The trading station rose like a great wooden carcass against the desolate horizon, its uneven tiers piled haphazardly atop one another like the vertebrae of some ancient beast. Smoke curled from blackened chimneys, mingling with the acrid stench of unwashed bodies and the greasy tang of cooking fires. From a distance, it seemed almost alive, its noise and movement spilling out into the empty wastes like a fevered dream.
The Niners drew their wagons to a halt on the outskirts, Bricks gesturing sharply for them to form a tight ring. The groan of wheels and the clank of makeshift axles fell into silence as the convoy settled into its temporary nest. Snow dismounted from her horse with practiced ease, her boots crunching against the hard-packed dirt. Rain slid down after her, wide-eyed as she took in the sight of the station.
"It's like a hive," Rain murmured, her breath fogging the chill air. "People packed on top of each other, crawling over the scraps."
Snow shrugged, adjusting her weapon's strap across her shoulder. "A hive's got order. This is more like a midden heap with a gate."
Bricks barked orders from the front of the group, his voice carrying easily over the subdued murmur of the camp. "You lot stay here. Keep watch. Snow, Rain—you're coming with me. We're going to make the trades. I don't want any trouble."
The scavengers grumbled but obeyed, their weariness making them compliant. Snow nodded curtly and nudged Rain, who was still staring at the station's walls.
"Come on," Snow said, her tone brisk. "We're not here to sightsee."
The gate loomed ahead, a hulking construct of weathered planks reinforced with twisted metal. Two figures flanked it, their dark shapes blending with the shadows. As the Niners approached, the guards stepped forward, their movements sharp and predatory. They wore armor pieced together from scavenged steel and leather, their faces hidden behind crude crow masks adorned with real feathers.
"Crowe knows," one of them rasped, his voice muffled behind the mask.
"Crowe sees," said the other, a woman with a curved blade strapped to her thigh.
Bricks stopped a few paces away, his stance casual but his hand resting on the hilt of his knife. "We're here to trade," he said simply.
The first guard cocked his head, the hollow eyes of his mask staring at Bricks. "Crowe sets the rules. Crowe takes the tithe. Crowe keeps the peace."
"We know the rules," Bricks replied, his tone even. "We're not here to break them."
The second guard's gaze flicked to Snow and Rain, lingering for a moment before she stepped aside. "Then pass," she said. "But remember—Crowe always knows."
The gate groaned open, revealing the chaos within. Stalls leaned drunkenly against one another, their awnings patched and faded. Merchants hawked their wares in voices roughened by smoke and drink, while scrawny children darted through the crowd like feral cats. The air buzzed with the sound of bartering, the occasional shout or scuffle breaking through the din.
As they moved deeper into the station, a commotion drew their attention. Near the central plaza, a small family stood huddled together, their faces pale and drawn. A man and a woman, their clothes tattered but carefully mended, clutched a little girl between them. The girl's wide eyes glistened with unshed tears as she clung to her mother's leg.
Opposite them stood a group of Crowe enforcers, their crow masks gleaming dully in the murky light. One of them, a hulking man with a jagged scar cutting across his exposed arm, jabbed a finger at the family.
"You've had your chances," he growled. "Crowe doesn't give handouts. You pay the tithe, or you leave."
"Please," the woman begged, her voice cracking. "We've given everything we could. There's nothing left. If you send us out, we'll—"
"You'll what?" the man sneered. "Die in the wastes? That's not Crowe's concern."
Rain stopped in her tracks, her fists clenched at her sides. "This isn't right," she whispered, her voice trembling.
Snow glanced at her but said nothing.
Bricks, however, kept walking, his expression unreadable. "Keep moving," he said over his shoulder.
Rain didn't budge. "We can help them," she said, louder this time. "We have food—"
Bricks turned, his eyes hard. "No," he said firmly. "We're not here to save anyone. They can't take care of themselves, and we can't afford to carry dead weight. Let's go."
Rain's face fell, but she didn't argue. She lowered her head and followed, her steps heavy with reluctance.
Snow kept pace with her, her voice low. "You can't save everyone," she said, though there was no malice in her tone. "We've got our own to think about."
Rain didn't reply, but as they passed the family, she hesitated. Reaching into her bag, she pulled out two cans of food and a small bundle of cloth. She knelt quickly, placing them at the little girl's feet.
"Take this," she murmured. "It's not much, but it's something."
The girl stared at her with wide eyes before breaking into a hesitant smile. "Thank you," she whispered.
Rain stood and hurried after the others, her cheeks flushed with defiance.
Snow, who had watched the exchange, said nothing. As Rain caught up to her, Snow's gaze lingered on her for a moment before turning back to the bustling chaos of the trading station.
They disappeared into the crowd, leaving the family behind.
Inside the trading station, the air was thick with the mingled smells of oil, sweat, and roasting meat. The streets were a labyrinth of stalls and tents, patched with every fabric imaginable, their bright colors dulled by grime. Traders bellowed their wares, their voices competing with the sharp clang of hammers from the smithies and the hiss of makeshift stoves cooking greasy meals. Peddlers wove between the throngs, their carts groaning under the weight of scrap metal, salvaged parts, and jars of murky water.
Snow moved carefully, her rifle slung over her shoulder, her eyes scanning the crowd for any signs of trouble. The Crowe were everywhere, their dark armor and crow masks unmistakable in the bustling chaos. They prowled the streets in pairs, pausing at stalls to collect tithes from the traders.
"Protection fees," Snow muttered under her breath, her voice laced with disdain. She knew as well as anyone that the only thing the Crowe were protecting was their own power.
Rain walked beside her, her gaze darting between the stalls, wide with curiosity. "Why don't they fight back?" she asked, her voice low.
Snow glanced at her. "Who? The traders?" She nodded toward a nearby scene, where a merchant was reluctantly handing over a gleaming ingot of metal to a Crowe enforcer. "Because they know what happens if they don't. Exile, if they're lucky. A knife in the back if they're not."
Rain shivered but didn't reply.
After a long hour of haggling and exchanging goods, Bricks clapped his hands together, his face set in a grim smile. "All right," he said. "We've got what we came for. You two—" he pointed at Snow and Rain "—scour the market. See if you can find anyone who knows what that thing from Solus-9 is. I'll be busy digging up some intel. Meet me back at the camp when you're done."
Snow nodded, already resigned to the task. Rain, however, brightened, her usual enthusiasm bubbling to the surface.
The pair wove through the market, stopping at stalls that dealt in Old One's relics. Rusted machinery, circuit boards, and glass vials filled with strange substances were displayed like treasures. Each time Rain held up the green metal fragment, the responses were the same: shrugs, blank stares, or wild guesses about its purpose.
"It's a paperweight," one trader declared confidently, though he admitted he'd never seen paper in his life.
"It's a piece of a machine, but not a useful one," another said, turning it over in his hands before handing it back.
Rain's excitement began to wane, her shoulders drooping. Snow remained quiet, letting her companion exhaust her questions.
It was as they were leaving yet another fruitless stall that they were approached by a man with a belly that preceded him by a good foot. He wore a filthy vest that strained against his girth, and his beady eyes gleamed with a practiced friendliness that didn't reach his mouth.
"Ladies, ladies," he called, spreading his arms wide. "Might I interest you in the services of the Collector?"
Snow stiffened, her hand brushing the butt of her rifle. Rain, however, hesitated, curiosity flickering in her eyes.
"We're not selling," Snow said flatly.
"Ah, but you see," the man continued, unperturbed, "I'm not just any trader. I specialize in the relics of the Old Ones. If it's ancient, strange, or valuable, the Collector knows all about it."
Rain glanced at Snow, then back at the man. "Do you know what this is?" she asked, holding out the green fragment.
The Collector's eyes gleamed as he took it, turning it over in his pudgy hands. His fingers were surprisingly delicate as they traced the edges of the metal.
"Well, now," he said, his tone shifting to one of exaggerated thoughtfulness. "I can't say I've seen its like before, but I can tell it's important. Very important. How about this: ten sets of canned food for it, and I'll throw in a little extra for your trouble."
"No," Rain said firmly, taking the fragment back.
The Collector's smile didn't waver, but there was a hardness in his eyes now. "Think it over," he said smoothly. "I'll be here."
As they turned to leave, one of Bricks' men appeared, gesturing for Snow to follow. "Boss wants you," he said curtly.
Snow nodded and turned to Rain. "Go back to the camp. Don't wander off."
Rain hesitated. "I'll catch up. I want to check one more stall."
Snow frowned but didn't argue. "Fine. Don't take too long."
She followed the man, leaving Rain to her own devices.
Behind the Collector's stall, two burly men emerged from the shadows, their faces hidden beneath scarves.
"Follow her," the Collector snapped, his jovial façade slipping into something cold and calculating. "Get that fragment. I don't care how."
The men nodded and melted into the crowd, their eyes fixed on Rain's retreating figure.