A smog descended deep onto the night as Theseus hurried down the rise and into Sector Three. Tired from begging on the other side of town, he crept under the rickety fence, and snuck down an alley into the street. The lights were on, illuminating the grim doors of the houses that adorned it. This was the 'nicer' part of Three, where the houses stood tall and the food didn't stop flowing in. Most of the time. Theseus straightened up and tried to dust off the smog that always settled in the night. Walking confidently, he ignored the muttered remarks and stares from the lofty windows, whispers of "unwanted" and "urchin". He would always get those remarks, even at school where all the kids weren't particularly rich, but still, he had to work to contain his emotions. Hurrying now off the street he turned into the main centre of Three, a large circle with the town hall at the top, breaking the continuous monotony of decrepit shop windows and the few roads that led out to similar streets as the one he had left. Turning now, down a road to the east he fled, quickening his pace until he almost ran, trying to escape the almost deafening whisper of night. At last he turned, almost absentmindedly, down a narrow side alley, noting how the buildings grew gradually more wretched, ending at a crumbled ruin which led into Theseus' home: The Scrapheap.
The Scrapheap is the main focal point of Three. Unfortunately. Deemed the poorest Sector, Three is the dump for the other Sector's rubbish, be it items or people otherwise. The heap ringed the north-western side of Sector Three. A tumbling mess of assorted mechanical items ridged in the centre curved around into a huge pile of broken computers, a range of gadgets, gun and memories of a broken past. Avalanches of metal frequently slid down into the boggy ground, bringing with it a shrieking sound of iron on steel. Around it all laid a heavy aroma of forgotten waste and sickly age. On the edge lay tiny encampments and shacks. Theseus skirted the pile and trampled up a small slope of metal to a clearing of solid ground. Centering this was one of the tiny shacks, a roof of metal held up by a huge iron shaft dumped heavily into the boggy earth. Theseus ducked into it and draped a ragged cloth over the entrance to cut out the suffocating blanket of night. This was his home, a hole carved from detritus, a cave of debris and age old metallic relics that earned his title “urchin”. Sitting himself down on the rags that swamped the dirt, he took out a pouch and emptied its contents. A flash of silver accompanied a clink as a few silver coins fell onto the earth. This was the reward for his evening of begging. It was pitiful, but would last him a week of food or so. Theseus sighed p, and was startled to see cold mist erupt from his mouth. Was it really that cold, and that late!? Panicking now, he wrapped himself up in rags. It was the only way to survive in the harshly cold nights of Three. He knew he was late, and that he would pay for it tomorrow, but for now, he needed to sleep. Turning on his side, he shut his eyes. As the darkness washed over him, he felt an overwhelming sense of loneliness. It was like this every night. He just wanted someone to fend the night off with. On his own, it threatened to consume him.
Theseus had never had any parents. He had just…awoken at the Orphanage. No one had explained at all. That was where he had grew up, miserably searching for any knowledge of his mother and father. The only thing he remembered were her eyes. The way his mum would look at him, stare at him, feeding him with love and courage. They were just a disjointed bundle of colours in his mind now. But still, he savoured the warmth it gave him to think of them. The Orphanage had been alright for Theseus at the start. The other children hardened themselves from company and so did he. It was only when a boy overheard him asking the matron – a strict, aging lady who hardly showed herself to the children – is he could leave. He thought he could just do it. Leave for a better life, escape and find his parents. But he had been ridiculed, both by the Matron and the kids. From then on he lived a life of misery and sadness, dodging taunts and hiding in the corners of his mind. He had managed to build his mind into a hardened fortress. A place where he could contain his anger, pacify himself and keep calm. It was in there that he decided to leave the Orphanage. He was amazed that no-one else had tried to run, but he had suspected the Matron scared them more than they let on. In the dead of winter he slipped from a broken window out into the night. The Orphanage had woken up to carnage as the Matron went mad trying to find him. But Theseus was already far away. It was on this flight that Theseus had learnt to run. He was only seven, yet he could sprint for almost an hour, building up great endurance and speed. He had run all the way around Sector Three, taking him a few days, before stopping at the Scrapheap. This was where he had been all his life.
Turning over again Theseus sighed. Tonight, he knew, would be another long night.