“A plux...” Sighed a pudgy orc from a distance, standing on tiptoe and looking at the beasts covered by the t-shirt and handkerchief.
“Shh,” I said, looking at the orc. “Go away.”
“Understood.” He was gone in a second.
“What else?”
“They refunded me four sol, so the system paid for my arms and legs today. The shots were all free, too. Plus I got the compensation for the job. Oh, I wonder if we got any extra jobs. Although, who am I kidding... Damn! Goblin! I thought we were gonna die!”
“Yeah,” I nodded. “So what’s your balance look like now?”
“I’m in the black! I’m rich, goblin! Thirty-four sol!”
“Awesome. Let’s go to the ATM while there’s no one around.”
“For what? Is it something serious?” Yorka stood up, worried. “How much do you need? Medical bills?”
“I need the ATM,” I grunted, carefully working my way down from the ledge and slowly putting weight on my poor legs. “I’m gonna give you money.”
“What? Why?”
“Help me,” I said, and Yorka offered me her shoulder to lean on. She led the way, and I explained as I walked behind her:
“It’s time for you to get your arm sewn back on. Hey — ” I stifled a moan as we came to an abrupt stop. “What are you doing?”
“My arm?” She stared straight ahead. “An operation... Oh, come on, Elb! I’m fine with just the one. I’m used to it.”
“It’s not up for discussion,” I said sharply, pushing her forward. “Keep walking.”
“Listen to me, Elb! They’re gonna cut me! And those knives... They’re sharp!”
“March!” I urged her on ruthlessly.
“Elb! Listen, goblin. Just listen to my reasons!”
“Throw your reasons to the pluxes! You’re just scared!”
“Yeah, I’m afraid. So what? It’s scary! Really scary!”
“Everyone’s scared of something,” I sighed philosophically. “Is this it?”
“Elb! Let’s just save up some more...”
“Why? A new arm costs fifty-three sol. We have that.”
“But…”
“I said move!”
“I have to keep the curious zombies away from you! I can’t get my arm sewn back on right now!”
“Move!”
I tuned out her protests once we reached the ATM. A green animation showed me how to work it, and I sent Yorka forty sol, then forced her to accept the money. But that wasn’t where my problems ended. Ignoring my wounded legs, I pushed her into the medblock, ripped the awl out of her hand, and with one last jab, pushed her through the opened door. As it slid shut, I growled angrily:
“Don’t come back without your second arm, goblin!” I shouted as the steel door separated me from Yorka, who sat huddled on the edge of the chair.
She hadn’t been scared of throwing herself at that vicious plux with a heavy steel block, but the medblock was enough to trigger a panic attack! It didn’t make sense.
Maybe she had just been hopped up on adrenaline then. It was even pumping now — I could imagine it literally flowing out from under the medblock door. It was kinda yellow...
I returned to our temporary camp on the ledge just in time. Two men were leaning over our man on the ledge. One was gripping his baseball cap in one hand, while the other hand crept slowly towards the belt bag lying nearby, inching it towards him. The second man cast glances at the rag-covered pluxes.
I heard a chuckle, then a gurgling phrase:
“Damn, he’s ugly. Like someone hit his face with a rake...”
I glanced at the ceiling. No domes in sight. I stepped closer and jabbed twice with the awl. Hard. Mercilessly. There were two cries of pain and a high-pitched, frightened whimper, but the marauders who had received deep wounds to their backsides recovered with impressive speed. Tucking the awl out of sight, I smiled wickedly at the pair and promised:
“I’ll find you, punks. I’ll be lying in wait down some death path... And first I’ll take your greedy hands, then your throats! Put that back where you found it, you animal!” I pointed at the one who was bold enough to keep holding onto the other man’s belt bag. “Give it back, you piece of shit!”
“Elb... It’s Elb.” The second one sobbed, holding his injured backside. “We didn’t know... Didn’t know he was one of yours... You get it, right, Elb? It’s eat or be eaten. Survival... We have no choice, we have to survive somehow...”
“Put it back,” I repeated.
The first marauder came to life. Sidestepping, with a disgusting, pitiful smile on his sweating face, he carefully reached for the ledge, and carefully laid the bag next to its owner.
“The cap on the floor,” I continued. “Pick it up. Shake it off. Put it back where it was.”
“Yes, Elb,” He whispered, bending down.
He shouldn’t have exposed his ass to me like that, the idiot. I took a half-step forward and sunk the awl handle-deep into his gluteus muscle — the only way to teach animals like this a lesson was through reinforcement. He howled in pain again, and jumped, twisting, until there was a five-yard distance between us. I looked each of them in the eye and smiled even wider:
“I’m still gonna kill you. I’ll find you and kill you. Now get out of here.”
They were gone in an instant.
