Chapter Text
Growing up sucked. Don't get me wrong, District 12 during the Smoke Wars was a thousand times worse but it still isn't good. Hell it isn't even decent.
My life story? Dime a dozen, stock tale you can hear from any backstreet kid. Mother was a fixer, father out of the picture, raised in a shack with the sounds of violence a constant background track.
Nesties don't understand how desperate it gets back here. Sure we have some local vendors and artisans but you ‘have to be careful they aren't a dangerous cannibal’ or whatever. Honestly I'm pretty sure most of the protein we get is made of people…
The point is, shits fucked. Especially with the whole ‘district reorganization thing’ from one L Corp to the next. Whose wise idea was it to make a system of governance controlled by companies? Who the fuck knows! It's terrible!
‘But Cassie, you didn't have to grow up with Smoke Lung’ okay??? And??? My daily trip to school everyday had me dodging druggies and psychos! I am entitled to a little bit of complaining.
Gods I miss my mother, she had such a way of framing our terrible lives in a way that didn't seem so hopeless. She died in such a pathetic way. Sure she wasn't the strongest person around but she was smart and had good aim. She was hired by some local gang to find a lost valuable or something, a rival organization having stolen it. A chase ensued, and she got her mark. As payment for a job well done, her contractee dropped a building on her.
I refuse to die a fixer, I don't want to follow in her footsteps. My options until recently? Making ends meet with scavenger jobs, both electronic and organic. It sucks but life’s life. I gotten pretty good with a screwdriver and a carving knife, so that's a plus. Still if I want to live to the age of 30 I need a more lucrative gig. I found one by chance, I shouldn't have trusted my luck.
L Corp, the illustrious owners of District 12, started a new project it would seem. The City’s energy demand never tires after all. They built a new plant, high efficiency, clean, entry level jobs, the whole shebang. I sent my application to be a clerk, flex my organizational and couriering skills. That's when the headaches started.
No no, not the figurative ‘that was a headache’, I mean real, physical migraines. Imagine trying to avoid cutting yourself on a gutted appliance while you suffer from vertigo and the unending feeling of your brain melting. At least I got a new job? Might have cut my finger real bad on a piece of rusted metal in the three days I had to wait to start but I'm fine, a little tetanus never killed anyone.
Also I could have sworn my employment message said “Clerk” instead of “Agent” not even a day ago but I also might be misremembering due to the aforementioned brain melting.
My contract lasts for 50 days, no breaks but short days. Why does an energy plant have daily work hours of ‘it depends’, I have no clue. Plus side, I get free room and board, but that's because of basically being locked in an underground bunker for the entirety of my contract. Fun! It's not like I was getting sunlight anyway, the skies are too full of shit to ever have a ‘day’ not be a slightly brighter version of ‘night’. I swear it feels like I'm in a dome with how little the day-night cycle actually affects anything other than corporate job hours. Honestly the fact that we still have daylight ‘savings’ time is a sin.
Today is day 0 of my contract, move in day. So exciting… So far I have moved my stuff in and am really just organizing my space that I'll be stuck in for the next two months. The room is great, it has the same stale air as the rest of the facility, pretty spacious from what I'm used to, and it even has a closet with multiple copies of the work uniform, a snazzy suit that fits me pretty well. Before I take off my uniform I look at myself in the mirror. I touch the ends of my curly gray hair, the tips extending right above my shoulders. Hmmm, I'll probably have to cut it soon depending on what tasks I'll be required to do. My vision has kinda been bad lately, maybe I need a new prescription, it's not like I'll have another chance to have good eyewear for a while. I take off my glasses, my near-sightedness causing everything except the mirror in front of me to appear foggy. I squint at my blue eyes, shit my bags are bad. Eh, enough gawking, time to finish setting up…
The training module all the new highers had to watch was… interesting. A good chunk was information about the facility: where the living areas are, where the work areas are, don't bring anything from the work area to the living area, etc. etc. etc. The real juicy stuff are the department heads we are meant to report to. They are these robot looking things composed of a boxy torso, a singular eye, and gangly limbs. Apparently they are all in the building already managing their departments while things wind up to full operation.
I rearrange the decorative vase I brought in my lounge bag, a folded piece reminiscent of a flower resting in the container. God I was such a silly kid when I first picked this thing up, I tried to water it every day and was so sad when the metal only continued to ‘wilt’. Shifting the vase to the left edge of my little work desk I sense the urge to scribble down notes. In my chicken scratch I start doodling a ‘blueprint’ for a necklace I would make if I ever got the chance of a stable life. Details about materials and carvings that I will likely never be able to commission from a jeweler. Hey maybe after all of this is done I have enough for it!
Unlikely but you can't blame a girl for hoping.
{Day 1}
I begin my new morning routine. Wake up, get dressed, go to the communal bathroom, hygiene myself, go to the mess hall, eat a quick breakfast, go to locker room, pick up equipment, start day.
Today I'm a member of the Control Team led by Malkuth. She's alright, energetic but a little scatter brained. Honestly mood. There appears to be a section for body armor in my locker and a simple baton. Don't clerks have firearms? Whatever, eccentric Wings, same old same old.
I put my arm band marking me as a Control Team member before grabbing the digital work pad they provided. Turning on it seems to be a rudimentary log system with ways of paging agents for various tasks as they come up and any building-wide reports. Oh hey there is an optional arm band that can be used as a brace or hook for people that don't like having to retrieve it from the hook on their belt too often. I'll have to put it on tomorrow, my shift starts soon.
Walking to the main room of the Control I see my coworkers, Delaney and Anthony. Delaney is a shorter woman, stalky and muscular. She likely comes from a similar background to myself, backstreets laborer making ends meet. She’s quick to give a sharp jab and swears more like a sailor than I do.
Anthony on the other hand… he is giving so much prissy nester energy. I don't know, there's something about the way he smirks like he knows something that is rubbing me the wrong way. I always hated when another know-it-all was in the room. And of course the moment the shift bell starts something embarrassing has to happen.
I feel moisture on my upper lip. I bring my hand, wiping away the liquid. Blood. My nose is bleeding. And of course Anthony has to speak his mind. “Ooo, unlucky Cassandra. Getting blood all over your new work clothes on the first day! Thank goodness it wasn't me, ha.”
“Cassandra, you okay there?” See Anthony, that's how you talk to a normal person.
“Yeah, Delaney, I'm good, I don't know why this is happening so suddenly.” I tilt my head back, clutching my nose to hopefully stop the bleeding.
“Oh fuck, you are flowing like a faucet!” Fuck you too Anthony! I will say, shit I'm bleeding a lot, I walk to the small employee bathroom, washing my face and hand while stuffing shreds of towels up my bleeding nostril. I hear a chime in my work pad. I quickly dry my hands, taking a peak at the message logs.
{ Delaney to O-03-03(-Z) for Instinct Work }
Instinct work… that was maintenance on the source directly. Which, honestly, weird as hell way of phrasing ‘clean the generator' or ‘move waste into incinerator’. Or maybe I'm illiterate or something. I finish cleaning up, my mouth and nose coated a faint pink from the smeared blood the paper towels refused to pick up. Fucking cheap skates, I swear these towels are worse then the ones from my junior high out of a fucking van.
I leave back to the main room, an occasional mist of green mist emitting from the pipes lining the walls. It's supposedly a chemical to help with fatigue but my theory is it's a new form of aerosolized methamphetamines. A ping, I glance at my tablet.
{ Cassandra to O-03-03(-Z) for Attachment Work }
The message comes with a quick info packet of instructions.
A silent Abnormality that understands the conflict between good and evil.
Its empty eye sockets stare at all those who encounter it.
A giant skull that is attached to a cross, it wears a crown of thorns.
It floats about 2 meters above the ground
What the fuck?
Attachment Work: interact with the abnormality, engage in conversation and requests.
What in the secure contain protect shit is this? The message has a map of where to go, a nearby hallway leading to a fancy hydraulic door. I see Delaney, tapping her foot while leaning against a door. She seems… agitated. On edge. I'll leave her alone for now.
I approach the doorway, a scanner on the wall to read a special access symbol. I swallow my urge to run. I'm stuck down here, I have a job to do, any delays and I might end up worse than any night on the streets. You don't betray Wings of the World without sacrifice. I put my tablet by the scanner, a gentle bing ringing out before the door begins to open. I walk in.
Holy shit that's an honest to god giant skull. It's floating on the ground, a cross embedded behind the massive cranium. A radiant light emits from behind the thing, like a flashlight was partially back lighting it. “Hey, big guy.”
The skull floats skullingly.
“So hi, my name is Cassandra. Or Cassie, I go by both.” I feel a nervous itch claw the way up my spine. “So are you just the strong silent type or is something wrong?” I approach it.
Now that I'm getting a closer look (and my eyes adjust to the bright light), I swear I dreamt of something similar to this a few days ago. I thought it was a fever dream, a burning skull giving me the fear of damnation if I don't confess my sins. That… that couldn't have been like a divine message of the future right? Big G isn't like making a prophet or something, right? Surely it's a coincidence, like that time I ate those floor cookies and got food poisoning randomly… I check my pad, still have like three minutes until I'm free, I got nothing better to do.
I go on my knees, arms linking in front of me in a prayer motion. “Father, I have sinned. I fap to big anime gongagoos often.”
A light pierces through my closed eye lids, I wince in pain at the brightnesses. Blinking my eyes open I see the skull floating before me. The hollow sockets are no different than before, but I feel… lighter. Like a pressure was lifted off my shoulders. Did… did that count as an actual confession? I feel like I should be put down for heresy for that…
Whatever, time to ditch this popsicle stand. I walk out, making eye contact with Delaney. She looks better? I give her a polite smile, walking back to the main room. I hear a ding from my pad. Oh, a request for a report of what went down, etc. etc. I plop down on a bench, typing away my report.
I probably shouldn't tattle the specifics of what I confessed to the giant glowing skull… I jot down to the general actions, the positive feeling I felt after confessing, etc etc. It doesn't take long to finish and I see Anthony going out for his task, it's ‘Repression’. Would that just be ignoring the thing? I mean it has to be pretty easy with how the thing doesn't talk. Why the hell does the cis white man get the easy jobs?
After about fifteen minutes I get a pop up, a similar chime coming from all of the clerk’s devices as well. Taking a peak it's a pleasant surprise, we are done for the day! After just a few… interactions(?) with the skull we are done, the quota for the day is done. Today must have been the first day of operation or something, making sure whatever way they get energy from the skull doesn't overload the system or something.
After a filling lunch I return to my room, the incredibly spacious room being a sight for sore eyes. I mean come-on, more than one section of the room where you can stand? It's even on earth I swear. Sit on my bed for a moment, fiddling with my tie as I just rest for a little bit. Today was weird. Like yeah there a lot of strange stuff you see in this world. Killer clowns, those guys with a shark head, giant sewer rats, but today is definitely a new level of bizarre. This company… they are containing these things, making us interact with them in the name of creating energy. It's strange, it's unorthodox, but not illogical. Everyone knows to make it to the level of a Wing you have to have serious tech, perfect example being W Corp and their fancy ten second Warp Trains. Maybe L Corp has some way to like harness the emotions of, what did they call it? Ah abnormalities. Those guys.
I get changed to my dorm clothes, a loose shirt and trousers that are remarkably comfy despite how old they are. Or maybe it's because they are so old. Who knows. A quick nap couldn't hurt. I lay down, the bed is softer than cardboard, so luxurious. I stare at the room I will be staying in for the next two months, I spy my flower rising from the right side of my desk and I smile. Maybe it'll be okay. Maybe I can make you proud Mom.