Two hours after boarding the coach, Tata finally arrived at the base of the crater town.
The air here was drier, a little thinner, and smelled faintly like ash and rust. He hopped off the bus with his backpack over one shoulder and turned back to wave at the driver.
"Thanks for the ride, Mister. And thanks for telling me all those stories. I hope you and Miss Rachel can sort out your differences and see that a petty argument on where to eat isn't a good reason to break a five-year relationship."
The coachman grunted, thumbed his hat, and muttered, "Thanks, I will. Good luck, kid. And keep your head down and your wallet close."
Tata grinned, giving him a thumbs-up.
With that final piece of advice, he pulled away, leaving Tata alone by the gondola station.
A few families were exiting the gondolas, pulling carts or heavy bags, eyes half-lidded with exhaustion.
"How much for a gondola ride into Samba Town?" Tata approached the tired-looking ticket booth seller.
"That's 500 Dennies, please." Tata pulled out five Dennies, got his ticket, and stepped into the next car available. It was small and glassy, creaking slightly as it rose up the track before curving along the edge of the mountain.
From here, the view was insane, he could see the entirety of the crater city below, shaped like a broken bowl, layers of districts sloping down into the heart.
The mountain, over 8,000 feet high, had snow on the tops, and Tata could feel the air start to thin and get colder. Good thing he brought a nice warm hood and some fingerless gloves.
"Gotta thank the grannies for these winter gifts when I get back. But the city really does look pretty... in a dystopian type of way," Tata thought, looking all over from the top. The gondola was moving slowly, so he had plenty of time to sightsee.
He took out his phone and snapped a few pictures through the dirty glass.
In the far distance, he could even make out Janus Quarter's foggy skyline and what looked like Hollows hugging the mountain slopes. The gondola ride took about twenty minutes top to bottom, and he spent most of it chewing on a stick of red licorice and enjoying the view. He would definitely be hanging these up in his bedroom later.
Once he reached the lower platform, he hopped out and walked through the rickety turnstile. Looking at his phone screen, his signal was spotty, but after a minute of waiting, the map app finally opened.
The meeting spot for the food truck was about a twenty-minute walk into a district called Vila Calunga, tucked in the northwest of the city.
As he made his way through the empty streets, it became clear this side of town had long been forgotten.
The buildings were older, rusted over and patched up with scrap metal, and most shops had their shutters down or missing. He passed two women chatting on a stairway and a man hauling scrap metal on a cart, but beyond that, it was quiet.
From his research and what Terrance the bus driver had told him, he already knew most people lived on the east and south sides now.
This area was mostly empty warehouses and temporary shelters. Still, he kept his hoodie up, cap low, head down, shoulders forward, not making eye contact.
Then he heard it. And unfortunately, his trying to blend in would be stopped.
"Ah!! Let go of mhhhh!!!" A panicked cry screeched before it was silenced by muffling.
A scuffle.
He slowed down as a muffled voice cursed loudly, followed by a loud bang, like someone being thrown against a wall. It was coming from an alley just ahead. He grabbed a broken mirror shard on the floor and used it to peek around the corner and immediately narrowed his eyes.
A small kid, maybe seven, was pinned against the wall by two older teens. One had a half-empty alcoholic bottle in his hand, and the other was digging through the kid's backpack, laughing about something.
"Why didn't you bring your allowance, you little C■■■?" one of them grinned, while ripping his bag apart.
The kid tried to squirm, but the bigger one slammed him back.
Tata snorted. "Bunch of pricks picking on a kid." He was about to step in when something dropped from above.
"HEY!"
A figure jumped off the low rooftop and slammed a metal baseball bat straight into the drunk teen's back.
The boy yelled and dropped his bottle as he hit the ground. The second thug backed away, stunned, but the newcomer was already on him—he dodged the swing and jabbed the bat into his stomach. The teen grunted and stumbled back, spitting out a curse.
"Leave the kid alone, losers!"
Wait! Wasn't that the exact entrance and line said by the Starlight Knight in episode one? Tata blinked, curiously. Has he finally met his people?
"Fuck, where did this little shit come from?"
"Who cares, he fucking hit us. Us guys from the Red Fangs. Kill him!" the drunk one shouted, smashing his bottle to make a weapon.
The two thugs recovered quickly and lunged. The one closest to the newcomer tried to grab the bat, while the other swung wildly, landing a hit to the kid's shoulder. But just as the bat was about to fall from his grip, a hand caught it mid-air.
Tata.
He casually twisted it away from the thug and, without a word, drove his knee into the guy's ribs with a sharp whump, before swinging the bat toward his kneecaps.
Crunch!
The thug's body folded like a chair and collapsed to the floor.
"Gaaaahhh!!"
The other one froze, mid-lunge.
"Leave," Tata said plainly.
Something about his tone, calm, serious, and unblinkink that made the guy hesitate. Then he turned and ran. 'Fucking brat, just wait and see. No one messes with the Red Fangs.'
'Dumbass' Tata smirked.
Swoosh!!
Unfortunately for him, he never learned not to leave his back exposed. Tata held the bat like a javelin and took a step forward before launching it like a spear. It ripped through the air, finding its mark—the back of the thug's temple.
The thug gasped, feeling an unbearable amount of pain in his head before collapsing.
Tata turned to the kid who had the bat. He had a scrape on his arm and was breathing heavily, but still ready to fight.
"You good?" Tata asked.
The boy blinked. "Y-yeah. You're fast. And strong. That was crazy."
The younger boy who'd been attacked stepped forward, brushing off his shirt. "Thanks… both of you…"
Tata nodded. "What's your name?"
"Finigan."
"And you?" He turned to the older one.
"Will. Short for Wilson," the boy said. He jogged over to his bat before slinging it over his shoulder. "Willson Cortez. You?"
"Tata."
"Just Tata?"
"Yup."
Will paused before nodding. Then they turned to Finigan, who looked a little worse for wear, never mind his trembling body.
"Well, why don't we get you home first? How does that sound?" Tata proposed, and Will nodded, not minding. Finigan felt a little guilty, but he was too afraid to go alone now. He thanked them, quickly packed all the things those thugs hadn't broken, and then looked over at his ripped bag. It was a gift from his dad, and now it was....
They walked Finigan to the edge of the next block, where a tired woman opened her door and gasped when she saw him. She grabbed him into a tight hug, eyes wide with relief, and Will gave a casual wave before the door shut behind them.
As they turned back toward the road, Will glanced at Tata. "You ain't from around here, are you? What're you doing in Vila Calunga?"
Tata chewed on another piece of licorice, offering Will some, but he shook his head. Tata shrugged before answering. "Came to check out a food truck. Might buy it for my business."
Will raised a brow. "A food truck? In this dump?"
"Yeah. And I was curious. You don't hear about many cities built in a crater."
Will chuckled. "Well, you've definitely come to the right place if you're trying to see new things, like our famous Ether drugs, or the black market. Oh, but watch out for the raccoons. They've been trained to steal from newcomers."
Tata gasped. "For real?! That's so cool. What else?! What else?!"
Will pondered for a moment before telling more interesting facts about Samba Town.
---
After talking for a while, Will offered to show Tata around. Not the whole of Samba Town—just his part of it.
Tata agreed, adjusting his hoodie again as they walked side by side.
"This district's called Vila Solta," Will said. "Northwest side. People here mostly keep to themselves. Don't cause trouble unless trouble shows up first."
Tata looked around. The buildings were stacked close together, with faded paint, narrow alleys, and clotheslines hanging like vines across rooftops.
Some folks nodded at Will as they passed, but no one lingered.
"Quiet for a city this big," Tata noted.
"Like I mentioned before, most people moved to the south or east," Will replied. "More secure there. Better jobs and Security. This side? We've got a few shops, some family homes, a boxing gym, and a lot of barred windows. It's a small community, but it's one I'm proud of, our own little slice of heaven."
They continued walking, with Tata teasing Will about the lines he stole from the Starlight Knight. Will denied all allegations, pleading the fifth, but Tata knew that Will knew that he knew. They continued to banter before Will stopped and pointed to a half-fenced lot behind an old supply depot.
"Here it is."
In the middle sat a rusted, dented food truck. The paint was sun-bleached, with patches of metal showing underneath, and one of the mirrors hung loose by a wire.
But the wheels were intact. The body was still sturdy.
Tata walked around it once, then a second time. He opened the driver door and peeked inside. The seats were cracked, but the steering wheel and controls looked salvageable. The engine cover had fresh bolts—someone had done recent maintenance.
"I like it," he said.
"Seriously?" Will asked. "That thing looks like it came out of retirement just to break down again."
"It has potential," Tata said simply.
"Who are you? Wait... that face looks familiar. Are you the buyer from Eridu?"
The owner, a man in his late thirties with oil-stained hands and tired eyes, stepped out of the depot and wiped his palms with a rag. "Wasn't sure you'd come."
"I did," Tata replied. "It looks to be in decent enough condition."
The man shrugged. "It drives. That's what matters. I'm leaving this weekend. If you want it, I can deliver it before I go."
Tata tilted his head. "You can drive this out of the city? I thought the only way in and out was the gondola." Wait, now that I think about it, what was the plan to take the truck out of Samba Town?
The man gave a half-smile, then shook his head. "Not the only way. Not officially, anyway."
Tata didn't press. "Will it be there by Sunday?"
"Saturday evening," the man replied. "Scout's honor."
Tata nodded. "Alright. Deal."
They shook hands, and the man went back inside. They read over the documents Tata signed, and after seeing there were no problems, the deal was officially struck.
Will, who was waiting outside patiently, perked up when he saw Tata walk out. "You wrapped up your business?"
Tata nodded. "Yep, all done. It's just the payment that's left, but my secretary will sort that out." Tata said it like it was normal for a five-year-old to have a secretary. Will wanted to say something, but in the end, held it in.
It was already really dark. The street lamps flickered one by one, casting long shadows along the walls and barely illuminating the front streets.
"You got a place to stay tonight? Hostel? Motel?" Will asked.
"I hadn't really thought about that, and my ride's not till morning."
Will scratched the back of his neck. "Well… if you don't mind the floor, you can crash at my place. It's just me, my dad, and mum."
"I don't want to impose."
"You saved me, had my back, man. At least let me give you dinner. Trust me, my mum's meatloaf and carnitas are to die for."
Tata thought for a moment, then nodded. "Thanks. I'll take the floor then."
Will smiled and led the way, and Tata followed.
-------
A.N
If you want to read 5 chapters ahead on Zzz:Prometheus or support me, my Patreon is: patreon.com/Prometheus_VII