Chapter Text
Lucy’s first sunset at Sandrock was a welcome surprise.
Periwinkle and indigo cascaded across the sky as it kissed the earth’s fiery crown, the mountain peaks of the Eufaula in an ethereal dance with the heavens. The town and its signature cliffs rose up together like a gem-encrusted claw reaching out from the shadows. Despite all warnings she was given about this place, she understood why people would settle here. The Eufaula Desert had a raw beauty that rivaled its harsh climate.
She had been toiling away, cleaning debris and cobbling together basic tools to get her new workshop up to snuff. The previous builder left the yard in a suboptimal state, and the early summer heat had given her a swift and sweaty welcome of its own. Despite the conditions, she smiled often throughout the day, focusing on the motions, breaking down the old and building the new.
Now that the sun was down and she could hardly see what she was doing, Lucy was forced to take a break for the evening. She grabbed her notebook, a pen, and an old oil lamp.
She meandered, taking in the sights as deeply as her breaths. The sand grass rustled softly as it swayed in the occasional breeze. The cactus trees reached their branches up like they were holding up the sky. In the distance, she spotted the bright flames of a handful of hot honey BBQ bumble ants. Once in a while, the evening breeze carried over a smokey sweet scent from that direction.
She found a large, flat rock atop a small hill. She scrambled up to the plateau, careful not to slip on dislodged gravel or sand. After ensuring there were no surprise rocket roosters around the bend, she swung her legs over the southward facing ledge of the rock.
Under moonlight and lamplight, she produced her notebook and pen.
Dear Nia,
I arrived safely! My first day was super busy here, so I probably won’t send this until the morning, but you won’t be able to say I didn’t write!
It’s weird being out here on my own, but I think it really was the right decision. I needed this. I need to get into my own groove. I know you understand. Maybe I’m telling myself this more than I’m telling you.
Also, I feel like I can really make a difference here. The other new builder and I made a promise to each other that we’d bring Sandrock back to its glory days. Her name is Mi-an. Even though I haven’t spoken much to her yet (it’s literally been one day, after all), I think we’re gonna be pretty good friends.
I’ve only met two other people so far today: my new boss and the old builder that Mi-an and I are replacing. The old builder is short timing it. He left the workshop a mess, but that’s okay because I do love cleaning and fixing things (all I’ve been doing today). On the other hand, I’m pretty sure my new boss is a cartoon villain come to life. I think you’d get a kick out of him.
I wish I had a camera so I could send you a photo of this place at sunset. It’s breathtaking, and I don’t know if I can really describe it with words.
It’s getting late, but I’m already thinking about work again. I’ve got a few more tasks to complete this license test, and then I can make it official and register my workshop. It’s all happening so fast. Ahh! Can you hear me screaming from over there? I’m nervous. Excited. All the things.
Your friend forever, even if you think I abandoned you for yakboys & howdys,
Lucy
She yawned. Her arms, back, and legs complained as she stood, but it was all evidence of a good day’s work.
A few days later, Lucy jogged up the hill of Main Street. She was sweating already. It was the first of many mornings where the temperatures climbed faster than the sun did. She cursed under her breath for forgetting to carry water with her, but the trip wasn’t going to take too long.
Today was the day. It was time to register her workshop and make it official. She wondered what kinds of commissions were waiting for her this morning.
Her legs made one final complaint as she crested the hill and entered Martle Square. It was deserted. Arvio, the owner of the general store, must have stepped away to make a delivery. The barber shop had no sign of life. A sign out front declared the owner’s absence for an extended period.
Lucy honed in on the large, central building at the end of the square. City Hall, dead ahead. Her heart raced as she approached the steps, but she stopped just shy of it. The notice board — well, the Wanted poster plastered to it — caught her eye. She had heard of the Sand Bandits of Sandrock and its environs, but she had not actually seen any images depicting them before.
WANTED: DEAD OR ALIVE
If you see this man, do not engage: report immediately to the Civil Corps. Any information leading to the arrest and conviction of this vile perpetrator will be rewarded handsomely, in the sum of 100,000 gols.
She furrowed her eyebrows at the hand-drawn image of a man whose face was half covered in a bandana. He wore a hat with yakmel horns affixed to either side, and he had a scar over his left eyebrow. She studied the image, wondering if she’d be able to recognize him if he just happened to waltz by her workshop with his mask off.
“Halt! Who goes there?!”
Something swooshed. Lucy shouted in surprise, stumbling back from the notice board as if it had come to life. A towering man in a cape descended from somewhere above her head, landing inches away from her. The resulting wind whipped her hair up, along with a small cloud of dust.
“Oh, it’s you. The new Builder,” the stranger said, frowning. His voice (and its evident disappointment) resonated through the empty courtyard.
Lucy stared at him. His hair sat upright, molded like clay into sharp peaks. She had to crane her neck to get a good look at his face, but she was busy eyeing his cape. He could have been mistaken for a character straight out of some obscure Old World cartoon about a superhuman species with gravity-defying hair. Super Sane Men, or something like that.
Oh boy, Lucy thought. Sandrock has a cartoon villain AND a cartoon superhero.
She swallowed hard to keep from laughing.
“I thought you were one of Logan’s gang,” the man said, narrowing his gaze at her.
“You thought I was a Sand Bandit?” She peered over his shoulder at the Wanted poster.
“Hah, silly me!” the man laughed, puffing out his chest. “You look nothing like an outlaw! And your arms…” His eyes widened at her biceps. “…are so skinny. Do you even know how to defend yourself? You know, the desert isn’t kind to the fragile.”
Lucy crossed her arms instinctively, as if that would stop him from judging them.
“I do know how to defend myself, actually,” she said, attempting to sound polite. “I trained with the Civil Corps back home.”
“Ah, the Civil Corps,” he sneered. “The fry cook of the world’s defenses. Hmm…” He stepped out in a wide stance and placed his hands on his hips. “It is decided. I, the magnificent Pen, the protector of Sandrock, as of five seconds ago, have taken it upon myself to offer you… a combat lesson!”
“Wow. What an ass…et.” She cleared her throat, blushing. “What an asset.”
She’d almost made it a whole ten seconds.
“That I am, that I am,” Pen said, evidently oblivious. “Shall we, Skinny Arms?”
“I’ll pass.”
Lucy turned to walk around him, but Pen sidestepped and blocked her path. Color rose to her cheeks. She balled her hands into fists.
“Huh? But, Skinny Arms, you can never be too careful with all these bandits about!”
Her eyes flickered over to the door of City Hall. If they weren’t right in front of it, she’d tell this guy exactly where to shove his combat lesson. Actually, maybe that was alright. She had heard the people of Sandrock were a little rough and tumble. Why not dive right in?
C’mon, Lucy, she thought. Don’t get so worked up. He’s just…eccentric.
She tried to take some deep, steadying breaths as he opened his mouth to speak again.
“And... did I mention, I’m the strongest man in the world?” Pen said.
He flexed. The fabric around his biceps stretched a bit, but only just so. Lucy guessed he had already worn out the cloth from doing this all the time.
“Sure, buddy,” Lucy said through gritted teeth. “Thanks, but no thanks.”
She needed to get away from him. There were far more important — and interesting — things to do than to stand here and convince this pompous peacock that she didn’t need whatever this was from him. She maneuvered around him once again and made her way forward. She’d barely reached the top of the steps when he spoke again.
“Well, don’t blame me when you’re halfway down the gullet of a giant Geegler, Skinny Arms.”
It was the straw that broke the yakmel’s back. Lucy wheeled around. Her nostrils flared.
“You know what? If you don’t believe I can fight, why don’t I just show you?”
She marched back down the steps and looked him in the eyes with what she hoped was a dangerous ferocity. To her dismay, he only smiled brighter. It was as if he’d gotten exactly what he wanted on the Day of the Bright Sun.
“Splendid!” he cried. “But, what are you doing? Here, in front of City Hall? What are we, animals? Follow me, Skinny Arms!”
Lucy talked herself down as she followed Pen’s lead out of the sun and up the cobbled staircase past the apartments. Maybe the man was truly trying to help. She would humor him.
She was still sore from the relentless physical labor since her arrival in the town, but she could handle a sparring match early in the day. She was, by no means, a one-woman army, but she’d managed her own before. Pen would come to see that she had no need of his lessons, and then he’d leave her alone. Or, at least, put some respect on her name.
Besides, Sandrock must have hired him as a protector, right? That must mean that the Civil Corps wasn’t doing so great, which also meant that his “fry cook” comment — while insulting — was aimed at this town’s inadequate defenses. Come to think of it, she hadn’t seen anyone in a Civil Corps uniform patrolling anywhere near her workshop. Did they even exist here? They must—
“You know why I came all the way out here to serve and protect?” Pen called over his shoulder.
Oh, that was convenient, she thought. Her breathing became more labored as they pivoted away from the stairs, towards the back of the museum.
“Because this place builds toughness! If you ain’t tough, the desert will chew you up and spit you out!”
“I thought you were here to bolster the defenses or something,” Lucy said.
They crested the top of the hill and passed by the church overlooking Sandrock.
“Sure, of course. That’s part of it. But the point, Skinny, is that people here need to train often to build the toughness it takes to make it out here. Now, here we are.”
The pathway opened up to reveal the sparring ring. The sun was high enough now that it shone bright and glaring, bouncing off like laser beams from the metal of the speakers and signs on the edge of the ring.
The clinic was situated just opposite where they stood. Beyond, the land fell away. The tops of some more buildings were visible from here, but Pen was presently calling to her from the center of the ring.
“Daylight is burning, Skinny Arms. We can give you a grand tour of the place once you’ve proven your ability to survive it.”
Her head began to throb. She’d never received a headache from dealing with someone before. This was a new level of annoyance. She pictured herself knocking him out in one fell swoop.
He does look strong, she thought begrudgingly. If I can’t knock him out, I’d just love to punch him. A solid punch will make me happy.
“Pick a weapon from over there. Doesn’t matter which, all the same to me.”
She scowled at the weapon rack. The stone and wood sparring weapons had seen some wear and tear, and they were all blunted to prevent real harm. She settled on the pair of daggers. Speed and agility might be the key here.
“Alright, how do you want to do this?” Lucy asked. “Is there a countdown, do we bow, or—”
“Come at me.” He reached out an arm and gestured for her to approach.
“Just like that?” Lucy raised her eyebrows.
“Yes! Come! Come and attack me,” he called cheerfully. “I won’t fight back. Let me see what you can do!”
“Wait, what? I thought we were going to spar.”
“It’s a combat lesson, Skinny. Now, show me what you’ve got!”
With one more exasperated sigh, she charged forward. Pen just stood there, but if that’s what he wanted...
She swung once. Nothing but air. She swung a second time. Nothing.
Again and again. Each swing was followed by a quiet buffet of wind, and none made contact with their target. He moved out of the way each time.
The sun bore down on them, casting shadows across his face, carving his sickening smile deeper into his skin. Lucy struggled to catch her breath. Her head pulsed dangerously when their eyes met.
“Again,” Pen said, his voice deep and serious despite the smile on his face.
Her hands shook. Maybe doing this exercise after days of nonstop physical labor wasn’t such a great idea after all.
She gripped the daggers harder. Logic be damned. She was driven by an inexplicable need to erase that smile.
She lunged. He ducked. She raised the second dagger.
“Yawn! You’re easy to read,” he said. “Not like a book, though, because books are bor—NGH.”
Lucy jammed the hilt of the dagger into his ribs. The shock reverberated back up her forearm. He fell back two paces. She shook off the impact and advanced, but he’d recovered. He matched her steps once again, dodging, blocking. All the while, he kept his eyes locked on her.
“Okay, you can swing a weapon around. We’re all very proud of you,” he said lazily.
She pulled away from him. The clattering of her daggers echoed when she dropped them on the ground.
“I’m done,” she said, wiping sheets of sweat from her forehead. Her breath was ragged. “I don’t have anything to prove to you. This is… stupid. If you want to actually… teach me… then spar with me. Otherwise, don’t waste my time.”
Pen laughed loudly. “Alright, sheesh. We can dance for a bit, Skinny Arms, if that will make you happy, but…” He stepped closer to her until his shadow overtook her. He lowered his voice. “You sure you’re up to the challenge?”
“Get a weapon,” she said, avoiding eye contact.
She bent to retrieve the daggers. The flaming star design at the base of the ring blurred dangerously.
That can’t be good, she thought. Gotta get my shit together.
“Skinny Arms, seriously, you’re looking pale.” Pen’s voice was now serious.
“Get a weapon,” she said.
Pen cracked his knuckles, his red gloves crinkling with the movement.
“No need. But, have it your way, if you really want to do this.” He wasn’t smiling anymore. He backed away from her and gestured for her to approach. “Come at me. This time, I’ll hit back. Remember Skinny, I warned you. Don’t come crying to ol’ Pen if you don’t like what happens next.”
Lucy had no intention to come crying to “ol’ Pen,” but she also definitely didn’t like what happened next.
She stumbled forward. She could hear her own heartbeat, like the galloping of a horse in the distance. Or, was that an actual horse?
Pen jumped high into the air. She turned to see where he’d gone, but the movement was too much for her. The sky and nearby rooftops whirled in a sickening blend. The light of the sun began to dim.
Then, nothing.
Lucy opened her eyes. A dull ache radiated throughout her skull. The lights were bright in this place. Was she outside? No… The temperature here was cool here. Especially right around the top of her head. She was lying on something soft. Voices were floating somewhere nearby.
“I told Skinny not to push it,” Pen was saying.
“Man, can you just wait outside?” said another, unfamiliar voice.
She struggled to turn her head. Her eyes were still focusing on the ceiling above. A domed ceiling with glass windows.
“Fine, fine, but it’s spaghetti breakfast day at the Blue Moon, so do try to make it quick, Sherriff.”
“Just sit tight for five minutes, partner. Outside.”
Footsteps. A door opened. A door closed.
“Nngh,” Lucy coughed and sputtered. She was trying to reach up and touch the damp, cool towel that was laid across her forehead, but the movement caused something grainy to stir in her throat. Footsteps quickly approached.
“Easy there, partner.” The unfamiliar voice was closer this time.
Lucy tried to speak, but she only emitted a hoarse sound. Through teary eyes, she made out the rough shape of a man with an orange top nearby.
“Have some water.”
A second unfamiliar voice — oddly shrill and jarring — cried above her head, “This’ll fix ya up real good! Healthy! Good birdie!”
A glass of water appeared in front of her. She slowly propped herself up and took the it. Her vision came back into focus, and she was able to see the man — dressed in a Civil Corps uniform — who had handed it to her. He looked a little older than her, if she were to venture a guess. He had a goatee and dreads tied back.
“Justice is my name, and justice is my game. Word on the street is you’re one of our new Builders.”
She nodded at him and tried to smile. The skin on her face felt taught and dry.
“I’m the sheriff at the Civil Corps here,” Justice continued. “This here is Dr. Fang—”
He gestured toward a man with a pale, solemn face and long, flowing hair. He nodded in her direction before turning back to something at his workstation.
“—and this is Fang’s bird, X.”
“Hi, birdie!” The large raven with a toucan beak was perched atop a room divider next to Lucy’s bed.
Now we have a doctor with a support bird, she thought. My day keeps getting weirder.
“I—I’m Lucy,” she croaked. “Nice to…meet you all. What happened? How did I get here?”
Justice cringed. “Well, I was riding up on patrol when I saw Pen carrying someone toward the clinic. He said you passed out during a… combat lesson? Doc says it mighta been a case of heat exhaustion. You’re not from around these parts, I’m guessing?”
Lucy started to shake her head, but she immediately winced in pain.
“Easy, partner. The good news is that Pen caught you before you hit the ground, so you don’t have a concussion.”
She took a sip of the water, trying to picture this stranger doing anything kind like that.
“The other good news is that you were brought in before it turned into full-blown heatstroke.”
“Oh, that is good,” she said quietly.
“The Doc is just running a couple of tests to make sure you’re okay to go. Until then, just take it easy. Oh — and have some more water. We usually say ‘conserve water’ here, but I think this is a pretty important exception.”
She tried to crack a smile. Even that hurt. Justice refilled the glass, and she drank it slowly, letting the cool liquid soothe her burning throat. Her arm felt heavy, but she could feel herself regaining some strength.
“How long have I been out?” she asked.
“A couple hours? It’s 4:00.”
Lucy sighed and glanced at the domed ceiling. It was still bright outside, but the sun was now on the other side of the sky.
“This is embarrassing,” she muttered.
Justice sat down in a nearby chair and peered at her for a moment. “Hey, it happens more than you think. Tourists can’t take the heat during the summer. You’ll get used to it. Just gotta remember to stay hydrated and stay cool.”
“I was supposed to register my workshop today. My boss is gonna kill me.”
“Oh, Yan? Hey, partner, you’re no good to nobody if you’re not feeling well. He should understand that.”
Lucy silently disagreed. She made great efforts to sit upright. The room finally stayed still, but every motion took double the effort. Even her hands hurt from how hard she had been gripping the daggers.
Justice shifted in his seat. “This is kinda awkward, but if you don’t mind, I gotta get your side of the story. Then, I’ll be outta your hair.”
Lucy raised her eyebrows. “Oh, okay.”
He smiled apologetically as he retrieved a small notepad and a pencil from his jacket pocket. “It’s standard procedure. Pen says you just passed out, outta nowhere. Do you remember anything from the incident?”
“I just met him today,” she said slowly, each syllable laced with regret and shame. “He offered me combat lesson. I said no. He kept pushing, so we went for it. Then… I dunno why, but I got really amped up. I told him to fight me for real.”
Justice raised an eyebrow. “By for real, you mean…”
“Spar. Fight back. Until then, he was just standing there and dodging everything.”
“You asked him to hit you?” He looked her over, as if he was searching for bruises or scrapes.
“Not like that,” she sighed. “I just wanted a fair match. You don’t know me, but I promise, I’m not normally someone who runs around and picks fights with people. Besides, we didn’t even get to spar. He agreed, but then everything went dark.”
Justice finished the last few notes. “Alright, thank you, Lucy. This helps. Looks like I won’t have much paperwork to do after all.”
Lucy stared at the notepad. “I don’t know why I even reacted that way. Shouldn’t have let it get to me.”
She took another large gulp of water.
Justice stifled a laugh. “Take it easy on yourself, partner. You wouldn’t be the first person that Pen ticked off.”
The silent doctor walked over and handed a sheet of paper to Lucy.
Heat Exhaustion
Symptoms: Confusion, weakness, fatigue, rapid and weak pulse…
The list went on. Lucy nodded in understanding. “Ah, I see. So, this could’ve been affecting my judgment?”
Fang nodded.
“I guess the heat was really getting to me. Thank you, Doctor.”
He turned back to his work, and Justice stood up to leave.
“If you ever need anything,” Justice said, “Just flag one of us down, or come by the Civil Corps. It’s just me, Unsuur, and Captain, but we’ll do our best to help out. And, uh — no more combat lessons, understood? Pen’s not authorized to be doing that. That is absolutely outside of protocol. I’m about to have a talk with him about that.”
Lucy turned crimson. “Understood.”
As he exited the clinic, she laid back down on the medical bed and watched sparse clouds move through the sky. She would have liked to make small talk with the doctor, but she didn’t want to interrupt his work. He didn’t seem to be much of a conversationalist, in any manner.
X occasionally squawked something dramatic, which made her smile. He was a peculiar creature. She had so, so many questions, but she would save them for another day.
She could hear the muffled voices of Justice and Pen outside. She could not make out what they were saying, but it sounded like Justice was exasperated, and Pen was indignant.
In the end, it sounded like they came to some sort of agreement, and their voices faded away.