Screech. Rattle!
The light overhead flickers in the large chamber as a metal cylinder comes to a grinding halt, flakes of dirt and dust settling on the wet floor. Mr. Tendo, the Head of the second sewage plant, covers his nose and mouth with one hand, and with the other, gestures to the machine. "Ya see. It's all trapped in 'ere. An' none'a my employee's will do it."
"I can see why." Rancid mutters with a wrinkled nose. His nostril hairs burned the moment they climbed down the ladder and into the giant water plantation, the pungent smell of sewage thick in the air. "You leave it to us, Mr. Tendo."
It's a good thing he came with his thickest jeans and long sleeve shirt. They're both patched up with stitches where holes had once been, his boots lined with rubber to keep out the wet.
"Double the pay." Farron demands from beside him, "You see how many layers of shit that is?" He squints his eyes at the thick gunk, the bridge of his nose scrunching. He'd rather not put his face so close to it.
Mr. Tendo grumbles under his breath, his crooked finger scratching the back of his neck as he glares at them, "Double pay? Ya know how much-"
"Double the pay." Rancid agrees with his friend. He arches a thick and pale eyebrow at the older man in challenge as he puts a hand on Farron's dark hair and shoves his face closer to the clogged and filthy filter.
"Damn it-" Farron jumps away, his eyes watering from the horrific stench. He can feel the stench burning at his retinas. "You gods damned ass-" He reaches up to rub them, his vision blurring.
"Or you can just buy a whole new filter-" Rancid snickers as Farron falls back on his butt with a wet splat. He gags as he pushes himself up, flicking the dirty wetness off.
"A'right, a'right. Double pay." Mr. Tendo mutters. "Jus' get it done quick." He turns and climbs the ladder back up to the first floor, his steps echoing down towards them.
"Jeez, why'd he wait so long to get this done?" Farron pulls his steel chisel out of his patched up cargo pants and taps it against the hardened gunk on the filter.
Rancid digs through his tool bag and pulls something out. "Do you want nose plugs?" He holds out a pair for his friend.
"Why?" He wrinkles his nose down at it, as if he's offended, "So I can breathe through my mouth and taste it?" Farron smacks his lips together, "I'm good."
"Pft," Rancid laughs before sticking them in his nose.
"You wouldn't happen to have a full coverage mask on you?" Farron asks after a minute, as he leans over to peek inside of Rancid's sack.
A good one is expensive, and he doesn't earn enough to get one. It's been on his wishlist for the last two years. A full coverage mask would help a lot when most of Rancid's earnings come from unwanted stinky jobs such as this one.
"If I did, I'd be wearing it." Rancid snarks. "Let's get this done quickly."
***
Rancid can feel the weight of the silver coins in his pocket. Mr. Tendo offered to switch them out for a gold coin, but hearing the clinks of them in his pants gives him peace of mind.
It's not often he does a job that offers so much pay.
If he were anyone else, maybe he'd have been robbed by now, but Rancid is well known in Sekacity, the young man willing to take on any odd job, along with his good friend Farron - who ran off as soon as he was paid.
He runs a hand through his blonde hair as he debates going inside of the small, one room shed that has been his shelter his entire life. The hut is nestled between other small ones, all rusted and flimsy.
Is she inside right now?
A gust of wind blows and he gets a deep whiff of what he smells like, shit. His boots are crusted over with sewage sludge, and the cuffs of his worn out jeans are caked with feces. He really needs to change now.
Sighing, he pushes the single door open with a loud creak. He really needs to get more oil, and sooner rather than later.
"Get out!"
Glass shatters on the wall behind him. A little more to the left and it would have hit him in the face.
So, she is home today.
Guess he'll have to change later, his nose wrinkles at the thought. He really doesn't want to stay in his work clothes though, ugh. His skin is already itchy enough as it is, staying in his shit covered clothes will just make him break out into hives.
His mother is curled up on her makeshift bed mat, facing the dirty wall opposite of him. Empty bottles of bootleg liquor that weren't there this morning litter the floor around her, the scent of alcohol thick in the confined space. He should tell her he made some decent coin.
He should, but he won't. She might take it all and binge on more drinks. He'd rather buy food. He'd rather save it for a doctor.
"Where's Palik?" Rancid asks, his figure blocking out most of the light coming in through the doorway. It's long past noon, the job Mr. Tendo gave him, took up most of his day.
"I said get out!" She looks over her shoulder at him, dark brown hair covering her spit stained face. Her dark circles are deep with fatigue, her eyes red from the alcohol consumption. "I don't want to look at you!"
Do you ever? He's learned to ignore her hateful words, but that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt any less. He bites the inside of his cheek, his hand curling tight over the threshold.
Rancid is her first born son, who looks too much like his father, that's what she tells him. The man she most despises. He doesn't know who he is, how they met, why he left or why she hates him, or if he even knows that Rancid exists. Hell, he doesn't even know if the man is still alive. Not that it matters.
Knowing wouldn't really change anything.