Helga was a woman in her mid-thirties with light brown hair and black eyes. She had managed to retain her beauty and feminine grace despite the many years within the outskirts. Currently she worked as a teller within The Royal Casino, one of the Red Tiger Gang's most influential stations.
Despite their designation as a 'Gang' Helga found them to be rather fair with their treatment of workers. Of course, she was not ignorant that it all could just as easily simply be sourced from their lust. She had heard rumors of vile ways which they exploited women, however it appeared that the boss of the gang, that aloof mysterious figure, was rather strict with the management of the many casinos under his control.
Helga understood why, after all, this was where their money truly sourced. She also had further suspicions over their overall operations, however she knew better than to stick her nose in a place which it did not belong.
Instead Helga merely focused on surviving each day within the outskirts. Her job had made it easier for her than many others most certainly, and yet she was under a strict contract which she could never violate. Doing so simply meant death.
'Well, what's five more months anyway…'
She had already served most of its duration, having saved a respectable sum within that time. It felt almost unreal, to be free of not just her contract but soon the greater outskirts.
Helga had it all planned out. She would return to the district city, take a year to settle back to a proper life, then maybe seek her chances at realizing her dream of starting a small business.
Of what? Well she had yet to decide.
To her the dream was the business itself, the ability to have something calm and stable, in a place far removed from the outskirts, the place which both raised her and stripped her of the basic rights a human ought to have.
The more she pondered it, the more her heart raced. Her ears turned hot as she imagined that beautiful life which was just beyond reach.
It was so close.
On that particular day, she had decided to treat herself to some artificial meat. Helga did not eat meat often despite being able to afford it. She did not wish to grow a liking to it, then lose everything and be stripped of a simple luxury. Luxuries are always easy to become accustomed to, however they are never easy to let go of.
Helga was optimistic about her future, but she was also a realist. Far too many things could go wrong, just as they already had many times in her past.
Stopping before a meat shop she had yet to visit before, one named: 'Meat Harvest Shop'
Helga donned a bright smile.
Today was a good day…
Such were her thoughts, however, far into the night of that same day, she would never be seen again.
*****
Emily was a woman in her early forties with light brown hair and deep black eyes. She did not appear the healthiest, her pale skin was dry and had many parts where it was peeling off. Her eyes had deep bags under them and her body was skinny, just short of rivaling those which were deathly ill.
Emily had long since given up on her looks, so long as her body could move, then that was all which mattered to her. Furthermore, her job as one of the countless programmers within her company required long hours of work.
Bastion was a massive place and within it there were thousands of companies each with specific needs and demands. Whilst in the old world these companies could outsource their work to different countries to gain cheaper costs, now district 11's outskirts had taken over that role.
Emily was a brilliant woman, together with her co-workers she spent day in and day out programming new code for the many different models of food mimicking machines which her parent company produced. Technology had advanced significantly even when restrained behind Bastion's borders, however human oversight was still a crucial element.
These food machines constantly needed adjustments to their codes, along with the development of new features which could then be sold as: 'Bonus Capability Packages'.
Emily had long since stopped caring over the fact that despite her time and effort being so integral for her parent company's flourishment, that in the end it was her which ended up going to a run down home which she barely saw.
Amongst the outskirt's people, she was of an acceptable life level which came at the cost of all her time. Emily could not remember the last day in which she had a day-off, nor could she recall the last day in which she had some actual spare cash to spend on herself.
She barely made enough to cover all her bills, and even then she could only afford a small box to live in. She couldn't even remember when was the last time she called her parents, or even when she had last spent time with old friends.
She was just far too tired… Too tired to do anything other than collapsing the moment she reached home.
And so her life flashed by, always the same routines, the same work, the same hardships. On special occasions, she would even have a day to herself, yet those rare days would be wasted under the embrace of a full day's slumber.
Emily hated her life, she hated it with all her being. She also feared death, a fear which robbed her of the courage to simply end her own suffering.
On a day like all the others, she would run into a strange man on her way to work. Apparently he had just opened up his very own meat shop. The two had been walking in the same direction so Emily indulged herself in an out of the norm socializing.
That brought her a nice feeling.
Oftentimes, the walk from home to work in the mornings felt the most hollow. That was the period in which she felt the most like a slave. Someone with invisible chains tied to their legs. Despite her desire to forsake them, in the end, if she wanted to just survive, then she would need to work. That company of hers, along with all its executives, were her masters.
Worst yet, she was a slave who returned each day to do their bidding for mere scraps, all of her own free will.
It felt degrading. She did not even feel human anymore. She sometimes even thought that those who lived in the slums were the only humans within this damn city which were truly free.
Emily might have joined them had she simply been less of a coward.
By the end of their pleasant talk, the joyous man invited her over after work for a taste of his dishes. His enthusiasm and clear overflowing passion for his craft was intoxicating, it placed her in a good mood.
The only issue was that the man had been giving her occasional intense stares, ones which she found the most fitting to describe as: 'Carnal'.
Does he want to sleep with me perhaps?
Emily had not been with a man for a long time, not because she wished it so, but merely out of a lack of time to meet new people. When she considered that, not only did his proposal sound more enticing, but she found herself flattered to be stared at so intently.
Once again, such a simple thing, a simple norm of everyday life, like a man's kindness or lust, made Emily feel like she wasn't just a cog which worked tirelessly to support a vast entity, but instead a human.
She agreed to his offer, meeting him later that same night. Emily was never seen again after that.
*****
Vic was a woman within her early thirties with light brown hair and deep dark eyes. She worked at a club as a bartender. Vic loved her job because she loved to party. When she was at work, when she drank, nothing else in the world mattered.
Not her spiteful neighbors which had been subtly harassing her each day as she arrived home. Not the pain of having lost her father to a mining accident just two weeks after he traveled east in search of work. Not for the subsequent murder of her best friend because of her secret affiliation with the Red Tiger Gang.
Absolutely nothing mattered, only the movement of her body, and the spirit of her soul.
She felt free when drunk, felt happy to make drinks which allowed others to escape this hell alongside her, felt dread when it all ended and she was forced back into reality.
At first, she would merely go home to her cramped box and sleep until the night reached once more. Even refusing to take days off entirely. However this constant cycle was far too strenuous. Soon she would fall ill and be unable to work for many days after.
She was fortunate that her boss was kind enough to wait for her return instead of outright dismissing her as a lost cause as many places often did. Within the outskirts, when one got sick, they rarely got better. Vic knew her troubles came from exhaustion. She was able to convey that to her boss and was given a few days to get better.
Vic felt her body gradually recover from its exhaustion, however she could not spend the entire time sleeping. She had many hours where she merely sat in her room, tortured by the many troubles she had been desperately avoiding.
It was as this simmering anguish, anxiety, and sorrow reached a boiling point that she decided to do something which she had never done before.
She tried Mist Powder for the first time.
Acquiring it was not hard. She merely had to approach the rough looking Red Tiger Members or hover around any of the Rich Valley Area's casinos. Vic obtained her dose through the lather. Soon she was sprawled in bed, her body twitching slightly, and her open mouth released a purple foam. That foam sizzled then turned into mist which rose into the air. Her eyes also carried a slight luminescent purple glow.
Vic found the experience to be wondrous. Her mind was seemingly transported to a dream where anything happened, no matter how bizarre, and she herself could even dictate what occurred. She was lucid within this dream, whilst at the same time not.
She also felt incredible!
Her depression was entirely forgotten, replaced entirely by utter ecstasy.
It was so that her addiction began. Now she would drink and party when at work, then do Mist Powder when at home.
She had finally fully escaped…
In fact, she spent so little time without being under some influence that she did not even realize when a certain meal from a certain shop nestled a corruption within her. She began hearing whispers in her ears, however she merely thought them as side effects of the powder.
Not that she cared.
And so, without her awareness, she began going to that shop often. Until the day came that she entered, and never returned…
*****
Within a rotten wooden room, Ciel was rendered unable to move. More and more memories flashed within his mind. With them came all the emotions which they carried. Of course, his heart was not moved by these scenes thanks to his shattered state, however it completely hindered his physical abilities. A result of the sheer overload of information which was currently assaulting his mind.
One after the other, the memories of one unfamiliar woman flashed within his mind, then another memory would take its place, repeating endlessly. They occurred in a scattered pattern, yet he felt he understood everything as if they were happening in order.
It was a sensation similar to that which he felt when traversing back through the expanse of time. Of course, infinitely more tamed. The experiences were all happening rapidly, making a single second contain countless life-long memories within them.
And despite all that, Ciel could still barely possess a sense of awareness. With that small awareness he was able to realize that calm footsteps were approaching his way.