From Ritz to Rubble

March 25th 2102

8:13

Morning arrives early. Ukira opens his eyes before the sun even rises. His scruffy hair, black as his boots, spirals in every direction, tousled by restless sleep. He throws on his jacket, straps his boots tight, and checks the street outside.

The majority of the town is already rushing down the streets toward the reformed Heap due to yesterday's Skyfall — which Ukira unwillingly slept through. Maracas and drums — all sorts of cheap, easy instruments — bang off in a groovy rhythm, intertwining with the footwork of the people scrambling out the gate.

Ukira arrives at the closest Heap, summoning a small arm of cinder off his person he refers to it as a Pyrone: an exact clone of his own arm yet made entirely of fire that acts as a third party which he can control with his own thoughts- which seems really overpowered especially for stealing: which sadly he's already tried, but it either ends up destroying what he was trying to take or the Pyrone extinguishes before he can move the item all the way out the shop and back to himself. Most of the time he'll usually just lift metal and/or melt it down— extracting gold and other materials from old circuit boards.

His small, poorly crafted makeshift wheelbarrow starts drooping to one side due to a careless burn while piloting the Pyrone, melting and warping the dome as it's being filled with whatever scrap seems valuable.

15:20

A mutated hog appears. What you'd presumably first imagine and assume to be fat and chubby with a pair of tusks- is actually disgustingly skinny, think of a prune or another sort of dried fruit, with slender spindly legs like those on a spider which keep its body high up above the Heaps and other terrains like a tripod from War Of The Worlds or a Tsuchigumo. Its ribcage stick out through its skin, creating an almost armor-like structure around its Astral Core entrapping it in a crab trap of bones— the many gaps in between the ribs force Stardust to pour from its chest, leaving a slug's slime trail of energy.

"You poor thing... every moment you move forces you to slowly die,"

Ukira mutters, standing above the spider. He's positioned on top of an unusual mound of tangled plastic tubes — most likely the remnants of a water park, melted and warped together. Which seems like a great place for some Rubblekind to live.

With a sigh and precise movement, Ukira places his left arm horizontally in front of his eyes slowly moves it down from an upright position to be pointing at the mutant, he uses his right hand to pinch at his lefts finger tips , drawing the fire from within himself as it engulfs his silhouette dragging the flames parallel to his face and past until his right arm is behind his body firing in the same mannerism you would a bow —

"OX DART!"

Ukira bellows as his projectile collides with the exposed innards and bones of the diseased, overtaken animal.

His hand shakes above the midpoint of the corpse as he absorbs the Stardust. Its pink and purple glow flashes and twinkles like the stars it's seemingly obviously named after — appearing like glitter or sprinkles.

Then, dragging the spindly, fine legs across shards of metal and brick, he flips the body into the smoldered wheelbarrow — lacking the upper strength to really do so and he ends up standing in the wheelbarrow to drag it up and over, which due to the shabby craftsmen-ship ends up with contents of the barrel on the floor and Ukira not far from them. Which he then follows up with a bunch of obscenities, most likely the only ones he knows due to how basic they were.

The familiar sirens blare, signifying the daily shift of the Heaps which is then followed up by him hurriedly picking everything up and finally heading back to town.

"Not too bad of a haul today... I mean, it's better than nothing — like yesterday."

This time, he takes the left gate to avoid any unwanted attention — which is more convenient for him anyway due to where he's going.

"Well, well, if it isn't my favorite little scrap kid."

Strong isn't probably the first word you'd associate with a store clerk — maybe irritable, sloppy, pathetic, poor, cheap and so on but you get the idea - This guy though? He's the exception.

Solomon Zaurak — a wide, muscular old man with white curls. A sort of doctor, merchant, and engineer — basically whatever job will pay him something of value... or something he just really wants. His hair only grows around the sides of his head; the silver strands look even older against his dark-toned skin — which, in contrast, makes Ukira look almost ghostly pale, which he is but it just makes it all the more obvious.

Solomon has quite the reputation around town and goes by a forgettable number of nicknames. The main one is the Riverside Merchant — probably more to do with his shop's location than any actual skill, considering he sincerely lacks any, he's a terrible merchant.

Still, he's probably the only "friend" Ukira has... and his only real source of an income.

"So... did you come in here to admire me, boy, or did you come to trade and/or exchange?"

Solomon blurts out before chuckling, spitting out his cigarette, his voice feels very hill billy esc not really what you'd expect for a Sinkrat- someone who has never left any sort of colony before.

The shabby roll falls past his turtleneck and jumper bouncing onto the counter top, and lands on the floor directly in front of Ukira. He crouches down, picks it up, and taps the flame out with his finger.

"Didn't I tell you this is bad for you, old man?"

The charred-up wheelbarrow then flops onto the floor directly in front of Solomon. The old geezer's eyes light up as the metallic objects and relics of the past spill across the ground.

Solomon pulls out one of those stereotypical monocles that inspectors use when they really like an item — or think it's fake.

"You're tellin' me you found this doohicky one, ya punk? Honestly, it's not too shabby for a scapper like yourself, I mean of course you'd find something in that Heap when your pratically a Rubblekind"

His dark, large hands make the normal-sized objects seem like miniature models as he moves around the spherical item in his palm.

Zaurak opens the back cupboard under the counter, sliding a small, slim metallic key into its designated slot, which looks almost comical in his hands. The door swings open and he pulls out a collection of spanners, screwdrivers, sprockets — really just whatever looks like it could pry something open.

"See, boy — this is a good old-fashioned yo-yo. Basically a ball on a string. Back before the Merge, we used to play with these. The toy itself doesn't matter — it's the bearing inside that does. Should be a jolt job getting it out."

Solomon cautiously unscrews sections of it, trying to perfectly open it apart.

He's a poser, and very obviously not a repairman, it's increasingly clear by the second he's just trying to look busy so Ukira comes back later for it. Ukira seeing this snatches the toy out of his hands, grabs a spanner, and just beats the thing open. The toy flings apart, revealing the real thing of value — a ball bearing.

Not necessarily rare or even difficult to make, but the fact there's a more-a-less free one in decent condition means it's worth a fortune in the strangely buff geezer's mind.

"I'll give ya twenty kazokas for the bearing and five for the rest of the lot kid"

Ukira immediately accepts the offer — not because he couldn't squeeze a few more yagas out of the 107 year old but because there's no real point. It'd be like scamming your grandad.

18:54

Ukira hauls back with the corpse still in his barrow toward the inn. He dumps his poor excuse for a vehicle — a misshapen egg of a wheel: most likely the culprit to why it toppled over which is accompanied by two bike handlebars, varying in length and size for steering the Frankenstein of a contraption- parking it up against the Inn's exterior walls under a window.

Dragging the boar — or whatever it was — Ukira never went to any higher education to identify them. As far as he's concerned, it's just fodder to sell.

The inn has a cleverly punned built-in diner, where whatever scraps of an animal Ukira kills he sells off — or more accurately, leaves at the meat donation slab. Mostly because he feels bad leaving it out to rot.

He only kills them to stop their suffering — since they're so weak to humans: now that they naturally possess Astrea.

His charcoal boots almost stomp along the stairs creating an awful lot of racket for someone of his stature, going up to 'his' room to see his beloved sister, when an alarm starts to blare — probably just warning about a Heap moving. Odd for this hour, though. Probably not anything extraordinary.

As he opens the door, Aoi is sitting up on her bed, munching away on some food.

Not a bad day. Far better than yesterday... and the day before that... and the day before that.

But maybe his luck's about to change.

"Hey, I'm finally home,"

he says, throwing the aforementioned boots to the floor — same routine as always.

Sitting next to his sister, he sticks his finger in her food, stealing a few chunks of some sort of mystery meat and eating it right in front of her face. She immediately kinda playfully slaps him, but at the same time it was her food after all.

"What the hell, Ira! That was mine and you know it! Why are you always such a meanie!"

Aoi coughs on her food, causing Ira to move immediately off the bed and stands next to her, giving her space and letting her lie down while putting the food to the side.

"You shouldn't overdo it, you know — getting even that,"

he says, pointing at the bowl, filled with something imitating soup.

"I just don't want you getting worse. And especially in your condition, I don't want anyone knowing what we really are."

That same siren wails again.

"Is someth... something wrong, Ira?" Aoi mumbles, her throat worse than usual.

"I'm sure it's noth—"

Then the world goes black.