Chapter 29: Factorywood

"I'll see you in a few days?" Caitlyn asked the following morning, her eyes gleaming hopefully as she met Orion's gaze. She was back in her usual white and royal blue Kiramman outfit, a satchel slung over her shoulder carrying books.

Orion nodded. "Within four or five days, give or take."

He wore his old tattered clothes beneath his iconic jacket, though it appeared suspiciously clean. "I'll have to fix that," Orion thought, a pang of guilt hitting him for the servant's hard work.

Caitlyn hesitated, taking a small step forward, her arms outstretched awkwardly as her gaze darted nervously. Orion raised an open hand, halting her mid-motion. Her eyes snapped up, confusion and hurt combined, her expression silently asking, "Why?"

"Your mother would kill me if you started that now," Orion said flatly, keeping his hand raised and a deadpan expression. Cassandra was standing at the manor entrance, after all. She stared at their interaction, frowning with disapproval upon witnessing Caitlyn's awkward actions.

As if to curse Orion, Caitlyn's gaze dropped briefly before acting true to her disobedient and defiant nature, on par with Vi. She stepped forward anyway, hugging Orion tightly, perhaps too tightly due to her nervousness, knowing this was an unspoken taboo for her mother.

"Fuck," Orion cursed internally, his deadpan stare locked with Cassandra's terrifyingly sharp glare. He could almost see the veins on her forehead threatening to pop, despite his arms awkwardly wide and avoiding any physical reciprocation. 

"You're going to kill me," Orion grumbled through a strained breath.

"I know. Consider it a parting gift." Caitlyn replied smugly, before breaking away into a quick stride down the street without looking back. 

Cassandra didn't speak. Orion doubted she could with how distorted her expression seemed. Instead, she gave him a curt, sharp nod, silently commanding him to leave. He happily obliged, about-facing and making his way toward the bridge.

"That's next week's problem," Orion mused, chuckling softly once he was out of sight.

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Before even crossing the bridge, Orion ducked into an alleyway and smeared himself with mud and dirt. Clean, in the Undercity, marked you as a merchant, someone with wealth, or worse- a topsider. Regardless, it made you a target.

"Vi and the others are expecting me tomorrow," Orion reminded himself, making his way back to his house to grab the third ammo round. From there, he headed down into the Sump district.

"Why didn't the servants or Kirammans ask about the gun?" Orion thought as he walked, bemused. They cleaned his clothes, but didn't confiscate his weapon or question him. "It's unsettling- but I should be thankful."

Factorywood, just like Bonscutt Pump Station, Dredge Prison, and Zaun's Asylum, were concentrated on the west side of the Sump level. Most of your notorious places, horror stories and tragedies, were located there. The east side contained the slightly more humane areas such as the Slums, Black Lanes, and Commercia Fantastica.

Factorywood wasn't a single factory, but a labyrinth of closely packed together industrial buildings with pools of liquified chemtech materials, sewage, and other highly toxic materials.

Orion stood out like a sore thumb. Down here, there was no color, no individuality. Everyone was buried beneath layers of soot, biproducts, and wastage. A brief glance at Orion- the distinct colors of his brown jacket and underlays- marked him as an outsider. The sharp and unfriendly glares from passersby told him in unspoken words, "You don't belong here."

It wasn't long before two large men, their clean, bouncer-styled clothing starkly contrasting with the environment, approached him. Fearful and hateful glances of the workers followed.

"'C''s waiting." One said curtly, holding out a brown sack. "Put this on."

"Geh-" Orion grumbled under his breath. There wasn't much point talking, glancing up at the two who waited impatiently with one mission in mind. Resigned, he took the sack and put it over his head.

Even with two of 'C''s thugs guiding him, Orion was unnerved. Having his vision cut off in such a hostile environment, paired with the continuous assault to his remaining senses, left him tense and apprehensive. Every step felt uncertain, his instincts screaming at him.

Clang!

The sound of a metal door slamming open reverberated around him. The air became lighter, and the temperature rose noticeably, contrasting with the oppressive tone from outside.

More metal doors creaked open in succession. Orion could deduce that one led the way, while the other kept a firm grip on Orion's shoulders, guiding him in the right direction.

Finally, a last metal door groaned opened, and the air shifted again, becoming strangely clean- almost fresh- and carrying an earthy undertone.

"Flowers," Orion muttered, sniffing the air. The clean air mingled with the faint, natural aroma and perfume of nature, throwing him off balance completely. For a fleeting moment, it felt like he wasn't in Zaun anymore, but back near the lake training with Caitlyn and Greyson.

Orion heard the faint shuffling of feet, then sack came off, and he was temporarily blinded as his eyes struggled to adjust to the light- and the shocking scene.

It was reminiscent of the menagerie greenhouse, but in far more untamed and in wild abundance. Luminescent algae clung to every surface, casting an otherworldly glow. Trees, vibrant and alive, scattered the space. A grand glass roof arched overhead, refracting light in a vibrant display onto blooming flowers and dense, colorful bushes that dotting the scene.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" A humming voice resounded from beside him, calm yet piercing in its confidence.