Author's note: Second chapter introduces character important to storyline, but is rather short.
I woke up in my apartment in the Sinclair Deluxe. The little hole, as I called it, looked rather nice compared to the cramped and uncomfortable living spaces all around me. I noticed that a drill bit was speared through a wall. I remembered my neighbor saying he had figured out how to make a much scarier crossbow bolt. I supposed I should give him a visit. I knocked on his door, and when he didn't answer, I kicked it in. Standing over a table, a roll of duct tape around one wrist, and a band of it, sticky side out and covered in various components on the other, was the man I have come to know as "The Engineer."
He looked over at my with that usual expression he had, the kind you get when you get so engrossed in something you forget about the rest of the world around you, and then somebody gets your attention. "Bonjour, mon ami," he had a drill bit with fletching taped to the end in his hand, and on the table was a disassembled power drill, and what looked like his custom bow, which, as of currently, was mostly disassembled into it's smallest components.
"Speak English, parler en anglais," I may be a French-Scot. Doesn't mean I can speak either language. Well, no Scottish, at least.
"Oui, yes, sometimes, the brain, it forgets," he looked down at the weapon,
"What are you building?"
"Quoi?"
"Assemblage, quoi assemblage?"
"Ah, oui, de forage à l'arbalète, a drill-shot crossbow, if you would. I will send design and components, si vous souhaitez,"
"Uh, sure, thanks, I guess," There was a pile of other blueprints stacked in my closet. They were all great ideas, just kind of impractical for the most. I remembered the revolver, and placed it on the table in front of him.
"You want this bettered? Why not long rifle?"
"It melted."
"Melted? Comment cela peut-être?" I put up my hand, unwrapped some bandaging, and caught it on fire, "Ah, Houdini Incinerate, more powerful than normal, non?"
"Yup,"
"Give me time, I make revolver démon pistolet,"
"Thanks, man, I owe you,"
"Oui, very much you do," I placed a Franklin on the table, shutting him up but quick, "Come at 8 tomorrow, I will be finished, but until then, I require la solitude absolue," I walked out, and made my way to the king sized bed in my apartment. A bullet whizzed over my head. "Désolé!" It wasn't the first time, so it wasn't such a big issue. The night was slow, and the lack of a blanket was uncomfortable. The liquid heat that was my blood, however, compensated well. I faded slowly into sleep, hoping that the next day would be slightly less eventful.
Action starts in next chapter.