[center]
[h1]
[color=eeeba0]Selene[/color]
[color=fffcac]▲[/color]
Scotti
[color=00ff7c]▼[/color]
[color=00a651]Ratman[/color]
[/h1]
[/center]
[hr]
[color=808080]
Once the shaking began to settle down, Scotti decided to rise to his feet, and he kept his hand up against one of the metal walls of the gigantic vent and looked back to where he had fallen. “[color=white]Guess I should get heading home,[/color]” he huffed out while beginning to walk towards the Grey Market in Khia. There was nothing else he could do — he told Selene everything he knew, and he knew he would have consequences coming his way — so he was done for today and would go home. 

A part of him wanted to chat with Selene, ask what she was up to, but he knew they were not friends. They were complete strangers, so he kept to himself. His shoulders were a bit tight as he walked with hands in his hoodie pouch. 

The corridor was sealed now. A collapsed artery of Dominion's decaying underbelly. Their way back, the makeshift line, the vents they’d come through—all of it buried behind a fresh wall of steel ribs and debris. Selene had barely registered the moment it fell, her body still operating in damage-assessment mode. One glance back, though, had told her enough: they weren’t getting through that again. At least not without a small demolition crew and a very bad plan.

So when Scotti muttered his goodbyes and turned toward the dim path sloping toward Khia, she didn’t stop him right away. Not because she trusted him. And not because she thought he’d make it far. But because for a split second, it was easier to let him go. Easier to pretend he’d crawl off into the dark, and she could just vanish into the rust behind him, two ghosts passing through different graveyards. Clean exit. No ties. No questions. It was a habit more than apathy. Let people walk when they want to, especially ones who didn’t owe you anything except regret.

And maybe that was the part that stuck in her ribs as the dust began to settle, because he hadn’t walked. Not when he could’ve. Not when she’d given him every reason to. He’d stayed tethered—annoying, frightened, stubborn—and whether or not it had been by choice didn’t really matter. He was still here. Still breathing because she’d hauled him out, sure, but also because he’d let her.

Selene rose, brushed the rust and bone-dust from her palms, and slung the black case back over her shoulder.

“[color=eeeba0]Hey, Curious Boy.[/color]” The epithet was still flint, but its edges had slightly dulled. “Tunnel past the drop-off’s too unstable now. If it cracked during the quake, it’ll finish the job with the weight of one bad step. You go limping into it with that ankle…” Her eyes met his, unblinking. “[color=eeeba0]Your funeral, though. Just don’t expect a eulogy.[/color]”

Scotti rolled his eyes when he heard the nickname that was being given to him — [i]Curious boy[/i] — and he huffed out with a glance back to the woman. What did she want now? Then he looked in front of him and shrugged, “[color=white]I wouldn’t have a funeral or a eulogy. Rats don’t get those.[/color]” The young man said this so casually since he knew the truth and accepted that fate. He was a rat. 

A lie. She would remember. The way his breath hitched when he mentioned his sister, the tremble in his voice that wasn’t entirely fear. She wouldn’t forget any of it.

“[color=eeeba0]C’mon,[/color]” she added, jerking her chin toward the side tunnel, a lesser-used service route she’d clocked earlier while assessing anchor points. “It’s longer, but it links back to the Grey Market if you don’t get lost.”

For a second, he looked at her with suspicion as if he wasn’t sure if he should fully trust her or not, and he growled some words under his breath as if he needed to talk himself into or out of something. “[color=white]Fine,[/color]” he huffed out as if he wasn’t appreciative, though the look in his eyes said otherwise. 

Scotti walked over to Selene, “[color=white]Yay… walking,[/color]” the man couldn’t sound less enthusiastic if he wanted to. His ankle hurt, it ached, he could feel it swelling, and he wanted to go home to his bed. His bedroom and bed weren’t anything special, but at least that place felt safe. 


A few minutes later, Jonathan was deep inside the tunnel. His goal was to find something valuable to sell. However, any fungus he found could be used to make various drugs. As he came down the tunnel, he was softly whistling. Not caring about whether his whistling could attract anyone to his position. If he did get into a fight, he only had his knife to defend himself.   If anything, he could just run away towards the mouth of the tunnel. The tall man was crouched in front of some sort of fungus. His gloved hands tried to pull and dislodge the plant. “[color=eeeba0]Come on you little sucker.[/color]” Muttering softly. Finally, he pulled out the plant and placed it into his backpack. His other concern was the earthquakes. Being trapped in one of the tunnels would be certain death. And he would need to be aware of his surroundings.  

Selene didn’t speak for the first few minutes of their walk. The tunnel they moved through was narrower than the one before, slick with mineral condensation and coated in that same breathless quiet endemic to Dominion’s lower guts. Every step echoed too loudly. Every distant drip tapped like a warning. Scotti limped a few paces behind her. The ache in his ankle was probably sharpening by the minute, and Selene didn’t miss how he winced with every incline. Either way, she hadn’t said much, not because she didn’t have questions, but because she was listening.

That whistle. It was faint, irregular. Not the kind of noise Dominion’s ductwork made naturally. It rose and fell again, soft and human and maddeningly careless.

Selene stopped cold, raising a hand slightly to halt Scotti behind her. She pivoted just enough to catch the sound again. Closer now. Not fast. Whoever it was, they weren’t trying to sneak. That meant either they were stupid or dangerous or both.

“[color=eeeba0]You hear that?[/color]” she murmured, the question rhetorical.

Scotti didn’t say much at the beginning of the walk because he felt like there was nothing to say. He told the truth, she knew about his ankle, and they were strangers. There wasn’t much to chat about. It wasn’t like he was in the mood to ask her how her day was going. Keeping his hands in the front pouch of his hoodie while he kept his eyes more on the dim light ground, he was making sure he didn’t trip on anything, since he didn’t want to twist his ankle even more than what it was. His mom was going to be upset. She couldn’t take him to the doctors, no insurance, and it was a trip to get to Qona. 

Too lost in his thoughts, he stopped when he noticed Selene had stopped moving, and his brows furrowed out of uncertainty. He could hear the water dripping in the cave, little bits of odd noises, but he didn’t catch the whistling. “[color=white]Hear what?[/color]” he sounded somewhat annoyed as if she was trying to play with him. You know… the way siblings will try to teasingly scare younger ones. That was the situation he felt like he was in, “[color=white]There are a ton of noises, don’t you hear the water dripping? The noises of what I assume to be rodents or small creatures running around? It’s [i]just noise[/i],[/color]” Scotti was trying to keep calm and cool. He didn’t want to freak out over nothing, but his thoughts started to race at all the possibilities of what it could be — Cult Members, a beast of the caves, possibly authorities of Dominion looking for scavengers, scavengers, and plenty of other options. Those thoughts caused him to swallow dryly. 

Scotti’s skeptical muttering drew Selene’s attention for half a second. Her expression didn’t shift, but she thought to herself, [i]Must have bumped his head earlier when he fell. What kind of water even whistles?[/i]

Jonathan stopped scavenging when he heard some voices a few feet away. At first, he thought it was cult members coming to nab him. Or perhaps the authorities sent him to the clink for scavenging. The idea of the voices of cult members scared him more than the authorities.  His body froze, thinking it was the thieves from before wanting revenge.  Perhaps they wouldn't walk away if he didn’t make any noise.  Waiting a moment before moving while crouching to the other side of the tunnel. Of course, he didn’t consider the noise of his scavenged items jiggling around inside his backpack.  This would give away his position. But he thought perhaps they would think it was some other noise.  

Selene’s ears caught the faint rattle of something shifting—metal clinking against plastic, or maybe glass. It didn’t matter. She got closer to Scotti this time, whispering, “[color=eeeba0]Ok, [i]now[/i] you can’t possibly think it’s just water.[/color]”

The younger man glared at Selene, “[color=white]Don’t tell me you are getting scared,[/color]” He was trying to play it off like he wasn’t scared at all but he could feel his palms beginning to get sweaty and his knees were becoming weak at the thoughts of what could be making the noise — [i][color=white]It’s a scavenger… or scavenger group… just breathe[/color][/i] — he forced himself to take a few steps forward to look around the corner. 

Looking around the corner, he saw someone dressed in what he would describe to be an off-brand superhuman costume. You know, the weird costumes in the comics, or maybe he would describe it as a villain or sidekick. Instead of covering his mouth, sucking in his breathe, and going around the corner, he panicked with could be heard in his voice, “[color=white]What the fuck are you supposed to be?![/color]” he was hoping that the pile of garbage was playing tricks on his eyes and there wasn’t anyone there. Maybe he shouldn’t have acted tough and not scared for Selene? He really only looked around the bend to not look like a complete wuss. 

Jonathan thought the shadow of the tunnel completely covered him, but he, unfortunately, assumed that he was completely invisible. The masked man quickly stood up, towering over the two of them. His face had definite fear, even though they couldn’t see it. They didn’t look like the two thieves from before. So he assumed they were also scavengers. “[color=00a651]Me? I’m Ratman. Who are you?[/color]” He said in his deep, raspy-sounding voice. They couldn’t see, but Jonathan had his hand in his pocket, ready to pull out his knife if they tried to cause any trouble.  

“[color=eeeba0]....Ratman?[/color]” 

Selene blinked once. 

What kind of stupid ass name was that? 

It landed like a bad punchline, awkward, offbeat, and too damn sincere to be a joke. And yet, the guy was standing there like he meant it. Like he’d woken one day, thrown on a mask, and decided that [i]Ratman[/i] was the hill he was willing to die on. She briefly considered the possibility of carbon monoxide poisoning. Hallucinations, after all, would explain everything weird about this situation. 

She stared a second longer than necessary, the silence thick with disbelief. The worst part wasn’t even the name for her. It was how it scratched at some half-buried memory of a childhood comic smuggled into a maintenance crawlspace when she was maybe eight, maybe younger. The kind with paper too thin to last and characters drawn in bright, impossible colors. She remembered a parody of a hero in there—mask, cape, stupid catchphrase—and something about the way this guy stood there made the image resurface with uninvited clarity.

Of course, that was back when she still believed in heroes. Before she knew that capes got traded for contracts. That masks weren’t about hiding your face, but hiding your price tag. Before her mother started speaking in locked-door briefings and her father stopped coming home with dirt under his nails because [i]someone[/i] had to keep the Syn name clean.

Back when she believed that being good actually meant something. 

Selene exhaled, slow and flat.

“[color=eeeba0]…You know, usually the ones who crawl around in filth trying to survive [i]don’t[/i] go around naming themselves after the infestation.[/color]”

Her gaze slid toward Scotti for a moment—no words, just a look that said [i]you see this shit too, right?[/i]

Scotti was staring at the one that introduced himself as [i]Ratman[/i], similar to how Selene was looking at him, except there was confusion. “[color=white]Ratman?[/color]” He wondered if this was the same Ratman that he heard about from the older kids he hung around and young adults — the really really crazy dude — but he was unsure. They didn’t give great descriptions because half of them had never seen him and only heard of him. Some scavengers were known to be out of their minds, and Scotti knew that Ratman, along with a few others, were those types of scavengers. 

“[color=white]Uhm…[/color]” He looked at Selene with a little concern. Then he gestured with his hands, “[color=white]We really do not mean you any trouble, Ratman, and you must be really busy. Right? Since it looks like you are scavenging garbage like rats do —[/color]” he seemed to cringe when he said that line. “[color=white]Not like rats. You aren’t a rat — unless that’s a compliment, then you are the rattiest man I have ever seen, Ratman![/color]” Scotti was showing to be nervous as he let out an anxiety-filled chuckle before stepping a few feet back. 

Pointing his fingers like guns towards the way they were going, “[color=white]It was nice to run into you, though I think we should get going,[/color]” Scotti glanced at Selene when he said this and hoped that she was on the same page. He didn’t like the vibes of this guy or any scavenger, to be honest. 

“[color=00a651]Well, most people call me Ratman, but that is not my birth name.[/color]” Ratman was watching them, still standing in the shadows.  Watching them because they tried to attack him. But cause of how young they looked, he assumed they wouldn’t be much trouble. “[color=00a651]I scavenge various things and fungus to sell. I guess that is why they call me Ratman. So no offence taken.[/color]” He said, smiling behind his mask. His eyes looked at Scotti and Selene, feeling they were uncomfortable around him. 

“[color=00a651]I know the tunnels quite well if you are going inside. I can escort you if you like. But why are you going  in the tunnels, if I may ask?[/color]” He said, curious, watching both of them. Jonathan wondered where their parents were, assuming they were teenagers. 

“[color=eeeba0]Yeah, no, see, this is the part where you don’t get to ask questions,[/color]” Selene replied, taking a step forward, not aggressively, but enough to make it clear she wasn’t in the mood to be catalogued like some curiosity he’d stumbled across. She had tolerated Scotti’s wide-eyed prying prior to this primarily because of his age. This scavenger, though, radiated no such naiveté. She also didn’t know what exactly he’d meant by “they”, but whoever they were might have had a good reason to pass on such a nickname besides the man’s love of scavenging. “[color=eeeba0]Besides, what would you even gain by helping two strangers?[/color]” Altruism among vagrants, after all, was as rare as natural light here.

Scotti wondered who were [i]most[/i] people and the explanation of why [i]they[/i] call him Ratman seemed good enough, except he felt like there was more to it. Selene seemed to be taking a stance with the man which allowed him to back up a foot more just to feel a little safer. Scavengers were chaotic and almost unpredictable with their behaviors — some were friendly, others were not, and some acted like your friend until you turned around. It was a ruthless world, and the young man was not wanting to wait around and figure out what type of person Ratman was. 

As Selene stepped forward, Jonathan stepped back, feeling somewhat threatened by her. The tall man stepped back into the shadows. “[color=00a651]I just like helping people. Even though people don’t seem to like me. I usually scavenge alone, and it can be nice, but sometimes it gets very lonely.[/color]” Jonathan said sadly, feeling they were correct in being suspicious of him. “[color=00a651]I understand if you think I might have ulterior motives. I don’t look like a trustworthy person. I am sorry to have suggested such a stupid thing.[/color]” Jonathan looked at them with a sad expression on his face. They couldn’t see it, but Jonathan had pinched his skin. Biting his lips to stifle a cry of pain.  

Selene’s expression remained flint, unyielding to the theatrics of his retreat. She’d endured a gallery of harrowing tales in her time—melodramas of misfortune spun by silver-tongued grifters and genuine victims alike. This man’s shuffle into the shadows, shoulders hunched like a creature recoiling from sunlight, might have tugged at softer hearts. But pity was a currency Selene had seen bartered into oblivion by men who weaponized remorse to pick locks on trust. Her childhood had been a masterclass in such transactions: every teardrop a down payment on exploitation.

“[color=eeeba0]Right,[/color]” she said, voice flat as the tunnel floor. “[color=eeeba0]Because helping total strangers out of the goodness of your heart goes real well for people down here.[/color]” She adjusted the weight of the case slightly, but didn’t lower her guard. Not even for a second. “[color=eeeba0]Don’t take it personally, Ratman. It’s not the name. Or the mask. It’s that you keep talking like this is some storybook and not a tunnel that just tried to eat us alive.[/color]” 

Then, after a beat: 

“[color=eeeba0]If it’s loneliness that gets you, you should consider trying a journal.[/color]”

“[color=white]Or some scavenger friends![/color]” Scotti piped up, though he instantly seemed like he regretted his vocalization because of the tension. 

Jonathan nodded, thinking that it was smart they would not trust him. “[color=00a651]Good thinking, guys. Your parents have taught you well. Like I said, I apologize for suggesting such a stupid thing. So I wish you two the best of luck in your search.[/color]” The figure stayed in the shadows before an idea came to him. “[color=00a651]Although I don’t want to take up any more of your time, would you like a tarot card or palm reading?[/color]” He said, waiting for a response from either of them. But he assumed the boy would be more willing to accept his request. 

Selene's lips twitched—almost a smile, except it was closer to disbelief. 

“[color=eeeba0]A tarot reading,[/color]” she repeated dryly, like the words had personally offended her. “[color=eeeba0]In a collapsed tunnel. From a man named Ratman.[/color]” The young woman whistled. “[color=eeeba0]Tempting, but no thanks.[/color]” 

If any of them had looked at Scotti, he was shaking his head in the negative and looked almost superstitiously nervous. He was told not to get into the palm, tarot, or other types of readings that “spiritual people” would encourage. His mother always said it would bring negative energies and bad spirits around — it could cause curses — plus his mother was someone who believed in The Above. “[color=white]Plus, we don’t have money to do such a thing, so it would be awful for you to do it and we wouldn’t be able to pay you,[/color]” Scotti added to hopefully encourage a better outcome. 


“[color=00a651]Okay.[/color]”  Jonathan sighed, feeling defeated in his efforts to try to make a connection with other people. He was walking backwards, so his backpack was up against the wall. Jonathan was now sitting down against it. “[color=00a651]Sorry to have bothered you.[/color]” He said sadly while watching them leave.  A few moments later, he took off his mask, slapping himself in the face. “[color=00a651]STUPID STUPID BAD BAD. You could’ve done better.[/color]” Tears were rolling down his cheeks as he felt the pain of his slaps intensify. 

“[color=00a651]You didn’t need em anyway, you got me.[/color]” A voice said as Jonathan faintly sang Hey Jude by The Beatles to try to soothe himself.  Rocking back and forth as he did so. 

Selene didn’t look back. Not even when Ratman slumped to the floor and began to sing—a song she didn’t recognize, echoing softly around them. Warbling, almost lullaby-like, in a way that felt [i]wrong[/i] down here. Maybe it had meant something once. Maybe someone had sung it to him back when the world still had light. And lullabies.
Either way, he unsettled her. Not dangerous, maybe. Just... disconcerting.

She glanced at Scotti, who looked a little spooked in that nervous, twitchy way of his.

“[color=eeeba0]So… what do you make of what just happened?[/color]”

“[color=white]I really need to just get back home…[/color]” Scotti mumbled those words while staring at the darkness where Ratman was lurking. He didn’t feel like he should take his eyes off that spot; he didn’t for a whole minute, but there was a silence lingering that was louder than anything. Inhaling deeply, he looked at Selene, “[color=white]And probably a medic station — not an official one. I can’t afford an official one,[/color]” a heavy sigh was let out because he knew his mom was going to be disappointed. Scotti looked back at the darkness where Ratman was before turning away and slowly walking away. Heading back towards the city. 

Selene didn’t press him or try to make the moment lighter than it was. She just walked beside him in silence, letting the weight of the tunnels press around them, thick as the grime clinging to her boots. Only once they reached the mouth of the service tunnel, where the air shifted just enough to suggest they were close to Khia’s edge, did she speak.  

“[color=eeeba0]South end of Grey has a medic who takes trade,[/color]” she said, eyes forward. “[color=eeeba0]Old woman, blind in one eye, curses like she invented the words. But she won’t ask questions if you bring something useful.[/color]”

The young man didn’t seem enthusiastic about her reference but he was far from ungrateful — she didn’t understand — those words were heavy in his mind. He literally had nothing to get him medical help though he forced a faint smile, “[color=white]Thanks. I’ll check it out.[/color]” However, he wouldn’t check it out. After they got back to Khia and separated, Scotti would go home and see what his mother could do about his ankle. 
[/color]
[hr]
[b]Collaboration with[/b] [@Qia] Selene & [@Eviledd1984] Ratman