The Slum Kid Will Mark History

Bogged Down

Running away is my specialty, meaning the only ones able to take me down are those I keep close to me.

"She cannot be far away. Look for her! If the boss learns his newfound masterpiece ran away, we're dead!"

I shudder, my cocky smile never leaving my face. Disgust drools over my face, the terror makes me laugh. Laughing under pressure is a sign of going insane, isn't it? To be honest, I'm not really sure... Growing up in "La Zone" distanced me from normality. Numbness is essential here, but what's the point of living without emotions?

I continue running, my mind a fluster of feelings. The voice that yelled... I recognize it. A doctored voice, meant to sound menacing but ends up endearing. The proof of her lack of confidence, her need to prove herself strong in this dumpster. The real voice can be heard muffled through the mechanism. The one lady I entrusted with my safety, and even more as time passed. I desperately need to feel her touch again, but the only way to do so will be to let myself get captured. So I continue to run.

My legs slug with soreness, needless to say it's difficult to be agile, however I still push through. I was strapped to a chair for so long... Which day are we? What year? Am I... forgetting something? It's terrifying to think about it. Not like I really know the world I live in, nor do I have much knowledge, though there's so many memories I don't want to forget... No matter how painful.

As I recollect my thoughts, still being on the move, I hear a voice, something that comes from the depth of my heart. From this creature, the monster that found itself trapped inside of me.

"Running. Running. Always running Alley Cat. Why is that? Don't you think it'd be better to let me take control?"

I hiss as it drips of malice and cruelty. Its voice, something I can't turn off, will it really be something permanent? I can't even get mad at them for implanting this demon in me. I'm just... Tired of this... Of this life, of this place, of everything.

You sure are annoying.

"This hurts me Alley Cat."

Don't care. You're a demon, stop having such thin skin.

Trying to be witty in this state is difficult. But it is also my one source of constant enjoyment. Cracking jokes, laughing... Loving... Give me life. People always said I was childish, that I am not serious enough, I lack what makes a professional, but if I can trade a career for a laugh, I will do it. This world is already somber enough, why try to accommodate to its rules if not for a dull life? Thinking back to all of that, brought happy memories turned painful on my mind, so I shake everything off and try to take account into my surroundings, I know what my pursuers can do.

The streets of "La Zone" are mostly dilapidated places, where everything rot and rust, the painful scent of "Óxido", a phenomenon where devices powered by "Iremia", this world's magic, are left untouched for too long, filling the air. There's also elements, trash and structures, supposedly from every other cultures and land thrown here. We are basically the local trash-bin for everyone, but some of us didn't mind and used the pieces in creative ways by crafting devices to better their lives, creating tons and tons of unique infrastructure by combining improbable pieces of furniture and gears together. This made both the interior and exterior of every buildings unique, and the ones that had such crafting skins were highly sought. Sadly I wasn't one of them though I know some basis. Also, ironically, this chaotic aesthetic, while repulsive when combined with the rust and everything else, gave the streets of this place more personality and individuality than anything else in the homogeneous and impersonal Center, at least from the glimpse I've seen on local TV, as you can never leave "La Zone".