Restless - Chapter 4

I slammed my shovel down into the dirt, forcing myself to slowly breathe. What would Vayne do? …probably make a shit pun and help dig out this Moll person anyway. He was always like that; ever the helpful hero. Not sure if digging up a grave was considered heroic though.

As we dug up the grave, I tried to piece together what I could from the few available clues. As far as I was aware, I was no longer captive to the woman in white. Well- unless this was some elaborate setup.

I also came to the shocking conclusion that the sky was empty. Unlike what I originally thought, there weren’t clouds, stars, or even a moon. My mind was too frazzled to even attempt to put together why that was.

Part of the frazzlement was a strong sense of wrongness within my body. I felt like me, but not me at the same time. It wasn’t till I glanced down at a puddle and caught a reflection of ‘my’ face that I got an idea of why I was feeling so wrong.

Simply put, it wasn’t my face. It was some tall, bulky guy’s face. Some kind of pale powder covered up his- my face, dripping off as he- I sweat. It wasn’t till Clyde spoke up that I promptly returned to shoveling, my brain shriveling in confusion at a rapid rate.

Was this some kind of dream? Some kind of twisted experiment? What was going on? The trial she talked about- was this it? When I wanted adventure, this wasn’t what I meant.

My head hurt so much as I slammed the shovel down again. Nothing made since anymore. I was definitely taller and way stronger than my real body, so why could I still move around as if all was normal? I should be stumbling about since my gait was different, and yet everything instinctively felt the same. It wasn’t till I really started thinking about it that my movements became unnatural and awkward.

I masked my confusion by concentrating on digging. I felt like some character from those radio plays acting to rules I didn’t even know. Breaking said character stuck to the forefront of my mind as I tried to pick up clues. Why was it a bad idea in the first place?

Clyde kept mostly quiet as we dug, putting his all into shoveling up the grave. I wasn’t quite what kind of ‘character’ I was supposed to keep, but I had the feeling we were criminals. It was the small things that pointed such a thing out. 

The way Clyde was dressed for one, though that could easily be because of environmental factors. Bandanas weren’t a bad call when lacking a proper filtration apparatus. Except I didn’t have one.

The twitchy way Clyde constantly surveyed his surroundings reminded me of some of the street gangs I’d seen in Voth. He could just be a twitchy vet, but I got the feeling there was a bit more to it. It was as if he was watching for the strongarm of the law.

Of course, I could just be seeing into things. Just, when I think of the way we were dressed and the way he spoke, being a crook came to mind. That could be thanks to the fact that my only interaction with this kind of setting was thanks to cowboy radio plays. Vayne always did say not to stereotype others though.

Then again, we were digging up a grave…

I was too afraid to say something wrong and break character, so I decided to just not say anything as we worked. Thankfully, that didn’t seem to be an issue for Clyde. 

Eventually, my shovel hit wood. I quickly withdrew a payload of dirt and mud, tossing it to the side. Clyde sped up slightly, shoveling even faster. I struck my shovel down once more, accidentally putting too much into it as the shovel easily tore through the wood.

A woman’s voice harshly whispered through the wood. “Watch it! Y’all tryin’ to take my pretty face off?!”

Clyde tapped me on the shoulder lightly as his eyes creased in the corners. “C’mon now, Moll, we just tryin’ to fix it up for ya’. We ain’t doctors, but it’d be hard to make ya’ any uglier.”

The woman’s, Moll’s apparently, voice seethed in anger as she pounded on the wooden coffin. “Just hurry on up and get me outta here! I can feel somethin’ crawlin’ up my leg.”

“Of course, princess.” Clyde went back to shoveling. Between the two of us, we got the coffin cleared out and the lid popped off rather quickly.

I easily climbed back out and offered a hand down into the grave. We may be grave diggers, but Vayne always said to be polite when I could. Clyde accepted, using me as a lever to haul himself out. “Thanks, son.”

I simply nodded as I stretched my hand down again, this time to the freshly dug-up woman. She wore a black dress with red highlights that seemed to perfectly accentuate her curves. And she wasn’t kidding about having a pretty face. The woman was one of the prettiest I’d seen. To be fair though, I’d mostly been around factory workers covered in grease and sludge all my life.

She was all dolled up with makeup, but under that was a beautiful foundation. I could easily see her being on one of the legion’s posters. Well, maybe if she were a bit younger. If I had to say, she looked slightly younger than how Clyde sounded.

The lady took my hand, easily leaping up and out of the grave as she stretched out like a cat. I looked away, catching sight of Clyde’s leery eyes as I picked up the shovels and lantern.

”Why thank ya’, nephew. Glad to see lil’ sis didn’t teach ya’ nothin’.” The woman patted me on the shoulder hesitantly and then grabbed the duffel bag as she shot a side eye at Clyde. “Some men just don’ understand the word gentle."

Nephew? It took me a minute to get my mind jogging back up to pace. So my character must be her nephew. Also, the way she spoke made it seem as if we were quite distant. And she mentioned her little sister. Maybe my character’s mother died recently, and so I was with her? But that didn’t explain the graves…

Speaking of call-outs, Clyde kept calling me son. I got the feeling it was closer to an elder calling a youngster son than a father calling his actual son. I’d heard such calls quite a bit back when running packages on Voth Prime.

As I blankly watched her riffle through the duffle bag, I couldn’t help but wonder if they were both like me in trying to keep character. Or were they just normal people living in this… world? Dream? Virtual reality? I didn’t even know anymore.

After watching them for a moment--they way they interacted with each other--I got the feeling I was the only character here. Or they were natural actors. Did I need to get to that level?

Moll pulled out a shoulder holster with a revolver and slung it on. She also pulled out a hip holster for a small gun of some kind. It was extremely bizarre with two rather short barrels. They looked as though they’d been hacked off by some maniac with a saw. 

Moll picked up another revolver and held it out to me along with a bag of bullets. “They teach ya’ to shoot before we sprung ya’?”

My brother did. Only briefly though, and it was a really long time ago. And who were they? She said it like I was held captive… maybe a penal legion? If I was even still in the Republic, it would make sense. “Uh, yeah.”

The woman slapped the holster onto my shoulder. “Better ‘en nothin’… with any luck, ya’ won’ have to use it anyway. Lady Luck‘s a flatbacker though. Especially where we’re headed. How’s the plan comin’, Clyde?”

I imitated the way Clyde had his on and strung the belt through the holster. I checked the revolver briefly, noticing there wasn’t a safety on the thing. I’d only ever used a mag-fed pistol once, so while I had some idea of how to shoot, I wasn’t a hundred percent sure how to use it. Not that I wanted to in the first place.

“We got back to town easy ‘nough. Gettin’ back through the graveyard was a great idea… well, maybe not for Jasper here.” Clyde laughed lightly then looked out toward the town. “Other ‘an that, everythin’s set for the heist. We just gotta break past the defensive line and we’ll be set.”

Heist? Damn it! Any chance I could slink away from these two and try and escape? I didn’t even want to be here in the first place… or would that count as breaking character? Maybe breaking character wouldn’t even be that bad in the first place? Maybe I’d just get kicked out of this trial or whatever and sent back to Voth Prime?

Then again… the pure, raw terror in that woman’s flaming eyes when she told me not to break character hinted that maybe things wouldn’t be so easy. And breaking character would probably count as a failure, right? The way the woman in white talked about failure made it seem as if I wouldn’t have to worry about it. Since I’d be dead, that is.

Moll continued to pull items from the duffel bag, passing me a long duster and a cowboy hat like the one Clyde wore. “Wipe off that there makeup, nephew.”

I was already sweating from digging, so it came off easily enough as I slipped into the offered clothes. Moll, on the other hand, put on a small black cap with a thick veil. She almost looked as though she were in mourning.

”How do you reckon I look?” Moll tilted her head down as if depressed and stood still for Clyde’s inspection.

Clyde snorted, shaking his head as his black bandana flopped around. “Just about good enough… Jasper, here, on the other hand…” Clyde's crinkled eyes faded for once into what I could only assume was a frown. “Put on a meaner mug ‘en that.”

I adjusted my expression the best I could, but getting the finer details was slightly awkward. Especially since it wasn’t really my face… yeah, still getting used to that one.

“Well, butter my biscuit, somethin’s finally goin’ right for once.” Moll chuckled and started to walk towards the town. “Really thought we’d have to pass this ‘en up with the guard watchin’ the bounty so hard. Reckoned you’d get shipped on out to the blood fields afore we got you, Jasper.”

Bounty? Is that why- that must be why they had to get in through the graveyard. By the Pyre, did my character have a bounty too? If so, getting away would be nearly impossible, especially considering I had absolutely no idea where I even was. 

Clyde and Moll chatted quite a bit more, both of them making fun of each other without stopping. Well, mostly without stopping. They quieted down when we reached the edge of the graveyard. Through a thick, spiked gate, we spotted the town. My confusion only grew deeper as I took in the sight.

There was so much wood. I’d seen some wood decorations in my life, but I’d never seen so much wood in one place before. Every building seemed to be made from it.

Where was the ancient centcrete that'd been standing for centuries? And where were the ever-present fire and sun engravings that propagated across the Republic?

Instead, every building was made from wooden planks and logs arrayed together. Some of them were even rotting. Others were in chaotic messes that barely held together. Just where was I that basic construction techniques weren’t a thing?

The style was also so, so very different. There weren’t lanterns or candles scattered back to keep Shades out. Hell, darkness was literally everywhere in such quantities it made me a little sick. And yet, unlike in the Undercity, there wasn’t even a hint of a Shade. Did this planet, wherever we were, not have to deal with the shadowy menaces? These people were so very lucky.

Moll handed me the duffel bag. “Was the bribe accepted?”

Clyde leveraged himself on the bars, easily going up and over the fence. He dropped down onto the far side and lightly dusted himself off as he raised a brow at us. “Course. No way the pigs would pass on free booze. Especially with the short on the good stuff. Otherwise y'all woulda been cremated just like the rest of the graveyard's denizens.”

Moll followed his lead, getting over the fence with just as much ease. She turned back to me and clapped her hands lightly. “Toss it over.”

”Right.” I tossed the duffel over the fence and then moved to cross it myself. In my years as a courier, I’d jumped over quite a few fences. It was rather easy to get over, though I did run into some difficulty misjudging my weight. My character’s body weighed much more than I usually did, most of which was purely muscle mass. The result? I tripped and fell face-first into the ground.

The lady, ‘my’ aunt, giggled lightly as she helped me back to my feet. “C’mon now, Jasper. Can’ be doin’ that. Ya tryin’ ta ruin my reputation?”

”Sorry, A-Aunt Moll.” I replied, slowing and dumbing my voice down. Based on their interactions with me so far, my character seemed to be a meathead. They didn’t expect me to participate in the conversations anyway. 

At least my character’s name was Jasper. I didn’t even want to think about how hard it’d be to reply to a different name. Though… I wasn’t sure if our names being the same was a coincidence, or if there was something more to it.

“Oh? Aunt Moll? Has a nice ring to it…” Moll tilted her head and stared at me.

Clyde patted my shoulder, which seemed to be a rather common gesture from the smiley man. ”Don’ let her getcha down, kid. Have I told you ‘bout that time in Minche-“ 

Clyde flew back as Moll’s leg whipped out, kicking him straight in the gut. He crumpled down gasping for breath as the not-so-easily mocked lady placed her leg right on his chest. “We agreed to never, ever talk about Minchest.”

The masked man rolled to the side, easily displacing her leg even as he struggled to breathe. “Takin’ me surprise like that ain’t fair, dear. My old bones aren't as spry as they used to be.”

”Ah, shut it.” Moll sauntered off, leaving the two of us to hurry up after her as we headed onto the town.

The town, Malak I think, was unlike anywhere I’d been before. Not only was it dark, but it also lacked that holy vibe that seemed to be everywhere. The clergy would have a fit if they were around.

Everything also just felt different. Everything felt a little… I don’t know, primitive? That doesn’t feel like the right word. Regardless, there was almost no sign of any form of advanced technology. Not a radio in sight, nor anything even close to its level.

Even the wood buildings seemed to be a bit more primitive than what I’d expected. They lacked a sense of uniformity as if each plank had been hand-cut. Of course, that was only compared to the buildings I’d seen in the past. They still were well crafted, but it was the small differences between the width and length of the planks that were inconsistent. 

A lack of uniformity was even more unsettling than anything- well, anything except realizing I wasn’t in my own body. Even within the chaos of Voth, every inch of Centcrete had been poured and molded within certain building parameters.

Being here though? Everything felt entirely alien as I walked slightly behind the two aged chatterboxes.