Where society was once based on wealth and social status, one's place in the world was now determined by intellectual potential. All four of the cardinal cities were, in essence, the same: those who won the genetic lottery lived in the Alpha Sector, where riches were abundant and they were able to live prosperously, and with ease. Next came the Beta Sector, and then Gamma. The lower in the chain one would stand, the more labor and hardships they had to endure. But none so suffered as those in Delta Sector did. Those who were deemed unfit by the gods were cast to the bowels of the city, where they had to scrounge for food, and shelter. Crime and violence abundant, the enforcers spent most of their time there, beating the citizens into submission.
Deep within one of the many alleyways of West City's Delta Sector, a shelter had been erected. Black, tattered cloth made a makeshift tent that was held up by a combination of stray metal beams and planks of wood, fashioned into a primitive infrastructure. Inside were several wooden crates, likely filled with belongings; there were blankets propped up on the ground, probably stolen, that made up a bed. Sitting on a smaller crate was a hooded figure, who was sharpening what looked like hatchet with a smooth stone. Suddenly, a barrel that had been placed in the corner fell over with a thud, causing the figure to rise up and pull a knife from beneath tresses of fabric.
"Easy. I'm not going to hurt you." A man ducked under the hood of the tent and made his way inside, swatting away some of the material with a hand. He looked to be older: his face grizzled and creased with lines.
"What do you want? Leave me alone. I don't have any food." It was a woman's voice: cold, agitated.
"First of all, you're lying. I saw you dragging a meaty limb in here earlier. But that's not why I'm here. I'm your neighbor." He lifts the cloth up and points to another makeshift shelter down the dark of the alley. "See? Neighbor. Now. I couldn't help but notice a few things..." He nudged the barrel he knocked over with a foot, causing a metallic sound to fill the air as several weapons peaked out from within: a handful of swords, knives, and various other sharp objects. "You're a hoarder, and you're preparing for something."
"How very observant of you. Now get out, before I pick up one of those blades and devour you instead of that leg."
"Nuh-uh-uh, not so fast." He waved a finger at her almost mockingly, which made the hooded woman give a loud hissing sound in her irritation. Golden eyes, visible in the dim light of the tent, stared the man down. "That's what I thought! You are the one everyone's talking about. No bracelet, no number. You've been stealing, and pillaging, and leaving corpses in your wake. Mothers tell their children about you so they're afraid to play outside. They're calling you, 'The Night Serpent.' Now, what I want to know, is just who exactly are you?"
"I owe you no explanation. This is your last warning: get out."
"You misunderstand, creature. I wish to help you. In..., you know. Whatever you're doing with all of these." He leaned over and picked up a knife from the rim of the barrel, examining it. "Because if your goal is to fight against those who're keeping us down here, your fight and my fight are the same."
"I don't need any help."
"Tell me, Serpent of the Night- Creature of Darkness. Do you know what good all these weapons will do you against the Kaneren?" She stared at him, finally lowering her blackened cowl to reveal lengthy waves of blonde hair. "Jack shit. You won't even lay a scratch on them. Not without guns. And not just any guns, advanced guns. And do you know what I do? I collect guns."
"What is this...- 'gun'? What does it do?"
"You don't know what a gun is?" The older man looked to her with confusion. "Where exactly are you from, girl?"
"My name is Viper."
"Are you supposed to be some sort of cartoon villain?"
"You use words I do not understand. Tell me of this, 'gun,' that will hurt the Kaneren."
"Only if you tell me where you are from." They both sat on crates that were opposite of each other. The man crossed one leg over the other and gave a slight smile. He must have been well into his fifties; a product of the Delta Sector, wearing tattered clothes and covered in dirt.
"I am from a place called Krynia." Her answer was short, to the point. She wasn't one for elaborating, it would seem.
"You are not from one of the cities, then?"
"The city I come from does not look like this."
"I see. Well, tit for tat, then..." He pulled something from out of the side of his baggy pants, which made the woman give him a peculiar look. It was a small, black pistol. "This is a gun. You use it to shoot things." He handed it to her gingerly. "Be careful with it." She picked it up from him, looking uncomfortable as she held out by the handle like an unwanted piece of meat.
"How does one use it?" He reached out and took it back from her, worried about her accidentally setting it off.
"I'm going to show you. And not just show you, but train you. I'm going to make you the best marksman to ever come out of Delta. But first..., let's make a deal." The woman who called herself Viper stared at her, 'neighbor,' the slits of her serpentine eyes distinctly triangular and narrow as several golden scales shimmered, for a brief moment, along the side of her fair-skinned face.
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