Chapter Text
Pov of the Norsemanian escaping to Maffra:
Crime is, in general, a common occurrence. However, it is a more common common sight and experience in certain very… special places.
A sprayed on sign “Welcome to Maffra!” greets you upon entry. The text in red spray is “Leave!!!!!”, and the original population amount is crossed out, and instead there has been painted “Crime rate 64%”. Beneath the sign and on the ground all around, except the road, is dried, yellowed grass. Hissing snakes are lurking there, and one has begun to circle up the pole of the sign, likewise not inviting you. Or maybe yes. To bite you with its fangs.
As you continue to walk down the road to Maffra, not drive, because your car got stolen in Norseman, just as you were deciding whether to leave that hellish hole. Well, this little experience surely convinced you to do so! Mainly when this isn't the first time it happened to you. Here, at least, the birdsongs don't seem to laugh at you nor mock you. That is a common Norsemanian daily routine. The Maffratic sun even seems a little better than the Norsemanian. It still is scorching the environment and your person, but not with so much malice as in your hometown. A life spent in Norseman has left you used to all sorts of oddities or eccentricities. You see somebody drive a carjacked car? Normal. You see somebody snorting cocaine? Normal. You see someone being threatened by knives? Normal. In the outside world standards, both of these towns are crime-flooded scum-holes. But to the citizens, Maffra is famed to be a bit calmer. Or at least the crimes and criminals are more cultured, or so you've heard. With your years spent in Norseman, You've grown sick and tired of the constant gunfire, whether literal or metaphorical.
You think of this as you walk, mumbling to yourself meanwhile. You've got no idea how you're going to obtain a living or a job here, but you shall try your best. Deep in thought, you are interrupted by a Hummer pick-up truck speeding down to the road, out of Maffra, with loud church music and chants blasting from it. It is accompanied by the driver's manic giggling laughter.
“Madman…” You mutter, complaining as you continue your journey.
Soon, you reach a gas station. What comes to your notice is the lesser amount of trash littered around. With your throat patches and stomach grumbling, you decide to go inside and grab a bite and drink. At the very least you still had your wallet and phone. Sure, you're going to have to buy cheap in this gas station in order to save, but you'll manage. As you walk towards the doors, you wonder how actually do the Maffranians style themselves. Should you smooth down your currently disheveled hair? Luckily there is a small puddle of piss nearby, so you step in front of it, and in your reflection in the urine fix your hair. The bags under your eyes and a perpetually shocked expression you gained by your life in Norseman don't bother you, you're glad that there's only one piss puddle. There's more of those in Norseman. Eugh. You straighten your clothes a bit, or at least the amount you can.
The doorknob is relatively clean, unlike in your hometown, where somebody would stick a chewed bubblegum or tobacco on it. Without hesitation and with great joy you open the doors. Perhaps you did so with too much fervor with your newfound hope, because the cashier stared at you with not at all thinly veiled confusion and judgement. Which sane and sober person would make an entry such as this. But the only thing you're high on right now, is hope!
“Haaayyyy.” You say to the mildly fat cashier. He's the usual kind of gas station you can find anywhere around here, alright.
“What do you want?” The cashier asks you in a gruff voice, with just a little bit of disdain.
“Somethin’ to eat and drink.”
The cashier gives you a look which clearly says “Grab it yourself, I'm not your nanny.”
With a quiet awe you walk around, watching everything around you like a little child. You see… bottled water! That is rare in Norseman. There you can find more booze than clear water. The booze is here too, yes, but less of it. Or maybe just more water here. You check the price tag. 0,50$. Okay, good. You grab it, and begin looking around for something to eat. Your gaze sweeps over the shelves, looking for a cheap but tasty thing to bite on the road. After very careful inspection, you notice a rather tasty looking baguette with ham, salad, and peppers. You check the price tag. 3,99$. A good amount of food, a fine price, perfect.
You grab the baguette as well and go to the check out. When it's time to pay, you take out your wallet, and take out a 5$ bank note.
“Keep the tips, thank you.” You say with a lopsided grin as you put the wallet back into your jacket pocket. You take your beverage and food, and walk out with a smile on your face.
There's a new energy to your steps as you contentedly eat your baguette as you walk towards your new life. But where shall you live? You think. Your first idea is to find a nice person, within limits, and ask very politely whether you could live with them, so that you could find a job, and then you'd pay the rent, and keep paying it.
You've studied, so maybe in Maffra, education could possibly bring you better success than in Norseman. You studied criminology, you could become a policeman and then a detective. This is a horrible decision in Norseman, because there's a 77% chance you'd die before 35. And that's not what you want!
Maybe if you went to the local police station, you could try to beg your way to the status of an immigrant for survival, and they'd take pity on you. Human dignity is absolutely not your priority right now. All you desire now is a more quality life, a roof over your head and food and water within your reach. To hell with human dignity if you could spend a little bit of it to get these things!
With more than enough self-convincing that this is THE course of action, you stride with determination and purpose to the police station. That's when you realize you have no idea where it might be here. So your sub-mission for now is to find another human being, who might help you locate the place of the mission’s goal. You begin to wander around, with the decision that you're going to ask the question to the first person you see.
After a few minutes, you spot a child. Well, a child still is a human being!
“Haaaaayyyyy, kiddo.” You say in a friendly manner, approaching the child with speed so that it wouldn't walk away meanwhile.
The child stares at you as if you were an alien.
“Lil pipsqueak, would ya tell this poor guy where's the police station?” You ask, crouching down to the child's eye level.
You do not receive a verbal response, but the child points in a specific direction.
“Thanks, lil rascal. Here's a little somethin’ for you.” You say, standing to your normal height. You take out a 0,50$ coin and give it to the child as a reward. Even with your meager financial resources, you wish to express your generosity to those who aid you in need.
You'd like to say you sprinted all the way to the police station, but unfortunately, your lungs decided to be the greedy ones and not give you the permission to sprint all the while.
By the time you arrive at the station, you are sweaty, panting, and looking like a mess yet again. The water bottle is now empty, for you drank it all after your marathon finished. The police and the Homicide Investigative Squad Unit here are much more competent than in Norseman. As your lungs decide, in return for your sprinting session, to lower your levels of reason, you don't even bother with making yourself look more sane and respectable. You burst in through the doors.
“Haaaaayyyyy. I am an immigrant from Norseman, I ran away from there. I've been a victim of property theft 42 times and 3 times I've almost been a victim of a violent crime against a person, please allow this poor guy to take refuge in your great Maffrian land. I'll do anything! You can have my human dignity! My soul! My life! Just please don't send me back thereeeee!” You practically yell, speaking a little too quickly, having decided for the path of begging and pleasing.
The officers stare at you, much befuddled. Congratulations, you managed to stun people who aren't fazed by corpses or hard crimes, by merely behaving close to high. But, very fortunately for you, these people seem to be at least willing to hear you out. But in the most human form. Get somebody not currently in the room to go deal with you.
“Please go to the room on the right, I'll call Detective Zikibeld to hear your story.” One of the officers says. He picks up the radio, and mutters something like “Zikibeld, we have a Norsemanian here, acting crazy, wanting us to let him stay in Maffra. You weren't here, so go deal with him.”.
You, meanwhile, don't care about what they think of you, and you instead happily skip along to the room where you've been told to go to, and wait for that Detective Zikibeld.
Pov of the Maffrian wildcard riding along to Norseman:
Having grabbed your carjacked car, you loaded some of your belongings into it, such as savings, phone, some food and water, and some cocaine, methamphetamine and weed and such nicely hidden away between and under the normal belongings. Maffra’s police department has been keeping everything way too boring! It has more than double less crime rate than Norseman! You've always been a wildcard who doesn't want to be controlled and wishes to do whatever the hell comes to your mind. And Maffra restricted you. Being an avid student of chemistry and biology, you find thrill (and lots of cash) in making or growing certain substances which people love to buy for a high price. You keep up the crazy and silly front to fool people. Why? Because who would suspect a person like that to be an expert in drug making, being able to make them cheaply, secretly and in great amounts. You love doing things that bring you pleasure, that bring you your elation.
That's why you're currently listening, on full volume, to church chants and songs, cranking the shit up to 11, because that's what you do. People would be hella confused by this sight and sound they hear, and these reactions of people reward you with that feeling of elation!
As you drive, you see the sign “Welcome to Norseman!”, which is bespeckled by holes from various gunshots. The wonderful thing is just how many different types of ammo must've been used, because there's holes of different sizes. By accident, you run over it. But you get great joy from this moment, so you start laughing even harder.
Thanks to your speedy driving, you're in town in no time at all. Your goal is to find one of the local, most successful underground bosses, who does great business and with the greatest rate of success, without being caught. You've brought much of your goods and amenities, which means that you have a lot to offer even in the current moment, not just with your talent alone. Every even remotely sensible person would accept you into their gang. And you could negotiate, in order to get yourself a place to live. You're brazen enough, which means that you wouldn't even mind just hopping to the gang members’ houses for “visits”, staying a few days uninvited, and going to another one’s home. With your charm and free spirit, nobody could reject you or throw you out.
And you've already fabricated a fake story that the normal, non criminal public would know. Here it is. You're an Australian, who, on a dating app, met a very kind European, you started dating them, after some time they asked whether they could move to Australia to live with you. You said yes, and that person travelled to Australia and moved in with you. But after some years of living together, just before you were about to propose, they scammed you of almost all your property, and the truck and things on it are all you have left. But you do not let heartbreak and property theft stop you from needing to create a new life.
It's the perfect combination for you to become the community’s sweetheart. A sad and pitiful story of betrayal, but combined with a still dedicated spirit continuing with their daily life, is sure to make people respect and cherish you. With a grin, you silently applaud yourself. It's important to praise yourself, and you sure know and like to do that.
If you were more normal, you'd be questioning where might you find a drug dealer or mob boss. But no, you know your stuff, and know that in Norseman, you could go into nearly any corner, and find somebody affiliated to it. And that's exactly what you're planning to do. Only in town you do slow down, and that only because you need to keep an eye out for a great corner.
Driving down the Norsemanian streets, you take in the scenery. The housing is scant, there is some greenery, but not much, and the houses aren't in the best condition, and who knows how they look inside. Most likely even worse. In Maffra, on average, it's better than here, but many of the better housings are for the richer people. Who knows what kinds of richer people would decide to move to Maffra, mildly disconnected from the outside world, with such heat that is all around most of the time and with the abundance of critters, both in numbers and sizes.
There's also a mining industry here, to some degree, so that's where you decide to drive, and wait.