The slums of New Columbia || Jack & Fitzroy
There was a reason Jack had lingered mostly in the upperclass districts â he still wasnât accustomed to traveling by air, and probably never would be. When he finally mustered the courage to move elsewhere, he staggered off the trolly, fell to his knees and threw up. And he stayed there a while, shuddering from a vertigo that had stayed with him since his arrival to a floating city.
After a good ten minutes, he pried himself up. And moved with determined instinct into the darkness, where it smelled of rot and the poor. His hand clenched the handle of his wrench, eyes floating all over â to the fires, people huddling in the streets, dirty children running. The people looked different here. Jack wasnât used to darker complexions.
But all this was reminiscent of Rapture slums. There was a bitter, violent look in the eyes of the people here, just waiting to be unleashed on some oppressor. He had flashback memories of a class struggle in the city beneath the sea, but it was painful, because these things were repressed by force of some psychologist.
So he shook it off and moved forward, always wandering in aimless need to survive.
It wasn't hard to spot someone who didn't belong in the slums of Columbia and a man as clean and well dressed as Jack was bound to grab the attention of the wrong people.
Since Sinclair Deluxe attack even the people of the slums were conflicted about their feelings for the Vox but they knew that the Vox protected them, however brutal it may be and so Daisy was first to hear about anything going down in the dark side of New Columbia.
"You walk 'round armed like that 'n' folks gonna think you're here for trouble." Fitzroy stood behind Jack with an almost friendly tone to her voice, "But then people 'round here don't take too kindly to a white man that ain't Irish. Most don't truly understand us."
Her all too friendly tone suddenly dropped and she gave the man a cold hard stare.
"What brings you to these parts anyway?"
