#junktown contest submission

[deadly-dapperling]

Introductions

A/N: This is my contest submission for @welcome-to-junktown​ 

Technically, I began writing this before the contest announcement but that’s what really pushed me to finish it! I don’t typically do a lot of writing so this was a challenge but still a fun exercise!

I want to thank @kelly-clickspring​ @the-little-shoebox​ and @ruthlessamor​ for running the whole junktown scene. Also, @a-sweet-pea​ for their good good g/t stories which largely inspired me to try my hand at writing in the first place. Thanks! 

Without further ado, here’s a first meeting: 

~~~

Stepping lightly, Gemma dashed across the kitchen floor. Her eyes darted around the room, taking in the high counter, cupboards, and shelves that towered above her. The re-purposed scrap furniture gleamed in the early morning light pouring in through high windows.

She focused in again on her next safe point, the halfway marker to the counter, a nook between shelves of dishes. Sprinting to it and darting in, she paused for a moment, collecting herself. She must have been a fool, out borrowing this late in the morning. The sun had already started to rise! It was just that... she had been so focused the previous night. Construction of her aircraft, she had yet to name it, was going well and time had passed her by. It was only after a significant amount of progress that Gemma realized she was hungry... and out of food. She looked out across the floor once, twice, three times, and sprinted to the next area of cover, set back underneath a set of cupboard doors, right before the climb. The woman who ran, and presumably owned, this place would likely be up soon to start the day. From what Gemma had seen and heard, she was not someone to mess around with. She was strict with the bar patrons and worse with her staff, always snapping at them. She was a force few reckoned with and didn't seem the type to forgive and forget. Gemma would make this quick. She just needed enough to tide her over until some patrons arrived later this evening. They'd be drinking and dropping plenty of food on the floors, a much easier meal for Gemma to get her hands on. She glanced at the open kitchen door again before stepping out, hook in hand. She swung it a couple times to gain momentum and with a light *huff* tossed it up to the side of the counter where it stuck. She gave it an experimental tug, making sure it was secured, before starting her ascent. For now she could grab a few breadcrumbs, nuts, maybe some cheese. She would check if the lid on the preserves jar was loose enough to dip into, but that was it. She left the hook and thread hanging where they were, this would be quick, and hurried along the back side of the counter. Jars of spices lined shelves overhead, pots and pans hung above. Gemma had to hand it to the owner woman, she kept things tidy. Finally reaching the bread box, Gemma set to work tying a thread around the front handle. She then climbed up the face of the box, which had conveniently placed grooves, allowing her easy access to the top. From there, Gemma held the other end of the rope and jumped, causing the face of the box to slide open and allowing her full access to the spoils inside. She tied off the thread, keeping the box open. She removed the pack from her shoulders and began filling it with crumbs, munching on a few as she went. Her thoughts drifted back to her work. She had finished the theoretical phase a few months ago and was now looking to test out her theories on a live model. It had taken some time to find a suitable place to work, but this warehouse had plenty of open, unused space and all kinds of metal scraps. Just last week she began construction on the first prototype and it was coming along nicely. A loud *CLICK* broke the silence and the electric lights flickered to life overhead. Suddenly torn from her thoughts, Gemma froze. Slowly, she turned her head. A tall, fierce woman stood in the doorway, looking directly at her. The owner. With little hesitation, Gemma dropped any more potential spoils, slung her pack over her shoulder, and ran. Bolting past the edge of the counter, Gemma barely had time to catch the hanging thread before slamming into the ground, hands burning from the friction. She was up and running again in an instant, dashing along the rows of cabinets. Sure enough, she both heard and felt the woman moving toward her, sending tremors through the ground. A quick over-the-shoulder glance revealed that she was gaining. Gemma ran full tilt for the far wall, her escape route. There was a loose panel and if she hit it with enough force she should be able to - *SMACK*. Gemma ran face first into the bristles of the broom that seemed to materialize in front of her. She hasn't even seen the woman pick it up. She stumbled back but kept her footing. Oh please no. Gemma spun, only to find that between the broom and the unbroken wall of cabinets beside her, she had been cornered. The shadow of a hand loomed over her and Gemma had no time to react before she was snatched up. She tried to claw and bite but found she was being gripped by cold metallic digits. Edges and gears poked at her painfully as the hand hoisted her up into the air. Her stomach dropped and she wondered if she might see her breadcrumb breakfast again this morning. She hit the the counter top with a grunt. Disoriented, she looked around. Before she could even get up, any potential escape routes she might have taken were blocked off by a glass wall slamming down around her, a jar. Of course. With adrenaline still rushing through her system and nowhere to go, Gemma backed up to the glass wall, trembling. This couldn't be how she was gonna go out. She still had so much to do! But at the same time, wasn't she still just a little thief? A pest for humans to rid themselves of without a second thought? She thought of her childhood home, and squeezed her eyes shut. A few moments passed. Why wasn't she dead yet? The sound of a throat clearing broke the silence and a stern voice sounded from above, "Now what do you think you're doing in my kitchen? We ain't even open yet and, I don't know if you know this, but it's customary for folks to pay for their meals." Gemma risked a glance up. The woman towered over her, arms crossed. She glared at Gemma with piercing eyes and raised an eyebrow. "Well, can't ya talk?" Gemma blinked. It took her a moment to find her voice, but after a beat,"Y-yeah!" squeakier than she'd intended, "Of course I can talk!" What was this lady playing at? "Good, then we can have a little chat. Do you have anything to say for yerself?" What? What did she want Gemma to say? Some inspiring last words? "Listen, I'm just trying to get by, it's nothing personal, honest! I-I'll leave! Never bother you again! Just, please don't hurt me." Good one. But Gemma had heard one too many stories about how beans treated those who trespassed, much less who stole. She looked up at the impassive face looming above her, and tried to project a confidence she didn't feel. "Just, let me go." The woman scoffed, "An' supposin' you did leave here, where would you go?" Now that was an odd question. In Gemma's experience, beans wouldn't normally bother themselves with the trivial details of borrowers' lives. Gemma didn't have an answer. "You got another place to be?" prompted the towering woman. "Well... I can... I'll... find a new place! I'll go across town! I've done it before. I'll go and be out of your life forever!" And have to start all over again. The following silence with palpable. The woman's steely gaze was fixed on Gemma, her expression unreadable. "No... no I don't think that'll work. You do still have unpaid transgressions, after all." Gemma felt her heart drop into her stomach. At this point, it was becoming uncomfortably hot in the jar and Gemma almost wished the owner would just end it now and save her the suspense. "But, I understand 'just tryin to get by.' How's about we make a deal?" Now it was Gemma's turn to raise an eyebrow. This bean was being very straightforward with her. Could it be a trick? A joke? She didn't know. Yet, what other option did Gemma have? She swallowed and replied, "Okay. What kind of deal?" "You do somethin’ for me and I let you go." "That... sounds good. What do you want me to do?" The woman nodded her head. "Alright." She thought for a moment, her appraising gaze never leaving Gemma's small form, still trapped in her glass jar prison. "Ah! I got it! My kitchen boy James, that fool'd lose his own head if it wasn't attached to his neck, he dropped one of the back door keys behind the counter last week. I've been meanin’ to get a replacement made but it's a hassle, it is. Any chance you can squeeze on back there and get it? Ya do that for me and I'll consider your past transgressions paid for." ~~~ Gemma could have run. She should have run. But instead, she did what the woman asked. It was easy, really. The key had fallen through the space where the counter met up with the wall. It wasn't ideal, but crawling army-style she was able to locate and retrieve the pesky object. After it was passed up, the woman offered a hand to the borrower. Gemma, not knowing what else to do, scrambled on. She fought to stay standing on the smooth metal surface as she was absentmindedly lifted back up to the countertop, where she waited nervously. The woman took a moment to appraise the key. Then, she fixed her sharp gaze back on Gemma, who jumped. "An now, I suppose you're still gonna be wantin’ food goin’ forward. I don't have any more keys for ya ta get but... how's about you come by an talk with me once a week? I don't go out much and frankly it's tirin’ to deal with the bar crowd all the time. I could use some real smart conversation. What do ya say? You do that for me and I'll give ya free reign of the kitchen, off hours of course." "Wait, you're letting me stay?" Gemma was taken aback. Was that all this lady really wanted? A chat once a week? This was too good to be true. "Listen, like I said, I understand 'just tryin’ to get by'. I got a history, too. Where else are you gonna go?" She had a good point. Making a deal with a bean wouldn't be the craziest thing Gemma planned on doing with her life. Plus, it would be nice to have a permanent place to stay going forward. It would be nigh impossible to move her project once she really got going. And despite how stern the woman in front of her seemed, she had kept her word about the key. If she had wanted to trap the borrower, well, she had already done it. Yet, aside from running face first into a broom, Gemma was largely unharmed. Gemma looked up to meet the imposing woman's gaze. The borrower held out her hand. "Okay then, uh, ma'am, that sounds like a good deal to me." "Please, call me Vira," The woman shifted down and extended a finger out for Gemma to take, "and what about yerself?" "Gemma," the borrower smiled as they shook.