Tired of carrying this crap... [Salvage]

[Takeda]

"Kid better be right about this..."

Other than blindly hoping for survival, that was the chief thought going through Takeda's head as he began to follow the coordinates laid out by his brother. One thing was for sure, the kid was collected, and managed to pinpoint the location of what he described as a safe haven from whatever these things were. A temporary refuge would be nice, but the tales of there being someone to take in all the unwanted scrap that was piling up in the apartment? That'd be a dream. Sweat dripped from his forehead to his brow, as he made his way along the exact coordinates drawn out for him by Seiji. "I swear to god, if that kid is pulling something on me, or I end up running out of ammo in this shithole, I'm going to wring his-" The thought was abruptly interrupted by the glimpse of a building in the distance that seemed relatively...well, it was at least a damn building, anywhere was better than this...there was always this feeling of them stalking him...watching. Had been like that ever since...

Placing his hand on the door, he turned the knob, and was greeted with the sight of a place that he'd describe as home away from home...junk dealer alright. Seiji had handed him the pack for the purposes of doing shifts to lighten the load, and since it was an off day, he was screwed. Inside, he found a board put up on the wall filled to the brim with post-it notes and a few posters, a mission board of some sort. With the low-light situation going on in here, he had a bit of difficulty in determining if he saw the line "For a good t-" and of course it was too dark to see that bit...there went tonight's entertainment. Hands in his leather jacket's pockets, he strode up to the counter, and looked about before unzipping it.

Laying out the various knick-knacks and refuse that was beginning to pile up in his house from Seiji's little "outings", he organized them, and spoke. "Hey. I'm with Seiji, sent me here to hand out some of this shit." With a sigh, he pulled out a pack of cigarettes and put it on the table too, after lighting one up. "And that. Times are tough, so on and so on...so what can you give me for all this?"

[ChromaticTruthsayer]

Items Appraised!

Your money has been added.

[Takeda]

The age old adage "Another day, another dollar." couldn't have been more true for the peculiar red-haired traveler who found himself navigating the Gap in order to reach the strange woman who took in all of his trash, for whatever reason. Today's haul was quite diverse by comparison to his first to the dealer, in that his backpack was filled with more than beer-cans and a broken toaster. Today, there were beer cans, a broken coffee machine, and a few old flip up cellphones from much earlier in the decade, a much better haul than before! Backpack clattering with the metal and plastic mess that he had garnered after going through dumpsters behind Manga-Max, along with the glorious coffee machine that was now missing a vessel to pour the freshly made brew into, he had set off on this with the intent of being able to keep him and his half-breed brother going for another week or so. Navigating the Gap was easy enough after the first time, and in no time flat, he found himself at the doorstep of the strange junk-lady.

Opening it up, the musty smell of the old shop forced itself into his nostrils, and the familiar dimmed lights shone before him. Dust seemed to be unsettled by his movements, though it had not been long since his past visit. In the back of his mind, Takeda wondered as to whether or many people wandered out here, given the mission board. Taking a glance at it, he found nothing new in the darkness, save for the fact that he now got a full look at the phone number from before. Refusing to write it down and take the chance of ending up having phone sex with a shadow, he passed on by and stepped up to the counter, squinting his eyes to see into the dark. "You know lady, you really need to replace these bulbs. Someone's gonna break their fucking neck in here." With that sentiment, he lifted the backpack up and emptied the trash of the week onto her counter, arranging it from beer-cans, to phones, to the coffee maker.

"Hope you remember  me, at least...never got a good look at you. So how much for the lot?" Giving up on seeing into the dark, he simply leaned over his pile of goods that were of dubious value, and wondered if it was too late to take the coffee maker back.

[Erithania]

Creating magical monies!



Project successful!

[Takeda]

Within the dark confines of the subway tunnels, the jingle-jangle-jingle of metal objects clinking together in a backpack became audible all the way down the line. Using the same old backpack that he had taken the previous two times, Takeda Akiyama was more than prepared to give the junk lady the excess refuse that he had been piling up in his apartment...and some stuff from the catacombs, but that's the kind of thing you don't talk about unless you want to get arrested for grave robbery. Apart from the usual assortment of various beer cans, glorious coffee makers, and the occasional hub cap, this time Takeda had brought with him some things that he was fairly sure would at least bring in the real money, as he journeyed through the tunnels. The route was one he had seldom ever explored, and with the list of activities he could indulge in becoming somewhat slim, checking out the route that he had been told was the main thoroughfare seemed like a decent enough plan.

Well, at least it didn't smell like shit. When it came to the sewer route, fighting the shadows there was fairly easy whilst making your way through to any point throughout the ruined parts of the city, whilst the subway just seemed downright desolate. Shadows dared not stir, but then again, the red haired fellow sauntering his way along the tracks could've just been there on a good day, for all he knew. After all, these things had been getting absolutely silly in the way they were formed...so what could be next? A train shado- Actually, never mind that. Upon reaching the station that he once used to make his way towards West Mosaic so long ago, Takeda took a deep breath, and headed towards the steps. To be frank, there was always something so sad about seeing these places, and he really couldn't place it. Places where people used to roam about on their daily lives, now just empty, being torn away at by months of neglect. Nevertheless, upon reaching the stairs, he found himself right outside of the gap.

Right upon exiting, he beheld small, makeshift kiosks, places he'd never bothered to step by...hell, he'd have to make a habit of checking this place if there were actual goods on sale sometime. Heading past them, he opened up the door of the dusty, dark salvage shop, speaking out quietly, so that the junk lady wouldn't hear him. "Lucy, I'm home!" For a moment he found himself checking the bounty  board, running his finger along some of the post-it notes in order to make his own mental note of what could be on the agenda...he and Seiji weren't going to change the situation in a day, so money had become a top priority. Ever since Seiji had become a paid intern, they had been doing a little better too, but things were always going to be a bit rough. Making his way to the desk, he emptied out the backpack, and what should happen to fall out? Coins. Old coins from the catacombs. After a collection of coins tumbled out, the usual scrap electronics, occasional swiped video game, and of course beer cans all were arranged into place, as he balanced himself on the counter.

"Alright, brought you some good shit this time, lady. So I was wondering, you get out of here much?"

[Erithania]

Got your junk!



Got you some money, honey!

[Takeda]

"Living the dream, like always."

Those were the last, sarcastic little words that Takeda Akiyama ever managed to utter to his mother upon hearing her raggedy ass voice ask him how things were going with his brother. Of course, when your mother outright refuses to take in the spawn of her own damn loins, dumping a kid off with you like he's a damn cat that you don't have to pay attention to whilst sitting for 'em, you tend to be more than a little pissed. Especially when said brother was the offspring of some G.I Joe asshole that happened to drop by and plowed his mom. Not that that was uncommon. Those words, for some damned reason refused to pry themselves from Takeda's mind as he leaned over the chipped sink in his bathroom, staring into his own unshaven visage whilst marveling at how bloodshot his eyes had gotten. Things...things hadn't been great for the red-haired daytime manager, if the dark circles beneath his eyes were anything to go by. Splashing cold water over his face, he recalled quite clearly his boss reciting the whole "I'm going to pretend to give a shit about what's going on rule so that you have to take a damn off day and don't scare off my customers" routine the other day, saying that he needed to get his shit together and come back the day after...bullshit. Looking back up at himself, he got to work cleaning up, trimming his beard back into it's familiar shape, whilst slicking back his hair. Didn't exactly take a lot of time for Takeda to prep himself up for the day, but it was different now. Not only was his hair slowly starting to shift back to it's original color, but he honestly looked worse than usual, even compared to his relatively rough state after a late night pub-crawl.

After a shower, shave, and getting dressed, he stepped out of the grungy bathroom with a disgusted look on his face, like he smelled that something had died in his apartment. Whilst that smell was really, really prevalent, it probably wasn't the reason he was disgusted. All about him were beer cans, old glasses that once housed the nectar of the gods that fueled his every move, and various boxes/bags that were taken from the cheapest food joints around the city. It'd been months before he bothered cleaning the place up, not even seeing a point to lifting a finger...shit was gonna pile up again, so why bother? Maybe there'd be an avalanche of garbage that'd take him while he was sleeping and transport him to the big pearly-Oh bullshit, he knew perfectly well it wouldn't be that easy, or that there'd be any pearly gates waiting for him. Maybe some Judeo-Christian asshole holding a pitchfork whilst sounding like Skeletor, but there was no way that he was going somewhere nice and fluffy. That'd be too easy. Grabbing up an old backpack that had sat in the corner next to his door, the fiery false-redhead made up his mind on something. He was going to be able to move in his own damn apartment, and he was going to get a decent meal for once, not just some dollar menu garbage that amounted up to gnawing on cardboard.

After about an hour of trying to make a dent in the mass of garbage that made up his apartment, he soon found himself sitting on the creaking, rotted wooden stairs that led up to his apartment whilst hearing his stand-in chime ever so happily to customer's downstairs that yes, he did know totally everything about how Glastonbury something used a special attack it pulled out of it's ass on blah-blah -blah. Looking at the faded and peeling wallpaper, Takeda laid his hand on the almost bursting backpack, filled to the brim with cans, shell-casings, glassware, and even a busted cellphone. Tilting his head a bit low  with one hand on the side of his cheek, he seemed to really be thinking about what he should do...where to go from here. His thoughts drifted to the empty cot upstairs, to the people that had no doubt been fighting the shadows whilst he was moping about...fuck that. Standing up tall, the jacket-clad manager made his way down the stairs, here, in the early morning, before taking the back way out, towards the abandoned subway tunnels. While the odd passerby occasionally shot him a look as if to ask what in the hell he was doing, he made his way into the darkness without so much as a hitch...the long hike to the gap was one he seldom remembered...his only hope was that he could make it out in one piece.

A few bullets later, followed by the comforting knowledge that he could make maya's figuratively piss their pants in that place, he emerged into the purple light of the alien place called "The Gap". Instead of finding it run over with would-be heroes, it was once more abandoned, makeshift stalls flanking the entrance, with an old familiar shack residing not too far away. His mind was racing, thoughts of coming back to the battlegrounds, of heading into West Mosaic again flooded his brain...all of it coming to one conclusion. He pried open the door of the junk-lady whilst taking a gander at the message board. Missing notices, crossed out post-it notes, some pinned up with thumbtacks to show they were still good, all with the dim light from a yellowed out bulb providing just enough illumination to see. Walking up to the counter, he heard an audible creak, the very weight of his garb-no, no, his haul had apparently made the counter wobble a bit, as he spoke out, unzipping it to let the cascade of metal and glass flow onto the counter.

"Jesus Christ, lady, where do you get your lightbulbs from? Either way...is what it is."

[Kitten4u]

I'll take that junk



You can have this money