The group walked through the dark "morning," their footsteps echoing on the damp stone street, lit in a pale shade of yellow from the street lamps above.
People looked at them like they were some weird collection of strangers.
Sira and Victor occasionally stared back at the pedestrians, their faces full of curiosity.
Sira was worst, she was practically spinning in place with how much she tried to take in.
Walker, as usual, was serious—his face grim as he looked straight ahead.
Myth and Ashley, walking ahead of the group, were visibly embarrassed. They wanted nothing more than to hide their faces.
With her head down, Ashley glanced at Myth from the corner of her eye.
"We don't know them. We have absolutely no relation to them."
"I just hope we don't get caught," Myth muttered, glancing back at her out of the corner of his eye.
From the information Myth had gathered from a pedestrian, he concluded that the undercity had no private vehicles—at least not on this ring. The only available mode of transport was public trams.
The trams ran on a track system. There were three main tracks that circled the entire ring and connected the key areas. Joeberg was one of the major stations connected by the outermost track. Multiple trams ran along the main loop—it looked like one arrived every ten minutes or so.
Each area had its own local tram network. Right now, the group was heading to take one of these local trams toward the factory market district, hoping to find cheap clothes and blend in.
The first thing they noticed was that people here didn't wear jeans or T-shirts. Most were dressed in formal clothing.
They waited for the tram that would take them to Joeberg Lane 3.
After a few minutes of silence, the tram arrived. People rushed out like they were late for a multi-million-credit deal.
Myth and the group hid behind Walker, who stood like a statue. People yelled and cursed at him, but he ignored them. Once the tram had moderately emptied, the group stepped inside and found some seats at the back.
The interior of the tram was made of metal, painted a dull grey. There were three black plastic seats on both the left and right sides.
White lights lit the tram, giving it a sterile, industrial feel.
Myth made his way to the conductor and spoke in a somewhat similar accent.
"Five tickets for Lane 3," Myth said.
"Sir, which stop in Lane 3," the conductor replied politely—likely because Myth was still wearing the military uniform.
"I want to go to the factory market district," Myth said in a commanding tone.
"I'll give you tickets to the first cross-section, sir. The market district is within walking distance from there," the conductor responded.
"How much for five?"
"That'll be 100, sir."
Myth handed him a 100-note and took the small stack of paper tickets.
Soon, the tram began to move.
Walker and Victor sat on the second-last seat, while Ashley and Sira took the row in front. Victor and Sira sat by the windows, curiously observing the city outside.
Ashley, who had earlier looked like she wanted to vanish, now gazed out the window with a half-bored expression. "Whatever. I've got nothing better to do—might as well look outside."
But her eyes—wide and trying to take in everything—betrayed her.
Myth chuckled inwardly.
He sat beside her, also looking out the window.
He was mesmerized.
The streets below were bathed in a golden glow, Small to medium shops lined the roads, their colorful banners catching the warm light just right. People in tidy formal clothes walked briskly along the sidewalks, headed to work or errands. There were no private vehicles—just foot traffic and the rhythmic arrival of trams like theirs.
The group sat in quiet awe, no one saying a word.
As the tram slowly approached Lane 3, the conductor made an announcement.
Myth turned to the others. "That's us."
The group stood and quietly stepped off the tram.
They got off at the cross-section. Myth asked a few pedestrians for directions to the market district. After a 5–10 minute walk, they found themselves on a busy street lined with small shops selling a variety of goods. Food stalls sizzled with activity, pans flipping food into flames that soared into the air.
Everyone stared hungrily at the food—everyone except Victor, who just watched with calm curiosity.
"Let's get clothes first, then we'll eat. I'm starving," Myth said.
Everyone nodded. They weren't supposed to speak.
As they walked through the crowded market, they drew plenty of stares. It quickly became obvious where most of those stares were directed—Ashley. Her torn skirt and bruised, bare feet made her stand out. She kept her head down, her face flushed with embarrassment.
Eventually, they reached a small clothing shop with a banner out front that read: "100 ONLY."
Myth approached the shopkeeper and said in a commanding tone, "Get us some water. Fast."
The shopkeeper, noticing the military uniform, nodded quickly and handed Myth a bottle while trying to make small talk.
Myth passed the bottle to Walker first.
Walker, experienced as always, drank it slowly to avoid vomiting from dehydration.
Myth gestured at Ashley, signaling her to explain to Sira how to drink carefully.
Then, turning back to the shopkeeper, Myth asked, "How much for five shirts—three men's, two women's—three trousers, and two skirts?"
He paused and added, "I want a huge discount."
The currency here was sols. Shirts were marked at 100 sols, trousers at 150, and skirts at 100.
The shopkeeper looked nervous. "Sir, the prices are already this low. I can't give any more discount."
Myth didn't respond. "Show me the clothes."
The shopkeeper quickly started laying out options, describing the "special features" of each item with enthusiasm.
Occasionally, he asked questions, which only Myth answered.
They began with the men. Victor, Walker, and Myth chose quickly. It was basic and practical—Walker and Myth picked plain white shirts, Victor went for a light blue one. All three took black trousers.
Then came the women's turn.
The shopkeeper started his monologue again, but Myth wasn't listening. The girls, however, were fully focused, eyes scanning like hawks.
If only Sira paid this much attention in school, Myth thought.
They occasionally exchanged glances, mentally debating which outfit looked better. Myth watched them, getting increasingly annoyed.
'Our lives are on the line, and these two are thinking about fashion.'
He glanced at Victor and Walker. They looked back at him. Their expressions said the same thing:
'What goes on in their heads?'
After what felt like an eternity, they finally chose.
Sira picked a brown skirt and a white shirt with brown line patterns. Ashley chose a grey skirt with checkered patterns paired with a black shirt.
Myth gave them a half-annoyed, half-dumbfounded look.
They ignored him, staring straight ahead like nothing had happened.
Patterned clothes were more expensive—150 sols for the shirt, 125 for the skirt.
"Show us innerwear," Myth said.
The men picked theirs quickly. They were basic and cheap—just 20 sols each.
Myth was now excited at the idea of teasing Ashley. He couldn't hide the mischievous smile that crept onto his face.
While browsing, Ashley tried her best to stay discreet—hiding what she was looking at and what she was about to choose.
Myth leaned in close and whispered in her ear, "Black would look great on you… and I've got to say, you've got a perfect figure."
Ashley shot him a furious, embarrassed glare—her face red, her eyes full of anger. She wanted to say something, but she held herself back.
Eventually, everyone made their selections. The total cost for the innerwear came to around 150 sols.
Myth took the now-empty water bottle and handed it back. "Get some more water."
The shopkeeper looked nervous, but complied. He called out to a young helper and told him to refill the bottle.
Then Myth asked, "So, how much for all of this?"
"1,425 sols, sir," the shopkeeper replied immediately.
"How much are you going to give?" Myth asked coldly.
"Sir, it's non-negotiable. Please understand—we're barely making anything as it is," the shopkeeper said, nearly pleading.
Myth tossed him a thousand-note and snapped, "Just get the water. Fast."
There was a tense silence.
Finally, the shopkeeper relented. "Sir… just give 100 more. I'll waive the remaining 325."
Myth nodded. He didn't want to cause a scene.
After completing the payment and drinking the water slowly, the group moved on—to buy shoes.
Ashley picked a pair of black synthetic leather shoes. They cost 300 sols.
Myth couldn't help but think, 'This is daylight robbery.'
And yes, this was coming from someone who had once spent an absurd amount on a black jacket. Funny how situations change a person.
Once they'd bought everything they needed, they walked to a deserted alley at the end of the street to change into their new clothes. The shops were all open stalls—no changing rooms, no privacy.
"Finally, I feel a bit alive," Ashley said, taking a deep breath.
"Yeah… me too," Sira replied.