Post by Melissa Gold on Jan 22, 2008 15:47:38 GMT -5
District X hadn’t changed much since Mimi had been a kid, a few more battle scars and damaged buildings, but as Loomis always said, what scars on a pit bull? The place was already so tired and battle worn and broken down that it was hard to tell which bits had been damaged in the battle and which bits had been damaged to start with.
Like most locals, she didn’t bother to admire the scenery as she walked, keeping her focus on on feet and the people around her. She was scanning the crowd for a familiar face, for any familiar face, but the crowds seem cold and impassive today, full of strangers with cold feelingness faces and unhelpful responses. No one knew where anyone was, thank you very much, so would you mind taking your pink hair and your human face back to your own part of the district?
She was about to do just so when a building caught her eye, a squat ugly structure that bore the cryptic title of the “Anya Lensherr Center”. There was no further explanation or decree about its purpose, but any street kid worth her salt could recognize a center with a mission-statement when she saw it. Soup kitchen, homeless shelter, medical clinic, it didn’t matter. There was always one, located in the same brown brick building and bearing the name of someone’s dead relative.
She quickly turned her step towards it, and away from the tall green building that had been the target of her walk. The door was partially open and she could hear voices inside, so (in the way of all street kids, who hold a certain sort of self-entitlement to establishments sort of this), she pushed the door open and hurried in.
“Oi!” She called, not so much in greeting as to get attention from the crowd inside. She recognized Wanda immediately, one of her semi regulars at the bar, and she turned her attention her immediately. “Wanda, ya seen a kid named Art about tonight? Six or seven, yea tall, pink, doesn’t say much?”
Wanda was standing with a tall man with impeccable posture and general attitude that just screamed “The Man!”, a few kids who seemed to be equally clean cut and decently dressed, and another regular from the bar, the card shark Remy LeBeau.
She raised a curious eyebrow at him, but didn’t comment on his presence. This wasn’t the first time she’d run across a soup kitchen that fronted a gambling ring, although it was a first in this district. Of course, if there was gambling ring in District X, Remy LeBeau would be involved.
Like most locals, she didn’t bother to admire the scenery as she walked, keeping her focus on on feet and the people around her. She was scanning the crowd for a familiar face, for any familiar face, but the crowds seem cold and impassive today, full of strangers with cold feelingness faces and unhelpful responses. No one knew where anyone was, thank you very much, so would you mind taking your pink hair and your human face back to your own part of the district?
She was about to do just so when a building caught her eye, a squat ugly structure that bore the cryptic title of the “Anya Lensherr Center”. There was no further explanation or decree about its purpose, but any street kid worth her salt could recognize a center with a mission-statement when she saw it. Soup kitchen, homeless shelter, medical clinic, it didn’t matter. There was always one, located in the same brown brick building and bearing the name of someone’s dead relative.
She quickly turned her step towards it, and away from the tall green building that had been the target of her walk. The door was partially open and she could hear voices inside, so (in the way of all street kids, who hold a certain sort of self-entitlement to establishments sort of this), she pushed the door open and hurried in.
“Oi!” She called, not so much in greeting as to get attention from the crowd inside. She recognized Wanda immediately, one of her semi regulars at the bar, and she turned her attention her immediately. “Wanda, ya seen a kid named Art about tonight? Six or seven, yea tall, pink, doesn’t say much?”
Wanda was standing with a tall man with impeccable posture and general attitude that just screamed “The Man!”, a few kids who seemed to be equally clean cut and decently dressed, and another regular from the bar, the card shark Remy LeBeau.
She raised a curious eyebrow at him, but didn’t comment on his presence. This wasn’t the first time she’d run across a soup kitchen that fronted a gambling ring, although it was a first in this district. Of course, if there was gambling ring in District X, Remy LeBeau would be involved.