A dull looking room is filled with awkward silence. The ticking of a clock trying to sneak its way in with a perfect rhythm.
A desk made of wood scraps is accompanied by a listless lady, her long, raven black hair running down like a waterfall.
She was slowly moving through papers that were unevenly spread out in front of her. Her weary eyes seemingly inattentive; anyone just passing by might have assumed she was actually asleep.
The sound of shifting sheets sneaking softly under the metronome of the clock.
Leaned against the desk like he doesn't belong there, or rather, didn't want to be there, a well-dressed young man.
His clothing, although mediocre, appearing very professional, with the exception of the wrinkles—evidence of ever-growing lack of care peeling off any sense of aged-wisdom he might have shown.
He taps his foot, the leathered souls of his black shoes fighting helplessly against the planked floors.
This building was especially grand in many ways. But also, just as poorly dressed as any other commoners house might have been.
It was a government owned building. Glorifying itself through appearances rather than practices.
"I was supposed to leave early today. Yet here I am again, waiting. For those two incompetent buffoons to turn up."
His head turning up, checking the clock. Ready to grow more impatient as the seconds hand ticks.
For some reason though, the clock was broken.
The minute hand had gone backward a few minutes. And the second hand, it was moving in place.
In a silent struggle to push forward, fighting, it would knock just short of halfway to the next second before swiftly returning to its previous position.
"Great, the two moles are late and the clocks acting up again. It's happening every day now, on both accounts to boot."
The shadows of the room seemed to contort themselves, turning to point and laugh, mocking his continuous misfortunes.
"You really should go a bit easier on them, they're young, and without role models no less..."
"And we can't afford a new clock, just adjust it or pull it down."
The tired lady finally showing sign of life, turns to Lewis, offering a smile that betrays her wistful aura.
Jane seemed to be an entirely different person in that moment, giving off the aura of an endearing mother.
"Yeah—I know. But we can be role models too!"
The clock took another attempt to push forward. This time failing even faster than the last.
"If they don't turn up soon, I'm gonna—"
Lewis didn't get to finish that thought.
Cutting through is words with ease, two living piles of rags came flying through the door.
One of them, its hair like a fine lump of coal, leaving a mess on the hardly complimenting rendered walls, streaks of ink, or dirt, or really whatever the hell was in the trash outside, in its wake.
Behind the inky bastard, a slightly shorter one with frizzy white hair sticking out like the feather of a lighthouse beacon, the hair acting like a makeshift cover for the alabaster, lilac tinted skin beneath.
"You're gonna do what?"
Leon looks up with a stupidly wide smile, revealing gums and missing teeth. Clearly challenging his dear elder, Lewis, to continue.
Lewis let out a sharp sigh, allowing his furrowed brows relax.
"I told you guys to leave those rags outside... It costs money to clean those walls."
Despite the lack of formalities they offered, Lewis still felt like he was partly responsible for these two little miscreants. After all they had no family, no one to guide them.
For no reason at all, he found himself feeling compelled to lie, and break all of his own rules. He whispered estranged falsities that he was like a father to them to himself.
A real weirdo. From anyone's perspective really.
Sable took a step forward, raising her hand like a student in class. The pale skin on her hands almost reflecting the light from the cheap bulb that had been lifelessly hanging on the ceiling.
"So would you rather we come in naked?"
"I'm not getting naked, that's all you."
Leon adds, having pivoted his whole torso to turn around, leaving his feet still planted and facing Sable, like a damn cartoon character.
"No one is getting naked."
The now well awake, Jane was standing up to stretch, leaning forward on the desk with her arms stretched out to support her.
The image before them would instantly shatter any image of respectability for the lady.
Sable rolled her eyes with a smug look on her face, that no one could see but everyone could sense. She throws her arms up in the surrendering position and backs out of the room returning to the hallway.
She shifts, sending her attention to Leon before saluting and disappearing around a corner.
'Thanks man.'
An imaginary tear ran down Leon's face.
"We'll talk about the mess you two decided to make on your way in."
Holding his hand out as if to expect something yet receiving nothing.
"I came into the office to say that it's my brother's birthday today."
"Ah."
Letting his hand retreat back, Lewis turned to face Jane for a moment.
They both made a silent exchange of words through their eyes.
"Did you two at least meet your quotas?"
Lewis asks, pointlessly massaging the wrinkles of stress out of his face, battle scars left by the dedication to his job, and the crushing reality of the world.
"Sure did."
It felt as though the room brightened a little as Leon let a smile tip toe back onto his face.
"So, you know how it goes. I'll be pretty much radio silent all of tomorrow."
Leons attention shifted to the lady dressed like she was attending a funeral, surprisingly Jane had not sat down yet, and to add to the strangeness, her gaze was watching him.
A shiver ran down his back.
'What a weird girl.'
Leon had always felt a strange aura from her. Like her usual listlessness was just a front to hide a more sinister side to her. He was probably just imagining it.
'Overactive imagination I think they called it.'
In a hurry to get away from the drowsy character, he gathers his rags and chases after Sable.
"Well, that's all. I'm clocking off now. See you later Lewis!"
---
"So why do you think they get us to collect trash from the streets? We've been doing this for a while now."
Leon had a pretty good idea, but didn't want to make himself look like a fool.
"We've talked about this before, I legit don't know any more than you do..."
Sable paused for a moment, letting an idea fester into something bigger.
"But if I had to guess... They're just using us as cheap work to clean the city."
She knocked her head back, facing the sky that was locked in a twighlight.
"Not that I care, we get two copper every time we meet our quota."
Sable had always kept her eyes where money went.
Leon was sure she'd sell him off to a trader if given the chance. And for someone reason, the idiot thought that somehow, such a proposition might marginally better than his current situation.
Doing the mental gymnastics they call math; he came to a pretty cozy conclusion.
He was one of the cities Junkrats. A tiny piece of a giant machine, and a part of a group of homeless trash collectors, consisting of mostly youth that were barely surviving on the governments help program.
It was their job to run around through the city, cleaning up the rubbish left around by the better living citizens.
They were considerably responsible for the painting of this haven being able to depict spotless pathways and alleys.
If they were lucky, the cobbled pavement in that still-shot would carry a reflective polish by the rain to compliment the collection of iron woven in and around structures of stone and stained glass.
Despite this, in the eyes of the masses, to those who mattered more, people like Leon were no less than a blemish in that modern tapestry.
'They are getting all these people to clean the streets... And they are paying us?'
Leon wasn't really buying it. He was too skeptical of all things powerful. Since he came to find that they worked in ways that greatly contrast their own practices.
For all he knew, they were building a giant Frankenstein made of all the trash they were collecting. Or worse, they were looking for some 'super powerful secret item' that was hidden as an everyday piece of litter.
'Yeah right.'
Noticing a sign approaching, Leon begun jogging on the spot.
"Hey, I gotta split off here. Brothers' birthday and all."
Clearly and physically expressing that he was ready to run off at any moment, he betrayed that to offer his last goodbyes for the night.
Despite his banters with Sable, they were still great friends. They were each other's only friends, actually.
"Try not to get yourself into too much trouble on your way back home."
He snorted knowing she had just as much home to go back to as he did, which was quite literally none at all.
"Good one man, you're a whole comedian now."
Clearly, she wasn't having it.
Trying to lighten her up, he poked her with more humor
"Don't worry, if anything happens, I'll swoop in, and princess carry your useless bum out of there."
He wouldn't.
In fact, he probably couldn't even carry her.
He was far too malnourished and lacking in the muscles department to even get her off the ground. Even if he were to leverage it with all of his body weight.
The children of the streets did not have the privilege of building muscles, let alone fat to burn. That was a wealthy man's game, and these two had no part in it.
Especially now. For some reason, every day, the cost of living would rise a little.
But one copper coin would turn into. Which would turn into four. And then eight. And then a silver coin. And so on.
Suddenly, the thought of being sold to a trader magicked its way back into his head.
Realistically speaking Leon wouldn't have to collect trash for enough coins to get a single raw potato.
In fact, he wouldn't have to spend any of his own hard-earned money to feed himself. After all a dead slave was a useless one, which was wasted money.
So, feeding him would basically be non-negotiable, not that he would have much room for negotiation.
Exchanging one last goodbye wave with Sable, he takes himself down a fork in the path and makes way to a much gloomier part of town.
He was heading in the direction of the Memorial Center. To celebrate his brother's birthday.