Not too far from Runaway Office, several blocks away, was a river that ran through the District. The river, cold, polluted with rot and corpses, and possibly housing all kinds of hostile fauna, served as a barricade of sorts. On one side of the river was the Backstreets, on the other side was the Nest; strangely, the beach on the Nest’s side was quite popular with residents who treated the place like a horror movie: ‘Pay to come see the horrors of District 23’s Backstreets’ and ‘Look at those sorry fools, fighting for survival on the other side of the river’ were popular advertisements. Even if one was strong willed and durable enough to survive the long swim across the river, they would immediately be hunted down by the security or fried by drones on the way there.

  On the coast of the Backstreet’s side, was a small little wooden shack. The sign in front of the shack had nothing but a crude drawing of a teddy bear, scowling at the viewer. This was where the Butcher turned Fixer Oliver lived. Her home consisted of just two rooms; her bedroom where she housed a collection of teddy bears, and her kitchen where she cooked. Speaking of cooking, at the moment, the girl stood over a large glass bowl. She had surprise guests over, ones who were standing in front of her house when she made it here, and she didn’t want to disappoint; as a matter of fact, she couldn’t turn them away, she was in no position to say no. Despite their sudden appearance, however, they were at least courteous enough to provide the ingredients for the meal.

  Oliver, dressed in just a spaghetti strap top and a pair of shorts, her work uniform and mask in the other room, got started on the recipe. Her expression was of complete focus. First step: Cut the onion and the fat back provided to her. She grunted in annoyance as she cut; someone stole her whetstone recently and her knife was in dire need of being sharpened, not to mention her eyes were watering from the onion. She tossed the ingredients into a bowl. Wiping the tears from her eyes, she moved on to the next ingredient: Cereal, specifically a small jar full of barley that she tossed on top of the prior items. A bunch of simple grains to act as a binding agent. Then came the last ingredient; a jar full of blood. From the lack of coagulation around the sides of the jar and how warm it was, it must’ve been freshly extracted. Pouring the blood into a bowl, she mixed the ingredients together with her hands, making a gross sloshing noise; her guests conversed among themselves, while she worked in silence. Working with the Office, she realized she didn’t mind the background noise when cooking, she was incapable of being distracted. “Ah…” She almost forgot an important ingredient. She grabbed the small jar of spices and poured it in and continued mixing. The bowl smelled a very savory brick of metal. “Almost done.” She said, as she grabbed a length of sausage casing; out of all the ingredients, this was the only one provided by herself. She made sure to keep plenty casing around, as this was her favorite meal.

  Stuffing the bloody mixture into the casing via a funnel, she tied them up. That’s right, she was making some old fashioned, District 23 Style Black Pudding. With the most tedious part done, she tossed the freshly made sausage into a boiling pot of water. Thanks to the ‘T Corp Issue’ pot provided by the third man, someone Oliver wasn’t familiar with, the sausages would be done in just a few minutes. Licking her hand, she looked at her guests. “So, Arty? What’s his deal?”

  “Ah, right, when this suit came to us asking for recommendations for where to get some of District 23’s cuisine, it was me who recommended you. I still remember that meal from weeks back… Tongue tacos, was it?” Said the man referred to as Arty. He was a large, top heavy man. The left half of his face was covered by a transparent plastic covering, showing off the muscle fibers of his face and the details of his teeth. He left his jacket open, showing his bare chest; his ribs were covered by the same transparent plate, showing off bone and organ. District 23’s residents always found a way to make their fashion statements more and more fucked up. Like being a walking gore image was some sort of contest. “Hope the blood’s good, it was harvested just this morning. The back fat was in my freezer for a while… Might as well use it, eh?”

  “I thought he was lost! Just a baby bird who fell out of his Nest!” The second man said. Oliver wasn’t sure if it was his real name, but he went by Babe. He dressed far more extravagantly, almost surreal. A metal mask covered his face, with a large smile drawn on the mouth, the mask’s eyes were displayed as a spade and a heart. His outfit consisted of a purple argyle onesie and a belt; the only part of his body that was visible was the back of his head, which was covered in short black hair. “Hoi hoi! Don’t discount my contribution! Can’t make blood sausage without the binding! It took me forever to find a fresh onion! But the last time you made it, hoi, it was worth it.”

  Oliver looked into the boiling pot, shocked to see that the sausages were already finished. With a pair of tongs, she retrieved them. Despite wanting to take a bite, she quickly moved them to an ice bath. “It’s black pudding.” She said, correcting Babe.

  “Is there a difference?” Asked Arty.

  “Black pudding is blood sausage. But not all blood sausage is black pudding.” As she went through her cabinet, looking for her skillet; due to her below average height, she kept a stool around to reach the higher shelves. She quickly worried that someone might’ve stolen it as well, but she quickly found it. Moving the pot aside, she placed the skillet where it was.

  “Let me be more specific. What’s the difference, Miss Chef?” Arty groaned, rubbing the transparent side of his face. But, instead of Oliver, his answer was instead answered by the fourth person in the room.

  “Um… Black pudding uses onion and barley in it, while blood sausage uses something else? Is that right…? Did I get it right? I think black pudding is a popular staple of District 20’s breakfast.” He was a tall man in a white shirt with thin black stripes, wearing a bowler hat. His wispy white hair flowed down to his shoulders. His smooth skin, his clean formal appearance. He might as well go to the nearest street corner and scream ‘I’m from the Nest and have a ton of money on me, please rob me.’ Fortunately for him, some of the residents of District 23 had their own way of showing hospitality; if you have a stomach for what that hospitality entails.

  Oliver stared at him, then nodded. He definitely wasn’t from these parts. Actually, it was a miracle that he even survived in the Backstreets; here she was wondering why Arty or Babe didn’t kill him and pawn that suit and hat off. So, she looked to the other two, “Where did you find him?”

  “He was on the street corner!” Babe shouted. “We thought he was an easy target, but he had a bunch of money and paid us to be his body guards. We might be butchers and killers, but never say that we don’t show hospitality to newcomers.”

  “Ah shucks!” The sharp dressed man said, “

  “Hm,” Oliver nodded, as she put the sausages up, tossing them on the skillet. Some would be eaten just as sausages, others would be eaten as slices. “So you know what type of blood this is. Right?” She looked to the man, who was smiling so innocently.

  “I mean, yeah. I wouldn’t come here if I didn’t.” The man said, “I’m Gemini, by the way.”

  “Gemini,” Oliver nodded. Finally done cooking, she divided the slices up and brought three plates forward, placing them in front of the three men. “Eat up.” Being the cook, she saved a whole sausage for herself.

  “Haha! Thank you!” Babe shouted, as the bottom of his mask opened up to reveal a toothy mouth. Munching on the sausage, he hummed with delight. He seemed in capable of speaking without the occasional giggle, like he was constantly holding back laughter, “Heheh, when I heard you became a Fixer, I was worried that you would stop inviting people over for dinner. So we decided to invite ourselves over… You haven’t lost your touch.”

  “Same.” Arty nodded, “I guess now that you have a good influx of ingredients because of those contracts.” Despite his appearance, he had noticeably good table manners. There were rumors that he grew up in Thumb controlled territory and was forced to learn etiquette as a means of survival. “This is really good, by the way.” He hummed, enjoying the unusual but savory flavor.

  Gemini, meanwhile, was taking his time. As if he was inspecting the meal… Did he have a notebook with him?

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  Oliver nodded, digging in as well, only now realizing just how hungry she was. Her eating habits were frowned upon everywhere else, but they were something that she needed to do. Whenever she didn’t eat human flesh, she felt weak and powerless. Something to do with the modifications to her body, so she thought; she didn’t even know what was going on in there. At this point, she didn’t care. As she spoke, she had a neutral expression on her face, as opposed to the grin she usually had when eating. “Yeah, the contracts. It feels more fair this way.”

  “Fair?” Arty asked.

  “Yes, fair. Harvesting meat on the job instead of hunting.” She said, not even bothering explaining further. As cruel as it was, District 23 was its own ecosystem of predator and prey. The Butchers were the former, always going out to get a bite to eat. An innocent being killed and harvested wasn’t seen as a cruelty, but simply as prey filling its role in nature; well, that’s at least how Oliver saw it, there were Butchers who liked eating people just because they were sadistic nutcases who recognized the cruelty of it all. But to Oliver, she was a bear and people she ate were deer. Now moving up the ladder and becoming a Fixer, she was eating higher up on the food chain and eating other predators; in other words, people who could fight back, hence the fairness.

  “Is this some sort of guilt thing? You’re not getting guilty after knowing us so long?” Babe asked, almost done with his meal already.

  “No,” Oliver said, shaking her head, finishing eating her meal as well. It tasted a bit off; maybe it was because the barley was about to go bad. The others probably didn’t notice it, she had a sensitive tongue for this kind of thing. Still, it wasn’t bad. “I’m tired of the meat here. I want higher quality ingredients.”

  “So you think becoming a Fixer is going to give you that?” Arty nodded, rubbing his chin.

  Oliver only nodded, a woman of few words even outside of the Fixer Office.

  “I respect it.” Arty said, before looking over to the mysterious Gemini. “Well? What do you think about the taste?”

  Gemini had eaten a few of the sausage slices, humming, moving the taste about in his mouth. “It certainly has an odd taste to it. Very earthy. Savory. I was afraid the barley would’ve given it a weird texture but it’s barley there.” He said, chuckling, “Excuse the pun.” He cleared his throat, “Anyways, forgive my intrusion, I haven’t really explained myself. Again, I’m Gemini. I’m a bit of a self proclaimed reporter. Self publicized actually. Call me a bit of a foodie. I travel the City, looking for places to eat. I’ll be around District 23 for the time being, but I must say, this was a good place to stop by first.” He looked around the shack. It was rather on the run down end; there was even a noticeable crack in the roof, letting the cold air in. “What’s that room over there?”

  All the attention in the room was turned to the back of the room. Oliver quickly gave the answer. “My room. No one goes in.”

  “Fair enough.” Gemini nodded. “But I can see it now. A large article.” He pantomimed reading a book with one hand. “The Breakfast of District 23’s Backstreets, a Butcher Who is Also a Fixer, and the Difference Between Black Pudding and Blood Sausage.”

  Oliver sneered at him, showing her sharp teeth. “You’re annoying.”

  “Okay, rude,” Gemini raised a brow. “What was that for?”

  “No reason.” Oliver said, “You’re just annoying.”

  “Apologies,” Arty said, “Oliver kind of just says whatever is on her mind.”

  “I get it.” Gemini nodded. “Either way, this was a nice meal. What Office are you with, I’ll be sure to shout them out.”

  Oliver got up and began to pick up the now empty plates. “Runaway Office.”

  “Runaway Office.” Gemini nodded, “A nice ring to it. I’m picturing an Office on wheels.” He said with a starry eyed smile. “Hah, wouldn’t that be novel!”

  “It’s just an ordinary Office.” Oliver explained, wanting to make sure that their Office wouldn’t get too much of a spotlight; yes, it would be nice to get more traffic to it, but that was Emilio’s place to make that decision, not her’s. She didn’t want to do anything that would reflect badly on the Office. Yes, she was a brat and caused problems on purpose, but she wasn’t going to screw over her boss and coworker… She liked them; not that she would ever say that out loud.

  “Yes yes, of course,” Gemini said, “Forgive me, I have always talked a bit too much. Almost cost me my life when I interviewed the N Corp CEO.” He chuckled, “Haha, I joke, but I have often dreamed about interviewing someone of high regard.”

  “This man… He’s quite interesting.” Babe said under his breath. Despite speaking so softly, he did sound genuinely intrigued.

  Oliver on the other hand, was getting on the annoyed side. “Are you going to leave soon.”

  “Come on, Oliver, we haven’t talked much in so long.” Arty said, but he soon recognized the annoyance in the young girl’s face. “Hah, fine… That being said, the meal today was really good.” He smiled, “Hope you find some good ingredients with this job of yours.”

  Oliver paused looking at him, then looked to Babe. “I just want to be alone right now. You came here out of nowhere.” Not to mention, she was still recovering from her injuries from the previous nigh, the wounds on her chest ached. She was certain that, if she was feeling better, she could get them to leave by force; but she knew for sure Arty and Babe weren’t slouches when it came to fighting. Gemini… Well, he was the guy who hired them.

  Slowly, Arty began to get up. “Boy, we just wanted to visit an old friend and what do we get? Ah well, hope to see you in a few days.”

  “Agreed.” Babe said, getting up from his chair. “Maybe if your little friend group gets better, heh heh… Will you do us a favor? We’ve always wanted to try the meat of a Distortion. Think you can bring that to us?”

  “No promises.” Oliver said, walking out with the two, into the foggy, cloudy Backstreets. Gemini followed, picking up the T Corp pot that he brought with him.

  “You feel that in the wind?” Babe said, taking a long sniff of the air.

  “What, blood and rot?” Gemini asked.

  “No, no… You’re no killer. I can tell. You don’t smell things like the way the three of us do.” He looked to Arty and Oliver. “You know what I mean, don’t you?”

  “Gotta be more specific, Babe.” Arty sighed.

  “Just say it.” Oliver complained.

  Babe sighed, looking over to the Nest just across the river. “Oh, look at that.” he said, pointing to a man trying to swim across the river. There was a rumor around these parts that if you managed to swim across the river, you would be awarded with free Nest citizenship and temporary housing up to 3 months; it was a rumor passed around by both the Backstreets and the Nest. On both sides, people were cheering him on. “This District is going to change significantly. The Nest is hanging from the branch by just a few twigs. I’ve already seen the Index creeping around and the Thumb not far. Amazing things are gonna happen to the Nest… You’ll see.” He watched as the swimmer was already half way across and beginning to get tired. The rumors of the free citizenship and housing? They were completely untrue. No one spreading them actually believed them, they were but a cruel prank to trick the gullible and desperate. Above head, flying over, was a single drone. It flew down to the swimmer, then after a short delay, let out a burst of electricity, shocking both the swimmer and the surrounding water. No one even batted an eye as the man shuddered and spasmed in the water, then went still, floating there. Everyone walked off, no longer interested.

  “Damn shame. He was so close.” Gemini said, the only one who looked disturbed. “Don’t you get free citizenship if you make it across?”

  “Oh stop it, I don’t want more people trying to swim there. There’s no retrieving their bodies if they end up in there.” Arty said.

  Oliver grumbled.

  “Alright, Oliver, we’re going! What’s gotten you in such a bad mood!” Arty said, beginning to walk off, followed by Babe. The two lived close by so they walked together. With them out of earshot, Oliver and Gemini were alone.

  The petite girl looked up to Gemini. “Who are you?”

  “I said I’m just a reporter.” He tipped his hat. “Thanks for the food by the way.”

  What a weird man, and that was coming from her. “No problem.”

  “I’m gonna stick around here a bit more. My sister, Pupshaw, is waiting for me back where we’re staying. So…” he began to walk off, “Cest la vie.”

  Now, Oliver was alone. Breathing a sigh of relief, she could finally cool her head and keep to herself. There were always times when she wanted to be alone and now was one of those times; yeah, it was a good idea that she didn’t pick a fight with those 2. She would’ve died instantly and Emilio and Heidi needed her. She gathered up the plates and tossed them into the sink to clear later. Then she went to her bedroom. Despite the messy state of her kitchen, her bedroom was maintained rather well. There were many reasons she became a Fixer. Her excuse of ‘wanting to try greater and greater tastes by moving up the ladder of threats’ story? It was true. A lone Rat would have a poor taste to them, while a threat of Urban Nightmare or even a Star of a City? The achievement of just getting to it and preparing it had to make it taste amazing! Joining a Fixer Office would be her long hard road to achieving such a goal; Emilio and Heidi could never know this.

  But, there was another reason that she got into the Fixer scene and it was much more simple. She looked at her collection of teddy bears that she sewed herself. A teddy bear wearing a green jacket with the number 7 on its lapel. A teddy in a blue jacket with a big sword on its back. A teddy bear with a black jacket, long red hair, and a cigarette hanging from its mouth. Several more. Her reason for wanting to become a Fixer, was simple. She was really really loved Fixers. A certified child at heart, looking up to the supposed heroes of the City. Holding one of the teddies, one dressed in a priest uniform with a golden stole, she sat down on her bed, taking a nap.