Ashtown wasn't particularly big amongst the underground settlements, spanning twelve floors deep, seventy-seven buildings wide and forty-three buildings long
That wasn't to say that it was small either as there were settlements where it was difficult to even call it a settlement as it only had a floating population of a couple hundred.
If anything, Ashtown was a middle of the pack type of settlement that was both not to big and not to small.
And if there was a middle of the pack, then there needed to be a head of the pack.
Junk Bunk was that head of the pack.
Already double the width of Ashtown and triple the length, Junk Bunk had a floating population over three figures, nearing four.
And that was just on the ground floor Ester had visited.
With a hundred more floors to go, taking into account the fact that most of the megastructure was occupied by plants and animals taking shelter from the harsh weather outside, Junk Bunk had a minimum population of five figures.
Of those five figures, half of them would have the minimum know how required to operate a machine, half of that half would have the know how to repair the problem and then a striking ten percent of that half of the half would know how to take it apart before putting it back together.
Of that small number, only one in twenty would know how to take the machine apart then fit new parts into it without problem.
And of the mentioned fraction of the population in Junk bunk, one in a hundred would have the ability to use wards.
Ester was part of that 0.00125%.
He wasn't in any particular hurry to tell the Beforetimes that though, as he pretended to be a part of the 2.5% for one reason and one reason only.
Meeting this so-called heir of the Gravesmith.
'I swear that everyone died.'
Keeping his head low as he continued to repair the filtration system, he continued to think.
'Unless the Smithsonians spared someone... but that's impossible. I watched all of them die.' The rational part of Ester's mind shook his head.
'But... what if?' The hopeful part of Ester's mind asked. 'What if someone survived?'
'We saw it didn't we?' The rational part of his mind continued, his memories picking away at the details in his head. 'Unless they were buried besides another Driller we didn't know about, they couldn't do anything.'
'We left quickly in fear of the Smithsonians coming back to finish the job. Who knows if our constant drilling loosened some debris for someone else to escape?' The hopeful part of his mind retorted.
Ester rubbed the back of his neck as the rational part let out a groan.
'If only we could force our way through them for some bloody answers to this architect forsaken riddle.'
If only.
As much as Ester wanted to use force to get his way, despite how many grievances he held towards the Beforetimes and their steel worshipping tendencies, he had to admit that they were powerful.
They had to be if they were to be the overall leader of Junk Bunk all the while being a branch of the main gang.
And unless he wanted to be like that guy hanging from the side of the building exposed to the chemical elements for disturbing the order, the only thing he could do was bide his time.
'Thankfully they aren't as strict with identifying appearances as they are with their mods.'
Absentmindedly tugging at the edge of his hood hiding the grey hair that identified him as the heir of the Gravesmith, the sharp whistle of sound interrupted his thoughts.
Looking up to see the cause of the sound alongside the dozens of people accompanying him in the Dumpers air repairs, a bunch of cyborgs coated head to toe in metal looked at them with deadpan gazes.
Making sure that everyone was now paying attention, the cyborg let out a barely audible sigh of annoyance as his muffled voice echoed out from behind his respirator mask.
"Be grateful flesh bags." The cyborg began slowly, instantly illiciting angry gazes from the alleged 'flesh bags.'
But having seen what had happened to the man currently hanging up from their own intestines, none of the supposed Flesh bags spoke up.
Glaring into the nearest persons eyes as if to challenge them to speak up, when no one did, the Cyborg's eyes narrowed before he let out a more audible sigh of annoyance, muttering in some unknown language.
From the context alone, Ester could tell that they were a choice number of curses.
Interrupting their mutters when they were poked on the side by a much shorter man whose entire face seemed to have become metal, the tall cyborg cursed one final time before speaking loudly.
"Ordinarily you wouldn't be able to grace the feet of this person but thanks to their grace, you unworthy lot are granted a chance to meet the one who received the Gravesmith's knowledge."
The Cyborg glared at them with all with eyes seemingly dripping with killing intent. "Be grateful and follow me."
'I still have no idea where this worship is coming from, but I guess the sooner that I can get away from them the better.'
Getting up and merging with the crowd slowly following in the steps of the five Beforetime gangsters, Ester quietly wondered who the unknown heir of the old man could be.
'At least I now might have an answer to the message I left Eva.'
Thinking back to the Driller that would've been left to the mercy of grifters like the Jackers if she wasn't protecting it, time passed as they eventually reached a door flanked by large piles of scrap metal...
'Those aren't piles of scrap metal.'
Recognizing them as the MG-102 prowler series guard bots that were discontinued and dumped here two years back, when they weren't turned on, they were indistinguishable from the ordinary pile of trash.
They were discontinued from production because piles of trash weren't exactly common on non-trash planets.
But on trash planets like the one Ester currently stood on, these MG102s would be basically invisible.
If it weren't for the fact that Ester stumbled upon a colony of these discarded bots two years back and was forced to learn their identifying feature to survive, he would've missed them.
Staring warily as the cyborg passed by the two piles of unassuming scrap without giving any indication that he was aware of the true nature of these two trash piles, he pushed the doors open with a loud screech of rusty hingers.
Behind the large metal doors was a room that was basically empty save for a person sitting bound and masked on a chair.
'...' Ester narrowed his eyes at the sight.
He turned to look at the cyborgs who went to flank the bound figure, the cyborg who initially glared at them all moved to the back of the bound figure as others moved to close the door behind them.
'Somethings... not right.'
Scrap camouflaged robots guarding the door he got since this was concerning the Gravesmith's heir, always better to have a hidden card or to up your sleeve in case things went awry.
Five cyborgs moving to circle them was... a choice, but Ester could still rationalize it if he really tried.
The problem was that outside of the one person sitting bound in a chair, there was absolutely nothing else in the room now filled with eighteen people, nineteen if we counted the person on the chair.
So, either those maniacs adoration had finally extended to the kidnapping territory or...
The cyborg moved to unmask the person bound to the chair, revealing a face modified so heavily that it was near impossible to see who it was before.
With their eyes replaced with camera's, their mouth was replaced in turn by a large speaker as tubes responsible for providing air threaded underneath the skin and into the lungs, a large antenna like feature rising up from the crown of his head.
Safe to say that everyone present save the cyborgs were unsettled as they shifted around uneasily.
Ester in particular as he subtly tested the springs on his arm blade with a small push.
Then the antennae crackled and the person moved.
Like a puppet controlled by a rookie puppeteer, the figure on the chair's head darted upwards before lolling to the side as the camera's focused on the thirteen non Beforetimers.
The sound of buzzing exited what was left of the person's skull as a crackling voice exited the speaker.
[G-G-Greet-eetings to-to all-all.]
The head slowly rolled to look at everyone present, the black camera lenses seemingly dissecting everything that made them them.
From the finest thread of hair on their heads to the skin on their toes, the man thing stared before the voice crackled to life again.
[Y-You. M-Might won-wonder-er why-why t-this v-vessel-el is b-before you s-so I-I sh-shall intro-introduce-duce my-myself.]
The head of the man jolted upwards in an attempt to right itself, only serving to make itself seem creepier.
[I-I am-am the l-leader of-of the-the B-Beforetimes, and-and I-I am-am the one-one who re-received the-the Gravesmith's teach-teachings.]
Ester quietly slumped his shoulders in disappointment as the others around him looked enlightened.
Faking a look of excitement to not stand out, Ester's inner self let out a sigh. 'Well, it was nice to hope.'
[B-but!] The crackling surrounding the antennae intensified as the person's head slowly became more and more stable.
[I-I am-am not the o-only student of-of the Gravesmith's teachings.]
'What's this now?'
[I-I have it-it in good-good know-knowledge that-that among one of the people here today.] The person's head looked at everyone dead in the eye. [There is a real heir of the Gravesmith.]
Ester widened his eyes as the person's own gleamed, the antennae crackling louder.
[So please, just remove the hoods on your heads and reveal who you are.]
'Fuck.'
Ester cursed inwardly as everyone looked at each other before they slowly moved to take off their hoods, leaving behind six who didn't.
Staring at the people who revealed their appearances, the person tied to the chair turned to look at the remaining Five.
[Seize them-!?]
The person bound to the chair let out a startled sound as the ground beneath their feet shook.
Then alarms began to blare.
---
25 DAYS SINCE PROJECT VOID BUFFER FIRST FIRED ITS FLAMES
13 DAYS SINCE PROJECT VOID BUFFER FIRED ITS FLAMES THE SECOND TIME
13 DAYS SINCE THE CORRUPTED OF C-POINT BEGAN 'HER' HUNT
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Tree that has an interview on the 'morrow so please send this tree your blessings