The Weaving Force: Chapter 2 (Patreon)

Chapter 2:

They were sleeping in a hovel.

And that was putting it kindly.

To be more accurate, it was the ruins of a shed. There was a hole on the roof, there was no floor to speak of and doors and windows were alien to this structure, things to be seen in the houses across the way.

Alexandria had lived in - and through - worse. Distant, near faded memories of the time her mother had near driven herself into destitute poverty to pay for her medications; of the ruins of New York after Behemoth attacked and she remained, trying to hold the entire Protectorate and seemingly the nation together as it threatened to buckle under the weight of that first titanic blow from the Endbringers.

Yes. She’d lived through worse.

But she’d be damned if that thought brought any comfort now.

Militia didn’t ask her where she got them clothes, or food. And Alexandria was grateful she wouldn’t have to lie because of those questions.

Clockblocker hadn’t asked either. But she could see in his eye a very clear, very pointed suspicion.

She brushed it off- for now at least. Whatever his problem was; it was not a priority in comparison to the myriad of challenges facing them here.

She stared out the hole in the wall that could generously be called a window. Staring at the yellow lights that peeked and blinked through the openings in the other dome shaped homes that were scattered across the city of Anchorhead.

For now, they were ok.

Food. Clothes. Bedding.

That would be enough.

“Do you remember?”

The question came softly, almost whispered so as not to disturb the sleeping Dennis in the corner.

Alexandria knew it’d been coming. She knew it. And yet she wished it hadn’t.

For many reasons, but the most prevalent was because of how very dangerous the implications were.

But she wouldn’t lie. She couldn’t.

If she was compromised…

“Not entirely.” She answered. And it was the truth. “All I know is that it was the Simurgh.”

Militia sucked down a sharp breath.

“We were fighting her. Brockton Bay.” She surmised briefly.

It wasn’t a memory, not a normal one anyway. Flashes, glimpses. She remembered Brockton Bay, so she remembered where the fight took place by specifically noting the surroundings of the memory as she was driven into the ground via impact. She remembered it was the Simurgh because the sound of her goddamn scream was deafening in the cacophony of battle within the brief flashes.

“Some Tinker device she crafted,” the Triumvirate member explained. “Dimensional displacement. Transportation.” She shrugged. “I can’t say for sure.”

“I can’t remember,” Militia confessed. Her voice was small almost guilty.

But beneath that Alexandria could hear and feel a very potent fear.

She understood that fear. The power to remember everything perfectly… to suddenly have it nullified, to have that gap in your memories… or worse- was… disquieting.

“Tomorrow we’ll be heading towards the Bounty Hunter’s guild?” Militia asked behind her, no doubt changing the subject. “Did you find out where it is?”

“I did.” She nodded.

Turning, the strongest woman in the world was seized by a sudden, crystal clear memory, Militia - in the room, the gun shifting in her hand - hesitating.

She heard the buzzing. The endless, ceaseless buzzing. Felt their bodies squirming, vibrating in her throat.

She couldn’t breathe!

She couldn’t breathe!

Then, the memory was gone and Alexandria sucked down a sharp inhale through her teeth, reminding herself that she could breathe.

She was alive…

She shook her head.

“Are you alright?” her one time Ward asked.

“I’m fine.” She tried not to snap, tried not to notice how her hands shook- the feeling of bugs crawling down her throat making her violently ill.

The concern in Militia’s eyes was obvious. But regardless, she nodded; no doubt in a sense of understanding. After all- there were a million reasons to be troubled, even for the normally unflappable Alexandria.

Their arrival here, their inability to return home. The chaos that must be ensuing back on earth Bet without one of the Triumvirate there to hold things together.

Body doubles and other Brutes could pretend for a time. But how much time did they have, really? How much longer before Legend would have to give a statement that Alexandria had fallen against Behemoth? Or Leviathan?

What then?

How much longer before Costa Brown was killed in a tragic car accident?

How much longer before Cauldron stopped looking?

Yes. There was plenty to be worried about.

“Get some rest.” She said instead. “We’ll need to be sharp tomorrow. Who knows what exactly this planet has in store for us.”

(X)(X)(X)

The place smelled.

Piss, sweat, booze, and foreign alien smells that made her lip curl.

Perhaps it was racist, but she felt like she was stepping into a zoo. A mess of freaks and walking, talking animals.

If they were human she might have thought the same.

The way they moved. The way they walked, spoke to each other, sized her up, checked her for weapons and other appetites. She could read it on their faces.

Behind her, Militia and Clock stepped inside.

Alexandria took a moment to figure out who to speak to. With her cold reading ability, it didn’t take her long. Body language, it seemed, was universal.

Marching through the busy cantina she felt eyes on them, hands fingering blasters. Militia knew it too. Her power was in the form of a knife now, but she was ready; only Clock seemed more distracted than focused, taken in by the menagerie of aliens- still fascinated even after a week here.

Walking up to an older man, human, this one - small mercies - she spoke.

“You’re the head of the Bounty guild on this world.”

“That’d be me.” The man smirked. “Lookin’ for a job, or turnin’ one in?”

“Looking,” she answered. “Local. Nothing that requires off world transport for now.”

“Hmpf.” The man snorted, ”Easier time working with the Hutts if that’s the case; they run Tatooine.”

“Rather not get involved in the power structure here. We won’t be long.” She sidestepped.

Hutts, if she understood, were the large slug like aliens. Wealthy, slavers, crime lords.

Even if she wanted to get involved with them, which she didn’t, she doubted either Militia or Clockblocker would agree.

“Do you have something?’ she asked pointedly, cutting through the chatter before it could start.

The old man leaned back in his seat, seemingly sizing the three of them up.

“Yeah,” he finally said after a long moment. “I got something-”

Reaching down under the table he pulled out a small, disc like object.

A hologram appeared above it.

“The Tyram brothers,” he said. “Small time splicing experts. Rodians. Pissed off some people.”

The hologram showed two bug-like aliens. Their bulbous eyes and heads looked almost mosquito-esque with their small, straw like mouths.

“Don’t need their backstory,” she said. “Any leads?”

“They’re hiding out in Mos Eisley last I heard.” He nodded. “I’d ask around there.”

“How much?”

“One thousand if either are dead,” he answered curtly. “Three, if they’re both brought in alive.”

“We’ll take the three,” she said easily, reaching down for the disc.

Taking it in her hand the Bounty Master huffed, “We’ll see.”

She turned and marched out the door.

Militia and Clock followed behind her.

(X)(X)(X)

“So where’s Moss Eisley? First time tourist visit you see,” Clock commented as soon as they were out of earshot.

“East of Anchorhead,” Militia answered before Alexandria could.

“What concerns me more is the size of the city,” Alexandria stated. “We don’t know who to squeeze for information. We can certainly go fishing. But we need to make money and make it fast. Finding two Rodians in a place of any significant size and this much of a criminal underworld will be… irritating.”

“We won't be hurting for informants once you do your whole ‘Walk through the brick wall’ trick a few times,” the boy cheeked.

There was something there, hiding in his voice. She’d never paid attention to the Brockton Bay Wards but it didn’t fit the profile she’d perused in the past. Dennis was a laid back, ‘joker’ He had the potential for good leadership, but later, after some years had fallen under his belt.

This barely there hidden suspicion… she didn’t care for the mystery behind it.

Militia sighed, “Let's simply reach Moss Eisley first.” The Heroine turned to look at Alexandria. “I know you wanted to keep a low profile but unless we have the money to pay for a transport you flying us there is probably the best and fastest option.”

Alexandria nodded. “We’ll have to leave from somewhere out of the way, and land before we’re visible to the city proper. But yes, I agree.”

The boy raised his hand.

“Question,” he began. “Just… kinda putting it out there but… like. How can we tell what Rodians we’re looking for? Rodians all kinda look the same to me.”

“Clock!” Militia chastised, though a smile was tugging at her lip.

“What! It's true!” He threw up his hands. “Or are you two experts in alien faces after a week?

Alexandria let a smile tug at her own lip in spite of the situation. “Given Militia’s eidetic memory…” she trailed off with a smirk.

Clock’s expression was quite humorous. “Oh that’s just cheating!”

(X)(X)(X)

Alexandria was immune to the heat. But even with that and the, frankly ridiculous speeds they traveled from Anchorhead to Mos Eisley, she could tell that Tatooine bore an obscene temperature, easily cracking over a hundred degrees Fahrenheit

The twin Suns hung high in the sky by the time they reached Mos Eisley, both Militia and Clock carried under her arms like sacks of potatoes.

They touched down in the wastes just a mile or so outside of the city and made their approach easily.

Clock’s costumed footwear wasn’t ideal for traveling in sand, and the boy’s physical fitness wasn’t the best either. He tired easily- but Militia kept by his side, urging him on and helped tie a proper turban around his head to keep cool as they marched.

Even after just a day the redness around Dennis’ nose and cheeks was noticeable.

Before long- they reached Mos Eisley itself.

It wasn’t wasn’t an overly large city, thankfully.

It was large by the standards of this planet, Tatooine, but it was about a fourth of the size of Brockton Bay by her own rough estimate.

In the states, it would qualify as perhaps a densely packed town.

But it wasn’t a city.

Less places to hide.

But something that worried her was what was in the city itself- it was likely the reason for Mos Eisley’s existence the same as Anchorhead, and Mos Espa as cities on Tatooine.

A spaceport.

Mos Eisley had a very large, very active spaceport.

If the Rodians took a ship offworld…

…

No use thinking about that now.

If it happened, they’d deal with it. If not; they’d find the two brothers and get paid.

Getting closer to the dirt roads off the street itself, Alexandria could see the difference between Anchorhead and Mos Eisley immediately in just the population itself.

Anchorhead was the de-facto ‘seat’ of what little passed here for a capital.

Mos Eisley by comparison, was a wretched hive.

It seemed to mostly be smugglers and outlaws surrounding them. Everyone was carrying some kind of weapon. All of them watched the three of them like they were being sized up to tell how worth it an attempt to rob them would be.

“Well. aren’t we popular.”

The comment came from Clock, and despite the attempt at humor there was an air of seriousness to his voice that surprised her.

She turned, eying the boy over her shoulder, but rather than a general sense of nervousness; the boy looked… serious. Sharp eyed and clear headed.

He was assessing threats.

He was checking for weapons, wandering hands, and potential combatants.

Militia was doing the same but Alexandria herself had trained her to do this. Had taught her to be a good soldier, a good hero.

But Clockblocker- Alexandria wasn’t surprised often but this… where on earth had this come from?

Before she could think too much more on it however, a particular… structure caught her eye.

“What’s wrong?” Militia noticed her distraction, it seemed.

Alexandria jerked her head towards the very large, grand building.“That’s an arena,” she stated simply.

“It certainly looks like one,” agreed Militia, tone uncertain about where this was going.

“Arenas have contests. Contests are worth prizes.”

Now they seemed to catch on.

“Wait, you’re planning to enter?” Clock asked.

“Why not?” The Triumvirate member shrugged. “It would be the most expedient way to make enough money for a transport off this world, perhaps even a transport of our own.

“It just seems…” Militia hesitated, “...beneath you?”

Now, Rebecca snorted.

If only they knew.

“I’m a big girl, Militia-” She drawled. “I believe I can bear the indignity.”

“So…” Clock began. “We split up? Militia and I head off to go get the two bug-eye-bros and you go be the best gladiator you can be?”

Alexandria turned to the boy. “It’s worth pursuing.”

The boy frowned.

Then he shrugged.

“My DnD knowledge says don’t split the party- the part of me that wants to sleep in an actual bed tonight says- fuckit.”

And just like that she wondered where had that maturity she’d seen vanished to.