Post-It: ETD 00:05am

[maced_eggs]

Right. Gather around, kids. Uncle Mason is here to teach you about what you need to know to survive in your crazy little worlds once you redeem yourselves and go on to live full, productive lives.

First, you need money to survive. So you can either steal, or you can get a job. Job is safer, but it's more work, so if you're going to do the job route you want somewhere where you can slack off as much as humanly possible. Night security, retail, stocking, anythin' like that. Bonus if you're stocking because it means you can lift things on the side. But if you're going the stealing route, leave the credit cards. Cash is king. And hocking stolen merchandise can be a pain in the ass: don't steal things you yourself can't use.

Next, you're gonna need a place to live, right? So what you do is you pick up your newspaper and flip to the local obituary section. Look for older men who live alone, preferably with their kids living out of state. Then go to their houses an' break in. You've got yourself a place! An' sometimes the kids forget to write the social security office so you get free checks too.

Which leaves showering. Don't fuckin' throw your money away on washing clothes. Wear your nastiest, rattiest outfit and go down to the Salvation Army. Pick out clothes you like, switch them out for the ones you're wearing and walk out the door. None the wiser.

Next lessons, we will cover meals, dating, and fighting blokes twice your size. Have I fucking graduated yet? Yes? Fucking hell.

Comments

[routemistress]

Oh aye, I know. The tricky bit's passing it across without getting spotted - mind you, I 'ave some natural advantages in that department.

Unless the guards are robots. Then you need to try and reprogramme the buggers on the fly. That's the real pain in the arse.

cw; idiocy, drug smuggling.

[maced_eggs]

Dogs. Dogs are worse than robots.

I'm assuming. I've never actually met a robot before.

Here, this might be a personal question, but do girls...? I mean, can they smuggle more up their...?

I've always wondered.

cw; idiocy, drug smuggling.

[routemistress]

Oh, dogs are no problem for me. I just ask 'em nicely not to tell. That's actually what I meant by natural advantages, Mason my love.

...but aye, the other thing also applies.

You've met David, 'aven't you? Our Mira's warden?

[maced_eggs]

How they let you get away with that? You're only naturally good at dogs? That's a bloody convenient power.

No, can't say that I have.

[routemistress]

Dogs, security guards, anyone like that. I just sort of gently remind 'em they didn't see me. It's very useful at times. Doesn't work on everyone; that's when you 'ave to get creative.

Well, 'e's a robot. Advanced enough to be a person. Bit of a git, actually, but that's nowt to do with being a robot, that's just David.

[maced_eggs]

Does it work on parking meter maids? Because I've a feeling Roxy would not appreciate your trickery, Iris.

Will he check my bum for illegals? I don't think I'd like to meet him if he does.

[routemistress]

Depends what species they are. But my bus 'as a cloaking device, she's never been ticketed yet.

Well. Except in Gotham that time, but Gotham's special.

I think I can feel pretty safe in saying David's not going to be remotely interested in your bum in any capacity whatever, Mason.

[maced_eggs]

Roxy's a reaper, same as me. An' she gives out parking tickets like candy.

Or did. I think she's a cop now. Isshard to tell sometimes, remembering.

That's a relief. I've enough troubles without worrying about overly friendly robots interested in my lower regions.

[routemistress]

...So she's dead, but she still gives out parking tickets? Does anyone pay them?

Nah. David 'as a lot of sterling qualities, but friendliness isn't one of 'em. Or interest in anyone's lower regions, come to that.

[maced_eggs]

'Course they do. Reapers need to be employed at other things if they want to eat. Or they live like I do. Either or. Issnot a paying gig, reaping. It's a public service.

Aren't all robots asexual beings?

[routemistress]

I'm starting to see why scrounging off the recently dead looked like a good option.

Not all of 'em are. It's just a matter of 'aving the relevant software built in.

Well, and 'ardware. Or wetware, depending.

[maced_eggs]

I mean, I did try havin' a job once while reaping. But there's only so much your boss is going to tolerate you askin' for time off at 11:30 in the morning because you've got to get downtown for a hit-and-run, you know? Not everyone dies outside the 9 to 5 grind.

Wetware. Thassa new one.

[routemistress]

This is why I never 'ad a paying job before this one. Well, only sometimes as a cover. No one gives you a salary for saving the world either, most of the time.

We're going to 'ave to sort you out with summat, though. We'll never get you out of 'ere if your fallback's stealing for a living. But it doesn't 'ave to be a nine-to-five grind either, you know. That'd drive me batshit.

[She grins.]

Technically, wetware means an organic brain - either the one designing the artificial bits, or sometimes one installed to run the artificial bits. But you know what I meant.

[maced_eggs]

I did once work in a record store. They fired me. Either for the reaping or the stealing or the comin' in to work hungover, which really should not count because I could still work, yes?

Anyway. I like being free.

Yeah. Yeah, I did know what you meant. Him an' all his little organic wet bits.

[routemistress]

The trick is to know the rules really well, Mason, and 'ave a realistic idea of which ones you can get away with breaking. I've played a bit fast and loose with this job on occasion; but I've 'ad a lot of practise. And I'm a very practical girl at 'earts. You 'aven't quite got the knack of telling what you want to be true from what's actually going to be true yet, 'ave you?

Oooh, I love record shops. I once got married to a disc jockey - bad idea, to be honest, but I got carried away when I saw the size of 'is collection.

[maced_eggs]

Not quite sure what you mean, but I'll just say yes, yes? An' I happen to be a breaking-the-rules expert.

Lasted all of twenty-four hours, did it?

[routemistress]

...a bit less, if I'm honest.

It's not that I didn't love 'im. I'm just not a settling down type.

You killed someone and landed up 'ere. I think you could do with brushing your skills up, my darling.

[maced_eggs]

Understandable. I never married, either. Didn't see myself as husband material.

World's a better place without him, Iris.

[routemistress]

I believe you. But there's often better ways to make someone stop being a problem than killing.

You don't 'ave to, Mason, but I'd really like to 'ear the whole story 'round that.

[maced_eggs]

You've heard the whole story. Haven't I told you the whole story?

[routemistress]

No, you 'aven't. Only that you killed someone that needed to be dead. I don't even doubt you on that part; you're not perfect but you're not the sort to murder for laughs.

But that's about all I know. Nowt about the circumstances leading up to it and all.

cw; references to homicide, vague alludes to violence against women

[maced_eggs]

I wasn't laughing when I killed him. I was angry.

There's this girl. This, uhm. This other reaper who works with me. Daisy.

An' Daisy is, she's...she's fucking gorgeous, yeah? She used to be in movies, before she died in a fire on set at Gone With the Wind. An' she's got high standards. She dated Errol Flynn, for fuck's sake.

Anyway. She starts dating this fucking arsehole named Ray, who starts to make her do these things that are completely out of character. Settin' her up, making her...I dunno. I didn't see a lot of it going on. Only I knew she was behaving very badly in places she's usually not. You know? He uses her, makes her think he's going to set her up as a real actress when really he's just using her to hurt men who fall in love with her.

So I challenge him. I'm gonna fight Ray. An' he...yeah, he beat the shit out of me. Anger issues, that one. But Daisy didn't like it an' she says she's going to break up with him, yes? An' the two of us, we go out drinking. We have a fuckin' blast. Would be one of the best nights of my life if it weren't for what happened.

We come home, here's Ray sittin' in our bloody living room. An' he's pissed, right? And he won't take no for a fuckin' answer. Hits me, grabs Daisy an' then I...


In retrospect I should have stopped at jus' the one blow but, you know. I have difficulty telling when enough's enough.


...That's the whole story.