564339 was a PC Bung - with a history of several hundred years, PC Bung was easily one of the oldest companies in Southernland right now, and it was easy to see why. They had managed to keep freakishly up-to-date on technological trends, establishing themselves as the primary force of consumer tech goods from generation to generation.
These days, they sold weapons. Interfaces too, but mostly weapons, if everyone was honest. He still didn't know what 'turn the wheel' meant, but he walked in cautiously and looked around.
"Heyy, Uari! Long time no see!"
A gaunt man wearing a wide-brimmed hat lumbered up to him, smelling of weed. He wrinkled his nose. Uari did not know him, but the man seemed to know who he was, so he would play along.
"Hi."
"Been a while, my friend! How's things going?"
"…fine." Uari didn't dare attempt to say anything else, and he prayed to hell and back that he wasn't supposed to have been bubbly. He wouldn't be able to take it if he were.
"One word answers as always, huh?" The stench of weed billowed as he laughed. "Anyway, I'm sure you're not here to catch up. How can I help you today?"
The Gaunt Man spread his arms. "Light pistols? Light rifles? A light shiv? Or, or, or-" he brightened up, "do you want a new Interface?"
"…pistol," Uari said. The man squinted at him.
"…please?"
The man whooped. "That might be the first time you've ever said please to me! Never thought I'd see the day."
Uari winced, but only internally. Outwardly he betrayed no emotion, and followed the man as he went behind the counter into a room laden with Interface parts alongside careless, brazen weapon displays.
"No one ever wants our Interfaces around here," he mumbled sadly. "Just weapons, day in, day out." He strode over to one of the pistol cases, threw the doors open unceremoniously, and selected one with no perceived thought. He threw it at Uari without even looking at him, and Uari found himself, surprisingly, catching it reflexively.
He was starting to see parts of himself that he shouldn't have had. How would a Searcher have reflexes this good in the first place?
"Anything else?" The Gaunt Man quirked an eyebrow as he manhandled the light pistol, the familiar feeling of the pistol's Interface feeding into his skin. The dashboard flashed a familiar (?) blue welcome sign, and registered his fingerprints.
"Yes," he said. "Where is everyone?" He didn't know who he was talking about, but he was trying to see if he could con this man into just taking him to a place that had more leads. He supposed keeping it vague would be consistent, at least, with his supposedly taciturn personality.
"Hmm? Back at base, obviously."
He leveled the pistol at Mr. Gaunt, attempting to threaten him into taking him to…wherever it was he needed to go. The man took it differently.
He tsked. "You could've just said you wanted to go see Dr. Wizah. Use your words, asshole." But he turned, locked the door, and stamped off towards the back of the building anyway. Uari trailed after him silently, holstering his new pistol. He would find out who Dr. Wizah was pretty damn soon.
"You're a real piece of work, you know," the Gaunt Man said. "Pointing that thing at me even when you know that shit's useless in the store. Do you have a death wish or something?"
Uari said nothing and continued to follow him down the alley that ran behind buildings. It was dingy and smelled like trash - probably from yesterday's rain - and there were a few people loitering. Workers from various stores, mostly, with hard sticks between their teeth that beeped softly when their weed cartridges ran out. Gaunt Man greeted a few of them leisurely as he passed by, exchanging a few passing reviews here and there on new cartridge flavours that had come out recently. The consensus along the alley was that the salmon was shit, but the steak was alright.
Uari didn't know why he bothered listening at all but persevered just in case there actually was important information.
"Man, I kinda wish we had real weed instead, you know? All these flavours are fancy but they don't get you that nice hit that you're looking for."
Uari kept his mouth shut in fear of the backhanded comment he was certain would leave his mouth given the chance. He still didn't know who he was dealing with, and would need as many cards in his hands as possible, so he would keep his mouth shut until he knew what those cards were.
Gaunt Man led him down an uncountable number of alleyways and a dizzying number of turns that he wasn't able to remember despite his valiant efforts, and eventually arrived at a nondescript door. He threw it open unceremoniously and walked in, took a deep breath, and screamed.
"Hey, Doc! Mister Bitch is here to see you-"
A woman barrelled out of one of the doors and straight into Gaunt Man, knocking him over like a tiny, angry freight train. "HOW MANY FUCKING TIMES," she bellowed, "DO I HAVE TO TELL YOU TO BE QUIET??????"
Uari very politely did not point out that she was being louder than Gaunt Man was, electing to focus instead as she choked the person on the ground. This violent thing was a doctor? This person, dressed in pyjamas, glasses falling askew from the force she was using to strangle someone - this person was a physician? Hippocratic Oath and all?
She threw Gaunt Man out of her backdoor, and Uari swore he heard a loud thunk as something hard hit something else equally hard. The woman paused, a look of disdain on her face, then marched towards the backroom before emerging in moments with a frozen pack of peas. She shoved it at Gaunt Man, who was looking at her with a look of obsessive love instead of revulsion, and slammed the door in his face.
Were all the people in this 'secret community' like this? Uari could only wonder.
The woman turned to him, and he felt a mild shiver knuckle down his spine. Her eyes were cold and appraising, and he knew—he just knewvthat she had the answers he was looking for.
"I see you," she said softly, and took a step forward. He took a step back, alarm bells ringing. "You're not supposed to be here. You're not supposed to know who we are."
His breath hitched as she got right up in his face, and he realised his pistol was already in his hands, trained by years of forgotten memories. It didn't matter, because he couldn't kill her. He needed answers, and she seemed to have them.
"So tell me, Uari," Dr. Wizah pressed a sharp knife against his abdomen, ignoring the press of the pistol against her own. "Why are you here?"