While the faeryfolk feed the city on fruit and grain and fish they can’t provide much in the way of luxury. For that and for the other rarities of life, including hard to synthesize medicine, raw metals, consumer goods and munitions, there are the Mistrunners.
When the Fog recedes, leaving only a faint mist behind, the Mistrunners head across the bridges and through the tunnels into what used to be the other boroughs of New York City. What they might find there is always a mystery and a gamble. Shattered, overgrown ruins or eerily deserted streets, barren wastelands or untamed wilderness are all possibilities. And the things that inhabit those environments range from hostile to hungry to curious.
Mistrunners specialize in trekking into the boroughs and locating and extracting anything and everything of value, often under very hostile conditions and on a very tight schedule. The Fog could roll back in on a moment’s notice and anyone caught in it risks vanishing, dying or worse, being changed to something not even vaguely human.
In addition, the limitless electrical power that Tesla’s machines supply to the city cuts off once one leaves the island. T-guns, deadly in the city itself, have one or two shots left in their capacitors at best before they are useless. Because ammunition is also rare (and one of the goods that the city government claims first), most Mistrunners learn to use not only firearms but also bows, crossbows and a variety of melee weapons. Heaters lose their charge, bullets run out, but a sword will always be a sword. Many also pick up martial arts training beyond the boxing ring and that training is provided by the Mistrunner’s Guild at a reasonable fee for their members.
Even with the aid of the guild, the attrition rate is extremely high. Perhaps seventy percent of Runners die in their first year. Less than ten percent make it past five years. But the prospect of fame, fortune and adulation make sure there are no shortage of people willing to take the risk.