Editing Tales from the Wal (section)

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We never stop for too long near the Fashion 'Part, it's too dangerous. The painted, shiny women that come out to mock us won't hurt us, but if the mood strikes someone to snatch some pretty gems? Well...they come. Big things.

They're at least ten Shelves high, big as Sec-bots! Covered in thick, black hair that's held back by their Sporting Good proof, blue armor. 

I've seen them do awful things to anyone young, dumb or confident enough to pick a fight with their smaller friends. They can rip a man clean apart, stomp him into chunks and eat the pieces.

You never go to the Fashion 'Part.

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We'd done it, we'd found the exit we'd been searching all our lives for and it was completely beyond our grasp. Hundreds of greeters stood between us and the doors. Still, we had enough of this nightmarish hell and prepared. All of us grabbed our Sports and whatever armor we could fashion and charged the exit. Our sports thundered, our bats quaked in our hands, I could feel the clawing of the Greeters and kept going desperate to reach the doors. Suddenly I was free, the crush was behind me and I was somehow alive. I looked around for my friends and family but had no time to ascertain their assuredly grisly fate. The doors creaked and opened for me and I was through! I was free! I looked about the darkness around me and saw the sign that chilled me to the bone. I fell to my knees and wept. The sounds of greeters shambling towards me meaning nothing to my ears.

"Welcome to Wal-Parking!"

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Legions of power armor wearing genius electricians stood massed in rank, their blades held aloft as lightning arcs across them. Their expressions grim and sullen, ready for desperate battle. 

A voice rings across the group.

"THE PIGEONS ARE COMING! THE PIGEONS ARE COMING! READY YOUR SWORDS!"

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Taming a dog is almost unheard of among the Petmasters. Controlling such a ferocious and massive animal is a sign of a true gift with animals, a portent that that particular individual is designed for grand, and often treacherous, fate.

The last one to accomplish such a feat, generations, is only spoken of in hushed whispers during the initiation of a young Petmaster. Evelyn the Unforgettable, an extraordinary and terrible woman, was said to have to led the Pet and Animals aisle to countless victories against the other departments. It is also uttered, though only in confidence, that she nearly brought the department to total ruin and was betrayed by the very people she fought for.

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(Sample dialogue of a Gangstar from Jewellery):

You see this motherfucker right here with his pants falling down? Why do you think his pants are falling down? No, it isn't because he likes it like that. It's because, in a society as individualistic as the Gangstar lifestyle, you gotta fend for yourself. And when you don't have any bling, when you barely have enough to eat, you're given whatever hand-me-down clothes you can find. Those trousers are just too damn big for him and they endanger his life frequently. No, no, you can't try to help him. He needs to learn to take care of himself, to learn how to get. To grow strong. No, I don’t care if he’s 35 years old, he still got to work for it.

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You mean the Hardware Redoubt? Can't say I know too much about them, can't say anyone really does. They just stay holed up in that wood and stone fortress of theirs. I don't know of a sporting good in existence that could get through those walls. I've heard of some from there who left, in self-imposed exile. Never actually met one myself. Anarchitects, we call 'em. You might find one of their 'off-the-grid' dwellings every now and then, but they're usually just about impenetrable save for small slots where they might barter for food or items in exchange for their strange constructions of wood and metal.

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The Journal of Viator Sliteye age 14

Day 74 of my exile

After my month living with the Topdwellers, I believe I have gained their trust. I have been given free access to weapons after my raid on the on the Elecs caravan. As I expected, my adaptations(see page 370) helped in both the climbing and the fighting that followed the release of the meat hooks. After we had disabled the 'TronBoyz, we carried off a bumper crop of 'Tron weapons, armor, and (my favorite spoil) a large ant farm. Rufus was extremely helpful in carting away the goods. After the raid, my hosts have presented the clothes of a Topdweller. I understand that this is theTopDweller form of adoption and accepted the gesture. I currently only go in half-dress to display my animalistic nature. I must stop writing now as we are moving and my companion, Rufus the Dire spiny-tailed gecko, is needed for the transport of the Elec goods.

The gecko TopDweller,

Viator Sliteye

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