A Game of Worlds and Chaos

Tempest Briar gave herself a once over. She was usually covered in a tin layer of dust, so he joined Pel quite comfortably.

"What do you think they're doing to the people here?"

Pel examined the two people in front of him. One of them had ragged clothes that barely came to their knees, and what Pel could see of their legs was worryingly thin. "Nothing good, I'm sure." He gulped. "Do you think it's a forced labor kind of thing? Slavery?"

Tempest Briar hummed. "That's a common enough thing. The hulks all over again. I just hope Du Cane didn't get his filthy hands on this system, or our next week will be awful."

He shuddered, fingers ghosting over his face.

"Du Cane?" Pel glanced quizzically at Tempest Briar. He shuffled forward as the line inched towards the door of the Jeneral Store, trying not to wince as he stepped on a small rock.

“Ah, you haven’t heard his name over where you’re from? Consider yourself lucky.” Tempest Briar sighed. “He’s more devil than human, and someone thought it was wise to let him design our prisons back at home.”

"Oh." Pel didn't usually have much sympathy for criminals-- he'd always been one to follow the rules-- but torturous prison conditions weren't fair either. He sincerely hoped this place wasn't too cruel...

Finally, they reached the door of the Jeneral Store. Pel watched as the bearded man behind the counter scowled at each of the customers, and he gulped, suddenly feeling very out of place.

Tempest Briar frowned. “Well, we’re about to run into the same problem we did last time.”

She sighed. “We still have no money.”

"M-maybe information is free?" Pel tried his best to stay optimistic as he shuffled into the store.

Tempest Briar grinned. “Oh, we’re about to get laughed or thrown out of the store. I hope you’re prepared.”

He certainly wasn’t. One more rough job with his wing, and they’d probably break. And breaking them wasn’t a good way to keep them hidden.

Soon enough (perhaps too soon), Pel found himself standing in front of the counter. He opened his mouth to ask a question, but he was interrupted by the clerk.

"How many hours do you have?"

Pel gulped. "Hours?"

The clerk rolled his eyes. "You're fresh meat, huh? Well, kid, the currency around here is hours of experimentation."

Tempest Briar frowned. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

“Yeah, be afraid, kid. Be very afraid.” The clerk sighed. “Head over the that large cube building in the center. You’ll find your hours there.”

Tempest Briar didn’t like that. “Sure.”

Pel glanced at Tempest Briar. "Are we sure we want to do this? Experimentation sounds ominous."

The clerk looked up from where he was helping another customer. "You need hours for everything around here, kid."

Tempest Briar sighed. “It sounds like we don’t have much choice in the matter.”

He rolled out his shoulders. “I’m afraid we have to play along.”

Pel nodded slowly. "Time for experimentation, then..."

He glanced out the door of the store. Among the ramshackle buildings and hovels, a sleek black cube stood out in the middle distance. Pel imagined he could feel waves of evil radiating out from it.

“That is the most unnatural building I have ever seen.” Tempest Briar frowned. “It has no roof.”

He walked around the line and out of the store.