The Introduction:  Dockside

"Watch your step here, buddy.  You just might get a knife in your back."

Xenos mused over the frindly advice given him his first day in Dockside, just over a week ago, and adjusted his bandage.

Two fingers missing...  Two! he thought darkly.  What's more, he was right handed.

The knife fight had came as no surprise, after all, he was a moderatly dressed stranger in a new town.  In the wrong town.

Dockside was not a friendly place, even at the best of times.  It was where the scum of all the Central Cities went to escape the eye of The SociaList Advancement Association.  Yeah, The Slaa made cursory sweeps every once in a great while, just to keep up the façade of complete control, but the people of Dockside knew better.  The Slaa needed Dockside more than Dockside needed The Slaa.  It was the one functioning port within 400 miles of South City 101, a Slaa military hub.  As a result, It was the one place left unmonitored; a safehaven for criminals, thugs, murderers, and people looking to escape their past.  People like Xenos.  

He splashed a shot of brandy in his eggs and checked the clock.  3:48 AM.

If I get a move on, I can make the Eastend Workline by 4:30.  He turned up the gas, scorching his breakfast.  Eggs be damned, worklines tended to fill up fast, and he did not want to come up short for rent his first month.  Besides, the brandy helped with the burnt taste!  

He ate quickly, set his watch, and headed out.

---

The Eastend Workline was the farthest out from Xenos' apartment, but it was also the highest paying day labor job in Dockside.  The line opened at 5:15 sharp, and was first-come-first-serve.  If you did a good job, sometimes they'd ask for you to come back.  He'd not been asked back yet, but he was planning on today being that day.  If he could get in.  Two days running, no dice.  Missed the lines both days.  Today would be different.  Today had to be different.

He got to the Workline at 4:32, and it was already filling fast.  He took his place behind an older man, and waited.

"Not seen ya 'round before, stranga.'" the man said.

Xenos pondered the icebreaker for a moment, the stuck out his left hand, "Xenos...  Friends call me 'X.'"

"Bad luck, ta be shakin' wit tha left it is." the man gripped firm with his right.  "Donovan.  Donovan Demitrius Driscol.  Tho' I ain' got no fancy nickname or whathaveya..."

"Bad luck or no, it's worse luck if the bosses see my other..."  Xenos nodded towards his bandaged hand.  "Pleasure to meet you, Donovan."

"Seems like ya might'ov got on tha wrong side of some of tha, ah, seedier folk 'round these here parts." clearly, the man had an uncanny grasp of the obvious.

Xenos just smiled, knowing what had happend to those "seedier folk" he had run into.  Dockside was rough, yes, but he had grown up in the slums of South City 101, a place where The Slaa Central City Protectors turned up dead on a regular basis, and a place where all Slaa raids ended in public executions.

Donovan rambled on about the weather, how he'd grown up working the shipyards (in the days before The Slaa), and how even though his house was paid for, and The Slaa would pay his way, that since he'd be 65 next year, he'd rather fly under the radar and maybe live a little longer, so he'd declined to take the so-called "free-wage solution."

Xenos was not really paying attention, just nodding and agreeing where needed.  He was not here to make friends.  He was not here to offend, though, either.  He was here to do his job, and get his money.  He checked his watch again.  5:00, the bosses would be checking over the lines for papers.  In fifteen minutes, they would open the gates to the shipping yard, and let the ones with papers move in.  The first two dozen or so would be allowed to work.  

Xenos mentally counted heads in front of him.  Twenty Seven...  Here's to hoping.

"Papers."  the burly boss demanded.

Xenos reached into his trenchcoat with his good hand.  "There.  Everything should be in order."

"Xenos Markus O'Sullivan...  That's a mouthfull, that is!"  the boss laughed.

"Parents can play the crulest jokes, can't they?"  Xenos joked right along.

"Right, here's yer papers, now, get'cherself up to the gate.  It'll be opnin' soon.  First come first serve."

"Thanks kindly."  Xenos made his way to the gate, right behind Donovan.

"Made it in didja?  Well, 'ere's ta hopin' all goes well, what wit' tha hand an' all."  the older man was concerned with Xenos' hand, but he wondered if it was more out of a paternal care, or more out of the fact they were likely to be working together, and Donovan knew if you work slow, you don't get a second chance.  It was alright, Xenos was quick, and learned to work around injuries.

Today would be no different.

When the gates opend, he moved briskly, with purpose; three large freighters were moored in the harbour.  It's going to be a long day.