THE FOLLOWING TEXT CONTAINS: SWEARING, CRIMES, VIOLENCE, READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED (18+)
ROCK BOTTOM
60. INT. JD’S APARTMENT — EVENING
They only have–maybe–an hour to get outta dodge. Well, they’ve only given themself an hour to clean up, pack up and go. Sure, the place has already been ransacked, but someone is likely to be watching this spot in the hopes that JD’ll come back so they can finish the job.
And JD already spent a good twenty minutes being a fucking mess all over the bathroom floor. They only barely picked themself out of the hole, pushed on by sheer willpower. Survive at all costs.
Lest whoever made this mess take them in for even more questioning. BOZ was bad but IZOLA might just kill them and be done with it.
Just the thought runs a shiver down JD’s spine.
They’re rummaging and stumbling through the mess that was once their place. The only thing they added to it all were the wrappers for: SCAR -AWAY bandages that promise a smooth un-scarred skin on healing. There are a bunch of extremely small disclaimers that well, despite JD wearing these bandages on their face–they’re not going to bank on that too much. They can still hope.
Well… They’re shifting their hope to whoever picked their belongings apart for valuables having potentially missed the–bingo.
JD’s mood lifts just enough to flicker a small smile across their face. They stick a smoke in their mouth as they pull the false-bottom out of one of their kitchen drawers. A couple thousand credits should be enough to keep them going for a little while. They’ll have to see if there are any last minute places for rent–that’s a problem for tomorrow, though. They pocket the credits and the pack of smokes hidden in there and sling a bag over their shoulder.
When they turn around they notice someone at the door.
They notice because the light from the hallway is blocked by their large frame, dousing the hairline cracks of the–now shut–door. They were smart enough to close it, stick the mechanism from the handle back into place, jamming it up nice and tight.
Real good call, that one. When whoever-it-is tries to push on the door it only rattles a little, not giving too much. They’ve got to get the fuck out of here.
TANGO [OS]
(calls out)
Doe…?
JD hesitates, staring at the door. They should really go–would TANGO even believe them if they told her about BOZ? About everything? Finally let it all out.
TANGO [OS]
I know you’re in there. We had a lookout. Saw your fall-out with Frankie…At least…if I’m right we did.
Oh, great, an audience to their miserable evening. JD grits their teeth and tries to swallow the anger, the frustration, the betrayal the–
They don’t have time for this. Every second spent here is a second they don’t have getting the fuck out of here.
JD slips through the kitchen, towards the fire exit, unable not to listen to TANGO as she talks on the other side of that door.
TANGO [OS]
If you don’t open this, I’m going to have to. I’m sorry. I don’t think you have much left in there. I… We talked to boss… About you and Frankie–about the shit you wouldn’t tell her.
JD makes a face once they’re at the fire exit at the back of the kitchen. Great so, now everyone knows their business. As if today wasn’t awful and embarrassing enough. They twist the lock with a tiny:
SFX: Click!
The handle turns silently in their hand. But when they push against the door, they come to remember that this thing jams unless you shove it just right. It’s not a quiet ordeal.
TANGO [OS]
I’m not gonna pretend I know what goes on in boss’ head but I don’t think she was mad, really, just disappointed. C’mon don’t make me bust your door down again.
For half a second JD wonders if TANGO left them their pack of smokes and the set of credsticks on purpose. More likely she just missed them in her sweep though. But she did give them almost a half hour of leeway before showing up here, if she isn’t lying about her lookout.
They shift and shove hard into the door which makes a loud sound–
SFX: CRRREAK–
But it doesn’t budge at all. Shit okay one more. Fast.
TANGO [OS]
Doe?? Shit–
Okay she’s coming in and it’s not going to take her very long to–
SFX: SLAM–CRASH–
JD only barely manages to get the fire escape open as TANGO bursts through the door. For a second the two lock eyes, reading one another in panicked breaths.
There’s confusion on her face and it dawns on JD that this is the first time she’s really registering seeing them like this. In their real face. Not the gnoll she knows them for. Like a confirmation that the person she saw outside with FRANKIE is really them.
TANGO
Doe…?
Not that it matters anymore. None of the pretence matters anymore. JD turns to leave but is stopped when TANGO speaks up.
TANGO
Wait! Wait–Doe.
This door is open wide enough they could leave right now, but something in her tone causes them to hesitate. They don’t say anything, watching her, one arm already out the door but waiting.
TANGO
W-what happened? You were MIA for, like, three weeks. We–we were sure you ran out on us. But then you’re back–you’re stepping out of Frankie’s ride…
JD doesn’t say anything. What more is there to say? TANGO is going to talk them soft and then grab them–bring them in to get raked over the coals by IZ.
JD steps back, halfway out the door.
TANGO
Doe–come on. You didn’t turncoat–I know you didn’t tell Barkfang anything. I swear by it. I swear by you.
JD
It was out of my control.
TANGO
So talk to me. What happened?
JD shakes their head, leaning against the doorframe. They’re on the edge of a big decision, something that’ll change their life going forward. They’re tired of it. Of all these big decisions. There’s a lump forming in their throat they’re having a hard time swallowing.
TANGO
I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me.
JD
It’s done. I’m done.
JD sniffs barely keeping together. TANGO catches that and steps forward.
JD
(sharp)
Don’t.
TANGO stops in her tracks. They don’t meet her eyes because they can’t take her concern right now or they might just lose their entire nerve.
JD
It’s over for me. If I go with you–it’s done. I’m done.
TANGO
If you tell me what happened I can vouch for you.
JD
(scoffs)
You saw Frankie’s eye.
TANGO falters. JD puts on a wry smile to keep from crumbling.
TANGO
(realisation)
It’s a mod…
JD
Yep.
TANGO
She lost it?
JD
Mhmm.
TANGO hesitates. There it is. The uncertainty. Would IZ really forgive them for that?
JD
L-Look. You don’t owe me shit… Just um…just…give me a head start, that’s…I’m…I’m just asking you to give me a head start–please–
JD’s not sure how they didn’t notice, didn’t catch it with TANGO’s massive frame but she’s crossed the room. Before JD can scramble back far enough she grabs their arm and pulls them into a sharp, tight hug. The gesture catches JD by surprise.
TANGO
Yeah. Alright.
Tense in her arms, JD relents, pressing into her, burying their face in her shoulder, struggling to keep it together.
TANGO holds them for a moment before she slips a sleek brick into the back pocket of their jumpsuit.
TANGO
Iz wanted you to have this. I don’t know…whatever she’s thinking…just don’t–well–don’t abuse it.
JD nods into her.
TANGO
I have to go, or they’ll get suspicious. Stick to crowds if you can. Get out of the radius. Get out of Pipetown. The station’s small but you’ll be okay. Just…stay out of trouble, yeah?
JD
Yeah.
TANGO
Good. Heh.
TANGO pulls back and looks JD over, they catch a little sadness in their exchange. This is probably the last time they’ll ever see TANGO–the thought hits them like a freight ship. The feeling would sting worse if they weren’t already bleeding out from everything else.
TANGO
Get going.
JD nods. They step out the fire exit door, pausing for only one more moment to say.
JD
Thanks, Tang.
And then they slip out, turn away and don’t look back.
61. EXT. THE BILLBOARD — NIGHT
It’s quiet, everything in PIPETOWN is quiet from up here. They watch lights blink in and out like stars. They lean against the faded, peeling advertisement behind them and stare and stare and stare.
They think of nothing and everything. It’s almost numb now, the pain in their chest. There’s a squeeze every so often, when they think about FRANKIE, when their mind spirals down the hole and reignites the three burning scratches along their face.
M is going to be livid when they find out.
If they find out.
Do they even care if she knows, at this point? JD would give anything for M to come pick them up right now and fly back home. Even if home’s a bit of a shithole.
Beats being in this shithole.
JD scoffs quietly to themself, pulls their legs up and pushes the sole of their sandals against the edge of the overhang. They pull a smoke from the breast pocket of their jumpsuit and light it with a little click. They inhale, drag, pull and hold the smoke inside them, letting it burn.
JD leans back, letting go of plumes past their lips. They sigh, scrub their face.
They forgot how cold it gets up here. Probably just under some sort of ventilation stream. They’re glad they picked out layers, the jumpsuit, a hooded sweater, a cap. A bag of weird necessities… Their ID’s, credsticks and their smokes.
Maybe they should leave the station. Would they even have it in themself to stow away again? Probably best if they didn’t. They rather get paid to be a part of a crew.
JD pulls the sleek brick TANGO gave them, out of their pocket. They take a moment to pull the thing apart, checking for any trackers or tracers. They can’t see anything out of the ordinary in here.
Probably best if they swapped it out anyway. If they’re going to start fresh they shouldn’t keep something that might have tracker they can’t detect, on it. They carefully put the thing back together.
They put it away back in their pocket. It’s not on so it’s not a problem for now, maybe they can trade it in for something cheaper and get something simpler. The simpler the better.
Then they’re apartment hunting. They can’t stay at the billboard long, FRANKIE knows about it so if she winds up looking for them it’s only a matter of time.
They linger on the memory. The last time they were here she was with them, staring out at the constellations all around them. They were talking… What were they talking about? That was just before they showed her their face…
Maybe that’s why BOZ knew they were endiffian. The thought bleeds shame right from their chest to their fingertips. They put so much trust in her. In the wrong person. Fuck. Maybe M was right. Maybe they’re destined to go it alone, keep their head down, keep quiet until they eventually die. Some second chance at life.
They pull out a smoke and drop their gaze down to the black abyss below.
Alone again. They sniff, scrub their cheek and clear their throat. Their hands fumble to light their cigarette. Their inhale is too sharp, their exhale trembles.
They don’t sleep much looking into the dark pit yawning up to greet them.
62. INT. THE COMM SHACK — DAY
JD puts their smoke out on the sole of their sandal and pushes into the hole-in-the-wall shack. There’s nobody in the immediate space but there’s a window behind the counter that reveals a human working in the shop. JD heads over to the counter and rings the bell, leaning against the counter to wait.
They packed up the night before, they won’t be visiting the billboard again–hopefully ever.
They’re stopping here to trade in and then get the fuck out of PIPETOWN, maybe they’ll have better luck up in the SPARKS. That’s the goal at any rate.
It takes about fifteen before the human steps out.
HUMAN
Sorry didn’t see you there, can I help you? Comm troubles?
JD
Just looking to trade in.
JD pulls the sleek black brick out of their pocket and places it on the counter. The HUMAN looks it over and frowns.
HUMAN
Oh this is top of the line–
JD
Yeah. Need something quiet.
HUMAN
Quiet?
JD
Yeah. Simple.
HUMAN
Ah. Gotcha.
The HUMAN pulls out a couple options and sets them by JD’s. They look each one over, the HUMAN rattles off information they aren’t particularly listening to.
They pick the smallest one, bit scuffed. The make and model is old enough to keep from being tracked… Well… That’s the idea anyway. There’s no way to know for sure.
JD
This one. You do credit difference?
The HUMAN catches their eye that time and though it seems like they’ll follow through on the signs that imply they won’t trade for credits, the HUMAN nods.
HUMAN
Yeah.
JD hesitates, it was a long shot, they must look like worse hell than they even thought.
JD
How much?
HUMAN
Say seventy-five, plus the comm.
JD
Yeah okay.
JD takes the phone and the credstick, leaving the other behind but the HUMAN catches their attention again.
HUMAN
Nothing on this thing you want?
JD hesitates, but relents. They haven’t even checked the brick for anything pertinent. They twist the sleek surface in their hands a few times before they turn it on.
There’s nothing on here. There’s a single contact labelled IZ and that’s it. They stand there, wavering on it, only loosely aware of the HUMAN watching their deliberation before they punch the contact into their new comm and delete it from the old one.
JD
Thanks.
JD catches the HUMAN’s eye and it’s sympathetic and their stomach twists.
They’re out of there before the feeling cements itself proper.
63. EXT. THE SPARKS — DAY
The SPARKS is two levels above PIPETOWN. That should be enough distance to keep them out of BARKFANG and BITECLAW’s range. At least until they’re forgotten about and the two resume their usual infighting.
Rent is a bit steeper up here but they can make due for a bit until they can land a job.
Everyone needs a janitor, these days, right? Doesn’t have to be crime-related.
JD sits quiet in a small coffee shop, sipping on a mandatory drink scrolling classifieds for apartments, holes they can pay someone to live in until they can get credits for something more hospitable.
Well… There’s one listing that doesn’t look too terrible. Might be worth a shot… Might even hold them out for longer than they were expecting.
The SPARKS isn’t as clean as the EYE above it but some of the feeling’s filtered down enough that a BARISTA looms over them. And when JD pauses to look up, she smiles apologetically.
BARISTA
(quietly)
Sorry, are you finished your drink?
JD glances down at their empty mug and then back up to her, by way of answering but they feel a little bad for being an ass so they speak up, anyway.
JD
Yeah.
BARISTA
I’m sorry its just that…you um… You’re making people uncomfortable.
JD looks around and finds… Too many sets of eyes flickering between the two and looking away. They don’t exactly look great. Maybe the stench of PIPETOWN is still melded into the fabric of this jumpsuit.
JD
Yeah. Okay.
They get up, heading out into the streets.
It’s not the EYE but it sure aspires to be in some respects. JD just hopes whatever the coffee shop folks noticed about them isn’t something this landlord’s going to care about when they scope out the new place.
64. INT. THE NEW PLACE — AN HOUR LATER
The LANDLORD isn’t friendly but she isn’t unfriendly. She’s a small woman, older human with a worse smoking habit than their own. They swear she’s changed the thing three times since they stepped into the building–nice lobby–up the steps–there’s even an elevator in this place–and showing the closet-sized unit.
It’s really not much to look at. The place is just a short corridor with a window at the end facing another wall outside with a maze of piping. But it’s a pretty big window, at least. The main light in the room works better than their first place did. Otherwise there’s a kitchenette on one side, one sofa on the other and one other door that leads to a bathroom. At the end there’s a shutter door that can be slid closed. There’s space for a bed or there’s two hooks.
JD
Hooks?
The LANDLORD shrugs.
LANDLORD
Beds are expensive. We got hammocks for rent or you can buy your own.
JD nods.
JD
How fast’s move-in?
LANDLORD
(tch)
You want it now? It’s yours now. Pay half-rent today for the rest of the month and then you’re set the first like everyone else.
JD glances at her, surprised.
JD
Yeah?
LANDLORD
Yeah. Come. You want a hammock, too? We got paperwork to fill.
The LANDLORD starts off at her mosey-ing pace towards the steps to her office. JD hesitates, lingering and looking over the space. They think of their old place in PIPETOWN, the first one they ever had and wonder what quirks are going to give them a hard time about this one.
They’ll sure find out eventually.
JD signs off on a bunch of paperwork, and the LANDLORD seemed troubled, annoyed, about their lack of references and their unwillingness to a background check. They got a bit of a lecture after that, about causing trouble and keeping it away from her place in the SPARKS.
JD slips away after giving her multiple promises she wouldn’t hear a peep from them, keys and hammock in hand.
CUT TO: A FEW HOURS LATER…
It’s dark in their new place, lit only by a small light in the kitchen. There’s discarded wrappers on the counter for a quick bite at a cheap diner across the street. On the long couch is the jumpsuit, the hooded sweater, the cap. There’s a little bag of spoils, a change of clothes or two until they can figure out the laundromat downstairs. Yeah. There’s one inside the building, go figure.
JD emerges from the bathroom, hair wet and drying onto the shoulders of their shirt, a bright orange thing featuring a bootlegged design that says: ZAP ZAP ATTACK. JD doesn’t know what it could even be for. Whatever, it’s all they had down at the corner store.
Right now they’re slipping into their bedroom and sliding into their hammock and letting out a sigh. They look out the window as the station lights begin to set.
Well, this could have gone worse. They’re still stuck job hunting tomorrow. Their creds are only going to last maybe next month.
They don’t have to think about that right now. JD pulls up their comm instead and does the thing they’ve been dreading all day: creating M’s contact.
And then shooting her a message.
[still mad at you. but hey, this is my new number.]
It’ll be a while before she’ll see their message, a little longer before JD will get that reply. Interplanetary messaging is still deep in the stone age unless you pay good credits to get it instant.
JD looks out the window, sighs, gently brushes their cheek with their fingers. They replaced the bandages after the shower. The wound is still angry, ripe, they’ll eventually have to let it breathe but just seeing it in the mirror earlier was enough to drop them straight into a panic.
They turn their gaze over to the window, watch the shadows catch in the nooks of the piping. They feel the weight of everything pressing them into their hammock… So heavy they’re not sure how the hooks can take it.
CUT TO: VERY EARLY NEXT MORNING.
JD wakes with a start every five hours, heart racing, images of BOZ and FRANKIE and IZ mixing together like they’ve somehow become part of this family by trade. It takes moments for those feelings to recede.
Each wake-up-call is punctuated by a new message from M.
M: [are you ok? what is wrong? your comm is stolen?]
JD: [yeah]
They sigh, looking at the message as it sends but it’s too late to pull it back so they send another:
JD: [got nicked by some kid, its fine.]
They look at this message, sigh, and send. Sleep, nightmare, wake to a new reply:
M: [sorry…you are doing ok? i am missing you.]
JD stares at the message and a part of them wants to believe it but a much bigger part of them is angry. Angry at everything, angry at everyone.
JD: [you sent me away.]
They skim sleep, tossing and turning while their blood boils and their teeth grind against each other.
SFX: ZZT ZZZT
The message wakes them.
M: [you know what it is i had to do. i explained everything. it wasn’t safe. you are better this way.]
They ignore the sentiment, the reasoning. Yeah, of course they knew logically why they did it–
JD: [i’m not a kid, anymore, matante. you can at least ask me if i’m capable. i can hold my own–better now. i can actually be of use, i can help you.]
JD’s already hit send on that reply and they already feel how foolish it sounds. They weren’t a kid when she sent them away either. Just a younger fool who couldn’t keep up with her. They scrub their face, wince, sigh. Fuck it.
They get up and start their day.
CUT TO: HOURS LATER
Job hunting on SPARKS forums online is really just miserable. JD scrolls and scrolls and scrolls feeling the weight of their exhaustion. They sleep, scroll, eat and check M’s contact for any updates and find that there aren’t any. The message they sent feels worse and worse every time they look at it.
So they stop looking at it. They distract themself fixing small icks in their new place loose screws, cleaning up old grime from years of previous tenants. It’s a long day but just the thought of leaving their place sinks its teeth in deeper. They’re going to have to leave again eventually, before the fear and anxiety of looking over their shoulder really gets to them.
They’re not about to make themself more pathetic by becoming a hermit, that’s for sure.
But they can afford one day, maybe two to recoup, after months of being a captive, they suppose.
JD goes to bed scrolling, waiting for hours too late on M’s reply but there isn’t one. Their stomach sinks down. They set the phone aside on the window sill and don’t expect an answer, not even when they wake up.
Sleep continues to be dismal, JD wakes up every few hours sweating, heart racing, breathing heavy as nightmares recede and they take a few minutes to remember where they are.
SFX: ZZT ZZT
It’s 4 A.M. When they get a reply from M. A pit in JD sinks with dread like they already know what it’s going to say.
But the message smarts anyway.
M: [this is not a negotiation. i risked everything for you. to give you this chance to start new again, take it. forget this life. you are more useful to me alive and living good than fighting with death.
do not ask me this again.]
JD sinks into their hammock and doesn’t reply. When she’s made her mind up about something there’s nothing they can do to change it. JD turns their tired gaze out to the window and starts tracing patterns in the maze of pipes while the black hole beneath them rips their place apart.
65. EXT. THE JOB HUNT — ALL WEEK LONG
This building is decent. Mostly office space. They got in on an interview after asking the receptionist about a job opening.
JD is led through the halls by a tired-looking KASATHA who blithely explains what this building does on the daily. JD is admittedly only barely paying attention.
They’re offered a seat in an office and look up to the flickering image of IZOLA that catches them off guard.
KASATHA
I wasn’t aware that your previous job history was so frightening.
JD only barely recovers.
JD
Yeah–no. Sorry. Previous job history?
KASATHA
(unimpressed)
Yes.
JD
This is for janitorial, isn’t it?
The KASATHA blinks.
KASATHA
Yes.
JD
Right. Well…
This guy didn’t like the way JD avoided the question.
CUT TO: INTERVIEW 2
JD sits down in a different seat, same type of boring office, in front of another tired alien, this time a shirren.
INTERVIEWER 2
That’s impressive. Do you have a resume?
Who needs a resume, these days? For janitorial?
CUT TO: INTERVIEW 3
JD sits down again, the office chair swivels a little they have to twist it back just right.
INTERVIEWER 3
Oh we… understand. New faces, fresh off the ship. It’s just that… Well… We don’t usually hire fresh stationers…
(whispers)
Too much extra paperwork.
Sure.
CUT TO: INTERVIEW 4
JD sits down and the seat sinks a little lower than the rest have.
INTERVIEWER 4
Well, everything seems pretty good, standard. We just need references from your previous employment.
JD was ready for this one this time, they send the INTERVIEWER the contacts to a few random businesses. They’re not exactly fake but…well it’s not like these folks actually check this stuff, do they?
CUT TO: THEY SURE DO CHECK THAT STUFF
JD doesn’t get a reply for weeks as they keep bungling interview after interview with not enough forged or concrete evidence to back up their claims. Some INTERVIEWERS talk around the SPARKS and they’re booted from businesses before they can even get in the door.
Coming home one night, JD does a small detour. They twirl a smoke between their fingers and stand in front of two golden scoops just outside the WCDEE’s they frequently walk past but haven’t actually entered. In the window they see a sign: HELP NEEDED.
Well, it’s worth a shot in a day filled with shots that didn’t hit. JD finishes their smoke and heads inside.
It’s mayhem in here. There’s a lot of loud talking and a lot of … Kid sounds… Screaming? Oh–joyful shrieking looks like. They watch kids scamper by. One of the parent’s is yelling across the room to one of them for some reason.
Well… It sure is busy enough in here tonight to keep them distracted from the bleak black thoughts rolling around in their mind. It’s also completely temporary. They just need a paycheck or two for rent and then they can move on to something…
…quieter.
JD finds the nearest exhausted employee, a young orc with a name tag that reads: GIDEON. They’re carrying a couple big jugs of some sort of dipping sauce towards the back. JD quickly moves to catch it before it falls out of GIDEON’s hands.
GIDEON
Thanks–wow that would have been a mess.
JD
Yeah, bit. Might need to hire a janitor for that.
GIDEON
Oh, you’re the new guy!
JD
Yeah, well, trying–
GIDEON
Thank gods. The stuffs in the back, past the counters make a right. The bathroom is…
(nervous laugh)
…something.
GIDEON is already darting off to deal with the missing sauce problem, leaving JD to stumble out of the way of rampaging kids. JD frowns and sighs.
Fine, whatever. Maybe they’ll just accidentally make it onto payroll or something.
JD makes their way through the chaos and slips behind the counters. There are only a couple employees working today–honestly far too few–so explaining they’re new isn’t difficult in the slightest. Anyone they try to ask about the position hands them something new. First talkies, a name tag that reads JACK DANIELS (they hadn’t thought of that one before), keys to the janitor’s closet. Admittedly it isn’t so much they’re handed these things as these things are desperately or irritably shoved into their hands.
Idling in the back rooms still looking for the manager, they come across the office door, knock… Once… Twice… Three times… Hm. Not here. Their talkie chirps with the voice of someone whose name-tag they can’t remember.
TALKIE
Would someone get the new guy on bathroom… Please. It’s starting to hit that point of no return.
Down the hall another human locks eyes with them, flipping the page of their magazine.
HUMAN
I think she means you.
Fine. JD sighs and fishes the cleaning cart out of the closet and starts for the bathrooms.
CUT TO: THE BATHROOM
We’ll save the terrible descriptors for this particular space. It’s unsightly would be putting it extremely mildly, calling it absolutely disgusting still doesn’t quite scratch that itch.
JD would honestly walk away if the employees didn’t look like they were on their last thread of existence. JD puts in their earbuds and gets to work.
At least it’s better than waiting around at home… They’re not going to think too hard about those implications.
CUT TO: A.T.B. (AFTER THE BATHROOM)
When JD steps out of the bathroom, the place has quieted considerably. Most of the families creating the wild hubbub from earlier have dissipated. A couple of employees are picking at the residual mess outside. JD slips into the back, puts the cart away and finds the manager’s door.
It’s slightly open to reveal a ysoki at the desk scrambling over paperwork, flustered. JD can’t help but wonder about how uncanny and familiar this guy looks.
And then it hits them.
FLASHBACK: THE WHIRLPOOL WASH.
JD looks over paperwork, a name reads: RODNEY RATTS. Ah…well that’s unfortunate.
CUT BACK TO: THE YSOKI’S OFFICE
JD knocks before peering inside properly.
JD
Remy Ratts?
The ysoki flinches, looking up from his paperwork, eyes darting around until they land on JD at the door, he relaxes.
REMY
Oh. Yes? Hello?
JD
It’s about my trouble with payroll?
REMY
Oh. Yes. Come in.
REMY hesitates as JD steps inside and takes a seat.
REMY
What is this trouble? Wh-who are?
JD
Sorry. New here. Two weeks, was supposed to get paid but didn’t and they told me to check in with you.
REMY blinks and frowns and looks at the name tag and his frown deepens.
REMY
I told them to throw this name tag out. What is… Ehh…?
JD
Oh, uh, JD. Guess someone thought it was funny.
REMY
(disgruntled)
Mm. So what is the issue?
JD
I’m not getting paid, sir.
REMY
Yes, yes. Okay.
REMY shuffles around with his paperwork, a bunch of stacks that mean nothing, sorted into nothing. It’s almost painful to watch before REMY finds the blank application form and offers it to them.
JD takes it with a frown.
JD
And this’ll get me back-pay?
REMY
(confused)
Back-pay?
JD
For the two weeks I’ve been working.
REMY
Fine, fine, yes. Tomorrow. I will pay you this after your shift. Is okay?
JD
Thanks.
JD stands up to leave and REMY stops them.
REMY
Eh–JD?
For a second they dread their lying’s caught up to them.
REMY
Tomorrow. This paper is filled, too.
JD eyes him and nods.
JD
Mhm. Sure thing, boss.
REMY nods and shoos them off. JD slips out the door and breathes a sigh of relief.
They’ll take every little win they can get.
66. EXT. SPARKS STREETS — EVENING
JD walks home. It’s in smaller moments like this as they walk through the SPARKS that they notice the real cross between the grunge of the lower levels and the desperate cling to the EYE above it. The stationers here are a bit friendlier…maybe a bit too much so. JD’s spent enough time in their life around the unfriendly sort, so maybe their impressions are a bit more skewed.
Admittedly, they almost prefer the anonymity of the unfriendly sort. Now they walk into a laundromat and the owner is too chatty, too friendly. Makes funny-guy type comments about JD’s new yellow and red jumpsuit everyone seems to know is the WCDEE’s standard getup.
They slip into their building and try not to be noticed but their neighbour (yes, people talk to each other here) waves friendly and tries to chat. JD placates them with amicable but curt replies, buys a cheap meal from the vending machine in the lobby and slips away upstairs to their apartment.
CUT TO: JD’S APARTMENT
It’s dark and quiet in here. JD sits on their sofa and sighs, sinking into its tattered frame. They shut their eyes and linger in the silence, glad for it. Glad they’ve found something of a new job. Maybe they can just make this work. For a little bit. Until they can find something else. Or maybe they can buy their way off ABSALOM, find a new planet to fuck up on. For once, as small as it is, it feels like things might just be looking up.
Their comm buzzes.
SFX: ZZT ZZT
It’s probably M. They don’t really want to talk to her right now. Probably pretending their last conversation didn’t happen. They sink into their seat a little more.
SFX: ZZT ZZT
JD frowns, opening their eyes again.
SFX: ZZT ZZT
JD pulls up their comm, finding messages from an unknown number. Probably spam.
They check it anyway, the messages read:
[JD?]
[ok, this has to be the right number, took a while to trace]
[ya really left pipetown just to get away from me?]
A new one comes in.
[figures]
FRANKIE. JD eyes the texts, the flood of livid anger burns right through the scars on their face. It’s been about a month now. How did she even get this number? They block the number and tell themself they’ll have to pick up a new phone, somewhere different this time, and hope it wasn’t the vendor themself that leaked.
Though hackers on this station are dime a dozen, really, and if she’s got her claws on one, well, this is about to be the most grating break-up in their personal history–
SFX: ZZT ZZT
Fuck. Okay, well, this will save them a phone replacement, she’s definitely got someone working around blocks.
[ya cant just blame me for everything]
[ya didn’t have to show up bawling like a baby]
[what was i supposed to do huh?]
Even though JD doesn’t answer, puts the comm on silent, eats their dinner-sludge, takes a shower, settles into their hammock… They come back to a stream of texts she left in her wake before she’s finally given up with a last:
[fuck you! JD! Fuck you!!]
[sorry whatever]
[can we just talk]
[please]
CUT TO: THINGS START TO STAGNATE AS WEEKS GO BY…
Months go by…JD spends their time in a routine that seems to extend forever. They work the night shift at WCDEE’s cleaning up the day’s messes, preparing them for the next morning. They go home, eat, sleep and start up again. They’ve taken to doing laundry on Thirdays and shopping for groceries on Fifthdays they work through weekends because the restaurant–if you can call it that–is still short on staff but REMY doesn’t have enough cash to pull in anyone else.
They wish it bothered them more than it currently does. Right now it’s a distraction, away from their miserable apartment, away from the hundreds of texts FRANKIE keeps sending this number.
They get the occasional message from M but honestly they’re not much of a fan of talking to anyone these days. They put their head down, work their hours and just about exist.