[Junk XIII] In Servitude (J 6-7)

Rich

Jack,

After your shopping trip, you return to Dime-line's estate. The next morning, the real work begins. Dime-line first has you interview of his employees, from the lowliest store clerk and warehouse worker, on up to his engineers and foremen. Each "interview" is intensive and, upon Dime-line's insistence, quite personal and invasive. He's quite paranoid.

When you work as a kept brainer for some length of time, you get paid one week on, one week off for your duties. Roll+weird. On a 10+, both are true. On a 7-9, Pick 1:
• You got a bonus of 1-barter.
• Nobody got hurt during your tenure.

On a miss, you still get your pay, but pick one option, and detail it:
• Somebody died in your care.
• Somebody's mind was broken under your care.
• Somebody learned a horrible secret about you in your care.

Adam

OOC: Working for Dime-line. Roll+Weird. +1XP. +1Forward with Dime-line.
(Rolled: 2d6+4. Rolls: 5, 3. Total: 12)

Rich

Who is skimming off the top, Jack? Dime-line thinks that the warehouse foreman is holding back choice items and moving them to other customers off the books. He also suspects one of the store clerks is skimming off the top, taking about one out of ten jingle that pass through the store.

Adam

Dime-line's store clerk, Upper Deck, has been skimming a considerable amount of sales out of the store's profits. It's a slow burn, about one-in-ten of the jingle that crosses his palms disappears. It was difficult not to pry into why he's stealing the jingle — I've learned it is best to avoid questions such as that when working as a hired brainer...

It keeps your conscience clean.

Rich

Alright, Jack, you let Dime-line's great-niece Juicy Fruit know about Upper Deck's betrayal, and Juicy Fruit nods. She lets you go, assuring you that everything fine, Upper Deck will be let go, a new clerk will be hired to replace him.

You're done for the day. It's been a grueling week, but now you have a week off. You're free to stay in Bubble City, or you can travel, as well.

Parfait's been keep herself busy with making jewelry, usually two or three pieces a day. What materials did she use for your favorite? Of course, she has no idea how to sell them. Have you decided what you're going to do about that?

You've noticed that there are maybe twenty workers of Dime-line's who stay in or near the estate most of the time, sometimes leaving in small packs for hours at a time, then coming back. Mostly men, a few women. They are often armed, but never anything more than pistols.

Bubble City has no official municipal positions, everything handled by elders or a council or something. Dime-line seems to be a very influential man. He isn't grooming a successor, do you know why?

Adam

I sincerely hope "let go" does not amount to anything particularly horrible — but then, I do not know Dime-line all that well. I am looking forward to having the week off, and not having to think about whether I'm interrogating people for some sinister purpose... I suppose I cannot afford to think that way, since I have seen no evidence towards that hypothesis...

Coming home to Parfait has been a light at the end of the tunnel after my long days of interrogation. She's made a beautiful set of earrings out of some crystals she's found out in the flats, and some fine gold wiring I traded for at the market when we bought her radio.



I figured that this week we could take some time to set up a booth in the market, and spend a few hours there... If we move some pieces, then we'll be in a good way — perhaps even go exploring a bit in the flats, or spend a night in the Rose Room.

I have not particularly questioned why Dime-line is not grooming a successor. I joke with Parfait that he thinks he'll live forever. There have been moments, though, after a night of interrogations that I am not so sure he doesn't believe that...

Rich

Let's see how this week goes for you, Jack. Why don't you roll your brand new Moonlighting for us?

Adam

OOC: Moonlighting roll. Roll+Cool. Only working Honest Work.
(Rolled: 2d6+1. Rolls: 2, 4. Total: 7)

Rich

The jewelry is just different enough to attract some attention. Are you manning the booth with Parfait, I assume? She's been getting sick this week, maybe once a day. There are a few foods that make her ill. Nothing too drastic, but it's surprising to her how quickly her tastes and reactions to smells have changed because of the baby.

You realize she's about a month into her first trimester. How much do you know about babies, Jack? Anything you're doing for her around that area?

Let's pick up with you, Parfait, Roma and Ro all hanging out and eating at a place here in Bubble City. Ro just arrived, and he and Roma invited you two out. The music here is live, what's playing? What instruments are being played, do you know this band?

In the middle of the table is a big bowl of food, the style to eat is communal, all sitting on pillows on the nice, wood floor, with different dipping vegetables and chips, all digging into sections of this partitioned bowl of meats and beans and other delights, all mixed into curries and dips.

You're telling them all a story right now, for some reason. What's it about?

Adam

I know very little about babies, as I've only been around a few in my life. I have been around a great deal of pregnant women though — in brief stints. I find their minds to be something of a puzzle. Pregnancy is a very chaotic time in a woman's life — a time of change, and uncertainty — and if left without the stability they need to sort things out, it can be quite stressful.

Perhaps most confusing though is later term, when the child has their own desires... I can hear those as well. It is an enormously odd sensation to tap into the mind of a child. Unadulterated desire, untempered by social expectations, or shame. You can imagine my surprise when I felt those feelings for the first time... I was in a bar, observing a couple attempt to sort out their problems, when the woman's child suddenly yelled "QUIET! SLEEP!"

I nearly fell of my stool.

In any case, yes, we are here with Roma and Ro — the pair extraordinaire. There are a pair of people playing a fiddle and a stand-up bass in the corner. They're playing some version of a folk song I've never heard. I do know the band though, Yamaha and Gibson are twin brothers who take great pride in their differences. Yamaha, the fiddler, is a skinny man with a sharp appearance — Gibson is a rather rotund man, with a jovial smile and a scraggly beard. They have an identity complex, and oddly enough still find comfort in their similarities. They are interesting people.

I'm telling them about a time early in my career where I attempted to help a couple resolve a dispute of theirs. I was unpracticed in distinguishing thoughts from words, and had accidentially revealed to the man that his wife had been coveting his best friend — she slapped me for "insinuating such an awful lie" — then in an attempt to ease everyone's temper, accidentially revealed that the man had also been coveting his best friend — so he decided to punch me for "calling him gay". "So at this point they've completely forgotten that they were mad at each other for sexual negligence, and begin fighting over who has the right to court this friend of his... It was such a mess... I simply stepped back, ordered myself a scotch on the rocks, and used it to keep the swelling on my eye down."

I take a sip of my drink, "in the end of the day, I believe the friend of the pair hooked up with his friend's sister... Which is what he really wanted."

Rich

Ro and Roma laugh and laugh, which spills over to Parfait, who seems to have followed most of it. Little Skilsaw, with her pocked-marked face, she comes over to refill drinks all around.

"So Jack, the married couple, did they break up, or what?" Roma asks, still laughing.

Ro interrupts, "I hope so! Evidently, they were already apart, this will just the death knell, right? No reason for sad folks to stick together, make each other miserable. Am I right?"

"Why do people even get married?" Parfait asks genuinely.

Mistaking her tone, Roma raises a glass of ale, "That's my frakkin point! Hooah, right! Love em and leave em! Or just love em! No ties, no shackles!"

Adam

I shake my head, "they did not... They were both so struck with disbelief that their friend had only been interested to get at the sister, and so distraught from the events of the evening that they made up — and agreed to simply "put up" with the sexual proclivities of their partner." I smirk, and toast the pair in absentia, "last I saw them, they were happy together in denial — and united in their outright disgust of me."

I take another drink and turn to Parfait when she asks her question. I wait for Roma to say her piece, as jaded as she is, before answering myself. "Love is a peculiar thing, my dear... Marriage is a declaration of love. An agreement to be with someone through the various highs and lows of life — an understanding that life without that person would be worse on the whole than life with them, in spite of the occasional lows. It is a social construction that is respected by some, and ignored by others." I take her hand, and squeeze it gently, "for couples who truly love each other, marriage is merely a change in title — for the ones who fall apart, it is a prison which inevitably fails to contain them."

Rich

"I love Jack." Parfait says with confidence, then takes a bite of her chip with some kind of meaty sauce on it. She washes it down as Roma and Ro look at her. "If that is marriage, then I marry him."

Adam

I smile to myself.

I've seen grand weddings between people with more pomp and circumstance than love for each other, and I've seen couple who've been starving for months, huddled together for warmth in an alley outside a bar — the only thing they have to share between them being their bond. As far as wedding goes — I'd say this is about what I'd have expected for myself.

I toast her, clinking my glass against hers, and staring into her eyes. "Here here," I smile contentedly, and take a drink, "if that is what marriage is, then I happily accept."

Rich

Roma rolls her eyes, but you get the feeling she's a little jealous, too. Ro stands and applauds you, laughing with a genuine smile. He says finally, "You two are so wild, I am lucky to see this!"

Adam

I give Parfait a kiss — nothing showy, just something I feel the moment requires. I take a chip, and put some meat on it. "Now come! The best weddings have drink and dance. Let's finish this fine meal, and go listen to the marvelous Roma play some music worth dancing to."

Rich

You finish your meal and end up partying in Roma's place, which is nice, private and set up with some hella-big speakers She's got a wooden coffin of weed, a few bottles of alcohol, and no lie, a big water cooler.

Of course, Roma doesn't bring out the weed, in respect to you, so it's drinks and games. Parfait dances a bit while Roma sets up shots. Do you proceed to drink with them?

At some point in the night, Ro says, "You hear about Deck, Roma?"

"No," she replies while taking her overshirt off, now wearing just the wifebeater underneath and her jeans.

"I found him out inna waste, man." Ro says, shaking his head.

"No drek?" she asks. Ro shakes his head, confirming its veracity, no joke.

Adam

I've accumulated a decent drinking callous, but I'm not going to get drunk — my "wife" is pregnant, after all.

"Wife" — huh. I never really imagined myself as being with someone in such a way. When you wander the flats as long as I have, and peer into the minds of people who you might see yourself with, you begin to realize just how fickle and fragile love truly is... I might have found myself with Omo, or Aquafina — but I could not convince one to leave town with me, and I could not convince the other I was human, it seems.

Parfait is everything I would have expected from a wife — understanding, and eager to learn and please. At her heart, there is a child-like naivety that is ready to be molded into something truly beautiful. That potential is intoxicating to me — but that we agree on what the final product should look like is even more so. I dance with her while Romo sets up shots, and socialize with the group as we go...

My heart sinks when I hear about Deck being found in the wastes... "He was stealing from Dime-line," I offer, clearly disturbed, "I was told he was being "let go" — and I suspected something like that would happen."

Rich

Ro asks with a raised eyebrow, "How did you know he was skimming off the top, Jack?"

Roma interjects, "Yeah, what's he got you doing?"

Parfait knows your job, I assume. She won't answer for you, of course, but she wont be shocked when (if) you answer.

Adam

I shake my head disappointed in myself for not pressing the issue. It's not as though I have the leverage to change Dime-line's policy on theft — and I would imagine Upper Deck would not have the means to work off his debts — but there is something to be said for proportional punishment...

Parfait knows everything about my work. I tell her everything, if she asks it — down to the last detail, unless doing so would endanger her life. I answer them simply, "I am something of a professional people watcher, and judge of character. Dime-line has me investigating his workers for fraud... Largely interrogations. If I didn't know any better, I would say he is particularly paranoid of people outside his family — but then, he seems to trust me."

Rich

"Wait," Roma says, "He interrogates his workers?"

Ro holds up a hand, "Roma, seriously. You're such a Valley Girl. You should see what they do to folks at Walmart. That is snitch central." He looks to you, "What're you gonna do? Now that you know?"

You know Parfait's eyes are on you.

What do you do?

Adam

The question makes me a little uncomfortable, frankly... What am I going to do, knowing that my actions lead to the deaths of people guilty of crimes undeserving of the death penalty? ... Nothing? Quit? Speak to Dime-line? None of those things would achieve the desired intention of undoing the wrong that's been done... None of those things will prevent Dime-line from continuing to seek out the services of others who might — potentially incorrectly, might I add — determine people who might be stealing from him.

"I intend to mitigate future damages," I answer truthfully, "by being more careful about what I say, and to whom. If I do not do this, then it is possible Dime-line will pick people up on suspicion alone and leave them to the same fate. At least if I am here, for the duration of my contract, I can try to influence him. To bring some modicum of real justice to the people who wrong him."

I look to Parfait, "and then, when my contract here is done, I will give him a choice between my future services, and his paranoid ways."

Rich

Roma says, "I think that's going to be horribly wrong, Jack. No offense."

Parfait says with a little irritation in her voice, "Jack is a good man. He will fix things. Dime-line will learn from him, and be better."

Ro makes a face of disbelief, like he's with Roma, but not about to cross Parfait.

Adam

"I've walked away from scarier men than him," I offer, "the intent is not to cross him, merely offer him my services at the cost of morality."

Rich

Roma says, "Sounds good enough to me! Let's get back to the partying part of this party!" She uses a remote to turn the volume back up, and Ro, who has something more to say, lets it go.

How much longer do you and Parfait stick around? Where do you go when you leave?

Adam

I make a note of Ro's inclination to speak, and decide it would be best I speak to him some other time... In private.

Parfait needs her sleep. She gets woken up in the morning by her sickness, and I want her to be well rested. We'll head straight back to our room, perhaps to share a little tenderness in celebration of our new vows.

Rich

Alright then, let's skip ahead a bit. You and Parfait share some wonderful intimacy on what is, for all intents and purposes, your wedding night.

Let's see your Sex Move, Jack.

Adam

OOC: Sex move with Parfait. Roll+Weird. +1XP.
(Rolled: 2d6+3. Rolls: 1, 2. Total: 6)

Rich

The two of you are gently making love in the two-moon light spilling from the nice big window. She pulled you on top of her, reaching up with her nails to scratch that one point at the base of your neck that sends shivers of pleasure down your spine. She's growling wordless encouragement, her legs wrapped around you, holding you close like you're a precious part of her.

The moment of climax hits, and she joins you in the bliss of release. Her body clenches you in for a moment. Then, like your seed, your consciousness floods forward into her as well. For some reason, this time, something is wrong.

You're so in tune with her, that you realize it almost as soon as she does. Her little tremors of pleasure shift into a jerking spasm. A breath catches in her throat like you're choking her. Her hand at your neck reflexively curls, and the nails dig into the place where your neck meets the shoulder, and it bites deep.

When you look at her face, you see a flicker of confusion. Not fear, just confusion. Blood drips from her left nostril, running down to the top of her lip, then spilling over to stain the sheets. Then, with horror, you see bloody tears well up and leak out before she shuts her eyes and turns her head.

Once you release her, she turns over onto her side, curling into a fetal position, her hands on her belly, quietly groaning through the thudding pain of it.

What do you do?

Adam

I hold in a breath the moment I feel something is off... A feeling of dread overwhelms me when I see the first drop of blood run from her nose. I curse myself for being complacent. I knew this would happen eventually, but I am still frustrated I could not keep it at bay.

I am crying with her as she turns onto her side, and hop off the bed, down onto my knees beside her. I reach for a cloth, or anything really, to wipe the blood, and put under her. My free hand hovers over her – afraid to touch her – while I gently pad her face clean.

"I'm so sorry," I keep whispering, "I'm so sorry, my dear Parfait..."

Rich

The blood leaves streaks on her nose and cheeks. She doesn't push you away, she doesn't shrink into herself. After a few moments, she fumbles with her hand, eyes still squeezed shut, fumbling for yours. She pulls your hand into hers, clutching it with both of hers, actually. She whispers back, "Is he okay? Is the baby okay?"

Adam

I am there for her. I volunteer my hand when she reaches for it, afraid to do anything but what she asks. I reach down and put my free hand on her stomach, almost subconsciously. Then I reach deep, and search for that little bundle of life in her...

Please, in the name of everything sacred... Don't let me harm my child...

Adam

OOC: Opening brain. Roll+Weird. +1XP.
(Rolled: 2d6+3. Rolls: 2, 4. Total: 9)

Rich

You probe into the mind of your son, your barely more than a speck in the universe, still forming and growing son. In the contact of your mind's eye, you see a glimmer of what may be...

He's in his late teens, in this glimpse. You see him traversing the scrublands in trucks and on motorcycles with a group of people, some friends, some merely allies. Most of them are his age, including his athletic, slightly older twin half-sisters, Abba and Zabba, a big, strong young man with an ancient guitar slung over his shoulder who is riding a hover-bike and wearing shaded goggles, and a bespectacled young woman who seems attached to your son, but out of her element here in the wide expanse.

They're headed away from a threat, this much you know. Your son is leading them to a safe place. But what he hasn't told them is that he will be their safe place, his power against the maelstrom is something this world has never seen before. Not even the space-folk who keep arriving day by day, refugees from some galactic war.

When you finally come to, Parfait has calmed. Her blood-stained eyes are open, looking at you with concern, "Jack, it's alright. It's just pain, we're ok. Right? Everything is ok. Tell me, my husband. What did you see?"

Adam

There is so much to process... A glimpse into the future of our boy — and other children? ... Twins? Are they Bluebury's? Such odd names, and they look nothing like her... I push the questions down for the moment. Whatever their relation — it is clear they play a role in his life.

I'm crying still, but now with tears of joy... A smile parts my lips, and I nod emphatically. "It will pass, my dear. Our boy will be gifted." I say that without hesitation, or fear, "he will bring safety and hope to the people he travels with, and be a leader among men." I bring my hand up to her cheek, and kiss her hands. "You are bringing a miracle into the world, my dear. You carry a child in you unlike anything this world has ever seen."

I must protect this woman. I must do everything I can to ensure this child is safe. I have never been more certain of something in my life.

Rich

Parfait's worry turns to joy and actual tears begin to wash away the streaks of blood. "Oh Jack... we made this miracle." She looks into your eyes with her own bloodshot orbs, "Do you see? You and I, we were meant to be."

Adam

I kiss her deeply, and grip her hands tightly. "We are meant to be," I whisper tenderly, "and I will never let anything come between us again."

Rich

--END SCENE--