Standing in the belly of the moving metal golem, Noah stared straight ahead at nothing in particular.
With one hand raised, he gripped the rubber strap swaying from the ceiling, bodies pressed tight around him. The floor groaned beneath him as the whole narrow chamber surged forward, swallowing the street and spitting out the wind.
His heart bled.
It was better than walking. Far better, actually. But the fare alone had cost him the equivalent of two protein slabs—one full day's meal. For balls' sake.
What stood out was the mix of people inside the bus. Some were dressed in smooth, neat clothes, but most wore uniforms—workers and guards, by the look of them.
At that moment, a bulky man whom Noah had been looking past turned to face him. His white tank became yellow from all the sweat, and his face was charred with factory heat. All in all, the man looked like a monster.
And that monster caught him staring and flashed a grin.
Noah shivered. Every hair on his body stood on end as the man shifted, his broad, sweaty back blocking his vision, the stench of sweat overwhelming everything else.
And the bus jerked. The man stumbled back, his backside bumping into him, pushing him back, but there was no space behind him.
Another jolt followed, harder this time. It was hard to imagine how a simple turn could throw back a man of that size.
Noah opened his mouth to curse, but then his eyes met the man's. A sour surge of bile crawled up his throat.
'This fucker,'
Faced with this horror, Noah shoved his way through the crowd and stumbled off the transport vehicle, nearly tripping as his boots hit the pavement.
The doors hissed shut behind him, and the bus rolled on, straight toward the district he needed to reach. Noah bent forward, hands braced on his knees, fighting the nausea as his face went green.
"Fuck, I'm not riding that thing ever again."
He could barely stomach the cost, but what the hell was even that?
Looking back, Noah grimaced before turning away. He was already halfway through, at least.
He continued on foot towards the district.
With every step, the light of the sun brightened as the ash-thick dust thinned until the warmth of the sun touched his body. The noises faded with it.
The massive, bulky structures behind him gave way to smaller, deliberate designs. Metal shifted from charred black to a vivid color, polished and clean.
How long had it been since he had seen the sky? It was a strange feeling.
He reached the plaza soon after.
At its center, a jagged pillar burst from the ground. Its surface wrapped in dry, scaled armor, clawing at the sky with a thousand crooked limbs. Thin, green membranes were tied to its branches, fluttering wildly in the breeze.
It was a tree. A living tree, beautiful as always.
Noah had heard about a place where they grew in abundance, somewhere in the world, called a forest.
But sadly, it was hard to find one inside the city. There was a reason for that, but Noah had never gotten the opportunity to learn it—but he suspected it had something to do with the power chips his factory produced.
Shaking his head, he turned toward the district.
Wrapped in colorful screens, the metallic buildings stood tall, leaping toward the sun rather than clustering into blocks. Their surfaces gleamed with impossible, vivid hues. It was the sanctuary of light, breathing through air as clear as glass.
Crowds and automobiles—rare sights in the true Extraction Zone—were normal here.
It looked like paradise, but Noah knew the truth. There was a better part of the city still beyond this one. Most of it, in fact.
But that had nothing to do with him.
Turning towards one of the roads, a sigh escaped from his mouth, readying himself.
And soon, he was standing at the entrance of a large, golden dome, resting on a two storey round wall.
Despite its size, the dome projected delicacy. Beautiful images of women drifting across its surface as if nothing violent had ever touched it. But that ended when he looked at the entrance itself.
It was slightly protruding from the wall, covering its whole metal with vibrant posters. Light spilled from the entrance in pulsing bands of violet and gold, cutting through the dusk like a wound that refused to close. And at the top of the entrance, "Marshall's Place" was written.
Seeing the letters, a cold feeling settled inside his heart. Once he stepped inside, there was no going back.
Gritting his teeth, he pushed himself forward and found himself blocked by two unfriendly guards.
"What do you want?" The mean-faced guard asked, while the easygoing one didn't even acknowledge him.
Noah froze.
"I'm meeting someone."
Before he could say anything else, the guard shoved him back.
"It's not a meeting place. Fuck off."
Stunned, he could only watch him as he straightened again after swatting him aside like a fly.
The man was twice his size. Noah wasn't short, but insecurity still found its way into his chest.
Now what? There was clearly no way to get inside without Noah begging him. But he was in no mood for that.
Just then, two women in sparkling clothes, barely covering their skin, were stopped by the guard but soon allowed inside after they scanned their wristbands.
Noah rolled his eyes.
Of course, there was always a way. Credits always got the job done, but the idea of him having money never occurred to that bastard.
Noah took out his own band and wrapped it around his wrist. It came to life as soon as it clicked. It displayed the accumulated credit under his name.
Noah hesitated before going back to the guards.
The mean guard scowled in disgust upon seeing Noah, but before he could react, Noah held out his wrist.
The other guard's brows jumped up before a devious grin formed on his lips.
'Yeah, go ahead, you fucker.' It was obvious what he was thinking, but—
"It's two Silver. The rate is fixed. If you have it, then give it here. If not, then get out of here."
As the mean one spoke, the easygoing one slumped his shoulder, his lips mumbling something.
Noah watched both with wide eyes. He was sure he was going to bleed him dry, but why was he acting as if he lost his chance? Two silver was his weekly salary.
As he was contemplating, a sleek automobile stopped behind him, making both guards straighten their backs.
Frowning, Noah turned back, only to feel the same guard swat him away once more. But it was harsher than the last time.
His foot slammed into the plinth of the structure, but his hand grabbed the screen on the wall.
A sharp pain followed. Then closed again.
With anger in his eyes, Noah turned. Three men in black passed by, golden embroidery carved into their long coats, as the guards had their backs bowed instead of asking for the entry fees.
"Are you sure?"
"Our spy said there's going to be a meeting of some sort."
"With whom?"
"That I don't know."
With just one glance, Noah knew they were not people he could even look at, much less say that he was in line first.
Especially when their faces wore a troubled expression.