[Tweak]

Word Count: 655

It was a sweltering day in the city of Miracle. Mid-summer, dog days, humid. Lots of people wandering around aimlessly, pretending to be going about their daily business as if the world hadn't ended over three years ago. Browsing wares, placating children with candy, haggling. It would all be quite normal if America's markets had always been run like bazaars. It was intriguing to watch the people go about their day. Some of them seemed okay. No cares, no fears, taking the life they had been given by a Goddess they had never known and rolling with it. Adaptable. Human. Others, of course, could not handle the strain of change, but a great many of those died off fairly quickly. Nature's way of weeding out the weak from the elite that would return the Earth to its former state. 

It would happen eventually. No need to get in a tizzy about it, though Tweak had certainly dealt with hero-types for these few years, people who yearned to become famous by spearheading the long journey to recovery. People looking to become famous rarely actually did; the same character flaws that motivated them forward made them weak, or gullible, and less focused on the important parts of heroism. Sacrifice. That was necessary, but those that supposedly embodied that trait had lost their goodness,  corrupted by a power they could really profit from. The Caritas. When it came down to it, survival was more important than progress, and Tweak couldn't blame them. He was keen on settling down in a sense, making something out of his life and waiting for someone else to take the reigns of project reconstruction. Ever since he awakened, fortunately beneath the boughs of an Yggdrasil, his enfeeblement had confounded him at every turn. He had to watch each move: his bones were brittle, his muscles quick to ache, his eyes always straining to peer through the goggles he used as a substitute to replace broken glasses. 

It was terrifying for a while, feeling himself deteriorating. Of course, without aging, his body never really changed. It still gave him some anxiety, always feeling under the weather. There were good days and bad days. Staying near the Yggdrasil kept the fatigue at bay, but there was only so long he could maintain claim on one of those. Greedy people would monopolize those soon enough, so in the meantime, Tweak set up a shop by one on the outskirts of Miracle. Lately, though, the MCC had been trying to 'problem-solve' the lack of employment in Miracle, like a world like this knew about archaic concepts like employment, money, welfare. It was ridiculous. Tweak ran his business on favors and with the MCC regulating everything... well, bartering became fair exchange, which was no fun, and favors became rip-offs protected by law. What was law? The best thing about the end was the end of law.

So, Tweak took his business to the shopping district, resolving to find long-term clients who, undoubtedly, would have electronics in need of fixing soon enough. People were branching out of Miracle and the MCC could only keep the Danger Zone locked down for so long. The more they told people to stay inside the walls of Miracle, the more people would desire to escape. Tweak would make a quick buck the day they did, as long as he had the people on his side. But before that... perhaps he could make the first move, for once. In his small way, he could liberate himself from the growing slime of organized law. He pasted his bulletin up to the board with a wince, his shoulder heavy as he reached up to stab the cork with a tack.

Looking for escort. Inquire at Tweak's Tweakery outside of Miracle.

With that, he slumped off in the direction of his shop. He hoped someone would contact him soon, before things really heated up with the MCC.

[Morgan]

Oh, summer. Morgan quite liked not needing to dress in layers upon layers just to make himself comfortable, but he loathed the season's casual segues into oppressive heat and stagnant air, when everything was fine just the night before. There were only so many articles of clothing he could take off before it became illegal, if anyone even cared about that. Didn't look as if anyone did; Miracle was teeming with people who were preoccupied with the daily task of trying to secure something to live off of until the next sunrise.

He understood it, didn't fault them a bit, but oftentimes he could hear a ghost of his parents' opinions flitting in the back of his mind. People are just too busy with their own lives to care about someone else's. The world was that jaded just before it ended. Traces of cynicism had long wormed its way into their skin and nested in their bones, not to be shaken loose as simply as their mortal coils had once upon a time three years ago, although there were exceptions. Anytime he wondered if his parents were right in their words, he reminded himself, there were exceptions. Stories he'd heard about Reborn who remembered traces of their heroism, bits and pieces but couldn't place them together. Families or total strangers that had protected each other even as the world fell around them. Those exceptions were worth the world.

The world as it was was in dire need of repair. The only way to work at it would be bit by bit. Like all important things, even the smallest steps would prove valuable in the grand scheme, whether working those minor things into habits or producing a snowballing effect that grew to bigger and better feats.

Morgan figured he was doing his part day to day with a message here or a package there, but that was during work hours. For now, he was free, and slipping his way in between these crowds in the shopping district. He recognized a few faces as he traveled, people who he had seen in the safer portions of Miracle. They seemed content from what he remembered, but it seemed curiosity got the better of them. Something caught their eye.


The blond's own eyes were drawn to something within his line of sight, posted upon a bulletin board. He got closer to get a better look at what was written on it. A request for an escort... Tweak's... Tweakery? Morgan tapped a finger to his lips and gave a slight cant of his head. There couldn't have been a better thing to name a business? The name sounded like a bird making chirping noises. With such a distinctive name, however, it would be easy to find.

He took the sign with him for future reference and wandered the outskirts some more, stopping when he found the very unassuming and quaint little.... he couldn't even call it a shop; that would give the impression that the place was graced with the usual four walls and a door that establishments usually had. It was probably more like an oversized, glorified booth? 

"Right." He waved the sign about absently. "Someone here posted up a notice for an escort?"

[Tweak]

Word Count: 564

It was about ten square feet of shoddy workmanship and hanging electrical parts, strung up on copper coil that must have served a more ceremonious purpose back in the day. Or not. Maybe it had always been a lowly coil with nothing better to do than hold the wares of a twitchy businessman. Tweak sat amongst his many treasures in a broken wood chair, his sneakered feet propped up on a splintery table and his eyes hidden securely behind a pair of sunglasses. He preferred to look a little more cool in his shop than out in public, where he wore the goggles with fitted lenses that actually let him see. He didn't care to look unapproachable then, but with the market as sparse as it was for electronics, he could not afford to scare away potential customers. 

As soon as Morgan walked up and waved the paper around, Tweak seemed to transform. A little more nervous, a little less cool. He discarded the sunglasses, they weren't good for discussing business, though they might have done some good hiding his shifty eyes and the way they refocused on every new object. It was a jerky optical performance of squint, unsquint, look around, one that made him seem somewhat untrustworthy. "I'm glad you could find it." Tweak said in a matter-of-fact sort of way that betrayed his quick glance around at an empty expanse that robbed his greeting of its integrity. It would be a feat to not find Tweak's Tweakery, next to fields of dead grass and a squat stone wall that guarded the salesman from the city. "You want some lemonade?" Tweak spoke in a strange tone, pulling the proverbial rug out from under Morgan before the failed attempt at a joke could even settle. "Just kidding, none of that anywhere. I mean, none that you can trust." Tweak looked down at the ground before meeting Morgan's eyes once more.

"Name's Tweak, obviously. I'd invite you inside but... yeah, don't got that either. I'll keep it short, Legs, I'm looking for someone to help me sneak into the Danger Zone. And then, ya know, protect me... Or somethin'." Tweak didn't enjoy how effeminate all of this was coming across. He had come to terms with the physical weakness his Virtue had cursed him with, but hadn't been forced to deal with the more social repercussions. He was a pansy. A pansy with no choice but to be a pansy. And try as he might, his stature betrayed any macho he could muster up in the company of a fellow gentleman. It was surprising, foremost, that all of this reflex paranoia was even relevant in today's world. One would've thought social stigma might have disappeared at this point, in lieu of all the other stigmas that had replaced it. New hierarchies, people with lesser vices, all that crap. But no, something was still there. An unwelcome reminder of a divided world.

"If you ain't up to it, I got it. No hard feelings. But you'd be better of growin' a pair and doing it anyways. If my theories are correct, there's some good shit out there. Maybe even weed." Tweak raised his hands in warning, as if taking back a promise. "Just sayin'. No telling, really, but it's worth a look, and the MCC's gonna be flooding the place soon. That's what I heard."

[Morgan]

From what he could see, the only occupant of this little 'establishment' could be safely assumed to be the owner of it. The way he sat with his feet propped up and his eyes behind a decent pair of shades, casual as can be. Well, that is until Morgan had actually made his presence known. Then the man who'd looked so collected basically morphed into someone different. The blond almost wished he hadn't caught that particular detail. Now he'd just end up recalling that at inconvenient times. Or whenever it was funny to bring up. Whatever situation came first.

The guy put away the sunglasses and revealed yet another detail about himself; he looked absolutely nervous, twitchier than even the strange boy with the rats that Morgan caught the occasional glimpse of. He was sure if they put the two in the same room the brunette would look the calmer one, but that was neither here nor there.

Morgan watched.

"I'm glad you could find it... You want some lemonade?"

Morgan was about to open his mouth to inquire just where in this dump glorified closet shop the guy could've possibly fit a refrigerator to keep the lemonade cool enough to drink, but then the man continued, "Just kidding, none of that anywhere. I mean, none that you can trust."

It's not the lemonade I'd be skeptical of. Last time a lemon ever stabbed Morgan in the back? Never. Granted, he hadn't suffered that from a person either, but still.

This 'Tweak' person finally felt an introduction was in order, as well as the explanation of just what the escorting job entailed and where to. Additional tasks. Protection? All right, yeah, sure. Except what was so valuable in the Danger Zone that someone like Twig Tweak needed to be there?

"If you ain't up to it, I got it. No hard feelings. But you'd be better off growin' a pair and doing it anyways. If my theories are correct, there's some good shit out there. Maybe even weed. Just sayin'. No telling, really, but it's worth a look, and the MCC's gonna be flooding the place soon. That's what I heard."

"Did I just get told to grow a pair by a guy still wearing his little sister's pants?" The words were out of Morgan's mouth before he could stop them, but he still tried-- a little reflexive raise of his arm as if to cover the lower half of his face. He didn't finish that. "All right, I'll take you up on your offer but not because you made some dig at whether or not I'm manly enough for the job. I'm not the one asking for the help here, remember that," he huffed.

[Tweak]

Word Count: 734

Before Tweak could feel anything about the quip, though it probably would have been positive that he had discovered a substantial backbone after all, the guy straight up accepted the offer. That was all it took, a little poking and prodding in the balls... well, that could be rephrased better, but it got the point across. Tweak was harder than his nervousness might suggest. He was a fidgety squirrel that, when threatened, was at his best. Anxiety to a point, and then a rage of entitlement took over and suddenly there was no offended or irritated or afraid. There was only a burning scorn, that someone might take advantage of his weakness. A lot of Tweak's inner strength was always there, but in a place that took a few triggers to reach. Had always been that way, since his troubled youth and the steps he took, indirectly, to find small success in a world of failures and impractical expectations. A worthy defense mechanism on an unseemly make.

"Yet, you took the offer." Tweak gave a snide, plucky smile that spoke of good nature. It wasn't overly arrogant nor comparable to a child just happy to have gotten his way. There was a hidden calculation, amongst many Tweak was unaware of making himself. He knew when to push and when to pull, but running and attacking... Sometimes, he had no choice. "Good enough for me, Slendy. The Danger Zone is a dangerous place, hence the name. I need someone with control who isn't going to ditch me the second red eyes appear in the bushes. Just don't get your jimmies rustled this early, pal, and we'll be fine." Tweak nodded to himself, adjusted his little sister's pants to better fit his junk, and patted the wooden table. A compartment popped out as if on cue and Tweak let out a small sigh that the semi-cool display of being a super fly engineer had worked out. That function had been iffy the past few tries.

"Here's the gold. A map to a place they call the Eerie Pier, when they aren't being shuffled off to the Tower for questioning. The only people that know about it, like, really know, are the beastkind that live there and the poor schmucks too scared to leave. People live all over Miracle, lived there since the big guys moved in and took over, and a lot of them stayed in the more scary parts rather than merge into Crown's domain. I mean, it's not that bad, I think they're just stubborn, but that's beside the point." Meanwhile, Tweak pulled a crumpled sheet of paper out of the compartment and pressed it out against the wood. It was a hastily drawn 'map' leading, vaguely, from one point labeled Miracle to another labeled Pier. A child's treasure map. There were a few landmarks scattered in between, long building names that people who hadn't lived in Chicago probably wouldn't have heard of. A visual representation of a statue or monument, crudely drawn like the rest of it, were the only testament to its credibility. Tweak knew the whole thing looked fishy; it wouldn't be wise to blindly trust something like this, and Tweak really had no evidence that he should. He only knew sitting around and waiting for an opportunity had gotten old. And boring, mostly.

"I figure we head out tomorrow morning, scout out the buildings along the way for whatever we can find, and then scout out the Pier. If the guards haven't cleared out the place, since I'm guessing the whispers have reached them if a hermit like me caught wind, we should find historical treasures. Sounds crazy, I know, but pre-Fall, some old war vessel was docked there. For tours and stuff, and I'm guessing there are valuables on board, valuables I could do with getting my mitts on." Tweak paused and considered. "And you too, I guess, if you're still in." He leaned back a little, his eyes drooping from the weakness he felt from getting so excited and talking so rapidly. He reached back to the wooden chair for support and steadied himself. It would need to be after a night's rest, if at all, and Tweak wasn't sure how long he would last a full day of walking and possibly running from whatever beasts awaited them, human or otherwise.