Utterly Mad

Not as common as it would have been, had it been warmer. The winter months in northern Arizona ranged from relatively cool during the day, and downright freezing at night. Catnip didn't mind the cold. It kept people off the streets, thus keeping them uncrowded. Catnip learned a dislike of the crowded streets of Pricetown in the warmer months after her first few encounters with the towns vast pick pocket population. Likewise, the people of Pricetown liked the short winter months because it kept the mycus sluggish.

Because of the recent series of suicidal attacks though, Pricetown was warming up and people were getting worried. The searing spear did it's job of keeping back the impending flood, and the shattered helm did it's job of keeping the populace in order. It didn't change the fact though that people were afraid. Something had to be done.

Catnip stepped lightly around an old burnt hulk of a long ago incinerated truck, and both blessed and cursed her fate. The road to her new job, a position for which pinky would be paid a grand sum, was a good half hour walk from Pinky's pleasure palace and gave her time to think.

---

The week before.

She wasn't going to serve at Pinky's, she was dead set against it, and Pinky was alright with that so long as Catnip understood that she wouldn't be fed or kept around if she didn't make herself useful. Catnip balked, but Pinky simply looked at her.

"You ain't gotta lay with guys, and you ain't gotta do it with gals, but chica you better get it through your head that your still a slave and I can't afford to board a slave who won't work." She said. Pinky had been at that moment going over the palaces ledgers, balancing budgets, and working out the payroll.

"Aw, but Pinky, what am I gonna do? All I know how to do is-"

"None of that whining chica, it doesn't endear you to anyone." Pinky hissed before sliding two sheets of thin paper across her grand desk to the mechanic. "I'm hiring you out, but out of kindness I'm going to let you pick. First, the aeroponics farm is always looking for workers. Good job if you like being poisoned on a daily basis. The other is one I think you might prefer. The council of three is looking for a mechanic to aid in the repair of a certain facility here in Pricetown."

Catnip took the sheets while pinky talked, lighting up a bit at the mention of real mechanic work. The first was a rather boring brochure about the fast paced world of aeroponics and how fresh faces were always welcome to assist in the monumental task of feeding Pricetown.

The other, much simpler sheet was a request for workers for a project "for the safety and salvation of Pricetown." It stated that among other professions, a mechanic was needed. Preferably, a professional with at least five years experience. Also preferable, was that the mechanic had to be a genetically sound human. The last requirement was easily dropped with pinky liberally greasing a few palms here and there, but the first had to be done by Catnip herself. One from scratch electric generator and a motorcycle built from scraps and a lawnmower engine later, she had a job she could be content with.

---

Catnip waved her card, a simple peice of plastic she had puzzled over for hours after she got it, and was allowed entry into the run down facility where she would be working until it was operational once again. The tower standing over the derilict building was very familiar to her, as she had stopped a similar object from spinning once in the lab beneath Pricetown. More than a little, the tower reminded her that Pricetown's current predicament and the fate of King's Court were almost certainly her fault. For now, she wouldn't let it bother her and she certainly wouldn't tell anyone. Minx had helped her fill out her forms, and when Catnip explained that the closest thing she had to a surname was "blightwalker," Minx had gone pale.

"Better not Nip, people in Pricetown are superstitious." In reality, the name had given Minx a bit of a start. It was very similar to another name that was going around in connection with Rita: plague walker. Cousin had given many similar readings it seemed.

"Ms. Walker?" Came the voice of her foreman across the yard. "Yeah, that's her alright. Walker, you might be here earlier than everybody else, but that don't mean much when everyone including yourself is an hour late. Get your buns in gear and take a seat. Briefing is gonna be down the hall in the red room on the left. Move move, Jin Jin."