What a clever girl. She was giving us a chance to change our minds. If I had said “Come back later,” she would’ve left us alone for about ten minutes. That would have given us enough time to slowly and deliberately leave this expensive place that we had accidentally wandered into, at no cost to our dignity.
But I didn’t use the chance. I inclined my head towards my partners, who were in the heat of battle, and explained:
“We’re not going to order anything. We just got off work and stopped by to see how the rich people live. And then we got a game challenge. We’ll leave as soon as it ends.”
“Good luck!” She gave me another sweet smile that was just as bright as the one she had flashed before I revealed we didn’t plan to spend a single sol.
More credit to her.
Suddenly, I heard a familiar voice. “Three large lemonades for them. On me.”
“Of course.” The waitress curtseyed and left.
“Thanks.” I didn’t argue, smiling gratefully as my old friend walked up to me. Short hair, brown eyes, left cheek covered in scars, the number 299 on her baseball cap. “How’s your day off? Dropped in for a steak?”
“Of course! Protein, fat, and something sweet for dessert! Gotta treat myself. How was your day?”
“All work and no play,” I replied. “We just got off work.”
“Whoa, you worked today, too? When I saw you here, I figured you were celebrating your victory. Huh. You’re hard workers. All right, I’ll leave you to it.”
“Wait a minute! I have a few more questions. General ones, you know.”
“Well, if it’ll only take a minute.” She flashed a blinding smile. “I’m waiting for someone… You know…”
“I’ll be quick,” I reassured her.
“Okay. Come on.”
“You’re as different from them as plux is from a worm,” she said as soon as we sat on a nearby wall ledge.
“You think so?”
“I can feel it. You radiate something… Unlike them.”
“For now,” I said with a smile.
“Are you sure you want to waste your time on that, Lionslayer?”
“What are you talking about?”
“I heard some amazing rumors about you today. Hey, do you want me to talk to some brigade members about you?”
“Like that Morris guy?”
“Oh, do you know each other?”
“We used to haul for him,” I said with a smirk. “Thanks, two ninety — Hmm. What should I call you?”
“Call me Mads.”
“Mads.” I nodded, faintly surprised. “Nice to meet you… again. I’m Elb. Warmest greetings and all that formal stuff. Can I ask my questions? The clock is ticking.”
“Go ahead.”
“Where do you work out? What do you eat and drink?”
“You looking to gain some mass?”
“That’s right.”
“They won’t let you in our brigade’s gym. It’s in one of our spines.”
“That’s a shame. What’s your diet like?”
“Nothing special. Six food cubes a day, isotonics, meat at least twice a week — boiled, mostly. And I buy special shots once a week.”
“What shots?”
“The system only offers them once you have the right status.”
“And what status would that be?”
“Halfling fighter at least. Fighter, not just cadet. See, the system takes good care of people who take on the most dangerous jobs.”
“Got it. So, what do the shots do? Help you put on mass?”
“No. Well, just a little bit. They’re not steroids, but they’re kind of similar. They increase your stamina, you recover faster after you work out. The system will explain more when it offers them. If you get the chance, it’s worth accepting them.”
“I’ll remember that.”
“Anything else you want to know?”
“How much does meat cost here?”
“A grey plux steak will usually set you back twenty sol. It’s good, and also backed by our brigade.”
“You can also get a plate of bones with a few nice pieces of meat still on ‘em. More than enough to tickle your taste buds.”
“That sounds more reasonable. What do you mean, backed by your brigade?”
“We guarantee the meat here is fresh and high-quality. And a hundred percent plux meat.”
“Is there other meat?” I asked.
“Pork.” Mads answered briefly.
“Pork? Really? Here? How is that bad?”
“I mean, worm meat. They call it pork here.”
“Worm meat? I haven’t seen any bugs — Oh, wait! Shit! Are you serious?”
“Dead serious. Don’t buy meat from strangers. Heck, don’t even accept meat from people you know — who knows where it’s from. Might be plux leg, might be a worm’s buttcheek.”
“Fucking hell...”
“Agreed. Life’s pretty shitty down here. And worms tend to disappear, even from cluxes. They leave no trace, you see. It’s impossible to figure out if they starved to death, got taken to a medblock for re-purposing, or were gagged and dragged down the death paths out of Mother’s sight. It’s easy to take these death paths without being noticed if you know them like the back of your hand.”
“What about other orcs and goblins around?”
“They do it at night. Get someone to scout ahead, problem solved.”
“Is this for real? Or just rumors?”
