Desperate Measures

-Several days before the Lunar Veil’s arrival-

“Alright everyone! Announce what you need from the market now or you will have to wait for the next run!”

With the familiar voice of their leader, doors were opened and a line appeared. Each person wore a stark white robe, complemented by matching shoes. Their faces serene, the line gradually shortened until each person had returned to their doorway for further instructions.

With another grocery list gathered, Lawrence gave a smile to his current group of nutcases.

“Now my children, while I am away, continue your morning prayers and when I return, we shall have a celebratory share circle in honor of Margerite’s initiation!”

At his announcement, the woman in question took a step out in order to be seen clearly. The throng gave a raucous cheer that gave praise to their god (some sort of sentient vegetable or something), with several whistles for added effect. Lawrence raised a hand to silence them, also signaling his departure. Doors closed silently, leaving Lawrence to begin his walk outside of the shoddy complex they all called home.

Once outside and several blocks away, he was quick to ditch the list with a “trusted” runner. The twerp was easy enough to bribe, simply take some of the cash and Lawrence would say one of the items hadn’t been in stock. It worked well enough for the brain-dead sheep that he was all too ready to be rid of.

What he did while his errand boy bartered was his only grip on sanity during this arrangement. The people he had been swindling had sworn oaths that forbade many processed foods, something Lawrence had not accounted for and definitely regretted. Several months ago, Lawrence didn’t even know what the native flora of the planet was, but now he not only knew what they looked like, but how they tasted when raw, baked, sautéed, and most disturbingly, pasted.

It was because of this that Lawrence was driven to the opposite end of dietary horrors. One of the many bars that infested the slums had become his guilty pleasure spot, so much so that the man running the "kitchen" knew him by name and usually had his order ready when he arrived. This courtesy irritatingly didn’t mean he would always have a private seat to eat at and today he devoured his greasy…food… just outside the establishment.

It was during this short time that he also fumed over his lot in life. Despite every attempt he made to finally gain the power and respect he deserved, he always ended as he began; eating garbage just to remember what flavor was, pandering to lunatics just to enjoy some of societies more mediocre pleasures, and always having to do it with a charitable smile. Many were the days he considered becoming a Reaver and settling at being feared for his troubles, which always brought a laugh to him. To ever stoop to becoming that kind of creature, well, it gave him hope that he hadn’t hit rock bottom.

“Mister Chakel, your little urchin is here.”

His moment of peace was blown away with the hoarse voice of the cook, giving him just enough warning to conjure a smile at the sight of his errand boy.

The arrival of the groceries was like a death knell every time it came, as if the firm grip of the devil was dragging him back to hell. He barely noticed the welp’s departure as he glared at the grains and vegetables before him, the moronic mantras that were always chanted filling his mind.

In that moment he made a vow. A bag of earthen garbage in one hand, the other with the remains of “civilized” slop, Lawrence made a promise to the Verse that he would sign on to the first ship he found. Anything to get off this planet.