Welcome to Gaia! ::

It was quite possibly his most favorite place in the world. The entire vicinity reeked of a nameless stench which, if Gage were to guess at the source, was likely a combination of old gas, rust and rotting mice. How lovely. Really, it smelled kind of horrible and, yet, the cotton-candy skinned youth couldn't bring himself to think anything other than; heaven. He grinned like a little boy at Christmas time as he curled his fingers around the chain link fence that barred his (immediate) entrance and pressed himself against the metal. His eyes danced this way and that, in eager search of the obnoxiously fat watchman whose job it was to keep the likes of him as far away from the spare parts and crumbling vehicles inside. There was no sign of him. This was good.

Gage was practically dancing with glee as he ducked down, and shoved himself face first into the earth under the fence. There was a whole there, hidden carefully behind grass that grew as long as his legs, It was almost impossible to find, if you didn't already know about it or hadn't watched him crawl inside. Gage had dug it himself months ago, when he'd first discovered this wondrous place, and had ensured that it remained safely hidden by carefully disguising it underneath a broken down hippie van on the other side. It wasn't a difficult trip. Almost constant use had made the tunnel smooth and simple to maneuver in. Every time he ventured inside, it was easier to escape.

When he finally breached the dirty surface of the earth within the junkyard, Gage, who was covered head to toe in dust and grime, reached up and heaved himself up into the back of the van. The bottom was missing- this was not his doing. Gage didn't care to know how the vann had gotten to be the way that it was. The only thing that mattered was that it protected him from the watchman.

The ailen child chuckled merrily to himself, rubbed his hands together and exited via the backdoor. The sun beat like a drum against his back and made him sweat, but he paid little notice. This was his playground. It was time to have fun.

There were so many broken down vehicles, so many spare parts. They'd come in handy, later. At the garage. He knew that Charlie would ask where he'd found them, and Gage also knew that he wouldn't be able to lie to her. It didn't matter. He trusted her not to tell, especially because she wanted the things he'd come to collect just as much as he did. Gage tingled with a kind of earthy satisfaction as he looked this way and that and tried to determine where he ought to start looking. All the while, he kept a careful look out for Watchman What's-His-Name. He was so focused and so intent on these two most necessary of tasks that Gage did not notice as the other intruder discovered his secret.

The pink skinned youth was about to start his hunt when Bailey spoke, and his heart gave a little jerk of surprise. For an awful, gut wrenching moment Gage thought that he must have been caught. Fearful and excited, with the hairs standing up on his neck, Gage jumped forwards just a little bit and whirled on his heals to stare at the source of the voice. His third eye, the one that moved around within his head and appeared whenever it was needed most, popped out in the back. It was white, and nearly invisible behind his hair, which was a nice perk when it came to escaping and evading big men and their hungry dogs.

"Thank you," Gage managed to remain cordial once he'd recognized the skin that belonged to the voice as a child- and one who'd snuck in behind him. It wasn't everyday somebody managed to surprise him and, even though this other boy was a stranger, Gage reasoned that they'd be in equal amounts of trouble for trespassing if they were caught. They weren't quite associates, but the red skinned boy might proof handy if they had to make a quick run for the exit. So, he was naturallly inclined to be friendly. Not that he wouldn't have been, anyways.

"I wish I could say it all belongs to me," he smirked, "but, I've always been a pretty rampant collector." There was a short pause, in which Gage took a moment to look the other intruder up and down. "What are you doing here?"

Uncharacteristically nosy? Gage had to laugh at that. He didn't know enough about the stranger (hence, the word) to contemplate whether or not he was lying. Nor did he really care to. Gage liked everyone, regardless of their appearance, past or, hell, sometimes even their personality. Once, not so long ago, he'd been a notorious people person and one of the most sought after criminals on his planet. Now he was just an easily amused little boy, who liked to sneak into junkyards and fix things. If it wasn't so much fun, it would have been a little depressing.

"Yes," when he nodded his long bangs fell into his eyes. Gage, who looked kind of dirty and unkempt anyways, left it alone, "I like to collect things."

Usually, Gage would have loved to just stand and chat, but this was more of a business venture than anything else. The watchman would be back before long, and it was important that he have the things he'd come for. They ought to move, especially if they wanted to keep his home-made entrance a secret.

"Why don't I show you around?" Gage grinned and gestured grandly at the heaps of metal behind him.

"Aw," Gage laughed at the way the other boy described the watchman, and felt oddly compelled to defend the man he usually gave so much trouble. "Phil's not so bad. He makes some pretty amazing brownies."

The first time he'd officially met the watchman, which had been a little over three months ago, had been on an occasion when he'd almost been caught stealing. The watchman, who'd never actually had any proof Gage was sneaking in and taking things that didn't belong to him, had followed the pink skinned youth home one night after finding him lurking around the junkyard and confronted his mother about his odd behavior. Green had never been the type of lady to take any abuse about her children from anyone and, even though she suspected that the watchman's claims might be true, she'd told him exactly where he could stick all of his spare parts so that they couldn't possibly go missing.

The next day, carrying a tray of brownies and a bouquet of flowers, Phil had arrived on their doorstep once more and apologized formally for his accusations. It had amused Gage greatly, and was one of his fondest memories. He swore that he'd never forget it. Still, he'd started being a lot more careful about his little business trips to and from the junkyard.

"If you'll follow me," he grinned and beckoned to Bailey with two curled fingers as he moved towards the largest pile of junk, "we should really find someplace less obvious to hang out."

Gage was proud of the way he used this world's slang and strange lingo. It made him feel more at home.

"Phil and me?" Gage tossed a smirk over his shoulder, "We have a hate-hate relationship, but he's kind of bugging over my Green. He thinks she's radical, and brought some sweets over to impress her once."

There it was. The slang again. It didn't really matter to him whether or not he used the terms correctly. The point was that he did. That had to count for something. Right?

"That doesn't mean he wouldn't jump at the chance to run his dogs after me, though. So long as she didn't find out how or who murdered me."

The lanky youth whistled merrily and swayed his arms as he walked. The junkyard was his special, personal heaven; not even Charlie, who he considered to be one of his dearest friends, followed him there. It wasn't because he wouldn't have taken her. Really, she'd just never asked to come along. Whenever they needed a part for something, he'd get it. Charlie and Harold didn't ask questions. It was enough to have the pieces that they needed in order to fix things.

Nevermind that it was technically stealing.

Gage was, by nature, a generous person. He didn't mind sharing his secret entrance Bailey- so long as the other boy kept his mouth shut. He glanced sideways at the red skinned boy. It wasn't something that he was worried about. Bailey may have been a stranger but, if he did snitch, Gage was fully prepared to take him down too.

"I like to call this place my secret garden," he announced grandly as he let Bailey into a wide glade of machinery. They were surrounded on all sides, except for the way they'd come in, by old and worn out cars; some of which dated as far back as the fifties.

It was magnificent. Gage inhaled.