'TUNNEL-VISION IV'

  Last time I was 'ere the place was a whole lot more intact. I get that it was close to the surface but to think we considered even camping out 'ere is crazy now. Woulda' preferred if we had looked for somethin' more this size for a den though.

  It's got seven platforms, and only three of them actually go anywhere, the rest- just melted metal. It had a strange green tinge to the whole thing, like someone had sprayed it over with some chemical crap on top of all the rust; ain't do it any favours from the rain though.

  The only real thing left hanging together was the platform this man was standin' under, which was being battered by rain along with the cart, it's hard to hear anythin' when all you have goin' on above you is tap tap tapper.

  There was smoky build up from the mixture of crap being melted in a rain and the friction from the cart stopping, this place isn't exactly a clean one, easy to see why. From where I was huddling below the window you can easily spot three large structures in the distance.

  The only reason they're standing is cause they are just far more robust than any of the spires or taller structures, all that's left of those is hollow husks of collapsing walls.

  The closest of the three, just barely visible in the smog was is the sewage plant; it's also what gives this entire region its signature smell. We were just far away from it to avoid the smell, but less the industrial smog which occasionally blurts from it.

  The one some distance from that seemed to be some form of power station, though it seemed the most banged up of the lot, it'd be hard to tell from it and the furthest structure. It's commonly known as a place where smaller rust-buckets swarm about for one reason another.

  The last structure is an oddly standing spire, or well some form of spire. It's odd that some spires last longer than others, but that's mostly due to purpose. Some spires are just built better I suppose, especially the signal towers, practically places of worship for rust-buckets.

  Most signal spires have collapsed, but many remain standing. Guarded by titanic rust-buckets.

  Oscar was tensing up with the weapon in his hand, like he knows exactly why he shouldn't be holding it, but he does so anyhow.

  Besides noting to kick his ass, it's probably half the reason we aren't dead yet, he knows at least one of us are armed.

  "Alright, times up, show up, or get shredded into grates. Either works for me." The voice calmly announced,

  I quickly popped my upper-body out from the cart, my weapon balanced on the window pointed directly at him. I was hastily wrapping a bit of rainproof wraps around the barrel to his amusement.

  "Listen, don't shoot, we can make a deal. Please?" I bluff desperation,

  The man slowly came forward from the shadow of the barely intact station roofing, and what was a voice and figure turned into a definitive scrapper.

  The most immediate spot I made was that he didn't wear a helmet, instead it was a sorta' of bucket hat which settled perfectly above his filtration mask. Followed down was two pipes coming from the mask, one which led to oxygen, the other led to some alternate chemical.

  He had a much lighter armament than the usual scrapper, sportin' thinner armour plating, and a shotgun which could be easily carried in one hand- doubt the recoil could be though. He had a side arm and a large hatchet which was his third option.

  It was clear by his demeanour he didn't consider the fact that my weapon was pointing at him as a threat. I don't know if he's stupid or just that good... Probably stupid, he's a scrapper after all.

  "Sweetheart, do ye' have any idea how long I've been waitin' to hear those words?" He humorously asked,

  "I have some baubles that can interest a scrapper like you, just give me a second, can you do that?" I cautiously reply,

  I don't want to throw myself out as a collector, could encourage him to take more than I'd ever want him too. If I can just get close to the wagon, I could have something to deal with this.

  "No can do girly." He smugly proclaimed,

  "I can't make a deal with you unless you let me-" I pause,

  Shit. He already knows exactly what I am, doesn't he?

  "If you move, the others, your wagon, anything of that sort. I'll kill you." He coldly stated,

  "Ok listen, I'm a collector from a nearby den, my den has been destroyed I need help- I will pay you handsomely for any help." I admit,

  The man shifted about for a moment, before sharply chuckling, but it quickly devolved into a sickly sorta' wheezing. Sounds like a chemical maniac, this just is terrible isn't it.

  "Well, well. Why didn't ye' say so? But I ain't in any mood for some payment, 'specially from the likes of ye'." He jovially said,

  "What do you mean? Aren't you a scrapper? I'll give whatever you want, one of anythin'- I don't care!" I desperately reply,

  "Calm down girly. You wanna make a deal don'tcha?" He dismissively countered,

  "What do you want? If it's nothing, leave us be." I gruffly rebuff,

  The man looked elsewhere for a moment, and I was half tempted to shoot him, but somethin' in my gut was telling me it's a bad fuckin' idea.

  "Where do ye' plan to go if I leave ye' be? There ain't no more than one den nearby 'ere." He asked,

  "If you can take us there I'll give you whatever you want." I quickly state,

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  "You reek. But, you're more useful to me with everything you have." He replied, shifting his head around in a slight circle,

  After which Oscar immediately snickered, which caught his attention for a fraction of a moment. I glare at him, causing him to shrink back with a gun tight in his arms.

  "I see you got some fun folks with ye'. I don't want anythin' from ye', well nothin' I need on person at the least." He cryptically explained,

  "Then what the fuck do you want?" I furiously ask,

  "I'll take ye' to Pipetown. There ye' can set up shop, then ye' far useful to me than dead or elsewhere. Think of it as a little ol' partnership." He elaborated,

  "What the fuck is Pipetown?" Oscar then blurted,

  "Wow, y'all really had no plan, huh? So, what do you say girly?" He offered,

  This feels too easy. What is this scrapper planning? Problem is scrappers don't usually plan, so I'm being thrown through a bit of a loop with this man.

  "I accept. As long as you tell me why- and stop calling me 'girly'." I reply,

  "One or the other." He countered,

  "For fuck sake... Just tell me what the fuck you're on about." I begrudgingly answer,

  "No problem girly. Follow along." He happily replied,

  One partnership ends, another is formed, I just hope it doesn't end as badly as the last one. If he's being complete honest- which I doubt- this could be our way out of this place.

  He waved us to follow an immediately began to leave.

  I look back at the others, my initiative was to put Oscar on top of the wagon as it was clear he still wouldn't be able to walk that fast. Luckily I have too other podlings who'll make adequate work of moving the wagon across the station.

  We rush to follow him, he was a fast walker clearly, as most scrappers are. With a bit of ushering on my part we managed to just catch up with the man, who was strolling along quite jovially with himself. My guess is that he was celebrating finding an SC in need of a den.

  There was a shift in environment, eventually we found ourselves surrounded by more and more piping. Which is typical of areas near any purification or sewer plant, the amount of piping needed to connect with most of the foundation falling apart; a lot of pipes are left exposed.

  Regardless, with some effort I managed to get in talking distance of the man, though he clearly made no effort to attempt to get as far away from us as possible; it was clear that he didn't have much intention of telling me anything.

  Per usual, I have to initiate the business with the scrapper.

  "Alright, why in the red moon do you not want anythin' for payment?" I awkwardly question,

  At this point I managed to get to his right, where his weapon had been pre-aimed at me; I of course returned the favour.

  "There's alotta' issues going about Pipetown. A buncha' issues relatin' to some sorta succession to leadership, typical stuff if you ask me." He suspiciously spouted,

  "Yeah? I heard about some of that business, hear that you lost your main man to some accident? Dens around here just ain't fortunate, huh." I coldly state,

  From what I remember, Ed had been there previously going on about an entire problem around, so much so that he said it'd be best not to go back there for a long period.

  "More than an accident. I'm the only scrapper left in service, only two SC's left in the den, and with a ton of jackasses goin' about securin' some sorta loyalty." He carefully elaborated,

  "How the fuck do you want me to help with that? You better not be ropin' me into some shit." I quickly say,

  "I ain't ropin' you into anythin' girly, just need an alternate place of business is all. Keep yourself low, and about the more sane folks about; then you'll be fine." He dismissively replied,

  Last time I was in Pipetown- which granted was a near decade ago- calling anyone sane was an incredible compliment to them, or an insult to anyone who was actually sane.

  "You wanna sell to me?" I clarify,

  "Yeah girly, you could say that." He smugly answered,

  I couldn't help but let out an air of frustration, leaving the conversation enticingly open for someone who wasn't mean to be in it.

  "What typa' gun is that?" Oscar interrupted,

  "It's just a slug shooter, nothin' special. Works well against buckets though... Among others." He jovially answered,

  "Oscar you aren't meant to talk durin' deals." I tiredly scold,

  "I don't mind too much, besides he's not holding his rifle correctly anyhow, unless he wants to kill the walls." He mused,

  "He isn't goin' to be killin' anythin'. The last thing I need is a podling shootin' about with my rifle." I rebuff,

  The man looked about for a moment, before looking at me- as if he were surprised at the notion of a podling not being able to use a rifle. Well, to be fair, it is pretty non-typical.

  "You plan to harvest him or somethin'?" He half-joked,

  "What? Fuck no!" I spontaneously reply,

  It's irritatin' to acknowledge, but it's simply common for podlings to be used as organ harvests, blood farms, or any other form of menial labour to their death. I personally am not that disgustin'.

  "See the problem is, girly, that death don't care if your one, two, or three, no less four, five or twenty. It comes from anywhere at anytime. As far as I'm concerned, you're just leaving him to die." He jovially elaborated,

  "I knew it." Oscar loudly whispered,

  I don't need Oscar getting his confidence boosted by a random scrapper, we're better off forgetting this man ever existed.

  "Not while I'm here, it fuckin' won't." I confidently reply,

  "With how you're lookin' girly? I'd put slips on a rust-bucket door over ye'." He chuckled,

  This makes little sense to me, obviously there is some other motive he isn't sharing, but the general lack of information provided is worrying.

  "You plan on tellin' me anythin' else, scrapper?" I interrogatively ask,

  "I prefer a more organic method of conversing, wouldn't ye' concur? Get's the brain goin' when you gotta' work around someone." He mused,

  "How about you hold up your fuckin' end and tell me?" I crassly counter,

  "The bulk of it is easier with the context of bein' there, ye' kno'? But, in short, I barely fuckin' know- beyond that idiots are attempting to get other idiots to support a certain idiot. I'll tell you more when we get there, ye' good with that girly?" He rapidly explained,

  "Good." I state,

  Eventually, we reached a makeshift gate cobbled together from pipes, sheets of metal, and haphazardly placed rebar. It was just barely large enough to squeeze the wagon through.

  After we managed to force the gate open there is a long winding path of stacked metal on top of a massive pipe, which leads down deeper into the tunnels. The path to Pipetown isn't exactly a nice one, and that's for good reason; it's quite unprotected in essence after all.

  Many of the tunnels around certain structures or stations have particular designs depending on such. They are maintenance tunnels after all. As a result, nearby to purification plants or sewage plants you'll have tunnels filled of pipes, valves, and pumps in various stages of rotting.

  From which point we would descend quite the distance down, though I'd be lying if I said it was in any sense a quick process, having to balance a heavy wagon on flimsy footing with a incline down is terrible work. Luckily the scrapper employed himself to help us, as half of us are injured.

  The worst part about any tunnel way is, on top of the lack of oxygen, the complete lack of any smell which could support anything beyond the most resilient of noses.

  "What's the other weird canister for?" Oscar suddenly asked,

  "Whaddya' say organ harvest?" The scrapper replied,

  I didn't stop them, half because I am tired, half because it's somethin' even I'm a bit curious about to be honest. Though, I have my reservations.

  "A bit of somethin' to keep me goin'" He cryptically answered,

  "That's a shit answer." Oscar commented,

  The scrapper simply shrugged in response, though it was enough to get me thinkin' about a few things about this man.

  "There's a lot wrong with you isn't there scrapper? No helmet, some chemical, how'd you live this long with the job you got?" I question,

  "I ain't been at it for long. Besides, a helmet ain't ideal for my cranial situation, if ye' know what I mean girly." The scrapper answered,

  He then lifted up the bucket cap on his head, revealing a skull made of complete metal, which was fuckin' unexpected to say the least.

  "Shit, did you get a pot of molten slag dumped on you?" I instinctively commented,

  "Nah, just an incendiary incident." He admitted with a chuckle,

  He spun a valve on the other mysterious capsule, which garnered some sort of satisfaction judging by his body language. Not somethin' I needed to see either.

  I guess it's how he answered the other question though.