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Tradewinds 17: Underneath by shadesmaclean

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Chapter notes: wrong time, wrong place
Max wandered down one of the broad, angled streets of Alta, taking in the sights. While the roads were wider than the ways of Bodeen, many of which barely qualified as alleys, the buildings in this section were taller, on average, leaving many streets in the lower quarters in dusky shadow, even at high noon. Yet at least the place didn’t feel as seedy and disreputable as Bodeen.

Of course, the fact that most of this section had been repaired, if not rebuilt, in the last couple years, probably helped. Since the earthquake, the very one in which their friend of recent acquaintance, Ma’Quiver, and his master Lazlo got separated in, this sections was in pretty good shape, unlike some parts of town. Despite parting ways with him back on the Isle of Castaways, landing in this town still felt like crossing his path after a peculiar fashion.

And despite Ma’Quiver’s grim account of his time down there, Max still found he was fascinated with the idea of seeing the Undercity for himself. Though there were occasional rumors of secret tours and expeditions, the official word was that it was too dangerous down there, too unstable. From all he could gather, the Alta Assembly had made a point of blocking all known entrances to the ruins that weren’t part of the larger reconstruction projects.

Though disappointed, he still had to concede their point about preserving the safety of the surface city.

In several booths around the market were a dozen or so merchants hocking what they claimed to be artifacts from the ruins. Most of which even he suspected to be of dubious origin. Shades had spoken of poking around, seeing if he could find anything that looked legit if he found the time, but didn’t sound terribly confident about their prospects.

For now, he decided to take a peaceful walk before attempting to find out what sort of welcome Bandit might receive outside the Harbor Quarter.

In the midst of his meanderings, he heard several startled gasps, followed by shouting and pointing, mostly upward.

Sure enough, when Max looked up, he saw it, too. A sight the like of which he had never seen before, what appeared to be a bright green triangle sailing through the air above the streets. There was a hooded figure hanging underneath, apparently guiding it as it glided down this artificial canyon. While others pointed and yammered, Max took off down the street after it.

Dodging through the crowd, he tried to keep it in sight as it drifted around a corner. Seeking higher ground, he hopped on a crate, using it as a stepping stone to reach one of the terraces above the main street level here. Another dash down a less crowded way, then he hopped over a black-and-yellow striped fence.

It wasn’t until after he lost sight of the glider that he realized just how drastically the scenery had changed. Not only had his surroundings become dingier, but cracked and damaged, whole sections of buildings were collapsed and crumbled. Not merely deserted, but abandoned, as only the most desperate would try to live in these surface ruins, clearly left over from the Alta quake.

As he wandered among the rubble-strewn streets, his footsteps the only sound to be heard, he found himself having to shun harrowing memories of that rat’s nest of alleyways in the Harken Building creeping into his head.

Shaking it off, he figured if They walked the streets here, the locals would probably have a thing or two to say about it, and would surely have put up more than just a flimsy fence to hold them in.

Instead, he focused on listening, looking around for anything that seemed out of place as he continued to wander the ruins. Reminding himself to check what was left of the upper levels, as that thing could easily have landed up there. In the course of his search, he found his way into a trash-littered courtyard, a heap of shattered orange bricks and stones spilling out into one corner.

Seeing that the other streets and alley entrances were buried with debris, he quickly concluded that this way was a dead end.

He was about to turn around, when he spotted movement in one of the second-storey windows. Crossing the courtyard as quickly as the lumpy cobbles would allow, he stopped short at the entrance. The sheer quantity of ceiling that now occupied the floor, to say nothing of the gaping gaps where the floor used to be, gave him second and third thoughts about going in.

“There you are!” an unfamiliar voice echoed to him from across the courtyard.

Max pivoted to see several men stride into the area from the same way he just came from, fanning out as if to cut off his exit. None of them wore any uniform, instead dressed in casual street clothes, yet there was no mistaking the coordination of their movements. The leader advanced ahead of the others, casually sidestepping all of the rubbish.

“Okay, Max,” he spoke again, and now Max knew for sure who it was who addressed him the first time, “you’ve had your fun, now come quietly. If you go into that deathtrap, I swear I will break your legs this time when we get back.”

Of medium height and build, short, dark brown hair and cold, calculating eyes. Decked out in a grey duster that cut a solid frame, and worn boots that bore the look of many miles. The way he carried himself making it abundantly clear he was their leader.

“Do I know you?” Max demanded, already bracing himself for a fight, as none of their posture suggested they were here for a friendly chat.

“Don’t play dumb with me, Max,” he replied. “Just because I have to babysit you doesn’t mean I have to play nice. We can do this the easy way, or the hard way, take your pick.”

“Are you looking for the guy on that flying thing?” Though Max already wondered if he was doing right by that mysterious stranger by giving him away. “I think he went somewhere up there.”

“You insult my intelligence, boy,” he replied. “You’re not even wearing your disguise anymore. Now give it up before you get hurt.”

While they spoke, the others moved in to surround him, putting his back to that doorway, which he fast concluded was nowhere to retreat to.

“What do you want from me?” Max demanded.

“Kid, you’ve totally lost it…” the man muttered, hand signaling for them to attack. “The hard way, then.”

Max was already on it, already expecting a fight. The first guy got punched in the face, hard enough to send him staggering. Max blocked the second attacker’s punch, grabbing him and slamming him into the doorframe next to him.

When he saw one of them attempting to draw a gun, Max took the brief opening to whip out his laser sword, rushing in and sweeping him with his stun blade.

The others immediately jumped back at the sight of this apparently unexpected weapon.

Max was about to break out and make a run for it, when that grey duster swept out in front of him, and he lashed out at it.

Only to realize, too late, that it was just an unorthodox feint, as the ringleader stepped in behind him, catching him off-balance. In that slow-motion second, even as he tried to shift his feet and turn around, Max felt the barrel of a power pistol press against his back just a hair before he felt the zap of a stun shot.

Hitting the ground just seconds before that man’s duster fluttered to the cobblestones next to him.

“Damn…” the leader muttered, shaking the dirt out of his coat before he threw it back on. “I never knew the brat learned so much from that bastard. He must be getting more desperate than I thought.”

“Say, Rawne,” one of the others said while rubbing his jaw, “ya think we should, break his legs?”

“No, not if he behaves himself better after he comes to,” the one called Rawne instructed them. “Much as I’d like to, he’s still more valuable to us alive, so we won’t rough him up any more than we have to. Boss’s orders and all.”

He reached down and picked up Max’s laser sword.

“Interesting toy,” he mused. “Never knew they had one in the Collection… Then again, we also had no clue about that glider, either. When we get back, you’re going to search the tower and be damn sure to throw out anything else he might use to escape.”

“That was the third escape attempt this week,” one of the others remarked.

“And it’s also his last,” Rawne warned them. “This is the last time Maximilian gives us the slip.” Turning to the others, he ordered, “Pick up the rest, and get back to the Manor. I don’t want to have to explain to the guards what we were doing in a restricted area. That, and I hear the Squatters have been getting bold lately, so stay sharp.”

With that, a couple of his henchmen picked Max up and dragged him off.
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