Lost (OPEN)

[attr="class","landfill-scroll"]Just another day. Nice weather, it was warming up a bit, she really couldn't complain. She hated the winter maybe a little too much, and would happily stay inside as much as possible if she could at all, but finally that was starting to recede.

There had been something about one of the signs over at the old Coralcluster Factory being painted over by a bunch of kids, which had in turn lead to a need for things to be tidied up and for boundaries to be reinforced. It wasn't something she could just overlook, at least, after getting everything in order and making plans for the rest of the week.

It was also a pretty quiet evening, so for once, she didn't care to have her hood up; it was refreshing to not have her face covered or all of her tentacles crammed into a hat. That quickly changed if there was more traffic around here.

Her leisurely pace came to an abrupt stop when there was motion out under the dim streetlights, her posture growing tense as her right hand dropped to the blaster that hung from a beltloop at her waist.

Manticore didn't get a moment to stop and ask intentions, of course, before the other figure turned and bolted without making a sound. She caught a brief glimpse -- bobbing, tied-up tentacles in a warm green hue, comfortable clothes. This kid really didn't look like they belonged out here, at least, so they appeared; but appearances were always deceitful.

Slowly, she followed, watching as the inkling tripped on the debris of a few abandoned pizza boxes and promptly fell. A huffing little sigh escaped the octoling as she caught up, and then stopped a few paces away.

"Unless you're here to start something, you don't have to flip your lid."

It wasn't difficult for her to take up the Luna Blaster Neo that hung at her side, the glint of an ink tank barely visible from where she had it nestled in the back of her vest. Better safe than sorry.

"Get up. What're you doing out here?"

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Moving to slowly circle the unfamiliar inkling, Manticore could at least take content in the fact that they weren't armed (or, at least, as far as she could tell). No weapon, no ink tank, maybe a small concealed knife or whatever somewhere, but she wasn't that concerned. They probably weren't even in high school yet.

"Tricked, huh. You and all the other little squids that end up out here," she observed, finally stopping with her back to the alley wall and her free hand lingering on her hip. For all she knew, this kid could be some agent or junior member of the police force, or someone bribed by a rival gang to start trouble..

"Oh, that again. Yeah, that crap's usually a scamming front.
Maybe it'll work for a few shots, but then it breaks down, and no certified weapon shop'll fix up a homebrew weapon, and you're out all your cash."

Pausing for a few seconds, the octoling fished her shellphone from her pocket, tapping out a quick message.

>shepherding @ E. Stingray Dr, cover from afar but do not interfere

Tucking that away in her vest again, Manticore smirked somewhat at the flattery. It wasn't going to sway her opinion on the matter, but it was always nice to know that she coordinated decently. Good impressions were pretty important.
Hesitantly, she offered out a hand as to help the stranger up.

"Look. I'll get you out of here, but since you're in sensitive turf, you stay quiet about whatever you've seen. 'kay?"

Exactly what Kal might've seen, she wasn't sure, but gossip was something that traveled quickly, especially among young ne'er-do-wells. If she wasn't careful, then there might be a whole gaggle of colorful children wandering out here sometime soon.

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Kal definitely hadn't been the first one to fall for that sort of thing. She had seen it there and again, somebody who was too interested in the prospect of some fresh new weapon to so much as question anything about it. Then they would be out of cash, in a bitter part of town, and probably without a decent weapon to defend themselves. As much as Manticore wasn't always comfortable in the good parts of Inkopolis, it was worth the trek for quality weaponry and food.

The sensation of her hand being taken was a little alien, but at least she was wearing fingerless gloves to reduce the strangeness of the experience, and it only lingered for a few seconds. By then, she had started back down the alleyway, gesturing briefly for Kal to come with.

"Good to know. I don't really want to clean up any trouble that might come from kids blabbering about whatever they saw in the slums that day," she answered, having since put her blaster back in its beltloop.

"You don't look like trouble. No reason to hurt you, nothing worth stealing.. so you'll be just fine. People don't like picking fights with me."

After all, friends were just a quick text away, and if that wasn't fast enough, there were plenty of good reasons as to why she kept both an ink-based weapon, a few unfilled bombshells, and a knife on her being at all times.

"Kal, huh? Name's Manti. Manticore if you want the whole package."

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The compliment about her name brought a rare smile to the octoling's face. That was the exact point of having taken it up: it was meaningful and memorable. You didn't easily forget it, and that made it that much better as a tool of striking terror into the hearts of those who were best off staying away.

"That's the point of it, honestly.
Uh, your name isn't half bad. It's.. got a nice ring to it? It's unique."

It was only right to return the kind gesture, but she really didn't have an idea of what to say, so that was what came out. You found a lot of interesting names out here, though, some more forgettable than others.

Her name being dropped was enough for her to glance over, but the question that came next wasn't what Manticore was anticipating. An anxious curl came over the tips of her tentacles, the blue and black rings intensifying somewhat in their color. Thankfully, it wasn't hard to pick up one of her roles and roll with it, since, technically, it wasn't a lie.

"A lot of people say that. I've done it a few times, but I'm not really into the organized turf scene..." Too many regulations, too many rules, and it wasn't exactly in her interests to get into the public spotlight if something lead to that.

"I'm a weapons dealer for the foreign and the less fortunate. It's a bit easier for the poor and the refugees to carve out a living if they can defend themselves. Marked-up prices make it profitable, payment plans make it manageable."

Definitely not a lie. It wasn't exactly a mainstay compared to the big picture, but it was one of the values that couldn't be overlooked.

"Mostly turf war-level weapons, mind you. They're still quite effective outside of sport."
She didn't really want to look like someone who dealt in military-quality pieces, even if the line blurred more and more often in the modern day.

"What about you?"

Manticore already knew the answer to that, of course: a lot of the younger recruits supported themselves with the money gleaned from everyone's favorite game. If you were good at it, it was better than a minimum-wage job, that was for sure.

She fancied herself okay at it, but she had bigger fillets to fry.

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Was that really a cool sort of thing to do? She'd question it, at least, since there were definitely more interesting jobs.. but once you started get into the whole smuggling thing that would have her sending stuff back home, and making the occasional less-than-legal (but still completely functional) tweak here and there..

Well, that wasn't anything for Kal to know. But there was a lot of things they were better off not knowing; let them be happy with the idea they had of her.


"Nothing wrong with odd jobs. That's half all the stuff I do, honestly."

Maybe that relied on how far you could stretch the definition. Anything could be an "odd job", depending on what you personally thought was odd..

Before she could think of something better to say in comment on the turf war thing, Manticore had to answer the matter of location. She stopped and looked around briefly, noting a nearby intersection of street signs and a nearby on-ramp.


"Actually, the skate park isn't too far. Maybe ten minutes if we turn north, signs here 'n there..."


She started off in that direction before pausing, glancing back at the young inkling tagging along with her.


"You comfy keeping up on your own, or do you want me to get you there? We're on the borders of Daggertooth now, anyways."

It wasn't like she was uncomfortable, it was just that the big, official turf war arenas tended to be pretty well-surveyed.. or so she remembered. With Blackbelly being on the more popular end of things, there were probably cameras here and there, and if she could avoid a run-in with authorities, it'd be nice.