Editing Getting the Band Together (section)

==='''Observations'''===

Gadget walked back into the square to get her gear, the familiar rhythm of the park unbroken by the earlier scuffle. People moved about as though nothing unusual had happened, their lives tuned to a frequency that filtered out the kind of trouble she had just witnessed.

She had seen this before in other cities: a practiced indifference to the small tragedies that played out in the corners of urban life. The regulars had walked past the shakedown, unconcerned. Not their problem. Not worth their notice. Even the lack of music didn’t seem to faze anyone. The world kept spinning, and the square moved with it.

Her first stop was a liquor store tucked into a crumbling block of mismatched businesses. The door jingled as she entered, and she felt the clerk’s eyes snap to her immediately. His stare followed her down the rows as she browsed. Gadget ignored him, picking out a flask-sized bottle of whiskey first, then a larger one to refill it. She added a handful of tiny bottles at the register, their colorful labels gleaming in the harsh fluorescent light.

The clerk leaned against the counter, arms crossed, his expression dripping with disdain. “Are you high or just stupid?” he sneered. “Alright, let’s do this. Everyone sing along—*La la la! I have to see some ID!*”

Unbothered, Gadget pulled a crisp hundred-dollar bill from her pocket and laid it on the counter, meeting his gaze with a calm, steady intensity. “Even if I kept the change,” he added, “it’s not worth it without ID.”

She sighed, pulling a slim wallet from her jacket. Opening it just enough for the clerk to see, she watched his eyes widen. The disdain melted into something closer to disbelief.

“Ah... really?” he asked, his tone shifting.

She tilted her head slightly. “I can depend on your keeping it a secret?”

He nodded quickly, his earlier bravado gone. He took the money without another word, bagging the bottles with newfound precision. Gadget took the bag without a thank-you, already moving on.

Her next stop was Little Caesar’s, the faint smell of grease and cheap cheese filling the air before she even entered. The bored teenager at the counter barely glanced up as she ordered four $5 pizzas. She stacked the boxes into a canvas bag, not bothering to align them perfectly. As the bag settled, the pizzas slid, the cheese and toppings undoubtedly pooling at one end of the boxes. She didn’t care. These weren’t about taste.

The park waited as she walked back, her steps deliberate and her mind turning over what came next. Her earlier encounter had shown her more than she expected—not just about the park’s pecking order but about the invisible lines drawn between those who were struggling to survive and those who chose to ignore them. She wasn’t sure yet where she fit into this city, but she’d carve out a place soon enough.

The liquor and the pizzas? They were tools, not comforts. Small investments in goodwill, in leverage. She wasn’t here to play by the rules. Gadget didn’t play by anyone’s rules but her own.

The alley was narrow and quiet, save for the distant hum of city noise. The faint tang of rust and damp concrete filled the air, mingling with the aroma of greasy pizza wafting from the canvas bag Gadget left on the ground. Her ears tingled with the primal electricity of the moment, a sensation she had come to trust. The hunter had become the hunted, and she was more than ready. She set down her guitar and her bag.

[[File:Waldo.jpg|200px]]

Waldo strode into view, his swagger full of self-assurance, the kind that only came from countless successful shakedowns. He grinned as he saw her, his eyes scanning her up and down like she was already his.

“Well, I didn’t think taxing you would make me rich! Booze and food. Fork it over. And any cash you got,” he said, closing the distance without hesitation. Gadget stepped toward him calmly, her expression unreadable. She didn’t flinch as he reached for her with both hands, his grin growing wider as he added, “Maybe a kiss or a fu—”

The rest of the word was swallowed by a sharp, guttural cry as Gadget grabbed his wrists and drove the steel toe of her boot into his groin with the force of a sledgehammer. The sound he made was almost pitiful as he doubled over, but she didn’t stop. Another swift kick sent him crumpling to the ground like a ragdoll.

Before he could recover, she shoved him onto his back and straddled him, delivering two quick punches to his stomach with precision. Waldo gagged, his breath coming in choked gasps. Gadget leaned in close, her voice a low, dangerous growl, her mind reaching out to touch his, instilling fear of her deep in his memory.

“Now, don’t you throw up,” she warned, her tone ice-cold. “All it’ll only make you messy and me pissed off. Look me in the eyes.”

Waldo’s watery gaze met hers, and for the first time, his bravado cracked. Her psyche slammed into him as hard as she could force it.

“You think you’re tough?” she continued, her voice steady but sharp as a blade. “The universe is filled with monsters that wouldn’t blink about squashing you like a potato bug. And I am goddamned well one of them, Waldo. I the apex predator monster around here now.  So... you belong to me. Unless you want me to make sure you never get an erection again. We understand each other?”

He nodded frantically, his face pale.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Gadget said, sitting back slightly. “Where’s Cali?”

“Wart has her,” Waldo croaked, his voice hoarse. “He’s got her up at the Station… Passed out last I saw.”

Gadget studied his face for any sign of a lie, then nodded. “The Station. Eddie knows where that is?”

Waldo nodded again, his head bobbing weakly.

“Good.” Gadget stood, brushing herself off. “Now, you go away. Not to the station. It won’t be safe there tonight. Do you understand me?” Waldo nodded once more, trembling as he scrambled to his feet.

She stepped back to her bag and pulled out a pizza box. Opening it, she pulled out three slices and held them out to him. “Here. Just to show I’m not… well, totally a bitch. Remember: don’t go to the station. Don’t tell Wart. And don’t piss me off. Now go.”

Waldo hesitated for a split second before grabbing the slices. He staggered off, clutching the greasy pizza with both hands, his steps uneven but quick. He didn’t look back.

Gadget watched him disappear down the alley, then picked up her bags. A faint smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth as she murmured, “Everyone’s gotta eat.”

<div class="center" style="width: auto; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;">[[File:Musicline1.jpg]]</div>