Porimlys' untitled NaNoWriMo!

[Porimlys]

I know this isn't Warcraft fan fiction, but someone said it wouldn't be inappropriate if I posted this here!

At it's core, this is a creative forum and I would value your feedback! This is what I am writing for NaNoWriMo (http://www.nanowrimo.org/whatisnano), so it's not very polished and I'm experimenting a lot with my writing in it (part of the reason I'm curious to get feedback). I'm trying to put the focus more on character development more than the plot. So I'm gonna post updates here every now and again, if you guys are interested. It will probably have the tendency to end in strange places and such. I'm copy pasting it, so the format might be kind of horrid, I'll try to find the time to fix it. Be mean! Be critical! Make me feel terrible if that is how you think I should feel after reading this :D! Anyway, enough preface:

----------------------------------
ACT I: The Beethoven
----------------------------------





The wall cracked more and more with each thump. The house was cold and laden with dust that had been previously undisturbed for ages, now it leapt and swarmed in protest as the rhythmic pounding begged for entrance. It had been like this for years, abandoned and lost to time. Hell, the whole damn city was lost with it. Forgotten mostly, save those who smashed their picks, hammers and shovels against the outside of the wall.
Bang!
Clink!
Bang!
Clink!
They had dug deep into the earth to find this buried city, just one of many. The tunnel they left behind them crept upward towards a much greater cavern that had been carved out by a behemoth of a machine wielding a mighty drill. Finally a pick pierced the hull of the house, it’s tip peering into the lifeless room with brief curiosity before being pulled back out. A foot crashed through the small hole. This was repeated until a sufficient enough entrance had been formed and a man spilled out of the tunnel into the room.
He coughed and stood up as the dust hovered around him with great interest, the light on his head illuminated the room as best it could. A table stood in the center of it, there were hardwood floors with decorative rugs, a piano was propped up against the wall. It was nothing new to him, similar to the last few homes he had been to. Another figure emerged from the hole, this time a woman. She examined the room as she waited for the dust to abandon it’s raucous behavior.
“I see a few bottles on that rack on the piano over there, check them out, I’ll go check for a cellar.” She said regarding the bottles of wine. It would of course be nothing more than a bottle of vinegar at this point, having perished long ago. Still, it’s value was of interest to the two intrepid interlopers. She walked around hunting for a staircase downstairs where she might find a wine cellar. While crossing through the kitchen she examined every cabinet, most of the food had deteriorated and she knew better than to open the refrigerator. But she still managed to stumble upon a cabinet full of spirits and liquors, which she gathered up and placed in a satchel that hung from her side.
“Lots of spirits here, Johnny, so at least we’ll get something.” She shouted back at her companion.
“This have all been opened already, it‘s bunk.” He shouted back. She grumbled and continued through the house until she found a stairwell down. It was made of wood. She knew better than to test it’s strength, instead she revealed a garish and bulky weapon that fired a rope in front of and behind her, she aimed it down the stairwell so one end hooked itself to the wall at the bottom and the other hooked itself to the ceiling behind her. She gripped the handles that protruded from the sides of the gun and used the zip-line to carry her down to the bottom of the stairs.
“Oh come on, did you even try the steps?” Johnny had arrived to the scene to watch her whiz down into the basement.
“I aint’ fixing to break any legs.” She replied, sending the gun back up the rope. She immediately saw a door concealed in the corner and went straight for it, hoping for the best. She opened the door and grinned from behind the hair that fell over her face. “Finally!” She exclaimed “A proper vein, call em up and tell em to come down. Tell Ray there’s a piano too.”
Johnny was a step ahead of her, already pulling out his radio.

Up top in the metal drilling monstrosity a buzz and a beep coaxed everyone there into action. One man, one of the engineers of the machine, put his cigarette into the ashtray near him and pounced for the chirping radio.
“Eh… er… you folks got something?” He asked the tiny box in his hands.
“Yeah, we have a cellar we’re checking out. There’s also a piano here for Ray, it’s a… um… a stand up one. It’s against a wall. Seems like a pretty choice place to scour in general, we need bodies down here!” It replied through a fog of scratchy white noise. He turned around from his console and to the rest of the crew, they were already standing and getting ready to depart. They knew that if there was nothing of worth, they wouldn’t have called back at all. There were four of them, packing their bags that sat on the table in the middle of a ring of magenta couches, though so caked in dirt it might as well have been brown.
Ray, a much older bearded man with streaks of white through his bushy facial packed books and notes with the standard flashlight, rope and other such survival gear. He was an ’archaeologist’, more or less, largely in the sense that he could identify the relics of the past that would fetch the highest price with the strange aristocrats that seek to purchase them. The other three were ‘diggers’ like the expedition duo below. Crooner, Lola and Garren. They seemed to all regard their gear with contempt, not showing any excitement for the alleged success of their foray, save maybe Lola who delicately strapped her pick, shovel and hand held drill to her pack which was otherwise stuffed haphazardly with the fixings a digger needs to get the job done. She swung it over her shoulders and strapped it across her chest and waist, the last of the four to be ready.
“I’d give you some pep talk, but you’d probably ignore me.” The engineer Dino said. “Good luck, anyway.”
“Hmmm?” Crooner taunted back at him. Smiles were shared, regardless of their authenticity and they were off. Garren led the troupe down and out of the drilling beast and into one of the many lesser tunnels that led to the homes below the earth. Down they went…


The woman sat examining all of the dated bottles of wine in the cellar, tallying them in a notebook and marking the bottom of some of the bottles with a yellow slash. On her head rested a dirty yellow hat with a logo on it, it was a white G in a green circle. Years and years ago, when she was a child she found this hat. It had fallen off of a cart of exotic relics in one of the towns she lived in. She was quite young and small then, so she managed to pick it up without anyone noticing. At this point in her life, she had not been named, no one had ever paid enough attention to her to really bother calling her anything other than a nuisance. She had managed to move from home to home, inserting herself into the lives of others until they grew fed up with her. Sitting in the sun bleached dirt road with her new hat she was between such homes and the blaring heat had buckled her knees and she sat staring dead eyed at the green cap, already worn and beat up. She couldn’t read at the time, but she did recognize the letter. She placed it on her head and it was too big, but the brief respite from the suns penetrating gaze was a heavenly blessing. As she grew and squeezed herself more and more into the lives of others, she began to identify herself with the hat. “G” she’d say as she pointed to her headgear when people asked what her name was. So G she was called.

She adjusted her hat on her head and brushed the hair out of her eyes, standing up and turning to Johnny who was making preparations to carry the treasure out of the cellar.
“We’re lucky, a lot of this is useable.” She said. “We’ll be able to fix our re-distiller with the money we get from this load for sure, we probably wont even have to sell the spirits. More for us, eh?”
He peered up at her from his pack where he was replacing his tool straps with racks to carry the wine bottles to the surface. “If you’re going to be drunk making these deals again, we’re going to send someone else.” He replied, brows raised.
G scoffed, “Pah! I ‘learned’ my ‘lesson.’” She very well sung those words. “They’re the ones who are so fucking obsessed with this shit, you’d think they wouldn’t mind. We go through all this damn effort making it drinkable again, and they get so fucking uppity about it, they’re so busy ‘enjoying it’ that they can hardly enjoy it.”
“Who cares. Money is money. Do you have this conversation every time you find a proper vein? I swear I’ve heard this all before. Dino and them fixed the re-distiller by the way, while you were working down here.” He finished his attachment and placed his digging tools against the wall, his bag was rigged with several circular clasps designed to hold the bottles tightly with a flap of cushion to swing over the treasure to further protect them. He could hold seven bottles, which would then be carried back up to the drilling machine and it’s contents emptied into a contraption held inside, were it not currently broken. This contraption was referred to as a ‘re-distiller’ or a ‘rejuvenator’ , it’s sole purpose was to take this wine that had long since expired in the cities lost beneath the earth and turn it into something that might be vaguely reminiscent of it’s former self. No one would know, though, this was the only wine they had. Whatever great catastrophe it was that sent the world into the desert chaos that it is, took with it all the ingredients used to make the alcoholic delicacy. But it did not take the enthusiasm for enjoying it. Those high up -- the rich who dare not associate themselves with the slummy living of the rest of the world -- choose to dabble in the antiques of the old world. Their parents, and their parents parents, and their parents parents grandparents all told great stories of the magnificence of the drink known as Wine. They glorified it’s upscale nature and worshipped the connoisseurs who survived and continued the legacy of giving a rats ass. Somewhere in one of those generations, they put their ever crucial resources to use by creating the priority of priorities: a machine that could recreate the wine of yore by refurbishing the aged vinegar that once passed as wine. They turned to the streets to do the dirty work; finding and retrieving this wine. So started the expeditions G and the crew find themselves part of today, commissioned by the aristocrats with the time honored tradition of asking those below them if they want to “make a quick buck“.
Crooner stepped through the hole into the house and shouted out to G and Johnny.
“Yo!” He barked while scratching his clean shaven but certainly not clean face. Johnny shouted back up from downstairs an intelligible noise that meant “over here”. The rest of the crew followed the sound of his voice, except Ray who stopped to examine the piano in the entrance room. Crooner, Lola and Garren clomped down the stairs, ignoring the zip line.
“Hey, HEY. Don’t take the fucking stairs!” G shouted at them as she attached her wine rack to her pack. “Honestly, use the fucking zip line I set up.”
“It’s fine. They held up just fine.” Crooner snapped back.
“Dammit. Fucking whatever. Just start loading up the marked bottles.”
“Hey cool it guys, we have a shining haul here. Great find, all.” Lola interjected, trying to dissuade the tension, but if anything this only coaxed G to start up again.
“And why did you bring your tools, you knew you were coming down here to carry up this ore, right? Now you’ll just have to make another trip coming back for the equipment. Not to mention the fucking time you’ll waste attaching your racks down here.”
“Woe is me! You’re a real tulip in the desert, you know that G? You certainly brighten everyone’s day with your enthusiasm.” Crooner sneered back.
Garren put his hand on Crooner’s shoulder and looked him in the eye coldly, shaking his head as if to say “don’t waste your time”. They all went about their business, setting up their rigs to carry up what they could. Johnny finished first, his pack now lined with bottles of wine. Two on each side vertically and three lying horizontally on the broad side. As he turned to go back up the stairs he hesitated for a moment and shot a look at G. He sighed and hooked his pack up to the zip line and hit the trigger that would pull it to the top of the stairs, he followed it up treading lightly on each step.
“Find anything interesting Ray?” He asks as he passes the old man sifting through various knick knacks around the house.
“Ehhh…” It takes a moment for him to shift his focus to Johnny. “Nothing spectacular, that piano will probably be worth bringing up as long as it doesn’t injure or maim anyone in the process. The rest of this stuff is pretty standard, family photos, various books and what not. There’s a particularly garish lamp in the other room I might be able to spin as some kind of cultural embodiment of the generation. For all I know I could be right, heh.”
Johnny adjusted his glasses and nodded, “Right on, man.”
“Yeah… Right on”
Johnny, with his pack on tight and the wine wrapped neatly in cushioned material, began his ascent. The tunnel upward wasn’t very steep. It couldn’t be, they had to mine it out with regard to the various heavy things they may have to carry, push or pull back up it. This was the fifth house they had dug to in this neighborhood, so it wasn’t hard to pinpoint it’s location and dig accordingly. Their great rig stands as a monolith in the much greater cavern above. Behind it was a large tunnel leading directly to the surface, they only use it to get close enough to where the neighborhood is so that they don’t risk utterly obliterating the houses and any treasures they may hold the monumental piercing drill. Johnny emerged from his tunnel and gazed upon the glory of this machine. “The Beethoven” it read on the side in great bold letters, indeed that was it’s name, and the world could find out just as easily as they could learn to read.


“G, What the heck are you doing?”
“I aint fixing to break any legs.” G replies, not bothering to look at Lola as she wraps her legs around the zip line and begins to shimmy upwards after her pack. She dangles inches above the stairs, her black hair dragging along the steps. Her eyes are wild but intent, though that wasn’t abnormal or exclusive to this situation for her.
“You look more likely to break something going up the way you’re going you fucking lunatic.” Crooner said, watching curiously with his arms crossed. “You know, you are holding us all up.”
She stopped her ascent to glare at Crooner.
“I am not fixing to break my legs.”
“Yeah, you keep saying that.”
She continues her climb and swings herself off at the top of the steps where her pack is waiting on the zip line, locked into place. Ray had meandered into the room where the stairwell led up to, some kind of study fused with a hallway. Some privacy.
“Causing trouble, G?” He smirks at her from beneath his beard.
“Eh yeah, you know it bud.” She says, cracking a smile and winking. “Use the fucking rope!” She shouts down while fastening her backpack on and keeping the satchel full of spirits at her side. She starts for the tunnel out.
“We’re going to be hauling that piano out of here once you guys are done with the wine.” Ray explains while scratching his cheek.
“Yeah I figured we would be. How much do ya think it’ll be worth?”
“Enough to bother bringing it with us.”
Suddenly several loud and consecutive crashes resounded throughout the house, they originated from the basement.
“Shit!” Lola screamed from below.
G pursed her lips and breathed furiously from her nose. She turned back to the stairwell, the words seemed to appear in the air before she even opened her mouth.
“Was that the fucking wine!? For fucks sake you fucking piece of shit, that’s our fucking bread and butter!”
“I-I’m sorry, I tripped…”
“No. Fuck you and fuck your ‘sorry.’ How many was that? What the fuck is the point of finding -- gah! Shit!” She was fuming, she paced back and forth searching for the words to properly convey her anger. Ray stood silently watching her.
“Three.” Crooners voice came from below “Three bottles. We still have a fine haul, G. Relax.” He sounded annoyed, defending Lola more to spite G than anything else.
Her response was swift and furious, “Well shit! What about the next three she breaks? Huh? What about the fucking three after that? Fuck! We shouldn’t have to deal with this kind of shit. Honestly Lola, can you ever just fucki-”
Suddenly Garren was storming up the stairs towards G, as the rope of the zip line got in his way he opted to just rip it down. He reached the top and continued his stride until he was up close against G. His face was inches from hers, unshaven and his eyes a piercing blue, from this exceptionally short distance G could note all of the irregularities, blemishes and scars that dotted his face. He was ugly up this close. He breathed heavily at her, his glare was one of anger and frustration. Without taking his eyes off of G he shoved her shoulder and pointed in the direction of the exit.
“Take your haul and go.” He snarled. “I don’t know what crawled up your ass and died today, but if you can’t deal with it then don’t open your god damn mouth.”
She stared back. One eye was covered by her hair, gathered together and tied so it hung from the side of her face. The eye that was visible housed her usual wild look.
“I didn’t waste the ore.” She said as she stepped away from Garren and walked out of the room. “Remember that. I aint the one who threw the fucking money on the ground.”


Lola sat on the floor of the basement, she had pulled out a cigarette and was smoking it. She ran a hand through her short dark red hair. Because of the dirt and sweat it tended to get stuck when she did this. Crooner stood over her thinking of something to say, but he grew sick of the stench of the rotten wine on the ground and decided to just go up the stairs with his pack. Lola dragged deeply on her cigarette and breathed it out heavily. She played with the broken glass with her boot somberly. About halfway through the cigarette was when Garren returned downstairs.
“Thanks.”
“Don’t let it happen again.”
“Of course.”
She put the cigarette out in the puddle of the wreaking wine and stood up, cracking her back. Her hair was still crazed and accentuated her stress and frustration, but she didn’t let it get in her way as she continued putting what bottles she had left onto her pack. She took her pick, shovel, hammer and hand held drill and wrapped them in a sheet, placing her coveted possessions in a corner away from the spill. They were finely crafted tools, given to her special by a friend. This friend was well to do, living in the green in comfort, with the freedom to enjoy all the frivolous things the upper class tend to enjoy. He gave it to her as a friend, but in return he wanted whoever Lola worked with to do business with him. Lola slept with him that day, which arguably might have also been part of his plan. That thought was of course far from her mind though, as she slung the pack over her shoulders and fastened it tightly. She followed Garren up the stairs. She stepped in a way that avoided the broken zip line that lie defeated across the set of stairs. Halfway up, she heard a snap from below her and felt a slight shift as the staircase groaned under weight. Nothing gave way, but she found her self laughing.

[Porimlys]

G trudged through the dimly lit tunnels. A lantern would burn along the dirt walls every so often, but not frequent enough to flood the whole tunnel with light. She wasn’t upset anymore. She walked slowly, her hands gripping the straps of her pack, pulling on it to take some of the weight off her shoulders. A dimly burning cigarette hung from between her thin lips, barely hanging on. Smoke slipped through her mouth as she exhaled with each step. The approaching lantern hung from a nail stuck in the wall, its shining reach began to light up G’s face. Dark rings hung under her eyes, straining to pull them down. Her hair was wild and tangled beneath her signature hat, tied together in all sorts of different ways in a vain attempt to tame it. Her skin was pale and her body thin, she walked with a slight hunch. She didn’t look healthy, but she proved her body capable of the hard work it took to dig the very tunnels she walked in. She extended an arm outward and slid her hand alongside the walls of the tunnel as her boots pulled her along to “The Beethoven”. She heard someone approaching from behind, likely Garren, he was one to move swiftly through the tunnels.
“On your left” came his voice from behind.
G scooted closer to the right side of the wall, stopping her trek to turn and look at Garren as he passed.
“When we get back to home base, take a breather and start cooking us some dinner.” Garren says, stopping and facing G. “We’ll have more than enough people with everyone else to get that piano up out of here.”
“I’ve already taken a breather, mate. Walking through these tunnels does me good” She explains, wiping the sweat off her brow with the back of her hand. It leaves a smudge of dirt on her forehead.
“Even so, someone has to cook us a meal. Felix is working on the engine and don’t tell me you trust Grant or Dino to make our dinner.” He said with a smirk.
“Trust em? It’s boiling potatoes and mashing them. It aint magic, its hardly even science.” She said, dragging on what was left of her cigarette and blowing it at the lantern. She watched the smoke hover around it, Garren sighed and continued his trek up the tunnel. As he walks off, he turns his head and calls back to G.
“I guess you‘re right. I am asking you to do it after all.” No smile.
G continues to look at the smoke hover around the lantern. She takes one last drag on her cigarette before it quits on her, puffing a ring in the direction of Garren. She forms a faux gun with her hand and pretends to fire it through the ring and into his back. She starts to follow him, holstering her would be gun.
“That was almost mean, Gar.” She says, frolicking in her words while she briskly walks up beside him. “Look at you! Getting fucking cheeky, hah! ”
“Desperate times call for desperate measures.”
“Oh, am I desperate now?”
“I don’t know what the fuck you are, G.”
“Fuck, heh. I’m a hard worker, shit. I’m a hole digging, potato mashing, relic hunting machine. I’m not desperate, I dug most of this tunnel. Shit.” She smiled as she spoke, “Desperate times, desperate measures. If in this fucking world I’m the root of your desperate times, shit aint right with you.”
“Work ain’t everything.”
G pondered the words and scratched her face. She gazed at the roof of the tunnel while contorting her mouth into a thoughtful slant.
“This work brings me my food and keeps me warm at night.” She finally retorts. “I mean, we’re not rich or anything. Not dying and sleeping pretty much is everything for us, ain’t it?”
“Well, eating and comfort comes easily to the upper class right? How do you think they pass the time otherwise? They aren‘t sitting around thinking about how great it is they don‘t have to put any effort into their next meal. They sit around and talk with each other, they socialize. That‘s something.”
“That aint shit” G spits “I talk to them frequently, yeah? When I’m pawning our hauls? They’re hallow man, they got their food and their bed so there’s nothing else to them. They just fuss over their antiques and their fucking wine.”
Garren stays quiet for some time as they continue their trek. They walk out of the reach of the light source, darkness envelopes them.

“You have your food and your bed. What else is there to you?” He responds finally.

“…I‘m a hard worker.”


They walked in silence from there on out, slipping in and out of the light of the lanterns until they emerged into the greater cavern. The Beethoven stands in the center, great and tall. It is giant and rectangular, giant flood lights sit at the top and keep up to their name sufficiently. The great drill is nearly the size of the body that held it up, which itself is made up of a mismatch of metal scraps. This huge machine is utilized entirely for the excavation of the old world. It belongs to a woman named Felix, she is captain of this crew so long as they lived in the ship. She had two engineers, Grant and Dino who helped to keep it in working condition. Garren was the first digger she hired, and Garren in turn hired everyone else. That was more or less the chain of command. G was a relatively recent recruit, but she had a hell of a lot of experience in the work. She was hired onto The Beethoven seven months prior. Her case was slightly different than most, Garren didn’t pick her so much as she picked him.
“My credentials” She had said, dropping a crate full of wines and spirits on Garren’s desk in The Beethoven. She had barged into his office on recruiting day saying that she saw his advertisements for a digger. Garren was initially skeptical, assuming she had stolen the wine from some other crew. Though that was quite the feat in and of itself. He reasoned, at the time, that no one would willingly throw themselves into this work without the proper experience. It was rough, houses could give way to the weight of the earth, other crews could decide they were too successful and declare war and it wasn’t uncommon for madness to take those who spent so much time below the desert. As it happened, he agreed to take her on. And as it happened, she proved herself more than capable. Even now, when everyone else rotates through shifts to dig the tunnels, she opts to stay down there full time.
Johnny and Crooner were the first Garren recruited, they came as a pair. He had worked with them before in a coal mine. They supposed making their goal something a little more ‘high class’ might make things a little brighter, so to speak, but it’s just as dark in the abandoned houses as it is in a coal mine. Still, they took to the work well and enjoyed the nature of living in the drill machine more than living in the shit hole slums. It wasn’t long after that when they hired Lola, her connections to a buyer were crucial and paramount to the later success of The Beethoven. They were the first to dig New York, which was turned into a hub and a haven for the relic hunting crews to stay. This was after it was purged of it’s valuables, of course. New York is big though, and still there are those who scrounge the outskirts. Felix runs an inn and a mechanic shop there and makes a hefty sum from that, but she prefers to work on the ‘road’ in The Beethoven.
No one specifically hired Ray, he just showed up. It was becoming more and more customary to have his type around, the type who will bother to research the past and figure out what is of interest from that era. The aristocrats love to flap their mouths about the interesting antiques they busted their ass to buy.

G and Garren entered the hull of The Beethoven and headed for the wine room, where the re-distiller sat, which sat somewhere in the back by the clattering and ever noisy engine room. Felix probably couldn’t hear them as they walked by, else she would have poked her head out and greeted them. Johnny sat at a small table off in the corner of the wine room, he was reading a book. The table and the three diggers were pretty much all that could fit in the room, the great machine took up most of the space. Garren and G took turns opening and emptying their bottles into a funnel that protruded from it, then placing their bottles into a hole that would sort them and prepare them to be refilled with the ’rejuvenated’ wine. The room wreaked of vinegar and was excessively warm from the heat of the engine room next door.
“Why are you reading down here of all places?” G asked, shoving her last bottle into the receiver.
“I wanted to be easy to find when you guys arrived, we have to go back for the piano right?” Johnny closed his book and placed it on the metallic table.
“Yeah, you guys are. I’m gonna go mash us some potatoes.”
“God damn. I’m sick of potatoes.” Johnny groaned.
“They’re sick of you too.” G taunted as she turned to leave. She meandered the cramped halls as she headed for the kitchen. They were decorated with crude pictures and paintings made by various crewmembers, but mostly Grant. G thought his paintings were terrible, they were abstract and chaotic. Squares and circles over lapping each other and such. She saw no point to them, though she didn’t see much point to art in general. She turned a corner and saw one of the drawings she had done. It was a flower. Every line looked as if it had been drawn over three or four times. It was a mess, she thought. It wasn’t her idea to put it up, Lola was the one who decided it would be brilliant to go taping everyone’s drawings from the art deck onto the walls. She found herself in the brig, where the ring of couches lined the table in the center. Dino sat back in his chair, deep in thought as he mulled over some classical music coming from his console. She stood there for some time, watching him as he tapped his foot gleefully.
“Shit. I need to pay more attention to where I’m going, I was supposed to be going to the kitchen.” G croaked, interrupting Dino’s focus. Dino was startled and jumped slightly in his seat, he swiveled in his chair and faced her.
“You and I both know you’re here to ask me why I’m not cooking. You know, since I’m so busy.”
“Well now that you bring it up…”
“This time I get to rub it in your face” He said as he stood “I’m going to be cooking with you.”
“Thanks, but I think I can handle watching water boil.”
“ I’ve had some veggies stored away for when we finally got something out of this mine, from the sounds of it you got a pretty good haul.” He stood up and flipped a switch, turning off the music.
“Yeah, a pretty good haul minus three.” She sighed “Three thousand down the drain. Fuck.”
“Whatever, we get to head back to town and that’s reason enough to celebrate for me.” He walked past her down the hallway, “I’ll meet you in the kitchen. That is, if you can find it.”
“If you can find it” G mouthed mockingly. She rolled her eyes and headed for the kitchen. It was a brightly lit room, painted teal on the walls. The floor was the same tiling they had in the bathrooms. G hated the kitchen. After setting her satchel full of alcohol aside, she began to clumsily tear through the cabinets, pulling out pots and pans and a hefty bag of potatoes. They were peeled already, that was how they were bought. She turned the heater on, poured water into a large pot and dumped a indiscriminate number of potatoes into the water. She pulled out a chair from the table in the center of the room, another ugly shade of teal. Sitting down she threw her arms onto the table and let her head fall onto them while she closed her eyes. Chaotic particles danced in the darkness from beneath her eyelids. She heard Dino walk into the room and place a bag of vegetables on the counter. It was just some lettuce and mushrooms and a few tomatoes.
“Are you going to help me slice and prepare these?”
“No.”
G drifted off into sleep on the table, it was probably the first time she had a chance to rest in some time, but it was only for a moment. She didn’t dream. Drool dripped from her mouth and started to pool on the table before she was woken by the jarring egg timer. She shot her head up and looked around bleary eyed, Dino was cooking something in a pan next to the pot of potatoes, which had started to boil over. She hoisted herself up out of her seat and moved towards the stove. There was a strainer put in the sink by Dino, and she poured the contents of the pot through it. The water splashed and trickled through the holes, leaving only the soggy tubers. She coughed loudly, not bothering to cover her mouth. Dino glared at her from his post in front of the pan where chopped mushrooms sizzled as he sautéed them. G ignored his glares and dumped the potatoes back in the pot. She blinked her eyes and coughed again, still trying to wake up from her short nap. She couldn’t remember how long she slept or how long she had even set the egg timer for… No, she couldn’t remember setting it at all, it must have been Dino. She grumbled her way to the refrigerator. It was filled with chilled bottles of water and a few large tubs. They were labeled Butter, Sour Cream and Ground Beef. The ground beef was empty. She grabbed the butter and sour cream and moved to the pot which sat on top of the puddle of drool she had left on the table. She placed the tubs on the table and opened them. She began to spoon sour cream into the pot of potatoes with her hands, still dirty from work.
“Oh come on G, that’s fucking disgusting.” Dino protested.
“FUCK OFF.” She roared back at him, her hair was wild and strewn across her face as she spat the words in his direction. Beneath her hair she contorted her face into an expression reminiscent of guilt. She put down the tubs and went to wash her hands. She watched the white gobs of sour cream slide off her hands and mix with the dirt as it spiraled the drain. She could barely see any skin beneath the dirt, now turning into mud before her eyes. She grabbed a bar of soap by the faucet and scrubbed vigorously, the suds were brown from the filth. She rinsed her hands and continued to examine them, they weren’t much better off. She fished a spoon out of a drawer near by and jammed it into the butter, reemerging with a large amount on the end. She tossed it into the pot, the still hot potatoes began to melt it quickly. She fumbled through the pockets of her overalls and pulled out a box of cigarettes and a lighter. She grabbed the one remaining cigarette with her lips and lit it, a strand of her hair had wrapped itself around the tobacco stick and was lit as well. She licked her fingertips and snubbed it between them, cackling quietly to herself as she did. She returned to the drawer and grabbed the potato masher. She picked up the pot and got to work, mashing and stirring the contents together as bits of ash from her cigarette fell into it.

“So, how have things been back here.” She asked, leaning on the counter and facing Dino.
“ Oh… uh… it’s been alright, the engine isn’t happy with us. Felix has been working there day and night, I’m glad ya’ll found what you found-”
“Minus three”
“… I’m glad ya’ll found what you found, it’ll be nice to go buy some fresh parts for the engine. We managed fixed the rejuvenator, er, re-distiller. Whatever you want to call it. We’ve been working hard. We’re you down there working all week?”
“Yup” G stirred viciously.
“Get much sleep?”
“Nah. I mean, when I could. I had to spend a lot of time fiddling with my drill, it kept shorting out.”
“I’ll have to take a look at it.” He said, emptying the browned mushrooms into a large bowl that sat next to another bowl filled with salad made from uncooked mushrooms, the lettuce and the sliced tomatoes. He saw more ash fall into the pot of potatoes “Watch your cigarette.”
“I got a nice load of rum too. Rays piano, too.” She remarked, ignoring his suggestion. “Did they leave to get it yet?”
“Yeah, they called up on the radio to say they’ll be back soon. Turns out the thing has wheels, heh. They’re pulling it out with rope. Still, it’s a bumpy ride.”
“Mhmm.” She mumbled, losing interest in the conversation. She put the large pot back on the stove, deciding the potatoes were thoroughly mashed and creamy. She turned the heat down to a simmer and went to pull a bottle of liquor from her satchel. The label had worn away to nothing, but it was unopened. She twisted off the cap and took a swig, cigarette in hand. It was old, but tasted good, unlike wine it stopped aging once it was bottled. She reeled momentarily at the bite and washed it down with a puff of smoke. She smiled handing it to Dino.
“To success, eh?”
He took it from her and returned the smile. Behind that smile was an uneasy feeling. Dino wasn’t entirely sure how to compose himself around G, he was still caught off guard by the outburst from moments ago. He raised the bottle to his nose and smelled the fumes, the stench of the alcohol was intoxicating by itself. He eyed G. She looked tired and beaten, tendrils of hair fell from beneath her yellow hat. Her eyes eagerly looked at him with some kind of sincerity, but he sure as hell didn’t know what they were sincere about.
“To success.” He says as he takes a sip.

Lola sat down before the food in the mess hall, a large bowl of mashed potatoes sat next to a bowl of salad and a bowl of sautéed mushrooms in the middle of the large round table. Her muscles ached, they had taken turns in pairs pulling the piano out of the mine. It was certainly easier than some relics they had to get out of tighter places in the past, but the work was still hard. They had piled their tools into the piano. She made sure hers were on top. All nine of The Beethoven’s crew was there at the table, something that hadn’t happened in a while. Even Felix pulled herself out of the engine room to dine with everyone. Her skin was dark, even without the smudges of grease and dirt. Even G ate with them, for the first time in a week. She wasn’t cycled in and out of working in the mine, instead eating and sleeping down there, it was her choice. She had poured everyone a glass of rum while she drank what was left from the bottle. Lola watched her as she ate, she laughed with everyone and spouted off crude jokes mixed with personal insults. She burned through cigarettes as she ate her meal. Lola thought she ate like an animal. No one else seemed bothered by her at the moment, they were busy celebrating their success, but Lola just watched G desperately trying to read her. She had treated Lola as she normally would when she returned to the ship, as if she didn’t even remember her rage back at in the buried house. She had been known to do this, especially after she worked herself to near death. Picking battles at one moment and forgetting about them the next.
“So we should be able to head back to town right after this meal. We’ve been hard at work and The Beethoven, bless her, is ready to get outta this pit.” Felix announced, “This vein is just what we needed, just when we needed it.”
Grant raised his glass, he was short and looked meek. His shaved head was small and his face thin, but when he opened his mouth his voice was loud and resonant.
“It was Felix, really. She in all her brilliance, did all the work while we floundered about trying to make ourselves useful.” He said, watching Felix smile as he flattered her.
“To cap’n!” G said, raising her bottle. She was leaned back in her chair, her hat was pulled down and cast a shadow over her face. Only her mouth was visible. She wore a sly grin, no more of her expression could be seen. Johnny raised his cup and took a drink with everyone else following suit.
“And thanks Dino, for holding out on us with these veggies. You bastard!” Garren said playfully. Dino shrugged. He put his hand to his face, dark skin like Felix. No, darker.
“I wanted to save em’ for a good haul. You know, to make it that much better.”
“It’s delicious.” Lola said.
Crooner grunted in appreciation next to her, too busy stuffing his face with mushrooms and potatoes to speak any actual words. His face was very close to his plate, to shorten the distance his fork had to travel. The goggles that sat atop his golden head of hair peered at everyone else at the table with empty eyes as he so closely examined the ever diminishing amount of food on his plate. Next to him was Ray, who picked at his food while he read a book he had recovered from the mine, ignoring everyone else at the as they table pigged out on their food. Except for Lola, who carefully took each bite, wiping her mouth afterwards. When she drank from her cup though, it dribbled down her chin.
“Are you excited to get back into town, Ray?” She said, smiling in his direction. He looked down at her from over his book.
“You know I’m not as content to be underground like you lot.” He said cheerfully
“I like the sun too.” Lola said, bringing another forkful of salad to her mouth, wrapping her lips around it carefully.
“It’s not just the sun, it’s the air. It’s the wind. As frustrating as it is to have it forcefully turning my pages, I find myself missing it when it’s not around.”
“There’s a big ass fan somewhere in this rig, read in there.” G interjected, cackling madly at her joke. She put her arms on the table and dragged on her cigarette. Her hair hung down and fell into her food. She mused as she puffed out the smoke, “I fucking hate the sun. Going back to town is always nice though… er wait. Are we going to Fading or Wanderfell?”
“Wanderfell of course, that’s where Wallace is.” Lola answered, smiling at the thought of Wallace.
“Oh shit, duh. Well good, I can’t fucking stand Fading.”
“That’s because you’re not allowed in the one bar there.” Garren said, laughing.
“Well at any rate, eat up and rest.” Felix said, standing up. Her plate was clean. She pulled her shoulder length hair up behind her and tied it together. She smiled and kindness was reflected in her green eyes. “Dino and Grant, once you’re done lets get our baby out of this hole.”
G dragged on her cigarette and stabbed it into the mashed potatoes left on her plate. She pushed herself up from the table.
“I’ll be crashed in my room. Wake me up when we’re there.” She said, shoving her hands in her pockets and strolling out of the room without a second glance back. Felix left for the cockpit and Grant soon followed. The others remained and ate with little conversation. After sometime Dino spoke up.
“G looks bad.” He said.
“Yeah, she’s gotten a lot worse lately.” Crooner responded. His food had long been devoured, but he remained at the table.
“It’s probably just all the work she’s been doing” Lola said, looking down at her empty plate. She had a strange sensation of smallness, feeling as if she was shrinking in her seat. She was more drunk than she had thought.
Crooner was quick to respond, “That’s bullshit though, we never asked her to do all that work. We ought to stop her next time. Even if we have to use force, we’ll get someone to take her shift.”
“The girl just wants to dig.” The voice came from Ray, but his nose was still buried in his book.
“Yeah? And? So she can be foul and horrid because she just wants to dig? She’s a bitch, a fucking she devil.” Crooner snarled as he finished off his liquor. Johnny stood up and excused himself silently.
“I’m going to be more restricting, I’m not gonna let her work herself as hard as she does. I’m in charge of her, I’ll take care of it.” Garren says, “We shouldn’t make her more of a conflict by talking about her like this.”
Lola nods, “I agree.”
“You’re the one she fucking snapped at today, Lola. Aren’t you mad?” Crooner turned to face Lola, “I saw you back there, she gets under your skin. Right? She needs a god damn attitude adjustment. Am I fucking wrong?”
“Crooner, please.” Garren stood up, “Let’s just get some rest. We’ve been down here for some time, we’re all on edge.”
“Yeah well, the difference between her and us is that the rest will probably do us some good. I just don‘t get her.”
“Crooner.” Garren’s voice was cold but pleading.
“Right.”
“Sorry for bringing it up.” Dino says. “I should be getting to work now, time to get The Beethoven moving, eh? I‘ll see ya‘ll in the morning.”
Garren and Dino left. Crooner sat with Lola at the table, neither spoke. Lola eyed the empty cup in her hand somberly while Crooner looked at her expectantly. After sometime he sighed and left as well, slapping his hands onto the table as he stood up. Lola, alone, sat and looked at the mess on the table. The bowls of food were empty and everyone’s plates had only a few scraps and remnants of the meal. Everyone except G’s. A hefty pile of mashed potatoes sat on her plate with a half burned cigarette impaled in the top. Lola stared at the cigarette for some time, her face slowly turning into a scowl. She still had the strange sensation from earlier, the room pivoted back and forth around her. Her eyes darted to the bottle of rum G had left behind. In a sudden movement, she reached across the table and grabbed the bottle. She held it up to the light and looked at what remained. Enough. She started to pour it into her cup but stopped and realized she was alone. She tossed the bottle back and let the liquid pour down her throat. Her muscles ached. She stood herself up and tossed the bottle onto the table. It landed in the bowl that had been filled with mashed potatoes. She thought of her friend, Wallace. She thought of the kind looks he gave her and of his posture. She thought of the habits he had developed as a man of good wealth. She did not think of G. She thought of him, and she smiled while she swayed and stumbled to her quarters.

[Porimlys]

<This paragraph is incomplete because I hit a wall and just couldn't think of where I wanted to go with it, so I jumped ahead in the story :P>
The Beethoven rose out of the hole it had dug. It moved along the ground on giant metallic treads, carrying in it the colorful crew and their costly cargo. It drove under the nights sky, it’s sordid smoke stacks bellowed brazenly as it tore across the desert landscape. Everyone slept, save the engineers and Ray who watched the scenery from the cockpit. It was a wasteland, most of the world was. Some areas, even entire continents, has managed to regain it’s foliage. They capitalized on it. It was strange how money retained its relevance, even when society collapsed. When it was time to rebuild, everyone turned to those who had wealth. Ray watched the flat deserts roll by and thought about the pictures of the forests and swamps and glorious environments he saw of the old world. He wondered what it would be like to behold them, he wondered how things could have gone in this direction. BLAH BLAH BLAH
<>

Through the night and into the day they traveled, the city of Wanderfell appeared on the horizon. The first thing visible over it’s wall was the great green hill, dotted with the tall and large buildings of the rich. It painted a false picture of the town, the rest was a shanty, rows and rows of metallic shelters created the roads. Everywhere was a market place here, with everyone trying to sell something to someone so they could buy something from someone. Whatever they could do to afford the cost of living. The Beethoven entered through the wall and towered over the slum town, they had pulled into “The Garage”, a part of town for such drill machines. Mechanic stations and part shops were here, as well as most of the bars and taverns. They bought the rum and spirits that were found. Two other drillers were here, “The Tea Bear” and a nameless one. The crew wasn’t worried about competition, they knew Wallace wouldn’t buy from anyone else unless they turned up empty handed. Unofficially, the crew belonged to him. A common occurrence amongst relic hunters, to make deals with certain buyers to keep them as exclusive as possible. It was then appropriate for the buyer to request certain items from certain locations, but the constant would be wine sales.
G was preparing to take their haul to Wallace. Lola didn’t like to see Wallace to do business, so she let someone else go. G was eager to take the work, mostly because it was work. The wine was loaded into a crate which would be carried on a tractor like vehicle with the piano. Normally the crate would be mislabeled so as to deter thieves, but the piano gave it away. G would carry a gun with her and held it in plain sight for those to see, it was the best she could do to discourage anyone from trying anything stupid. She sat loading rounds into her gun in the docking bay of The Beethoven. She had woken up some forty minutes ago, not long after they had arrived. The first cigarette of her day was burned halfway through. The piano had just been loaded onto the tractor, Lola and Ray were in the loading bay with G.
“You sure he’ll give us a good price on the piano?” Ray asked, scratching his beard, “ I know a few buyers I could pawn it to. I could spin it easily and make two to three thousand easy.”
“I’ll tell him we already have a standing offer. It’ll tempt him more. He’ll eat it right up, if he doesn’t, you sell it to your buyers.” G says, closing the bullet chamber and aiming her gun towards the ceiling.
Ray nodded and looked at the instrument “Alright, it’s not like Wallace knows whether this is even a nice piano or not.”
“Oh come off it, Wallace isn’t that stupid.” Lola interjects. She is sitting on top of the crate loaded on the tractor, her legs dangling playfully.
“I didn’t say he was stupid. He’s just uh… ignorant of a lot of things.”
“I think he’s stupid. But he’s rich so what does it matter. If he pays a lot for it, that makes it good. Ain’t it a simple life? Damn.” G ruminated and gesticulated with her gun carelessly. “Though, I don’t think many people are smart. Ray is smart. He’s one of the few who bothers enough.”
Lola frowned disapprovingly, but shook it off and leapt from the crate onto the ground.
“Are you good to go, G?” she said.
G aimed the gun at Lola’s head playfully.
“Aye, aye.”
Lola rolled her eyes and grabbed the keys to the tractor that hung on the wall nearby and tossed them to G who caught them with ease. She leapt up and strode towards the drivers seat, he gun held high next to her head. She jabbed the keys into the ignition and the tractor came to life, churning and spitting out exhaust. G lamented for a moment over the thought of visiting Wallace. She pulled her hat down over her eyes as the bay doors opened and revealed the sun.
“Good fucking morning, Wanderfell!” She roared as she charged forth into the dirty city. The tractor had a large bed in the back where the cargo was, it was protected by short wooden walls. G made sure to hold her gun so the sun shone off of it, her cigarette hung limp from her mouth and she had a devious smile on her face. Her eyes were on the grassy hill that loomed on the horizon. Seven tall buildings surrounded a much shorter but wider building. The tall buildings were the homes of the rich families and individual who lived in Wanderfell, and the wider building was for their soirees and get-togethers. Wallace was tall, but G felt like they were all tall, as if they wore shoes to increase their height. He was always clad in a black tuxedo to match his greased back hair. He always walked with his hands clasped behind his back and he spoke with an unbridled false enthusiasm about everything. His enthusiasm for his feigned interest in everything and everyone was sincere though, as it was a habit of high society. G rode through the crowded streets, the people parted and watched her tractor. More importantly, they watched her gun. Cloth was strewn over many of the streets to block out the sun, but they were ragged and wrought with holes, the shoddy metal stands and shops acted as pillars holding them up. G moved from sun beam to sun beam as she made her way to the hill, her tractor sputtering smoke and fumes into the people behind her. No one thought to call her rude, they only watched in jealousy as she rode towards payment. She approached a large gate controlled by a man in a booth, she flashed a badge marked with a decorated “W” for Wallace and he opened it up for her. One citizen, an older woman, tried to sneak in with the tractor, but before the guard could notice G had a gun held to their head.
“There ain’t nothing for you up here.” She said. The woman, wrinkled and tired, stared back at her. She seemed confused, perhaps only trying to sneak in out of an ignorant curiosity. She looked past the gun and straight into G’s eyes.
“I saw my reflection today…” She mumbled, her eyes were sunken and weary. She began to shamble away from the tractor, back to the crowd of people. She continued to speak as she walked away “… You look worse than I do…”
“Pah. Just die already, what can you do but be hungry and tired?” G growled as she turned and continued her drive up the hill towards Wallace‘s tower.

Wallace strode towards the front door after hearing the bell ring. His expression was of smug superiority and he seemed to walk with some sense of purpose. As he turned down the staircase into the antechamber of his home he was greeted by the surly glare of G and the expectant gestures of his butler.
“Sir, Lady G is here to arrange a deal with you.”
“Of course!” He said, clapping his hands together. “Hello G, it is lovely to see you again. I trust you come bearing quality goods?”
“A hefty load of wine and a Piano.” She said, pocketing her gun.
“Hmm, well shall we begin a tour?”
“Aw geeze, how many times have we toured your house Wallace? Do we have to do it every time?”
“Of course! What kind of host would I be if I did not give a tour to my guest. I am a man of class, miss G, these are my ways!”
G raised an eyebrow and grimaced at Wallace. She tapped her foot in frustration and looked out the door at the parked tractor.
“Yes, okay, fine, whatever. Let’s have a tour then.”
Wallace let out an exuberant gasp and gave a delighted smile. G felt sick to her stomach. He gestured for her to follow him as he started for the stairs.
“Wonderful!”
Throughout his house was the sound of classical music. Speakers in every room played the string quartets faintly in the background. Unearthed or recently made statues sat in every corner, paintings and “art” of all kinds were hung on the walls. From original works on canvas to television screens that played commercials on repeat. Wallace spoke of all of them with excitement while G pulled herself behind him, groaning and rolling her eyes at every chance she got.
“A piano you said? As you would imagine, should I purchase it, it would go here in the music room.”
He referred to a large door in the hallway at the top of the stairs, each floor seemed to be dedicated to some museum of objects. He pushed the wide doors open and held them for G who scowled her way past him. The room was tall, most of them were. Great chandeliers hung from the ceiling over a room full of roped off instruments. Pianos, cellos, tubas and all sorts of instruments. G noted that among his collection of pianos, he did not seem to have a stand up piano like the one they had found. She tuned him out as he went on and on about his prized instruments, he fawned over an “electric keyboard” saying it revolutionized music during its time, he was elated to explain that leaders of the old world played saxophones like the one that he owned. G nodded at him, though he wasn’t truly interested in her reactions. Her mind wandered and she looked behind her, she was pleased to find she had been tracking dirt throughout his home.
“… A glorious collection indeed. Quite. Shall we move on to the Hall of Fountains then?”
G gave Wallace a mocking look, “Quite! Indeed! Indubitably” she said, spouting words he had heard him use back his way. Wallace, though confused, smiled at her and went on his way with his tour. G hesitantly footslogged behind him. As they walked up the stairs G noted a large painting labeled “Night Sky” by a fellow named “Vang Ogh”. Next to it was a much smaller framed drawing, it was a drawing done by a child the crew of The Beethoven had found on a refrigerator far beneath the earth. A scribbled drawing of a family standing in front of a house with trees on the lawn. G stopped to look at the painting and the drawing, she leaned in closer and examined the stick figures in the child’s picture. There was a short girl with black hair smiling between a tall pink woman and a tall blue man. A dog like shape flopped on the lawn in ecstasy. She furrowed her brow looking at the bizarre scene.
“Ah yes.” Wallace said noting her interest, “I’ve always enjoyed that one since you sold it to me. I bought this one from a gentleman who came from across the seas, I had seen it books so naturally I had to add it to my collection. But the quaintness of this brilliant drawing done in crayon on printer paper captivated me. Indeed I truly adore bragging to my friends about the price I paid for it.”
“I don’t think I get it.”
“Naturally.”
G scowled at him and turned away from the picture, feigning disinterest in the matter. Wallace smiled and led her further up the stairs and towards the next destination of the accursed tour. Through the great doors of the Hall of Fountains they emerged, and it was just as it sounded. A room filled wall to wall of fountains, the sounds of trickling water emanated the air around them. Wallace, with his plastic enthusiasm for showing his guest around, showered the showering show room with adoration and affection. His voice caressed a particularly garish fountain featuring a winged child peeing into a pool of water. G tapped her foot, a found that reverberated through the room. Wallace turned to her, his smile feeling especially forced at the moment.
“Miss G, I -”
“It’s just G” She interrupted, pointing at her hat.
“Yes well, I understand you might not be accustom to my culture and my way of doing things, but I would appreciate your cooperation.”
G stared at him from behind her hair.
“Our ‘cultures’ are different. This may be important to you but it’s frivolous to me.” She explained. Her voice quivered and she tried to choose her words carefully, attempting to avoid language that Wallace may find crass or callous. “What is important to me and what is ‘my way of doing things’ is getting down to business and selling my haul.”
Wallace sighed. How barbaric, he thought. They do not understand, he considered. Quaint though they may be, it is no wonder they are so poor off and I am not, he concluded.
“Very well. I understand.”
“Good. The piano has a standing offer of three thousand, can you beat that or should I take it back with me?”
“My good lady, I haven’t even seen it yet!”
“Because we’ve been fucking around in here!” She retorted, regretting her words. Wallace glared at her, his expression true. He seethed momentarily before shaking it off, or perhaps repressing it.
“Very well.” He repeated, “Let us take a look at it then.”
“Great.”
In silence they returned to the foyer and went outside to examine the piano. The wind blew on G’s face as she opened the door and the sun attempted to penetrate the sanctity of her hats rim. Though originally she feared she may have crossed a line with her forward behavior towards Wallace, she now felt confidence that her assertiveness had paid off. She walked up to the piano and opened the lid that covered the keys, she fumbled about creating a cacophony of notes as a demonstration for Wallace. She had no idea if the sound was good, but neither would he. He nodded in ignorance, approaching the instrument. It was wooden, it’s varnish faded with time. Nothing about it was particularly ornamental, everything was quite geometric.
“Three thousand you say? Impressive…”
“Yup, we have thirty bottles of rejuvenated wine here as well. One thousand per bottle as usual?”
“Mmm… yes… I think I will take this piano. I will give you 4500.”
“Right on. 34.5k to get me the fuck outta here then.” G said.
“Not just yet, before we are done here I have a specific request of The Beethoven.”
G raised an eyebrow in query, specific requests generally meant a lot of money. She crossed her arms and waited to hear him out.
“Let us discuss it in my study, please.” Wallace said, turning his gaze from the piano to G. He glowered at her. “No tours, of course.”
“Yeah, of course. Whatever.” She said greatly interested in the prospects.

Through his mansion they went, in silence once again, making a beeline for his fifth floor study. A passing butler was told to round up the other servants to bring the piano and crate of wine inside, as well as fetching G’s payment. A room full of books, chairs, lamps and rugs. Wallace offered her a seat as they entered and he went to pull out a book from a shelf. G squirmed in her chair, not used to sitting in something so comfortable. Wallace walked back to her with a book in hand, he seemed quite pleased with it and handled it delicately. He gave it to G and sat down in a chair across from her. She examined it, flipping through it’s pages. It was a large book, filled with large pictures and brief excerpts going along with each one. It was titled ‘Philadelphia‘.
“Philadelphia?” G said, looking up at him. “You want us to dig here?”
“Precisely! As far as I can tell, it remains buried. I came across this literature and grew quite enamored with the location. So many relics of history are buried there! I do so long to own them. ‘Wallace of Philadelphia” I will call myself. Such a niche collection would be delightful, no one else will be able to carry such a title.”
G looked at him curiously and continued to thumb through the book.
“A title” He continued “I would pay quite the sum to obtain.”
She closed the book and placed it on a table next to her and smiled a sly smile.
“You said the magic words.”
“Yes. There is something there that I would like more than everything else. Turn to page 34, please.”
G picked the book up once again and flipped to the page in question. ‘The Liberty Bell’ it was labeled, the subject took up two pages. A large bell with a crack in it was pictured. G didn’t bother to read the text, it was not important to her why this bell was of any interest.
“The Liberty Bell. How well those words will read on a plaque!” He said, his eyes twinkling with excitement. “And of course, whatever else you can find there. I understand the size of this undertaking, you may sell whatever wines you recover there to whomever lords over the town near Philadelphia.”
‘You may’ G pondered those words specifically, resenting his privileged attitude towards her. The thought of such a large paying project delighted her, she was eager to get started.
“We’re all over this. I can’t give you a time frame, but you’ll get your bell and other relics. I guarantee it.”
Wallace smiled and stood up as one of his servants entered the room with a box that held G’s payment. Wallace took it and handed it to her.
“I am so happy to hear that, miss G. Please take this, there should be some extra in there to help fund this trip. I expect you and your crew to earn it.” He turned to his servant “Please escort our guest back to her vehicle.”
G hoisted herself up and drooled over the box of money in her hands, she stepped towards the exit.
“Say hello to Lola tonight for me” G cackled as she pulled out a cigarette.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Please do not light that here.”
“Oh of course, how uncouth of me.”
“Good day, miss G.” Wallace said as she departed, G grunted in response, mumbling profanities as she walked down the hall. Her dirty boots came down on the marble tiles, each step leaving remnants of her ventures underground. She lit the cigarette, and dragged deeply on it, blowing smoke rings towards the paintings on the wall. The servant who walked with her ignored it, not particularly enthused to defend Wallace. They walked to the huge doors that led outside, G made an effort to open the door before the servant could open it for her. She stood on the large porch and looked outwards at the other towers that stood on the rolling green hills. G puffed on her cigarette as the doors closed behind her and mulled over the scene. The tall grass swayed delicately in the wind. She kicked off her boots and took off her socks, carrying them to the tractor and putting them in the passenger seat with the box of money. She walked barefoot to the grassy fields and wiggled her toes in the green. She stared down at her dirty feet while filling her mouth with the tobacco flavored smoke. She tossed her smoldering cigarette onto the ground and stomped it out with her bare feet, she coughed into her hand and looked up at the looming tower.
“Wallace of Philadelphia.” She mumbled under her breath. “Wallace of fucking Philadelphia.”
She spat on the ground and walked back to her tractor, not bothering to put her boots back on. She pulled her gun out of its holster and sat it in her lap as she started the vehicle back up. She drove down the winding path and back into the crowded streets of Wanderfell, heading back towards The Beethoven.



(working on more as we speak)

[Porimlys]

Thanks to the mods who deleted my foolish mistakes ^.^

[Nozdormu]

I'll take a look at it when I get home. ;)

[Porimlys]

(this next part feels a little weak to me, not sure why.)

Ray sat comfortably on one of the circular couches in the pilot room, G was across from him sorting the money into nine envelopes, each with a crew members name on it. “Yeah, I’ve heard of Philadelphia. We should have a map of the old world around here somewhere that shows where it is. I’ll ask my colleagues if they have any maps of the city specifically.” Ray said.
“Careful, Ray. You don’t want word getting out about Wallace wanting this stuff, the last thing we need is bandits and thieves coming to take it from us after we do the hard part.” Dino said, sitting in his chair at the control console.
“Of course. The maps will be of great value though.”
“Hmmm, he gave us an extra five thousand for the work. Shit, we really could use more for this big a fucking undertaking.” G declared as she finished counting the money. She pondered for a moment and spoke again, “One of those houses at our last dig, the one that was collapsing, that definitely had a cellar. We should go back there and try to get some extra cash for this trip.”
“Well we didn’t get it because it was too dangerous, yeah? Why would it be any different now?”
“Well fuck, I wanted to go for it but no one else did. ‘Too dangerous’, hah, it’ll be fine. I’ll go down by myself I fucking have to, with that extra cash we could get ourselves a small scale driller. It‘ll be worth it.”
Dino conferred with his brain and considered the last time they had attempted to excavate an entire city. New York was tough work and a desperate move, The Beethoven was not well off. They barely made enough money to pay for its upkeep, let alone food. They sold to whoever would buy, no one of note noticed or cared for their work. Felix wanted to break the mold and threw all her chips into finding and excavating New York. Their resources had been slim and much of the crew at the time had died. Dino, though eager to tackle another large dig, saw no reason they had to start on such a poor foot again.
“You have a point” He said after some time, “Any extra money would be a huge benefit, and if it wont take any digging to get back there I don‘t see why we shouldn‘t take the risk if you‘re willing. Bring it up to Garren.”
“Damn right I’m fucking willing!” She said, tossing the envelop labeled ‘Dino’ his way. “Where is Garren anyway? I gotta tell that fucker the good news.”
“No clue, he didn’t say.”
“Probably at a bar, that’s where I‘d be.” G supposed.
“Garren and you aren’t exactly alike.” Ray says, fumbling through maps he kept in his bag.
“Pah. I’m going to the bar either way. Make sure everyone else gets their pay. The extra money is in Felix’s envelope.” G slid her envelop into her pocket and stood to leave, “Be sure to tell Garren and Felix about this whole Philadelphia thing, I can’t say I feel like repeating myself.”
She leapt over the couch and left the room. Dino turned around in his chair and rested his head on his arms, looking out the window into the city of Wanderfell.


Garren was happy and comfortable. He sat at a table in a small house, the house of a friend. He sipped on a cup of tea and scratched behind the ear of a dog that sat next to him. A man walked into the room and sat down at the table with him, he had his own cup of tea. A game of checkers was set up on the table and the man who had just entered the room pondered his next move.
“Sorry about that, Garren.” He said,
“Sure, sure. No worries, you have a business to take care of.”
“Well, ideally my boy wont need to ask me questions about prices every few minutes.”
Garren smiled as he watched his friend move his plastic red chip over a few of Garren’s black chips.
“King me”
“Bah! Curse this game, you’re too much better at this than me, Percy.”
“It’s because I have all the time in the world to practice while I’m waiting for you to return.” He said, tossing Garren a smile to alleviate any guilt the statement might cause. “I miss you.”
“I miss you too… but I can’t leave my work. The money is a good cushion for you to fall back on if things get too rough here, and it keeps me with a bed to sleep in and a meal to eat.”
“You don’t have to explain. It will only make me want to argue anyway.”
Percy placed his hand on Garren’s.
“It is rough though, what ever brevity there is among us feels so feigned. At least among those of us bother to fake it.” Garren said, “I find myself thinking ‘If I died out here, I have no idea if I am surrounded by people who care about me or not’, and it’s a grating thought to have.”
Percy frowned. He loved Garren and hated to see him talk like that. They sat and played their game in silence, drinking their tea enjoying each others company. Percy sold tea from the stand in front of his house, it wasn’t the most profitable of businesses in Wanderfell, but it was something he enjoyed and the monetary surplus Garren provided him when he returned to the city helped him live comfortably. Andrew, the boy who works for Percy, lived with him as well. While Andrew managed the sales, Percy spent his time making the tea from the plants he grew in his home.
As the sun set and the buzz of the crowds in the city streets died down, the two shared the stories of their time apart. Garren lit a cigarette as the conversation swerved in the direction of his troublesome subordinate, G.
“The more and more she reveals herself, the more and more I realize how disconnected she is from people. I don’t think she even realizes it, or she just doesn’t value our well being. I don’t know how or where she was raised, but I wish I did.”
“Do you regret taking her on?” Percy asked.
“I don’t know. She works hard and works well, that’s for sure.” Garren thought about the subject and let out an exasperated sigh, “I’m so damn sick of even worrying about her. So I guess I do regret it. How would I let her go though? How would she react? I worry about violence towards me and my crew, of course, but I fear without people around her to try and keep her in check, she would just end up destroying herself. Hell, what’s stopping that from happening even with us around.”
Garren dragged on his cigarette for a long time and groaned, resting his forehead in his hand. He felt Percy place his hand on his leg and looked up to see his kind and genuine face.
“We don’t have to talk about it.”


G let slip an unhinged snicker, a dark and bitter laugh. She sat at the bar with a man she had not met before. He was laughing as well, her aberrant chuckle was contagious in his drunken state of mind. She was not laughing at anything said, though, she laughed as she thought about Lola and Wallace.
“Doesn’t she get it?” She snorted between laughs, the man with her was confused. “I mean… he doesn’t give a shit about her… she’s just another fucking… fucking… thing to him. Another fucking fountain to show off, you know? Hahahahahaha! How daft!”
She slurred her words and swayed in her stool, the man nodded in agreement though he understood nothing that was going around. His face was flushed and his grin toothless.
“He’s a shit bag and she’s an idiot, it’s the perfect fucking fit I guess. What a fucking foolish girl.” G spouted her sermon and downed another glass of whiskey. The man looked at her, ever wobbling in his seat. He had a glazed and dim look in his eyes.
“Eh… yeah… foolish. Hahahahaha.” He mumbled, he blinked long and slowly.
G turned and looked at the man sideways, her hair shrouded her face and true expression. She looked at the simple drunk like she had forgotten that he was there.
“So you’re a prostitute, right?” He blurted, followed by a dopey laugh.
G reached into her pocket and revealed a butterfly knife, which she expertly flipped open even as she was intoxicated. She pointed it inches from his face.
“Fuck off or I’ll cut off your dick you fucking lug.” She seethed at him, perhaps more offended that he had heard her speak at all than at his assumptions. Startled, he fell backwards, hitting his head on the stool next to him. G cackled and kicked him in his stomach. He clutched his head and then his stomach, wary to decide which one hurt more. She concealed her knife once more and turned back to her empty glass.


Garren walked back towards The Beethoven. He wanted to check in with the crew and get payment, so he opted not to stay with Percy that night. The night air was warm. From behind him he heard the stumbling footsteps of G as she bounded drunkenly through the streets, also returning to The Beethoven.
“Garren. Hey! Garren! You fucker!” She shouted at him.
He turned around and waved unenthusiastically. She ran up to him and grabbed his hand, shaking it ferociously in congratulations.
“Garren you fucker, the news is good!” Her eyes were crazed as she spoke, “Wallace has hired us to dig up a city, an entire fucking city! He wants to be ‘Wallace of Philadelphia’ or some fucking nonsense. Think of the money! Think of the work!”
Garren was taken a back.
“Slow down G, what?”
“Work! He wants a giant bell or something. Philadelphia.” She fumbled with her words to explain the situation. Garren pieced it together in time and was distressed. He was worried about having to save his money for this, instead of giving what he could to Percy. As they walked back to the ship, G stumbling more than walking, he considered suggesting they turned down the work. He thought selfishly of his love for Percy and didn’t want to take on such a task.
“It will be tight on our budget… it doesn’t sound like he gave us much extra to work with.” He said.
“Oh shit. Yeah, I thought about that. Remember that house ya’ll decided was too unsafe to scour or whatever? I know for a fact there was a wine cellar there, you can start to tell the houses with proper veins after a while. We should go back and get what we can, no digging required yeah? It’ll be quick and easy money. I‘ll do it if no one else wants to.”
Garren didn’t like the idea. It was unsafe. It was clear the house in question was strained under the weight of the earth, more so than others. Small cave ins had quickly scared them out after they started their excavation of the place. She was right though, it seemed highly likely they could find a source of income from there. It would help their mission and perhaps leave him with enough excess money to give to Percy. His head hurt. He looked at G who deliriously celebrated the news next to him.
“Um… we can consider that.” He mumbled. “Yeah, actually. That’s not a bad idea.” He didn’t want to think about this right now. He didn’t want to think about this and Percy. Felix would take the job, of course, why wouldn’t she? The money would help and he could feel more comfortable leaving Percy for… who knows how long. Alone again. He watched G as she walked beside him, she mumbled under her breath about Wallace.
“I’m not letting you go down there alone though. If we’re going to do this, I’m going too.” He declared.
“Whatever” She said, keeping her eyes on the road in front of her, they were approaching The Garage and could see the drilling machines looming over the buildings of the district.

The two were dark and faint silhouettes in the blacker night. The lights of all the houses, stores and bars were all dimmed. It was late. G slogged her weary body along side Garren, slowed down by his troubled thoughts. They didn’t speak to each other anymore, they didn’t look at each other, they walked alone. The Beethoven welcomed them together, though. Cold, metallic and non judging. It stood before them, providing everything they didn’t need, but basking in their reliance on what it had to give.

[Orifiel Whitedeer]

I don't see why you can't post this here. I mean I post my original crap in here a lot. One thing I would advise though, is to come up with a title. Nothing bugs me more than an untitled piece. And I SUCK at coming up with titles. While I know you probably want to wait for something that sums up the story, give it a name :)

[DarkAngel]

Hello, stranger. You specifically ask for feeback? That happens to be my specialty.:D I'll admit I've never heard of "National Novel Writing Month," but it sounds like an interesting idea. There are indeed many people out there who put writing a novel on their list and never get around to doing it. However, the idea of writing a novel in one month is absurd. For me, at least, every scene needs at least one day's incubation to properly take shape -- usually more. In fact, I once attended a talk by a reasonably successful professional author who claimed he never wrote more than two pages per day! Mabe I'm just a perfectionist.

That said, I'm not enough of an elitist to ignore the sincre efforts of an aspiring practitioner of the art. Given the sheer volume you've posted so far, I'll forgo my usual commentary on grammar and punctuation in favor of storytelling. Besides, that's really what you're after by the look of things. This falls under my usual disclaimer: Nothing said in the course of my critiques is intended as a personal attack on you or your work. You have the right to opt out at any time.

You've got a good handle on the introductory imagry. Getting a good picture of the setting is very important for drawing the reader in. The only thing I would've done differently is to spend some time describing the abandoned house before the miners start breaking through.

The piano was "propped up?" As in an upright piano? Or is grand piano leaned haphazardly against the wall?

Dust is "raucous?" Usually, that word is used to describe as sound or a person; loud, uncouth.

I was under the impression that wine is usually said to get better with age, as long as it stays sealed. Eventually, the yeast drowns in its own waste, and the alcohol prevents anything else from growing. It's said to remain drinkable for hundreds of years. Supposedly, Champagne originally destined for Peter the Great was recovered from a shipwreck in the Baltic. How far in the future are we talking here?

"Whiz" might have some unfortunate implications in the modern lexicon...

He was an ’archaeologist’, more or less, largely in the sense that he could identify the relics of the past that would fetch the highest price with the strange aristocrats that seek to purchase them. The other three were ‘diggers’ like the expedition duo below. Crooner, Lola and Garren.Okay, here we have an example for one of the cardinal rules of the trade: "show, don't tell." The roles of the characters is very important to know, but it would be better indicated by having someone say something like "You're the archeologist; you tell me!" Yes, it takes longer to get the point across, but you shouldn't feel the need to beat the reader over the head with relevant facts. Subtlety builds a sense of mystery.
EDIT: This is showing up over and over again. As I said, don't dump all the info at once. Feed the reader bits and pieces over time. Think of it a bread-crumb trail to lure them in.

I see a few cases of falling into the present tense around the mention of the Beethoven. That seems to become a recurring problem after that. Keep it in the past. You're bucking a few hundred years of tradition here!

As stylistic note, it has become something of a convention on here that we compensate for the lack of indentation formatting by inserting an extra line between paragraphs. It helps to avoid the dreaded "wall of text" phenomenon.

Hang on, they've forgotten how to grow grapes, but not tobacco?

There are a few places that could stand to be re-worded for clarity, but it looks like I'm out of tips on the story. It's a creative -- if dark and gritty -- vision, and I will definitly read the other two posts when there's time. You did very well for a first time out, kid. Good luck for the future.

EDIT: Ori's right; you need a title.

EDIT EDIT: Characterization is something that has to build up over time. Now that I've read more, I can say you're doing well. That meal scene did more to differentiate their personalities than the entire previous story put together! You've found your groove, I think.

[Porimlys]

Thanks for the feedback! Very constructive and very helpful :). I think I have settled on a title ("Symphony in G" >.>) but I don't know how to edit titles.

The nature of NaNoWriMo is pretty much encouraging people to shit out a novel so you have something to work on. True, if I was being paid to do this, I would approach it very differently. A lot of my days worth of writing isn't entirely satisfying because I was so dead set on getting from point A to point B in the story so I would have something to write the next day. So it does kind of end up being a mess, but I'm just trying to get my story and characters to get to where I want them to end up.


I was under the impression that wine is usually said to get better with age, as long as it stays sealed. Eventually, the yeast drowns in its own waste, and the alcohol prevents anything else from growing. It's said to remain drinkable for hundreds of years. Supposedly, Champagne originally destined for Peter the Great was recovered from a shipwreck in the Baltic. How far in the future are we talking here?

In my brief research, I found that bottled wine will go bad after 10-15 years. It ages for a long long time in barrels though. The idea of "wine mining" was the basis of this and I found is so quaint I became hellbent on using sci-fi to make it work, so I'm not sure if it ended up just becoming convoluted. I still find the idea fun :P

I have no idea how far in the future is. Haha

Hang on, they've forgotten how to grow grapes, but not tobacco?


I suppose I should have clarified, grapes are extinct. Tobacco is not.


As stylistic note, it has become something of a convention on here that we compensate for the lack of indentation formatting by inserting an extra line between paragraphs. It helps to avoid the dreaded "wall of text" phenomenon.


Noted. I'll try to go through and do this.

I see a few cases of falling into the present tense around the mention of the Beethoven. That seems to become a recurring problem after that. Keep it in the past. You're bucking a few hundred years of tradition here!


Thanks for pointing that out, I KNEW as I wrote this I was fucking up tenses here and there.

The piano was "propped up?" As in an upright piano? Or is grand piano leaned haphazardly against the wall?


It's an upright piano, I just couldn't remember the right name for them (as it would happen, neither could the characters!)

Okay, here we have an example for one of the cardinal rules of the trade: "show, don't tell." The roles of the characters is very important to know, but it would be better indicated by having someone say something like "You're the archeologist; you tell me!" Yes, it takes longer to get the point across, but you shouldn't feel the need to beat the reader over the head with relevant facts. Subtlety builds a sense of mystery.


Thanks for this feedback, very helpful. How to convey information is always tough, I do hate dialogue like that (though I know it was just a quick example :P), but I can see the frustration in just flat out spelling out the situation. But the future scenario I created is weird and does take SOME explaining, so hopefully I can try to make it interesting enough to look past the blatant exposition.

Characterization is something that has to build up over time. Now that I've read more, I can say you're doing well. That meal scene did more to differentiate their personalities than the entire previous story put together! You've found your groove, I think.

Most of my aim in writing this is to see how well I can create and convey characters, it's what I meant by "experimenting", and probably why my prose suffers. I'm definitely happy to hear you say that about the meal scene because that was entirely the point of that scene. I've created for myself a big line up of characters and it will be tough to get to all of them, but I hope as I post more you'll have more moment like that where you can really get a feel for the kind of person each of them are.

So you know, it'll be interesting as this goes on to see how people interpret different characters, so I can see how I failed and succeeded with them.


Anyway, I'm super tired and I missed my writing for today. Luckily I spent all day being sufficiently inspired by a sweaty guy with an accordion.

[Porimlys]

(Moar!)

A week in Wanderfell had passed. The crew braced themselves for their coming mission, stocking up on food and supplies, saying goodbye to those they parted with again. Garren and G made the case for returning to their previous dig, and as it turned out it was on the way to where Philadelphia was supposed to be buried. Dangerous though it may be, everyone agreed the potential for more resources was worth the effort to search for it again. The sun was blearing on the day of departure, as usual. G returned to The Beethoven with a large carton of cigarette packs, already broken into, and several bottles of rum. She carried them to her room with a cigarette hanging from her mouth, she dumped them onto her bed which was dressed in a dark green blanket and a coverless white pillow. Clothes were strewn about her room, her mine pack rested in a corner. They were set to leave as soon as Lola returned. It didn’t take much imagination to figure out where she was. G sat herself on the bet and leaned back against her pillow, dropping the her cigarette onto the metal ground beside her. She closed her eyes and settled herself in, waiting for the familiar roar of the engine starting up. She was eager to get back to work, feeling like her time in the city was a waste. She drank the time away or spent it trying to fix her hand held driller, sometimes both. Dino had offered to take a look at it, but she shooed him away, not wanting him to take away her distraction. It now sat on a pile of torn rags in her room. She had gotten it to work, and in her boredom, decided to mutilate a pair of her overalls with it. She wanted to leave.
Suddenly The Beethoven shook and groaned, the engine sprang to life and G’s face erupted into a smile. She heard Lola walk to her quarters from the other side of the door. G turned to the wall her bed was against, there was a concave area where a radio and music player sat. She, in her excitement, pressed play. Thunderous metal boomed from the speakers from an unknown band. It was rare when G found herself inclined to listen to music, but fairly consistently she would feel compelled to drown herself in sound when departing on a new trip. She heard Lola knocking on her door angrily, demanding it be turned down, but G consciously ignored her.
The city gates opened to let The Beethoven exit The Garage, emerging slowly like a great bear from it’s den. Felix drove, eager to charge her great machine towards the horizon. She wore a bandana on her head, and gloves on her hands. Her hands controlled the machine expertly, dancing across the console. Her eyes carefully examined meters and readings while never losing touch of what lay in front of her. She knew The Beethoven, she lorded over it yet treated it like an equal. Dino, Grant, Crooner and Johnny watched her from the couch circle, impressed. They all played cards, waiting for specific orders. Felix was keen to take control of the beast, leaving little else for the engineers to do.
“So we’re going BACK to the last dig site? I’m not going down into that house again, it nearly fell on my head before. I can’t believe it. I don‘t know how G convinced Garren to agree to this. I‘ll raise you… however much these green ones represent.” Crooner said, tossing a chip into the middle of the table
Johnny examined his cards carefully and threw in another chip as well “If it works, it’s not he worst idea. A whole stash of wine waiting there for us, it could help us out in the long run.”
“Ray said someone he knew mentioned Philadelphia was shallow, that some of the sky scrapers were popping out of the surface. With the extra money we could get a smaller driller and do a proper excavation, instead of mining into the earth.” Dino said as he threw his cards onto the table, “Bah, I fold. It‘s on you, Grant.”
Grant cackled and puffed on a cigarette, he stomped his feet happily.
“I call! Flush!” He laid down his cards before the four and looked to Johnny expectantly, who sighed and threw his cards down.
“I had bunk.”
“You always have bunk.” Grant laughed. “What about you Croon, will I be taking your chips today?”
Crooner looked at him from beneath a pork pie hat he had bought in town, he cracked a smile and sighed.
“Yeah. I had two pair. Queens.”
Grant leaned forward and scooped up the small pile of chips.
“This game fucking sucks.” Johnny grinned and barked a hearty laugh.
“I’m with you, Johnny.”
Grant scoffed “Why, because ya’ll can’t win?”
“Yeah, exactly!” Dino exclaimed.
“I’m just happy we’re not playing with Garren or G. Gar always wins, his face is unreadable.” Crooner said, collecting the cards and preparing to deal.
“Yeah, and you’re afraid of G. Can’t bluff when you’re quivering in your boots?” Johnny taunted.
Crooner rolled his eyes and dealt out a hand to everyone. Dino turned to Felix.
“Hey Felix, want in this game? I’ll take over the drivers seat, eh?”
She waved her hand dismissively, not looking back. Dino shrugged and picked up his hand, immediately a disheartened look corrupted his face. Johnny nudged Crooner playfully and pointed to Dino, they laughed.
“I think he’s gonna lose again.”
“Maybe I’m lying, eh?”
“You’re too nice to lie, even in poker.” Grant said, shuffling through his cards.
Lola entered the bridge, her hair was wet from showering. She wore a white shirt with red stripes under a pair of black overalls. She nodded in the direction of the cackling gang of card players and walked to the console with Felix, she sat down in a chair beside her and looked out at the desert. Felix turned her head to looked at her. Lola, eyes still set out the cockpit window, scrunched up her face mockingly like she smelled something bad.
“G is playing her music again.”
Felix laughed and patted Lola’s shoulder. On cue, the four behind them laughed loudly at a joke one of them had made.
“Oh, is it really that bad?” Felix asked, smiling.
“The volume is deafening!”
“Mmmm, she’s a silly girl she is.”
Lola turned her gaze from the desert to Felix who focused on piloting with a faint smile on her face. Lola let herself relax and leaned back in her chair. Behind her Crooner, Johnny, Grant and Dino puffed on cigarettes and filled the room with a haze of smoke and laughter. Ray slept soundly in his quarters, not awakened by G’s loud music. He had tired himself out researching Philadelphia and preparing for their new dig site. G was in a trance, somewhere near sleep but not quite allowing herself to rest. Meanwhile, Garren sat in the tractor in the loading bay at the back of the ship. He puffed on a rolled up joint of pot, a parting gift from Percy. He stared up at the tall ceiling, the florescent lights flickered with the thumping bass and roaring riffs of G’s music from the living quarters above. He tried to relax, but he found himself fretting over the usual things he tended to fret over.
“If I died out here, I have no idea if I am surrounded by people who care about me or not“, he thought. He recalled Percy’s face when he had told him this thought, he resented the concern in that face as he was the one who brought it about, but he also cherished its sincerity and longed for the caring touch of Percy. He didn’t want to be here. He didn’t want to do this anymore. He made good money but someday it wouldn’t be worth it.
“I’m not letting you go down there alone though. If we’re going to do this, I’m going too.” He remembered saying to a drunk G a week ago, and he stood by it, but even now he wasn’t sure why. Not long from now he would find himself in that dark pit, in that creaky house, in the throws of danger and in fear of death. He could handle that. He thought about turning and seeing G there with him, he thought about staring into her eyes and not being able to grasp her personality. He thought about the danger and he thought about his fears, the thoughts danced around the image of G and her wild eyes. He took a long drag on his joint and opened his mouth, letting the smoke flow upwards into his nose. “No, she knows what she is doing. An enigma or not, she knows how to handle herself in those situations” he reasoned. He relaxed a bit and closed his eyes. He forced himself not to think about G or the dangers that await him. He sat in silence, waiting for The Beethoven to stop. It was only a matter of time.


The great metallic creature drove down, back into the nest it had carved out for itself. As it screeched to a halt in the sizable cavern, two smaller figures emerged from its innards. They wore packs. The two walked side by side towards a tunnel covered by a large plank of wood. A hastily written message was on the board in red paint.
Danger! It read. Garren left it for another crew who may have decided to take this mine, he wasn’t expecting to be the one who read it next. G started to pull the obstacle off to the side, she grunted to Garren to help her. He went to the other side and pushed in the direction she was pulling. They looked down the tunnel it had been covering. They had taken the lanterns off the wall and put them back in the ship, so now Garren and G walked with lanterns of their own. G had attached hers to her backpack, but Garren held his in his hand.
“Ladies first” G declared as she stepped into the dark passage, Garren followed. They lit up the earth around them as they descended through the mine. Garren followed G’s pace, slow and relaxed. His brow was furrowed as he looked deeper into the dark passage, waiting for the house to reveal itself. He began to grow antsy with the speed of their descent, he just wanted to reach the destination, he grew weary of constantly having to spend time between his goals. He sped up and passed G, she didn’t not follow suit.
“Damn it G, come on. Lets not dawdle.”
She groaned and picked up her pace to match his, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it while she did so. She strode up next to Garren and blew a puff of smoke his way. She was amused at his apparent distress, she hadn’t ever seen him like this.
“Why the fuck are you here, Garren?” She asked.
“To help you.”
“You don’t want to be here.”
Garren did not respond, he merely changed his expression to something far more neutral.
“You work too much, G.” He finally said, “When we’re digging up Philadelphia, you have to follow scheduled rotations like everyone else.”
“The fuck? I fucking work too much?” G scoffed. “The fuck does that mean, I work too much?”
“It means you work too much. You need to rest more.”
“That’s fucking bullshit, Garren, the only fucking reason I’m here with ya’ll is to work. You’re going to force me to take breaks? What, are you gonna chain me up? Throw me in the brig till it’s ‘time’ for me to work again?”
“You have a shit attitude, you work yourself to death and take it out on everyone else.” He said sharply.
G breathed in her cigarette deeply. Her face twitched slightly. She near spat the smoke out.
“Fuck you.”
Garren said nothing, he just kept walking.
“You think I’ll have a better attitude if you force me to stop doing what I love? Seriously, what will you do if I just keep at it even though it’s apparently time for me to stop. What will you do if I just dig through all your fucking schedules?”
“You said it yourself.”
“Fuck! Really? You’ll fucking throw me in the prison!? Who the fuck gives a shit about how much I work? Who the fuck gives a shit how I treat everyone else! They have their own fucking shit to worry about, I should be nothing to them.”
Garren was startled, slightly, at the comfort she said that with. It wasn’t bitter or resentful, it was a matter of fact. I should be nothing to them. It repeated in his head, over and over. It wasn’t just spoken as a truth, there was want and yearning in how she said it. A truth she hoped the world would agree upon, he thought. He was rattled by the statement, and didn’t even realize G was still talking.
“Are you fucking listening to me?”
He looked at her. She was scowling from beneath her tattered hair, her eyes seethed at him. His look was cold as he examined her expression. Smoke bellowed from her mouth from between her clenched teeth.
“No.” He said, “I’m sorry G. This is how it’s going to be.”
“I’ll be worse. I’ll fucking piss in your drinks and spit in your food. This wont help for shit, Garren. Fuck you.”
“Okay, G.” He said. He was tired. He saw the end of the tunnel ahead, dimly lit by his lantern. A window into the house marked the end of their journey into the earth. It was a second floor entry point, left open from the last time they were here. Garren stopped before it, G did not. She crawled through the window and into the other side, not giving any acknowledgement to her companion.
“We need to be careful G.”
The roof of the room she entered had already caved in, dirt was piled in a corner from where it had spilled in. The walls were cracked and the floor creaked under the weight of her boots. When Garren entered the room, G was already gone, looking for the staircase down. Garren examined the room, it was the room of a child. He could make out the faded image of fire trucks on the walls of the room, at least where the wallpaper hadn’t fully peeled off.
Thunk!
The sound was of G’s zip line gun firing it’s hooks into the ceiling and wall between the staircase downstairs. Garren groaned and briskly walked to where G was.
“Be fucking careful” He growled, “Come on G! We can’t go shooting hooks into a ceiling this weak!”
She ignored him and slid down to the bottom, Garren watched carefully as the ceiling hesitated if it was going to carry her weight or not. She didn’t say anything, she didn’t even look back up as she pulled on the rope. It detached from the ceiling and recoiled into the gun. She stormed off to parts unknown and Garren was getting annoyed at her behavior.
“What a child” he mumbled under his breath as he carefully descended the staircase, keeping as light a foot as he could.


G raged as she worked her way into the basement. Her anger was channeled into the arduous task of laughing in the face of danger as she navigated the collapsing house. Half the kitchen was destroyed, a bathtub filled with dirt had fallen through from the room above. Debris was scattered everywhere. This house was losing it’s battle against time. G found the door to the basement, it had fallen off it’s hinges. She pushed it and it fell down the staircase in a cloud of dust. She heard Garren curse at the racket from somewhere behind her. He emerged into the room as she aimed her gun down the staircase. Garren wanted to protest this time, but he saw she angled it so the shot behind her hit the wall. The rope fired and zipped into the wall above and below. G once again swung herself down, this time throwing the gun back up at Garren, who caught it. He set down his lantern and let the zip line carry him down, catching himself at the bottom. The house creaked. Garren was wary.
“I fucking knew it! It’s not as full as the last one, but it’s still worth its weight in gold.” G exclaimed, standing in the doorway of a wine cellar.
Garren walked up behind her and looked in. It was true, it wasn’t as abundant as the last cellar they had found, but it was worth it. So far. They went to business and began loading the bottles onto their packs. There was slightly more wine than they could carry on their packs, so when the last clasp grasped it’s bottle of wine, they resorted to just carrying the next few bottles up. Garren went to attach his lantern to his pack in the same manner as G, so he wouldn’t have to carry it. He swung his pack on and stumbled slightly, his center of balance was a little off, the lantern made one side heavier. He adjusted and picked up the bottles of wine he was going to carry out. He looked at G who stood, ready and waiting to go. The shadows of her hat and hair covered her face entirely, she was unreadable. Garren bore a grim look as he turned away from her and started for the stairs, stepping over the fallen door at the bottom. G followed him up, neither bothered to use the zip line this time, their hands too full.
They worked their way back upstairs to the exit, the house seemed weaker than when they had entered. They carefully treaded up the stairs to the second floor, G managed to squeeze her way in front of Garren at one point and reached the top first. As Garren reached the top, he fumbled. With his hands full and nothing to stop himself, he fell forwards and crashed into a wall. The house trembled and shook in anger. The wine had fallen from his hand and broken, but he wasn’t concerned about that, as he quickly attempted to stand back up he looked up at the ceiling. It started to give way. The hole he had made in the wall had send a crack up to the point of impact from G’s gun on the ceiling. He gave G a desperate look before the world came crashing down on him. Dust dirt and debris filled the room, G stepped back, clearing the hair from her eyes. There was panic in her eyes.
“Garren? Shit. GARREN!?” She shouted.
She heard him groan through the clouds of airborne dirt, cursing loudly. She waded through the dust and tried to find him, but stopped suddenly as she heard the ceiling above her creak and crack. It wouldn’t last much longer. The room cleared enough to see Garren, an arm and his head were visible, the rest was buried under a pile of rubble and dirt. He looked up at her in pain, coughing.
“G… help me out.” He writhed what little of his body he could.
She stared at him with concerned and crazed eyes, but did nothing. She continued to hear the sounds of the walls around her giving way.
“I… uh…”
Garren’s eyes widened at G, who stood paralyzed before him.
“No. G, no. You have to help me. You have to get me out of here.” He pleaded, his voice quivering, his eyes began to well up, his voice cracked from the weight of his desperation.
G’s body and face were riddled with hesitance, but her mind had been made already. The ceiling above her continued to crack and groan.
“G DAMMIT. HELP ME! HELP ME!” He shouted at her, spit flying from his mouth as he did so. Tears ran down his cheek, he strained his neck to look into G’s eyes, they looked confused and scared.
“I… I’m sorry Garren, I can’t.” She stuttered, taking a step back and looking at the ceiling.
“NO.” He screamed, “NO G. FUCK! FUCK! HELP ME! HELP!”
His face was contorted into features she had never seen before, he was hardly recognizable as he attempted to squirm his way out of the rubble.
“FUCKING HELP ME!” His wretched voice screeched.
The ceiling above gave way, a loud snap was heard. G ducked her way into another room and ran for the exit, wine in hand, having never let go. She heard the crash as the room finished collapsing, a wave of dust followed her out of that room. She heard Garren’s cries and screams as she ran away from him.
“Percy…” He muttered as the rest of the ceiling collapsed, his face quickly transformed one of anger and rage.
“G…” He spat the name with furious intensity, cursing and condemning it as something falling struck him hard on his head. His body lie broken and buried as the house gave way to the earth. G scrambled through the window, dropping a bottle of wine. She was frantic and didn’t go back for it. She ran and stumbled through the dark tunnels, her eyes still wide and bewildered.
“What the fuck happened?” She said to her self in a gasp. She collapsed to the ground, pulling off her pack and rolled onto her back, panting. Her eyes stared up at the top of the tunnel and her heart pounded. She began to wrap her head around the events that had just transpired. Her chest heaved and her heart began to ache. The string that tugged on her heart was the same that guided her hand into her pocket to reveal a flask of rum. She scampered to the side of the tunnel and sat upright, she began to drink from the flask, suckling and savoring it’s contents.
“Shit Garren. Shit, shit, shit.” She ran her hand through her hair, knocking her hat onto the ground.
“SHIT!” She screamed out into the darkness. Her cry sunk into the earth and was forgotten. She clawed at her scalp as tears wet her face. Confusion wracked her body like a cancer. Another deep drink from the flask.
“Garren is dead.” She told herself, “Garren is dead. I am alive. Garren is dead and I am alive. I couldn’t have saved him, there wasn’t any reason to try. Garren died, but I lived. I did not make a mistake.”
She wept.
“FUCK. I shouldn’t be like this!” She hurled the liquid down her throat, desperate for its effects. “Fuck. I did not help him because there was no reason to. There was no way I could have saved him. I am not him, I am me.”
She sat there and blubbered to herself, finishing off her flask. The tunnel around her spun and she slowly grew numb inside. She was drunk. She looked down the tunnel half expecting Garren’s broken body to come crawling out of the darkness, arms out to strangle her. Seconds blended into the minutes and she quickly lost track of time. She smoked a cigarette or two, staring down the tunnel towards the collapsed house. Finally she barked a cruel cackle and slid down the wall onto her back. The laugh resonated through the cold dirt halls, the same maddened laugh she bellowed while sitting on her ass in the bar a week prior. She rolled onto her sides, convulsing as she laughed. Her hand gripped the empty flask with a feverish intensity. Slowly she settled down and stared off into the tunnel, this time facing the exit. To The Beethoven. To everyone else. She grew cold and began to pull herself up from the ground, picking up her backpack. She strapped it on and took a deep breath of the cold and stale earthen air. She walked drunkenly towards the exit of the tunnel, pondering her uncertainty.
Suddenly Lola and Johnny emerged from the darkness. G wasn’t sure if it was real, she looked at them with curious and confused eyes.
“G? G Where have you been? Where is Garren.” Johnny asked.
G looked back down the tunnel she came from in silence.
“G?” Johnny repeated.
She turned back to him and Lola, staring blankly at them.
“Garren is dead.”
Lola gasped and put a hand over her face, hiding her concern from some invisible devil searching for weaknesses. Johnny blinked and widened his eyes.
“What? What happened? Where is he?”
“I… uh… the room we were in collapsed. He was crushed. There was nothing I could have done.” G said keeping her eyes locked onto Johnny’s. Her hands occupied themselves by fiddling with the straps of her pack.
Tears ran down Lola’s face, running onto the hand that covered her mouth. She sobbed loudly, heaving. Johnny stood there still staring at G, still trying to believe what she said.
“Oh…” He said finally, recoiling and stepping back. He broke eye contact with G and looked away. “Fuck.”
“A-Are you sure?” Lola finally croaked, her voice garbled through her sorrow.
“I watched him die.” G said coldly, “He tripped and fell into the wall and the ceiling just… fell on top of him. He died almost immediately, something struck him on his head.”
“How did you survive?” Lola squeaked, she sounded bitter.
“I don’t know. I saw it coming a split second sooner than him I guess.”
“Do we… should we go find him?” Lola asked, she was confused.
“Why bother. He’s already buried.” G said, continuing her walk back to The Beethoven.
Lola turned to look at Johnny who stared at the wall perplexed, trying to figure out what to make of the situation. He shook his head to break the trance and noticed G leaving.
“I uh. Oh. Yeah… We should tell everyone else.” He scratched his head and neurotically looked at the time on a watch on his wrist. He hesitated for a moment and started to follow G, not looking back at Lola. She looked around as the two left, frazzled.
“I’ve never known anyone who died. How do I know if I’m… doing this right?”
Johnny turned his head and beckoned for her to come.
“I don’t think there is a right or wrong way to approach this, Lola.”
Lola pulled a loose cigarette she kept in her front pocket and lit it as she slowly slogged behind G and Johnny.
“What was the last thing he said, G?” She asked. No one responded.
They continued in silence.
“I wonder what he was thinking.” She piqued, and again there was no response. She dragged on her cigarette, the crackling of the embers was loud in the dead air.
“How did he look? The look on his face, I mean.” She asked. G flinched, but no one said anything. “I wonder if he has the same look on his face now.”
G stopped and turned around and walked towards Lola, bumping into Johnny as she did.
“Lola, shut the fuck up. Garren tripped and fell into the wall. Like a fool. He died, like a fool.” She stressed those words, nearly spitting them. “That is how people die. That is how you will die, that is how I will die, that is how Johnny will die and that is how Garren died.”
Lola grimaced at the stench of alcohol coming from G’s mouth.
“You’re drunk.”
“You will be too, soon.”
“Guys… can we please just go back and tell everyone? They need to know.”
G turned back around and continued her slow stride towards The Beethoven. Lola raised her middle finger at G and scowled at her the entire walk back, filling the air with the crackle of her burning cigarette instead of her questions.
“Oh.” Johnny said suddenly, he pulled out a radio attached to his belt and raised it to his mouth. He clicked the push to talk button and then hesitated, and let go.
“Johnny? Hello?” Came Dino’s voice.
“Uh…” Johnny struggled with his words… he pushed the button again and when he spoke his voice quivered and cracked. “We found G. Garren is dead. We‘ll be back to the digger soon.”
He held onto the button for a while, not letting Dino respond. Eventually he turned the radio off entirely.

[DarkAngel]

More, I see. Keep at this: your vision is compelling. You'll get the execution eventually. Just remember what I said about world-facts. These descriptions should be worked into a conversation whenever possible. That's really the thing you're missing. Anyway, keep experimenting. That's really what my Falconbridge stuff started out as. :)

One discrepancy that I thought you intended to address in town was about our dear aristocrats. You see, it's impossible to spend lavishly without an equally lavish income. The great nobles of old did this by owning vast tracts of land and charging everyone rent. Even now, the world's rich make money from investments. How do people like Wallace get their money? Perhaps, the aristocrats own the food-growing fields and act as a cartel on food. That would give everyone a great reason to hate them.

[Porimlys]

One discrepancy that I thought you intended to address in town was about our dear aristocrats. You see, it's impossible to spend lavishly without an equally lavish income. The great nobles of old did this by owning vast tracts of land and charging everyone rent. Even now, the world's rich make money from investments. How do people like Wallace get their money? Perhaps, the aristocrats own the food-growing fields and act as a cartel on food. That would give everyone a great reason to hate them.

I was too lazy to work that into the story just yet, but I did think of that. It's more or less the reasons you said, I just didn't find a good place to mention it.

Edit: Updated that last passage to finish the scene.

[Porimlys]

(little passage, I updated the last scene as well so there is some more there if you haven't read it yet! Does anyone care? I do! So there!)


Everyone sat in silence after hearing out G’s story, they all sat in the mess hall. Crooner scowled and sneered at G who stood leaning against a cabinet full of liquor.
“This is your fault. Going back there was your idea.” he snarled.
G didn’t respond except to take a bottle of rum out of the cabinet, take a drink from it, and then set it on the table open. She looked at Crooner and sat down with everyone else. Her lips were thin and impatient, her eyes were weary, but she was ready to do battle with Crooner. She stared him down, menace crackling in her eyes like fire, waiting to see if he would continue. Crooner leaned forward and grabbed the bottle of rum and took a swig. He stared back at G, saying nothing but telling her everything.
“Garren came to me with the idea. He supported it. I will NOT tolerate childish blaming on my vessel, Crooner.” Felix said with a commanding voice, she snatched the bottle from his hand and gave it to Lola. “Pour everyone a drink.”
Lola stood up and went to the kitchen to bring back glasses. She shook as she moved, tears still stained her face.
Grant and Dino stared at the table, Ray at the light above. They festered in the wound opened by the news.
“So… what next?” Johnny asked Felix, adjusting his glasses.
“What next? We go to Philadelphia and do our job. We’ll stop in Fading on the way to sell what G came back with and to mourn. It’s unfortunate and tragic, but we have to move on and we can’t antagonize each other.”
G grunted in agreement, “Aye, people die.”
Crooner was about to erupt at G when Lola returned to the room, she had a plate of eight glasses. She set it down on the table and began to pour everyone a glass of rum. Crooner took his and fired it down his throat.
Felix took her drink from Lola and took a delicate sip.
“Lola will be taking Garren’s place as head digger. I’m sure you will be able to respect her position as you respected his.”
Lola stopped what she was doing and blinked, looking at Felix slightly bewildered. G’s eyes darted from Crooner to Felix, then to Lola.
“Th-Thank you, captain. I’m honored.” Lola stammered.
Johnny quirked his brow at the red head, arms crossed, before nodding acceptingly. Crooner found himself smirking at G as she raged silently in a furious pout. This time, she chose not to say anything. She pushed her chair away from the table and stood up, grabbing a drink from the table and leaving for her quarters. She downed the drink swiftly and called back to the crew.
“Goodnight.”

“Dino, Grant, get us to Fading. Lola come with me.” Felix said as she stood up, “Everyone else try to relax.”
She walked out of the room and Lola followed her down the hallway.
“Um, Felix, not to sound ungrateful but why did you promote me?”
“G’s unstable, Crooner instigates conflicts far too often and Johnny just isn’t leadership material. You’re a good person and a good worker, and I see a strong leader in you, I truly do.” Felix responded quickly, as if she expected the question.
“I see…” Lola said, hesitating to follow up with something else.
“Just don’t second guess yourself. You’ll grow into the position. And as you know, our diggers work well enough with fairly little direction, but that doesn’t mean we don’t need a backbone.”
“But what about G?”
“G is your underling, now. Do what you need to do in difficult situations, G is manageable.”
“For now”, Lola thought. They marched through the tight corridors and climbed down ladders until they got to Garren’s office, near the entrance door. They stopped at the door and Felix turned to Lola.
“I know you’re capable, Lola. I’ve had you in mind as Garren’s replacement for a while, you have to prepare for accidents like this.” She said, “Right now I need you to go through Garren’s things and pick up where he left off. Digging supplies, planning for Philadelphia, whatever. If you find anything regarding his recent payment, let me know.”
Lola’s head was swimming, part of her was still standing in the dark tunnels hearing the news of Garren’s death. She blinked and stood up straighter.
“Yes. Of course.”
“Atta’ girl. We‘ll have the opportunity to buy digging supplies while in Fading. Try to have a list prepared.” Felix smiled and hugged her tight. Lola hugged back, her tears had nearly dried.
Felix walked to the engine room. As she turned a corner, she heard the sound of someone loading the wine bottles into the re-distiller. She peeked into the wine room, it was Johnny. He looked back at her as he shoved a bottle into the receiver.
“Oh… hello. I know you said to relax, but there was really nothing else for me to do.”
“No, good on you, Johnny. I almost forgot this needed to be done. I hope we can find a decent buyer in Fading.”
“I’m sure we will. Something good has to balance out this shit.” He said, pouring the contents of another bottle into the funnel. The machine swished and swirled as it rejuvenated the liquid.
The engine room began it’s inharmonious squawking and moaning as it came to life as Dino and Grant compelled the great beast to move. Felix nodded silently and left the room, moving next door. She pulled a bandana out of her pocket and tied it around her head while pulling her hair back into a pony tail. She rolled up her sleeves and got to work watching and maintaining her lovers heart. She toiled away tightening pipes and reading gauges. In the corner she had a stereo which played Beethoven’s Symphony No. 2 loudly. Through the steam works she glided and danced, not letting a thing go awry. Not while she watched over it.
“Oh Garren…” She said, as tears rolled down her face and blended with the sweat. A piece of her ship was lost now, and she reeled in its pain. It was done though, and she knew the best course of action was to move on, and she knew she could, but she hoped and wondered if the rest of her crew could do so as well.

[DarkAngel]

More notes on the Symphony:
Garren is perhaps the only person who seems to deeply care about G, and he spends his final moments begging for help instead of "save yourself?"

Anguish is hard to do, but you handled it reasonably well. When I get it right, it's usually by accident! Garren's death felt a bit forced, but we see the inner workings of the characters best when they cope with adversity. Johnny forces himself to keep going. Lola is a cupcake. G is a coward: she keeps a wall of alcohol between herself and her problems, but substituting work most of the time. Hyper-agressive is actually hyper-defensive.

I will say, however, that Lola starts crying a bit too quickly. She didn't see it herself, so there would be a brief period of denial. The crying starts gradually at the same rate that she accepts the fact. That's how I've seen it play out in real life.

Cigarettes crackle? I suppose I've always been too repulsed by smokers to notice anything beyond the smell, smoke, and flame...

This is more of an editing concern than writing, but I notice you're making a lot of very short segments. If you're anything like me, these mark the boundries between sittings. This is one of the ways forcing yourself to write so quickly cripples you. Those last two scenes (the meeting and the restart) flow into each other very well. The only change is that the latter uses Felix as the perspective character, while the former doesn't seem to have one. It would be very easy to roll these together.

I start every scene with a rough plan: what happens, what facts, etc. Letting the chips fall where they will is essential for flow and heart, but a bit of advance thought (prewriting) can do a lot for cohesivness. Anyway, this is just a first draft, so who cares?

[Porimlys]

(A little more, passage isn't quite finished but I felt like posting it anyway. I lost my wind a bit these past few days, so is the nature of this strange writing project >.<)

Fading was much smaller than Wanderfell. It housed a similar green pasture as where Wallace resided, but only two families lived there. The town housed several mechanics and mining supply shops, so it found its business in the traveling relic hunters. The Beethoven rolled in not long after the sun rose into the sky and embraced the land in its grasp. There was no wall surrounding Fading.
G sat on the roof of The Beethoven, a viewing platform surrounded by a small metal fence. She stared at the small city and drank from yet another bottle of spirits. She hadn’t slept, she spent the night up on the roof drinking. Her brain was fuzzy and hardly harbored any cognitive abilities at this point, she merely stared at the view and merely acknowledged its existence. She was coiled away in a corner, leaning against the fence that prevented her from falling to her death. She was surrounded by the butts of cigarettes and an empty bottle of rum. At some point in the night, back when she could recall why she had come up here, she roared to the heavens obscenities and her perceived truths about Lola. Over time it became a whimpering whisper of reassurance that she had made no mistakes in the mine with Garren. She drank herself into peace of mind. As The Beethoven screeched to a stop, she stood up and struggled to stay balanced as she walked to the hatch leading down into the hull of the ship. As she walked to the exit she noticed someone in Garren’s office, confused she peered in from the door. It was Lola, sitting at what was once his desk. She looked up at G.
“Do you have experience in driving small diggers?”
G took a drink from her bottle and nodded, eyeing Lola curiously.
“Great.” Lola said, only looking at G for a moment. She stepped out of the doorway and swayed her way to the exit. She stepped out into the sun again, it was low enough in the sky that it blinded her. She scowled and turned away from it, letting it chose the direction she walked. The streets in Fading were much more barren, it’s market place exclusive to only one main street. G walked among drunks, druggies and children playing with each other. A ball rolled out in front of her, having escaped the grasp of the children, and she instinctually kicked it as hard as she could. As it flew over a small shack, a small boy ran up to her and cried out in protest. She gave him a grim and menacing look and he stepped back away from her. As she finished the last of her alcohol she looked around, realizing she had no idea where she was going. She tossed the empty bottle aside and approached a dirty and ragged man lying in a small alley between houses.
“Hey.” She grumbled as she kicked him in the side. He groaned and turned away.
“Hey. I’m fucking talking to you.” She kicked him again.
He looked up at her with confused and distant eyes.
“What? Who are you?”
“Where are the whores.” G asked, crossing her arms.
“Huh?”
“Prostitutes. Whores. Where are they.”
The man squinted his eyes looking up at G and pointed to the south.
“That way, man.” He said in a whine, “The brothel is the biggest building in that direction. Now leave me alone!”
G gave him one last swift kick and left in the direction he pointed. She saw the building he was talking about, a tall pole rose from it’s ceiling like a steeple, it was garnered in colorful cloths and lights.
Lola had spent the entire night sorting through the various things in Garren’s office. Most of the papers had to do with finances, how much money it would take to feed everyone, ship repairs, tools and such. Lola put those aside in favor of a particular stack of papers she found. They were letters written for and from Garren, conversations between him and Percy. She had never heard of Percy, and she read them with great interest. Everything from mundane daily experiences to detailed reminders of their affection for each other were enclosed in the documents. Lola couldn’t stop herself from reading them, though which each letter she found herself missing Garren more and more, if for no other reason than to get to know him better. She leaned back in his chair. No, in her chair. She set down the letter she had been reading and sighed. Felix had requested any information about Garren’s money and the letter she had just read revealed that he sent a sizable chunk of his payment to Percy every time they cashed in a haul. She stood up from her seat and cracked her neck. She still felt the stains of her tears and her heart was still heavy, but she carried herself with strength. She walked towards the engine room where she expected to find Felix. She was there, asleep in a folding chair. The engine room was as silent as it would ever be with the ship at rest, and with it Felix rested as well. Lola hesitated for a moment and then shook Felix gently while calling her name.
“Hrrmph. Hmmm. Huh?” Felix was roused from her sleep, she looked up at Lola and smiled. “Oh… hello Lola…”
“I’m sorry for waking you. We’re in Fading.”
“I see.”
Felix sat up in her chair, the smile from her face slipped away as she recalled what had happened the previous day.
“So what do you need?” She asked Lola.
“Well um… did you know Garren had a boyfriend? His name was Percy.”
Felix frowned and scooted closer to the edge of her seat.
“No. I didn’t know that.”
“Well I guess he’s been sending a lot of his money to him.” She explained, “You asked for me to tell you anything about what he’s done with his money… that’s all I found. I’d reckon the rest of it is in his quarters.”
Felix nodded.
“Percy, eh? I never took Garren for that kind of guy. Interesting.” She scratched her chin for a moment, “The question is, when we find his money, should we give it to this Percy or use it to help out The Beethoven.”
Lola had an uncomfortable look as she heard the question.
“I… um… I think it is more rightfully ours.” She stammered. “No doubt Garren would want us to give it to this person he cared about… but… we don’t have the luxury to provide that sort of charity. We should think about Philadelphia.”
Felix smiled again, standing up.
“That’s a tough decision. I think it is the right decision as well. While we are here in Fading I will send a message to Garren‘s Percy and let him know what happened.” She placed her hand on Lola’s arm and gripped it reassuringly.
“What about materials? What should we be picking up while we’re here?” She asked Lola.
“I think we should purchase a small digger or two, they are optimal for above ground excavations. Ray tells me that they say Philadelphia is shallow, so I think that will be the way to go.”
“Make it so.”
Lola nodded. Validation of her leadership instilled her with confidence, but it also riddled her with guilt. “Garren is dead.” She thought. “Should I feel good about this?”. She wandered back to her new office and stared at the room. In the corner she noticed a stereo had been uncovered as she went through the various stacks of paper. She walked over to it and pressed the eject button, an unmarked CD popped out. She pushed it back in and pressed play. She sat down and kicked her feet up onto the desk as the stereo began to play a muddled recording of someone playing jazz piano. She hadn’t heard anything like it before, it was soothing and laid back. “I don’t think there is a right or wrong way to approach this, Lola.” She remembered Johnny say. The recording was rough and scratchy, but the notes wrapped around her gently and with care. “There’s a proper way to do everything, Lola.” Wallace had told her once. She thought of Garren sitting in this chair listening to the recording. She wondered if it was Percy playing the piano. The song ended and she heard laughing in the recording and the sounds of matches being lit. The next song began with the piano again, but another horn instrument joined in as well after a while. Lola had no idea what it was, she wasn’t well versed in music. If it was Percy and Garren, she thought it fascinating that they kept these instruments around to play and not sell. Her heart swelled at the thought of Garren’s passion and joy for his partner, she found herself simultaneously happy and sad. Her emotions swirled as the notes danced through the air calling out to her and repeating the same message. She smiled.
“Sorry Wallace, I think Johnny’s right. There isn’t a right or wrong way to grieve.” She said to no one. She closed her eyes and leaned back further in her chair, listening closely to the music.

G writhed in drunken pleasure. A concubine occupied herself between G’s legs in the colorful and calico room. G’s hand rested on her companions head and gripped her hair as she reached climax. In her delectation obscenities poured from her mouth. The harlot wiped her mouth and climbed up the bed beside G, who panted in exhaustion. She still wore her hat, but was otherwise naked.
“Now perhaps, me?” The whore asked in a broken accent.
G looked at her, still out of breath.
“What? No. That’s not what I paid you for.” She replied, slurring her words. “Do it yourself if you must. But get me a \ drink first.”
The girl nodded and stood up from the bed, walking to a small bar across the room. She poured G and herself a small glass of liquor and returned to the bed. G took her glass and drank it quickly, she was still quite drunk. She lay there staring at the walls, decorated with pink red and orange cloths. The light above had a filter giving the room a soft red aura. She was at the heart of the brothel in Fading. The girl she had chosen sipped on her drink and casually pleasured herself.
“So… your name?” She asked.
G pointed at her hat, “G.”
“Hmmm. Peculiar name. What does G do?”
“Dig.” She replied, grabbing a cigarette from the pockets of her overalls that lie on the bed beside her.
“Oh? You dig old world?”
“Mhmm” G lit the cigarette that stuck out from her mouth. “I’m fucking good at it too. My crew, though, they are stupid and short sighted.”
The girl winced beside G, she was quite occupied exciting herself. G puffed on her cigarette and watched the smoke disperse in the air above her.
“People fucking die, they act like the whole fucking world ends with this guys life. Who the fuck cares. Shit. They wouldn’t give a shit if I died, and they’re better off that way.” She rolled out of the bed and swayed over to the bar, grabbing the whole bottle.
“This whole world is fucking insane. Wallace of Philadelphia? Who is he impressing other than himself. His existence is purely to fucking stroke his ego, while ours is to help him.” She rambled, drinking deeply of the bottle.
“Wallace of… Philadelphia?” The girl asked between gasps.
“Yeah this shit head aristocrat fucking… wants us to dig up an entire city for him.” G paced the room anxiously while smoking her cigarette.
The girl finished as G finally found her way back to the bed, she convulsed in revelry and satisfaction and snatched the bottle from G’s hands.
“He pays you? He is rich?”
“Fuck.” She leaned back, her hand gripping her head. “Uh… yeah… big money. He wants a god damn bell…”
The girl smiled and drank from the bottle.
“That how you pay for me?”
G groaned and nodded.
“You and crew are going to this… Philadelphia after stay in Fading?”
G gave her a thumbs up, she drifted off into a drunken sleep. She dreamed of Garren crawling towards her from out of the tunnel, battered and broken, cursing her name. He screamed and clawed at her, but he never reached her. She sat in the endless tunnel staring at him. She exhaled a puff of smoke that resembled the cross hairs of a gun, it hovered over his face for some time before she woke up. Her companion was gone.
Her head felt like it had been split open with an axe, she turned to see the bottle sitting on the pillow next to her. There was a note attached to it.
“On me.” It read, signed with a smiley face. G shrugged and shook it, it was still half full. She opened it up and started at it. She wasn’t sure how long she was asleep. She looked at the clock above the door and realized she didn’t even know when she got here. She wandered to a bathroom to empty her bladder before scouring the room for her clothes. The whole building wreaked of sex. She waded through a sea of whores as she left, all of them offering to outdo their colleagues. G merely drank herself back into a drunken trance and ignored them. She stepped outside and immediately regretted it. The sun and was bright and unforgiving. Though it was shining bright in the sky, it was inching towards its resting place on the horizon, it was late in the day. G waltzed her way back to The Beethoven, finishing off the bottle. When she arrived, she noticed Johnny and Crooner driving two machines into the docking bay. One was equipped with a large claw used for digging and the other had a drill. They had a large compartment in the back where other attachments were housed. G wiped drippings of booze from her mouth and walked to the two workers. She stopped just outside the open door and watched as Crooner drove his machine inside first.
“This is some nice shit.” She remarked.
Crooner turned to see who spoke and saw G, he growled and went back to slowly driving the vehicle into it’s new home. Johnny acknowledged her with a nod.
“Nice to see some proper fucking equipment, ya’ll pawn those wine bottles?”
“Yeah, Crooner found a guy willing to take them. Got about 800 a pop, not so bad.”
“Heh, not too shabby” She finished off the bottle, “We’re one less mouth to feed anyway.”
Crooner parked his vehicle next to the tractor and got out of the driver seat. He walked past Johnny as he drove his digger up the ramp into the bay next. He approached G, his hand over his mouth in a furious contemplation.
“Haven’t you a shred of decency? How do you talk like that? Garren died yesterday, on a mission suggested by you. How can you shrug it off so easily? Of course, you were the only one down there, maybe you killed him because you’re a fucking psychopath! You’re hardly even fucking human!”
G dropped the bottle at her feet, reeled back and punched Crooner in the face as hard as she could. He dropped like a rock. Johnny did not notice as he parked his digger. G shook her fist and spit on the ground.
“Fuck you Crooner. There was nothing I could have done. He died instantly.” She lied. “I can move on, you can’t, so I don’t need the likes of you judging me. You bag of shit… You fucking bag of shit!”
She roared and kicked Crooner on the ground repeatedly.
“YOU FUCKING SHIT BAG. FUCK YOU.” Spittle flew from her mouth.
Johnny heard her scream and leaped out of his machine to run and stop her. As she prepared to kick him once again she tripped on the bottle she had dropped. She fell to the ground as Johnny reached the scene. G struggled to get up, she could hardly see as her mangy hair obscured her vision. Johnny pulled her up and moved her away from Crooner. G was in a drunken haze, she was only partly aware of what was happening.
“Fucking… bag of…” she mumbled under her breath as Johnny sat her down by a pile of crates. Johnny went over to Crooner to make sure he was okay. Crooner groaned and tried to get up, he clung to his side in pain. He looked at G and Johnny was prepared to restrain him, but Crooner had no anger in his expression, only pity.
“That wretched thing.” He said quietly, staring at G who sat wallowing in her inebriation. “How she came to be, I will never know.”
He turned away from Johnny and walked up the ramp into The Beethoven. Johnny looked from him back to G, confused at what to do.
“I… uh… are you okay Crooner?”
“Yeah. I’m fine. In the pink.”
Johnny walked over to G and sat down next to her.
“G… are you okay?”
She grunted, neither affirming or denying her status.
“I know it’s been tough lately, but you can’t take it out on other people. You can‘t go doing stuff like this. You‘re hurting yourself and your friends.”
G turned her head and looked at Johnny, she seemed distant and lost.
“Come on, let me help you up.”
As he reached for her hand she pulled it away and darted up, stumbling slightly as she did.
“Friends.” She laughed.
She straightened her posture and cracked her neck and walked towards the side entrance, staggering only slightly. Johnny inquisitively watched her go, wanting to help her but knowing it was futile. He noticed that the engine of his digger was still running, and he stood up to finish his job.

[DarkAngel]

Yippee! More post-apocolyptic tomb raiding!

If G is staggering drunk, she walks pretty well once she gets to the ground. Come to think of it, wouldn't an external observation platform be a liability for a tunneling machine?

There's gap where we shift from Lola back to G, as there should be. However there should probably also be one back where we shifted from G to Lola.

“Mhmm” G lit the cigarette that stuck out from her mouth. “I’m fucking good at it too. My crew, though, they are stupid and short sighted.”
The girl winced beside G, she was quite occupied exciting herself. G puffed on her cigarette and watched the smoke disperse in the air above her.
“People fucking die, they act like the whole fucking world ends with this guys life. Who the fuck cares. Shit. They wouldn’t give a shit if I died, and they’re better off that way.” She rolled out of the bed and swayed over to the bar, grabbing the whole bottle.
“This whole world is fucking insane. Wallace of Philadelphia? Who is he impressing other than himself. His existence is purely to fucking stroke his ego, while ours is to help him.” She rambled, drinking deeply of the bottle. Since this whole section stays on one speaker, it should probably be one paragraph.

Drunken mouths have loose lips, and loose lips sink ships!

More good work. I think you're getting better at this, if I may say so. Although, I do have to ask if you're pushing the boundries for the sake of art, or just for the sake of attaining infamy.:nono:

[Porimlys]

More good work. I think you're getting better at this, if I may say so. Although, I do have to ask if you're pushing the boundries for the sake of art, or just for the sake of attaining infamy.:nono:

For the sake of the characters I envisioned and the story I'm attempting to tell :)

I didn't realize I was even "pushing the boundaries", I'm just writing what I think makes sense for the setting >.<



Updated the above section with an ending to the scene. Thanks again for all the feedback DarkAngel, it's helping me tons. It's been so long since I've written anything remotely like this, hehe

[DarkAngel]

For the sake of the characters I envisioned and the story I'm attempting to tell

I didn't realize I was even "pushing the boundaries", I'm just writing what I think makes sense for the setting >.<



Updated the above section with an ending to the scene. Thanks again for all the feedback DarkAngel, it's helping me tons. It's been so long since I've written anything remotely like this, heheThat's probably my white, middle-class, imperialist values talking. I just meant to say there are certain topics not discussed in polite company, and anything that starts to sound like an HBO original series generally falls into that category. I'm not going to begrudge you for your descisions; I just thought you should be aware that you're courting controversy. In any case, it's really a crime of intent.

You are correct, however, that it does fit the setting. When there's no authority, people do things. I get kind of a "wild west" vibe out of the setting, which is generally what happens when people live in the absence of a government.

I shouldn't keep bursting your bubble like this, but I noticed a few more holes that need to be addressed.
If the prostitute had an accent, that means there must still be a way for people to move far from where they were born. Is there some kind of bus service?
Where do these digging machines come from? It doesn't sound like there are factories around, so someone must be patching them together from scrap.
Most pressingly, however, there's what I call the "Mad Max Paradox:" if everyone is fighting over the last ten gallons of gasoline in existance, why do they seemingly have no problem burning far more than that in the course of the fight? Something as massive as the Beethoven should be burning massive amounts of...whatever it runs on, but it apparently never needs refueling. Is there a petroleum industry still out there? Is there industrial-scale biodiesel production going on behind the scenes?
Not that I expect you to go out of your way, of course. :) It's just that my inquisitive mind is also overly rational.

[Porimlys]

With a sudden rush of inspiration, I'm gonna return to this story. Since it's not for NaNoWriMo anymore, I'm gonna go through and re-work what I already have before diving into some new content.

Creativity has been scarce in my life as of late, too damn busy to have imagination, so I'm fairly stoked to actually have a want to work on this again. I'll be looking for feedback to help me out :)