"...Right, thanks."
With that, the Gearspirit plodded off toward Edna's room. Muho shook his head, the leftmost corner of his lip tugged downwards in a half-frown.
(Why did she give that one the ability to make guns...)
It wasn't like she even used firearms, to begin with. As Muho ventured down the hallway that looked unfamiliar to him, he took the time to view the posters hung on the wall.
A hardboiled detective with a fedora. A SHAM-Rock poster, the lead singers, surrounded by the glare of red clover strobe lights. All that teased hair...
"Huh. The new Bakersfield Street movie came out a day ago. Should I go see it...?"
Edna had the habit of hanging up things that fit her current interests. Currently, his sister was going through the phase she always went through when school was about to start. Binging all the content she wanted before the cruel nail of reality would gouge out the hopeful starry eyes of her open schedule...
Muho shrugged his shoulders and passed the doorway leading to the living room. It was a repurposed guest room since their place lacked an actual open space...aside from the kitchen.
Well, it wasn't all bad. Each room had a bathroom and shower. Aside from the kitchen, that is. That would just be weird.
The living room was where the Suus kept the NU-Life Capsules, the most popular way to immerse the typical person in the wide world of the internet. It had a standard Console jack, a NU-World VR Digitizer (which immersed the senses into the digital world), and even had a mini-fridge.
The mini-fridge was arguably the most essential part.
The current console within the capsule was the ever-elusive Enigmatic Entertainment system. The model number on the side of it was eclipsed by the mini-fridge.
As Muho hefted the bag of trash higher, he propped a hand on the door. A look of longing radiated from his eyes as he thought of the mini-fridge within the capsule...
But he had no time for that, or Spokesman might show up behind him and shoot up the poor door. It wouldn't be the first time...
Diverting his attention back to the task at hand, he neared the door. Casting a sidelong glance at the short wooden hallway to the kitchen, there was a chain of energy surrounding the doors to the fridge.
Seems Edna knew what was up. Muho grumbled and undid the several locks on the door.
Stepping out onto the central hall of the 21st floor, Muho sighed. The neighbors nearby didn't even bother to hide their unsavory living practices, despite the issue that the landlord was literally just a floor above them.
Cracked glass fragments lined the ground, the cerulean blue richness of the sky seeping through the shattered windows down the long hall. There was a staircase leading downwards on one side and another leading to an even more encompassing passage of stairs.
The reason why there were two sets of stairs and no elevators? Macbolg Apartment was one of the very few sane places in the district.
Speaking of sane...
A man in his mid-twenties walked up the shorter staircase, a plastic grocery bag in hand. Headphones composed of translucent light buzzed with music, the light a reddish-green in color and identical to the round screen of the Repressor Pin on his neck.
He had tired eyes and pointed ears pierced with large spikes. He had brown hair with an autumn leaf-looking texture, and the right side of his head was shaved down to a scruff. The left side of his head was a straight bob, which suited his overall look as it fell down and ended level to his chin.
He wore a simple green shirt with the SHAM-Rock design on it, combat boots, and cargo pants. His posture was hunched over and morose, his skin the shade of sienna.
In Muho's own words, he was the sanest person in this trashfire of a district. Kuaemac, the landlord. It was only a coincidence that he was an elf.
"Yeesh, man, what's that smell? A dead body...?"
His voice was akin to an ever-falling tide, and the lines underneath his eyes grew deeper at the sentiment. Then, about to fish in his pockets for a spare set of gloves, he hung the plastic bag in his grip across his shoulder.
The plastic bag was full of cleaning supplies and a couple of snacks. The logo on it was a clover made out of black spades, suspended upside down as words were on each one of the "petals."
"4 Spade. We got the feeds you need!"
"...What a tacky catchphrase."
"It's not wrong, is it? Up. Lemme see the damage, man."
Kuaemac spoke briskly yet warmly, the gloves he had just bought sticking to his hands with a crisp snap as the man released their wrists. He rolled up his sleeves, ready to fix up the mess one of his tenants left.
"Hey, it's nothing that bad. Just my broken dreams, is all."
Muho gave a minute smirk, his lips shifting lopsidedly. He was always like this, the corners of his lips moving one side at a time.
"Oh, geez. That's even worse than I thought...no wonder it smells so bad."
Kuaemac shrugged and didn't bother taking the gloves off, shoving his hands in his pockets with a sly grin.
"Ha, ha. Did you pass by the bins?"
"Who else does? Crows would be pecking at the concrete walls if no one cleaned up after the Factotums."
"They don't all..."
"Uh-huh. I don't really care what they do, to be honest. As long as they pay. You don't gotta stick up for Lucky Shark to me, kid. I'll catch ya around; try not to kill anybody."
Kuaemac straightened up his spine a bit as he walked to the other set of stairs. He and Muho had already greeted each other halfway down the hall, so he was already on his way to the third set of stairs.
Yes, there were three sets of stairs on each floor. Say what you want about magic-engineering; they sure knew how to add a bunch of redundant features...
Kuaemac, the landlord. His last name was Connorsmith, though it didn't matter. The guy was aromantic and didn't feel like adopting, so he couldn't see anybody new in the world bearing his name unless there were siblings he didn't know about.
Muho descended down the long staircase that had transparent, windowed walls. The lovely yet overpowering cerulean blue of the sky was marvelous to stare at. The young man took some time to clear his thoughts a bit, instead cluttering his head with memories.
Anything to distract him from those shouts that drowned out his senses, trapping him in an abyss of white noise.
Metro Celtia. One of the many Floating Cities, unique in the aspect that it was pretty high in the stratosphere. Well, that wasn't its only determining individuality, but it explained the already blue sky being even more vibrant in the shades it cast upon the city. Everywhere the light touched, there was a decadent blue tint.
This color necessitated the city's architecture to mainly be composed of muted colors. As a result, the buildings were a mix of either outright bland or laced with surreal Celtic structures.
The signs and various advertisements were the primary light sources since they weren't really needed due to how close they were to the sun's rays. They were usually a verdant green, symbolizing what the forefathers of the city cherished about their old homeland.
Metro Celtia floated much above the Grand Reclamation Zone, Old Ireland. People with even the thinnest strand of Celtic roots tended to make their way to this Floating City, wanting to be around people that understood them a bit more than others.
Muho stopped and looked out of the windows for a second.
The sprawling metropolis bustled with activity, and it was quite scenic. The few patches of grassy areas and their flowering beds of wild claries and buttercups were refreshing to see. Many poles and banners were lined with shamrock designs, and the few water beds had purple marshlocks blooming alongside them.
This was to say nothing of the hilly plains, terraces, and scant ravines. The only thing more numerous than this were various bars, restaurants, and the occasional Portal Square.
The streets were lined with people, most using their Repressor Pin in some way. Out in the distance, there was an area where light bent and cracked, looking a bit like the glass strewn on the 21st floor.
Though this site was pretty far off, the seemingly stacked buildings tall and imposing. But, on the other hand, the wall paints of vague abstract art, shaded streets, and a relatively sparse population were much closer to home.
The district that the Suus lived in was Caes Patrick. It was just as beautiful as the rest of the town, if not a little dingier and secluded. The reason why it had very few people?
Caes Patrick was infamous as the place for the thugs in the city. Factotums, as their official terminology stated (they were almost in every society or outpost)...were the kind of people that would do anything for a couple extra Lapins.
The main distinction was that even the average guy could be a Factotems. Unlike the Black Strangers, which lurked in the bowls of society in an interminable underworld, the Factotems were commonplace and rarely investigated. Nobody cared about shitkicker goons stabbing other shitkicker goons.
Bodies were common, too. As such, there were a metric ton of waste receptacles strewn about the alleys for people to at least try to be a little cleaner.
Muho made a hollow laugh in the barren staircases, remembering the occasional polite sign Kuaemac set up around the receptacles. That man really did his best to remind the killers of Caes that they were humans, or at least they looked at it.
Muho felt a little bit better as his shadow was framed by the cerulean atmosphere. Maybe...he could forget his dream? He was going to Lagoon L'Azure; he was sure he could pave out a new life for himself and Edna if he put his mind to it.
...The screams that died out had grown louder.
Right, Muho couldn't forget. He would never forget.
(...So...stop looking at me that way. Mom...dad...)
Tap, tap.
Muho arrived at the end of the staircase without much fanfare. He struggled with wanting to activate the Headphone Module on his Repressor Pin but shrugged off the notion. Ruining his favorite songs today sounded like a horrible idea.
The door swept away under his grip as he entered the lobby. There were other trash bags lining the floors...but they were much smaller than his. Whoever packaged the takeout like that had a sick sense of humor.
Turning around a ritzy-looking column, he briskly shuffled past the doorway. The slippers he was wearing were unwieldy on the uncaring floor, but Muho cared even less.
Walking in his pajamas, he noted that the streets were even emptier than usual. The sidewalks didn't fare much better, though.
Tok, tok.
The signs perched on the buildings had some stock advertisements running. There were street posts that had a bunch of tapered and bent images as well.
"The Green Pride of Metro Celtia, The Clover Mane...how tacky."
"Everybody's a critic these days, huh?"
Muho whipped his head around, looking for the voice that sounded directly behind him...! His eyes bugging out of his skull, apprehension gripped his heart as he looked hither and thither with naught to show but a rising pulse.
"...Are my hallucinations getting worse...?"
Muho didn't figure that he was that near to insanity yet. He had never heard such a weird cadence before, the voice distorted as if someone was speaking to him through a tin can.
Well, Muho wasn't going to don any tinfoil today! Besides, he still doubted anything would happen to him on the empty street. The one time he saw something occur out in the open...that was the last time he saw that cocky guy ever again.
Swaggering out on someone's turf was just a bad idea. Factotems were crooks or workers, not idiots. Muho doubted the streets would have to run with red for a long time.