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TODAY'S FUN FIXER FACT!
"Fun Cider's one of the tastiest products the Viscoso Coalition has to offer! Hell, I'd probably be living in District 4 right now if it weren't for the contract I made with Antollio!" —Valentia Savala
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"My feet hurt..."
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"We're still a long way away from the mission site."
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Pallas tried to calm Saoirse as they continued their trek. Although they felt that Unit D needed to undertake this mission alone to truly understand the challenges of being a Fixer, they didn't want to leave any blood on their hands. So, at the last minute, they decided to join the mission, and they all took the Sub-Train to District 9, the site of their operation. As Units A and D made their way through the rundown streets, they noticed piles of money scattered along the sidewalks, trapped in gutters, and used as bonfires by citizens who cast sharp looks at them as they passed. The 9th was the poorest District in the Ring, primarily due to the actions of the Vitalität Coalition from the 3rd District, which allowed Nanum to flood the economy of the 9th. This led to skyrocketing inflation and economic collapse, leaving many unable to afford a meal without assistance from the Viscera or Rotary Eleven, which came at a steep price—literally costing an arm or a leg.
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"Wh-Why do they keep staring at us?"
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Mori was frightened by the stares of the unfriendly faces. Haddler turned back to Mori.
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"Don't mind them, Mori. Just keep walking and... keep a hand on your possessions."
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They kept walking as Pallas explained the details of the mission from a letter given to him by Antollio.
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"Our mission is to obtain an object from an abandoned DaeSyndicate Adjunct... #13 to be exact. We are not to return without the object; casualties are not permitted, and we have full clearance to use ARCHs and ARCHtypes. Unit D, do you have any questions?"
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Roby, who was grimacing, looking at the state of the 9th, turned his gaze back to Pallas.
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"...Nah."
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"I do."
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Yuhuan raised his hand.
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"Go ahead."
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"These people look sick and hungry. Why doesn't anyone do anything to help them?"
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"..."
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Haddler noticed Pallas' empty gaze and cut in to explain.
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"Well... Let me see, how do I put this... How much do you think 100 Nanum gets you in the 7th District? You and Roby went shopping yesterday, right? You should know!~"
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"Hm. Well, we spent about 1,000,000 that day, so it's kind of a blur."
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"1,000,000?!?!"
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Everyone stopped walking and turned to Yuhuan and Roby. Mori questioned Yuhuan.
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"How did you two spend 1,000,000?"
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Roby sighs.
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"It was mostly my fault, I guess... I, uh... Really wanted some toys..."
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"Toys??"
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"Action figures, yo-yos, spinning tops, the like. I, uh... Really like toys..."
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"Before I left the Pavilion, I made sure to grab my family's luxury credit card. I don't believe it has a limit, so we went on a shopping spree."
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[...]
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Haddler turned a corner into an alleyway between two ruined buildings, and everyone followed suit.
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"It should be this way."
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Saoirse walked up behind Yuhuan and poked his lower back, startling him.
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"Ah!- Saoirse, what are you doing??"
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"Hey, Ponytail! You still have that credit card on you? I'M HUNGRY!!"
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She chatters her teeth together at Yuhuan, who brushes her off his sleeve.
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"Yes, I do still have it. Excuse me, Unit A, you wouldn't mind us stopping to get some food, right?"
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Pallas turned back to Yuhuan.
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"Food? Here? Good luck. There's nothing beautiful in sight here."
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Mori's stomach growls loudly.
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"...I guess I'm hungry, too. Heheh..."
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Yuhuan reaches for his credit card. Roby, who was pretending not to be interested in Yuhuan's offer to pay for lunch, noticed Yuhuan reach into his pocket.
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"You're actually gonna buy us food? Thanks, bro!!"
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"Huh? Oh, of course. I'm happy to help my friends get a meal...
...
...?
My credit card seems to have disappeared."
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Mori, Saoirse, and Roby's hearts sink into their chests.
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"IT DISAPPEARED??"
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"It was just here a moment ago! I didn't pull it out or anything!!"
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Pallas and Haddler stop walking to check on the commotion.
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"What's wrong?"
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"I-I lost my credit card!"
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"You idiots! You went on blabbering about your credit card, and some thug snatched it!"
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"What??"
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Haddler sighs.
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"I'm afraid Pallas is right. It seems someone stole your credit card..."
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Saoirse starts to cry as Stuffy speaks.
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"How... are we supposed... to eat... now...?"
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Yuhuan checks all his pockets while the rest of Unit D and Unit A search the surrounding area for the card. Meanwhile, a figure in a black cloak watches their movements from the top of the alley, unnoticed by the group. A cold wind dragged through the alleyway, carrying the scent of rust, ash, and rotten rainwater. The group searched through puddles and heaps of damp trash while Yuhuan repeatedly checked the same pockets over and over again, growing more distressed each time.
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"It doesn't make sense... I know I had it..."
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"Well, you don't now!!"
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Saoirse kicked an empty can across the alley. It bounced off a wall and rolled into the shadows.
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Roby folded his arms.
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"Honestly? Whoever snatched it probably already maxed it out by leaving this hellhole."
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"...Can you not say things like that?"
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Mori rubbed his forehead tiredly. Pallas watched the end of the alley silently before speaking.
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"Forget the card."
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Everyone looked toward him.
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"Our mission comes first. We waste any more time standing around here, and we'll get a horde of thugs on us."
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Haddler nodded.
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"Pallas is right. Besides, whoever stole it is long gone."
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Yuhuan lowered his head.
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"...Understood."
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Saoirse groaned dramatically.
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"So... we're starving to death... before the mission even starts...?"
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"You'll live."
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"I don't WANT to live hungry!"
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The Units continued toward the end of the alleyway. The ruined concrete walls slowly gave way to towers of twisted metal and mountains of discarded machinery. Rusted vehicle frames leaned against one another like skeletal buildings, while chains dangled overhead between poles made from welded scrap.
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The deeper they walked, the stranger the scenery became.
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Entire homes had been assembled from garbage.
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Streetlights made from bent pipes flickered dimly above them. Giant statues crafted from old engines and broken electronics stood proudly among pathways of compressed junk. In the distance, music echoed faintly from somewhere within a scrapyard, accompanied by laughter and the sound of metal clanging rhythmically against metal.
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Roby blinked.
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"...Wow."
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Even Pallas paused briefly. Ahead of them stood an enormous gate constructed from welded sheet metal, train doors, broken signage, and vehicle carcasses. It stretched upward like a fortress wall, patched together through sheer stubbornness rather than engineering.
Spray-painted across the center in massive white letters were the words:
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SCRAPYARD HEAP
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Two figures stood atop the walls holding improvised weapons. One of them leaned over the edge, his hair orange like flames.
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"Halt."
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The voice was sharp and impatient. Another figure beside him adjusted a massive wrench resting on his shoulder while moving his other hand in odd motions.
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"He says: state your business."
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Haddler stepped forward calmly.
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"Argus Directorates Post. We've come regarding Adjunct-13."
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A pause followed, then the first figure with the blazing hair scoffed.
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"No authorization."
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The second nodded, moving his hand in the air again before the other translated.
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"He says: leader didn't say nothin' about visitors."
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Mori could now discern the figures more clearly as they stepped deeper beneath the floodlights. The one with flaming hair was tall and thin, draped in patchwork fabrics and belts over a mechanic's uniform, with several metal tags dangling from his ears. The other was broad and towering, with long, silver hair that cascaded over one shoulder, wearing heavy scrap-plated armor stitched together with cables and bolts. His helmet resembled the front of a furnace.
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The thinner one pointed downward.
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"Viol Amasalo."
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The large man smacked his chest proudly and signed his name.
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"His name is Tromm Petey."
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Viol crossed his arms.
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"Nobody enters Heap territory unless Kopf authorizes it personally."
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Pallas narrowed his eyes.
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"We don't have time for your 'beautiful' bureaucracy."
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"And we don't care."
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Tromm slammed the butt of his wrench against the wall with a deafening clang.
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"No entry."
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Saoirse pointed upward angrily.
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"Hey! We walked FOREVER to get here!"
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"Then walk back."
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"YOU—"
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Before Saoirse could continue screaming, another voice echoed from above.
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"Viol. Tromm. Enough."
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The arguing stopped instantly.
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A man descended from the upper scaffolding with measured steps. Unlike the others, his clothing was immaculate despite the environment around him. A dark coat rested neatly over a formal vest, and silver gloves covered his hands. His ash-colored hair was tied loosely behind his head. He smiled warmly.
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"My apologies. Our gatekeepers are overly passionate about their duties."
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Viol looked away.
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"...You didn't tell us guests were coming."
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"Because I only learned moments ago."
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The man stepped forward.
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"My name is Cembalo."
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Cembalo turned to his colleagues.
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Please, allow them entry."
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Tromm hesitated.
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[...Leader's gonna complain.]
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"He complains regardless."
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A loud mechanical groan echoed throughout the scrapyard as the giant gates slowly began to open inward. The Units stared as the interior of Scrapyard Heap revealed itself fully. It was beautiful. Not in the polished way of the upper Districts.
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But alive.
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Warm lanterns hung from towers made of broken machinery. Bridges crafted from train parts connected massive structures of welded scrap. Markets bustled with activity while children sprinted through pathways carrying bundles of metal pieces larger than themselves. A cathedral-like building constructed entirely from shattered glass and rusted steel reflected the orange glow of furnace fires nearby.
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Mori looked speechless.
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"...People really live here?"
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"They thrive here."
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Cembalo spoke proudly as the group entered. Behind them, Viol and Tromm began climbing back down the walls through dangling chains and ladders while workers resumed their duties around the gate. Cembalo turned gracefully toward the group and gave a slight bow.
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"Welcome to Scrapyard Heap."
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One by one, introductions followed.
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"I am Pallas."
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"You can call me... Haddler!~"
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"My name's Mori."
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"Roby."
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"Saoirse!"
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"Yuhuan."
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Cembalo nodded politely toward each of them.
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"A pleasure."
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As they walked through the scrapyard streets, Mori glanced toward Cembalo curiously.
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"You don't sound like you're from the 9th District."
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"Correct."
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Cembalo smiled lightly.
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"I was born in the 1st District."
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The entire group stopped walking.
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"...The 1st?"
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Roby looked baffled.
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"Then why are you HERE?"
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"Hey! The 1st District is basically paradise, isn't it? Why're you here?!"
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Saoirse added. Cembalo's expression softened slightly.
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"I chose to leave."
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Mori questioned further, though he knew he was pushing it.
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"...Why?"
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He looked ahead toward the towering scrapyard skyline.
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"To remain beside someone important to me."
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That was all he said. No one pressed further. Eventually, Cembalo led them into a massive dining hall assembled from old shipping containers and polished scrap plating. Long tables stretched across the room while workers and Fixers laughed loudly over enormous portions of food.
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The scent alone nearly killed Saoirse instantly.
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"FOOD."
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Bowls and plates quickly covered the table before them. Thick stews, grilled meats, fried root vegetables, steaming rice, and fresh bread piled endlessly across the surface. Cembalo calmly gestured for them to sit, his movements similar to those of a butler.
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"Please, eat."
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They didn't need to be told twice.
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Saoirse nearly tackled her chair.
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Roby was already eating before everyone else sat down.
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Yuhuan apologized after every bite despite continuing to eat rapidly.
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Mori looked close to tears after tasting the stew.
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"This is amazing..."
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Pallas quietly watched the room while Haddler laughed at Unit D demolishing the meal. Then the dining hall suddenly grew quieter. Heavy footsteps echoed from the entrance. A tall man entered the room wearing a long black coat layered beneath pieces of conductor-like formalwear and welded armor plating. Several mechanical cables extended from behind his shoulders like restrained serpents. His silver-grey hair hung over one eye. Everyone in the hall straightened immediately.
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Cembalo stood.
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"The Office Leader has arrived."
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The man approached the table slowly.
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"Kopf Dirigent."
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His voice was deep and composed.
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"Leader of Scrapyard Heap."
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Pallas stood first.
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"We appreciate your hospitality."
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Kopf glanced over the entire group silently before sitting at the head of the table.
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"Now explain why the Argus Directorates have come to my territory."
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Haddler exchanged a look with Pallas before answering.
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"We're here regarding DaeSyndicate's 13th Adjunct facility."
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The atmosphere changed instantly. Several nearby Fixers stopped speaking entirely. Kopf's expression darkened.
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"...No."
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The response came immediately. Pallas narrowed his eyes.
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"You haven't even heard the full request."
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"I don't need to."
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Kopf folded his hands together.
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"Nobody enters Adjunct-13."
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"We have authorization."
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"I don't care."
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The room became tense. Haddler leaned forward.
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"This mission was assigned directly by Antollio Da Galinozi, The Golde-"
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"Then tell Antollio to assign a different mission."
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Kopf's voice remained calm, but firm.
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"Adjunct-13 is not a ruin. It is a grave."
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Silence filled the dining hall before Mori slowly stood from his seat. Everyone turned toward him. His hands trembled slightly, but his voice remained steady.
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"We're still going."
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Kopf looked at him. Mori swallowed hard.
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"You said it's dangerous. Fine. That's what being a Fixer is, right?"
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Pallas quietly watched Mori speak as he clenched his fists.
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"We didn't come all this way just to turn around because we're scared..."
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Several Scrapheap Fixers murmured quietly among themselves.
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"...We can handle whatever's inside."
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Kopf stared at Mori for several long moments. Then, he slowly smiled. Not with warmth, but with interest.
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"...Can you?"
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The Office Leader rose from his seat. The mechanical cables behind him shifted like an organic lifeform.
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"If you wish to enter Adjunct-13..."
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Kopf looked toward all of Unit D.
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"...Then prove your worth."
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The nearby Fixers began grinning. Their weapons shifted toward the Directorates. Chairs scraped against the floor as Kopf extended one hand toward the Argus Directorates.
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"A skirmish."
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His eyes narrowed.
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"If your Units can survive Scrapyard Heap..."
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The furnace lights around the hall burned brighter.
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"...then perhaps you may survive Adjunct-13."