Chapter 8: Turf Wars

[mp_npc]

Even though it was nearly 6pm, the sun was still relatively high in the sky compared to just the month prior. The days were getting longer and the air was getting warmer. With the heat brought energy--especially in the particular stretch where Teru had asked Mob to meet up. It was in the southeastern district of Seasoning City, an especially dense urban stretch near the freeway bordering on the industrial part of the city.

Factories and and their smokestacks were in the near distance. Workers in uniform were shuffling about with purpose, disappearing in and out of the narrow alleys that snaked through that part of town likes veins. The scent of street food was strong. There was one food stand that Teru asked Mob to wait near in particular, one with especially good yakitori. A gust of wind carried the delicious smokey glazed scent of it--along with laughter and jeers from one of the alleyways just behind Mob.

"Hey, ain't that a Salt uniform?" A boy jeered as his friends formed a loose-but-coordinated semi-circle behind Mob. Their own uniforms were a rusty red with enormously tacky gold buttons down the center.