-1All right, even though no one's really reading this, here's part three.
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Down in an empty alley, tucked away where no other eyes could see her, the woman pulled out the money she'd saved up from the stolen stuff she had returned. A quick count made her decide that it simply wasn't enough. No, this would warrant a change of plans. Rather than seeking an apartment first, she would have to find a job. She even knew where she would ask… A car repair shop just up the street. Something about cars… It just seemed right somehow. Had she been a car mechanic before losing her memory? That seemed to be the likeliest explanation. Then why the connection to machines in general?
The sky roared, drawing an upward-aimed double take from her just in time for her to catch a glimpse of something passing low overhead… very low. A shadow flickered across her face but she ignored it as she identified what was passing overhead. A glossy silver jet… that same jet?… was passing by so slowly as to seem to be suspended from a string, mere feet above the rooftops. Drawing backward into the shadow of a fire escape, she held her breath as it passed by, seemingly unaware of her presence. Why did she get the feeling that it was looking specifically for her? The roar of its passing faded into silence as it left her field of view, and as soon as it was gone she calmed down. Now that the sudden episode of weirdness was over, it was time to go apply for that job.
The bell set above the door chimed sharply as she entered the repair shop, drawing the attention of the mechanics working there. It didn't take long for the boss to get to her. "What can I do for you, lady? Your car break down or something?" She shook her head with a polite, gentle smile. "No, I came to apply for a job." Stepping backward, the man smiled back at her. "Normally we don't take walk-in applications, but it just so happens we're short a guy. Come on over here and let's see what you can do. If you got the skills, you got the job." He led her to one of the cars the others were working on. "Here's your tools," he said, gesturing to a semi-organized pile of wrenches and the like. Wasting no time, she picked up a wrench and seemed to fall into what seemed to her like some sort of trance. She could almost swear that the car spoke to her, telling her what was wrong and how to fix it. Working with a grace and dexterity that was all but unknown to most humans, she corrected the problem. The strange thing (as if hearing the car talk to her wasn't strange enough) was that the car then began to offer suggestions on how to make it run better. It felt as if she had come home as she followed the car's suggestions, feeling far more energized and alive than she had ever felt before in all her limited memory.
"Lady, I don't know what you did, but the owner of that car says it had to have been downright miraculous! You got the job. How soon can you start?" A triumphant grin spread across her face. "I can start whenever you like. Heck, I can start right now if you want." The two of them shook hands. "Welcome to the team, lady. What's your name?" She couldn't hide the look of embarrassment that crossed her face at that question. "You mean you don't know your name?" All but blushing, she nodded. "I must've had an accident a few months back. Been wandering around ever since, trying to remember my old life. I eventually decided to give up on that and just start a new one. As for a name… I don't have one." Her new boss just smiled at her. "Then I guess I'll call you Ace." Something bubbled up in the back of her mind, a word she'd been toying with. The name of a stone, a stone that created sparks. Sparks; a word for something she knew was vital to her, to who she was. No, not the sparks themselves, but their creation, what made them… "Flint. My name is Ace Flint. …God, that just sounds so lame. But it's all I've got, so I'll work with it." The man nodded. "Well, Miss Flint… Welcome to the team."
The repair shop swiftly became a haven for her, the one place where things made sense. There she didn't have to wonder about who she was or where she came from, questions she couldn't answer, problems she couldn't solve. In the repair shop, the only problems presented to her were ones she could solve, in her own unique way. Her fellow mechanics found themselves having to get used to the presence of Dial-Tone, whom they all assumed she had constructed by herself. Though the little thing's presence was disconcerting at first, they all warmed up to the transformed cell phone fairly quickly when it started doing its level best to help out, sorting small parts and locating misplaced tools. Once word of her incredible skills got out, the money started pouring in, as just about everybody in Mission City wanted to have her work on their cars. There was talk of her peculiar alterations improving efficiency, overall handling, wear and tear, even gas mileage. There was semi-joking talk of some of her better jobs being submitted to the world's premier technical colleges for the greatest minds to analyze and attempt to understand. Using a faction of the money her jobs earned her, which was considerable to say the least, she was able to rent an apartment nearby. Once she had finished furnishing her apartment with secondhand furniture since she really didn't need anything better, the rest went to charity, since she had more money than she needed. Word of her skills was spreading fast…
The thing cried a name she couldn't hear but she somehow knew was hers, almost sounding as if it was in pain. Why could she not understand its shouted pleas? It seemed to be asking something of her, begging her to understand, to stay, something… Those fearsome claws reached out in a desperate entreaty even as she recoiled and turned to run. Somehow she got the sense that it needed her for some reason, needed her so badly… And some part of her seemed to respond to it, this strange silver monstrosity haunting her dreams. Why was her fear of it dying away, as if some deeply buried part of her could somehow sense that it meant her no harm, that it in fact intended the opposite?
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Read and review, please. I'm really getting discouraged by the lack of response here…