Ryker shook Karl's shoulder with a firm grip, jarring him awake from a fitful doze on the creaky cot. He grumbled, "Rise and shine, kid, I'm off to the market for some supplies."
Karl groaned and propped himself up, his muscles stiff and sore from the night's ordeal. "Market, this early?" he muttered groggily.
Ryker tugged his patched coat over his broad frame, nodding as he replied, "Yeah, we're out of grub and I need a few tools, so I'm locking you in tight, no need to panic."
Karl rubbed his eyes, his scarf slipping down his neck. "Are you sure it's safe, what if someone shows up?" he cracked out.
Ryker flashed a lopsided smirk, clapping the doorframe. "This lock's tougher than a shifter's hide," he said. "Just keep your head down, I'll be back before you miss me." Then he strode out, his heavy boots echoing until the door slammed and the lock clicked shut.
Ryker stepped into the underbelly's gloom, his breath fogging in the chill air, and he pulled his coat tighter, weaving through a maze of twisted metal and flickering neon signs.
The afternoon sun barely dented the shadows, leaving the rusted husks of old airships looming like ghosts overhead, while the stench of oil and rotting scraps stung his nose.
He kept his pace steady, his dark eyes flicking to every skulking figure. He brushed past a muttering shifter haggling over a dented blaster, the market's noise swelling as he drew near. Stalls cluttered the open space, their tarps sagging under lanterns that buzzed with faint light, and he inhaled the mix of grilled meat and sour ale, sidestepping a pile of crates where a scrawny kid hawked busted holo-pads.
He slowed near a junk stall, his gaze catching on a tense scene. He squinted, spotting two fierce shifters holding three scruffy scavengers at bay with a blaster and a hard stare.
One of them, the female, was more fierce. Ryker adjusted his scarf and strolled over casually.
"Hey, you two, what's the deal with these sorry bastards," he called out, walking closer some more. "Got 'em on a leash for fun?"
Iora spun around, her long dark hair whipping as she sized him up. "Who are you, and why's it your business?" She snapped.
Ryn kept his blaster steady. "Yeah, we're busy here, state your piece," he chimed in.
Ryker raised his hands, grinning easily as he said, "My name is Ryker. I am just a trader passing through." His eyes darted to the scavengers. "I couldn't help noticing you've got these rats pinned. What did they do?"
Iora's green eyes narrowed. "Hi, I am Iora, and this is Ryker. We are tracking a guy with tall, dark hair. His core is a mess with crazy powers and these idiots crossed him."
Ryn nodded, lowering his weapon a fraction, "Word is hot down here," he added. "We need to find him fast. Do you know anything?"
This was bad news to Ryker because if strangers were already looking for Karl, it meant that the news was spreading fast. Whoever got their hands on Karl first would determine who would win. Right now, he had him. If he wasn't careful enough, someone else could have Karl before midnight.
Ryker scratched his face, keeping his tone light. "Nope, haven't seen a soul like that," he replied. "You are chasing smoke. He is probably long gone by now."
Iora crossed her arms, her skepticism clear as she pressed on. "Gone how? Do you think someone nabbed him, or what?" She asked, her brows knitted.
Ryker shrugged. His smirk faded a bit. "This place chews up weirdos quickly; scavengers snag 'em, rogues sell 'em, or Enforcers lock 'em down, take your pick."
Ryn tilted his head, his goggles glinting as he asked, "So you're saying it's hopeless and we should just give up?"
Ryker chuckled dryly, shaking his head. "Pretty much," he said, shrugging. "That kid is either a corpse or a captive already. You are wasting daylight on a ghost hunt."
Iora's jaw tightened. She eyed Ryker. "Why so quick to write him off," she asked. "Are you hiding something?"
Ryker waved her off, turning away as he muttered, "Not my circus, not my mess, but good luck with your wild goose chase,"
And he sauntered off, his boots kicking up dust into the market's haze.
Iora watched Ryker melt into the crowd, her fists unclenching as she turned to Ryn, "Let these bastards go, they're useless now," she barked. Ryn holstered his blaster and waved the scavengers off.
They bolted, scrambling over crates like rats set free. Ryn leaned against a stall, wiping sweat from his brow.
"So, what's next," he sighed. He was already getting uncomfortable. "Do we keep poking around?"
Iora paced a slow circle, her boots scuffing gravel. "That Ryker guy looks fishy," she muttered. "He didn't even blink. He just shut us down fast."
Ryn frowned, adjusting his goggles, "Fishy how? You think he knows the fractured core guy?"
Iora stopped, her green eyes flashing as she shrugged, "Maybe, he does. Why else would he push us off like that? He didn't ask questions, just denied it flat out."
Ryn nodded slowly and scratched his chin. "Could be a bluff," he mused. "Or maybe he is covering for someone?"
Iora's voice dropped, her thoughts tumbling out as she tried to piece together what she could get from the messy thoughts swarming her head, "What if he's with the scavengers, hiding him, or tipping someone off? He was too smooth about the whole situation."
Both of them stopped and looked around, each one lost in thought. They had set out for this journey, and they had no plans to back out now. They were deep into their search to give up now.
Ryn perked up, his brows drawing together as he glanced in the direction Ryker took. "So we tail him and see where he slinks off to?" he suggested.
Iora met his gaze, her jaw set firm, and she nodded. "Yeah, he's our best shot, let's follow him."