Tales From the Wheel

The Dusters in No Man’s Land.

Summer, Earth Year 2901- Scav-Town’, The Stretch District, Mars.

“A map to the location of Fridge X?” Charles ‘Big Chuck’ Williams repeated with an amused tone. “Sure Darby, but instead of credits maybe we can trade? How about this mug here? It’s from the Oak Island treasure. This ring? From the Rester queen Angavu Abioye’s hidden tomb on Earth. Hell, I think I’ve got the coordinates for Polly Corp’s secret shipyard in my pocket, just a sec…” Charles couldn’t contain the laughter any longer. A tall man of African descent, Charles kept his head clean shaven but sported a neatly trimmed dark colored goatee. A literal brick shithouse, his massive shoulders and biceps where a little more than even the best of humanity could produce naturally, indicating H.E.R.O. ancestry somewhere in his bloodline. Fridge X, he thought again as the laughter spilled out. Darby might as well have told them that he had found Atlantis or that he could show them live broadcast footage from Horizon’s Light.

Williams’ companion was far less amused. A very attractive lite skinned young woman in her mid-twenties, Bambi was slight of build but toned with a cleanly styled mop of purple hair that hung just above her shoulders. Corresponding violet-colored eyes stared viscous daggers at Darby. “You drug us all the way out here for a fuckin fantasy? A Fuckin’ conspiracy theory?” Edgar, the darker colored of her two custom laser pistols whipped up mere inches from the elder scavenger’s temple. “I should fucking plug your old ass right here and right now! You don’t waste the Dusters’ time scab!”

“Whoa!” The chuckles died in Charles’s throat as the loud and raucous conversations around them came to a sudden stop as well. Benny’s Place, the only watering hole in Scav-Town was a ramshackle building that physically had more in common with large sheds than it did a bar, like most of the so-called ‘permanent’ structures in this dump. But it was Scrapper home turf and three quarters of the six dozen or so other peeps in here would be either members of the gang or at least affiliated in some way. Darby could most certainly be annoying, but his nephew was one of their top tech lieutenants.

“Whoa there everyone!” he slowly stood up, smiling casually and revealing nothing in his own hands, but also giving everyone a good look at him. In the Martian underworld, ‘Big Chuck’ had a reputation for being a very reasonable cat that could turn you into a bloody human pretzel if you wanted to be unreasonable instead. Several hands rested to their holsters but didn’t draw, yet. “Come on fellas. You know us Copper Laners ain’t used to the heat out here among the red dunes. Things got a little spicy for a moment. All good now.” He looked at Bambi quickly and repeated, “All good now, right?” Notably he made no move to grab her gun or lower her arm. They would discuss later in private if needed, but Dusters one hundred percent stood beside each other in public. If she decided to squeeze the trigger then it would be on, period.

There was another tense second that lasted forever, then Bambi flashed her own smile while she casually holstered Edgar and announced loudly. “All good now. But this old bastard owes me another couple drinks at least sunshines! Someone’s got to treat a gal!” A couple nervous chuckles soon turned into laughter as tension eased and most returned to their own business and booze. Bambi was reckless, but far from stupid. Half the guys in here had wanted to buy her a drink but didn’t have the guts, so her little joke landed. Charles could have stewed on how he and Bob always had to be the reasonable ones, but at the moment he was just glad it was Bambi and not her twin sister with him. Candy would have lit this place on fire already.

 “Chuck, this is for real man, I swear it!” Darby was now in the process of handing one of the two drinks he just purchased to Bambi. She downed it in one swallow and then stared at the old scav expectantly. With a slight grimace he probably hoped would not be noticed, he handed his own untouched drink to her, which she began to casually sip before stating, “Okay then old man, show us what you got, but this better not be bull shit. I mean, come on, Fridge X? You got Area 51 shoved somewhere up your ass too? Big C, you know how much I hate the fuckin Stretch! This had better be worth something.” Charles nodded, understanding that this was just more than angry bitching.

The twins and their adopted younger sister had been born in the Stretch. The Consortia, for all it’s myriad of flaws, genuinely looked upon the practice of slavery in the Earth Alliance as a horrendous evil. Something so vile it could only be enacted by those disgusting, un-corporate ghosts of our worse nature. Any leader of the Consortia that thought that had obviously never visited here. No surprise really. History is full of so-called great leaders whose only real secret to success was the skill to ignore anything that contradicted their own fragile egos and narratives. When the Skull-Fuckers, the literal boogey men of the Martian poor came knocking on the twins’ parent’s door, selling their daughters saved their son. A truth the members of the High Board sitting in the district of Industry Heights could not even imagine, much less acknowledge

Charles hardly had the ideal childhood himself, but unlike Kraken, he was no stranger to the need for some human empathy. If Bob was running the show he would never have exposed one of the sisters to such obvious potential bullshit. If his size and physique were not enough evidence, then the fact that most current ‘old heads’ remember Big Chuck from when they were kids confirmed his status as a H.E.R.O. mutation. Few others would guess that the strapping man before them was at least 70 years old at this stage. In his long and rough life, about 35 years ago he finally found purpose, acceptance and a family with the Dusters. Not with loyalty to any one leader, but love for the family. Shit was hard in the Three Realms of Humanity, and he was hardly any sort of alms giver, but you don’t mess with his sisters. You don’t mess with his brothers. He had chosen them. That included those that claimed they could lead them. Kraken had always been a little problematic but had made some good contacts and was good at generating credit producing jobs. As he aged though, his paranoia and arrogance had led to some increasingly questionable decisions. This job was one example, and he wasn’t the only one getting tired of the old man’s shit. It was time for him to consider playing King Maker again.

Shuffling the mild thoughts of treason aside, he leaned in a little closer to Darby. “Try and keep it to the short version Darby before it gets too ‘hot’ in here again. What exactly are we talking about?” Bambi suddenly chimed in just as Darby was about to begin. “Wait, hold up a second. First tell us, if what you got is such hot shit, then why call us instead of selling it to the Scrappers? Aren’t they your boys?” A very good question, Charles thought, mentally kicking himself a little for not bringing it up as well. “Well,” Darby croaked while licking some very dry lips and lowering his voice as much as he could and still be heard by the two of them. “I… may do some occasional trading with those mystical guys in the old sewers and most of the lads n’ lasses here consider them rivals in the Stretch, like the Skull Fuckers, so…”

“So, you do a little double dealing on the side and whatever you got came from these…Magicians?” Charles finished with a look and a raised eyebrow directed at his colleague. “The Children of Wyrd.” Bambi noted, quickly spelling ‘W-y-r-d’ for him as well. “They hang in the old sewer systems like he said. Some here say they’re a cult, but that just seems like another gang to me. They are weirdos, freaks and muties but,” she flipped Darby a scornful look, “They ain’t fuckin’ magical. I can’t believe some of you old fossils still think that shit.”

“Hey, you ain’t seen what I’ve seen!” Darby squeaked defensively before lowering his voice again and looking to Charles. “But, yeah…you got me dead to rights Chuck, The crew here would not appreciate how I came across this stuff.” Charles nodded, “Okay, your secret’s safe with us Darby. Let’s get back to what ‘this stuff’ is.”

“Well, a couple of the Wyrds come to town on the down low to trade occasionally. Shit they find or scavenge for machine parts, food and… occasionally some ammo.” Bambi let out low laughing snort, “Why Mr. Darby, selling bullets and energy cells to a rival crew. Lucky, we don’t give two shits about internal Stretch politics. But, if you pulled that shit with us and we caught you I’d strip you naked, break both your fuckin’ legs and steak you to the Lunger Gate. I wonder what would fuckin’ get to you first. A pack of dogs or a group of Skull Fuckers, Ha!”

          “Anyway,” Darby screwed his courage up enough to flash Bambi his own scornful look at that last comment, “This one guy I met about two years ago, Grix, he’s more about the food and shelter he gets with the Children than any sort of ‘cause’ they might have and once he gets a couple drinks into him… let’s say I’ve had a lot of interesting chats with him. It had been a while, but he stopped by last week. While sharing a couple bottles, he tells me that one of the Children’s newest leaders, “Father Hynes” he called him, is actually some corpo- plant, there to use the Wyrd’s as cover for some crazy experiments. Grix and a couple of others who aren’t so… Hmmm… ‘religious’ I guess is the best way to put it, were singled out and bribed to both help and stay quiet. But…”

“But he’s a double-dealing fuck weasel like you.” Bambi finished for him. Darby just shrugged and nodded. No point denying it. “So apparently this Father Hynes showed Grix a secret entrance located in a ceiling draining system that led to a small underground lab. He says Hynes does crazy ass experiments on rats and dogs there and tests them in the sewers. Grix said Hynes would often be communicating or uploading data to some other location. When asked who was on the other end once, Hynes told him straight face that it was Fridge X.” The titular Fridge X is supposed to be a Consortia black ops cold storage and lab facility where everything from failed genetic experiments, insane mutations and alien remains are rumored to be housed.

“Anyway, Grix had had enough and swung by to make a few more credits before making for Copper Lane.” Darby pulled a small pad from his pocket and flashed it. “He sold me a map to this Hynes’ laboratory. I crossed referenced with the blueprints of the old sewer lines. They match! The location of this guy’s lab is for real. The room is an old toxic storage bunker underneath the ancient Industrial Park. You know, the Storage Zone.” Originally the industrial park of the old Mars Colony, a few intrepid businesses still manage enormous warehouses there and profit from sorting and savaging what can be reused for raw materials, replacement parts, etc. The Storage Zone is the only area where any law and order exists in the Stretch. If you count automated weapons that will gun down anyone that approaches close without the correct codes as ‘law and order’ that is.

“So,” Charles jumped in, both to head off the explosion that was about to come from Bambi and because he was finally starting to get a little pissed off himself. “Not Fridge X, but a map from a guy selling out his crew to a secret hidey-hole where some weirdo animal wrangler pinky swears his girlfriend works at X’s reception desk…” Darby waived at him to keep it down, “Come on Chuck! This is for real. Look… I bought this from Grix too.” He pulled out small electronic badge. “Corporate ID for getting past the Storage Zone’s security perimeters. You’ve seen these before, right lass?” He held it to Bambi, who took it, studied it for a few seconds and then nodded to Charles. “Grix said this Hynes guy gave him and three others these to scavenge in the Storage Zone without fear of being gunned down. Used to update the codes weekly he said. Now how would Hynes have had access to a bunch of these if he was just some sewer rat?”

“You’ve already used this one I’m guessing,” Bambi asked, flipping it back to the old scavenger. “Hell no ma’am, but I’m pretty sure its cooked. I don’t trust Grix that much and he was looking to get out, so I’m pretty sure he used it to grab a few plum pickings before coming to see me. I just grabbed it for proof.” Bambi cackled, “And to sell it too some really stupid or desperate scav if needs be I’m sure too old man.” Darby made no move to deny it as he slid it back in his pocket. “But” Charles interrupted, “A map to the heart of another gang’s operations? It would have to be one hell of a return on investment to risk starting a crew war with these Children cats.”

“You’re good! The lab entrance is nowhere near their main camps. Hynes made sure of that apparently.” Darby jumped in. “According to who?” Bambi retorted, “Your good buddy Grix, who you don’t trust that much? You certainly don’t have the fuckin’ guts to go scope things out yourself, so I know you can’t say shit for sure.” “Yeah, it was Grix lass, but it makes sense. It’s all supposed to be a secret after all!” Charles had to admit; he was intrigued enough to at least take a look. So was Bambi, who was still badgering Darby, but shifted to bartering while the old man was still in defensive mode, “…I don’t know C, still seems like a waist of creds…”, “…you can’t one hundred percent confirm any of this shit old man! You’re lucky we’re even considering…” Reckless, but far from stupid indeed Charles smiled inwardly. Ten minutes later, he and Bambi jumped up with map in hand as a slightly dejected Darby settled for a little less than half of what he had been hoping to get.

They cut an impressive silhouette as they exited Benny’s, their signature matching black duster coats and their confident strides reminded any nearby onlooker that Copper Lane’s premier crew considered themselves far above the skulking rabble of the Stretch. Only the most observant individual would have noticed the slightest limp in Bambi’s stride. Most folk just slowly moved aside as they strode by or quietly ducked back into a shed if they were near a door. Bambi pulled out Oliver, her other pistol with the lime green paint job and casually began to flip it up into the air, catch it and flip it back up again. What appeared to be a reflex action due to boredom was in truth a signal that the deal was done. Something buzzed in Charle’s coat’s inner pocket. He pulled out a small text communicator that looked tiny in his massive mitts and quickly read the note. “Dun Dee says we’re clear, but he spotted one guy leave the bar just before we did in a real rush. It seemed fishy but he didn’t have time to take a reading. Let’s grab him and hook up with the rest on the outskirts.”

Saying Scav Town had streets was a bit like calling a Cattle path a road. They followed the winding dirt path through the sheds and huts for another minute and then turn right into an “alley”, which was really just a small open spot to toss trash. Considering the desperate citizens of the Stretch refurbished and re-used whatever they could, anything considered ‘trash’ in Scav Town had to be literal human refuse or truly useless junk. Leaning against the far wall was a skinny little fellow in his mid-twenties in a shabby rag jacket. He looked like every sad soul throughout history that ‘proper citizens’ would pretend not to see as they walked down a street. “Clear, clear guys. Lots of readings, just general stuff, Punk ass Duster tough guys, Laner pricks in town, thoughts and dreams never to be actioned. The sneaker though, moved fast, I couldn’t see, but fishy…fishy.” If Dun Dee had been born in ‘the right’ environment, then he would likely have been identified as a wild card or even a full esper with access to the school of telepathy. In the gutter he grew up in there was no one to help cope with the onslaught of other’s thoughts that started to invade his mind when his powers manifested. It nearly broke the kid, and it did shatter his sanity, although it couldn’t completely destroy it. He was abandoned by his family, but when all seem lost, he found another.

“Good work Dee. Let’s book it boys.” Bambi gave him a quick pat on the back. Charles reflected that if a casual observer would peg the twins as essentially not just identical looking, but very similar in personality then they missed small moments like this. Bambi could recognize some of her own past in Dun Dee and displayed a big sister like patience with him that was so rare for her. Candy… well Candy was forever lost in some ways. The three of them took a winding route to the outskirts of the ramshackle settlement and began to climb a large red dune. As they crested the top Charles noted happily that at the bottom on the other side Gibson and Canuck still sat guarding their three swoop bikes.

As they approached, Dee ditched the rags he had on in town as Canuck handed him back is duster coat and gave the young man a quick high five. If someone in the Three Realms ever decided to produce a detailed study of the Dusters, then they could use the mohawk sporting Canuck as an example of the “default” average crew member. Happy to let others do most of the thinking for him, but good at taking direction, solid backup in any fight and loyal to his peeps. Joining in his late teens and an active crew member for twenty-four years at this stage, he’d been nearly fatally shot four times in his life but always managed to bounce back. Younger members considered him something of a good luck charm.

“What took so bloody long?” Gibson whined, pulling a cigarillo out of his own duster’s pocket and lighting it. The gang’s best electronics and computers expert, Gibson possessed all the social grace of a skilled but highly arrogant little geek who was nowhere near as clever as he thought he was. “Enjoying a few extra cool ones while we sit here and sweat?” Perhaps in his early to mid-thirties, Gibson was of average height and pencil thin with a head of neatly trimmed blond hair. He was sporting the dark sunglasses he almost always wore, even indoors. To be fair, he did have monitoring tech built into his glasses, so for example once he hacked or accessed a terminal secretly, he could then view what anyone else accessing that system was doing if he was within range. “Shut up nerd!” Bambi spat, “Real negotiation takes time. Besides, your greasy ass is always sweaty.” In what was a common and amusing ritual at this stage Bambi and Gibson went back and forth for the next couple of minutes hurling taunts and insults ranging from lack of intelligence to lack of manhood. Bambi nearly always came out on top, and this time was no different.

Charles then laid out how the conversation with Darby went and what they got. “Bloody nonsense!” Gibson chirped. Do you always have to sound so gods dammed nasal, Charles thought with irritation. But he certainly couldn’t blame him for being skeptical. Canuck was asking what the next move should be when Dun Dee suddenly screamed and clutched his head. “The runner! The fishy one! He knows what we know! He seeks to thwart a king! Stop him! Stop him! He will tell. He runs, no machines that fly. Catch him at Mounds of Rust. Others are being told, but can only sense a sudden need, they can’t actually hear the king. I’m not supposed to hear, but I do.  The others, the fuckers, they move but do not fully understand!” sinking to his knees he finished with a loud moan. “The king is too loud! The voices are too sharp! They make me hear more than I should. Too much, too much, too much…”

Charles bent down to assist the young man, “Hey little buddy, it’ll be all right.” He’d seen Dee experience little episodes before, but nothing like this. The others were stunned too. “What the hell is this crazy gibberish?” Gibson started, but Bambi cut in before he could continue. “The fishy guy Dee mentioned before. ‘He will tell’ Dee just said. He will tell…this Hynes guy?” Bambi flashed a questioning look. Charles thought for a moment and then nodded. “It makes sense. Dee said this Mr. Fishy left just before we did. What if Hynes found out Grix was selling him out? If that’s the case we’ve got to move before someone realizes we’re coming.” 

“Dee said it was too quick for him to get a reading.” Bambi noted “The poor kid must of overextended himself trying to get one for us.” She knelt and along with Charles helped the still shaking youth to his feet. “I remember where the Mounds of Rust are. They’re also on the way to sewer entrance we need, according to the fuckin map anyway.” Charles flashed a final quick look of concern at Dun Dee, who was now muttering incoherently under his breath, before making the call. “Okay, here’s the plan. Canuck, take Dee and head back home. Take this copy of the data and let Kraken know what’s up. The rest of us will head out and see if we can catch ‘Mr. Fishy’ if he is for real and then we’ll scope out this so-called secret lab.”

“In these moldy old sewers?” Gibson whined, “You two go trouncing around down there if you want too. Why do you need me?”

“Quit bellyaching you fuckin coward.” Bambi sneered, “if it turns out to be real, there will be locked doors and encrypted computers and shit… you know, stuff that is supposed to be your job to handle. We sure as shit ain’t bringing you for your looks or fighting skills.” Canuck was helping Dun Dee onto the back of one of the Swoops. A bit of coherence slipped into his ramblings. “Bambi, it was nice to drive on the way in. You let me drive…love the practice. Love to drive…” She gave him a quick smile and another small pat on the back. “And you did good Dee, real fuckin good! But on the way home… Canuck in going to drive. Okay?” Dee nodded with some understanding as Canuck jumped on front and gripped the handlebars. He then added to Dee, “Don’t worry kid, once we get home, we’ll get you a nice quiet spot to take a rest. You’ll be as right as the rain again in no time, eh?” He gave his three fellow Dusters a hardy salute and then fired the old Swoop up, setting it at a low hover of about two meters above the ground before rocketing away towards the entrance to the Copper Lane District.

Charles and Bambi each claimed one of the other bikes and Gibson reluctantly slid onto the back of Chuck’s Swoop. “We are really doing this Big C? Really? I’d better not catch anything in this bloody sewer…” he started in, “Ah, shut the fuck up you whiney little prick or you’ll catch something alright. A fuckin bullet!” Bambi cackled and sped away before Gibson could shoot back. Charles chuckled a little and just shook his head as he fired up his own engines. “Kids!” He thought to himself. This could end up being a long ride…