22A/N Well, here it is. Part 2. I never really intended to end off that story where it was, but I had no lead. I haven't written much here, because I want to know if I'm going in a good direction or not. Granted, it is very different (I expanded on the sci-fi aspect), but it all makes sense in my head.
As the previous part ends off in a gloomy, desolate kind of place, I was looking to shead some light in my most faithful reader's eyes (a little buttering up sometimes makes people write more. I dunno, just a thought). It might be more effective if you returned to the last part, and imagined closing your eyes into a neverending darkness...
WE were called the most vile of things. People lifted their chins and gave us wide berth as we passed. We were thieves to them; animals; nothing deserving of their attention or time. But we spent so much time away from cities, that I quite forgot the feeling every time, the feeling of being worthless, until, of course, we docked and the land life came crashing down around our heads.
I grasped my mother's rough hands, hard and calloused from work, as our worn boots slapped the old concrete sidewalks. The cities were all the same, tall buildings clustered together, a drab grey everywhere you looked. There was graffiti sprayed near the bases, and stinking piles of trash down low. Above, long tunnels of speeding vehicles passed from building to building, a chain of the same kind of people on their way to the same kind of work.
Down where we walked, the air was the most foul, suffocating with the smell of decay and pollution. Here, where the homeless and drug-addicts lived, the only kind of looks we got were those calculating ones, deducting whether we had anything worthy of stealing. I guess our reputations were widespread enough to reach even here, as they all glanced away in turn, to go back to sleeping or shooting up neon blue liquids. Still, I was uncomfortable, and grasped my mother's hand tightly. Though, I reminded myself, you are a woman now. You should be able to take care of yourself.
Before a sale, we had to speak to possible customers. We couldn't risk bringing our ship down near the cities without first knowing where to hide it. Usually, the customers had old docking garages where we concealed The Baphomet while we made the sale. It was my first time negotiating with a potential customer, but as the captain's daughter, I had to learn the art of trade first hand.