Pure Hearted Manga

Miu has two-tone long hair, one side white and the other black. Hange has brown hair in a ponytail and Hange have glass. Eren has short brown hair and Levi has short black hair. Miu and Hange are walking down the hall and talking. They hear a commotion coming from Eren's room and decide to paint him. They open his door. They sit on Eren's bed and paint Eren's face. Miu and Hange laugh. Hange suddenly sees Eren waking up and decides to paint himself too. Miu stares at Hange nervously.Because Hange Betrayed Miu When Eren wakes up, he looks surprised. Hange points at Miu and Eren catches Miu and Hange paints Miu.even though Miu protests They laugh so hard that Levi bursts into the room with his typical angry expression and starts muttering something. Miu looks at Levi nervously and tries to smile. And say nervously ,,ehhh." Levi looks away and starts laughing in room. Then he grabs Miu's hand and pulls Levis room. When they are alone, Miu watches him nervously. And Levi laughs at her.
Miu has two-tone long hair, one side white and the other black. Hange has brown hair in a ponytail and Hange have glass. Eren has short brown hair and Levi has short black hair.exactly as they are in the picture Miu and Hange are walking down the hall and talking. They hear a commotion coming from Eren's room and decide to paint him. They open his door. They sit on Eren's bed and paint Eren's face. Miu and Hange laugh. Hange suddenly sees Eren waking up and decides to paint himself too. Miu stares at Hange nervously.Because Hange Betrayed Miu When Eren wakes up, he looks surprised. Hange points at Miu and Eren catches Miu and Hange paints Miu.even though Miu protests They laugh so hard that Levi bursts into the room with his typical angry expression and starts muttering something. Miu looks at Levi nervously and tries to smile. And say nervously ,,ehhh." Levi looks away and starts laughing in room. Then he grabs Miu's hand and pulls Levis room. When they are alone, Miu watches him nervously. And Levi laughs at her.
Miu has two-tone long hair, one side white and the other black. Hange has brown hair in a ponytail and Hange have glass. Eren has short brown hair and Levi has short black hair.exactly as they are in the picture Miu and Hange are walking down the hall and talking. They hear a commotion coming from Eren's room and decide to paint him. They open his door. They sit on Eren's bed and paint Eren's face. Miu and Hange laugh. Hange suddenly sees Eren waking up and decides to paint himself too. Miu stares at Hange nervously.Because Hange Betrayed Miu When Eren wakes up, he looks surprised. Hange points at Miu and Eren catches Miu and Hange paints Miu.even though Miu protests They laugh so hard that Levi bursts into the room with his typical angry expression and starts muttering something. Miu looks at Levi nervously and tries to smile. And say nervously ,,ehhh." Levi looks away and starts laughing in room. Then he grabs Miu's hand and pulls Levis room. When they are alone, Miu watches him nervously. And Levi laughs at her.
Miu has two-tone long hair, one side white and the other black. Hange has brown hair in a ponytail and Hange have glass. Eren has short brown hair and Levi has short black hair.exactly as they are in the picture Miu and Hange are walking down the hall and talking. They hear a commotion coming from Eren's room and decide to paint him. They open his door. They sit on Eren's bed and paint Eren's face. Miu and Hange laugh. Hange suddenly sees Eren waking up and decides to paint himself too. Miu stares at Hange nervously.Because Hange Betrayed Miu When Eren wakes up, he looks surprised. Hange points at Miu and Eren catches Miu and Hange paints Miu.even though Miu protests They laugh so hard that Levi bursts into the room with his typical angry expression and starts muttering something. Miu looks at Levi nervously and tries to smile. And say nervously ,,ehhh." Levi looks away and starts laughing in room. Then he grabs Miu's hand and pulls Levis room. When they are alone, Miu watches him nervously. And Levi laughs at her.
Miu has two-tone long hair, one side white and the other black. Hange has brown hair in a ponytail. Eren has short brown hair and Levi has short black hair. Miu and Hange are walking down the hall and talking. They hear a commotion coming from Eren's room and decide to paint him. They open his door. They sit on Eren's bed and paint Eren's face. Miu and Hange laugh. Hange suddenly sees Eren waking up and decides to paint himself too. Miu stares at Hange nervously.Because Hange Betrayed Miu When Eren wakes up, he looks surprised. Hange points at Miu and Eren catches Miu and Hange paints Miu.even though Miu protests They laugh so hard that Levi bursts into the room with his typical angry expression and starts muttering something. Miu looks at Levi nervously and tries to smile. And say nervously ,,ehhh." Levi looks away and starts laughing in room. Then he grabs Miu's hand and pulls her away. When they are alone, Miu watches him nervously. And Levi laughs at her.
Miu has two-tone long hair, one side white and the other black. Hange has brown hair in a ponytail and Hange have glass. Eren has short brown hair and Levi has short black hair. Miu and Hange are walking down the hall and talking. They hear a commotion coming from Eren's room and decide to paint him. They open his door. They sit on Eren's bed and paint Eren's face. Miu and Hange laugh. Hange suddenly sees Eren waking up and decides to paint himself too. Miu stares at Hange nervously.Because Hange Betrayed Miu When Eren wakes up, he looks surprised. Hange points at Miu and Eren catches Miu and Hange paints Miu.even though Miu protests They laugh so hard that Levi bursts into the room with his typical angry expression and starts muttering something. Miu looks at Levi nervously and tries to smile. And say nervously ,,ehhh." Levi looks away and starts laughing in room. Then he grabs Miu's hand and pulls Levis room. When they are alone, Miu watches him nervously. And Levi laughs at her.
Miu has two-tone long hair, one side white and the other black. Hange has brown hair in a ponytail and Hange have glass. Eren has short brown hair and Levi has short black hair. Miu and Hange are walking down the hall and talking. They hear a commotion coming from Eren's room and decide to paint him. They open his door. They sit on Eren's bed and paint Eren's face. Miu and Hange laugh. Hange suddenly sees Eren waking up and decides to paint himself too. Miu stares at Hange nervously.Because Hange Betrayed Miu When Eren wakes up, he looks surprised. Hange points at Miu and Eren catches Miu and Hange paints Miu.even though Miu protests They laugh so hard that Levi bursts into the room with his typical angry expression and starts muttering something. Miu looks at Levi nervously and tries to smile. And say nervously ,,ehhh." Levi looks away and starts laughing in room. Then he grabs Miu's hand and pulls Levis room. When they are alone, Miu watches him nervously. And Levi laughs at her.
Miu has two-tone long hair, one side white and the other black. Hange has brown hair in a ponytail and Hange have glass. Eren has short brown hair and Levi has short black hair. Miu and Hange are walking down the hall and talking. They hear a commotion coming from Eren's room and decide to paint him. They open his door. They sit on Eren's bed and paint Eren's face. Miu and Hange laugh. Hange suddenly sees Eren waking up and decides to paint himself too. Miu stares at Hange nervously.Because Hange Betrayed Miu When Eren wakes up, he looks surprised. Hange points at Miu and Eren catches Miu and Hange paints Miu.even though Miu protests They laugh so hard that Levi bursts into the room with his typical angry expression and starts muttering something. Miu looks at Levi nervously and tries to smile. And say nervously ,,ehhh." Levi looks away and starts laughing in room. Then he grabs Miu's hand and pulls Levis room. When they are alone, Miu watches him nervously. And Levi laughs at her.
Miu has two-tone long hair, one side white and the other black. Hange has brown hair in a ponytail and Hange have glass. Eren has short brown hair and Levi has short black hair.exactly as they are in the picture Miu and Hange are walking down the hall and talking. They hear a commotion coming from Eren's room and decide to paint him. They open his door. They sit on Eren's bed and paint Eren's face. Miu and Hange laugh. Hange suddenly sees Eren waking up and decides to paint himself too. Miu stares at Hange nervously.Because Hange Betrayed Miu When Eren wakes up, he looks surprised. Hange points at Miu and Eren catches Miu and Hange paints Miu.even though Miu protests They laugh so hard that Levi bursts into the room with his typical angry expression and starts muttering something. Miu looks at Levi nervously and tries to smile. And say nervously ,,ehhh." Levi looks away and starts laughing in room. Then he grabs Miu's hand and pulls Levis room. When they are alone, Miu watches him nervously. And Levi laughs at her.
Miu has two-tone long hair, one side white and the other black. Hange has brown hair in a ponytail and Hange have glass. Eren has short brown hair and Levi has short black hair. Miu and Hange are walking down the hall and talking. They hear a commotion coming from Eren's room and decide to paint him. They open his door. They sit on Eren's bed and paint Eren's face. Miu and Hange laugh. Hange suddenly sees Eren waking up and decides to paint himself too. Miu stares at Hange nervously.Because Hange Betrayed Miu When Eren wakes up, he looks surprised. Hange points at Miu and Eren catches Miu and Hange paints Miu.even though Miu protests They laugh so hard that Levi bursts into the room with his typical angry expression and starts muttering something. Miu looks at Levi nervously and tries to smile. And say nervously ,,ehhh." Levi looks away and starts laughing in room. Then he grabs Miu's hand and pulls Levis room. When they are alone, Miu watches him nervously. And Levi laughs at her.
The walk up to the main house was short, a gravel path lined with solar lights that flickered weakly in the twilight. Steel’s property was an oasis of rural quiet, a stark contrast to the neon anxiety of the Starlight Motel. As they approached the house, the golden glow of the kitchen windows spilled out onto the porch. They wiped their boots on the mat; a ritual Steel performed with a surprising delicacy and entered. The kitchen was warm, smelling of rosemary, roasted beef, and yeast rolls. Stephanie was at the stove, stirring gray with the focus of a chemist. “He’s here,” Steel announced, Hanging his keys on a hook. Stephanie turned, wiping her hands on her white apron with a giant red A on it. “About time, Wash up Alex. Use the good soap, not that grease cutter stuff Gerald keeps by the sink.” It was then that Alex noticed they weren’t alone. Sitting at the round oak table, nursing a glass of iced tea, was a young woman. She looked up as he entered, and Alex felt his boots root to the floor. She was petite, perhaps a few inches shorter than him, with long, chestnut hair that fell in loose waves over shoulders. She wore oversized tortoise shell glasses that magnified eyes, the color of polished sapphire. She was wearing scrubs- navy blue with a stethoscope still draped casually around her neck like a scarf. “Alex,” Stephanie said, gesturing with a gravy ladle. “This is Devon. She works with me at the hospital. Devon, this is the stray Gerald brought home.” Alex could feel the heat creeping up his neck as he mumbled. “I’m not a stay, I’m an employee.” Devon smiled, and it changed her whole face, softening the intelligence in her eyes into something warmer. “Nice to meet you, Alex the Employee. Steph say’s you’re the one who saved your boss from a falling plate?”
The walk up to the main house was short, a gravel path lined with solar lights that flickered weakly in the twilight. Steel’s property was an oasis of rural quiet, a stark contrast to the neon anxiety of the Starlight Motel. As they approached the house, the golden glow of the kitchen windows spilled out onto the porch. They wiped their boots on the mat; a ritual Steel performed with a surprising delicacy and entered. The kitchen was warm, smelling of rosemary, roasted beef, and yeast rolls. Stephanie was at the stove, stirring gray with the focus of a chemist. “He’s here,” Steel announced, Hanging his keys on a hook. Stephanie turned, wiping her hands on her white apron with a giant red A on it. “About time, Wash up Alex. Use the good soap, not that grease cutter stuff Gerald keeps by the sink.” It was then that Alex noticed they weren’t alone. Sitting at the round oak table, nursing a glass of iced tea, was a young woman. She looked up as he entered, and Alex felt his boots root to the floor. She was petite, perhaps a few inches shorter than him, with long, chestnut hair that fell in loose waves over shoulders. She wore oversized tortoise shell glasses that magnified eyes, the color of polished sapphire. She was wearing scrubs- navy blue with a stethoscope still draped casually around her neck like a scarf. “Alex,” Stephanie said, gesturing with a gravy ladle. “This is Devon. She works with me at the hospital. Devon, this is the stray Gerald brought home.” Alex could feel the heat creeping up his neck as he mumbled. “I’m not a stay, I’m an employee.” Devon smiled, and it changed her whole face, softening the intelligence in her eyes into something warmer. “Nice to meet you, Alex the Employee. Steph say’s you’re the one who saved your boss from a falling plate?”
The walk up to the main house was short, a gravel path lined with solar lights that flickered weakly in the twilight. Steel’s property was an oasis of rural quiet, a stark contrast to the neon anxiety of the Starlight Motel. As they approached the house, the golden glow of the kitchen windows spilled out onto the porch. They wiped their boots on the mat; a ritual Steel performed with a surprising delicacy and entered. The kitchen was warm, smelling of rosemary, roasted beef, and yeast rolls. Stephanie was at the stove, stirring gray with the focus of a chemist. “He’s here,” Steel announced, Hanging his keys on a hook. Stephanie turned, wiping her hands on her white apron with a giant red A on it. “About time, Wash up Alex. Use the good soap, not that grease cutter stuff Gerald keeps by the sink.” It was then that Alex noticed they weren’t alone. Sitting at the round oak table, nursing a glass of iced tea, was a young woman. She looked up as he entered, and Alex felt his boots root to the floor. She was petite, perhaps a few inches shorter than him, with long, chestnut hair that fell in loose waves over shoulders. She wore oversized tortoise shell glasses that magnified eyes, the color of polished sapphire. She was wearing scrubs- navy blue with a stethoscope still draped casually around her neck like a scarf. “Alex,” Stephanie said, gesturing with a gravy ladle. “This is Devon. She works with me at the hospital. Devon, this is the stray Gerald brought home.” Alex could feel the heat creeping up his neck as he mumbled. “I’m not a stay, I’m an employee.” Devon smiled, and it changed her whole face, softening the intelligence in her eyes into something warmer. “Nice to meet you, Alex the Employee. Steph say’s you’re the one who saved your boss from a falling plate?”
Panel 1 Wide shot: A dark noble bedchamber lit only by a dying hearth. The massive shape of Lord Michael Fortinbras lies asleep in the background, half-buried in blankets, his loud snoring filling the room. In the foreground, the Woodcutter Girl and the Priestess Concubine lie awake, staring into the darkness. SFX: GRRRHHH… KHHH… Caption: The lord slept soundly. Panel 2 Closer shot: The woodcutter lies stiffly on her side, eyes open, face tired and hollow. Woodcutter (small text): “…Are you awake?” Panel 3 Priestess close-up: She turns her head slightly on the pillow, eyes half-lidded, calm but worn. Priestess: “Yes.” Panel 4 Two-shot: The woodcutter hesitates, clutching the blanket near her chest. The priestess watches her quietly. Woodcutter: “Do you still believe?” Priestess: “…In what?” Panel 5 Woodcutter close-up: Pain and anger mix on her face. Woodcutter: “In God.” “In justice.” “In anything beyond this room.” Panel 6 Woodcutter continues, eyes wet but hard: The shadow of Fortinbras looms blurry in the background. Woodcutter: “We are brought here whenever he desires.” “He sleeps like a king.” “And we lie here like we are nothing.” “So tell me…” “What kind of God sees that and says nothing?” Panel 7 Priestess close-up: Her face turns solemn, almost haunted. Priestess: “There was a time…” “I would have answered you easily.” “I would have said suffering has purpose.” “That heaven sees all.” “That justice waits beyond mortal reach.” Panel 8 Half-panel: The priestess looks toward the dark ceiling. Candlelight catches her tired eyes. Priestess: “But words like that are easier to speak in a temple…” “…than in a lord’s bedchamber.” Panel 9 Woodcutter sits up slightly, expression sharpening with bitterness. Woodcutter: “Then God is weak.” Panel 10 Priestess turns to look directly at her. Priestess: “Or distant.” “Or silent.” “Or perhaps men simply commit evil…” “…and call it fate so they need not fear judgment.” Panel 11 Two-shot: The woodcutter looks shaken, but intent. The priestess remains composed. Woodcutter: “Then we are powerless.” “Even with God.” Priestess: “For now.” “Faith does not break locks.” “It does not stop cruel men.” “The powerless endure by learning where power lives… and waiting for the moment it shifts.” Panel 12 Final wide panel: Fortinbras remains asleep in the background, snoring like some vast beast. In the foreground, the priestess stares into the dark with grim resolve, while the woodcutter lies beside her, silent and thinking. SFX: GRRRHHH… Priestess: “Do not mistake silence for approval.” “The heavens may be silent…” “…but silence is not surrender.” Caption: And so the night passed beneath the weight of one man’s power… and the fragile refusal of two women to let despair become truth.
CLIMATE X INDIGENOUS VOICES MAGAZINE EDITION – 2025 HIGHLIGHTS OPENING NOTE 2025 has been a defining year for Climate X Indigenous Voices — a year of deep listening, bold experimentation, and continent-wide action against climate disinformation. From grassroots fieldwork to global information integrity frameworks, this project has cemented itself as one of Africa’s leading voices on climate truth, Indigenous knowledge, and digital resilience. This edition captures the milestones, stories, and sparks that shaped our journey. FEATURE I — Foundations of a Movement Project Foundations & Ethical Community Partnerships Our year began where all great stories do — on the ground. Core teams were formed across Zimbabwe, Uganda, Kenya and regional media hubs, with contracts, TORs, and workflow structures firmly established. Early engagement with Indigenous partners — including the Tjwa community and others — ensured ethical collaboration, transparent consent, and storytelling shaped with communities, not about them. FEATURE II — Investigating the Climate Lie Machine Grassroots Disinformation Research In Matabeleland North, our field teams completed a landmark study with the Tjwa community. The research reveals how climate disinformation impacts resource access, daily decision-making, and community adaptation. These findings now anchor our content pipeline — from animations to community exhibitions — and the full report will be released on our public document-sharing platform. Africa Climate Disinformation Toolkit The continent’s first integrated guide to climate misinformation has been finalised. Led by an information integrity expert, the toolkit documents: Recurring myths Localised misinformation patterns Platform-driven manipulation Emerging online climate narratives Launching this December via webinar, the Toolkit already informs youth trainings and content strategy. It will be publicly accessible for download and reading. FEATURE III — Art as Resistance Art-Driven Dissemination Strategy From murals to exhibitions, 2025 strengthened the role of art in climate truth-telling. Community artists partnered with us to transform research into accessible, culturally rooted visual storytelling. A centerpiece was the exhibition inspired by The Last Forest documentary, showcased at the Green Cities Expo in September. FEATURE IV — Nurturing the Next Generation of Climate Truth Creators Green Media Accelerator: Fake News Fighters Track In Nairobi, the Green Media Accelerator launched a dedicated track for Fake News Fighters (FNF) — now one of Africa’s leading climate information integrity models. Through mentorship, fact-checking skills, and seed funding, FNF empowered young media innovators to produce verified, creative responses to climate lies. INFORMATION INTEGRITY HIGHLIGHTS Positioning Africa in the Global Info Integrity Landscape 2025 saw FNF align with the UNESCO Declaration for Information Integrity in the Public Sphere, marking a milestone for African-driven climate truth models. In 2026, FNF will contribute directly to shaping the world’s first Climate Information Integrity Framework, anchoring African solutions in global policy spaces. Fake News Fighters Bootcamps – Kenya & Uganda Using UKWELI as the core tool, two bootcamps trained 30 young creators to: Fact-check climate misinformation Detect platform manipulations Produce counter-narratives Map the real-world impacts of false climate stories These creators now feed into a continent-wide content pipeline. FEATURE V — Content, Storytelling & Digital Resistance Voices Rooted Podcast Production of the first episodes began this month. Key recordings include: Dr. Albert K. Barume, UN Special Rapporteur on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples Indigenous leaders and frontline climate defenders The podcast positions Indigenous wisdom at the centre of Africa’s climate discourse. Hope Not Heat! — Log Off The Lies Digital Campaign Bold. Satirical. Youth-driven. Log Off The Lies has become our strongest weapon against climate misinformation. Highlights: Infomercial launched in October — 2 million views Hero content released last week — 1.8 million views Youth social storm platform launched — 100+ engagements and counting Humour + fact-checking = sharper climate awareness among youth audiences This campaign now shapes the continent’s conversation on online climate manipulation. Influencer Travel Vlogs Travel and contracting with leading African vloggers is underway. Their content — spotlighting Indigenous adaptation stories — will be released early next year for wider impact. Documentary Production In Zimbabwe: Filming completed in August. Trailer for The Last Forest reached 2.5 million views. Festival submissions are being prepared for 2026. In Uganda: Filming has begun, expanding the documentary footprint across the region. A major national event is planned to engage policy makers on Indigenous Peoples' Rights, Conservation, FPIC and Extractive Industries. FEATURE VI — Youth Creativity & Climate Knowledge Climate Fake News Smackdown This creative competition invited youth to challenge climate myths. Three winners — one each from Zimbabwe, Kenya and Uganda — are now producing myth-busting content for release this month. Climate Facts Animations Three animated explainers are in production: Episode 1 releases on 10 December Episode 2 is complete Episode 3 follows early next year These animations demystify climate disinformation for youth audiences. FEATURE VII — Growing a Continental Network Africa Climate Labs Network Content hubs across East and Southern Africa are collaborating to build an Africa-wide front against climate disinformation. 2026 will deepen: Joint content planning Regular reporting Skill exchanges Coordinated distribution strategies Mid-term M&E is tracking reach, narrative shifts, and behaviour change across communities. SPECIAL RECOGNITION Fake News Fighters Wins Amnesty International Zimbabwe Award FNF received the Digital Creativity Award, affirming that information integrity is fundamental to climate justice. Without reliable information, communities cannot defend their rights, advocate for policy change, or hold powerful actors accountable. LOOKING AHEAD — 2026 AND BEYOND Next year, Climate X Indigenous Voices pivots from standalone outputs to continent-wide narrative influence. Key Priorities for 2026 Expanding UKWELI’s integration into broader African dialogues on climate truth and Indigenous resilience Strengthening the Fake News Fighters track for Zimbabwean and Tanzanian innovators Documentary production in Kenya and Tanzania A refreshed, more dynamic phase of the Hope Not Heat! campaign Strategic release of delayed content to maximise engagement 2026 will be the year the project scales from impactful storytelling to movement-level influence.
The neon sign above the trailer buzzed with the irritable hum of a dying insect. It read Ground support, thought the 'U' in ground was flickering out, Leaving the company to announce itself as Grond Support. It fit the aesthetic of the surrounding yard, which was a graveyard of rust excavators, Coils of orange conduit and piles of gravel that looked like forgotten burial mounds. Alex Barry stood at the Chain-link gate, the dust of three state lines coating his black cowboy boots. He was twenty-one, but the shadows under his eyes belonged to a man twice his age. He ran a hand through his short, cropped black hair, wincing as his shirt sleeve rode up. The ink on his forearm, a jagged tribal design he'd gotten in a basement parlor in New Mexico. Hidden again as he yanked the fabric down. He wasn't dealing today, He wasn't running packages. He was trying to vanish and the best place to disappear was beneath the earth. He pushed open the door to the office trailer. The air conditioning hit him like a physical blow, smelling of stale coffee and toner. “We aren’t buying whatever your selling, kid.” a voice rasped from behind a desk that looked more like a barricade of paperwork. Shane, the owner sat there like a toad on a lily pad. Squeezed into a polo shirt so tight and pristine white that it looked like it had been painted onto his soft, round torso. He didn't look up from his spreadsheet, his pen tapping a frantic rhythm. “I'm not selling,” Alex said his voice rough from days of silence. “I'm looking for work. Sign out front says you need laborers.” Shane finally looked up his eyes narrowing as they swept over Alex. He took in the dust, the nervous energy the way Alex stood with his weight on his back foot, ready to bolt. “I need laborers, Not liabilities. You got a rap sheet? You look like you got a rap sheet. I don't pay for insurance risks.” Alex clenched his jaw. “I work hard. I don't ask questions. That's my resume.” Shane waved his hand. “Get lost,” Returning to his papers. “Go peddle your drama somewhere else. This is a respectable establishment. Alex turned to leave, his hand gripping the doorknob. It was the same old story. The world saw the grim on him and assumed he was trash. He was about to step back out into the scorching heat when the light in the doorway was suddenly eclipsed. A mountain of a man blocked the exit. This was steel At forty-four, he was a wall of muscle and scar tissue, wearing biker boots that clunked heavily against the cheap linoleum. He had to duck to enter the trailer, his presence immediately sucking the oxygen out of the room. He smelled of diesel and wet earth. Steel looked down at Alex. It wasn't a glare, It was an inspection. He looked at Alex's face, then down to the dusty cowboy boots. “Nice boots,” Steel rumbled. His voice sounded like gravel tumbling inside a cement mixer. Alex didn't flinch “They walk fine.” Steel smirked, a terrifying expression that somehow reached his eyes, He looked past Alex to the man at the desk. “Hire him, Shane.” Shane sputtered, his face turning a shade of indignity pink. “Steel, look at him! Hes a stray. Probably steal the copper wire first chance he gets.” Steel steps closer to the desk. “Kid wears boots like that, he ain't running from work,” Steel said just as another figure steps inside. If steel was a mountain, Mathew was the sapling growing on the cliff edge. The Nineteen Year old squeezed past Steel. Carrying a hydraulic pump over his shoulder with effortless, wiry strength. Long blond hair flowed out from under a hardhat that had been modified with a wide brim, making it like a plastic Stetson
The neon sign above the trailer buzzed with the irritable hum of a dying insect. It read Ground support, thought the 'U' in ground was flickering out, Leaving the company to announce itself as Grond Support. It fit the aesthetic of the surrounding yard, which was a graveyard of rust excavators, Coils of orange conduit and piles of gravel that looked like forgotten burial mounds. Alex Barry stood at the Chain-link gate, the dust of three state lines coating his black cowboy boots. He was twenty-one, but the shadows under his eyes belonged to a man twice his age. He ran a hand through his short, cropped black hair, wincing as his shirt sleeve rode up. The ink on his forearm, a jagged tribal design he'd gotten in a basement parlor in New Mexico. Hidden again as he yanked the fabric down. He wasn't dealing today, He wasn't running packages. He was trying to vanish and the best place to disappear was beneath the earth. He pushed open the door to the office trailer. The air conditioning hit him like a physical blow, smelling of stale coffee and toner. “We aren’t buying whatever your selling, kid.” a voice rasped from behind a desk that looked more like a barricade of paperwork. Shane, the owner sat there like a toad on a lily pad. Squeezed into a polo shirt so tight and pristine white that it looked like it had been painted onto his soft, round torso. He didn't look up from his spreadsheet, his pen tapping a frantic rhythm. “I'm not selling,” Alex said his voice rough from days of silence. “I'm looking for work. Sign out front says you need laborers.” Shane finally looked up his eyes narrowing as they swept over Alex. He took in the dust, the nervous energy the way Alex stood with his weight on his back foot, ready to bolt. “I need laborers, Not liabilities. You got a rap sheet? You look like you got a rap sheet. I don't pay for insurance risks.” Alex clenched his jaw. “I work hard. I don't ask questions. That's my resume.” Shane waved his hand. “Get lost,” Returning to his papers. “Go peddle your drama somewhere else. This is a respectable establishment. Alex turned to leave, his hand gripping the doorknob. It was the same old story. The world saw the grim on him and assumed he was trash. He was about to step back out into the scorching heat when the light in the doorway was suddenly eclipsed. A mountain of a man blocked the exit. This was steel At forty-four, he was a wall of muscle and scar tissue, wearing biker boots that clunked heavily against the cheap linoleum. He had to duck to enter the trailer, his presence immediately sucking the oxygen out of the room. He smelled of diesel and wet earth. Steel looked down at Alex. It wasn't a glare, It was an inspection. He looked at Alex's face, then down to the dusty cowboy boots. “Nice boots,” Steel rumbled. His voice sounded like gravel tumbling inside a cement mixer. Alex didn't flinch “They walk fine.” Steel smirked, a terrifying expression that somehow reached his eyes, He looked past Alex to the man at the desk. “Hire him, Shane.” Shane sputtered, his face turning a shade of indignity pink. “Steel, look at him! Hes a stray. Probably steal the copper wire first chance he gets.” Steel steps closer to the desk. “Kid wears boots like that, he ain't running from work,” Steel said just as another figure steps inside. If steel was a mountain, Mathew was the sapling growing on the cliff edge. The Nineteen Year old squeezed past Steel. Carrying a hydraulic pump over his shoulder with effortless, wiry strength. Long blond hair flowed out from under a hardhat that had been modified with a wide brim, making it like a plastic Stetson. “Morning, Shane! Morning, Steel!” Mathew chirped
The neon sign above the trailer buzzed with the irritable hum of a dying insect. It read Ground support, thought the 'U' in ground was flickering out, Leaving the company to announce itself as Grond Support. It fit the aesthetic of the surrounding yard, which was a graveyard of rust excavators, Coils of orange conduit and piles of gravel that looked like forgotten burial mounds. Alex Barry stood at the Chain-link gate, the dust of three state lines coating his black cowboy boots. He was twenty-one, but the shadows under his eyes belonged to a man twice his age. He ran a hand through his short, cropped black hair, wincing as his shirt sleeve rode up. The ink on his forearm, a jagged tribal design he'd gotten in a basement parlor in New Mexico. Hidden again as he yanked the fabric down. He wasn't dealing today, He wasn't running packages. He was trying to vanish and the best place to disappear was beneath the earth. He pushed open the door to the office trailer. The air conditioning hit him like a physical blow, smelling of stale coffee and toner. “We aren’t buying whatever your selling, kid.” a voice rasped from behind a desk that looked more like a barricade of paperwork. Shane, the owner sat there like a toad on a lily pad. Squeezed into a polo shirt so tight and pristine white that it looked like it had been painted onto his soft, round torso. He didn't look up from his spreadsheet, his pen tapping a frantic rhythm. “I'm not selling,” Alex said his voice rough from days of silence. “I'm looking for work. Sign out front says you need laborers.” Shane finally looked up his eyes narrowing as they swept over Alex. He took in the dust, the nervous energy the way Alex stood with his weight on his back foot, ready to bolt. “I need laborers, Not liabilities. You got a rap sheet? You look like you got a rap sheet. I don't pay for insurance risks.” Alex clenched his jaw. “I work hard. I don't ask questions. That's my resume.” Shane waved his hand. “Get lost,” Returning to his papers. “Go peddle your drama somewhere else. This is a respectable establishment. Alex turned to leave, his hand gripping the doorknob. It was the same old story. The world saw the grim on him and assumed he was trash. He was about to step back out into the scorching heat when the light in the doorway was suddenly eclipsed. A mountain of a man blocked the exit. This was steel At forty-four, he was a wall of muscle and scar tissue, wearing biker boots that clunked heavily against the cheap linoleum. He had to duck to enter the trailer, his presence immediately sucking the oxygen out of the room. He smelled of diesel and wet earth. Steel looked down at Alex. It wasn't a glare, It was an inspection. He looked at Alex's face, then down to the dusty cowboy boots. “Nice boots,” Steel rumbled. His voice sounded like gravel tumbling inside a cement mixer. Alex didn't flinch “They walk fine.” Steel smirked, a terrifying expression that somehow reached his eyes, He looked past Alex to the man at the desk. “Hire him, Shane.” Shane sputtered, his face turning a shade of indignity pink. “Steel, look at him! Hes a stray. Probably steal the copper wire first chance he gets.” Steel steps closer to the desk. “Kid wears boots like that, he ain't running from work,” Steel said just as another figure steps inside. If steel was a mountain, Mathew was the sapling growing on the cliff edge. The Nineteen Year old squeezed past Steel. Carrying a hydraulic pump over his shoulder with effortless, wiry strength. Long blond hair flowed out from under a hardhat that had been modified with a wide brim, making it like a plastic Stetson. “Morning, Shane! Morning, Steel!” Mathew chirped
The neon sign above the trailer buzzed with the irritable hum of a dying insect. It read Ground support, thought the 'U' in ground was flickering out, Leaving the company to announce itself as Grond Support. It fit the aesthetic of the surrounding yard, which was a graveyard of rust excavators, Coils of orange conduit and piles of gravel that looked like forgotten burial mounds. Alex Barry stood at the Chain-link gate, the dust of three state lines coating his black cowboy boots. He was twenty-one, but the shadows under his eyes belonged to a man twice his age. He ran a hand through his short, cropped black hair, wincing as his shirt sleeve rode up. The ink on his forearm, a jagged tribal design he'd gotten in a basement parlor in New Mexico. Hidden again as he yanked the fabric down. He wasn't dealing today, He wasn't running packages. He was trying to vanish and the best place to disappear was beneath the earth. He pushed open the door to the office trailer. The air conditioning hit him like a physical blow, smelling of stale coffee and toner. “We aren’t buying whatever your selling, kid.” a voice rasped from behind a desk that looked more like a barricade of paperwork. Shane, the owner sat there like a toad on a lily pad. Squeezed into a polo shirt so tight and pristine white that it looked like it had been painted onto his soft, round torso. He didn't look up from his spreadsheet, his pen tapping a frantic rhythm. “I'm not selling,” Alex said his voice rough from days of silence. “I'm looking for work. Sign out front says you need laborers.” Shane finally looked up his eyes narrowing as they swept over Alex. He took in the dust, the nervous energy the way Alex stood with his weight on his back foot, ready to bolt. “I need laborers, Not liabilities. You got a rap sheet? You look like you got a rap sheet. I don't pay for insurance risks.” Alex clenched his jaw. “I work hard. I don't ask questions. That's my resume.” Shane waved his hand. “Get lost,” Returning to his papers. “Go peddle your drama somewhere else. This is a respectable establishment. Alex turned to leave, his hand gripping the doorknob. It was the same old story. The world saw the grim on him and assumed he was trash. He was about to step back out into the scorching heat when the light in the doorway was suddenly eclipsed. A mountain of a man blocked the exit. This was steel At forty-four, he was a wall of muscle and scar tissue, wearing biker boots that clunked heavily against the cheap linoleum. He had to duck to enter the trailer, his presence immediately sucking the oxygen out of the room. He smelled of diesel and wet earth. Steel looked down at Alex. It wasn't a glare, It was an inspection. He looked at Alex's face, then down to the dusty cowboy boots. “Nice boots,” Steel rumbled. His voice sounded like gravel tumbling inside a cement mixer. Alex didn't flinch “They walk fine.” Steel smirked, a terrifying expression that somehow reached his eyes, He looked past Alex to the man at the desk. “Hire him, Shane.” Shane sputtered, his face turning a shade of indignity pink. “Steel, look at him! Hes a stray. Probably steal the copper wire first chance he gets.” Steel steps closer to the desk. “Kid wears boots like that, he ain't running from work,” Steel said just as another figure steps inside. If steel was a mountain, Mathew was the sapling growing on the cliff edge. The Nineteen Year old squeezed past Steel. Carrying a hydraulic pump over his shoulder with effortless, wiry strength. Long blond hair flowed out from under a hardhat that had been modified with a wide brim, making it like a plastic Stetson. “Morning, Shane! Morning, Steel!” Mathew chirped
The neon sign above the trailer buzzed with the irritable hum of a dying insect. It read Ground support, thought the 'U' in ground was flickering out, Leaving the company to announce itself as Grond Support. It fit the aesthetic of the surrounding yard, which was a graveyard of rust excavators, Coils of orange conduit and piles of gravel that looked like forgotten burial mounds. Alex Barry stood at the Chain-link gate, the dust of three state lines coating his black cowboy boots. He was twenty-one, but the shadows under his eyes belonged to a man twice his age. He ran a hand through his short, cropped black hair, wincing as his shirt sleeve rode up. The ink on his forearm, a jagged tribal design he'd gotten in a basement parlor in New Mexico. Hidden again as he yanked the fabric down. He wasn't dealing today, He wasn't running packages. He was trying to vanish and the best place to disappear was beneath the earth. He pushed open the door to the office trailer. The air conditioning hit him like a physical blow, smelling of stale coffee and toner. “We aren’t buying whatever your selling, kid.” a voice rasped from behind a desk that looked more like a barricade of paperwork. Shane, the owner sat there like a toad on a lily pad. Squeezed into a polo shirt so tight and pristine white that it looked like it had been painted onto his soft, round torso. He didn't look up from his spreadsheet, his pen tapping a frantic rhythm. “I'm not selling,” Alex said his voice rough from days of silence. “I'm looking for work. Sign out front says you need laborers.” Shane finally looked up his eyes narrowing as they swept over Alex. He took in the dust, the nervous energy the way Alex stood with his weight on his back foot, ready to bolt. “I need laborers, Not liabilities. You got a rap sheet? You look like you got a rap sheet. I don't pay for insurance risks.” Alex clenched his jaw. “I work hard. I don't ask questions. That's my resume.” Shane waved his hand. “Get lost,” Returning to his papers. “Go peddle your drama somewhere else. This is a respectable establishment. Alex turned to leave, his hand gripping the doorknob. It was the same old story. The world saw the grim on him and assumed he was trash. He was about to step back out into the scorching heat when the light in the doorway was suddenly eclipsed. A mountain of a man blocked the exit. This was steel At forty-four, he was a wall of muscle and scar tissue, wearing biker boots that clunked heavily against the cheap linoleum. He had to duck to enter the trailer, his presence immediately sucking the oxygen out of the room. He smelled of diesel and wet earth. Steel looked down at Alex. It wasn't a glare, It was an inspection. He looked at Alex's face, then down to the dusty cowboy boots. “Nice boots,” Steel rumbled. His voice sounded like gravel tumbling inside a cement mixer. Alex didn't flinch “They walk fine.” Steel smirked, a terrifying expression that somehow reached his eyes, He looked past Alex to the man at the desk. “Hire him, Shane.” Shane sputtered, his face turning a shade of indignity pink. “Steel, look at him! Hes a stray. Probably steal the copper wire first chance he gets.” Steel steps closer to the desk. “Kid wears boots like that, he ain't running from work,” Steel said just as another figure steps inside. If steel was a mountain, Mathew was the sapling growing on the cliff edge. The Nineteen Year old squeezed past Steel. Carrying a hydraulic pump over his shoulder with effortless, wiry strength. Long blond hair flowed out from under a hardhat that had been modified with a wide brim, making it like a plastic Stetson
The neon sign above the trailer buzzed with the irritable hum of a dying insect. It read Ground support, thought the 'U' in ground was flickering out, Leaving the company to announce itself as Grond Support. It fit the aesthetic of the surrounding yard, which was a graveyard of rust excavators, Coils of orange conduit and piles of gravel that looked like forgotten burial mounds. Alex Barry stood at the Chain-link gate, the dust of three state lines coating his black cowboy boots. He was twenty-one, but the shadows under his eyes belonged to a man twice his age. He ran a hand through his short, cropped black hair, wincing as his shirt sleeve rode up. The ink on his forearm, a jagged tribal design he'd gotten in a basement parlor in New Mexico. Hidden again as he yanked the fabric down. He wasn't dealing today, He wasn't running packages. He was trying to vanish and the best place to disappear was beneath the earth. He pushed open the door to the office trailer. The air conditioning hit him like a physical blow, smelling of stale coffee and toner. “We aren’t buying whatever your selling, kid.” a voice rasped from behind a desk that looked more like a barricade of paperwork. Shane, the owner sat there like a toad on a lily pad. Squeezed into a polo shirt so tight and pristine white that it looked like it had been painted onto his soft, round torso. He didn't look up from his spreadsheet, his pen tapping a frantic rhythm. “I'm not selling,” Alex said his voice rough from days of silence. “I'm looking for work. Sign out front says you need laborers.” Shane finally looked up his eyes narrowing as they swept over Alex. He took in the dust, the nervous energy the way Alex stood with his weight on his back foot, ready to bolt. “I need laborers, Not liabilities. You got a rap sheet? You look like you got a rap sheet. I don't pay for insurance risks.” Alex clenched his jaw. “I work hard. I don't ask questions. That's my resume.” Shane waved his hand. “Get lost,” Returning to his papers. “Go peddle your drama somewhere else. This is a respectable establishment. Alex turned to leave, his hand gripping the doorknob. It was the same old story. The world saw the grim on him and assumed he was trash. He was about to step back out into the scorching heat when the light in the doorway was suddenly eclipsed. A mountain of a man blocked the exit. This was steel At forty-four, he was a wall of muscle and scar tissue, wearing biker boots that clunked heavily against the cheap linoleum. He had to duck to enter the trailer, his presence immediately sucking the oxygen out of the room. He smelled of diesel and wet earth. Steel looked down at Alex. It wasn't a glare, It was an inspection. He looked at Alex's face, then down to the dusty cowboy boots. “Nice boots,” Steel rumbled. His voice sounded like gravel tumbling inside a cement mixer. Alex didn't flinch “They walk fine.” Steel smirked, a terrifying expression that somehow reached his eyes, He looked past Alex to the man at the desk. “Hire him, Shane.” Shane sputtered, his face turning a shade of indignity pink. “Steel, look at him! Hes a stray. Probably steal the copper wire first chance he gets.” Steel steps closer to the desk. “Kid wears boots like that, he ain't running from work,” Steel said just as another figure steps inside. If steel was a mountain, Mathew was the sapling growing on the cliff edge. The Nineteen Year old squeezed past Steel. Carrying a hydraulic pump over his shoulder with effortless, wiry strength. Long blond hair flowed out from under a hardhat that had been modified with a wide brim, making it like a plastic Stetson. “Morning, Shane! Morning, Steel!” Mathew chirped
The neon sign above the trailer buzzed with the irritable hum of a dying insect. It read Ground support, thought the 'U' in ground was flickering out, Leaving the company to announce itself as Grond Support. It fit the aesthetic of the surrounding yard, which was a graveyard of rust excavators, Coils of orange conduit and piles of gravel that looked like forgotten burial mounds. Alex Barry stood at the Chain-link gate, the dust of three state lines coating his black cowboy boots. He was twenty-one, but the shadows under his eyes belonged to a man twice his age. He ran a hand through his short, cropped black hair, wincing as his shirt sleeve rode up. The ink on his forearm, a jagged tribal design he'd gotten in a basement parlor in New Mexico. Hidden again as he yanked the fabric down. He wasn't dealing today, He wasn't running packages. He was trying to vanish and the best place to disappear was beneath the earth. He pushed open the door to the office trailer. The air conditioning hit him like a physical blow, smelling of stale coffee and toner. “We aren’t buying whatever your selling, kid.” a voice rasped from behind a desk that looked more like a barricade of paperwork. Shane, the owner sat there like a toad on a lily pad. Squeezed into a polo shirt so tight and pristine white that it looked like it had been painted onto his soft, round torso. He didn't look up from his spreadsheet, his pen tapping a frantic rhythm. “I'm not selling,” Alex said his voice rough from days of silence. “I'm looking for work. Sign out front says you need laborers.” Shane finally looked up his eyes narrowing as they swept over Alex. He took in the dust, the nervous energy the way Alex stood with his weight on his back foot, ready to bolt. “I need laborers, Not liabilities. You got a rap sheet? You look like you got a rap sheet. I don't pay for insurance risks.” Alex clenched his jaw. “I work hard. I don't ask questions. That's my resume.” Shane waved his hand. “Get lost,” Returning to his papers. “Go peddle your drama somewhere else. This is a respectable establishment. Alex turned to leave, his hand gripping the doorknob. It was the same old story. The world saw the grim on him and assumed he was trash. He was about to step back out into the scorching heat when the light in the doorway was suddenly eclipsed. A mountain of a man blocked the exit. This was steel At forty-four, he was a wall of muscle and scar tissue, wearing biker boots that clunked heavily against the cheap linoleum. He had to duck to enter the trailer, his presence immediately sucking the oxygen out of the room. He smelled of diesel and wet earth. Steel looked down at Alex. It wasn't a glare, It was an inspection. He looked at Alex's face, then down to the dusty cowboy boots. “Nice boots,” Steel rumbled. His voice sounded like gravel tumbling inside a cement mixer. Alex didn't flinch “They walk fine.” Steel smirked, a terrifying expression that somehow reached his eyes, He looked past Alex to the man at the desk. “Hire him, Shane.” Shane sputtered, his face turning a shade of indignity pink. “Steel, look at him! Hes a stray. Probably steal the copper wire first chance he gets.” Steel steps closer to the desk. “Kid wears boots like that, he ain't running from work,” Steel said just as another figure steps inside. If steel was a mountain, Mathew was the sapling growing on the cliff edge. The Nineteen Year old squeezed past Steel. Carrying a hydraulic pump over his shoulder with effortless, wiry strength. Long blond hair flowed out from under a hardhat that had been modified with a wide brim, making it like a plastic Stetson. “Morning,Shane! Morning, Steel!” Mathew chirped, his smile bright enough to crack the cynical atmosphere and eyes as red as a lava pit. He dumped the pump on the floor and looked at Alex. “Who's the fresh meat?” “This is Alex,” Steel said deciding the matter was settled. “Hes on the shovel crew.” Shane slams his hand on his desk. “I didn't agree to this!” Steel just crosses his massive arms, not even phased by Shane's outburst. “We're down two guys on the sewer lateral downtown. Unless you want to come down into the trench and hold the shoring Shane?” Shane paled at the thought of actual labor. He grumbled, pulling a clipboard from the stack. “Fine, Minimum wage. No benefits and if you die, you're fired before the ambulance gets there. Fill this out.” Alex took the clipboard. His hands were shaking slightly, not from fear but from the sudden jarring realization that he had stopped moving. He looked at Steel, who was watching him with a knowing intensity. “Ever dig a hole, Alex?” Steel asked. “I've dug plenty,” Alex said quietly. Mostly to hide things sometimes to hide himself. “Good,” Steel clapped a hand on Alex's shoulder, the weight of it nearly buckling the young mans knees. “Because that's what we do, We fix the rot underneath the city so the people up top can pretend the ground is solid. Welcome to the Family, Kid.” Mathew tipped his hardhat. “Don't worry Alex, stick with me. I'm a prodigy. I'll teach you the art of mud.” Alex looked at the three of them- The mister, The giant and the farm boy. It was a circus, a freak show of underground construction. But he looked at the pen in his hand, Alex realized for the first time in five years he wasn't holding a weapon or a bag of product. He was holding a future.