled with unending fascination and thrill as the butcher raised the cleaver high and hacked it down upon an orangaroo, with bits of gore and blood flying everywhere as a limb separated from the body. The show was quite the feast for the eyes. Steel flashing through flesh, that thwack! as the blade struck the cutting board. It was hypnotic to watch the butcher work, much to their displeasure while they glowered at the dismembered orangaroo. KD did not care. It was exponentially entertaining compared to the negotiation that Haru had with the vendor in the next stall.

She slapped the top of a flat chrome box that consumed thin plastic biscuits like the one they had back at the bunker. “Listen, yo! This bad boy here is practically in mint condition. Capable of playing quality movies, or scrapped for the electronic goodies inside. It’s at least 100 bouillons!”

The thin mousy vendor stared down at Haru. “Yeah, maybe a week ago. Before the cargo container of DVD players was brought in. I can give you 25 bouillons.”

“25?!”

And so on and so on.

Haggling was an exhausting affair to watch, that back and forth of noise.

KD drifted back to the butcher table. This appeared to be a universal truth shared throughout all sentient entities from across the realms, the necessity to slay and consume. To gnash and tear and cram down the gullet. Whether it was for sustenance or bloodlust. And yet with humans, they chose to complicate that primal urge with moral conundrums and lengthy negotiations instead of taking it without a worry. They even regarded items—those useless objects!—with the same fanatical zeal of living things. KD was nearly speared like a pin cushion by guards when they took a box of toasting from a vendor. Haru had to explain that there were rules that KD simply had to respect, like the Code of Combat for Void Entities. Their “thievery” as she called it did nothing to ease the air of fear and suspicion that they invoked with humans.

The Crumb Kingdom was an island settlement only accessible by bridge, home to only humans. Folded creatures and entities from other realms were normally barred from entering the island. Haru explained that humans saw entities like KD as monsters that intruded upon their world after the Folding, no different than the Creatures of Entropy that the humans warred with. To them, they were all alike. The sole reason that KD was allowed in was because she had classified them as a pack animal, no different than a velocimantis that one would ride on. It was rather debasing, for their brawn extended leagues beyond lugging around junk. Though KD kept their feelings to themself, lest they wanted to wait at the dock, unable to punch the seagulls.

“Excuse me,” a tiny voice said.

KD looked down.

A miniature human of the boy variety was looking up at them. He was adorned in a military helmet, red cape, and shoes held together with duct tape.

“Why do you pester me, human boy?” KD asked.

“Are you a city goon?”

“A city goon? I contain multitudes! I am the great Kill Death, the Black Hands of Devastation, menace to Creatures of Entropy, forged in the primordial chaos of com—”

“So are you?” The boy was mining for gold in his nose.

“Yes…”

“I want you to help me find my brother.”

“Your brother?”

“Mhm!” The boy held up the thing in his hands: a plastic effigy of a muscular human in a flaring metal helmet, dressed in red, blue and beige, holding a sword. “Action Man!”

“A warrior?”

“Yeah, see.” The boy manipulated the arm of Action Man to stiffly chop with the sword. “Cool, right?”

“Very.”

As a Void Entity, combat was prestige. Every member within a clan had to be able to fight. Anybody unable to prove their mettle in a raid was mercilessly cast out. Without exception.

KD crouched down. “Where is your brother, human boy?”

“In the city, at his barrack. I had to go away because he had to go fight the monsters.”

“Fighting monsters? He must be a great warrior.”

The boy launched into a dance of punches and kicks. A display of martial skill, indeed. “Kicking butt. Taking names. Just like Action Man.”

“You have a strange obsession with this… Action Man.”

“You can have it if you help me find him,” the boy offered, like meat to a stray animal.

“Where is your clan?” KD scanned the bazaar.

“My clan?”

“Your family.”

“No, it’s just me. I live in an orphanage…” He started fiddling with the arms of Action Man, positioning it so it looked poised to attack with its permanent scowl and sword held high. “I took good care of Action Man. I made sure nobody else got their sticky hands on it. Those kids can be pretty gross. Always like to pick their nose and stuff. And I think it's a limited edition too. At least a few bouillons.”

In the Void Realm, the whole clan would participate in a raid. It was custom for every member to get at least one attack in. A punch, a kick, as long as a strike landed. For when an entropic monster was barreling toward them, they could always depend upon kin to fight at their side through the thickest of onslaughts. KD fought hard for their clan. In spite of shorter than normal legs, and longer than normal arms, they hurled themself into the fray each time because they wanted to earn their unconditional approval. It still stung that their clan abandoned them when they got injured.

“A few bouillons, you say?”

The boy lit up. Yeah! Maybe even more if you showed them this.” He made Action Man swing the sword again.

“Then a bargain is struck!” KD extended a hand, for they had seen the vendors do as well.

The boy snatched his Action Man away. “I’ll pay you after the job.”

“Does thou have a name?”

The boy slapped his hands on his hips. “You can call me,”—He stuck his chin up proudly—“Action Kid.”

KD brought Action Kid to the next stall, where Haru had a gremlin grin on her face. A sackful of bouillons was in her hand. Her impish demeanour quickly shifted to a furrowed brow once she saw Action Kid next to KD.

“Who are you?” She asked.

“I am KD.”

“No, I mean you.” She jabbed a finger at the boy, more an accusation than a question.

“I’m Action Kid!”

Haru glared at KD with the intensity of a thousand suns. If KD had the physiological capacity to sweat, then bullets of perspiration would be shooting out of every pore at the moment. They quickly got the sense that they had done something wrong, since Haru handled most of the transactions when it came to trade and bouillons. Then again, there was nothing more important than kin. The clan that stood with them when the fighting was most fierce. When the situation was most dire. And a sort of empathy stirred for the boy.

KD stood steadfast. “I have agreed to help him find his brother.”