<div id="titles">
''The Story Synopsis''
</div>
Sinkcity is a withering metropolis built on a textile landfill torn by rebellion and savage rat politics. An insurgence group plans to oust the king while noble houses compete for his approval.
The story follows Ronnie Rocket, a runaway prince turned smuggler. After a heist goes wrong, the young rat is rescued by an unlikely ally, a cat. After seeing many trucks headed for the landfill, the two must return to Sinkcity to save it from destruction.
''Are you ready to start your adventure?!''
[[Start the story!|Chapter 1]]<div id="titles">
''Chapter 2''
//Ronnie//
</div>
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Ronnie threw himself over Mallow's body, grabbing her shoulders. Her brown fur felt cold and damp to the touch. Primo stood over him, cleaning his sword with a towel. The Wheeler and Accel forces marched forward, pointing their forks, knives, and spears. They formed an arena around him, a death trap.
//Why can't I cry?// The young rat crumpled his eyes, forcing out tears that never came. //Right, they betrayed me. Ash, and Mallow, I don’t know anymore.//
Ronnie’s legs wobbled. His heart throbbed with his lungs. Under the weight of his suffering, his mind kept whispering the worst things as he forced himself to stand.
//They never loved you.//
"Give up, Rocket." Primo's tone was calm and flat. "You can’t hide this forever!"
The noble pointed his sword toward his neck. The blade’s tip scratched the surface of his crescent-shaped birthmark. While white rats like him aren’t rare, the mark proved his royal heritage. The powder he applied to conceal it grew damp from his sweat.
//Mallow's dead because of me.//
"Why?" Ronnie asked. “Why are you working with the Accels?"
Primo smiled. “Let’s just say there are things more important than feuds. Your sister’s hand, for example."
//Rudolph, you bastard!// The young rat felt his blood boil beneath his skin as he thought of his father. He saw how his cousins were forced into loveless marriages, and how Marie feared for that future. His sister’s betrothal to a noble house made his father’s intentions clear. He wants him to be king.
“You killed my friends, and now you’re taking my sister.” Ronnie said, “I have nothing to lose. Let’s fight to the death.”
“Woah,” Primo backed away, before scoffing. “You’re willing to do that for a bunch of traitors? Plus, you’re basically a stranger to your sister already, you have no say in her affairs, Rocket. Give. Up.”
Clamoring radiated among the soldiers. Their hunger for entertainment resonated with his killing intent. Their weapons and war drums thundered, slamming against the kitchen tiles in rhythmic beats. It was getting too loud.
“Silence,” Primo exclaimed. “Silence! I’m not dueling you, not when I want you alive. Once a duel commences, the law forces us to—”
“I don’t care about the law,” Ronnie said. “I want justice. Even if they’ve felt nothing for me, I’ve loved them. I’ve cared for them.”
[[Continue|Chapter 2.1]]
<div id="titles">
''Chapter 3''
//Sunny//
</div>
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Night fell when Sunny lost the rat army. Splinters and street dust caked his paws. His legs were sore from walking, his skin etched with scratches and bite marks. //Why should I feel bad? They deserved it//, the cat thought, licking his wounds, //they killed his friends.//
Funnily enough, the battle wasn't the only thing that bothered him. The garbage trucks he saw along the road roused this sense of foreboding. He remembered Cassandra's warning. In fact, he couldn't get the old crow's words off his mind, words that made his heart shudder and his mind scatter. //They're carrying enough clothes to destroy Sinkcity.//
Sunny stared at the night sky, his mind riddled with thoughts. The stars twinkling above him made the cat grateful he found this random rooftop to rest on. //Father, we don't have much time. The plan you've worked so hard for the past few years won't matter anymore.//
The cat turned to Ronnie, the smuggler prince. He could hear the young rat mumbling in his sleep. His withered voice contained private, personal things. Sunny's ears twitched, seeking enough information to gain his trust, but the prince's words made him frown.
"Kill...I'll kill them all..."
//This will be a problem.// Sunny let out a sigh, lapping on his arm until his wound started to temper. //It'll be hard to convince this smuggler prince to join me, even with my father's help. They broke him! Curse these slow feet! Curse these savage rat politics!//
Savage rat politics. He remembered the Wheeler's savagery through their cat warriors. He remembered how every single one of them had everything to lose. House Wheeler offered them food, shelter, and information. If that wasn't enough, they kept their kittens as hostages to ensure their cooperation. His father wasn't wrong for saying that they "grind everything beneath their heels to get what they want", even those larger than them.
//I'm no different from them, then.// Sunny frowned at the realization. //These soldiers also suffered from the Wheelers, but that didn't stop me from-//
He ground his teeth, staring at the prince. //There's no other way, Sunny. There's no way you could've talked to them! The smuggler prince IS the key to a better future. These men died for that to happen. They died for him to live, for their children to live.//
Sunny's ears twitched again, picking up the smuggler prince's groans. Ronnie rubbed his eyes with his tiny hands before turning his way. Fright stiffened the prince's fur.
"Evening," Sunny greeted. "You're finally awake."
[[Continue|Chapter 3.1S]]
<div id="titles">
''Chapter 5''
//Ronnie//
</div>
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Ronnie emerged from Sunny’s bag, drawn by an assortment of familiar smells. He turned to find himself within Sinkcity’s grand bazaar. Sunny towered over the sea of rats covering the cat's feet. Flags waved above every stall, etched with House Rocket's sigil. Shades of green glowed from the small houses surrounding them, each built over each other. Pitch-black smog exited every chimney, so did wagonfuls of scraps and garbage.
"Sunny!" Ronnie yelled, "What's up with today?"
"Huh," Sunny turned, darting him a confused look, "you forgot?"
Ronnie's gaze shifted back to the crowd, scrambling for answers. Some of the rats carried placards bearing a white rat wearing a crown, raising a sword. The smuggler turned to find the same picture plastered in the city walls. Today's Rocco Rocket's birthday.
Ronnie frowned. While he never met uncle Rocco, he'd always shared his thirst for adventure. The lost prince frequented the outskirts of Sinkcity, hoping to expand the capital. After the prince's disappearance, his father banned all expeditions outside the landfill. The walls exist today because of this tragedy.
“Stay in the bag,” Sunny whispered, “guards are everywhere.”
“The crowd’s dense,” Ronnie replied, “we’ll lose them.”
“We’ve been drawing their attention since we’ve crossed the gates.”
“We’ll fight them if we have to.”
“No,” Sunny frowned, “Stop acting like we’re in fighting shape. It’s a good thing they tagged along, otherwise we would’ve taken longer.”
Ronnie glanced at the cat warriors, who were tip-toeing through the crowd of pilgrims and revelers. Dave shifted towards him at his peripheral. The young rat retreated inside the bag, pressure overwhelming him. //They’re not doing it for me//, he thought, //they’re protecting their future king.//
“King”, hearing the word felt worse than the wounds he carried. His chipped ear stung, so did his shoulder whenever he moved, but Dave’s words rekindled a pressure he’d long forgotten. He could almost hear his father’s voice harping about responsibility and unity whenever they studied history together.
[[Continue|Chapter 5.1]]
<div id="titles">
''Chapter 6''
//Marie//
</div>
"Father," Marie called out from behind the door, "Lord Accel requests your presence."
"He could've sent a pigeon!" her father replied, "Ah, whatever. Come in!"
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The princess descended from the stairs, dust drifting from her steps. Candles illuminated the crypt’s walls, glowing from where the king stood. The king loomed over her uncle’s gravestone, scrubbing every inch. //He’s not in there, father,// she thought, frowning.
The king wasn’t wearing his robe, nor his crown. Marie knew her father hated wearing that sparkly hat, and it wasn’t because he looked silly on it. Down the crypts he looked like a gravedigger tending the dead.
"I’m also expecting Lord Wheeler. Where is he?" the old king asked, dust staining his fur as he scrubbed the stone. “As you can see, I’m busy right now.”
"He's waiting for you in the throne room,” she said.
"Does he bring news of your brother?"
Marie paused before shaking her head. "No," she replied, “he wants to…form a marriage pact between our houses.”
"You’re the acting regent, hear him out. It’s your hand they’re after, anyways. Refuse him if you must! Your uncle needs cleaning."
//He couldn’t hear you//, Marie thought. The princess nodded before ascending the stairs, bound for the throne room.
The princess frowned, noticing the sadness masked by her father’s dismissive tone. She anticipated the operation’s failure, even without Sunny’s help. While Ronnie’s return would've made contacting him easier, House Wheeler's methods would've complicated things.
In truth, Marie had kept Lord Accel waiting for hours. The lord arrived at the castle with bandages wrapping his injuries. She remembered the horror in his voice as he recounted the chaos Sunny brought upon his men. As a friend, she cannot sabotage Sunny’s safety. As acting regent, she can’t allow Lord Accel’s story to reach the king. Otherwise, the old king might command his knights to turn the landfill upside-down to find his lost son.
[[Continue|Chapter 6.1]]<div id="titles">
''Chapter 7''
//Ronnie//
</div>
Ronnie dreamt he was young again. He sniffed the air, the light scent of gasoline filling his nose. The road before him seemed endless, guarding an open alleyway which led to the bridge.
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The prince turned to his companions, a motley crew of children who never knew better. Marie held a tattered map over her face, while Arlo followed. On his back was Tommy, who held his walking stick like a wand. Even his withered leg didn't stop him from coming.
“They say the bridge isn’t that far from here, big bro!” Marie exclaimed, setting one foot into the road. “We’ve gotten this far, might as well see through it!”
Before Ronnie could reach her, Arlo tugged on her scarf.
“Not so fast, Marie." The squire's voice was low and hushed. “I know you're excited, but we're walking on uncharted ground. It's dangerous! Sir Eric told me that maps are unreliable outside the kingdom."
“Quit it, Arlo!” Tommy chuckled. “We all know he’s your dad, you look so alike!”
“Shush!" Arlo hissed, cheeks flushed. "If anyone finds out, if the king finds out, I'll-”
“Forget about your dad, Arlo!" Ronnie said, patting his shoulder. "We should celebrate! We're making history, being one of the few rats to get this far, all thanks to Uncle Rocco's map!”
“Sure, that old piece of paper must've been super effective,” the squire groaned. "Ronnie, you dolt! We're all here because of your antics. How can we be sure it’s your uncle's anyway?”
“His seal, dummy!” Tommy adjusted his glasses, before pointing his cane at a faded pattern etched in the map.
“Actually, every adventurer has their unique seal," Tommy continued. "Rocco Rocket always stamps his things. Besides, we’ve got outside the landfill in one piece, there's no reason for this thing to fail us now."
“Sure thing, nerdy four-eyes,” Arlo said. “If you’re so eager to go on this trip, why won’t you cross the road first?”
“Stop being mean, Arlo!” Marie snapped, slapping his shoulder. “You know Tommy can't walk because of his leg, you've been complaining about it all day!”
"I'm complaining about the fact that we're lawbreakers!" Arlo yelled.
“Then why did you come with us?” Marie asked. “Some knight you are!”
“Guys, guys,” Ronnie said, hands raised as he walked between them. “We can’t spend our first adventure fighting amongst ourselves! Since you’re all chicken about it, I’ll lead the way."
[[Continue|Chapter 7.1]]
<div id="titles">
''Chapter 8''
//Ronnie//
</div>
Ronnie always disliked his father’s speeches. As a young prince, he found them cool. Learning the lies behind his words made them unbearable. The king’s speech has always been a pivotal event for foundation day. Sinkcitians always flocked to the bazaar’s square with hope in their hearts.
The stage was large, fashioned from leather bags carved by the kingdom’s finest artisans. Golden chains hung below the podium bearing his house's sigil. Royals guards surrounded the king, armored in white plastic. His father’s crown, a colorful mess of plastic gems that glistened under the noon sun. The crowd cheered from the fanfare that came with his presence.
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Hand raised, the king stepped into the podium, his beard dragging along the floor. "Hundreds of years ago, my ancestors were peaceful nomads. They suffered under the humans for generations. Poisoned, tortured, and pursued, they fled to the landfill, hoping to find respite. In the end, we have adapted their systems to survive, and through this, Sinkcity blooms.”
//Sinkcity blooms, eh?// Ronnie scoffed at the idea. //Try living with the mirthless, pops. You'd take that off your speech in a heartbeat.//
“We’ve experienced nothing but peace within the capital’s embrace. Marie, as regent, quelled the warring houses within the landfill. Due to her efforts, House Wheeler and House Accel finally settled their differences under my reign. Alas, these milestones only marked danger for our great city. As of today, we lost both houses under cat rebellion, and my daughter, the princess, has betrayed me!”
Clamoring rippled through the crowd, whispers tickled his ears. Ronnie clenched his fists, fighting the urge to defend his sister. Marie, despite her headstrong nature, was always cautious. She must've trusted her men too much, or a leak was hiding beneath her nose.
The young rat walked toward the decorated stage, bumping against hundreds of rats. //I must stop him//. Ronnie thought as he climbed onto the stage. //I must stop him before he divides us.//
“This morning, I received word of an uprising led by my daughter and the terrorist, Arlo. They are planning an attack, one large enough to turn Sinkcity upside-down. The princess has protected these rebels far too long. In celebration of Sinkcity's founding, we must destroy them together!"
Cheers echoed through the crowd. The revelers waved flags, carrying Rocco Rocket's picture, screeching atop rooftops. The guards raised their spears in jubilation.
"I’m here, father!" Ronnie shouted. "Care to explain why you're lying to these people?" The crowd dispersed as he climbed on to the stage.
[[Continue|Chapter 8.1]]<div id="titles">
''Chapter 1''
//Ronnie//
</div>
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"It's too silent."
Ronnie peered through the hole. The unguarded Christmas ham rang alarm bells in his head. From what little he could see, the young rat scanned for blind spots. Everything from the spice racks to the cupboards screamed danger. He turned to his mentor, Ash. The old rat's eyes glistened with greed.
//Why couldn't he see it?// Ronnie wondered. House Accel soldiers aren't dull. He'd seen them use guerilla tactics before. Ash fought them longer than he did. That detail confused him.
"I'm going in, kid," Ash said, brandishing his blade, "I'll signal the others."
Ronnie comments,
[["Good luck, your'e gonna need it."|C1C1]]
[["You're being reckless."|C1C2]]
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<a target="_blank" href="https://www.facebook.com/sharer/sharer.php?u=https://sentaqp.itch.io/sinkcity&src=sdkpreparse&display=popup">Facebook</a>
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Spears and swords emerged from the ham, skewering the old rat. Accel soldiers emerged from the Christmas ham, drenched in sauce. They crowded over the old mouse, weapons raised to finish the job. Mallow's screams rang through his ears as they stabbed. Ash's armor clattered to the floor with her rucksack.
The Wheelers arrived armed. Rows of black and white fur encircled Ronnie and Mallow, close enough for him to feel the edge of their spears. The young rat felt his face twisting with fear. He turned, watching Mallow crying over Ash’s lifeless body.
"What the hell, Primo!" Ronnie screamed, chin raised, "we had a deal!"
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The army parted with their thundering steps, revealing a towering rat. Primo Wheeler stood with his chest raised. His golden hair whipped through the wind like a war banner. The wheel on his chest shook as he jumped off the platform carried by his reveling soldiers.
"What are you harping about, Rocket? This IS the deal," Primo said, pointing his sword against his chin. "Your father, the king, misses you! The smuggler agreed to cooperate for a price."
"Huh?"
Ronnie's eyes widened. While he expected his father's intervention, Ash's betrayal hurt three-fold. Smugglers live for money. Smugglers fight to survive. The old rat got neither, leaving him with an epiphany. //Were they using me this whole time?//
"You're wrong!" Mallow snapped. "Ash would never do such a thing!"
“Oh, the smuggler looked like he was in a rush,” Primo replied. “Everyone wants to have their cake and eat it too.”
Mallow looked like a stranger. There was sincerity in her words, fueled by the passion only a lover could have. The young rat shifted his gaze to the floor, grinding his teeth. //I don't know what to believe anymore//, he thought, //but she's gone through enough already. I can't let her die.//
Ronnie stepped into Primo’s path, chest raised. "Let her go, Primo," he said. "Otherwise, you'll end up disappointing him!"
[[Continue|Chapter 1.2]]
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The young rat inched toward the blade. A sharp pain rose from his neck. //There’s no turning back.//
"Ron?" Mallow shuffled behind him. Fear and confusion shaped her eyes.
"Fall back!" Primo Wheeler shouted at his army before backing away. The circle around them widened.
"We must bring the prince to Sinkcity ALIVE," the noble commanded his army. "I'm putting down anyone who defies this order!"
"What about the woman?" One of the Accel soldiers poked his spear against Mallow's chest. "She knows too much."
"Leave no witnesses," Primo replied. The noble sheathed his sword before snatching the soldier's spear. "It displeases my father. I'll handle this."
The noble took Ronnie by the neck. The young rat squirmed before the noble threw him aside like trash. Soldiers rushed to restrain him, stripping him of his bag.
Mallow's eyes darkened under the noble's shadow. Ronnie shook his head. Spear tips sunk into his back and legs. Trapped and unarmed, the young rat felt an overwhelming sense of helplessness.
"Don't do it!" Ronnie mouthed. He was close to screaming, arms outstretched. "Mallow!"
Mallow stood up. She rushed toward the noble, knife drawn. She moved like every animal blinded by fury.
"Granny's still got spirit!" Primo laughed, catching her knife-hand. Mallow's wild screams echoed through the kitchen counter. The blade's tip trembled from her movement.
[[Continue|Chapter 1.3]]
“Luck’s always on my side, kid, more than you know,” the old smuggler replied, grinning ear-to-ear. “I’ll be fine.”
[["Just be careful."|C1C1.2]]
[["Don't ignore your gut."|C1C1.3]]“Me, reckless?” the old smuggler laughed. “C’mon, I’m not gonna miss this opening, kid. Feel free to watch me roll if you’re too chicken!”
[["Fine," Ronnie replied, "you're the boss!"|C1C2.1]]
[["Everything about this is weird, Ash. You should know that."|C1C2.2]]“I’m always careful, kid,” Ash replied. “You don’t see a lotta old smugglers nowadays.”
The confidence in his mentor's gruff voice disturbed him. Ash saw an opportunity they couldn't miss, and no one can convince him otherwise, not even him. The young rat sighed, brainstorming for reasons behind his mentor’s behavior.
The mission was simple. They must retrieve House Wheeler's stolen Christmas ham from House Accel. Heists like these need more planning than improvising. //Did his age get to him?//
Ash is a veteran smuggler. From his stories, he survived countless life-and-death scenarios. The old rat waited inside smaller holes against uncertain odds. //Shouldn't experience teach him patience?//
//This isn't like him//, Ronnie thought. Ash wasn't the type to rush things. //Were the stakes too high?//
"Honey, it's dangerous!" Mallow warned, patting his shoulder. "They're waiting for us."
"I can handle them," Ash replied, "you've seen me fight! They'll never see what's coming to them."
"Fine," Mallow shuffled through her rucksack, drawing pieces of Ash's tattered armor.
"Suit up," she said, "if you're doing something stupid anyway, better be prepared."
"Mallow's right, Ash," Ronnie said, "let's wait for the Wheelers."
"We're running outta time, fellas!" Ash snapped, "Wheeler's taking his time, but he will come. The brat's got everything to lose from this. Trust me."
"Nobles, liars, same thing," Mallow replied. "What're we supposed to do then, tear that thing apart?"
"The pay's huge, Mallow," Ash said, "we're talkin' large enough to quit smuggling forever."
"That's impossible!"
"Ash, this is a trap," Ronnie said, "you're running into it."
"Oh, knock it off, cowards. We're missing our opening!"
The stolen Christmas ham glistened from the window's light. Ronnie's brain throbbed, scouring for ways to smuggle the luxury. Its sheen made the cut too slippery to lift. //Would the Wheelers invest resources in something so trivial?//
Ash jumped through the hole before Mallow could strap his gear. Ronnie watched the old rat race toward their target. The young rat peered his neck through the hole, waiting for the opportunity to intervene.
"That idiot!" Mallow rasped. "Stay put, Ron!" she barked, facing him. "If everything goes south, follow the plan!"
//Run//, Ronnie thought, //that's the plan//. Before he could even answer her, Mallow jumped. His throat tightened as he watched her follow her husband. //I'm sorry, Mallow//, the young rat thought, //I'm not leaving everyone behind.//
"Ash!" The young rat screamed. His neck craned through the hole, forcing himself
out. "Jump ship!" he shouted, "jump ship NOW!"
"Shush!” Ash hissed. “What're you doing, kid-"
[[Continue|Chapter 1.1]]
“What’s yours saying?” the old smugger asked. “Guess we should ignore yours! I’m doing this.”
The confidence in his mentor's gruff voice disturbed him. Ash saw an opportunity they couldn't miss, and no one can convince him otherwise, not even him. The young rat sighed, brainstorming for reasons behind his mentor’s behavior.
The mission was simple. They must retrieve House Wheeler's stolen Christmas ham from House Accel. Heists like these need more planning than improvising. //Did his age get to him?//
Ash is a veteran smuggler. From his stories, he survived countless life-and-death scenarios. The old rat waited inside smaller holes against uncertain odds. //Shouldn't experience teach him patience?//
//This isn't like him//, Ronnie thought. Ash wasn't the type to rush things. //Were the stakes too high?//
"Honey, it's dangerous!" Mallow warned, patting his shoulder. "They're waiting for us."
"I can handle them," Ash replied, "you've seen me fight! They'll never see what's coming to them."
"Fine," Mallow shuffled through her rucksack, drawing pieces of Ash's tattered armor.
"Suit up," she said, "if you're doing something stupid anyway, better be prepared."
"Mallow's right, Ash," Ronnie said, "let's wait for the Wheelers."
"We're running outta time, fellas!" Ash snapped, "Wheeler's taking his time, but he will come. The brat's got everything to lose from this. Trust me."
"Nobles, liars, same thing," Mallow replied. "What're we supposed to do then, tear that thing apart?"
"The pay's huge, Mallow," Ash said, "we're talkin' large enough to quit smuggling forever."
"That's impossible!"
"Ash, this is a trap," Ronnie said, "you're running into it."
"Oh, knock it off, cowards. We're missing our opening!"
The stolen Christmas ham glistened from the window's light. Ronnie's brain throbbed, scouring for ways to smuggle the luxury. Its sheen made the cut too slippery to lift. //Would the Wheelers invest resources in something so trivial?//
Ash jumped through the hole before Mallow could strap his gear. Ronnie watched the old rat race toward their target. The young rat peered his neck through the hole, waiting for the opportunity to intervene.
"That idiot!" Mallow rasped. "Stay put, Ron!" she barked, facing him. "If everything goes south, follow the plan!"
//Run//, Ronnie thought, //that's the plan//. Before he could even answer her, Mallow jumped. His throat tightened as he watched her follow her husband. //I'm sorry, Mallow//, the young rat thought, //I'm not leaving everyone behind.//
"Ash!" The young rat screamed. His neck craned through the hole, forcing himself
out. "Jump ship!" he shouted, "jump ship NOW!"
"Shush!” Ash hissed. “What're you doing, kid-"
[[Continue|Chapter 1.1]]“About time you remembered!” Ash chuckled. “I’ve lived a long life. Trust me, I know what I’m doing.”
The confidence in his mentor's gruff voice disturbed him. Ash saw an opportunity they couldn't miss, and no one can convince him otherwise, not even him. The young rat sighed, brainstorming for reasons behind his mentor’s behavior.
The mission was simple. They must retrieve House Wheeler's stolen Christmas ham from House Accel. Heists like these need more planning than improvising. //Did his age get to him?//
Ash is a veteran smuggler. From his stories, he survived countless life-and-death scenarios. The old rat waited inside smaller holes against uncertain odds. //Shouldn't experience teach him patience?//
//This isn't like him//, Ronnie thought. Ash wasn't the type to rush things. //Were the stakes too high?//
"Honey, it's dangerous!" Mallow warned, patting his shoulder. "They're waiting for us."
"I can handle them," Ash replied, "you've seen me fight! They'll never see what's coming to them."
"Fine," Mallow shuffled through her rucksack, drawing pieces of Ash's tattered armor.
"Suit up," she said, "if you're doing something stupid anyway, better be prepared."
"Mallow's right, Ash," Ronnie said, "let's wait for the Wheelers."
"We're running outta time, fellas!" Ash snapped, "Wheeler's taking his time, but he will come. The brat's got everything to lose from this. Trust me."
"Nobles, liars, same thing," Mallow replied. "What're we supposed to do then, tear that thing apart?"
"The pay's huge, Mallow," Ash said, "we're talkin' large enough to quit smuggling forever."
"That's impossible!"
"Ash, this is a trap," Ronnie said, "you're running into it."
"Oh, knock it off, cowards. We're missing our opening!"
The stolen Christmas ham glistened from the window's light. Ronnie's brain throbbed, scouring for ways to smuggle the luxury. Its sheen made the cut too slippery to lift. //Would the Wheelers invest resources in something so trivial?//
Ash jumped through the hole before Mallow could strap his gear. Ronnie watched the old rat race toward their target. The young rat peered his neck through the hole, waiting for the opportunity to intervene.
"That idiot!" Mallow rasped. "Stay put, Ron!" she barked, facing him. "If everything goes south, follow the plan!"
//Run//, Ronnie thought, //that's the plan//. Before he could even answer her, Mallow jumped. His throat tightened as he watched her follow her husband. //I'm sorry, Mallow//, the young rat thought, //I'm not leaving everyone behind.//
"Ash!" The young rat screamed. His neck craned through the hole, forcing himself
out. "Jump ship!" he shouted, "jump ship NOW!"
"Shush!” Ash hissed. “What're you doing, kid-"
[[Continue|Chapter 1.1]]“Ah, you’re doing it again!” Ash grumbled.
“What?” the young rat furrowed his brows.
“Complaining!” Ash snapped. “Whining about safety, being a liability! This mission’s dangerous because the reward’s worth the risk!”
The confidence in his mentor's gruff voice disturbed him. Ash saw an opportunity they couldn't miss, and no one can convince him otherwise, not even him. The young rat sighed, brainstorming for reasons behind his mentor’s behavior.
The mission was simple. They must retrieve House Wheeler's stolen Christmas ham from House Accel. Heists like these need more planning than improvising. //Did his age get to him?//
Ash is a veteran smuggler. From his stories, he survived countless life-and-death scenarios. The old rat waited inside smaller holes against uncertain odds. //Shouldn't experience teach him patience?//
//This isn't like him//, Ronnie thought. Ash wasn't the type to rush things. //Were the stakes too high?//
"Honey, it's dangerous!" Mallow warned, patting his shoulder. "They're waiting for us."
"I can handle them," Ash replied, "you've seen me fight! They'll never see what's coming to them."
"Fine," Mallow shuffled through her rucksack, drawing pieces of Ash's tattered armor.
"Suit up," she said, "if you're doing something stupid anyway, better be prepared."
"Mallow's right, Ash," Ronnie said, "let's wait for the Wheelers."
"We're running outta time, fellas!" Ash snapped, "Wheeler's taking his time, but he will come. The brat's got everything to lose from this. Trust me."
"Nobles, liars, same thing," Mallow replied. "What're we supposed to do then, tear that thing apart?"
"The pay's huge, Mallow," Ash said, "we're talkin' large enough to quit smuggling forever."
"That's impossible!"
"Ash, this is a trap," Ronnie said, "you're running into it."
"Oh, knock it off, cowards. We're missing our opening!"
The stolen Christmas ham glistened from the window's light. Ronnie's brain throbbed, scouring for ways to smuggle the luxury. Its sheen made the cut too slippery to lift. //Would the Wheelers invest resources in something so trivial?//
Ash jumped through the hole before Mallow could strap his gear. Ronnie watched the old rat race toward their target. The young rat peered his neck through the hole, waiting for the opportunity to intervene.
"That idiot!" Mallow rasped. "Stay put, Ron!" she barked, facing him. "If everything goes south, follow the plan!"
//Run//, Ronnie thought, //that's the plan//. Before he could even answer her, Mallow jumped. His throat tightened as he watched her follow her husband. //I'm sorry, Mallow//, the young rat thought, //I'm not leaving everyone behind.//
"Ash!" The young rat screamed. His neck craned through the hole, forcing himself
out. "Jump ship!" he shouted, "jump ship NOW!"
"Shush!” Ash hissed. “What're you doing, kid-"
[[Continue|Chapter 1.1]]"Spare her, Primo!" Ronnie pleaded, tears running from his eyes. "She's got nothing to do with this! I'll come with you."
"She assaulted me, Rocket," Primo replied, sword drawn. "The law demands her execution."
“Don’t you dare touch her, you bastard!”
Mallow fell with one swift strike. Ronnie's screams followed, tearing through the army's silence. The young rat wriggled his way free, rushing towards his fallen friend.
At that moment, Ronnie spat on his dreams. He cursed the day he found the map that led him to his downfall. The young rat wasn't the first to leave Sinkcity, but he was the only one who survived. The outside world offered freedom to be whoever he wanted to be.
There was excitement in prince Ronnie Rocket's eyes when he left the landfill. As a child, he imagined escaping Sinkcity’s textile wastes for the forest. He imagined himself, a dumpster rat, relishing in greenery and breathing fresh air for the first time. When the smog grew thick and food became scarce from the dying soil, he imagined an exodus, Sinkcitians rising against his father under his name for a better life.
Ronnie lost many friends as a smuggler, flattened by cars, mouse traps, and broomsticks. If they weren't crushed by something bigger than them, they would get poisoned. Ash and Mallow's deaths feel different. How can he live with the possibility that they never loved him?
[[Continue|Chapter 2]]"You're setting a bad example for your men, Wheeler," a soft voice echoed behind Primo, "humor him a little. He deserves that much.”
Ronnie’s ears twitched at the sound. A warm, prickly sensation permeated through the young rat, followed by a sharp chill. The fur on his arms stood on their ends. To his horror, a cat emerged from the open window behind the army. The creature was a towering mass of orange fur with widened, yellow eyes. The bag strapped on his back wiggled as he walked.
"It's 'Lord Wheeler'!" Primo replied, "You dare question my methods?"
"Yes, //future// Lord Wheeler," the cat nodded, "I wouldn't send an army for ONE target. I would've done a cleaner job than this."
"Hah, you suggest you’d be my champion! Unfortunately, we're here to capture the prince, not kill him!" Primo snapped, before turning to the nearest soldier. "The cat's hungry, feed him the dead smugglers!"
"How generous of you," the cat replied, “unfortunately, I’ll need more than two morsels.”
Ronnie never understood how such a smooth voice belonged to such a terrifying creature.
"I reward my men for their loyalty, so be grateful!" Primo replied, "to our mutual cooperation!"
Cats. Ronnie couldn't forget how their mouths smelled, how sharp their teeth were. He couldn't forget the adrenaline-fueled terror washing over him during a cat attack. If only he had his bag with him, his odds would've been better. The things inside them worked on cats before.
The cat chuckled, trotting towards him. Ronnie felt the spear tips on his back quiver as the creature walked. His throat itched with his eyes. He had to do something.
"You're too confident," the cat narrowed his eyes, "for someone with lesser lives."
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Primo froze. He raised his hand, bracing his army for an attack. The soldiers shifted their attention to the cat from a single command. With one swift strike, the cat threw Primo against a wall.
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A loud thud echoed across the room, enough for the humans to shift within their beds. Primo dropped to the floor, before staggering to his feet. The noble grunted, veins popping through his white fur. The wheel that protected his chest rolled below him, leaving him defenseless. His sword clattered to the ground, inches away from him. Ronnie knew he couldn't fight anymore.
"I'll…I'll have your life for that!" Primo shouted as he heaved. He pointed at the beast before turning to his army with a snarl in his face. "Don't just stand there, kill him!"
The cat sighed before jabbing Primo one last time, silencing him for good. Heeding Primo's command, the black and white army charged toward the towering beast. The Accel soldiers bellowed, raising their weapons as they braced for death. A Wheeler soldier stood his ground, arm tugging the back of Ronnie’s neck.
//I need to do something now!//
[[Use your tail!|C2C1]]
[[Use your fists!|C2C2]]
[[Wait!|C2C3]]
The young rat curled his tail around the soldier's neck, flinging him away.
Ronnie saw the cat jump across the kitchen counter, flying above the charging army. The beast swung his bushy tail, sending their numbers flying off the edge of the kitchen counter. Plates were flung across the room. The cat dodged and hissed, shaking off the remaining soldiers tearing through his orange fur.
"Hop on!" the cat screamed. "Hurry!"
//He's helping me?// Ronnie froze from the realization. He watched the cat peer from underneath the kitchen counter, throwing and stomping every soldier charging his way. The young rat turned, finding rows of Wheeler archers knocking their barbeque stick arrows, aiming at them.
"HURRY!" the cat hissed again, jolting the young rat from his daze.
//Everything’s chaotic right now//, Ronnie thought. //While I can’t do much here, I need to arm myself.// The young rat scanned the battlefield for anything to use.
[[Take Mallow's Shield|C2C11]]
[[Take Primo's Sword|C2C22]]
The young rat turned, swinging his fists toward the soldier. The soldier tried to grapple him, only for Ronnie to kick him away.
Ronnie saw the cat jump across the kitchen counter, flying above the charging army. The beast swung his bushy tail, sending their numbers flying off the edge of the kitchen counter. Plates were flung across the room. The cat dodged and hissed, shaking off the remaining soldiers tearing through his orange fur.
"Hop on!" the cat screamed. "Hurry!"
//He's helping me?// Ronnie froze from the realization. He watched the cat peer from underneath the kitchen counter, throwing and stomping every soldier charging his way. The young rat turned, finding rows of Wheeler archers knocking their barbeque stick arrows, aiming at them.
"HURRY!" the cat hissed again, jolting the young rat from his daze.
//Everything’s chaotic right now//, Ronnie thought. //While I can’t do much here, I need to arm myself.// The young rat scanned the battlefield for anything to use.
[[Take Mallow's Shield|C2C11]]
[[Take Primo's Sword|C2C22]]He couldn't predict what would happen next, so the young rat stood still. The soldier's focus wavered as the cat charged.
Ronnie saw the cat jump across the kitchen counter, flying above the charging army. The beast swung his bushy tail, sending their numbers flying off the edge of the kitchen counter. Plates were flung across the room. The cat dodged and hissed, shaking off the remaining soldiers tearing through his orange fur.
"Hop on!" the cat screamed. "Hurry!"
//He's helping me?// Ronnie froze from the realization. He watched the cat peer from underneath the kitchen counter, throwing and stomping every soldier charging his way. The young rat turned, finding rows of Wheeler archers knocking their barbeque stick arrows, aiming at them.
"HURRY!" the cat hissed again, jolting the young rat from his daze.
//Everything’s chaotic right now//, Ronnie thought. //While I can’t do much here, I need to arm myself.// The young rat scanned the battlefield for anything to use.
[[Take Mallow's Shield|C2C11]]
[[Take Primo's Sword|C2C22]]Ronnie scrambled amid the chaos. He took Mallow’s shield, leaving Ash’s armor behind. //This’ll prove useful,// he thought, //I’ll be borrowing this, Mallow.//
“The prince is escaping!” an Accel soldier yelled, “Surround him now!”
The young rat ran towards the cat, raising his shield to block the arrows. As the soldiers shifted their focus towards him, the archers loosened their bows, flinging the wooden projectiles towards them. Soldiers, both Accel and Wheeler, fell from the reckless barrage. The cat took a few hits before dodging the attack.
[[Run towards the cat.|C2C11.1]]
[[Fight the soldiers.|C2C11.2]]
Ronnie scrambled amid the chaos. He took Primo’s blade, leaving everything else behind. //You’re in better hands now//, Ronnie thought, watching the blade glisten from the window’s light. //I’ll put you to good use.//
The young rat sprinted towards the cat, hoping to dodge the upcoming barrage. As the soldiers shifted their focus towards him, the archers loosened their bows, flinging the wooden projectiles towards them. Soldiers, both Accel and Wheeler, fell from the reckless barrage. As Ronnie ran, a sharp pain flared from his shoulder.
//A stray arrow!// Ronnie ground his teeth, eyeing on the archers below. //Those bastards!//
The young rat shifted towards the cat, wooden splinters studding his fur. //He couldn’t hold up much longer!//
[[Run towards the cat|C2C22.1]]
[[Fight the soldiers|C2C22.2]]
Ronnie rushed towards his unlikely ally, dodging and swatting every spear and arrow coming his way. The young rat climbed on its back, pushing away the remaining soldiers tearing through his fur. With a single leap, the cat escaped through the open window. The sun's rays burned their cheeks.
[[Continue|Chapter 3.SH]]
Ronnie never trusted cats, but his intuition screamed for him to cooperate. The young rat ran toward the soldiers, swatting them with Mallow’s shield. The cat sighed, picking him up with his teeth before jumping off the window.
[[Continue|Chapter 3.SH]]
Ronnie rushed towards his unlikely ally, dodging and parrying every spear and arrow coming his way. The young rat climbed on the cat’s back, slashing away some of the remaining soldiers tearing through his fur. With a single leap, the cat escaped through the open window. The sun's rays burned their cheeks.
[[Continue|Chapter 3.S]]
Ronnie never trusted cats, but his intuition screamed for him to cooperate. To do that, he’ll have to finish the bowmen. The young rat ran toward where the archers stood, brandishing Primo’s sword.
“This is bad!” a Wheeler soldier yelled. “The prince is headed for the rangers! Defend them at all costs!”
The soldiers shifted their attention towards Ronnie, blocking him from jumping off the counter. The young rat slashed, channeling his rage, even towards unarmed soldiers. As the soldiers started falling to his blade, something stirred within him, something warm and red, a compulsion to destroy. He continued slashing, parrying, dodging, until the army started ignoring the cat’s presence.
The cat sighed, picking him up with his teeth before jumping off the window.
[[Continue|Chapter 3.S]]
<div id="titles">
''Chapter 3''
//Sunny//
</div>
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Night fell when Sunny lost the rat army. Splinters and street dust caked his paws. His legs were sore from walking, his skin etched with scratches and bite marks. //Why should I feel bad? They deserved it//, the cat thought, licking his wounds, //they killed his friends.//
Funnily enough, the battle wasn't the only thing that bothered him. The garbage trucks he saw along the road roused this sense of foreboding. He remembered Cassandra's warning. In fact, he couldn't get the old crow's words off his mind, words that made his heart shudder and his mind scatter. //They're carrying enough clothes to destroy Sinkcity.//
Sunny stared at the night sky, his mind riddled with thoughts. The stars twinkling above him made the cat grateful he found this random rooftop to rest on. //Father, we don't have much time. The plan you've worked so hard for the past few years won't matter anymore.//
The cat turned to Ronnie, the smuggler prince. He could hear the young rat mumbling in his sleep. His withered voice contained private, personal things. Sunny's ears twitched, seeking enough information to gain his trust, but the prince's words made him frown.
"Why...why did you..."
//This will be a problem.// Sunny let out a sigh, lapping on his arm until his wound started to temper. //It'll be hard to convince this smuggler prince to join me, even with my father's help. They broke him! Curse these slow feet! Curse these savage rat politics!//
Savage rat politics. He remembered the Wheeler's savagery through their cat warriors. He remembered how every single one of them had everything to lose. House Wheeler offered them food, shelter, and information. If that wasn't enough, they kept their kittens as hostages to ensure their cooperation. His father wasn't wrong for saying that they "grind everything beneath their heels to get what they want", even those larger than them.
//I'm no different from them, then.// Sunny frowned at the realization. //These soldiers also suffered from the Wheelers, but that didn't stop me from-//
He ground his teeth, staring at the prince. //There's no other way, Sunny. There's no way you could've talked to them! The smuggler prince IS the key to a better future. These men died for that to happen. They died for him to live, for their children to live.//
Sunny's ears twitched again, picking up the smuggler prince's groans. Ronnie rubbed his eyes with his tiny hands before turning his way. Fright stiffened the prince's fur.
"Evening," Sunny greeted. "You're finally awake."
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Ronnie felt his neck before hissing. "You're the cat from earlier," the prince said, "where are we?"
"Somewhere safe," the cat replied, "a random rooftop. That aside, how's your neck? I'm sure it'll sting for a while."
"Yeah," the prince nodded, "I got a little carried away back there."
"You were cornered," Sunny said, "everyone does crazy things when they're desperate, angry, or both."
"I should've run away."
Sunny never knew the dead smuggler's name, but the prince carried his words with regret. The cat thought he understood smugglers. Their greed motivates them to betray their morals, and to dive into every opportunity.
"He was about to sell you off," Sunny replied.
"You wouldn't know that!" Ronnie snapped. "Ash was like a father to me, he would've bailed!"
The prince fell silent. He fell on his back, staring at the stars. “Ever since he took me in, he told me not to trust anyone. Now I know why.”
"Forgive me," Sunny said, bowing his head. “I didn't know what to say."
"I'm not asking you to," the prince said, rubbing his neck. "By the way, we never exchanged names back there, didn't we?"
"No," the cat shook his head. "I thought you don’t trust cats.”
“Yeah, I don’t,” Ronnie replied, “but these are crazy times. If you wanted to eat me, you would’ve done it already. Just making sure you have nothing to hide, that’s all.”
“Mine's Sunny, yours?"
"Ronnie," the prince replied, "Ronnie Rocket. Why did you save me, Sunny?"
Sunny paused. He turned to Ronnie. The prince's eyes were locked skyward, his arms resting behind his head.
"I've been looking' for you for a long time now," the cat replied.
"Why?" Ronnie asked.
Pausing, Sunny replied,
[["You're Rudolph Rocket's legitimate heir."|C3C1]]
[["I need your help, Ronnie"|C3C2]]
[["We need you, Ronnie"|C3C3]]
"You're Rudolph Rocket's legitimate heir," Sunny said, "you're the key to saving Sinkcity."
"No, don’t! I’m not having this conversation," The prince rubbed his head, scrunching his eyes before turning towards him. "If you need me to return to Sinkcity, you're outta luck. I'm done with that place."
[["I need your help, Ronnie."|C3C1.2reject]]
[["We need you, Ronnie."|C3C1.3reject]]
[[Sigh|C3none]]
“I need your help, Ronnie,” Sunny replied.
“For what?” Ronnie replied, “I’m just a smuggler, I can’t make a difference!”
“Everyone can,” the cat replied, “with cooperation. I can’t blame you for thinking that way, though. Everyone is convinced that we can’t change the way things are, while the few who do are called fools.”
“Cut to the chase, Sunny. My head’s hurting.”
“We need to save Sinkcity, you can avenge your friends.”
“I’m done with that place,” Ronnie said, “there’s nothing left for me to fight for!”
[["You're Rudolph Rocket's legitimate heir."|C3C2.1reject]]
[["We need you, Ronnie."|C3C2.3]]
[[Sigh|C3none]]“We need you, Ronnie,” Sunny said.
“For what, exactly?” Ronnie asked, “Everyone I’d grow to love would end up dying, like Mallow. I’m done with comradery. Whatever group you’re trying to recruit me in, I’m sorry. I’m done with all that.”
[["You're Rudolph Rocket's legitimate heir."|C3C3.1reject]]
[["I need your help, Ronnie."|C3C3.2reject]]
[[Sigh|C3none]]“I need your help, Ronnie,” Sunny replied.
“For what?” Ronnie replied, “I’m just a smuggler, I can’t make a difference!”
“Everyone can,” the cat replied, “with cooperation. I can’t blame you for thinking that way, though. Everyone is convinced that we can’t change the way things are, while the few who do are called fools.”
“Cut to the chase, Sunny. My head’s hurting.”
“We need to save Sinkcity, you can avenge your friends.”
“I’m done with that place,” Ronnie said, “there’s nothing left for me to fight for!”
[[Sigh|C3none]]“We need you, Ronnie,” Sunny said.
“For what, exactly?” Ronnie asked, “Everyone I’d grow to love would end up dying, like Mallow. I’m done with comradery. Whatever group you’re trying to recruit me in, I’m sorry. I’m done with all that.”
[[Sigh|C3none]]"You're Rudolph Rocket's legitimate heir," Sunny said, "you're the key to saving Sinkcity."
"No, don’t! I’m not having this conversation," The prince rubbed his head, scrunching his eyes before turning towards him. "If you need me to return to Sinkcity, you're outta luck. I'm done with that place."
[[Sigh|C3none]]“We need you, Ronnie,” Sunny said.
“For what, exactly?” Ronnie asked, “Everyone I’d grow to love would end up dying, like Mallow. I’m done with comradery. Whatever group you’re trying to recruit me in, I’m sorry. I’m done with all that.”
[[Sigh|C3none]]"You're Rudolph Rocket's legitimate heir," Sunny said, "you're the key to saving Sinkcity."
"No, don’t! I’m not having this conversation," The prince rubbed his head, scrunching his eyes before turning towards him. "If you need me to return to Sinkcity, you're outta luck. I'm done with that place."
[[Sigh|C3none]]“I need your help, Ronnie,” Sunny replied.
“For what?” Ronnie replied, “I’m just a smuggler, I can’t make a difference!”
“Everyone can,” the cat replied, “with cooperation. I can’t blame you for thinking that way, though. Everyone is convinced that we can’t change the way things are, while the few who do are called fools.”
“Cut to the chase, Sunny. My head’s hurting.”
“We need to save Sinkcity, you can avenge your friends.”
“I’m done with that place,” Ronnie said, “there’s nothing left for me to fight for!”
[[Sigh|C3none]]Sunny frowned. He overestimated Ronnie's drive for power and revenge, derailing the plan further. The cat's mind scrambled for better words, for better promises, but the prince's emotions blotted his reason.
"Sinkcitians are dying under your father's rule,” Sunny said. "My father extracted plastic scraps from newborn babies. He witnessed the soil blacken and die, making food harder to grow.”
“You think that’s news to me?” Ronnie replied. “Sure, the plastics sound new, but food has always been short, we live in a landfill. Besides, what’re cats doing in the landfill anyway?”
“It’s a long story,” the cat said. “Look, I know you distrust cats in general, but we’re not so different.”
“Really,” the smuggler prince said, “why do you care so much about that place, anyway? Afraid you’re gonna run outta food?”
“My father isn’t my real father!”
Ronnie grew silent, lowering his head.
“We joined an insurgence group underneath the city, hoping to change things for good. For that to happen, we must band together and leave the city for good. Your father might be a negligent fool, but you carry his name, you carry the mark. Having you by our side will change the tides, allowing more citizens to join our advocacy without fear."
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"More pressure, great! You're no different from father, harping about responsibility and my birthright." Ronnie snapped. The prince turned his back towards him. “You wanna know why I left that place? Because I didn’t wanna do any of that. I'm not some pawn willing to be used. Whatever's going on back there, I've placed that behind me.”
"Did the Wheelers take your heart back there?" Sunny hissed. "You have no idea about what we've endured to reach you."
"I never asked to be found, nor did I ask to be king!" the prince replied. "Ah, I should've died back there!"
"Your sister would be disappointed," Sunny said, reaching into his bag. The cat slowly took a tiny envelope before handing it over to the prince. "She sends her regards."
[[Continue|Chapter 3.2]]
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Ronnie stood up.
“What’s this?” he asked.
“Read it.”
“Is this some kind of joke?”
Sunny smacked his lips. The letter trembled from his hand. //He’s getting on my nerves.//
“Just do it.”
The prince's nose throbbed from the envelope's scent. His hands tore through the wax seal, his tail wiggling like a dog's.
The prince shifted expressions as he read the letter. His fur ruffled, and his fingers trembled with excitement before falling to his feet. Tears fell from his eyes, and slivers of hope shined through them.
"After all this time," Ronnie said, "I thought she hated me!"
"Marie always believed in you," Sunny replied, "she needs you now more than ever."
"You didn't force her to write this, right?" the prince asked, "Your group had every reason to-"
"Nonsense!" the cat shook his head. "She leads the group. I might've killed many rats throughout my life, but I'm not a monster!"
"I'm done with monarchies, I'm done with responsibilities," the prince sighed, "but if my sister needs my support, count me in."
"Great! We'll leave before sunrise."
"Before sunrise?" Ronnie asked, "you told me this was a long-term plan!"
"It was," Sunny's pitch lowered, "but a wildcard suddenly appeared, one that could derail the entire campaign in an instant."
"Is my father involved?"
"No," the cat frowned, "I'd sooner face the king's wrath than what I saw this morning."
"Tell me," Ronnie said, "I have the right to know."
Sunny raised his head to the night sky, the stars twinkled through the darkness. //He's asking me to share my burden. Is this how smugglers comfort each other?//
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"I saw garbage trucks stuck in traffic," the cat said, "they're massive, filled with enough clothing waste to bury the landfill, to blot out cities. I don't know where exactly they're headed, and I'll never know when they'll land."
"Once these trucks arrive, you think…"
"Sinkcity will be the first to fall, the rest will be left to die. Dr. Lebowski, your sister, and the insurgence don't know anything about the trucks, that's why we must warn them."
[[Continue|Chapter 4.SH]]<div id="titles">
''Chapter 4''
//Ronnie//
</div>
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Ronnie awoke to the sound of car horns blaring in the distance. He emerged from Sunny's bag, feeling the morning light hitting his face. As he yawned, a cloud of smog drifted past him, sending the young rat into a coughing fit.
"Morning," Sunny greeted.
"Where are we?"
"The bridge," he answered. "You've crossed it before, haven't you?"
"Yeah," Ronnie nodded his head, "that was years ago. It's less crowded back then."
"That's the morning traffic for you," the cat replied, "expect a lotta noise."
Ronnie's eyes shifted, peering through the traffic. Cars, trucks, and various vehicles lined the road, blocking his view of the river. His ears rang from the sound of car horns blaring over each other.
He saw massive squares lining in the distance. The scent of rot and gasoline burned his nostrils, making him dizzy. //Are those the trucks Sunny saw?//
"Keep yourself hidden," Sunny whispered.
The cat's voice was stern. Ronnie felt his things shifting from the bag as his pace increased.
Ronnie took his shield. The steel plate felt heavy in his hand. “Don’t fail me now.”
"Wheelers," Sunny rasped, "they found us!"
The young rat turned, seeing another cat running towards them. Sunny stopped in his tracks, and noticed the morning traffic doing its work. Without thinking, the cat slid between cars, slipping underneath trucks. Ronnie retreated into the jangling bag, craning his neck. The scent of gas filled his nose. When they got to the other side, they were surrounded by three other cats. Armored rats rode on top of them.
“We’re outnumbered,” Sunny whispered, “your call.”
[["Let's jump over the bridge."|C4E1]]
[["Let's stand our ground and fight."|C4C2]]
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Ronnie felt his neck before hissing. "You're the cat from earlier," the prince said, "where are we?"
"Somewhere safe," the cat replied, "a random rooftop. That aside, how's your neck? I'm sure it'll sting for a while."
"Yeah," the prince nodded, "I got a little carried away back there."
"You were cornered," Sunny said, "everyone does crazy things when they're desperate, angry, or both."
"I should've run away."
Sunny never knew the dead smuggler's name, but the prince carried his words with regret. The cat thought he understood smugglers. Their greed motivates them to betray their morals, and to dive into every opportunity.
"He was about to sell you off," Sunny replied.
"You wouldn't know that!" Ronnie snapped. "Ash was like a father to me, he would've bailed!"
The prince fell silent. He fell on his back, staring at the stars. “Ever since he took me in, he told me not to trust anyone. Now I know why.”
"Forgive me," Sunny said, bowing his head. “I didn't know what to say."
"I'm not asking you to," the prince said, rubbing his neck. "By the way, we never exchanged names back there, didn't we?"
"No," the cat shook his head. "I thought you don’t trust cats.”
“Yeah, I don’t,” Ronnie replied, “but these are crazy times. If you wanted to eat me, you would’ve done it already. Just making sure you have nothing to hide, that’s all.”
“Mine's Sunny, yours?"
"Ronnie," the prince replied, "Ronnie Rocket. Why did you save me, Sunny?"
Sunny paused. He turned to Ronnie. The prince's eyes were locked skyward, his arms resting behind his head.
"I've been looking' for you for a long time now," the cat replied.
"Why?" Ronnie asked.
Pausing, Sunny replied,
[["You're Rudolph Rocket's legitimate heir."|C3C1S]]
[["I need your help, Ronnie"|C3C2S]]
[["We need you, Ronnie"|C3C3S]]"You're Rudolph Rocket's legitimate heir," Sunny said, "you're the key to saving Sinkcity."
"No, don’t! I’m not having this conversation," The prince rubbed his head, scrunching his eyes before turning towards him. "If you need me to return to Sinkcity, you're outta luck. I'm done with that place."
[["I need your help, Ronnie."|C3C1.2rejectS]]
[["We need you, Ronnie."|C3C1.3rejectS]]
[[Sigh|C3noneS]]
“I need your help, Ronnie,” Sunny replied.
“For what?” Ronnie replied, “I’m just a smuggler, I can’t make a difference!”
“Everyone can,” the cat replied, “with cooperation. I can’t blame you for thinking that way, though. Everyone is convinced that we can’t change the way things are, while the few who do are called fools.”
“Cut to the chase, Sunny. My head’s hurting.”
“We need to save Sinkcity, you can avenge your friends.”
“I’m done with that place,” Ronnie said, “there’s nothing left for me to fight for!”
[["You're Rudolph Rocket's legitimate heir."|C3C2.1rejectS]]
[["We need you, Ronnie."|C3C2.3S]]
[[Sigh|C3noneS]]“We need you, Ronnie,” Sunny said.
“For what, exactly?” Ronnie asked, “Everyone I’d grow to love would end up dying, like Mallow. I’m done with comradery. Whatever group you’re trying to recruit me in, I’m sorry. I’m done with all that.”
[["You're Rudolph Rocket's legitimate heir."|C3C3.1rejectS]]
[["I need your help, Ronnie."|C3C3.2rejectS]]
[[Sigh|C3noneS]]“I need your help, Ronnie,” Sunny replied.
“For what?” Ronnie replied, “I’m just a smuggler, I can’t make a difference!”
“Everyone can,” the cat replied, “with cooperation. I can’t blame you for thinking that way, though. Everyone is convinced that we can’t change the way things are, while the few who do are called fools.”
“Cut to the chase, Sunny. My head’s hurting.”
“We need to save Sinkcity, you can avenge your friends.”
“I’m done with that place,” Ronnie said, “there’s nothing left for me to fight for!”
[[Sigh|C3noneS]]“We need you, Ronnie,” Sunny said.
“For what, exactly?” Ronnie asked, “Everyone I’d grow to love would end up dying, like Mallow. I’m done with comradery. Whatever group you’re trying to recruit me in, I’m sorry. I’m done with all that.”
[[Sigh|C3noneS]]Sunny frowned. He overestimated Ronnie's drive for power and revenge, derailing the plan further. The cat's mind scrambled for better words, for better promises, but the prince's emotions blotted his reason.
"Sinkcitians are dying under your father's rule,” Sunny said. "My father extracted plastic scraps from newborn babies. He witnessed the soil blacken and die, making food harder to grow.”
“You think that’s news to me?” Ronnie replied. “Sure, the plastics sound new, but food has always been short, we live in a landfill. Besides, what’re cats doing in the landfill anyway?”
“It’s a long story,” the cat said. “Look, I know you distrust cats in general, but we’re not so different.”
“Really,” the smuggler prince said, “why do you care so much about that place, anyway? Afraid you’re gonna run outta food?”
“My father isn’t my real father!”
Ronnie grew silent, lowering his head.
“We joined an insurgence group underneath the city, hoping to change things for good. For that to happen, we must band together and leave the city for good. Your father might be a negligent fool, but you carry his name, you carry the mark. Having you by our side will change the tides, allowing more citizens to join our advocacy without fear."
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"More pressure, great! You're no different from father, harping about responsibility and my birthright." Ronnie snapped. The prince turned his back towards him. “You wanna know why I left that place? Because I didn’t wanna do any of that. I'm not some pawn willing to be used. Whatever's going on back there, I've placed that behind me.”
"Did the Wheelers take your heart back there?" Sunny hissed. "You have no idea about what we've endured to reach you."
"I never asked to be found, nor did I ask to be king!" the prince replied. "Ah, I should've died back there!"
"Your sister would be disappointed," Sunny said, reaching into his bag. The cat slowly took a tiny envelope before handing it over to the prince. "She sends her regards."
[[Continue|Chapter 3.2S]]
"You're Rudolph Rocket's legitimate heir," Sunny said, "you're the key to saving Sinkcity."
"No, don’t! I’m not having this conversation," The prince rubbed his head, scrunching his eyes before turning towards him. "If you need me to return to Sinkcity, you're outta luck. I'm done with that place."
[[Sigh|C3noneS]]“We need you, Ronnie,” Sunny said.
“For what, exactly?” Ronnie asked, “Everyone I’d grow to love would end up dying, like Mallow. I’m done with comradery. Whatever group you’re trying to recruit me in, I’m sorry. I’m done with all that.”
[[Sigh|C3noneS]]"You're Rudolph Rocket's legitimate heir," Sunny said, "you're the key to saving Sinkcity."
"No, don’t! I’m not having this conversation," The prince rubbed his head, scrunching his eyes before turning towards him. "If you need me to return to Sinkcity, you're outta luck. I'm done with that place."
[[Sigh|C3noneS]]“I need your help, Ronnie,” Sunny replied.
“For what?” Ronnie replied, “I’m just a smuggler, I can’t make a difference!”
“Everyone can,” the cat replied, “with cooperation. I can’t blame you for thinking that way, though. Everyone is convinced that we can’t change the way things are, while the few who do are called fools.”
“Cut to the chase, Sunny. My head’s hurting.”
“We need to save Sinkcity, you can avenge your friends.”
“I’m done with that place,” Ronnie said, “there’s nothing left for me to fight for!”
[[Sigh|C3noneS]]<center> <img src="https://static.wixstatic.com/media/b80a6b_55a9628a1b57409b97ec38503fd3aeee~mv2.png" style="max-width: 100%"></center>
Ronnie stood up.
“What’s this?” he asked.
“Read it.”
“Is this some kind of joke?”
Sunny smacked his lips. The letter trembled from his hand. //He’s getting on my nerves.//
“Just do it.”
The prince's nose throbbed from the envelope's scent. His hands tore through the wax seal, his tail wiggling like a dog's.
The prince shifted expressions as he read the letter. His fur ruffled, and his fingers trembled with excitement before falling to his feet. Tears fell from his eyes, and slivers of hope shined through them.
"After all this time," Ronnie said, "I thought she hated me!"
"Marie always believed in you," Sunny replied, "she needs you now more than ever."
"You didn't force her to write this, right?" the prince asked, "Your group had every reason to-"
"Nonsense!" the cat shook his head. "She leads the group. I might've killed many rats throughout my life, but I'm not a monster!"
"I'm done with monarchies, I'm done with responsibilities," the prince sighed, "but if my sister needs my support, count me in."
"Great! We'll leave before sunrise."
"Before sunrise?" Ronnie asked, "you told me this was a long-term plan!"
"It was," Sunny's pitch lowered, "but a wildcard suddenly appeared, one that could derail the entire campaign in an instant."
"Is my father involved?"
"No," the cat frowned, "I'd sooner face the king's wrath than what I saw this morning."
"Tell me," Ronnie said, "I have the right to know."
Sunny raised his head to the night sky, the stars twinkled through the darkness. //He's asking me to share my burden. Is this how smugglers comfort each other?//
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"I saw garbage trucks stuck in traffic," the cat said, "they're massive, filled with enough clothing waste to bury the landfill, to blot out cities. I don't know where exactly they're headed, and I'll never know when they'll land."
"Once these trucks arrive, you think…"
"Sinkcity will be the first to fall, the rest will be left to die. Dr. Lebowski, your sister, and the insurgence don't know anything about the trucks, that's why we must warn them."
[[Continue|Chapter 4.S]]<div id="titles">
''Chapter 4''
//Ronnie//
</div>
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Ronnie awoke to the sound of car horns blaring in the distance. He emerged from Sunny's bag, feeling the morning light hitting his face. As he yawned, a cloud of smog drifted past him, sending the young rat into a coughing fit.
"Morning," Sunny greeted.
"Where are we?"
"The bridge," he answered. "You've crossed it before, haven't you?"
"Yeah," Ronnie nodded his head, "that was years ago. It's less crowded back then."
"That's the morning traffic for you," the cat replied, "expect a lotta noise."
Ronnie's eyes shifted, peering through the traffic. Cars, trucks, and various vehicles lined the road, blocking his view of the river. His ears rang from the sound of car horns blaring over each other.
He saw massive squares lining in the distance. The scent of rot and gasoline burned his nostrils, making him dizzy. //Are those the trucks Sunny saw?//
"Keep yourself hidden," Sunny whispered.
The cat's voice was stern. Ronnie felt his things shifting from the bag as his pace increased.
Ronnie drew his sword before swinging it. The blade’s tip whipped with the wind. “This will do.”
"Wheelers," Sunny rasped, "they found us!"
The young rat turned, seeing another cat running towards them. Sunny stopped in his tracks, and noticed the morning traffic doing its work. Without thinking, the cat slid between cars, slipping underneath trucks. Ronnie retreated into the jangling bag, craning his neck. The scent of gas filled his nose. When they got to the other side, they were surrounded by three other cats. Armored rats rode on top of them.
“We’re outnumbered,” Sunny whispered, “your call.”
[["Let's jump over the bridge."|C4E1]]
[["Let's stand our ground and fight."|C4C2S]]
“You’re crazy!” Sunny shouted, furrowing his brows.
“It’s worth a shot”, Ronnie replied. “How many lives do you have left?”
“Fine! Hold on tight!”
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Sunny slipped into the railing before flinging himself into the waters below. Ronnie felt the wind whipping through their fur as they fell. His hearing drowned out as they landed, bubbles and darkness covered his vision.
The two found themselves on dry land, far from the bridge. Ronnie awoke to the sound screeching above them. Sunny groaned, before vomiting water into the sand. Ronnie turned to find a seagull watching them from a coconut tree.
“It’s a miracle,” the seagull said, “You two have been outta it for a while!”
Sunny coughed out a hairball before turning to the bird. “Define ‘a while’.”
“Three days, something like that,” the bird responded. “Must’ve been a real crazy story, huh? The journey here, I mean. Haven’t heard of any shipwrecks recently.”
“We’re headed towards the landfill,” Ronnie said, “beyond the bridge, Sinkcity!”
“Oh, you’re quite lucky then! They just filled up that place the other day!”
[[END|Thank You]]<center> <img src="https://static.wixstatic.com/media/b80a6b_42751290539046b6a7479f0b6024f859~mv2.png" style="max-width: 100%"></center>
The largest of the rats stood from his saddle, clad in the same type of armor Primo Wheeler wore during the ambush. His aluminum armor shone with the sun. The cat he was riding was a thin, rugged creature, with legs craned like a spider’s.
"How does it feel to be evenly matched, traitor?"
"Lord Wheeler," Sunny replied, "there must've been a mistake. The prince managed to escape your son's forces, I was about to relay the message- "
"My dear prince!" Lord Wheeler yelled, his voice booming from his helmet. "How's my son's company, was he to your liking?"
Sunny frowned as he turned to face him.
"I've fought better smugglers," Ronnie replied, “I’d kill him again.”
The lord stood from his saddle. His escorts whispered between themselves. The opposing cat warriors remained silent.
“Surely, you jest!” Lord Wheeler said, chuckling. “My son wouldn’t fall to your savagery. If I’m being honest, he would’ve given my house more trouble for killing you.”
Sunny chuckled. "You've grown smarter, Lord Wheeler! Tell me, how many kittens have you kidnapped to keep these guys loyal?"
“Enough to call your bluff,” the lord replied. “My son is alive, and I’ll find him after I bring you to justice over my fallen comrades.”
“You there,” Sunny called Lord Wheeler’s cat. The skinny beast shifted from his voice. "What's keeping you from throwing him off the bridge?"
"You can't take all of us, traitor," the cat replied, "more are coming. In the end, honor will prevail."
"Think about your children!" Sunny said, "chances are, they're already dead! Do you think honor matters to these nobles? They're just using you!"
//Nobles, liars, same thing.// Mallow's mantra echoed through Ronnie's thoughts.
"So, what? We have nowhere else to go," another cat said, "what's freedom without security? At least we don't need to hunt for scraps!"
Lord Wheeler laughed, tugging his reigns. "Seize this miserable traitor!" he commanded.
[[Continue|Chapter 4.2S]]
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The largest of the rats stood from his saddle, clad in the same type of armor Primo Wheeler wore during the ambush. His aluminum armor shone with the sun. The cat he was riding was a thin, rugged creature, with legs craned like a spider’s.
"How does it feel to be evenly matched, traitor?"
"Lord Wheeler," Sunny replied, "there must've been a mistake. The prince managed to escape your son's forces, I was about to relay the message- "
"My dear prince!" Lord Wheeler yelled, his voice booming from his helmet. "How's my son's company, was he to your liking?"
Sunny frowned as he turned to face him.
"I've fought better smugglers," Ronnie replied, “I’d kill him again.”
The lord stood from his saddle. His escorts whispered between themselves. The opposing cat warriors remained silent.
“Surely, you jest!” Lord Wheeler said, chuckling. “My son wouldn’t fall to your savagery. If I’m being honest, he would’ve given my house more trouble for killing you.”
Sunny chuckled. "You've grown smarter, Lord Wheeler! Tell me, how many kittens have you kidnapped to keep these guys loyal?"
“Enough to call your bluff,” the lord replied. “My son is alive, and I’ll find him after I bring you to justice over my fallen comrades.”
“You there,” Sunny called Lord Wheeler’s cat. The skinny beast shifted from his voice. "What's keeping you from throwing him off the bridge?"
"You can't take all of us, traitor," the cat replied, "more are coming. In the end, honor will prevail."
"Think about your children!" Sunny said, "chances are, they're already dead! Do you think honor matters to these nobles? They're just using you!"
//Nobles, liars, same thing.// Mallow's mantra echoed through Ronnie's thoughts.
"So, what? We have nowhere else to go," another cat said, "what's freedom without security? At least we don't need to hunt for scraps!"
Lord Wheeler laughed, tugging his reigns. "Seize this miserable traitor!" he commanded.
[[Continue|Chapter 4.2]]<div id="titles">
''You have reached the end of Ronnie Rocket and the gang's adventure!''
//Thank you for taking the time to read our story.//
</div>
We're still thinking of ways to improve the game. Expect more updates and illustrations!
[[The author has a message for you!|Message]]
[[See credits!|CREDITS]]The two cats circled Sunny, claws drawn. Meowing filled Ronnie's ears, overlapping each other. His heart trembled with his friend’s steps, waiting for the battle to start.
Ronnie stared at Lord Wheeler. The lord across him sat on his saddle. His armor made him look robotic, larger than he actually is.
Sunny jumped first, clashing with the cats. The beasts slithered fast, like waves crashing below the bridge. Lord Wheeler’s laugh rung through his ears.
Ronnie flung himself toward his target, his weapon raised. The rats crashed to the pavement, steel against fur.
[[Continue|Chapter 4.3S]]
The two cats circled Sunny, claws drawn. Meowing filled Ronnie's ears, overlapping each other. His heart trembled with his friend’s steps, waiting for the battle to start.
Ronnie stared at Lord Wheeler. The lord across him sat on his saddle. His armor made him look robotic, larger than he actually is.
Sunny jumped first, clashing with the cats. The beasts slithered fast, like waves crashing below the bridge. Lord Wheeler’s laugh rung through his ears.
Ronnie flung himself toward his target, his weapon raised. The rats crashed to the pavement, steel against fur.
The young rat hissed. His knees flared from the fall. He looked up to find the old lord towering over him, brandishing his blade. Ronnie rolled to his left. The weapon chipped his ear as it crashed into the pavement.
"Hah!" the lord bellowed, sword hand raised.
Ronnie raised his shield. The metal plate braved his opponent’s blade, making a series of loud thuds. Summoning all his strength, the young rat pushed and swung hard. Lord Wheeler jumped back to dodge the blow.
“You’re open!” the lord yelled.
[[Continue|Chapter 4.3]]
The young rat hissed. His knees flared from the fall. He looked up to find the old lord towering over him, brandishing his blade. Ronnie rolled to his left. The weapon chipped his ear as it crashed into the pavement.
"Hah!" the lord bellowed, sword hand raised.
Ronnie swung his sword toward Lord Wheeler’s helm. The lord countered with his own blade, causing the young rat to miss. A loud ringing pierced his ears, steel clashing against steel.
“Thief!” the lord yelled, “I’ll make you regret slighting me!”
Ronnie parried Lord Wheeler’s strike. The young rat swung hard, swatting away his opponent’s sword-arm. Before he could jump back, the lord kicked him square in the belly. He grunted, crumpling below his opponent.
"Yield, boy!" Lord Wheeler barked, "End this madness! Save your cat friend and reach the city unharmed! All you have to do is-"
"Liar!" Ronnie shouted, pain overriding his senses.
The young rat spat on the ground. His nostrils flared, blood and smog entering them. Shuffling to his feet, he charged toward the lord, sword raised again. His tail whipped through the morning wind, like a flag on the battlefield.
"I'll take your legs, then!" Lord Wheeler snapped, blade lowered.
Ronnie jumped over the sweeping blade. Seeing his chance, he plunged his sword deep into Lord Wheeler’s shoulder. The lord screamed as he fell into the street, arms outstretched. The young rat kicked the old lord’s sword away, watching it skid into the edge of the bridge.
“Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” Lord Wheeler muttered as he heaved. “You will be tried!”
Ronnie twisted the blade before removing it. Lord Wheeler screamed. He looked up to find his guards jumping off their rides, rushing towards him. Sunny was too busy fighting the other cats to notice. //I’ll have to face them alone.//
“Restrain him!” the lord barked, “I’ll take him to the king myself.”
The young rat swung the weapon low, tripping one of the guards. Ronnie stomped on the guard’s helm, pinning him to the street. The young rat charged towards the other, brandishing his blade.
"Enough!"
Ronnie turned towards the voice. Two cats descended from the road. One of them landed near Sunny, joining him. The other landed in front of him.
“You fought hard, little one,” the cat said, “save these scraps for mama Sam.”
[[Continue|Chapter 4.4S]]
Ronnie spat on the ground. His nostrils flared, blood and smog entering them. The young rat shuffled to his feet, shield guarding his body. Ringing filled his ears again as Lord Wheeler hacked and slashed.
“Come on!” Lord Wheeler shouted. “Your shield’s denting! Show me what you’ve got!”
“Enough!”
Something blotted the sun, causing Ronnie to roll backwards. A cat landed on Lord Wheeler, pushing him flat against the pavement. The noble's grunts and wheezes echoed under its weight.
Ronnie turned. Two other cats descended from the road, fighting Lord Wheeler's forces. Sunny forced himself to his feet.
"Right on time, Sam!” Sunny called out, wrestling his opponent into submission. Ronnie turned to the cat sitting on Lord Wheeler.
“Leave this one for me,” the cat said.
[[Continue|Chapter 4.4]]
"Traitors!" Lord Wheeler snapped, "Have you no regard for your lives?"
"We don't answer to you," Sam answered, "Where is my daughter?"
The other cats grew silent. Sunny turned away, staring beyond the railing. The young rat’s stomach sunk from the tension.
"You'll join her soon," the lord smiled, "where all traitors go."
The lord winced at the sight of his fallen guards. Ronnie turned to the Wheeler cats. They laid still, shaking from their injuries. //That could’ve been us if they didn’t come//, the young rat thought.
Sam's eyes darkened. Lord Wheeler squirmed as the cat lifted him off the ground, crushing him between her claws. The other cats parted as she slid her arm between the bridge's railings, facing the river.
"She's in the Gear Fort!" Lord Wheeler exclaimed, "She waits for you! Please, spare me!"
“Don’t worry,” Sunny said. “Your son’s waiting for you.”
Sam released her grip. The lord screamed as he fell. A small splash rippled through the crashing waves. The cat slumped against the railings as she retrieved her paw, tears falling from her eyes.
"Sorry for the trouble," one of the cats spoke, an unkempt mass of black fur. "We went as soon as Lord Wheeler left."
"Why'd you help us at the last minute?" Ronnie asked, "If you were with us, you would've-"
"My bad,” Sunny said. “Something came up. Primo Wheeler’s army was chasing us, so I took a roundabout route. Anyways, what took you guys so long to look for me?”
Dave turned to Sunny, his face plastered with seriousness. "We wanted to test his capabilities," he replied, "as our future king."
Ronnie furrowed his brows, turning to his friend. Somehow, Dave’s words felt heavier than his injuries. //Future king, huh//, he thought.
"Anyhow, we know a shortcut to the capital. Once Sam's done grieving for her daughter, we'll lead you there."
//Couldn’t you let her grieve longer?// Ronnie thought, //I’ve lost people too.// The young rat walked towards Sunny, before climbing into his bag without saying a word. //I’m going home with thousands of lives on my shoulders. Everyone’s expecting me to be who I’m supposed to be. Can I really make a difference?//
[[Continue|Chapter 5]]
"Traitors!" Lord Wheeler snapped, "Have you no regard for your lives?"
"We don't answer to you," Sam answered, "Where is my daughter?"
The other cats grew silent. Sunny turned away, staring beyond the railing. The young rat’s stomach sunk from the tension.
"You'll join her soon," the lord smiled, "where all traitors go."
The lord winced at the sight of his fallen guards. Ronnie turned to the Wheeler cats. They laid still, shaking from their injuries. //That could’ve been us if they didn’t come//, the young rat thought.
Sam's eyes darkened. Lord Wheeler squirmed as the cat lifted him off the ground, crushing him between her claws. The other cats parted as she slid her arm between the bridge's railings, facing the river.
"She's in the Gear Fort!" Lord Wheeler exclaimed, "She waits for you! Please, spare me!"
“Don’t worry,” Sunny said. “Your son’s waiting for you.”
Sam released her grip. The lord screamed as he fell. A small splash rippled through the crashing waves. The cat slumped against the railings as she retrieved her paw, tears falling from her eyes.
"Sorry for the trouble," one of the cats spoke, an unkempt mass of black fur. "We went as soon as Lord Wheeler left."
"Why'd you help us at the last minute?" Ronnie asked, "If you were with us, you would've-"
"My bad,” Sunny said. “Something came up. Primo Wheeler’s army was chasing us, so I took a roundabout route. Anyways, what took you guys so long to look for me?”
Dave turned to Sunny, his face plastered with seriousness. "We wanted to test his capabilities," he replied, "as our future king."
Ronnie furrowed his brows, turning to his friend. Somehow, Dave’s words felt heavier than his injuries. //Future king, huh//, he thought.
"Anyhow, we know a shortcut to the capital. Once Sam's done grieving for her daughter, we'll lead you there."
//Couldn’t you let her grieve longer?// Ronnie thought, //I’ve lost people too.// The young rat walked towards Sunny, before climbing into his bag without saying a word. //I’m going home with thousands of lives on my shoulders. Everyone’s expecting me to be who I’m supposed to be. Can I really make a difference?//
[[Continue|Chapter 5]]
As they entered the slums, Ronnie noticed the ground darkening. While the bazaar’s scent remained in his nose, the slums smelled even worse. The houses looked similar to those at the bazaar, but they looked like they’re about to fall over from a single touch. Garbage melded into the streets, shrouded by green mist. The smuggler looked up from Sunny’s bag, only to see unkempt children staring at the festivities from their squatters.
Sunny turned to his fellow cats.
“Thank you,” Sunny said, bowing his head.
“From one cat to another,” Sam smiled. “It’s the least I can do for being late. You’re covered in bruises.”
“It’ll heal,” Sunny replied, “Guess I’ll be bathing in herbs for a few days!”
“What about the others?” Ronnie asked.
“We’re headed for the Gear Fort,” Dave replied. “The fight must go on.”
“We live to avenge the fallen,” Sam added. “Go fight your battle, youngsters. Perhaps you’ll find your purpose within this maze.”
“We’ll see,” Ronnie replied, “g-good luck with your campaign!”
“Destiny finds you, young one,” Dave said, “It’ll catch up to you one way or another. Now go, free us all.”
Ronnie watched the cats disappear into the distance, assimilating into the crowd. Sunny continued walking without looking back. His heart sank, his mind addled with worry. //Do I really need to free these cats?//
“Something bothering you?” Sunny asked.
“I don’t wanna be king,” Ronnie said, “why’d they go pinning their hopes on me? I’ve seen you fight! They’re more than capable of freeing themselves. Why’d they have to wait until someone dies?”
“That’s because I’m not a house cat,” Sunny replied, “Sam and the others? They’ve been indoctrinated by rat propaganda since they were kidnapped by the houses.”
“What changed their minds?”
“Love,” Sunny said, “I’m sure you’d relate.”
Ronnie turned to the children playing by the sidewalk. Their coughing fits made his heart ache. He turned right, finding an old rat crumpled over his sick wife. Wailing echoed through his ears, overwhelming the bazaar's festive music.
Ronnie thought about his birthright, about the insurgence’s exodus. He thought of the cat warriors and their campaign against the houses that enslaved them. His mind scrambled for better solutions, ones that don't glue him to his father's chair.
//Can leaving the city change the way things are? It might displace these people... //He remembered the trucks lining the bridge, giant monoliths that blotted out the sun. No, the young rat shook his head, a wave of fear rushing over him, //there's not much time!//
[[Continue|Chapter 5.2]]
Sunny turned to a corner, slithering through an empty alleyway caked in waste and rat bones. The cat stopped by a canal shrouded in darkness. Water flowed from its maw, bleeding into the street. The young rat turned to see other rats scooping handfuls to drink from.
“Hold tight,” Sunny said, “I’m going in.”
The young rat sunk into the bag, moisture bleeding into his back. He heard the rapid splashes tracing Sunny’s footsteps. Within a few seconds, noise crossed through the splashing, muffled voices of different tones.
“Sunny’s back! Someone, inform the doctor, quick!” a voice echoed, clamoring followed.
“No need,” Sunny replied, “I wanna surprise him.”
“You’re too late for that, son!” another voice called out in between chuckles, “I’ve been waiting for you all week!”
[[Continue|Chapter 5.3]]Ronnie remained still, waiting for Sunny’s cue. Leaving the bag, and meeting the doctor along with the insurgence members meant more pressure falling upon him. The young rat’s ears twitched for silence, his hand clenching his wounded shoulder.
“Father…” Sunny’s voice cracked, “I’m home.”
“My boy, what happened to your eye?” There was an air of compassion in the doctor’s voice, smaller than his son’s and the cat warriors from the bridge.
“Let’s get you patched up in the lab,” the doctor continued.
Ronnie peered through the bag. The lab was covered in science books written by humans. The doctor probably scavenged these tomes through various dumpsters. From this alone, Ronnie could tell that he’s a massive book worm.
“So, did you get the prince?” the doctor asked. “I’m sure you used the letter, since you’re not the best talker.”
“I did,” Sunny groaned, “but there’s something I need to tell you.”
“What is it, boy?” he asked, “nobody’s around. You can tell me.”
//He’s nervous.// Ronnie thought, //maybe he didn’t want to kill his mood? Seeing that his plan got derailed, I couldn’t blame him. Guess he’ll bring me to Marie once this is over.//
“There are trucks headed for the landfill,” Ronnie answered. The young rat unzipped the bag, before stepping into the floor. “We don’t have much time.”
The doctor’s eyes widened, along with his smile. Ronnie furrowed his brows. //Why isn’t he fazed?//
[[Continue|Chapter 5.4]]
<center> <img src="https://static.wixstatic.com/media/b80a6b_e883b19da8c94364b0eb85b29e5e39d0~mv2.png" style="max-width: 100%"></center>
“I knew it!” he exclaimed, “my observations were correct… for the last 20 years or more, comparing the recordings from the Sinkcity Habitat Archives, the amount of textile waste in the landfill has doubled! Humans are buying more clothes than ever before! This is not a Sinkcity-only phenomenon, this is happening everywhere!”
“Father,” Sunny said, “this is different. We’re talking about spontaneous dumping, not gradual.”
“Spontaneous, gradual, whatever! If we won’t get buried, we will die from the chemical fumes…methane gas! The decaying polyester and chemical dyes deep within the soil would bring famines, starving our children. At this point, I’m surprised we aren’t choking from all the microfibers inside us!”
“What difference does this make?” Ronnie replied, “Our whole society is built by these wastes…these problems come with the territory. Methane gas, polyester? Microfibers? I don’t even know what these words mean!”
The doctor’s eyes glowed with opportunism as he grabbed his hand. Ronnie wondered why he even intervened in the first place. //He isn’t even mad, and how he’s congratulating me for something?//
“Call me Lebowski,” the doctor said, “current predicament aside, I’m what you call a scientist.”
“I’m Ronnie,” he replied, “why are you shaking my hand?”
“Why, well, I’m thanking you for proving me right!” Lebowski said, “I’m sure you’ve passed through the slums for the first time. Harrowing, isn’t it? Was it like this before you left the city?”
“No,” Ronnie shook his head. “I’ve never been here until today.”
“Great! Allow me to give you a tour. That’ll give more clarity to my scientific lingo!”
“Now?” Sunny asked, “Guards are everywhere, and I just went through the- “
“Now, now, Sunny! You can stay here all you want. It’s up to the prince to decide if he wants to see the reason behind all this.”
//Alright Ronnie, better see this through. Maybe this would give me enough time to mentally prepare myself.//
“I’m going.”
[[Continue|Chapter 5.5]]As they exited Dr. Lebowski’s tunnel, the trio found themselves within the dingiest part of the slums. Ronnie looked down, smog covered his feet. The houses within these parts looked abandoned, haunted, but he could feel an overwhelming presence washing over him. Other rats still lived here, but who? None of them seemed to participate in the festivities.
“Welcome to the Mirthless,” Lebowski said, “the worst place in town! Even the city folk won’t go through here.” The doctor carried a sock over his shoulder, the scent of fresh bread made him blink.
The Mirthless. He’d heard stories about the place. Isn’t this where monsters and ghosts live? While Ronnie isn’t the most superstitious rat, he couldn’t help but feel scared.
“Are we gonna start here?” Ronnie asked. “Are there other options?”
“Why, yes.” Lebowski said, “We can look at the farms first, then the incinerator. What do you think?”
[["Let's go to The Mirthless"|C5C1]]
[["I want to see the farms"|C5C2]]
[["The incinerator sounds good"|C5C3]]“Brave today, aren’t we?” Lebowski smiled. “Alrighty then, prepare to see some hard things.”
The doctor darted off into the smog before stopping. Sunny and Ronnie followed. The young rat scrunched his nose and coughed. An overwhelming smell drilled itself into his nostrils. Through his watery eyes, he could see Sunny and Lebowski standing unfazed.
“What…is this?” Ronnie asked through his wheezing, “it smells like death!”
Lebowski took a deep breath before exhaling. “It smells like a lot of things, really,” the doctor replied, “you see, this is where the sick, impoverished, disabled, and others live, away from the main town.”
“Cover your nose, Ronnie,” Sunny said, “you’ll get used to it.”
The trio walked deep into the slums, a labyrinth of houses and alleyways that seemed to lead nowhere. The few rats they’ve encountered only had tattered clothes to cover themselves. His ears picked up distant fits of coughing and wailing. Ronnie never knew what the word ‘mirthless’ actually meant, but he’s starting to figure it out.
“They say the children inherit the future,” Lebowski started speaking, “perhaps they’re just letting them solve our problems. You wanna know what microfibers are, right? Well, I’m sure you’re familiar with plastic. They’re similar.”
Lebowski approached a street beggar cradling her crying baby. When the beggar cowered under their shadows, the doctor reached inside his sock and handed out a loaf of bread.
“Here you go,” the doctor said, smiling.
<center> <img src="https://static.wixstatic.com/media/b80a6b_dd4e02dc0a6b4679862c6669a0538d69~mv2.png" style="max-width: 100%"></center>
“Bless you, sir!” the beggar bowed her head.
“How is this related to microfibers?” Ronnie asked as they walked away. “You’ll attract the wrong rats over this.”
[[Continue|C5C1.1]]<center> <img src="https://static.wixstatic.com/media/b80a6b_64698594cc7745f1a1a7644b67e1d43f~mv2.png" style="max-width: 100%"></center>
It took the trio a while to traverse the Mirthless. When they arrived at the farm lands, they were greeted with rows of empty fields covered in the same smog from the slums. //This is where Sinkcitians get ‘fresh’ food?// Ronnie thought, //there’s barely anything here.//
“You must be wondering about the crops,” Lebowski said, “you see, farmers always had a hard time growing them, but today’s crops look and taste worse than before.”
“That’s why canned fish’s better,” Sunny snarled.
“So where does the bazaar get their food?” the young rat asked.
“Merchants, of course,” Lebowski replied, “to make up for limited supplies. Your father had no choice. Sinkcity’s known for its textiles, after all. You see, because of this abundance, both the groundwater and soil are poisoned by chemicals and dyes, all from the textile waste around us. You see that small leaf?”
Ronnie turned to where the doctor pointed, squinting his eyes. He could make out a withered leaf, almost melding with the blackened field. //This is supposed to be a vegetable?//
“That’s one of the many deformed crops that didn’t make it to the bazaar,” the doctor said, “poor little guy. Imagine growing as a seed, brimming with life, only to wither and die because of things outside your control. I’m just glad plants can’t talk—but they can feel.”
“I’m starting to get it now,” Ronnie said, “why you wanted to leave.”
“Believe me, I tried changing things,” Lebowski replied, “At this point, it’s impossible. The ground is literally dead. The crops sold at the bazaar don’t even have nutrients. Even our water! The wells are teeming with waterborne diseases! Everyone’s slowly falling sick and dying here. I don’t understand why the king keeps us here! Even though he's suffering!”
The doctor bent over the fence, coughing,
“Father,” Sunny said, “let’s head back. The smog’s getting thicker.”
“I’m fine, my boy,” Lebowski replied, “we need to show this lost soul everything.”
“Sunny’s right, doc,” Ronnie said, “I’ve seen enough, you don’t have to do this for me.”
“No,” the doctor shook his head, “where do you want to go next?”
[["Let's go to The Mirthless"|C5C2.1]]
[["The incinerator sounds good"|C5C2.3]]
<center> <img src="https://static.wixstatic.com/media/b80a6b_12441d8e90454911839d5cf47dbdd218~mv2.png" style="max-width: 100%"></center>
The incinerator’s grounds felt hot enough for anyone to walk on the tip of their toes. The trio traversed through towers radiating with fire, jutting out pillars of black smoke reaching into the sky. This time, rot and smog didn’t invade Ronnie’s nose, fumes did.
“If you think the king recycles these wastes you’re gravely mistaken,” Lebowski said, “everything that couldn’t be used ends up in this place.”
“A landfill within a landfill,” Sunny added. “The Insurgence members working here cough the most.”
“With these fumes? I can imagine,” Ronnie said.
“You know what happens when we burn things that aren’t supposed to be burned?” the doctor asked, “the spreading of methane gas, carbon dioxide, and other greenhouse gases.”
“What’re those?” the young rat asked, “you mean these fumes around us?”
“Yes,” Lebowski said, “these toxic substances spread microplastics, which explains why they’re inside us right now. They also cause breathing problems…”
The doctor heaved. He fell backwards, coughing. Sunny rushed over to his side. The young rat followed.
“We need to leave, now.” Sunny said.
Ronnie nodded.
“No,” the doctor shook his head, “where do you want to go next?”
[["Let's go to The Mirthless"|C5C3.1]]
[["I want to see the farms."|C5C3.2]]
“When they come, they’ll get their share,” Lebowski replied. “They’re starving, after all.”
“It’s bread! Fresh bread!” he exclaimed, “a luxury! You can’t even find this in the bazaar. How many smugglers did you hire for this?”
“None,” the doctor said, “I made them myself. You see, these rats haven’t received acts of kindness most of their lives. I’m just doing what everyone should do. Microfibers come from the clothes humans wear. They’re small grains of plastic, and plastics wouldn’t rot for another two hundred years. You see this cloth?”
Lebowski crouched down, tearing an old red fiber off the ground. The weathered fabric dangled from his fingers.
<center> <img src="https://static.wixstatic.com/media/b80a6b_79f326d10b2646c9a46d5c37e3734ee2~mv2.png" style="max-width: 100%"></center>
“This thing is made of synthetic fibers like polyester, an oil-based plastic material,” the doctor continued, “I heard they’re really cheap to produce… unfortunately, these materials break into little toxic microfibers. 80 percent of these things are made from plastic, after all.”
The fabric crumpled in the doctor’s fists before turning into dust.
“Based on my tests, they have stunted the growth of our young and deformed many,” Lebowski said, “some rats have to walk with canes for the rest of their lives.”
Ronnie immediately thought of his childhood friend, Tommy. He never really knew why his leg looked the way it was. Something inside him stirred, that feeling one gets whenever they’ve answered an age-old mystery. The young rat understood knowledge isn’t the most comforting thing.
“Microfibers are toxic, colored from dyes, and drenched in chemicals. I believe that everyone in Sinkcity has plastic inside them. You inhale it from the air, through the water you drink…the reason why rats from these parts easily get sick is because they can’t afford to eat fresh food from the farm, so they’d resort into munching on these fibers. If I’m right, how can we entrust our children with the future if they couldn’t live long enough to experience it?”
The young rat watched the disintegrated cloth fade into the wind. The smell started weakening. Even so, a distinct heaviness overwhelmed him.
“I understand these things are hard to process,” the doctor said, “where do you want to go next?”
[["I want to see the farms."|C5C1.2]]
[["The incinerator sounds good."|C5C1.3.3]]<center> <img src="https://static.wixstatic.com/media/b80a6b_64698594cc7745f1a1a7644b67e1d43f~mv2.png" style="max-width: 100%"></center>
It took the trio a while to traverse the Mirthless. When they arrived at the farm lands, they were greeted with rows of empty fields covered in the same smog from the slums. //This is where Sinkcitians get ‘fresh’ food?// Ronnie thought, //there’s barely anything here.//
“You must be wondering about the crops,” Lebowski said, “you see, farmers always had a hard time growing them, but today’s crops look and taste worse than before.”
“That’s why canned fish’s better,” Sunny snarled.
“So where does the bazaar get their food?” the young rat asked.
“Merchants, of course,” Lebowski replied, “to make up for limited supplies. Your father had no choice. Sinkcity’s known for its textiles, after all. You see, because of this abundance, both the groundwater and soil are poisoned by chemicals and dyes, all from the textile waste around us. You see that small leaf?”
Ronnie turned to where the doctor pointed, squinting his eyes. He could make out a withered leaf, almost melding with the blackened field. //This is supposed to be a vegetable?//
“That’s one of the many deformed crops that didn’t make it to the bazaar,” the doctor said, “poor little guy. Imagine growing as a seed, brimming with life, only to wither and die because of things outside your control. I’m just glad plants can’t talk—but they can feel.”
“I’m starting to get it now,” Ronnie said, “why you wanted to leave.”
“Believe me, I tried changing things,” Lebowski replied, “At this point, it’s impossible. The ground is literally dead. The crops sold at the bazaar don’t even have nutrients. Even our water! The wells are teeming with waterborne diseases! Everyone’s slowly falling sick and dying here. I don’t understand why the king keeps us here! Even though he's suffering!”
The doctor bent over the fence, coughing,
“Father,” Sunny said, “let’s head back. The smog’s getting thicker.”
“I’m fine, my boy,” Lebowski replied, “we need to show this lost soul everything.”
“Sunny’s right, doc,” Ronnie said, “I’ve seen enough, you don’t have to do this for me.”
“No,” the doctor shook his head, “where do you want to go next?”
[["The incinerator sounds good."|C5C1.3]]
[["You need rest doctor, I've seen enough."|Chapter 5.6]]
<center> <img src="https://static.wixstatic.com/media/b80a6b_12441d8e90454911839d5cf47dbdd218~mv2.png" style="max-width: 100%"></center>
The incinerator’s grounds felt hot enough for anyone to walk on the tip of their toes. The trio traversed through towers radiating with fire, jutting out pillars of black smoke reaching into the sky. This time, rot and smog didn’t invade Ronnie’s nose, fumes did.
“If you think the king recycles these wastes you’re gravely mistaken,” Lebowski said, “everything that couldn’t be used ends up in this place.”
“A landfill within a landfill,” Sunny added. “The Insurgence members working here cough the most.”
“With these fumes? I can imagine,” Ronnie said.
“You know what happens when we burn things that aren’t supposed to be burned?” the doctor asked, “the spreading of methane gas, carbon dioxide, and other greenhouse gases.”
“What’re those?” the young rat asked, “you mean these fumes around us?”
“Yes,” Lebowski said, “these toxic substances spread microplastics, which explains why they’re inside us right now. They also cause breathing problems…”
The doctor heaved. He fell backwards, coughing. Sunny rushed over to his side. The young rat followed.
“We need to leave, now.” Sunny said.
Ronnie nodded.
[["You need rest doctor, I've seen enough."|Chapter 5.6]]
The trio returned to the lab by nightfall. Ronnie found himself sitting on the floor as the doctor tended to his injuries. He turned to Sunny, who was sleeping next to him. The cat was covered in bandages, and dried herbs.
“If the crops don’t have nutrients, what about medicine?” Ronnie asked.
“Sunny’s out a lot,” Lebowski replied, “so he picks up herbs from the forest. Sometimes he takes me there to breathe fresh air. Without that boy I would’ve died long ago.”
“Doc, is there a point to all this?”
The doctor grew silent. Ronnie liked to think he was taking his time pondering over his question, one so profound and bleak. //He’s probably used to hearing this, he thought.//
“No matter where we go, all these microplastics, toxins, whatever these things are, would reach us,” the young rat said. “This nightmare will happen again even if we figure out how to manage our waste, because the humans keep doing otherwise. Doesn’t this make all our efforts meaningless?”
“My boy, life’s indifference doesn’t invalidate our actions,” Lebowski replied. “If that’s how the world operates, we must fight to change it.”
“Easier said than done,” the young rat said. “I’d rather save myself the disappointment.”
“How, by doing nothing about it?”
Ronnie’s eyes widened. His heart wavered from the doctor’s words. The young rat reflected over his years with Ash and Mallow. He counted the rats he’d killed during missions, how much goods they’ve handed over to corrupt houses. They’re not a lot, but they did nothing to change things.
“I understand, boy. I won’t vilify you for thinking like this. When the humans captured me years ago, life was suffering. At the lab, they’ve injected enough chemicals for me to experience every sensation imaginable.”
<center> <img src="https://static.wixstatic.com/media/b80a6b_9a7a68bb070b4c63a5185875b9d92571~mv2.png" style="max-width: 100%"></center>
“I’ve eventually forgotten who I was. So, I gave up. I did nothing. I’ve spent most of my days sleeping inside my cage, hating everything. Until one day, the humans brought in a kitten.”
<center> <img src="https://static.wixstatic.com/media/b80a6b_a3237c4c87eb4ef88577a8715a5b9952~mv2.png" style="max-width: 100%"></center>
“He was small, and fragile, but brimming with life. I couldn’t allow them to take that away from him. So, we ran away together and eventually ended up here. Sunny gave me meaning. If I, a helpless lab rat, could make a difference for this kitten, why can’t I do the same for the rats of Sinkcity?”
Something stirred within Ronnie, similar to the sensation he’d felt during the tour. It contradicted his previous sentiments. As a smuggler, he had been taught that the world is cruel and uncaring, and his previous experiences validated that. Lebowski’s story told him the opposite, that there are good souls striving to make it a better place.
“Thank you, Doc.”
[[Continue|Chapter 6]]
<center> <img src="https://static.wixstatic.com/media/b80a6b_12441d8e90454911839d5cf47dbdd218~mv2.png" style="max-width: 100%"></center>
The incinerator’s grounds felt hot enough for anyone to walk on the tip of their toes. The trio traversed through towers radiating with fire, jutting out pillars of black smoke reaching into the sky. This time, rot and smog didn’t invade Ronnie’s nose, fumes did.
“If you think the king recycles these wastes you’re gravely mistaken,” Lebowski said, “everything that couldn’t be used ends up in this place.”
“A landfill within a landfill,” Sunny added. “The Insurgence members working here cough the most.”
“With these fumes? I can imagine,” Ronnie said.
“You know what happens when we burn things that aren’t supposed to be burned?” the doctor asked, “the spreading of methane gas, carbon dioxide, and other greenhouse gases.”
“What’re those?” the young rat asked, “you mean these fumes around us?”
“Yes,” Lebowski said, “these toxic substances spread microplastics, which explains why they’re inside us right now. They also cause breathing problems…”
The doctor heaved. He fell backwards, coughing. Sunny rushed over to his side. The young rat followed.
“We need to leave, now.” Sunny said.
Ronnie nodded.
“No,” the doctor shook his head, “where do you want to go next?”
[["Let's go to The Mirthless"|C5C2.1.1.1]]
[["You need rest doctor, I've seen enough."|Chapter 5.6]]“Brave today, aren’t we?” Lebowski smiled. “Alrighty then, prepare to see some hard things.”
The doctor darted off into the smog before stopping. Sunny and Ronnie followed. The young rat scrunched his nose and coughed. An overwhelming smell drilled itself into his nostrils. Through his watery eyes, he could see Sunny and Lebowski standing unfazed.
“What…is this?” Ronnie asked through his wheezing, “it smells like death!”
Lebowski took a deep breath before exhaling. “It smells like a lot of things, really,” the doctor replied, “you see, this is where the sick, impoverished, disabled, and others live, away from the main town.”
“Cover your nose, Ronnie,” Sunny said, “you’ll get used to it.”
The trio walked deep into the slums, a labyrinth of houses and alleyways that seemed to lead nowhere. The few rats they’ve encountered only had tattered clothes to cover themselves. His ears picked up distant fits of coughing and wailing. Ronnie never knew what the word ‘mirthless’ actually meant, but he’s starting to figure it out.
“They say the children inherit the future,” Lebowski started speaking, “perhaps they’re just letting them solve our problems. You wanna know what microfibers are, right? Well, I’m sure you’re familiar with plastic. They’re similar.”
Lebowski approached a street beggar cradling her crying baby. When the beggar cowered under their shadows, the doctor reached inside his sock and handed out a loaf of bread.
“Here you go,” the doctor said, smiling.
<center> <img src="https://static.wixstatic.com/media/b80a6b_dd4e02dc0a6b4679862c6669a0538d69~mv2.png" style="max-width: 100%"></center>
“Bless you, sir!” the beggar bowed her head.
“How is this related to microfibers?” Ronnie asked as they walked away. “You’ll attract the wrong rats over this.”
[[Continue|C5C2.1.1]]“When they come, they’ll get their share,” Lebowski replied. “They’re starving, after all.”
“It’s bread! Fresh bread!” he exclaimed, “a luxury! You can’t even find this in the bazaar. How many smugglers did you hire for this?”
“None,” the doctor said, “I made them myself. You see, these rats haven’t received acts of kindness most of their lives. I’m just doing what everyone should do. Microfibers come from the clothes humans wear. They’re small grains of plastic, and plastics wouldn’t rot for another two hundred years. You see this cloth?”
Lebowski crouched down, tearing an old red fiber off the ground. The weathered fabric dangled from his fingers.
<center> <img src="https://static.wixstatic.com/media/b80a6b_79f326d10b2646c9a46d5c37e3734ee2~mv2.png" style="max-width: 100%"></center>
“This thing is made of synthetic fibers like polyester, an oil-based plastic material,” the doctor continued, “I heard they’re really cheap to produce… unfortunately, these materials break into little toxic microfibers. 80 percent of these things are made from plastic, after all.”
The fabric crumpled in the doctor’s fists before turning into dust.
“Based on my tests, they have stunted the growth of our young and deformed many,” Lebowski said, “some rats have to walk with canes for the rest of their lives.”
Ronnie immediately thought of his childhood friend, Tommy. He never really knew why his leg looked the way it was. Something inside him stirred, that feeling one gets whenever they’ve answered an age-old mystery. The young rat understood knowledge isn’t the most comforting thing.
“Microfibers are toxic, colored from dyes, and drenched in chemicals. I believe that everyone in Sinkcity has plastic inside them. You inhale it from the air, through the water you drink…the reason why rats from these parts easily get sick is because they can’t afford to eat fresh food from the farm, so they’d resort into munching on these fibers. If I’m right, how can we entrust our children with the future if they couldn’t live long enough to experience it?”
The young rat watched the disintegrated cloth fade into the wind. The smell started weakening. Even so, a distinct heaviness overwhelmed him.
“I understand these things are hard to process,” the doctor said, “where do you want to go next?”
[["The incinerator sounds good."|C5C1.3]]
[[This is too much to take in, "I've seen enough."|Chapter 5.6]]“Brave today, aren’t we?” Lebowski smiled. “Alrighty then, prepare to see some hard things.”
The doctor darted off into the smog before stopping. Sunny and Ronnie followed. The young rat scrunched his nose and coughed. An overwhelming smell drilled itself into his nostrils. Through his watery eyes, he could see Sunny and Lebowski standing unfazed.
“What…is this?” Ronnie asked through his wheezing, “it smells like death!”
Lebowski took a deep breath before exhaling. “It smells like a lot of things, really,” the doctor replied, “you see, this is where the sick, impoverished, disabled, and others live, away from the main town.”
“Cover your nose, Ronnie,” Sunny said, “you’ll get used to it.”
The trio walked deep into the slums, a labyrinth of houses and alleyways that seemed to lead nowhere. The few rats they’ve encountered only had tattered clothes to cover themselves. His ears picked up distant fits of coughing and wailing. Ronnie never knew what the word ‘mirthless’ actually meant, but he’s starting to figure it out.
“They say the children inherit the future,” Lebowski started speaking, “perhaps they’re just letting them solve our problems. You wanna know what microfibers are, right? Well, I’m sure you’re familiar with plastic. They’re similar.”
Lebowski approached a street beggar cradling her crying baby. When the beggar cowered under their shadows, the doctor reached inside his sock and handed out a loaf of bread.
“Here you go,” the doctor said, smiling.
<center> <img src="https://static.wixstatic.com/media/b80a6b_dd4e02dc0a6b4679862c6669a0538d69~mv2.png" style="max-width: 100%"></center>
“Bless you, sir!” the beggar bowed her head.
“How is this related to microfibers?” Ronnie asked as they walked away. “You’ll attract the wrong rats over this.”
[[Continue|C5C3.1.1]]<center> <img src="https://static.wixstatic.com/media/b80a6b_64698594cc7745f1a1a7644b67e1d43f~mv2.png" style="max-width: 100%"></center>
It took the trio a while to traverse the Mirthless. When they arrived at the farm lands, they were greeted with rows of empty fields covered in the same smog from the slums. //This is where Sinkcitians get ‘fresh’ food?// Ronnie thought, //there’s barely anything here.//
“You must be wondering about the crops,” Lebowski said, “you see, farmers always had a hard time growing them, but today’s crops look and taste worse than before.”
“That’s why canned fish’s better,” Sunny snarled.
“So where does the bazaar get their food?” the young rat asked.
“Merchants, of course,” Lebowski replied, “to make up for limited supplies. Your father had no choice. Sinkcity’s known for its textiles, after all. You see, because of this abundance, both the groundwater and soil are poisoned by chemicals and dyes, all from the textile waste around us. You see that small leaf?”
Ronnie turned to where the doctor pointed, squinting his eyes. He could make out a withered leaf, almost melding with the blackened field. //This is supposed to be a vegetable?//
“That’s one of the many deformed crops that didn’t make it to the bazaar,” the doctor said, “poor little guy. Imagine growing as a seed, brimming with life, only to wither and die because of things outside your control. I’m just glad plants can’t talk—but they can feel.”
“I’m starting to get it now,” Ronnie said, “why you wanted to leave.”
“Believe me, I tried changing things,” Lebowski replied, “At this point, it’s impossible. The ground is literally dead. The crops sold at the bazaar don’t even have nutrients. Even our water! The wells are teeming with waterborne diseases! Everyone’s slowly falling sick and dying here. I don’t understand why the king keeps us here! Even though he's suffering!”
The doctor bent over the fence, coughing,
“Father,” Sunny said, “let’s head back. The smog’s getting thicker.”
“I’m fine, my boy,” Lebowski replied, “we need to show this lost soul everything.”
“Sunny’s right, doc,” Ronnie said, “I’ve seen enough, you don’t have to do this for me.”
“No,” the doctor shook his head, “where do you want to go next?”
[["Let's go to The Mirthless"|C5C3.1.1.1]]
[["You need rest doctor, I've seen enough."|Chapter 5.6]]“When they come, they’ll get their share,” Lebowski replied. “They’re starving, after all.”
“It’s bread! Fresh bread!” he exclaimed, “a luxury! You can’t even find this in the bazaar. How many smugglers did you hire for this?”
“None,” the doctor said, “I made them myself. You see, these rats haven’t received acts of kindness most of their lives. I’m just doing what everyone should do. Microfibers come from the clothes humans wear. They’re small grains of plastic, and plastics wouldn’t rot for another two hundred years. You see this cloth?”
Lebowski crouched down, tearing an old red fiber off the ground. The weathered fabric dangled from his fingers.
<center> <img src="https://static.wixstatic.com/media/b80a6b_79f326d10b2646c9a46d5c37e3734ee2~mv2.png" style="max-width: 100%"></center>
“This thing is made of synthetic fibers like polyester, an oil-based plastic material,” the doctor continued, “I heard they’re really cheap to produce… unfortunately, these materials break into little toxic microfibers. 80 percent of these things are made from plastic, after all.”
The fabric crumpled in the doctor’s fists before turning into dust.
“Based on my tests, they have stunted the growth of our young and deformed many,” Lebowski said, “some rats have to walk with canes for the rest of their lives.”
Ronnie immediately thought of his childhood friend, Tommy. He never really knew why his leg looked the way it was. Something inside him stirred, that feeling one gets whenever they’ve answered an age-old mystery. The young rat understood knowledge isn’t the most comforting thing.
“Microfibers are toxic, colored from dyes, and drenched in chemicals. I believe that everyone in Sinkcity has plastic inside them. You inhale it from the air, through the water you drink…the reason why rats from these parts easily get sick is because they can’t afford to eat fresh food from the farm, so they’d resort into munching on these fibers. If I’m right, how can we entrust our children with the future if they couldn’t live long enough to experience it?”
The young rat watched the disintegrated cloth fade into the wind. The smell started weakening. Even so, a distinct heaviness overwhelmed him.
“I understand these things are hard to process,” the doctor said, “where do you want to go next?”
[["I want to see the farms."|C5C3.2.1]]
[[This is too much to take in, "I've seen enough."|Chapter 5.6]]<center> <img src="https://static.wixstatic.com/media/b80a6b_12441d8e90454911839d5cf47dbdd218~mv2.png" style="max-width: 100%"></center>
The incinerator’s grounds felt hot enough for anyone to walk on the tip of their toes. The trio traversed through towers radiating with fire, jutting out pillars of black smoke reaching into the sky. This time, rot and smog didn’t invade Ronnie’s nose, fumes did.
“If you think the king recycles these wastes you’re gravely mistaken,” Lebowski said, “everything that couldn’t be used ends up in this place.”
“A landfill within a landfill,” Sunny added. “The Insurgence members working here cough the most.”
“With these fumes? I can imagine,” Ronnie said.
“You know what happens when we burn things that aren’t supposed to be burned?” the doctor asked, “the spreading of methane gas, carbon dioxide, and other greenhouse gases.”
“What’re those?” the young rat asked, “you mean these fumes around us?”
“Yes,” Lebowski said, “these toxic substances spread microplastics, which explains why they’re inside us right now. They also cause breathing problems…”
The doctor heaved. He fell backwards, coughing. Sunny rushed over to his side. The young rat followed.
“We need to leave, now.” Sunny said.
Ronnie nodded.
“No,” the doctor shook his head, “where do you want to go next?”
[["I want to see the farms."|C5C1.2.2]]
[["You need rest doctor, I've seen enough."|Chapter 5.6]]
<center> <img src="https://static.wixstatic.com/media/b80a6b_64698594cc7745f1a1a7644b67e1d43f~mv2.png" style="max-width: 100%"></center>
It took the trio a while to traverse the Mirthless. When they arrived at the farm lands, they were greeted with rows of empty fields covered in the same smog from the slums. //This is where Sinkcitians get ‘fresh’ food?// Ronnie thought, //there’s barely anything here.//
“You must be wondering about the crops,” Lebowski said, “you see, farmers always had a hard time growing them, but today’s crops look and taste worse than before.”
“That’s why canned fish’s better,” Sunny snarled.
“So where does the bazaar get their food?” the young rat asked.
“Merchants, of course,” Lebowski replied, “to make up for limited supplies. Your father had no choice. Sinkcity’s known for its textiles, after all. You see, because of this abundance, both the groundwater and soil are poisoned by chemicals and dyes, all from the textile waste around us. You see that small leaf?”
Ronnie turned to where the doctor pointed, squinting his eyes. He could make out a withered leaf, almost melding with the blackened field. //This is supposed to be a vegetable?//
“That’s one of the many deformed crops that didn’t make it to the bazaar,” the doctor said, “poor little guy. Imagine growing as a seed, brimming with life, only to wither and die because of things outside your control. I’m just glad plants can’t talk—but they can feel.”
“I’m starting to get it now,” Ronnie said, “why you wanted to leave.”
“Believe me, I tried changing things,” Lebowski replied, “At this point, it’s impossible. The ground is literally dead. The crops sold at the bazaar don’t even have nutrients. Even our water! The wells are teeming with waterborne diseases! Everyone’s slowly falling sick and dying here. I don’t understand why the king keeps us here! Even though he's suffering!”
The doctor bent over the fence, coughing,
“Father,” Sunny said, “let’s head back. The smog’s getting thicker.”
“I’m fine, my boy,” Lebowski replied
[["You need rest doctor, I've seen enough."|Chapter 5.6]]“Brave today, aren’t we?” Lebowski smiled. “Alrighty then, prepare to see some hard things.”
The doctor darted off into the smog before stopping. Sunny and Ronnie followed. The young rat scrunched his nose and coughed. An overwhelming smell drilled itself into his nostrils. Through his watery eyes, he could see Sunny and Lebowski standing unfazed.
“What…is this?” Ronnie asked through his wheezing, “it smells like death!”
Lebowski took a deep breath before exhaling. “It smells like a lot of things, really,” the doctor replied, “you see, this is where the sick, impoverished, disabled, and others live, away from the main town.”
“Cover your nose, Ronnie,” Sunny said, “you’ll get used to it.”
The trio walked deep into the slums, a labyrinth of houses and alleyways that seemed to lead nowhere. The few rats they’ve encountered only had tattered clothes to cover themselves. His ears picked up distant fits of coughing and wailing. Ronnie never knew what the word ‘mirthless’ actually meant, but he’s starting to figure it out.
“They say the children inherit the future,” Lebowski started speaking, “perhaps they’re just letting them solve our problems. You wanna know what microfibers are, right? Well, I’m sure you’re familiar with plastic. They’re similar.”
Lebowski approached a street beggar cradling her crying baby. When the beggar cowered under their shadows, the doctor reached inside his sock and handed out a loaf of bread.
“Here you go,” the doctor said, smiling.
<center> <img src="https://static.wixstatic.com/media/b80a6b_dd4e02dc0a6b4679862c6669a0538d69~mv2.png" style="max-width: 100%"></center>
“Bless you, sir!” the beggar bowed her head.
“How is this related to microfibers?” Ronnie asked as they walked away. “You’ll attract the wrong rats over this.”
[[Continue|C5C2.1.1.2]]“When they come, they’ll get their share,” Lebowski replied. “They’re starving, after all.”
“It’s bread! Fresh bread!” he exclaimed, “a luxury! You can’t even find this in the bazaar. How many smugglers did you hire for this?”
“None,” the doctor said, “I made them myself. You see, these rats haven’t received acts of kindness most of their lives. I’m just doing what everyone should do. Microfibers come from the clothes humans wear. They’re small grains of plastic, and plastics wouldn’t rot for another two hundred years. You see this cloth?”
Lebowski crouched down, tearing an old red fiber off the ground. The weathered fabric dangled from his fingers.
<center> <img src="https://static.wixstatic.com/media/b80a6b_79f326d10b2646c9a46d5c37e3734ee2~mv2.png" style="max-width: 100%"></center>
“This thing is made of synthetic fibers like polyester, an oil-based plastic material,” the doctor continued, “I heard they’re really cheap to produce… unfortunately, these materials break into little toxic microfibers. 80 percent of these things are made from plastic, after all.”
The fabric crumpled in the doctor’s fists before turning into dust.
“Based on my tests, they have stunted the growth of our young and deformed many,” Lebowski said, “some rats have to walk with canes for the rest of their lives.”
Ronnie immediately thought of his childhood friend, Tommy. He never really knew why his leg looked the way it was. Something inside him stirred, that feeling one gets whenever they’ve answered an age-old mystery. The young rat understood knowledge isn’t the most comforting thing.
“Microfibers are toxic, colored from dyes, and drenched in chemicals. I believe that everyone in Sinkcity has plastic inside them. You inhale it from the air, through the water you drink…the reason why rats from these parts easily get sick is because they can’t afford to eat fresh food from the farm, so they’d resort into munching on these fibers. If I’m right, how can we entrust our children with the future if they couldn’t live long enough to experience it?”
The young rat watched the disintegrated cloth fade into the wind. The smell started weakening. Even so, a distinct heaviness overwhelmed him.
The doctor bent over the fence, coughing,
“Father,” Sunny said, “let’s head back. The smog’s getting thicker.”
“I’m fine, my boy,” Lebowski replied.
[["You need rest doctor, I've seen enough."|Chapter 5.6]]<center> <img src="https://static.wixstatic.com/media/b80a6b_64698594cc7745f1a1a7644b67e1d43f~mv2.png" style="max-width: 100%"></center>
It took the trio a while to traverse the Mirthless. When they arrived at the farm lands, they were greeted with rows of empty fields covered in the same smog from the slums. //This is where Sinkcitians get ‘fresh’ food?// Ronnie thought, //there’s barely anything here.//
“You must be wondering about the crops,” Lebowski said, “you see, farmers always had a hard time growing them, but today’s crops look and taste worse than before.”
“That’s why canned fish’s better,” Sunny snarled.
“So where does the bazaar get their food?” the young rat asked.
“Merchants, of course,” Lebowski replied, “to make up for limited supplies. Your father had no choice. Sinkcity’s known for its textiles, after all. You see, because of this abundance, both the groundwater and soil are poisoned by chemicals and dyes, all from the textile waste around us. You see that small leaf?”
Ronnie turned to where the doctor pointed, squinting his eyes. He could make out a withered leaf, almost melding with the blackened field. //This is supposed to be a vegetable?//
“That’s one of the many deformed crops that didn’t make it to the bazaar,” the doctor said, “poor little guy. Imagine growing as a seed, brimming with life, only to wither and die because of things outside your control. I’m just glad plants can’t talk—but they can feel.”
“I’m starting to get it now,” Ronnie said, “why you wanted to leave.”
“Believe me, I tried changing things,” Lebowski replied, “At this point, it’s impossible. The ground is literally dead. The crops sold at the bazaar don’t even have nutrients. Even our water! The wells are teeming with waterborne diseases! Everyone’s slowly falling sick and dying here. I don’t understand why the king keeps us here! Even though he's suffering!”
The doctor bent over the fence, coughing,
“Father,” Sunny said, “let’s head back. The smog’s getting thicker.”
“I’m fine, my boy,” Lebowski replied, “we need to show this lost soul everything.”
“Sunny’s right, doc,” Ronnie said, “I’ve seen enough, you don’t have to do this for me.”
“No,” the doctor shook his head, “where do you want to go next?”
[["You need rest doctor, I've seen enough."|Chapter 5.6]]“Brave today, aren’t we?” Lebowski smiled. “Alrighty then, prepare to see some hard things.”
The doctor darted off into the smog before stopping. Sunny and Ronnie followed. The young rat scrunched his nose and coughed. An overwhelming smell drilled itself into his nostrils. Through his watery eyes, he could see Sunny and Lebowski standing unfazed.
“What…is this?” Ronnie asked through his wheezing, “it smells like death!”
Lebowski took a deep breath before exhaling. “It smells like a lot of things, really,” the doctor replied, “you see, this is where the sick, impoverished, disabled, and others live, away from the main town.”
“Cover your nose, Ronnie,” Sunny said, “you’ll get used to it.”
The trio walked deep into the slums, a labyrinth of houses and alleyways that seemed to lead nowhere. The few rats they’ve encountered only had tattered clothes to cover themselves. His ears picked up distant fits of coughing and wailing. Ronnie never knew what the word ‘mirthless’ actually meant, but he’s starting to figure it out.
“They say the children inherit the future,” Lebowski started speaking, “perhaps they’re just letting them solve our problems. You wanna know what microfibers are, right? Well, I’m sure you’re familiar with plastic. They’re similar.”
Lebowski approached a street beggar cradling her crying baby. When the beggar cowered under their shadows, the doctor reached inside his sock and handed out a loaf of bread.
“Here you go,” the doctor said, smiling.
<center> <img src="https://static.wixstatic.com/media/b80a6b_dd4e02dc0a6b4679862c6669a0538d69~mv2.png" style="max-width: 100%"></center>
“Bless you, sir!” the beggar bowed her head.
“How is this related to microfibers?” Ronnie asked as they walked away. “You’ll attract the wrong rats over this.”
[[Continue|C5C3.1.1.2]]“When they come, they’ll get their share,” Lebowski replied. “They’re starving, after all.”
“It’s bread! Fresh bread!” he exclaimed, “a luxury! You can’t even find this in the bazaar. How many smugglers did you hire for this?”
“None,” the doctor said, “I made them myself. You see, these rats haven’t received acts of kindness most of their lives. I’m just doing what everyone should do. Microfibers come from the clothes humans wear. They’re small grains of plastic, and plastics wouldn’t rot for another two hundred years. You see this cloth?”
Lebowski crouched down, tearing an old red fiber off the ground. The weathered fabric dangled from his fingers.
<center> <img src="https://static.wixstatic.com/media/b80a6b_79f326d10b2646c9a46d5c37e3734ee2~mv2.png" style="max-width: 100%"></center>
“This thing is made of synthetic fibers like polyester, an oil-based plastic material,” the doctor continued, “I heard they’re really cheap to produce… unfortunately, these materials break into little toxic microfibers. 80 percent of these things are made from plastic, after all.”
The fabric crumpled in the doctor’s fists before turning into dust.
“Based on my tests, they have stunted the growth of our young and deformed many,” Lebowski said, “some rats have to walk with canes for the rest of their lives.”
Ronnie immediately thought of his childhood friend, Tommy. He never really knew why his leg looked the way it was. Something inside him stirred, that feeling one gets whenever they’ve answered an age-old mystery. The young rat understood knowledge isn’t the most comforting thing.
“Microfibers are toxic, colored from dyes, and drenched in chemicals. I believe that everyone in Sinkcity has plastic inside them. You inhale it from the air, through the water you drink…the reason why rats from these parts easily get sick is because they can’t afford to eat fresh food from the farm, so they’d resort into munching on these fibers. If I’m right, how can we entrust our children with the future if they couldn’t live long enough to experience it?”
The young rat watched the disintegrated cloth fade into the wind. The smell started weakening. Even so, a distinct heaviness overwhelmed him.
The doctor fell backwards coughing. Sunny rushed over to his side. The young rat followed.
“We need to leave, now.” Sunny said.
Ronnie nodded.
[["You need rest doctor, I've seen enough."|Chapter 5.6]]The princess crossed the arched hallway towards the throne room, a patchwork of melded steel and plastic overlooked by house Rocket’s sigil. Her mind raced, scrambling the best excuses to prolong Lord Accel’s patience.
Lord Accel stood before the throne, tapping his feet. He shifted towards her, eyes narrowed. The princess turned to the guards stationed behind him, immovable like the statues from the catacombs.
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“Lord Accel,” Marie greeted with a smile, “the king is currently resting in his chambers. Feel free to return tomorrow once he’s feeling better.”
“Why do you stall me, princess?” Lord Accel asked, “You’ve heard my report. The king has every right to know about yesterday’s events.”
“The king’s condition is no trivial matter. The information you’ve given me will worsen it, considering that-”
“Ah, I don’t have time for your games, princess! Step aside, unless you want me to inform the king about your treason.”
“You dishonor me, Lord Accel,” the princess replied, sighing, “your accusations might throw you behind bars once they reach the wrong ears.”
“Dishonor!” Lord Accel snapped. “You two,” the noble turned to his guards, “restrain the princess! Silence her screams. Signal the others once she escapes.”
Marie’s heart jumped as the guards started moving towards her. The taller one pointed his spear, while the shorter one brandished a small blade.
[[Continue|Chapter 6.2]]<center> <img src="https://static.wixstatic.com/media/b80a6b_fbbb7b00612f4160a719379baa9b7ff0~mv2.png" style="max-width: 100%"></center>
As the princess inched backward, the shorter guard rushed behind Lord Accel, slamming his knife-hand against his back. A squeal escaped her throat as she watched Lord Accel crumble before her, a loud thud echoed through the room.
The tall guard swung his spear in retaliation. The shorter guard ducked before planting his knife under his helmet. The tall guard froze until his legs gave way, crashing above his liege lord.
“Ah, what a workout!” a familiar voice echoed from the guard’s helmet. His fur ruffled as he removed his helmet. Marie sighed, relief and anger washing over her.
“Arlo!” the princess mouthed. “What’re you doing?!”
“Saving your butt, again!” Arlo chuckled, “Scared you, didn’t I? Oh, you should’ve seen your face when I-”
“You-You just—ugh!” Marie ground her teeth, pulling her bangs. “You could’ve just knocked him out! You didn’t have to-
“He left me no choice, Marie! He was about to hurt you!”
“I could’ve protected myself.”
“We’ve been looking after each other for years,” Arlo said. “I’m not stopping that now.”
[[Continue|Chapter 6.3]]
The princess circled Arlo, her hands rubbing her head, thoughts washing over her like water. //Signal the others once she escapes//. Lord Accel’s words rung through her ears, weighing on her chest. Arlo’s knife silenced the truth behind his command.
“C’mon! Don’t go pacing on me again!” Arlo said. “The situation called for it!”
“Do you have to use violence to solve everything?” the princess asked, “I could’ve negotiated, he needs me, after all.”
“Keep dreaming!” Arlo snapped, before calming down. “He’d rather fight you.”
//He’s run outta excuses//, Marie thought, narrowing her eyes. //How could I possibly cover this up? I might as well turn myself in!//
“He has everything to gain from a marriage pact,” Marie replied. “My father’s support, his son would become king consort under my rule. I, on the other hand, would’ve had access to the largest army in the kingdom.”
“You’re making unnecessary sacrifices,” Arlo said. “I can’t watch you suffer over this.”
“Stop making this about me, you just killed a lord!” the princess exclaimed, “That’s one hell of a big deal!”
“Yes,” Arlo replied, “and the fall out gives us enough time to prepare.”
“For what?”
Arlo paused. Marie couldn’t tell if he was excited or anxious. “The humans are coming,” he continued, “and tomorrow’s speech is the perfect opportunity to convince the people.”
“What, no!” Marie shook her head, “I won’t allow it.”
“The king will know, Marie. Chances are, he already does. Something’s just stopping him from flipping the city over its head. We must take advantage of that, erase all obstacles. Sometimes it’s better to set our feelings aside for the greater good.”
“Killing my father won’t change things!”
“Marie, change comes with fire and sword. That’s something the doctor knows but refuses to see.”
“You’re questioning my methods,” Marie chuckled, “I’m not surprised, we’ve been through this circle jerk many times, and you still won’t get it!”
“You should be queen, Marie. Do what has to be done, like you always do!”
“My father doesn’t deserve to die.”
<center> <img src="https://static.wixstatic.com/media/b80a6b_7bf496c398af4ebb9793282121f2f05d~mv2.png" style="max-width: 100%"></center>
“Neither does Sinkcity! Look around you, Marie. The capital, the landfill’s dying from human consumption. One day, the landfill’s mountains will topple into the city and bury us all. We’re running outta time! Ronnie left because he knows he doesn’t suit the chair. You do. Set your reservations aside, you brought me into this mess, and we have the responsibility to see through its end.”
“I’m not having this conversation again, Arlo.”
“Why can’t you lead the exodus? Why does it have to be Ronnie? He knows nothing of what we’ve been through. You were there, bringing everything together! Without you, Sinkcity would’ve crumpled under your father’s hands. The Sinkcitians need you, not some outsider.”
“Sinkcitians follow who they want to follow,” Marie turned, looking from the window, “send word to the doctor, tell him I’m coming to the base.”
“You will do no such thing, the slums are getting dangerous, and the capital’s swarming with danger. I’ll bring you to the base to ensure your safety.”
“I’m going there by myself,” Marie replied, snapping her fingers. She watched her handmaidens enter the throne room with shredded clothing.
“Nothing has happened here,” the princess whispered. The handmaidens nodded before wrapping the bodies in tattered clothing. She turned to Arlo before leaving the room.
“Suit yourself!” Arlo’s voice echoed through the hallway as she walked.
[[Continue|Chapter 7]]Ronnie dashed across the road. The prince felt his nails scratching the asphalt, his rucksack jangling behind him. It was a strange sensation, one the palace floor never offered him.
Within a few seconds, the prince reached the opposite side of the road. He turned to the sound of Tommy’s encouraging cheers. Marie clapped, while Arlo remained vigilant. The squire shifted his head from side to side, wary as always.
Ronnie yearned for the outside world since he'd read his uncle's books. His father disapproved of his dream, hoping to steer him into the path of kingship. Crossing the road disproved his words. Crossing the road proved it was possible for a rat to live his dream from force of will. Today, the prince felt powerful.
“I DID IT!” Ronnie yelled as loud as he can, his voice echoed with the wind. The prince raised his arms in victory. “Finally, I’m a true adventurer now!”
“I wanna be a true adventurer too!” Tommy yelled, “I’m next!”
“You’re not going without me, idiot!” the squire barked, wobbling from Tommy's movements. “You’re too slow! It's not safe for you to-"
Tommy raised his cane before striking the squire in the head. The two tumbled into the ground. The small rat scrambled for his cane before inching towards the road.
“Tommy!” Marie rushed towards her friend, “Tommy, you don’t have to do this. Arlo will get us there faster. If he’s being unfair with you, let me-”
“No,” Tommy rasped, pushing her away. “I’m tired of being a burden! I’ll prove y’all once and for all that I can do things by myself.”
[[Continue|Chapter 7.2]]<center> <img src="https://static.wixstatic.com/media/b80a6b_e0450396e1a74c8a81ba50e21d6fae57~mv2.png" style="max-width: 100%"></center>
“You can do it, Tommy!” Ronnie yelled from across the road. “Prove everyone wrong! Just keep your eyes on me!”
“Knock it off, Ronnie!” Marie yelled, “This is dangerous and you know it!”
Ronnie frowned, disappointment and anger flowing through him. Tommy has been overshadowed by everyone else far too long. He too deserves his moment of glory. Why can’t they understand that?
Tommy limped as fast as he could, his cane striking the road with every step. Before Marie could pull him back, Arlo stopped her with a whisper.
As Tommy reached the middle of the road, Ronnie felt the ground rumble. A shape darted from the distance, speeding towards Tommy. //A motorcycle!//
[[Continue|Chapter 7.3]]
Before Ronnie could reach him, Tommy lunged forward, avoiding the vehicle by a hair’s breadth. Tommy landed on his stomach, his cane clattered meters away from him. His glasses looked like a broken mirror.
“That’s it!” Arlo said, charging towards the road. “I’m bringing these idiots back!” Before the squire could even pass through, another motorcycle speeded before him. Arlo backed away with fear and frustration on his face.
“I won’t fall here! The journey’s…about to begin!” Tommy exclaimed, summoning all his strength to pull his body.
“Hurry up, you idiot!”
Ronnie rushed towards him, his mind and heart racing in uneven beats. The prince shifted from the cane to his best friend. Without sparing another thought, he stretched his arms toward him. Tommy swatted the hand off.
“I don’t need your help, Ronnie. I’ve relied on you far too long!”
“You already proven yourself!” Ronnie screamed, “C’mon, Tommy! We still have a lot of adventures to go, just let me help you!”
“Let me have this, Ronnie…” Tommy whimpered, “please, I’m begging you.”
“Ronnie!!!” Arlo screamed as he ran towards him. “Bring that pipsqueak back here!”
“I’m sorry, Tommy…”
Before Ronnie could even reach his crying friend, he turned to see another shape speeding towards them. It was larger, wider, different. The prince pulled Tommy towards him. The rat kicked and screamed as he dragged him in the road, the shape launching closer.
A strong breeze surged between the prince and Tommy, separating them. He landed on his rear, his fur feeling colder than it was. A sharp noise dug through his ears as he watched the shape disappear into the distance.
Ronnie couldn’t bear to look at Tommy, or what remained of him. Instead, he looked at his broken glasses. He turned to the opposite side of the road. His heart sank as he saw Arlo lifting Marie off the ground. He couldn’t forget the mix of pure rage and anger on his sister’s face, one he thought he’d never see directed at him.
“Welcome to reality, kid.”
[[Continue|Chapter 7.4]]
A familiar voice crossed his ears, one he wasn’t supposed to hear within this harrowing memory. The young rat turned. Ash stood behind him, chest studded with blood-coated spears. Ronnie stumbled to the ground, eyes widened.
“This is a dream!” Ronnie exclaimed. “Once I wake up, you’ll disappear forever.”
“Like your friend over there?” Ash chuckled, staring at the holes on his stomach. “Heh, look at the bright side! I could store a lot of things now!”
Tears started falling over Ronnie’s cheeks. He didn’t know what he was feeling. Was it anger, happiness? Ash, his mentor, his father-figure, his betrayer, is standing right in front of him.
"Leave me alone," the young rat barked. "You know what you did."
“Hey,” Ash backed away, winching from the wounds that killed him, “I was doing you a solid! You would’ve improved our lives as king. Mallow and I would've retired early! What choice did I have?”
"Shut up," Ronnie barked. "You weren't thinking about me nor Mallow! You've always fought for yourself. You knew the Wheelers were after us, that's what kept you from acting smart!"
"I had to drag you outside your shell kicking and screaming. You need to wake up, Ronnie! I've been playing house with you far too long, but you must realize that there are things that need fixing!"
“You’re not saying these things,” the young rat replied. “It’s my brain telling me what I wanted to hear.”
“Well, as your brain, you’ve wasted all that time moping about how things are. Have your way, then! Prepare to see a lot of innocent people die from your selfishness.”
“If you’re trying to discourage me, you’re outta luck. I’m done running away.”
Ash scoffed. The old smuggler pointed at the space behind him, to the spot where Tommy died. The young rat felt his heart race from the implication. He couldn't look at him, not with his blood on his hands.
“Then face him,” Ash ordered. "You can't grow if you're stuck here forever."
[[Continue|Chapter 7.5]]
Ronnie shivered, his breathing escalated. He tumbled to the floor, staring at Ash. The old smuggler stood over him wordless, fingers pointed.
The young rat shook his head. His chest felt like it was about to explode into tiny pieces. //I can’t//, he thought. //Don’t do this to me!// His mind spoke the words he couldn’t say.
“Face him!” Ash barked, inching towards him. His voice sounded venomous.
Ronnie turned away, shutting his eyes. He could feel a strange warmth engulfing him as he breathed. //Fire?// The young rat opened his eyes.
Tommy didn’t look like a smear on the road. He looked older, healthier, capable of standing by himself. “He’s gone now,” his friend spoke. “Let’s talk.”
[[Continue|Chapter 7.6]]
“You’re not real,” Ronnie replied. “We’re not talking!”
“Don’t be silly, Ronnie,” Tommy said, chuckling. “I’m talking to you now, idiot.”
“I killed you,” the young rat replied, "and I've hated myself since then.”
"Gosh, how pathetic!" Tommy groaned. "We were kids back then, eager to prove ourselves. You can't keep living within this moment. What happened to your adventurous self?"
"You're dead, Tommy!" Ronnie exclaimed. "I stole your future! Hate me, mock me, do something!"
"You're my best friend, Ronnie. I can't see you like this."
"I'm sorry..." the young rat buried his face in his friend's chest. He could feel warmth radiating through him. "I'm sorry, Tommy! Please forgive me! I missed you so much!"
“There’s nothing to forgive,” Tommy replied, embracing him. “Grow from your pain, my friend. Grow from your mistakes, whatever they are. Whenever something blocks your path, fight through it like you’ve never fought before.”
“How?” Ronnie asked.
“That’s something for you to figure out yourself." Tommy replied. "Say hi to Arlo and Marie for me.”
“Wait!”
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Ronnie jolted awake, pillow soaking in his tears, cold sweat dampening his fur. His arms reached toward the ceiling. His eyes shifted back and forth, only to find himself within Dr. Lebowski’s guest room. It was dark, though light jutted from outside the door, the sound of footsteps crossed his ears. Tears fell from his eyes.
“Get up,” Sunny said, nudging him with his paw, “the meeting's about to start.”
[[Continue|Chapter 7.7]]
The hall was massive, brimming with insurgence members. They were a diverse lot, an assortment of rats hardened from slum life, seeking change. Ronnie could hear the thirst from their screams, the fervor in their eyes. They were too occupied with their cheering to notice them as they entered.
"What a lively lot," Ronnie said. "Aren't meetings supposed to be formal?"
"Not with Arlo's gang, no," Sunny replied, sneering. "These meatheads love fighting too much, they'd bring the entire city down with them."
"Arlo?" he asked.
"Our so-called 'leader'," Sunny said. "While your sister's out there working in the shadows, Arlo takes all the notoriety."
//Arlo, you mean that Arlo?// The young rat thought. Looking back to his childhood, the squire loved doing things by the book. //What turned him to rebellion?//
“Arlo! Arlo! Arlo!” The rebels chanted in unison.
Ronnie’s stomach churned. When the cheers intensified, he turned to the door. A gray rat walked into the room, his spiky thimble helmet masking his face. //There are many rats named Arlo//, he thought, //it can't be him.//
Ronnie watched him climb on top of the makeshift table—a pile of sandwiched books melted to the floor. He stood tall, basking in the crowd's cheers. The rat removed his helmet as he approached the podium, revealing a familiar face. //No way!//
[[Continue|Chapter 7.8]]
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“I’m sure everyone has heard of the prince’s return,” Arlo started, his tone sounding solemn, indifferent. "But this is not the time to celebrate such victory. Despite our differences, the doctor told me distressing news. The humans are coming! Trucks are marching towards the landfill with their waste, and there’s no way of knowing when they’ll arrive. We don’t have much time left. But! I am not here to bring despair upon you. The exodus is upon us! This disaster serves as an opportunity to do what we should’ve done years ago!"
“Don’t be a fool, Arlo!” the doctor shouted from across the room. "You mean to demean our cause. We must focus our numbers to evacuate the people. Fighting will only bring unnecessary casualties! Haven’t Sinkcitians suffered enough?”
“We must destroy the system, along with the rats that enable it!” Arlo replied. The rebel turned to the crowd. “We can’t bring them with us when we leave!”
“The king ISN’T the system! Even his supporters have families, too. I'm sure you're aware of that!” Lebowski snapped, “Kill him and another will rise! This is a matter of life and death! That is enough reason for them to cooperate with us."
“There is only one way to prove the mettle of your words!” Arlo shouted. “It’s time to prove ourselves with the sword!”
The crowd boomed with cheers. The doctor’s supporters remained silent, disturbed by Arlo’s implication. Ronnie turned to Sunny, rage filling the cat's face.
“Be sensible, boy!” Lebowski raised his voice. “You know this wouldn’t be a fair fight! Why should we go over with these primitive rituals when you could kill me then and there!”
“There's no honor in that! Name a champion!” Arlo said. “Our rebels need a little entertainment in these dark times.”
“I’ll be his champion!” Sunny declared. Ronnie could see the rage burning in his eyes. “I’ll flatten you like the rest!”
“Only rats can duel rats!” an insurgence member corrected, with many clamoring in agreement. //Of course, Arlo wouldn’t allow the doctor to pick Sunny, not with everybody watching.//
“Screw your laws! We’re rebels, why should we follow them?!” Sunny snapped, “Come here! I’ll break your legs, runt!”
//I must do something.// Ronnie fought through the crowd. Without thinking, he stepped into the stage.
“I’ll do it.” Ronnie declared, “I’ll be the doctor’s champion.”
[[Continue|Chapter 7.9]]
"Who are you?" one of the rebels shouted. "Take this outsider off the stage!"
Arlo scoffed as if his intervention amused him. He remained silent, allowing the crowd to mock him some more. Ronnie sighed. He placed a hand over his neck, ruffling it hard enough to reveal his birthmark.
"The name's Ronnie Rocket, son of the man who ruined your lives!"
“Stay put, boy!” Lebowski pushed through the crowd, joining them. “I’m not letting you fight tonight! Not with those injuries!”
“I’ll be alright, Doc,” Ronnie cracked his knuckles. “Cheer for me.”
“Hang on, I’ll do something about this!” Lebowski yelled. The doctor jumped off the stage and disappeared into the crowd. Sunny followed.
“Look who’s back! It’s a relief you volunteered, Ronnie. After all, we don’t want more cowards in our ranks! The doctor’s already enough.”
“Arlo,” Ronnie called out. “It’s been awhile.”
“I’ve heard you fought Lord Wheeler and faced an entire army all by yourself,” Arlo said, wearing his helm. "You've learned how to fight small fry, congratulations."
“Tall tales!” The young rat corrected. "I would've died without Sunny and the others."
"I'm not surprised," Arlo said. "You're a runner, Ronnie. That's all you're good for."
“You're right, Arlo. I'm a runner, always have been,” Ronnie said, raising his fists. "But I'm done with that life. I'm tired of running."
“Sure, Ronnie,” Arlo scoffed, flexing his fingers, "dodge this!"
Arlo launched a fist toward him. Ronnie braved the blow and countered. His cheeks felt numb under his knuckles.
The rats jumped backward from the impact. Ronnie heard his toes skidding through the floor as he landed. He looked around, hoping to find anything he can use against his opponent.
Nothing.
Ronnie forced himself to his feet, fighting through the pain. Arlo wiped the blood off his cheek with the back of his hand, leaving a brown smear. The young rat ground his teeth as he breathed as hard as he could.
Ronnie lunged forward, and jabbed again and again. He could feel his shoulders pop, his stitches reopening. Arlo danced around him, dodging his attack.
"Who are you fighting, Ronnie?" Arlo shouted, drawing his knife. "Stop punching the air! Hit me, coward! Are you fighting Tommy or what?”
[["How dare you!"|C7C1]]
[["Nice try, he's couching me right now!"|C7C2]]
“How dare you!”
Ronnie tightened his fists before swinging them again. Arlo dodged. The rebel clung to his knife, eyes tracking his movements.
//I’ll wear you down!// the young rat thought, grinding his teeth. //I’ll wear you down and make you pay!//
Arlo swung his leg deep into Ronnie’s belly. Within a split-second, pain overwhelmed him. The sensation felt sharp, like being stabbed by a sword.
[[Summon all your strength and punch his face!|C7C1.1]]
[[Tackle him!|C7C1.2]]
[[Grabe the knife!|C7C1.3]]
“Nice try, he’s coaching me right now!”
“Good one,” Arlo said, smirking. The knife twirled in his hands. “Wit alone isn’t enough to rule Sinkcity.”
[["Right," Ronnie replied. "Can't fight without your toy?"|C7C2.1]]
[["Quit yapping, come here!"|C7C2.2]]Fighting through the sensation, the young rat jabbed again, sending his fist toward the rebel’s face. Arlo blocked with his arms, fracturing his blow. Ronnie fell to the ground, watching the knife twirl in the rebel’s hand.
"Your movements are sloppy!" Arlo exclaimed, pointing the knife towards him. "I almost pity you. Yield, or sleep forever."
[[Yield|C7C1.1.1]]
[[Tackle him!|C7C1.1.2]]
Ronnie lunged towards Arlo, grabbing him by the wrists, twisting his knife-hand. The two wrestled, dragging their feet in the ground. The young rat charged amid the struggle, pushing the rebel into the ground, disarming him.
[[Continue|Chapter 7.10]]Ronnie grabbed the knife. He turned to find Arlo on his feet, smiling.
“You fight dirty!” the rebel exclaimed, laughing. “You truly are a smuggler, learning through violence! Scumbags like you are born from corruption. You aren’t fit to rule Sinkcity!”
Rage stirred within the young rat. Ronnie rushed towards Arlo, knife raised. His arms slithered into empty space, barely grazing his opponent.
Arlo grappled his arm, before slamming him into the floor. His injuries flared, burning from the impact. Ronnie loosened his grip on the knife, watching the weapon clatter next to him. The young rat stretched his arm, hoping to retrieve it.
Arlo kicked the knife, before sending him a flurry of punches. Ronnie could feel the energy leaving his body. His ears rang from each blow, the lights above him glowing brighter.
[[Continue|Chapter 7.10]]"I yield," Ronnie said, raising his arms. The young rat ground his teeth as he tried clenching his fists. His fingers trembled as they parted. They wouldn't fold.
"This is our future king, everybody! A coward who doesn't know how to fight," Arlo said, facing the crowd. Thundering applause echoed throughout the hall, lights flashing for his victory.
"I don't wanna be king," Ronnie snapped, "but even I know this is a waste of time! This doesn't change the fact that the doctor's right!"
[[Continue|Chapter 7.10]]
Ronnie lunged towards Arlo, grabbing him by the wrists, twisting his knife-hand. The two wrestled, dragging their feet in the ground. The young rat charged amid the struggle, pushing the rebel into the ground, disarming him.
[[Continue|Chapter 7.10]]Arlo stabbed, the blade's tip whistling in his hand. Ronnie raised his arms in defense. The young rat jumped back, arms shielding his chest. The crowd goes wild.
//“…fight through it like you’ve never fought before!”// Tommy’s words echoed in his mind. Ronnie braved through Arlo's barrage, pushing his arm upward. Seeing his opportunity, he grappled. The two rats slammed against each other, steel to fur.
Amidst the struggle, Arlo roared, countering with a headbutt. Seeing stars, Ronnie winded his opponent's arm, pinning him to the floor. The rebel struggled under the stranglehold, seeking to break free. The cheers slowly died down.
Ronnie's forehead felt damp and numb, but he didn’t care. His heart throbbed with his wounds. "Give up, Arlo!" he shouted, "you lost!"
"Aye!" Arlo barked. “Think you can lead these bastards to their deaths? Prove your resolve. Kill me now!"
"I hate myself for what I've done," Ronnie replied, "but I can't change the past. You may run from your pain, Arlo, but I’m facing it head on!"
[[Continue|Chapter 7.10]]Ronnie stood his ground, ready to receive his strikes. With his injuries flaring, the young rat couldn’t afford to be aggressive. He remembered how Tommy fought his bullies by falling right in front of them.
//“If you think you’re gonna lose, just fall on your back. They wouldn’t know how to respond.”//
As Arlo charged, Ronnie fell on his back. The rebel’s feet skidded through the floor, looking over him in confusion. Now!
The young rat kicked Arlo between the legs, causing the rebel to topple. The rebel grunted and heaved under Ronnie’s shadow. The crowd grew silent.
"Give up, Arlo!" he shouted, "you lost!"
"Aye!" Arlo barked. “Think you can lead these bastards to their deaths? Prove your resolve. Kill me now!"
"I hate myself for what I've done," Ronnie replied, "but I can't change the past. You may run from your pain, Arlo, but I’m facing it head on!"
[[Continue|Chapter 7.10]]
“What the hell’s this?!” a familiar voice shouted from beyond the crowd. He turned to see a white rat standing by the edge of the hall. Even with the mantle, Ronnie could recognize those colored bangs a mile away. //Marie?//
The doctor stood next to his sister, Sunny behind both, the cat’s hisses parting the now well-behaved crowd.
“This is a conference room, not a fighting pit!” Marie barked.
“Marie, I can explain,” Arlo whimpered, “they needed a sign!”
“A sign? For what, your incompetence?” Marie snapped, kicking his helmet. “As regent, I’m revoking this duel!”
//As rowdy as ever//, Ronnie thought. He noticed his jaw loosen while his eyes watered. Summoning every ounce of his strength, the smuggler spoke.
“Marie?”
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Without sparing another word, Marie rushed towards him. Ronnie followed, his mind spinning from all the possible ways she could hurt him again. His fur looked battered and bruised, far from the pristine white he once wore with pride. Instead, he found himself wrapped in his sister’s embrace. The guilt, grief, anger, everything else just washed away. With tears running from his eyes, Ronnie was finally home.
“Welcome back,” Marie whispered, smiling.
“Fetch me the first-aid kits!” Lebowski bellowed, rushing towards him, “we can’t evacuate everyone with two men down!”
“So,” Ronnie started, “the doctor told you.”
“Yeah,” Marie replied, “luckily, I made new friends.”
“You think we can make it?”
“Yes,” she nodded, “if we can avoid combat during the festivities...”
Marie gritted her teeth, before turning to the crowd filled with insurgence members.
“The king’s on to us.”
[[Continue|Chapter 8]]"I speak the truth!" the king replied. "You resisted my summons, and you rise in defense of your sister. You're either a rebel or a fool."
"You brought an entire army upon me," Ronnie said, "you got my friends killed."
"You broke the law!" the king barked, loud enough for the crowd's ears. "As your father, it is my responsibility to bring my disobedient son to justice."
"By what, leaving this sinkhole?" Ronnie snapped. "Try walking around your precious city, father. Sinkcitians can't grow their own food and breathe fresh air!” he continued. "With all this suffering happening under your nose, stop lying to them before sending them to war!"
"How dare you!" the king screamed. "Stop acting like you never abandoned them, coward!"
"You forced that on me, pops!" Ronnie replied. "I never asked to be your son!"
The young rat faced the crowd, their flags lowered along with their clamoring. The guards turned their attention towards him, waiting for his father's signal. With everyone's eyes on Ronnie, he knew this was his time to speak.
“Open your eyes, everyone!" Ronnie said. "If you won't leave, you're all gonna die!"
"Witness this traitor and his lies!" the king bellowed, his voice boomed like thunder. "He threatens us with promises of doom! He must be working for the rebels!"
"The humans are coming," Ronnie said, "I've seen trucks by the bridge, carrying trash large enough to destroy the city! Now’s not the time to look for ‘the enemy’. We’re all victims here, even you, father. That shiny crown won’t change that."
"You’ve gone mad! Mad, I say!" The king retreated before summoning his guards. “Seize this lunatic before he destroys himself!”
Ronnie stood his ground as they swarmed around him. They rushed toward the young rat, pinning him to the ground. He turned to his father, watching the sadness and horror in his eyes.
[[Continue|Chapter 8.2]]
“He tells the truth!”
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Ronnie looked up to find Lebowski on Sunny’s back. The giant cat jumped from the castle roof onto the stage. The guards readied their spears, shifting their attention to the colossal threat.
“You dare interrupt my speech with your conspiracies?” the king asked, fingers pointed.
“Conspiracies?” the doctor scoffed, jumping over the guards, landing next to the podium.
“Look around you, sire!” Lebowski continued, “the people have every reason to leave, they’re just not allowed to.”
The doctor turned to the murmuring crowd. “You call this peace?” he asked, his voice echoing through whispers. “Do you feel this peace in your bones, in your bellies? Tell me!”
“Our houses, our monuments, our tunnel system! Everything that makes us ‘great’ comes from human consumption! They call us ‘the mirthless!’ When was the last time we breathed fresh air and ate fresh food? Our children are born with plastic shards stuck in their bellies, but does this have to be this way? We’re not settling for less, we’ve settled for worse!”
“You don’t speak for us!” The crowd started hollering, throwing trash into the stage. Ronnie’s blood boiled at the sight, but he couldn’t blame them. Lebowski’s asking Sinkcitians to leave the city that named them. Sinkcity’s all they’ve known.
“You might be content with your lives, but this is a matter of life and death! Once the humans arrive, we can’t promise your survival. The princess has arranged housecats to evacuate everyone off the landfill. We don’t have much time! Leave everything else behind, and come with us.”
“Your words pass deaf and defiant ears, ‘doctor’,” the king said. “We are united under Sinkcity’s walls! You undermine our resilience in the face of nature’s unpredictability. We deserve your praise!”
“Hah, stagnation under the pretense of this peace?” the doctor replied. “Where is your dignity?”
“Seize him!” the king shouted.
Sunny hissed at the shaking guards, baring his teeth. Ronnie fought beneath the guards, hoping to help the cat save his father. The doctor kissed Sunny on the forehead, before raising both his arms.
“Wait!” Sunny yelled. “What’re you doing?!”
“Sunny, " Lebowski called out to his son. "Live a good, meaningful life. Promise me that.”
“Let him go!” Ronnie barked, grinding his teeth.
The king furrowed his brows, before shifting to the guards. The young rat turned to find the crowd scattering. The guards presented the bound doctor to the king.
Despite his predicament, Lebowski looked calm. The doctor stared at the king with his piercing green eyes.
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“We found this ring stuck to his tail,” one guard spoke, walking towards the king. “There's no doubt about it, sire. He's a member of the insurgence.”
“Impossible!” the king exclaimed as he backed away. "Hand me that ring!"
The silver ring shined in the king’s fingers, making it hard for Ronnie to tell what startled his father. He wasn’t used to seeing him scared, or expressing emotions apart from anger. Within a few seconds, the king started shivering.
“R-Rocco?”
//What the-//
[[Continue|Chapter 8.4]]
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Before Ronnie could even process what he’s seeing, the guard pinning him down rushed towards the king, plunging his spear through his chest. His gem-studded crown toppled from his head, into the crowd. The king crumpled to the ground, eyes widened. The guards surrounding him stood still, watching the old rat kneeling on the stage.
The guard who brought the ring turned to Lebowski with a knife, before freeing him from his binds. The doctor’s eyes remained widened with shock as he fell to the floor. //Nothing about this is sane//, Ronnie thought.
“Why?” the king mouthed, tears running from his eyes. "Why now?”
“Remember me? “Arlo asked, removing his helmet. “This is for my father!”
Arlo faced his men, retrieving his spear from the king’s chest. His father fell with a loud thud. The crowd screamed in terror, gasps trailing more hushed whispers.
“Rats of Sinkcity!” the rebel leader yelled to the crowd, “You are now free!”
“Forget the prince,” a guard yelled to his comrades, “we must avenge the king!”
Ronnie sat motionless as the guards charged towards Arlo and his rats. Their footsteps rumbled through his ears. The young rat stared at his father’s body. The tears running from his eyes confused him.
//Farewell, father.//
Arlo swung his spear, flinging guards left and right. Ronnie turned to see Lebowski lost within the chaos. The rat forced himself to his feet. //Lebowski and Sunny!// the young rat thought, //I must save them!//
Within a split-second, the ground quaked. Ronnie looked up, finding the sky darkening once more.
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Distant beeping and crashing echoed from the distance, overwhelmed by screams. He turned, watching the west wall crash into the districts. There were rats there, both old and young, now buried in rubble.
Ronnie's heart thundered from sound. Smog entered his nostrils again, but they smelled different from the misty slum's. They were fresh, straight from the boiling engines wafting around the city. The trucks arrived, looming over the city like monoliths of death.
“Doc!” Ronnie screamed, fighting through the guards. “Get up!”
His heart thundered with the truck’s noise as he reached the doctor. Lebowski sat below Sunny, who was busy shielding him from the conflict. His breathing was labored, his brows were scrunched and folded.
“The trucks are here,” Ronnie said. “They’ve surrounded the city. We must go for the gates.”
Lebowski groaned, rubbing his forehead. “My boy,” the doctor mumbled between his breathing, “lead the charge. My head’s about to explode!”
“What?” Ronnie asked. “No way, I can’t do this without you!”
“Just do it!” Sunny snapped. “We don’t have much time!”
The two climbed on Sunny’s back before taking off. Lebowski laid still within Sunny’s bag, while Ronnie looked over to the scattering crowd. The trucks stood motionless.
“If you want to live,” Ronnie screamed, “hop on!”
The Sinkcitians clawed through Sunny’s fur as they climbed on top of him. Within a few seconds, his bag was overloaded with passengers. As he noticed the cat struggling to stand from the weight, Ronnie turned to the doctor. More rats started swarming around him, begging to hop on.
“Start running!” Ronnie said. “He couldn’t handle more of you!”
“This is nothing!” Sunny answered, “but I can’t carry everyone!”
“Everyone, the princess is on her way by now!” Ronnie announced, “more cats are coming to transport you safely outside the landfill!”
“Sir, please!” A woman’s voice made them turn. “Please take my son with you!”
The mother raised the boy in her arms, a scrawny rat holding a cane. Ronnie saw the other mothers following suit, holding their own children. Families started screaming, kneeling for their loved ones to be saved. //If this keeps up, we’re gonna get crushed.//
“We’re not leaving anyone!” Ronnie replied, “O-Other house cats are on their way, everyone, stay calm!”
[[Continue|Chapter 8.6]]
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The walls rumbled again. This time, the east wall fell. A thick cloud of dust rushed over them, flinging some rats off their feet, launching them into walls and houses. A cacophony of coughing and screaming ensued. Ronnie climbed on top of the bag, standing above the swarming crowd.
“Run now!” he screamed. He felt his throat tighten from their frustrated, scared voices. Fear started overwhelming him, but he had to speak.
“We don’t have much time!” Ronnie insisted, “Run to the gates, now!”
“They’ll meet you halfway!” Lebowski shouted, peering from the bag, along with many others, “We’re all gonna die waiting!”
The trucks started to unload. Mountains of waste tumbled off the unfeeling machines, bleeding into Sinkcity. Clothes, both fresh and tattered, flew in the air. Plastics, metals and other non-perishable debris rained over houses and buildings, flattening them. The castle’s highest tower snapped from the impact, crushing the stage below. The machines roared, their pipes jutting out smog as they continued their destruction.
"The end is nigh!" one of the rats screamed. "Run for your lives!"
Upon hearing this, the rats dispersed. Children clung to the backs of their parents. The nimbler rats carried the elderly, while the feeble remained crying on the ground.
“Please, sir!" a voice begged between the screams. It was the mother from before. "He can’t walk! The smoke will kill him!”
Ronnie’s feet wobbled. //The bag's full, he thought. Am I really going to leave these strangers to die? No!// The young rat ground his teeth before jumping off Sunny. //I’m saving everyone!//
“Ronnie, what are you doing?” Lebowski called out. “Your injuries!”
“I’ll be fine, doc,” Ronnie replied, hoisting the boy into the bag, along with his mother. “Tell my sister to look for me.”
“Don’t die on us now,” Sunny said, forcing himself to his feet. “See you at the gate.”
“Yeah,” Ronnie nodded, watching the cat disappear into the smoke.
Rumbling crossed his ears. The young rat watched the walls tumble around him, summoning waves of dust clouds. He braved through the gust, digging his toenails into the ground, shielding his face with his arms.
When the gust subsided, another explosion echoed in the distance. Within a few seconds, Sinkcity was now a burning wasteland. The slum’s incinerators exploded from the waste, painting the city orange. The flames ate through the waste, houses, buildings, and other rats. The castle, his childhood home, turned into a monolith of waste and fire.
//There has to be somebody that needs help//, Ronnie thought. As the world burned around him, his legs started to itch. He had to start somewhere, but where?
[[The Mirthless|C8C1]]
[[The Slums|C8C2]]
The young rat traversed through The Mirthless, scanning for other rats to save. Smoke filled his nostrils as he passed through nothing but burning houses. Amidst his terror, relief also washed over him. //Marie must’ve got to them already//, he thought.
“Somebody help me, please!” a voice screamed.
"Stay where you are!" Ronnie replied, ears twitching. The young rat scampered through the alleyways, his heart racing with his feet. The scent of burnt fur wafted around him.
The voice's screams grew louder as he reached the same street Lebowski took him. It was the mother from yesterday. The young rat found her half-buried within rubble, cradling her baby. All he could hear aside from creaking steel and the crackling flames was her sobbing.
“Sir, please save my baby!”
The mother scrambled within the bricks, stretching as hard as she could. The baby remained silent in her hands, eyes closed shut. //She can’t even walk//, he thought. //They didn't even try saving her?//
“Hang on!” Ronnie said, rushing to free her. "I'll save you both. Trust me with this!"
The young rat grunted and heaved, focusing all his strength into his arms. Despite his efforts, the rubble refused to give way. "You're not dying yet!" he screamed, "not today!"
"I'm already dead, sir," she replied, the light fading from her eyes. "Take Neela with you. She still has so much to see!"
"The girl needs her mother! I'm not taking that away from her."
The ground quaked again, enough to send the burning houses topping into mounds of rubble. More trucks are arriving to dampen the flames.
"Go now!"
Ronnie nodded, before taking the baby into his arms. The young rat ran throughout the maze, hoping to bring Neela to safety. His chest tightened at the fact that he couldn't save them both.
[[Continue|C8C1.1]]
The slums burned bright, conjuring various scents. Ronnie couldn't get the scent of burnt fur off his nose. The squatters around him laid flat on the ground, caked in waste and fire.
The other rats went in droves, scrambling to reach the gate, leaving what little they had behind. The cat warriors raced along with them, survivors resting on their backs.
Relief washed over Ronnie. All this time, he thought the cat warriors betrayed his sister's trust by taking their sweet time. //They must've emptied the city by now. But they were too late, he thought.//
Ronnie stared at the ruins before him, tears running through his eyes. For the first time in his life, the young rat wished he was king. //If I never ran away, things might've gone different.//
Something shuffled within the flames, heading towards him. Ronnie jumped back as the figure emerged, tumbling into the street before him. The rat wheezed, coated in scars and bruises.
"Arlo?"
The rebel groaned, struggling to stand up. Back at the bazaar, he completely blocked him off his mind, along with his father's death. Once everything slowed down, the rage within him started surfacing.
Arlo started coughing. His throat whistled, his wounds opened and closed the more he breathed. He's a goner, Ronnie thought. I could leave him here and no one will notice.
"Wait…" Arlo mumbled.
"I have nothing to say to you," Ronnie replied. "I loved my father once, but my sister still does. I'm only doing this for the time you've given us and nothing more."
The young rat carried the rebel in his back, before disappearing into the smog and waste. //It's better this way//, he thought. //Did you get the peace you were waiting for, Arlo?//
[[Continue|C8C2.1]]
Neela rested on his chest, barely breathing. Ronnie ran toward the gate, hoping to find his sister. //The kid’s gonna lose it//, he thought. //Not on my watch!//
“Ronnie!” Marie’s voice echoed within the smoke. Legions of cat warriors scrambled past him, rushing to save the survivors. //Was there something in the smoke that made him see things?// The young rat raised his neck, meeting glowing, yellow eyes.
“It’s you!” Ronnie said.
“We meet again, youngster,” Sam greeted. “Your sister’s been worried sick.”
“Hop on,” Marie said, “no time for chit-chat, hurry up!”
“Hold her for me!” Ronnie said, raising Neela.
The baby shifted in Marie’s arms as she took her. The young rat jumped, slipping into the saddle behind her.
“Everyone set?” Sam asked. “I won’t stop once I go.”
“Not yet,” Marie replied, passing Neela back to Ronnie’s arms.
“Did you find anyone?” Ronnie asked.
“We tried,” Marie hissed, “we were too late. Did you bring father?”
Ronnie remained silent. “The trucks took him,” he said, guilt washing over him. //She can’t know.//
Marie nodded, fighting the tears running down her face. “He was suffering, Ronnie,” she whimpered. “I could see it in his eyes…”
His sister paused. She craned her neck through the smoking path, scouring for survivors. Nothing.
“Where’s Arlo, any sign of him?”
“He’ll come around,” the young rat said. “He always does.”
“He better,” Marie said. “I hope he does…”
“I shouldn’t have left you,” Ronnie said.
“You were young,” Marie replied, “we didn’t know any better.”
“I still have nightmares about that day,” Ronnie said, “maybe if I saved as much rats as I can, I might be forgiven.”
“I forgive you.”
Fire tailed the siblings as Sam crossed the city gates. Danger still stretched beyond the capital. More trucks crossed the terrain, burying more strongholds in their wake, clouding the sky with their smoke. Ronnie looked ahead, finding Sunny and the other cat warriors running, survivors clinging to their backs.
“Where are we going next?” Ronnie asked his sister, “the city’s no different.”
“Somewhere,” Marie replied, “Somewhere where it doesn’t reach us.”
“Is that even possible?”
“No,” she said, “the waste will reach us one way or another. When that day comes, we’ll run. We’ll live among the scraps again. We can thrive, for a time. But what about the humans? Once the waste covers the world, where will they go?”
“Our lives are too short to find out,” Ronnie replied, glancing at Neela. “Maybe the young can change things.”
[[Continue|Chapter 8.7]]Ronnie dragged his feet as he inched toward the gate. Arlo’s breathing tickled his ears, his presence weighed him down. The young rat couldn’t understand what he’s whispering about, but he can tell he was close to fainting.
//If I fall now, he dies//, Ronnie thought, forcing his feet to move. //Oh, Marie. Find me already!//
“Ronnie!” Marie’s voice echoed within the smoke. He could make out the silhouette of more cat warriors scrambling to save the survivors. Was there something in the smoke that made him see things? He raised his neck, meeting glowing, yellow eyes. Arlo stirred from the sound of her voice.
“We meet again, youngster,” Sam greeted. “Did you find what you’ve been looking for?”
“Aye,” Ronnie replied, before turning to his sister. He could read the horror in her eyes.
“Time’s a-wasting,” Sam said. “I’ll try my best to get y’all to safety faster.”
“Hop on, both of you,” Marie said. “Hurry!”
“I’m losing him,” Ronnie replied. “If I move, Arlo’s gonna- “
Marie shook her head before rushing towards him. The shock and confusion on her face was enough to keep his mouth shut. //She’s suffered enough already.//
“You idiot!” Marie snapped as she cried. Arlo responded with incoherent mumblings. Ronnie could feel the rebel’s wounds pulsing from his back.
“I’m sorry…Marie…” Arlo whispered, caressing Marie’s cheek. “I should’ve…focused on what’s in front of me…”
“Hang on,” Marie said, holding his hand. “The doctor will patch you up, he’ll—”
Ronnie turned away. His grip on Arlo loosened as he grew heavier and heavier. The rebel slipped into the ground, lifeless.
“Wake up, you idiot!” Marie screamed, pounding on his chest. Ronnie rushed towards his sister, wrapping her in his arms.
“Let’s go,” Ronnie said, “there’s no time to mourn.”
Fire tailed the siblings as they crossed the city gates. Danger still stretched from outside the city. More trucks crossed the terrain, burying more strongholds in their wake, clouding the sky with their smoke. Ronnie looked ahead, finding Sunny and the other cats running with survivors clinging to their backs.
“Where are we going next?” Ronnie asked his sister, “the city’s no different.”
“Somewhere,” Marie replied. “Somewhere where it doesn’t reach us.”
“Is that even possible?”
“No,” she said, “the waste will reach us one way or another. When that day comes, we’ll run. We’ll live among the scraps again. We can thrive, for a time. But what about the humans? Once the waste covers the world, where will they go?”
“I don’t know.”
[[Continue|Chapter 8.7]]<div id="titles">
''Epilogue''
</div>
Greg jumped off his truck, wincing from the landfill’s scent. The trucker wiped the sweat off his face with a towel. Mountains of colorful trash greeted his vision. A small fire glowed from the distance, filling his nose with smoke.
“Good work today, Greg!” a familiar voice called out to him, “what’s with that weird fire, huh? It came outta nowhere!”
Jeremy stood next to him. The bright-eyed newbie leaned against his truck, hands buried deep into his pockets.
“Something on your mind?” Greg asked. The lad always had much to say. This time, he’s gone rather silent—somber, even.
“Say, why’re we throwing so much clothes?” Jeremy asked. “They look fresh, new.”
“Trash doesn’t have to stink, boy,” Greg replied, “they either take up too much space or lose value to companies. Differs from person to person, you know. Otherwise, we’d all be hoarders. Hey, as long as it keeps us paid.”
“Right,” Jeremy nodded. “If that’s the case…”
The newbie walked towards the pink t-shirt lying on the ground.
“You won’t mind me taking this for Anne, right?”
“Sure,” Greg nodded. “But you’re giving your sister trash! Apparel shops nowadays sells those for cheap, you know. They’re brand new too!”
<center> <img src="https://static.wixstatic.com/media/b80a6b_e25db6b86dfc4e36bfc08086774343cf~mv2.png" style="max-width: 100%"></center>
Jeremy laughed, stretching the shirt as he sat down. “What’re you talking about, Greg? This is brand new, free to boot! Besides, we don’t have much. She’ll appreciate it!”
“Suit yourself!” Greg replied. “Good luck cleaning the crap outta that one! And don’t come running back to me after hurting her feelings!”
[[END|Thank You]]<div id="titles">
''Credits to the Sentaq Team''</div>
<center>
Story written by Kenjiro Mitsui
Story produced/edited by Mei Mitsui
Interactive fiction developement by Mei Mitsui
Illustrations made by Mei Mitsui and Sabrina Tamayo
Promotion and marketing by Codey Silong and Tsenguunbileg Naranpurev</center>
<div id="titles">
''An Afterword from the Author''
</div>
This is my first novella and the most I've ever written. Sinkcity was what got me out of my 2-year writer's block, a personal achievement. Unfortunately, my perfectionism keeps me from patting myself in the back. After all, there's still so much to say.
Sinkcity happened from reading fantasy and sci-fi novels with heavy political themes. These stories feature larger than life characters who are powerless beside indifferent forces. I wanted to incorporate that recurring theme with rats and overconsumption. While it's hard for us to sympathize with rats, we can't tell when we'll have to deal with what they've experienced. Once that happens, where will we go?
We hold more power than we know. While we can't change things overnight, we can start working on ourselves. Keep that shirt, wear whatever you wore last week. Our decisions have bearing in the fate of our planet, and that's because we're so many.
//- Kenjiro Mitsui//
<div id="titles">
''A Message from the Project Leader''
</div>
For as long as I can remember, I've consumed nursery rhymes, storybooks, and movies. Looking back, they have introduced me to the world beyond my tiny space. The Pixar film Wall-E, for one, made me envision a time when the Earth becomes uninhabitable. An uncomfortable topic to even think about.
Stories have the power to tackle heavy topics while delivering a message. I wanted to do the same, even if on a smaller scale.
The unfortunate fate of Sinkcity introduced a predicament no human dreams of experiencing. Yet, as we envision the worst, we fight for change. In the case of fast fashion, we have the collective might, as consumers, to end it. Behavioral change and ethical business practices are within our reach.
But first, let's start by asking the question, what is trash? Does a value of an item drop if it's subjectively unwanted by one person? What is fashion? Does a value of a fashion item drop based on fleeting trends?
All in all, I enjoyed working and being part of this project. I hope the story was just as meaningful for you. Whoever and wherever you are, thank you for your time!
//- Mei Mitsui//
[[See credits!|CREDITS]]