The aluminum can clinked against the sidewalk, and a huge foot nudged it along in front of it. Slam Tasmanian frowned and picked up the can. It was bright green and empty. He tossed it into a nearby recycle bin.

It reminded him of the incident earlier. He frowned again and shook his head. No…he shouldn’t remember that. It wasn’t a happy thing to remember.

Then again, not much was happy right now.

“Slam…don’t bother blocking for him next mission,” he growled, and dashed off without another word.

Slam stopped in front of the space between the two buildings he always saw lately. He took a hand out of his pocket and rubbed his shoulder. Dull pain crept downward, but he didn’t care. It was nothing compared to what he had to put up with normally. He frowned again and walked into the sort-of-but-not-really-alleyway. The space was filled with little objects that most people would consider useless. Beads, scraps of cloth, scrap metal, and plastic wrappers were carefully sorted into little piles. Marbles were scattered underneath a miniature tent.

It was his own little hideout.

Slam sat down next to a broken radio clock. He gathered the marbles and began to toy with them.

Why did everything break? he wondered sadly. It was all so nice…

Everything was falling apart.

Everything around him was falling down, down…

The air around him seemed to change at once.

Slam’s head jerked up.

“No! Please stop chasing me!”

A blue blur ran in front of the space, shortly followed by three young boys, giggling with malice.

“Aw, come on, we only want to play!”

“I don’t want to! Leave me alone!”

Slam hastily put away the marbles. They would have to wait for another time.

He stood up and ran after them. The smallest of the boys rounded the next corner just as he skidded out of the space. Slam growled and ran faster, catching up to the boys right as their quarry ran into a dead end.

“Gotcha now!” The children laughed and with horror, Slam realized that they had knives.

“No! Please! Don’t!” The person they were chasing turned around, white-faced – literally. His face was whiter than chalk, and his eyes and mouth looked like they were badly drawn with a brown marker. He did not have a nose. He held what looked like a small bundle of rags in his right arm, and he held a pickaxe in his left hand. He wore a mountain climber’s outfit.

“Stop that,” Slam growled, placing an enormous hand on the closest boy’s shoulder. The boy turned around, sneering, but his expression changed as he looked up.

“Oh! Er, we- we didn’t see you there, s-sir,” he stammered as his companions turned around as well, horrified looks taking over their faces.

“Stop bullying. Go home,” said Slam, scowling at the trio, who scampered away immedietly. The man slid down the wall behind him, his pickaxe scraping against the cement sidewalk.

“Are you okay?”

The man looked up at Slam gratefully. “Yes…thank you! I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t saved me!”

Slam smiled. “It my job. I do it all the time.” The man’s eyes widened.

“You save people? Ferris wheel! That’s amazing!” He grinned and got up, wobbling a little. “I wish I could save people…” At this thought, the man’s face fell again.

Slam frowned. “Where you from?”

“Oh…well…I think I might have come from an amusement park…” The man looked slightly confused at this. Slam frowned. How could he not know where he was from? Most refugees at least knew the general location of their home planet’s system.

“Well, do you know name?”

“M-my name? I’m- I’m the Climber,” he replied, clutching the bundle to his chest as he struggled to stay upright. Slam grabbed his left arm.

“Are you refugee?” he inquired. “I can take you to camp.”

“Oh! Well…see, I actually came from a camp…I couldn’t stay there,” Climber whispered miserably. “There were too many people…and they couldn’t be fixed…people can’t be fixed here… Please don’t send me back!” he pleaded, gripping Slam’s arm. “Please don’t! It was too- too sad! I can’t go back!”

Slam hesistated. The Climber was obviously another displaced citizen. The war had reached through many areas, and planets that even Tech hadn’t known much about had been affected. Unfortunately, Blanc was safe – which meant many of the displaced people were either forced to live here, or came to seek safety. There were many camps where they lived…but the Climber had just come from one, and he clearly didn’t want to go back. But where else could he go?…

Slam pulled Climber’s arm very gently.

“Come on. I have place you can hide.”

A few minutes later, they had arrived at the tallest tower on the whole planet.

The Loonatics’ HQ.

“Ferris wheel…what is this place?”

“This is home for me. You can stay with me until you go home,” said Slam, grinning as Climber’s eyes widened in amazement again.

“R-really? Thank you! I promise, I’ll be useful!”

“It fine. Do you need anything particular?” Slam beamed as he pronouced the last word correctly.

“No, I- I can take care of myself…but…do any of those people with guns come here?” Clmber asked suddenly, and Slam noticed his grip on the bundle in his arm tightened.

“No, this is safe place. We never get attacked. Why?”

“N- no reason…” And his arm relaxed again.

As they went into the tower, Slam thought that Climber wasn’t entirely being truthful when he told him that. But then, people had their own secrets…

Secrets that tore them apart.