It reminded her all of post-apocalyptic manga, and looking down she half expected to see a body of black stylish mechanical components instead of the tattered leather and denim she wore. What was the word? Right: 'cybernetics'. She peered upward at the top layer-cake buildings, haphazard and ramshackle, except for the automated drones patrolling the air space.

She wove through walkways crowded with fascinating craft workers, engineers and tinkerers, selling their skills and cobbled together wares. One caught her eye, a thin limbed figure whose metallic grin struck her as terminally amused.

"Grasper," the woman said and reached out with a steely manipulator.

"It's Mina, Carbie," Mina corrected, "did you forget already?"

"Sorry, blonds all look the same to me," Carbie said flatly and returned her prosthetic manipulator to her work. Then she asked, "You find that thing I asked for?"

Mina shoved a hand into her leather jacket pocket and pulled out a palm sized slat of PCB, and Carbie angled her monovision at it. She reached out and Mina retreated her hand.

"It's the right one, isn't it," Mina asserted. "Pay up."

"Scrabbin' warbler…" Carbie said, and then, "half rate. It's half duplex."

If only I had Ami to ask, Mina lamented, then said, "I don't care if it is. I got you the—whatever this is—so it's full payment."

"Or what?"

Mina didn't know. It didn't look like anything she'd ever seen before. No capacitors or microchips, just a little green slat of PCB. Then the angle she needed to play dawned on her.

"I keep it. Kraditz would pay more than you, and you need it."

"Don't," Carbie said dismissively. "Kraditz wouldn't know it from a optical relay; okay, fine, seventy-five percent."

"All of it, Carbie," Mina countered, "it's Golden Age, maybe older."

"What do I care so long as it works. Looks intact, and even if not, it will make a good template," Carbie said and brought her manipulator hands to her speech box. "See, Mina? Taking a chance."

"Not on my labor," Mina supplied smoothly, and Carbie chuckled at this.

"No, you're right. You've always found what I want. Don't know how."

"Trade secret," Mina said with a subtle smile. "You get a good rate on my expenses, too."

Carbie made a noise that seemed to express both acceptance and annoyance at this fact. She said, "Scrapheap's getting more dangerous all the time with them diggers going to ground," Carbie said by way of commentary. "Fine. Fair's fair. Seventy-five and fifteen for your expenses."

"Make it twenty-five and done," Mina chimed hopefully.

"Twenty, and that's that."

Mina nodded. She said, "Why do we bother haggling when you pay me the same anyway?"

"Oh, " she began, handed Mina a pouch with the agreed amount while accepting the slat, "you're uncommonly attractive. I like to think I was like you when my body was flesh, instead of this tin heap."

"Thanks," she said, blushing as she examined the contents of the pouch. It figured the credits were exactly right. Only Ami was this good at math, but with all that hardware, maybe Carbie was using an implant to do it for her. She stuffed the pouch into a pocket that could not have contained it, and if Carbie had brows, she probably would have raised them.

"Where did you just put that?" she asked.

"Magic pockets," Mina said and shrugged.

"Oh," Carbie said, disappointed.

"Thanks, Carbie," Mina said and turned to leave, but noticed that Carbie was fumbling with something. It was white, flat and…folded paper?

"Still here? I got a job for you then," Carbie said and shoved the paper into her hand. "Read it while I explain."

"Okay…"

"Some stub found a locket in the yard, figures that it belonged to a friend of yours," Carbie began and Mina listened, though her gut and hands trembled. "That has the coords, you understand?"

Mina nodded slowly and said, "I understand."

"I'll pay triple my usual rate…you come back for it, and…" Carbie hesitated, then said, "Stanwick's been spiking his drinks, you might want to be wary if you go to his place."

Again, Mina nodded, and answered, "Thanks, Carbie. I'll be sure to give him hell about it."

There was nothing else to say. Mina made her way to a six stool noodle hut, the sign over which read 'Stanwick's Burning Noodles'. The geriatric behind the counter smiled broadly at her and when she sat, plunked a steaming bowl of ramen and kamaboko, and a shot of sake down in front her.

"Itadakimasu," she said under her breath, before lifting a pair of chopsticks to her meal.

"Ano," began the vendor in Japanese, "Anata wa rengō seiken ga suki dewa…arimasen ka?"

Mina was hunkered over her bowl with her mouth stuffed full of noodles. She swallowed, which helped her to work through the shock of his insight.

"Watashi wa ima koko ni iru, sore wa akiraka da to omotta," she said, and levered more noodles into her awaiting mouth.

"Ah…hai. Desu kui wa utareru," quoth the vendor with an understated tone of confidence. He dumped a pot full of water into a receptacle and said, "neh?"

"Hai," Mina replied, mindful of the paper note tucked into her the back pocket of her black denim pants. After finishing the noodles she stared at the sake for a moment, then stood and left a few credits on the counter. As she departed, the folded note found its way into her hand. She reviewed its short content without reading, then wadded it and tossed the crumple into a nearby bonfire.

'I'm sorry,

But I'm lying to you.

It's a trap.'

The coordinates included a time stamp, which was only an hour and a half from now, and about five miles away. Deep into scrapyard territory. There was no obligation for her to dive head first into a dangerous confrontation, but if word from Makoto was accurate, and it always was, then Fellermeller was the man to have over a barrel.

The Lieutenant was a paranoid man, and likely to have a platoon in his company, Mina mused by the warmth of the amber street bonfire. In which case…there was only one man to invite along to this so-called engagement. Mina turned away and slunk into an alley and absolute darkness. Regrettably, he was none too pleased by the prospect.

"I don't want a confrontation with them, Mina," said the stocky, heavily bearded fellow. He reclined comfortably on half of a recovered sofa, veteran of no skilled hand and a dearth of new materials.

"It wouldn't satisfy a lust for vengeance for what they took from you?" Mina inquired.

"You know nothing about soldiers, girl," he countered. "I served faithfully…no debt owed."

"You were a merc, Steinbeck," she said doubtfully.

"As you say, 'hai'. But, I was valued."

"You're valuable to me."

"Is that so," he said. Thick, almost mossy, grey eyebrows lifted. Mina opened her mouth to step into the gap, but he interposed and said, "Anyway, you've not said a word about what it's worth."

Mina steeled herself and said, "Ten-Kay."

"For you, precious beauty, twenty, and not a credit less. That," he said, tilted a stein to his lips, gasped loudly and continued, "Is a glittering deal."

Mina ground her teeth behind closed lips. This was not a subtle man. His eyes roamed over her and he pursed his lips.

"I might strike you a bargain…"

"No," Mina said, glaring.

"Hear my words, girl, and learn to take a complement," Steinbeck said and leveraged himself out of his seat. "You're all the more tempting a bedmate on account of that, but I'd make poor entertainment for you."

Mina glanced downward, observed his pantless lower body and the plasteel sheen of artificial skin. She breathed a sigh of relief.

"Not that I don't have my ways," he said and chuckled. A serious note entered his voice as he continued, "I could make it quite pleasurable…and there'd be no risk to you."

Mina sighed, then said, "You're a friend, Beck, I don't want that between us."

"I suppose I really don't, either; you're too skinny for my taste. Anyway," he said and turned away, "follow me."

From his livingroom they descended through a heavy garage door into a bunker that contained a machine shop. In the parade of computers and tools was a frame around an eight foot suit of armor. Its cladding gleamed multihued facets of light, all smooth corners, with long limbs and a rounded cannon slung behind the right shoulder.

"He's almost operational; all spare parts," Steinbeck said, mounting the ramp to ground level, "CS wasn't going to let me keep Oslo."

Mina peered up at the slit faced, otherwise featureless faceplate and asked, "Oslo?"

"My boy." He spun, gripped his hips with his hands and demanded, "I need one part, my friend, just one. Carbie says you got a supernatural knack for scrounging up rare finds. Find what I need and I'm yours, if you want me."

Mina frowned and said, "I want you in that armor. Fellermeller has to go."

"I won't kill him," Steinbeck demurred, brows knitting. "But he's a skitzy kludgehead. He might get the message if we spook him."

"I don't like that either," Mina said. "Any challenge could become an all out war. What do you know about him?"

Steinbeck approached a full grey box with a spigot, grabbed a cup from a shelf and began to fill it with hot, dark fluid. Once full, he wafted it under his nose and took a sip.

"If General Altimer is still C/O, then the Ole Awk is playing it safe; they don't get along," Steinbeck said. "Something about a bet gone bad or a divorce, or was it a bastard son?"

"Does it matter?" Mina said.

"Yes," he said, squinting at the nearly operational Glitter Boy. "Huh! Yeah! That was it! Scuttlebutt was Meller's son knocked up Alzheimer's niece. He was itching to ship him out to Wisconsin," Steinbeck said and laughed, reminiscing. "Look on his face when Prosek himself told the Ole Awk to man up. Hadda be there."

Mina cleared her throat expectantly.

"Yeah, right…uh," Steinbeck said and pondered, sipping at the gunk in his mug. "Fact is, we got a chance to embarrass Meller, and I think the two of us oughta be the right odds to squelch his pride."

"So…" Mina said, encouraging some explanation on the subject of her role. He didn't get it, so she proceeded with, "It's a very, very shiny armor, Beck, but why can't we just wade in with it now?"

"'Welker,'" Steinbeck corrected.

"Okay?"

"All of the boys have names. It's tradition. He's missing a part I need you to find," he said and laid a gentle hand on the arm of the armor.

"Oh."

Steinbeck clasped a hand around the beard under his chin and pulled down in repeated motions, thoughtfully.

"What?" Mina asked.

"Those coords pinpoint an old storehouse used by black market reps for glitboy parts, but it was found and stripped years ago. Can't be coincidence that Meller's got the place staked out for you to show up."

"I know, Carbie warned me about that," Mina said.

"Flak, Mina..."

"Listen, I know the odds," she said, glancing upward nostalgically. Sometimes working with the other Senshi as Venus felt like Easy Mode. She sniffed and turned away from Steinbeck. The urge to bawl ebbed as she inhaled the metallic odor of the shop. She whirled back and said, "We don't have much time, Beck. What isn't working on this ...Walker?"

"'Welker', unless you want me t'call you—"

"Shut it," Mina said, lip curling unpleasantly. "I don't want a flakking reminder 'bout that week."

"Okay, okay," Steinbeck said, throwing up a verbal truce flag. He continued, "Now you ask, it's just the boom gun. Could slap in the part and I'd make for a great third act climax. In fact that's what you'll do. I'll show you, it's a Snap On part."

Of course, she thought, then let the words flow of her mouth, "I think it totally fits the sort of luck I've been having. I'll do it, Beck, but only because I like you. Not because you propositioned me."

"Mina, please, you're beautiful, but, all right," he said and smiled. "Can't think of a better suit to wear for a date with the Ole Awk."